#Gone by fluffy dumplings

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o wearing their hoodie/clothes

aka: when their tiny s/o drowns in their oversized hoodie and smells like them

Request: CELESTE 😭😭😭 how is your writing so perfect :(( i requested the cute kiss reaction and promptly died (still six feet under) it turned out to be exactly the kind of comfort i needed at the time :( so thank you ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ

i have another soft/fluff rq if you’re up for it!! how would ot13 react to their s/o wearing their hoodie/clothes?

as a short girlie representative, i always ADORE these types of imagines, just so soft and cozy in a hoodie that’s way too big but smells like Him, & in your style??? *passes away*

thank you SM for responding to my other rq and for your hard work bringing us WONDERFUL writing (。･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

- 🫧

A/N: OH MY GOD, FIRST OF ALL—COME BACK FROM THE AFTERLIFE, WE NEED YOU HERE 😭😭💛 I’m so happy the cute kiss reaction gave you the comfort you needed!! Let me revive you with another soft/fluffy scenario!!

The Utterly Weak (Melts On Sight) — Joshua, Hoshi, Dokyeom, Seungkwan

Instant cardiac arrest. Gone. Dead. Seeing you wrapped up in their hoodie like a tiny, cozy dumpling is too much for them.

“You— YOU CAN’T JUST—” hand over heart, wheezing.

Expect a dramatic reaction ("Oh no, my heart! This is the cutest thing I've ever seen—"), followed by them immediately tackling you in a hug because they NEED to squish you.

Loves when you steal their hoodies. Will leave them around on purpose just so you take them.

Bonus: Seungkwan will scream and record you. Dokyeom will spin you around. Hoshi will insist you wear it forever. Joshua will be speechless but so soft.

The Secretly OBSESSED (Tries To Stay Cool, Fails) — Jeonghan, Mingyu, Vernon, Dino

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but inside they're combusting.

Jeonghan: He SMIRKS. “Oh, so you’re stealing my hoodie now?” Secretly loves it so much. Purposely ‘forgets’ to take it back.

Mingyu: Trying so hard not to simp too obviously. Failing. “It looks…really good on you.” (He’s blushing.)

Vernon: Blinks. Stares. Mumbles, "That's cute." And that’s it. But he's so soft inside and will probably take pictures when you're not looking.

Dino: Absolutely dying but doesn’t want to be too obvious. “You’re really cute…” If you act shy, he's gone.

The Possessive & Smug (Will NEVER Let You Go) — Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Woozi

Oh, you stole their hoodie? Good. It’s yours now.

Seungcheol: “That’s my hoodie.” smirks. HE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S DOING, SEND HELP.

Wonwoo: Doesn’t say much but the way he softly smiles and tugs you into his arms is just rttrxyrxEtsetsHUBJH. Might just buy you more hoodies because he loves seeing you in them.

Woozi: Acts annoyed but is so flustered. “You’re swimming in it.” But he won’t let you take it off. Will pull the hood up over your face just to hide how soft he is.

The Teasing Menace (Won’t Let You Live) — Jun, Minghao

They are having the time of their lives.

Jun: “Oh wow, you must really like me if you’re stealing my clothes.” Purposely tightens the hoodie strings around your face just to see you get flustered.

Minghao: “That’s my hoodie. What do I get in return?” He wants something in exchange. A kiss. Cuddles. Maybe your soul. Smug but soft.

Will tease you mercilessly but also lowkey obsessed. If you take off the hoodie, they’ll put it back on you because ‘it suits you.’

Extra:

EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. OF THEM. LOVES IT. Even if they act cool about it, they are secretly dying inside.

They will either tease you, melt, or become incredibly possessive. There is no in-between.

Wearing their clothes = automatic death sentence for them.

In conclusion, uou wearing their hoodie = SEVENTEEN ABSOLUTELY LOSING THEIR MINDS.

Which one is your fave reaction?? 👀💛

[deathofacupid]

how do the jujutsu-kaisen men help you through a burnout?

gojo transforms into a sugar-fueled, chaos-wielding distraction machine. he views your stress as a personal affront to the universe's inherent fun-ness. his motto, delivered with a wink and a truly unsettling amount of sincerity, is, "stressed backwards is dessert!"

which explains the everest-sized piles of candy, chocolate, and enough novelty-shaped gummies to give a dentist a heart attack, now dominating your shared bed. you're pretty sure you saw a gummy bear wearing a tiny fedora. he's also trying to teach you a "stress-relieving" dance involving interpretive flossing and a kazoo. it's… a lot.

geto goes full-on spa day commando. he marches you directly into the bathroom, where a battalion of face masks, scented candles that smell suspiciously like expensive incense, and fluffy towels await. "darling," he'll purr, "the first step to looking like a celestial being is feeling like one."

he then proceeds to give you a facial that involves more cucumber slices than a salad bar, and a scalp massage that makes you question if you've ever truly felt anything before. it's so luxurious, you almost forget you're stressed — until you realize he's also trying to convince you to try a "snake venom" face cream.

nanami approaches the situation with the precision of a swiss watchmaker. he calmly assesses the situation, asking pointed questions like, "is this a systemic issue, or a temporary lapse in productivity?"

he'll help you dissect the problem, dismantling it with the clinical efficiency of a surgeon removing a particularly stubborn splinter. once the root cause is identified and neutralized (usually with a spreadsheet and a sternly worded email), he'll produce a tray of freshly baked pastries, each one a masterpiece of buttery perfection, and pull you into a hug that feels like coming home.

if the problem is unsolvable, he'll simply hold you, his quiet strength a comforting anchor in the storm. the weight of his arms around you feels like a promise that even in the face of the impossible, you're not alone. it's so tender, you might just cry.

choso, bless his heart, is utterly bewildered by the concept of burnout. he stares at you with the concerned expression of a puppy watching a magic trick gone wrong. he remembers his brothers, how they found joy in… well, mostly brutal combat and shared blood rituals. realizing that's probably not your thing, he embarks on a frantic google search, his brow furrowed in concentration. the search history is a bizarre mix of "how to make human happy" and "best blood-based stress relief."

eventually, he sits you down, and with a voice full of gentle sincerity, asks you to just… talk. and as you pour out your worries, he listens with an intensity that makes you feel like your words are the most important thing in the universe. by the end, you feel lighter, as if a weight has been lifted.

toji decides the only solution is a culinary apocalypse. he doesn't ask questions; he simply orders enough takeout to feed a small army, and then some. we're talking mountains of sushi, enough noodles to fill a swimming pool, and a pizza that could double as a coffee table.

"food makes everything better," he grunts, shoving a fistful of dumplings into his mouth. he's not wrong, exactly. the sheer volume of food is so overwhelming, you can't help but laugh, and for a moment, the stress fades away. it's a chaotic, greasy, glorious mess.

sukuna initially assumes someone has dared to offend you. his first instinct is to unleash a torrent of threats so creatively violent, even demons would shudder. after fifteen minutes of apocalyptic pronouncements, he finally notices the exhaustion etched on your face. he's as clueless as choso, but instead of google, he tries to mimic your own comfort rituals. he drags you under the covers, surprisingly gentle, and even lets you be the big spoon—a concession so monumental, it's practically a declaration of war on his own ego.

he runs his fingers through your hair, a surprisingly soothing gesture, and rambles about his day, his voice a low, rumbling murmur. he traces patterns on your leg, the one draped over him, and as your breathing evens out, a rare, almost tender expression softens his features. he feels a strange sense of peace as you drift off, and the rhythm of your sleep lulls him into a surprisingly restful slumber. you’re the only thing that can make him feel like he isn’t constantly at war, and he treasures that, even if he’d never admit it.

[evansdmitri]

First Kiss

Zayne x Reader

The First Time We Kissed

My Masterlist

My first kiss with Zayne wasn't a romantic, once-in-a-lifetime moment—full of flowers, candles, and classical music in the background. It was something that made us laugh whenever we remembered it—but nothing less memorable nonetheless.

It was in the afternoon when I was cooking in his kitchen—the silent environment, other than the flicker of the stovetop and my knife slashing through the cabbage, filled the room. The medium-sized pot was simmering a clear, golden chicken broth with flakes of spring onion inside.

I was navigating the kitchen smoothly, already knowing the spices or equipment I needed as if it were my own space. Zayne was in the living room—a call from Greyson had needed his attention, even when he was on his day off, it didn’t make him any less busy.

My hands were fast, dumping the finely ground chicken and shrimp meat from the chopper into the bowl—a dash of soy sauce, fish sauce, Worcestershire sauce, ground pepper, flour, and egg white went into the bowl, and I mixed them thoroughly. Then, as a final ingredient, I threw the finely chopped cabbage into the mixture.

I was holding a sheet of dumpling skin before filling it with a dollop of mixture and folding it nicely to make a gyoza. I smiled as I saw how cute and pretty it had turned out—the hand that mostly held a weapon to slay wanderers had turned out to be capable of producing something so cute.

I kept doing the same thing until all of the filling in the bowl was gone, as the ready gyoza lined up on the plate in a straight row.

Once in a while, I turned my head to see whether Zayne had finished his call or not—and I tilted my head when he wasn’t in sight. Maybe it was a long discussion. I pouted, unable to wait to show off the gyozas to him.

As I was too focused on putting the gyoza into the simmering pot, I was startled when I felt a pair of hands circling my tummy. I turned my head and tilted it upward to see Zayne staring at me.

"Almost done?"

"Hmm." I nodded, swaying our bodies to the side as he led me side to side.

"They’re so pretty, just like the maker." Zayne chuckled at his own sheepish words.

I stared at him with a frown, then laughed with him. "Do you even hear what you just said?"

His hands on my tummy tightened, his knees bending so his chin could rest on my shoulder.

"Zayn—" My words stopped when I turned my head and accidentally brushed my lips against his.

Our eyes widened. We weren’t strangers to a hug, a cuddle, or a peck on the cheek—but a kiss on the lips was something else, and he had never pushed it.

I fell to the floor and covered my eyes with my hands—my face was red, and I took a deep breath and chuckled. This wasn't the first kiss I had imagined.

On the other hand, Zayne was standing with his back to me, his right hand covering his mouth—his eyes were closed too.

"Babe—" he called me, putting his hand on my shoulder, "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to—"

I chuckled a little and buried my face in his chest, his hands finding their place on my back. "No, no, it’s okay." I stared at him with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, resting my chin on his chest, then my gaze fell to his red lips.

They were warm, plush, fluffy, and soft, just like I had always imagined them. I closed my eyes again in embarrassment—at the absurdity of the situation.

My first kiss.

"I know we are always of the same mind, but I can’t believe we also had the same thought to turn our heads," he said, resting his cheek on my crown.

"If we weren't meant to be, then I don't know what to believe anymore." I said as my hand reached behind me to turn off the stove, then slipped to his nape. Unconsciously, I stood on my toes, and Zayne leaned his face down. We closed our eyes as our faces grew closer, and we felt each other's breaths. As the darkness engulfed me, I felt his lips press against mine again. This time, for a long time.

Gyoza was long forgotten.

[ginxyy]

Leather, lace & Lacerations

There are a lot of unlikely couples in this world—salt and caramel, pineapple and pizza, people who willingly sleep with clowns—but none, I’d wager, more unlikely than me and Xu Minghao.

Minghao, stage name The8, dazzling performer, dancing deity, and walking human canvas of pastel aesthetics and Dior. Me? The less said, the better. I kill people for a living. Tastefully. Like, I make it an art. I’ve got a whole international network, a penthouse with a secret vault, and a body count that probably rivals a mid-tier war. But I compost. I’m not a monster.

Our thing started a few years ago. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious—just an intensely hot, wildly emotional, deeply soul-consuming situationship built on knifeplay and emotional repression. Your standard modern romance. We were exclusive because neither of us could be bothered to lie to more than one person at a time.

And despite how different we were—him, a glowy K-pop idol with cheekbones you could use to slice fruit, and me, a shadowy figurehead of organized crime with enough weapons to take over a small country—it worked.

Oh, did it work.

He let me take him, use him, mark him, break him. And he did the same to me. We were equals in our chaos. Beautiful, sexy, slightly terrifying equals.

But, understandably, we kept it hidden. His bandmates didn’t know. The fans didn’t know. The media didn’t know. My underlings definitely didn’t know—imagine their confusion if they found out their boss disappears every other weekend to cuddle under a fluffy blanket watching anime with a man who gets paid to do finger hearts.

So it was all under wraps.

Until… the incident.

It was a Tuesday night. I remember because Tuesdays are usually when I schedule my more artistic kills. But Minghao had texted me:

“Hyung line is out for dinner. Everyone’s gone. Come over. Bring snacks. And that knife you like.”

Who was I to say no? I showed up with dumplings, a bottle of wine, and a butterfly knife that I lovingly call Gerald. (He’s got a pearl handle and everything.)

Things escalated fast. Dumplings were half-eaten. Wine forgotten. Minghao had his shirt unbuttoned halfway, straddling my lap on the couch. We were somewhere between “soft moaning” and “I am genuinely going to leave a bruise on your neck the shape of my dental records,” when it happened.

The door opened.

“Yo, Hao, we forgot—WHAT THE F—”

A full Greek chorus of “Oh my GOD???” echoed through the apartment. Standing there in the doorway were Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua—looking like they had just walked in on their son selling drugs with a demon.

Minghao froze. I didn’t. I just calmly grabbed a dumpling with my chopsticks and gave them a polite nod.

“Hi,” I said, while Minghao was still half in my lap, shirtless and gasping.

Then Joshua pointed at the table.

“Is that… a gun?”

Yes. It was. A matte black Glock, sitting casually next to Gerald, and a switchblade I forgot to name. Rookie mistake.

Seungcheol made a noise like a dying goat. “Who—who are you?!”

I smiled. “Minghao’s friend.”

Jeonghan tilted his head like a confused golden retriever. “Are we talking like, Netflix and chill friend? Or ‘let’s commit light treason’ friend?”

Minghao finally found his voice, bless him. “They’re… um. Close.”

“Oh, clearly,” Joshua said, gesturing vaguely to my hands, which were very much under Minghao’s waistband. “They’re inside you, bro.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Minghao offered weakly.

“It looks like you’re getting railed by an international assassin with a Glock and excellent skin,” Seungcheol replied.

I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Okay, everyone shut up!” Minghao snapped, finally scrambling off my lap and buttoning his shirt, which honestly only made things worse because now he looked like a man trying to hide a murder and a hickey.

“Explain!” Jeonghan demanded, pointing at me like I was a game show prize.

Minghao sighed. “We’ve been… involved. For a few years.”

“A few years?!” Seungcheol yelled. “You’ve been sleeping with John Wick in a turtleneck for years?!”

“Actually, they don’t like being compared to John Wick,” Minghao muttered. “More of a Villanelle vibe.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Is this why you always disappear during tour breaks?” Joshua asked, squinting.

“No,” Minghao said too quickly. “Maybe. Look, it’s not—it’s not dangerous, okay?”

I waved. “Hi. Sitting right here. Very dangerous.”

“But not to him!” Minghao insisted. “They’re very sweet.”

Jeonghan blinked. “They have three knives and a gun on your IKEA coffee table, Hao.”

“IKEA’s replaceable,” I said helpfully. “Minghao isn’t.”

Everyone blinked at that.

Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Are you in love?”

Minghao and I both froze.

Seungcheol looked between us. “Oh my god. You’re in love. With a hitman.”

“I’m not a hitman,” I said, lightly offended. “I’m the boss.”

“Of what?!”

“…a non-profit.”

That got a loud snort from Jeonghan. “Yeah? What’s it called?”

I thought for a second. “The Deadweight Foundation. We… take people off the streets. Permanently.”

Minghao facepalmed. “Okay. Stop. Everyone stop asking questions.”

“Right,” Joshua said. “Only one more: Are we in danger?”

“No!” Minghao and I both said in unison.

“Well, not immediately,” I added.

Minghao groaned and threw a pillow at my head.

And just when we thought it couldn’t get worse, the door opened again.

“Hey, guys, I left my—WHAT THE—”

Vernon walked in, saw the scene, saw the weapons, and just backed out slowly like he’d entered a haunted room in a horror movie. “Nope. Nope. Not today. I’m too American for this.”

⸻

Eventually, they all sat down for “debriefing.” I offered them wine. Seungcheol declined but chugged it five minutes later. Joshua demanded to know how many people I’d killed (“Not important.”), and Jeonghan asked if I was open to threesomes (“No. And also… what?”).

They were shocked. Then suspicious. Then, after I patched up a splinter in Dino’s finger using an actual butterfly stitch and gave Woozi unsolicited business advice on covert logistics (he took notes), they began to warm up to me.

Minghao never stopped looking stressed, but he held my hand under the table the entire time.

In the end, they didn’t rat him out.

They were horrified, intrigued, and maybe a little afraid of me—but they could see it.

That messy, chaotic, gun-on-the-table kind of love.

And honestly? That’s the most beautiful thing of all.

[ddejavvu]

hello! i just reviewed your req rules and i had been wanting to request something about spencer reid with an east asian partner bc i thought i remembered you saying you were okay with writing specific ethnicities, but i’m not sure if my request will match up with the rule you mentioned about teaching each other a skill.

my idea was for the reader to teach a clumsy, info-dumping reid about how to use chopsticks but i’m worried it goes against your req guidelines 😅 i’m not sure if using chopsticks is something you know how to do or also write about how to teach someone it, but i just thought it could be super fluffy and soft with reid being a klutzy nerd and the reader being super soft and encouraging but also laughing at him for being a genius who doesn’t understand chopsticks. super fluffy and soft stuff with maybe some kisses and stuff haha.

i hope that this doesn’t come across in any way i didn’t intend for it to bc i’m purely trying to ensure i obey ur req rules and don’t disregard them or disrespect ur boundaries in any way! 🥺

hope u are having a wonderful day or night 🥺🫶🏼🫶🏼

i appreciate your consideration!!! you have no idea how much i appreciate you reading my rules <333333 i do in fact know how to use chopsticks so i'm fine writing this :)

--

Spencer's plate is suspiciously empty and his mouth is suspiciously full when you get back from the kitchen, and he grins at you through a mouth full of beef as you clutch the training tool.

"I figured it out," He speaks through his bite, and you grimace at the messy view, "No need for the dinosaur, angel."

You squeeze the silicon dinosaur in your hand, two holes built into its back so that the chopsticks can be slid into them and run parallel to its body. It's something a child would use to get the feel of chopsticks before their motor skills are fully developed, or, in this case, it's for Spencer to use while he tries not to drop any more dumplings onto his lap. You'd figured their bulky shape would make it easy to catch them between the chopsticks, easier than thin noodles, but Spencer is having an exceptionally hard time.

You squeeze the dinosaur harder, feeling it warp beneath your fingers, "Spencer, why is there soup on your plate?"

"Hm?"

"There's soup there," You nod at his plate, "Why?"

"These are soup dumplings," Spencer hums warily, "Isn't that what you said?"

"Yeah, they are. But the soup is inside the dumplings. And you can't get to it unless you break open the dough. There's an awful lot of soup on your plate, Spencer."

He swallows even though his mouthful is long gone, "I spilled one accidentally."

"You liar," You grouse, "Did you just stab the chopsticks into them while I was gone to get them to your mouth easier?"

"No!" Spencer insists, shaking his head so wildly that strands of his hair fly, "No, I used the chopsticks like you taught me to!"

"Prove it then," You narrow your eyes at him, taking your own pair of utensils and easily transferring a dumpling from your plate to his own, "Do it now, so I can see."

Spencer summons all of the courage in his lanky body to grip the chopsticks, his fingers already slipping and sliding off of the placement you'd showed him. His form is clumsy and it's no surprise when he can't even get the dumpling off of the plate, much less to his mouth.

"You liar!" You repeat, your point proven as you snatch the chopsticks away from him and slide the silicon dinosaur onto their ends, "There, it's like training wheels. It'll keep them together so that all you have to focus on is your grip."

"Training wheels," He mumbles, cheeks scarlet as he jabs the chopsticks at the dumpling, his fingers purposefully limp so that they don't pick up the food, "Whatever. I'll just ask for a fork next time."

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

W.I.P Folder Game

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files/documents in your W.I.P folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have W.I.Ps. People can send you an ask with the titles(s) that most intrigue them, then post a little snippet/preview or tell them something about it.

Thank you @xiaokuer-schmetterling for tagging me! Honestly, this was a wake-up call because I have way too many W.I.Ps, each with their heartbeats caught in limbo, waiting for me to let them bleed onto the page. They probably won’t – but one can dream. (I really need to learn how to drive responsibly, I keep on hitting plot bunnies. Those fuckers multiply fast. Thank god for Ellipsus, because I genuinely don’t know how much of my fics I’d be able to write down fast.)

we’re all just stars that have people names

of happiness that blooms like opium poppies

i saw you as a flower

the train to nowhere

oh darling, even rome fell

lovelorn

look at this photograph

we used to be immortal, love

you may be a god, but you live off of my prayers

carve out the pieces of you, how much of me is left

call a monster by it’s name

apricot roses and dead bluebirds (technically posted already, but it is a W.I.P)

where ages grow wild and ancient

everything is blue

taped to the wall, breaking and all

where love lingers, death cannot hold

bury me gentle in a garden of thorns

angel of death, how do you defend?

I asked for a fairy tale, you gave me life

even amongst the gods, you are the cruelest

Don’t Touch The Walls, They’ll Break

of lovelorn days in a world gone pale

where the hero’s heart lies bleeding

where we drown in dusk and dreams

the parts of me in muted grey

whatever homes are made of

and he whispers, and the house whispers back

we’re fated to unravel, love

the ten percent rule

the 10% rule (same title, but different, I swear)

let me die loving, and so never die

Death, Interrupted

the star beneath skin

untitled reddit post

Crimson and Ash

I’m Dreaming of Tomorrow, When Tomorrow’s Not Coming

I’m yearning for a yesterday, when all I’m getting is tomorrow

bleeding between worlds

of hollow bones and ashen skies

I’ve dug two graves for us, my dear

shory and no sailors

serpents in eden’s embrace

a kingdom in waiting

they call us the dreamers, but we’re the ones that don’t sleep

dressed to disaster

a crouching, wounded fawn that knew no god

a forest fire beneath my feet, and no ashes to rise from

sunlight leaves a trail of smoke

a thousand foreign sorrows I cannot name

I was not the first thing I ever did taint

what good is petrichor, when your body rots beneath the dust?

spooky scary skeletons

the circus comes without warning

we should all just stab ceasar

i am borne of fairytales and glass planets

hey, is this a pizza place?

what is left of forever

we were almost enternal

our bones could hold the sky, you and i

stupidity and solitude are one in the same; they’re not

seven flowers of Mrs. Zabini

i had a sister of flesh and blood, but not of love

frame the halves and call them brothers

as ancient as grief

spiteful dumplings

greed and golden illusions

defend you to my last breath

taylor + streaming +siblings

a constellation of ruin

loveable

goldfinch

hide and spite

let me bleed, let me burn

capsize

they call you

a medal for me, one that I’ve created

flaws of the divine, oh to be divine

to love an eldritch love

a letter and a cow

cold

happiness is not known to cold hearts

fae chipmunks

isekai yandere

it curls and it burns, it’s written words

wattpad high

icarus, burn and cold

here be dragons

achilles, come down

fluffy’s not dead yet, right?

Ding, ding, ding, it’s saturday again

Blythe baxter

Flower ship soulmates

Matthews

Hey, timmy

Fuck, that's a lot. I don't think I even know that many people. So, I'm just going to type in the people I follow + my mutuals, I guess. No pressure tags, only do it if you feel comfortable <3333 (also, if anyone else would like to join, please feel free! Just tag me!)

@undercover-stories, @padfootastic, @whatisgrass, @silverbriseis, @awkward-toons, @illymation, @demigodseameg16, @chipmunkweirdo, @dreams-in-words, @yuricedes, @afeatherinthewind, @space-anon-writes, @awyeahitssam, @thunder-point, @monsieurclavier, @katisblue, @thesefallenembers, @bitkahuna, @rt0no.

I just realized I probably should have made sure all of these people actually write, but oh well, I'm too lazy to change it now. Forgive me. (Also, remember, anyone can join! And don't feel pressured to play if you don't wanna! <333)

[valorant-drabbles]

deadlock and gekko resolving their differences and maybe spending some fluffy sweet time together 🥺

I'm loving all the requests for the newer agents- we don't have enough Deadlock content. Allow me to fix that!

Odds & Ends

Gekko & Deadlock

Summary: It's no secret Deadlock has a certain distaste towards Gekko, ever since her arm was horrifically taken by a beast similar to the ones Gekko carries with him. But being on the same team, they're forced to work together frequently. One day, Gekko decides enough is enough; he's going to prove his buddies are harmless, and hopefully make some progress in befriending the Norwegian agent once and for all.

Warnings: None

Killjoy & Cypher cameo

Word Count: 1.8k

Within the Valorant Protocol, there were bound to be a few agents who'd butt heads over small things; who's turn it was in the training simulator, who gets to have the last dumpling... And although most debacles ended shortly after starting, there was the occasional dilemma that not even Brimstone could sort out.

Cypher and Sova not getting along, Brimstone and Breach having tension... at least the troublesome agents could be civil during missions. Looking out for each other's backs, even if there's a fair amount of distrust or tension. Despite everyone's views and differences, at the end of the day, they were a team. They had to get along, for the future of their world.

And although every new agent recruited is bound to have their own share of baggage... It's fair to say that Deadlock held one of the strongest grudges in the Protocol. Can anyone blame her?

After losing her team and her arm to a terrifying beast during a mission gone-wrong, Deadlock had her fair share of struggles fitting in. She found it hard to connect with anybody around her on a deep level, out of fear of losing them as she lost her last team. Though time and patience has proven vital in her adaptation to the Protocol, it was clear she still held a great grudge towards one particular agent.

Gekko.

Despite his best efforts to get along with his fellow agents, he wasn't immune to the threatening aura Deadlock gave off whenever her eyes landed on his little buddies. She refused to call them by their given names, only muttering a cold, bitter; "... radivores." under her breath as she passed by. Ever the pacifist when it comes to internal issues, Gekko did his best to be patient and slowly earn Deadlock's trust. If she could learn to trust him, she could surely learn to trust his buddies!

So there he sat, in the commons room, Dizzy sleeping on his lap as his hand mindlessly pet the top of the little creature's head. His eyes scanning over the words on his phone; advice on 'how to conquer your fears' from various sources. He figured that Deadlock's behavior towards his pets were out of fear, less out of a bloodthirsty hostility.

"... You know, being afraid of Scandinavians is an odd fear, but I can't say I blame you." Cypher's voice caused Gekko to nearly leap off the couch; if it wasn't for Dizzy's sleepy self on his lap, that was. He pressed a relieved hand to his chest and exhaled heavily.

"You know that's not what I'm doing this for." Gekko shot a look behind himself, seeing Cypher leaning against the back of the couch, cup of tea in his hands tenderly. The broker chuckled to himself in amusement, always finding some form of entertainment in pestering the younger agents. "I do know. I also know you looked up 'Scandinavian meals' last week. And 'how to comfort a female co-worker without coming across as weird'. Oh, and lets not forget 'how to-'"

"Cypher!" The younger male's hand shot forward, instinctively trying to cover Cypher's mouth, only for his hand to be caught. The information broker couldn't help but snicker; Gekko just knew this bastard had a huge smirk on his face, despite not being able to see his face. He pulled his hand back and felt his cheeks heat up. Of course Cypher knew what he'd been looking into. It was his job to keep tabs on this sort of stuff.

"If you know what I'm trying to do, then maybe you could help me instead of... whatever the heck you're trying to accomplish right now?" The green haired lad raised an eyebrow, quietly hoping that Cypher might actually provide some assistance; but alas, the man simply shook his head. "You know I'm no good at that. If I was, Sova could actually stand being in the same room as me for longer than five minutes."

A quiet groan escaped Gekko, as he rubbed his face with his hands, head resting against the back of the couch, eyes glued to the ceiling, as if the ceiling held all the answers to his dilemma. "Then what am I supposed to do? How can I get her to see what I see?..." His gaze had slowly moved down to Dizzy, who'd woken up by then at the mild commotion Gekko had caused when scolding Cypher. Seriously, how could anybody see Dizzy as a terrifying monster...? She was so sweet...

"That, my friend, you will have to figure out on your own. I doubt she'll be convinced by a simple showcase." Cypher pat the top of Gekko's head before turning to leave, cup of tea still in tow.

--------------

"Gekko, to your left!" Deadlock shouted out, a bullet rapidly firing from her gun to strike the bot that had been approaching Gekko. "Gracias, Deadlock!" He'd shouted back, the sound of his footsteps being drowned out by the firing happening elsewhere in the training grounds. He ducked down behind a wall, the lights dimming to a deep red, causing him to swallow. They'd been shoved into the training grounds without much warning by Killjoy, who insisted they test out her newest upgrades to the bots. And they were proving to be quite difficult, and relentless.

It was clear both agents were getting exhausted, as they'd been at this for what felt like ages; though it was closer to two hours. All they had to do was get to the end of the room and take out the final bot; but with all the other turrets firing, they'd barely had any time to progress. And every time that damn red light went off, it meant any damaged or broken bots were being replaced.

"How the hell are we supposed to progress?" Deadlock asked herself, head leaned back against the wall her back was pressed against, out of breath.

"I told you, if you'll just let me throw out Dizzy, we can blind them and-"

"No, I don't trust that little monster." Deadlock sneered, as she reloaded her gun- though she was very low on ammo at that point. They'd worn out almost all the guns that had been placed in the room beforehand. "Just let me think. I'm sure my tech can... figure something out."

"You can only do so much on your own, amiga. And at this rate, we're gonna get our asses kicked while Killjoy and Brim are watching. I dunno about you, but I'd like to avoid that." Gekko shot back with a hint of attitude, as a familiar blue orb flung from his belt into his hand. Deadlock's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare, Mateo-"

So threatened by the mere idea of releasing Dizzy onto the field, Deadlock failed to notice the bot that had snuck by her sensor, and was aimed right behind her.

Gekko's eyes narrowed. Instinctively, he tossed up Dizzy, whilst grabbing Mosh from his belt, and chucking it directly at Deadlock- or, that's at least how Deadlock saw it.

It all felt like time slowed down.

She'd flinched and shielded herself, expecting to get... mauled or blown up by the little green creature, eyes screwed shut as she braced for impact-

Until she heard a bot explode behind her. Her eyes shot open as she looked behind her, seeing Moshpit staring at her, clearly happy that it'd managed to keep her safe. She simply stared in confusion, before she heard Dizzy floating above her, blinding the bots with the goo it released. Dizzy happened to land right in Deadlock's hands, her little tag wagging proudly.

It reminded her of a puppy.

"Deadlock- Wingman stunned a path out!" Gekko called out to catch the Norwegian's attention, as she peeked out behind the wall to see several bots disoriented, some still being blinded as well. Pulling out her phantom, she fired with reckless abandon at any bots in their way- revealing the final bot.

"Alright..." Deadlock stepped out from behind the wall, aiming her arm towards the clear path made for her.

"My territory, My rules!"

------------------

The two exhausted agents had managed to pull themselves out of the training simulator with minimal injury. Killjoy was very quick to thank them for helping with the experiment, handing each of them a lollipop as thanks, before she'd retreated to her lab. Especially since Deadlock had been glaring at her. Two hours of testing the damn bots, and all she gets is a piece of candy?

Gekko, on the other hand, despite his own exhaustion, thanked KJ for the opportunity to test her work, and popped the lollipop into his mouth.

"Sooo... Maybe my little buddies can be helpful after all?" Gekko had piped up once silence had settled between them, the two agents walking together towards their lockers to put their util away. Deadlock kept quiet, as she fidgeted with her sensor in her hand.

"They were... less destructive than expected." Deadlock muttered, throwing open her own locker, placing her tech inside. "I suppose I can see how they'd be beneficial in an actual fight..."

"Just a shame you didn't get to see Thrash in action-"

"No, I'm quite glad I didn't see that. Thrash is arguably your most dangerous creature." Deadlock corrected, closing her locker- only to be met with the sparkling, excited gaze of Gekko.

"... What?"

"You just called Thrash by her name.. instead of calling her a monster~" Gekko cooed in a teasing tone. Deadlock's face quickly grew red as she stepped back, quickly averting her gaze from him.

"I-- It was just a slip of the tongue, that's all." Deadlock stammered.

"You also called her a creature instead of a monster!"

"Will you be quiet?!" Deadlock hissed, though it was hard to be intimidated by the Steel Hunter while an embarrassed mess. She turned on her heel, making an effort to escape the conversation before Gekko could spew more nonesense.

But Gekko simply tailed behind her with a grin. "Okay, Okay- but you saw most of them in action today. Which one's your favourite, huh?" He urged. He was treading very dangerous ground, truthfully-

"... Dizzy. Her behavior... reminds me of the halden hounds from my home country..."

----------------

"You really asked those two to test your new bots...? You know they don't get along." Cypher questioned with a raised eyebrow, his glowing blue eyes boring into Killjoy's sheepish smile as the two of them entered the commons room.

"Right! And nothing brings enemies closer to becoming friends like a near-death experience in a fight! Though it was a simulation..." Killjoy attempted to defend her actions, though her train of thought was immediately cut short as she stopped in her tracks, hand shooting over to stop Cypher from progressing forward as well.

The Moroccan did indeed stop, confused. Following Killjoy's gaze until it landed on the couch.

On the couch, to their surprise... was Gekko and Deadlock, asleep, Gekko's head rested on the Norwegian's shoulder... surrounded by Thrash, Dizzy, Wingman and Mosh, who were all comfortably snuggled up against Deadlock in one way or another.

"... Deadlock will murder you if you take a picture." Killjoy had slowly and quietly warned- only to hear the soft click of one of Cypher's many cameras.

"Doubtful. Perhaps I will print her a copy... Hmhmhm..."

[tj-crochets]

How do you make stuffed animals? I’ve bought a pattern for less complicated animals, but you made that blorbo and I don’t think there are any templates for that? What should be my next step in developing my animal making skills?

Hey! This answer is probably going to get pretty long, so it's going below a read more

You're right, I did not use a pre-existing pattern for the blorbo plushie. There's a couple different methods people use to create plushie patterns; if you find you don't like the method I use, that doesn't mean you can't make plushies! Keep trying until you find methods that work for you In my experience, the best way to develop skills in plushie pattern making is to sew a bunch of different plushies. While you use patterns, look at how the pieces look in 2D on the paper and how the end up in 3D in the finished plushie, and start to make a note of what it takes to make simple 3D shapes like a sphere (darts or different segments), a cube (six squares), a cylinder (a rectangle with two circles for the end pieces) If creating a new pattern entirely from scratch seems too much to start with, you can repurpose pieces of other patterns*! I've got a fluffy ostrich-y bird pattern that's just a pattern for a round dumpling for the body, a pattern for a...I think it was a snowball for the head, and then some simple rectangles to make the cylinders of the neck and legs. Another thing! A lot of plushie pattern making for simpler plushies made of knit fabric is just drawing. My manta ray patterns are just a drawing of a manta ray, plus a seam allowance added around the outside. Same with my eel pattern (mostly. it has one dart), my fish pattern, my other manta ray pattern...there's a lot of patterns you can make flat when you're starting out and use stuffing and the stretch of the fabric to make 3D. It's still what I use for simple flat pieces of patterns like wings, arms, ears, etc. That reminds me: seam allowances! I use 1/4" seam allowances, because that's what my sewing machine is set up for and it's the most common seam allowance I've seen used for plushies. You can use whatever seam allowance you want, but I have found it's a loooot easier if you have a tool you can use to add your seam allowance once you've drawn your pattern. I use two mechanical pencils taped together whose points are 1/4" apart. I put one pencil on the line I drew for the pattern, and use the other pencil to draw the line of the seam allowance. A few other tips, in no particular order but numbered so I can keep track of them 1. when matching up pieces of a pattern, make sure they match before the seam allowance is added. It'll make your life easier 2. fold paper to get symmetry in your pattern pieces 3. if you need to match a straight line to a curved line, or two curved lines together, you can use a pipe cleaner to measure the length of the curved line and then straighten the pipe cleaner to know how long to make your straight line (like matching the bottom of legs (rectangular pieces) to feet (circular pieces)) 4. If you are creating a pattern to use with a particular fabric, check how much of the fabric you have BEFORE you draw the pattern just like an inch too long to cut out of the fabric (I learned the hard way lol) 5. if you are worried your pattern won't turn out how you want it to, you can always start with monsters. There's no wrong way to make a monster plushie, you can just accidentally make a different monster than the one you intended to make. It's still a monster plushie, and that's not a bad thing to make! :D 6. if you have multiple pattern pieces coming together at the same point, like the top of a beach ball or the top of my octopus pattern, think about what angle you want that junction to form. For the octopus, I wanted the very top of it to be flat, so I made sure the pieces coming together totaled 360 degrees to be a flat circle. If I'd gone for less than 360 degrees, it would be pointed, if I'd gone for more, it would be kind of ruffled? Almost? Point is: divide the angle you want by the number of pieces you want to form that angle to get what the angle should be at the point each piece comes together *don't sell patterns made from pieces of other peoples' patterns though

[definitelynotgideon]

This is a Genya Shinazugawa x OC (Gideon Azulyss) MLM Fic 🏳️‍🌈

AN/ This took an embarrasingly long time to write because my brain is frieedddd. Work is getting to be so stressful and in the midst of everything I had a breakdown.

NONETHELESS, MY TUMBLR FRIENDS. I return with even more fluffies lol. I swear to god, i have a plan to move away from this stuff and into the meat of the story. Y'all just have to bear with me. xD

Also, this is an abridged, tumblr friendly version of the chapter. The full version will be linked with warnings; it can be found on Ao3. :3

CW: nudity, slight voyeur behavior? sharing a shower.

Click here for the Ao3 Version.

CW for Ao3 Version: Rated Mature! Make-out scene, implied other activities mentioned. Not Explicit.

Word Count: 2,237

The Demons We Face | Chapter 16, Give and Take

Preview:

Gideon looked to the things in his arms. Ah, he wanted to shower too. He looked back up to his shy eyes and then immediately understood that… he wanted to join Gideon. The silver haired boy blushed too.

“D-dont think I'm… just like, here because you're… you know. I didn't mean it like that. I j-just uh-” 

Gideon playfully flicked water at him, smirking. Genya stopped talking and looked slightly surprised.

“Baby. It's okay. You can join me. I'll even help you clean up if you want… but you've gotta help me too. Okay?~” 

Genya still looked nervous, which Gideon found adorable. But he nodded with a shy smile and disrobed. Gideon politely turned around so he could enter in with less pressure. He hummed as he re-wet his hair. 

And then as soon as Genya entered into the shower, he grinned up at him. “This is exciting. I finally get to see what shampoo you use~” 

The two boys ate well. After having talked, both were feeling better and their appetites showed it. When no one was looking, Genya would teasingly poke Gideon in the side with chopsticks and smirk, feeling Gideon's eyes on him and hearing the squeak that made it all worthwhile. 

Gideon was fucking determined to discover Genya's ticklish spots. He needed to level the playing field. But for the time being he retaliated by stealing bites from Genya's plate. 

In one of those times though, Aoi caught him and scolded him. “If you're hungry, ask for more food, don't take from others!”

Genya never got caught in his antics. Professional big brother knew how to get away with teasing. Gideon scrunched his nose and apologized as Aoi gave Genya replacement helpings. 

Genya said something along the lines of “you'd better be sorry,” only smiling fully victorious at Gideon when Aoi turned back around. To lessen the sting of defeat, he gave Gideon an additional dumpling, slipping his hand down to affectionately squeeze his knee. Gideon was dying to return touch, and finished his meal quickly so that he could shower and then join Genya in his room for sleep. 

He snuck a small affectionate scratch to Genya's back as he passed. “‘M gonna shower, see you in a bit.” Then he left the dining hall and went to his quarters for clothes and his shower supplies.

Genya watched him leave, his eyes following him until he was completely beyond the doorway. He glanced at his food and quickly finished it up, cleaning up his area and wandering out. He went back to his room, gathering up a change of outfit. 

Gideon, meanwhile, had gone into the men's shower. He was blissfully alone, and he was reminded of why he chose odd times to shower. It was just a little awkward to shower with other men around… he felt like if he looked the wrong way at one of them that they would immediately notice and call him out even if it was innocent. 

So whenever anyone else had come into the restroom he would decidedly turn to the wall and not socialize. 

But that wouldn't be happening this evening.

Smiling to himself, he stripped his outfit and set it carefully aside. Starting the shower, he ventured beneath the stream. A few moments passed and he began to sing softly as he worked a bar of soap in his hands.

And he sang sweetly, not aware of the very silent entrance of Genya. 

The mohawked boy had stopped short of the restroom area as soon as he heard the soft cadence. He had entered quietly to confirm it was Gideon. He heard his voice, and recognized it but… he needed to see him too. Wanted to commit it to memory. 

Because his voice resonated off of porcelain tiles, steam from the shower veiled him in intrigue. The scent of his fragrant soap tinted the vapor. Genya could have sworn he was an angel… and he stood rather frozen in place, awe holding his body still as he remained unnoticed.

But then… he accidentally dropped his shampoo bottle. Genya's face turned beet red as Gideon instantly stopped singing and turned to face him like a frightened deer.

Genya crouched to retrieve his bottle and became a bit of a mess in trying to explain himself. He shouldn't have even been doing so, he just couldn't resist… in his defense his intentions were very innocent. He was simply admiring his lover. Definitely not trying to be creepy or invade his privacy. 

He stammered out apologies to Gideon, averting his gaze, even bowing and Gideon shook himself out of his surprised state. 

“Genya, it's okay… Did… did you come looking for me?” 

Somehow Genya's blush got deeper on his face. “Y-yeah I… um. I wanted to make sure you were okay… but I was also… w-wondering if I could …”

Gideon looked to the things in his arms. Ah, he wanted to shower too. He looked back up to his shy eyes and then immediately understood that… he wanted to join Gideon. The silver haired boy blushed too.

“D-dont think I'm… just like, here because you're… you know. I didn't mean it like that. I j-just uh-” 

Gideon playfully flicked water at him, smirking. Genya stopped talking and looked slightly surprised.

“Baby. It's okay. You can join me. I'll even help you clean up if you want… but you've gotta help me too. Okay?~” 

Genya still looked nervous, which Gideon found adorable. But he nodded with a shy smile and disrobed. Gideon politely turned around so he could enter in with less pressure. He hummed as he re-wet his hair. 

And then as soon as Genya entered into the shower, he grinned up at him. “This is exciting. I finally get to see what shampoo you use~” 

The comment makes Genya laugh a little. He crouches to gather up his soap and Gideon can't resist the urge to look at his lover’s body.

His eyes softened. He had… so many scars. Some looked quite deep. Gideon’s own body had a few from fights with demons and just the hazards of being a boy. but Genya's… were more present. 

He'd probably been through so much. Too much to talk about. Genya seems to feel his eyes and looks to him as he stands up fully with his soap in hand. Gideon can't help but to just…move in and hold him close. He's wet from the shower so the feeling is weird for Genya but nonetheless, he laughs a little and wraps his arms around Gideon. 

“Someone is clingy~” Genya lightly teased him. Gideon groaned against his chest and playfully pretended to bite him. 

Gideon then squeezed him and lifted him to put him under the shower stream. “I don't think you dislike it.”

Genya giggled a little as he was moved. “You're right. I'm… happy you want to.” 

It was nice to be wanted. Especially after so much time with very few people. Gyomei had found him first, and had helped him as the father figure he never previously had. And even if there was pain in the aftermath, he loved his brother deeply and wanted to reach him. 

But Gideon was unique. Something he'd not experienced prior. Every touch was so gentle and healing… in some ways it terrified Genya because he'd lost almost his entire family and he could just as easily lose Gideon, Gyomei, Sanemi. Despite that though… Gideon was here now. And wanted to be close to him just as much. 

Gideon gently requested is soap bar. “I'll wash your back,” he offered. Genya must have d drifted away in thought for a moment, but his mauve eyes refocused on his partner. 

“Th-thank you.” He handed him the soap and turned around, closing his eyes and waiting. He felt like a child in a way… probably because he'd not experienced this before. 

Gideon lathers the soap in his hands and takes an appreciative smell. While not exactly what Genya smelled like to him, the hint of warm woodsy fragrance that Gideon noticed on Genya likely came from this bar. He gently scrubbed Genya's shoulders, eyes still on his scars as his eyes swirled with questions he wouldn't ask… deft hands cleansed Genya's back, finally resting on his hips as Gideon blushed. He should probably let Genya take care of everything lower… he didn't want to be invasive.

Genya felt him pause at his hips. Blushing because he knew what Gideon was probably thinking, he turned around to face him. “Thank you love… I- I'll get the rest of me.” 

Gideon went back under the spray as Genya finished soaping up. Gideon had finished up with soap earlier. He reached for his shampoo and Genya reached over gently to pause him. “Could… Could I do that for you? Please?” 

Gideons eyes softened again. That was so sweet of him… he couldn't deny him after he asked so carefully. He nods a little with a small smile and Genya rinsed himself off. He then took up Gideon’s shampoo bottle.

“C’mere, turn around.” He instructed softly. Rubbing his hands together after taking some shampoo up, he worked the lather into Gideon's scalp. Fingertips moved with specific pressure. Genya worked diligently through his strands and especially in his scalp to free up dirt or debris.

Gideon hummed contently. He loved having his hair played with, but this was entirely unique. Genya finished, smoothing the strands out of Gideons face and working them back. 

“Alright, rinsing time.” Gods, his voice was so gentle. The tone of his voice hit Gideon in an oddly specific manner. 

This really was love, wasn't it? Having someone be so careful with him and his heart. His everything. Especially when others had either been complacent or cruel… Genya's love began to take root in Gideon's soul, and Gideon would adore all of his flowers and thorns. 

Once he's rinsed the shampoo out completely, he pushes water away from his eyes and switches Genya spots so he can stand under the warm water. He stands on his toes to kiss him softly, cupping his cheeks. “Thank you. I love you. So much… you make my heart feel so full.”

He rests a moment, simply looking into Genya's eyes with sweet adoration and Genya returns the look. Gideon breaks first, looking to Genya's stuff on the shower floor. “Your turn. I'd like to wash your hair too, please.” 

Genya watches him gather the shampoo and gives him a smirk. “Need me to kneel or something for you, shorty?~” 

Gideon growls playfully. “I'm not that short! But… yes. It'd be helpful. Um… maybe not kneeling though. Might not be the most comfy.”

Surely there was a stool or something around… Gideon looked and found one in one of the private showers, meant for higher ranked residents. 

“...There.” he walks over as Genya hisses, as if someone else is even in the bathroom.

“Gideon no that's not something we can use!” 

Gideon returns with it anyway. “Oh please. I don't understand why we can't use tools equally. I get the respect thing but no one is going to notice this being missing for a few moments.” 

It was true. All of the Hashira had their own estates anyway. “Besides. Don't you… technically out rank me? A higher ranked slayer is using the stool. Logic.” He beamed, setting the stool down and patting it. “Sit your fine ass down.” 

Genya chuckles a little but ultimately sits. “I do? I didn't know I outranked you.” 

Gideon lifted his wrist and said “show me my rank,” and the wisteria engraving became visible. “Tsuchinoto. And you're a Hinoto.”

“...You work just as hard as any slayer, why are you lower in rank? Didn't you pass final selection before me? You were in Aoi’s class right?”

“Yeah… the reason for that is, my fighting style didn't lend itself to katana wielding very well. I'd survive battles, but my swordsmith hated me because I kept breaking swords. On the fourth one, he refused to make me another katana. Said I needed to rethink what I'm doing. And… after a little while… I thought of how I was fighting and how it lended itself more towards melee. So… I asked for something heavier and we agreed on the hammer.”

Gideon shrugged as he leaned Genya back to wet his hair. “It set me back quite a bit because I had to learn a new style of fighting. But it was well worth it. It's nearly impossible to break the hammer. Its handle, maybe. But not the steel.”

“Huh. Well that makes sense,” Genya mused. He pictured the frustration Gideon must have gone through trying to come into fighting styles. He could empathize a little. 

Gideon starts to shampoo his hair, rhythmic passes raking through his mohawk and gentle scrubs to his shaved sides. He also paid attention to Genya's scalp, using careful nails to work the soap in and loosen unwanted stuffs.  

He found that he was enjoying himself. He'd never shampooed anyone's hair before, besides his own. Plus… sharing this with Genya was filling his heart even more with each passing moment. He finished, rinsing his hands but draping himself over Genya's back for just a few seconds. Wrapping his arms around him and kissing his bare shoulder. 

“You're ready to go. Let's get you up and rinse you.” 

He made his way in front of Genya just in case he needed help off of the sitting stool. Genya took his hand regardless, letting him pull him up even if he wouldn't have had trouble. Genya ventured under the stream to rinse out his hair, and Gideon returned the stool to the private shower. 

Venturing back to the shower, Genya couldn't help but watch him and appreciate Gideon’s form. Gideon would be lying if he insisted he wasn't stealing glances of Genya's naked body too. Gideon caught him looking; he made it a little bit obvious because Genya met his eyes and turned red as he looked away..

He hummed as he came back to wrap his arms around Genya. “Still so easy to fluster. Adorable~” 

They finished up with the shower, turning the water off and drying with towels provided. Teasing each other the whole time, they made their way back to Genya’s room to retire for the night.

[sfarticles]

Soup brings comfort in a bowl

Check out my latest column https://www.timesherald.com/2025/01/08/soup-brings-comfort-in-a-bowl/

From pho, borscht and mulligatawny to matzo ball, minestrone and avgolemono, there’s a soup tied to many cultures. These recipes are typically based upon the country’s available ingredients, geography and climate.

For example, beets are the main ingredient in borscht, a popular Eastern European soup. Beets are plentiful in places like Ukraine since the colder weather is conducive to growing the vegetable.

Here in the United States, many regions have a soup attached to them. Think gumbo (New Orleans), clam chowder (New England), Manhattan clam chowder (New York City) and pepper pot (Philadelphia).

The versatility, ease of preparation and the fact that it’s comfort in a bowl make soup a favorite, especially as we enter the colder months.

Did you know that in 1984, Campbell Soup Co. (you know, those iconic red and white cans) designated January as National Soup Month.

Making soup is an ideal way to use up leftovers such as vegetables, pasta, fresh herbs and proteins. Home cooks usually have a few soups in their repertoire, quite often ones that mom or grandma handed down, that bring back warm memories of days gone by.

For me it’s my grandmother’s trifecta of matzo ball, mushroom and barley and split pea. To this day, they are in my repertoire; her borscht, well, it’s not.

For those with little time on their hands, soup is the perfect meal served along with a freshly baked loaf of bread.

As the seasons change, soup ingredients and variety follow suit. Soups become lighter and are served cold or warm, with seasonal vegetables, etc.

Perfect for a hot summer day are gazpacho, icy watermelon soup or vichyssoise.

Soup is most often thought of as an appetizer or entrée. Most don’t think of it as a dessert. The cookbook featured below has two dozen soups to serve as a sweet ending to a meal. Strawberry soup with crème anglaise swirl or a spin on traditional peach melba (peach melba soup) with raspberry swirl and almond biscotti are two on my list to prepare when warmer weather arrives.

The Specialty Food Association said, “Unlike TikTok food trends, soup has staying power, and never really goes out of style.”

For me, soup cookbooks, don’t go out of style.

A recent addition to my collection is “300 Sensational Soups” by Carla Snyder and Meredith Deeds (2024, Robert Rose Inc., $24.95)

The title begins with stocks, the base of most soups.

The authors’ write: “In a perfect world, everyone would make soup with homemade stock. Stock made from scratch, with quality ingredients, can elevate a soup from simple to sublime. And the good news is, stocks are much easier to make than most home cooks think.”

When time is of the essence, it is suggested to purchase quality stocks and broth. Recipes for a variety of stocks are provided. From there, the chapters include vegetable, bean, cheese, meat lover, chicken and turkey, fish, chowders and chilled and dessert soups.

For those who enjoy exploring a world of soups, you’re covered with 50 soup recipes from around the world.

The all-encompassing book’s last chapter is called “Gilding the Lily: Toppings and garnishes.” Here you’ll find recipes for fried sage leaves, bacon croutons and fluffy dumpling batter among many others.

The authors said they think almost every soup benefits from a garnish. Each recipe has an interesting headnote and helpful tips. Some recipes provide a variation using a swap out ingredient.

Soup is one dish that can easily be reinvented. Take a recipe and experiment with different flavors and textures. It is easy to make a recipe gluten-free, vegetarian or vegan.

The authors said: “Soup is not just another meal — it’s comfort in a bowl, love on a spoon, satisfaction simmering on the stove. And all this goodness comes together so easily.”

So, get out that big soup pot and start out with these recipes from the book.

For the recipe for Arugula Soup With Salmon and Roasted Grape Tomatoes, visit bit.ly/40bEnB1.

And remember this quote from Marge Kennedy: “Soup is a lot like a family. Each ingredient enhances the others; each batch has its own characteristics; and it needs time to simmer to reach full flavor.”

Roasted Yellow Pepper Soup With Cilantro Cream

The headnote says: “Roasting the peppers gives this lovely golden soup a vibrant flavor. The green Cilantro Cream on top makes it as pretty as a picture.”

Serves 4 to 6

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons  unsalted butter

2  cloves garlic, minced

¼ cup finely chopped shallots

½ teaspoon  dried thyme

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

6  roasted yellow bell peppers, coarsely chopped

5 cups chicken stock

Freshly squeezed lemon juice

Cilantro Cream (recipe follows)

Directions:

In a large pot, melt butter over medium-low heat. Add garlic, shallots, thyme, salt and pepper; sauté until shallots are softened, about 6 minutes. Add yellow peppers and stock;cover and simmer until peppers are very soft, 12 to 15 minutes.

Using an immersion blender, or in a food processor or blender in batches, purée soup until smooth, thinning with a little more stock, if necessary. Return to the pot, if necessary, and add lemon juice to taste. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper, if necessary.

Ladle into heated bowls and top each with a dollop of cilantro cream.

Tip: If not using homemade chicken stock, be sure to purchase a low-sodium brand.

Cilantro Cream

Makes about 1 ¼ cups, enough to garnish 8 to 12 servings

Ingredients:

1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced

1 cup packed fresh cilantro, finely chopped

1 cup sour cream

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lime juice

Pinch of salt

Directions:

In a small bowl, combine jalapeno, cilantro, sour cream, lime juice and salt.  Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 days.

Coconut Curry and Shrimp Soup

The headnote says: “Thai red curry paste, which you can find in the Asian section of most grocery stores, is one of our favorite add-ins when we want to kick up the flavor in a soup. Here, we’ve used it to lend a punch to this rich and creamy coconut milk–based soup. Mushrooms and shrimp make it a meal, but it’s the wonderful balance of spicy, sweet and a little sour that keeps us coming back for more.”

Serves 6

Ingredients:

4 cups chicken stock

2 ½ tablespoons  granulated sugar

2 ½  tablespoons fish sauce (nam pla)

1 ½ teaspoons Thai red curry paste

2  cans (each 14 ounces) unsweetened coconut milk

8 ounces mushrooms, sliced

1 pound medium shrimp, peeled and deveined

1⁄3 cup chopped fresh cilantro

3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice

Whole fresh cilantro leaves

Directions:

In a large pot, bring stock, sugar, fish sauce and curry paste to a boil over medium heat; boil for 1 minute. Add coconut milk and return to a boil. Add mushrooms, reduce heat and simmer until tender, about 4 minutes. Add shrimp and simmer until pink and opaque, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in chopped cilantro and lime juice.

Ladle into heated bowls and garnish with whole cilantro leaves.

Succotash Sausage Soup

The headnote says: “Succotash is a favorite late-summer side dish. In this creamy soup, we’ve made it a meal by adding hearty kielbasa sausage.”

Serves 6 to 8

Ingredients:

¼ cup  unsalted butter

1 pound kielbasa sausage, cut into thin half-moons

2 cups chopped leeks, white and light green parts only

3 garlic cloves, chopped

1 large red bell pepper, finely chopped

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme

6 cups chicken stock

2 cups frozen baby lima beans, thawed

½  teaspoon  salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1  can (14 ounces) cream-style corn

1 ½ cups fresh or frozen white corn kernels, thawed if frozen

½ cup whipping cream

Fresh thyme leaves

Directions:

In a large, heavy pot, melt butter over medium heat. Add sausage, leeks, garlic and red pepper; sauté until vegetables are softened and sausage is browned, about 6 minutes. Sprinkle with flour and thyme; sauté for 2 minutes.

Gradually whisk in stock. Add lima beans, salt and pepper; bring to a boil, stirring often. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until lima beans are tender, about 10 minutes. Add cream-style corn and corn kernels; simmer for 10 minutes. Stir in cream. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper, if necessary. Reheat until steaming, stirring often. Do not let boil.

Ladle into heated bowls and garnish each with a few thyme leaves.

Tip: To trim leeks, cut off and discard the root end and the dark green tops (or save the tops for stock). Cut leeks lengthwise and wash under running water to remove any grit or dirt. Then cut as directed in the recipe.

Recipes and images courtesy of .....

(2024, Robert Rose Inc., $24.95)

Photos: (Colin Erricson)

Stephen Fries is professor emeritus and former coordinator of the Hospitality Management Programs at Gateway Community College in New Haven, Conn. He has been a food and culinary travel columnist for the past 17 years and is co-founder of and host of “Worth Tasting,” a culinary walking tour of downtown New Haven, and three-day culinary adventures around the U.S. He is a board member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Email him at Stephen@stephenfries.com. For more, go to stephenfries.com.

[awesomeforever]

"Hearst Magazines and Yahoo may earn commission or revenue on some items through the links below." LUNAR NEW Year is here, and as you might already know, it’s the Year of the Rabbit. To commemorate the holiday, Allbirds has released two new pairs of shoes—one for kids and one for adults. And you’ll want to scoop up a pair for every member of your family. Men's Limited Edition Wool Runners allbirds.com $110.00 Shop Now For the adults, Allbirds has revamped their wool runners to be in a limited-edition color palette of hazy beige with a deep red lining, red-and-white laces, and a pair of rabbit ears on the top side of the tongue with a golden sun on the underside of the tongue. The nod to the 2023 Lunar New Year is subtle enough that you could happily wear these all year round (and even into next year). Smallbirds Limited Edition Wool Runners for Big Kids allbirds.com $70.00 Shop Now Anyone new to Allbirds should start with their wool runners. We love them for both walking and running because they’re not only comfy but also moisture-wicking, made from sustainable materials, and keep odor at bay. Plus, they’re stylish enough to be able to go from your morning run to the office with no sweat (literally). For the kids, Allbirds has a complementary shoe that leans a little more into the bunny theme. Like the adult shoes, these are wool runners that have the little rabbit ear and sun emblems on either side of the tongue and red-and-white laces. But these kicks have a fluffy white upper that actually resembles a sheep’s fleece or a rabbit’s cotton tail. Allbirds has these shoes available for both toddlers and older kids. To ring in the Year of the Rabbit in style, you’re definitely going to want to snatch up a pair of these shoes before they’re gone for good. You can pick up these shoes from the Allbirds website for $110 for the adult version and $70 for the kid version. Shop Now You Might Also Like The 16 Best Men's Gifts From Oprah's Favorite Things 2022 The Best Hair Growth Shampoos for Men to Buy Now 25 Vegetables That Are Surprising Sources of Protein Jan. 22, 2023 marks the beginning of the Lunar New Year also known as the Chinese New Year. Here's what to know about the widely celebrated holiday. Chinese New Year, also known as the Lunar New Year or Spring Festival, is celebrated at the second new moon following the Winter Solstice. (This year, January 22, 2023.) The festival marks the end of winter and the beginning of a long-awaited spring! According to the Chinese Zodiac, 2023 is the Year of the Rabbit. So what does the Year of the Rabbit have in store for us? And will it be calmer than 2022 (The Year of the Tiger)? Let’s find out! Was I Born During the Year of the Rabbit? The Chinese Lunar New Year 2023 is a few days away. Here's what to know about the festive holiday and how you can celebrate the Year of the Rabbit. From Hong Kong and London, to Bangkok and Melbourne, people rang in the Year of the Rabbit in 2023 with parades, prayers, and festive fireworks. Bunny-themed duds, authentic Chinese soup dumplings, and special edition presents that are sure to bring good fortune in the new year. Ring in the Year of the Rabbit with these best Chinese New Year Greetings and Lunar New Year wishes for loved ones, family, friends and co-workers. Even Mickey and Minnie don their finest new red clothes. These ultra-warm garments will make your cold-weather travel much cozier. Our top pick is the Quince Australian Merino Wool Crew Sweater. If your kitchen could use a lil makeover, you've come to the right place. We asked interior design experts to spill on what's new and trendy for 2023. source

[fluffyydumplings]

The Tale Of The Forgotten

Gone - Part 7

Summary: Forty-five years ago, you planted a tree in the backyard of your boring old home with the person you hoped to cherish for as long as the tree would stand.. Forty-five years later, the tree flourishes - shrouded in pink when spring stays over, shrouded in green when summer comes by, orange as autumn says hello, and a dusty white as winter kicks in.. But only he remembers of that day, and of the love you once shared.. You, on the other hand, you have forgotten.. Completely and for eternity.

Word Count: 5.8k

Genre: angel!jimin x human!reader / human!jimin x human!reader (past) / friends to lovers / marriage!au / angst (lots of it) / painter!namjoon x sculptor!yoongi x fashion illustrator!jin x traveller!reader (present) / an itty bitty bit of fluff

Warnings: themes of death / car accidents / major character death / profanity / an almost punch / old age / poverty / allusions to war (no war takes place in the story) / robbery / break-in / themes of heaven and hell

A/N: Suprise! Surprise! Gone is back after four months! This chapter was something I came up with last year - and I finally get to write it.. Time to reflect on life yet again, dear reader.. I apologise for making you wait for so long.. Life was simply busy, and Gone wasn’t something I felt like continuing in those times. I thought about it frequently though, I have to say - this story is like my cats whom I cherish dearly (my sweets) after all.. One more chapter to go! :O @jayhopely ahahahha! Enjoy your shot of pain!

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Wings.. Clusters of white, not a trail of light to follow.. They lay heavy on his back, if not heavier than they were the day they were given to him as it twists and turns to cover his broken form - not a single tear or frown whispers into his jar of emotions - his face remains nothing but empty - stiff and a mere illusion to fool himself and those he is to guide.. If he were to walk past by a lake, an ocean or happen to pick up a shard of broken glass, his soul aches a little and his legs cling onto each other in anguish - because it knows just as he does, that from the day he made a deal with the person above.. his existence was left with nothing of that but his soul - he has no reflection, for he has no form. It’s all an illusion! It’s all an illusion!

It hurts.. It hurts.. And for the first time in forever, it seems he finally gets the meaning of what crying inside is.. For, that’s what he is doing.. In his empty eyes, he can see his human self heavy with snot and bleeding with rivers of tears..

‘Jimin-ah.. Goodbye!’

He manages to bring out an awkward smile for you - even if your back is turned and you’re not looking over his way anytime soon.. He likes to think that you can feel his smile.. However awkward or hardened like chalk it is..

He falls to his knees, and everything comes crashing on him.. He’s as light as feather, yet he feels as heavy as a boulder..

‘It’s over!!! Our dea-ll! It- ‘s o- v- er!!’

‘One lifetime!!! You said I was one of the lucky ones.. One of the good ones.. One of the only ones who get to choose!’

‘Why am I in so much pain then? Why?!! Why?!!’

He shouts to no one in particular.. What hurts more than anything is how stable his voice remains and that the anger and agony he embodied the day he confused heaven and hell as two (when they clearly were one of the same worlds) never manifests itself in his cries..

‘Because dear child, pain is inevitable.. You have chosen this path, you have gained a bit of contentment through it and a bit of distress through it.. But that’s how the world works.. Nothing ever thickens down to one definite form.. It’s always a mess..’

‘Do you regret your choice?’

The strange voice that has no end or start or softness or roughness to it rings in his head.. Like wet paint dripping off of an 18 by 24 inches canvas held up by a worn-off easel by the side of the broken window you forgot to fix.. Rain and hail accumulating on its surface - a storm to take on rather than avoid..

‘No..’

Angels.. Souls that wander aimlessly through the road you walk on every day to get to work, bearing a face that tingles a pang of familiarity within you - but you can’t quite put a finger on.. Lingering around, desperate to see their loved ones one last time - and to send them off into a new life just as they themselves suffer the consequences of what they have chosen.

It‘s like betting money on a game of cards, the uncertainty of getting something or anything back weighing the tip of one’s sunken lips.. To linger on for ten lifetimes or one.. Will it end up with satisfaction or regret that eases through the walls of one’s mind?

The unpredictability of what could happen or what you could witness - good enough to anchor you to a mountain with arrows of flying fire.. To see someone fall in love, and not with you.. To see someone die, their soul sucked out of them when you’re nothing but a soul yourself.. To see someone be in pain, but have no one by their side..

‘I’ve seen her smile.. I’ve seen her beam with joy.. I’ve seen her grow.. I’ve seen her soar and I’ve seen her fall.. Through it all, she remained beautiful.. That, I will never regret having witnessed.’

Angels.. Souls that have done so much good in their lives that they were given a choice.. But different burdens come with this choice.. And it’s how they make of themselves that distinguish whether it was the right choice or not.. (Deception.. There’s no right or wrong.. We just make it through and gobble our burdens up..)

‘Are you ready?’

‘I’ll have to go on with this even if I don't want to.’

A scale appears before him.. And on its golden surface laid a single feather, the other side carrying the weight of his heart.. Quickly the side with the feather sunk down - his heart declared lighter than that of the feather.. It seems his fate lies in the same train station you went on a few hours ago - as he would like to assume.. After all, having been lingering on for decades does that to you - it makes you lose track of time. It makes you realise that humans aren’t as meticulous or detail-oriented as you think they are. That clocks don’t line the walls of every home nor does every person out there carries a watch with them. The rectangle everyone carries around, Jimin never got around how it worked..

‘Angel Jimin, the trial proves you guilty of no hatred and nothing but good in your heart.. Your soul shall pass over to the borders of reincarnation.’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Past

‘Bailing on us again, Chim?’ the presence of his friend sparks an annoyance in him that he can’t quite explain.

‘I’m not interested in going to one of your parties, Hyun,’ the studded jacket that wraps around him all of a sudden sticks to his skin uncomfortably - he knows he looks good in it - but it was far from the man he was. From the tough material that makes it awfully difficult for him to move around to the hazardous spikes that surround the piece of fabric - it was everything that did not define him as a human being.

Park Jimin was a soft and delicate man that found himself in beautifully-coloured flowers and auburn sweaters that hung off of him loosely - showing off his sculpted collar bones and delicate skin. His definition of strength did not lie in phrases printed over t-shirts: ’Strong Like A Man!’ ‘Man Up!’.. He found it stupid.. disgusting.. disturbing..

He found strength in giving those around him strength - whether it was through words of encouragement or a simple show of respect. Like the way he smiles at the woman who works at the record store a few blocks from his house, patiently waiting for her to find the track he wanted - not expecting her to bow at his feet.. One: because he was physically male.. Two: because the customer is always right.. To be treated kindly and with no harsh remarks. It made feel her comfortable - and therefore, it made him feel comfortable..

‘Chim..’

‘What are you doing here?’ he freezes, a mountain of freshly shaved ice in the process of crumbling down into a path of dirty water.

He looks around - to the side, to the front and to the back - a sigh of relief dancing at the tip of his dirty blonde locks (dyed a dashing hot pink at the ends) as he spots the familiar black shirt he’s grown familiar to through frequenting the store. He mouths over to the woman who works there to leave his record on the counter. A reassuring smile with hints of shame washing him over, a surfboard splashed in the condescending cold waves it is surrounded by.

‘Was wondering where you went instead of joining in on us. Someone told me you were here often.. So, I decided to drop by,’ his permed hair sticks out as the bright sunlight simmers its way through the thin orangeish-red curtains that drag aimlessly across the floor - but what stands out more is the disrespect that compresses itself into his fingers that harshly stroke against the records displayed on the wall. Completely disregarding the devotion and love put into making each and every one of these discs. In his head: ‘Boring old PVC.. Nothing fascinating..’ - absolute fucking mama’s boy - hasn’t grown up mentally out of diapers.

Hyun makes Jimin fizzle up to a boil, hands shaking like he’s had tremors for forty years (longer than he has lived). And this might be it, the day Jimin gets enough of his barbaric and obnoxious behaviour.

‘Lady! Get me all of your best-sellers and bring it back over here in two minutes.’

He’s had enough..

That’s right, you’re the woman who works at this record store. You’re the woman who wears black even if the sky is at a blazing 38 degrees Celsius outside. You’re the woman who shares a popsicle with him and sometimes a hot cup of tasteless tea. You’re his person.. A very precious stroke of black that completes him - makes him whole and constantly reminds him to be true to himself.. (You’re a person he holds close to his heart..)

And beyond that - you’re sweet.. sugary.. and everything nice.. From the way you write thank-you notes for everyone that enters and leaves this shop with a purchase (whether they’d end up throwing it away along with the bag it came with or crumbling it into a trash can somewhere - it did not matter much to you) to the way you never hesitate to buy out the old lady’s, who sits by the side of your shop every 2 to 6 pm, stock of bean sprouts (just so she could leave early and have something to eat for the night)..

You’re an angel.. An absolute fucking angel.. (Thinking back to the present, he hopes you never become an angel.. All there is to it is a lingering bittersweetness that resembles what happiness in the real world could be and a crapload of pain.. It’s a path he hopes you avoid at all cost)

‘Lady.. Hurry up!’

That-

He..

That-

That bastard..

No one should ever talk to you in such a .. No one.. Absolutely no one!

He’s had enough..

The tissue that you handed over to him after your impromptu meal of Kimchi Jeon (pancake) crumbles and dissolves into the wrath of his fists. He’s furious and fearful all at the same time - his jaw tensed as the palpable anxiety that shakes a room when tree branches tear through the delicate ground of a newly bought canvas.

He estimates the distance between him and Hyun, glances up and down and calculates the angle at which his fists would do the most damage.. He hardens his fists, grinds his teeth together and smiles sardonically - eyes a pearl of faux happiness formed to protect himself from the consequences of his not-yet-to-happen action - that he is ever so well aware of, but chooses to ignore.

He sees it, he feels it.. Four stitches - one on the right cheek, two on the chin and another one two cm away from the left eye. A broken rib-

He can already taste the metallic red that will soon ease its way onto his tongue.. Bastards like him deserve to feel death but not truly die...

His fists harden even further.. Is that even possible?

Bastards like him deserve to burn with every breath they take.. Bastard like..

He lifts his hand, and aims where he thinks it will hurt mos-

‘Don’t do it, Chim,’ your frail voice wasn’t one of fear or fright, but of concern and care.

For every stitch and every hit would be another cent deducted from your shared bank account.. For every extra punch, the possibility of Jimin ending up behind bars increases. For every extra glare, the further your husband will get away from you..

‘Sorry..’ he whispers to you..

All it takes is a brush of your fingers against his shoulder blades for him to free himself from the restrains of anger that his feet were one held back by. You were an easel that shaped the strings of hemp fibre bandaged over his feet into flower petals of calm. In a way, no one else can or would, like soft soap carved away through the tip of a seeding knife dipped in a vessel of lukewarm water.

‘Ya, dude.. There’s literally a section that says ‘best-sellers’ on it.’

‘Oh! You’re right..’ with heavy footsteps, he follows the devil.

‘Ya, Park Jimin! This place is pretty cool!’

‘Ya, dude.. Now that you know this place, I’m going somewhere else!’

‘Park Jimin.. You’re ever so cruel..’

‘Well.. Find your own record shop to scavenge then.’

‘My oh my.. There’s no need to get heated, is there?’ arrogance shook off of him, ‘This place isn’t even all that fantastic anyway.’

“This place isn’t even all that fantastic anyway.” He finds himself repeating that same sentence over and over again in his head, in a ridiculously deep and sarcastic tone.

‘This place isn’t even all that fantastic anyway?’ a frown nuzzles into the sharp edges of his cheek.

‘This,’ he mixes.

‘Place,’ and mixes.

‘Isn’t even all,’ and mixes.

‘That fantastic anyway,’ having the arrival of the deep shade of purple, he has desired from the very beginning, at the tip of his nose.. he gently dabs a bit of the glossy substance onto his index finger, transferring his prints onto the canvas before him..

‘Woah.. The flowers are now- Alive..’ your jaw drops as you place a cup of soy milk onto the table to his left; for him to savour on once he feels like taking a break. (your kitchen still smells of soy and sugar.. It warms your heart and reminds you of your Taiwanese friend back from high school.. You have to admit.. Soaking and grinding beans up with water is the most unexpected plot twist of your life.. - you kind of like it though..)

‘They are.. Aren’t they?’ the crinkle of his eyes, and the gold that struck them.. he was filled with passion; so much passion to quiver above his fingers.

The smell of fresh paint kisses the yellow walls of the ventilated room, the sunflower painting (inspired by van goh’s “vase with fifteen flowers”) that hangs from a nail poorly hammered through the wall.. The herringbone tiles that threaten to crack with every creak of your shoe’s sole, the lilies that blossomed beautifully against the elongated stone pot placed against your window’s sill (no longer a wilted row of death thanks to the bottles of water you have saved up from washing rice)..

‘Why lavenders?’ your hands are placed on his shoulders, as you gently sink into the top of his head - placing a feathery kiss, in which he smiles at..

‘Lavenders grow well in poor soil.. It reminds me, that I can- no.. we can thrive regardless of where we are or who we are..’

__

‘Lavenders thrive in soil that is poor

It grows

It grows

Like you and me

We grow

We grow

It grows

It grows,’ she sings..

‘Maybe, we are two lavenders dancing on the ground

Wilting

Crying

Dying

But always, growing

And always alive

We grow

We grow

We’re alive,’ he sings as she continues strumming at her guitar.

Approaching slowly, Jimin’s fingers slowly place a penny into the hat tipped upside down on the floor beside them. He could barely make it through a day without his stomach grumbling four times.. His dirtied and scuffed sneakers and worn-down-at-the-seams jeans were a reminder of that, yet he smiled when his pocket was emptied of one single penny that could have bought him a red-bean-filled fish-shaped bread - steadying his stomach for the rest of the day. Jimin had nothing, but he was willing to share..

__

‘Quite the poet there, Chim.’ you boop his nose, and he attempts to do the same; you end up with purple on your nose.

‘Park Jimin!!’ with your bare hands, you drag across his paint palette.. thrusting the paint you manage to get.. at him..

He covers the canvas with a clear plastic wrap, and reaches for the same paint palette.. you don’t let him have it..

‘Ha!’

‘Well.. Take this!’ the wet paintbrush he gets his hands on flings paint into your hair..

‘Ahhhhh!!!’ you smear paint on his cheeks, running wildly like a puppy being startled by the sudden outbursts of fireworks going off.

*the sound of a tap turning on*

‘Well, that didn't end up well..’ you slosh your hands up and down in the water, ‘And what’s with this unicorn barf bath bomb..’

‘Freebies..’

‘Woah.. Where do you get free bath bombs from..’

‘The stall next to our house.. They always give away their leftovers for the week to people who live nearby.’

‘How come.. I never knew this?’

He finds it cute.. How your face relaxes and your mouth hangs open ever so slightly.. Like a kitten met by a measly ball of yarn, amused and taken with delight - the type that has its eyes blinking with rapture and bliss..

‘Poof,’ Jimin splashes water right onto the tip of your tongue - soap might smell sweet, but to taste.. it is bitter.

‘Jimin,’ you seem taken back by surprise, your mouth now wide open.. eyes a big crystal ball of shock and ‘how dare you!’.. But, you’re not mad or a tiny bit angry. You find it hard to do so when his hands shake with amusement and bubbles of laughter erupt from his chest - voice now strained and raspy due to how much he laughed today.

You find it so hard for a little flake of annoyance to cling onto you, even as you accidentally gulp down a spoonful of orange blossom soap diluted by water. (You’re going to have to go for cherry blossom soap from now on)..

‘Ha!’

‘Take this!’

Cherry Blossom Soap it is!

As he reaches for the basin floating statically against the waters of the bathing tub, you yank his arms and bundle it around yourself (the filling of a dumpling wrapped in between that of an egg wrapper.. Folded into a package of warmth), head resting on his shoulder as he pouts his failed vengeance away..

__

‘Life.. Is a cycle of two things.. Pain and- Joy.’

The day before ended with joy - the hoot of a wild owl as its head turns like that of a clock running out of batteries.. the blossoming of a primrose, growing further and further with every moment that the sky bleeds with cobalt - beauty in the minds of humans who find great significance in what meets the eye..

‘Jimin-ah.’

‘Hmm..’

The stars continue to twinkle as you both lie flat on the damp grass, unafraid of getting your clothes wet.

‘Do you think we’ll make it out of this shitty town one day?’

‘If we both continue to work our asses off, maybe..’

You flip yourself over; so that you are lying flat on your stomach as your feet levitates in the air and your head rests on his lap.

‘One.. Two.,’ you point at every star that comes into view, and through it all.. You both smile.. ‘Three.. Four.. Fi-’

The day after started with joy - the egg man raising his voice to sell his day’s worth of eggs.. the morning dew that saunters elegantly down the leaves of the apple tree standing lonesomely in front of the bakery’s doors.. the smell of freshly baked egg tarts - sweet, buttery and inviting..

‘One Strawberry meringue pie..mmmm.. And-’ he pauses for a second, ‘And one walnut pie..’

‘That would be xxxxx won.’

Bills left on counters, hurried steps and shameful looks..

He couldn't be bothered though..

‘Thank you!’ he leaves with the sweetest treat he could ever afford.

‘Chim.. This-’

And he gives it to you.. Because you’re the sweetest human he has ever known..

‘Happy birthday, my sweet.’

‘Oh, Jimin! You’re so terribly sweet..’ tears of joy drip from your eyes - pearls that form from that of a mermaid’s sorrow.

They say joy comes easily to those who have been deprived of it..

‘I love you,’ you collapse into a hug, and Jimin is starting to think he might have accidentally dropped a few crumbs of pie crust into his eyes.. Because, is it just him.. Or is it getting hot in here?

You’re not a dramatic bunch.. When your daily meals sometimes consist of nothing but rice and water or the occasional dash of vinegar and soy sauce though.. Anything is everything..

The afternoon that arrived shortly after came with tangles here and there in its hair - water bills, electric bills...

‘And on such a joyous day,’ your instantaneous withdrawal of breath does not go unnoticed. There could be an umbrella drenched in honey and swarming with bees slumped over your sorry head for all heaven’s know.

‘Give that to me,’ he pesters for the sheets of paper that have your names scrawled across it, along with that of doom’s - might as well staple your joint will on top and include the bills for your headstone underneath everything else (on second thought, you’ll just get washed away by the sea or turned into trees once you die.. It’s better to give whatever of your measly bank account to charity, and that one plot of land you own to anyone who is willing to take it.. Can anyone do anything with a piece of land that is shaped like a fucking scalene triangle though? Probably.. But, does anyone really want to?)

Your pockets might have emptied to a lightweight of nothing, however- nevertheless- regardless of that, the river by the bridge you cross by to work every day still flows the same and the gravity that is holding everything in place never falters. Your hearts cracked into pieces that are unperceivable through the eye, eroded into a handful of soil - only for an onion plant to spring up in a patch of asparagus.. Oh, what the unfortunate stalks of green have to bear.. Misery comes in a circle of terribly bonded string, you being both the victim and the victimiser.. Onions and Asparagus tastes good in a soup together, on soil.. on the other hand.. the latter that begins with a sweet sweet letter A is stunted in growth.. The same way the world is stunting your growth and his..

The afternoon that you were sitting miserably through was a tangle of greased up and loose ends of battered hair.. Tangles can come loose with the help of a brush.. Grease melts away with a little bit of shampoo.. Jimin was both of those things..

Your money may never return (oh, if only it had legs.. Would it walk back to you if it did?), the same way many never do after being drafted to war.. The thing is.. Joy comes and go.. And so does pain.. (And so does money.. Although it never feels like it)

A picnic under the willow tree overflowing with matcha green leaves, honey dripping from your chin as you munch on a bunch of rice cakes dipped in cheap translucent honey (you doubt much of it is honey, the rest presumably being sugar, water and yellow dye)..

‘Banana milk?’ he pokes a straw through the aluminium film that wraps over the top of the tiny plastic bottle - the good stuff for you, water for him.

‘A sip,’ you push the straw in between the softness of his lips.

‘My hands are shaking.. Take a sip already,’ you watch him with anticipation, smiling once he gives in.

‘I don’t even like banana milk..’

‘Liar.. You love banana milk..’

He can’t lie when it comes to you..

‘Fine.. I do..’

A playful knock to his head with the power of your first..

‘You idiot.. You should have bought one for yourself too,’ you end up stretched out on his lap, head resting on the sharp of his collar bone.

‘Idiot,’ another hit, ‘Idiot..’ theatrical sobs and whines from the top of your lungs.

‘Only for you, sweet..’ you get off of him and begin staring down a ladybug, giggling every time it moves.

‘Gross.. What are you? My knight in shining armour? Prince charming?’

‘And they say chivalry is dead.’

‘Park.. Don’t start pulling chairs for me.. I’ll divorce you,’ you point at him, a teasing glare that reflects on the grass below you.

‘Aye.. Aye.. You can’t get rid of me that easily!’

‘Or maybe.. I can,’ you toss an ant at him.

‘I’m not afraid of bugs, sweet.’

‘Chivalry is dead.’

‘Park Jimin is dead.’

‘No... Jiminnnn.. Nooooooo!’ you take this chance to attach your lips to his.

‘I- sweet, chest compressions.. Chest compressions... Mouth to mouth CPR is what people do in movies.’

‘Let’s do what they do in movies then!’

‘Sweet.. Are you running a fever or what?’ he presses his palms against your forehead, and there it melts - it melts to form a bubble of love.. You could choke to death and peacefully die..

The night that sunk in felt like moths swarming an empty street’s flickering lamp, damp roofs dripping with water and flattened car tires running down a slippery road.. You felt as though you were trapped in a world run by superheroes.. A marvel movie with flying colours, but everything was splattered in varieties of crimson red - if anyone could bleed crimson red. You were no hero with powers that could zap trees and villains with melancholic yet seemingly depressing backstories, nor were you given the benefit of a cool headquarter to reside in.. You were a bystander to crime - living diagonally to it, either a witness or a sufferer in making.

If anyone told you that you were to one day be obligated to drive in the dark (chocolate peanut butter cake that Jimin asked a friend to help make still heavy in your stomach), expected.. No- required to go pick up the pieces of what was left of your boss’s broken-in record shop.. You would have started laughing maniacally then proceeded to launch a bucket of fries (in and out, animal style fries.. The one with the heavy but tasty sauce, grilled onions and melted cheese) at whoever this person was..

One, because.. Who in their fucking right mind would choose to rob a record shop that had nothing but old vinyl records and fake flowers to offer? From the notes with sweet ‘thank you’s and ‘you made my son’s birthday special,’ that sticks to the display window to the silly ‘We Are open’ sign that had (around the letters) a few eight notes, quarter notes and whole notes scribbled in black dry erase marker. Anyone could tell, with a single fucking glance.. That this shop was operated on customer service and a fondness for music rather than making money from scamming a bunch of twenty-year-old jazz lovers and rock and roll enthusiasts.

You were fuming mad, and even though you could have politely declined.. Mr Song, your boss of two years was too sweet of a man to let down. In fact, he never asked for you to go check for him.. It was you who volunteered.. ‘Are you sure? Today’s your birthday, Y/N.’ The old man deserved to sleep peacefully at night. ‘Maybe, I shouldn’t have told you.. You’re way too nice..’ ‘Boss.. I will do it!’ ‘Are you sure? You should be enjoying a warm meal with your husband!’ ‘And you should be sharing a warm meal with your wife! Plus, I already ate.’ ‘Fine.. You can go..’ ‘Aha!’ ‘Don’t aha me young lady.. Be careful.. Drive safely..’ ‘Okay, dad.’ ‘Mhmm.. Drive safely.’ ‘Silly girl,’ a feminine voice. ‘My wife says-’ he’s cut off. ‘Drive safely, you silly girl..’ ‘Thanks, mom.’

At last, you could say your last moments were peaceful.. Saving the people who were the parents you never had.. A nice dinner with your husband..

‘I swear.. They keep on playing that song,’ you scoff, staring at the red that glimmers on the traffic light’s surface.

Two, because.. Driving at night always scared the living hell out of you.. Yet, there you were- driving at night, nothing but the radio to get you through the night. Hands on the wheel and silence walking past the streets.. A speck of dust could have glided across the zebra crossing and you would have noticed - that was how empty it was..

‘Ajaaa.. Let’s go,’ you spoke to yourself in a very deep and exaggerated voice.

In a way, you were glad it was you and not any of them.. Ms Song who would send side dishes your way, afraid you would have nothing to eat.. Mr Song who helped you bargain your way to getting your car for a more reasonable price - the old thing.. The same one that flips over as an unexpected truck makes its way through, its driver fumbling over the troubled brakes..

Case: Hit and Run

Would anyone want to disintegrate into nothing but a distant memory though? You never intended to die that day, yet you did.. ‘Why fear death?’ Because, that break-up from ten years ago wasn’t the end.. nor was you accidentally tripping over your boss on the first day the end.. You felt embarrassed and felt as though your world was coming to an end.. Death is ‘the end’ though... The real end.. Never mind what happens after death or how liberating it is to some.. With death, you never get to see Jimin’s finished painting.. With death, you’ll never get to feel how large (pfftt.. Small) his hands would be overlapping yours.. With death, everything comes to an end. A full stop to your tragic tragic life..

‘Why fear death?’ It doesn’t fear you.. That’s why..

We all are bound to this distant full stop.. That’s why it’s scary..

‘Are you acquainted with Ms Y/N?’ a voice as bitter as grass flows away.

‘Ye-’ and at that moment, his phone drops.

Crashing.. The city of Guernica bombed.. Destroyed and in ruins of outrage.. The painting by Picasso.. Jimin felt like the crying horse in grey and the screaming woman in white.. He sometimes felt like the light bulb that looked over everything.. He sometimes felt like the blank canvas before it was drawn on.. He was a mess.. An absolute mess..

Jimin was a finger-painter by heart, lulled in by the colourful array that would spread across his canvas and the happy images that met him whenever he were to look up. Was never into cubism, found it dull no matter how vivid the choices of paints would be. Yet, Guernica managed to enthrall him.. Everything about it was so depressing.. The thought of it made you frown and your eyes wet and your stomach churn and your mouth part in horror.. Yet.. He found happiness in it - the pain of war there to warn and remind people of the dreadfulness that came with such madness. A reminder.. A hope that no more is to come..

‘No-’ his voice was hoarse and constricted with fear.

Park Jimin..

‘Jimin, dear.. Old lady Lim asks of you..’

Twenty-seven.. Park Jimin was one for joy and anything that had to do with it.. Graduated with a doctorate in nursing, and played the role of a kind and caring helper for many years to come - and to today..

It is rare.. or shall you say odd, to see a man stand in a position as such - considering most would aspire to do greater things.. Like, take up being a doctor or surgeon.. It is a field that within the first mention takes you to white beds and women in pink uniform.. Jimin thinks outside of that box.. He takes pride in his work.. He takes pride in staying by a patient’s side, a certain comfort to their lonely and ill hearts. He takes pride in calming a person down and helping them do the things they no longer can do.. In the same way, he provides comfort to them.. He provides comfort to himself..

‘Sweet, I was never fond of death.. Neither were you,’ dressed in black, red blooming beneath his star-like eye... he sobs quietly..

‘Everyone hates death.. Don’t they?’

‘Kitty.. Come here,’ in his lap the orange ginger cat purrs, living its own world of tuna cans and cat nibbles.

‘You hate death too.. Don’t you?’ his hands continue to stroke the feline’s fur.

‘I knew it.. Who in the fucking world would like such a terrible thing?’

Limbs paralysed with pain, his chest tightened..

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

‘Hwa-Young shi (an honorific used for people you are unfamiliar with.. usually used in terms of Ms or Mr)!’ his eyes beamed, his head not arranged the way it was thirty years ago.

‘Look.. Look, isn’t she beautiful?’

‘Ineed she is, Mr Park.’

All the young nurse could do was smile.. She was meant for greater things, but here she ended up..

‘Her name’s Y/N, she’s my wife.’

‘Do you want me to tell you about her?’ he smiled, he smiled.. for a second, he wasn’t old or cranky.. He was a twenty-seven year old boy who had eyes for no one else but his beloved..

She didn’t answer, he simply smiled.. The same stars missing from the constellation in his eyes returned to where they are meant to be..

‘She was beautiful! She had a heart of gold! She always wanted to visit many places! Oh, how I wish I could have brought her all around the world! Instead, we were trapped between four walls.. Confined to our homes, tied to our jobs.. We were poor.. Very-’

‘Oh! But, you know.. My sweet! She was- she never let that define her as a person or change that heart of hers! She’s so precious! She’s-’

‘Oh- she’s my-’

*crash*

‘Mr park! Mr park!’

‘We have an emergency!’

Jimin would live to be 57, he wouldn’t live to land on the moon nor would he live to the times where phones would travel oceans and miles beyond where it is in a person’s hands.

Jimin would retire at 40, find out that he has a terrible heart condition at 45 and- One day, he would choose to witness you live a life without him - a new one - with a different name, and different people by your side.. Even if it is painful, and even if it is that you have no recollection of him...

Jimin’s lived a happy life, and he’s happy to witness yet another one of yours - even if it ended in tragedy..

I guess, this is goodbye..

‘She was an angel..’

*beep*

Do not fear though.. for all endings have beginnings..

The Cherry Blossoms of Fortunes Welcomes You

[sparklefics]

Masterlist

Hello there. My name is Annette. This is a sideblog for my fics. (Follow back and Replies as Sparklesannie) You can find me on AO3 as SparkleFics. I have some Olicity Fics #Olicity4Eva!

I started writing fanfics when I got hooked on Arrow. Those works are not included in this masterlist as I no longer write or watch DC shows. Those works can be found on my AO3 or browsing the olicity tag on my blog.

Story time about how I got sucked into the MCU.

Anyways, so I started writing fics so here's the masterlist. While I enjoy reading and reblogging all sorts of fics I'm most comfortable writing fluff, angst, crack and canon level violence, which is what you'll find in my masterlist.

One shots:

Most of my one shots are based on prompts from a random prompt generator. Most of them are fluffy goodness 🥰 or crack 🤪. There are some serious angsty ones marked with 💀.

The Color Of The Ocean After A Storm- Bucky Barnes eye color fluctuates and with it so does your relationship. || WC: 3.5k || 🥰

End Of The Line- A meet cute with Bucky. || WC: 573 || 🥰

Just Do It- You contemplate making a move. || WC: 367 || 🥰

Warmhearted- Domesticity fluff. || WC: 546 || 🥰

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away- Angsty as hell with a happy ending. || WC: 1, 046 || 💀🥰

Kiss Cam- Shenanigans with Sam, Bucky and Zemo. || WC: 459 || 🤪

Take It Off- Bucky helps you after you get injured in the field. || WC: 1.4 k ||🤪 **mentions of nudity and injuries

They Know- The story about how the team finds out about your relationship with Bucky. || WC: 868 || 🤪

Never Go To Bed Angry- ANGST with a happy ending. A fight with your boyfriend Bucky. || WC: 897 || 💀🥰

Mr. Barnes- Neighbor!Bucky & Reader Your neighbor has a very specific taste in music. || WC: 1.2k || 🥰

Beefy Bucky Burrito Special- A prank gone wrong. || WC: 1.3k || 🥰🤪

Bucky's Sweater- Reasons to hate the winter. || WC: 572 || 🥰

Fire Escapades- Teenage Bucky and Reader. || WC: 1.4k || 🥰 Part 2 ||WC: 786|| 🥰

Honey, Dumpling- Bucky & F!Avenger!Reader have a misunderstanding. || WC:1,499 || 🥰💀

Losing you - Bucky & f!Avenger!Reader|| A near death experience puts things in perspective. || WC: 1,185|| 🥰💀

Morning Workout- Bucky & reader || A very interesting morning at the gym. || WC: 426|| 🥰

Abnormal heart rate- Bucky & reader || First date jitters.|| WC:~400|| 🥰

Is it too much to ask?- avengers Bucky & reader || emotional support. || WC: 767|| 🥰

SLUT- Avenger!Bucky & F!Agent!Reader (early in the relationship) || Bucky's hands are distracting. || WC: 684|| 🥰🤪

Spanish/Spanglish:

Señorita- Bucky& Latina!reader || Discovering whether Bucky still knows the languages he was taught when he was the winter soldier. ||WC: 166 || 🥰🤪

Series:

Roommate!Bucky- The Hunger Games trilogy brings you closer to your roomie.

Cuddles & Cocoa part 1 & part 2- Chubby!College!Bucky & F!Reader ||Total WC: 9.7k || 💀🥰 **grief & loss

Wallpaper Mini series of one shots from the same au: Wallpaper- Bucky likes to steal your phone to change the wallpaper. || WC: 402 ||🥰 Sam's Porch- Dozing off in a hammock with Bucky. || WC: 681 ||🥰 Understanding- Bucky has an epiphany. || WC: 641 ||🥰

The Right Moment- one shots from the same au The Right Moment- Sharing your New Year's kiss in front of everyone. || WC: 480 || 🥰 Mocha Beans: (a sort of a follow up to The Right Moment) - Bucky has a secret stash of candy. || WC: 293 || 🤪🥰

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.14--Episodes 8-9

I have watched through S2E9; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—I only had to wait 3 episodes. Belle and Rumplestiltskin have gone out for burgers. (They did not, however, eat the burgers. You know, world-saving, life-or-death interruptions. The usual.)

—I require Ariel content. She’s been mentioned twice, but I haven’t seen hide or red hair of her yet. And although I’m sure I could write loads about why OG!Ariel bothers me, she also has good qualities that I think OUAT would handle well.

—The Queen of Hearts has gorgeous clothes.

—That being said, I’m terribly disappointed that she turned out to be Cora. Let me preface it by saying, it makes sense, and I understand why they did it. However…I love Wonderland. It’s one of my favorite childrens’ stories (not to mention a historically significant one) and it’s also one of my favorite Disney movies. I would’ve truly loved a Queen of Hearts who was just the Queen of Hearts in this show. She probably would’ve been amazing. She may even have been the noble warrior queen I want some depiction of her to be. I wish we had gotten that. Also, I despite Cora with a vengeance, and I would rather the Queen of Hearts were a villain I could love.

—Y’know, I think sapphism would be a much more compelling motivator than pining after some bland-ass semi-dead guy. Also, Mulan deserves to be in a queer relationship, because the original Disney Mulan is one of the most accidentally queer movies I’ve ever had the fortune to behold. And another also, Philip has 0% personality. Mulan should be with an interesting person.

—What I’m trying to say is, Mulan gave Aurora back her heart. Mulan is protecting the heck out of Aurora. Aurora doesn’t get along with anybody but Mulan. Mulan and Aurora should go have some sapphic adventures together and forget about Philip.

—I kind of want Rumplestiltskin and Regina to be petty frenemies together now. Like, they can barely stand each other, but they still throw some shade on everybody else’s business. Maybe they sit back-to-back in different booths at Granny’s, so they can plausibly deny that they’re hanging out.

—I don’t feel sorry for Regina, but I loathe her less. Emma and Snow should’ve let her come to dinner with them.

—Way to flip the narrative! I love that Snow had to save Charming the same way he saved her. Their relationship is filled to the brim with reciprocity, so it really works for them.

—The beating sound in Cora’s heart vault gives me anxiety.

—I guess the other acceptable outcome for Mulan and Aurora (yep, back on it) is a lovely little polycule with Philip. If they insist on both being in love with him, while having possibly the most chemistry of any two characters that aren’t Snow and Charming, then that’s what they should do.

—My relationship status with Hook is currently love-hate. He’s not an evil person, necessarily, but on the other hand he’s a sneaky jerk *and* he’s trying to kill Rumplestiltskin. It’s complicated.

—Red looked lovely as usual in episode 9. I don’t always like her clothes—mostly because some of them look uncomfortable—but her red flannel, and her fluffy dark red jacket, and her jewelry are all gorgeous. Also, she has strong facial features, and she’s really pretty.

—Pricking Charming with the spinning wheel was cool. Does the curse travel from the needle into him, or is it still on the needle, too? If so, is there a magical decontamination process?

—Belle finally got to wear some yellow. The dress was pretty, too.

—Emma’s heart being unstealable is probably cliche, but I love it anyway. Especially because she’s surprised about it.

—Rump hiding the squid ink on that note was some real smart planning.

—Did Hook kill the last giant? He didn’t say that he did outright, but the fact that he had the magic bean kind of implies that he did. Shame on him.

Bit of an aside, but my dinner tonight was a wine-based beef stew and horseradish dumplings, and I absolutely believe that’s the kind of food Rumplestiltskin would enjoy eating. (Who knows, maybe it’s the kind of food he would cook for Belle.)

[iovetecchou]

I'll gladly talk more about food stuff here (sorry I was gone for some time got kinda busy 🫠)

But I really want to talk about German foods, especially the desserts there is sooo much good stuff 🤌

Like one of my comfort foods is Germknödel, basically yeast dumplings with poppy seed filling (they can have different fillings but I think the most common ones are poppy seeds and plums) and vanilla sauce on top (especially became a comfort food the day after I had a really bad mental breakdown when my older brother was just like "You're sad, you wanted to get Germknödel the entire week, so get in the car loser we're going shopping")

They're soft and fluffy, like tasty clouds, the filling is divine and the vanilla sauce fits perfectly 💙

On a side note for those who have TikTok and want to learn how to cook cool stuff I can highly recommend @/thehealchef (he has an entire series about comfort foods all around the world, have tried some and the name is accurate) and @/letskwoowk (he has a ton of tips and inexpensive recipes for college students like me, his recipes also leave plenty of room for adjustments how you see fit)

i’m taking notes 👩🏻‍💻 thank you for sharing!!

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Have you ever thought about the concept of fattening kink?

Something like sooga enjoying master kohga's big belly and trying to encourage him to eat more, sounds like a curious concept to me.

(Sorry for my generic translator English).

(Your Google translate is totally fine!)

I've done that before, I think. But hey, let's do it again, why not?

"That will be all for now, thank you."

Kohga was feeling rather...sad, as of late. Kohga couldn't pin it, and unfortunately neither could Sooga. His Master was so upset, he refused to eat any food made for him at the clan. So Sooga decided to take him out to a rather fancy place for dinner, hoping the plentiful alcohol and the unique food would get him out of his funk. Sooga rented out the entire area at this restaurant, so Kohga could have his space. Sooga looked over at the spread, and watched as Kohga seemed disinterested in all of it.

"Master, Please, eat."

"I'm just. Not hungry, Sooga."

"You haven't eaten all day. What ails you? I've never seen your appetite so weak."

Kohga sighed as he leaned back in his seat.

"I...was thinking about my dad the other day. And...well. Keep this between you and me, yeah?"

"Of course."

"I'm thinking-am I as good as he was, being a leader? I feel so...small, compared to the legacy he left behind. Even Cil talks about how great he was."

Sooga nodded, pouring him a cup of tea as he spoke. He sweetened it to his liking, adding a sweet roll to it, and pushing it to his master, hoping he'd finally eat.

"I do not know anything of the original Kohga. So I cannot attest to his skills or his ideals. I can only speak of what I know, and that you are not your father's shadow. You are you. You are a GLORIOUS leader, and we respect and admire you. The one thing you aren't, is small."

Kohga actually sat there and thought about it. Sooga's heart swelled, seeing Kohga pick up his tea, and take a sip.

"I'm...not small, am I?"

"Not at all. You're a big, strong man. And big men do need to eat, so..."

He gestured to the food, and for once, Kohga smiled today.

"Ah alright, alright. Only because I hate wasting food. Give it here."

First it was the sweet roll. Sooga watched in glee as he stuffed it in his mouth, relishing the flavor. Then another roll, then another, then another. Before he knew it, the whole tray was gone. It was rather impressive, and Sooga pushed another tray of food to him.

"Please, eat your fill. I insist."

Then, the fried rice. A healthy bowl of it, full of egg and vegetable and fluffy rice, Kohga tucked in. He didn't offer any to Sooga, and he didn't mind. This was all Kohga's. Sooga thought the warmth inside him was joy over his Master being in much higher spirits, but he realized it was...different. It was fascination. It was want. His own type of hunger.

"Ugh, my god, this rice is fucking good. Before we go, get the recipe, I want more of this back home."

"Yes, Master."

He finished the bowl by himself, and Sooga took the bowl away from him, putting it to the side. He needed to focus on eating, afterall. And did Kohga eat. He ate steamed vegetables, stuffed pork, beef dumplings, sweet bread, honeyed fruit on ice cream. And he kept, on, eating.

"Please, eat more. You need it."

Sooga didn't know why, but he HAD to keep feeding him. He had to keep watching as the plates emptied, as Kohga started to slow, he still kept going. His belly looked so full, stuffed with all the food he knew his master deserved. Kohga eventually started to slow, finally feeling full.

"Ugh. Think imma tap out, Sooga."

But there was so much food left to eat. He couldn't waste it all. Sooga picked up a bowl, holding the food for him.

"Please, eat just a bit more. All of this was made for you, and you deserve it."

Kohga patted his full belly, before sighing.

"Alright, a bit more."

Sooga fed him the creamy piece of chicken, making sure to give him the mushrooms that came with it. He took his time, watching as his Master consumed and consumed more and more. It was lovely, it was fascinating.

"Good job-you finished that bowl too. Take a drink of your tea."

Sooga looked at the big pile of dishes at the table. His Master just ate so much fatty, salty, indulgent food, and he deserved it. Kohga took a sip of his tea, seemingly in relief. Sooga looked at him as he reached for another bowl of food. His belly was so big, so round and full and content. Fuck.

"You have one more bowl, Master Kohga."

"Ugh, you eat it. I'm full."

"But this is all for you. You're entitled to it, you deserve it. Please. One more."

Kohga looked over at the bowl. It was small, but it was the cutest one ever-full of little chocolate cakes, topped with cream. Kohga's hand rubbed at his bloated belly, and he didn't look interested. But he was such a strong man. He sighed.

"Alright, give it here."

"Please, allow me. You need to save your strength."

Kohga didn't want to fight him on it. He sighed, and let himself be fed. Dark, deep chocolate, light, creamy whipped cream was pushed past his lips, over and over, and he was so greedy, he even licked Sooga's fingers clean. Sooga didn't know why, but he was absolutely throbbing, watching such a display of gluttony.

"And there we go, last one. You ate everything."

The table was cleared. Kohga tossed his head back as he groaned in relief. And Sooga couldn't stop looking at his absolutely stuffed gut. He looked so happy, so satisfied.

"Ugh. I sure as shit don't feel small anymore."

"See? I knew you'd feel better. You just needed to eat. How are you feeling? Do you need anything else? I saw how much you liked that chicken, I can ask them to get you more. Sweet rolls, maybe?"

Kohga chuckled, shaking his head.

"Sooga, I just ate enough to feed a village- think I've eaten enough."

Sooga sat up, reaching to cup Kohga's face in his hand, and one hand on that big, warm tummy.

"You eat until you're full. I just want you to have what you need, my Master."

He didn't let Kohga talk, for favor of kissing him. Again, and again, hands gripping into the warm, fat flesh.

Something told Kohga he could handle a bit more stuffing.