#webothgotbucketsachicken

     -”You sure you’re not just reciting rumours you’ve heard about yourself?”

Send me ‘✍’ and I will draw your muse horribly on MSPaint (closed)

Little little man

“snipes. what th fuck am I lookin at right now”

“D’YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!? I’M STARTING TO THINK THE BLUE EYE’D FUCKER IS SMARTER THAN YOU!”

The woman before him pursed her lips. She was dressed lovely, in a flattering dress, her hair prompt at proper for this day where the two were supposed to be introduced for the first time. The fact that her family had arranged this made her feel terrible. She didn’t like the man at all! He was short, uncouth, rude, lacked any sense of charm and wit. In short, all the qualities of a proper gentleman were simply just not to be found in this sorry member of the gentry.

Their guardians had left them alone so the young ‘lovers’ could get to know each other better, but already from the first day they had met there was a spark between them. A spark of hatred and disgust. Maddy had opposed at first, thinking she had the right to speak her mind on the behalf of her hand getting married off, but no. It had been brushed aside and she had kept her mouth shut, doing what any proper young lady would do. Her arms were crossed at her chest, her expression showed she had very little interest in the man before her if he could even be called that.

    -”Spare me your bile! I have no intentions on loving you back nor share a bed with you so, I guess in disappointment we’re perfectly match, sir!”

Maddy barked back, turning her back on him with an insulted huff.

“Decades?” Mick supplied, giving Scout a small smirk. “You’re right, though. Can’t go underestimating us just coz we’re in our twenties.”

It wasn’t easy to make a man like Misha sick of food. Somebody who had grown up malnourished and spent an awfully long time trying not to starve to death in the Siberian mountains.

So for him to be walking towards the kitchen like this, there had to be something wrong.

The Russian was no expert on nutrition, he’d admit that much. But he also knew that his giant body needed more than just meat to run as it should. Hell, he’d been putting more salad into his sandwiches just to make up for it.

He’d hadn’t knocked when he entered--or made any attempt to make his presence known to the man he knew to be their Chef. Something about him made the giant wary. Like a dull warning in the back of his mind. But he could see him leaning over and doing--something--over there in the far side. 

“You need to change the food. We will grow weak if you do not. And then we will lose.” Misha spoke loud and clear into the room, keeping his distance.