#leek anon my friend leek anon

[pastadoughie]

a cat on the hunt. he is stalking his prey.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

How about the towns people reacting to the farmer who despises joja. Like, think about it. The farmer left their soul sucking office job at joja behind only to see them again right across the bridge. I bet they would support the community centre out of spite.

They are normally a friendly and sweet person but the moment joja comes into the conversation they snap a little. Morris talks to them and their left eye twitches rapidly cuz this guy reminds them way too much of their old boss. They have dark dreams about the blinking lights of the work and rest lights and the bosses looming over them through the glass in their office.

Locals swear they see the light disappear from their eyes whenever they accidentally fish up a joja can.

Oh man, That's just about a perfect description of my OC Farmer. He is by nature a very kind and patient man, but every time he sees JojaMart, catching more trash with that logo on it, or sees people who use every means, even mean ones (remember that scene with Morris), to destroy the competition and become monopolists, he gets very sarcastic. Sometimes, it can be just pure rage.

But let's not talk about my OC, because the question here is about a neutral farmer 😅 So enjoy, dear anon!

SDV townies react to the Farmer who despises Joja:

Marlon's mind is more on protecting the Valley from monsters than on boycotting some store. He wouldn't have known about this until one day Farmer came in with a bunch of soda cans with the Joja logo on them, while swearing about the same logo. They told to the one-eyed adventurer that they had fished this cans of the mine waters at level 100. How these soda cans managed to end up in literal lava without burning or even deforming from the lava's temperature was a mystery to Marlon.

Stardew Valley has its own zest that makes the place unique, and according to Penny, JojaMart is ruining that uniqueness. Plus they constantly put promotions on the beer and ales they sell, which Pam just can't refuse. So Penny isn't too thrilled about Joja.co appearance in Pelican Town either.

How Willy understands them! There is already so much garbage floating in the sea from Joja's products that has endangered fish and other marine life. And the mart that was built here has only made the problem worse. So the old sailor will support the Farmer if they want to kick this corporation out of Pelican Town.

Not that George would care much where his wife bought the leek: from the farmers or from that huge store. After all, a leek is a leek no matter how you cooked it. Still, though, memories of his grandfather and his farm bring back fond memories of things that used to be both simpler and better. He's also annoyed by the loud music coming from the speakers in that supermarket, which is "supposed to attract customers" but distracts him from his nostalgic thoughts. Can't he have some quiet time in his own home anymore! If the Farmer wants to stage a boycott, then George will be the first of the participants!

Oh, this is so much fun! Abigail feel bad that she provokes Farmer on purpose, but it's not her fault that her friend gives such a funny reaction at any mention of Joja. "Look, Sam bought me a Joja cola, you want some?" *Possum hissing*

Haley thinks the Farmer is a fool. The only civilized supermarket in town, and Farmer looks at it as an insult to all humanity. Yes, the quality of the clothes leaves a lot to be desired, but there are a variety of sweets to choose from! And there's plenty goods for farming, too. The girl doesn't understand what Farmer's problem is.

Whoa whoa, easy, why the outburst of rage? What? Yeah, Alex bought a dozen eggs at JojaMart. After all, he needs protein. Hey! What's the Farmer doing? Give it back, why did they take the eggs?! If they wanted some egg, they could just ask! Wha?... Oh, the Farmer gave him three dozen eggs. These are from their farm? Uh, thank you. So big, and much better quality than he bought from Joja..... So, how's he gonna explain to Grandma that Alex now have three dozen eggs?

Gus sincerely hopes the Farmer doesn't vandalize his Saloon, at least as a sign of respect for the very owner of the establishment and his property. Because they've been looking at that Joja soda machine for too long. It's like they're trying to desiteng this poor vending machine. He may also have to take Joja Coke off the menu.

*Gasp* Hee-hee. Oh, Marnie can't stop laughing. To be honest, at first the young Farmer's angry stare and scolding caught her off guard and frightened her a little. But later, she can't stop giggling after every barbed comment towards Joja.co, their old boss and "colleagues".

Sheesh, wow. Sam would never have thought that a person could cringe like that at the mention of Joja. The young guitarist should think twice before opening a can of Joja Coke with Farmer standing next to him, because they will vaporize that very can with a look.

Jas already knows what natural resources are and has often heard from Miss Penny that many huge corporations often abuse and deplete these same resources. And this thought makes her sad. But she does not want to quarrel with anyone, so Jas will offer the Farmer to draw a poster together so that Joja will respect nature and makes products that do not harm animals and plants (spoiler: it won't work, but the Farmer was very touched by the girls’ idea).

Bad food? Bad store? But Mr/Mrs Farmer, why do you say that? Vincent doesn't really understand why they hate that store so much, where he often goes with his mother to visit his older brother and buy groceries. His mom even also buys him ice cream in the form of a dinosaur! Because dinosaur is so cool. What? Do they have a living dinosaur?! In a coop? Can he take a look please??? The farm is much cooler than this "Jodja'! Mom look, Mr/Mrs Farmer has a pet dinosaurs!

Oh, that whole blue trash things makes Leo and his bird family very sad. So he understands why the Farmer is so upset too. But the boy is not discouraged and wants to make a clean-up day together with Farmer, Linus and the parrots. Maybe the Joja people will see the beauty of nature and stop littering!

Oh, no, Farmer. You don't need to show so much negative emotion! Emily herself is not fond of Joja and their constant pollution of the environment with their waste, but absorbing so much anger and spreading it to others is not the best way to go about it. She does worry about the Farmer's mental state and will offer them meditation classes to get rid of the bad thoughts associated with the old job and Joja in general.

Shane would probably be the second person who truly hates Joja. Stupid, energy-sucking job, stupid boss who makes him work overtime, stupid uniforms that don't fit him and that make him itch. Can the occasional theft of beer and frozen pizza from Joja's warehouse be considered a form of protest?

Caroline nearly dropped her tea cup when Farmer literally hissed at the mention of Joja and Morris. The two of them were sitting alone in her sunny room drinking tea and Caroline was a little sad that her husband's business had gotten tougher since JojaMart had come to town. She had heard from the Mayor the reason for the Farmer leaving their old job and truly understands their decision (after all, life in the big city can be very tiring). Though the young Farmer's reaction to the mention of Joja.co has her a bit amused.

But when Pierre walked into the sun room (to pick up his gardening tools) where his wife and Farmer were sitting, and heard the conversation about his store and Joja, he started wailing and whining about the desperate situation. And the shopkeeper would wholeheartedly support Farmer in the idea that everyone would be much better off without blasted Joja! However, when the Farmers were about to leave, they thanked Caroline for the tea, and finally, with a sly smile, said that "Joja will not stay here for long". What this meant, neither Pierre nor his wife understood.

"Fuck! Fucking bitch ass Joja with their fucking cans and CDs! I want fish, not that dog ass shit plastic! Rot in hell, you goddamn corporation, bunch of bastards and rats!" Sebastian is used to Farmer's tirade by now, and watches from the kitchen window, sipping his coffee, as his poor friend has been trying to fish the mountain lake for the past two hours. Judging by their profanity, fishing was not going well.

But poor Maru, who almost dropped the wrench on her foot, heard the Farmer's profanity for the first time and thought something was wrong. When she went out to inquire after their fortunes, they were already sitting on the shore crying... and surrounded by the garbage from Joja.co. The young inventor invites Farmer into the kitchen for a cup of coffee with her and her half-brother.

While the brother and sister consoled Farmer with words and caffeine, Demetrius, seeing that there was now a lot of plastic lying nearby, offered to the Farmer take his recycling machine and scheme if they wanted more machines. Recycling would help to bring the environment back to its former state, also the recycled garbage would become useful products for the farm! Demetrius thinks it's unlikely that they'll be able to boycott the huge company in any way, so it's better to help the ecology like that at least.

Robin almost died laughing. "Holy macaroni, you swear like an old sailor!" She really didn't expect such profanity from such a quiet and kind person, but her son and daughter were not the only ones who heard the poor youth's tirade after a bad fishing trip. But Robin doesn't want to tease the poor Farmer, so she goes along with her husband's offer to take their recycling machine.

Oh dear, don't be so furious, you get a headache! Evelyn can understand why the poor Farmer is upset, but she would hate to see such a kind and sweet youth in a constantly bad mood because of Joja. Maybe they'll drop by for tea? She just baked cookies, and didn't use Joja products, granny promises! *wink*

Linus can feel Mother Nature weeping and choking on all this garbage and waste. And how her crying has gotten stronger since Joja their big store in town. The wise man stays calm though and tries to comfort the Farmer, because anger clouds his thoughts and it's impossible to think of ways to help nature.

Hmmm, dear, but Joja is full of good gardening supplies and farming seeds, and at a low price. Jodi thinks they should look in there and get something for.... Oh, okay, fine. Jodi won't mention Joja again, or she gets the impression that nice Farmer is transforming into a beast before her eyes.

Now, now... There's no need to get so angry or you'll get high blood pressure, Harvey knows what he's talking about. Anger is inherent in everyone, but he is well aware of how mental problems later affect a person's physical health. So if Farmer doesn't learn to control their anger, then it will be Dr. Harvey himself who gets angry. And take his word for it, Farmer, he will scold you severely.

For all his desire to help Farmer, Rasmodius feels he should not interfere in people's lives, much less use magic for it. Plus, he feels that there's no point in looking for an answer to solve a problem when the answer is right in front of them. Hmm? What is he talking about? Ah, young adept, the forest spirits will show you the way, you just have to learn to listen to them carefully.

Leah knows what it's like to live in a big city at an energy-sucking job, under the all-seeing eye of a mega-corporation (also with her ex who mumbling everyday about more profitable professions). And when Leah sees JojaMart, her mind involuntarily returns to that unpleasant part of her life. To be honest, she would also start snarling and hissing like a Farmer because of Joja or any other company that is trying to greedily take Stardew Valley for itself.

Elliott bows before Farmer: to reach such a peak of eloquence, masterfully masking sarcasm in conversation with the help of barbs and epithets - such a level was not even reached by Elliott himself, even with his rich vocabulary. The writer doesn't know why this manager from Joja.co angered the always good-natured Farmer, but Elliott made a note to himself to never get on the Farmer's bad side.

All right, kiddo! Don't bark at the store like a guard dog! Do Pam a favor and move your bum away from the main JojaMart entrance, she has to get a dark ale on special, plus a 15% off coupon. Huh, don't like Joja? Then don't look at them and problem solved! Like a piece of cake.

The tired father had to put his hands over Vincent's ears more than once to keep the youngest of his sons from hearing the endless stream of profanity from their new Farmer about the greedy megacorporation. Though Kent would be lying if he said the whole rant didn't make him laugh. Still, he tries to hide a smile under his wife's stern gaze.

All right, enough! Why don't you stop swearing, there's little kids walking around! Lewis can understand anything, but not useless swearing. The town mayor really does miss the days when they were all at the old Community Center, but yelling at Joja won't do anything. What do you mean the "Community Center will soon be alive again"? Farmer? Where are they going? Yoba, they're just like their Grandfather. Sigh, what a daredevil...bless your soul, my old friend.

Satisfied with his work and how quickly the number of visitors to JojaMart was growing, Morris didn't even notice how, when talking to a new resident of the Valley (aka "potential customer"), the poor "listener" had a twitch in his eye and a cringing their face. Well, one gets a tic, he doesn't really care. Although when Morris was at the restored Community Center where people started boycotting Joja, now his eye started twitching.

[mci-writing]

Can I request a senku x fem reader where she goes with the group to the cave instead of magma and her and senku end up cuddling for warmth and senku is all flustered by it.

Gonna slight change this up a little, anon. I kinda sat on this knowing I wanted to write something like it, but never knowing where to take it,,, BUT it's cold outside and season 3 is up to the infiltration arc so Imma have a little bit of fall fun 🥹

Lowkey has the same reader from Bandages in mind tbh but I also like the idea of Senkuu calling his s/o Dragonfruit so-

If you’ve got a couple dollars to spare, here’s my kofi (I am a struggling college student 😳)

By Night in Caves (Ishigami Senkuu x Fem!Reader)

A figure shivers as a sharp wind blows past them. The leaves starting to change shades and the cold breeze in the air are enough indication of the fall season. While most people would probably be snuggled up in their homes under a nice quilt or a huge blanket, (Y/n) was out with Senkuu and searching for God knows what. She could probably ask him what day it was and he'd know to a T, but she'd have to wait until after their current expedition.

She did bring the Stone World equivalent of a light jacket, but the night air was starting to make it a little useless the longer they were out and about. Senkuu isn’t showing it, but she can just tell the air’s starting to get to him too.

It’s just the two of them at the moment, the rest of their ragtag group splitting off to other areas to find what they’re looking for. While Senkuu would typically go off with one of the other generals, Gen was really persistent that he go with (Y/n). It was beyond her understanding why, but she wouldn’t complain about spending alone time with her close friend again.

“Hey, Leek,” She lightly tugs on his sleeve as his crimson eyes stare far ahead, her own (e/c) eyes staring off towards a cave in the near distance. She points towards it once she feels his eyes on her, “Think we should check in for the night? I’m more than positive the others have too with how dark it’s gotten.”

“Think you’re just getting cold, Dragonfruit,” He hums in response, staring at the cave as he thinks it over. He grins at the sight of the many sticks and twigs around the area, tugging (Y/n) along with him as he starts walking in that direction, “I’m sure it won’t hurt to start a fire for a bit though.”

He’s super eager to get there, picking up various rocks, twigs, leaves, and sticks as they get closer. She attempts to help, but he’s moving faster than she can think. It’s almost a little unnerving… Kind of like he thinks this cave will benefit him in some way or something…

“Wait, is the thing we’re looking for in a cave?” (Y/n) asks, turning to Senkuu just as he gets the fire up and running at the edge of the cavern’s opening. He stands and backs away from it, holding his hands out towards it for a little bit before slowly backing away from it.

The fire is a reasonable size, big enough to ward off any animals and let anyone know they’re location if they’re passing by. Senkuu, however, is moving further into the cave. His flashlight is on, catching the twinkles of a few minerals and gems a little further inside. There’s a glint in his ruby eyes, made devious by the smirk on his face, “You can stay by the fire if you want, but I’m gonna scope this area out for a bit.”

She stares at him with a straight face, narrowing her eyes at him as he starts getting more and more visibly excited. She normally wouldn’t mind him doing his science thing to his hearts content, but it’s starting to get late and she really doesn’t want to sit by the fire by herself…

And almost like a gift from God (or a curse from Satan), it starts to rain. And it rains hard.

The fire is out almost immediately and Senkuu freezes in his tracks at the sound. The crack of his neck can be heard as he quickly turns his head towards where (Y/n) is sitting, who has visibly tensed up like a cat at the sudden change of weather. The first clap of thunder has her jumping ten feet in the air, landing a ways away from the cave’s opening and further along inside. She bumps into Senkuu as she lands, the two stumbling to the ground together.

“Well, that’s great,” Senkuu grumbles as he lays on the hard ground, sitting up a little to glare at the cave’s entrance. (Y/n) is more than glad, but she won’t admit to praying on his downfall out loud.

“Maybe it’s for the best… It was getting pretty late,” She settles for, sitting up and glancing around the cave. She then looks down at him, giving him a teasing smirk, “We’ll just have to snuggle for warmth, Leek. Stark naked~”

He’s quiet after that, his face turned far enough away from hers that she can’t read it. After a moment, he looks up at her with the most deadpanned expression he can muster. He doesn’t even humor her with a grin or an inch of a smile, moving his focus to thinking as he stares hard at the rain outside, “We could be here a few hours. While the cave hasn’t hit relatively low temperatures yet, we may actually need to huddle for warmth throughout the night to keep body temperature between us. We shouldn’t need to take our clothes off since we didn’t get wet or anything and we definitely can’t start another fire with all the wet materials outside-”

He continues to ramble off plausible game plans and (Y/n) is unable to keep up after awhile. She rests her chin in her palm, sighing as she lets him finish his little analysis. While he does that, she gets close to him and rests her head on his shoulder before pushing into his space. She gets comfortable, burying her face in his neck and leaning her weight into his body so the two of them fall back to the ground.

(Y/n) wraps her arms around his waist, snuggling into his hold until her body is flush against his. Senkuu’s thinking stops as one of his arms wraps around her out of instinct and pull her closer to his body. A soft flush warms and fills his cheeks as he holds her close, hand pressed flat against her back while his other arm lays out to his side. He looks down at her, hoping the small change in his breathing isn’t obvious as he takes in how close she is.

“Turn your brain off, Senkuu. You said we could be here for hours, right?” (E/c) orbs glance up at him through her eye lashes, a soft pout dancing along her lips, “I’m heading to sleep, so you should too…”

He watches as her breathing begins to soften, reminding him of fond memories in the old world from sleepovers past. He shouldn’t get so worked up, they’ve been closer than this before, but he can’t help but focus on every part of her he’s been struggling to ignore as of late. Things like this keep him from getting jealous of the others, because deep down he knows no one could ever be as comfortable with her as he is.

Even so, he’s still left only admiring her from afar. He’s lucky most of their comrades have picked up on his feelings for her, but he’s got a long way to go before he’s even close to ready to admit his feelings…

Yet… He can revel in moments like this for now, with her in his arms in rare private moments like this. He’s glad the mentalist set this up for him, regardless of the protests from Chrome and the proud look on Ukyo’s face. She doesn’t have to know he wasn’t actually looking for anything, he’ll just wake up before her and grab a few resources from the cave to use as a small diversion. For now, he’ll take advantage of his situation…

He plants a soft kiss on the top of her head, letting himself fall asleep after.

[sitp-recs]

I just finished a great romcom and now Im wondering do you have Drarry recs that are romcom-y? It doesnt have to explicitly labeled as such but just a vibe...you know that after a serious of little hick ups and An Airport Run for True Love a pop banger playing in the background vibe :D

Hi anon! Oh that’s such an exciting ask, I’ve had lots of fun thinking about this one. I feel like I haven’t read enough romcom, would love to explore this genre further. I hope you enjoy these!

Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3k) - Hockey AU

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing.

Burning Down the House by @peachpety (M, 4k)

Harry is happy as editor-in-chief of The Quibbler. From planning to printing, design to deadlines, he enjoys being in the hot seat. And after vanquishing Voldemort, managing fires is an easy part of the job. Until his scorching crush on his impeccably dressed fashion editor flares out of control, and he's forced to face actual fires.

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Crash (Into Me) by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 14k)

Harry’s done plenty of ridiculous things for charity over the years, but Robards’ latest scheme really takes the biscuit. Or rather, the teacake. Good job Malfoy’s there to suffer alongside him this time, eh?

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites (M, 15k)

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (T, 19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

Jumeaux by VivacissimoVoce (M, 19k)

Draco and Blaise own and operate a luxury spa resort together, and the Ministry's Auror department has scheduled a full service three-day retreat. Guess who's on the guest list?

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter. Can Draco seize a marrow victory? Or will his plans for peas be squashed?

The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by eidheann, firethesound (E, 36k)

After transferring to the Apparition Department, Harry's life becomes one big dick joke. And all his friends are arseholes. So is Malfoy, but what else is new? AKA Harry Potter and the eighteen twenty dicks.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Thank you anon and @funnefox for the request!

Cute Miku SpongeBob art I remember liking

I hope this counts as them meeting lol.

The Bubbles 🫧🧽🎤🎵

The sea was a fascinating place filled with marine life and sodium chloride.

Under it, a pineapple house was residing in a tranquil neighborhood right next to a moai house.

"Ah, SpongeBob SquarePants," the French Narrator began, his tone serene as he spoke about the sponge.

"He's befriended many here in the Bikini Bottom. A sea star, a squid, even a squirrel from Texas, but never a blue haired human..."

A brief pause was given before Frenchy continued. "...Until now."

Inside the tropical fruit, our spongy protagonist was sitting on his red chair, cheerily conversating with a human girl.

Her turquoise hair was long and styled in pigtails.

The human was seated on his couch, a light smile shown on her face. She's not sure how she ended up in the sea, but when she and SpongeBob met, a friendship was instantly formed. He was just so cheery and carefree! Kinda like herself.

"So, Miku, you're really a famous singer from the surface world?" SpongeBob asked, eager to know.

It's not often that you get to be in the presence of a pop star from another world.

The vocaloid gave a polite nod as she replied with a hum. "That's right! I have lots of fans and sing many songs. Do you?"

"Only if the occasion calls for one," The sponge would respond in a singsong tone, releasing a chuckle.

If SpongeBob had a nickel for every time he sang a song, he would have a heaping pile of coins, in which he would give them all to Mr. Krabs.

Briefly moving his left hand behind, SpongeBob proudly pulls out a delectable krabby patty on a plate.

The burger begins to glow in all it's angelic glory as a random choir is heard.

"But I'm mostly known for my culinary skills..."

Seeing the sandwich, Miku emits a small 'ooh' in amazement at it, turquoise eyes lighting up.

That burger looks so tasty!🍔

When SpongeBob tucks the sandwich away in his pocket, it somehow fits and safety sinks down, no longer sticking out.

His right hand then travels briefly behind to reveal a small bottle of bubbles.

"...And bubble blowing ability."

Twisting the cap off, he gently stirs the wand around in the soap like a soup for a bit before taking it out.

"Watch this."

Bringing the wand to his lips, he breaths in and blows out a cute bubble in the shape of Miku's head in a chibi-fied style.

A small gasp came from Miku as the bubble floats towards her.

It was absolutely ADORABLE! 💙💕🫧💟

Lifting up her finger, she pops it as a giggle erupts from her throat.

She then applauds the sponge for his beautiful bubble blowing.

SpongeBob can't help but smile at the praise.

Next thing you know, the two are blowing bubbles together outside of the pineapple.

Said bubbles are in the shape of their friends as well as their favorite things such as leeks, krabby patties, microphones, pineapples, music notes, and jellyfish.

[throwaway-yandere]

In response to the mess that is Maid Underboss! Alhaitham, this is him but he does transform to his maid outfit when his master/capo is in danger:

Also let's also appreciate the really adorable chibi Alhaitham mochi anon made in the drawing, I would love for it to be a marketable keychain that I can bring around and also spin like a leek as well as smack around when I remember it's him

HEJAKIA HELP HAHAHHAHAHA–

Informant!Tighnari: Alhaitham don't let Cyno get this gnosis, catch!

Inquisito!Cyno: YOU HERETIC PUT THAT DOWN–

Underboss!Alhaitham: *catches*

Underboss!Alhaitham: huh. I thought something would happen

The Akasha Terminal: [MAGICAL MAID TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE WILL NOW COMMENCE]

Underboss!Alhaitham: hey what the phck–

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Huhu I'd fricking love to have that as a keychain too (but knowing that I'm 1) a broke freshman 2) from asia and shipping's fricking expensive that won't happen lmao) just like the dainsleif mousepad my friend bought for me at a convention, I'd probably slap maid! alhaitham a lot lmao

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[reinekes-fox]

Pokémon team anon is back (glad you liked them)! Here are the ones missing (Jonah/Columba was the hardest):

Astoria:

- Crobat (a bat for the vampire)

- Altaria (songbird)

- Talonflame (bird of prey)

- Umbreon (night-themed + not a bird at all, much like a Fox MC)

- Malamar (hypnosis/mind control)

- Lilligant (a flower in reference to the blood donation roses + high-maintenance just like its trainer)

Jonah/Columba:

- Toucannon (bird + good luck charm for weddings + communicates via smacking)

- Kilowattrel (eletric is super effecting against flying, so of course Jo would have a counter for the cult's most used type + bird)

- Sirfetch'd (a bird based off a knight, its chilvary matching Jo's own good heart)

- Alolan Vulpix (a white fox for a white fox, or Jo's "reserve fox" if they are a magpie)

- Bastiodon (a shield to protect Jo during games)

- Dodrio (bird with three hearts and three sets of lungs that allow it great endurance, fitting for an athlete)

Marter:

- Quaquaval (peacock).

- Floatzel (there are no marten pokémon, so they get the closest thing, a weasel).

- Rotom (heavily associated with machines and phones).

- Pelipper (brings the mail in pokémon mystery dungeon)

- Charjabug (phone charger)

- Dedenne ("Its whiskers serve as antennas. By sending and receiving electrical waves, it can communicate with others over vast distances.")

Sebastian:

- Hisuian Zoroark (a ghost fox for the undead fox)

- Gliscor (vampire)

- Houndstone (former hound turned undead)

- Empoleon (a flightless bird for the former Rapace + "It avoids unnecessary disputes, but it will decimate anything that threatens its pride.")

- Trevenant ("why don't you climb higher?" + look up its pre-evolution, Phantump)

- Chadelure (I just think Sebastian would like an evil chadelier that burns up souls)

Thank you for this, it was really cool to come home to this :D also... I never knew there were pokemons that were an evil chandalier... but also: do you live in the code? How often did you play to get such a good grasp of the ROs (I mean I am working with clichees, but still, you have a really good memory for details!)?

(also have I fanboyed to my friends about this? yes. Will I send them this and fonboy some more? yes)

Astoria:

Jonah/Columba. Also... I need to share the german name for Sirfetch'd... Lauchzelot. Leek (Lauch) + Lancelot.

Marter

Sebastian (okay yeah, phantump is spot on, and god he would be a bit emberrased that a pokemon fits him so well)

[schroedingerscryptid]

Okay. I'm finally ready. I'm now going to put together what my friend said about the characters. I can't translate all the names she gave them but I can try. These are all based on one picture except for Julian who wasn't in the picture for some reason.

Robin is called Goblin, he's 105 years old and lives in a cave. A bit drunk and has about 2 euros/other money but is scared of using them. He died from getting a papercut on his arm and it never healed.

Mary is called Leek (the vegetable) and has 50 grandchildren and an extra toe. If she fell into a pile of snow she wouldn't get up. She died from getting a sunstroke on the streets and never healed after that.

Thomas is called Lemming (the animal) and he thinks he's better than everyone else. He also says that he's taller than he really is. Has five cats but doesn't want to admit that. Died from getting hit by a car on the street. He thought that everyone knew him and would avoid hitting him with a car. Someone just thought he was annoying and hit him with a car.

Kitty is called Slipper and she is happy all the time. A bit like an aunt. Puts colorful tape everywhere where something is stored. Likes sorting and cleaning up. Most normal character so far. Died after she was in a garden doing garden work and accidentally cut a rose and got too depressed because of that and died.

Conyinuing in the next ask.

<3 anon

(1/3)

G O B L I N LMAO the papercut thing...6/10 Could Be Better

sunstroke...technically close but also not really. 8/10 love it.

Thomas DOES have the vibe and i dare say he probably thinks so too lol. and EXTRA POINTS FOR THE CATS YES he also feels like the type. as for the car...hm maybe(?) 11/10

SLIPPER but apart from that quite accurate to Kitty!! it'd make sense if she died in a garden ngl. this is the most accurate so 100/10

[seasonsofeverlark]

Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding. 

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict. 

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre​, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge. 

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday! 

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

  Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep. 

  I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband. 

  Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack���we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service. 

  “I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier. 

  I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod. 

  Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood. 

  Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color. 

  “Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah. 

  There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody  is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah. 

  “Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles. 

  “There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back. 

  This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family. 

  The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky. 

  The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half. 

  Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable. 

  First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights. 

  Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,” 

  He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.” 

  His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced. 

  My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

  Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.” 

  Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

  Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night. 

  “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.” 

  He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second. 

  My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night. 

  I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together. 

  When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

  I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should! 

  Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah. 

  The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

  Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!” 

  “I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room. 

  Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun. 

  Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece. 

  The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

  When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick. 

  I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

  “So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

  There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

  “That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

  “Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair. 

  “Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

  “Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?” 

  “Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins. 

  “Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys. 

  “I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

  “I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

  “No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

  “Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

  “Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

  “We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

  “It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud. 

  “Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

  I almost choke on my cookie. 

  Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

  “Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

  “Not to…” the twins mumble contritely. 

  “Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!” 

  The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

  Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

  “Haymitch…” I ground a low warning. 

  It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between… 

  Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell. 

  “Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!” 

  I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

  But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help—and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

  When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

  I giggle at the memory. 

  I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.” 

  I happen to agree. 

  I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in. 

  Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other. 

  My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

  “But, Mamme…we know the story!” 

  Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?” 

  I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM! 

  “Yes, Mamme.” 

  I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has? 

  Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude. 

  I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

  There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

  I was 11 then. 

  That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army. 

  Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected. 

  Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

  Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments. 

  Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others. 

  “Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

  I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes. 

  “Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!” 

  “Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot. 

  The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

  Prim takes a deep breath and nods. 

  Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically. 

  “Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages. 

  Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

  “Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

  “‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

  “Purified!” 

  “Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

  Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring. 

  Aspen continues the narration after a second. 

  “At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

  Hushed voices comment their approval. 

  The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

  “Eight days…” corrects Thom.

  “Eight days straight!”

  “It was a miracle!”

  Everyone claps, excitedly. 

  “The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

  “That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

  “And won back the Holy Temple,”

  “And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!” 

  The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration. 

  After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces. 

  The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

  Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made. 

  “Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

  “For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.��� 

  My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

  Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!” 

  My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?” 

  I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

  “I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.” 

  My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?” 

  “I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early. 

  Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children. 

  My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results. 

  Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman! 

  Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse. 

  Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

  I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!” 

  Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair. 

  “Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes. 

  I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

  Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat. 

  “Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own. 

  “I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek. 

  It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way. 

  We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

  Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund. 

  Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents. 

  Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did. 

  Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can. 

  While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet. 

  I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles. 

  Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg. 

  It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in. 

  I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.” 

  Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

  Peeta and I survived against the odds.

  It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming. 

  It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.  

  It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for. 

  “Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on. 

  “Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

  My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!” 

  “What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly. 

  Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!” 

  “Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

  “Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip. 

  He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

  Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor. 

  “Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

  Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.” 

  I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob. 

  Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week. 

  “Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

  “Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

  “Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle. 

  I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn. 

  Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago. 

  My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff. 

  My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully. 

  Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays. 

  After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

  But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!” 

  “Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!” 

  “Together?” My voice wavers.

  “Together!” he vows. 

  “Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

  I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back. 

  “Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears. 

  “It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

  The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape. 

  Peeta is crying. 

  I’m crying too! 

  My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her. 

  “Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

  “Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it. 

  Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

  “Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief. 

  “Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?” 

  “No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

  My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

  “We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table. 

  We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!” 

  The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

  Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s! 

  “Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim. 

  “Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

  I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!” 

  The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess. 

  After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her. 

  Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag. 

  Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely. 

  I fall asleep after a while.

  When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light. 

  Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not. 

  “Peeta?” I call softly.

  My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,” 

  No, I wouldn’t. 

  I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family. 

  I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect. 

  “Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

  “Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between. 

  My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah. 

  Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

  I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift. 

  I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange. 

  “Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

  Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle. 

  He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy. 

  I nod, accepting his explanation. 

  Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly. 

  “Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!” 

  I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

  We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

  Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically. 

  He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on. 

  I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow. 

  We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah. 

  Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby. 

  Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

  “I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.” 

  I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

  “I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

  “Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

[redevenir]

your memoir ?? and gardening ? sounds pretty relaxing !! what are you planting ? I love all your answers, it just feels v peaceful and relaxing. something I aspire to achieve :( -carat anon

Agrjdixji it feels like I have run the full circle of anger now and I am just so deeply angry at all the "important" things (namely : cops, the government, prejudices even though I have some myself but I'm working on it) that I am now relaxed about everything else ! I am glad you like to talk with me 😄

Are you resting well ? Is your break over or do you still have a few days to relax ?

I've planted leeks, various squashes, beetroots (red and yellow ones), various cabbages, fennel, carrots and radishes ! And we got two hens and two goats today !!! I don't have pictures of the hens yet but here I give you the goats ! (and the dog of my friends with whom I moved in !

[pastadoughie]

homestuck rowen. think of the homestuck.

[palamig]

Do you think they’re gonna do some soup/true form combo? Or do you think they’ll do it after because it’ll be more explicitly romantic then? I just.... need soup

I feel you anon we’ve been thirsting for the soup for way too long…….. People have pointed out it’s highly likely they’ll give us a mix of it next week and honestly my body is SO HERE for kyoru leek soup PLUS kazuma like YES

Personally it also won’t feel right for me if they moved the soup ep until after the true form arc. The soup ep has always been the prelude to the true form arc because it lays out the ‘bond between tohru and kyo’ that the true form arc will ‘test’ and ultimately ‘reinforce.’ In the soup ep, we see just how much tohru was starting to mean to kyo as her own person. He cared about her so much he literally was willing to expose himself to his most hated vegetable in the world just because it’s what would help her feel better. Girl the EFFORT he put into that soup/porridge/etc!! So unrivaled it SHOOK shishou to the core when he heard of it (im exaggerating). Kyo never would have done that for anyone else. But more than that…is this part:

I think it’s that last part that really solidified not just what kyo wanted to become for tohru, but how tohru was starting to value kyo. It’s an intimate moment – they’re both in her bedroom (it’s kyo’s first time at le future gf’s room 👀!!), talking about sensitive things, things tohru can never share to anyone, not even to her closest friends, hana and arisa. Correct me if im wrong I also think it’s the first time kyo sees her crying as a result of her opening up about her own problems (and this literally makes him weak in the knees lmao like this karate/judo/etc black belter doesnt know how to deal with his girl crying!! but as we see in later chapters…he gets used to it HAHA), and the first time tohru lets herself have negative feelings about things she is going through. Kyo can’t look at her in the eyes, and with his ‘awkward kindness’ tells tohru it’s okay for her to complain to him, that he’s willing to cook all her meals if it means she gets better

This is an important beginning to the ‘together always’ narrative that the story will progressively build on. And it would help viewers understand why tohru was so driven to get him back when he ran off after his bracelet was forcibly removed. 

The soup ep gives an additional OOMMFFFFFHHHH to this particular panel because by this time the viewers have SEEN just how intimate kyoru is!! Viewers have seen how soup ep kyo reached out to tohru, how he told her ‘it’s okay to be selfish sometimes’, how he was the one who told her ESSENTIALLY he’ll be by her side ~in sickness and in health~. Soup ep kyo, who offered himself for for her to lean on during her bad days, was largely what tohru was seeing underneath his true form, and tohru wanted to be that person for kyo too. She was also practically in love with him at this point.

So putting the soup ep after the true form arc wouldn’t make sense to me personally!! I understand why some people believe it is a good scene to start the slow-burn kyoru romance post-true form arc because it’s very romantic but i feel like it has always been intended to be pre-true form. It feels more right this way hehe

Again its safer to assume that they’re giving us both soup and kazuma next week so theres no need to panic anon!!! 

Thanks for this question i feel you in a spiritual level anon!!

[gaycey-sketchit]

(Gary anon) Well, hopefully they will be satiated enough. I know some of his fans didn't want him back because his story felt complete and don't want it soiled. The sooner Paul comes, the faster this will all be. (And if what I see going around on Twitter about another Ash rival, one that he hasn't defeated, returning for a possible fight, I'm going to be more disappointed if Gary doesn't battle Ash later. {Since these 3 are arguably his biggest ones.}) But yeah, them avoiding using the PWC

.

(Part 2) as a measuring tool is the best route. Won't stop the debates, but won't add too much fuel. (It's bias, but I still think that if they have to go all out on an old rival again, have it be Gary. He was here before we had all these battle mechanics and gimmicks. Let him indulge for once, like Brock and Misty did. Let him nerd out) Sadly, we probably won't see something like that until Project Mew is over; again post-Leon. (I expect it to be a Gary and Goh train for now. They gotta)

(Part 3) (handshake first) There's a few 'endgames' for Gary, hopefully they pick one that fits. (I think him having a Togepi always had me wary; I feel something was going to happen with this guy. Especially with him being based on Cynthia; final boss vibes and all that. Seems quite a bit of people got caught off-guard) Looks like the web series starts May 18th. It's called "Hisuian Snow". (Welp, I may have been right about leeks: As I mentioned above, we might know all the members)

(Part 4) (next week and possible spoilers on all 8 is circulating on Twitter currently. And it's apparently from the person who's been consistent since Iris' episode)Whatever it is, it's certainly a curious one [and didn't fail to give a few fans of bad memories of a certain Ash fic trend we shall not name]. But I have seen a few speculate if we will get something similar to it, but not as extreme nor done with his friends or Pokemon. (Folks challenging Ash's ability to hold his Alola Champion)

(Part 5) (title, so to speak. But not in a battling sense.)

Hopefully. Even though I don't like him, I mainly didn't really expect or want him to return for similar reasons--DP concluded things with him strongly enough that it really just. Doesn't feel necessary. I guess we'll see what the writers intend to do with him.

Oh, another one? Man.

Yeah, definitely. People will be debating on who Ash's best rival was forever (and I'll forever say Gary when anyone asks for my opinion) but it's better for canon to not fuel that fire.

I have the same bias and I also agree from an objective standpoint. Gary was the OG, it's what he deserves. I want to see him mega evolve his Blastoise.

Yeah, true.

Yeah, Gary and Goh time for now, which I don't mind because their interactions so far have been great and after JN102, I'm very interested to see how their dynamic progresses the next time Gary turns up.

Yeah, hopefully! He deserves a good conclusion.

Oh, I was on the exact opposite line of thought. I saw his main Pokemon was a Togepi and was like "aww that's precious, I trust him." Guessing instantly from looking at him that he was probably a Cynthia ancestor should've made me wary that he was going to give the player a beatdown later on, but it did not. (And I thought that if it did, it'd be as friends.) I guess all this makes him a legitimately good twist villain--the subtle foreshadowing is there so it's possible to pick up on something being up (and for people that don't, it's possible to look back and see said foreshadowing and be like "holy shit, he taught us the backstab technique"), but it's not so obvious that the reveal is expected and anticlimactic.

Ooh, neat! That's only a couple days before my birthday!

Oh boy. I don't know if I want to look or if I want to wait for that to be officially revealed but oh boy.

Yeah, it's sure... an interesting title. That's definitely a possible direction it'll go. I am a little nervous but also very curious to see how it'll play out.

[jaeminlore]

Cuddle Hotline // Kim Kibum

-

the prompt: could I have a cuddle hotline key scenario? I was thinking that she’s like a culinary student and only cares about cooking and her friends are like “you need to get out there you’re lonely” so one of her friends orders her a cuddle buddy (key) but when he shows up she just sits him down at the table and makes him try her food and is like “give me an honest opinion so he does and he’s like “this is gross” and she actually really likes his honest opinions on her food so she asks her friend for the app and her friends are excited cause they think she’s enjoying it but actually she’s just using it to help improve her recipes but one day she’s like sad and really just wants someone to cuddle with so she calls key over and he’s like ready to eat but she says she just wants to cuddle today and he gets all cute and nervous because he actually started developing a crush on her -sunflower anon 🌻

words: 4427

category: fluff

author note: this is my first shinee request and it’s for kibum my bias!! i don’t know who you are sunflower anon, but i love you for requesting this. i immediately began thinking of dialogue and stuff bc i wanted to make it perfect.

- destinee

-

You set down your perfected pasta in front of your two friends. “Eat this. I added fresh garlic instead of simple garlic salt. See if it makes a difference.”

Your closest friend, Chaeyoung, looked up at you. “Y/n, this is spaghetti. You have literally made ten batches of spaghetti and they all taste the same.”

You rolled your eyes, “They don’t taste the same. Trust me.”

Chaeyoung took a huge bite and pursed her lips, “Hmm. You know, you’re right. I can really taste the fresh garlic as opposed to the garlic salt.”

“Really?” Your eyes brightened as both of your friends rolled their eyes.

“No!” Chaeyoung said. “It tastes exactly the same, Y/n.”

Your other friend, Minho, furrowed his eyebrows as he pushed the plate away. “Honestly, I feel like I’m going to vomit if I see any more spaghetti. Why do you always spend your free time cooking?”

“Better yet, why do you always use up our free time by making us eat your cooking?” Chaeyoung said. “I could be on a date right now.”

“I could be working out, or studying,” Minho said, giving you a pointed look.

Ever since you were a child, you had wanted to be a chef. Whether or not it was helping your parents cook, or attempting to make your own sandwiches, you were always in the kitchen. The passion had come from your grandmother, who used to teach you how to make cookies from scratch. After seeing your first batch of cookies, you realized that you really enjoyed making creations. You enjoyed the look on people’s faces when they ate your concoctions. From that moment you knew you wanted to be a chef. You would be content the rest of your life to make food for other people. Your dream was to open a restaurant with five-star food at low prices so everyone could enjoy how amazing and artistic food could really be.

You were in your third year of culinary school, and your school was offering an amazing chance to your class. Whichever student could make the best menu would be offered the chance to study their fourth year in Paris, all expenses paid for. It was a dream to you, and you were working desperately to perfect a meal that would impress the judges and leave a lasting impression.

You slumped into one of the empty chairs and covered your face with your hands, moaning. “You guys are right. I’m never gonna win this scholarship with spaghetti. Maybe I’ll try sushi.”

Chaeyoung patted your head gingerly. “I think you need to take a break. When’s the last time you just took a rest day instead of cooking?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I can’t afford to lose a day. Each day I fail is a day closer to the deadline and I have to make something to submit.”

“You need to sleep,” Minho said.

“No,” Chaeyoung denied. “You need a cuddle buddy. Look, there’s this app where you can pay for someone to come and give you cuddles. Studies show that cuddling with another human relaxes the soul.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need a cuddle buddy, I need you guys to help me find the best dish.”

“C'mon, Y/n. You can’t deny that you’re lonely. Here, let’s download the app and look for some ideal partners.”

You ignored the two of them as they browsed through people, shouting out their likes and dislikes. Instead, you cleared the dishes and put them in your dishwasher, preparing to make your next meal.

“Oh! Look at him!” Minho suddenly shouted. “User Key-underscore-freak.”

You snorted, “Anyone with the word “freak” in their username is not getting my address.“

“Too late,” Chaeyong said. “I sent him a message.”

“Why?” You darted over to look over your friends’ shoulders. You had to admit, the pictures were nice. It did state that he was only two years older than you, and he seemed to have an obsession with a certain pair of dogs. “How many pictures of his dogs is he going to post?”

Minho clicked out of his pictures and began to read out his likes and dislikes. “Likes: dogs, fashion, and theater. Dislikes: liars, ugg boots, and people who don’t like dogs. He sounds simple enough. His cuddle rate is high, too. Apparently a lot of people like to cuddle with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t want to cuddle him, no matter how high his rate is. Now, should I use salmon or tuna for my sushi?”

Chaeyoung suddenly squealed, “He wrote back! He’s open today! I’m asking him to come over!”

“Don’t!” you warned, “I have stuff to do today.”

Chaeyoung waved your concern away. “Minho and I will pay for it, okay? Just enjoy being in someone else’s presence for once instead of thinking about your next dish. Can you do that?”

You groaned and turned back to your fish, ignoring her. “Please don’t.”

“Too late. He’s coming in an hour. Minho and I will be leaving so the two of you can have some time to get to know each other.”

You grumbled the whole time you were making your sushi. You weren’t even paying much attention to what you were doing, and so you ended up making a pretty weird dish. Still, you set it out on the table. If someone was coming over to your house, you would ask them to try your dish. Cuddling could wait for another day.

The doorbell to your apartment rang, and you hesitantly made your way to the door. Finally, after a small mental pep talk, you swung the door open.

The man in front of you wasn’t too much taller than yourself, and he was rather nimble-looking, you felt. Nevertheless, his smile was open and warm as he held his hand out for you. “I’m Kim Kibum. You’re Y/n?”

He was wearing black skinny jeans and an oversized t-shirt, covered by a brown bomber jacket. His dark hair seemed styled and his skin felt moisturized and smooth as you accepted his handshake. A large duffle bag hung over his shoulder, and you felt more uncomfortable as you stared at it. “… that’s me.”

Kibum followed your gaze and let out a bark of laughter. “I just carry this around to put my pajamas, laptop, blanket, and pillow. Cuddling necessities, you know?”

You didn’t know. You had never cuddled with anyone in your life. You never really felt like you needed to. “Actually, can we not cuddle?”

Kibum furrowed his eyebrows and pouted his lips. “No cuddling?”

“Yeah. You see, I’m a chef and I really need someone to try my dishes.”

Kibum’s eyes brightened. “You’re a chef? Great, I haven’t eaten all day.”

He walked into your house and discarded his jacket and bag onto your sofa. “What’s on the menu?”

“Sushi,” you replied, running past him to grab the plate of food. You placed it on the table, along with a cup of water. “Tell me what you think about it. I want your honest opinion.”

Time seemed to stand still as Kibum put the sushi in his mouth. The more he chewed, however, the more his face turned into that of disgust. He swallowed thickly before giving you his verdict. “This is gross.”

You felt your spirit deflate. “Really? What’s wrong with it?”

Kibum have you a look of obvious disappointment, “Well, first of all, why did you stick scrambled eggs in your sushi roll? That’s nasty.”

Your nose scrunched. “I was distracted. It didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time.”

Kibum handed the plate back to you. “Who are you making a dish for anyway?”

“I’m trying to win a trip,” you explained as you dumped the bad sushi into the garbage can. “If I make a good enough dish, I’ll be allowed to study my final year of culinary school in Paris, France.”

“I love Paris,” Kibum said. “I’ve been a few times. You’re going to have to step up your game if you want to cook with the chefs of France, though. I hear they’re brutal.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I’ve just been distracted lately. I am a good cook, really.”

Kibum cocked his head to the side, “Looks like you’ll need to prove that, Honey, since your sushi was worse than the food I buy for my dogs.”

You frowned. “That bad, huh?”

Kibum nodded, “Sorry, Babe. Tell you what, why don’t I give you a dish and you make it for me? Do you think you can handle that?”

You rose your eyebrows. “Are you patronizing me, Kibum?”

“If the shoe fits.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I didn’t peg you as that type, Kibum.”

He smirked and looked up at you, “What type is that, Y/n?”

“Rude,” you answered.

He laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he threw his head back. “You should get used to it, since we’re friends now. So… how about it?”

“Give me a dish and I’ll make it perfect.” You pursed your lips, “Then you won’t underestimate me.”

Kibum smiled and sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling and humming to himself, “You know, my friend took me to this really expensive restaurant in New York last year. Maybe I can remember my favorite dish there. Let’s see… oh yeah! Arctic char, leeks, green olives and smoked potato. If it’s even close to what I had last year, I’ll believe that you’re a cook.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You’re on.”

“Wait. You actually have Arctic char in your fridge?” Kibum looked impressed.

“Surprisingly, yes. I bought a ton of different ingredients this week for trial and error. That includes all the fish present at the market,” you said as you turned to your stove.

Kibum stood up as you grabbed a clean saucepan from its hook. “You know how to make it?”

“I’ve been studying culinary arts since I was a child, Kibum. A few smoked potatoes aren’t going to faze me.” A sudden confidence took over your presence, and Kibum found himself smiling at the way you assertively cut and rinsed your ingredients. “In fact, I think you’ve given me the surge of energy I needed to work on my dish. Who knows? This could be the winning one.”

Kibum stood up and leaned on the counter to watch as you seasoned the fish. “You should put your hair up.”

You looked up at him, pouting as you realized your bangs were falling into your face. “You’re right. Let me wash my hands—”

“I’ll do it,” Kibum interrupted you, moving around the counter till he stood behind you. He pulled the hair tie out of your ponytail and fixed your hair into a tight bun on top of your head. “There you go. Now there’ll be no hair in your char.”

You giggled. “Thanks, Kibum. Now go sit while I finish this up.”

“Yes Ma'am.”

-

You held your clasped hands against your lips in anticipation as you watched Kibum taste the dish in front of him. You were hoping with all your heart that he would like it. For some strange reason, his opinion meant a lot to you, and you were desperate for his honest approval.

Kibum chewed slowly, perhaps to spite you. His eyes were void of emotion, erasing any guess you could have about how he liked the food. Suddenly, his lips quirked into a smile. “It’s okay.”

“How is it okay?” you asked. “Which part of it is okay? What could I change? Would it get me a trip to Paris?”

Kibum blinked. “Well, for starters, it won’t get you to Paris. It’s good though. Very similar to what I had in New York. The potatoes aren’t smoked enough, and the leeks were a but soggy, but the char is excellent. I’d keep it for your protein.”

You broke out into a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kibum nodded. “So now all you need are side dishes.”

“I also need a dessert,” you clarified.

Suddenly, a beeping came from Kibum’s pocket, causing both of you to jump. “Oh. That’s the two hours you paid for. We didn’t get to cuddle, but I had a lot of fun.”

You grinned. “Me too. Thanks, Kibum.”

“No problem, Babe. See you later.”

-

Kibum must’ve thought it was you who contacted him, since he assumed you’d do it again. Unfortunately, you had no idea what app Chaeyoung had used, nor how to contact Kibum again.

The thing was, you had been perfecting recipes for vegetable side dishes for the past week, and you were dying to have Kibum taste them. So, with no other choice, you swallowed your pride and asked Chaeyoung for the name of the app.

“You like him!” was her first assumption.

“I do not,” you retorted, “The… cuddling was nice, is all.”

Chaeyoung smirked, “The app is called Cuddle Me. You remember his username, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at her as you downloaded the app. “Yes. Now leave me alone.”

-

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Kibum smirked as you opened the door to your apartment. “I’ll admit, I thought you wouldn’t invite me over again. I thought you might’ve found someone else to try your mediocre recipes.”

“Mediocre? Yeah, right.” You noticed he had, yet again, brought his duffel bag. However, he obviously didn’t intend on using it since he threw it onto your couch as soon as he entered.

“I’m ready to eat soggy vegetables!” he announced.

“Stop hating on food you haven’t even eaten yet!” you whined, following him into the kitchen.

Kibum laughed gingerly and sat at the counter. “Pass the plate, honey.”

“Okay, today I made mushrooms à la bordelaise, Mediterranean baked sweet potatoes, eggplant skins stuffed with veggie risotto, and caramelized balsamic cipollini onions.”

“Marry me,” Kibum said as he stared at all the dishes you placed in front of him. He licked his lips as he looked at the tantalizing food.

You blushed at his praise. “Don’t get too excited. You haven’t tried them all yet. I need you to tell me if I can use any of these as my side dishes.”

“Get me a fork and I’m yours,” Kibum stated.

While he ate the dishes slowly, with the meticulousness of an actual food critic, you asked him about his interests. “You said you were into fashion?”

“I am,” he said. “I’m a fashion designer, and my company is just starting to get the recognition it deserves.”

“Really? What’s your company?” You were genuinely interested in his life, as he seemed so lively and sure of himself.

Kibum put down his fork and smacked his lips, thinking. “Designs by Key. It’s a newer company, since we got it up and running smoothly just this past year. I’ve tried a lot of different paths, but my newest line is getting a lot of attention. My goal is to make women’s clothes that women actually want to wear.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows turned up in confusion.

Kibum chuckled, “Not that you would know, since your wardrobe seems to consist of simply jeans and t-shirts, but in the high fashion world, lots of women’s clothes are created without the woman’s best interests in mind. You’d like this: in my line, girls get usable pockets in their jeans and skirts. We’re also working on a range of clothes fit to perfection for each different female body shape. I have a lot of female friends and colleagues and they explained to me that clothes don’t always fit properly, especially when the ratio size of breast to waist is really different. So, we’re working to make a line based on nearly customizable clothing for females. My ultimate goal is to make everyone feel comfortable in their own skin, through fashion.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “That’s so cool. Call me when your designs go on sale, okay? I’ll buy one of everything.”

Kibum nodded, “Only if you call me when you open your restaurant so I can sample the entire menu. These side dishes are pretty great. I would choose the mushrooms and the eggplants, personally.”

You clapped your hands together, “That’s perfect! I’ll make stuffed eggplant skins for the appetizer, char and mushrooms for the entree, and then a dessert! Then that ticket to Paris is as good as mine.”

“You’ll invite me over to try out the dessert, right?”

“Of course,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes. “You know Kibum, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like hanging out with me.”

Kibum laughed, but you caught the pink tint that crept onto his cheeks. “Honey, I think you’re mistaking yourself with your cooking.”

“Why do you keep calling me honey and babe?”

“Instinct, I guess. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

“No,” you denied softly, “It’s fine.”

-

“Okay, so I have green tea custard, dark chocolate mousse with almonds, strawberry cheesecake, and hazelnut pie with spiced ice cream.”

Kibum hummed as he stared at all the dishes. “You’re too good to me, Y/n.”

You sat beside him, nibbling on an untoasted strawberry poptart and checking the made-up menu you had created in your phone notes. You would enter your menu tomorrow, a day before the scholarship deadline. Everything was perfect, and all you had to do was get Kibum to choose a dessert.

Kibum put a spoonful of the mousse into his mouth and clapped slowly. “This is everything. A bit bitter, so maybe add some brown sugar or something to sweeten it, but other than that it’s everything.”

He finished the mousse peacefully, enjoying the dessert freely as he scrolled through his phone. “Do you wanna see my dogs?”

“I already saw them on the app,” you answered, “but I guess I can see them again.”

Kibum scoffed, “You guess? Good grief, Y/n, at least try to act excited as I show you my pride and joys.”

“Sorry,” you giggled, leaning closer to him so you could see his phone screen.

“This one is Comme Des and this one is Garçons,” he explained. He then explained to you their favorite foods to eat, places to sleep, and clothes to wear.

“You dress your dogs? Isn’t that considered abuse?”

Kibum looked offended. “Abuse? They love being dressed up, trust me. Oh! Idea!” He suddenly perked up, turning to face you, “You should make your own gourmet dog food line!”

You deadpanned. “No. That’s an insult to my passion.”

Kibum pouted. “My babies would love it.”

“Just eat your cheesecake.”

Kibum chuckled and obeyed, complimenting your skills as he continued to stuff his face.

In the end, Kibum stayed by the mousse, and wished you luck that you would get that scholarship. “We could even meet up in Paris. You, a renowned chef and me, a famous fashion designer. Together we can conquer the world.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want to be renowned. That’s not my goal. I want to make great food for people who can’t afford it. I won’t get very renowned for that.”

Kibum furrowed his eyebrows, “Sorry? Do you think people like paying and arm and a leg for their meals? Y/n, if you succeed in a restaurant like that, you’ll be the talk of the year in the culinary world. It’s a huge financial risk, considering you have nothing to start with, but you can easily make it up with the amount of customers you’ll get. Open sponsors spots as well, and have them pay to support your restaurant as long as you name a dish after them or something. Designs by Key can be your first proud sponsor of many as long as you name the chocolate mousse after me. You could go far with this one, babe.”

You picked at the hem of your shirt, a shy smile appearing on your face. Not even your closest friends gave you the confidence Kibum did in just a few visits. You felt close to him, and you were sure he felt close to you as well. There was a natural attraction there, as if the two of you knew each other in another life or something.

Shaking your head out of those thoughts, you reached forward and wrapped your arms around Kibum’s neck. He let out a noise of surprise, but eased into your hold rather quickly. “Funnily enough, you’d think touch wouldn’t fluster me with this little side job. Your touch is different, I guess.”

You felt your face warm at his soft-spoken words. Surely he didn’t mean it in the way you thought. He was just talking about the emotional aspect of two friends hugging. That’s what you told yourself, since you couldn’t think about anything more than that with the deadline so close.

Kibum was the first to pull away, but he planted his hands on your shoulders before he left. “Go get ‘em, babe. Show them your talent.”

He tapped your nose, and grinned when a giggle spilled out of your mouth. “Keep that smile, okay? You’ll do great.”

You nodded, feeling more sure of yourself. “Thanks, Kibum.”

“I’ve got you. Oh, and when you win, invite me over so we can eat the winning meal together,” he said with a confident wink.

-

You stared at the phone in your hands, contemplating whether or not to ask Kibum over.

The thing was, you had come in second place. Although that was great, and would look fantastic on your resume, it wouldn’t get you a ticket to Paris. You were disappointed in yourself, and you kept going over the menu, wondering how you could’ve made it better. You were sure Kibum would be disappointed with you too. He had been so sure that you would win, and when you told him the truth, he might think you didn’t try hard enough. You had. You had given that food your all and had been so sure that you would get the scholarship.

Unfortunately, things don’t always go to plan.

In the end, you really wanted some kind of comfort. Kibum was the only one you wanted it from, which wasn’t too surprising considering how close the two of you had gotten ins ice a short amount of time. Before you could second guess yourself, you sent him message, asking him to come over. After that, you muted your phone, unable to see his reply, which would more than likely imply that you won and he couldn’t to wait to congratulate you in person.

You groaned and shoved your face into your couch cushions. You weren’t ready to see his face.

-

Kibum could tell something was wrong as soon as you opened the door. Your makeup was smudged at the corners and your hair was messier than usual.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“I didn’t win, Kibum,” you said. “I did everything you said and did my best, but it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

Kibum let out a breathy laugh, “Why are you apologizing? There are so many things more important than winning a scholarship.”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like, for instance, your skills grew as you practiced, and you stepped out of your comfort zone. Also, the most important thing is that you met me.” Kibum walked passed you, and with the usual toss of his bag he turned around, “So what do you say we cook together today? Something simple and tasty.”

You stared at Kibum’s raised eyebrows, unable to answer. You didn’t want to cook right now. In fact, all you really wanted was another one of Kibum’s hugs. “Actually… can we cuddle?”

Kibum’s ears turned red very quickly, but he covered up his flustered expression by licking his lips and turning his head towards his duffel bag. “No cooking? You just want to cuddle?”

You nodded, “You’re a good hugger so you have to be a good cuddler, right? I really need that right now.”

Kibum’s expression softened. “You got it, then. Let me change into some comfortable clothes.”

He returned quickly, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He opened his duffel bag and pulled out a large duvet. “I’m ready to cuddle!”

He sat down on the couch, his eyes on you as he patted his lap. “C'mere, babe.”

You accepted his invitation and curled up into his lap. He wrapped the blanket around the two of you and pushed your hair off of your face with his nimble fingers. “How’s this?”

“It’s perfect,” you mumbled, nuzzling your face into his chest. He smelt like honey and some kind of musk, and it made your heart stir with feelings that you had previously pushed down. “Kibum?”

“Yeah?”

You looked up at him, your cheek against his collarbone. He rubbed your hips gently as he waited for you to speak. “I think I like you.”

After your confession, you quickly ducked your head down, afraid to see his reaction. His fingers froze on your skin and soon you couldn’t feel the warmth of them on your skin.

You ruined it, Y/n, you told yourself. You should’ve just kept it in. Then Kibum’s fingers were under your chin as he lifted your face towards his. “Really?” he questioned, his breath fanning your face as he leaned in closer.

You searched his eyes for any teasing, but there was only affection in his glassy brown eyes. “Yeah. I like you, Kibum. You make me feel confident. You make me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, but you also give me a sense of warmth and comfort I’ve never received before.”

Kibum chuckled, “Honey, I’ve liked you since you made me eat that disgusting sushi.”

He was still in the midst of laughing when his lips reached yours. You cupped his face with your hand to bring him closer to you. Your own lips turned into a smile as you finally felt how soft his were. Kibum pulled away, “We have to stop smiling or we can’t kiss properly.”

You shrugged, biting your lip to try and stop the giddiness from showing on your face. “Sorry.”

Kibum pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “Don’t be. There will be plenty of times to kiss in the near future.”

He wriggled his eyebrows seductively, causing you to erupt into more giggles as you slapped his chest gently. “You’re stupid.”

“Well you’re dating stupid,” Kibum pointed out.

“Touché.”

~the end~

[pastadoughie]

yu shld dreaw a baest,,,,,,, in PLATFORM BOOTS!!!!!!

its me im the beast

(ive done this before and didnt feel like redrawing it)

[pastadoughie]

to kick off the requests!!! silly liddol guy eating a leek please c: (miku staring in horror [optional])

[i wonder whag anon this is , , ,]