#thanks giving dinner

[the-cps]

Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family ✋✋ At this time of Thanksgiving celebration! Our thoughts turn gratefully to you with warm appreciation. Our best wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving 2022

[venushiring]

🌟 Gratitude fills the air at Venus Consultancy! ✨ A remarkable Thanksgiving Dinner graced by the esteemed presence of Baxter Hunt, Consulate General of the USA, and David Cohen, US Ambassador, was an honor beyond words. Engaging discussions and inspiring stories echoed throughout the evening, none more so than the incredible journey shared by Max Rengal from Spin Master. 🚀

This gathering, hosted in partnership with AMCHAM, was a testament to the power of collaboration and shared insights. The exchange of ideas among exceptional minds fuels innovation and progress, and this evening was no exception.

At Venus Consultancy, we're deeply thankful for these enriching connections and the opportunity to bond over shared values and aspirations. Here's to fostering more meaningful partnerships and creating a brighter future together. 🌐 Top Recruitment Agency In Michigan

[guardian-angle22]

Tarlos Wedding Celebration Event [Week 12] -> favorite location(s)-> The Tarloft

[mintypsii]

early bird activities

[quirkle2]

i have GOT to stop drawing things for fics i haven't written yet

[lauramariescorner]

[dfastback68]

Here’s some more post-canon Mihawk’s Home for Displaced Pirates, which continues to be very funny to me, except this time not from the POV of a Displaced Pirate. Now that I’ve got a boyfriend for King, I can throw in Katakuri. If I write more of this (as in, King and Katakuri actually interacting lmao) maybe I can consider it a whole fic and post it on AO3. Until then, please enjoy Katakuri getting flustered by the most beautiful man he’s ever seen under the cut 😊

—

Having been born and raised in the New World, Katakuri hasn’t spent much time in Paradise, or any of the other four seas. He’s certainly made it his business to understand the geography of the rest of the world, and this has served him well in the years since he took stewardship of Totto Land. What the now-defunct World Government once considered a lawless operation is now the largest global exporter of flour and grain. They’d had the infrastructure; once Mama’s appetite was out of the equation, they were well primed to fill a considerable vacuum in world trade.

Not that it had been an entirely seamless transition. Their territories had suffered not just attacks from other pirates and the Navy, but significant flooding as well. Komugi had come out unscathed, but the smaller, low lying islands were not as lucky. Cacao Island took near catastrophic damage, and they lost almost all of their cocoa crop. What survived continues to struggle, and a number of rare strains are lost to them. They may be able to recover or replicate some of them, but the fruition of that process won’t happen in his lifetime.

Still, laying down the groundwork for full recovery is half of his job, and he takes it seriously. Despite the losses, there is some hope thanks to the meticulous record keeping of his brother, Mont-d’Or. Because of that, he’s been able to track down numerous exports and trades over the decades. There’s a particular type of cocoa tree they lost to the flooding, and their records show six of them were purchased and transported out of their territory within the last decade.

The actual receipt was harder to find, but ultimately he found the customer: Dracule Mihawk, located on Kuraigana Island. It’s lucky enough that Hawkeyes still lives there, moreso that he confirmed the trees are intact, and a mercy that he’s agreed to let Katakuri even come look at them. He hadn’t sounded thrilled about the entire affair, but Katakuri thinks that’s just how he normally sounds.

Kuraigana is a gloomy, dark island that fits the general aesthetic and demeanor of Hawkeyes. Katakuri understands the original kingdom here fell to ruin, and Hawkeyes had simply taken up roost. Now the castle grounds are meticulously kept, and the surrounding land is dense pine forests and freshwater lakes. The rest is sprawling farmland, both food and botanicals, tended by a curious army of monkeys.

He’s impressed. It takes a lot of work to achieve this sort of operation. Given the misty, cloudy nature of the island, there’s a lot to take into consideration to get anything to bloom around here.

The cocoa trees are in good company, though, growing in the dappled shade of towering oak trees. They’re mature, but Kakakuri still has to bend to one knee to inspect them. The leaves are vibrant and healthy, and the earth is rich and loomy, perfect for their roots. Hawkeyes, who barely comes up to his knees when he’s standing, is next to him.

“I can pay,” Katakuri says. “Extraction, transport and delivery.”

Mihawk frowns. “I was unaware you wanted the entire tree.”

Katakuri sighs. “We’re not going to get a lot of production out of just six trees. Back home, we can clone and reproduce them. Replenish the strain.”

“I understand that,” Mihawk says. “But they’re not mine to trade away. You’ll have to speak with Perona.”

This surprises Katakuri. He’d assumed everything here was under the purview of Mihawk himself. He’s not familiar with Perona’s name.

They walk back towards the castle. He keeps his pace slow to match Mihawk’s, which gives him time to admire the scenery. Everything about this place has been restored beautifully; cobblestone walkways, brick archways and wrought iron gates and trellises heavy with blooming vines. In the context of the island’s inherent gloom and mist, it makes for a very serene, peaceful landscape.

His pace slows when they pass an adjacent courtyard. Through the stone moon gate is a garden full of every color and variety of hydrangea, every one of them in full bloom. The enormous blossoms create a riot of pastels and whites and greens, woven around statuary and a bubbling water feature. Katakuri stops dead in his tracks when among all that beauty sits an angel.

He isn’t an angel, of course, but Katakuri knows who it is: King the Wildfire, once right hand man to Kaido and a rival to his own position among pirate crews. Katakuri has never seen him unmasked in person. After Kaido’s fall and King’s escape from the World Government, his bounty had been reissued and doubled, if only because the thought of a lunarian on the loose has been an affront to the Navy. His new bounty had been blurry, poorly angled, but obvious enough.

The picture didn’t do him justice at all. He’s stunningly handsome, the picture of masculine beauty even while he just sits there, head bent slightly as he reads from the book in his lap. He’s traded in the studded and spiked leather for jeans and breezy, cream colored shirt that’s open down nearly to his navel. It’s a perfect contrast against his dark skin, same as his white hair, which falls in a long braid over one shoulder. His wings are tucked close, black feathers glossy, nearly iridescent, though the right one is half gone.

King pauses halfway through turning the page of his book and looks up, red eyes landing directly on Katakuri, who immediately loses his nerve. Face blazing as he ducks his chin deeper into his scarf, he hurries to leave, catching up to Mihawk in only a few long strides. He can feel King’s piercing gaze on him until he’s out of his line of sight. His heart is pounding.

Mihawk doesn’t appear to have noticed anything amiss, but he does say: “I assume you recall the rules about fighting here?”

“I have no quarrel with him,” Katakuri says, a little too quickly. Mihawk has misunderstood his staring, which is a relief.

“Perona will be back later tonight. In time for dinner, at least,” Mihawk continues. “You’re welcome to join us.”

He hadn’t wanted to spend more than a day here, but he also hadn’t planned on needing to negotiate with anyone except Mihawk himself.

When he hesitates, Mihawk arches one brow, and says: “Alber will be there.”

Alber. Of course King isn’t his real name. And if that’s his given name, given so freely by Mihawk, what else can be learned about such an enigmatic figure? It’s likely the only chance he’ll ever get. He’s not even thinking about the cocoa trees anymore.

A bit belatedly, he also realizes Mihawk had not misunderstood his staring at all. He feels his face burn hot again. He should have known. Their mastery of Observation Haki might manifest differently, but they weren’t considered the best for nothing.

“If it’s no trouble,” he says, regretting it almost immediately. Agreeing to dinner is the same as eating in front of strangers, something he’s spent most of his life carefully avoiding. He’s not sure how he’ll pull it off without offending the host.

”None whatsoever,” Mihawk says. They stop at the doors. “Feel free to explore the grounds. Don’t mind the ghosts.”

Hawkeyes disappears inside before Katakuri can ask: what ghosts? Then he decides it’s probably a joke, judging by the look of this place. Given free reign, he looks back towards where the courtyard is, frozen to the spot with indecision. Eventually, he heads back towards the docks, to let the crew know they’ll be staying the night, at the very least.

He has no idea if he’ll leave with the trees by this time tomorrow, or any kind of agreement. It should be the first and only thing on his mind.

Instead, as he walks the path down to the docks, shiny cobblestone bordered by blooming rows of lavender, his thoughts circle back to a lunarian surrounded by hydrangeas.

[twopoppies]

.

[faceglitchsworld]

Ehi, don't feel bad, have a birthday hug from Seonghwa!

[sweetsuke]

narukana bffs. you agree 🫶

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Hello bonjour!

I've been thinking something recently...

As a fellow Canadian (hey!) with some, uh, less than magnifique French language skills, I was wondering how you think our dear francophone Rook Hunt would behave around someone with "cereal box French" (that is, able to understand it, but cannot speak it)?

Would he speak the same amount of the language around you? Even more French? Would he offer to teach the language?

I'm curious as to what you think! :)

Bonjour! I too only have "cereal box French" about the same literacy as a third-grader. even though I have 8 years of classes under my belt, but that's the education system for ya. And also, yes, a fellow Canadian; always a pleasant surprise! But here are my thoughts!

Some of the French is what I remember plus a bit of Word Reference, and much to the dismay of every French teacher that I ever had, Google Translate to fill in the gaps.

Rook Hunt with a Reader Who Has "Cereal Box" French

Okay, so he would notice that, unlike the others, you seemed like you were following along with what he was saying. "Tu parles français, trickster?" He would ask, resting his chin on his hand, waiting for an answer.

"Un petit peu," you answered. "Honestly though, I can only read it. Speaking it? Well, it isn't great. I call it 'cereal box' French."

He would smile, "Well, reading is a start. And, if you want trickster, I could teach you."

If You Accept His Offer

He would be an amazing teacher and would go at your preferred pace. Having difficulty with that one phrase? He's patient and will help you. "Très bien! Bien travail, trickster! For that one word, I would recommend rolling the 'r' a bit more."

He would ask you if you wanted to improve your accent while speaking it, so it isn't a "baguette accent" as some would put it.

It would start small, such as asking, "Comment ça va?" and seeing how long you would be able to keep the conversation going. He would be proud if you just gave him a, "Ça va bien" or proceeded to say a bit more.

Would pass you notes just in français. "Lisez ceci plus tard, mon chou.~" You can decide whether or not you want to bring up him calling you his cabbage.

His use of French would increase as your skill does. Even though it may be fun that you understand what he's saying, he would much rather speak with you. It would be a nice change of pace since no one that he knows, outside of his own family of course, speaks the language. No, Rollo does not count.

Learning through cooking would also occur. Since you did, after all, call it 'cereal box' French. "Passe l'oeuf s'il te plait, trickster. Merci beaucoup!~"

If You Deny His Offer

He would still speak the same amount of French, but he won't push to teach you if you didn't want to. Maybe just a tad more, but not by much.

He would probably be a tad bit disappointed, but wouldn't show it. At least you know some of what he's saying, and that in itself is enough for him.

Would surprise you with some family recipes that were left in his care by his arrière grand-mère, seeing if you can understand the words by yourself before helping out if you have any difficulties.

Overall, I see Rook as being pleasantly surprised but also happy, regardless or not if the reader takes him up on his offer to teach them. But very relaxed on the subject, not pushing them if they didn't want to learn. Taking it at your own pace with a gentle hand. Also, you two would probably watch French soap operas and films, just saying.

And I'm so sorry if you, much like I did, had to sit through French class watching Téléfrançais. Also, I do love the Québécois Rook headcanon, but I do know it's very niche.

I hope that you enjoyed the little headcanons. Rook, please hold French classes for those of us who want to learn.

[giffypudding]

Dinner in America

[softquietsteadylove]

Me again! Could I maybe request a follow up to the lawyer/Thena raising her sisters au? The first one was so good and I'd love to see what happens when Gil comes over to make the lasagna. Thank you :)

"Hey!"

Gil looked up from chopping, just barely catching two heads ducking down behind the back of the couch again to resume pretending to watch tv. He chuckled, glancing briefly to his right, "it's okay, I don't mind."

Thena shook her head though, focusing back on cutting parsley with needlessly forceful chops. "They're only lingering so they can ask you invasive questions, despite me debriefing them earlier."

It was funny that she called it 'debriefing' them. But she had warned him that she didn't have much in the way of friends, so don't be concerned by the endless questions of being her boyfriend, or at least liking her, if not being accused of having a long standing affair with her. That, he had blushed at.

He shrugged though, laughing to himself as he caught the odd eye glancing his way again. "They're kids, I don't blame them for being curious. I did kind of come over uninvited."

"Trust me, it's never gone well when I've attempted to tackle our mother's recipes before," Thena muttered, looking at the hand written notes lovingly propped open on a book stand for their reference. She looked down and pointed with the knife, "like this?"

Gil smiled; the parsley looked like it had been murdered and sawed. He nodded, "looks great. Honestly, even finer--the smaller the better when it goes in the ricotta."

Thena accepted the instruction, resuming hacking at it.

Gil winced for the poor cutting board. "May I?"

Thena just watched as he reached over gently. He moved one hand to the back of the blade and adjusted the wrist of her other, demonstrating the rocking motion of a cleaner cut. "Oh."

"It'll be easier on your hand," he suggested lightly, leaving his ears and the cutting board's longevity aside.

Thena eyed him and the mirepoix he was stirring in the pot with sizzling meat already in it. She continued his work, slower and clumsier, but following his demonstration. "Thanks--this is what I was talking about."

He shrugged, though, adding the garlic and tomato paste to the loudly sizzling pot. "Hey, you wouldn't know this stuff unless it was taught to you. I just happened to be in the kitchen with my grandma a lot as a kid."

Thena stared down at her parsley, looking more and more fine by the moment. "Mother knew I was terrible in the kitchen. Father would remind me ceaselessly that a wife who couldn't cook was like a car with no wheels."

Gil frowned, "that's a pretty messed up thing to say. And to your own daughter?"

She gave him a half a smile and a raise of her sharp eyebrow, "you can tell why Mother's keepsakes are all over the house, while I didn't even keep the car that was in Father's name."

He gave her a little laugh at her joke, no matter how dark. "I guess I don't blame you for that. Moms hold the family together most of the time anyway, right?--taste."

Thena blinked at the speed with which he transitioned from one subject back to their dinner. But she accepted the bite of carrot, blowing before popping it into her mouth. "Hm, still crunchy, but it tastes good."

"Adding the tomato paste and frying it a little first helps get that tinny, acidic taste out, and sweetens it." He reached for the wine, adding a healthy glug or two before reaching for the canned tomatoes. He nodded his head, "want a glass?"

Her eyes darted to the living room.

She was a dutiful guardian, mother or not. Gil smiled, though, nudging the bottle, "one glass won't hurt, right? We're not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and they're fine."

Thena eyed the bottle before sighing, "there are some glasses on the top shelf next to the fridge, I think."

She thought, as in she wasn't sure. But Gil wiped his hands off on the towel he had thrown over his shoulder and moved to the fridge. There were indeed wine glasses still in there, upside down and everything. He pulled two out, admiring the light feel and crystalline shine of them.

"Hey," he whispered, pouring them each a modest glass of a mere few ounces each. He clinked them lightly too, although the quality of the glass still made them ting loudly. "To the first lasagne of many, right?"

That made her smile, and his own smile brightened. Whether it was lasagne or anything else from their mother's hand written recipes, he was happy to help with it. She picked up her glass and gave him a gentle smile over the rim of it. "To the inaugural lasagne."

Her lips looked even more full against the rim of a glass, and when she pulled away he realised for the first time that she wore just a little lip colour when they were in the office.

He averted his eyes from the faint pink on the rim of her glass, looking into his own swirl of red wine. Moving back to the pot he smelled the bubbling mixture. "Usually I'd say to let it simmer for a while, but about fifteen minutes should be fine so we can get things in the oven."

Thena nodded after another sip of her own. "Is the parsley cut enough?"

It was now practically a fine paste it was so chopped. The cutting board was stained green, which of course meant a lot of its flavour was stuck in the wood grain as opposed to still in the leaves. But he grinned, "looks great."

Thena rolled her eyes.

"Hey, really," he laughed, reaching around her for the bowl of ricotta to mix the greens into. "And you said you were terrible at this."

She sighed again, letting her eyes drift back to the couch and to the tv playing some kind of reality show. "Just ask them about the first time I tried baking cookies for them. I'm forbidden from contributing to bake sales. I think they nearly called the CDC on me."

Gil laughed from his belly at that. The heads on the couch turned to watch them again but he was busy looking at Thena, who was laughing faintly at her own joke. Or maybe she was laughing because he was. Either way, she had a cute laugh. "Come on, it couldn't be that bad."

She shook her head though, "poor Sersi had to take over for me to get even one pan of edible merchandise. I had to write a note excusing my poor performance."

Gil caught two pairs of eyes fully spying on them, getting caught be damned. But he slid against the edge of the counter to lean closer. "I mean, I would think they could give you a bit of a break, all things considered."

Thena's expression turned gloomy again, staring into her wine. "I think they do. But everything they send home for them to do feels herculean after a long week, or a big case, or soccer, or-"

The oven beeped loudly at them, announcing its preheating.

Thena gave him a light smile again as she retrieved the casserole dish they had selected. "Ready?"

"I'd say so," he replied gently. He picked up a ladle, first putting in some sauce on the bottom. "This helps to steam the noodles and prevent burning on the bottom layer."

"Hm," Thena mused as she watched him layer the first set of lasagne sheets in. "I thought it was a meaningless old tradition. I never imagined there was a reason for it."

Gil looked back at the recipe, "it's one of those things that you only know if you know. I'm sure your mom never thought of adding in stuff like this."

"No, I suppose not."

He gulped, wondering if he should have brought it up at all. But Thena's smile, although wistful, wasn't really sad. He pointed, "it's your time to shine."

She laughed faintly, scooping out the mixture of ricotta and her pulverised parsley. "I'm lucky I have your expertise."

He blushed. She could have asked him for anything, after he had found out what kind of day she'd had when she texted. He would have fished the moon out of the sky if she asked.

She flicked the spoon for the last glob before he layered on more sauce. "I may have to call on you again the next time we open the book."

He grinned down at the noodles as he laid them. Thena's hands were long but slim, her fingers so delicate and pretty. His sleeves were rolled up for cooking, as were hers. She looked half his size, standing next to him. "Any time, you name it."

"Careful Gil," she murmured, and it almost sounded like she was teasing him playfully. "If this turns out well, they'll be demanding you cook for them all the time."

He was pretty sure he would agree to that, whether by the girls' demand or their sister's. "The defense rests, your honour."

Thena rolled her eyes again at his corny lawyer joke, but she was still smiling at least.

"Okay," he breathed as he ladled on the last layer of sauce. "Get some cheese on this and I believe we'll have a beautiful lasagne in about an hour."

"About an hour?" she asked firmly as she sprinkled on the cheese mixture from the bag. "Don't underestimate my ability to ruin an hour's worth of hard work in the last ten minutes."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. Thena was adamant in everything she did, from her casework in court, to her determination that she was a blackhole of culinary ability. "Set a timer for 40 minutes, then we'll check it, and I like to broil it for the last five or so, just to get that leopard spotting on the cheese."

"Yes, Chef," she purred (definitely teasing him).

He buried his nose in his wine glass again. He was just about empty, but Thena definitely didn't drink regularly with two teenagers at home, and he didn't come over to get buzzed anyway.

"Here," she said gently, reaching for the glass with the bottle already in hand. He had a polite decline on his tongue when she pulled his hand with hers, topping him up. "I owe you far more than dinner and some wine, but I guess it's a start."

"You don't owe me anything Thena," he frowned even as she poured herself a little more too. He leaned forward again, "really."

She just looked at him, and she was back to being completely unreadable. He dreaded to think what it was like to go up against her in court; not only was her beauty intimidating, but that stare was cold enough to chill his wine to the touch.

"Are you done flirting?!"

Gil tugged at his shirt collar, only to remember that he had already taken off his tie and undone the first two buttons so he wouldn't sweat in the food.

Thena glared at her sister, "I beg your pardon?"

The head of auburn hair ducked down like a startled dog, but didn't retreat entirely. "When's dinner gonna be ready?"

"In an hour," Thena snapped again, but it wasn't her sharp tone that had the girl trembling. If anything, her sharpness seemed familiar and comforting to her sisters.

"Can I have a diet coke?"

"No."

"Come on!" Sprite whined at her, "you're having a fun drink!"

Gil slid his eyes over to his colleague. The evidence was right there, even if he was the one at fault for it.

Thena let out a loud sigh, matching the dramatic energy of her sister(s). "Fine, you can each have one. But if it's gone before dinner, that's it, it's water for the rest of the night."

"Fine," Sprite moaned as she slid off the couch to retrieve them.

Thena glared at her.

"She means thank you," Sersi offered much more sweetly and docilely, even if it was just to appease their sister's glaring. She crept behind her younger sister, holding onto her shoulders the whole way to the fridge. Her eyes darted between them, "it, um, smells nice."

Gil smiled; they were nice kids. Thena had done a great job with them, clearly. "Thanks, I hope I got everything right."

"You can't do worse than her, dude, trust me," Sprite pointed blatantly at their guardian. "She's, like, find a bone in your cereal--bad."

"It was one time."

It wasn't a joke? Where did the bone come from?

"If dinner isn't for an hour," Sersi swayed on the spot, like a child shyly twirling her dress (although she was actually in yoga pants with a green flannel tied around her waist). "Would you like to watch an episode of Ghost Files?"

"Ghost show, huh?" Gil grinned, putting his hand on his hips. He looked over at Thena, who looked maybe even a little sheepish.

"It's our fav," Sprite added, excited at the prospect of sharing their favourite program. "They find evidence, and then Thee tells us if it would be accepted in court."

"None of it would be," she stated outright, "but they still ask me every episode."

She made it sound tedious, but she was smiling just like the other two as they started to move back to the living room. Gil followed, "sounds like a fun family thing."

"If you two sit up properly, there'll be room for Gil to sit," Thena suggested not-so-subtly.

But Sersi and Sprite threw themselves back onto the couch. One side was clearly claimed by each, Sersi's with a fluffy blanket for her legs and Sprite's with a crumpled up throw pillow and snacks on her respective end table.

They pointed. "Or you can sit on the loveseat."

"Yeah, why else have two couches?" Sprite snickered with a mouthful of roasted peanuts.

"Animals," Thena admonished her sisters, and yet took a graceful seat on the smaller sofa adjacent to the tv. She had sat closer, giving Gil the better seat for viewing. She pulled one of her legs up, leaving the other down and her pencil skirt stretching to accommodate her.

He sat down on the other cushion, clutching his wine glass and trying to focus on the show, rather than how he could now smell that Thena also wore a little perfume when she was in the office too.

[greyias]

wompwomp

No stream again tonight, because less than 24 hours after I got my internet restored and fixed, a hurricane decided to blow through and mess everything up again.

Maybe next week... if I can get my ISP to fix things... again again

[palilious]

went ahead and designed my listeners for the MOTH series on GBA Gienne the Necromancer's partner and Raze the Demigod/Star Captain

[boxwinebaddie]

i'm halfway through this ask meme abt ravenstan staying at the broflovski house for the great hate south park embark and i cannot tell you how much it thrills me that rm!sheila went from hating ravenstan's guts and being like "you are the reason my family is in ruin; you destroyed our lives" to being like *pinches stan's cheek preciously* “this is orev :) and he's my lil matok sheli superstar <3" ft. stan beaming and her constantly mom-whacking jerseykyle with the kochlefl and reprimanding him for 'letting her son in law get away' like not even Raven Of Crimson Dawn but her Literal SON IN LAW.

anyways...branch in my EYE.