#best travel tote carry on

[bagsreviews]

Baggallini womens Avenue Tote

[orellazalonia]

Mischief Managed

Summary: With the power to talk to animals, your feline companion, Mischief, hates everyone at the tower except you. Therefore, when you start getting closer to Bucky, you watch as she slowly starts to trust the super soldier. However, with all things, it doesn’t go well at first. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: Reader has the power to talk to animals.

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Whispers of the Gifted Masterlist | Sequel | Finale

You never expected your strange bond with animals to shape your life so completely. From the time you were little, the voices of birds, dogs, squirrels, even ants, were a constant hum in your mind. You couldn’t explain how or why, but you understood them, and they understood you. You didn’t just hear noises or read body language. You heard words. Emotions. Stories. And most importantly, you could talk back.

At first, it was a secret. A party trick for only the most trusted friends, who usually assumed you were joking. But now, it’s just part of you. You’ve learned to filter out the constant chatter.

You’ve learned to help animals when they’re in trouble and, occasionally, when SHIELD needs it, use them for information. Sometimes, rats knew more about hidden Hydra facilities than satellites ever could.

But for all your strange gifts, you lived a relatively quiet life in the Avengers Tower. Most of the others accepted your ability with curiosity or amusement. Tony had tried to run tests on your brain, and Clint still jokingly called you “Dr. Dolittle.” You didn’t mind. Your companions whether they be feathered, furred, or scaled had always had your back. And one in particular? She guarded you like a dragon guards treasure.

Her name was Mischief. A sleek, coal-black cat with amber eyes and a resting glare that could curdle milk. You’d found her three years ago, injured and starving in an alley, snarling at rats and pigeons for scraps. She hadn’t trusted you at first, but the moment you spoke to her, really spoke, her entire posture changed. It took a few trips bringing food to her, taking things slow. And slowly, you began to realize you hadn’t just earned her trust, you’d earned her devotion.

Since then, she rarely left your side. Mischief judged everyone you interacted with, and she never hid her opinions. She Tolerated Steve. Hated Tony’s cologne. And she absolutely loathed anyone who flirted with you.

That became a problem the day Bucky Barnes moved into the Tower.

He was quiet, scarred, and carried the weight of too many ghosts behind stormy blue eyes. He barely spoke to anyone, kept to himself, and moved like someone always waiting to be attacked. You saw it the first day in how he looked at everyone sideways, how he didn’t sit with his back to a door, how he flinched when someone approached too fast.

And Mischief? She was watching him like he’d brought a knife to your front door.

She sat on the windowsill in your room, tail twitching, eyes narrowed like tiny slits of fire. He’s hiding something, Her voice was flat, echoing in your mind like dry leaves scraping across pavement. He smells like ghosts. Like regret mixed with metal and blood. I don’t like him.

You sighed, brushing a hand over her silky back. “He’s been through a lot. Be nice.”

Nice? You want nice? Find a golden retriever. I’m watching him.

You didn’t know it then, but Mischief’s “watching” would escalate. She wasn’t just wary of Bucky Barnes. She was preparing for war. And you? You were caught in the middle of a cold war between an ex-assassin with a tragic past… and your jealous cat.

It started small at first.

Bucky would pass you in the hallway, nod a quiet hello, and Mischief would hiss from your shoulder like a kettle set to boil.

You tried to explain it away as best as you could. "She’s just like that at first," You said once when Bucky raised a brow at the low growl coming from your tote bag. Mischief liked to crawl inside and travel with you unnoticed. “She doesn’t warm up easily.”

He gave a short, humorless chuckle. “Neither do I.”

You weren’t sure what drew you toward him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed almost comfortable in silence, the way he sat on the common room couch like it didn’t quite belong to him, or how he listened to conversations without ever trying to steer them. Maybe it was how he never asked you questions unless he thought the answer would matter. He was calm. Still. A rare kind of quiet you’d only ever felt around animals.

But Mischief noticed.

One night, you caught her sitting in the kitchen sink like a gargoyle, glaring at the hallway. When you asked what she was doing, she said, Waiting for the metal-armed brooder. If he comes in here again, I’ll gut the loaf of bread he likes.

Sure enough, Bucky wandered in a minute later, offered you a soft smile, and went for the exact loaf.

The next morning, it was shredded. You sighed at the sight as you went out to get a replacement.

Still, you didn’t stop spending time with him.

You started joining him in the gym after hours. The excuse given was wanting to stretch, but really, you just liked the way he relaxed when no one else was around. Sometimes you brought a dog or two in from the compound’s training fields, let them rest while you and Bucky talked. Or didn’t talk. You didn’t need to.

“I think animals like you,” You told him one evening, watching a scruffy mutt rest his head on Bucky’s knee.

He blinked down at the dog like it had just spoken fluent Russian. “That’s a first.”

He’s got soft hands, The dog murmured. I like him.

You smiled to yourself. “I think they know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’ve got a good heart.”

He looked away quickly, jaw tight. You didn’t say anything more, letting it go.

Later that night, Mischief perched on your chest like a stone weight and narrowed her eyes. You’re getting attached.

“I’m not.”

You are.

“You scratched a loaf of bread.”

It deserved it.

You sighed, having not expected that response, but then again, it was typical of her. Mischief wasn’t one to be easily appeased, and her possessiveness was notorious. But this time, she didn’t go on about it. Instead, she flicked her tail, an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. Her voice softened, almost like a reluctant admission. You’re… different with him.

“Different?” You tilted your head, trying to understand her point.

You relax around him. You listen more. I don’t like it.

It struck a chord in you. You weren’t blind to the shift in your own behavior. With Bucky, things felt easier. Calmer. He had this way of being present and patient in a way that drew you in, as if there was a shared understanding of pain that made silences less heavy. Sure, there were times where the past still haunted him. But his company was always one you found yourself subconsciously seeking.

He didn’t demand things from you. He didn’t ask for anything you weren’t ready to give. And when you were with him, the world felt… simpler.

But Mischief’s words stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m not going to stop seeing him just because you don’t like it,” You murmured, feeling the weight of her gaze.

I know you won’t, She responded in a quieter tone now. But if he hurts you, I’ll bite his face off.

You chuckled softly at the absurdity of the threat. “I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who would hurt anyone… but thanks for the warning.”

Mischief gave a long, almost disappointed sigh, as if she realized there was nothing she could do to change your mind. You’ve always been good at ignoring my advice. I’ll be here, though. Watching.

And just like that, she padded off your chest and curled up on the windowsill, turning her back to you in a huff.

You didn’t feel the usual pang of guilt for not heeding her advice. Instead, you lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Bucky’s quiet demeanor, his unspoken trust, and how, somehow, he made you feel less like an outsider.

But the cat was right about one thing: you were getting attached. And that was something even Mischief couldn’t stop.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky Barnes became a quiet fixture in your life. He wasn’t the kind to join in on group outings or large training sessions. He mostly kept to himself, which, in a way, you could relate to. The weight of his past was something you recognized in yourself. A type of emotional burden carried alone, pushing people away without ever intending to.

Mischief, however, now had different ideas about Bucky. She followed him around like a shadow, watching his every move, her eyes always narrowing suspiciously whenever he so much as looked in your direction.

And then came the first moment that Bucky spoke to her directly.

You were sitting in the common room, legs tucked underneath you, reading a book when Bucky entered, his usual silent demeanor drifting through the door like a storm cloud. You barely looked up, but Mischief did. She jumped down from the windowsill with a graceful thud, making her way slowly toward Bucky. He froze, eyes narrowing as she circled his feet.

"You've got a problem with me, huh?" He asked, voice low, as if speaking to a wild animal.

Mischief didn’t answer. Instead, she sat down and stared at him, her eyes unblinking, before giving a loud, unmistakable hiss.

Bucky took a slow, measured step back, unsure whether to laugh or be alarmed. “Right… definitely got a problem with me.”

You looked up from your book, feigning innocence. “She’s just… protective.” You tried not to laugh, but the cat’s blatant territorial behavior was almost too much.

“Protective?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Of you?”

You nodded, setting your book aside. “She doesn’t like anyone getting too close to me. Especially not new people.” You gave him a playful smile, though there was an undercurrent of caution. You had no idea what he might say next. Yeah, he’s graciously ignored her behavior the past couple of encounters. But you know that not everyone reacted well to Mischief’s… directness.

Bucky looked at Mischief, who was now sitting on the arm of the couch, staring at him with intense focus but a bit more relaxed. Like she was really assessing him now. He couldn’t seem to hide the slight tension in his shoulders, though his eyes softened just a fraction. “I’ll take her behavior as simply me being new then?” He asked with a wry grin.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Like I said before, she warms up to people eventually.”

“Eventually?” He turned to you, crossing his arms. “How long does that usually take?”

“A few months,” You answered, fully serious, but Mischief’s sudden purring interrupted the tension in the air. You blinked in surprise. Mischief didn’t purr for just anyone, certainly not for someone she didn’t trust who she had threatened previously.

You try not to make it a big deal, knowing maybe something changed her mind and she’s likely trying to give Bucky a chance for you. Or she’s trying to spite you. Either works.

Bucky let out a short, amused huff. “I guess I’m getting there.”

As time passed with your relationship with Bucky slowly becoming more comfortable, he started showing up more too. Helping you with groceries, joining you on the Tower’s rooftop garden, even sitting beside you when you fed a flock of sparrows that landed whenever you called. The birds adored you. One bold little sparrow even landed on Bucky’s knee once, chirped at him twice, and fluttered away.

“She says you look sad but safe,” You told him.

He stared at the spot where the bird had been. “…I’ll take it.”

You didn’t realize it back then, but Mischief had stopped watching Bucky like a threat. She still narrowed her eyes when he got too close, but the claws stayed retracted. And one morning, after Bucky fell asleep on your couch with a book resting on his chest, you walked into the room and found Mischief curled on the back of the couch above his head, keeping watch.

Don’t make this a habit, She warned, but you saw the way she rested her tail across Bucky’s shoulder like a soft little truce flag.

He didn’t wake up. But when he did, and she didn’t move, you didn’t miss the quiet surprise and the ghost of a smile on his face.

Bonus:

The Avengers had long accepted that Mischief was… a little difficult. And by “difficult,” they meant that she was impossible.

Steve tried to be friendly and charming, his warm smile and gentle hands never working when it came to earning her trust. He once tried to bribe her with tuna, only for her to leap onto the counter, knock the can on the floor, and give him a look that suggested he was the most pitiful creature to ever walk the Earth.

Tony, of course, had tried his usual route. Gifts. Expensive toys, cat condos, custom-made collars with diamond studs. Mischief had only hissed at him, her tail twitching with disdain, and turned her back on him every time he walked past. Tony had even tried to sneak in some extra treats with a drone, but Mischief had launched herself at it like a panther on a hunt, sending the drone crashing to the ground in a flurry of sparks and broken components.

Clint and Wanda were no better. Clint had tried talking to her like they were two old friends. He’d even imitated her meows, thinking he could “speak her language.” His reward was a sharp swipe to the face that left him sporting a red scratch for a week. Wanda had tried charm, offering the cat quiet moments and gentle pats. But Mischief simply stared, unblinking, until Wanda gave up, shaking her head and muttering, “She’s something else.”

A couple of the others had tried too, but failed just like the rest. They had all made their peace with it. Mischief was your cat, your problem. None of them expected to get closer to her.

So, when they found out Bucky managed to break some of her walls, it certainly drew some attention.

It wasn’t even anything spectacular at first. At first, it was just him sitting in the common room with his coffee, his book, his quiet presence that always seemed to put you at ease. You, in your usual spot, with Mischief curled at your feet.

But slowly, Bucky had started talking to her. Not in any particular way, just gentle words, a little teasing, soft hums that she might respond to. At first, they were just passing exchanges.

“You’re looking smug today,” Bucky had said, watching Mischief stretch out on the windowsill, her tail swishing slowly.

To his surprise, she’d looked at him, unimpressed, and flicked her tail toward the floor like she was dismissing him entirely. Bucky chuckled softly.

“That’s fine. I’m used to being ignored,” He’d muttered, before turning back to his book.

No one had thought much of it. Until it happened again. And again.

One afternoon, you came into the living room to find Bucky sitting cross-legged on the floor, Mischief lying across his lap. She’d never done that with anyone else. She was curled up, purring softly, and Bucky’s hand was resting just behind her ears, stroking her fur gently.

The other Avengers were lounging around, preparing for the evening’s mission debrief. Steve and Clint had been discussing logistics while Tony fiddled with a gadget, but all of them froze when they saw the scene unfolding in front of them.

Mischief, the aloof, temperamental queen of the Tower, was utterly content in Bucky’s lap.

Tony’s jaw dropped first. “Wait a minute,” He pointed at the scene. “Is that… Mischief?”

“Yeah…” Clint said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and awe. “Is she… purring?”

“I’ve never seen her so… calm,” Bruce added quietly, watching the scene. “She always runs away from us. We can’t even get close without her hissing or hiding.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, furrowing his brow. “What is he doing differently?”

Bucky glanced up, catching their stares. He shrugged with an easy grin. “I don’t know, she just… likes me, I guess.”

Everyone stared at him. Even Tony, who never really lacked for confidence, looked a little thrown off.

“How?” Wanda asked, her tone hesitant. “She’s never… let anyone get that close. Not even me, and I’ve tried for weeks.”

Bucky just chuckled, his hand continuing to stroke Mischief’s back. “I don’t know. Maybe she sees something in me. Or maybe I just smell like someone who doesn’t mind the silence.”

The others exchanged baffled glances. It was true. Bucky was quiet, reserved. He never pushed, never pried. Perhaps that had something to do with it. But no one could quite figure out how he’d managed to break through the barrier that had kept them all at arm’s length.

“I don’t think it’s just that,” Clint said thoughtfully, his eyes still on the cat, his fingers twitching like he was about to reach for her. “I’ve been here longer than you, man. And she’s never let anyone get that close.”

Bucky’s smile faltered for a moment, as if he was considering something deeper. “Maybe she just needed someone who didn’t expect anything from her.”

The team was silent, still watching Mischief as she stretched lazily on Bucky’s lap, a low purr vibrating the air around them. It was the first time anyone had seen her so relaxed in front of someone who wasn’t you.

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “I think we’ve just witnessed a miracle.”

Tony was already pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna start a betting pool. Bucky Barnes: Cat Whisperer. Who knew?”

Wanda chuckled softly, still a little stunned. “What did you do, Bucky? Did you offer her a deal?”

“I think she’s just decided I’m not worth the trouble,” He said, finally giving Mischief’s ears a gentle scratch that made her eyes flutter shut in contentment. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

And just like that, the Avengers knew. There was something about Bucky Barnes, something quiet, something patient, that had finally cracked through the walls of the grumpy black cat that no one else had been able to breach.

Mischief had chosen him. And the rest of them? They were just going to have to deal with it.

[lcriedlastnight]

Ok so I got a request pls 🙏 🥹

Maybe Oscar's or Max Fs sister and Lando with the prompt "I'm your lockscreen?" - "you weren't supposed to see that"

I hope that's enough if not I can come up with a longer one

no this is so prefect! i love this so much!

tw: fem!reader, swear, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 933

max was a great brother. he was a little protective but overall he was the best. he had gone round all of his friends, every time he made a new one, telling them you were strictly off limits.

of course this also applied to lando, too. no matter how rich they were, or how famous or how pretty they were. yeah, you maybe had fallen victim to lando norris' charm. you had no idea what it was because he literally had no game, what so ever. you just thought he was cute, it made you feel like a teenager with a crush on your brother's best friend. half of it being true.

you had been looking forward to max's birthday celebrations, not to celebrate his birthday. no but to see his pretty, curly-haired best friend. you had not been this excited in a while. it was a little embarrassing but you just played it off like you were excited to be with your brother. maybe you were a little excited to see him too, you had not actually seen him in a while as he was almost just as bad as lando with being all around the world all the time. you were jealous, you always wanted to travel.

you arrive at max's house just after lando does. you two are the only guests that have arrived so far. seeing as max had asked you both to come a little earlier to help him prepare that did not surprise you. you do not even bother knocking, instead you just walk inside and announce aloud that you were here. you hear a muffled shout from the other room- well two muffled shouts to be exact, alerting you that both boys were in the kitchen. lando's laugh could be heard from a mile away.

max greets you as soon as he notices your presence while lando just stands in place, grinning like a fool. you do not understand him sometimes but you smile back at him anyways, never one to be impolite.

"hi. what exactly do you need help with, max?" you asked, setting your things on the counter so you could help him with the getting ready prospect of the party.

an hour later and you wished you had never bothered responding to your brothers desperate text messages last night, pleading you to come help him set up. both boys had ended up slacking so you had put mostly everything together. max complained "why should i have to set up? it's my birthday." but lando was quick to humble him, "you're the one who decided to throw a last minute party in your own house."

after a lot of of complaining from both boys, they eventually did end up pulling their weight and once all the balloons and banners were set up to max's liking he gave both you and lando the go ahead to begin getting ready. unfortunately because you knew you were getting ready at max's you had to haul a heavy bag full of your makeup and outfit options for the night in a tote bag. on the bright side though, lando offered to carry it up stairs for you and you got to see the way his muscles bulged as he strained to carry the bag.

for some reason lando had refused to leave your side as you got ready, claiming it was relaxing to watch you get ready. how you did not know this boy was down bad for you was unbelievable. he literally offered to let you play music on his phone while yours charged on the opposite side of the room. he watched on with a pretty smile as you scroll through his liked songs on spotify, trying to find the one that sets the mood of how you were currently feeling getting ready.

lando makes small talk as he lays on the guest bed behind you, just catching up with you really, as you follow the steps in your makeup routine. the song catches you off guard but you physically recoil as it plays. "i fucking hate this song!" you exclaim, the pre-game drinks settling in a little. you tap lando's phone screen to change the song when you catch a glimpse at his phone screen. it was a glimpse because it faded to black before you could really study it. you did not need more than a glimpse to recognise your face staring back at you.

"i'm your lock screen?" you ask lando. you turn to face him on the bed, you can see the panic in his eyes as your words register in his mind.

"what?" he laughs lunging for his phone like that would do anything. the damage was done now. you had seen the picture. there was no going back. "that's not- uh."

you smirk as lando tries and fails to dig himself out this.

"you weren't supposed to see that." lando blushes a little. it is the first time you have ever seen lando blush. you suppress the urge to grab your own phone and snap a picture of him, all pink cheeked and starry eyed. maybe you would make it your lock screen.

"it's fine. it's cute. now i want you as my lock screen." you smile at him desperately wanting to calm his nerves. lando just grins at you.

you had then made it that night's mission to take the cutest picture of lando to set as your own lock screen. you succeeded but not without a mouthful from max on what the fuck you thought you were doing.

[lovecanyon]

Inside Y/N L/N’s Bag | Vogue | Dad!H

MASTERLIST | PATREON

“Hi Vogue I am Y/N L/N and this is what’s in my bag.”

After she introduces herself, Y/N looks down at the bag in her lap. The bag she had used every single day was a personalized Pleasing mesh bag. It was a light pink color and had a blue ribbon tied onto one of the straps.

It was clear that it meant a lot to her.

“What I carry with me everyday is this.” She says grabbing onto her bag. “You can fit anything in here. And the thing about this is, it’s technically Inez’s diaper bag.”

Y/N then grins at the memory of Harry gifting her the tote.

“This specific bag was gifted to me by my husband a while ago, right before he had launched Pleasing. My son actually loves this bag and has one of his own but smaller. He doesn't go anywhere without it.” Y/N shares.

Setting her carrier onto the wooden coffee table in front of her, the Styles woman reaches into her bag and pulls out a bag of candy. Beau's favorite type.

Y/N remembers the night when Harry had got their son addicted to the chocolate minstrels.

“My son is obsessed with these and when I saw them I had to get them for him.” She laughs. “I spoil my kids way too much.”

The next thing Y/N pulled out was her phone. Just a plain iPhone 14 with a case that she had stolen from Harry or borrowed it, so she said. Once she taps on the screen her face lights up.

Her lock screen was a photo of a newborn Inez sleeping on Harry’s chest with Beau right beside them.

She almost shed a tear.

“This is my phone, nothing special until you look at the lock screen.” Y/N grins. She loved her family so deeply.

After placing her phone onto the table, she slides her hand into her carrier pulling out a blue bandanna. It previously belonged to Harry until Inez came around and slid the bandanna off of her father’s head.

It was truly her favorite thing in the world. You could say it was sort of like a safety blanket for her.

“Harry’s bandanna or should I say Inez’s bandanna. That girl loves this thing so much.”

-

A small bag of diapers, bibs, toy trucks, hair clips that she had stole back from Harry, kids sunscreen, Love on Tour’s backstage/V.I.P passes, bandaids, Harry’s headphones, her family’s passports and a camera

“Since we’re currently on tour and always traveling I always have to carry my children’s essentials.” Y/N explains looking at all the items laid out in front of her. “You can never be unprepared.”

Just five years ago her bag was filled with very different items than now. She was now a mother and had a family with a man she’s always wanted to grow old with.

Two kids later and she’s become a changed woman, a better one. She’s always valued the life she had, especially right now. Y/N couldn't have been more happy.

“Another toy!” Y/N laughs, pulling out another toy from her bag. “A mini statue of our dog Kendall who was actually named after Kendall Roy from Succession since Harry is obsessed with that show.” She holds out a miniature dog in her palm.

Following the toy, she slides out a pair of rings that clearly belonged to Harry Styles since they were his initials.

Y/N leans forward and slips the rings into her back pocket. She remembers the last time Harry had lost jewelry. It was at Coachella and he went insane looking for them.

“We are not losing any more rings.”

Comments:

harryfan2 WHEN WAS THEIR WEDDING OMFG?????

harryfan10 best mother in the world truly

harryfan4 harry’s love for succession has me rolling 😭😭

harryfan8 this. is. what. we. needed.

harryfan13 THE LOCK SCREEN

harryfan7 i cannot stress how much i love this video

harryfan5 the literal girl version of harry

harryfan9 harry is finally y/n’s husband 🧎‍♂️

harryfan11 i’m literally crying

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @cherryfragrancx @milkiane @golden-hoax @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia

[mixxiew]

cruise of love | hc

chapter four: a shitty first day

yn’s heart buzzed with excitement and nerves as she stepped into the classroom with her two best friends by her side, the chatter of students bouncing off the walls. the room was bright and airy, with large windows overlooking the vast ocean, the shimmering blue water reflecting sunlight into the room. It was hard to believe she was here—on a cruise ship, no less—about to start a semester of studying while traveling the world.

“yn!” jaemin waved her over from the middle row.

she weaved through the rows of students, her tote bag bumping against her hip, and after she found her seat (thankfully near him) she sat down.

giselle lets out a big groan after seeing her seat so far from her friends and so did rei, founding herself in the front seat.

yn waved while sending them kisses just to comeback to jaem.

“good morning sir” she greeted, glancing around as she pulled out her notebook. “this place is packed.”

jaemin nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “packed and full of eye candy. I already spotted someone from last night’s party.” his voice dropped to an excited whisper. “two rows ahead, three seats to the left. don’t be too obvious!”

yn tried not to laugh as she casually looked in the direction he mentioned. “the guy in the navy sweater?”

jaemin nodded dramatically, clutching his chest. “that’s him. Isn’t he so hot? I swear he smiled at me when I walked in.”

“I think he was just being polite, he looks like a puppy” Y/N teased, earning a playful shove from jaemin.

as she scanned the room, her eyes landed on a group of boys sitting near the back. on of them, a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and a shy demeanor, caught her attention. he was laughing at something one of his friends said, his smile lighting up his face.

“omg that’s the guy!” she whispered, nudging jaemin.

he followed her gaze and grinned. “the hottie on twitter? yeah i saw him earlier, he’s even hotter in person”

“very” yn admitted, her lips curving into a small smile.

her eyes probably longed too much on the boy because one of his friend spotted her and waved at her, making her blush from head to toe

before anything else could happen, the professor entered the room, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “good morning, everyone! welcome to Semester at the Sea. I’m Professor Paul, and I’ll be your instructor for Global Studies this semester.”

the room quieted as Professor Paul launched into his introduction, explaining the syllabus and what they could expect over the next few months.

yn was jotting down notes when the door suddenly swung open with a loud thud.

every head in the room turned as someone strolled in—late and completely unapologetic.

it was him.

that motherfucker.

haechan.

or whatever his ass name was.

yn’s stomach dropped. he was dressed in a crisp white shirt and blue jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. he carried himself with the same effortless arrogance as before, his bag slung over one shoulder.

“ah, Mr. Lee” Professor Paul said, his tone light but teasing at the same time.

“so nice of you to join us. Were you saving the best entrance for last?”

the class erupted in laughter, but haechan didn’t seem fazed. he flashed a lazy grin.

“just wanted to make sure everyone noticed me, Professor.”

“well, congratulations. mission accomplished. now, find your seat before I start assigning essays as punishment.”

haechan chuckled, his gaze sweeping the room as he sauntered down the aisle. yn’s heart sank as she realized he was heading straight toward her row.

“please don’t let it be near me. please don’t let it be near me” she muttered under her breath.

jaemin looked at her laughing a bit.

yn know that giselle was killing him with her eyes.

just in time Professor Paul pointed to the empty seat right beside her.

“that one’s yours, Mr. Lee. take it.”

yn froze, her worst nightmare coming true in real-time.

haechan’s eyes lit up with recognition the moment he saw her. a slow, smug smile spread across his face as he slid into the seat next to hers. “well, well” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “i guess we are kinda fated at this point.”

stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. “this must be my punishment for something” she muttered.

haechan chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “oh, don’t look so thrilled. i’m a great deskmate.”

she looked at my for a second before taking her attention back to the professor. “I suggest you to bring a raincoat for future classes.”

“don’t be so dramatic,” haechan said, propping his chin on his hand as he turned to face her. “you should be flattered. I don’t usually remember people.”

“oh, lucky me” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Professor Paul clapped his hands again, pulling the class’s attention back to the front. “all right, let’s focus, everyone. we’ve got a lot to cover today.”

yn tried to focus, but she could feel haechan’s gaze on her, practically boring a hole into the side of her head. finally, she turned to him, whispering harshly. “stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring” he whispered back, his lips twitching with amusement. “I’m observing.”

“same thing” she hissed.

“relax yn” he said, leaning closer. “we’ve got a whole semester together. might as well get comfortable.”

her jaw clenched as she turned back to her notebook, determined to ignore him. but the playful glint in his eyes and the smug curve of his lips told her one thing:

this was only the beginning.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

previous | masterlist | next

౨ৎauthor’s note: this is for y’all cuties a written chap bc i love them! 😁 hope y’all enjoy it!

౨ৎ taglist! @dlin3 @haechology @iamsimplyasimp @dudekiss3r @gukuwii @minhosprettywife @catpjimin @injunnie-lemon @snoopyjimin @spacejip @yewshi @delululi

[whentherewerebicycles]

I am not really an avid Purchaser of Objects but periodically I like to take stock of things I’ve bought that turned out to be excellent quality or worth investing in. here are my favorites:

thousandfell’s women’s lace-up sneakers. vegan leather and insanely comfy. took them as my only pair of shoes on a very walking-intensive trip to japan and south korea and ended up exclaiming aloud many times “god I can’t believe how comfy these are!!” they’ve lasted two full years of heavy wear and are still going strong.

the LL bean women’s mountain classic anorak. this is the only jacket I have ever needed in the PNW. it’s insanely lightweight so it’s perfect for brisk but not too cold days (and also amazing for travel as it folds down so small), BUT it’s also roomy enough that you can layer a sweatshirt under it and comfortably wear it outside in temps as low as 35 degrees. it also has SO MANY HUGE POCKETS which means I can carry everything I need for the dogs and the baby in just my jacket lol. like literally i can fit a bottle and diapers and wipes in it. I own it in two colors and wear it every single day.

able’s mamuye leather tote. I believe this was a rec from sasha? I had been searching high and low for a bag that looked professional for work but was still casual enough to use as an everyday or travel tote too. I wanted something simple, durable, and high quality enough that I could use it for a really long time. I splurged for the kind with a zipper and it was worth it! the one change is I wish it came with an organizer or had a bit more built-in structure. I got a cheap one off amazon which works fine and gives it a nice shape, but idk I might eventually buy the one they sell specifically for this bag. I love this bag so much that every time I see it I gasp inwardly at how beautiful it is and how fancy yet low-maintenance it looks. I think your favorite objects should be so beautiful to you they make your heart happy when you see them and this bag definitely qualifies.

karina dresses. the prints can be hit or miss and sell out pretty fast so you have to jump on the new collection releases when they email you. but almost every work dress I own is from this company and I love them so much. they’re super well made, flattering, and cut in a way that makes them very forgiving if your body (like mine) tends to fluctuate up and down in weight a lot. they are so forgiving that I didn’t have to buy any new maternity clothes for work—I just wore these through my whole pregnancy. the one thing that might not work for everyone: they’re made from a synthetic fabric, which means they never wrinkle and hang-dry very quickly, but also idk I do prefer the feel of cotton or linen or another more breathable natural fiber.

speaking of natural fibers: I also purchased a few skirts and a dress from pact (organic cotton basics) and I really like them so far but don’t yet know how they’ll hold up over time! so they get an honorary mention for now.

the thomasville tisdale sectional. this is the greatest couch ever made. I evangelize for it every opportunity I get. it’s so comfy and so gigantic. you can rearrange the modular pieces to form a very comfortable queen-sized bed if you don’t have a spare room or if you just want to have a really cozy movie night. I’ve had it for three years and it gets a lot of wear and tear with the dogs but it still looks and feels SO nice. plus it’s costco and their insane return policy means that if it falls apart in five years (it won’t) I could almost certainly still take it back and get a full refund. best! giant! couch! ever!!!!

ok that’s it lol everything else I own apart from art and quirky sentimental objects is kinda junk, or is just Fine but not worth writing home about. do you own high quality objects or clothing that you love recommending to other people? if so I want to hear about it.

[syndrossi]

@lidoshka's art is so pretty, I'm literally done in for. Her latest masterpiece with older teenage Jon and Rhaegar made me wonder if, upon getting old enough for some independence to fly on their own and escape Daemon's helicoptor parentitis, Jon and Rhaegar would fly to the wall to check things out as warriors-in-the-know re: how important the wall actually is. I could see them wanting to show up, help out, do what they can without swearing their lives over. Do you think the watch would like to have them as, ah, celebrity visitors?

I was just thinking that teenage Jon would totally spar with them, and end up teaching a bunch, being reminded of his own days there... the nostalgia! And Rhaegar would too, but also he'd dive into the library and just marvel at the wonder of it all. (I assume he'd insist on visiting the Nightfort. No sitting on cursed chairs or making deals with evil dark ice queens, boys.)

Just imagining their adventures...

I mean, the Watch entertained Tyrion (aka the queen's brother), and vice versa I suppose, for quite a while! The king's nephews by blood would surely be welcome and viewed as a sign of the Crown's support. Especially if they were to have finagled some extra resources from Viserys prior to their visit.

The main obstacle is literally Daemon, whose helicopter parentitis has perhaps relaxed a tiny bit, except for two very particular locations: the Wall, and the Trident. So they'd probably be toting Daemon along for this, and he would be grumpy about it because it's bloody cold.

I don't know if Daemon could watch Jon sparring with recruits/rangers/etc, so Rhaegar likely has to distract him while that's going on. I'm anticipating a lot of cocky/skeptical rangers who are expecting pampered princes (solidified somewhat by Daemon's bitter complaints about the cold) and instead get humbled by a teenager. While Jon's chatting with the rangers about their patrols, Rhaegar is probably subtly probing the stewards for any hints of unusual activity that would suggest the Others have awoken.

At the very least, they want a good picture of the state of the Watch, and its readiness for recognizing and responding to threats. I wouldn't be surprised if Jon slips away on a patrol just once, and Rhaegar has to sit on Daemon to keep him from following.

And yes, Rhaegar is adamant about visiting the Nightfort! Which gets a few grumbles from the brothers of the Watch because the kid's great-grandmother was the one who insisted on it being abandoned and now he wants to go there? (Given that there's no one to host them there, this probably involves visiting Winterfell to drum up a party to travel with them that can carry supplies, etc. At this point, Bennard would be regent for Cregan, so the political atmosphere there would be...interesting.)

The boys' best bets for adventures sans Daemon would be to plan for nothing north of Winterfell, nothing near the Trident, and nothing too close to Dorne (or Oldtown). I'm betting they have a ton of adventures in the Vale, since it's close to home, but the weird stuff would definitely occur mostly in the usual suspects (along or north of the Wall, Harrenhal, etc).

[afyrian]

ch. 7 - three mugs for one m.list

    "it is dishwasher safe, however, for the best results, handwashing is the way to go," you wrap up two bowls, similar designs that compliment each other. 

  you made them in the hopes of giving it to two loved ones. normally, you wouldn't use your creativity for such a thing, liking the abnormality of new designs. however, something's been inspiring you lately. you've found yourself seeing love in everything, or everyone, around you. your friends have all started to fall in love, some quicker than others, and it sends a flurry in your chest.

  the couple in front of you takes them in a tote bag, arms wrapped around each other as they leave the shop. you lean against your counter, resting your chin in your hand. your gaze travels to a set you finished recently. it's a set of two, one with an onigiri on it, the other harboring a design of tempura. staring at it, you imagine what your lunch will be like. 

  that he'll bring the most delicious dish, your hands will wrap around his, guiding him through the motions. and you'll be in love, unapologetically in love. smiling to yourself, you look at the cash register, feeling a little more secure. more and more people have been coming to the store, like a switch has been flipped.

  you suppose the onigiri miya shop finally getting to a steady ground could be the reason. parking has let up and people have been stopping in, couples young and old coming for dates. you've even considered couples classes, especially after you invited osamu over for his own private session. 

  letting your mind wander about all things beautiful and special, you bite your lip. your wandering doesn't last long as the door opens once more, your mouth moving quicker than your eyes, "hello! welcome to the earthen kiln, can i help you sign up for a class or purchase some pottery?"

  you look up to the front door and see someone standing there, his face familiar, but his hair is a yellowish blonde. the way he stands even resembles that of his brother, the same miya appearance. "well, i would definitely like to 'purchase some pottery', and to apologize," he walks up to the counter, holding out his hand.

  shaking his, you purse your lips, "so you must be osamu's brother? the one that conveniently bought every spot, with osamu's money, and then had to back out?" 

  "when you put it that way, it sounds bad, but truly i did not know our friend was going to call me to the countryside. apparently some incident happened with some animals," he shrugs, walking over to your shelves of pottery, shoving his hands into his pockets, just like osamu does, "and if he didn't say, the name is atsumu, and i’m very sorry.”

  you nod, rolling your eyes while he isn't looking, clocking him as a really odd person. clenching your jaw, you walk over towards him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. he looks at all the dishes, noticing the sets that you've left out, the specialty pieces. especially viewing the onigiri one that sits in the sunlight.

  "you're very skilled, no wonder he talks about you with such high regard," he turns to look at you, raising his eyebrows before grabbing the mug, feeling the slight texture that it carries. 

  you smile to yourself, trying to figure out if he's messing with you. of course you can see how caring osamu is, you can remember him almost kissing you over dinner. but the way atsumu acts sends a ring of suspicion swirling through your brain, your fingers tapping against your biceps. "thank you, is there anything catching your eye?" you move one of the mugs that he tilted, facing it forward once more.

  he bites his lip, setting down the onigiri mug and grabbing one that has a netting design, "this one, reminds me of our volleyball court.."

  "well, let me ring it up, unless of course, you'd like another one," you take the mug from his hand, walking it over to the counter to wrap it up for him.

  atsumu stands there for a moment as he looks at the plates, bowls, cups. you watch as his eyes graze over the mugs once more, heart beating quickly. a part of you wants to just keep it, for yourself. because something you made with such love is going to a person you don't know. you don't know what he'll do with it, but you know you'll cherish it. 

  grabbing them, he brings the two mugs over to the counter, setting them down onto the wood. you take in a deep sigh and run your tongue along your teeth. looking back at him, you grab the two from the counter, taking some thick paper to wrap them up in. "so, just those three then?" you ask, setting them into a paper bag with 'earthen kiln' stamped into the front.

  "yeah, i think all three will be fine. hopefully 'samu can make something equally nice at your private lesson," he jokes, fishing out his wallet to give you the amount needed for all three.

  you figure out the cost of all three, waiting for him to hand over a credit card or some yen, "with how talented osamu seems to be, i think he'll do just fine. plus we're going to be doing a bowl which won't be too hard for anyone starting out."

  atsumu nods, handing off his credit card to you, a smile on his face, "right... well, don't break his heart, will ya? he is my brother after all, and i would hate for his cooking to turn sour if he's mopin'."

  handing it back to him, you look into his eyes, noticing the same compassion that his brother has. his is slightly veiled behind a layer of humor, but in there, you can tell they're one in the same. "trust me, i don't think i could ever break his heart, and i certainly wouldn't dream of it," you shake your head, smiling.

a/n: just a dude looking out for his brother lol taglist: @causenessus @osakis-gf @eggyrocks @brkfclub @marisabel14

@bbybibi @etoiile @miyamoratsumuu @girlokarina @gsyche

@cherrypieyourface @zephestia @acowboykisser @whosmarjj @gumiiiiezzzz

@guitarstringed-scars @19calicos @savemebrazilhinata @phoenix-eclipses @theycallmenanamisgirl

@softpia

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

For as long as I've had cash to carry, I've carried a little cash in my wallet explicitly to give anyone out panhandling when I'm running errands, or hitchhikers when I drop them off. I learned the habit from my mom who carried a lil tote bag in the trunk with cash, travel hygeine kits, and nut/wheat free protein bars and water bottles. She picked up a lot of people on the way out to Chico and other ag towns, and it was important to her that she always leave them at their destination with resources.

One day, I was driving a date home from lunch and we had our leftovers in the car with us. I pulled off to give a man a little younger than I am now my on-hand cash and when we drove off my date started scolding me for giving him my money instead of giving him our leftovers.

I was, frankly, stunned. The idea that it would be better to hand the man a styrofoam box with a half eaten burger than to give him a $10 bill he could use to buy his own food was baffling to me.

"Well, if he's really homeless, I'm sure he'd be grateful for anything. And besides, he's just some stranger off the street! Why do you just believe what his sign says?" My date was so sure that I had given the man money because I pitied him. Because I wanted to help. Simply couldn't fathom that I'd done it because he asked and I could do so.

See, I don't give out my on-hand cash because people are needy and I am benevolent. I do it because people who ask for what they need have to be able to interact with people who will give them what they ask for in full recognition of their humanity. It's what lets you KEEP asking for what you need when it matters or is hard. And trust me. No one is asking a road full of strangers to help them meet their needs if it didn't matter to do so. I don't really care WHY they need what they need or if they're honest with me about it. It's not important to me to know those things. Someone asked. I could answer. So I did.

I've been seeing the conversation of "can you really trust who people say they are on the internet? Why are you giving money to strangers? What if they're scamming you?" popping back up more often as the world descends into conflict and climate change and medical neglect. I get it. If people can just post a sob story and get away with defrauding people of thousands of dollars, it feels unjust! Maybe you're even offended on behalf of ACTUAL victims and the money they might not get because it went to a fraudster!

It sounds just like my date that day, so sure that I was giving money to a young man on a street corner because I saw him as broken and in need of my salvation. If you are giving to strangers and upset that the money may serve different functions than you believed at the time, then why ARE you giving to strangers? Why do you feel so entitled to micromanage someone's life because you might give or have given them a gift? Perhaps you should reserve your gifts for those whom you won't feel compelled to attach strings.

I give to fundraisers online not because I assume every one is genuine. Do I check things out? Sure! But I also assume that once I have chosen to give, even someone who has been totally honest in their pleas may still spend "my money" on something unrelated. Why should I care? It was a gift. It's not mine anymore.

"But I could/would have spent it better!" Then you should have. But you chose to spend it by making it a gift. You don't get to dominate somebody because of that. If you're NOT confident that you are fine never thinking about the money again once you give it to the person in question, don't give it to them! But don't make yourself the person who demands why others give cash to panhandlers who "might not actually need it" instead of some other, more insulting option. Honestly best practice is probably to Simply Not Comment on how others spend their money unless it is somehow also your money and you need to access it.

I think it would be good to learn that about online fundraisers too. Especially when the consequences of falsely naming someone a faker or a fraud is, as it so often has been when it comes to the dynamic of begging strangers for money, a fucking death sentence. Maybe you just let people make the choice they're most comfortable with and do the same for yourself without acting like you have the right to the roles of judge, jury, and executioner.

And if you think this is about a specific set of fundraisers? Yes. It is. It's about nearly every surge of desperate fundraising I've seen over the last decade. And I'm sure it'll be about the next decade's worth too. The internet is the modern world's traffic stop, and social media fundraising is the new panhandling. The arguments for and against haven't changed just because the medium has.

[ghostingpen]

what's in my bag

i saw a tumblr post asking people who carry bags what items are there to bring other than “chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon” and tbh that stuck with me. so here is everything i keep in my bag because i like to be That Backpack Person who has everything for any common occurrence.

after years of experimenting with my everyday carry, trying out trendy backpacks such as the fjällräven kanken and the doughnut macaroon, i surprisingly now find myself reaching for the jansport right pack backpack the most.

look at it in all its glory decked out in pins, buttons, and charms. i recently wore it going apple picking at an orchard and had no issues.

so here are its contents:

front small pocket:

mini emergency kit (i’m reusing an old gum container to keep small things i find myself needing often: bandaids, painkillers, hair ties, loose cash to give to the local homeless, four quarters in case i go to ALDI or want a gumball) + pocket tissues (this is what i run low on the most) + mini UNO cards (waiting in line with friends? play UNO) + tide to go pen + 2-in-1 battery bank/plug-in charger + phone charging cable + d20 dice (stimmy)

front medium pocket:

wallet + coin purse (to collect loose change) + disposable pens + e-reader + car keys + work ID + vape

water bottle pocket: 

the 24-oz owala water bottle is, and i’m not sponsored when i say this, the best water bottle i’ve ever used. the design is genius.

laptop pocket:

reusable shopping bag (i impulse buy a lot so this is useful) + one “big” tech thing and its charger for entertainment purposes. i like to have multiple entertainment options because i’m mentally ill. i’m currently carrying my steam deck OLED with me but i may sometimes instead bring one of these:

ipad: for web browsing, drawing, word processing.

freewrite alpha: my current way to write fiction. think a modern alphasmart that lets you transfer files locally or sync to the cloud if you prefer that.

work laptop: for work.

main pocket: 

mini tote (i use this to easily transfer whatever’s in the main pocket to another bag) + journal (a traveler’s notebook) + large emergency kit (sanitary pads, herbal oil for aches, eczema hand cream, earplugs, makeup wipes) + noise-canceling headphones + electric fan + hobonichi drawer pouch (other charging cables, wig caps, bobby pins, gorilla glue, facial wipes) + compact umbrella + pencil case

pencil case:

mechanical pencil + pencil lead + mini sticky notes + multi-ruler + white gel pen + glue stick + eraser + scissors + highlighter + brush pen + metal pen (it works like an 8 ball where you roll it and it shows you an 8ball-esque answer)

what you put in your bag is a very personal thing! i am always fascinated by the different ways people hold their things and what they find worth carrying around.

[bagsreviews]

Simple Modern Tote Bag for Women | Water-Resistant Laptop Purse with Zipper for Travel, School, Work | Small Medium & Large

[acutiewithagun]

Can I request a platonic Yandere future and present rottmnt turtles with a present-time m/c? The future turtles (all of them, even Raph and Donnie) manage to travel in time with Casey and find m/c. Could you make it a longer fic, too?

I actually sent Celina some headcannons of this idea a while back, here they are if you are interested :)

(I will do my best to do the older turtles justice. Also great head cannons, I enjoyed reading them. Sorry if this is too long, I got a bit carried away. But at least I got two hours of sleep.)

Past, present, and future?

You had seen the news two years ago, weird pink aliens, mutant turtles, and the almost destruction of New York City. It had almost made you move away, but your new job and decent living conditions kept you there. And it's not like you'd ever be wrapped up in any of that.

Interestingly enough after that fiasco a species called 'yokai' emerged from out of nowhere. Most were kind and normal enough that they just naturally blended into human society. But along with yokai, mutants also started showing themselves. Same deal as the yokai for the most part, but a few were revealed as villains.

Again, it's just information you had acquired naturally over time, not something you would ever get involved with. You lived your boring happy life without many complaints.

You turned the television off and stood up with a stretch, groceries were dwindling in your apartment. And your roommate asked you to pick up a new book for them from the bookstore they frequented. So you walked over to the door and slipped on your jacket. Reaching over to the kitchen counter by the door, you ran your fingers through the key bowl.

Acquiring the needed key you gripped it and threw open the front door. You exited the door and locked the door knob. Giving it a quick turn to make sure it was locked, you started heading down the stairs of the apartment building. The elevator doors were broken on your floor so that forced you to use the stairs. Not that you were complaining too much, more exercise for you.

You looked up at the fading sun and semi-cloudy sky. Shaking your head, you start walking along the sidewalk with the tote bag you had snabbed before walking out of your apartment for groceries. It didn't appear like it would rain anytime soon, so walking would be fine. It was growing late however, so getting a taxi back was definitely something you would have to do.

Your mind wandered back to the original mutant reports that happened when you were a teen. Sure it wasn't that long ago, but it sure felt so long ago. Everyone thought it was just fancy editing that people did to scare the public. But after the alien attack nobody could deny what happened years prior.

You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and reached into your pocket. Inside was a taser your buddy got you as a birthday present in case of anything. You gripped it tightly as you continued your trek to the place you buy groceries for the apartment.

Reviewing the information, you recalled the amount of people you allowed to see the location of your phone. You gave yourself a reassuring nod as you turned the corner. Unfortunately you were so distracted with thoughts you accidentally collided with someone. You stumbled back and took your hand out of your pocket to rub your nose.

"Sorry for bumping into you." You finally looked at the person you had the accidental collision and felt your breathing hitch. Standing in front of you was one of those mutant turtles. But oddly he looked... older? He gave you a grin as he leaned down closer to your face. He had red markings peeking out from a blue mask that covered his face. "It's alright, say what are you doing out so late?" You took a step back while maintaining eye contact with the stranger who looked like one of New York's saviors. "Just walking around, I hope you have a nice day." You make your way around him only to spot a younger version of him on the other side. You blink in confusion but continue walking, not wanting to get involved if you didn't need to.

You heard slight whispers from behind you and hurried your pace. Once you made it to the grocery shop of your choice you started collecting the items on your grocery list. Something about the interaction rubbed you the wrong way. You felt... unnerved to say the list. You were tense as you looked at cans of food you considered buying. Pushing the feelings down you ignored it all and simply finished your shopping.

Stepping outside again, the sun was almost completely gone. You realized you had just enough daylight to get that book your roommate wanted. Seeing as they were on a business trip, you decided to do them the simple favor. You started the short walk to the book store with a smile at your haul of food.

You entered the store, taking in the scent of old and new books along with the jingle of the bell. You looked around the shelves as you spotted the book of desire. You reached up and grabbed it, flipping it back and forth to double check it was the correct book. Once you confirmed it by skimming the pages you walked along the shelves. A bit of browsing never hurt anyone, plus you were already there.

You ran your fingers over the binding of the books as you slowly walked down the aisles. A small smile graced your lips as you sighed happily. Pulling yourself back to reality you walked around to the counter and purchased the book. You begrudgingly stepped out of the lovely building and into the nosiey city shrouded in darkness. Letting out a huff of frustration you pull out your phone. You balanced the tote bag on your shoulder as you also shoved the book inside. You scrolled through the taxi app you got recently, hoping it would make getting a cab easier.

As you were focused on your phone, someone tapped you on the shoulder, causing you to flinch. You snapped your head around to see the perpetrator that scared you as you stuck both hands in your pockets. Chuckling at your response the older turtle from earlier gave you a smirk as he backed up, hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

"Woah, calm down fighter, just little ol' me." Little was an understatement this man was at least in the six feet range. However you brushed the comment off and brought out your phone again, keeping your other hand on the taser. "Sorry, I get jumpy at night." You didn't trust him, but a conversation would keep him distracted long enough for your cab to arrive. "Ah, understandable, but I seriously wouldn't hurt cha. Sure I'm capable, however you are too special to harm."

With that he unceremoniously ruffles your hair with his hand. Something about his wording made you all the more cautious of the stranger. "Um, thanks, I guess." He gave you a wink, removing his hand from your head. He watched as you fixed your hair. "So why are you still out so late?" You looked at the app on your phone, frowning when you noticed the wait time went up by another fifteen minutes. "Waiting on a taxi. But at this point I might as well just walk."

The strange turtle man gave a hum of understanding as you started walking away. "Hey, hold on, is it really that safe to be walking on your own?" You hear him start to walk slowly behind you, tightening your grasp on your taser. "Positive, I've made the walk many times before." You speed up your stride, which in turn made him speed up until he was walking side by side with you. "Still, I can offer my company till you get home." The way he said this didn't sound like he was giving me an option. But you took the bait anyway.

"No, it's really fine, I insist you go back to do what you were originally doing." You were so distracted, you hadn't noticed how close you were to your apartment complex now. "I was just on a nightly stroll, nothing too urgent." You groan as you spot your building and look at him finally. "Well you got your way, have a great night sir." With that little bit, you headed up the stairs. You didn't look back at him, but you could feel his stare on the back of your neck. You rushed up the stairs and quickly got to your apartment.

You fumbled with your key before jabbing it in the lock and turning it to allow you into the apartment. Once inside you close the door and lock it, tossing the key into the key bowl. You rest your tote bag on the counter and start putting the food away.

Once you finished with that basic chore, you fished the book out of the bag. You opened your roommate's door to their room and placed the book on their bed. After that you closed the door and stalked over to the couch. You all but flopped across the entire thing as you tried to wrap your head around the events that transpired earlier.

Being unable to however, made you rub your face with your palms and groan. You tiredly got up and made your way to your room. You figured you could do your night routine to get your mind off everything. It was most likely a one time thing that would never occur again. Or, at least that was the hope.

Opening the door to your own bedroom, you walk in, only to be stopped by a large, translucent, purple barrier with some type of signal on it. "Donnie, we agreed on deploying the barrier after they fully entered the room." An audible scoff was heard and you snapped your head to the sound. "I know Angelo, but does it matter now?" A groan was sound as you continued looking through the darkness of the room. "Nardo was right, they really are observant."

Two turtles emerged from where my window was located and I took a few steps back. Only to bump into another one of those barriers. "What are you doing in my apartment!?" Your eyes were wide as you looked between the two. The purple wearing bandana one was shorter and also wore a purple hoodie. The orange mask wearing one was only a bit taller but appeared to be wearing some kind of cloak. And wait... Is that hair? You were positive reptiles couldn't grow hair.

"To answer your inquiry, we are here to bring you home." The older one nodded. "Staying here just isn't safe enough. But don't worry, everything is all set up for you back at the lair." You see the barriers now surrounding you on all sides, preventing any type of escape. You watch with unrest as they slowly get closer, all you can do is hold onto the taser still in your pocket.

Once they get close enough the barriers drop and you bolt out of the room. But you don't get too far before some type of chain wraps around your ankle. You tripped and fell forward, thankfully the taser landed close to you after your hands were forced out of the pockets.

You quickly snatch it as you are dragged back into the room. You hold it out in front of you and the purple one scoffed. He closed the door to your room as the older turtle crouched down to your level. "Why do you have that? It's not a sufficient tool to protect yourself with." The younger one of the two easily takes the taser from your hands as the other turtle starts wrapping you in the chain as you wriggle around.

"It normally works well enough." You bit back in hopes of deterring their task at hand. But unfortunately that just earned a sympathetic chuckle from the one tying you up and a head pat. "I forgot how stubborn you are, Donnie, mind picking them up?" The one addressed as Donnie nodded and swiftly lifted you up. "I would advise against struggling any further, I really don't want to accidentally drop you." And with those final words the two quickly moved out of your window and up to the roof tops.

They moved quickly and efficiently, but you just felt like a buoy, being jerked up and down as they flew. At some point Donnie activated a jetpack looking thing. And the one earlier addressed as Angelo was simply flying. Soon they landed and took you down into an abandoned subway station. Once there you were immediately swarmed by turtles. Older and younger counterparts of each other. And oddly enough a young boy, maybe about fourteen was there as well.

You were taking in too much information at once as you were ushered into a subway train car. The orange wearing pair left first to make food for everyone. Then the purple duo left, discussing something about security. And finally the blue two left to get whatever they identified as activities. Now just left with the extremely large red wearing match and the young human boy.

They worked to untie you from the chains, freeing you for hugs you weren't expecting. You were trapped between the bigger red one and the smaller red one. The human boy hugged you from the front. You tried to free yourself but gave up when none of them budged.

"Would someone at least tell me what is going on? Maybe give me names to my captors." The older version of the spikey turtle cleared his throat and gave me a toothy smile that showcased his snaggletooth. "Don't worry your head about a thing. We brought ya home so you could be safe. You can call me El." The smaller one was careful not to squeeze too tightly. "An' I'm Raph, but we aren't captors, we're heroes." You stared hesitantly at him, not really believing him at all with your predicament. "I'm Casey Junior, we knew you in the future and now you won't die again!" You looked at the young man in shock at his words. "Hold on, future? Die again? I don't understand."

Before anyone could respond the purple ones entered back in. "We came from an apocalyptic future where we could not defeat the Kraang. You unfortunately perished early into the battle. It deviated all of us, but you're alive here, alive and now completely safe from harm." You gawked at the older one as he talked. "Oh right, you may call me Tello." The smaller one was messing with the gauntlet on his arm. "I'm Donnie, just to make names easier."

You nodded hesitantly as the hug moved to a large couch in the room. You were grateful not to be standing with all that weight on you anymore. "But I was fine before, why bring me here?" Again, another person broke through to answer. "Easy, protecting you at our lair is a lot easier than the dangerous city, I'm Mikey!" The younger of the two orange wearing turtles excitedly proclaimed as he placed some plates of food for everyone. "I'm Angelo, and also because we missed you so much we want to spend as much time with you as possible."

You stare at the food skeptically as the blue pair joins the group again. "Ooo, introductions, well you can call me Leo." The younger one did a fancy pose as the older one smirked. "And I'm Nardo, just so you know, our counterparts share the same names as us but we decided on nicknames to make it easier on ourselves." You nodded in understanding as they all sat down to eat at a table in the room.

You were sat in-between all of them as they ate, barely being about to stomach what you were given from stress. You had to get out of here, but what could you do?

[michellemisfit]

Weekly Tag Wednesday Thursday

Thank you @darlingian for creating this week’s game. Thanks for the tag @juliakayyy @lingy910y @jrooc @sam-loves-seb @mmmichyyy @mickeysgaymom @deedala @metalheadmickey @creepkinginc @stocious @mybrainismelted @energievie

Which character from any media would you like to have as a father? 

Magnus Bane (Shadowhunters) would be pretty cool, AND magic.

If money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?

Do laws include laws of science and… y’know… reality? If not… Mother fucking dragon, baby!

What is your Chinese takeout order? 

Salt & Pepper chicken. Duck pancakes. Satay chicken. Prawn crackers. An insane quantity of spring rolls for @rutherinahobbit

What's your favorite emoji?

I’ve become very fond of 🫡, but the one I use most often is probably 🥺 - it’s literally my face. I look at Ruth like that and say ‘I am the emoticon’ and then she has to be nice to me… 🥺

Would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?

Library. For the aesthetic and the comfy comfy reading nooks! Also I would be able to have all my favourite fic bound and displayed in the library <3 <3 <3

What childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?

My Little Pony and Animals Of Farthing Wood

What was your tumblr like when you first joined?

I had it for longer, but I first started really using it for Shadowhunters, and 90% of the fandom was here, before it largely moved to Twitter, and now has been struggling to move back, so has sort of become a bit homeless 🥺

What clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?

Anything neat and tailored. I think it looks fly AF, but I have neither the body type nor the patience for it.

If you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?

Stars Hallow is really good shout I’ve seen other people use. Also any fictional TV show that basically takes place in a home, only. I’d be all over that! haha

What is your favorite piece of art? 

I’ve been obsessed with ‘Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening’ ever since I was about 10 years old.

Do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?

I recently broke my water bottle so I’ve got a temporary replacement one and I hate it. It’s boring and too big and not the right shape. Grr.

What fanfic trope is a quiet fave?

I’m pretty loud about all my fic feelings. Sometimes I unexpectedly enjoy a Mafia/Crime AU, though I would never go looking for it!

Do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?

I’ve got three. A tote bag for when I bring lunch Tupperwares into work or otherwise have to transport big things. A large backpack for when I bring my laptop into work or travel. And a tiiiiiiiny backpack (smaller than A5) and the weirdest thing is how much stuff I manage to fit into it! First Aid Kit. Sewing Kit. Wallet. Phone. Portable Phone Charger. Sunglasses. Tissues. Cigarettes. House keys. Pill box. Misc. hair things for when other people need them.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?

Carl. Ultimate chaos couple!!!! 🙌

What is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?

We all know the old adage: You're only ever one good fic away from developing that weird kink you keep making jokes about, stay humble.

There’s nothing that hits quite the way an unexpected horny swoop hits! Stay humble. Stay open. Stay curious.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?

Mickey Milkovich voice: YUP YUP

Who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?

Agree with @lingy910y - I absolutely see Mickey and Carl fighting for the bat! it’s their potato masher!! <3

Tagging @silvanshadow @captainjowl @thisdivorce @crestfallercanyon @heymacy @ohkate @too-schoolforcool @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @callivich @crossmydna @palepinkgoat @vintagelacerosette @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @you-are-so-much-better-than-that @ian-galagher @imikhailotakeyouian @mikhailoisbaby @depressedstressedlemonzest

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked - Chapter 3

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: It's That Last Step - Leighton

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 – Luke’s Gonna Kill Me - Leighton 

**Six weeks later** 

The season was off to a great start. Andy and Luke had an epic start to the season in light of everything that happened with Craig. Speaking of Craig, he ended up getting traded to Tampa Bay which made Andy extremely happy. From what I heard from some of the WAGs, Fiona refused to move to Florida with him.  So much for true love.  Last I heard, she took a job in New York.  

Good riddance.  

Andy and I had gotten into a good routine once I finished moving in and so far, I love living with my best friend.  As social media director, I got to travel with the team, so I saw Andy and my brother all the time.  It made dealing with the heart ache that much easier. Bret had left an email letting me know where the stuff I didn’t take with me was and that was about it. No groveling, no asking for me to reconsider. Three years together and that was it. I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved, heartbroken or depressed. Yes, when it happened, I cried on Andy’s shoulder but I think it was the shock of Bret asking me to be his little housewife. On well, life moves on. 

The Bruins were three weeks into the season, and I was packing up for a 10-game road trip when I heard the front door slam. Heavy footsteps hit the stairs and my favorite pair of blue eyes were in my doorway. “Hey princess!” 

Yes, I am well aware mat my parents are big Star Wars fans and named their kids Luke and Leia. After I grew up a bit and Luke and Andy had watched said movies, Andy took to calling me "Princess" no matter how much I objected to the name stuck and here we are. 

“Hey Chewy!” If I had to get an awful Star Wars nickname, then so did he 

Andy threw himself onto my bed. “Ready for the road trip?” 

I sighed as I packed the last packing cube into my suitcase. Yes, I was one of those that used packing cubes. I liked to be organized and plan everything out. Sue me. “Almost,” I replied. “Just got to get my carry-on tote.” 

Andy looked over my bags. “How much shit does one girl need?” He lifted out a cube and I yanked it back. 

“Don’t judge me! Not all of us were born devilish good looking in just a button down and jeans. I need to have options.” I put the cube back into its place as I looked over my packing list. 

“Princess, you are just living up to the title now,” Andy said with a laugh. 

I blushed. “One of these days you’ll need a sewing kit and can’t find one and you’ll be crawling to me for help.” I grabbed a pillow and smacked him with. “And If you continue to be mean to me then no chicken parm for you.” 

  Andy perked up. “Chicken parm?” I knew I had him with his favorite meal   

“Yep with home made garlic bread.” 

Andy flopped down with a moan. “What did I do to deserve you?” I giggled as I made check marks on my list. “Like you clean and cook and all I have to do is my own bathroom and laundry and give money for groceries.” 

“It’s Iike having a girlfriend without all the messiness,” I dead panned. I’m not sure why I said it but it pulled at my heart all the shit that Andy had to go through with the spawn of Satan. It also cut me to know that Andy would never see me as anything other than his best friend. I think that stung more. 

“Hey, its not like that, Princess,” Andy started. “You know that I cherish you more than anyone in the world.” He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I didn’t mean with anything my comment. I'm saying that living with my best friend has been the greatest time of my life.” 

Goddammit. Why does he have to say shit like that? I give him a soft smile. “Its been the best time for me too, Chewy.” 

Andy bounced out of bed. “Let’s go eat so we head out to the plane.” He placed himself in front of  me and I climbed on his back so he could carry me down stairs. 

As Andy takes out my bag from the trunk, a body slams into me from behind. “Oof!” 

“Hey girl!” I smile at the voice of Bruins trainer and best friend Stella Williams   

“Hey Stel.” I turned as I grabbed my bag. “I’m all set to be stuck on an overnight flight with my best friend and 30 men who have no sense of privacy.”  I gave a big smile to Andy, who rolled his eyes.  

“Yeah, yeah. If I wasn’t aboard, who will protect you from your brother?” My mouth went to argue but he was right.  Dammit. “That’s what i thought.”  

“You know, I hate you sometimes.” I stick my tongue out at him.   

“No, you don’t.” He flashes that fucking smirk that could make a nun swoon.  

I really don’t but I won’t admit it.  I headed to the plane with my head held high, ignoring the laughter coming from Stella and Andy behind me.  

“Hey little sister!” Luke came over and lifted me into a hug. “How are you, Cubby?” 

While Andy called me Princess, Luke called me Cubby as in his baby cub that he took care of.  Made sense since Lukas Andrews was not a small man. Standing 6 foot 1 and easily 230 pounds of solid muscle, Luke was one of the best enforcers for the Bruins. He protected his players, and he learned that by protecting me.  

“Hey Flyboy.” Oh yeah, if Andy and I had Star Wars nick name, then Luke would have one too. Yes, I know, that’s what Leia called Han but Luke had no good nicknames.  We’ve done the research. One weekend, six movies and Andy forever calling himself “General Solo.”  The man has a problem sometimes. “I’m doing good, attempting to control myself from hurting your captain.”  

“What did Andy do now?”  Luke smiled, looking over my shoulder at his best friend. I harrumphed at his attitude and shoved my suitcase in his gut, bending him over with an oof. “What?” 

“Gang up on me and pay the consequences, Flyboy. Just remember who makes you look good on social media so the ladies think they have a chance.” I flash him my “sugary sweet and so innocent smile that you should fear” smile. His smile falls and he swallows.  

“You are scary sometimes, you know that?” 

“I do, and yet, you still gave me your password.”  I flounced away, taking the stairs up the plane to get to my seat.  The plane is divided into three sections.  Coaches and trainers are usually up front, followed by support staff and then the players. Stella and I are the bridge between support and trainers and sit together on the plane.  As I was getting my headphones and book ready for the flight to California, I stopped and said hello to all the players as they walked by. Most just nod or wave, Andy moved to ruffle my head, which I dodged and smacked his hand as he laughed.  I got myself settled, waiting for Stella. 

“Hey Leia,” another voice sounds. I snap my head over to see one of our goalies, Jeremy, stop at my aisle.  

(Meet Jeremy)

“Hi, Jeremy.” I really don’t know what to say.  Jeremy stopping to say hello to me is new, not unwelcome but new.  He is one of the best goalies in the business and well, fuck it, he’s really cute. “Ready for the road trip?” I ask because I have nothing else.  

“Ready! Always wanted to go to Disneyland,” he said with a wink.  

My dead heart beats just a bit faster.  Its been two months since Bret left and I haven’t even thought of another man, besides Andy.  I forgot what it felt like to be flirted with. “That would be cool if we had the time.” I saw Stella board.  “Oops, here comes trouble!” I announce as Stella approaches.  

“I’ll let you get settled.” Jeremy smiles.  “Maybe we can have a drink sometime. See ya Leia, Stella.” He moved on to his seat and I watched as he walked away.  I caught Andy’s face looking at me and for a moment, he looked angry but then he smiled at me, and I knew it was ok.  

“Why was Jeremy Swayman talking with you,” Stella asked. She loved a good romance story.  

I shrugged. “No clue.”  

Thirty minutes later we were in the air and the team manager was going over the schedule for the next ten days.  A ten-day roadie is brutal in the best of times but one with a huge time difference was the worst. The captain announced we were at altitude and shut off the lights in the cabin.  I needed to try and stay awake so I didn’t get jet-lagged and would be able to snap our arrival in San Jose. Suddenly, my stomach twisted.  “Stel, move please?” 

“We haven’t even had anything to drink yet,” she grumbled slowly.  

“Stella, move!” I whisper yelled.  She moved and I raced up the aisle. I made it into the bathroom and heaved everything we had for dinner. I sank to the floor as I tried to breathe through the pain in my stomach and throat. After a few minutes, I was able to get up and wash my face and mouth as best I could.  

“What the hell was that, Leia?” Stella looked me over.  “Girl, you are pale and clammy.”  

“I have no fucking clue, Stel.  My stomach just hurt all of sudden.”  Great, that was the last thing i needed. I didn’t want to be sick while we were in California.  Early November in California still meant great weather and I wanted to take advantage since fall has already made an appearance in Boston. “I hate being sick on the road.” I threw back my head against the head rest.  

“Maybe it's just a one off, Leia.  It happens.  Let’s just wait and see in San Jose.”  

The rest of the flight was fine and traveling to LA meant that it was only three hours from when we took off according to the body clocks.  The guys were headed to the hotel bar, but Stella and I stayed in, reviewing the photos that i took as we left the plane.  

“These are so good, Leia.  Everyone is looking good.  Especially Swayman, Barber and your brother.”  She gives me a smirk while I gag.  

“Gross Stella.  My brother is not hot.” I make a disgusted face as I look at him.  His cocky smile came because I said I would send the photo to Miranda. I shuddered and looked at the photos of Andy.  The guys are required to be dressed in business casual at minimum.  Most are in slacks and a button down, but Andy is never in less than a three piece.  It's his signature fit and let me tell you, I and the rest of the female population, appreciate it. Today’s was a three piece blue pinstripe. Many blessings to his tailor because that suit fits like a glove.  

“You can stop drooling over Barber and tell me what is going on with Swayman.” Stella takes a drink of the wine we brought with us.  

I feel my cheeks burn a little. “I don’t know.  I know the guys know I’m single now because my brother had a big mouth but that thing with Jeremy is new.”  Very new.  As in, what the fuck is going on.  Jeremy is handsome, I would be blind to deny that but I’m just not ready to date. “It's nice though, to be flirted with.” 

“Andy flirts with you all the time,” Stella points out.  

“He does not.  He’s nice because he’s my best friend, my brother’s best friend. It's been that way for years.” Disappointment washes over me.  “Yeah, right would Andy Barber have a thing for me. I mean, let’s check Stella.  I clean for him, he makes me breakfast.  I make dinner, he does dishes.  We are in a mutually beneficial relationship, and not a romantic one.”  

Stella rolls her eyes.  “You are either blind or naive, Andrews. The man is into you.”  

I lay back on the bed with a sigh.  “I wish.  Especially when he is walking around in just a shirt and gray sweatpants. Or in the mornings when he is climbing out of the pool after his swim.”  

“Tell me,” Stella swoons.  “Tell me he had more than six abs.”  

“I will not.  He has six and they are spec-tac-ular.” I went to sit up and that twist happens again, and I run to the bathroom.  Stella follows to hold my hair back as I have my exorcist moment.  Finally, it stops, and I sit back against that bathroom wall.  

Stella gets a washcloth and wets it.  She crouches down and presses it against my forehead, and I moan at how good it feels. “I don’t mean to upset you but is there something you want to tell me?” I look up at my best friend’s eyes. “I mean, could you be pregnant?” 

I laughed a little.  “Stella, be real.  I haven’t had sex since...” and I stop. I count back and realize that I didn’t have a cycle and I’m late for this month. “Oh, shit.”  

I think Stella can see the panic on my face. “Ok, relax. I’m going to the corner market, and I’ll be right back.  It's gonna be ok. Can I leave you here and promise you won’t do anything drastic?”  I nod because I really can’t say anything. She leaves and I’m alone.  

Why the fuck didn’t I notice before? I mean, I guess the stress of the break up and the move took its toll.  Add on that and work and of course I wouldn’t have notice.  Bret was hyper aware when it was time because he liked to schedule his work trips around it.  He didn’t want to be around for the inevitable break downs and cravings of having your period.  God, he was such a jerk.  Thinking of him made me think of when this possibly could have happened. And it hits me. It had been around Labor Day, and we were fooling around before his work trip. I was that 0.03% of woman who have her contraception fail.  

Stella walks back a moment later and hands me a test.  I stare at it like it's a snake ready to strike my hand and I look up at Stella.  “The faster you do this the faster you can either panic or party.  It's up to you.”  

She’s right and I hate it.  I pee on the stick and set it on its wrapping on the counter.  I walk out and chug about half a gallon of water, in fear, I think. “What am I going to do?” 

“Not yet,” she says. We sit there in silence as we wait for the longest three minutes of my life.  I’m not sure if I want it to be positive.  Yes, I’ve always wanted kids.  But I thought I would be married and happy. I’m happy but I live with my brother’s best friend and what if he doesn't want kids in his home?  What if he asks me to leave? I know my brother would take me in but who really wants to live with their brother?  Miranda just moved in. Stella’s phone beeps and I look at her. “Ready?” 

“No.” She looks at me with her threatening face, which is terrifying by the way, and she points to the bathroom.  I get up, my legs shaking and head to the counter.  

“What am i going to do Stella?” We’re sitting at the restaurant in the hotel the next morning. I’m hungry, which is a nice change from being nauseous.  

“Let’s get through the road trip and then we will plan and worry.”  Stella slathered her toast in jam and then dunks it in her over-easy eggs.  

“If you want me to throw up, do that again,” I say with a gag.  I concentrate on my scrambled eggs and toast for a few minutes.  "Can I just say, I really have no idea how I’m going to tell my brother. He is going to lose his shit,” I stop and blurt.  “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Andy.” 

“Tell me what?”  

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@lokislady82

[xpuigc-bloc]

Exquisite esquites

By Mia Leimkuhler

If I were mayor of Picnictown, every picnic would have the following: a blanket, a 1:1 dog-to-human ratio and esquites. The blanket’s there because grass is itchy no matter what the most outdoorsy person in the group says; the dogs because dogs are great. The esquites are essential because my favorite outdoor corn is elotes, but they don’t travel nearly as well as esquites. (The laws of Picnictown consider how easy it is to carry your picnic things on public transportation.)

This is barely a compromise, though, because Kay Chun’s esquites capture all the beloved and balanced elements of elotes: sweet summer corn, tangy lime, creamy cotija (and crema), spicy ancho chile. The smoky flavor you get from grilled corn is here, too, as the kernels are charred in a hot skillet until browned and caramelized. Perhaps the most enticing part of the recipe is this note from Kay: “Leftovers transform quickly into a great pasta salad the next day; simply toss with cooked pasta and olive oil.” Picnictown loves a resourceful pasta salad.

More picnic decrees, because it’s the first day of summer! Make Zainab Shah’s sheet-pan chicken tikka thighs ahead of time, and then toss some roti or naan in your tote bag for effortless but extremely delicious sandwiches. Ali Slagle’s green bean salad with dill pickles and feta is perfect all by itself, but if someone else wanted to bring a container of cooked barley or farro, that would be a really nice collaborative grain bowl picnic moment. (For even more lovely, easy picnic ideas that travel well, check out this recipe collection.)

Every June, the summer produce flows into and overwhelms my corner grocery store, and every June I am positively giddy about it. Right now the shelves are buckling from so many cherry tomatoes, and I’m doing my part with salad e-shirazi, basil and tomato fried rice and salmon and tomatoes in foil, a five-star, five-ingredient dinner from Mark Bittman.

I am trying to be more adventurous with my vegetables, branching out and bringing home goodies I don’t usually cook. I’ve never really loved bitter melon (I’m not alone), but I do like bitter things — extra dark chocolate, dandelion greens, Campari. So I’m going to try this stir-fried bitter melon with eggs, a recipe from Chutatip Suntaranon (known as Nok) adapted by Cathy Erway.

The creamy scrambled eggs, salty soy sauce and molasses-y brown sugar will mellow out the harshest edges of the bitter melon. And I trust Nok — I’ve had the pleasure of dining at Kalaya, Nok’s restaurant in Philadelphia, and Nok never misses.

Lastly: It’s hot out there, and I’d like to give you an excuse to stand in front of the open refrigerator after a long afternoon in Picnictown. Here’s Lisa Donovan’s new recipe for buttermilk tres leches cake, which is best served extremely chilled, straight from the pan. I interpret this as spooning giant mouthfuls of cold, creamy cake into my mouth while bending into the fridge, but if you’d like to use plates and forks and a table, by all means.

IN THIS NEWSLETTER

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Tanya Sichynsky shares the most delicious vegetarian recipes for weeknight cooking, packed lunches and dinner parties.

#the new york times #cooking

#mia leimkuhler #picnic #kay chun

#make zainab #matk bityman

#cathy erway #nok #lisa donovan

#sheer-pan chicken tikka thinghs

#basil and tomato fried rice

#salmon and tomatoes on foil

#butyermilk tres leches cake

#recipe’s #the veggie newsletter

#tania shichynsky #dinner parties

#packed lunches #food

#original food #xpuigc #pucex

#olaf peterson #de tot

[aurathian]

HyMart | AO3

for @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023, prompt: free day! thanks @jimmyjims for inspiring me to write supermarket au zelink this was therapeutic and like i was reliving trauma at the same time. no totk spoilers here!

Fandom: Skyward Sword (Modern AU)

Rating: G

Summary: Link deals with a rude customer and possibly meets the love of his life in his place of work: HyMart.

Link often hears the beeping and buzzing of cash registers in his dreams: swipe, beep… swipe, beep… swipe, beep, err…! An error… and oftentimes those same sounds morph into the blare of his alarm clock. Above him, the fluorescent lights from what had been a supermarket ceiling slowly become filtered sunshine as he opens his eyes.

That’s exactly what woke him up that hot July morning. His dreams soon became reality when he found himself wearing long pants and sweating behind his register. He would wear shorts, but if he did that he would be slapped with a dress code violation. Now, he forlornly scanned items and punched in numbers for a few hours, calling over his customer service manager Ghirahim every now and then for help.

In his flashy work vest that he glued rhinestones onto himself, along with his bedazzled nametag, Ghirahim tutted at one of the customers who insisted the shirt she was buying was only five rupees. “Ma’am, if you found it on a different shelf with different items, it was misplaced. This is ten rupees.” He took this stern tone with many of the customers (which they often perceived as rude), but he was arguably one of the best customer service managers the front end had. Despite the many complaints from customers who felt he was condescending and mean, Ghirahim was never fired. Yet, anyway. Link had no problem with it, since it usually put the customers in their place once they started to get frustrated with whatever employee they chose to take their anger out on that day.

“Then I don’t want it,” the customer, a blonde woman with her hair done in pigtails, snapped. “Put it back.”

“Can you run this back, Link?” Ghirahim asked, oddly kind, and Link nodded. “Oh, and then you can go on your lunch.” This encouraged Link to scamper off even faster to deposit the shirt back on its correct shelf, marked at ten rupees, but in his haste he forgot to take off his HyMart vest. He worked his way through the maze of shelving and aisles and approached the back of the store where the giant EMPLOYEES ONLY door called his name. Beyond that was a hallway, and beyond that was the break room, where his cold sandwich packed in a plastic bag beckoned him closer…

“Excuse me?” a light voice called. Link whirled around, realizing his mistake as his hands naturally found themselves in his vest pockets. “Could you help me find something?”

His eyes landed on a blonde woman carrying a tote bag and wearing a white sundress. His mind flitted between two outcomes: “No, sorry, I’m on break,” and “Sure, what do you need?” A good employee, one that wasn’t on the verge of getting fired everyday, would say sure.

“Yeah, what do you need?” he asked, approaching her.

“Oh, I was looking for this,” the woman said, pulling up a picture on her phone and showing him. “I’m just not sure where to find it.”

“I can take you to where the Loftwing Feed is,” Link said, motioning with his hand for her to follow. He didn’t mind showing customers where to find certain things, but in this case, they needed to travel to the other side of the store. So, to lessen the journey’s awkwardness, he made conversation. “Hot outside, huh?”

“It is. Really, it’s horrible you have to wear long pants.”

“Tell me about it.” A weird silence assumed, as silent as it could be with the outdated pop songs cracking out of the overhead speakers. “So do you, um, own Loftwings?” What a stupid question! If she wasn’t standing right there, he would’ve slapped himself. Why else would she be buying Loftwing Feed?

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Two of them. A red and a blue one.”

Link deliberately slowed his pace. “What are their names?”

“The red one is Cawlin and the blue one is Strich.”

“Interesting names. I used to have one too–it was named Beedle.”

He didn’t miss the way the customer leaned a little forward to peer at his nametag with squinted eyes. Unfortunately, they were arriving at the animal feed aisle.

“Thank you for helping me, Link,” she said, a little too charming, brushing some hair over her shoulder.

“It’s no problem, uh…”

“Zelda.”

“It’s no problem, Zelda.”

That cold sandwich, soggy from sitting in the fridge, tasted a little more lonely that day. Most of his coworkers with whom he was friends were out on the floor, and of course that blonde customer probably hadn’t given him a second thought once she got her heaping bag of bird food. To his surprise, he was excited when his break was over because it meant he was a little closer to going home.

He was back on the register as usual, even though he would’ve preferred a spot down at self checkout, but didn’t complain since the constant flow of people helped pass time faster. That was until an obnoxious man with an equally obnoxious hairdo came up to his register with an overflowing cart.

Link greeted him as he normally would and began to scan as efficiently as he could, sometimes pausing to punch in the numbers for fruits or veggies. The customer didn’t say much to him–just hummed, scrolled on his phone, occasionally nodded at a question. Link found it a little rude but kept on with his job hoping he could quickly finish the customer’s transaction. Everything had been going smoothly; groceries were neatly in bags, all the items were scanned correctly and there had been no system errors.

Then the man pulled out a stack of coupons.

“You want me to use these?” Link asked, picking up the stack. The customer nodded and raised an eyebrow. Link began to scan them, but each one brought up a few dollar signs on the terminal, signifying that they weren’t working, so he inspected them closer.

They expired last year.

“Sir, unfortunately these coupons aren’t working because–”

“They should work.” Ah, so he does speak. “I made sure it’s for all the right items. You can look yourself.” He pointed at the mountain of bags.

Link repeated himself after heaving a sigh to maintain his composure. “They aren’t working because they’re expired. These expired last year, sir.”

The customer dramatically exhaled and fumbled around his pocket, fishing out his wallet and picking through it exaggeratedly. He slammed a card on the ledge by the card reader and then pulled out another one.

“Okay, fine, if you won’t take my coupons, can I at least use this?” The red-haired man shoved a blue card into Link’s face. The words on it read Zora Juice. He could hardly believe his eyes–this was a gift card for a smoothie store. This man, this customer, was standing in the middle of a HyMart trying to pay for his groceries with a smoothie store gift card.

“Um, sir, this is for Zora Juice,” Link informed him after spending a moment mustering up the courage to do so.

“Yes.”

“Okay… this is a HyMart.”

“Yeah, I know.” The customer ran his hand over his bright red pompadour.

“This is a different store. You can’t use this gift card here.”

There was a pause as the air in the store stilled and time screeched to a halt. The customer–whose name was Groose, based on the debit card he put on the ledge–seemed to be going through the five stages of grief with the way his face contorted into twenty different expressions all at once. Then, he exploded.

Groose snapped at him, asking why he couldn’t properly do his job, saying this is why kids need to stay in school, that Link was an incompetent cashier, all other kinds of insults under the HyMart ceiling. Link glanced nervously over to the customer service desk where Ghirahim was dealing with a rush and clearly frazzled, the way he waved his hands about and the faces he was making. There’d be no way to get him over for help, so Link braced himself for the worst.

The customer was about to turn as red as his hair when suddenly, a finger in his face cut him off.

“And just who do you think you are?”

“I– uh–”

Link could hardly contain his shock when he saw Loftwing Feed woman, in her sundress and holding her tote bag, pointing a finger directly in Groose’s face.

“It’s not his fault those coupons or that card doesn’t work. Why do you insist on bothering him?”

“I suppose…”

“Suppose what?”

Groose stared at her for a few moments and the cashier, now awkwardly caught in the middle, didn’t miss the way his entire body softened for just a moment. But then Groose shook his head, swiped his debit card, and left with his groceries in a huff.

The woman–Zelda, that’s her name–stepped up to the register as Link began to scan her items, bringing himself down from the nerves and excitement of that encounter. Rude customers always had him a little shaky, but it was different this time having someone to support him.

“Um, thank you,” he finally said after a few moments of silence, poked with buzzes and beeps.

“It’s no problem. I used to work in a supermarket, too.” Her eyes darted around nervously, tapping her foot. “Say, I don’t know what your schedule is like, but do you like coffee?”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me up in the mornings,” Link joked, typing in some numbers on his terminal. “Why?”

“I was wondering if you would be interested in getting a coffee with me sometime.”

If Link did not have customer service training, he would’ve jumped for joy and said yes immediately, but he kept himself composed, used his hand scanner on her Loftwing Feed, and then answered.

“Sure.”

“Great, sounds good.”

Link handed her the receipt, but she instead pulled a pen from her bag, wrote some numbers on it, and handed it back to him. Her phone number.

“You might need this on your way out–”

“It’s okay!” she said, already walking off with her cartload of items, Loftwing Feed neatly tucked into the bottom. Thankfully, he watched her walk out of the doors without being stopped by one of the greeters, but his trance was broken by a customer waving in his face.

“Hello? Young man?”

Link turned to the customer with a sigh. Until that coffee date, his life would simply be the buzzes and beeps of the register.