#or like a very think potato noodles

[witchofthesouls]

Cybertronians vs kudzu

Who would win. Aliens or very invasive plants?

Cybertronians will win the battle, but they'll lose the war.

It's one thing to comprehend that plants grow fast, it's another thing to witness it.

If Cybertron ever establishes a sister city or university on Earth, then many Cybertronians will flock over to study applied agricultural sciences because someone at some point had managed to successfully crossbreed a potato with a Cybertronian one that feeds on their planet's radiation.

Someone needs to save Cybertron's soul if a well-meaning idiot takes something like kudzu or mint and manages to get viable crossbreeds on the metal planet.

[bumpscosity]

cup noodle curry <3

[mariacallous]

Goldie Finkelstein was just 13 when she was sent to Wiener Graben, a work camp that later became a concentration camp. The youngster lost her entire family in the war, and among the things she never learned from them was how to cook. She had no family recipes and, according to her son, when she married Sol Finkelstein, also a Holocaust survivor, she didn’t know how to boil water or cook an egg.

Eventually, other survivors taught Goldie the necessary skills, and she was a quick learner. She soon became known for the copious amounts of baked goods she would provide for any occasion. Her recipes, some of which are included in the “Honey Cake and Latkes: Recipes from the Old World by the Auschwitz-Birkenau Survivors” cookbook, include cake mixes and other ingredients that wouldn’t have been used in pre-Holocaust Eastern Europe. Her whiskey cake, for example, calls for both yellow cake mix and vanilla pudding mix.

Goldie’s experience illustrates the ways in which recipes, including those we think of as quintessentially Ashkenazi Jewish, have changed over the years. Survivors lost the ancestors who passed along oral recipes. Families’ personal artifacts, such as handwritten recipes, were abandoned when Jews were forced to flee. 

Most significantly, perhaps, after the war, survivors had access to different ingredients in their new homes. Sometimes that was due to seasonality, such as was the case for those who moved from Eastern Europe to Israel and had access to more fruits and vegetables year-round, including dates and pomegranates. Other times, it reflected changing tastes or newfound wealth  — liver soup, pates with liver and offal were classic Eastern European dishes in the early 1900s, when there was an intention to use every part of the animal, but became increasingly uncommon. In other cases, like Goldie’s, packaged goods replaced homemade. Another survivor whose recipes appear in “Honey Cake and Latkes,”Lea Roth, detailed making noodles for Passover from the starch leftover at the bottom of a bowl after grating potatoes before the war. After the war, most people added “noodles” to the grocery list.

“Some of these recipes changed because of New World versus Old World,” explains Jeffrey Yoskowitz, author of “The Gefilte Manifesto: New Recipes for Old World Jewish Foods.” Yoskowitz and his co-author Liz Alpern work not to replicate pre-war Ashkenazi Jewish recipes, but to reclaim and modernize them. To do that, they’ve had to examine the ways in which recipes have changed.

In the Old World, for instance, almost every recipe called for breadcrumbs. At Passover, the leftover crumbs from the matzah were used to make matzah balls, leaving nothing to waste. But when immigrants in the U.S. could use Manischewitz pre-made matzah meal, then recipes started calling for it to make matzah balls.Today’s recipes for kugels with cream cheese, cottage cheese and sour cream would not have been made in the Old World, where dairy products were expensive. Again, ubiquitous cows in the New World made that “celebration of dairy” possible, Yoskowitz says.

At first, recipes may not seem like the most essential thing to recover from Holocaust survivors, but they paint a picture of what life was like before the war. It is essential to see the Jewish experience as one that is not solely as victims, and learning what people ate and cooked is part of that.

“Bringing back recipes can help bring people back to life,” says Edna Friedberg, a historian and senior curator with the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. “In particular, it was women who were in the kitchen in this period, and so this is a way to make the lives of women very vivid and real for people.”

The idea is not to romanticize Eastern Europe, says Maria Zalewska, executive director of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial Foundation, which published “Honey Cake and Latkes,” but to see the memories connected to togetherness, like picking fruit toward the end of the summer and using that fruit in a recipe, such as cold cherry soup with egg-white dumplings. 

In addition, examining recipes gives us a sense of what role cooking and food played in trauma processing, Zalewska says. “Remembering the foods and the food traditions of their lives before imprisonment were some of the ways that survivors coped with starvation,” Zalewska adds. These are things that survivors say they are not often asked about, but when asked they report remembering dreaming about food during incarceration. 

“We have quite a number of testimonies, where survivors talk about being in situations of starvation, and food deprivation and ghettos and camps and in hiding, and that dreaming about and remembering food from before gave them emotional sustenance,” explains Friedberg.

Exploring such memories have been meaningful for those survivors who were young when they lost their families.

New Orleans’ Chef Alon Shaya has been working for several years to recreate recipes from a book belonging to the family of Steven Fenves, a survivor and a volunteer for the museum. The book was rescued by the family cook, Maris, when the family was forced to flee their home on the Yugoslavia-Hungary border in 1944. The recipes are largely written without measurements, times or temperatures, and many of the ingredients are different from those used today. (Like the Fenves family, Goldie’s son, Joseph Finkelstein, says his mother wasn’t big on using measurements as we think of them in recipes today. She knew the quantity of an ingredient, for example, if it would fit in her palm.) Unlike Yoskowitz, who is looking to update recipes, Shaya has been working to replicate them as closely as possible  — and has come across a few surprises.

Many of the desserts use a lot of walnuts, for example, which, of course, are also used in contemporary baking. But Shaya is using what he says are “copious amounts of walnuts” in various ways, such as grilled walnuts and toasted walnuts. The Fenves family walnut cream cake, which includes both walnuts ground in the batter and in a cream in-between the cake layers, has featured on the menu at one of Shaya’s restaurants, Safta, in Denver.

For all the recreation, and Shaya’s goal to bring the tastes of his youth back to Fenves, he says “it is impossible that a recipe in New Orleans would be the same as one in Bulgaria. The seasons are different, what animals are butchered are different, and the spices taste different.”

Indeed, place matters, Yoskowitz says. Ashkenazi food has a reputation of being terrible, he says. Take mushroom soup, for example. “There is no good mushroom soup in a deli. It is made with mushrooms that don’t have much flavor. But if you have it somewhere made with mushrooms grown in the forest, then that is going to be good soup.”

Many Holocaust survivors settled in new lands with new ingredients, and little memory of how things were made before the war. They knew they used to eat mushroom soup but didn’t specifically remember the forest-grown and harvested fungi. So, dishes morphed depending on what survivors had in their new home. In Eastern Europe, veal was plentiful, but in the U.S. and Israel, schnitzel began being made with chicken instead (a process Yoskowitz calls the “chickentization” of cuisine). And the beloved Jewish pastrami on rye? The pastrami would have traditionally been made with kosher goose or lamb. It wasn’t until Jews came to the U.S. that beef was easily accessible. 

The same is true of what is likely the most iconic Jewish American dish. “Bagel and lox are what we think of as the most Jewish food. But the only thing that came over was the cured and smoked fish,” Yoskowitz says. “Cream cheese was a New York state invention. Capers were Italians. It was a completely new creation, and it became a taste associated with Jewish people.”

One of the most poignant recipes in the “Honey Cake and Latkes” book is a chocolate sandwich, a basic concoction of black bread, butter and shaved dark chocolate. Survivor Eugene Ginter remembers his mother making it for him in Germany after the war, to fatten him up after years of starvation.

Adds Shaya: “We have to continue to adapt, and I think that that is part of the beauty of it.”

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

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

From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

[c-o-t-o]

Veiled Whispers - Zayne (Part 1)

Author: c-o-t-o

Character: Zayne x fem reader

CW: 18+ only, sexual content/smut, explicit language, drunkenness, dubcon, teasing, bdsm (some CWs apply to other parts)

Misc: ~1.7k words, Part 1. This fic is supposed to take off where the 5 star memory ends with Zayne.

About: After falling asleep to Zayne's kisses, you wake back up to him taking more care of you. Zayne drinks more than he realizes and starts making moves.

*Do not remove info or credit from posts when reblogging or sharing!*

You wake up on the couch, vision a little bit blurry and struggling to focus. You look over into the kitchen and see Zayne cooking. What time is it?

“Zayne? What are you doing?” You ask while rubbing your eyes. How long had you been asleep after he kissed you and let you fall asleep on the couch?

“Cooking.” He replies simply. You look at the table in front of you and reach out to grab the small bottle of wine that you were gifted to sip a little more, and notice that it's almost empty.

“Did you…drink this wine? I thought you didn't want any.” You pout and swirl around the remaining wine in the bottle before taking a small sip and savoring the flavor. It was very sweet, almost like a dessert wine. That's why it was so delicious to have, and hard to stop drinking.

“After you fell asleep and left me alone by myself, I got curious. I tasted the wine and did end up liking it. I see now, it's very good.” Zayne seems to be stir-frying something and it smells delicious. You end up finishing the little bit of wine that's left in the bottle and get up to get rid of it. You walk over to see what Zayne is cooking, and see that he is stir-frying some noodles with meat and vegetables. Your stomach growls when you realize that you hadn't really eaten in a while since the banquet ended.

Realizing that you and Zayne are about to have a nice quiet meal together, you get excited and set the table. You light a small candle in the center, set the dishes and utensils, and pour a glass of wine for each of you from Zayne's bottle that he was gifted and hadn't drunk from yet. Sitting at the table, head in your hands, you look up at him giddy as he serves you both your food.

“It's not good to go to bed hungry, you'll wake up feeling even worse. I suspect you'll be hungover tomorrow, so at the very least, you shouldn't also be hungry. Enjoy." He says, motioning to your plate. Still feeling somewhat drunk, you happily oblige and start eating.

“Zayne, this is delicious. How did you make this? I didn't even know that I had these ingredients in my fridge." You say between bites. The flavor was perfect, the meat tender, and the vegetables still crunchy. If he wasn't there to feed you, you probably would have just rummaged through your snacks and finished a bag of potato chips or something before falling back asleep on the couch.

“Well, I…” Zayne somewhat bashfully covers his mouth with his hand and looks away momentarily. "You don't realize where we are, do you? For a hunter, it's not very good to be unaware of your surroundings.”

You feel your face turning red as you stare at Zayne eating. Looking around, you suddenly realize you're at Zayne's house. You had been there many times, so drunk you didn't even remember that you were briefly home before falling asleep. Zayne tells you how he didn't feel right leaving you drunk at home alone, so he brought you to his place to keep an eye on you.

You enjoyed seeing this side of him, it wasn't often that he took care of you in a non-medical sense. Plus, you don't know when you'll ever get a home cooked meal from him again, so you savor every bite. Especially because he could have just left you at home and went his separate way. Thinking about how he had to have carried you out of your house to his car, and into his house… it made your heart melt and your longing for him grow even more.

You and Zayne continue to finish your dinner, talking about random things like work and the banquet, enjoying your wine between bites of food. At the end of the meal, the alcohol hits you once again. You hazily look up at Zayne, who is sitting there across from you, staring off into space. You think how it's so unusual to see him so unfocused, almost in a trance-like state.

“Zayne? You okay…?” You ask, moving your face into his line of vision so that he's looking at you. His eyes move to meet yours, when you think you detect the slightest hint of red on his cheeks.

“I… I had wine with dinner…” his voice trails off.

“Yes? And?” You ask confused. You thought it was pretty obvious that you were both drinking the wine that you brought home from the banquet.

“It's just… I had forgotten I already drank wine when you were asleep on my couch. I-” Zayne rubs his eyes while his head sways a bit. "I don't drink often, so when I do, alcohol tends to take effect fairly quickly.” Zayne’s speech is a bit slurred. You giggle and look back at him with a heartfelt smile, your chest aching with longing for the man in front of you who was always just out of reach. “Or, I might just be tired. It has been a very long day, and I'm still awake taking care of you at this time of night. Yes, I'm sure now, I believe I'm just tired.” Zayne tries so hard to convince you, or more likely himself.

You move your fingers over towards his hand and rest them on his. Zayne looks over at you with his head drunkenly tilted, looks down at your hand holding his, and back up at you. He quietly chuckles to himself, but you can see his eyes smiling, a drunken twinkle glistening in them. The blush on his face starts to redden, as well, making your heart flutter.

“I'm really glad I'm here, Zayne." You confess. “We don't get time together like this very often." You find that you've started subconsciously rubbing the back of his fingers with yours, almost in a self-soothing way.

With all sense of restraint gone from the alcohol, Zayne suddenly jerks his chair back, scraping the floor loudly. You jolt and sit upright in response. He stands up abruptly, walking over to you, and grabs your face with both of his hands. He stares so deeply into your eyes that, for a moment, you swear he could probably read your thoughts.

“I need you. Right now." Zayne says quietly and deeply, slightly slurring his words. “Come with me." He demands, starting to walk away from you. When you hesitate, confused about what just happened, he somehow whips around (you assumed with how drunk he is that he would have stumbled after doing that) and picks you up bridal style. Zayne holds you up like it's nothing, and you can feel his rigid arms and body against you. He brings you into his bedroom and nearly throws you down onto his bed.

Zayne tries to play it cool, but you see him slowly coming apart in front of you. He looks down at you on his bed, his hair falling over his eyes. He keeps trying to comb his hair back with his fingers, but it's no use. Eyes locked onto you, Zayne falls to his knees on his bed, and begins to slowly crawl over you. He needs you, and he can't fight off the urges any longer. Zayne after too much alcohol is a Zayne that becomes starved for your touch. And he WILL get what he wants, no matter how hopeless he may end up looking. To him, it almost doesn't matter if he doesn't look cool, calm, and collected anymore, as long as it means satisfying his desires. In the end, it'll be a win for him, anyway.

Zayne holds himself up above you now, looking down at you so directly. Not used to seeing him so lustful and forward, you look away bashfully.

Zayne grabs your chin and pulls it so that you're looking back at him. You hear him swallow hard, followed by a slight pant while he tries to catch his breath.

“Be a good girl for me, won't you?" Zayne whispers with a voice so deep that it vibrates through you. He leans in to kiss you, but stops inches away from your lips. “Doctor's orders."

Your face blushes HARD. And you immediately feel a burning sensation between your thighs. Zayne moves in closer and closer to your lips, still holding your chin. He gets so close that you can feel his breath on your lips… when he stops, chuckles, and pulls away.

You can't help but whimper out loud, fully expecting that he was going to kiss you on the lips. Slightly annoyed from the tease, you pout.

“Doctor's orders? I thought you were only ‘Doctor Zayne’ when we were in the hospital. You said you're just ‘Zayne’ otherwise." Your eyebrows narrow in frustration, your heart palpitations turning to heartache as you want nothing more than for him to actually kiss you.

Zayne lets your chin go, but runs his fingers through the back of your hair, fist tightening and grabbing your hair slightly. He pulls your head up towards him, making you gasp out loud.

“You’re in Zayne's house now. Or have you already forgotten? Under my roof, you'll follow my rules, including my doctor's orders.” Zayne slurs, but still with a hint of sharpness in his words. He smirks, looking you over with his eyes. You open your mouth to say something back to him, but are cut off. Still holding a fistful of your hair, Zayne leans down and licks your lips, pulling your bottom lip into a bite. His teeth pull away at your lip until it leaves his mouth. You gasp, and Zayne laughs quietly under his breath. Still gripping you with one hand, he drags the back of his other hand down your face.

“I'll give you what you want… yes. But you'll do the same for me in return. And what I want right now…” Zayne pulls your head closer to him, his other hand now grabbing your bottom lip with his thumb on your tongue, “Is your mouth.”

[thewritingrowlet]

The Twins and Their Queens pt. 1, ft. NMIXX Jiwoo

tags: blowjob, creampie

length: 11k+

author's note: this marks the start of another (mini) series, where we follow the lives of Shane and Shaun, Harvey's little twin brothers. For now, I think the series will have 3-4 parts just like The Outing Trip, but time will tell.

-

Jiwoo wakes up feeling excited today, and she has a very good reason for it: she has secretly made a promise to cook for you to celebrate the 2nd anniversary early, and today, precisely 7 days before the actual anniversary, is the day to do so.

She contains her excitement as she slowly and carefully gets off the bed. To be sure that you won’t wake up and spoil the surprise, she puts a spell on you—she even wiggles her index finger around like a wand for good measure. “Stay asleep, Shane—stay freaking asleep. You’re very tired after working all day yesterday, and you want to sleep until the day changes again.” She hears a hum escape through the small gap of your lips, which makes her confident that the spell is working. “Good boy,” she pats you through the air.

She tippy-toes her way out of the bedroom and gently closes the door behind her; she’s doing everything she can to make as little noise as possible. She looks towards the TV to find the small clock sitting on the shelf: 5:04 a.m. “Should be plenty of time,” she says to herself.

Jiwoo ties her hair in a bun as she prepares to start cooking. She grabs some items from the fridge and sets them on the counter next to her phone. “Right, so,” she opens her memo app and looks at the ingredients list, “noodles, boneless chicken thighs, potato, and onion—that should be everything.”

She drizzles a bit of cooking oil into a non-stick pan that she has prepared and— “oh, wait, the chicken.” She was supposed to cut the chicken into cubes first, so she turns off the burner and places the chicken on a cutting board. Jiwoo skillfully cuts the chicken and then turns her attention back to the pan. “Now we can really start,” she says.

Jiwoo throws in the small pieces of chicken into the hot pan and stirs it around, making sure that it��s cooked through. After that, she tosses in the potato and onion (that she has chopped into cubes secretly yesterday before you got home) and stirs again for a few minutes. Once the potato becomes a bit translucent, she drizzles some more oil and adds black bean paste into the mix. “2 cups of water, okay.” Jiwoo grabs a measuring cup from the cupboard and fills it with water, repeating it again after that to meet the needed measurements. “Hey, Nudle, start a 10-minute timer for me,” she says to her phone, and it responds to her in its catchy voice.

She decides that she’ll use the time to wash the dirty knife and cutting board and wipe the dining table clean. After that’s done, she lies on the sofa to catch her breath. “I hope he doesn’t wake up now,” she thinks to herself while eyeing the bedroom door. For some odd reason, suspense enters Jiwoo’s mind; it’s as if she was watching a horror movie. “Oh, God, please don’t wake up. Han Jaehyun, please don’t wake up—not when I’m this close.” The ring from her phone steals her attention, and she immediately turns it off, concerned that maybe you’ll hear it and wake up. “Okay, okay,” she takes a few deep breaths to calm down, “everything is fine—everything is just fine.”

Jiwoo makes her way to the kitchen again to cook the noodles, which is the second last step to this sneaky adventure. She brings a pot full of water to a boil and throws in the noodles. They’re not dried noodles, so cooking them will only take around a minute, maybe a minute and a half. After that’s done, she turns off the burner and— “FUCK!” She accidentally touches the edge of the hot pot when reaching for the strainer, thus forcing her to let out a scream of profanity because of the combination of shock and pain.

“Are you okay, babe?” Your sudden presence shocks Jiwoo to the core; she didn’t expect you to sneakily come out of the bedroom like this, hence the little jump. That said, she currently has a bigger problem on her hands—literally. “O-oppa,” she says weakly, in pain from the burn, “h-help me, please.” Jiwoo briefly explains that her fingers are burning, so you drag her over to the sink and run some water on her hands. “What were you up to, baby?” You ask in a gentle voice as quiet sobs escape your girlfriend’s lips. “I-I was making some jjajangmyeon for you, oppa.”

You don’t know what to feel right now: you’re touched that she’s making a surprise for you, but at the same time, you hate seeing her get hurt like this, even if it was an accident. “Oh my God, baby,” you feel like your heart is being wrung, “are you feeling better, though? Is this working?” She nods and pulls her hands away from the sink, not forgetting to thank you for the help. You quickly glance at her face and see that there are tears on her plump cheeks. You turn her face towards you and gently wipe her tears with your thumbs, putting on a kind smile in the process.

“You can continue, babe; I’ll watch.” You place a hand on the small of her back and keep an eye on her as she strains the noodles and divides them into the two bowls. Jiwoo then pours a nice amount of the black sauce mix into the bowl. “Let’s eat, oppa,” she says. You stop her from grabbing her bowl and instead pull her into a lifted hug.

“Thank you for all of this, baby; I appreciate everything, seriously,” you say right into her ear. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” she replies in a sad tone, “fuck, you’re so fucking stupid, Kim Jiwoo.” “Oh, c’mon, don’t say such thing,” you deny her attempt at self-deprecation, “you just had a little accident, babe—it doesn’t take anything away from your efforts, trust me.” Jiwoo lets out a hum, and you take it as a sign that she accepts your consolidation. “Now let’s eat, baby. This looks so damn good, and I can’t wait to shove it into my mouth,” you say, hyping her up.

You lower her gently onto one of the two chairs at the table and spray kisses all over her head. “Oppa, please, the food will get cold,” she tries to make you stop. You do stop, but before you grab the bowls from the counter, you turn her head towards you and come in for a kiss. It feels like she’s not too interested in kissing, but when you try to pull away, Jiwoo chases you. “Thank you, oppa,” she says after breaking the little tangle. “The pleasure is mine, baby.”

You take the two bowls from the counter and place them on the table. “Thank you for the meal, baby,” you say. Hearing you thank her again makes Jiwoo feel better about all of this, and it looks like she’s not too upset about “failing” the surprise. “I swapped out the pork belly for chicken, oppa,” she informs you as her chopsticks dance in her bowl, mixing the sauce mix with the noodles.

“Oh!” The first mouthful takes your soul high to the sky, making your body sink limply into the chair. “Oh, my—oh my God, Jiwoo-yah,” your eyelids shut tight as you savor the taste, “this is incredible—the chicken is soooo juicy, too.” Unfortunately, you can only chew for so long before you must swallow. Fortunately, you still have plenty of this heavenly food in your bowl. “Thank you for the meal, baby,” you repeat, “thank you so, so, so, so much.” Your sweetness makes Jiwoo feel better once again, and her lips, without her realizing, are forming a wide smile. “Th-thank you, oppa,” she fans her red cheeks to cope with the heat.

You keep your attention on your bowl, shoving more and more food into your mouth at an uncontrollable pace. “Howy shid,” you swallow the food in your mouth before continuing, “I don’t have the adjectives, but I know my brothers would fight to have a bite.” Jiwoo can’t take it anymore. She rushes to you and squeezes your cheek in playful aggression. “Youuuuuu,” she kneads your face like they were bread dough, “you are sooooo—arghhhhh.” You let out unintelligible sounds as your face contorts from her touch. “B-babe, stop,” you hold her wrists to halt her, “you haven’t even taken a bite, have you?”

With a sigh, she returns to her seat and puts some noodles in her mouth. She starts chewing in silence while her eyes roam around. “Hmm,” she rubs her chin as she thinks about the taste, “could use a bit more salt, but yeah, this is pretty good.” “Pretty good? What do you mean pretty good? This is very good,” you argue. Your girlfriend lets out a long sigh in defeat. “Fine,” she says, “thank you for the kind words, oppa—I love you.”

You leave your seat and pull her onto her feet. “You know what I want, don’t you?” You expect her to come in for a hug, but no, she’s getting down on her knees. “Wait, wait, not that one,” you pull her onto her feet again, “I meant this.” You wrap your arms around her and make sure your hands meet perfectly on the small of her back. You whisper all the praises you can come up with, and most importantly: “I love you, precious. I love you so, so much and thank you for cooking for us this morning.” Jiwoo responds by giving you a peck, letting you know that the praises are well received.

“Come on, oppa, let’s shower,” she pulls away from the embrace, “I’ll take care of this, so you can go first.” You thank her one more time—you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve thanked her so far—and make your way towards the bathroom while Jiwoo stays behind to wash the dishes.

In the silence, Jiwoo finds herself grinning widely. “That was a success in my book,” she giggles, “one point for Kim Jiwoo—whooo, let’s go!”

-

“Oppa, do you think I can work at Harvey-oppa’s company? Will he take me in?”

“First of all, why do you want to work for him? Is there something wrong with your current job?”

“Nothing is wrong, but I feel like working for him would make me feel more motivated—y’know, he’s family and all that.”

Your heart flutters a little when you hear Jiwoo refer to your brother as family; she understands the importance of family and sees your brothers as her own, and you’d like to think that this is a good sign for the relationship going forward.

You clear your throat to focus back on her. “Okay, so do you want me to talk to him? We can call him now,” you offer her some help. Jiwoo says that she’ll try updating her CV and send an application first, and if that doesn’t work, then she’ll consider resorting to nepotism—not the prettiest or classiest approach to say the least, but it does have a high chance of success. “Okay, you do that,” you say, “maybe I’ll join you one day.”

“Why aren’t you working for Harvey-oppa? Is that not what mama and papa want for you and Shaun-oppa?”

“Yes, but Yunho-hyung is paying me very handsomely, and I don’t feel like leaving his company at the moment.”

“Ckckckckck,” Jiwoo shakes her head, “imagine not working for your brother because someone else pays you more—couldn’t be me.”

“I need the money to buy a ring and a house for you, baby,” you say in your head while putting on a smile as a front. “Well, it’s time to go to work—let’s get changed, babe.” You and Jiwoo exchange pecks for good luck and walk towards the bedroom together to get changed.

-

Jiwoo boots up her laptop as soon as she arrives at her cubicle. “CV, CV—where is my CV,” she browses through a bunch of work-related folders to find it, and she finds this file named “CV KIM JIWOO” that was last modified around a year ago. Before she opens this file, she looks around to make sure no one is watching—it’d be awkward if someone found out Jiwoo is trying to leave this company for another.

Jiwoo scrolls up and down through her CV, trying to figure out which part is out-of-date, and she finds that only the experience and skills need to be updated. She adds one more bullet point to the list of experience and explains briefly the things she’s accomplished in her current company, such as projects she’s taken a part of and awards she’s received. Just those two things alone take up over half a page since Jiwoo is very good at her stuff and well-liked by her co-workers, which means that she’s very often included on projects—it also means that she makes a lot in bonuses since each project usually comes with one. Jiwoo’s cursor hovers over a particular project that she’s very proud of, considering its complexity and how well she did her part. “If this doesn’t land me a job at Harvey-oppa’s company, then HR is cooked in the head and he needs to find replacements,” she says to herself.

Moving on, she adds some new information to the skills section of her CV. She recently got 855 on a TOEIC test and is very proud about it, so she replaces her old score of 820 with the new one. “I’m sure someone of foreign descent like him will appreciate good English proficiency,” she thinks to herself. One thing to note, however, is that her application will first arrive in the hands of HR and not one of the big bosses like Han Harvey, and she hopes that everything written on her CV is enough to impress the lower-level managers—if she can help it, she wants to get the job legitimately, not through nepotism.

Before she wraps this up and starts working, she reads her CV one more time from the top. “Name is correct, date of birth is also correct, address is—hmm, should I use Shane-oppa’s address?”

While Jiwoo thinks about it, someone taps her shoulder from behind. “What the—oh my God, unnie!” Jiwoo just got caught off-guard and red-handed by her co-worker, Soodam, who must’ve snuck up behind her when she was deep in her thoughts. “Hey there,” Soodam greets Jiwoo with a smile, “looking to jump ship, cookie?” Jiwoo minimizes the window on her laptop and turns to Soodam with red cheeks. “P-please don’t tell anyone about this, unnie; I-I just want to explore my opportunities,” she says. “Do you think I can go with you, Jiwoo-yah?” Soodam’s question startles Jiwoo. “Y-you want to leave too, unnie?”

Soodam explains that she thinks she’s not getting paid enough for the amount of work that she does and would like to “explore her opportunities,” just like Jiwoo. “I’ll talk to my boy—” Jiwoo covers her mouth to stop herself, but Soodam catches the slip. “Boyfriend, huh? What can your boyfriend do for us?” Before the conversation goes even further, Jiwoo pulls Soodam closer towards her. “My boyfriend is the brother of this other company’s boss,” she whispers to her, “I told him I’d try doing things legitimately first before… y’know.” “I’m with you,” Soodam says, “good to know that you have insider ties, though.”

After parting ways with Soodam, Jiwoo pulls out her phone to text you. “Oppa, who do I send my CV to?” She sees that you’re not online currently, so she locks her phone and gets ready to start working for possibly her last day at this company.

-

You see Jiwoo’s text on your notification bar, but you don’t want to answer right away; you first need a second opinion on this matter, and there’s no one more qualified for that other than your dear sister-in-law. “Noona, I need you; please pick up,” you say while waiting for her to pick up the call.

“Hello, this is Kim Yooyeon.”

“Oh, yes,” you sigh in relief, “noona, this is Shane.”

“Yes, I know,” you hear a chuckle from her over the phone, “can I help you? Are you looking for your brother?”

“No, no, I’m not looking for him—I’m looking for you,” you say, “can we talk? Do you have time?”

“Yeah, sure—what do you need?”

“This morning Jiwoo asked me if she could work for Hyunjin-hyung because she said it’d make her feel more motivated because he’s family, and now I’m wondering if I should tell him about Jiwoo’s intentions.”

Your noona stays silent for a moment, trying to come up with a solution.

“Jiwoo said she wanted to do it legitimately, but I want to help her—you know, with insider ties” you pile on.

“Well, in that case,” she says, “I’d say just let her do it her way first, and if that doesn’t work, then we’ll consider other methods.”

“Do you know when Hyunjin-hyung is coming home, by the way?”

“No, I don’t,” she lets out a deep sigh, “I miss him more than anyone, I can assure you that.”

“Noona,” you get ready to move on to the next subject, “I want to get married.”

“Huh? What?” The suddenness most likely surprises Yooyeon. “Wait, what? Why so sudden? Have you even talked to Jiwoo about this?”

“No, I haven’t—I just envy the way the both of you are so in love with each other,” you say, “do you think I have a chance at marriage, noona?”

“What the h—well, yes, I do; I think you’re a nice guy and Jiwoo is a nice girl,” she says, “you know, you’re being such a terrible little brother right now—how can you ask a woman whose husband hasn’t been home for a week about marriage?”

You’re not sure where she’s going with this. “Sorry, what?”

”Ugh, forget it,” she says, and based on her tone, you can picture her rolling her eyes, “anyway, like I said, let Jiwoo do it her way and then we’ll see what things look like.”

You thank her for the help, and after exchanging goodbyes, you hang up the call, and now that you have an answer to this equation, you turn your attention to Jiwoo. Via text, you send Han Group’s HR’s email address to her. You end the text with, “You said you wanted to do this legitimately, so I wish you good luck, baby.” “Thank you, daddy,” she replies, “I’ll send it right now—I love you!” Your eyes blink rapidly in a combination of disbelief and startlement; she just called you daddy as if you were in the bedroom. “Time and place, Jiwoo-yah—my God.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.” You reply to her and delete her text just to be safe.

-

You always pick up Jiwoo at her office after work, and today is no different. You stop on the side of the road right in front of the glass front doors of her building and wait for her to come out. After a few minutes, you see her walking out with another woman. “Wait, that’s—”

You jump out of the car (after looking at the side mirror first) and meet the two women. “Oppa, this is my co-worker, Soodam-unnie. Unnie, this is my boyfriend,” Jiwoo introduces the two of you. Soodam’s eyes widen in shock, “wait, are you—” “No, I’m Shane—you’re thinking about my twin brother,” you cut her off, and you swear that you can see her sighing in relief.

For context, Shaun, who is always into older women, tried courting this Soodam lady a few years ago, only to find out that she was engaged to another man. That was almost disastrous, by the way; your older brother even had to intervene.

Jiwoo looks at the two of you in confusion but quickly moves on to another subject. “Soodam-unnie also sent an application to Harvey-oppa’s company,” Jiwoo briefly gives some context. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Inside, however, you wonder if it is indeed so, because Shaun works at Han Group, and considering that he is in a relationship with someone else, this could be problematic. “This is not your problem, Shane,” you think to yourself.

You shake hands with Soodam with a smile on your face—a smile that’s hiding awkwardness behind it. “Nice to meet you, miss,” you say, and she says the same to you. You shoot a quick look at Jiwoo, who immediately catches the signal, and the two of you get ready to part ways with Soodam. Jiwoo hugs Soodam and then walks with you to the car, leaving Soodam alone on the side of the road.

In the private space of your car, Jiwoo airs her confusion. “Do you know her, oppa? Why did you mention your twin?” You shortly explain to her the history of Shaun and Soodam and why Soodam was visibly startled to see you. “So Soodam-unnie reacted like that because she must’ve mistaken you for Shaun-oppa—did I get that right?” “You did, baby,” you say, “and now I’m concerned that they’ll see each other again if she moves to Han Group.” “My God.” Jiwoo leans back in her seat as she tries to process this shocking reveal. “Don’t tell Seeun-noona about any of this, babe; we don’t want to get Shaun in trouble,” you say to her.

After catching up with your family’s little history, Jiwoo mentions that she wants to eat out for dinner. You ask if she has preferences, and she says that she wants to get tteokbokki. “You and your tteokbokki, babe—you’d think you would’ve got sick of it by now,” you comment, earning a giggle and a playful slap from her.

After a short drive, you find yourself stopping in front of an alley where Jiwoo’s favorite tteokbokki restaurant is located. You get out of the car with her and make your way towards the restaurant. She’s been to this place a lot; the middle-aged lady at the cashier (who you assume is the owner) instantly recognizes her and guesses that she wants the usual.

There aren’t that many empty seats at the moment; it seems like a lot of people have the same idea and want to have tteokbokki after work. You scan around the interior and find a table in the far corner of the restaurant, whose occupants are about to leave. They seem to have left the table clean, and you fast-walk towards it to claim it before anyone else—you’re the designated seat finder in this relationship, so leaving Jiwoo behind to sit first is A-okay.

Jiwoo joins you shortly after and sits across from you. Usually, she’d rather sit next to you, but the space doesn’t really allow that; to your left is the wall and to your near right is another table. She rests her head on the table, looking very exhausted after working today. “Tired, baby?” You pet her head gently, running your hands through her hair the way she likes it. “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles, “I had a lot of work today.” You praise her for working so hard all the time, and even though you can’t see it, she’s probably grinning in pride right now.

You tap Jiwoo’s arm to get her to straighten her posture as a server is on his way to you with your orders. He places a large bowl of tteokbokki and another large bowl of popcorn chicken somewhat crassly—he also has a sour face. “Yeah,” Jiwoo says, “he isn’t known for being the nicest guy around.” You’re starting to feel disgruntled; if you were alone, you wouldn’t be so mad to see poor service, but considering that you’re with a loved one, you feel angrier—no one gets to be rude and ruin the vibes when you’re with those you love. “I don’t mean to be arrogant, but we can easily buy out this place and replace that guy,” you snark. “That is arrogant, oppa,” Jiwoo rubs the back of your hand gently to calm you down. “Please, it’s okay—he’s probably just tired, oppa, like we are.” You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and apologize for your attitude.

Your girlfriend picks up a piece of tteokbokki and immediately chases it with a large piece of chicken. As you watch her eat, you can feel the heat in your heart gradually dissipate, and a smile is forming on your face. She picks up a piece of tteokbokki and immediately chases it with a large piece of chicken. You decide to put down your chopsticks and enjoy the sight of your girlfriend eating in front of you, not caring if she finishes the whole meal by herself.

It seems like she’s very hungry too; it took her until halfway through the meal to realize that you haven’t eaten at all. “Oh my God, oppa,” she exclaims, “why aren’t you eating?” “Ah,” you’re snapped out of your trance, “I was too busy watching you eat, baby.” You’re torn between two options, though: do you want to get some food into your belly after working all day, or do you want to keep watching your girlfriend eat oh-so-cutely?

“Say aaah.” Jiwoo decides for you by guiding a piece of chicken towards your mouth, leaving you with no choice but to open your mouth. There’s a grin on your face as you chew, and you can see her grinning too; you realize that only Jiwoo deserves your attention right now—it doesn’t matter if anyone else tries to ruin the mood; she’ll easily draw a smile on your face. “Thank you, baby,” you say to her, “I love you so much.” “I love you too,” she replies, “now eat, please.”

-

You get back to your car with Jiwoo after finishing the meal. “Would you like to get anything else before we go home, baby?” “No, let’s just go home, please.” Based on her tone, you can tell that she only has little energy left in her tank. “Home it is.” You turn the steering wheel to the left and place a foot on the accelerate pedal to join the moving lane.

The traffic isn’t too bad; it’s just that this specific traffic light is infamous for its long queues during rush hour. In the corner of your eyes, you see that your girlfriend is sleeping in her seat with her mouth slightly open. Unfortunately, it seems like her current position isn’t too comfortable, but there’s nothing you can do at the moment. “We’ll sleep properly at home, alright, babe?”

After getting through the traffic light, you pick up the speed, aiming to get home as soon as possible so that Jiwoo can rest properly. You take advantage of slower drivers and change lanes whenever possible, earning some honks from other drivers occasionally. “Screw you—pay attention to the road next time,” you comment.

You go through the last turn before you reach your apartment building and quickly go up to your designated parking spot. Once your car is neatly parked, you turn off your car and turn your attention to your girlfriend, who is still asleep. You then rush to your unit with Jiwoo’s limp body in your arms.

“We’re here, baby.” You lower her gently onto the bed, and she’s still asleep. You prepare a T-shirt and shorts for her to change into for later. “I’ll shower first, babe.” As you’re leaving, however, you hear a grunt of disapproval from your girlfriend. “Oppa,” she calls to you with raspy voice, “don’t leave me.” You join her in bed and pull her into a cuddle. “Wait, don’t you want to change first, babe? I prepared some clothes for you.” You can tell that she doesn’t want to move too much but her work clothes are anything but comfortable. “Help me change, oppa,” she says.

“May I?” You ask for consent, which Jiwoo gives in the form of a nod. You start unbuttoning her shirt from the top. With Jiwoo’s cooperation, you free her arms from the restraining sleeves of her shirt, and if it weren’t for her bra, she’d be entirely topless right now. You move to take off her trousers, but first: “may I, baby?” Jiwoo nods to your question, expressing her consent one more time, so with that, you unzip her trousers and pull them down her legs until they’re properly off.

Jiwoo lifts her butt off the bed when you try putting on a pair of shorts for her. “Last one, baby.” You put on a T-shirt for her, and she cooperates once again by putting her arms through the sleeves herself. “Good girl,” you peck her on the forehead, “my turn now.”

You change into a T-shirt and shorts before joining your girlfriend in bed. “Hngh,” Jiwoo grunts again while reaching her arms out, asking to be held. “Of course, baby; I won’t forget about you.” You pull her into your embrace and close your eyes, savoring the lingering scent of her perfume from this morning. “Let’s rest a bit, okay? We can worry about other stuff later,” you say.

-

Something is telling you to open your eyes, so you do—what time is it, even? In your half-asleep state, you look around the dark bedroom with your half-open eyes. You can see and feel that Jiwoo is still in your arms, which is a good start. You gently run your hand on her back, just the way she likes it.

If there’s anything that could be considered “wrong” with you, it’s your inability to keep your hands off your girlfriend, but at least she’s okay with it most of the time; physical contact is one of Jiwoo’s favorite things in the world.

“Oppa,” she calls to you suddenly, “I want to be with you forever.” You really want to say that you’re working on it, but you don’t want to spoil your plans, so for now, you give her a basic answer: “I want to be with you forever as well, baby; there’s nothing more that I want for us than that.”

“Do you think we have Harvey-oppa’s approval?” Ah, she’s concerned about your older brother, the honorary head of the Han family. “You do,” you assure her, “he and Yooyeon-noona know what kind of person we are. Not only that, but they also know that we’re in love with each other.” Jiwoo lets out a hum, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“Their anniversary is around the corner, right?” Jiwoo moves on to the next subject. “Huh, you’re right,” you just realized now. “We should call them, oppa; you know, say congratulations and all that,” she suggests. “We’ll call them this morning before leaving for work, okay? Let’s try going to sleep again for now.” You peck her head a few times and close your eyes again.

-

The morning rolls around, and you wake up after what felt like a few minutes of sleep (it was probably a few hours in actuality). “Baby, sweetie, cookie—let’s wake up, hey?” You poke Jiwoo a few times to wake her up, and she slowly opens her eyes. “I’m tired, oppa,” she says. You look at your phone to see if she has time for extra rest. “You have 30 minutes, baby—I’ll take a shower first while you sleep, okay?”

While standing under running water, you remember Jiwoo telling you that your brother’s anniversary is coming soon. “I should call them after this,” you think. You quickly finish showering and check up on your girlfriend again.

“Baby, I’m sorry but your time is up.” You hate breaking it to her, but you have no other choice. With a groan, Jiwoo gets off the bed and wraps her arms around your body. “Take care of me, oppa.” You’re not sure what kind of taking care of she needs, but you think that it’s probably best to have her shower first. You lift her by her thighs and carry her towards the bathroom.

She lightly bites you in the neck when she notices that you’re taking her to the bathroom. “Oh my God, I hate you sometimes—why are you doing this to me, oppa?” “Sorry, baby, but this is necessary.” You gently lower her onto her feet and make to leave the bathroom area. “Wait!” Jiwoo halts your steps by hugging you from behind. “Please—please don’t leave me.”

You’re not sure why she’s behaving like this. “Baby, are you okay? You don’t act like this usually.” “I-I don’t know,” she says, “I just don’t want to be left alone.” “Okay, so do you want to shower with me, or do you want me to wait here?” Jiwoo takes a sniff and lets out a grunt after. “You already showered, so I’ll just shower alone—wait here, please.”

Jiwoo lets go of the hug and walk backwards to the bathroom, keeping her eyes on you the whole time. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” You sit on the floor in front of the bathroom and simply wait for her to shower. “What’s going on with Jiwoo, man?” You ask yourself, wondering why she’s acting like this out of nowhere.

-

You feel someone poking you on the knee. “Oppa, what are you doing?” You open your eyes and see Jiwoo, fresh out of the shower with wet hair, kneeling in front of you. “Did you fall asleep, oppa?” “I must’ve,” you rub your eyes to get yourself together, “you’re done showering, baby?” Jiwoo holds your hands and tugs, signaling to you to stand up, so you do just that. She then comes in for a hug, placing her head on your chest. “I’m sorry for being difficult, oppa.” You assure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. “You’re always so kind, oppa—thank you,” she says.

You lie down on the sofa while Jiwoo dries her hair, and you’re reminded again that your brother and his wife, Yooyeon, are celebrating their anniversary today. You come up with a congratulatory message and send it to Yooyeon. “I think I’m looking to propose by the end of the month, noona,” you add.

The app says that she’s typing, and the timing couldn’t be any more perfect: Jiwoo is asking if you can video call your sister-in-law. “Sure, let’s do it,” you say. Once she’s ready, you start the call.

“Hey, guys,” your brother greets you from the other side of the screen, “good morning!”

You take the speaking baton first. “Good morning, hyung and noona—congratulations on the 6th anniversary, guys!”

Harvey thanks you for the congratulations, and in return, he asks how you and Jiwoo are doing. “We’ve been very good, oppa,” Jiwoo takes the baton from you, “I know we’re not married yet, but our 2nd anniversary is around the corner.”

Truthfully, you forgot that it is indeed around the corner; you shoot a glance at the sleeping TV, which screen saver says the date and time, and see that your anniversary is 6 days away.

“Ask Shane to take you on a dinner, Jiwoo-yah; I’m sure he has the money for it,” your brother says, snapping you out of your little trance, and the gears in your head start turning, trying to quickly come up with a plan to celebrate your anniversary.

Through the video call, you see that your sister-in-law is aiming her camera at the food on their table. “Ahhhh, unnieeee!” Jiwoo slaps your thighs repeatedly, reacting hysterically to the Morningside logo on the bowl shown on the screen. She promptly turns her attention to you and whispers something right in your ear. “Oppa, can we go to Morningside this weekend?” You respond to her suggestion with a nod. “We’ll join you next time, unnie—we have other things to do today,” Jiwoo says.

You take turns with your girlfriend to start conversations with your brother and his wife, and after a few minutes, you notice that she’s almost ready to end the call. “Harvey-oppa, Yooyeon-unnie,” Jiwoo says, her tone sweet and sincere, “congratulations on the anniversary, seriously. I hope me and oppa get to live happily together like the two of you.” “Thank you for the kind words, cookie,” Harvey says, “we’re rooting for the both of you—see you soon!”

You exchange goodbye waves with the people on the other side of the screen then end the call right after. “Visit us this Saturday for Jack-in-the-box,” says a text message from Yooyeon, making your heart rate climb. “What does that mean, oppa?” Jiwoo points at your screen, right where the floating notification is. “I-I don’t know,” you answer nervously.

You’re nervous because truthfully, you know what it means: you, Shaun, and Harvey came up with that term to secretly refer to “getting a ring and proposing” when Harvey was courting Yooyeon a few years ago. So the fact that he’s said it now after all this time must mean that he’s in full support of your relationship and encourages you to commit further, which is both exciting and nerve-wracking.

“You believe in us, don’t you, hyung?” You say in your head while trying to maintain a straight face. “You’re acting weird,” Jiwoo comments with a chuckle, “first it was me, and now it’s you—what’s wrong with us today, oppa?” You let out an awkward chuckle, still trying your best to not show your nervousness. “Well, I guess we’ll find out,” you deflect, “c’mon, let’s go to work.”

-

Before you know it, it’s now Saturday. Your brother invited you to his house a few days ago for Jack-in-the-box, a secret term that hasn’t been mentioned in years—one problem, though: how do you go to his house alone, because Jiwoo most likely would want to tag along if she’s free.

You sit on the sofa, rubbing your chin to come up with something to dissuade your girlfriend from coming along, and that’s when she walks out of the bedroom with a question. “Oppa, Soodam-unnie asked me to hang out at a café with her—can I go?” “Of course, baby,” you put on a smile for her, “do you want me to take you there?” She takes you up on your offer and gets back into the bedroom to change, and you let out a deep sigh of relief; you don’t need to fool her into not tagging along because she already has something else to do.

After dropping off Jiwoo at the café, you start driving towards your brother’s house, which is quite close from where you are. There’s little-to-no traffic today, since it’s the weekend and still early—it’s barely 10 a.m.

You pull into his driveway next to his car and get off yours. “Hi,” your brother greets you from the front door, “come in, we need to talk first.” You follow him inside but see no sign of his wife. “Where’s noona?” He says that she just got out of the bathroom and will join you soon.

Your brother takes a seat on the sofa while you take the cushion chair to his left. “Oh, you’re here,” Yooyeon greets you, “this must be for the Jack-in-the-box thing.” She takes the empty spot next to her husband. “Can one of you explain what that means?” Harvey explains briefly what it means: “we’re also going to help him buy a ring,” he adds.

“Do you think you’re ready for this?” Your brother’s question makes you nervous. “I do,” you answer, “I, erm, I think we’re in love, a-and, you know—” The way you’re stuttering makes them laugh. “Well, I hope that you’ll be less nervous as the day goes.” Harvey stands up from his seat, and when the (honorary) head of the family stands up, you follow. “Let’s go get breakfast first and then we’ll visit the jewelers, hm?”

You depart in your brother’s car to ensure maximum secrecy—Jiwoo wouldn’t recognize this car if you happen to pass in front of the café she’s at. You take a seat in the middle row behind your brother because obviously the front passenger seat isn’t vacant. “We haven’t done this in so long, haven’t we, hyung?” Your question makes Harvey smile. “We haven’t, true—we’ll do this again with everyone once Shaun and Seeun return from New York.”

You’re promptly reminded of your meeting with Soodam. “Hyung, I met Soodam-noona a few days ago.” His unique, sharp eyes look at you through the rear-view mirror of the car. “Yeah? What did she say?” “She thought I was Shaun,” you answer. You hear a deep sigh coming from him. “That’s fine, I guess—it could’ve been worse.” Yooyeon is curious: she doesn’t know who Soodam is, and in turn, doesn’t know what Shaun has to do with her. When she asks, Harvey explains in longer form their history, and at the end, you see her placing a palm on her face.

-

You, Harvey, and Yooyeon sit together at a 4-person table at Morningside, which happens to be somewhat empty currently. Here are the things you and your company ordered: two Singaporean-style toasts, two congee with char siu beef, and three hot lychee tea.

“Shane,” Harvey whispers to you while looking over your shoulders. “Jiwoo is here.” You turn around in shock, and would you look at that: she is indeed here—Soodam is also here. “Oh, shit, the surprise is spoiled,” you think, and you feel like you understand how Jiwoo felt when her surprise was spoiled a short while ago. “She doesn’t see us, though,” you comment.

While it is true that Jiwoo doesn’t see you, Soodam does and tells Jiwoo about your presence. She jogs towards your table and gives you a peck on the lips. “Oh my God, what a crowd—hello, my name is Kim Jiwoo. Pleased to meet you,” she says, earning a collective laughter from your group. “Crazy coincidence, isn’t it, baby?” “It is—we could’ve gone together, oppa.” Jiwoo then asks again if she can hang out with Soodam, and obviously, you let her go. You’re not holding her back from hanging out with her friends (aside from her male co-workers who have tried shooting their shots but that’s a story for another time).

“God,” you let out a sigh of relief, “I thought it was blown.” Your brother lets out a laugh, fully understanding of your feelings. “Keeping a secret from your beloved lady is never easy—ask me how I know” he adds, and Yooyeon joins him in laughing.

The smell of butter steals your attention, and when you turn your head around, you see a server walking towards your table. “That must be your toasts, noona,” you say, and indeed, it is her toasts. You help the server distribute food to your brother and his wife. “The tea will be out after this—please kindly wait,” the server says, already way kinder than that guy working at the tteokbokki restaurant. “Sure, no problem—thank you,” you reply with a smile.

Yooyeon is the first to both take a bite and react to her food, letting out satisfied hums while chewing her first mouthful. “I really can’t have enough of this,” she comments. Harvey reacts to that by giving her a peck on the cheek—a cute sight, really; you love seeing your brother interacting with his wife and how in love they are with each other.

-

After a short ride, the three of you arrive at this seemingly none-of-the-ordinary jewelers.

You ask Harvey if he’s been here before. “Hm? Oh, yeah,” he says, “I bought a necklace for Yooyeon-ie from this place a few months ago.” “You did, hon?” Yooyeon scratches her head as she tries to remember. In playful aggresiveness, your brother pinches his wife cheeks for failing to remember. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She exclaims frantically, and your brother stops right away. “Come on, let’s find something for our cookie,” he says, leading you and Yooyeon inside.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Han,” a staff member in a neat three-piece suit greets your brother. He then takes turns to shake your and Yooyeon’s hands. “My little brother here is looking for a ring,” Harvey says. “Do you know the measurements, sir?” The staff turns his attention to you. Your eyes land on your sister-in-law as you think about Jiwoo’s finger size. “Should be similar to my noona here,” you say. Yooyeon takes off her ring and passes it to the staff who then takes a measurement.

“Size 6, hey?” He shuffles some shelves around and place one that’s packed with brilliant rings on the top. “Here are the options we have currently, sir—we can also make a custom ring but that will take longer and cost more,” he says. Harvey can tell that you’re nervous about the price, so he whispers in your ear that he’ll take care of it. “Your job today, Shane, is to choose one that you really like,” he says. “Thank you for this, seriously,” you whisper back to him, getting a soft pat on the back from him.

You first point out to the staff member that you’d rather choose from this abundance of choices than wait for a custom-made ring. “Can I look at that one, please? Row 3 column G,” you say. You flip it around in your hand, inspecting small diamond main piece. “Jiwoo doesn’t like flashy stuff, so I think this is definitely one of the choices for now,” you comment. You place the ring on the glass counter and start looking for other options. “Row 5 column C, please,” you say. Upon closer inspection, however, it doesn’t look as good as the first one.

Initially, you thought that you should find 3 rings to choose from, but aside from the first ring your eyes landed on, nothing else catches your fancy. “Guys, what do you think?” You turn to Harvey and Yooyeon for opinions. Yooyeon defers; she thinks that you should choose what you like. Her husband, on the other hand, thinks that your choice is a good one. “I would buy that if I were proposing—I’m not, just so we’re clear,” he adds, laughing at the end. “I’ll take this, please.” You hand the ring back to the guy, earning a praise for your “good eye” from him.

-

Today is the day of your 2nd anniversary with Jiwoo. Not only that, today is also the day she’s doing an interview for the job at Han Group she has applied for.

Jiwoo says that she has permission from her manager to take today off so that she can go to the in-person interview. She also asks you to drop her off at the Han Group building on your way to work. “Sure, baby—let’s leave after this, okay?”

For the interview, Jiwoo opts for a white shirt and a black skirt—a very typical interview attire worn by fresh graduates looking for a job. She walks into the building and sees a reception desk that has someone attending it. “Excuse me, miss,” she says quietly, “my name is Kim Jiwoo. I’m here for an interview.” After looking at the screen in front of her, the staff tells Jiwoo to go up to the 4th floor, where an interviewer will join her soon.

Jiwoo sees an open room with a big conference table on the 4th floor. “This is it, probably,” she thinks. It is when she’s right at the door that she sees the short list of today’s interviewees: Kim Jiwoo and Lee Soodam. She also sees that each person will be given around an hour for the interview.

“Hello. You must be Kim Jiwoo.” A female around her age enters the room, making Jiwoo jump a little thanks to the shock. Her eyes widen when she sees the person behind this lady. “Hi, cookie. How are you today?” Harvey’s sudden presence stuns Jiwoo: no one mentioned that he’d be in the room where it happens—what if she lets him down? What if he thinks that Jiwoo isn’t needed at Han Group?

“Mi-mister Han,” she stutters, “p-pleasure to meet you, s-sir.” Harvey laughs. “You thought I wouldn’t know, Miss Kim? I have eyes and ears everywhere, you know,” he says. Jiwoo remains quiet as Harvey moves to take a seat at the other end of the table. “Please, there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?” “Y-yes, sir,” she replies nervously. Harvey shows her a kind smile. “Well, let’s start now, Miss Jo,” he says to the interviewer.

Miss Jo, paying little attention to personal details, throws some work-related questions at Jiwoo, and she answers each one as best she can, glancing occasionally at Harvey. “Wow, their smiles are very similar,” she thinks. Miss Jo then turns to him, passing the speaking baton over. “So, Miss Kim,” he starts, “can you tell me what you’re looking for at this company?” Jiwoo’s heart races as she tries to come up with an answer. “With respect, sir, I think working at Han Group w-would make me be more motivated,” she says the first answer that comes to mind. “Really? How so?” In her head, she wonders if she should say the same thing she did to you: because Harvey is family. “Ah, whatever—here goes nothing.” She takes a deep breath and answers: “b-because I’d be working for fa-f-family, s-sir.” Her stutter was worse than earlier, making her want to slap herself for it.

Harvey grins. “Family, Miss Kim?” He asks, and she’s starting to regret saying such answer. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. “First, I like that you refer to me as family—I’m sure your significant other would be delighted to hear it if he was here. Second, I think that someone can only be really motivated about work if they enjoy and find satisfaction in it. Sure, working for family sounds like a good time, but at the same time, there’s the burden of relationship in that; there’s a chance that you’ll find it difficult to make objective decisions or critics because, well, they’re family.”

Jiwoo can’t help but stay silent during Harvey’s speech, feeling the pressure of the big boss’ commanding presence. “Any opinions on that, Miss Kim?” “N-none, sir. I understand what you said, and I think it made sense,” Jiwoo replies. Harvey whispers something to Miss Jo, and after a short back-and-forth, she leaves her seat and walks out of the room.

Harvey summons Jiwoo to sit next to him, and she complies immediately. “Jiwoo-yah,” he says, his tone softer than earlier, “why are you here, seriously? Answer honestly, please." She wipes the stray tear her glassy eyes released. “I-I meant it, oppa; I want to work for you because you are family,” she emphasizes. He puts his hand on Jiwoo’s, rubbing the back of it gently, the exact same way you usually do. “If you’re so sure, then I’m not stopping you—welcome to Han Group, Jiwoo-yah.” Jiwoo, without asking for permission first, jumps to hug Harvey. “Thank you so much, oppa. I won’t let you down, I swear,” she says tearily. “I know, cookie,” he replies, “go home for now, your work here can start some time else.”

-

As soon as you enter your apartment, a fragrant smell enters your nostrils. “Jiwoo-yah, where are you, baby?” You hear her reply from the kitchen area, so you drop everything at the door and make your way towards her.

“Welcome home!” Jiwoo hugs you warmly as a welcome. “Thank you, baby—what is this smell, by the way?” Over her head, you see that there’s a pot sitting on one of the burners. In it, there’s rice cake swimming in a bubbling red sauce—oh, there’s popcorn chicken on the counter, too. “You hated the service at that tteokbokki place, so I made it for you,” she says. You barrage her head with kisses, showing your appreciation for her efforts. “You always spoil me with your cooking, baby,” you say at the end.

Your girlfriend asks you to sit at the table while she gives final touches to her cooking. She then proceeds to put some in two bowls and places them on the table. “Thank you for the meal, baby!” You grab the chopsticks she has provided and immediately put a piece of rice cake in your mouth. “Oh, that’s so good.” You then chase it with a piece of chicken. “Wow, that’s also really good.” Your eyes land on Jiwoo, and you see that she has her happy face on; her plump cheeks are squished by the wide grin on her face.

“There’s no way it’s that good,” she thinks you’re exaggerating. “Why are you putting yourself down? Just take a bite and see for yourself, why don’t you,” you say, and based on your tone alone, Jiwoo can tell that you’re starting to get annoyed by her attitude. “It’s not that, oppa; it’s just that when you cook, your food doesn’t taste as good as when you buy it,” she reasons, her soft tone different to yours.

She takes a mouthful of food and thinks about the taste as she chews. “It is good,” she shyly admits, “I see why you like it so much.” “See? Don’t put yourself down so much next time, okay, baby?” Jiwoo nods and promises that she’ll keep it in mind and never do it again.

“Oppa,” she moves on to another subject, “I got the job at Han Group.” “Yeah? How did the interview go?” Jiwoo first mentions that Harvey was present during the interview and how surprising it was for her to see him. “I had a feeling that you wouldn’t have gotten away with being sneaky,” you say, adding a chuckle at the end. “You didn’t say anything to him, though, right?” No, you didn’t say anything to anyone about Jiwoo’s sneaky job search—it’s just that your brother does have eyes and ears everywhere.

-

After dinner, you find yourself chilling on the sofa with Jiwoo. She’s resting her head on your thighs while her hands are busy with her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. You, on the other hand, can’t be bothered with it; you have a bigger thing to think about: how do you propose to Jiwoo? “Should I take her to the park? Do I just do it here?” Your brain gets busy trying to figure it out. “Fuck, man, what do I do?”

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, and apparently, it’s loud enough to reach Jiwoo’s ears. “Are you okay, oppa? Do you need anything?” Nervousness is peaking in your head right now and you’re starting to sweat. “Can we talk, baby, please?” Your girlfriend lifts her head off your lap and looks at you nervously. “What do you want to talk about, oppa? Am I in trouble?” You close your eyes and take another deep breath. “First, I’d like to apologize for being so boring like this, but I’m just stumped and don’t know what to do,” you begin, making Jiwoo both nervous and confused.

You get off the sofa and get down on one knee. “Miss Kim Jiwoo,” you fish the small velvet box out of your back pocket, “will you marry me?” She stays silent. Her palm is covering her mouth. Her eyes are as wide as they can be. This isn’t quite the reaction you were hoping for, and as you wonder if you’ve made a bad move, your eyes wander off towards her knees.

“Yes, I will,” is her answer. When your eyes meet with her again, you see that tears are coming out of her eyes in abundance. “I will, oppa—I will marry you,” she repeats. Seeing her cry makes you emotional, and without command, your eyes start releasing tears. “I’m sorry, I should’ve come up with something grander for my proposal,” you say, feeling regretful. She joins you on the floor and hugs you tightly. She assures you that it’s okay and you have nothing to worry about. “It doesn’t take away from your efforts, oppa,” she uses your words against you. Deep inside, however, you promise that you’ll propose again with a grander prelude—Harvey proposed to Yooyeon at The Sapphire, maybe you can replicate that.

Jiwoo lets go of the hug and looks at the ring that’s still sitting in its tiny pedestal in the box. “I-I think you’re supposed to put it on my finger, oppa.” You chuckle. “Sorry, baby. I’m new to all of this,” you crack a little joke, earning a giggle from your girlfriend. You pull the ring out of the box and slide it onto her ring finger on her right hand. “I’m yours forever now, oppa,” she says while turning her hand around to inspect the ring. “This is a beautiful ring, too.” You place your forehead on hers, still unable to calm yourself down and stop the tears. “I love you, Jiwoo-yah. I love you with every cell in my body.” Jiwoo says she loves you more, referring to you as her fiancé.

“Oh, speaking of fiancé,” she says, pulling away from your embrace, “now that we’re really official, I want to go to university again, oppa—you know, get my master’s degree and all that.” You wipe your tears off your face and gather yourself. “O-okay, go—hah—go on.” “Can you, erm, can you pay for that, please?” Obviously, you’re not stopping your fiancé from getting higher education, so without thinking twice, you say yes. “I’m sure it’ll be beneficial for all of us, baby, so go ahead. Let me worry about the tuition,” you add.

In joy, Jiwoo jumps to hug you, and only now are you remembering an important fact. “Happy anniversary, baby.” Your fiancé lets out a chuckle. “I thought you forgot about it, oppa.” “I’m sorry, baby. I’m a freaking mess today,” you say. “Let me help fix that mess.” Jiwoo plants her lips on yours while her hands are fixed on your shoulders, and at this point, you swear that every mess in your heart and mind has been washed away. “Thank you, baby. I needed that so bad,” you thank her for the help. “Can we go to the bedroom, oppa?” “We sure can, baby.” You carry her in your arms and walk towards the bedroom.

“We’re here, baby,” you say as you climb onto the bed, “so, how do you want to cuddle?” Your fiancé frees herself from your arms, shaking her head as she does. “If we’re getting really married, oppa, you need to get better at catching signals,” she says. You look at her wordlessly while she takes her T-shirt off and throws it over her head. “Oh, she wanted to have sex—was I supposed to know that?”

Your attention is shifted towards her when you feel her fingers on the first button of your shirt, stripping you out of your work clothes. “You just proposed to me and agreed to pay for my master’s, and you thought I wanted to just cuddle? Ckckckck, you’re terrible at this,” Jiwoo expresses her disappointment. You want to defend yourself, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Sorry,” is all you can come up with. “No need, it’s not too late to make it right.”

Jiwoo plants her lips on yours again with different intentions this time. “Take me,” she whispers to you, “take me just like you usually do.” “How bad do you want it?” You’ve now gotten yourself together and are in the correct head space for this. She starts humping your thigh, letting you know how wet she is down there. “C-can’t you tell, oppa?” “I think I can,” you giggle, “let’s start, shall we?”

Yes, we shall. You roll until your fiancé is lying on her back, and her beauty instantly catches your attention. “My God, you’re so beautiful, love. Who am I to be so lucky to be with you?” Your words satisfy her, as shown by her precious smile on her face and her soft hands on yours. “Who am I to be so lucky to be engaged to you, oppa?” You ask if you can show her how much you love her. “Show me, oppa, and I’ll do the same,” she says.

You put your lips on her neck, nibbling and sucking until it’s marked with your love. “Oh, yes, please keep going,” Jiwoo eggs you on. “You’re mine, baby, and I’m yours—forever,” you whisper to her, giving her goosebumps. “I’m yours, oppa, and you’re mine,” she replies. “Please take me already—I can’t wait any longer.” You chuckle. “One second, baby; let me finish marking you first.”

You’ve sucked and nibbled for a few more minutes now, and when you pull away to inspect your work, you see a decently sized dark circle on the side of her neck. “Now everyone knows you’re mine.” You straighten your back, and that’s when Jiwoo asks you to “put it in.” Obviously, you know what it means, but it doesn’t hurt to tease her just a tad more. “Put what in, baby?” Your fiancé takes a deep breath, annoyed and impatient. “Your junior,” she says, “put it in me.”

You move towards her legs that are still covered by her mini shorts. When you grab the waistband, Jiwoo places her hands over yours. “Yes, baby?” You ask in case she wants to change her mind.

“Let’s make some promises before we start, oppa.”

“Sure, baby. What is it?”

“Promise me that you’ll pay for my tuition.”

“We’ve talked about it before, but yes, I promise.”

“Promise me that you’ll love me forever and never leave me for anyone else.”

“I promise.”

“Lastly, promise me that you’ll call me love—you know, since we’re getting married.”

“I promise, love.”

“Great,” she smiles, “now we can start.”

With her consent, you pull down her shorts down her legs and past her ankles. Oh, look at that: there’s a big wet spot on her panties—how cute. You free yourself of your work clothes, and while you do that, Jiwoo frees her tits from its constraints. “Respectfully, you look very, very hot, love,” you say, drooling as you do. “And all of me is yours, oppa,” she replies, “my lips, my breasts, my vagina—everything.” “That’s certainly one way to put it,” you think to yourself.

You hold your cock in one hand, and without struggling too much, you ease your way into her warm and wet core. “T-took you long enough,” Jiwoo quips, “oh, yes, that’s good, oppa.” You wrap your arms around her body, and in response, she wraps her limbs around yours, locking you in place to make sure she has maximum physical contact. She proceeds to let out moans right into your ear, showing you how much she’s enjoying this. “I love you, baby—fuck, I love you so much,” you whisper. “W-wrong pet name,” she still has the head space to say such thing.

“I’m about to burst, oppa,” she says, “please—oh, God—please, oppa.” You notice that her embrace is getting loose, so you take advantage of it and straighten your posture, thus allowing you to deliver better thrusts. “Go on, baby,” you urge her, “burst for your fiancé.” Obviously, words aren’t enough; you need to keep up the tempo to be able to send her flying across the finish line.

Jiwoo’s moans become louder as she inches closer towards orgasm—she’s also squirming around. You grit your teeth when you feel her insides squeezing your shaft. “Come on, love; cum for me.” You turn up the pace to the highest you can possibly do while making sure you’re hitting her deepest points. You pull out just in time as she screams from the top of her lungs, her thighs trembling from the hard-hitting orgasm.

Amidst her moans and pants, Jiwoo manages to ask you to hold her, so you do just that, enveloping her with your arms. “That’s good, love,” you praise her, “you’re so good at this.” “Th-thank you,” she replies with heavy breaths. You pamper her with endless sweet words while waiting for her to calm down; among them is, “I love you and will spend the rest of my life with you.” She can’t string together a proper reply just yet, but that’s fine; you’re certain that the message is well received.

Her pants have died down after a few minutes, and when you check on her, you see that she’s fallen asleep. “How cute,” you pinch her cheek lightly, “well, good night, love.” Without letting go, you roll over so that she’s lying square on your body and close your eyes.

-

During your sleep, you’re shown a dream. One where Jiwoo is on her knees while moving her mouth up and down along your length. You put a hand on the back of her head, assisting her in making sure that her hair doesn’t get in the way. “That’s good, love—that’s very good,” a praise freely escapes your lips, just like usual. Your praise excites Jiwoo, making her bob her head faster. Unfortunately for you, you’re starting to lose your grip on the scene, seeing it slowly fade away to be replaced with a different one.

At least that’s what it seemed like was about to happen. Instead, your brain wakes you up. “Wait, I know this feeling,” you say in your head. Your eyes roam downwards as you try to get a grip on the situation around you. “Love? What are you doing?” “What do you mean what am I doing? What does it look like, oppa?” Well, it looks like she’s stroking your cock, kissing your tip occasionally. “I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” she says.

You tell her that you saw her sucking you off in your dream. “I mean, I was sucking you off in your sleep,” she reveals. “So that was a mix of dream and reality, wasn’t it, love?” Jiwoo laughs. “Even in your dream, you can tell that I’m touching you.”

Jiwoo asks you to sit, so you sit and lean against the headrest. She then crawls between your spread legs and takes you deep in her mouth. Just like you did in your dream, you place a hand on the back of her head, petting her gently as you do. “That’s so damn good, love,” a praise freely escapes your lips, just like usual, and as per usual, it excites Jiwoo. You can feel her moving along your shaft faster, pushing through the gag reflex. “Fuck, you’re going to make me bust,” you say the first thing that comes to mind.

You’re ready to send your load straight into her stomach; your cock is throbbing and cum is pooling on your tip, and—ah, fuck, she removes you from her mouth. “No, no, no,” she wiggles her finger in front of you, “you don’t get to cum in my mouth anymore; I’m your fiancé, not your girlfriend.” Your racing heart doesn’t allow you to come up with a reply, but that’s okay with Jiwoo.

She turns her back against you and move backwards until her entrance is hovering right over your tip. “From this point onwards, you can only cum in my pussy—is that understood, my dear fiancé?” “Yes, love, I understand.” Happy with your answer, she lowers herself until you’re fully inside her. “Oh, fuck,” she lets out a gasp, “fuck, fuck, fuck!” She starts fucking herself on your cock, her hands and knees serving as stabilizers. You lean back and admire the way her hourglass figure looks from behind.

“I-I thought you—oh my God—I thought you were close, oppa?” “I am,” you admit, “I’m about to bust any second now.” Hearing such an answer invigorates Jiwoo, giving her the push she needs to keep going until you cum.

With a profanity, you send your load deep inside her, and Jiwoo plants her butt on your crotch so that nothing leaks out. The warmth of your ejaculation makes her let out a very long moan. “Do you want to be a dad?” “No, love, not yet,” you reply between your heavy pants. “Then you’ll need to buy me some pills—we’ve run out of them.” “We’ll get some later before we leave for work, love.”

That’s one question answered, and it’s time to address the other one: how can you prevent her from making a mess on the bed? “Just carry me reversed like this to the bathroom and pull out there,” she suggests. You gather the strength in your legs and stand up. “Hehehe,” you let out a suspicious laugh, “come to think of it, we’ve never had sex while standing up.” “Let’s not—oh, fuck—let’s not get ideas now, oppa; I don’t have the energy for more.”

You arrive at the bedroom with no accident, which means you can now “safely” pull out of her hot core. “Fuck, that’s a lot,” you comment. “That’s just how much you love me,” she giggles, “so what do we do now?” You don’t know what time it is (because there’s no clock in the bathroom, obviously), but you guess that it’s probably best to quickly clean up and go back to sleep soon.

-

You’re back in bed with your fiancé after quickly cleaning up. Jiwoo puts her right hand in the air and inspects the ring (despite the darkness of the room). “When did you buy this, oppa?” You reveal to her that Harvey bought it for you when you went out with him and Yooyeon. Jiwoo bursts out laughing. “I bet you were sweating bullets when you saw me walking in with Soodam-unnie—you thought the surprise was ruined.” “You have no idea, love,” you chuckle, “well, at least it all worked out in the end.”

“I love you, oppa,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere. “I will be the best person I can be for you—for us.”

“Certainly, love. I will be the best person I can be for you as well, because you deserve the best of me.”

“Sounds like we have a good future,” she says, “well, let’s go back to sleep now—good night. I love you.”

“I love you more—way more than simple words can express.”

[trashmouth-richie]

masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers 

Toothpaste 

Noodles 

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran” 

Peanut butter 

Sunny D

Thyme 

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :) 

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero. 

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop. 

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him. 

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.  

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs. 

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her. 

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.” 

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule. 

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors  in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket. 

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer. 

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.” 

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.” 

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.” 

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” 

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach. 

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished. 

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls. 

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips. 

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them. 

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes. 

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even. 

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?” 

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides. 

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face. 

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief. 

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?” 

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.” 

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?” 

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs, 

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

— 

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly. 

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled. 

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours. 

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before. 

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife. 

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold. 

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home. 

-

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from. 

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids. 

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer. 

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come. 

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess. 

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items. 

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables. 

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking. 

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair. 

 “Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?” 

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.” 

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.” 

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away. 

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family. 

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy. 

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit. 

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior. 

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa. 

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies. 

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to. 

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying. 

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left. 

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like. 

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is. 

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.” 

The end

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[miasmaghoul]

whos the best ghoul cook? do you think they have any weird eating quirks (like water ghouls eating raw fish, mountain chewin on his terra cotta plant pots, fire ghouls needing to eat more bc of higher body temp, anything like that)?

Did I ever tell you guys that I earned a scholarship to culinary school? I couldn't go, but cooking and baking remain passions of mine that I do NOT get to talk about enough.

But now you've given me an excuse >:)

So here, a BUNCH of my cooking (and favorite food) headcanons for the ghouls and Papas alike!

(There's some murder ghoul content here, mostly in Alpha's section - couldn't help myself 😌)

Aeon isn't one for cooking. Loves eating food, certainly, but not making it. He's more of a snacker, partly because it's more convenient but mostly because he doesn't have the attention span to do much more than microwave instant noodles. He's not picky though, will eat whatever is put in front of him as long as someone else has prepared it. Also doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, more of a salty/savory guy. Favorite foods include hot cheetos, thick cut beef jerky (good to gnaw), and whatever appears on his plate at meal times.

Aether is a ghoul of simple tastes. He'll cook when he has the time, but it's going to be one of his four go-to recipes every time. Always some format of protein + starch + veg, with a complementary sauce. He meal preps every weekend after his retirement so he can have easy meals to microwave and eat in the infirmary. Isn't the biggest fan of cooking with company, unless they're willing to stay out of the kitchen and not interrupt his routine. Has a weak spot for bananas. Favorite meal is one-pan roasted chicken, potatoes and asparagus with rosemary and garlic from Mountain’s garden.

Alpha does not cook, wouldn't dream of it. He doesn't even deign to eat human food most of the time, turns his nose up at it when offered. He likes his meat raw, and wants to hunt it himself so he can feel the blood run down his chin. Any prey is fair game - if he finds you in the woods, you'd better hope you can outrun him. (You cannot.) Favorite foods include the flesh and organs of anything with a pulse.

Aurora likes the idea of cooking, but in practice...well, she tries. She's impatient, is the problem - what do you mean simmer for 20 minutes? She's hungry now! She inevitably rushes everything she makes, no matter how much input she gets from the others, and has yet to learn her lesson. She also has a MASSIVE sweet tooth, they can't keep enough sugary snacks in the pantry as far as she's concerned. Favorite foods include spaghetti with butter and cheese (one of the only things she can always get right), boxed brownies and any kind of fruity candy she can get her paws on.

Cirrus can cook pretty well, if she says so herself, but it's rare that she does it for anyone but herself. She has very particular tastes, and doesn't want to have to adapt them for others. She loves organ meat and bitter vegetables, enjoys the intensity of those flavors while the smell alone keeps most of the others away. Oh well, more for her! She'll eat anything thats made for her though, especially if its served on a silver platter by someone on their knees. Favorite foods (aside from the aforementioned organs) mostly include healthy things like fresh fruit and veggies, steamed shellfish and lean meat.

Cumulus is more of a baker than a cook, but enjoys any time spent in the kitchen either way. She's the type to make a day of it, in her comfiest clothes with music playing while she dances in front of the stove. Her food is never the prettiest, but it's made with love and tastes so much better for it. Her favorite things to bake are cookies and pies, but she doesn't eat many sweets herself. Prefers seeing the others enjoy them. Favorite foods include homemade bread (she has a sourdough starter named Breadly) with lots of butter and flaky salt, anything citrus-forward and wants her proteins heavily spiced (not spicy, she has a low tolerance, but loves the fragrant flavors of herbs and spices).

Dewdrop doesn't advertise it, but he's one of the best ghouls to have in the kitchen. His precision and attention to detail are second to none, and while it doesn't make him particularly fun to share a kitchen with it does make him an outstanding cook. He likes very intricate, involved recipes because he can use them to showcase his skills (and earn a whole bunch of praise at the dining table as a bonus). Loves spicy food, which everyone assumes is due to him now being a fire ghoul, but he's actually always enjoyed a good burn. Favorite foods include any meat served on the bone, fermented foods (kimchi and sour pickles especially) and anything smoked.

Ifrit does not know how the stove works. He survives on protein bars and any leftovers he can pilfer from the abbey kitchens. Food is not a thing he's super interested in, just takes what he needs to fuel himself, and would rather follow in Alpha's footsteps anyway. He likes to hang out at the lake every now and then with Mist, though - she'll pop up from the water every now and then with a nice plump trout to toss his way, which he will roast with his bare hands. Doesn't really have a favorite food, but does like crunchy things.

Mist, if she isn't sharing her spoils with Ifrit, will keep her catch for herself. She's small enough that one good-sized lake fish will tide her over for the day. She does prefer them raw and whole, always a bit on the feral side, but she can be convinced to join the others for sushi if the offer arises. Favorite foods include anything alive and not poisonous in the lake, and cookie dough ice cream (don't tell anyone).

Mountain is overall considered to be the best cook amongst the ghouls, and definitely has the goofy apron to prove it. Naturally skilled and adaptable, he enjoys preparing meals for his pack and will do so with anyone that wishes to lend a hand. Usually it's Cumulus or Sunshine, but they all keep him company at one point or another. He grows much of the produce used in their kitchen himself, all of it fresh and delicious, but Mountain does not eat a bite of it. He's a total carnivore - the closest he gets to eating his homegrown goodies is including them in a stew but avoiding them in his own bowl. Favorite foods include rabbit, venison and this one Vietnamese style grilled beef and rice noodle dish that Dew makes.

Omega learned to cook by osmosis, if you ask him. Time spent under three Papas will do thay to a ghoul. He doesn't cook much, but he's excellent at crafting simple, filling pasta dishes that are good for the soul (so to speak). Also treats it as an excuse to drink plenty of the good wine stashed away in the abbey's cellars - blame Terzo for that habit. Favorite meal is fresh pappardelle served with roasted tomatoes, basil and spicy sausage.

Rain doesn't cook if it involves more than the microwave, not because he can't but because he prefers to be waited on. Breakfast in bed, charcuterie plates in the afternoon, specially prepared dinners to make sure he's kept happy - none of it is necessary, but Rain can't help how much he loves being served. Good thing no one minds giving him the royal treatment. He will also indulge in the odd raw fish during a swim, but only does it beneath the surface, away from prying eyes. Favorite good is soup, any kind, but he prefers brothy ones over thick or creamy styles. If he had to pick a single favorite varitey, it would be miso.

Swiss is only allowed in the kitchen because he's good with a knife. He can burn through prep work like nobody's business, but that's where his skill set ends. He's caused one too many greasefires to he trusted at the stove, and every time he's put something in the oven he's forgotten about it until smoke filled the room and the ghoulettes had to magickally air it out. But he can chop like a food processor, so he gets the knife pass. He's another one that'll eat anything put in front of him, with one exception: eggs. Can't stand them. Favorite foods include red meat served rare, really dark, bitter chocolate and anything with hideous amounts of garlic.

Sunshine is chaos personified in the kitchen. She loves to experiment with flavors and techniques, but has yet to have anything close to a success. Pasta with pesto and pineapple (alliteration is fun), chocolate covered avocado balls (with bacon, because why not), a tuna sandwich made with coconut yogurt instead of mayo (it's healthy!) - these are but a few of the food crimes that have lost her solo access to the kitchens. This girl could burn cereal, and no one wants to see that. She does love to eat though, and will frequently hang out when someone else is cooking so she can sneak bites whatever they're making. Favorite foods include cheese (all kinds), sour candy and all the orchard fresh peaches she can get her hands on.

And for the Papas:

Primo had to learn his way around the kitchen from an early age, thanks to the responsibility of raising his younger brothers falling onto his shoulders. He learned by watching the kitchen staff - a pair of elderly Sisters with so much skill in their gnarled hands that Primo couldn't look away. He never got very good at it, mostly sticking to a handful of reliable dishes that could be made cheap and easily for the three of them. His favorite of the bunch was also the one thing he was best at making - a simple mushroom risotto.

Secondo took to the kitchen like it was second nature, once Primo could trust him to not chop a finger off. Would spend hours poring over cookbooks and learning by doing, eating his own failures so his brothers wouldn't have to. He really enjoyed making simple but hearty comfort foods, lots of rib-sticking braises and stews filled with herbs and veggies from Primo's modest garden. He even cooked the last meal they ever shared together, on that fateful Uno night. It was his favorite, a lasagna constructed from fresh sheets of pasta, homemade ricotta, spinach and a simple tomato sauce, served with roasted garlic focaccia.

Terzo did not get the cooking gene, aside from being able to boil water for his tea. It wasn't a big deal since his brothers picked up the slack, and he decided there were other things that took priority - like music, history and how to retain a full head of hair after age 30. He preferred drinking over eating anyway, mostly saw food as something to put in his stomach to cushion the wine. He was a man of simple tastes, and his favorite thing was a humble sandwich of mortadella, provolone and spicy pickled peppers.

Copia never had to learn to cook, raised by the Clergy and doted on thanks to a not-so-subtle suggestion from Sister Imperator. More than a little spoiled in that sense, he would also go on to be the most worldly Papa in terms of his tastes. So much time spent traveling the world helped to expand his palate, and he got into the habit of sending pictures and descriptions of his favorites back to the abbey so the kitchen staff could figure out how to replicate them. It's impossible for him to pick a favorite, but thanks to so much time spent in LA he does have a real soft spot for Mexican food. Tacos al pastor in particular, but without the cilantro (he has the soap gene).

[rangerbarbz]

Patient Pines

Disclaimer: This chapter is a special one because this one is my first fanfic request! I am very excited to write this for them, and if anybody else has any more suggestions don’t hesitate to ask or DM me <3 I love writing for y’all. Thank you so much for the notes, reblogs, and lovely replies!!!

Summary: Ford refuses to admit that he’s sick, and reader must deal with him

It was late in the afternoon when you went to visit Ford at his dorm. You had finished all your classes for the day and wanted to visit him before you got started on your homework. You had put on a striped tanktop, high waisted shorts, and black converse to go see him. You always tried to dress cute when you saw him because it gave you butterflies when he gave you compliments on your outfit. However, you could show up in a potato sack on a date, and that man would still look at you like you had stars in your eyes.

You knocked on his door and smoothed out a wrinkle in your shorts. Before the door opened, you heard a cough on the other side, but didn’t think anything of it until you saw Ford. He opened the door wearing his red sweater and Backupsmore University sweatpants. His hair hadn’t been brushed and his eyes looked tired. It would have been a normal Ford outfit if it weren’t for the blanket that was draped around him. That did concern you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Ford said in a gravelly voice. Even though he was definitely sick, the voice was kind of sexy. He leaned in for a kiss, and you put your hand up to his forehead stopping him.

“Ford, you’re hot.”

“No, I’m cold.”

You looked at him sternly. “Ford, you’re sick. Have you been resting?” You already know the answer to this question.

“I’m fine. I’ve been doing chemistry homework,” he replied, letting you inside. You looked around the room to see crumpled tissues near the trash can.

“That’s not what I asked, Mr. Pines. Have you been resting?” you asked again with your arms crossed. He quickly looked at you because that’s what you called him whenever you were upset with him. You only got upset at him when he wasn’t taking care of himself; that was his only flaw.

“Uh…No because I’m not sick, Y/N,” he answered, going to sit down at his desk.

You walked to his bathroom to open his mirror which revealed a medicine cabinet. You rummaged around to find a thermometer. You returned to his bedroom to see him tightening the blanket around himself.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this,” he said starting to get up. You pushed him back into his chair, and his eyebrows lifted a tad bit.

“Open,” you instructed, holding the thermometer in front of his mouth. He sighed and opened his mouth reluctantly. You stuck the device under his tongue. There was a short pause between you too as you examined the mercury rise in the metal tube.

“You know, if circumstances were different right now, I would be very attracted to this assertive attitude of yours,” Ford mumbled, with the thermometer still in his mouth.

You blushed a bit and smiled. He was so smooth without even meaning to be. “Shush. You’re going to mess it up,” you told him. “Okay, I think it’s done.” You removed the thermometer from his mouth, turned around to face the ceiling light, held it up to get a closer look at the tiny numbers.

“What’s the verdict, nurse?” Ford said pulling you into his lap with his strong hands.

You grinned trying to remain serious but failing. “You have a 101.2 degree fever, Mr. Pines.”

“Do I now?” Ford said, raising an eyebrow at you. He moved his hands underneath your tanktop to massage your hips. Lord, if he wasn’t sick right now, you’d be all over him.

“Yes, you do. Flattery will not work with me, by the way,” you stated, getting up from his lap. (That was a lie. You were practically putty in his hands.) “I am going to go down to the dining hall to get you a bowl of chicken noodle soup and by my dorm to get some medicine. While I am gone, I expect you to be in that bed RELAXING and NOT working on chemistry. Do you understand?”

He smiled softly at you. “I understand, dear.” You caressed his cheeks and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’ll be back soon.” You left the room and returned around 20 minutes later with a large to-go bowl of soup and ibuprofen. You opened the door to see Ford curled up in his bed. He looked so cozy with his eyes closed and the blankets on him.

“Ford, sweetheart?” you whispered, nudging him awake. He sat up in bed with his glasses askew. You chuckled and straightened them for him. “I have your soup and medicine.”

He gazed at you with love in his eyes. “Thank you, darling,” he said, accepting the bowl of soup. He started taking small sips of it from his spoon. “It’s very tasty.”

“I’m glad,” you replied, getting him a glass of water and his ibuprofen. “This will help bring that fever down.” He took the medicine quickly.

“Y/N, I want to apologize for being a stubborn patient. You’re right, I need to take better care of myself,” Ford started. “I let my studies get ahead of my personal health sometimes. I truly appreciate all you do for me. You have been an excellent caregiver, and I promise I will start looking out for myself more.”

You smiled at him and climbed onto the bed with him. “Thank you, Ford. I just worry about you. I don’t want to lose you any time soon,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him closer to you. He obliged scooting towards you and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I will say, though,” you continued, “this sick voice of yours is kind of hot.” Ford laughed, his cheeks turning red.

“Are you saying you want me to get sick more often, then?” Ford asked jokingly.

“You wish. Free soup and cuddles? That sounds like a good time,” you answered him, kissing him on his cheek. “Are you feeling better?” You were being sincere this time.

“I always feel better when I’m with you.”

Author’s Note: I really liked writing this, so if anybody else has more requests just let me know. Hope you enjoyed!

[criminalcinnamon]

COOKING LESSONS (an alecody oneshot)

I wrote this during school lalalalalala

Alejandro sighed as he stood in the kitchen, faced with a clueless Cody.

"You know nothing of how to cook, really?" He raised an eyebrow at the shorter boy, who shrugged in response.

"Great." Alejandro said flatly. "What will you do if I am not home to make you food?"

"I dunno, probably just make some instant noodles or order takeout."

"You cannot be living off of fast food, Cody."

"I know." Cody sighed.

"Which is why I am going to teach you how to cook."

"But cooking is hard." Cody whined.

"No it is not, we will start with something easy."

"Like?"

"Soup."

"Really, soup? You know I don't like certain soups and like, the texture and stuff."

"I will let you pick the ingredients."

"Ooh!" Cody clapped his hands.

"Now, shall we get started?" Cody nodded eagerly.

Alejandro began to gather the equipment while Cody scribbled the ingredients he wanted on a post-it note.

"Have you made your decision?"

"Mhm!" Cody enthusiastically waved the paper in front of Alejandro's face.

Alejandro chuckled. "Hold it still so I can read it, remember?"

Cody nodded sheepishly and handed Alejandro the list he had comprised.

Alejandro smiled. "This looks good, we can work with this, now can you get the ingredients?"

"Of course I can!" Cody grinned confidently before accidentally walking into the fridge door, which won a giggle out of Alejandro before he went to check if Cody was okay.

"Are you alright?" He cupped Cody's face.

"I'm fine." Cody smirked. Alejandro smiled back.

Soon they had gathered the ingredients and had the pot of boiling water on the stove, Alejandro gently squeezed Cody's side, who laughed.

"Alright, time to chop the vegetables. Watch me do it first, okay?"

"I can do it without a demonstration, you know."

"Alright, I will watch you, though."

Cody grinned as he grabbed a carrot and placed it on top of the wooden chopping board before grabbing a knife and starting to (very shabbily) chop up the carrot. Alejandro winced when Cody finished.

"What?"

"Your chopping skills have... Character."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They could be better."

"Oh."

"Watch me, okay?"

Cody obliged and watched as Alejandro quickly cut a potato into neat cubes.

"Woah..."

Alejandro laughed. "Impressed?"

"Yeah!"

"Do you want me to guide your hands?"

Cody blushed slightly at the idea of Alejandro holding his hands and guiding him but nodded.

Alejandro stood behind Cody at the chopping board and took his hands in his own, he gently guided Cody as he cut up an onion, as well as carefully wiping Cody's watery eyes.

"Good job!" Alejandro grinned, ruffling Cody's hair, which made the other boy laugh.

"You think?"

"I know."

Cody felt his face flush again, god, Alejandro was... Well perfect, really. He sometimes found it hard to believe that Alejandro even liked him.

Soon, they had put all the vegetables (and two stock cubes) into the pot and were waiting for it to boil. Cody leaned back against the counter, getting a good view of Alejandro from where he was standing. Alejandro glanced down at Cody and noticed him staring. He smiled down at him and brushed away some of Cody's fringe that was covering his eyes, Cody sneezed in response, getting Alejandro to laugh.

"You really are cute, Cody."

"Maybe a little."

"More than a little bit."

Cody grinned. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Alejandro opened up the lid a few minutes later and peered into the pot.

"It is almost ready."

Cody - who was drumming his fingers on the countertop - grinned and rushed up to look.

"I just need to blend it, but we can take turns if you want?"

"Great!"

Alejandro smiled and grabbed the handheld blender.

Cody watched as Alejandro blended the soup, mesmerized by him, Alejandro noticed and chuckled.

"Cody. It is your turn." He handed Cody the blender and Cody grinned.

"Awesome!" Cody switched on the blender and started blending the soup, which started spraying EVERYWHERE.

"Oh shit."

Alejandro laughed and took the blender from him, turning it off and setting it to the side.

"I think it is blended enough, hm?" Cody nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Finally the soup had finished cooling down and Alejandro poured it into two bowls, Cody almost immediately started scarfing it down.

"Good?"

"Very." Cody grinned and Alejandro chuckled before wiping the soup off of his face.

"I am glad you like it, now you know you can make something when I am gone."

"Yeah! Maybe you can teach me other recipes too?"

"Of course." Alejandro ruffled Cody's hair and Cody laughed.

"This was fun."

"It was." Alejandro kissed Cody's cheek and the latter leaned against him.

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

Hope you guys liked this one!!! It might be a little bad cause I haven't written in a while but alas.

[sagescented]

@autisticslp asked (on the old blog):

So a lot of cooking advice that people tend to give that seems very basic honestly comes from decades of experience; there's a post that floats around Tumblr sometimes, actually, that talks about how a lot of "cooking from intuition" isn't actually intuition at all. It's deeply ingrained memorization about the "laws of cooking" that we've learned over time, that feel like second nature to us to the point where we no longer have to think about it or physically reference recipes or tutorials anymore.

In essence: We're good at "taking what we have on hand and making a meal of it" because we have a lot of practice! We've built up a skill! A skill you're lacking in. And that's not a bad thing! But it also means that you shouldn't be too hard on yourself because you don't know or can't seem to grasp this stuff that seems so "second nature" or "easy" to a lot of the cooks you know. You're still really new at this! And with various disabilities and mental illnesses, cognitive issues, etc? Of course you're going to struggle harder at it than "most" seem to, to you!

As a secondary aside to that, you mentioned growing up on a farm. But farming and gardening, and the various forms of food preservation that frequently comes alongside small family subsistence farms, is a very different skill set! Knowing what's seasonal in your garden doesn't necessarily inherently translate into cooking it, and building a full meal up from scratch unless you also had someone who had that skill as well to teach you that.

I know my Husband's mom sure as hell didn't. He grew up on a farm like that, and she could can all day ... But Lord. She couldn't cook to save her life. She attempted to impart neither of these skills to my Husband, either ... I grew up on one, as well. But where my mom couldn't can or garden to save her life, she was a damned good cook and imparted those skills to me. Now I'm passing them on to my Husband decades later, because his mother failed to.

What you're ultimately missing is a fundamental set of basic skills, and a knowledge set built up over time and practice. And the good news is, those are really simple skills to learn. The bad news is, it does take a while to learn them and to build up that pool of knowledge. Most of it's experimentation, though, and not a lot of it's super difficult.

For basic knowledge of cooking science and spices, I'd recommend The Science of Cooking and The Science of Spice- both by Dr. Stuart Farrimond. I own both and love them dearly. They'll debunk some common myths, and give you a basic understanding of certain food sciences that are honestly really helpful.

When you feel like you're ready to actually sit down and experiment with spices, I love The Encyclopedia of Spices and Herbs: An Essential Guide to the Flavors of the World by Padma Lakshmi. It has information on various spices, tells you their cultural contexts, mentions what they're usually used on in those contexts (vegetables, which meats, etc), and even gives you some common cultural spice blends (though doesn't provide measurements). It's a thick boy, but it's a really fun one to work through if you have no introduction to spices or idea how to use them.

Past that, something you need to build yourself is a well stocked pantry with staple basics. I can't tell you what those are for you. That's something you have to figure out for yourself based on what you cook, how often, etc. But my minimum has always been at least 2 months worth of food in my pantry at any given time, across a broad enough spectrum that I can pick just about anything out of a recipe and only really need to shop for the fresh or immediate-need ingredients each week.

Staple Grains like Rice, Lentils, Cous Cous, and Quinoa.

Pasta Noodles of various types- like Elbow, Rigatoni, Bowtie, Penne, Fettuccini, and Spaghetti

Potatoes in the form of Mashed Potatoes and Scalloped Potatoes both, as well as a "fresh" bag each of Russet, Yellow, and Red Potatoes

Onions. I keep a mesh bag each of Red and Yellow (or White; whichever's cheapest at the time I'm shopping) on hand at all times.

Boxes of Stock (Chicken, Beef, Vegetable, and Protein Broth when I can find it)

Canned items that I use a lot of, like Diced Tomatoes, Tomato Sauce, Tomato Paste, every kind of Bean (Cannellini, Great Northern, Dark Red, Light red, Black, Pinto, etc), and Chickpeas; plus canned fish (Tuna and Salmon, Sardines, etc)

Condensed Creams Of (Chicken and Mushroom are the two we use most often)

Spices. Of every kind. You literally do not want to see my spice box. It's insane. Yes I'm proud of it. But it would make the average person cry with confusion and fear.

Frozen Veggies in the freezer (Green Beans, Brussel Sprouts, Broccoli, Carrots, Squashes, etc; personally I prefer the frozen to the canned)

I'm sure there's stuff I'm forgetting. But ultimately when you have a full pantry and only have to buy your fresh or immediate-need ingredients? It not only massively saves your grocery bill each week, but it also makes it so much easier to "make things with what you have on hand". Because a large part of the trick is, honestly, having things on hand to make stuff with in the first place. And that's really the big secret that goes unspoken in a lot of circles. But it really shouldn't be an unspoken secret, because it holds so many people back.

Another secret is just knowing basic cooking methods. What is chopping vs dicing? How do you pan fry? What's a dry fry vs a wet fry? What about baking? Broiling? Boiling? What happens if you stew an ingredient instead? How big does it have to be for each of these methods? How does it perform with rice as opposed to cous cous? How is it raw- if it can be eaten raw? Other than that, just knowing recipes is really going to be the big key.

Unfortunately I don't have a recommend for learning any of these ones, since I learned all this the hard way. I do see some cook books that could be useful (like Veg-table: Recipes, Techniques, and Plant Science for Big-Flavored Vegetable-Focused Meals by Nik Sharma; or Vegetables: The Ultimate Cookbook Featuring 300+ Delicious Plant-Based Recipes by Laura Sorkin). I can't personally recommend them, however, because I've never read or used them. But there's a lot of information out there on youtube that can be very helpful, especially for methodology since it's a visual medium- which is, I think, the best way to learn some of these skills in particular.

Personally, I did the recipe thing by looking at cuisines from regions where those foods or ingredients were really popular. So take your Eggplant for example. Eggplants feature a lot in Mediterranean, Levantine, and Middle Eastern cuisines. So when you want to learn how to use Eggplant and build up your knowledge about it? Looking at the people in those regions who use this ingredient a lot already is going to be really helpful to you. They know what they're doing with it!

When you've made those dishes a few times, you're going to get an understanding not only of how to prepare Eggplant for various methods of cooking, and how to cook it for those methods. But you're also going to get an understanding of what flavors pair well with it. And after a while of doing that, you're naturally going to start thinking "what if I do x instead?" and start experimenting on your own. Play with them. Get to know the ingredient on the most foundational level. And yeah, throw some herbs on it if you're comfortable! See what meshes with what flavors. What do you like? And yeah, some of those are going to be flops. But by the time you start thinking "what if" your skills are usually further progressed than you'd think to give yourself credit for. Just ask my Husband, ha!

As for the stuff regarding disability, mental illness, and cognitive function, I gotchu, babe! One of the most distressing things for me when I became disabled, started suffering really bad from cognitive decline, and started dealing with memory loss, was looking at the potential of never being able to cook for myself again. And that scared the piss out of me, because cooking is my joy. And so my Husband and I sat down and prioritized cooking and making it disability friendly for me. Here's some of the stuff we did.

First step: Get your butt a stool that's a comfortable height for your counter height. Once acquired, sit as much as you can in the kitchen. It conserves energy and lets you use more of it to focus your head.

Second: Get yourself all those fun little gadgets you think look interesting or helpful. Personally I have a fruit slicer (that works on more than just apples), a slap chopper microplane thingy, and a few others. Mostly I got these because occasionally my body loses my hands and has no idea where they went and it's safer for me. But I can't tell you how nice they are even when my body knows where my hands are, ha; they speed up prep, keep your fingers safe (usually), and leave more room for the brain to do its thing.

Third: Make as many lists as you can! I have a list on the inside of all my pantry doors of the staples that are in that section. When something needs refilling it allows me to put a mark there so I know to put it on the grocery list. But it also provides a quick reference when my brain's tired; it's so much easier for me to read a list than try and decipher box labels with various colors, font sizes, etc. Make lists wherever you need them and always keep them accessible.

Fourth: The recipe box. Yes. A good, old fashioned, classic recipe box. I have mine filled with tried and true recipes that I know for a fact my Husband and I love, that I know we have at least 90% of the ingredients on hand for at any given moment. So if all else fails and I can't think of anything? I can just go pull something out of the box and have him jot down to the store for anything we don't have.

Fifth: Keep easy meals on stock, because some days you really can't cook. Your brain won't let you, and that's ok! That's fine! But you still gotta eat, right? So we keep stuff like bagged Blackened Chicken Alfredo, Dirty Rice, Mongolian Beef, Jambalaya, Broccoli Beef, Red Beans & Rice, etc, on hand in the outdoor fridge. If at any point I just can't do it? We grab some of those instead.

And the good news is, you can spruce up a quick meal! Making Dirty Rice? Throw in some bread and butter, and a side of boiled Green Beans from the garden. Blackened Chicken Alfredo? Throw some Bell Pepper on in there; you can bulk this stuff up easily with your produce, and it takes even less effort most of the time.

As for the Covid sense of taste / smell? Keep trucking. It does get better; I suffered bad from Post-Covid Parosmia for nearly 2 years after I caught Covid the first time- bad enough to the point I couldn't bathe myself because of the smell of our water being nauseating to me; couldn't eat anything with Corn, or Wheat, or Onion, or Garlic in it for a year, either. the second I tried, my body auto rejected it. Bananas tastes like Iris flowers smelt ... I feel your pain so hard.

But it does get better. Your system is just rewiring itself completely from scratch right now. And Lord, it's so unpleasant. But the more you give it to taste, and smell, the better it does and the faster it rewires itself. Don't force yourself to eat things that are nauseating or unpleasant. But do branch out. Experiment. Even if it tastes left of how you remember it, keep going! I can't promise you'll get everything back (Lord knows there's still some things that aren't quite right for me, even 4 years later now). But it gets better!

I hope any of this helps- even if it's not as helpful if you'd like it to be. Hang in there, love.

My ask box is always open and Anon is currently ON.

[lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs]

DCA venom au

Chapter 1

The one where the reader goes out hiking and stargazing, but things take an unexpected turn.

alien DCA x human Reader (qpr)

Warnings: pessimistic thoughts, thoughts of death(not graphic), thoughts of war(not graphic), description of sickness

This would be just another day of your life. Would be, if you didn't take a few days off to go hiking in the nearest forest. What were you even doing here? The ground is hard, the campfire smells not as good as people say it does, the forest creatures make all sorts of noises.

And the freaking s'more is just a sticky, sugary disappointment.

You lick your fingers, trying to clean up the sticky goo of the burned marshmallow. Your fingers taste gross. You abandon all hope and go for some baby wipes to deal with it.

A good question. What were you doing out here, so far away from civilization and your favorite small grocery shop that has this wild variety of instant noodles? You wouldn't even consider going away from your work, but this coworker wouldn't stop nagging you. Something about "very good thing happening", or how did she say it? Doesn't matter. She shouldn't be so much into those fancy cards.

A small breath left your lips, the night air was crisp and fresh, making your body shiver a bit. You move a bit closer to the campfire.

This whole trip was a big waste of time, the comfortable routine you've carved for yourself was ruined, and now you also had dirt under your nails.

The night wind blew softly, making the trees and bushes rustle. Almost sounds like a whisper. Or steps of an animal. Spooky.

You wondered for a moment if there were wild animals here. That'd be a dumb way to die: perish only because you didn't check if there were bears or wolves or something else in this area. Not that you'd care if you died. Nor would anyone really. You felt bad for the poor soul that would find your b-

You bite on the fried mushroom and burn your tongue. You hiss, snapping from the dark thoughts and covering your mouth with a hand as if it's gonna help you somehow. You really should learn to wait sometimes.

Fried sausage. Fried potatoes. Fried mushrooms. S'mores. What else do you remember hearing other people eat during camping? … You couldn't remember. Oh well. You were full anyway.

The night sky was clear. Some white dots were visible even when you were sitting next to the campfire. After some thinking, you decided that you don't want to skip the stargazing and threw a blanket over yourself.

You settled on the ground a few meters from the fire. Air felt so much colder already.

But the stars? Oh, they were beautiful.

Your eyes had gazed upon this vast nothingness filled with sparks of light. The human frame so tiny and insignificant in comparison. And yet it felt like this nothingness wanted to crash down at you like a tidal wave. To pull you in, to swallow you whole, to have you amongst its tiny dots.

It was breathtaking, to say the least.

You were alone. So, so alone. All these stars were alone. Millions and billions years away from each other. From you. You were far, far away from everyone. So far away for so long.

You wondered if you still had your light.

Another soft sigh left your lips and the world went dark for a few long seconds.

You tried so, so hard to not let your thoughts drift off and spiral. You were alone and there were a lot of ways to do what the voices in your head would tell you. You didn't want to ruin the day of some random ranger.

You opened your eyes, meeting the stars above once more.

Wait, was it just you or one of the stars became brighter? And bigger too. What's-

In a blink of an eye, the flash brightened the sky before disappearing just as fast. The air shook and made you jump when a loud BANG exploded somewhere to your side.

The war had started, you thought. A missile must've misfired and fallen in the forest. In a few moments you'll be covered by the energy wave, or whatever it's called, and you'll be gone. And no one will know you were here and became one of the victims. You closed your eyes once again, waiting for the worst.

One second. Two. … Minute. Two minutes…

Why is it taking so long?

You opened your eyes when you smelled the scent of burned wood.

A faint, barely visible trail of smoke followed from the depths of the woods. You didn't notice how your body moved on its own. You got up to your feet and went where the smoke was coming from.

Earth was soft and a bit creaky under your shoes. Little pebbles clanked softly with each step you took. You went deeper into the woods, led only by the faint smell of burning. Then, you saw it. The tops of the trees ahead were broken. The black tainted the torn branches. You followed the trail of damaged trees until you stumbled upon….a rock.

You blinked.

The rock was neatly sitting in the crevice of its own making. Some grass around it still had some splashes of red in it, you quickly made your way to step on those sparks. You didn't want animals to die in the fire. The ground was warm, you could feel it even through your shoes. In the dim moonlight you could see clouds of steam come off the rock.

That's when it hit you.

That wasn't a missile. That was a meteor. Or a comet. Or an asteroid. You never learned the difference. It didn't matter anyway. There was a freaking space rock right in front of you. A real rock, right from the skies above. As real as can be.

You could hold in a little squeal of happiness that left your throat.

You quickly stepped closer to this big space rock to take a closer look. You couldn't see it too well, since you failed in being logical and didn't bring a flashlight or your phone. The moon light was all you had.

It had a bunch of holes in it, kinda reminded you of a sponge. You hesitated before touching it, just to see what kind of texture-

You, once again, failed as a human being, as you touched the scolding hot space rock that burned grass around it. Good job.

But you still were able to feel some of it. It was weirdly smooth, like pebbles or glass shards that were left in a moving water for long. You weren't sure what it meant, but guess smooth is better than sharp. You'd be burned and cut. How fun it would be...

....

So, you saw something fall from the sky, but it's not like there's any danger or anything. Go back to the camp and enjoy the last few hours of your trip, right?

Wrong.

You wanted that space rock.

That space rock was calling for your weird fascination with cool rocks. And how cool would that be to have a literal space rock in your collection.

There's only one small problem.

This rock is half your size.

You stood there, looking this boulder over and trying to come up with a way to get it home so it could be a part of your collection. You clearly couldn't bring the whole thing, but maybe you'd be able to bring a piece?..

Oh, what if it's one of these cool rocks that people smash open to reveal pretty crystals inside. Geode, was it? You'd probably die from happiness if that was what it was.

You grabbed the nearest branch that looked sturdy enough. First time it hit the rock with a quiet knock. You hit harder. Nothing happens. You hit once again. The branch breaks, almost hitting you in the face.

Okay, so a stick won't work. Maybe another rock will?

You quickly find a rather big rock with sharp edges. You hold it securely with both hands as you take a stand.

Breathe in. Smash. Again, breathe in. Smash. Once more, breathe in. SMASH.

The boulder cracked loudly and you dropped your tool to pry it open, cursing the hot surface. But there were no crystals inside.

It looked as if you tore a sponge apart, the holes you saw on the surface went all the way through the rock. It was black on the inside. Wait, is it wet?-

....

You woke up when the sun was right above your head, effectively blinding you. You sat up, looking around. You were right where you were stargazing at night. All your stuff just as you left it, you even had your blanket on.

What a weird dream. But no time to dwell on it, you didn't like wasting time out here. Touching grass and watching nature wasn't enough to solve all your problems. You need your job and the comfort of your routine.

Stuffing some leftover fried mushrooms and potatoes in yourself as a breakfast, you quickly gather up your belongings and clean up after yourself. The trip back is long, but uneventful, except some dizziness you felt closer to the end. But you never moved so much before, so you figured that was as normal as seeing dark circles when you stand up a bit too quickly.

Surely, when you make it home, take a shower and have a good 18 hour long nap in your bed you'll be fine. And the management would be so happy to know that one of their nameless employees that took a week off would return only after a couple of days.

….

You make it home in a cold sweat. Your limbs feel like they're made out of overcooked pasta, you're dizzy as if you took a few turns of riding on a rollercoaster and you feel so sick that you think all your inner workings want to escape your body and leave you behind as an empty shell. The work can wait, looks like you've got severe food poisoning.

Damn mushrooms, you knew you shouldn't have trusted them.

The next day comes and goes in a haze. Time doesn't exist as you fall asleep and wake up a dozen times.

You tried eating, but anything that entered your mouth was pushed out by your raging stomach, so you were hanging only on water and bread. You cursed the mushrooms you ate on your trip for a hundredth time as you stood on your knees in front of the toilet bowl.

You'll never accept any food from the coworker that is into taro cards.

You're barely able to stand up to wash your face and mouth, hoping to get rid of the bitter taste. You splash some cold water on your face and then-

"How long is it gonna last?"

You jumped, startled by the sudden voice that came seemingly out of nowhere. You glanced around, paranoid that someone was in the bathroom with you, but you were alone.

"We can't eat, I'm hungry."

You jumped again as a slightly different voice whined in your ear. You were still alone. There was a long pause, before you sighed and whispered. "I guess I finally lost it. I have hallucinations now..."

"Hey, we aren't hallucinations! How rude." The voice calls.

"That's what a hallucination would say." You answer into nothingness. Well, if you were loosing it, might as well make the best of it.

Your left hand moves on its own and lightly slaps you on the face.

"Real enough?" A slightly huskier voice chuckles in your head. Pain feels real. That freaks you out a bit.

"That's my hand." You protest.

"Our hand." Both voices respond.

"Am I possessed by the ghosts of the soviets?"

No answer. For an alarmingly long time.

"No." Was all they answered.

"What are you then?" You ask, wondering what your hallucinations are gonna say.

"We're yours. And you're ours."

You were too sick to deal with it, so you went to lay down in bed and continue being miserable.

"What does it even mean?" You grunt, plopping yourself onto the bed.

"That means you're stuck with us, human." The higher voice called out suspiciously cheerfully.

You just groan. "Great, I'm having food poisoning and a bad trip."

The voice in your head grumbles, as if offended that you didn't stop thinking it was just a hallucination.

"That's not actually food poisoning." The huskier one says. "That might be because of us."

"Yup, your body doesn't want us here!"

"Too bad we can't leave."

"It can't get rid of us! We're bound now!"

You groaned once again, their chirping just making your headache worse. "Can you shut up for a minute?"

"Oh, do you still feel sick?" The chirpier voice asks.

You grunt in response, rubbing your eyes.

"Hm, maybe we can help with it…"

....

You don't remember anything after that.

The only thing you knew when you opened your eyes was that your body wasn't trying to get rid of your organs anymore. When you came back into this world and checked your phone, you noticed that a day was erased from your memory. It takes you some time to process everything, but you guessed that everything was just a weird fever dream.

You turn in your bed and take the phone in other hand to scroll through the news, just to see what you missed while fighting with the sickness. You thought how odd it was that you started hearing voices. It's been a long time since you had auditory hallucinations.

Anyway, you're just glad it's over now-

"Do you feel better now?" The voice in your head calls out cheerfully.

You drop the phone on your face.

[writerthatcannotwrite]

RANDOM SILM CHARACTERS FAVE SOUPS (because it's finally getting cold where I live)

Fëanor: tomato soup. No grilled cheese. Nerdanel (and the rest of his family) thinks this is terrifying. Solid color (and red), he likes the consistency.

Nerdanel: beefy stew. A very hearty soup for someone who is probably very strong. Gotta get that protein for chiseling out some marble 💪💪

Maedhros: Zuppa Toscana. Flavorful, a lil spicy, and has some potatoes in it. Perfect.

Maglor: chicken noodle with tri color rotini. My dad likes the tri color rotini, and Maglor gives dad vibes

Celegorm: no salt added bone broth. Do NOT EVER eat any soup he offers.

Curufin: French onion. Bougie guy. Likes to take the bread off the top and eat it separate. Celebrimbor thinks he's crazy.

Caranthir: miso soup. Add spicy soup dumplings. Was begrudgingly taught how to make soup dumplings in his youth by Finwe, forgot, and was then re-taught by Haleth.

Amrod: chili. Warm and filling, likes it with tortilla chips, cheese, sour cream, the whole shebang. He does not usually like beans, but will tolerate them for chili.

Amras: corn chowder; nice and creamy, preferably with some thick toast to dip it in. He likes it thin, not thickened with a flour/corn starch slurry, so it's kinda weird.

Celebrimbor: potato soup. All the way. He does not skimp on the garnishes of bacon and cheese: to him, they are not garnishes, but added, necessary ingredients (me too, bro).

I had potato soup for dinner because by brother did not want the zuppa toscana that I wanted to make.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Loading...

Some more supplementary material for the Frat Boy! Au, this time starring blorbo of the hour: Kento Nanami

Because he’s been heavy on my mind. Starting with his basic info!

Nanami grew up very middle class, not as poor as Suguru or Ryomen, but nowhere near as well off as Satoru.

He’s a business major not because he wants to, but because he feels he has too. If he had it his way, he would be a culinary student. But according to his father, there's no money in being a line cook, so accounting it is. 

Still, he hopes to use his degree to open his own restaurant one day. His father would never approve of a line cook for a son, but maybe Nanami could sell him on a business owner for a son. 

He says the main reason he joined the ABO frat was to try and make business connections, he knew that some people would hire one applicant over another just because they were alumni of the same fraternity. In reality though, he’d have more room in the frat and unlimited access to the kitchen. 

His room is full of plants. Plants of all kinds everywhere, including some herbs. It used to kinda annoy Ryomen (his roommate) but, he’s grown to actually kinda appreciate it. It makes the room feel less dead. 

Phenomenal cook who can not bake to save his life. Cooking is an art but baking is a science and somewhere along the way he fucks it up every time. Be it mixing the batter too much or too little, not letting it sit long enough or letting it sit too long- he doesn't know. He can handle box cake mix that’s about it. 

Now if you want a steak cooked to perfection with perfectly roasted veggies and the creamiest mashed potatoes you've ever put in your mouth on the side he’s you’re guy. If you want an authentic lasagna with homemade everything including the noodles and sauce, he can do that for you. Do not ask him to make bread. 

He’s also insanely good at fighting games. Every version of Nanami in my heart is a God when it comes to fighting games, there is not a universe in which Nanami exists where he doesn’t dominate at Tekken, argue with the wall if you don’t agree.

Adding to that, he’s also in love with D&D. He’s a forever DM that spends hours of time planning campaigns, hours he should be spending on his school work but shhhh. If you really want to make him swoon, offer to let him be a player in a campaign. He’d pull out a ring on the spot. 

That being said, I think it’s time to get into some relationship headcanons ;)

HE’S A TSUNDERE! Look at that man, he has such big Tsundere energy.

Out of all his frat brothers, Nanami is probably the one that gets laid the least. Not from a lack of opportunity, nay nay, women (and men) throw themselves at him all the time. He’s just picky and not a fan of being touched by stragers. 

You though? You’re different (of course you are, you’re the main character!) The two of you really started to click after you had to work on a pretty big project together. Little things you did softened his heart for you.

Small things like asking him more about his D&D campaign plans, excitedly showing him pictures of the plants that you kept in your dorm, and offering to help him out in the kitchen. Little moments of quality time and tenderness while you were working on this project together nurtured his small crush into full blown butterflies when you were around.

He finally admitted to himself he was in love with you when you beat him in Street Fighter. He wasn’t used to losing at fighting games. You bragged about using his tips against him (you listened to what he said) and laughed about the weeks you spent training to destroy him (otherwise known as taking a genuine interest in his hobbies.) 

He asked you out on a date that night and you were taken completely off guard! You had no idea the fool even liked you! He was cold on the best of days, spending more time scowling at his notebooks than listening to what you said (or so you thought.) He never contacted you unless it was in regards to your project, and most of the time you spent hanging out outside of it was just because you had become friends with his frat brothers and happened to be at the house. You mean he liked you?! 

Of course you said yes, if for no other reason than to see where the hell this goes. You were 40% sure it was a prank, but hey- a free meal was a free meal. It helped he was hot as hell, what was the harm in one date?

You saw a whole new side of Kento Nanami that night. He was warm and attentive, and fucking hilarious when he wasn’t just keeping all of his jokes to himself. 

It was a simple date. A moonlit picnic in the nearby park, one where he brought his laptop and used his phone hotspot so the two of you could watch movies together. 

That was the night when you found out Kento Nanami considered himself to be a hopeless romantic. 

When he took you back to your dorm, he walked you to the door and actually asked if he could kiss you goodnight. 

And now you’re both smitten! 

Once you’re officially his girlfriend, You’re gonna find out he’s genuinely pretty chill. Happy to give you your space and recognize you’re a person outside of your relationship. That being said, let some asshole start getting a little too comfortable with you at a part and he’s quick to throw hands.

You would think nerdy little Nanami wasn’t that good in a fight, but nay nay, he was forced to play football in highschool and will leave a bastard concussed. 

He says he’s not a cuddler, but every time you sleep in his bed you wake up with him cuddled close to you. 

Nanami loves kisses, and is always planting them on you when you’re in kissing range. Your lips, cheeks, forehead, everything is fair game. 

You’re the only person in the world other than like, his parents that can call him Kento. He’s always gone by his last name, to the point that his first name makes him feel like he’s in trouble. Only authority figures use it when they’re pissed off at him. But it hits him different when it comes from your lips. When you say it, it feels tender and intimate. It’s the closest he gets to liking his name.

He always tries to make time for you and your relationship. Even if that sometimes means that your date nights are just study dates, he always strives to make you feel like a priority. 

He’s a soft guy that falls in love easily. You may not know it yet, but he has full intentions to marry you after graduation. A fact his frat brothers are quick to tease him about, while also making him promise to make them groomsmen. 

[aprocessionofthoughts]

A Parent's Love

whumptober24 day 28- denial fandom- dp x dc tw- neglect summary- Their parent's love them

masterlist ao3 part 8 of TFR

Barbara waited at the bus stop, tapping her fingers against her knee. The bus was supposed to arrive in about ten minutes. She’d been waiting here for about twenty already. Jazz had called a few minutes ago to say they were almost in Gotham. She tapped idly at her phone looking through her recent texts. 

They had all wondered why she couldn’t be on comms tonight and what she was doing, but she had just said she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t want to tell them that she was going to be looking after some kids. Tim was the only one who knew she’d been looking for them, and she’d like to keep it that way for now.

She didn’t want to overwhelm the kids, and the bats could be very overwhelming. She’d let the kids settle in first, make sure to tell the bats that she’d be absent for a few days, and blackmail them so that they’d actually leave her alone. Because as soon as she mentions kids, Bruce will be pulling up adoption paperwork and everyone else will be their nosy, annoying selves. 

The bus ended up being nearly an hour late, which wasn’t surprising considering Gotham traffic and all the detours due to rogue attacks.

She watched strangers step off the bus, and then, finally, Jazz and Danny exited. They were both wearing baggy hoodies with the hoods pulled up and carrying backpacks. Babs could see the shadows of bruises beneath their hoods, and the way they were moving indicated they were in pain, Danny more so than Jazz. Though, Babs noticed, he was better at hiding it.

“Welcome to Gotham.” she said.

Jazz smiled weakly at her, but Danny kept his head tilted down though his gaze darted around.

“Come on,” Babs said, “my car’s this way.”

They followed silently behind her. Silently enough that had Babs not had bat training she wouldn’t have been able to hear them. Or hear Jazz at least. She couldn’t hear Danny’s footsteps.

She wasn’t sure what to say to them. She had training to help victims, but this felt different. 

“Are you guys hungry? It’s nearly lunchtime. We can stop by somewhere on the way to my apartment, or I can make some quick soup.”

After a moment of silence, Jazz answered. “Soup sounds good, if you don’t mind. But we’re good with anything.”

“We’ll do soup then.” she responded as they climbed into the car and she wheeled herself into the driver’s seat.

Once they got to her apartment she offered them the use of her first aid kit and the privacy of the guest room, letting them know that they could shower if they wanted. Meanwhile she went to make soup. She kept it simple with some veggies, potatoes, noodles, and some shredded chicken. She didn’t know how long it had been since they had last eaten a good meal. She worried that it had been a lot longer than either of them would easily admit.

She’d have to push a little bit though, try to find out what had happened, who had hurt them, and if they were still in danger. But that could wait until after they had eaten.

She focused on the soup as she heard the shower turn on. It wouldn’t do her or the kids any good to spiral while thinking about all the worst case scenarios.

The soup was done cooking by the time the siblings came out. Jazz was wearing a simple long sleeve shirt while Danny was practically drowning in a large hoodie with a spiderweb design. She could see the bruises on their faces clearer now and note how stiffly they moved.

She served them bowls of soup and let them eat most of it before she started. “I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but there are some questions I do need answers to.”

Across from her, the siblings stiffened. She kept talking before they could get too nervous.

“Do either of you need professional medical attention?”

“No.” Danny bit out almost before she finished speaking. “No hospitals.”

“Ok.” she said. “But just so you know, I’m friends with a doctor who has her own clinic. Or I know a man who was a combat medic. He’s practically my best friend’s grandpa. Both of them would keep your secrets.”

“Thank you, we’ll consider it.” Jazz said after a pause.

Babs nodded. “Okay, so for the next question I want you to remember that no matter what your answer is, you will be safe here. I’ll do everything I can to protect you. But I do need to know if there's anyone who might be coming after you.”

Jazz stiffened and Danny flinched. They were silent for a moment before Danny responded, his voice barely above a whisper. “There might be. I don’t know though. I’m not sure if… when they’d be able to, or even if they’d be able to. There are some… people I can ask.”

Babs smiled gently. “We’ll try to contact them later then. Can you tell me who might come after you?” she asked even though she was afraid she already knew the answer.

The siblings glanced at each other. Danny shrugged.

“Is it…” she started, “is it your parents?” It would be better to get the hard truths laid out. Barbara had always been blunt. She could be gentle if she needed to be. But it would be easier to make plans if she knew who she'd be fighting.

Jazz flinched while Danny froze, his grip on his spoon tightening.

“They love us.” Danny said with the desperation of someone trying to convince themselves. “They just don’t understand.”

Babs fought to keep her expression even. It wouldn’t do to make them think she was pitying them.

“Danny…” Jazz started.

“They love us.” Danny interrupted. “They just don’t get it. We just need to make them understand.”

Jazz’s expression was pained as she set a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“They may love us,” Jazz said, “but they still hurt us.”

“They just don’t understand.”

“I know.”

“Why can’t they just believe us?” Danny said, his eyes wet.

“I don’t know.”

“I just…” Danny started, before biting his lip.

Jazz pulled him into her side, wrapping her arms around him. 

“They love us.” Danny whispered again. “They wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t love us.”

Jazz’s lip wobbled, and she closed her eyes. “I know, little brother. I know. They love us. But… but they still hurt us.”

Danny sniffled. 

After a moment of the siblings just holding each other, Babs spoke up. 

“I’ll keep you safe. They won’t be able to touch you here.”

They didn’t really look like they believed her, and she knew a promise like that was impossible to keep. But she wouldn’t stop until she could guarantee that these kids wouldn’t be hurt by their parents again.

[rederiswrites]

Menus, Oct. 23-30

Several people were open to seeing my menu planning, and it's something I enjoy doing well, so here we go!

Notes: My dishes can all be gluten free (they are, for us) by using gf pasta (we like Rummo brand gf noodles and Tinkyada are good too). Otherwise, we're pretty generally low carb and most things are from scratch, but typically pretty simple. Most of these rely on root vegetables or beans for their carbohydrates.

Feta tomato pasta and sausage --This was viral on Instagram a while back, and I decided to try it. Now my daughter requests it pretty often. I don't make it quite like the original--mostly, I add some zucchini, double the feta, and add a bunch of Italian seasoning. This link is pretty much the same thing. They add shallots, which does sound lovely but costs a bit extra. I cooked some sausage with the meal because I didn't want to load up on pasta, personally, as I'm still staying very low carb.

"Bowl of the Wife of Kit Carson"--modified caldo tlalpeño--Pity poor Maria Carson, whose indigenous name I can't even learn, now remembered by her husband's name. That aside, it's a family favorite. We make it with the entire can of chiles in adobo, but that's a family preference. The avocados are pretty much the vegetable in this one so uhh...have plenty. I make the rice separate, both because that way you can vary it depending on your spice tolerance and because that way the rice doesn't suck up all the soup for leftovers.

Roast whole chicken, roasted mixed root vegetables, and garlicky kale. I basted the chicken with avocado oil (expensive but healthy; feel free to sub cheaper vegetable oil), seasoned it with a Penzey's mix I like called Ozark Seasoning, and stuffed it with rosemary, onions, and garlic. The root vegetables can be whatever; mine were yellow beets (slightly less "earthy" tasting than red, which might be more appealing to some), rutabaga, and carrots. Salt, pepper, and garlic powder is enough, seasoning-wise. And the kale, I blanch and then saute with a LOT of garlic.

Garlic parmesan white beans, brussels sprouts, and Gujerati carrot salad. I've not made the beans yet; they'll be a new dish for us. Sound great, though, and I'm trying to learn more meatless dishes generally and bean dishes specifically. We like to halve or quarter our brussels sprouts, depending on size, steam them, and then eat them with sour cream. And the carrot salad is a longstanding family favorite, which I got from my well worn copy of Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking. This is almost the same recipe, but I don't add cayenne, and I wouldn't use olive oil, since it has such a low smoke point. I'd use peanut or canola or something. It's not spicy or "exotic" tasting, and it's been well-received at potlucks.

Pot Roast. There's no point giving a recipe for this one; just pick one that looks good to you. Just include lots of good veggies. I like carrots, onions, potatoes, and parsnips. It's fun to add a bag of frozen pearl onions, and I like frozen peas put in at the very end of cooking.

Tuna salad. I eat it over lettuce, the others eat it as a sandwich. Dinner for a tired night. My tuna salad is made with well-drained chunk light (in water), finely diced celery, finely diced green salad olives, salt, pepper, and mayo to bind. My family really likes the olives so I go heavy and also use a little of the jar liquid as a salt stand-in.

Deviled eggs and raw veggies with hummus. Another phone-in meal, or it would be if I didn't find making deviled eggs such a hassle. We all love them, but I have some inexplicable personal antipathy for how long they take to make. ANYWAY, my deviled eggs are the bestest, and you will not think so if you eat yours southern-style with (shudder) "salad dressing" instead of mayo, or sweet relish. No, mine are made with salt, pepper, mayo, and lots of finely minced green salad olives, and topped with paprika, preferably sharp paprika.

Pork tenderloin, frozen corn, and stewed apples and quince. Aren't we just POSH? Jacob got me a quince to try at the farmer's market. It's uh...well pretty much I guess it's like a rock-hard and fairly tart apple, with the granular texture of an Asian pear. They're generally eaten cooked, which is why I decided to stew it mixed with apples. So I just sliced the apples and the quince up fine (just leave out the quince if you don't have it which you probably don't, and maybe add a dash of lemon juice instead), simmered them in a couple tablespoons of apple cider (or juice; we had cider), and threw in a teaspoon of pie seasoning, a fistful of dried cranberries (the recipe called for raisins) and very approximately a tablespoon of allulose syrup. Obviously you could just use sugar instead. I topped mine with pecans and it was so so good. Oh, and also the pork: Usually two tenderloins come in a pack of tenderloins, so I put a different seasoning on each just for fun. Various blends. Lemon pepper and Montreal Steak Seasoning are favorites, but tonight I opened an unlabeled container in the pantry and discovered that it was rosemary salt the bestie made and left here, so I mashed it up with some garlic and put that on one, and did bbq rub on the other. The frozen corn....is frozen corn. Except, you know, microwaved.