fruit acceptance


Prompt: @whothehellisbella‘s song challenge - I’m In Here by Sia

A/N:This. Was. A. STRUGGLE!!! I wound up outlining a whole series that I felt really went with this song (yet to come), and this is the blob that I wrote for a one shot in in its stead. It’s angsty af and sooooo damn long. Idk team. Idk.

Warning: aaaangst, poor relationship dynamics.

Word Count: 6247 I’m fainting. This is the longest fic I’ve ever posted. I’m done.

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

“She gonna be okay?” Tony asked, handing Steve a cup of the shitty black sludge that the cafeteria passed off as coffee. His sharp brown eyes scanning the windows for any glimpse of you through the partially closed blinds. The muffled steady beeping of the monitors was a comfort, at least.

“Think so,” Steve sighed, finally lifting his gaze from his feet to mimic Tony’s glances into the room. He’d been seated opposite your door with his elbows on his knees and his head buried in his hands since your arrival. “As long as the grafts take and she gets through the quarantine stage, she should recover alright.”

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The fat Skunk

Summary:  A frazzled freshman student meets a conspicuously convivial skunk

I thought a bit of humor might be warranted between all the high stakes stories going around.  Enjoy!

Tex sat alone on one of the picnic tables, meditating.  His name wasn’t Tex obviously, but for the purposes of Elsewhere U it had to be.  The spring sunlight drifted down through the branches of the large oak trees, reminding the freshman of his southern home.  It was nice to be able to comfortably wear jeans outside of December, though that was hardly the most notable thing about attending Elsewhere.  It was an interesting transition to say the least, but after saving a rattled statistics teacher from a confused cat-thing the free ride scholarship was too good to pass up.  Not to mention the 15 gallons of ice cream.   Tex’s stomach rumbled as his mind came to the thought of food, a reminding him as to why he had come to this table in the first place.  The freshman untangled his legs and reached behind him for a small cooler.  Half way through retrieving a delicious turkey-swiss sandwich he realized he was not alone.  

He took a bite of his sandwich.  It was delicious.  Swiss cheese went really well with turkey and mayo.  Also it was really good on eggs.  Tex let his mind wander through the various uses of swiss cheese as he scanned the picnic area.  He wasn’t particularly worried about anything.  Fey got curious all the time, usually the smaller ones like pixies.  He’d traded bits of his lunch a few times for future favors or bits of information.    One of the bushes over to his left rustled slightly.  Tex ignored it, left hand idly checking the pouch on his hip that held a mess of salt packets and a box of iron nails.  It was probably just a cat, attracted by the scent of his lunch.  Or a dog.  Another pang of nostalgia hit him as the Texan thought of his dog back home.  He scratched at the ragged scar on the back of his hand.  Dogs at Elsewhere couldn’t be trusted.  

Suddenly a tiny black face poked out of the bush.  It stared right at Tex, looking into his eyes, into his soul, into his very being.  Which was made slightly less ominous by the fact is was stuck.  The tiny black form struggled, managing to get a single paw out from the thick brush.  Tex looked on, more concerned than afraid, as the furry creature attempted to free itself from its perennial prison.  It glanced up for a moment at him as if to say “Give me a second I got this”  before continuing to writhe against the Brush’s stubborn grasp.  A crow landed a few tables away and cawed, seemingly amused by the struggle of its landlocked counterpart.  Finally the creature pulled itself from the brush, landing in an undignified pile.  It picked itself up and glared at the crow as if to say, “So there”  before sauntering over to Tex.  The creature was a skunk.  A absurdly fat skunk.  In fact if it wasn’t for the signature white stripe and midnight black fur Tex would have said it was a different animal entirely.  Maybe a very small bear.   Its abdomen jiggled from side to side as it approached the picnic table.  It stopped in front of the bench and reared up on its hind legs, taking a moment to prepare itself before jumping onto the wooden platform.  The corpulent mephitis managed to get its fore legs onto the bench and began to struggle its wiggling way onto the seat.

Tex now stared at the skunk, half eaten sandwich forgotten in his hands.  The fat skunk continued to shimmy its way onto the picnic bench, its little feet dangling in the air as its fore claws scrabbled for purchase on the wooden bench.  Tex set down his sandwich.  His RA had persistently impressed upon him the importance of helping those in need while at Elsewhere, but really he just felt sorry for the poor struggling creature.  Besides, it was a Tuesday.  

Tex shifted to give the struggling stripe back a hand but the stoic stink cat held up a forestalling paw.  He glance at Tex, panting as he took a break from his wiggly climbing.  His expression seemed almost to say “just give me a minute, I got this.”  

Tex sat back down and waited patiently.  The skunk continued to wiggle its flabby torso onto the bench until its feet got purchase and then jumped onto the table itself.  It managed to hook a back leg this time and it rolled exhaustedly onto the table.  The two sat there like that for a moment, Tex openly staring at the skunk at it wheezed from the apparent exertion.  

Finally the skunk sat up and looked to Tex expectantly, his flab falling down to his sides adorably.  Tex stared at him and then, very slowly, reached into his lunch cooler and handed the skunk a green apple.  Green apples were the best.  They were sour.  And crunchy.

“You’ve earned it little buddy”  Tex said as the skunk graciously accepted the fruit.

Tex picked up his own sandwich and continued eating as the fat skunk bit into his apple.  They sat there for awhile.  Eating.  Both of them enjoyed the spring sunlight as the great day star reached its zenith, rays of gold filtering through the oak leaves far above and dappling the ground in bright shadows.

The skunk finished his apple.  Tex finished his sandwich.

They both sat there for awhile.  Relaxing.

“Nice weather we’re having”  the skunk said.


Okay that new Ava’s Demon update though like,

The whole Adam and Eve symbolism was perfect since it really does fit both Ava and Wrathia’s character:

Wrathia is the snake that tempts Ava (or Eve in this allegory) with power and the feeling of ecstasy that comes with it which is represented by the vial, which is an allegory for the forbidden fruit Eve took a bite from, and Ava loves it up until the point she realises that there are dire consequences that derive from accepting the vial and letting that “high” take over, much like how Eve and Adam are eventually banished from Eden after accepting the fruit.

I can’t really explain it better but I really do love these allegories and references woven into Ava’s Demon, it’s what makes it so amazing

Reign V (Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 1625

Summary: Royal AU: the reader is a princess next in line to take the throne. Bucky is a knight that has been put in charge of taking care of and protecting the reader.

Warnings: none

A/N: Yes, more Reign is finally here! Very overdue, but at least we are here. I hope you guys like this, let me know what you think!


not my gif

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pixie-pixel-land  asked:

What were the cubes in Spock fact #89?

In Star Trek TOS one of the foods we see eaten is these colourful cubes that are never otherwise acknowledged or explained and I have questions.

Seven things carried in passing trucks

1. That medium-sized tanker in a fetchingly sensible shade of silver. This is a shipment of very fine dream sand, as you would be able to discern if you could get close enough to read the hazard notice. I would not recommend getting quite that close, because if the tanker were to suffer a spillage everyone within a three-month radius would end up furiously sleeping for at least three months.

2. The small grey truck with a conspicuous ‘speed limiter installed’ sign. This is not actually a truck. It is two elephants on a specially-modified bicycle. You are only seeing it as a truck because that is what you expect a large grey object to be on a road of this size.

3. The large green truck with a stylised smiley face logo on it, heading West. This truck is full of spies. Literally full: they are stacked some seven deep in an ingenious spy stacking system which cannot be patented on account of being top secret. They are conservatively-dressed and have very serious faces, apart from the one at the bottom who is making fart jokes and being ignored.

4. That red shipping container, glimpsed briefly in traffic in the other lane. Contents: a slightly smaller red shipping container, containing a slightly smaller red shipping container, containing another, slightly smaller red shipping container, and so on. The source of so many shipping containers of non-standard dimensions is not obvious. In the smallest container is a miniature safe, locked, key nowhere in sight, emitting a furious buzzing noise.

5. The small orange shipping container, marked with a logo in a language you do not read. This is a shipment of fruit, primarily silver moon apples headed for the perilous realm, where they will form part of the fairy world’s seasonal fruit baskets. If you are offered one of these fruit baskets, do not accept it.

6. A small-size black and white horse carrier, no horse visible inside. This carrier was once used by one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and as a result has become a place of pilgrimage for ghosts. At the moment it is being used to transport the ghosts of Arthur Sullivan and W. S. Gilbert. They have obtained some highly sought-after permits to spend the night haunting a theatre in which Hamilton is being performed, and are making their way there right now.

7. Half a house, as transported on a special truck for the carrying of large things. This is a witch-squashing house, as popularised by the film the Wizard of Oz. These days, they are usually remotely controlled; essentially, they are the drones of the mystical world. This one has been damaged by being dropped from a great height onto a particularly rocky coven. It is being sent for repair in Swindon.

For that one anon who likes this ship; but also @sabakunoo for making me ship it too ;=; ❤️❤️ My hoe heart couldn’t resist ;=;

Kav cannot resist an older man; and one who tries to push them away - it just makes her see a challenge she knows she can overcome~

Food in the Hymn to Demeter

In this post I will speak about two things from the Hymn to Demeter that have been bothering me for years: why does Persephone eat food?; why is Persephone portrayed in a way that resembles more a mortal than a goddess?

Introduction notes, i) the dating of the Hymn it’s discussed, but it’s later than Hesiod’s Theogony and Homer’s works. Considering that, we must remember that Hesiod portrays Persephone as the awesome queen of Hades (realm) and also says “Persephone, whom Aidoneus -Hades- snatched away from her mother with the consent of wise Zeus”. (Th. 768, 774,913-914). Homer says nothing about her abduction, but portrays her as a dreadful queen as well. ii) The Hymn is written in a manuscript that is torn in certain parts, therefore the real text remains unknown to us; some authors have tried to restore it, but honestly, whatever it said it’s just an speculation.


Unless I’m mistaken, there is NO other mention anywhere of Greek gods/goddesses eating “non immortal food”. They only eat ambrosia and nectar. 

Let’s forget for a moment every possible meaning of the pomegranate (death, fertility, marriage acceptance, etc.). Now, why would a goddess eat something that is not divine-food? Why would a goddess eat “mortal food”?

There is a common belief in many mythologies around the world, where someone can’t eat food from the netherworld without being eternally tied to it. So let’s say Ancient Greeks also had this belief, or if they didn’t, they took it from a different culture (for example, from Mesopotamian or Egyptian myths).

The Hymn first says that Hades “stealthily, gave her a sweet pomegranate seed to eat” (372-373). This is supposed to be about food because “eat” φαγεῖν it’s in the text.. So, there is no doubt that Hades gives the pomegranate to Persephone as an edible thing.

Verse 373 has been discussed, because it says that Hades fed Persephone the seed “taking care himself that she might not remain always (by Demeter’s side)”. That “taking care himself” could also mean, according to some interpretations (Agar, Myres, Bonner, Faraone) something related to a magical act: Moving it to and fro abut himself -to make it a love charm-, passing it round his body, passing it round himself to unite it magically, etc. But whatever the meaning of Hades’ action is, the pomegranate was described previously as food. So whether Hades used magic or not, the thing is that Persephone ate the pomegranate seed.

One of the biggest troubles to analyze this topic is that the part where Persephone and Demeter meet again is torn in the manuscript. We only have random words. Look at the picture, the empty spaces after the [.

 What we basically have is that Persephone and Demeter hug each other, and something -we don’t know what- makes Demeter fear and ask:  “Child, I hope you didn’t / τέκνον, μή ῥά τι μοι σ // any food; tell me   βρώμης; ἐξαύδα, μ”. 

So whatever happened here, the thing is that we are talking about food (βρώμης). 

So… why a culture that portrays gods and goddesses as immortal superior beings that distinguish themselves from human not only for being ageless, but also for not needing food to live, gives us a myth of a young goddess that… eats food.

Remember, this is about food! It’s not a metaphor where pomegranate seed is marriage consummation or whatever, it’s about food and eating:  βρώμης (food),  φαγεῖν (eat),  ῥοιῆς κόκκον (pomegranate seed),  μελιηδέ’ ἐδωδήν (honey-sweet food).

There is consensus among scholars that the line where Persephone tells her version of her story contradicts the narrator’s version, because Hades doesn’t use compulsion or force on her. 

  • Some say she ate willingly and her words are a lie to hide her agency, since the ancient cultural codes didn’t allow women to display desire or have an active sexual/romantic initiative, they had to keep their “honor”. Primitive laws even asked women to complain in order to be trusted if they made accusations against men; for example, in Euripides’ Troades, when Helen complains she was taken against her will, she is told by Hekuba that she is lying: you also say that Paris took you away by force. Kidnapped you. Did you scream for help at all? Did any other woman hear you?. So according to ancient greek standards, there is no possible way that Persephone’s acceptance of the pomegranate could be shown as 100% willing, otherwise she would no longer be the chaste and reverent Persephone. I will leave two great quotes that summarize a bit this idea:

“The figure of the bride is thus poised between objectification and agency, desirability and desire of her own. She must be sufficiently reluctant to suggest that she will not stray once she is married, but she must also actively desire her new husband. To be sure, it was not decorous to speak of such desire directly” (Ruby Blondell)

“Perhaps this reflects the custom reported by Plutarch of having the bride eat a malon, a quince or apple, before she goes into the bridal chamber. Plutarch attributes the ritual to Solon’s legislation and suggests that the purpose was to ensure her sweet speech and that “the first embrace may not be unpleasant or hard to stand”. From Greek myth, however, we learn that the ritual accomplished more than ensuring that the bride would be pleasant to the groom. With this gesture she accepted the first food from her husband’s house, and her acceptance bound her to him, just as Persephone was bound to stay with Hades after she had eaten only two pomegranate seeds. The malon itself shows what would truly bind the bride to her husband. It occurs repeatedly in Greek literature as a symbol for love. By accepting this fruit, the bride symbolized her acceptance of the love her husband offered her.” (The Wedding in Ancient Athens) –> consider Persephone eats just after Hades speech-offerings to her.

  • Others say that Persephone makes up this lie to avoid being blamed for her thoughtlessness by not realizing what the food consequence was. She wasn’t forced to eat, but she should have avoided it.
  • Some say, there is no contradiction and Persephone is speaking the truth, she was forced. This would be an important way to distinguish the voices of males and females on the story. Helios, Zeus and Hades see the marriage as something good, meanwhile Demeter, Hecate and Persephone complain about it. Following this idea, maybe what happens in the missing text is that Persephone still looks so scared from the trauma, or conflicted for being forced to eat, that Demeter notices and makes the question. But, the odd thing is that the words Persephone uses for her speech are the same used by Demeter to make up her lie about being abducted by pirates (121 and 125 compared to 413 and 433).

Comment on Line 412: ἔμβαλέ μοι ῥοιῆς κόκκον, μελιηδέ’ ἐδωδήν : he put in my mouth* a pomegranate seed, sweet honey food. ἄκουσαν δὲ βίῃ με προσηνάγκασσε πάσασθαι. and unwillingly bodily forced me to eat.
*line 412 is odd because it says “embale moi” + “pomegranate seed”. Richardson says the use of embale moi alone, without further specifications it’s unusual in epic. Another example of “embale moi” it’s in Aristophane’s Frogs, 754 that says “ Put your right hand there” ( ἔμβαλέ μοι τὴν δεξιάν, ). In the Hymn we are not told that Hades put his hand on Persephone’s mouth, it just says verb (put, throw, push, etc) + object. Some authors, like Faraone, have thought that the expression could mean “throw”. Since there are tales where a man would throw an apple to a woman to gain a reciprocal love, -whether the woman is willing or under a spell- here Hades would use magic to assure Persephone’s return).

I still don’t know why an inmmortal goddess would eat human food. But, what I find highly important is that this idea of don’t-eat-underworld-food-if-you-don’t-want-to-be-trapped-there it’s something the characters of the Hymn are aware of; or at least, Hades, Demeter and Zeus know about it. Let’s remember that, even we have that laguna in the text, Demeter fears that Persephone could have eaten, and she asks her if she did, hoping the answer is negative. This means that the food-rule was so obvious and so important, that it’s the first thing that comes to Demeter’s mind when seeing Persephone again.

So, if the “underworld-food law” was something known to everyone, how could Persephone be the only one who ignored it? And even if she truly ignored it because she was “a child”, “a young goddess” or whatever, why did she accept not-immortal-food anyway? As a gift from xenia? The fruit that belongs to Hera, goddess of marriage?  Such a careless goddes we have here!


The Hymn to Demeter, portrays Persephone as a young girl who, besides being Demeter’s -a goddess- daughter, has no divine traits at all besides being beautiful.

If we read all the other Hymns, all gods are portrayed in majestic and sobrenatural ways. And gods are superior and awesome since the moment they are born. Hermes and Apollo are great examples, because they are just-born and they already have amazing traits (Hermes invents things, steals things; Apollo is extremely powerful and immediately asks for his prerrogatives, etc). And in the Hymn to Aphrodite, we see that even if she is humilliated by Zeus by falling in love with a mortal and she says she was “driven out of her mind”, she remains a superior, powerful and “divine-in-nature” being through all the Hymn (she can change her appearance, she is depicted as an awe to sight, etc).

But in the Hymn to Demeter, Persephone is nothing but a “maiden”. She doesn’t even seem like a “divine child”, she is just a simple child. We are only told that she is“trim-ankled” (2), flower-like (8), lovely to see (66), trim-ankled again (77)”, and that she is a young girl and Demeter’s daughter. Persephone lacks the awe-inspiring traits of deities, we could even say that nothing distinguishes her from any beautiful mortal girl. —> Probably, since the Hymn is to praise Demeter, there was no need to mention anything that identifies young Persephone as an individual goddess -like young Hermes, Apollo, Artemis, etc-. She must remain as the child and daughter. Probably there were stories about Persephone’s youth on her own, her specific powers and we just won’t get to know them.

It’s from lines 343 forward, when Persephone it’s in the underworld where we are told other things about her that are not only her beauty:

  • reverent/chaste (αἰδοίῃ 343), illustrious (ἀγαυὴν 348), wise (8δαΐφρονι 359), strong-minded (περίφρων 370).

Notice that both words refering to her intelligence come before the pomegranate-eating; we are told that she is wise and strong-minded and just after that she is given food by Hades. So… wouldn’t it be a huge contradiction that, this illustrious, wise and strong-minded goddess is actually so ignorant and unaware of a well-known-rule? This wise and intelligent goddess is actually so inattentive and careless that doesn’t even realize she was given a seed? 

Considering all the heavy symbolism related to marriage that lie in the act of eating and the pomegranate itself, I just find it impossible to believe that, as Apollodorus says, Persephone ate the seed “with no foreknowledge of the outcome of her act”

So, Persephone either ate willingly and knowing the consequences of the food; or she was truly forced by Hades, not with body-force as she tells Demeter, but by a food-magical bind. But such a thing, doesn’t make sense to me in the context of Ancient Greek marriage. note: According to Richardson, When Demeter asks in line 404 “ by what trick did the strong Host of Many beguile you?” (404) ( δόλῳ trap trick +   ἐξαπάτησε deception) it’s most than likely refering to the trick used to abduct her (how did he get to abduct you) and not about the eating (how did he trick you into eating?). Speculations on this, in a future post.

  • Yang, in the middle of the night: People's acceptable fruit combinations are strange. Like what are the rules?
  • Weiss, her eyes popping open, angrily glaring at the ceiling: ....
  • Yang: I mean like, strawberry-banana smoothies are great, everyone loves those y'know? But like, if you were to say a lemon-grape smoothie, that sounds gross.
  • Weiss, still angrily glaring: ....
  • Yang, having turned her head to look at Weiss: What do you think ba-
  • Weiss, breaking her silence, slowly shifting her eyes from the ceiling to Yang, pausing within her sentence for ~dramatic effect~: If you do not. Shut up. Right now. I will straight up kill you.
  • Yang, trying to hide her terror: .......oh.
Six Sentence Sunday- 7/2/17

“You made this…for me?” Sherlock questioned, staring at the picture perfect cake on the plater in Molly’s kitchen.

“Well, I mean, you were muttering in your sleep last night when you stayed over about what seems to be an undying love for cherries, and I happened to have just found a recipe for this cherry vanilla layer cake so…just thought I’d surprise you!” she explained with a bright eyes grin.

“Th-that’s incredibly thoughtful of you, Molly,” Sherlock managed to say softly, his lips spreading in a little smile as she excitedly and proudly got out a couple plates and utensils for them to dig in.  

He did actually think cherries were a perfectly tasty fruit, and he happily accepted the slice she gave him, appreciating the gesture and eager to dig in and enjoy her culinary creation. Though, as he happily ate, he also began to realize that there was something he needed to do after they finished their lovely treat.

It was probably time to tell her the real reason why he tended to talk about cherries in his sleep. ❤️🍒 Thanks to @therealbucky05 for sharing that recipe post and inspiring me! 😉 

Qui-Gon and Tahl Domestic AU

As @qwertyuiop678​ and I discussed over chat, this is a snapshot into the lives of stay-at-home celebrity cook Qui-Gon Jinn and archival professor Tahl Uvain (She didn’t change her name after marriage, because I’m Chinese and Chinese women when married get referred to as Mrs whatever like Wong-tai, for example, but also don’t change their last names officially). Of course, there’s also their adopted son, little two-year-old Obi-Wan. None of them are Force-sensitive, or Force-sensitivity does not exist in this version of the SW universe.

Pies, Books, and Swords

Qui-Gon Jinn has made quite a good name for himself, as far as holonet cooking shows go.

Jinn’s Den of Dessert Djinns (the producer had insisted on the name, much to Qui-Gon’s embarrassment) features a “ruggedly handsome, yet quietly serious” (according to several raving reviews) father-of-one who, once a week, is broadcast live from his family kitchen as he makes various dishes. Contrary to what the show’s name suggests, Qui-Gon’s works actually vary between dessert, confectionery, and savoury courses.

Viewership had been climbing steadily, until one particular incident rockets the entire family very firmly into galaxy-wide stardom.

In retrospect, Qui-Gon does not understand how it didn’t happen sooner.

Filming day in the Jinn-Uvain household is always slightly more hectic than usual; Tahl fairly sprints out of the house after pressing her lips to the crown of Obi-Wan’s head (and getting a peck on the cheek from Qui-Gon, too). When the front door slams shut after her coat-tails, Qui-Gon puts on one of his fancier, stain-resistant shirts, rolls up his sleeves slightly, and moves Obi-Wan into a high chair.

“Yo-yo,” Obi-Wan says, succinctly.

An entire year of raising this little hellion has gifted Qui-Gon with the ability to understand baby babble, and so he barely pauses between tying the strings of his apron and reaching into the conservation unit for yoghurt.

“Thank dada,” Obi-Wan lisps happily as he tucks in.

The doorbell rings. Qui-Gon runs an affectionate hand over Obi-Wan’s red-gold hair before running to answer it.

Set-up is routine, and the holocam crew comfortable friends, after two years of working together; Obi-Wan is kept amused both by his yoghurt and the passing grins of crewmembers.

Lighting is adjusted, Qui-Gon’s outfit is given a once-over, and the producer counts down to live broadcast; Qui-Gon smiles and begins to speak to the holocam. A crewmember is dispatched into a side-room to watch Obi-Wan.

Calamity strikes when Qui-Gon begins to roll out the first batch of dough for his muja pie base.

The more sharp-eyed viewers of the show might notice that a little hand slips up over the edge of the low sideboard, snatching away a ripe muja-slice. Then another. And another.

Qui-Gon, occupied with stretching out the dough, does not see the rapid depletion of the most important ingredient in his muja pie until he finishes laying a baking-tin with dough, and reaches for the first slice of fruit.

His hand grasps air.

Qui-Gon glances down and to his right, finds a sideboard devoid of fruit - and a toddler crouching down behind it, with juice-stained lips and eyes wide with innocence.

Father and son stare at each other across this diagonal plane of silent thought: I-didn’-do-nothing-dada and Kid-I’ve-literally-caught-you-red-handed.

“My apologies if you’re watching this,” Qui-Gon says suddenly, causing the producer to sit forward. “But I’m afraid we’re going to have to make wasaka-berry pie instead of muja today. My stock of muja appears to have been stolen.”

With these words, he bends down out of the shot for a moment and comes up with an armful of toddler.

Obi-Wan squirms a bit as he tries to hide his juice-streaked hands behind his back, but is impeded by his father’s hands under his armpits. He settles with pouting.

The crew, being professionals, hide their awwws behind their sleeves. The producer starts, and then glances slit-eyed to the right, where a panicked crew-member stumbles in from the hallway, obviously having just discovered he has misplaced the child he was supposed to be watching.

“Say hello, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says, deadpan. “You’re live in front of the galaxy now. You should at least introduce yourself.”

Obi-Wan waves obligingly, staring perceptively at the camera that swivels to focus on him.

“Hello,” he says, grinning hesitantly. It is nevertheless enough to make his dimples visible.

The producer makes a sound somewhat like an asphyxiating loth-cat. It is unclear whether she does so because of the sheer adorableness, or because her prospects of career advancement may now be severely impaired.

Undaunted, Qui-Gon moves on with the show without even a hitch, fishing a carton of wasaka-beries out of the conservator and setting Obi-Wan to mashing them. Raising is voice over the splat-splat of overenthusiastic toddler fists meeting plastiweave bag, Qui-Gon begins to calmly explain the changes to the muja pie recipe now that the main ingredient is different.

“Wasaka-berries are sweeter than muja, so I would recommend using less-”


“-less sweetener, or perhaps none at all. If you have a-”


“-sweet tooth - Not so loudly, Obi-Wan - then perhaps Chandrillan cane-sugar would be a good choice.”

“Dada. Done.”

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. You may take the rest for yourself.”


Obi-Wan accepts the small serving of fruit that remains, and accepts being lifted off the tabletop and placed back on the floor with good grace.

A little “Bye-bye, dada,” rises into the air from the general vicinity of Qui-Gon’s right leg, and then the pat-pat of small feet passes out of the range of the audio-recording devices.

As Qui-Gon continues, seemingly not noticing the small purple handprints that now dot the front of his apron, someone taps the producer on the shoulder.

“What is it?” the producer groans quietly, taking a sip of Qui-Gon’s Sapir blend from the mug beside her chair.

“Our viewer numbers have doubled in the last ten minutes.”


Qui-Gon is a picture of calm when the producer calls him and asks if he would be amiable to Obi-Wan appearing next week.  He simply states that he should need to discuss this with his wife.

Tahl returns from a long day at the archives to find her husband bouncing Obi-Wan up and down on his lap as he reviews the draft of his latest cookbook.

“Mama!” Obi-Wan yells as he slips out of his father’s grasp, tumbles across the floor, and careens over to her.

She snatches him up. “Hello, my darling.”

“I made pie!”

“You did? After papa’s show?”


“What?” Tahl turns to Qui-Gon, who is wearing a somewhat sheepish expression. She tilts her head at him. “Qui, please don’t tell me that this is why Plo from down the street told me on my way back from the hover-bus stop that our little boy must be quite a handful.”

Qui-Gon winces. “He stole all the muja live on galactic holonet - I had to include him on the show. It saved what would have been a disaster difficult to explain.”

Tahl stares at him for a moment.

“On the upside, our producer called and said he wants to make this a permanent arrangement. Apparently our viewership numbers exploded.”

Obi-Wan tugs on Tahl’s hair impatiently.

Tahl raises an eyebrow at Qui-Gon as she turns to go. “We’re talking about this later.”


“I mean it.”

“Yes, dear,” Qui-Gon says, sliding off his chair to kiss her on the forehead.

Tucked into bed with a giant hardcover print book taller than him, Obi-Wan giggles as his mother teaches him to read. Print books are rare - datapads and holo-volumes have largely replaced the ancient paper of old, but Tahl firmly believes in the magic of archived works.

“Why do you like this story so much, Obi?” Tahl asks as Obi-Wan eagerly turns the pages.


“That is the name of the book,” Tahl smiles, running a hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. “But the hero doesn’t actually fight with it, remember? He talks his way into peace.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan insists, focusing on the pictures. “Like dada.”

Tahl’s hand pauses in his hair.

Obi-Wan giggles as his mother suddenly reaches down and pulls him into a hug.

“Yes,” Tahl whispers into Obi-Wan’s little locks. “Just like your father.”

In the hallway, Qui-Gon tucks his apron under his arm, and smiles.

“Qui-Gon,” Tahl says, later, after Obi-Wan has been tucked in - “If Obi-Wan is on the show, I reserve the right to appear on my days off, too.”

Qui-Gon looks at her fondly. “We’ll need a new name for the show, then.”

“Uvain-Jinn’s comedy of cooking horrors.”

“No. I’m the cook, my name comes first.”



Plotless little AU fic that took waaay too long to finish (sorry qwerty, you know what happened) But here we are! Feel free to reblog as you wish.

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animals-bring-happiness  asked:

Since Leafeons can get their energy through photosynthesis, should they also have another source of food? Would it be fair to assume that they can handle treats/rewards for good behavior, or would this all be too much for their diet?

A lot of grass-types can survive on photosynthesis to a degree. Ones that work/battle/train often need their diet supplemented. For Leafeon, an omnivore-based diet (leaning a bit heavier on the meat) would be best. Many Pokémon centers and shops sell pre-made diets, but you can feed them food you prepared yourself. Most like beef, chicken, or lamb (seafood tends to be snobbishly accepted). Peeled fruit, whole grains, and fresh veggies should supplement.