• y'all are always hugging each other
• hand kisses
• laughing your asses off with eachother
• him staring at your butt a lot instead of just smacking, grabbing, or rubbing it cause he’s a lil punk
• “just touch it and stop staring!”
• “my eyes are touching it y/n..”
• happy weirdos
• he thinks that he’s the funniest guy ever but you don’t so you fake laugh a lot
• but it’s only to gas him
• you love gassing up your hard working baby
• after his performances, you’ll usually be backstage with a towel, water, and kisses
• “you did well baby”
• he’d hug you but you’ll just push his sweaty ass away
• “ew get the fuck off of me”
• he’d straight face you and walk away, taking the towel and water but he would understand why you said that when he got to the dressing room and laugh with the other members about it
• soft boyfriend
• he just wants his kisses
• you are the big spoon sis
• running your fingers through his hair
• he’ll fall asleep fast
• you taught him how to braid so when he’s at the dorms, he tries to braid the members hair but fails
• he always tells you and you-
• “baby their hair is straight af, now look at mine”
• “ohh right”
• for some reason, he loves kissing your belly like you’re pregnant or sum
• but he tells you that it’s because y'all dance in bed a lot so you could never know
• which scares you most of the time
• “chill you dick”
• foot massages
• him writing smol songs about you
• he calls you cutie or princess or just baby instead of sexy or any name along those lines
• sitting on his lap
• not caring if you play around with the members because he knows where your heart is
• “i love this what did you put in it?!”
• “it’s ham and cheese”
• y'all are so bubbly
• not really that innocent
• y'all barely disagree with each other
• singing karaoke together
• ‘thirsty for love’ faced ass
• but as your relationship gets older, he comes around with the butt touching etc
• he’s such a tease
• he keeps his arm wrapped around you a lot
• going shopping together
• he can’t go thirty minutes without checking up on you
• he randomly raps in your ear when y'all are cuddling
• which drives you wild
• his voice is so cute and-
• he adores you and he thanks you everyday for being in his packed schedule ass life
• it’s really hard seeing him late at night when he’s been practicing with two groups all day nonstop
• so sometimes y'all hold eachother the tightest you can and lowkey tear up.
• yeah, y'all fall asleep in each other’s arms often
• you pray for him every night
• you cook him his favorite meal when he says that he’s hungry
• he cleans the plate everytime
• he calls you his wife a lot because i mean, you will be his wife
• he loves you a lot, just as much as you love him and he would never hurt you
• vice versa
• seriously, y'all are in a deep ass love
i've enjoyed your prompt fills so much, thank you for sharing them!! if you feel like it: chef!andrew trying (and failing) to woo picky eater neil with fancy food? :)
The thing about growing up on the run is that you never really develop a palate.
You eat what’s there to be eaten, whatever you manage to stuff in your pockets while your mother distracts the cashier trying to haggle for cigarettes, as if it’s anywhere near possible to haggle in a 7/11.
You eat school lunches, bland chicken nuggets and congealed mac and cheese and unseasoned carrots with those little close to expired fruit cups with the peaches and cherries and simple syrup.
You drink gas station coffee—maybe it stunts your growth, but you drink it anyway—and fill old plastic water bottles from drinking fountains or public restroom sinks.
At least, that’s what Neil tries to explain to Matt one day, when Matt invites Neil to his favorite restaurant in his hometown. It just so happens that Matt’s hometown is New York City, and the chef at this place has a Michelin star, but Neil isn’t on the run anymore and his paycheck is hefty enough that he can afford it.
A beautifully detailed slice, cheese shows tomato sauce underneath so we know there is indeed tomato sauce under it, but it is still cheesy enough without overdoing it! And damnit, I don’t even like pepperoni but those look tasty enough. Crust could use some work tho, looks store bought but can’t blame for that, not everybody has time to bake home-made dough 8/10
Bolder than the classic pepperoni pizza, this time with what I think it’s salami and olives, but the rest, eeeeh i don’t like that gradient on the cheese and the crust looks like cardboard 4/10
A traitor, this pizza will get your hands dirty, look at that narrow crust and the dripping cheese, there’s no way you’re not gonna use a napkin after handling it 2/10 proceed with caution
This pizza feels weird. The cheese is pale, the pepperoni looks more like wax seals and the extra toppings look like creepy crawlies. The crust is the only good thing but still 0/10 are you sure you wanna eat that
It looks like Samsung tried to reform itself. It has done its best (look at those red borders! that’s tomato sauce!), but there’s still a long way to go. Pepperoni doesn’t look like pepperoni with those highlights, and the crust looks like a smooth churro and it kinda makes the pizza look like a pie. But still 6/10 for effort
For some reason, US people complain that Domino’s puts very few toppings on their pizzas, but I had Domino’s and that never happened. I guess this is how an US pizza looks like. 2/10 for misguided minimalism also what the hell those green rhombuses are
A big slice that feeds you for the whole morning. It means good, but the lack of details on the crust makes it look unappetizing, and the cheese isn’t as well detailed as Apples, so it looks like some sort of fungal infection. At least they got creative with the pepperoni disposition 6/10 it isn’t pretty but it tries its best
A dazzling pizza with weird gleaming pepperonis, but look at that cheese! Smooth, melted, bubbly, but won’t drip and leave you gross like Microsoft’s! And tomato sauce confirmed! The crust also looks nice enough. 8/10 would order again
Its assymetry is more apparent than the others and makes it feel that there’s something off with this pizza. Also narrow crust syndrome. 3/10 not bad but not the best pizza in town, lacks personality
Twitter’s little cousin. I have a feelings that it’s made with cheap ingredients. 2/10
LG went for Messenger’s look, but it doesn’t quite fit it. 4/10
That’s it. That’s the one. How can you say no to a whole pizza? 10/10
1 lb ground pork sausage (make sure it says “sausage”)
8 oz cream cheese, (no need to soften)
2 cans (10 oz each) of Rotel brand diced tomatoes & green chilies
15 oz can of corn, drained
8 oz medium cheddar cheese, shredded
Garnish for Queso Dip:
1 roma tomato, diced
1 Tbsp chives or geen onion, finely chopped
In a large dry pot or deep skillet over med/high heat, brown sausage (10-12 min), breaking it apart with your spatula (the sausage releases enough oil to grease the pan). When browned, remove excess grease by pushing a paper towel around the pan with spatula until fully saturated then discard.
Cut cream cheese into pieces and stir it into browned pork until melted and incorporated.
Add 2 cans un-drained Rotel tomatoes, 15 oz can drained corn, and 8 oz shredded cheddar (reserve some cheddar to garnish the top if desired). Cook over med heat, stirring occasionally just until bubbly and cheese is melted. Remove from heat, garnish with fresh tomatoes, reserved cheddar and chopped chives. Serve with tortilla chips.
i just walked in on my housemate about to have a wine and cheese bubble bath with their partner and they awkwardly asked if i would like to participate in their date and i’ve never felt so viscerally like taako during the stolen century in my life
THIS IS MY FIRST SHANNON ONE SHOT AND MY FIRST REQUESTED FIC. (GASP AND AAAHHHHHHH) IT’S FOR THE ANNON THAT REQUESTED SOME FLUFFY SHANNON! I HOPE YOU SEE IT AND ENJOY IT!!!!!
*RUNS TO HIDE WHILE YOU ALL READ*
She’d been distant since their last date and Shannon couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He did everything right, he thought. He was early, brought flowers. He opened every door for her, pulled her chair out. He was attentive and a gentlemen. He held her hand, he told her she was beautiful. He didn’t order for her at dinner. He never left her side at the party, always keeping his hand on the small of her back, rubbing his thumb across the bare space where her dress met her skin. They shared a passionate kiss at the end of the night and she thanked him for a wonderful evening.
A/N - Yes, it’s rough. But it’s here. Whatever. ;)
The morning following their mother’s
death, Katniss is up well before dawn, climbing over her sister to get out of
bed without waking her. When she sees me
wide awake on my make-shift floor bed watching her- because I can’t not watch her- her nostrils flare as she glares at me. But
she might be angry at a lot of things aside from, or even instead of me, like fate, and I’m used to
being on the wrong end of anger from my mother anyway so I do what I usually
do, cast my eyes down and make it clear I know I don’t matter.
I listen as she tends the fire and
then creeps into the bedroom where their mother’s body is. When she comes out, her back is to me, so I let
myself watch her again. She’s dressed
now, out of her sleeping gown and in her usual trousers and tunic. She immediately slips out the front door.
I get up and fold my bedding, and then
set it on a chest in the corner. I don’t
know what to do with myself next. Work is
already starting at the bakery, and I know I could easily use that as an excuse
to disappear myself, but that doesn’t seem right: While it might relieve
Katniss to find me gone when she comes back, I worry about Prim waking up
So instead, I light a candle-lantern
and explore the kitchen as quietly as possible by the flickering light, taking
stock of how out-of-stock they are of items and food. There are some canned goods, but too few and
not a good variety. And there’s no game
of any sort, which surprises me since the entire District knows Katniss hunts
to feed them. I wonder if they’re
keeping it stored outside in a coldbox, but I’m not ready to go prowling around
the back yard in the still-dark. Some of Prim’s cheese is wrapped in wax paper
on the counter, and a new batch is hanging suspended over a bowl to drain away
its moisture, squeezed and tied into a tight ball of burlap.
Last of all is a small bag of stale
rolls. She hasn’t been to the bakery in
four days, so these are the ones Katniss traded squirrels for with my father
the last time I saw her. But there’s
half of them left, and they’re on the edge of molding. I can’t think of why they haven’t eaten the
bread, unless it’s because they were too wrapped up in the care of their mother
and in grief for what was coming.
At least that’s something I can fix.
No more trading Katniss’ squirrels
They might day-old or fresh, I don’t
care, but from now on I’m bringing them every spare roll and loaf of bread I
can find, keep back or steal if I have to from the bakery on the days I work, which
I assume will still be seven days a week.
So now they’ll have bread and extra squirrel to eat.
It’s something I can do, because I
It’s something I can do because they
deserve it. No one should go
hungry. Not when pigs get food that
humans can eat.
And it’s something I can do to be
I look back to Prim, still buried
beneath the covers and little more than a thin lump even though she’s fourteen,
and remember the way her eyes would light up and she’d smile whenever she’d
stop outside the bakery as a little girl and stare at the sweets she couldn’t
Forget just bread, the Mellark
family bakery is going to start sparing more than that, even if I have to pry
it from my mother’s iron fists.
I force myself to relax. Being
indignant at my mother, for things I could have, and I should have done out of my own sense of what was right,
wasn’t going to fix what was past.
There’s a tin with what looks and
smells like mint leaves semi-dried and crushed up for tea, so I figure that’s
something to occupy my time. I take some
hot coals from the hearth and coal from the bucket for the cook stove so I can
boil some water and make what I can of the rolls and cheese for breakfast. I hope that I’m not misappropriating a
heating resource, but I didn’t see either of the girls eat the night before,
and I’m hoping it will be helpful to make sure Prim has breakfast when she
The smell of toasting bread and melting
cheese has started filling the house by the time Katniss comes back twenty
minutes later. I’d eventually found lard
in a ceramic jar on the counter, and put my limited culinary mind to work from
there. I’d coated the bottom of a cast iron skillet with a healthy dose of it,
cut up the best of the rolls into halves and compressed them into the pan together,
then melted off some more lard to brush onto the top. I couldn’t find salt, but there’d been dried
herbs hanging by bundles in the window, so I’d crushed rosemary and sage over
the bread, and then crumbled some of Prim’s cheese over the top and put the pan
in to brown and bake.
Katniss stops almost the moment she’s
inside and stares, looking from me, to the stove, to the cup of hot mint-water
I’d been drinking out of and back again.
Even though it’s starting to get light outside, it’s still mostly just
candlelight and glow from the fire across the room; it makes her eyes look wide
and dark and full of rage.
I shrink on the inside. Trying to be helpful might’ve looked to her like
I was making myself at home. Or maybe it
doesn’t matter; maybe it’s just resentment at my presence at all.
“I’ll, um… I’m going to bring back bread today from hom- from the bakery,” I
say, so nervous that my voice cracks at first.
“To replace this, I mean.”
She doesn’t move, and she’s still
staring and silent, only she’s boring into my eyes with hers. I cough because of my nerves and then fill a
second cup with the mint tea and put it on the counter near her, for her.
“I hope it’s okay,” I mumble. “I didn’t want her to wake up and be hungry
on top of everything else.” I start to apologize, “I didn’t mean to just-”
“It’s… okay…” There’s a long pause, and then, something unexpected. A “Thank you.”
My head snaps up and I search her
eyes. They look the same. I feel sure they’re angry, but I can’t
reconcile them to the quietness of her voice or the sentiment. We stare at each other for a long
time. I don’t know what I want as I
search her eyes. I’m still in shock.
Prim moans and mutters in her sleep
behind us. Katniss’s attention belongs
to her and she’s immediately at the bed and shaking Prim gently from whatever
nightmare she’s trapped in. I watch Prim
as the fog of nightmare evaporates when she wakes to Katniss
sitting on the edge of the bed comforting her with a smile that…
…A smile that absolutely takes my breath
She manages somehow to be genuine in it, even though
her eyes are watering.
These Everdeen women, so strong, so used to surviving with grief. I feel hollow in my chest for them. I want to fix it, even though I don’t have the power to.
Prim scoots half into Katniss’ arms and Katniss rocks her and murmurs reassurances to her,
It’s okay, little duck.
It’s okay, little duck. You’re
Prim’s fourteen, but something about
the way she easily accepts the comfort makes her look young.
Though it doesn’t make Katniss look
old, by any means. It makes her look…
I snap my head to stare at my
mug. Thoughts like that are thoughts I
Katniss’ voice continues to sooth
behind me, though, the voice a melody. Katniss-of-few-words. Katniss-of-scowls. Katniss-of-survival. None of those are here, a dozen steps behind
me. The voice is a voice of…
My mind wanders back to when I was
five. The first time I saw Katniss,
heard her sing at assembly… My mind stays there, drifting.
“Peeta’s made us breakfast, little
duck,” I hear, still in that gentle, loving voice, and it pulls me from the memory of when I first fell in love with the dark-haired little girl, back when I was just an awkward little five-year old boy who thought treasures like Katniss Everdeen could be had just for being in awe of them. “Come
on, let’s get up and eat. Doesn’t it smell good,” she whispers.
I look back over my shoulder. Katniss senses my attention and looks up at
me. I’d think that maybe they’re meaningless words, but I’ve never in my life
heard Katniss say anything meaningless, and her expression doesn’t seem
put on. It gives me some
I nod, busy myself pouring another
mug of mint-water for Prim and then moving all three cups to the table, and I’m
just opening the oven by the time Katniss has gotten Prim up and sitting at the
A rush of heat comes out when I open the little oven door, and the smell of
the food makes my stomach growl.
And if possible, I feel a little
growl of satisfaction- and relief- in my chest
when I set it down onto a trivet in the center of their table because the
Everdeen women are literally wide-eyed with amazement and sniffing the steam. Prim tries to pull the smell of it to her
through the air with a waving hand. I
haven’t eaten either, and the sight of the bread-and-cheese bake looks even
better than what I’d guessed it would. The
bread has turned perfectly golden brown from the effect of the lard, and the
cheese itself is bubbling and perfectly caramelized. The sprigs of the herbs I used almost make it
look like a fancy meal.
We all hesitate, awkward. I give a
mild swear as I realize I hadn’t pulled out anything for us to eat with, and Prim’s
chair scrapes on the floor.
“Sit, Peeta. I’ll do it,” she insists with enough
intensity and desire to help that I do.
Katniss and I avoid looking at one
another as Prim flits around us, laying out the plates. For some reason, maybe trying to grasp
normalcy after the day and night before, Prim makes a big deal of it and
Katniss and I wordlessly agree to go with it for her sake.
“We need to say grace,” Prim
says as soon as she sits.
I look back and forth between
them. We don’t say grace in my house and
I’m not sure what the protocol is. I
remember my father saying it sometimes, when I was very young, but my mother
doesn’t like it and at some point it stopped.
“You do it,” Prim says to
Katniss’ eyes catch mine, and she
looks uncomfortable. Prim gives a frustrated
whimper, on the verge of tears. Yes, this breakfast is her attempt at fighting
off the dark.
So Prim starts on her own.
you for this drink, and the food we are about to eat. Thank you for brining Peeta in our time of
need-” Katniss and my eyes catch even though our heads are bowed, and I think I
read panic there. I can’t feel hurt by
it, because I feel panic myself. “And thank you for…”
Prim starts to break down, but she pushes through, “Thank you for our
parents, even though they are gone.”
She says amen and Katniss quietly
echoes it to show solidarity.
The question of how to dish up is
answered without my having to ask; Prim says I cooked it, I serve it.
I wipe my hands on my trousers, my
palms sweaty, but then obey.