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pjulian · 9 months ago

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Shoreline Cafe - In the land…

In the mood for a latte, american breakfast, and skipping class, I (guiltily) dragged julian to shoreline cafe before (during) class a wednesday morning.

Being one of the only walkable food spots in the cc area, (who knows when sushi gogo will return?) It is a frequented cafe of ours.

Staffed by what seems like exclusively twenty-something college students, Shoreline Cafe usually offers iffy service, but good food.

It’s best feature is easily the view, being literally beachside but nicely protected from the sun, wind, and sand.

Starting with our quintessential espresso, we both got vanilla lattes. Mine oat, of course. Truly unbelievable that julian didn't get a mocha. Really solid flavor, but not jaw dropping. We have previously had their hot lattes, also great. Interestingly, always served in a different style of cup.

Moving onto the mains, i got the two egg breakfast. julian got the chilaquiles. A bit sloppy on the presentation of mine but not a huge concern. I am a huge fan of full breakfasts, i love just picking at like five different things. It's hard to mess up toast, but it was good. The potatoes were also great, cooked well and seasoned beautifully, crunchy but soft inside. The sausage is positively to die for, at least for me. I could have eaten a plate of like, twenty sausage patties. The eggs were... Eggs. Never my favorite, but I smothered them with ketchup.

As mentioned before, service here can be a bit spotty. It seems the waiters disappear for decent chunks of time. They're all kind, but julian and I were sitting at the table, plates very obviously demolished, for a good 20-30 minutes sans check. Eventually it arrived, pretty standard prices around $25 per person.

All in all, I do love the shoreline cafe. Something about it, perhaps the sunshine, feels comforting. Food is actually good, and worth the ok service. I will continue to look forward to more irresponsible breakfasts.

★★★ 1/2 / 5

Until next time,

Read julian's thoughts on his food below ⬇️

shoreline cafe on its own is just a fine little thing that i probably wouldnt go out of my way to eat at if given the choice but paired with a morning college class that im too tired to attend and a cripplingly empty stomach (plus pjs manipulation) my brain suddenly turns it into the most gourmet and extravagant of meals i could possibly ingest. pjs on the money when it comes to the slow service but if you get a seat on the deck its not really much of an issue considering the gorgeous view of the beach and ocean that keeps you occupied, only really becomes a problem if you show up with your stomach acid already burning a hole through your abdomen like we do. i always try and spot some dolphins or something on the horizon but theyve never come, only boring shit like seagulls and swimmers but still pretty beautiful nonetheless.

ive always gotten a burger or something else lunch-oriented every time weve gone here but this time i decided to switch it up and got chilaquiles instead to prove to everyone in the restaurant that i was a #realmexican despite my light skin and broken spanish. the chilaquiles came with eggs and a bowl of fruit which was appreciated, i typically prefer a fried or over easy egg on top of them but i got scrambled in case they were on the side and they were. no big deal just not really my preference, i guess i couldve asked the waiter to put them on top but like i dont know i didnt really want to inconvenience them. like i didnt want to be that guy who asks for the eggs on top yknow. and then the chefs are all annoyed cause they gotta put the eggs on top for the little gay kid skipping class. anyways besides that the chilaquiles were good, not the best ive ever had but still good. liked the salsa had a kick but not overwhelmingly spicy either. the little fruit cup was a welcome addition it had pineapple in it and im not the biggest fan of pineapple but any fruit with breakfast is good to me.

overall shoreline cafe isnt really all that on its own but if youre a student looking to kill time or just down by the beach in general and wanting to grab a bite then its not a bad pick, even just for the view alone. id give it 3 and a half stars.

thats the facts,

julian

Shoreline Cafe: 3.5 ★

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jinxispunk · 1 year ago

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darlin'

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x reader

Summary: a lazy Sunday morning in Austin

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, reader's age is not specified, only description of readers physical appearance is that they have long hair, so much fluff (let me know if I missed anything)

W/C: 591

A/N: this is my first ever Joel fic and my first drabble I've put up on Tumblr omg (pls lemme know what you think and if you enjoy)

The first thing you hear when you wake up isn’t the chirpy birdsong singing through the open window. It isn’t the buzz of cicadas, and it isn’t the faint sound of one of your neighbours mowing their lawn.

The first noise that fills your ears is Joel’s heavy, contented breathing, next to you in bed.

As long as you’ve known Joel, it’s like he has no idea how to really, fully relax. He’s always switched on, ready to jump to aid should Sarah or Tommy or you come calling. Its just who he is. But right now, you’ve never seen him look so peaceful, and any irritation you held in response to his heavy breathing waking you up immediately dissipates when you notice it. The furrow in his brow is gone, the tension he always carries in his shoulders, in his jaw, they’re nowhere to be seen.

He starts to stir, stretching like a cat thats just found the perfect beam of light to rest under, and he reaches out, pulling you closer into his chest.

“Mornin’ darlin’”, he manages through his croaky morning voice.

“Morning gorgeous”, you say as you push his hair out of his face, giving him a peck on the nose.

His fingers are playing with the ends of your hair, which is falling in every which direction onto the crisp white sheets of your shared bed. He reciprocates your kiss with one to your own nose, then your cheeks, your forehead, and finally your lips. You hum against him, kissing him for a while - it could be minutes, it could be an hour - before reluctantly pulling back. He gives you a dejected, pleading look, to which you reply,

“I’ll make you some coffee?”

His frown melts into a smile and he hums, quietly telling you he’ll be downstairs in not too long, and you will yourself out of bed and onto your feet. You’re wearing only one of Joel’s band tees; its far too deep into the Texas summer to be wearing anything bulkier. Sarah stayed over at a friend’s house last night, you remember as you wander past her room, making a mental note to remind Joel she needs collecting in the early afternoon. You slowly plod your way downstairs, stopping by the record player on the counter to play your favourite Elvis album at the moment, before situating yourself by the hob to start on breakfast.

Not long into your self-serenade of ‘Suspicious Minds’ while you cook your eggs scrambled and Joel’s fried, you hear gentle footsteps down the stairs, and not a minute later two strong bare arms wrap around your midsection, beginning to rock you to the rhythm of the record playing. Leaning your head back onto his shoulder, you melt into his touch. He smells like tobacco and vanilla and fresh sheets, and he feels like home.

You turn around in his arms after a few minutes, pecking his lips, before ducking under his arm, sliding over to the pot to start on his coffee. As you do that, he wades over to the fridge, picking out your favourite orange juice before pourring you a glass. Once your eggs on toast are done, you carry his coffee over to the table, and he carries your orange juice, and you both sit and eat and begin to properly wake up.

Sitting there, looking at him, while hes looking at you, and you’re smiling, and he’s scrunching his nose up to make you laugh, you decide that Sundays are your favourite days.

dividers: saradika-graphics

#pedro pascal #pedro characters #joel miller #joel miller drabble #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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space-mermaid-writing · 3 years ago

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House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #House Arrest #Chapter 1 #my writing #Clint #clint barton #hawkeye #loki laufeyson #imagine #chef reader #mcu #marvel

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imagininghierophant · 4 years ago

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Hello! I love your writing very much, may you please write a scenario of Kira Yoshikage with a S/O who is an insomniac please? Thank you!

I am on it, anon! I do apologise in advance if this isn’t that accurate or great since I focus a lot on part 3 of JoJo, but I am willing to give it a try. Hope this turned out somewhat okay! Also my first time attempting a scenario request so thank you very much! -Bambi.

Soothing Lavender

[Kira Yoshikage x Insomniac!Reader] [One-Shot] [Gender-Neutral] [Word Count: 575] [WARNINGS:] Lustful Intentions

""Restless night again?" Your spouse queried without shifting away from the stove. He must have caught the sound of bare feet against the rigid boards of the stairs while you made your way down. The aroma of grease welcomed you as you blundered your way over to the gentleman making you breakfast, which was a tradition of fried eggs and bacon with wholemeal toast.

You couldn't help but lean your jaw on Kira's shoulder, having difficulty maintaining your body upright. This was not the first incident you had with sleepless nights; on most occasions, when you went to bed for the past few weeks, every night appeared to have merged into one. It was starting to get vexatious to the point where you'd devote anything to bring peace at night.

"Yeah..." was all you could mutter out; your lids seemed lifeless and uncomfortable to keep open due to the fatigue behind them. Your arms snaked round your partner's waistline. "I don't understand, love..." A sigh emerged from your parted lips. "I think I'm broken..."

"Nonsense. You're just going under a lot of pressure. That's all." He didn't move his eyes away from the pan he was guarding over. The second you sensed him shift under you, you freed him from your embrace.

"Pressure? Sweetheart, when have I been-"

"Remind me of when you stayed up finishing that scheme to present to your administration team."

"..."

Kira's comment wasn't giving off any form of hostility or judgment; it was only one observation that he picked up, and you understood him well enough to acknowledge that was his way of worrying about you. He thoughtfully arranged two plates to prepare your morning meal.

The Yoshikage you cherished so fondly over glimpsed over his shoulder. "It's your day off, no?" You couldn't help but nod as a response; it was rare these days for you to have a day of relaxation from your hectic workplace.

"Have a seat," Yoshikage addressed when he directed his concentration back on the cooker, "Breakfast is just on its way."

When your bottom hit the luxurious chair of the dining table, you folded your arms and relaxed your head on the solid surface of the table; the lack of energy was so unbearable. Your head was so hazy, and it was hard to even construct a healthy thought process.

Not even a moment later, you overhear a light tap on the table, and the aroma of breakfast greeted you once again. Lifting your heavy head, you saw your partner settling in the chair beside you, setting a small luxury purple container beside him.

"May I ask what that is?" you couldn't help but sought when you eyed the tub that he rested on the counter.

"I offer a proposition for you..." It simply took just that one sentence to pick up the restrained excitement that Kira was suddenly radiating. He grabbed the jar in a claw-like motion.

"This is one of my favourite high-end brands for skincare. This hand cream is best for sleep since it contains lavender." The more he spoke, you could sense his tone becoming more and more laced with craving. "Would you let me...uh, massage this in your hands? After breakfast that is..."

The fatigue behind your lids become softened with brightening warmth. Knowing that your beloved was willing to try their best to assist with your situation was an outstanding feeling for you. Their proposal was a comforting form of self-care.

"Of course."

#kira #kira yoshikage #kira x reader #yoshikage kira #kira yoshikage x reader #jojo scenarios #jojo's bizarre adventure #oneshot

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raspberrygyus · 3 years ago

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❛❛ Find You Again ❜❜ 03 Insecurity

It was a rather slow morning, one filled with freshly brewed coffee, crisply fried eggs and a side of still-sizzling bacon. To a casual observer, it seemed like a normal Saturday morning, however, it was anything but.

The eggs, while looking rather at its peak perfection, were burnt at the edges, and the bacon, while still sizzling, had a layer of oil still sitting on top, looking rather unappetizing. Moreover, the bread that currently occupied the slots in the toaster had already begun to char.

It was anything but a picture-perfect morning, and it seems like Yeonjun, who had woken up to the smell of his ideal breakfast, had noticed the moment he stepped foot into the kitchen.

“Sweetheart, the toast is burning,” he said, looking rather concerned. yn, who stood in front of the toaster, still looking quite dazed, said nothing back to even acknowledge what was happening.

Worried that she might hurt herself, Yeonjun made his way over to her side, softly shaking her. And it seemed to have worked, as the look on her face changed to that of a look of recognition.

“Oh, no, what was I doing—“ soon, her face slowly contorted to a look of frustration, all while still gripping hard on the spatula that was in her hand.

“Sweetheart, baby, what’s wrong?”

Soon, the smell of burnt toast would make its way into the air, and almost overbearingly so, all the while the two people living in the apartment looked on frustration on her, and deep concern on him.

“yn, is everything okay?” Yeonjun tried once more, all while trying to ease the spatula out of her hands. “Here, let me get rid of this for you…”

And she let him.

He sat her down on the couch and took a seat next to her, all while holding her hands, gently stroking it, hoping to ease her out of whatever it was that had plagued her mind.

“Sweetheart?”

For the longest time, neither of them spoke.

“I’m just—“ she tried, the thoughts completely jumbled in her mind. “Just lost in my thoughts, I don’t know, just kind of lost in general, and—“

And she tried so hard.

There was just a sense of guilt, betrayal, but the familiarity of it all made it seem all-so natural to her. The dreams she had been having, the one singular man who had occupied her thoughts, and the age-long list of lives she had lived as had made it seem so normal.

You found your soulmate, the one person who harbours the soul of the person you’ve spent countless lives with—why are you still struggling?

Because life wasn’t easy to start with, as each and every struggle signified the life that she lived. Wasn’t that the case?

So why, why are you struggling, why are you still looking for a way out—why are you still hesitating?

Because Yeonjun existed, that’s why. If it had been anyone else, then she would have not hesitated, then she would have been determined to be with the one who owned half of her soul. But Yeonjun had her heart from the get-go, so how could she just leave him at the sight of a promise that was only made through lingering memories of what once was?

Because it’s your soulmate. The perfect fit for the shape of your soul. The missing piece.

The more she reasoned, the less sense it made, and—

—why was she still arguing?

“Hey, hey, take your time, sweetheart, I’m here,” he whispered, as he pressed a firm kiss on her knuckles. “We have all day, love.”

After a moment of silence on her part, she finally opened up, carefully testing out the words as she spoke them.

“I’ve…been having dreams…” she mumbled, resting her forehead against his chest. What kind of expression would he make if she had told him what her dreams were about? She hoped that he would understand, but in a situation like this, who would?

If the roles were reversed, would she believe him? Or would she look on at him in betrayal?

She definitely would—what kind of lunatic would talk about having past lives and then immediately tell their loved ones that they found their other half?

Or maybe he would, but that was wishful thinking. How could she expect him to forgive her when she wouldn’t do the same for him if their roles were reversed?

No, definitely not.

“…bad dreams…” these words were mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, and she could feel him move slowly to wrap an arm around her. How could he love her so unconditionally?

She could only chalk this up to bad dreams—because how else would she describe them? Ever since they started manifesting, the feeling of uneasiness never left her. So was it wrong to call them bad dreams?

Because they definitely weren’t nightmares.

“Then,” she heard him say, a little after, “let me chase your bad dreams away.”

Her eyes widened as she felt his hands gently holding her arms until she could see him—and she did. What she saw was him, his whole being radiating with such unconditional affection, and his eyes filled with love and compassion, so much so that unshed tears gathered so quickly that her vision became misty.

“Yeonjun—I—“

He shushed her in the most loving way possible, and then leaned forward, pressing his lips against the corners of her two eyes, carefully kissing away her tears. Moving down, his lips ghosted over her cheeks, casually pressing oh-so gentle kisses along the way.

They trailed further down, along her jaw, and up to her earlobe—she couldn’t help but blush as his lips caught a sensitive area behind her ear.

It ended up being overwhelming, but she kept her voice at a minimum, despite being in the comfort of their own home.

“Yeonjun—“

He smiled against her skin, and moved down along her neck, and finally, resting at the crook of her neck, where he left lingering butterfly kisses. He pressed one last kiss on her shoulder before he looked up at her.

Although still dazed, he figured that it was for a totally different reason, this time.

“Feeling better?”

yn nodded, not trusting her voice to say what she wanted because damn, that was seriously intense.

His smile only widened. “I’m glad.”

He pressed one final kiss against her lips before wrapping her up in a hug.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

With those words still fresh in her mind, she could ease away from the miasma of uneasy thoughts.

She would think about that later.

“Mmm, I love you, too.”

𖥔 SYNOPSIS yn has been vividly dreaming about the lives of women she's never met, and yet, they all feel oddly familiar, almost as though she's lived through them before. Odder yet, in every dream, a vision of a man she claimed to love also exists so fondly in the women's memories.

Upon a chance encounter with a young man, memories of her past lives flash in her mind, and those oddly familiar dreams she's been having suddenly make sense.

Life presents them with two choices: will they follow their fated path and fall in love, or will their end the chain of fate?

𖥔 NOTE jdfasdjf I tried my best with the tender moment ahhh, I don't write a lot of fluff and it SHOWS. //////////

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taglist (open) @luvrseung @e3teungie @yurazuyori @etherealcherrie @enhacolor @abdiitcryy @en-sun @diestheticu @lunaflvms @gongiz

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koifish86 · 3 years ago

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Moony’s birthday

Ok so I thought this fic was lost forever and then it turns out I just needed to restart my laptop and everything was fine again lol. Turns out machines need a break too. This is def some hurt/comfort shit and I’m kind of proud of it so I hope you enjoy.

Sleep was wonderful. It was a point where you could escape the worries and responsibilities of life for a while where you didn’t have to do anything except appreciate the warmth of the duvet. That is exactly what Remus Lupin was doing. Well until the covers were thrown back by his traitor husband exposing the long and lanky frame to the cold march air. That brought a stabbing pain in his chest that he was almost used to by now, almost.

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Covers yanked back and three extra bodies piled onto the small twin sized bed with similar levels of excite glee.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mooooonnnnnnyyyyyyy” the three bodies also decided to bring their disastrously out of tune voices along with them it seemed “happy birthday too youuuuu!”

Despite the feeling of being physically crushed by his best friends Remus also felt crushed by the love pouring out of these boys and a grin couldn’t help but work itself onto his face.

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“Moonbeam, my love how are you this fine morning?” Sirius said with way to much joy and energy in his voice for 8am.

“Better if you let me sleep in you arsehole” the tawny (now greying) haired man grumbled into his pillow haphazardly searching for the duvet to pull back over his head, but soon gave up as he could reach it

“Well, this arsehole made you birthday breakfast so come on I know you hate getting crumbs in the bed” and with that the shorter man left the room with a large flourish, well a rather dramatic flick of his hair at least.

Birthday breakfast is something James thought of. Remus didn’t like presents and hated his birthday, hated the attention, but James being James needed to show his friend how much he cared.

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Stumbling down to the great hall before classes still wiping sleep from his eye Remus Lupin was joined by only two friends instead of the regular three. James was often an early riser so seeing him sat at the breakfast table wasn’t unusual. No, the unusual thing was the plate of all different goodies. Pancakes, waffles, toast, beans, sausages, bacon, hashbrowns, eggs (done every way you can), croissants, hot cross buns, crumpets and even cereal. It seems his friend hadn’t forgot a single classic English breakfast item and as Remus sat down staring bewildered at the mountain of foods the messy haired boy spoke up before he could even attempt to say anything.

“My Mum taught me to cook loads of different things like the eggs sunny side up, scrambled, poached fried. OH, and the pancakes have got chocolate chips cause you love chocolate y’know, can’t forget the chocolate sauce, I’ve also got fruit cause well its healthy. I just figured since you don’t like presents at least I can give you food, right?” the information was sort of rocketed in Remus’s general direction rather than actually spoken but that was just James.

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Remus was pulled from another memory of Hogwarts that caused that twinging pain in his left lung, by the mountain of food on the island in the kitchen. Pancakes, waffles, all the cereal boxes pulled down from the shelf, a plate of sausages and another waiting for the bacon, hashbrowns, croissants, hot cross buns, and crumpets.

Sirius was standing over the stove frying up the last of the bacon swinging his hips and humming too the intro of ‘tie your mother down’ playing through the old record player speakers sat in the corner. Remus lent against the doorway admiring the love of his life with Remus’s pyjama’s low on his hips. Sirius was beautiful, he always had been why shouldn’t Remus spend a bit of time relishing in the presence of this man. The humming had changed into Sirius belting out the words.

“GET YOUR PARTY GOWN, GET YOUR PIGTAIL DOWN, GET YOUR HEART BEATIN’ BABY”

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12th December 1976 was a cold day which Remus decided was best wrapped up in a blanket with a book, that was until Sirius and James all but tumbled through the door to their shared dorm.

“PRONGS PUT IT ON GO ON GO ON!”

“IM GETTING THEIR PADFOOT JUST-“

Remus looked up from his perch on the windowsill book in his lap forgotten in favour of the two boys excitement.

‘’What the fuck is happening?” came Remus’s confused gruff voice from the other side of the room.

“MOONY MOONY MOONY MOONY CHRISTMAS HAS OFFICIALLY COME EARLY! LOOK, LOOK, LOOK!” Sirius was practically vibrating with excitement and way to loud as per usual as he shoved the record sleeve in his boyfriends face.

“Woah. WHERE IN THE EVER-LIVING FUCK DID YOU GET THIS?” A wide excited grin joined his face too match his two best friends.

“Muggle shop,” he said flippantly “it came out TWO days ago Moony!”

“Hold on how did you get to muggle shop, Hogsmead is the only town nearby? No tell me after we’ve listened to the album, come on James how long does it take to put on a fucking record”

“Alright don’t get your knickers in a twist Moony, here” and the first notes of Tie your mother down started playing through the speakers and the three friends stood around appreciating the music.

They must’ve listen to the album twice through before Peter joined them and proceeded to complain that they didn’t find him immediately. Then they all listened through the album through another three times before discussing and then another two times. To say Day at the races was a favourite record for the marauders was an understatement.

“Wow, that might be there best album EVER” Peter announced

“Ooh making some bold claims there Wormy” came the teasing voice of James Potter

“I think my favourite song was Tie your mother down. What about you lot?” Sirius started the conversation the usually ended in arguments and harsh words thrown about whenever a new record was added to the marauders collection. “Moony?” grey eyes looked up through dark eyelashes up at the other boy. From his place in his lap Sirius got a perfect view of the birthmarks speckling the column of Remus’s neck and the different shades of brown, yellow and gold in his hair. The light from above created a halo around Remus’s head as he looked down on the dark-haired boy resting in his lap.

“Oof, Pads. A favourite? I dunno, they were all sooooo good!”

“Oh, come of it Moony you always have a favourite!” James socked foot came to knock his knee, the taller boys attention was briefly taken away from the boy in his lap. Sirius usually like to have all the attention, but he didn’t mind this one bit, getting too look at Moony will that easy smile spread across his face and watching the thoughts run over his face was a sight to behold.

“Good old fashioned lover boy” he said holding James gaze as the messy haired boy threw his hands in the air in clear frustration.

“NO! THE BEST SONG WAS CLEARLY DROWSE!”

“WHAT?! YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME PRONGS” Remus lent forward and threw his hands around but quickly moved back in fear of jostling Sirius too much

“WHAT IT WAS A GOOD SONG AND I STAND BY THAT!” messy haired boy stood up with an air of finality

“Oh no you don’t get to walk away from this conversation Prongs” at the moment Remus leapt across the room, all aspects of keeping his boyfriend comfy went out the window apparently and latched himself onto James ankles toppling him to ground like a Jenga tower.

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Remus wrapped his arms around his husbands waist and plastered his chest to expanse of Sirius back while proceeding to joining with a new rendition of Tie your mother down.

“GOT MY TIMIN’ RIGHT, GOT MY ACT ALL TIGHT, ITS GOTTA BE TONIGHT MY LITTLE SCHOOL BABE!”

“YOUR MOMMA SAYS YOU DON’T AND YOUR DADDY SAYS YOU WON’T AND IM BURNIN’ UP INSIDE AINT NO WAY IM GONNA LOOSE OUT THIS TIME”

The smell of burning bacon is what knocked the couple out of their fantasy and Sirius frantically moved the pan of the heat and salvaged the bacon that wasn’t burnt. Still plastered to his husbands back Remus started shaking with silent laughter.

“Oi you wanker grab the plate and at least be useful instead of laughing at my efforts” Sirius said a teasing lilt to his voice. Moving away from the warmth that Sirius always managed to radiate was more of a chore than trying to grade 1st years essays even if he did wrap his arms back around the shorter mans waist as soon as he could.

“Y’know, I thought you were getting better at cooking didn’t Effie teach you to cook” Remus said jokingly.

“She certainly tried; you know James was always the chef” in one sentence all of their teasing had fallen, and they were left with the nasty reminder that they were alone. The two of them with their friends all lost to a war that none of them should have been a part of. The tears didn’t creep up on Remus by any stretch of the imagination, they had been waiting for the right moment to strike all morning and he had only just been holding them back.

“I miss them too, love” Remus whispered into Sirius neck where he had tucked his head.

#happy birthday moony #remus loves sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #moonstar #remus x sirius

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ronnie-azumane · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu guys as stuff my dad did

This idea has been in my brain for a while, so I'm writing it out. Hope y'all enjoy :)

CW: idn, its pretty wholesome

Daichi answers your frantic phone call home expressing that you forgot your backpack and laptop for college when you went home over the weekend. Expressing that all of your notes are in the backpack, he decides to wake-up extra early Monday morning and make the 2 1/2 hour drive to your university, then drive all the way back to your hometown to go to work.

Sugawara came up with the best hiding spot for you while playing hide and seek at your 7th birthday party. He squeezed you in-between the back of the couch and the back couch cushions. Then, he sat in front of it to conceal the awkward lump it made in the couch. It took the others 30 minutes before giving up and telling you to come out.

Asahi asks you to style his hair for a zoom meeting he has later that day. After some deliberation, you both decide to do a mohawk style. He braces himself as you run off to get the brush, hairspray, hair gel, and hairdryer.

Nishinoya still wears the Annoying Orange shirt you got him when you were in 3rd grade. It's faded and has a giant picture of Annoying Orange on it, which faded from popularity in 2010, but he still wears it. In public.

Tanaka makes the dumbest jokes while in the audience of your colorguard/dance competitions. For example, he asked your mom if he should shout "Go get 'em George" to the group of girls performing to confuse everyone. Another favorite joke o his is to chant "the worm, the worm,, we worship the worm" while the previous team is carrying out their floor.

Ennoshida talks with you as you make one of the biggest changes in your life. Midway through your second semester at university, you determine that business is not for you, however, you do not have a backup plan. Talking with him, you end up changing your major to Geography, and now you love every second of it.

Kageyama drinks the milk out of you cereal. You hate the taste of milk by itself, but you don't want to eat dry cereal. To not waste milk, he drinks it after you finish eating your cereal.

Hinata fails miserably when your mom tells him to reapply the medical glue on your forehead. The day before, your sister threw a wooden block at you, causing a major tear in your head. Your mom took you to the emergency room, but they were busy and it was a school night, so they told her to just take some liquid band aid (which we called glue) and close the wound. Your mom told him to replace the glue, and he took ELMERS GLUE and placed it on the open wound. It hurt like a bitch.

Tsukishima takes you to go see the museum of natural history once a month. He knows you're the odd girl out of your class that would rather play with dinosaurs than dolls, so he takes you to see the dinosaur fossils. He also gets a discount because his place of work donated a significant amount of money and resources to one of the exhibits.

Yamaguchi helped set up your setup once you moved to zoom university. He attached your laptop to a monitor his job had extra, so now you feel like a badass whenever you use the two screens.

Oikawa out of nowhere invites all his high school friends over to stay the week at your house. A trip that probably should have been planned in weeks, even months, is planned in just a weekend. Everyone ends up sleeping on air mattresses and blankets on the floor due to your mom just finishing up replacing the floors in the house (she was not too happy with the sudden trip, but was welcoming anyway)

Iwaizumi makes you watch Godzilla with him whenever it's on TV. Some of his fondest memories include receiving Godzilla themed ornaments from his mom ever Christmas. He also unironically watches those cheesy fan-made Godzilla fights on YouTube for hours on end. Man just likes Godzilla.

Hanamaki and you wear funny hats to a volunteer cookout. The organizers told every one to wear a hat so that their hair didn't get in the food, but you two take it a step further. You wear a banana hat while he wears a hotdog hat.

Matsukawa taught you how to make all kinds of breakfast food at a young age. Whether it was a simple as a fried egg or as complex as French toast, he worked with you until the recipe came out perfect.

Kyotani scares the other parents off when it comes to the silent auction selling the class are projects. Now the shelf you and your kindergarten classmates fingerprinted flowers and bugs on sits proudly in your closet holding crafting supplies.

Ushijima scolds you for leaving the lights on. Most parents do that already, but he takes it to a new extreme. Your mom explains that he would never turn the lights on in his apartment when he was in college and would simply get his homework done before dark. Sometimes, if he had something to do, he would light a candle to finish something up.

Tendou recalls a story in which he stole a bus battery with his buddies to power an air conditioned tent at boy scout camp. He also recalls the year he and his friends tried to build a pool in the wilderness at the same count, only to get caught and reprimanded for it before filling it with water which totally had nothing to do with a camp counselor finding it and having a Vietnam flashback

Goshiki watches anime with you. He always acts like he is uninterested in whatever show is on, but he soon gets super into it and it will be the only thing he talks about for a week.

Kuroo sits at the table with you until 2am working on that math assignment you have been struggling with. You've definitely run out of tears to cry, and had to redo the assignment twice, but he is guiding you through the answers

Yaku isn't a fan of all the pets you and your mom have collected over the years. I mean, in his defense, at one point we had 8 cats an 3 dogs. However, he is also super cuddly with them, always giving them nose boops and belly rubs.

Kenma plays Xbox, Wii, and the ds with you. He doesn't find the bulk of the games you play with him entertaining, but he is willing to run through LEGO Star Wars with you. His personal favorite to play is Mario Kart and he doesn't let you win >:(

Lev is trying to convince the family to let him take the position in Alaska with higher pay. When mom raised the concern that the long winters wouldn't do well for your mental health, his counter argument was, "Yeah, and that sucks, but hear me out. We could have a pet Polar Bear." We didn't move to Alaska

Bokuto was definitely the most enthusiastic dad at the girl scout father daughter dance. He twirled you around in your pretty little JC Penney dress and made sure you two were the center of the dance floor. At one point, he lifted you above his head with each foot in a hand like a cheerleader. Truly terrifying.

Akaashi drives out to the 24-hour pharmacy to pick up some cold medicine when you couldn't sleep due to a stuffy nose. He also checks up on you every hour when you are coughing with some mysterious disease (due to the lack of tests and priority of the high-risk, I will never know if I had Covid when I got sick in late March)

Aone gives you the biggest hug after you get released from the graduation ceremony. He isn't the best with words, so this hug speaks so much to you.

Terushima has been taking you to Mardi Gras in New Orleans since you were a baby. He doesn't care that it's mostly an adult party, he believes that everyone in the family should enjoy a good ol' Mardi Gras

Atsumu carries you on his shoulders all the time when you're small. He just thinks it's the cutest thing.

Osamu makes sure to host a crawfish boil every year. Whether its the neighbors, family, both, or just the household, you can expect some good, spicy crawfish with corn and potatoes whenever he cooks.

Kita teaches you how to drive a stick shift. He's frustrated that you cant move three feet before stalling, but then realizes that the issue was that you were in third gear, not first. He is now impressed that you were even able to start moving at third gear.

Sakusa takes you along with him to work. His job is full of tough men, so when they see him with you in a little blue dress-up tutu and a plastic tiara on your head, their hearts just melt.

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docholligay · 4 years ago

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Feint-disengage-attack

Just kidding! THis is @amberlilly’s prompt, asking for “Tracer getting a pleasant surprise” and it is MOSTLY that,�� and funny and sweet,right up till the end BUT DON’T WORRY NO ONE DIES OR IS DYING. THis actually takes place pretty early in the HON HON HON verse, as indicated here. 2600 words

Fareeha Amari was having a mostly normal morning. She had gone for a run, taken a shower, gotten dressed, and come downstairs to read the newspaper, drink her coffee, and have her oats, with some nuts and dried fruit, perhaps a touch of coconut milk. D.Va was sleeping in, as she did every morning there wasn’t a meeting. Mercy was enjoying her coffee in bed, brought to her by Pharah after the run, as usual.Tracer sat across from Pharah, in the way she did most mornings. Tracer tended to vary what she ate for breakfast, and this morning, it was several strips of bacon, with two eggs and toast fried in the bacon fat.

Pharah always said there were a number of ways Tracer seemed to be aiming not to live very long, and this was right up there with her propensity to jump out at Pharah along her running route.

It was an innocuous sort of discussion, something Pharah would later recall was about cybersecurity, and Pharah’s worry that her webcam might be hacked, and there were a number of concerns with that. She hadn’t remembered saying anything about her concern for Mercy’s honor, or any such thing, but she might have, and in case it would have been like Tracer to assume that was her primary concern. Pharah would accept mild teasing on the subject of her devotion to her wife.

That was when it happened.

“Oh, as if you’re the only one who’s ever seen Ang naked. Fuck’s sake, Fareeha.” She shook her head as she looked down at the comics page.

“What?”

Tracer’s head flicked up with the swiftness of a hummingbird, her eyes grew wide, and a smile crept from the left corner to cover her whole face. “Oh, you didn’t know? Bout Ang and I?”

Pharah knew English. She spoke, she would say, very good English, mostly in American variants due to the practice she gained with her mother’s friends, and some Canadian influence due to her father, but very good, clear, concise English. She had scored as fluent in the army, and even tutored others about its vagaries. If she would accept any criticism on the subject, it would be that her English contained the ring of formality, but most who knew her in both worlds would confess her Arabic held the same. She was a very good English speaker.

In this moment, she had never known an English word in her life. The last English word she would ever speak would be ‘what,’ before every circuit that knew it blew simultaneously. She reached for Arabic.

She seemed to have forgotten that as well.

Tracer, fully in control of her language center and wriggling with delight as she attempted to fold her hands in front of her and beatifically look over at Pharah, did not need another question to continue.

“Ang never told you?”

Liar! She wanted to scream, in whichever language would be the first to return to her, but her mind immediately dismissed that as unlikely. Tracer is a laundry list of flaws in human form, the cool part of her mind said, but she is not much of a liar unless required to be. Even then, it’s not her greatest talent. Pharah was keenly observant, and had known Tracer long enough to be generally aware of her.

With horror, Pharah realized that she was not lying.

Tracer leaned back with a stretch, her smile never fading, and then drummed her fingers on the table, utterly delighted with herself. She waited a moment, and then leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

“You jealous, Fareeha?”

Pharah always said there were a number of ways Tracer seemed to be aiming not to live very long.

Yes, Pharah screamed inside her own head, throwing a bucket of water over the idea immediately. Mercy and Tracer had known each other for many years before she had ever even laid eyes on Pharah. Mercy was a very attractive woman, and Tracer, purportedly, had an easy charisma that women often found themselves drawn to. They had worked together. It was only natural that this horrible conclusion might have been reached. She had no right to be jealous of Mercy having had past relationships.

This isn’t a past relationship, she growled, still with a firm grip on her coffee mug, this is Tracer. THis is someone I see every day. THis is someone I can sometimes barely sta--

Tracer broke into a peal of laughter and sprung to her feet, no longer able to contain her delight. “Can’t believe you didn’t know! Would ‘ave been so sure Ang would have said, right? Bit of a surprise to ‘ave over your morning coffee, innit? But,” She blinked over behind Pharah and put an arm on the back of her chair, leaning in close, “She is ever so beautiful in pink, don’t you--”

Pharah took a swipe at her and immediately felt a bit ashamed, but Tracer dodged it easily. Pharah closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

“No,” Pharah swallowed, “I did not know you and Angela were,” she rifled around in her newly-recovered English, “Sweethearts, of a kind. It was, I am sure, long ago, and unimportant.”

“I mean, we never really lost touch, right?” Tracer leaned against Pharah’s detailed wall calendar, smearing the carefully-written dry erase marker, “strange to imagine what might ‘ave been, innit, if I ‘adn’t been lost in time all over again. Overwatch was still standing. But then,” she bounced back over to Pharah, “I wouldn’t ‘ave ‘ad the delight of meeting you, love, and wouldn’t that be a great tragedy for the both of us?”

Pharah sighed and set down her mug a bit hard, echoing it through the kitchen. “I have work to do.”

“Oh, me too, love, me too. Nice to know we ‘ave so much in common, innit?” She was barely restraining herself, rocking back on her heels as she continued to goad Pharah, ”tell me, does she still give that little laugh when you touch her right there, you know the one, yeah?”

Pharah shoved back the chair and stood with a sudden jolt, eyes boring into Tracer’s. She didn’t flinch, even slightly. Tracer’s unique brand of courage, of near ignorance to danger, was as impressive as it was frustrating. She just continued to smile at Pharah as the weekly meeting rubbed onto the back of her shoulder.

“I have to go.” Pharah aggressively pushed in the chair, hard enough that it ricocheted back into the small breakfast nook and hit against the wall. She regarded it a moment before turning on the ball of her foot and heading for the doorway to the kitchen.

“Heading on up to Ang? Well, let me know if you need a pointer or two, love! Think we both know I’ve a bit more experience!” Tracer collapsed into her own fit of laughter, no one enjoying the joke as much as she had, in that constant, braying way that made Pharah want to spit.

There was paperwork that needed doing. There were opportunities to receive grants, perhaps, if she played her cards right and spoke well on the phone and invoked her dead mother’s name that always seemed halfway between a curse and a prayer. There was plenty of work to be done, that she had set out for the day, and that was even before the evening training session.

But the idea of this brought her no pleasure today. There was a sinking sort of tingle inside of her, and she couldn’t stop seeing Tracer kissing Mercy, touching her, and thought of the thousand little intimacies she’d seen them share without ever imagingin anything at all.

As soon as she thought these things, she was ashamed of thinking them. Mercy was never duplicitous, and there was no reason to think it was important. Mercy did not hide important things from Pharah, she never had. It showed a poor mark on her own character that this was such a problem.

What did it matter that they had slept together? What did it matter that Tracer was endlessly irritating and careless and impulsive and vastly socially preferred by nearly everyone they met? What did it matter that Tracer got to serve alongside Ana? What did it matter that even the person Pharah loved most had been charmed by her, like everyone? What did it matter that Pharah was the floodlight, and Tracer got to be the firework?

She hadn’t realized she was cleaning her office until she looked down and realized there was nothing left to be tacked on the board, no more pens to sort into color-coded cups, no form to be tabbed by subject.

Pharah slumped down into her chair, sighing heavily and slamming her unsatisfyingly small stack of forms down on the desk.

“Fareeha?”

It was Mercy, standing there in a loose purple tshirt and her summer shorts. Pharah looked back to the clock. She had already wasted three hours in her ridiculous, self-pitying imprisonment in the office.

“Please come in,” she nodded, “anytime.”

They had been married for more than a year now, and still sometimes Pharah felt an awkward stranger to her. The words never came out as she meant them, and there were such things in her heart, feelings she longed to express in the way Mercy deserved them, but every time she opened her mouth, it was only her same voice that came out of it.

“I heard,” Mercy gave a smile, “there was a….history lesson, at breakfast.”

“Tracer told you.”

“No,” Angela came over to where she was sitting, “Winston did the telling me. I am thinking Lena has probably forgotten it already, at least for the moment.”

“Is it true?” She said, sharper than she meant.

“Yes, it is,” She looked at Pharah with soft eyes, “Are you angry?”

“No, of course not,” she jumped up to reassure her, “I have no right. I could not be. Never.”

“But you are feeling upset,” it was not a question, “Why?”

Immediately, Pharah jumped to deny it, felt the words climb into her throat and throw themselves at the world, but she choked them down. This was Mercy. Mercy was kind.

She cleared her throat, held her hands begin her back, and nodded. “On a personal level, people tend to prefer Tracer--”

There was an explosion of laughter from beside her, and Mercy shook her head. “Fareeha, my Fareeha, if we had wanted each other, we would be having plenty of opportunities. She introduced us, do you remember? She was helping you, from our first date. She feels nothing for me, in that sense.”

“You never told me.”

Mercy put her hand on Pharah’s “Because it was one night. We had been on a mission,” she sighed and looked to the wall, “It went...we lost so many. Lena and I, we were drinking, very much, and sad. I am not even now knowing why we did it, exactly. Wanting to feel something else.” she laughed, “Tracer tried very hard to be a gentleman about it before I told her I felt nothing--I love her, of course, but not in that way--and she was feeling so relieved. She only felt friendship, as well, but wanted to be kind to me.”

“Tracer failed to mention this.”

“She loves to tease you. You have to be knowing this, in the same way she knows you aren’t Moroccan, but says it all the same.” Mercy nodded at her. “You are always reacting, you know. She makes a game of it.”

“I do.” she swallowed. “I am...silly, I suppose. Childish.”

“Yes. Very.” She smiled, warmly now, and tucked Pharah’s hair behind her ear. “I love you.” She leaned in and gave a little laugh. “I love you more than Lena loves to pick at you.”

Pharah finally returned her smile. “A great amount indeed.”

If her love for Mercy, and her belief in her, was unshakeable, than so too was her level of irritation with Tracer. It was a weakness of hers, wasn’t it, that she simply had to make everything into a joke? This sort of thing could cause serious trouble within the ranks. It was hard to believe that a woman who had such heavy military honors behind her (More than Pharah’s own, she did not remind herself) did not see the wisdom of keeping the organization businesslike and civil. If she hadn’t needed her name so badly, Pharah would have commanded her own coup and thrown her out by now.

Tracer did not want a high-performing, regimented organization, she wanted a collection of pals.

Pharah thought over this problem as she sat out back, the high prairie waving in the way she remembered when she visited her father. There were never enough of those times, and yet there was not a moment when she did not think of him, seeing it.

“If it isn’t me romantic rival! Never forgive you, I will, for--”

“Angela said you were nothing to her.”

“Doubt she quite put it that way love, but you’re not wrong,” Tracer giggled happily and sat by Pharah on the back step, cracking open her beer.

“It is fifteen hours fifteen. On a Wednesday.”

“Always wanted a talking watch,” she took a drink, “Glad I didn’t bring you one then, you want to be such a spoilsport over the whole thing. Anyhow, love, I’m English and the rules is different for us, right? Right.”

Pharah said nothing, simply looked out to the field in back of the house, the wind brushing through the field in hushed tones.

“Wondered if you’d ever ask Ang about it. Thought your pride might get to you, thinking, like,” she affected an intensely annoying Egyptian, so she thought, accent, “I have no cause to compete with Tracer. Angela has married me, and if she had wanted Tracer, she would have done so, but love,” she returned to her own accent, and Pharah wasn’t sure which was worse, “did you ever think it was me who rejected ‘er? Broke ‘er heart and continued on me adventuring sort of way?”

“You didn’t.” She continued to look at the tall grass.

“No, I didn’t, but you might ‘ave considered that I did.”

Pharah looked at her for a moment, hoping she hadn’t noticed the flick of her brow when Tracer had mentioned Mercy had already chosen Pharah, and if she had wanted Tracer, she could have had her. Of course she thought Pharah would reason that out, because it was the intelligent conclusion to come to. It was the thing Mercy had said immediately.

“As it is, I was only ‘aving a go, and it’s not precisely my fault, love, that you’re so very easy to ‘ave a go at, right? You going to rise to the occasion every time I poke at you? I mean, that’s great fun for me, but it might be a bit tiring for you. Ask Win, I’m just a bit of a prankster, love, and---you could ‘ave properly asked me, Fareeha, in seriousness, what the nature of it was, and I’d ‘ave told you the truth. I never meant to ‘urt you, not really--”

“You didn’t.”

Tracer paused a moment, waiting for Pharah to elaborate, but broke as the seconds ticked on.

“You don’t ‘ave to like me, Fareeha. But if this is to work, you do ‘ave to trust me. I like you, in a way,” She popped to her feet quickly, “but you don’t ‘ave to like me.” She turned to leave, thought better of it, and turned around, nodding. “And it was funny.”

“You don’t have to like me,” Pharah did not turn around to look at her, “but you do have to grow up.”

The sun glowered, hot and oppressive, grasshoppers buzzing into the day, as Tracer walked away.

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ashdoesfandomarchieved · 4 years ago

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should i stay (or should i go)

ao3

Varian sits on the cold-stone steps.

His own screams still echo in his ears. It’s only been a few hours since-since-

But it feels like it’s been a lifetime.

The sun is slowly rising, heating up the well-beaten town roads, and shining windows and the very steps Varian’s been sitting on for the past three hours. It peeks over the walls of the city, rays unfurling out in every direction. It’s a familiar sight, one he’d seen in the sky every morning until his imprisonment and one that he’s seen in Rapunzel’s magic...everything. He’s seen her hair and her eyes and her smile glow both metaphorically and literally as bright as the star lighting their planet.

He thinks he hates it.

Behind him, the castle looms like a thousand eyes watching, waiting to devour. He feels like it’s going to collapse on him, swallow him up. It’s a far cry from how he used to feel about Corona Castle. Before, it used to be a sanctuary, a warm, welcoming place that he could go to for a friend or protection. Now, Varian sees it for what it is. A prison.

The sun may be warming the town, but the palace shadow cast over Varian chills him to the bone.

The castle has been Varian’s prison for about a year. Well, until yesterday, at least. It’s been a prison for those deserving, like Andrew and his gang of thugs, and a prison for those undeserving, like Rapunzel last night and Eugene many years ago. Varian doesn’t know if he was deserving of that cell or not, but now? Now, it doesn’t matter, because Rapunzel had dragged him out, dragged him out of the prison he’d been thrown in physically by her father’s decree and dragged prison he’d thrown himself in metaphorically since the day of the amber, dragged him out into her light, demanding that-that-

Rapunzel.

He doesn’t hold it against her, not really.

Not anymore.

When she’d taken him back to Olde Corona and put a bucket in his hands and said stop me if you have to and whispered in a voice not hers, Varian had been terrified, but had listened. Had trusted. When the amber broke into a million pieces, revealing a truth that Varian had known for a very long time, his terror faded into numbness.

He doesn’t remember much of the journey back to Corona, just that Rapunzel had spoken in very soft voices and said very gentle things to him that he can’t remember.

Rapunzel had been rushed off the minute she entered the city. King Fredrick and Queen Arianna’s memories were still pretty fried, so all of their duties had fallen to the exhausted princess. She had tried to keep Varian with her, but with the townfolk still angry at him and the millions of orders and duties Rapunzel now had to delegate, Varian had quietly reassured her that he was fine for the time being and would find her later.

She had been reluctant. Perhaps, if Varian had been more present he would have remembered the last time she’d left him in the name of duty, but right now? He didn’t really care.

So here he is, on the stone steps of the palace, watching the sunrise on the first day empty of his dad.

(He known. Of course he’d known. Varian wasn’t an idiot.)

As the sun lights up the town, its people also start rising. The place is soon filled with noise as shops open and repairmen work and children play and women gossip and men argue and animals clop through the town.

“Hey,” a low voice says behind him. Varian glances briefly over his shoulder. It’s Lance. Varian’s spoken to the guy a couple of times but doesn’t really know who he is besides Eugene’s childhood best friend. Varian doesn’t have the energy to even try to drudge up any kind of a response, so he turns back to looking at the sky.

The guy doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of response though. He settles down with approximately a foot’s distance between him and Varian. He has a dish of stacked cucumber sandwiches in one hand. He offers one to Varian who just stares at him. Shrugging, Lance retracts his hand, instead giving the sandwich to a subdued Ruddiger, who’s curled around Varian’s feet.

“It’s a little cold out here to be without a jacket,” Lance says, after a long pause.

Varian shrugs. He’s aware, intellectually, that he’s cold right now, but the rest of him doesn’t really feel it.

“Might be warmer inside,” Lance presses on, regardless.

Varian stares down at his shoes, at Ruddiger, shivering on them. He nudges the raccoon gently with one foot. His companion chirps at him, pulling at his pant leg with one paw. Ruddiger doesn’t deserve to be cold just because Varian wants to die out here. Varian stands up.

Lance stands up with him, casual expression falling away to relief. He places a hand on Varian’s shoulder and gently guides him inside. Ruddiger follows the two at a close distance. The inside of the castle is still undergoing repairs. The floor is broken and burned and the walls are scratched and torn and the place vaguely smells like chemicals.

Varian is carefully lead past all that, upstairs, toward where Varian knows the guest chambers are. This particular part of the castle looks mostly untouched. If Varian could feel something right now, it would be relief. He’s had enough of destruction to last him a lifetime.

Eugene meets them in the hallway. He stops short when he sees Varian, expression going carefully blank. Ruddiger makes a sound, low in his throat. Lance firmly grips Varian’s shoulder. He can’t tell if it’s meant to be reassuring or to hold him in place. It doesn’t matter. Varian’s done running.

“I think Varian should get some sleep,” Lance says when Eugene stays silent.

Varian doesn’t offer an opinion on that. He stares up at Eugene. The guy looks tired-really tired like today is just the last day in a string of very bad days....which honestly sounds about accurate when reading between the lines of what Rapunzel had let slip. Varian knows something happened between them and Cass, but things had been too chaotic to glen any kind of answer and now-

Now Varian doesn’t really care.

Eugene must see something in Varian’s expression-probably his lack of expression-because something in his tense stance changes minutely. He gives a short nod, indicating a door to their left. Lance says something back to him, something that Varian misses, and then he’s pushing Varian through the door, into the room.

Varian’s only ever been in one of the castle bedrooms-Rapunzel’s at once point, he thinks-and even though this is far smaller, it’s still twice as grand as anywhere he’s ever stayed. The windows a huge and the ceiling is vaulted and the bed could fit like seven people in it easily. The carpet is an expensive blue shag that Varian kind of wants to collapse onto and never get up again, but Lance would probably just peel him off the floor and give him that worried expression again so he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at the room and then back to Lance.

“You should sleep,” Lance reiterates. “We can sort everything when you wake up.”

Varian doesn’t want to know what that means, so he just nods and slowly makes his way toward the bed. When Lance still doesn’t leave, Varian obediently perches on the edge of it. That seems to put Lance’s mind at ease, because then he finally leaves, telling Varian he’ll be back in a few hours. Once the door clicks shut, Varian jumps back onto his feet.

The bed’s too soft.

Varian sits down on the ornate chaise by the massive lit fireplace. It’s comfortable enough that he melts into the cushions, but not too comfortable like the bed. With Ruddiger curled up on his lap, he watches the fire for a while until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, and then it’s with great reluctance that he lets himself fall asleep.

When Varian wakes up, there’s a blanket draped over him. The fire is almost embers and judging by the position of the sun, it’s midday. On the end table, by the chaise, there’s a tray of...it smells like breakfast food. Varian pulls the cloth up to reveal a full breakfast-porridge, bread rolls, eggs, bacon, toast, juice, milk, water... It’s almost like someone couldn’t decide what to get him. Or, more likely, rich people actually have enough money to afford this kind of breakfast every single morning.

At that thought, something sour curls in Varian’s stomach. He drops the towel back onto the tray, but not before he grabs a few bread rolls to stuff his pockets with. He tosses some bacon to Ruddiger, who devours it immediately.

The hallway is deserted when he leaves the room. Varian wanders down the length of it, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. They still echo obnoxiously in the empty corridor along with Ruddiger’s quiet noises, but it’s the thought that counts. Varian makes his way down two flights of stairs, several corridors, and a courtyard before he finally comes across someone in one of the long, twisting halls.

It’s Rapunzel. Her usual immaculately braided hair is a mess and her eyes a red-rimmed like she’s been crying. She’s wearing different clothes than she had been earlier, much to Varian’s relief, indicating that she’s at least had time to change and maybe rest. It’s weird, caring about her after all this time. Anger is an emotion too strong for Varian to tangibly hold onto right now, though. It’s probably best to let it lie.

When her eyes meet Varian, her face kinda...falls.

Varian stops in his tracks. The two are about eight feet apart, silently staring at each other. Then,

“Varian,” Rapunzel says, voice quiet. There’s a warm undertone to it Varian doesn’t understand. “I hope you got some sleep,” she says, hesitantly, confirming Varian’s theory that it wasn’t her who’d given him the blanket. Probably Lance, then.

Varian just nods in response, hands clenched together in front of him. Ruddiger crawls up Varian’s side until he’s curled around his neck, face resting on his shoulder. The weight is comforting, grounding. Varian absentmindedly reaches up to pet him.

Rapunzel sighs. “I've been looking for you,” she goes on, taking a step toward him. Varian wants to take a step back, but forces his feet to stay planted. “Are you-”

“What happens now?” Varian can't keep the question from bursting out. His voice is cracked from disuse. “I-just tell me. Please.” He breaks on the please.

Rapunzel’s face softens. “Well,” she says, closing the distance between them and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I was hoping you'd stay with me.”

And that's the final straw. The grain of salt that tips the scales. Because it's bad enough that Rapunzel has gone to hell and back for him in the past twenty-four hours, bad enough that he's somehow gained the forgiveness of the one person who doesn't owe him anything, but for Rapunzel to offer her home, her life, to him?

Varian bursts into tears, hands coming up to hide his face.

“Oh-oh Varian-don't-” the hand on his shoulder squeezes and then pulls. “I'm sorry,” Rapunzel says, nonsensically as she folds him into her arms.

“You're not the one who needs to be sorry,” Varian sobs. “I-I knew, I knew, I knew, but I still-I still did it all even though I knew-”

Rapunzel shushes him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair. “Varian, it's okay.”

“It's not okay!” he shouts, pulling away, furiously scrubbing at his cheeks. “None of it is okay!”

Rapunzel’s eyes are glassy, like she's on the verge of tears herself. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it's not-it's not.” She anxiously twists her dress in her hands. “But it's also not okay that you're hurting. Please, just-” Rapunzel lets out a whoosh of air. “Stay with me.”

Varian deflates. “I-what about your parents?” he mutters. He crosses his arms. “Your dad-”

“Is still amnesiac,” Rapunzel counters. “Let me worry about my parents. I just-...you’re my friend Varian. Let me make it up to you.”

Varian presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. He laughs. It sounds broken and gnashed. “Make it up to me,” he chokes. “I-there's literally nothing for you to make up for.”

“Isn't there?” Rapunzel's face is grave. It reminds him of last night after the incantation, after-

Varian takes a steadying breath. “Of course there isn't,” he says. Promises. Lies. “Of course there isn’t,” he repeats, like if it says it enough times he’ll believe it.

Rapunzel doesn’t. She smiles, sadly, but doesn’t call him out. “Then you’ll stay,” she says. Confirms.

Varian shuts his eyes, against her smile, against her forgiveness against her love and her stubbornness and her gentleness and her hypocrisy. “Okay,” he says, testing the word on his tongue. He opens his eyes. Rapunzel looks so relieved she might start crying this time. Varian doesn’t want that, doesn’t know how to handle someone else being an emotional mess right now, so he reaches out for her, slides his hand into hers.

“Okay,” he says again, more firmly. “I’ll stay.”

#quirin dies au #varian #rapunzel #lance strongbow #tangled the series #tts #tts au #my fic #tangled the series fanfic #tts fanfic

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theomarvilous · 3 years ago

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The Marvilous spiritual retreat.

13 days to retrace your steps of who you are and get back on your go. Focus and start your track to the new and better Marvilous. Congratulations . … you want it now do it.

Journal every morning to reflect on your day your activities and what you hop to accomplish. Name, date and reflection.

Shower once a day and moisturize. / face twice, full cleanse

Pray morning and evening , what do you want to change about how your viewed and how would you like to be seen , what goals do you have? Who are you

Start a conversation. Whats a new question to ask

Study French

Stretch and tumble

No phone after 11pm

Eat nutrition twice - meal prep if needed

No smoking or vaping

No tugging the rug

Reach out to your family parents , opal , aunts , cousins

Bush your teeth and floss twice if not three times a day

Nite exercise and yoga mornings

Bottle of water a day

Clean something , anything

Read scripture and reflect

No lying

No phone no sitting at work when in front of the parents

Meal Ideas

Baked/Stir Fried Chicken

Cauliflower / Spinach

Turkey sausage eggs

Roll or toast with jam

Oatmeal smoothie

Water and Tea , juice

No Soda

No Alcohol

List of shopping

Chicken breast / turkey

Vegistibles and fruit canned and fresh

Oatmeal , baby oats

Ensure

Rice

Bread

I wish you the best on this new you I thin its going to be kind. … xoxomarvilous

so im doing this for me when im really just posting he incase I can NFT it

#Omarvilous #Spiritual #Self #self improvement #health

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spinecutter · 3 years ago

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☀️my morning routine!🌻☺️

✨update my dream journal

updating my dream journal when i first wake up is my way of keeping in tune with my subconscious. dreams are the subconscious' way of trying to tell you what you need to work on! i also like interpreting my own dreams and what they may mean.

✨take hot shower

this allows me to get the day going with a relaxing, cleansing experience, and clears my head (and my sinuses, lol!). i buy lush handmade soap and shampoo to exfoliate and smell nice- i recommend their lemon zest soap, the citrusy scent is strong and lasts the whole day!

✨drink a fresh, hot cup of ginger tea

in the mornings, i often feel nauseous- drinking tea before having my breakfast keeps that feeling at bay, plus its delicious! for breakfast, i usually just have a fried egg and toast; the protein keeps me at bay until lunch.

feed the growling basement.

im not sure whats in there. its always hungry for more. i keep killing for it, but it asks for more blood. i hear its whispers echoing in my skull while i sleep. it knows my name. it knows my family.

✨yoga

yoga is a great way to get your body moving and the blood flowing! i like listening to my favorite music while i do it; lately, ive been listening to glass animal's most recent album, dreamland.

✨breathing

it may sound strange, but i often just sit and breathe in the mornings. breathe in for 5 seconds, hold it for 5 more seconds, and exhale for 7. controlling my breathing like this reminds me that i am in control of my body, and in control of myself and my actions.

🌸 after that, i get dressed for work! i do this routine every day, and its part of what keeps me grounded, happy, and healthy! please like and share this if you think i should post my nightly routine as well :)

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abiteofnat · 4 years ago

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If you’re reading this, I’m coming back to Chicago, beetch

The non-existent rumors are true. After a brief 10-month exit from the city to soak up the fresh air and social distance-friendly suburbs, I am now returning to Chicago as a single, slightly more anxious version of myself. While I’m still trying to kick some of the anxiety and OCD that COVID-19 pushed from “lifelong tagalongs” to “all-controlling demons”, I feel 97% ready to be back where I feel most myself, and cannot wait to welcome that change. While that 3% still makes me a little uncomfy and hesitant, I’m a believer in pushing your boundaries to allow yourself to grow, and also, I am really sick of suburbs food.

Ha! I joke. I wouldn’t move downtown simply for access to more diverse & higher quality food... or would I? All I know is while there are plenty of gems in the North Shore, I’ve eaten take out from all of them ten times over, and I did not foster my dislike of cooking out of nowhere. My parents do not enjoy cooking, my sister pretends to enjoy cooking, and I will cook if it is 5 ingredients or less. My latest speciality is a toasted bagel with butter, hummus, and EBTB seasoning. Voila. So when it comes to dinner, we are living off of a carousel of suburban favorites, and are losing steam as we are still not comfortable with dining inside (or dining inside in the city, where the fun food is).

All of this to say, it’s exciting to imagine what life is going to be like in a few short weeks. While I’m still extra precautionary, I can’t wait to have my own space downtown, where I can enjoy coffee on my little balcony (!!!) and dream of the days friends can come squeeze into my studio safely while I lay out an entire table of sharable spreads and snacks from Ema (Charred Eggplant Spread is the best one, don’t fight me).

So you may ask, how did you come to this decision to move to the heart of downtown out of seemingly nowhere, you hermit?

It starts with my mom and I having a brief, simultaneous breakdown and coming to the conclusion that we would both feel comfortable doing a staycation downtown, as long as we wore masks, sanitized always, and braved the cold to eat outside. This was big for me! As a person with real OCD, not cute TV show “I have to keep my pens straight” OCD, this would be the most exposure I’d had to a lot of uncontrollable variables since the pandemic started. If you’re thinking, “you get to spend a weekend downtown in a hotel with your mom, shut up”, know that I hear you. I am unbelievably grateful that I’ve gotten this time with my parents, and that we can do a staycation. However, having anxiety comes at a cost, and that cost is blowing everything way the fuck out of proportion instead of being able to rationalize it sometimes. Let’s! Normalize! Having! This! Discussion!

So, we went downtown in early March for a two-night stay, and oh my goodness. The realization that we got to be in a different space, and do different things, and eat different food for a weekend made it feel like a legit vacation, and not like we drove 30 minutes to get there. The view from our room was of Michigan Ave, and hearing the traffic and seeing the people out and about instantly made me feel a sense of peace I wasn’t expecting. I’ve lived downtown for 6 years, but it always shocks me how much the city feels like an extension of me once I’m in it after being away. My mom and I went out for a walk (gentle yet forceful reminder to please wear a mask), then decided to grab dinner while we were out. The plan was to bring it back to the room, but there was a warm spell, and there just happened to be a table for two at Topolobampo on Clark, and suddenly we were sitting on the patio under the lights eating masa quesadillas dipped in a spicy salsa verde. It just happened!!!

Before getting downtown, I was tentatively looking at apartments for the spring. I was looking at Lincoln Park, Old Town, maybe Lakeview, and came across a listing in the Gold Cost that caught my eye. That one was swiped out from under me within days, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the area. Then I discovered another unit that was available, and couldn’t shake it from my mind. Over mushroom tacos I discussed it with my mom, and we decided to go see it. Totally not what I had been planning for in terms of location, but why not?

Once we polished off breakfast the next morning (Eggs Benedict with fried eggs, extra hollandaise) we headed out to see the place. Let me say I have never seen my mom fall in love with a single apartment I’ve lived in, and she was ALL. FOR. IT. Unreal reaction on her part. Once I saw the west-facing views and the incredible natural lighting, I was 100% in as well.

We spent the rest of the weekend wandering the downtown area, enjoying another dinner outside at The Gwen and my mom’s first visit to the Starbucks Reserve Roastery, which was 95% more empty than I’ve ever seen it given we went in a pandemic at 8:30PM. Shit on Starbucks all you want, but that Roastery is an incredible use of space (in non-pandemic times) and the coffee & Princi pastries are really, really good.

When we got back home feeling refreshed and like we had actually gone on a vacation, I jumped into apartment shark mode real fast and signed as many documents as the very kind realtor could send over. One week later, whabaam, I was a Gold Coast girl. Ahem, *lady*. What better way to celebrate than going to Somerset and having the Rapini & Roasted Garlic Flatbread and Wild Mushroom Risotto? No clue. As I sat outside, yet again with my mom, I felt a wave of excitement come over me and realized, this is it. This is the sign and feeling I’ve been waiting for, telling me it’s time to move back to the city and start over. The creamy, herbacious risotto also helped solidify that.

SO. After all of that, the news is I’m moving, and you’re probably wondering why I shared all of this on a blog about food. I meant for this post to be about everywhere I ate during my staycation, but realized quickly we ate at some very basic places - DELICIOUS, but still basic. Oops. Below are all the dishes I had and a rundown of the flavors, textures, etc., however don’t expect to find any new, revolutionary restaurants. Sorry!

1. Topolobampo

This Rick Bayless restaurant has been around forever, and unfortunately, you can tell by the interior. We’ve eaten here as a family a couple of times before, but never had a noteworthy experience. I can confirm that in a pinch, the patio covered in fun lights & mini piñatas, and the sharable, filling bites will do just fine. This was my first time going to a Mexican restaurant as a non-alcohol drinker, and instead of my typical mezcal margarita, I opted for a Fresh Limeaide which was refreshing and flavorful. We split the Guacamole and Chips, which if you’ve ever stopped at the Frontera in O’Hare, you know is good as fuck. It’s smooth, creamy, tangy, and topped with chopped onions and cilantro for a little crunch. It’s not the most life-changing, but it is consistently satisfying. Next, we got the Mushroom Tacos and Masa Quesadillas. The Masa Quesadillas were a fun surprise, as instead of a tortilla, the masa is what makes up the outside. They are almost like empanadas and stuffed with gooey, melty cheese, and come with a spicy salsa verde on the side. I would come back for these alone - they’re rich yet light, warm, and comforting, all the things you would want when dining outside when it’s still a little chilly. The Mushroom Tacos were quite frankly unreal, because whatever they seasoned the mushroom slices with and grilled them on made them taste unlike any mushroom I’ve had before. There was definitely some meat crossover on the grill, so don’t order those if you’re vegan, or ask them to prepare the mushroom separately. I however was LOSING MY MIND. Over mushrooms. The joys of being vegetarian!

2. The Gwen

On a happening Saturday night in Chicago, Upstairs at The Gwen is sure to be a packed scene. Located in River North, this hotel bar/restaurant offers a somehow cozy rooftop filled with loungey couches, fire pits, and ambient lighting, even though you’re surrounded by apartments and skyscrapers and there is nothing “cozy” about River North. Every table was filled, yet since you’re outside and it’s fairy spread apart, it still felt safe. I got my new classic, a Lemonade, and we got the Burrata to start. With sourdough, roasted beets, squash, pomegranate, pistachio, & arugula, this plate was nothing short of mouth-watering. It has textures! It has flavors! It has pomegranate seeds, the TikTok must have of the moment! The bread was 10/10, the burrata was 8/10, and all of the toppings made for a very find bite of salad on their own. For my main I got the Lobster Fettucine, a beautiful bowl of “charcoal fettuccine with saffron-tomato sauce, lobster, calabrian chili butter, and basil-brioche crumbs” as listed on their website. Take any of those ingredients and it’s going to be delicious, but all of them TOGETHER? INCREDIBLE. The chunks of lobster were huge, absolutely making the dish worth its price tag, and the sauce was flavorful, unique, and unlike any sauce I’ve tasted in the last few years. It’s typical to do a squid ink pasta with seafood and tomato sauce, but the saffron added a new element I very much appreciated.

3. The Starbucks Roastery

I KNOW. THIS IS A TOURIST DESTINATION. All I am saying is if there’s no line, go get an iced latte with two packets of sugar in the raw. That’s all. It’s really good after something like, I don’t know, Lobster Fettucine.

4. The Penninsula

You cannot go wrong with hitting up The Penninsula for breakfast or brunch, especially if you are staying there and have the option to do room service. Typically we would go to Pierrot Gourmet, the cafe in the ground floor of The Penninsula, however it has been closed temporarily. If there’s one thing to order with your breakfast, it’s the smashed fingerling potatoes. Delish.

5. Somerset

Somerset is becoming a quick go-to of mine for an impromptu dinner downtown, given it’s in the heart of Gold Coast and is cute if you’re sitting indoors or outdoors. The food is nothing too innovative, but it is done well, which is the most important part with “cuter” restaurants that may focus on the Instagram appeal over the food sometimes. Each time I’ve gone I’ve gotten the seasonal flatbread and a pasta or risotto, usually something with mushrooms, and it’s always been plate-licking good. To drink, I got -you guessed it- a Lemonade! For dinner I went with the Wild Mushroom Risotto which was everything you could hope for in a risotto, topped with olive oil, herbs, and local parmesan. We split the Rapini & Roasted Garlic Flatbread which was as it sounds, flatbread covered in rapini, garlic, and ricotta, which added a nice crunch and had enough rapini to feel like it was replacing a boring vegetable side dish or salad. The patio vibes were wonderful, the judgemental girls in the greenhouses looked like they were having a good time, and our waiter couldn’t have been sweeter. I will be going back to try the Fontina Arancini, which I just noticed on the menu. FRICK.

So there you have it, a very long-winded explanation of the last few weeks of my life and where you can find me on a staycation in Chicago. Hopefully once I move back to the city I’ll have endless new spots to try and won’t be basic anymore!

Until next time, Happy Eating!

-Natalie

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