coax me + wt, food - Printable Version

In the company of many others who had received their weekly tasks, he had obtained what was likely the one most incompatible with his abilities. Some lucky saps got desirable jobs like setting up sparring competitions and scavenger hunts, all the while Leroy had to cook up something to serve to everyone. First off, he didn’t think he was trusted enough to cook something for everyone - hell, he didn’t even trust himself. There was the chance that he could mistakenly mix two ingredients together that weren’t supposed to come into contact, or there was always the possibility that he’d “accidentally” pollute his dish with a little poison. To continue, the mutt didn’t possess the slightest knowledge of cooking; he’d be surprised if he could boil water.

Having an absence of any originality whatsoever, Leroy chose to bake a pie, a chicken pot pie. It was a very rough process. There was no shortage of wounds and swears. There was, however, a shortage of peas and potatoes, vital ingredients to the recipe, and he wasn’t committed to this enough to wander over to the barn so that he may grab some. Yet, the famine of those two vegetables was overshadowed by the inconsistency of the pastry’s temperature, as some portions were still cold, whereas most of its mass was burnt to a crisp.

You’d think he’d have a lack of brain cells to bring his “dish” out into public, though Leroy had a reason for it. Despite lacking creativity, he hypothesized that, through this single activity, he could determine who the liars from the honest here in Tanglewood. If one were to bite into his monstrosity, and actually say it is good, they were a rotten fibber. Opposite of that, if a Tangler admitted that it was in similar quality to fecal matter, they could be trusted in the future.

"Alright!" he announced excitedly, ”Soup’s on!”

His first victim of the day was none other than the foreboding feline herself, Aya, who was also somewhat of a boss to him. Oh yeah, he had to go collect some body parts for her. Sure, he had given the nod to her abnormal job offer out of boredom, and almost regretted so, yet he was the real winner in the ordeal; Aya was technically in debt, as the wolfhound had gained a favour, one that could be used on the same level of what he was currently doing for her. Hopefully that would prove to be useful in the future.

A maliciously jaunty grin flourished on Leroy’s face. His customer’s reaction was short, perfectly so. "Aw, I’m sure it isn’t as bad as ya’ say," he lamented in a subtly sarcastic manner, so that one may pick up on it if they were to pay an amount of attention.

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DELILAH EVERGARDEN
trans femme ♥ tanglewood ♥ 15 m/o

[div style="background-color:#F0B1DB;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;"]And a liar Delilah was. You see, the pastel pink feline could never tell the truth about someone's cooking, in reality. She was always too kind about things, too scared to judge people aloud. Call her fake, but Delilah had morals.

With her presence came the familiar cherry blossom petals that followed her in their never-ending descent from her pelt, gracing her with a certain charm that Delilah herself didn't like, personally. People always knew where she was at, making her useless in battles. Not that she enjoyed fighting, anyways.

Magenta hues followed her path of vision as she stared at the pie blankly. Aya's tone of voice was noticable, she was disgusted. Should Delilah taste it? Yeah, it would be rude not to. So, leaning forward, Delilah took a bite soon after Aya, recoiling almost immediately. You see, Delilah was a baker. This is not a baker's dish. This was.. blasphemy.

She almost threw up in her mouth, but she somehow, someway, managed to swallow everything she had put in her mouth, sitting up to wipe her mouth with a mud-stained paw. A soft, shaky smile passed her lips, and she looked up at Leroy. I-It's.. Good."

[W]isker

STOCKING ANARCHY

✯ — if you don't fuck with us then motherfuck you

space

"don't kid yourself, " stocking came sauntering over, shaded gaze roving over the scene. Her words were aimed for delilah, fixing the timid feline with an indecipherable gaze. Those who failed to be straightforward always irked the disgraced angel to some degree. Perhaps stocking was insensitive; speaking her mind had never been an issue to her. The girl pulled no punches, and her words were direct and with meaning. Perhaps it came with the confidence. Perhaps it was a natural thing.

"I get you have this shy schtick going on and all, but I believe you don't need to spare our friend here any punches," stoxking believed Leroy to be able handle himself. The man was no delicate flower, and didn't need to be treated like one. But if he was the opposite of what stocking had been expecting... Oh well.

Soft huff escaping her lips, the feline flipped her lengthy mane. To eat or not to eat. That was the question.

Any sane person would tell her not to eat it, but the firebrand was curious as to whether the pie was as bad as aya had implied it was. She had only been drawn over by the smell of pie. She loved pie, and stocking never passed up the opportunity for food.

Without an ounce of doubt within her veins, curiosity overrid her more reasonable senses. Stocking peels back her maw like a goblin shark to sink her teeth into the pie's skin.

It tastes like shit. Undercooked in places. Over cooked in some. Absolutely burnt in others. It has the texture of a wet panty and a ball of sand rolled into one and-- oh, that was nearly a gag. Keep it together. She's several retches away from blowing chunks all over the place.

She's a food conneisur. She has tasted the metaphorical butt crack of the devil in terms of dishes. She will conquer this shit pie if its the last thing She'll do, and she'll come away unscathed.

Stocking withholds a grimace and swallows, and the piece of pie trails down her throat like a slug. You've got this. She's tasted worse. Like... Ass for example. A very saggy ass, in fact. What a good comparison stocking. She makes a mental note to clap herself on the back for that next time.

It takes her a full minute to process the horror she's bestowed upon her taste buds.

"I've never been more ashamed in anybody in my life. Even my sister would be jealous of you," she turns towards Leroy with a face that echoes her disappointment. "How do you just fuck up a perfectly good pie like that? Gordon Ramsey knew what abomination you had birthed here today, he'd would kick your ass in a fraction of a second."

space

✯ — female. tanglewood. moderate difficulty. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

malphas honestly thought weekly tasks were stupid. sure, it gave the idiots something to do, but most of them were stupid, like making leroy cook a chicken pot pie or something... was that supposed to be a pie? he padded over, wrinkling his nose in disgust. he arrived just in time to witness stocking's reaction to the sad excuse of food, and he felt a grin spreading across his face. she was perfect, he thought, and he felt his face heat up. "that's my girl," he joked, knowing she wasn't really his but maybe one day, he'd get the guts to ask her if she wanted to.

"i'm not going to have some because i fear for my stomach." he said, still grinning. "anyways. if anybody gets food poisoning and comes to me vomiting and shitting, i'm blaming you, leroy."

The wolfhound smiles brightly as a pink feline he identified as Delilah came to the scene. Leroy had heard that she was going through some mentally unstable phase right now, and that was perfect for the situation, for his “pie”, if one could call such a monstrosity that, was physically unstable. Incredibly physically unstable. His amber eyes widened in astonishment as Delilah dubbed his creation “good”, literally seconds after her noticeably gagging. Leroy couldn’t comprehend anyone having the ability to speak after consuming such a thing, let alone complimenting it afterwards. "It is good, isn’t it? ‘S also very good for ya, very nutritious," he’d crookedly coo.

That made her the first liar of the day. He had to remember that one.

As for his next clientele: whoo-wee, he had hit the goldmine. The femme appeared more somber than Aya, that fact he had thought impossible to believe. Her noggin was coated in a hideous hairy amalgam of blue and pink, that was styled so that her cheerless mug could be seen by all. The mutt could tell solely based on Stocking’s fashion sense alone that this was going to be amazing.

To start, he got a kick out of how eager she was to take nourishment. If that forced him to stifle a giggle, then what happened next nearly brought him to tears. The fallen angel was on the brink of going through the five stages of grief throughout the situation. He didn’t even know who this Gordon Ramsey was, and he found it utterly hilarious. First, there was denial, as she continued chewing her portion despite evidently hating it, followed by anger, depression, and acceptance in that glorious reaction/rant (the only stage missing was bargaining). Barely keeping it together, the hound would address Stocking’s issue next. ”No need ta’ bust my chops, sugar, ‘s just pie,” he’d quip innocently, ”it can’t be that bad if Ms. Pink over here enjoys it”.

Stocking was now the most honest one here.

Disappointment is what gushed through him as his final visitor spoke, revealing that he would rather protect the sick than join them. ”Tsk tsk, medic-boy,” he’d beer tauntingly at Malphas, ”you’re certainly missin’ out. It’s good pie.”

Since Leroy had been relatively kind to Morgan since he originally joined, the samoyed saw no reason not to try his cooking. "What's this, Leroy?" He gave it a sniff, then shrugged with his usual samoyed smile. "I'll try it." The piece he sank his teeth into was an undercooked section, which was on the side nearest to him. Before long, he had chewed it up and swallowed it.

"Nice."

"Is it nice?", he’d reiterate, taken aback by his leader’s sudden appearance and his likeness of the revolting dish he had scarcely consumed. Morgan was not one to lie, as he knew from experience, a factor in why Leroy was keen on the samoyed. He could be counted on to tell an honest truth, which was why it surprised the wolfhound to hear that his leader actually enjoyed the food that was cooked in the means of being bad.

”That’s good, he’d murmur so that only Morgan could hear, ”’cause all these jokers here ‘ave been critical of my cooking.”