giant-cabbages

At the Fair
  • "Do you smell that?"
  • "I wanna pet the horse."
  • "Let's ride the tilt-a-whirl!"
  • "I need a giant tiki mug filled with booze."
  • "Is there nothing that can't be deep fried?"
  • "I think going on that ride would be a mistake."
  • "I need a limeade."
  • "Is this a giant cabbage?"
  • "You know we need to go on the ferris wheel."
  • "We could get pizza anywhere. I don't want it here."
  • "I need to win that plushie."
  • "Ah, nothing like an avenue of overpriced cheap crap bought by the gross from some warehouse in Hong Kong... are those pogs?"
  • "Aw, what a nice goat."
  • "I'm not going anywhere near that barn."
  • "THERE'S A BUG ON ME! GET IT OFF!"
  • "Is there anything we haven't eaten yet?"
  • "Does a Lady Gaga cosplay costume count as an art or a craft?"
  • "Look! Bunnies!"
  • "Want to go watch the barrel racing?"
  • "A funhouse! Let's do it."
  • "Are we done yet?"
  • "That corn dog isn't sitting right..."
  • "A freak show? They still do those?"
  • "That band is awful. Wow."
  • "Have we seen everything yet?"
  • "I feel like I'm roasting..."
  • "Need a drink?"
  • "How did that win a grand prize ribbon?"
  • "That is a BIG pumpkin."
Cafe/Coffee Shop AU References: 1

I work part-time at a Japanese grocery/convenience store/cafe. And this shit is never dull. Just thought I’d throw out some of my average work-days for reference for fanfic writers. Tagging @pickleandthequeen, @blackshucksighted, and @nuke-em-high and @ssspacedandy. Just in case you nerds might have need of this. 

Day 1: Fucking worst first day ever

- The miso soup machine went rogue during the night. One tiny piece broke, causing the machine to flood the entire establishment in 2″ high water. So much shit is broken because of it. We can’t open the restaurant/kitchen AT ALL–which is the main money maker. Spent 3 hours with the entire day’s worth of staff trying pretty vainly to get the water outside. 

Tons of angry people from both places next door keep coming in and demanding to know what’s happened, because the water leaked through the walls and into their places as well. I keep on being like ‘fuck if I know, this is my first morning here.’ 

Rice cooker catches fire mid morning. 

The entire place has to be scrubbed down, and we have to pry off / drill holes into like every structure so mold doesn’t grow and kill us. 

Last Week:

Some jerkoff didn’t do ANY kitchen prep the evening before. I’m the first one in for early kitchen shift. I spend the morning lugging 50 lbs of rice around, because there is NO RICE in the rice tub and we’re a fucking Japanese restaurant. We’re out of pork for tonkotsu. There is no tempura flower or panko in the kitchen. I spent time hauling that out. No veggies have been prepped AT ALL. So I spend the next hour slicing green onion and sobbing wildly, because I have to slice two boxes worth (We go through these things like oxygen, and each box is about 2 cubic feet). My eyes burn forever. 

No lettuce either. By now, he head kitchen employee has arrived, and she has to make the bento boxes while I furiously try to do 2 days worth of prep. 

Gotta shred 5 cabbages, two giant bags of lettuce, wash and peel 30 potatoes, and grind daikon into a paste with my bare grabbers. 

When I find out who didn’t do prep, I will have their head. 

We have several problem customers who want items that haven’t been on the menu for some time, and they get really mad for a variety of rather odd reasons. 

Kitchen closes for a few hours after lunch and before dinner, so we can get stuff done for the dinner rush. People persist in coming in and trying to place orders during this time, and get really mad when we don’t make exceptions. 

Woman comes in and wants to know if she can feed (deathly allergic to onions) her son onions if they are fried. We don’t fry onions? Also, if your child is allergic, maybe don’t ask us that? See a doctor? 

Having wrecked the hell out of my hand earlier in the week, I keep finding blood in my glove. It’s leaking out of my two layers of band-aids. OOPS. 

Little youngin baby co-worker keeps trying to hog all the easy jobs and order around people with no damn reason. She just wants to keep the easy work. 



And then some douche-bag who’s probably been on Reddit for too long picked a fight with a young father after kicking his kid. Called him some nonsense like a ‘back seat beta male’ for like fifteen minutes before Dad Guy got fed up and decked him. MRA Dude was out from one punch, and making a ton of outrageous claims while laying on the floor, bleeding. 

He was such a dick that the EMTs told him to shut up multiple times. Couldn’t clean the store and close on time because we couldn’t disturb the blood evidence. 

Some lady wants to come in and eat 40 minutes after the kitchen is closed, 10 minutes after the store is closed, and can’t take the cops and blood all over the place as a hint. Got mad at me when I told her we couldn’t let her in. 

Spit Shine - Getting Nice and Dirty While Getting Clean

I usually don’t do prompts but bethgreeneeffect was sweet enough to provide one just to juicy to pass up.  Gag.  So a nice smutty drabble was born.  Sorry, I can’t figure out how to do a under the cut thingy so I apologize for clogging dashes.

So loves, without further ado, here you go:

Spit Shine

Carol and Daryl get dirty while getting clean

“You are taking a shower.” Her tone and stance conveyed there would be no argument.  “Come on. It’s not going to kill you.  You are a wreck.  I know you hate it here and I suppose this is one of the ways you are voicing your displeasure but you stink.  In addition, I think you are scaring Judith.”
Daryl’s only response was a scowl.  He knew this was one argument he wouldn’t win.  Carol’s eyes flashed. When she was pissed, it seemed to intensify their blue color.  Right now they were almost as blue as gas flame.


Grabbing his hand with a smile teasing her lips, she murmured, “Come on dirty boy.  Let me help you.”


He knew he couldn’t argue with that.  They had had very little time alone in the past few weeks.  He would have be lying if he said he didn’t miss the softness of her skin under his fingertips. There had been little thought to intimacy.   Daryl realized right then what a gaping hole the lack of loving physical contact left in his life.  Suddenly he missed it…very much.  Even though Carol was wearing her ridiculous undercover Den Mother get up, Daryl found his dick stirring to attention.  She just had that effect on him, giant tacky pink cabbage roses or no. 


“Gonna make me, huh?  You the boss of me?” His voice was coarse, his throat dry. Daryl narrowed his eyes and his lips tugged in a cocky leer.  Yes, it had been a while. 


Carol said nothing more but continued to lead him towards the bathroom, the grip on his hand firm but gentle.   


Hell, the bathroom in their house was almost as big as the shack he grew up in.  It was almost too pretty to be a bathroom, with smooth gray green stone tiles.  There were not one but two sinks made out of some type of marble he couldn’t remember the name of let alone pronounce.  They looked more suited to being in a museum than a bathroom.   When they first moved in he was half afraid to take a piss in the gleaming toilet. 


Carol reached into the cavernous shower stall to get the water set to the proper temperature.  As the water hissed, Carol began the grim task of removing his filthy clothing. “Jesus, Daryl we are burning this.  I am not kidding.  I’ll try to salvage that vest but the rest is gone.”   Wrinkling her nose she flung his shirt and vest into the corner and set to the task of unbuckling and unzipping his pants.  She couldn’t even remember what the original color of the fabric had been.  Shucking them down over his hips, she gave him a stern look.  “Now step out of those rags and into that shower.”


He did as he was told.  He grimaced as the water hit him. Hot water.  Goddamn it had been a long time. Bathing in tepid creeks, ditches, rain.  His body sagged with pleasure. 


Carol held his gaze as she began to unbutton her shirt, very slowly.  She allowed the garment to fall to the floor and then shimmied out of her pants and underwear until she too was naked. 


The steam soon filled the bathroom, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.  
Arming herself with a fresh bar of sandalwood and vanilla-scented soap and a washcloth, she stepped inside the spacious stall to join Daryl.

 
The water ran black down the drain. 


“Back to me.” She commanded curtly. 


Daryl complied without further complaint.  Carol lathered up the washcloth until it was more foam than fabric and went to work.


Leaning close, she murmured softly, “Now, stand still for me and maybe you’ll get a treat when you are alllll nice and clean.”


Daryl stood stalk still.  He had to admit the combination of hot water and Carol’s firm, sure hands was slowly releasing the stresses and tension of the past few weeks.  She had always grounded him.  Knew how to soothe him.  Gentled the beast.


Carol continued with her task.  Once the last of the grime was sluiced down the drain she allowed her lips to tease at the nape of his neck.  


He groaned softly, settling back into her.  Carol smiled, gently snaking her hands around his waist to tangle in the thicket of curls before reaching down to caress and slowly stroke his straining length. 


“What’s wrong?  You still seem a little…worked up.”  Her voice was husky with her own need.


She slowly continued to pump him, using the soap suds as a fragrant lubrication, while gently fondling his balls with her other hand. 


The sharp hiss of breath between his teeth told her she was on the right track.
It had been a long time.  She had forgotten how nice he felt against her.  This would be a release they both needed.


A harsh whisper of “Carol” was all Daryl managed to get past his lips.  His voice seemed to decide not to work anymore.  The delirious sensation of her silken hands working his iron hard cock was all his mind could process at the moment.
She whispered softly in his ear as the water continued to caress them, “Turn around.”


As he complied, she sank before him allowing the water to fully rinse him clean before taking his length into her mouth.  She took him slow, teasing him.  She prided herself on being able to take him fully without gagging.  Her eyes never left his as she teased with her tongue, deftly flicking the head of his straining cock before gently taking his length deep once more.


It didn’t take him long, with her working her special magic with her silken tongue and velvety mouth.  His fingers reflexively tangled in her wet hair as he let go.  
She swallowed every drop.  The first time she had done it, Daryl had almost seemed distressed over it. Worried it degraded her somehow. Carol assured him it was her pleasure to do so. 


She gently kissed her way up his blessedly grime-free stomach before fully rising up, tilting her face into the spray so it could rinse away the remainder of her task from her lips and chin. 


As Daryl pulled her close in a tight, almost grateful, embrace she playfully murmured, “See.  Showers are not THAT bad now are they?”

The guard was cowering behind an overturned cabinet. He cringed back as Teatime stepped over it.
“What’re you doing here?” he shouted. “Who are you?”
“Ah, I’m glad you asked. I’m your worst nightmare!” said Teatime cheerfully.
The man shuddered.
“You mean… the one with the giant cabbage and the sort of whirry knife thing?”
“Sorry?” Teatime looked momentarily nonplussed.
“Then you’re the one about where I’m falling, only instead of ground underneath it’s all-”
“No, in fact I’m-”
The guard sagged. “Awww, not the one where there’s all this kind of, you know, mud and then everything goes blue-”
“No, I’m-”
“Oh, shit, then you’re the one where there’s this door but there’s no floor beyond it and then there’s these claws-”
“No,” said Teatime. “Not that one.” He withdrew a dagger from his sleeve. “I’m the one where this man comes out of nowhere and kills you stone dead.”
The guard grinned with relief. “Oh, that one. But that one’s not very-”
He crumpled around Teatime’s suddenly outthrust fist.
—  Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather

anonymous asked:

WAIT YES NO, PLEASE TELL US ALL ABOUT YOUR BARTO AND CABBAGE FEELS.

LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE CABBAGE PINING FOR THE CHICKEN

like okay so here’s how it totally goes down

We all know our precious cabbage has thing super hate thing for the supernovas and luffy getting all the attention like thats his thing he’s such a diva guys like cabbage you need a hobby

Anyways so then there’s BARTO who is super luffy mega fan like 100 percent that pisses Cavendish off like “why can’t this idiot see how great i am wtf” like and probably decides he’s gonna make barto notice him like a desperate kohai even though cabbage you are the senpai here you dweeb

Clearly this is a frustrating and nearly impossible task but i mean every time cavendish manages to catch his eye his heaet does a stupid flip flop because “i made him look at me, and not look at one of them its ME he’s looking at” and it develops into such a need becauae he always wants to be the centre of this green haired idiots attention and probably takes him like forever and several meetings to even realize its because he’s got a giant gay cabbage crush on barto. He probably spends the next week eating ice cream and crying because Cavendish probably doesn’t deal with that well

Bonus fucking cheese and fluff because fuck yeah fucking fluff is barto probably ia like “the fuck you been hiding in your ship for all week” and cabbage hides and is probably shrieking because he hasn’t brushed his hair and god he’s FAT (which he isn’t but like this is cabbage were talking about i guarantee the guy has self image issues like for real) but barto probably call him one of the most beautiful men he’s ever met, and thats saying a lot because he’s met luffy-senpai and THEN THEY FUCK