#The Secret of Long Pork Pies

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

I really wish the writers had further explored that ‘nutriment drink’ that the Inspector and Phil were served in ‘Frown’.

What was it *really* made of? Algae or the former inhabitants of the colony?

#Inspector Spacetime #The Secret of Long Pork Pies (trope) #The Secret of Long Pork Pies #Human Resources (trope) #Human Resources #Frown (episode) #Twelfth Inspector era #the writers could have #explored it further #nutriment drink #nutritional drink #the Inspector (character) #Phil Bobbs (character) #were served #served up #what was it really made of #it might have been algae #the liquified remains of #the former inhabitants of the colony #the Inspector had no trouble slurping it down

[chasingmidnights]

13 Nights of Halloween: Campfire Stories; Story Six

Title: Madame Francesca

Storyteller: Natasha Romanoff

Summary: A murderous madame and her famous pot pies. 

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI! Oh geeze, where do I begin? Umm, angst; implied cannibalism; murder; mild language; missing people; mentions of vomiting; someone being arrested; police; mentions of skeletal remains; and I think that’s about everything. I apologize if I’ve missed anything but you are responsible for what you read and for what you consume on the internet. By clicking keep reading you accept these warnings and any ones that I may have missed. I do not claim to be a professional writer, any and all mistakes are my own. Nothing is beta read. 

Wordcount: 843

When the following night rolled around and everyone was gathered around the fire once more, Natasha couldn’t help but feel a bit excited to tell her story, even if it was a little messed up. 

“So, is everyone ready for a story?” Natasha inquired as she glanced around her group of friends. She smiled as she felt Bucky had started to rub her shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m down for another story.” Kate answered as she leaned back in her chair, getting comfortable. 

“Oh yeah, I’m ready to see what you’ve come up with.” You chirped, excitement in your voice. 

“Great! So, if everyone is ready, I’ll get started.” Natasha beamed, she cleared her throat before she started her story. 

“Alright, so growing up, there was this sweet neighbor of ours. Lena, I don’t know if you remember her, but this neighbor was Madame Francesca.” 

“I think I vaguely remember her, didn’t she move?” Yelena asked, her brow arched. 

“I’m getting there, I just wanted to see if you remembered. So, like I was saying, our neighbor, Madame Francesca, was this sweet, older lady and throughout the years she would supply her neighbors with these delicious pot pies. Everyone loved them and whenever someone would ask for her recipe, she would simply smile and say it was a family secret. I remember that my mom would constantly ask for the old lady’s recipe and she was always disappointed when she was told no. Another thing that I remember is that my mom always tried to recreate those pot pies and she would try everything. She tried chicken, turkey, pork, venison; you name it, she tried it. But it was never the same as how Madame Francesca made them. They were always just slightly off. 

“It was hard telling how long she had been making those pot pies for, as far as I knew it, it had only been a year; two years at the most. But when she did make them, and was handing them out, the neighbors flocked to her house. People couldn’t believe that she was just giving these delicious pot pies out for free and never asked for anything in return. She was happy just to be doing something for her neighborhood, or so it seemed. One day, there was a buzz in the neighborhood, somebody had gone missing. The family was devastated and months later the gentleman still hadn’t been found; and at that point, I think everyone had assumed the worst. Shortly after that, Madame Francesca had a new batch of pot pies ready to share with her neighbors. Rumors started to spread on why Madame Francesca wouldn’t release her ‘secret recipe’. The neighbors were whispering that Madame Francesca used human meat in her famous pot pies. This rumor spread so quickly that it reached the ears of the police officers and they had to check it out. Especially when the family of the missing man pleaded with them to do so. A few days later and the neighbors were all gathered outside and they were shocked at the scene before them. I remember my mom ushering me inside but that didn’t stop me from watching from the window. 

“Along with my fellow neighbors, I was shocked to see Madame Francesca being brought out in handcuffs. I could see people whispering and even saw a couple of them throwing up. Later, we found out that the police had found the missing gentleman with several missing limbs and deceased. It turns out that her secret ingredient had in fact been human meat. The police found several skeletal remains in her backyard as well. The whole community was outraged and wanted to see Madame Francesca burn for her crimes. Eventually, after a long trial, she was and was sentenced to spend the rest of her life in prison. Community cookouts and gatherings were never the same and eventually, they were just canceled. Even though Madame Francesca was caught, the neighborhood never fully healed from her evilness.” 

“Damn, that’s fucked up, Nat.” Johnny said bluntly, but he looked like he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. 

Yelena’s mouth was agape and all she could do was stare at her sister. After a moment, she shook out of her state and spoke. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Do you know how many of those I ate?!” 

“Mom and dad thought it was better you didn’t know.” Natasha answered, turning to look at her sister. 

“No way did that happen.” Andy countered, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Why do you think I’m a vegetarian?” Natasha quipped back. 

“I think I’m gonna join you.” You chimed in, your stomach feeling queasy suddenly. 

A cold breeze blew through the camp, giving goosebumps to everyone in the group. You scooched closer to Steve as the fire flickered and popped. But you found yourself wondering which of your friends would tell the next story. 

“I’ve got one.” Air spoke up after a while. “Not quite as dark as cannibalism, but I still think it’s pretty good.

#13 nights of halloween #campfire stories #story six #october 2023 #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fandom #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff storyteller #marvel characters #mcu characters #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans fandom #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan #courtney writes

[jokertrap-ran]

Disney’s Twisted Wonderland: Magic Assault Practice Dire Crowley SSR 【Raven Jacket】 Chapter 2

“Greetings. Allow me to teach you the secrets of magic in this school.” *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut*

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Album Lines

⊱ ──── Cafeteria ──── ⊰

Crowley: Oh, dearie me. This morning could have gone better.

Crowley: But no matter how bad things get… it doesn’t matter once lunch hits! Lunchtime perks me right up!

Crowley: That’s attributed to the delicious food that our school provides, of course! What’s today’s recommended menu?

Ghost Chef: Greetings, Headmage. Today’s menu is the spectacularly filling meat pie stuffed with large chunks of beef!

Crowley: That sounds mouthwatering. I’ll have one of those, thank you very much.

⊱ ─────── ⊰

Crowley: Oh? Crowley and Vargas? Trein too!

Crowley: Are you all out for lunch as well? Mind if I join you?

Vargas: Of course not! Come, sit! It’s so crowded out here - I don’t think you can find another seat even if you wanted to.

Crewel: I was unable to find a seat as well, so here I am, reluctantly putting up with a nag.

Trein: If you don’t want to be nagged at, then I suggest you refrain from doing anything that would warrant one.

Trein: Oh…? You’ve also ordered the beef pie, Headmage?

Crowley: Indeed, I have. I do love meat.

Crowley: Not just beef, but even pork, chicken, and wild game if it comes down to it.

Trein: Wild game?

Crowley: Otherwise known as gibier, yes. Have you ever heard of it?

Vargas: Ohh, gibier! I had some once – venison. It’s so delicious that it really lifts your spirits~

Crowley: Not bad. You have good taste.

Crowley: There are other types of gibier as well. If you have the chance-

Sam: IN STOCK NOW!

Everyone yelps

Crowley: S-Sam-kun… please do not pop up behind us without warning like that!

Sam: Nyehehe. Everyone looked so happily immersed in the conversation that I couldn’t help myself.

Crewel: Sam? This is rare. You’re usually tending to the Mystery Shop around this time of the day, aren’t you?

Sam: The cafeteria ghosts have ordered some ingredients, so I’m simply here to do the delivery, see?

Sam: If you’re ever in the mood and seeking gibier of the rare sort, your humble man, Sam, is the right man for the job.

Sam: I can procure you any food that you fancy.

Crowley: As expected of someone of your caliber, Sam-kun. How reliable! However…

Crowley: I actually love other things other than meat. Vegetables, fruits, sweets, and the like! I love anything and everything so long as it’s not spicy!

Crewel: We’re aware. Your omnivorous tendencies have been quite infamous even in the past.

Crowley: Omnivorous… Couldn’t you express that in a classier manner?

Sam: …Oh? I just realized this, but everyone seems to have ordered different meals. Really goes to show your individual preferences.

Vargas: Taking muscle-building into consideration, I make it so that I consume protein-rich egg-based dishes during lunch!

Crewel: I personally love pies, so I was initially at a loss, but… well, not when it’s that size…

Crewel: While it may work in favor of the students, seeing as how they’re still growing, I’m sure it exceeds the recommended nutritional intake of adults.

Trein: Mmhm. I, too, decided on another meal after witnessing the actual size of the pie with my own eyes.

Trein: If I had such a heavy meal for lunch, it’d likely weigh down on me during the afternoon classes.

Crowley: Really? Shame. It’s such a delicious treat too~

Vargas: Oh, what an appetite you have! I won’t lose out either!

Trein: Oh, to be young and scarfing down such a hearty pie drenched in butter…

Crewel: I know, right? He really hasn’t changed one bit from his time back in my day.

Trein: I don’t think he’s ever changed since I started my tenure here at Night Raven College for that matter…

Crewel: Headmage…? Just how old are you? I want to know, but I also feel like maybe it’s best that I don’t…

Sam: Nyehehe. He’s certainly a man of many mysteries that serve to pique one’s curiosity, isn’t he?

Crowley: Ahh, yum! I’m so thankful for the past me who decided to hire the ghost chefs who used to work in a restaurant that had a five-star rating.

Crowly: And what a dramatic encounter it was when I met those ghost chefs.

Crowley: That was… Oh, wait. How many decades has it been now?

☪⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆ 𝔗𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔢𝔡 ☆⋅⋆ ────── ☪⋆

#twisted wonderland #twst translations #Dire Crowley #Night Raven College #translations #Disney #ツイステッドワンダーランド #ツイステ

[monstrouslyobsessed]

Concept: A cannibal cook is in love with the little pie-maker next to restaurant. His little lady loves his meat pies and always ask him to give her his secret, and all he says is “everything is in the meat”. —anonymous

a/n: sorry about the inactivity, haven’t been feeling too well the past few weeks;; i’m going to do my best and get another concept out by tomorrow after this one. enjoy!

—tw / tags: gn reader, cannibalism, unknowingly being fed human meat, meat eating, murder / death, mentions of feederism?, gore, general yandere themes, sfw, long post, unedited —featured character(s): cannibal butcher / chef

“It’s all in the meat, darlin’.” His chuckle was a boisterous one, the kind that warmed your chest in a funny way and had you sticking out your bottom lip in a pout. His crooked grin told you he had no intention of sharing his secrets with you.

You thrummed your fingernails on his glass countertop and kept your pouting. “Oh, come on, I shared my secret peanut butter pie recipe with you! Can’t you throw me a bone just this once?” You wrung and huffed, puffing your cheeks out like a child.

You were being silly—though exchanging one of your secret recipes for his financial support to keep your little bakery floating during a hard time was cheap trade-off (he wouldn't accept anything else when he caught winds of your bakery facing the risk of being closed down for good). The chef didn’t owe you a single thing.

 Still, his pulled pork was to die for. The best-tasting one you ever had, and it was even better than your uncle’s! You had to know how he bested over your uncle’s masterpiece.

The chef snorted, his smile beaming through his bushy beard. “Sorry, suga’, ‘fraid I can’t.” He teased, leaning closer to you with his elbow pressing on the shiny surface.

“Pleaseeee?” You pleaded, craning your head to meet his twinkling gaze and shooting him your best puppy-eyed look. You need to know.

He burst out laughing again and poked his finger on your forehead, dragging a scowl from your adorable face. “Lemme think about it, eh?” You flustered at how deep his voice was.

A quiet ding interrupted your parting lips, and the chef pulled away, glancing over to the roaster over in the back (or you think was a roaster oven, you weren’t sure) to where you couldn’t see. He slapped his hand on the countertop and clicked his tongue. 

“Your lunch’s about ready. Gimme some minutes, darlin’.” The chef pardoned himself and ducked away from his position into his kitchen. For a hefty guy like him, he was awfully quick on his feet.

While bustling himself around through the open window you peered through, you debated on whether to buy additional meats to cook at home. You weren’t low in your meat stock yet, but your uncle might appreciate rising to the challenge to beat the chef’s. 

When the chef emerged from his kitchen with a white Styrofoam box in hand, you pointed at one of his wrapped meats in his refrigerated sections, “Can I have the pork shoulder to go?” You accepted the box and absentmindedly handed over your card for the payment.

“Sure thing, hun. 5 pounders be okay?” The chef accepted your eager nod as his answer. He made quick work of it all, packing your newly acquired meat in wax paper. Settling your pork atop your styrofoam box, glancing your way with amusement when you rolled your eyes at how casual he was about propping it in your hands—literally, the chef rang you up.

Returning your card and tucking the paper receipt between your fingers, he leaned on his surface and grinned at the determination you wore on your expression, “Gonna try to beat out my secret recipe, eh?” He teased.

“It had to be your sauce.” You decided, replacing your card where it belonged, and minded your goods. You needed to hit up your uncle and see if he’d be up for experimenting with you.

“Sure, sure,” the chef’s chuckle was deep, rousing a strangely comforting feeling inside your chest. He waved you off, startling you out from your effort to sort out what exactly it was that settled in your heart. “You should get to eatin’, ya lunch won’t stay hot for long.”

“Oh, right!” You needed to get back to work—the baker’s work never ends. You scurried to the door and spread your fingers from your heavy box in an awkward wave. “Thanks, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See you in a couple of hours,” the chef returned, resting his elbows on his countertop again and watching you hurrying back to your bakery through his storefront window. He’d have to wipe his surface down again, smearing it with some greases from his arms, but that was alright with him.

It was worth it seeing you. Worth knowing you’d be eating his meat that he worked so hard to perfect, just for you. Thinking about the image of you eating, had him salivating in his mouth.

He wished he could’ve watched you enjoying your lunch, knowing how oblivious you are to the truth of his secret recipe. It made his heart flutter and stirred something funny in his lower half.

You were a darling little thing. And he, was not.

He considered himself a tad on the ugly side, large and round, packing both fat and muscles. He was not a man most would consider perfect husband material (he certainly was not a pretty boy) nor did he have many clamoring to put a ring on his finger through his door.

Still, as he entered his kitchen and wandered inside the massive walk-in freezer he kept, he was keen on trying. To be that perfect husband material for you. Gazing across his hanged meats, most with exposed ribs and dark red meat ready to be cut and collected, he hummed and counted how many “pigs” he had left.

They were barely skeletons now, their heads absent from their bodies and tucked away elsewhere. Their brains were good ingredients for multiple recipes but weren’t popular with most common folks. What a shame, the chef absently thought, they were delicious when done right.

Anything else, like eyes and skin—all the soft bits he couldn’t make into ingredients, he’d ground up and feed to his hunting dogs. They enjoyed chewing on the uncooked bones too, though he made sure to get rid of anything far too big for them by bashing them into smaller pieces and throwing them into the grain feeds and old leftovers to the pigs he kept at his farm. 

Especially the teeth, fingers, and toes.

A shriveling sob, teeth chattering, had his head turning. He tutted and crossed his beefy arms, crinkling his leather apron, at the sight of a naked man balling into a corner. His skin was pale from the cold, with a layer of frost growing, and his white breaths were so thin that the chef wasn’t sure he was breathing at all.

One side of his head was bloodied though, with the red color frozen on his face. 

He didn’t use enough force earlier, it seemed.

“Pl—please…” the man begged, shuddering and rocking in a fetal position for what little warmth he had left.

Granted, the chef shook his head, he was in the rush to make his darlin’ the perfect meal, and didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him.

He should remedy that.

Closing in, he curled his hands into fists and pulled one over his shoulder. 

“No—no!”

Thwack.

Thin blood splashed the wall, but it was so minuscule that the splatter was hardly noticeable because of the cold. Scrubbing it off would be a pain in the freezer, but doable. The entire freezer was due for a good deep cleaning and proper look-over anyway. 

The man limped over to the floor and was no longer breathing tiny clouds of white. Gripping one of its arms, the chef dragged it off the ground and examined his latest addition.

He’ll need to gut it and slice off the good cuts.

It got good meats on it too, though some bits might be a mite too chewy. Even tough meats still have their places as good proper ingredients. They were especially good in stews, marinating in broth for hours until they become so tender they’d fall apart in your mouth. Ooh, that sounds so good…

A smile curled his lips at the thought of cooking this meat for you. 

As the saying goes, 

the quickest way to win your heart is through your stomach.

—end

#my writing #monster's writing. 👹 #reader insert #long post #unedited #gn reader #concept #cannibal chef #chef x you #chef x reader #reader x chef #you x chef #tw cannibalism #tw death #tw gore #tw violence #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #[i really dont know how to tag this character lol] #[and i usually dont write humans but this one is v interesting] #[dont expect me to start writing humans too often though lol]

[topguncortez]

35,26,28 for Bob and Phoenix in opposites attract?

The descriptions you put on the master list sound so good and I can’t wait to know more about them

ngl this one was hard to answer without spoiling too much! this also got long so answers under the cut:)

26. What sacrifices do they make for the other?

Bob & Bea: Bea's biggest sacrifice was that she followed Bob out to California. She left the confines of her small town and Bob's family to move to be closer to him. It was scary and she didn't quite know what she was doing, but she wanted to do it for him. Bob's biggest sacrifice would have to be that he joined the Navy to give them a better life. He saw that he had two options in the town they grew up in: work on a ranch the rest of his life or go to college and be in debt and eventually move back to work on the ranch. He wanted more, and wanted to give Bea the best life he could, and that was by joining the service.

Phoenix & Cerberus: Phoenix sacrificed her reputation in a way. With her and Dragon's relationship, I focused a lot on the way that women get viewed if they start a relationship with men in their line of work. They did nothing wrong, and can't help who they fall in love with. Phoenix knew that there would be talk about her and Cerberus, just like there was talk about Dragon and Rooster, but she had support from not only Cerberus but her sister, Rooster and the rest of the daggers. For Cerberus, his biggest sacrifice is that he let Phoenix in. He let is walls drop and let her learn more about him than what his coworkers do. He let her know the most vulnerable parts, and shared with her the secret that he has tried hard to protect.

28. Who’s the better chef? Do they cook for the other?

Bob & Bea: So Bea loves to bake. She stress bakes which means that Bob has come home to a house full of pies, cookies, cakes, bars, one too many times to count (the squad loves it, Bob. . . eh not so much cause he gets a tummy ache). But Bob is the real chef of the pairing. When he moved out on his own, he decided to take a cooking class, cause he never really learned to cook. It wasn't something that his family really ever did except for roasts in the crockpot and pork chops on the stove. Bob was determined to be able to cook a good meal for him and Bea every single night.

Phoenix & Cerberus: Phoenix can cook. That girl knows how to throw it down in the kitchen. Cerberus tries to help but ends up getting lost and just steps back and lets her work. She has a method to her madness and it's easier to just do it than explain to someone. However, as the relationship progresses, she becomes a better teacher and teaches Cerberus how to cook her favorite meals.

35. Is their relationship a secret? If so, why?

Bob & Bea: It's not that their relationship is secret, is just that it's hard for either one to really talk about (again, the fic will explain). Bob hadn't ever found a time to bring up Bea and open that can of worms. He thought it was just better to keep quiet, like he usually does until someone asks.

Phoenix & Cerberus: Again, this is also a yes but no. It's a secret at first because of all the rules that come with dating someone in the same squad as you. They want to both make sure that this is something they want before they go telling Mav, Warlock and Cyclone. Also, Luke has a big secret that's got some baggage and he wants to make sure that Phoenix is gonna be around before he goes introducing her as his partner.

OTP asks!

#my asks #g's otp things #bob & bea #phoenix & cerberus #opposites attract things!

[just-horrible-things]

Caution for: disordered eating, BBU-esque themes, something not totally dissimilar to suicidality

Whumpay Day 5 The Secret of Long Pork Pies | "When's the last time you ate?" | Starvation

The dogs have all gone feral since the end of things, scattered into the forest to scavenge for themselves. 

Jeanne sits on her heels on the chunk of rubble that marks the edge of the clear zone. She doesn’t dare call them to her, but the dogs know where to find her. Sure enough, it’s not long before she spies one amongst the brush.

He’s a big one, marked with the scars of many fights. He was a real muscly bruiser once, before everything went to shit.

“Hey there, buddy,” Jeanne smiles. “Hungry?” She lays the sandwich on the concrete next to her, in plain view. Then she sits and waits, watching only out of the corner of her eye.

It’s a few minutes before the dog moves. He stays low to the floor at first, hesitant to leave the cover of the brush, but speeds up to a trot as he crosses the open ground. Jeanne keeps very still, but the dog is still reluctant to get within arm’s reach.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, trying to reassure with the softness of her voice, “go on.”

He snatches it and backs off. The sandwich – stale, honestly – disappears in just a couple of gulps.

“You were hungry, hey, big guy? When’s the last time you ate? I’m afraid I don’t have any more.” Very slowly she holds a hand out, but the dog just growls and she relents.

The dog sees Brent before Jeanne hears him. She knows because he drops into a low crouch, attention fixed behind Jeanne, and then bolts for the treeline. Jeanne turns, smiles a forced smile, and waves a little to Brent.

“Are you feeding the fucking mutts again?!” Brent demands. Jeanne stands up, hands fluttering nervously. Even standing on top of the big chunk of rubble, she doesn’t feel taller than him. “I can’t believe you,” he spits, storming up to her. “Throwing good food to the fucking animals. Do you think this is a camping trip? How many times have I asked you to stop wasting our food?!” “My food,” she retorts, but her voice is too quiet. “What was that?” “My food, Brent. I never touched your share, not once.”

“Your food,” Brent jabs a finger into her concave stomach, “needs to go into your stomach. I swear, do you have a death wish?” “It’s my choice!” “Like hell it is. You’re sick in the head. You can’t live on air, Jeanie, it’s killing me watching you waste away.” “They’re just as hungry as we are,” she snaps back, already on the verge of tears. “Jesus Christ. I don’t care, Jeanie, I don’t care about a pack of feral mutts. It’s you and me I swore I’d keep alive. Next time I’m gonna watch you eat and you’re gonna finish your portion, so help me.”

He turns and stomps away, leaving her standing there, empty-handed and empty-stomached and wondering if she really is as empty-headed as he seems to think she is.

When she looks back, the dog is still there, waiting in the edge of the forest, very still.

“I’m sorry about him,” Jeanne says. “He worries about me.” He’s not wrong to. She’s growing weaker now. She loses time, daydreaming, and it’s getting hard to walk for long without sitting down to rest. 

But what’s the point? No one’s coming to rescue them. 

And the dogs are hungry.

“You guys are tougher than we are, aren’t you?” she says to the dog. “Are you learning to hunt out there? You’ll outlive us, I think, in the end. I suppose they call that irony. Or maybe it’s justice.” The dog tilts his head to the side, considering. She watches his gaze wander over the ground before he looks back to her. “You’re kind,” he rasps, in a voice rusty from disuse. Then he turns and lopes back into the forest.

#my writing #whumpay2022

[silvercrystalwhump]

Hunger

@whumpay2022 - Day Five: The Secret of Long Pork Pies / “When’s the last time you ate?” / Starvation

TW: starvation, hunger, intimate whumper, pet names, implied torture, graphic depictions of violence, impalation, immortal whump,

Vincent’s mouth is impossibly dry. His stomach, after over two decades of water and food, begs for anything. For the first time in quite a long time, Vincent curses his immortality. He curses the Nether. He curses Kalif. He curses Shad. His head pounds almost in rhythm with the mystical heartbeat of the Nether. Once, he saw it as a comfort. Yet, now it feels like chewing on broken glass. 

“Vincy~” the echoing voice of Kalif rumbles throughout the halls of this infernal prison. His boots clank down the hall, ringing out through the bloodied bricks. A shadow passes in front of Vincent’s cell and a low, dry chuckle enters alongside it. “You look like a mess Vincy.”

Vincent’s head feels too heavy to lift, his hair obscuring his eyes. He stares at the blood-red boots and his curls up under his tongue. The end of Kalif’s chain swings tenderly near his feet, swaying like a hypnotist’s pendulum. He sets his jaw and tries to lift his head.

“Aw, the stakes a bit much for you Vincy,” Kalif laughs as he steps into the cell, “Weak already?”

Vincent wants to bite him, just to taste the old, rotted blood in his veins. It might even help the knawing in his gut. He watches as Kalif drops onto a knee in front of him firmly. Lifting his chin, Vincent’s eyes meet with the white mask. The crescents that sit over his eyes leak red light from the Shadow Knight’s eyes. The smile that is carved into the mask looms at him mockingly.

Then, Kalif pulls Vincent forward. The stakes in his wrists and knee that lock him to the corner of his cell rip open more of his flesh. If he had any more blood to bleed, it would have poured out profusely. 

Vincent stays silent, simply looking at Kalif in the holes where his eyes hide behind. 

“As gruppy as I last recalled,” Kalif laughs, red hair bouncing over his mask, “You’re just as I remember.”

Vincent tips his head to the side, letting his hair fall across his face. A cat claws at the sides of his stomach, chewing at the walls and ripping at the base. Even with Kalif’s armor, the urge to sink his teeth into his flesh and satiate the feral hunger in his gut.

“Feeling carnal,” an androgynous voice adds from around the corner. 

Kalif looks up and out of the cell, “A Ciyer day I suppose?”

“Ciyer or Ciyern,” Ciyer answers as he steps around a corner, “I’m not picky today.”

Vincent watches as the Knight’s black hood steps behind Kalif and cock their head to the side. Two glowing eyes, not unlike Kalif’s, glow out from underneath. 

“Shad is ready for him,” Ciyern says while waving their hand, “Court is in session.”

The hunger is quickly replaced by dread.

#starvation #hunger #intimate whumper #pet names #implied torture #graphic depictions of violence #impalation #immortal whump #whump #whump community #vincent of meteli #kalif my beloved #ciyer/ciyera/ciyern my beloved #whumpay #whumpay 2022 #whumpay 2022 day 5 #aphmau mcyt #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau #old school mcyt #mcyt

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! Grace's and Douglas' home is in a new housing development area; many amenities in mature neighbourhoods, such as clinics, banks, coffee shops, etc, are under construction. This flat is much more spacious than their old one and there's a large mall which I intend to explore a few MRT stops away. The couple thought I'd cave in and take the car, so they were surprised when I turned up at their nearest MRT station! There's actually a bus I can take outside my home which will shorten the journey, so I'm looking forward to trying this out 😁

Back at the vegan cafe with Pa, I tried their new la mian with veggie broth (mala and tom yum soups are also available) and steamed cabbage, ginger, mushroom and tofu dumplings. The noodles - yes, noodles again - had a nice chewy texture, the veggie broth wasn't too salty and there were nai bai (bak choy), broccoli, shiitake as well as enoki mushrooms, sliced carrot and roasted tau kwa (firm tofu). The dumplings were also very tasty, especially when eaten with lots of vinegar and shredded ginger. They have new menu items that I'm keen to try, such as kimchi fried rice and a colourful veggie soba. We'll be back, that's for sure!

I had a whopping 8-plant yong tau foo soup comprising tofu, fu pi juan (tofu skin roll), egg, broccoli, brinjal, radish, carrot, seaweed, Napa cabbage and Chinese flower mushroom (this is the most fragrant mushroom ever, IMO). At a newly discovered yong tau foo stall, I selected pork and chive jiao zi (dumpling), egg, tofu, tau pok (tofu puff), baby corn, brinjal, okra, tomato, carrot, bitter gourd and radish. More noodles too because why not; the prawns and fish were fresh and the handmade pork balls were well seasoned. Also, a packed lunch of tomato scrambled eggs, fried mackerel, bak choy, straw mushrooms, cauliflower and broccoli. Finally, steamed fish, plus stirfried choy sum, kangkong and cabbage.

My secret iro avoiding long term medication at 46yo is, quite simply, lowering my dependence on oils, regardless of whether they're 'healthy fats' or not. Soup noodles and congee don't require 'healthy oils' like avocado or olive oil, so I skip those altogether; I eat nuts and seeds only as snacks or as supplements to tofu and other animal proteins. So I'm not so obsessive about olive or avocado oil when I cook at home; in fact I don't use them at all in stirfries, I use peanut oil. Grandma didn't use a drop of avocado or olive oil in her cooking and she didn't eat nuts and seeds; she kept Grandpa alive for 14 years after his second heart attack and she lived till 2 months shy of her 91st birthday - how? Steamed fish, lots of vegetables and alot of soups.

For flat-footed folks, high quality footwear is so much more vital since, without natural arches, our feet ache more quickly and more severely without proper support. I loved the Anta shoes I bought for walking so much, I purchased a different model in cream for weekend denim shorts and tank tops in neutral colours! Pa was impressed by how light they are, like my black walking pair, and the soles are spongy yet firm, offering good support for my flat soles. I wore them out and my feet didn't ache after a lot of walking so yup, great buy and I'm so happy! 下次见！

#Youtube

[tonkisweb]

Bakery story 2 forum

#Bakery story 2 forum serial

#Bakery story 2 forum code

Torture Cellar: The second half takes place in Bonnie's basement, which is filled with blood, different meats and skulls of her prior victims, alongside some chains, hooks and cage walls to hold her current ones.The hostage might be another, but they are only shown in silhouette and it is too difficult to tell either way. Token Human: Bonnie is the only human in a town of talking animals.However, the second half then abruptly turns into a first-person stealth horror where an unnamed hostage of Bonnie has to escape her basement before they wind up her next ingredient. Unexpected Gameplay Change: The first half of the game is a cooking game where the titular Bonnie whips up dishes and serves them to customers in time-exactly what one would expect.

#Bakery story 2 forum serial

Then the second half reveals Bonnie is a Serial Killer who has been kidnapping the animals and turning them into her meat, and you switch control to a hostage trying to escape her blood-and-skull-filled basement. Surprise Creepy: The trailer and first half of the game play it up as another cutesy cooking game starring a cute girl chef in a World of Funny Animals in her quest to serve them delicious food and make them happy.If she does, you have to quickly hurry back to your cage, as she will leave you alone if she sees you in it.

#Bakery story 2 forum code

Stealth-Based Mission: The second half of the game has you, a hostage of Bonnie, tasked with finding all 5 notes to get the code needed to escape the basement while making sure Bonnie never sees you.

Start of Darkness: Reading the notes found throughout the dungeon reveals how Bonnie started making her baked goods.

Serial Killer: Bonnie discreetly kidnaps then dismembers and kills sentient animals in her basement for ingredients to use for her bakery.

by kidnapping the sapient talking animals and chopping them up, then serving them at her bakery to other animals, so the cannibalism horror aspect is still kept.

The Secret of Long Pork Pies: Played with in that Bonnie is the only human and makes her most popular item, Meet Buns, out of animal meat.

Punny Name: The "Meet Bun" item is called that because, as Bonnie explains in her ad, it is always nice to "meet" everyone.

We're never told exactly what (or possibly who) might have left the bunny in such a state.

Noodle Incident: Bonnie's first "victim" was a heavily wounded bunny that appeared at her door that she tried to treat.

They then take the panda to a hospital to recover, while the townsfolk gather to investigate the bakery. The hostage carries the panda with them and reveals the truth of what happened to the townsfolk. If you enter the numbers found in the five ending CGs into the keypad, it will then reveal a knife that the hostage then uses to kill Bonnie. If Bonnie ends up with 0 points when the shop closes, it cuts to a Stylistic Suck screen with bad spelling where Bonnie is arrested for causing food poisoning in her customers. The hostage escapes the bakery and tries to tell the town folks the truth about Bonnie- and is disbelieved by everyone, leaving them to live in fear that Bonnie will come back for them even as they moved to a new town. The hostage escapes the bakery, but with no evidence to prove Bonnie is a murderess, resorts to stalking her, hoping they will catch her in the act of gathering "ingredients". The hostage escapes the bakery and tells the truth about Bonnie to the townsfolk, who believe them- but when they head out to said bakery, they find it empty. If the hostage is caught and stabbed by Bonnie, they are used to make her next dish, with Bear and the others none the wiser.

Multiple Endings: Five, depending on how well you score in the game.

Bonus points for her enemy being Dark Is Not Evil.

Light Is Not Good: Bonnie is a bright pastel-colored Cutie, the perfect disguise for her true nature.

They manage to force the knife out of her hand and promptly stab her six times, probably killing her.

Knife Fight: In the secret ending, the hostage grabs a knife and clashes with Bonnie.

Foreshadowing: Besides the usual ingredients for a bakery such as milk and eggs, there's also meet (meat), fat, and mysterious white and red substances only identified by color, hinting that Bonnie's secret recipes may be hiding something.

#Bakery story 2 forum

[whumpay]

It’s that time of year once more! May approaches, and we get ready for pain… Welcome to Whumpay 2: Electric boogaloo.

Rules:

Every day has a prompt that links to a tv tropes page, but you don’t have to follow it exactly—just follow the spirit of the trope, and it works! If you aren’t sure if it counts, you can throw an ask over to this blog. (If you aren’t sure exactly what’s intended with a prompt, or what the trope really means, you can also send an ask!)

You only have to use one prompt a day! But you’re welcome to use multiple if you want to!

I know the description of the blog says it’s a writing event, but if you want to draw or make other kinds of content, that’s cool too.

Have fun, tag content warnings (such as noncon, graphic violence, etc) and try not to be crushed by the mortifying ordeal of posting your writing.

This is a pretty chill event so you can start posting whenever but I’ll be reblogging posts made to the #Whumpay2022 tag throughout May.

Written list (+ links to tv tropes pages!) below the read more

PROMPTS:

Day One: Now, Let Me Carry You / “I’m not leaving you.” / Appendicitis

Day Two: From Dress To Dressing / “You’re not dead yet?” / Gunshot

Day Three: I’m Having Soul Pains! / “Just breathe.” / Bruised

Day Four: Damsel In Distress / “I had it handled.” / Burns

Day Five: The Secret Of Long Pork Pies (CW: this trope deals with cannibalism.) / “When’s the last time you ate?” / Starvation

Day Six: Broken Tears / “What did they do to you?” / Panic Attack

Day Seven: Break The Cutie / “Why didn’t you tell me?” / Lost Voice

Day Eight: Headache of Doom / "I'm fine, don't worry." / Migraines

Day Nine: Because You Can Cope / “You never listen.” / Abandonment Issues

Day Ten: I Can Still Fight / “I can’t stop.” / Exhaustion

Day Eleven: Empathetic Healer / “I feel you.” / Self Sacrifice

Day Twelve: Mutilation Interrogation (CW: This trope page has an image of a torture scene, with blood.) This is going to hurt.” / Fingore

Day Thirteen: It Never Gets Any Easier / “They wouldn’t do this.” / Nightmares

Day Fourteen: Break The Haughty / “There’s no shame in asking for help.” / Reopened Wound

Day Fifteen: Heroic Safe Mode / “Do you remember that?” / Self-Hatred

Day Sixteen: Buried Alive / “How did you get out?” / Carbon Monoxide Poisoning

Day Seventeen: To The Pain / “It’s alright.” / Delirium

Day Eighteen: Verbal Salt In The Wound / “I’m just trying to help.” / Coughing Up Blood

Day Nineteen: Clothing Concealed Injury / “I didn’t want you to worry.” / Infected Wound

Day Twenty: Sickening “Crunch!” / “That didn’t sound good.” / Broken Bones

Day Twenty-One: Stoic Woobie / “How bad is it?” / No Anaesthesia

Day Twenty-Two: Broken Angel / “I wish I could do something.” / Harming Self

Day Twenty-Three: Dragged By Collar / “Let go of me!” / Suffocation

Day Twenty-Four: Forced To Watch / “I can’t do this.” / Held At Gunpoint

Day Twenty-Five: You Can’t Go Home Again / “You're worrying me.” / Touch Starved

Day Twenty-Six: Gilded Cage / “Let me help you.” / Long-Term Captivity

Day Twenty-Seven: Get It Over With / “I don’t have a choice.” / Choke Hold

Day Twenty-Eight: Working Through The Cold / “I’m about to pass out.” / Fever

Day Twenty-Nine: Revenge By Proxy / “I know it hurts.” / Near-Death

Day Thirty: Sole Survivor / “It’s (/not) your fault.” / Survivor’s Guilt

Day Thirty-One: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished / “I’m here now.” / Killing In Self Defense

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

Alt Prompt #1: Puppet

Alt Prompt #2: “I need help.”

Alt Prompt #3: Cold-Blooded Torture

Alt Prompt #4: Impaled

Alt Prompt #5: Asthma Attack

#whump #whump event #whump writing #writers #writing #writing event #whump prompt #whumpay2022

[saphirered]

Hai I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do more verin x reader, like how would he react after finding out about essek, and he searched for him then he met the m9 and reader ?

Hope this turned out the way you wanted it! 😘

After the disappearance of his brother, Verin could simply not let it go. The Shadowhand disappeared from Exandria’s surface overnight without a word of warning. No traces left. No signs of a struggle that may indicate his enemies having gotten to him. Why would Essek leave everything behind willingly? Everything he gave his life for in service of the Bright Queen and the Kryn Dynasty? There had been suspicions about a traitor amidst the Bright Queen’s court but Verin simply refused to believe that to be Essek. His brother would never… Would he?

Verin, much like his brother is resourceful and shares a similar determination to reach a goal by any means necessary. That goal right now; finding Essek. Verin’s unsure what he will do once he finds his brother. There’s so many questions… But what if the rumours are true? No. He can’t think like that just yet. He will not tarnish that reputation through speculations. He needs answers first. He needs to find Essek.

Months of searching, following whatever traces he could find. Verin had to look to the past any ties before Essek’s disappearance. That lead to a group of strangers. A colourful bunch of chaotic individuals seemingly defying all odds when faced with them. Verin may not be able to track Essek but he could try and find these people… The Mighty Nein.

————

Heavy bag over one shoulder dressed in fine clothes you stroll through low-lit halls flanked by two guards. Radiating a sense of authority and sternness you stop in front the metal bars, on the other side a redhead leaning back against the wall looking up at you innocently without a single worry.

“Master Widogast, I’ve been told you’re here on suspicions of corrupting the minds of your students. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” You address your friend. This never ends. Caleb gets himself arrested because someone finds out what he’s allegedly been teaching at the Academy. He’s dragged off to a holding cell and your disturbed amidst your work day to get him out again. This time you’ve made him wait though. You had an important meeting you couldn’t get out.

“It’s all just a mistake. You’ll find my students can vouch for me and prove this misunderstanding to be nothing more than part of the curriculum of theoretical transmutation.” You dig through your bag, take out a scroll and hand it to one of the guards. The guards reads it over awaiting your command.

“Well, hurry up! Release this man before I have you written up for unlawfully keeping one of the Soltryce Academy’s most beloved teachers.” The guard quickly jumbles with the keys and the barred door is unlocked. Caleb gets up and you step aside to allow him to exit. The guards wait, not entirely sure what to do next. What did you expect of newbies…

“Are you really going to stand around loitering? Back to work.” The guards scurry off and you and Caleb walk next to each other exiting the building and into the streets. Once you’re both in the clear you drop your more rigid behaviour and punch the wizard in the shoulder.

“What was that for?” He exclaims rubbing his arm. That’s gonna bruise.

“The only reason I took this job is to get you and the others out of trouble when you inevitably got yourself in a mess again but between Beau’s bar fights and your borderline treason, I swear you’ll be the ones that will lose me my job.” You’re only half serious. You can’t count the times you’ve had to bail the Nein out for their antics and have definitely been abusing your newfound power to do so. The king might be an asshole but at least the pay is good and the benefits better.

Reaching your destination, wizard at your side discussing who might have spilled the beans on Caleb’s rather liberal teachings you open the low fence to the garden. In the garden you’re met with the familiar disguise of your friend Essek, sunhat to guard him from the harsh sunlight, gardening gloves on harvesting some vegetables. Upon seeing you he grabs the basket next to him and joins the two of you with a smile.

“While I’d hoped this wouldn’t become a habit, thank you, for getting Caleb out trouble, again. Your endless efforts are certainly appreciated. We are in your debt many times over.” The disguised drow sends the redhead a loving glance as he addresses you.

“And don’t you forget it. One day I might come and collect.” You grin at Essek with the pleasure of turning his own words against him. Of course you didn’t mean them. They’re your friends and you’ll never seriously ask for anything in return for anything they ask of you.

“Clever.” Essek speaks sarcastically smiling at your comment.

“But if you feel inclined to repay me for my hard work, you can make sure you’re both on time for dinner tonight. The gang’s getting back together and you’re expected.” Essek hands you the basket he’s carrying providing you with the resources of a home cooked meal for the gathering of the evening. It’s been a while since everyone’s been at the same place the same time.

“I’ll do what I can but I make no promises.”

“All, I can ask for.” You turn your attention to Caleb. “That reminds me.” A quick inconspicuous motion of your hands allows you to summon a small stack of papers. Another perk of your job; getting information the higher ups want to keep to themselves. Luckily a lot of them have assistants that are much easier to get that information from.

“Beau and you can get back to work. But not tonight! Tonight’s work free, for all of us.” Caleb quickly leafs through the ledgers you’ve handed him.

“You know, if you ever grow bored of the court life, you can always join me in teaching free thinking and magic at the Academy…” Caleb jokes as you pick up the basket ready to leave the wizards to the rest of their day.

“And who’s gone bail us both out then?” You laugh over your shoulder closing the fence behind you. Back to your home and prepare for the evening. You can’t help but feel like you’re being followed. You pay close attention to the shadows and for just a moment you’re sure you see something, or rather someone. Choosing not to pursue you continue on to your home. It’s not like your place of residence is a secret to anyone.

————

The house is noisy, happy chatting and laughter fills the dining room. How you’ve missed this. The table has been set, plates, cutlery and all, a multitude of decanters and bottles ready and filled, and plates and platers filled with food are added one by one. There’s something for everyone, everyone’s favourites.

“Yasha, can you take the cupcakes out of the oven for me?” You ask the barbarian wearing her floral embroidered apron stirring a pan on the stove as you plate the smoked pork. Yasha plates the baked goods by flavour and carries the tray to the dining room as you follow behind with your platter. Cheers erupt from the rest of the Nein as you and Yasha place the final dishes on the table. Everyone takes their seats and digs in pouring themselves drinks, taking whatever they desired, happily conversing about what everyone’s been up to in the past few months, talking about new plans for the future and the nostalgic adventures of the past together. You’ll have to get back to that some day. Maybe soon?

Despite the happiness of the whole event you still can’t get over this feeling you’re being watched. It’s not scrying, your home is protected from it and you feel safe to assume it’s not anyone from the Assembly or the king’s council. So who is it?

————

Verin watches the group as they enjoy their feast, his brother among them. He looks happy and content, as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. Is this what he left Xhorhas for? He always wanted more, so how could Essek be content with a normal life? No matter the motives he’s loved, they’re his friends, something he never truly had before.

Then talks about the beacons came up. Mentions of the past missing ones and newfound ones. Aeor and its connection to Dunamis long before the Dynasty. The theoretics and potential of the beacons and the continued pursuit of studying them. Within the Dynasty this could be considered sacrilegious. And it made it look more and more Essek was guilt of the treason others suspected him of. His brother was a traitor and a disgrace in the eyes of the Dynasty and his family.

So why does Verin feel like none of that matters? He should be angry. He should dispose of his brother right here, right now in the name of the Bright Queen. But he can’t bring himself to it. His brother is happy, fought free from the expectations of others and the demanded unwavering loyalty to the Luxon and the Dynasty. Essek did exactly what he couldn’t.

————

You excuse yourself from the table making an excuse about checking on dessert and retreating to the kitchen alone. This feeling of being watched was getting on your nerves but tonight should be one without trouble and conflict. You’ll figure out if this watcher in the shadows poses a danger to you and your friends, if so you’ll dispose of them. If it can be postponed until tomorrow, then tomorrow you’ll deal with it but not tonight. Tonight is about peace, friends and family getting back together.

So when you reach the kitchen you open the window taking out the lattice work pies and cakes you’d made and left to rest and cool down before the Nein’s arrival. You get the batter you made and begin making some waffles. While you wait for them to be done you hum to yourself and sit in the open windowsill looking out over the city, inconspicuously looking around for your uninvited guest. The first batch is done and they haven’t showed up yet. Alright, you’ll make a second batch and some extra whipped cream while you’re at it.

Then you catch a glimpse of a shadow. You can’t make out all the details but the attire and a flash of pristine white hair leaves you to think it’s a drow. Thinking on your feet you cast hold person but the drow remains unaffected. Before you know it you’re pushed a few steps back into your kitchen. Supporting himself on the windowsill he holds a finely made blade to your throat. You lift your hands in surrender showing you have no ill intend…yet and are willing to talk and listen.

“My quarrel is not with you but one wrong move and I will not hesitate, mage.” The drow threatens you. You don’t doubt his words but this isn’t your first rodeo. If he tries anything he’s in for a fight. Getting a closer look you study the man’s features. There’s a sense of familiarity and you’re quick to conclude he must be related to Essek in some way. Broader build and longer hair but same features and eyes. He’s probably a fair bit taller too standing up straight instead of crouched in a windowsill.

“Perhaps not but it might be if you do not get out of my windowsill in the next few seconds.”

“Is that a threat?” He pushes the blade a little closer and you feel the cold steel against your skin, one move and it cuts.

“No. But take a look outside. You’ll see the torchlight of the guard patrol. Get inside.” A quick glance over his shoulder gives you the chance to take a step back from the drow and pick up your whipped cream and continue whisking before it loses its structure. He jumps inside and away from the window as you whisk completely indifferent to the fact a stranger just held a sword to your neck and entered your home even with your invitation.

“You must be Verin Thelyss.” You state putting the now finished whipped cream in the ice box. Verin stands there wary of you, expecting you to make a move and attack him at any second but you’re not and even from your demeanour he can gather you have no ill intent towards him. Not at all what he expected, but then again he didn’t expect to find his brother in the capital of the enemy nation of the Dynasty having dinner with a bunch of (previous) adventurers, some of which holding ranks within the Empire no less.

“You’re questioning my motives and calmness.” You lean against the counter crossing your arms. Verin lowers the blade but you’re unsure if it is because of defeat or he doesn’t see the purpose in holding you at sword point any longer.

“Why not just let me be caught by your guards? Why invite me inside your home?” Verin watches your every move, every twitch. You can see the same confusion and uncertainty and panic you’ve seen in Essek many times before so you offer a soft smile. Best you can do for him right now is stay calm, don’t make any uncertain moves and approach him with gentleness. You’re sure with how long you’ve been feeling like being watched today he’s been the one responsible and he’d have caught onto your conversations from the shadows.

“Call it a leap of faith. I trust Essek. He trusts you. You’ve done nothing to prove you have any ill will towards my friends so until you prove me otherwise you’ll be welcome.” You move slowly grabbing two knives. Putting one on the counter and sliding it over a little away from you until it touches one of the pie dishes.

“You’re good with a blade right? You can help me cut these pies and cakes and we can talk.” You gesture to the kitchen knife. Verin looks at you as if you’ve gone insane. Maybe you have but it’s more likely you’ve faced much worse than the likes of him. You move your own knife and he watches you as you begin dividing the cake in even slices.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.”

“Then why should I listen to you?”

“Because you’re still standing here in my kitchen.” You laugh plating the slices of cake on another silver platter neatly.

“Verin, if you came here to kill your brother you would have tried so this afternoon. That you haven’t only shows you’re not here for that. You have questions. You want answers. Now I’m not just going to let you walk into my dining room until I’m certain that the information you got and the questions I answer will not lead you to violence. So you help me get dessert ready. If you prove your intensions for your brother and my friends are honourable you can join us for dessert. If you prove a danger to them, I will allow you to leave this place tonight but should you ever return I will be the least of your worries.” Verin takes the knife and tests the grip as if it’s a dagger as he looks at the apple pie in front of him. He stabs the knife down carefully and cuts downward repeating evenly spaced out. You wait for him to talk not feeling like you should initiate conversation just yet.

“The one who stole the beacons and handed them over to the traitor mages of your Empire, it was my brother’s doing.” More of a statement than a question you nod. Diving straight into the deep end, aren’t we? No matter, better rip the bandage off quickly.

“It hit us hard as well. Though, I can’t say it was surprise.” You’re not sure how to place what you read from Verin. Pity? Disappointment? And a good bit of acceptance thrown in the mix.

There truly was a sense of acceptance because no matter how much he might want to deny it, just like you said, there had already been that underlying suspicion it was Essek given his aspirations. It’s one of those things that leaves you hoping something isn’t true and you wilfully suppress the possibility until there’s no other way around it and you’re faced with the truth. If what you said is true and what he gathers from your conversation with the Nein and you now, you found out in the moment. He’s only learning about this in the aftermath.

Essek lied to your faces, pretended to be your ally to cover for himself and yet you still found it within yourselves to forgive or at the very least accept everything he had done so maybe, just maybe he could try to do the same. Still he has many more questions but he’s unsure if you can answer all of them.

“I won’t ask you to forgive and I certainly won’t ask you to forget, but I will ask you to give your brother a chance. In his time with us he’s truly been trying to make up for his mistakes and repent for his sins and while they may not all be washed away in his lifetime, it’s a start. He’s just as much of a misguided tool, as most of us, promised an a glimpse of power by forces bigger than him and without a way out when he realised the gravity of his actions and the consequences.” You finish up the last pie and put the knife to the side. Verin hangs onto your every word.

“When we were about to walk into certain death gathering what we could, he told us that if something were to happen to him, we should come find you because despite everything, you were one of the only people he felt he could trust.”

“Then why didn’t he trust me with this? Why depart without a word?”

“Because burdening you with that information would put you in the same place he put himself in. He came here, to a place he knew you couldn’t follow. He left a place he would endanger everyone he cares about because he knows you, just like the rest of us would fight the entirety of the Dynasty just to keep him safe.” You’re right. Verin know you’re right because he would have stood with his brother in the end despite what crimes he had committed. Essek was not the master of this grand scheme but he played his part. He’d spend his life making up for it but at least he will work towards making this world a better place. Verin can only aspire to do that very thing; protect the people he cares about and make this world a better place.

“I still have many questions.” Verin breathes. It’s a lot to process and that’s okay. This is just the start but it is the most difficult part. You grab the plates and platters balancing them on your arms.

“Maybe you should ask him yourself. Why don’t you join us for dessert, Verin?” He doesn’t know how to respond. While you told him you’d let him join, he didn’t expect it to be now or with so little certainty on your end, but maybe you knew more than you let on. Without a verbal response Verin grabs the remaining dishes from the counter and waits for you to lead the way.

Entering the dining room Beau and Veth are in the middle of a drinking contest each with their own decanters of wine. Veth slams down the now empty decanter.

“Momma’s still got it children!” Veth exclaims cheering as Beau sits back disappointed, two more gulps and she’d have won. Yasha comes in telling her she’ll win next time. Fjord passes over a hand full of coins to Jester who calls him a loser poking his cheek giggling. Kingsley is on the verge of challenging Veth to a drinking contest of their own and Essek carefully manages to grab a bottle to refill his and Caleb’s glasses before this goes south. Caduceus is watching the chaos unfold deliberating wether or not he should get some hangover tea ready because they will need it if this keeps going.

When you enter, the cheers for dessert fall quiet quickly seeing the drow behind you carrying several pies. Essek freezes up and Caleb naturally takes a bit of a defensive position without breaking the dinner setting. Verin albeit awkwardly steps out next to you as you helping you put the plates on the table. With a wave of your hand you call over another chair to be put at the head of the table. You gesture for the man to sit and he does debating wether or not this was the right decision as all eyes fall on him. You take your own seat.

“Well, come on guys, dig in!” Not needing to be asked twice they do, some wary of Verin but you know they’ll ease up soon enough.

“So you’re Essek’s brother? He didn’t say you’re a hot boi too. Jeeze Essek, is everyone in your family pretty?” Jester asks stuffing her mouth with a piece of cake. Verin is taken aback by the blue tiefling’s comment and the identical faces he and Essek make are enough to send most of the table in a giggle fit. You cover your own response to this for your own sake.

“Eh-Thank you? I think? Though, if my company is undesired I can leave…” Verin suggests unsure how to further approach this doubting this is the right place for this.

“Nonsense. If our friend invited you to join, for whatever reason, you’re welcome.” Fjord assures. He knows you wouldn’t just allow this without a reason and just by the attitude of the guy, he gets a pretty good estimate there’s no malicious intent in Verin right now.

“Yeah and while you’re here you can tell us about all the embarrassing shit Essek did when he was a kid.” Beau punches Essek’s shoulder past Caleb who’s quick to get out of the monk’s way. Essek rubs the spot she hit teeth clenched but smiling nonetheless.

“So, Verin, what are your intentions here?” Caleb asks an open question hoping to get more insight in the drow’s motives. While he trusts your judgement one can never be too certain and he’d rather not be face to face with Essek’s brother on their way home should that scenario arise.

“I-“ Verin tries to find the words picking them carefully. “I thought I knew before but now I don’t know. I came to find my brother and I found him, among friends. I have many questions, some answered by your gracious friend but I think for now, I’d like to truly meet my brother’s friends because if this is the company he finds himself in, I can only ask to witness his happiness.”

It’s a strange feeling for Verin to come to that conclusion. When he left Xhorhas he considered he might be bringing back the corpse of his brother, by his hand or someone else’s depending on circumstances, or bring him back in chains for treason to be tried in front of the Bright Queen. What he didn’t expect is to be met by an alternative that would change his views on everything. He realises that with your stories and those of the Nein he was just as lost as all of you, but now he’s found a group of people that willingly accept whichever path he chooses for himself without expectations, rules or conditions.

Verin first hand gets to experience why Essek chose to leave everything behind and give it up for these people. They are his friends, his family and he’d never be alone again if they can help it. Perhaps Verin can experience that too one day. The Mighty Nein will make sure he does because as we know, once you get involved with them, your life changes forever.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #verin thelyss #verin x reader #verin thelyss x reader #critical role

[dragonagecompanions]

hi there, so in love with your works. Seriously *bows head* thank you all so much. If its not too bad, I wanted to know how everyone in DAI from the advisors to the companions would react to a teen inquisitor who is brilliant at cooking? Yet the inquisitor has no idea about people from Leliana's agents to everyone else pinching her food.

Cassandra: She thinks she is being sneaky and subtle, insisting that because of their age and responsibility it is better for their young herald to stay close to camp and not take a watch when they leave Skyhold. There will be time for that when they are older, and bearless of a burden. If they will take on the difficulty of closing the rifts, then the most they should have to do is help around the camp, and after a long day nothing is appreciated more than hot food.

No one contradicts her, and the Seeker is left to silently congratulate herself on enjoying the absolutely divine way that their young leader has with rabbit and Hinterland herbs without making the Inquisitor feel worthless.

(And if everyone else lets her take a lead on that because she has mattered the speech, well...it’s really good stew.)

Varric: Damn, this is the stuff. Its like being back in the Hanged Man, except the bread is trying to actively strange him, and the pies aren’t staring back and.. 

It’s nothing like the Hanged Man, really, but the sheer comfort of phenomenal food at the end of the world? The same kind of warmth as sitting with your friends as the city goes to shit and laughing at a joke no one else gets. Their young protagonist has a good skill set on their hands, and If Varric’s writing table moves a little closer to the door into the kitchens, well.

Keeps the ink from freezing.

Solas: It had been a passing comment about the frilly cakes in Val Royeaux,  some exchange of banter with Varric about time passing and philosophy and the unending banal that one takes on to keep the miles from turning monotonous. He’d had no idea the Herald was listening, and so it makes it all the more touching when- after waqving to them as they take on the climb to the library- he comes down from his painter’s perch to find three petit fours waiting for him on his table. 

It drives home that they are a thoughtful young person, so different from the rest of this world, and if he uses the sweetness of the frosting and cake to drive away the twinge of guilt that his plans still move at speed....it does not take away from their talent, or their kindness. He will be content with that.

Blackwall: Food is food, particularly on the road. Hard tack and sausage has kept many a soldier alive, and he is the last person you’d hear complaining that he can’t put his pinky out eating meat from a spit. Luxury is for soft handed nobles, not men and women striving to make the world better. Let them have the best cuts-- Blackwall would starve before he robs true heroes of a hot meal.

And yet the first time he comes back from gathering firewood to find that the reason the inquisitor was tying so much string around the side of a wild hog was to make a porketta, and he got a good whiff of roasted pork slowly spinning in it’s own drippings....It would be a harder sacrifice. It made the Inquisitor so happy to watch their work be enjoyed and help people though, that it would the crueler not to take some. 

And if he dreams about the tender meat and crispy skin all perfectly seasoned and roasted for days afterwords, that’s no one’s business of his own. 

Vivienne: She cuts an imposing figure, and for the Madame de Fer is quite proud. It has cowed more than one recalcitrant novice into place with only a long legged stride alone, and for that she is a legend in her circle. Of course the stories do not tell how she would never be cruel or unfeeling to a child, and particularly not one far from home and frightened of every shadow like the ones that the Templars rip from families and depost in a new and strange place.

She expects a similar attitude from the young Herald, particularly after her (rahter stunning) entrance on their first meeting. And perhaps they were a bit overawed, but before it could become something she needs to address Lady Vivienne is pleasantly surprised to find their young leader coming to her for advice from a letter from some minor Orlesian lord. And while surely it will be up to Josephine to craft the response Vivienne is delighted that the Inquisitor wants her input.

That they went to the effort to bring beignet’s with them as a bribe...For that, she will give them every secret of the author’s well kept family scandals. 

Sera: Their Bitty Herald can make cookies better than Sera can make cookies, but they aren’t the kind that you throw at people as a prank or that come out all rock hard and brown and blegh. They are the soft gooey kind that make you want to steal the whole plate and eat them on your roof but also throw the plate at their Quizznitor because....because cookies!

She will trade pranks for cookies, who ever her Jenny in training wants to see doused in water or flour or...or...pudding! Pudding for cookies is the most fair.

Dorian: Southern food is bland and tasteless, and Skyhold’s resident ‘Vint will endure it for as long as he must to help defeat this ancient magister and get things on the right track. And the beer isn’t the worst, much to his own dismay as his delicate palette accepts the swill. But the food is all friend or brown or smothered in gravy, and he’d just as soon not.

So when they finally stop for the night under the endless web of branches that keep the sky from meeting the Fallow Mire, the pond water full of dead people sounds more appealing than one more night of Varric’s nug stew. Which makes the fact their valiant young Herald just ladled him a bowl of Minestrone so much more impressive. Their shrugged explanation of ‘I’ve always wanted to make it and the merchants had actual artichokes on the way here and you can tell me if I got it right’ does nothing to take away the warmth and delight the gesture brings to him. 

It would be like coming home, if anyone had ever made sucha rustic and delightful soup for him without strings and hooks attached in Tevinter, and for the first time on the whole mission Dorian isn’t chilled the rest of the night. 

The Iron Bull: He isn’t sure which one of the Chargers talks to the Herald (lies, it was  Krem), but one night half the fortress is piled into the Rest and the Inquisitor is waiting with four bowls of unreadable origin. The explanation that these are four kinds of curry and each is hotter than the last is the best gift he’s ever gotten, but the wager of a single coin (he won’t steal more than that from the kid) that the Iron Bull can’t finish them for the spice is even better. 

Three hours later finds him chewing on one of Stitche’s poultices for a burnt tongue (and throat and stomach and probably ass in a few hours) but one coin richer and hoarse voiced from the roaring laughter he’d gotten after a straight face convinced Krem to try the last bown and he’d literally wept.

Good times. 

Cole: The nug is made of bread, and it isn’t a nug but it looks like one. And it’s wearing a tiny hat! ‘Roll the dough out, has to be thin so it rises to keep the shape, he likes nugs so much and doesn’t ask for anything and Sera bet me I couldn’t.’ You made it for me. Thank you! He says hello back!

Josephine: When their ambassador hears that not only does the Herald have an aunt who married into a merchant house in Antiva but the inquisitor spent a summer there and learned to make authentic Paella, Lady Montiliyet’s mind is a whirlwind of plans and thoughts of just the appropriate bribe that would spare her from getting down on her knees and begging a fifteen year old to make her favorite dish. Eventually Leliana gets tired of little doodles of steaming bowls on all their meeting notes and sends a raven  three windows over, Josie, really with an ‘anonymous’ request to make it and leave it in the war room in exchange for a trade of equal value. 

And when Josephine finds out that all the Inquisitor wants is the creepy love letters from young  Orlesian nobles to go away, she takes great delight in her strongly worded letters to their mothers in between heaping mouthfuils of white wine rice and shrimp and the warm bite of saffron that will always be home.

Leliana: It is written on no report or schedule, and her agents will go to the grave without speaking of it to another soul, but the Inquisition’s spymaster has a man in the kitchens whose only role is to fetch firewood and water and try to one day recover his shattered after a terrible mission in her service. It’s easy work for a man who gave so much, and somewhere he is able to do good work until the tremors and the nightmares stop. The kitchen staff is kind to him and treat him well, but his true mission is known only to himself and his mistress.

The second the herald starts making  Cassoulet he is to fetch her immediately. She won’t be caught in a meeting and miss her favorite food again, damn it.

Cullen: It’s hard for the Inquisitor’s commander to be at ease with someone who is both a child and at least nominally his leader. They are someone he wants to protect, but also the key to stopping the world and someone who must be on the front lines. That is gift alone to the world, but when the rumors begin to swirl that they will also go out of their way to make things that people like it brings a small smile to his face. The world would be better if had more people like the herald in it. 

Especially if they could all make little crocks of shepards pie like the one that sits on his desk after a day of long meetings and a lyrium migraine. That might make everything right again.

-- Mod Fereldone

#dragon age inquisitions #Cassandra Pentaghast #Solas #Varric Tethras #sera #dorian pavus #the iron bull #cole #blackwall #josephine montilyet #Leliana #cullen rutherford #vivienne de fer #reactions #teen inquisitor

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Organization as horror movie tropes?

All of my tropes came from this website. I basically just made the premise for a bunch of horror movies tbhI

WARNING: Gore, Violence (all implied because of the tropes, but nothing too bad)

-

Xemnas - Psychological Torment Zone, The Sociopath, With Great Power Comes Great Insanity

Xigbar - Psycho Party Member, Eldritch Location, Sanity Slippage

Xaldin - Cobweb Jungle, Jump Scare, Not a Mask

Vexen - Mad Scientist, Creepy Cleanliness, Freak Lab Accident

Lexaeus - Apocalyptic Log, The Family That Slays Together

Zexion - Third Eye, Deadly Book, Gate of Truth, Keeper of Forbidden Knowledge

Saix - The Secret of Long Pork Pies, Tortured Monster, Never Sleep Again

Axel - Daylight Horror, Ghost Story, The Savage South

Demyx - Scare Chord, For Doom the Bell Tolls, The Little Shop that Wasn’t There Yesterday

Luxord - Rise from your Grave, Urban Legends, Town with a Dark Secret

Marluxia - Touch of the Monster, Man-Eating Plant, Flower Mouth

Larxene - Wicked Witch, Final Girl, Literal Maneater

Roxas - You Look Like You’ve Seen a Ghost,  Join Us Drone, False Innocence Trick

Xion - Abandoned Playground, Nightmare Fuel Coloring Book, Creepy Children Singing

#organization xiii headcanons #kingdom hearts headcanons

[designatedloveinterest]

please tell me where I’m going with this

Yennefer woke up because something was tickling her nose.

She slept in the foetal position as she always did, undisguised by a sympathetic body to wrap around, shutting out the cold uncaring world. Having spent her formative years in a stable, she felt no urgent reason to engage with the tickling. Probably just a lonely harvestman, lost on its way to its web - but by the gods, she would certainly need to get up and piss soon.

Jaskier woke up because something was sticking into his ribcage. It was soft and pillowy, but definitely squished uncomfortably against him. He rolled over and found a different something squishing into a different part of his ribcage. His bladder was also starting to complain urgently.

The cries that ensued from both parties on waking could be heard across Vengerburg.

~

Familiarity breeds contempt, and hatred is all too frequently a projection of the features in oneself that one despises the most. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the unlucky recipients of new bodies as mentioned above performed almost identical rituals, in order:

1) poking at their new face, Yennefer scrubbing at her newfound stubble - and crow’s feet - in utter dismay,  Jaskier marveling at his resemblance to a baby’s bottom, and;

2) immediately returning to bed to experiment with their unfamiliar genitalia.

“You boring, boring little man. You talk a big game of entendres and seduction, but you don’t own so much as an egg,” muttered Yennefer, rifling through Jaskier’s things and hoping he owned the room, or at least was paid up. Across town in Yennefer’s apartment, Jaskier was opening jars and bottles and sniffing them, wondering if any of them were safe for personal use.

~

ARGENTUM IBISCUS DI CERIKAN

“Sorted!” gloated Jaskier, spotting his very favourite beauty cream in its distinct rifled coffret. Lightly scented with a silky feel, Argentum Ibiscus di Cerikan was safe for delicate body parts, such as, ahem, eyes. Out of sheer habit he dabbed a tiny amount in the corner of each eye then, clutching the bottle, positioned himself in front of Yen’s full length mirror, legs splayed for a perfect combination of watcher and watched.

Yen grinned smugly at finding a near-finished bottle of her best-selling beauty potion nestled in Jaskier’s smallclothes like a dirty secret. Whilst the merchants proclaimed its rejuvenation properties, the unspoken benefit was the unique but painless tingling sensation it offered - a benefit the bard was clearly familiar with. She was quite sure he would forgive her for smearing it over three or four of her fingers and applying it deeply.

~

Jaskier collapsed to the ground, gurgling incoherently.

“Ba” was all he could manage. “Ba. Ba.” He stared at a loop of silk edging the extremely fine carpet he lay on, hands clutched between his legs, heart pounding like a thunderstorm.

How did women not just fucking die from this?

Very suddenly, Jaskier understood why women who failed to finish before he did beat and kicked him so savagely.

Poor Yen had had to make do with a lousy candle, nowhere near enough width for the beastly pounding she knew the bard could easily withstand. She was also disappointed to find that luxurious living and what felt like a hereditary spinal condition prevented her from being able to get her mouth quite down to her surprisingly generous cock. Still, discovering that the bard had extraordinarily sensitive nipples gave her plenty to work with.

~

He supposed he should leave. No doubt Yennefer would be VERY angry when she woke up in his less than salubrious inn room, and assuming this situation wasn’t entirely her doing, she would be roaring back towards her own home ready to eviscerate him and his newfound appreciation for the clitoris. Not that he hadn’t appreciated it before, but now he REALLY appreciated it. At least six times, just this morning.

But her sheets were so fine, and her bed so soft, and the smell of not only lilacs and gooseberries but also roses, freesias, jasmine, frying eggs, donuts, and even horseshit coming in through the high window was wrapping him in a sensuous haze, and he decided that just a few more minutes of sleep would be fi…..

Yen, however, was very keen to find out which whoreson had stuck her in this ridiculous furbag’s body, even if it was a rather fun body to play with, and so after a relatively muted three orgasms and an efficient nap she attempted to get dressed.

Yen was no stranger to suffering for beauty, and even respected the bard’s commitment, but… what the hell was going on with these shoes? These PANTS?? Eventually she managed to cobble together an outfit from the least ridiculous items in Jaskier’s wardrobe - which for a travelling bard was entirely too large - and arrange her new bits in a less uncomfortable manner.

Her first port of call would, indeed, be her own home…  

~

All right, perhaps that was more than a few minutes of sleep. Jaskier grinned smugly to hear the elegant and proud Yennefer’s stomach gurgling like a summer brook.

Well, the only decent thing to do would be to feed her! Jaskier felt very, very sure that Yennefer would be so grateful when she found out he’d maintained her refined diet. He fell out of bed and treated himself to a leisurely hour or so of trying on clothes, occasionally yelling at his stomach to shut up and make way for beauty, and settled on a simple all-black ensemble that he felt really emphasised both tits and arse.

Patting himself on the bottom for his good taste, he headed out for breakfast. Lunch. Lekfast. Whatever.

"What're YEE staring at, cont?"

Yennefer, who had barely registered the thug's existence, continued as she normally would - eyes straight ahead, nose not at all in the air but somehow looking as if it was.

“Hey! Don’t fuckin’ ignore me you puffed-up prick! A’ll ‘ave ye!”

Puffed-up prick? Oh, of course. Yen had somehow managed to get comfortable in this weird huge bear of a body, and none of her womanly wiles would get her out of this – appeal to his mates, cutting but witty remark, setting on fire as a last resort. She made a cautious gesture in the hope of generating some energy, and of course just looked camp. She hoped this body was any good in a fight.

~

Normally, Jaskier had to muster all the charm he had abundantly at hand to persuade Dragan Smilovic to open The Iron Mountain before noon. Instead, he was slightly miffed to discover a beaming Dragan throwing the doors open to welcome "Lady Yennefer! A honour to my house. The usual?"

Curiosity overriding his irritation, he smiled as smugly as he imagined Yen to be and murmured "Of course, Dragan." He swished into the pub and slid into a booth, making sure to really stick his arse out as he did so.

This body was not that great in a fight, to be honest, but thankfully, neither was Mr. Sensitivity and after some unpleasant blows to the face Yennefer channelled her first-year Aretuza energy, grabbed her assailant's ears and headbutted him right in the nose. His face exploded with blood and snot and his mates roared, advancing on her for revenge. Yennefer took the win and, using her long muscular legs, ran like all Jaskier's fiancee's were after her.

~

"What... is this, Dragan?" Jaskier had no idea how his face looked, but he felt like it probably resembled this sad assembly of rabbit food masquerading as a meal.

The dwarf rattled off a word salad that involved far too little "pork" or "venison" and far too much "emulsion" and "jus" and for fuck's sake "julienne".

"Are you trying to kill me? I'll waste away from this."

Dragan flinched slightly.

"The last time I brought you the house special you threatened to set me on fire."

Of course she did. Still, of all the things Dragan could suspect of the sorceress, being occupied by her best frenemy's mind was unlikely to be the first, so Jaskier declined to simply reverse the threat.

"Dragan," he reassured the dwarf, "I've given it some thought and I believe that I should be liberated from the tyranny of the 21 inch waist. A hardworking mage requires adequate carbohydrates to maintain one's powers, and as a result, I will require a tankard of the finest Rivian Kriek and one each of your freshest pies. No cats, Dragan, I'll notice."

Dragan bowed slightly. "Very good, ma'am," and headed for the kitchen.

Yennefer was pleasantly surprised by how well the furbag's lungs were taking all this running. For a man who clearly appreciated carbohydrates in all forms, Jaskier was much fitter than she'd have expected. Even so, she very slightly wished his inn was located somewhat less downhill from her apartment.

The thugs had, fortunately, been either too cowardly to follow her into the more upmarket part of town, or perhaps had been intercepted by guards while she sprinted through the textile markets. A few merchants had tried to wave her (realistically, him) down and she huffed "not... today... thanks" and kept sprinting.  If she made it home fast enough, he might not have stolen everything not nailed down.

~

Jaskier was disgusted, absolutely disgusted with the lack of endurance this body had for fine carbohydrates. Offered the finest sauerkraut, sausages, pies and pierogies, beautiful homebaked dwarven bread smeared with the finest goat's cheese, not to mention the fine ales, beers and stouts he KNEW Yennefer loved - why, he was practically buying her a gift! even if it was with her own money - it managed to digest half of a pie and half a herring in batter and collapsed like a schoolboy in the third round of Gwent. He unlaced the ribbons at his tiny waist and lay down in the booth.

"Why am I dying, Dragan? I haven't eaten in 24 hours. I should be ready to tip an entire banquet table down my waiting gullet. I want a refund."

Dragan prickled. "Ma'am, I provided specifically your every request. I - "

Jaskier waved dismissively. "I'm joking, Dragan, keep your pants on. Oh gods - " clutching at his spasming stomach - "I want a refund on this miserable, useless body. Except for the boobs. They're quite good. Ooooof."

The dwarf clutched his notepad. "Errr... coffee?"

Yennefer approached her shop with some trepidation. He wouldn't have trashed it - not his style - but he absolutely would leave a bottle of something dangerous open, 

#jaskier #yennefer #body swap #wip #aaaaaaaaaarrrrrghhhh #writing? I'd rather shovel shit with my tongue

[shysupernaturalfangirl]

Different - Dean Winchester x Reader - Part Six

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing(s): Dean x Reader

World: Reverse French Mistake AU

Word Count: No longer doing word count

Warning(s): Cussing,

Summary: It’s every fan-girl’s dream to either, end up in the world of their fantasies, their fandom, or to wind up with on of the actors or characters. There is a couple thousand fanfictions with such circumstances. She never thought in her wildest dreams, that she’d actually end up in a fanfiction situation.

Taglist: @sillydecoy @blackeyedangel9805​ @heythereamigodude​ @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo @seppys-return-to-madness @jaylarkson

A/N: Please let me know throw my INBOX if you want to be tagged. Too many are commenting on the stories, it's making it hard to keep up!

Sitting on the table in the kitchen, Dean is stirring gravy on the stove while I strip the corn in the cob, the radio on the corner countertop is playing Sweet Home Alabama as Dean dances across the kitchen. Bobbing my head along to the beat of the music, Dean smirks at me as he turns the volume up a bit as I drop the shucked corn in the pot beside me. Dean grabs my hand, pulling me off the table, before twirling me around as I let out a loud laugh, the two of us dancing with the music, not a single care that it doesn't match the music playing. It seems our laughter draws an audience, because just as Dean dips me, the song turning off, Sam and Castiel are in the doorway of the kitchen, clapping.

"Oh, uh..." Dean lifts me back up, twirling me out of his arms so fast that I have to grasp the table I was previously occupying, the room spinning a bit. "Hey guys." I greet within my best ability.

"Food's gonna be a while." Dean states as he turns the music back down, and takes the pot of salted water and corn cobs, placing it on the stove.

"Oh, we were just checking out the commotion." Sam replies, causing me to blush as Dean nods, though in response to Sam, or to the beat of the new song, I'm not entirely sure.

"Indeed." Castiel states. "Carry on." I have to hid my wince at the way he says it, it sounds rehearsed, almost like being blind-read from a script before him. "Sam and I are going to do a beverage run. What would you like, Emily?" He asks.

"Oh, uh... Grape Crush, or Green Apple Fanta. I'm not large on alcohol, nor caffeine." I reply with little to no thought, a pure answer from the top of my head. The two of them smirk, before nodding as they disappear, and I turn back to the task at hand in the quiet of the kitchen, which is only punctured by the sound of the music. Grabbing a cutting board, I start cutting the tomatoes for the salad, humming along to the music under my breath. "Dean," I finally place the knife down, turning to his broad back as he turns halfway to me, keeping an eye on the pork chops at the same time as acknowledging me. "you have yet to ask. About... anything you saw that day." I cross my arms over my chest as he turns the occupied burners down for safety, and then turns to lean on the counter next to it, eyes roaming over me, studying me.

"Well, I don't make it a habit of digging into the past, when it's obviously something that you want to forget." He replies, causing me to smirk, and he narrows his eyes at me. "Alright Sweetheart, you want me to ask, I'll ask. The douchebag who was throwing and beating on you, what was his deal." If he notices how quickly I stiffens, turning back to my task as if he hadn't spoke at all is sure to worry him, the slight shaking in my arms and shoulders is the only giveaway of the event. "Hey hey hey, Emily, are you alright?" He asks softly, causing me to set the quivering knife down as I slowly turn back to him, and he smiles softly as I force myself to smile at him. "You don't gotta force yourself to say anything." He says softly, reaching up to caress my cheek, looking into my eyes as I bite my bottom lip, before looking away.

"He was my... Ex-fiance." I notice that he stiffens at my reply. "Daniel was manipulative, and accusing and he made me lose all of my friends, isolated me from my family, and made it so I was dependant on him. I didn't notice the signs of abuse, until he started to abuse me, and by then, it was too late. Nobody wanted to help me, or nobody believed me." My explanation causes Dean to look a bit distraught. "I managed to get a restraint order, and moved to a whole new town, new state, to get away. That was a couple weeks before I woke up here." My voice dies weakly, looking up at him sadly.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." He apologizes as I tearfully shake my head.

"F-Forget it." I rub my eyes, wiping away all trace of tears as I smile up at him. "What do you say, we get this done? I'm nervous enough about meeting Jodie for the first time." He chuckles at that.

"Don't worry so much. She's like a big cuddly teddybear. Gruff and surly on the outside, but gentle and loving in the inside." Dean explains, causing me to giggle, shaking my head at him as he turns to the doorway, as if checking that she's not behind us when he's speaking. "Just, uh... Don't tell her I told you that, huh?"

"Hmm... I think I can be persuaded to keeping that secret." I tease, setting the knife down as I turn back to look at Dean as he scoffs and chuckles, looking at me.

"You are diabolical." He taunts, turning back to me, before leaning on the counter as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Alright, what can I bribe you with?"

"I wanna drive Baby!" I burst out with, causing his mouth to drop, surprise on his face as I bounce on the balls of my feet.

"You wanna drive-"

"You let Sam before! Come on, Dean! Please!" I beg, tugging at his arm, and giving my best puppy dog eyes to him. "I'll bake you some pie!" I offer in a sing-song type voice as he looks down at me, quirking his lips as I giggle, and lean up on my tip-toes. "Any. Kind. You. Like." He groans, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.

"Sweetheart, you don't fight fair." He pouts, leaning towards me as he strokes my cheek, causing my face to flush as I step back, and drop my face away. "One time. You can drive Baby, once."

"Really?!" I gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Oh, thank you Dean! Thank you!" I throw my arms around him, hugging him as he chuckles, his hands falling to my waist in return, and I smile up at him. Suddenly, it's like electrical currents are running through my skin from his from where we touch, my heart is pounding as we look into each other's eyes. His thumbs start to stroke my love handles under my shirt, first in circles and occasionally up in down, causing my skin to hum as I struggle to breath, his fanfiction green eyes are on my own, it's like a magnetic pull, drawing the two of us closer until we're just a hair's breath away from each other.

"Hey Dean, I'm here- oh!" We both jump, Dean pushes me back, like we're two teens just caught doing something they're not supposed to be doing. "I-I'm so sorry! I-" Jodi turns to me with an apologetic smile. "Hi, I'm Jodi." She clears her throat, holding out her hand, which I shake as embarrassment floods and stings my cheeks. "You must be Emily."

"Y-Yes." She looks at Dean with a motherly reproachful look, before smiling at me once more as she shakes my hand. After she drops it, my face enflames even more as she looks between Dean and I with curiosity in her eyes. "I-I'll just let you two talk." I stammer out, scurrying towards the door.

"Hey," Dean calls after me, and turning to look at him, our eyes meet, and my breath hitches as we stand there, lost in each other's eyes.

"Dean! Emily! We're back!" Sam's shout draws my attention, and I dash out if the kitchen to help the other two with the drinks they bought. Shortly after the incident, Dean and I are converting the Map Table into a dinner table, placing piles of food on it, before moving chairs around, and everyone is sitting as I go around, pouring drinks for them.

"Em, sit down." Dean urges as he looks up at me, causing me to drop my head with a blush, shaking my head as I pour the last of the drinks, before I dash back into the kitchen as the over timer goes off. After checking the two pies and chocolate cake that are in the oven, I switch it off while leaving them in the oven to cool, before walking back out with the rest of the food in one arm, and the plates tucked in the other.

"Oh, sweetie, do you need help?" Jodie asks as she scoots the chair back to stand.

"No no, we've got it." Dean says and both he and Sam stand, coming over to relieve me of my burden, placing them on the table, and Dean scoots out a chair for me to sit in, before helping me scoot in. Jodie is watching this all with a delighted gleam in her eyes, looking rather impressed as she smiles in approval at me.

"So, Emily," Jodie starts as everyone starts to load uo their plates. "you seemed to have whipped these boys into shape. Look, they're even eating instead of gulping it down like it's going to run away!" She laughs as I let a soft giggle, stabbing a piece of chicken to put on my plate, before adding mashed potatoes and gravy.

"They just didn't get a lot of home-cooked meals in the past, being on the road 24/7. I mostly stay behind while they're on the hunts, and I always leave them both a plate in the fridge for when they get back." She smiles as I add some broccoli and cheese sauce to my plate, along with a scoop of stuffing.

"Yeah, Emily takes good care of us. Doesn't she, Dean?" Sam inquires, causing me to furrow my brow. "Doesn't she, Dean?" Sam says with a little more emphasis, causing me to discreetly look over at the older man, only to find him staring at me as a blush floods my cheeks. Suddenly something brushes my leg as Dean hollers in pain, jumping before he clears his throat.

"Yeah yeah. Em's the best." Dean mutters as he drops his gaze to his plate, shoveling his food into his mouth.

"So, Emily, how exactly did you meet the boys?" Jodie asks in a friendly tone, causing the boys to stiffen as Emily freezes.

"It's uh... A bit of a long story, and we're still not a hundred percent on the details." I explain slowly, before launching into detail about the way I met the boys abd Castiel, and by the time I'm done, she's gawping at me as I slowly start to blush, shoveling food into my mouth to I don't have to speak. Jodie continues to eat as she takes a long moment to process the information that I told her, long enough for me to worry that she might think I'm lying. I turn to Dean with frantic eyes, but he simply holds out a hand as he shakes his head, smirking at me as he looks towards Jodie, who stabs a piece of lettuce and tomato from her salad, before looking up at me.

"I suppose you're lucky to have woken up near the boys, huh? No telling who or what would be after you for the information you possess." She says, causing a cold sweat to break out on my forehead and neck, both of the boys and Castiel all freeze as well, as if the idea just hit them.

"And we've been letting you go on hunts with us." Sam groans as he faceplants into his hand, while Dean's grip tightens on his fork.

"The dangers just tripled on the playing field." Dean states as Jodie snorts.

"She's survived so far. Give her some credit boys." She scolds, causing them to actually look a bit sheepish. "You can handle yourself, right?"

"I would never put the boys, nor anyone else in danger. I would rather bite my tongue off and bleed to death, than hurt you guys." I reply, causing Dean to swallow thickly, within an audible gulp, his hands turning bone white around his silverware. Sam's frown deepens as he shakes his head in immense displeasure at the thought. Castiel shifts nervously in his chair as Jodie looks around at us, before I press my chair away from the table. "Well, I think I'll set the pies and cake out to cool." I state as I disappear into the kitchen as fast as I can.

~3rd POV~

The moment that Emily is out of sight and earshot, Jodie starts to saw into her chicken, watching Sam and Dean exchange looks, almost like they're having a silent conversation with each other. "Dean," His head snaps up at her voice as she points her fork towards the kitchen, a piece of tender chicken dangling from the end. "you look after that girl. Don't let her go."

"Don't let her go? What do you mean?" He asks, causing Jodie to shot Sam a look, as if to say 'is he serious?' to which Sam nods with an exhausted and forelorn look upon his face.

"Dean, even a blind man can see the attraction and tension between you two." Jodie says, scraping her food off her fork with a sharp clink noise.

"Dean, she's right." Sam chimes in. "You laugh and smile with Emily, like I have yet to see you do. You look at the pictures of Jess and I, and you can see the same look I have her, on your face when you look at Emily." Sam says as he takes a bite of his corn on the cob.

"Wait, what?" Dean snorts. "You saying that I'm in love with Emily?" He shakes his head. "No. No way am I in love with that outsider. She doesn't even understand our world, as much as she claims she might. She will never understand, because she is different than us. I will not drag her into a life where she'd be nothing but useless!" Dean's brow furrows at Sam's wide-eyed, grim expression.

"Well," Dean jumps, turning around to see Emily standing there with teary eyes. She slams the pie, dish and all, in her hands, on the table as she throws her oven mitts in her chair. "let me be the last to know where I'm not wanted." She states with a tight voice, before she walks out of the room.

"Way to go, Dean." Sam snaps as Jodie stands, looking at Dean as she shakes her head.

"That was the most cruel way to handle that, Dean." She scolds, hurrying out of the room after Emily.

Well, Dean screwed up. Again. It'd be too easy for them if I didn't throw in a little twist or two! You'll just have to stick around to see what happens next!

Also, sorry for the lack of content. I moved. Again. And I got a severe bout of insomnia, and depression. Things just were crazy and hectic. Anyway! Please enjoy, and I will try to have the next chapter written and up soon. Love you all, my fabulous readers! Remember, my inbox is always open.

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural miniseries #supernatural #ssfg writes #reverse french mistake #different series

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND / 1.04 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

“I don’t even know where the hell she came from.”

“How long do we have to risk bodily harm?”

“He hasn’t contacted me, but that’s what he does. Pops up, disappears. Pops up, disappears.”

“She never even had an awkward phase.”

“This if the fifth time she’s called today.”

“The last thing you need right now is a conversation with pathological narcissist.”

“She’s like a stalker I used to live inside of.”

“Now basically she has the life you could have had but ruined with all your ridiculous choices.”

“Thanks for the salt in the wound.”

“Let’s do something to cheer you up.”

“Subject is approaching and appears dejected.”

“I decided to eat my feelings and turns out my feelings are pork rinds, whoopie pies, and mac & cheese.”

“What do you do when you’re feeling bad?”

“You shouldn’t use Tinder for dates –– it’s for sex.”

“You’re looking for someone to, like, pound the bad feelings out of you.”

“I’m gonna go put on a thong, or maybe I won’t wear any underwear.”

“She demonstrates lack of judgement combined with poor impulse control.”

“Do you want to get weird?”

“Hey, sexy stranger. I hope you’re not a murderer.”

“Please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer.”

“Is that a gun? Oh, thank god, it’s just your penis.”

“Keep yourself horny, stay in the mood.”

“I think it’s time for me to start making healthier choices and you’re not a healthy choice.”

“I came to the decision that I need to be making healthier choices, so I stayed up all night and did some research.”

“I have turned over enough leaves in my life for a whole forest.”

“I have a very positive attraction to her but I also kind of want to punch her in the arm.”

“Saw your pictures. They looked like outtakes from a porn shoot.”

“Are you guys talking about drugs? Because drugs are bad.”

“You sound like that weird butter commercial.”

“I like you and I know I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to like you. You’re not that nice to me and you’re weird.”

“I tell myself to stop thinking about you but every time you show up it’s like, boom, feelings.”

“Maybe you can just settle for me.”

“So that was what, a $2000 mistake?”

“Can you just stop telling me what to do?”

“This is the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“This is the second best thing to do in town besides leave.”

“With my luck, it’ll rain on the one day I plan an outdoor date in the middle of a five-year drought.”

“Let’s engage in some date conversation.”

“I don’t do cauliflower. It’s like albino broccoli.”

“You’re blowing my mind right now.”

“That’s gonna be our little secret, okay?”

“How could guys with man buns know what’s authentic?”

“I liked you better when you were being a nice person.”

“You can be a bit of a hypocrite.”

“You have to admit –– you’re not exactly steeped in honesty.”

“This whole vibe is weird and sad.”

“Take a hint, dude.”

“You took some guy home on our date and slept with him? What is wrong with you?”

“I make no sense, and you shouldn’t waste time on me.”

“Do you ever have one of those days where you’ve done something so horrible it feels like you did it in a dream, and you just want to wake up? Except there is no waking up because you did it for realsies?”

“It’s a little pretentious.”

“VCRs? There’s no such thing.”

“I know nothing about life.”

“I make awful decisions. Like, really awful decisions.”

“I’m kind of a mess.”

“You’re the smartest most badass girl I know.”

“My healthy choices? Yeah, led me to the unhealthiest decision of my life.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #starter sentences #KIND / SENTENCE. #BASED ON / TV SHOW. #KIND / IN CHARACTER.