WHY CAN'T WE JUST GET ALONG ☆ making latkes

[michael t.]

pills don't help, but it sure is funny!  ☆  ☆  ☆

MICHAEL TOWNLEY

THE TYPHOON

DEALER

Fuck, he was late. Well, technically late, anyways. Michael had actually been celebrating Hanukkah with Trevor, the two of them cooped up in their house with their children, celebrating the season properly. It was a bit difficult to keep their spirits up, considering the state that The Typhoon was currently in, but a game of dreidel and then lighting the menorah certainly helped with that. Unfortunately, there was one absolutely vital part of Hanukkah that the bobcat had forgotten about. The latkes. The delicious potato pancakes that could be served with a variety of different extras, like just a pinch of salt or something to mix them in. While Michael wasn't usually much of a cooking guy, latkes at least weren't all that difficult, as long as you didn't do anything too crazy. Thankfully, he had no plans to do anything crazy, especially with Trevor around. He didn't want his husband somehow getting the wrong idea and burning their entire hut down – it was honestly a miracle that nothing had happened when Michael had let him light the shamash.

The actual process of making the latkes was a bit of a long one, considering Michael was making them from scratch, but that was alright. The thief found that he enjoyed the process of it, and the house was beginning to smell nice as he placed the flat disks of potato to cook. He occasionally had to shoo Trevor away with a paw, the coyote drawn in by the smell and trying to grab one before they were done. However, once they were properly done, Michael had every intention of sharing. He pushed open the front door of their hut, letting the pleasant smell of the potato pancakes waft out and over the beach. He placed the ones that were done on a large platter, setting them down on the table that sat in their living room. As Trevor sniffed at them again, Michael sighed before muttering softly, "Fine, you can have one. But don't eat them all before other people have a chance to try them!" The bobcat then turned, heading back into the kitchen to grab some salt and pepper as he waited for others to arrive.

☆  ☆  ☆  gimme, gimme some of that vampire money, come on!

— Reggan

[Lokisaurus]

[glow=#000,1,400]FOR YOU, I'D BLEED MYSELF DRY, IT'S TRUE — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Pearl had never been one for the holidays, or at least, he never really celebrated the more popular ones.  His crew had a form of Christmas tied to the ending of the hurricane season, but whatever that was had nothing on such monolithic traditions such as Hannukah or Christmas.  Maybe it would be good to into some sort of spirit now that he had new people to learn about.

So Pearl marched his scruffy ass over to sniff at the food.  Potatoes and onions, he deducted.  The cat grimaced. 

"They look delicious, but I'm afraid that onions aren't compatible with my stomach.  I'll take some plain potatoes if you have any.  I like to feel included."  The tabby gave the creature that had welcomed him an apologetic little grin.  Hopefully, his request was not taken as an insult.

template credit to guppy

[Grimm]

Rather varied the thoughts and emotions she bore within regard to Michael. Seasoned had she grown in accepting the intrusion of his presence, lacking the name but among them, though it had done little in way of sweetening her disposition. Rather, it seemed the contrary. Ugly the jealousy that bubbled beneath her skin, cast a faux quality to words and expression alike, pained each smile she put upon for sake of not causing unrest. Too close had they been — still were and it had rankled in an unexpected manner, further rooted with the appointment of him as mentor to Trygve.

Now he was one of the few she had, the faces grown lost, new some as the old thinned out.

Her steps were briefly interrupted, a falter she may attribute simply to the startling presence such a tantalising scent bore, yet it was more the location. Little she knew of the archipelago, that largely the more communal and living areas, though well had she grown accustomed to Roux and Townley home placement. Brief her ponderance, ears pressed back as far as the pale adornment of horns curled snuffly about them allowed, the voice asking for adjustment deciding for her. They would not be alone, that enough to quell her worry, though still dragging her steps.

"Hello, Michael and… I am sorry, was it Pearl?" Into open hut Eulia called before diverted her attention, regarded the other with a sheepish little smile. Known some of the newcomers through name alone, lacking the assistance of sight to permit her to tie a name to a face a shot in the dark was her unsure query. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything I just never knew you could cook." Apparent the one her comment was meant for yet down her vision trailed, locked upon where paws lightly tapped against the ground. Wrong felt her intrusion, thus her lingering upon the threshold over the bold entrance Pearlcatcher had performed prior to her own approach, left hopeful Michael heard her from such distance.

[table][tr][td]

[/td][td]

We woke up to the thunder we huddled under covers, we didn't say anything, if you hadn't come over I would be so much colder, I would be much less confused. and then the water came and washed it all away, it left me with nothing to say. could not believe my eyes I could not recognise your face in the rubble

[/td][/tr][/table]

code by Wisker

[michael t.]

Michael lifted his head up from where it was ducked down within the kitchen, searching for salt and pepper, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching his home. Trevor even seemed to shift on the couch, the coyote's ears perking up as Pearlcatcher moved inside, and Eulia waited stiffly in the doorway. With a light smile on his muzzle, Michael waved in Pearl's direction, speaking cheerfully, "Pearlcatcher! Hello, welcome to my house. I've got some plain latkes without the onions, don't worry. Honestly I sometimes don't like the crunch of the onions, so I've always made two batches. Gimme just a minute..." He turned with his pair of seasonings, sprinkling them on the two plates of latkes before he pushed the one without onions towards Pearlcatcher. As he did so, he prodded at Trevor's side gently, muttering at his husband, "Jesus Trev, say hello. Come on." The coyote snickered and raised his head, dark brown eyes focused on Pearlcatcher as he spoke, "My name's Trevor Townley-Phillips. Shithead's husband." The canine stretched out one of his back legs, prodding lightly at Michael's shoulder and making the dealer roll his eyes.

Then, Michael's gaze moved over to Eulia, mismatched blue eyes briefly widening when he took in her presence. It had been a while since he had seen Lu, figuring that she was holed up somewhere, away from them all. He opened his mouth to speak, but Trevor beat him to it, gruff voice directed in the smaller feline's direction, "Little wings, little horns... you one'a Roxie's kids?" Michael sighed at him, the bobcat rolling his eyes before he mumbled, "Her name's Eulia, T. And she is one of my nieces, yeah." He then looked back towards Lu, offering the white furred child a smile before he spoke, "Hey, Lu. Haven't seen you in a while... and yeah, I can cook a little. Nowhere near as well as Rox, and it took a lot of years of practice for me to even be good at latkes, but I like to think they're pretty good..." He trailed off momentarily, gaze awkwardly focused on the floor in thought. He never really knew where he stood with Eulia. After a moment of thought, he gestured inside, offering, "You can come in and try a latke, if you want. I mean, you're family after all. No reason to be shy about coming in." Trevor seemed to nod in agreement, although he stayed silent after a bit of a look from Michael.