♡Love everything around you♡

I unfortunately have no idea about dungeon meshi but i completely get the concept. Gonna do it for the boyssssss

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Camp was calm, the fire crackling merrily as the group gathered after a long day of adventuring. You had long endured Gale's enthusiastic—but consistently mediocre—attempts at camp cooking. His confidence was unshakable, even in the face of countless charred, bland, or overly experimental meals that left the group quietly swapping snacks after dinner. Gale meant well, and his ego swelled with every polite nod or forced smile after a meal. But tonight, enough was enough.

As Gale hovered over his latest attempt—a watery, over-salted stew with floating lumps of... something—you decided it was time.

"Move over, Gale," you said firmly, stepping beside him with a cooking knife in hand.

He looked up, affronted but amused. "I beg your pardon? Move over? I’m creating an artisanal experience here."

"Artisanal isn’t the word I’d use," you muttered under your breath, then louder, "Look, you’ve done well, but it’s time someone with a bit more culinary experience took charge."

Gale froze, his spoon poised dramatically mid-stir. "Oh? And you believe you’re more skilled than I? A Wizard of Waterdeep? An acclaimed intellectual?" He set the spoon down with exaggerated care, crossing his arms. "Do elaborate."

"I’ve kept quiet long enough," you shot back. "But if I have to eat one more overcooked slab of boar or mystery stew, I’ll lose it. Just let me take over."

Gale smirked, clearly intrigued and slightly offended. "If you think you can do better, darling, the fire is yours. Impress me."

The group, now invested, watched with keen interest as you strode confidently into the supply tent. You emerged moments later with an assortment of herbs, spices, and preserved ingredients you had personally gathered and prepared over the course of your travels. Gale, feigning disinterest, lounged by the fire, but his eyes were glued to your every move.

First, you prepared a base for a savory stew with precision, chopping fresh vegetables, seasoning with a deft hand, and even adding a splash of wine that Gale had claimed for magical rituals. The aromas began to waft through the air, causing Shadowheart to wander closer, feigning an excuse to refill her waterskin. Astarion sniffed the air dramatically, muttering, "Finally, someone in this camp who doesn’t treat food as an afterthought."

Gale’s smirk wavered as you added a homemade spice mix, explaining to the group the balance of flavors—earthy, sweet, and smoky.

"It’s all about layering," you said, casting a sly glance at Gale. "You don’t throw everything in at once and hope for the best."

"I would call that an oversimplification," Gale countered, sitting up straighter.

When dinner was finally served, the group fell into a stunned silence as they took their first bites. Scratch barked happily as he devoured his own share, and even Lae’zel—typically indifferent to culinary flair—muttered, “Efficient and pleasing. Acceptable.”

Gale took a tentative bite, his expression shifting from cautious to betrayed. "Well, it’s not... bad," he admitted grudgingly, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

"Not bad?" Karlach guffawed. "It’s leagues better than the watery shoe-leather you call dinner!"

Gale huffed, folding his arms. "Well, clearly, you’ve had more... practice."

"Oh, stop pouting," you teased, reaching out to pinch his cheek. His indignant yelp only made you laugh harder. "You’re still my brilliant wizard, just not my brilliant chef."

He tried to maintain his grumpy façade, but as you leaned in and kissed him lightly, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "I suppose I’ll allow this arrangement... for the good of the group."

"Magnanimous of you," you said, laughing, as you handed him another bowl. "Now eat up, Gale. Even a Wizard of Waterdeep needs sustenance."

From then on, camp dinners were a delight, the group often offering to hunt and gather for your concoctions. Gale, in his own way, found new joy in watching you command the firepit and create meals that brought smiles to everyone’s faces. And though he pretended otherwise, you caught him sneaking second helpings of your food more often than not.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The campfire crackled softly as the evening wind danced through the surrounding trees. Dinner preparation was in full swing, with you at the helm. Your skill in the kitchen—or, rather, your campfire culinary prowess—had become legendary among the party. Tonight, though, your focus wasn’t on the usual hearty stews or roasted game. It was on something far more delicate and tailored for one particular companion who had stolen your heart.

Astarion.

He lounged near the fire, idly flipping through a book with the air of someone completely unaffected by mortal concerns like hunger. But you’d noticed how he sometimes watched the others eat with a wistfulness he’d never admit. Being unable to enjoy food as he once did was just another quiet burden he carried, a reminder of what vampirism had stolen from him.

Tonight, you were determined to change that.

The idea had struck you earlier that day while hunting—a blood sorbet. It was resourceful, creative, and perfectly suited to Astarion’s unique palate. After securing the freshest blood you could (thanks to some carefully collected boar blood and a little bit of your own), you set to work. Using a simple chilled container enchanted by Gale to keep things cool and some foraged ingredients for flavor, you worked on crafting something that might actually please Astarion.

When the sorbet was finally ready, you approached him with an air of nonchalance.

“Astarion,” you said, setting the small wooden bowl in front of him, “I made this for you.”

He raised a skeptical brow, setting down his book. “Darling, while I appreciate your boundless generosity, I’ve told you before—food and I no longer have a pleasant relationship.”

You leaned closer, grinning. “This isn’t just food. It’s blood sorbet. Humor me. One spoonful”

Astarion blinked, his red eyes darting to the dish. It was an unexpected gesture, even for you. Slowly, he took the bowl, sniffing delicately before scooping a small amount onto the provided spoon. The crimson, semi-frozen mixture caught the firelight, glinting like rubies.

He hesitated, then slipped the spoon into his mouth.

His reaction was immediate—a slow blink, followed by a faint furrow of his brows. He removed the spoon, turning it over in his hand as though trying to parse what had just happened.

“Well?” you asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your tone.

“It’s…sweet,” he admitted, his voice laden with reluctant surprise. “And oddly palatable. Not quite as… visceral as I prefer my meals, but… impressive nonetheless.”

You grinned triumphantly. “Told you. I’m a culinary genius.”

Astarion chuckled, shaking his head. “I still prefer it straight from your vein,” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt as his eyes lingered on your neck, “but I suppose I can’t fault your creativity.”

“Maybe next time I’ll make you a blood pâté,” you quipped, leaning in slightly. “Or a nice blood reduction to drizzle over some… I don’t know, undead foie gras?”

He rolled his eyes, though his lips curled into a genuine smile. “You are insufferable. Delightful, but insufferable.”

You smirked. “And you love it.”

Astarion leaned back with a contented sigh, swirling the remaining sorbet with his spoon. “Perhaps I do. Though next time, darling, save yourself the effort and just let me drink directly from you. It’s far less fuss, and I promise to be gentle.”

You flushed, unable to keep from laughing at his unabashed audacity. The rest of the party looked on in various stages of amusement and confusion as Astarion savored your latest creation, the blood sorbet proving to be an unexpected success—and a sweet reminder of the lengths you were willing to go to bring a little joy to his long and hungry existence.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The day had been long and grueling, filled with skirmishes and moments of harrowing danger. Wyll sat by the campfire, his posture slouched, his usual poise dimmed by exhaustion. Gale was busy stirring a pot of something that smelled… fine. But fine wasn’t what Wyll needed right now. Fine wouldn’t fill the gnawing emptiness that came from the taxing day. Wyll didn’t say it, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes: he needed something warm, hearty, and comforting. Something that felt like home.

You caught his expression from where you were tidying up your gear. Quietly, you set your things aside and approached him.

“Rough day?” you asked softly, kneeling down beside him.

He glanced up at you and gave a half-smile. “You could say that. But it’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

You hummed thoughtfully, brushing a hand lightly across his forehead, your touch lingering as you pressed a gentle kiss there. “Give me an hour,” you murmured, your voice as soothing as the promise itself. “I’ll take care of it.”

Wyll blinked at you in surprise but didn’t argue. Your confidence had a way of being infectious. As you left the camp, he leaned back with a puzzled but slightly lighter heart, curiosity mingling with the exhaustion.

Exactly an hour later, you returned, carrying a steaming dish and a goblet of wine you’d swiped from Shadowheart’s stash (you’d deal with her later). The smell wafting from the bowl was intoxicating—savory and rich, with hints of roasted herbs and spices that teased at the memory of home-cooked meals.

“Dinner is served,” you declared, handing the bowl to Wyll with a flourish. The smile that spread across his face was immediate as he accepted the dish.

“You are a lifesaver,” he said, voice filled with gratitude. “No, really—this is why I adore you.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “You haven’t even tried it yet. For all you know, I could’ve put a goblin’s toenail in there.”

“If it smells this good, I’d still eat it,” he replied, already picking up a spoon.

Wyll took his first bite, and you held your breath, watching for his reaction. At first, his expression froze, and your stomach sank. Did he hate it? Did you go too heavy on the spices? Did you accidentally add—?

“Oh gods,” Wyll finally said, his voice trembling as tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

The spoon clattered back into the bowl as he set it down, his hands moving to rub at his eyes. “I—I don’t even know what to say. Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

A warm smile tugged at your lips, and you reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re welcome, Wyll. You’ve had a hard day. You deserve something to make it a little better.”

“No, seriously,” he said, his voice still thick with emotion. “If I didn’t already love you, this would’ve sealed the deal. You’re incredible.”

You grinned, sitting beside him and nudging him lightly. “Eat up, then. Don’t waste it on tears.”

Wyll chuckled through his sniffles and dug back in, savoring every bite. For the rest of the evening, he didn’t stop singing your praises, his spirits lifted immeasurably by the simple but heartfelt gesture. As far as you were concerned, that alone made the effort worth it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The sun filtered gently through the canopy of the forest as you set the final touches on the picnic you had promised Halsin. The woven basket sat open on the soft blanket, revealing the bounty you had prepared using the finest ingredients the forest had to offer. Halsin approached, his broad frame moving easily through the woods, and his face lit up at the sight before him.

"This is… remarkable," he said, crouching down to take in the spread. "You truly are full of surprises."

You waved off his compliment with a playful smile. "I promised I’d take care of everything, didn’t I? The forest has so much to offer if you know how to look."

On the blanket sat carefully foraged dishes, each showcasing your resourcefulness and creativity. There was a fresh salad of wild greens and herbs, dressed with a vinaigrette made from wildberries. Accompanying it were roasted mushrooms, their caps stuffed with a savory mixture of nuts and herbs. A loaf of dense, nutty bread you’d baked on a hot stone was paired with a small jar of fresh, hand-churned butter, a sprinkle of dried herbs worked into it for flavor.

Halsin’s grin widened as he inspected it all. "And here I thought this picnic would be simple—perhaps some berries and dried meat. But you’ve created a feast!"

As he settled onto the blanket, you passed him a plate, and he dug in eagerly. The pair of you ate amidst light conversation, the forest’s natural symphony providing the perfect backdrop. Every bite Halsin took was met with a hum of approval, his appreciation only making your heart swell with pride.

Once the main meal was finished, you gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I saved the best for last," you said, reaching into the basket.

From it, you produced a small jar of honey-sweetened custard. It was a delicate dessert, crafted with painstaking care using honey you had collected earlier, blended with creamy milk and infused with a hint of lavender. Halsin’s eyes widened as you handed it to him.

"You know my fondness for honey," he said, voice touched with both surprise and delight.

You chuckled. "I might have paid attention to a few things."

Halsin didn’t waste time. Using the spoon you offered, he took a bite, and the look of bliss that crossed his face was worth every moment you’d spent preparing it. He devoured the dessert quickly, barely pausing to breathe, which left you laughing as you noticed a streak of honey glistening on his cheek.

"Slow down, you’re worse than Scratch," you teased, reaching over to wipe the honey away with your thumb.

Before you could pull your hand back, Halsin caught it gently, his warm eyes fixed on yours.

"You’ve truly outdone yourself," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "But I think I’m still hungry for something else."

You barely had time to respond before he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss. It was warm and sweet, tasting faintly of the honey he’d just devoured, and it stole your breath away. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest.

"You’ve made this day unforgettable," he said softly. "Though I think I may have to insist you let me cook for you next time—if only to match your artistry."

You grinned, your heart fluttering at his words, and nestled closer to him, the remains of the picnic forgotten as you lost yourself in his presence.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope this was okay nonnie! And I hope you guys enjoyed this ! Again thank you all for your sweet comments, hopefully will get back to regular posting soon - Seluney xox

Fixed Ep04 ending because I can

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Mark Grayson X Gn! Reader (Ft. Platonic Oliver Grayson & Debbie grayson)

summary : he rather take you anywhere other than his house.

cw : sfw, fluff, gn! they/them reader, literally just a short silly drabble. also oliver being that one roblox kid who has no filters but they're funny instead of being insufferable just sits right with me.

an : nolan is out of the picture, i don't rlly care abt him (sorry nolan lovers but debbie deserves better). also this was mainly inspired by my own little brother who always begs me to play roblox or minecraft with him everyday, even though he has his own friends (i'm literally a grown ass adult).

masterlist.

mark hated it whenever you visited his house.

not because he was embarrassed of you—god, far from it. if anything, mark would scream from the rooftops about how much he loved you if debbie didn't threaten to ground him for 'disturbing the entire neighborhood.'

no, the real problem was his family. because the moment you stepped into the grayson household, it was a battleground on who gets to hog you for the day.

and mark was getting very tired of competing for your attention in his own home.

the second your knuckles tapped against the front door, you heard a loud thud from the inside, you raised an eyebrow as you heard another louder thud.

"I GOT HERE FIRST!"

"MOM! HE KNEED ME IN THE STOMACH!"

"OLIVER, GET OFF HIM—"

debbie’s exhausted yelling echoed through the house, followed by hurried footsteps and something crashing into the wall hard enough to shake the picture frames.

Sending all lovely, healing, positive vibes to Hudson and Connor. I hope they’re both taking care of their mental the best they can. They’ve been through SO much in such a short time.

To not only reach stardom the way they have so abruptly but to also have to deal with a truly psychotic, abusive part of their fan base so often I imagine is taking quite the toll…

I’m glad they have each other to lean on, and I’m hoping they’re able to keep and maintain their friendship despite the judgmental criticisms of keyboard warriors and disrespectful RPFers. Their unfilitered, unafraid selves and the beauty of this show brought me out of one of the darkest spaces in my life, and I’ll be forever grateful they shared that piece of themselves with us.

I hope they know there are many of us here that appreciate, respect, and are truly and genuinely inspired by them 💛

PROPAGANDA:

[Achilles]

"IT WOULD HAVE FIXED HIM!!! HE'S LITERALLY A MOTHER LION TO HIS CUBS HE WOULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE SUITED TO IT THAN LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE HE EVER DID."

[Manfred]

"I'm the same person who submitted him in the first tourney, I still just think it would be funny. He canonically has 2 daughters and his wife is barely (if ever) mentioned."

PROPAGANDA:

Or do you want to mpreg a mad scientist with nothing to lose and who would probably preform experiments on the baby if should all else fail?