#best travel tote carry on

[bagsreviews]

Baggallini womens Avenue Tote

[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

[lowkeyrobin]

TUA ; drugs in the car

summary ; a little crackfic, there's drugs in your car, you're driving five, a cia agent, around

warnings ; language, out of order to s4 plot

disclaimers ; I START SCHOOL TODAY HELP. WISH ME LUCK IG???

track ; i drive the speed limit cause there's drugs in the car, shockwire

word count ; 406

masterlist

"Can you speed up? We're wasting precious time trying to find Viktor and Dad" Diego complains from behind you.

You groan. "There's drugs in this car, I'm not speeding up, Diego!"

"What?!"

"Huh?"

Five, in the front passenger seat, slowly turns to look at you. "You're driving a CIA agent around with drugs in your car?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting the world to want to end and for Ben to forcefully give us our powers back!" You shout.

Diego, Lila, and Allison quickly share worried looks. Luther in the trunk makes a revelation.

"Are these moving totes filled with drugs?"

You look at him through the rear view mirror. "Yeah. Mostly fentanyl"

"Oh my God"

"Okay, can I get out?"

"Luther's staying back there, he's got the best immune system"

"Not for drugs!"

"Shut up!" You exclaim.

"Go faster!" Diego complains again, kicking your seat like a little kid.

"Rule one of doing illegal shit, don't do one illegal thing, and rat yourself out on the illegal thing you were doing before!" You loudly speak, "I am driving the speed limit because I'm carrying tens of pounds of possibly deadly substances. I don't think any of us want to kill or try to outrun a cop today"

Five nods. "They're right. I need to save ammo"

"Ammo is your main concern?" Allison asks unbelievably.

"Yeah, other than the whole marigold-durango thing and that Viktor is missing, so is Klaus, somehow. And Ben is gonna cause the next apocolypse..." He shrugs. "Yeah, after those, I'm still concerned about saving ammo because it could help end doomsday"

"I feel like you should be more concerned with losing your job"

"About that..." Diego mumbles. "They're Keepers"

"Mhm" Five hums.

"Oh"

The car is silent for a moment.

"Wait, are you a drug dealer?" Lila asks. "I thought you worked at some TV production company"

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, leaning forward. "Uh... that was a disguise. And I'm not a dealer, I'm a supplier"

"I feel like that's just as bad," Allison replies.

"It's not, I'm not the one giving it to vulnerable people. I'm just travelling around to deliver it" You argue.

"Traveling to deliver it to people who will give it to vulnerable people. You're still an accomplice!"

"Enough! Focus on driving before I teleport into your seat and drive for you." Five interrupts.

You roll your eyes, silencing yourself.

"Okay, grandpa"

[stergeon]

spending some more time chewing on the concept of byleth and edelgard constantly writing each other letters—both while one of them is off traveling and also when they're both at home and seeing each other every day. there's one on the emperor's desk in her study; one in byleth's storage locker in the barracks; one left on a pillow or slipped into a pocket or tucked into a book the other is reading.

the emperor is interrupted during a big meeting by a page delivering a "most crucial missive from the commander." she unseals it in front of everyone and it's a crude drawing of a smiley face that says "hello i love you"

edelgard would write these excessively verbose things, very heavy on the poetry and flowery language. there are a couple paragraphs of updates and then page after page after page of "i love you"s and "i miss you"s communicated in ten thousand different and increasingly grandiloquent ways. byleth has learned to bring a dictionary along on her trips so she can decode all the sesquipedalian nightmare terms edelgard uses to tell her she's pretty. most letters start and end with an implied threat that if anyone other than byleth reads it or finds out how soft the emperor is, there will be hell to pay, but it doesn't stop her from proceeding to go ham on the romantic sappiness.

meanwhile byleth's letters are. pretty straight and to the point. she's keeping her posted about the weather, about this dog that she met, about a cool tree she saw, and transcribing direct quotes and best wishes from their friends. but she also includes little mementos she picked up or shiny things she found (she's like a crow with pretty rocks, shells, and baubles), and presses flowers that she thinks edelgard will like, and attempts to sketch things she wishes edelgard got to see with her. it's painfully obvious that byleth will never have an artistic career, but edelgard adores every single drawing all the same.

(hubert made a suggestion to have the emperor and her adviser use different seals or envelopes for their personal and official correspondence. this was accepted as reasonable. several months later, edelgard found out he made the suggestion after the third instance in which he'd been doing his secretarial duties and responding to the emperor's mail, only to find the message from the emperor's adviser did not, in fact, contain the woman's latest report on the situation in fhirdiad or fodlan's locket, but a rather lurid list of her intentions for the emperor upon returning home to enbarr. one contained a diagram. hubert did not examine it.)

edelgard, who hoards every paper she's ever had reason to touch and who has a (frankly, pathological) filing system for everything in her life, has a special container for byleth's letters that is under lock and key. byleth, who lived out of a rucksack for most of her life and constantly had to consider carry weight when vetting her few belongings, doesn't really know how to... have... things. she struggled with toting around all this paper for a while, but couldn't bear to toss out even the simplest "meet me at 4pm for the council meeting" message. she had to make peace with the concept of using a drawer for something like long-term storage and frequently checks to make sure they're all still there.

both of them keep their favorite ones in the back of their respective journals and act like they're not so extremely, terminally soft on each other.

[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.

[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

[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?

[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.

[ereardon]

Friends Don't || Chapter 14

Synopsis: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late? 

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid] 

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, cancer, ANGST, pregnancy

WC: 2.6K

Chapter summary: Reid and Bradley have an honest discussion about keeping her memory alive with the baby; Bobby and Reid share the first times they realized they loved each other; Jake gives Reid a sentimental baby gift

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

Bob had a hard time letting you out of his sight. Even if you were at the grocery store together and you started to separate, he’d follow you with the cart, ditching whatever task he had been in charge of, just to follow you around, his eyes trained on you. 

“Bobby,” you whispered one day when he pouted outside of a fitting room in a Nordstrom, “you can’t be with me every second.” 

“I know.” He hung his head. “I just, I want to be with you for as many seconds as I can.” 

You leaned forward, wrapping him in your arms. “I love you, honey.” 

Days and weeks slipped by. It felt strange to prepare for a baby that you weren’t carrying. You saw Phoenix most days. She had moved in with Bradley, someone to be around for her when she needed it, and his bungalow was only a ten minute drive. 

One night, the four of you were eating dinner at the house when Natasha’s face scrunched up. You dropped your fork. “Are you OK?” 

She let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Baby is just kicking me straight in the bladder.” 

You felt a tear start to build in your eye. Kicking. You wondered what it felt like. As if she could read your mind, Phoenix grabbed your hand, pressing it low on her stomach, off to the right. 

“Feel that?” she asked.

You waited a moment and then looked up at her with shock. You could feel it. A tiny, tiny kick. “Oh, my God,” you murmured. 

She smiled and you waved Bob over, his large hand pressed right near yours. When the baby kicked his palm he looked up with joy. “Hi baby,” he whispered softly, fingers brushing Phoenix’s bump. “It’s daddy.” 

You closed your eyes as Bob leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple. The baby’s flutter kicks pressed against your outstretched palm. 

Twenty weeks. You were halfway there. All you had to do was make it through the second half of Phoenix’s pregnancy. Meet your baby. Watch Bob become a father. 

You could make it. 

***

Bradley took you for a drive. He could sense that you were tired but also restless, that Bob’s constant worrying was getting to you. He suggested that Bob take Phoenix out to a movie, and that the two of you went for a drive, maybe a walk on the beach. 

You slipped into the passenger seat of the Bronco and smiled over at him. “Feels like you’re picking me up for a date.” 

He laughed, pulling the truck into gear. “Mrs. Floyd, you’re embarrassing me.” 

“Sounds weird,” you said as Bradley took a right turn. “Being someone’s wife.” 

Eight months before, you had been Bradley’s girlfriend. He smiled at you. “You were always his. I should have known that.” 

The two of you swung by the grocery store and bought a bottle of wine, a clamshell of grapes, a loaf of bread and an assortment of cheeses, along with a box of bakery cookies. Bradley packed it all carefully in a tote bag and carried it out onto the beach as you wobbled with an armful of towels. 

Bradley set everything up before beckoning you to join him on the makeshift floor. 

You sat down cross legged and Bradley poured white wine into a reusable mug. “Thanks,” you whispered. 

It was peaceful on the beach. Bradley looked at you. “Do you remember the last time we were here?” he asked. 

You nodded. Of course you did. When the two of you were dating, Bradley had driven out to the beach and you had laid down towels and sat side-by-side, just like tonight. He had asked you if you belonged to Bob. And even though you did, you had said you didn’t. 

You hadn’t known. 

“How come you don’t hate me?” you asked. “Shouldn’t you be mad at me? Mad at him?” 

Bradley shook his head. “No point,” he said quietly. “I see the way he looks at you. It’s the way my mother looked when she spoke about my father.” Bradley smiled. “I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

You knew what he meant. There was a ticking clock with you everywhere you went. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“What was it like growing up without him?” you asked carefully. 

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “He died when I was really young, so to be honest, I don’t remember too much about him.” That hurt. You felt a slow stab in your chest. “But my mother did. And she made sure he was everywhere. Pictures, home videos. Stories.” He smiled. “She was always telling me stories about him. And she filled the house with his things, and there were always people around who knew him and loved him. So yes, I might not remember him myself. But I think I know him.” 

You nodded and Bradley reached out, taking your hand in his large, warm one. 

“Bob isn’t going to let anyone forget you, Reid,” he said. “Not a damn chance.”  

“He might,” you whispered. “The baby definitely will.” 

Bradley shook his head. “No way. Forget you as a mom? Absolutely not. I see the way you look at Bob. I know you’re going to be the best damn mother there ever was to that baby.” 

You swiped at a tear on your cheek. They had started to hollow out. You could feel yourself getting thinner, smaller, more frail. “I want this so bad,” you murmured. “Him, the baby, the whole Normal Rockwell shit.” 

He squeezed your hand. “You got it, Reid. Just be patient. You got this.” 

“What if I’m a bad mother?” you asked. “I never told you about my mother. Not much to tell other than she was everything I was running away from. All she taught me is what not to do.” 

He smiled softly. “Start there,” he said quietly. “Treat that baby half as good as you treat Bob, and it’ll be the luckiest baby in the world, I promise.” 

You leaned forward, let Bradley collect you in his arms. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything.” 

Bradley kissed the top of your head gently. You could feel the small shakes as he started to tear up. “We’ll be here for him,” he murmured. “After you’re gone. We’ll all take care of them. I promise.” 

You closed your eyes. You believed him.

***

You laid in bed, the sun streaming across your legs. The bed rustled and you opened one eye, then the other. 

“Morning, darlin’.” 

Bob set a cup of hot coffee down on your nightstand, kissing your forehead gently before pulling back the curtains, bathing the room in the soft morning glow. 

He crawled back into bed, gathering you into his arms. You sighed, leaning against his broad chest, letting his fingers stroke softly across your bare arms. “Honey?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Thought of any names yet?” 

You were stuck. Both of you were. The doctor had asked during the last ultrasound whether or not you wanted to know the gender. Phoenix had looked up at the two of you expectantly. You had nodded furiously. You wanted to know immediately. What was the point in waiting? 

You sighed softly. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “Girl names are so hard.” 

“What about Felicity?” 

“No, I binged that show before college, can’t name her after any TV show character.” 

Bob laughed quietly. “OK, what about Greer?” 

“Like Judy?” 

“Like my aunt.” 

“Oh,” you said. “That’s nice.” 

He kissed the top of your head. “Thanks for lying to me,” he whispered and you chuckled. “OK, what about Belle?” 

You thought about it. “I do like Beauty and The Beast.” 

Bob pulled you in tighter. 

“What about we name her after Natasha?” you asked. “She’s doing us the biggest favor a person can ask.” 

He mulled it over for a minute. “I like it. Let’s not decide now. But I’ll run it past her, see what she thinks.” 

Your fingers slid over the gold band on his left hand. It was still hard to believe. You were someone’s wife. You belonged to him. A part of you had always belonged to him. This just made it official. 

“Sunny?” 

“Yeah?”

“When did you know?” he asked. “That you loved me.” 

You smiled. “I think I’ve always known, Bobby. You were the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. But it was probably when you and Denver came to visit me in San Francisco a few years ago.”

“I remember that trip,” he murmured. 

“I remember being so fucking jealous,” you whispered. “I was convinced you were in love with her. And I went to the roof to get some air, leave the two of you alone. And when I went back downstairs that night, I crawled into bed and there you were. You were mine. And the relief that I felt? The comfort. I just knew. I loved you more than a friend. I loved you with my whole heart, Bobby.” 

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “It was junior year. You had that old car, the one with the broken back window.” 

You grinned at the memory. 

“You picked me up on a Friday night, said we should go on a drive, to get my head out of my textbooks.” 

“You studied too much.” 

He chuckled and you bounced softly against his chest. “I remember looking over at you in the passenger seat. You had your feet up on the dash and your head leaning back, one hand out the window in the wind. And I just thought that this was it. I wanted to spend all my quiet moments with you. And a part of me hoped that road would never end. I just wanted it to shuffle us out into the abyss, because I knew that I would be happy wherever you were. That I’d go anywhere with you.” 

You turned in Bob’s arms and pressed one hand to his cheek. “I’m going to miss you so damn much.” 

“Don’t say that,” he begged. 

“It’s true.” 

“Sunny,” he whispered. 

“Promise me something.” 

“Anything.” 

“Remember me like that,” you said quietly. “Happy. Free. Spontaneous. Not sick. Not tired.”

He pulled you in closer, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’ll always just be Sunny to me, darlin’. You'll always be perfect in my mind.” 

***

It was Penny who asked about a baby shower. 

“I’m not sure if you’re planning on having one,” she said, “but if you’re not, I wanted to give you this.” 

She slid a perfectly wrapped pink box over the shiny wooden bar. You took it carefully and looked up with surprise. “I hadn’t even thought about it,” you confessed. 

Penny smiled and shook her head. “If you want, I can organize one.” 

“I think it would be weird,” you said looking down at your flat stomach. “I just, I don’t know if we want that.” 

“And that’s fine, too,” Penny added. “But Pete and I wanted to give you a gift no matter what.” 

You grinned, sliding one finger under the paper seam, revealing a silver box. When you opened it, a tiny flight suit onesie stared back at you. You laughed, lifting it out of the box. “Oh my God it’s perfect.” 

Penny leaned over the bar and put one hand over yours. “I think what you’re doing is amazing,” she whispered. “Being a parent is hard. It’s the hardest thing you’re ever going to do. And it’s the bravest, too.” 

You gripped her hand back. “Thank you.” 

Word got around that you wouldn’t be having a baby shower, but somehow gifts kept arriving at the door. Every time you or Bob came home there was another wrapped package on the doorstep. 

Bob laughed as he put another box in the nursery, one corner piled high with gifts. He stood up, hands on his hips. “This baby is spoiled already.” 

You smirked, running one hand over the array of baby clothes that had started to fill in the closet. They looked so small. You couldn’t imagine a tiny human would fit into them. 

And then the door rang. Bob looked over at the door. “I’ll get it.” 

You waited for the sound of his footsteps and the lock of the door, and then a muffled voice. 

Finally, he called out, “Honey? It’s for you.” 

You made your way into the foyer cautiously, a frown when you noticed it was Jake. Bob shifted to the side and you saw a large box in his arms. 

He held it out. “Hey Reid.” 

Stepping forward, you took the box out of his hands and handed it off to Bob who put it on the table. “Thanks,” you said. 

Jake shrugged. “Listen, I know I'm still not y’all’s favorite person.” Behind you, Bob snorted. “But I’m sorry. I really am.” 

You waved one hand in the air. “Come on in, Jake.” 

He grinned, closing the door behind him. The three of you walked over to the entryway table where Bob had put the gift down. It was wrapped well, really well, and you were a bit surprised by how nice it looked. 

Slowly, you peeled away the thick wrapping paper, opening the lid to a sturdy box. Inside a plume of tissue paper sat a small teddy bear. You lifted it out of the box. It had a perfect little face with pink ears that looked hand stitched. You smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered. “It’s very cute.” 

“There’s something else in there, too.” 

You frowned, handing the bear off to Bob and then digging back in the paper in the box. Your hands emerged holding a book. 

Flipping it over, you let out a small chuckle. 

“I loved this book as a kid,” you said quietly. 

Bob looked at it. “Goodnight Moon?” 

Jake shot him a look. “You don’t know Goodnight Moon?” 

Bob shook his head. “No. Should I?” 

“It’s only the best kids book ever,” Jake said. “Open it,” he added. 

Pulling back the hard cover, you frowned. There was a little button on the inside. “What is this?” 

Jake smiled. “It’s a recorder. You record yourself reading the book, so the baby can hear you read it when you flip through the pages.” 

A fresh flood of tears sprung to your eyes. Bob reached out for the book and you handed it to him. 

“It was Erin’s idea. Told her I was at a bit of a loss for what to get you. Thought it would be good.” 

You tossed your arms around his neck, pulling him in. “Thank you,” you whispered into his neck. Behind you, Bob looked up at Jake with wide eyes. You pulled away. “And thank Erin for us.” 

“I will.” 

Bob stepped forward, the teddy bear and book safely placed on the table. You weren’t sure what was going to happen next. It wasn’t until he had pulled Jake into an embrace that you realized he was wrapping the other man into his arms. “Thanks,” Bob said, his voice thick with emotion. 

The two of them pulled apart and looked at each other in silence, but you knew what they were saying. 

Later that night, after Bob had gone to bed, you crept out of the master bedroom, down the hallway to the nursery. You sat on the rocking chair that had finally been delivered and opened the book, pressing the little red button, immortalizing your voice forever. 

“Hi baby,” you whispered, “it’s mama. Want to read a bedtime story together?” 

A/N: Hi all! We have one more epilogue-style chapter left! xx

Tag list: (or turn on notifications for my library @ereardonlibrary)

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite

@seresinhangmanjake @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston

@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @wkndwlff @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @bobfloydsbabe @shanimallina87

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@fudge13 @phantomxoxo @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @not-two-shrimp @emorychase @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @evans-dejong @clancycucumber230 @storysimp @emma8895eb  @briseisgone

[bagsreviews]

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

[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

[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

[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.

[brokoala-soup]

I think my aesthetic might be something along the lines of cottagecore and light academia with a tinge of Studio Ghibli and bits and pieces of chaotic academia. So this includes:

classical music blaring out of cheap speakers, homemade food served in reused takeout containers, half dying houseplants in everything but traditional flower pots, the fragrance of jasmine and mint, mirrors reflecting sunlight on to disorganised bookshelves with the most random collection of books, soups in glassware, gel pen doodles all over my notes, herbal teas in whiskey glasses, locally sourced incense sticks, handmade woolen blankets over commercially sold quilts, baking granola bars on a lazy sunday afternoon, adding chocolate to literally everything, mid day naps when the weather is cloudy yet humid, ribbon ties instead of stapler pins, making my own spice powders, scented oil lamps, being obsessed with cloves, sleeping on a bed full of pillows only to find over half of them on the floor next morning, missing alarms because closing my eyes for two more seconds won't make me fall asleep again, picking flowers and herbs from the garden, sleepy afternoons, careful skincare but with the most day to day products, eucalyptus oil, use and throw inhalers to deal with my anxiety because the smell of menthol calms me down, short nails and neutral manicure, smelling like flowers one day and like the sea the other, getting excited whenever I spot the moon, absolutely in awe and in love with the clouds because they're amazing and so creative, puppies, calligraphy using ball pens, homemade mocha latte using soya milk, my grandma's childhood earrings that I wear all the time, newspapers, organic vegetables sold by retired social workers, tote bags, reusable metal water bottles, hot showers and cold rinses, using my grandmother's favorite brand of soap because I love smelling like her, herbal hair oil, smelling like sandalwood, cooking pasta with the family, reading secondhand books, collecting fused light bulbs, pencil underlines, postcards, 1 am poetry, pop instrumentals and pensive journaling, benzene rings on page margins, berry flavoured cough syrup, baking bread, long walks, loud conversations, thrifting, e-books, chocolate wrappers hidden between dictionary pages, colourful periodic table prints, plushies, honey, fleece blankets, sleeping cats, signet ring, dried rose I'd bought for myself and carried around like a trophy travelling back home with it in the public bus, twinning perfumes coincidentally with my best friend, vintage looking brand new ink pen and expired ink, sticky notes with motivational quotes covering my wall, never buying perfumes and only using the ones I'm gifted, random words that remind me of niche incidents or memories written along the corners of my study material, pearl jewelry set that my dad gifted my mom but it's me who wears it now, combat boots bought at ¼th it's price at a discount clearance sale, all my jackets being bought from different countries by my dad and thus each serving as a token of memory, lipstick shades that match only extremely specific vibes and look off and odd at other times, cherry lip balm stick that I've used only twice, daily calendar sheets reused as a notepad, birthday candles from my 16th birthday sitting on my work table, the lingering smell of multiple beverages in my room because I seldom wash the cups I drank them from and now they're cluttered all over the room, hand me down luxury watches older than me, chipped nailpolish, reminders written down on tissue papers, bus tickets all over my bag, sugar-free chewing gum, deodorant that never washes off my clothes, wearing clothes purchased 5 years ago and getting compliments simply because it's not trendy but is unique, mini origami cranes, rose sprays, lychee scented sanitizer, baking bread at home on weekends, homemade hair masks, turning up late because i was busy enjoying life walking through the eucalyptus grove on the way to class, running to the station yet missing the train, all my everyday ornaments having a deeper meaning to me.