#the worst bell pepper

[meowyoi]

so far my mom's aunt has made us 3 meals and all three contained mostly potatoes. where does she keep getting so many potatoes. does she keep 5 in her pockets at all times

[aromanticbastards]

13.) first thing you’re doing in the purge?

19.) the veggie you dislike the most?

13: idk to be honest, that concept is pretty uninteresting to me for thought experiments. probably make sure my friends are okay

19: BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER BELL PEPPER

[piduai]

Top 10 veggies?

tomato and cucumber are beautiful sisters who sustain life, pairing them was one of the ten commandments. though tomatoes are acidic af thus too much of that hurts my tongue, while cucumbers i just eat like bananas. garlic is a given and so is onion but i don't like it raw. cauliflower is best girl, and her beautiful sister is broccoli. patata is an empress like civilizations were built on her. who could boast of the same versatility? sad that you can't eat her raw though. i love the cronch of the lotus root. been getting really into pumpkin in the last few years, it's so good steamed and grilled. and for the last it's a tie between avocado and eggplant

[area51-escapee]

Bell peppers my BELOATHED, my BEHATED, my BEENEMIED

[normalbrothers]

this restaurant whose pasta dish i enjoy and tend to order changed the recipe of said dish and now there are bell peppers in it 🫥🫥🫥

[yandere-wishes]

What would Capitano do if reader gets a very bad cold after they try to escape him?

⋆⁺₊❅. This reminds me of the scene where Belle tries to escape from the Beast in the snowstorm.

⋆꙳•❅• •❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅• •❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅• •❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅• •❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅• •❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅•

✧ He drags you back indignantly, armor-clad fingers digging fervently into your forearm. He longs to sink his metal hands into your silky hair, to weave and pull and make you feel a fraction of his pain.

✧ He's slow to notice your sniffling and paling face. Too busy swallowing down his rage, snuffing out fires in favor of earning your love once more. It's only when you faint, falling tenderly into his arms like the first snowflake of winter. That he notices your condition. The deadly shade of rose blushing your swollen cheeks, the sheen of sweat glistening along your sweet face. He pulls you to his chest cradling your body all so gently fearing the worst. Pricking his tongue with patronymic orison to the Tsaritsa.

✧ He's quick to rush you to his chambers, laying you tentatively upon his velvety bed and tracing his icy gauntlet upon your temples in hopes of decelerating the pyrexia. The syllables of each word cut his throat as he barks out orders to the maids. Call upon Dottore, call upon aide...

✧ He blames himself, letting the guilt gnaw at his heart as he stares outside at the blizzard. He should have been more careful, should have kept you closer. His mission had ended early and upon his return he'd found you running through the snow. His castle a distant silhouette upon the dark horizon. He'd been so angry in the moment. So heartbroken that you would do such a treacherous thing in his absence that he'd pointed his sword at your neck and forced you to mount onto his horse. Looking back he should have noticed the dazed look in your eyes, noticed the way your body slumped against his during the ride home.

✧ Capitano loves you, utterly, wholly. But his heart shatters every time you do not reincorporate his desperate feelings.

✧ Why must love sting, greater than any cut from any weapon?

✧ When Dottore arrives and tends to you. Capitano stands in the background like a shroud. Eyes never once leave your fragile frame. He longs to reach out and touch you. To lay beside you and have you rest your weary head upon his chest. He wants you to hear his heartbeat, have it haunt your dreams in hopes you'll follow the rhyme back to him.

✧ Dottore instructs Capitano to feed you plenty of liquids and soups upon your awakening. You keep ice clothes at hand and make sure you don't strain yourself. Once the doctor leaves Capitano removes his helmet, slowly crawling next to you. Peppering your face with tender kisses.

✧ "Forgive me, my love"

✧ You revive during the ungodly hours, eyes parting to see the moon rays adorning your capturer's scared face. Perhaps it's the delirium. But you have to admit that he looks so gorgeous with this particular shade of desperation painted across his face. Your lips gently brush his lips as you cuddle closer to the man who stole your life away.

[n0tamused]

Hello! If requests are open, I would love yo request something

Would you be willing to write about Ratio comforting his s/o who's mental health is not the greatest (by which I mean awful)

Head canons, a little drabble, whatever you're most comfortable with

- 🦐

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN reader, angst, turns to fluff, overworked and stressed reader, depression. Hope you enjoy this shrimp anon!<3

Words: 2275

Rises of the moon

‘I will not come in today, I’m sorry. I am still not well enough for work, but hopefully tomorrow I will be.’ 

You stared at the message yet to be sent, the phone feeling like a brick instead with the weight of it pulling you down into the ground and into the abyss. Talking was exhausting, yet sending the message seemed like an even more arduous task to complete. Your reputation waited, and you’d throw it away simply because you couldn’t type out a sentence good enough to send, a sentence that could save you some questioning and some dignity? 

Like a trap door your mind opened beneath you, your worst critic and the source of the distress. You felt like you were falling endlessly and hitting rock bottom all at once, making days and hours converge together until nothing but dust blinded you alongside your tears. 

‘I will not come in today. I am still not well enough for work, hopefully tomorrow I will be.’

The letters stared back at you.

‘Good morning, I will not be coming in this morning either, my health is not yet improved for the work environment. With kind regards- (Y/n)(L/n)’

Send, just send it, send. 

Before you can look at the message once more your hand grips the phone hard enough to press into the button at the side, making the screen go dark and after that you don't try to turn it on. Instead, you curled up on your side, your bed feeling like spare traces of comfort you could still grasp on with your phone getting lost amidst the blankets and pillows you hoarded up around you. Sleep had evaded you this night as well, overtaken by more important tasks of weeping over imperfect papers and reports. It’s been three days, today is the fourth. How much longer will they take that sorry excuse before they bring your integrity into question? You didn’t want to know.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow will be better (I’ll pretend).

After what felt like hours of laying in your bed, hoping to outlive the rumbling of your stomach, you finally dragged yourself out and roamed your home for some more, glancing at the trash can full of crumpled papers and the broken glass cup you accidentally pushed off the table the night before. Opening your fridge you could only relish in the cold breeze that licked up your neck and face, but the food held within looked no more appetizing than the night before. You stood there for a while longer, waiting if suddenly, by some chance, you may get a craving for a slice of cheese or perhaps a pepper instead.

Around half an hour later your ears were grated by the sudden ring of the bell, which snapped you out of whatever damp thought you had at the time. You weren’t expecting anyone - matter of fact, you told your close ones you needed space and time to heal from the ‘fever’ you told them about. 

Yet when your heavy feet delivered you to the door, you couldn’t say you were surprised by who was behind them. Greeted by the sight of damp purple hair and coral eyes, heavy with intent to get dry, you could only clear your throat before Veritas spoke up for you.

“I got your messages this morning. Quite late to send such notices for work, wouldn’t you say?”

“..What?” you blinked owlishly at him, completely lost for words. 

“Hm, what? You sent me messages you were feeling unwell, multiple of the same as well.. I thought it would do us both well to check in on you” Veritas stood looking down at you, letting all the cool air in as you remained glued to the door like a statue, heavy lidded eyes and ears struggling to process what he had said. You were sending the messages to your boss - but in your anguished stupor you have sent them all to him instead. The malicious feeling came back underneath your ribs and stabbed right up, and you could see Veritas’ eyes widen upon seeing your face morph into a frown-pout. 

“Here, let me in, will you? You don’t want to get even more sick, or get me sick as well?” he tried to urge as gently as he could, walking in when you stepped aside and putting down a grocery bag for just enough that it took him to take off his shoes. His umbrella was put in the corner, sopping wet and letting you know it was still raining. You stood stiff in the hall, shoulders wanting to push up to your cheeks while your hands crossed at the wrists down in front of you. You sighed quietly, watching him as he straightened up, looking over at you.

With a step he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up already as he said “Come here..” and his palm pushed gently against your forehead. His touch was warm, and from how close he stood you could smell the damp smell of rain and autumn leaves. It was refreshing.

It was a quiet moment as he assessed you in the entry hallway. “Doesn’t appear you have a heightened temperature at all, but we’ll confirm that in a bit with a thermometer, just to be sure. Hmm.. you do look pale though. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Not yet, I was just about to make something” You smoothly lied, not wishing to bring more shame by allowing him to look sad or worried or angry at you if you told the truth.

“Good. I’ll make you something. Now, don’t just stand in the hallway, come inside. You act more of a guest in your home than I do..” he motioned with his hand while taking a step to the side to let you through, urging you to come by, and when you did his hand found its spot at your lower back as if to guide you in. He hummed something softly in his throat, no certain melody but it was a small sign of his focus, and perhaps the liberty he found in your home. “Would you like to sit down here, or be with me in the kitchen?” he asked and you can’t help but gawk a little with the way he addressed you so gently, warmly, all while you felt slimy and ready to crawl out of your skin.

“With you, I’d like to be with you in the kitchen”

He nodded, his eyes mellowing further as he motioned for you to come with him, his grocery bag rustling as he lifted it up to set it on the counter. You slipped into a high chair at the kitchen island, watching as he pulled out a whole chicken, celery, onions and carrots. In his orderly fashion he sorted them out in a line before him, and by now he was quite familiar with the placements of things within your home and had no trouble finding the plates, the cutting boards and the rest of the ingredients. He washed his hands before handling the ingredients directly. 

“Can I do something to help?” you muttered after the lump in your throat felt so huge, nearly about to pop out of your mouth. Sitting idle did more harm than good, it showed in your shoulders and eyes. Veritas looked your way and shook his head, coming a bit closer until he could lean down and plant his lips to your forehead warmly, letting his lips linger a moment longer. 

“You can sit there and relax, I got this” he told you in a softened tone, going back to his cutting board. 

Veritas was no fool, he never  was, and especially not with you. He knew this was no fever, even if he did end up making you stay still as he handed you the thermometer to check again after he let the chicken cook in a pot along with the vegetables and herbs, standing next to you until that fateful beep sounded over the simmering and bubbling water.  No fever.

While the chicken was cooking, making the smell waft in the air in delicious waves, Veritas opened you up to conservation, small talk mostly until you relaxed further, distracted by the endless flow of words. He told you about what happened in the time of your absence, and what he has been up to with the Guild and what shenanigans his student did too. The last topic got a giggle out of you, and Veritas seemed to glow at the sound. He smiled too, along with you.

Hunger seemed more natural and welcome now as a bit more life returned to your joints and you rose from your seat to pace around the kitchen, still tired but more.. alive, just that - alive. Alive and comfortable. You would occasionally glance into the pot, narrowly missing the gust of steam that jumped up from the pot. 

“Should be done about now.. let me see... hmm” Veritas nudged against you over the stove, wearing kitchen mittens and removing the pot off the heat, and you promptly turned it off  and watched what he did. 

Veritas had made this recipe once before, when you really did have a fever. ‘Healing chicken vegetable soup’ - he said it was called, a recipe he seemed to recall from younger years of his childhood. You wanted to learn to make it and try to make it, but it would seem he never got sick or that he let you do it. This dish was his in truth. 

What came of his meticulous work was a delicious plate of soup with cut chicken meat, not a bone in sight. It was soft on the throat, although you ended up adding a bit more seasoning for your own tongue while Veritas dined on the soup as it was. He was slow with it, bent on observing you eat. 

“I assume that it is to your liking?”

You nodded, mouth full to respond. 

“Good. I am glad of it. Sometimes you have to take the back seat to get the joy of life, no matter how long you remain in that station it will be well worth it once you get back into the driver’s seat” He told you, hoping to get to you without addressing the matter directly, knowing it may result in more harm than good and your mood was just beginning to look up.

“Yeah… I know, Veritas. Yet having spent so much time at the head of it all, taking the back seat feels like a punishment” you managed to say after nearly scalding your throat with how eagerly you swallowed your bite, wanting to converse with him.  

“It is not a punishment, especially not when you know you need such a change in perspective. You’re doing yourself a misdeed by rooting yourself to the place that drained you in the first place” 

“Speaking from experience?”

“Pft- now, don’t be so brazen with me after letting me see you so wilted” he bit back quickly, but he held no actual malice, only wasn’t prepared for your rebuttal. He cleared his throat and took a sip of the tea he prepared for you both. Veritas was human too, and you knew of his own trials and errors more than anyone else - of course he felt the same, but you didn’t need to force him to admit it.

You smiled at his jab, scooping up more soup. 

“Wilted? I have to thank you for the nourishment then, I am already feeling more.. revitalized” you told him and your look softened his own when you looked up at him. Color seeps back into your cheeks, and you don't wobble in your step or stumble. Your bones felt like bones again, not air. 

“I will take your thanks properly once you really feel better.. until then, I’d prefer if you ate well and actually took some of the advice I gave you.. I may have not said it but your message did worry me greatly..”

The words made you slow down in your motions and you looked at him in silent apology now, but he once again beat you to speaking. “Imagine - I had to cancel my classes. What will my students think now?”

“They must be thinking it’s the end of the world”

“Hah” His pearly whites show as he grins at your words and you nearly imitate him, but you smile regardless with what energy you got back. He is leaning back in his seat, arms crossed in an almost boyishly fashion, relaxed. “Perhaps, but I can easily make up for a missed class. Let them think what they will.. May this even get their mind spinning a little bit more if my absence is so heatedly understood”. 

By the time you were done sharing jabs and words, you had eaten more than you expected. The warmth of the tea and soup brings sleep to pull at your eyelids, beckoning you to close them. Veritas noticed you nearly nodding off at the table and was quick enough to come up to your side, hand on the opposite shoulder from where he stood. 

“It is time you go get to bed”

Had you had any more strength, you would have said you needed to get to working on those papers, but the memory of the same was lost in the night before, and all you could think of how comfortable the pillow will be when your heads falls onto it, and how warm Veritas’ arms will be when he lays down next to you.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

A/n: the recipe is actually a greek recipe ehehhehee, I wanted a little easter egg

[ericshoney]

Learning to cook ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You return home to Boston for summer break from college and teach your younger brothers how to cook.

Warnings: swearing, nicknames, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One thing you loved to do, was cook. Whether it was for your family, friends or a nice little meal for yourself, you always put all your effort into it, knowing it was worth it in the end.

Nick, Matt and Chris, your three younger brothers, weren't the worst cooks in the world. They could survive. But they still had plenty of room to improve.

So as Summer was here and you were able to go home from college, you wanted to spend it with all your family and some time teaching your brothers to cook.

When you first told the triplets you were going to show them some simple recipes, they agreed. They thought it was going to be easy. Which made you laugh as you stood in front of the trio in your childhood home.

"Guys, not to be mean or anything, your not the best cooks. Chris can just about cook a burger and Matt, bud, don't take this the wrong way but....salmon." You said.

"I didn't know it was cooked already!" He shouted in defence.

"I know bud. Nick, what about your cooking skills?" You asked.

"Door dash is much easier." The eldest triplet answered.

You sighed as the identical three sat in front of you smiling. You shook your head and placed some chicken breasts and peppers in front of them.

"Wait we cooked chicken with Larray!" Chris exclaimed.

"Yeah I watched the video. Funny but you basically said it was shit." You responded.

"I mean....It wasn't the best." Matt agreed.

"You guys don't need to be a five star chef, but you need to know how to cook a simple meal. Maybe one day you could surprise your future partner with a meal instead of Taco Bell." You suggested.

The three laughed as you started to prepare the food. You gave each of them simple instructions.

"Alright, Nick can handle the chicken. Cut it into small pieces. Matt can work on the peppers, slicing it up." You began.

"What about me, sis?" Chris asked.

"You can get the dish out the cupboard." You answered.

Chris nodded and looked in the bigger cupboard getting a large tray out. You smiled watching them now work together with a bit of teasing.

"Nice job." You praised once they were done.

They laughed and put everything together, placing it in the oven which Chris preheated and Nick changed so it wouldn't burn food.

"That was easy!" Chris shouted.

"Because you didn't do fucking anything." Matt responded.

"I got the right dish out and preheated the oven!" He replied.

"Guys, don't fight. Not everything you cook has to be hard. I mean brownies aren't that hard." You said, earning a glare from Nick.

"When your blindfolded, someone is mute and the other is deaf, it's really hard." He replied.

You laughed and smiled. Suddenly all three of your brothers hugged you tightly.

"This is cute and all, but why?" You asked.

"We know what your doing, sis." Matt said.

"Teaching you how to cook." You said.

"You just wanted to spend time with us, which is okay!" Nick exclaimed.

"That was a goal yeah, but really you guys need to learn to cook." You responded.

"Give in sis, we know your plan!" Chris shouted.

You smiled at the three, who smiled back. Maybe this was just a plan for all of you to have time together. Your all getting older, even if they are your younger brothers, they are adults too now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @sturniolo-fann @riowritesitall

[genericpuff]

saw this pop up on /r/UnpopularLoreOlympus and I-

Full analysis post that inspired this post can be read here, it's a good read, go check it out!

Now my natural reaction to not assume the worst (shocking, I know) is that what Rachel's actual intention behind making Leto a sun god was due to her being Apollo's mother and her clearly having a stronger relationship with him rather than Artemis. I'm abiding by Occam's Razor here, it's the simplest answer and it keeps my brain from getting too riled up right off the bat LMAO

There's a lot of emphasis put on Apollo being the god of the sun in LO, despite the fact that Apollo is one of the MOST prolific gods in the Greek pantheon, Rachel only ever really focuses on him being god of the sun with some loose references to him also being the god of music (as we see with him playing his lyre). There's really no real referencing to him being the god of medicine though (aside from that scene of him condom-bandaging Persephone's hand in Episode 22 ?? which is silly now in hindsight because she's a fertility goddess who can heal herself but ok lmao and the fact that Rachel established him as a LITERAL DAD with his doctor son Asclepius which ... just feels weird to have in LO tbh) and there's absolutely no referencing (from what I can find or recall) of him being a protector of the young, god of prophecy (for some reason he just magically gives Kassandra the ability to read prophecies... just so she can read his prophecy ??) or archery. Like, he's shown doing a lot of these things but they come across more as just side hobbies or extensions of him being Artemis' brother (like his archery) rather than aspects of his godliness or domains that he presides over. It's just like yeah, Apollo can shoot arrows and bandage people's hands I guess LMAO

All that said, I can see Rachel deciding to make him primarily the god of the sun and then going "oh! let's make his mom a sun god! then she could be a common enemy for both Persephone and Hades!" because Hades doesn't like sun gods yadda yadda.

But... we know Rachel has used front page Google sourcing in her comic before.

(literally the 'source' was copy pasted from a 2004 study guide for Princeton.edu. And we KNOW this was taken right from the first result because it just says 'www.princeton.edu' with no slug attached, which is what showed up back when we first looked into this, the princeton version was deadass the first result with this definition word for word. She didn't even remove the typo where there's no space between Xenios:"Zeus !!!).

And while a bit more into sus territory rather than outright confirmed like the xenia thing above, there's the whole Metis / Métis theory, that has us wondering if Rachel seriously googled "Metis" on its own and accidentally used Indigenous Métis cultural depictions in her version of Metis, the Greek God.

The fringe in her outfit, finger wings, and dark orange/red color really got my attention the first time I saw her design years ago, because she set off so many, "Wait a minute, is that an Indigenous woman???" bells in my Mi'kmaq/Cree brain LMAO And not even in a bad way, but now it feels a little :/ because of how much her character has been assassinated and how clearly accidental it was for her to look like that.

Of course, there's still a more likely explanation that her design was based on this vase:

But IDK y'all. That vase is very distinctly orange while the character itself is depicted in dark garbs and with light skin, so Metis being distinctly red-toned with finger wings and fringe?

While the Xenia thing is definitively copy pasted from the first search result on Google (literally there's no denying that at this point, Rachel's REALLY bad at doing research and then pretending like she was being smart by sourcing it from a university website... completely ignoring the fact that that website literally hasn't been updated since Rachel was working on The Doctor Pepper Show) the Metis and Leto depictions are definitely a lot more up for debate as to what 'research' Rachel did and whether or not they got confused with something else during her searching.

And really, the whole thing with Leto being a "sun god" doesn't make sense really when you think about it. Why is Leto a sun god? It's not even like you could argue there are "some versions" of the myths where she's a god of the sun, or other translations out there, or whatever vague source that could be used like what has been used for other gods like Hades and Persephone. Leto is not affiliated with the sun in any shape or form. Remove Apollo, her eventual son, who didn't exist when she was born and given the title of 'sun god', and it quickly falls apart as to why she would be a sun god in the first place.

She is a goddess of motherhood though, and that's NEVER mentioned in LO. If anything, Rachel makes her a terrible mom on purpose. Because god knows we can't have anyone in this comic be a good mom except for Persephone and Rhea (who are literally just carbon copies of one another). Basically the only thing Rachel gets right with Leto is the fact that she's a Titan and that she had Apollo and Artemis after sleeping with Zeus. That's it.

Unfortunately, unlike the xenia thing, there's no outright proof of what Rachel's reasoning was behind these designs or sources. So I'm not gonna accuse or outright state it as fact that Rachel confused Metis for Métis or ripped the idea for Leto being a sun god from an anime, because the odds of that being true in any way are fairly low.

But they're never zero.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

this poll is SPECIFICALLY for fans of darth maul. we're testing something. if you don't know who maul is, or, do not like/vibe/jive/relate with him then GO AWAY <3

[crow-stars]

❝TAKE A BITE, DON'T BE SHY!❞

❦summary; trying new things is always encouraged, especially by lilia, though that doesn't extend to that fae's cooking... ♪the characters in this story; gn!reader, lilia vanrouge ✎word count; 992 ❀what do the ghosts say?; ambiguous, lilia cooks, lilia discovers spicy foods, reader is lilia's victim taste tester, saved by the bell (literally) ☛the author's notes; sebek likers are gonna like tomorrow i think ☪look at the catalogue?

Lilia liked to cook, nobody could deny that. And, of course, everyone but Lilia knew not to let him within several feet within a stove. They can’t manage to stop him all the time and Lilia is always coming across new recipes and always wanting to put a spin on it. 

Today was one of those fateful days, where Lilia has decided to take up the apron and try a new recipe. 

And you were, unfortunately, chosen as Lilia’s taste tester. Well, you were more so the chosen sacrifice by the other dormmates, who all conveniently left the dorm around the time Lilia had planned to begin cooking. And so, here you were, sitting in the Diasomnia kitchen, a strained smile on your face as Lilia hums, walking around the kitchen and putting things together. 

The recipe that Lilia wanted to make was spicy cookies and, just from what you were seeing, it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight. You watched in horror at the amount of peppers and pepper flakes Lilia put into the bowl. It almost made your tongue burn seeing just the amount. Not to mention that your eyes were beginning to tear up as well even when you were as far as you could possibly be from the bowl Lilia was using. 

 The worst part of it all was that Lilia seemed unaffected, carrying on as normal. One would expect, with the amount of peppers and pepper flakes in the bowl, you would be feeling the effects of the capsaicin, but not Lilia. Oh no, he was practically putting his face into the bowl, glaring at the amount before apparently deciding that the monstrous amount of powder in the bowl wasn’t enough for the batch Lilia wanted to make. And he said he wanted to make enough for the whole dorm.

Eventually, thankfully, Lilia decided that enough was enough and began the process of mixing. That was... it was certainly an experience that one wouldn’t want to see again. There was no grace, no rhythm, no process to how Lilia mixed the dough, if you could call it that. It looked more akin to a sludge, yet also a slime, but also looking like it was more powder than anything else. You don’t even think he put any sugar in it, even though they were supposed to be cookies. Or anything besides that tear inducing concoction of mixed spices. It definitely wasn’t something you’d want to even think of consuming and it most definitely wasn’t supposed to be that color. You couldn’t even find the proper words to describe the hellish color of it, no mortal words could dare to describe.

“Um... Lilia, aren’t you going to add sugar or something..?”

Lilia looked up from where he was stirring, a wide grin on his lips. He had some flour covering his cheeks, that sparkle in his eyes that he got when excited. It would have been a memorable sight if not for the fact he was mixing your demise.

“Hm? Oh, no, no! They’re supposed to be spicy cookies! So that means that if I add the sugar, it might not be as spicy.” 

That did not settle well for you and Lilia resumed his stirring. 

Then, he began making balls out of the dough, varying in sizes and put them on the parchment paper. They weren’t keeping the shape intended, the ratio of dry ingredients to wet ingredients unbalanced and making the dough fall apart into a clumpy mess. Lilia at the very least tried to get them to stay together before he gave up and left them as is. 

The worst part of it all was watching Lilia put it in the oven. He put the oven at 500 degrees, set to bake for 10 minutes. You half expected Diasomnia to burn down, but surprisingly, and thankfully, it didn’t. Of course, that seemed like the only good outcome to this whole debacle, as Lilia was taking his man-made horror out of the oven and putting it onto the counter to cool off. 

It looked disgusting, to say the least. It wasn’t even in the shape of cookies, but lumps of charcoal, small specks of red peeking out, but otherwise looked as hard as a rock. 

“Alright, it’s ready for eating!” 

Oh, right. You were supposed to be the taste tester. Oh no.

This was when you sat up in attention, eyes wide and a shot of panic ran through your body. Lilia was already approaching you with one of his cookies in hand. You began to panic, he was already holding it out to you, an expectant smile on his face as he awaits for you to take it. 

“Aha... um...” 

“What, are you shy? Would you like me to feed it to you instead?” Lilia chuckles in almost amusement as he decides for you and begins to come closer to you. He has one hand holding the monstrosity and the other under it so no crumbs will fall onto the floor. And the smell is vile up close, a horrible mix of a burnt smell mixed with the smell of peppers tenfold and somehow a sweet undertone. It makes you almost gag, stomach churning as the smell invades your senses. 

But then, like a savior, your phone manages to ring, your reminder that class was going to start soon. You shoot up from your seat and plaster an apologetic smile on your lips. 

“It’s almost time for me to go to class! I should get going! Like— Right now!” You gather your things quickly enough before Lilia has enough time to answer. “Sorry I couldn’t try your cookies, bye!” 

You’re quick to make your escape, leaving the Diasomnia dorm without another word. It leaves Lilia sitting with the ‘cookie’ in his hands. He stares at it for a second before taking a bite out of it and humming in thought.

“Hmm... more peppers perhaps?”

[lemony-snickers]

@kingkonoha - ficti-gram for you!

to: @kingkonoha from: @akamikazae message: She was amongst one of my first moots- her blog is such a warm and welcoming space--she is a so kind, supportive and a wonderful writer. So happy lemony ficti-gram <33 characters: neji hyuga/fem!reader prompt: sweet & sour / homemade

Neji stares, quite obviously unsure what to make of the scene. His eyes slide away from yours, tracking a glob of something slimy-looking and orange as it drips sluggishly from the edge of the counter.

"Welcome... home?" You shouldn't be asking a question, but somehow you are.

There was a time when the embarrassment you feel burning its way through your body would have been the worst feeling you could imagine.

But you are not a child anymore. You have seen war and death. Have watched tragedy unfurl in your hands like the petals of a spring blossom.

So, you think, this should be nothing. An inconsequential blip across the map of your existence. Because all that you have survived was so much worse. You are stronger for it, you tell yourself

And yet, now, you wonder if perhaps this blip will be your undoing.

"I can explain," you say. But you can't. Who could?

It looks as if a sticky orange monster has exploded in your kitchen, its insides globbed onto every surface, every part of you. You wonder how you will ever get the stuff out of your hair without shearing it down to your scalp.

The thought makes you wince.

"What happened?" Neji's voice is smooth and calm, a still pond to all your frazzled, manic whitewater.

"I was baking," you say, wincing again when you add, "but I guess I did something wrong."

Neji hums in agreement, pale eyes scanning the scene, scutinizing each detail. You bite your lip, feel the prickle of tears behind your eyes.

You know you will never be the sort of wife the Hyuga clan accepts, even for a member of the branch family (though they claim all that heirarchical garbage has long since been put to rest, you see the way the elders still look down at your husband and you internally curse them for it).

You don't come from a prominent clan, you had no dowry to offer when the two of you wed. All outdated ideals and customs, you know that, but it still stings a little when members of the clan make cutting remarks under their breath or disguise their distaste with half-compliments.

So you know you will never be an ideal Hyuga bride.

But you had thought you could do this, at least. Thought you could manage to make Neji a proper meal. A hearty curry. Sweet rice cakes for dessert.

But somewhere along the way, something went utterly, totally, horrifically awry.

Neji takes a careful step into the kitchen, avoiding a patch of rice flour on the floor, and peers into the pan before you. He sniffs and you notice the way his mouth turns down minutely at the corners, his distaste evident even as he tries to hide it.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and you hate that the sound is so small, so obviously teetering on the edge of a sob.

Neji looks at you evenly, but you dart your eyes to the side, avoiding his intense gaze. You love his eyes--love everything about him--but you can't look at him now, the shame of your failure too fresh.

Your husband inhales slowly through his nose and back out again, and you wait for him to scold you gently, as he has before when you push yourself too hard in your training or take to heart some snide remark from one of his clanspeople.

You are staring at the wall when you hear him move, cataloguing the exact pattern of the culinary travesty staining the carefully chosen wallpaper when you recognize the clink of a bowl, the scrape of chopsticks pulled from a drawner.

You whip around to find Neji gripping a piece of something vaguely bell pepper-shaped--though not, you grimace, bell pepper-colored--between his chopsticks.

"Neji, you don't have--"

He pops the object in his mouth and chews, slowly. Thoughtfully. You watch as a small muscle in his temple twitches, as if the Byakugan is about to activate.

"Mmm," he hums, the sound strained slightly.

You all but melt, the vision of your husband eating your terrible cooking just to make you feel better almost too much to handle.

"It's... sweet?" he says, another errant question that should be a statement. "And... sour, too, a little."

You bite back a laugh as Neji takes a second bite, disguising an obvious gagging sound with another exaggerated, "Mmm."

You feel the tears threaten again, but this time it isn't because of shame or embarrsment, it's from love. From knowing that even if you will never be a perfect wife, Neji is a perfect husband.

You walk across the room to place a kiss against his twitching temple, giggling a little, "Come on," you say, "let's go out for dinner tonight."

Neji sighs, visibly relieved, "Are you sure?"

You nod enthusiastically, tugging him toward the door. He hesitates, though, brow furrowing. "Perhaps," he says carefully, "you should shower first?"

Not really a question, either, because there's no doubt you shouldn't be in public covered in whatever sticky sweet rice curry monstrosity still clings to you. You smile, nodding, and head toward the bathroom, dragging a blushing Neji along behind you.

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Yesss please sam drake food/eating hcs?? Fave meals, hated meals, etc

It is with great joy and great belatedness that I post my first Uncharted piece in ages. Thank you for the lovely ask, anon. :)

⋆ Sam Drake - Eating Headcanons ⋆

Two words: scarcity mindset.

After running away from Saint Frances’s, to claim money was tight is to be telling some humorous bit, Money was borderline non-existent. And as such, came what the Drake boys do best: theft. 

Liquor stores were their easiest, and most consistent source. Sam still takes great pride in telling his many stories revolving around ‘cashier meet-cutes’ disguising their proudest heist to date: a 12-year-old Nathan smuggling canned goods under a moth-holed hoodie. 

Because of this, gas station snacks: twinkies, Lays chips, slurpees, etc. all tend to give him this simultaneous sense of nostalgia and nausea. Like when you’re eating eggs and all of a sudden, your body gags on the next bite.

But on an especially shitty day, expect him to be gobbling a Big Gulp and a half-frozen hot dog on the nearest street corner, with a half-smoked cigarette still sunken between his lips. It’s the way he wallows. 

Secretly wants you to tell him how bad that shit is for him so he has an excuse to snottily spat back “who the ‘ell cares?”. He finds pride in not caring about anything. (He cares about everything.)

Getting fast food at the drive-thru? Man waves you off a total of three times claiming he doesn’t want nothing before proceeding to eat half of your McNuggets without asking. He loves BBQ sauce and needs Tabasco on everything like it’s his will to live.

Big fan of spicy, sour, and tart, anything that makes your mouth pucker. Pretzels, salt and vinegar chips, cottage cheese, pickles, pineapple (😉). “What can I say? I admire a fruit that fights back!” — he snorts before taking a raw bite of a lemon, just to squirm you out.

Maybe a bit of the masochist in him. 

When he and Nate were able to get proper gigs (12-year-old Nathan: illegally, of course), they were able to progress to the simplest of grocery outlet options. Eggs, instant ramen packets, canned vegetables that were 9 out of 10 times eaten raw out of the can with a fork, and more nothing-but-toast-for-dinner than they’d want to admit).

Sam and Nate spent most of their childhood eating their dad’s scrambled eggs and microwaved peas. When their mom passed, and dad released them to the state, Sam decided he’d only ever eat over-easy again.

Nate still chooses scrambled. He asks for cheese and green onions to split the difference, but always ends up only eating half of it before the memories come too strong and he has to push his plate away. 

QUICK eater. MESSY eater. And I mean quick and messy. 

Will use as minimal cutlery as possible, and if disposable, even better.

A scooper. Tends to be a chronic careless spiller with how frequently he tries to funnel all the last crumbs into his mouth, how quickly he chugs even a glass of water. (Most shirts of his are stained as a result.)

Tends to wait till the last possible moment to eat or drink anything. Breakfast basically doesn’t exist to him. 

Spills more beverage down his chin and shirt than his mouth (but a wet t-shirt certainly isn’t the worst thing to happen. Especially not to Samuel Drake. ;)

Pizza order: Meat Lover’s with extra sausage. Maybe some green bell peppers when he finally compromises with Nate during movie night.

Never, ever orders (well, non-alcoholic) drinks when eating out. And only water when he finally lets himself cave. Otherwise, he’s stealing sips from the nearest patron’s Jarrito bottle (his favorite is Tamarind).

Doesn’t bother cleaning up his fruit peels or peanut shells, even around others. That shit’s going on the floor without a second look.

Surprisingly, a king and natural on the BBQ. Despite having so little in their childhood, Sam still tried to go hard on the holidays for Nathan’s sake. Fourth of July is still Nate’s favorite holiday exclusively because of Sam’s public park-smoked ribs and the long, bumpy motorcycle ride up the highest hill in whatever city they were currently loitering in, just to see the fireworks. 

A dive bar master. Nate always orders whatever grease-covered appetizer they got in the back. Sam purposely keeps his stomach empty so there’s more room for whiskey. (Since nobody asked, incredible at pool, and will offer any woman in a twenty foot circumference a lesson. Cue the leaning chest over back, cue stick fantasy.)

A love language that was a total surprise to him is his partner cooking/baking something just for him, especially if it’s from scratch. Gets that rare, soft look in his eyes as he watches them carefully place each steaming plate onto the table. And trust, he’s not looking at the food when it happens.

Loves his partner in an apron. Like… loves his partner in an apron.

Make him food, and as soon as it’s eaten, he’s eating you after. ;)

When he finally settles down post-Madagascar, it’s a fucking struggle to get him to go grocery shopping at all for the first few months. 

Self-punishment, maybe. 

Nathan buys them himself instead and leaves them on the porch of Sam’s trailer park home when he’s too depressed to answer the door. 

Basically has to be forced to eat actual meat and vegetables. For the first few months, he reverts and eats only familiar prison food. The same single pot of chili/beans for a whole week, half portions only for each meal. Uncooked canned carrots. Microwave popcorn when Nathan calls him asking if he’s eaten, and when Sam lies, it sounds more believable with the microwave droning in the background.

However, when he finally starts to pick himself back up, when he gets his first day job since prison, finally lets Nate buy him a used truck to get around, his first solo call from Sully, that’s when he finally starts to eat.

And when he finally feels like himself again, when he finally lets himself want to live again, the first hobby that Sam Drake takes up is cooking.

[jocia92]

"The Terror" Season 3 "Devil in Silver" Casts Dan Stevens in Lead Role - Variety

Sela Shiloni/AMC

Dan Stevens is set to star in “The Terror” Season 3 at AMC, which is based on the Victor LaValle novel “The Devil in Silver.”

“The Terror: Devil in Silver” was formally greenlit at the cabler back in February. Stevens will also executive produce the six-episode season in addition to starring. It is slated to debut on AMC and AMC+ in 2025.

Stevens will play Pepper, described as “a working-class moving man who, through a combination of bad luck and a bad temper, finds himself wrongfully committed to New Hyde Psychiatric Hospital – an institution filled with the people society would rather forget. There, he must contend with patients who work against him, doctors who harbor grim secrets, and perhaps even the very Devil himself. As Pepper navigates a hellscape where nothing is as it seems, he finds that the only path to freedom is to face down the entity which thrives on the suffering within New Hyde’s walls – but doing so may prove that the worst demons of all live inside him.”

...

“I’m thrilled to be a part of ‘The Terror: Devil in Silver.’ This series is a dark symphony of psychological horror and gripping drama, set to rock the audience,” Stevens said. “Victor LaValle, Christopher Cantwell, and this incredible team have crafted a unique and twisted dance of devils and shadows. I look forward to delivering something epic that will echo through the halls like an iron bell.”

[canthavetoomuchchaos]

Thieving hands

David x Angel

Tw/Cw: knife, hand close to knife, food, eating food, no others I think, it's fluffy

Everytime David cooks something and Angel is in the kitchen with them, they steal a bit of food.

David is cutting yellow bell peppers into strips for a side dish at the pack meeting tonight. Milo suggested they start bringing snacks in to the meetings, as some people don't have the time to eat before they make their way to a meeting. David agreed, which is how he got here, cutting veggies into bite size peices for a homemade veggie platter.

Angel made their way into the kitchen, their body taking them immediately to David's side, wrapping their arms around his waist and burying their face in his shoulder blade. He huffs and moves the knife further from himself so they don't cut themself if they move.

Angel peeks around his arm and he already knows what they're about to do.

"Angel, no. These are for the meeting, I can't have you eating them all" they pour and retract their hand. They wait a small moment and watch for the knife to be far enough away before they snatch one of the strips and run away, crouching behind the island and eating it quickly as they await the expected slightly upset (actually very amused) David to round the corner.

"....Angel. I know where you are, that's the worst place to hid from me." He says, they can hear his amusement as he continues to cut the veggies, not bothering to chase them. They peek their head up and poke their tongue out at him.

He just laughs and continues to cut.

_____

Hi! Thanks for reading my blurb! It was inspired by my constant stealing of any veggie that is every cut for a meal.