#free lunch dunks

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 1)

welcome a new multi-chapter fic. enjoy.

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

P1 - bulgarian split squats

Really, the only way to survive Formula 1 was by going to the gym. 

The gym addiction was something that had existed long before joining the circus of a motorsports paddock filled with politics and rumours, as well as the slim fitting uniforms that always seemed to be accompanied by, in your opinion, ugly ass shoes. 

Sure, Puma was the offical sponsor but couldn’t they get anything other than the Speedcat? And what even was that name? Speedcat? It was on brand, sure, but at what cost? Really? If Formula 1 was trying to grow its popularity they could honestly start with their dress code. Seeing Christian Horner in Skechers really took the intimidation out of him when you served him his double espresso during the Spanish Grand Prix that one time last season. 

One of the perks of working in Hospitality - and there were very few far and in between - was that uniform was not so strict. F1 Hospitality only required an all black service with ‘comfortable shoes.’ This you took for interpretation. Dunks. Jordan 4s. Maybe 1s. Never 13s. Forces were good for a night race - that usually meant more stairs - and Vans were what you reached for in the morning when you knew you’d be working the barista shift. Converse were for ‘throw away’ races.

These were the races where you knew the shoe-care was not important. For example, Silverstone with its torrential UK drinkers who were likely to throw up on your beloved sneakers. Alas, you had learned the hard way when you almost lost your job by rushing to the kitchen to start scrubbing the vomit off your blue and red Cortez during peak lunch.

Never again.

Admittedly, you did try to keep at least one pair of Converse in good care since they were the renowned shoe come leg day. 

Another perk of working in F1 Hospitality was that every circuit’s map layout had been drilled into your head. Meaning you always knew exactly where the communal driver’s gym was located at and could therefore get your daily dose of dopamine before dealing with… well, everything.

You silenced the shrill horror that came from the iPhone alarm. 4:00 read the lockscreen, the light shining brightly into your face. It didn’t help that your wallpaper had a photo with a clear blue sky, making the light even harsher in the darkness. You could’ve very well changed it and avoid the pain you routinely go through every morning. But it was this very photo that reminded you why you were getting up in four in the morning in the first place. 

You had snapped it during a free practice in Italy that had miraculously lined up with a break in your shift. The sky was clear and the red car was small, but clear on the circuit. Ferrari, of course. You still remember the buzz that circled around the paddock staff that day. No matter who you routed for or whatever bias you had, there was a unanimously acknowledgement that Ferrari winning at Monza was special. He was special. 

Then again, you’ve known that long before he stood on that podium in Italy and was given his infamous nickname. 

It didn’t even take you ten minutes until you were out the door. Your gym clothes (pump cover included!) were on the one limpy chair that decorated your poor little hotel room, your shaker sat on top of your gym bag with you black high top Converse right beside it. By the time you had made it to the gym, it was a little past 4:15 and you had already scooped in pre-workout into your mouth ready to get through the oncoming pain. 

Your hips were a little tight, as per normal. The left side even more so. The hood of your hoodie was up, headphones on and blasting the hardstyle house music that would see you through the next two hours. You went through your usual stretches but with today’s added focus on the lower body. 

And then you went about destroying your legs. 

It was about an hour or so that Oscar finally sleepily arrived. You weren’t actually sure what time it was but you were up to doing bulgarian split squats - and hating life - and that was usually at the hour mark. You gave him a curious once over, noting the odd choice of clothing. It was a little odd to see a driver in the paddock wearing athleisure that wasn’t their team uniform.

“Bro, it’s five in the morning.” Oscar groaned, shuffling over to come and sit on the bench next to you. You gave another three more reps - Oscar silently watching you groan in pain through the last two - and then finally dropped the dumbbells. You reached over to take a sip of water and checked the phone for the time.

“It’s five thirteen in the morning.” You corrected. It had been just about the hour mark. “Are we training today or?” It wasn’t the first time Oscar had joined you. The reason his neck was getting stronger was because of you. In your opinion, the trainer Alpine had assigned Oscar was a fucking idiot.

“You’re doing legs.” Oscar pointed out, as if that was enough of an answer. He leaned to lay back down on the bench and stared up as he continued to speak. “Drivers don’t need bulky legs. We’ve been over this.”

You had. Many times. You knew he was right. It still would be nice to have someone to go through legs with you, though.

“So train with light weights.” You offered, trying. Oscar just gave you a look that made it clear he was not picking up any type of weights. You shrugged, not deterred. “I’ll do calisthenics with you. Or we can work on plyometrics.” Oscar’s response was to close his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck it man, do some cardio.” You came to the last resort, coming to kick his legs as you walked past to load up the smith machine with some different plates. 

“Piss off Tezza.” The Australian-ness continuing to shine through with the nickname that Oscar had specifically designed for you in respect of your shared citizenship to the ‘land down under.’

Except unlike the blond caucasian boy who loved AFL, grew up in Brighton East and attended Haileybury, your Australian-ness was less obvious. Your accent, for one, wasn’t as prominent since your parents were African immigrants. This, of course, didn’t just influence your speech patterns and accent.

Dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair, you weren't exactly the picture of a 'true blue Aussie.' The rite of public school bullying from those who did look 'Australian' (whatever that meant) had you scoffing at vegemite and preferring to follow EPL and La Liga than whatever the fuck was Aussie Rules Football.

Why is it called football if the players pick up the ball?

Still, when a homesick Oscar Piastri overheard one of the Hospitality staff yell out that that they were going for a 'Macca’s run' between the practice sessions on his very first F1 race weekend, he instantly picked up on the Australian-ism. And he didn’t let it go. And cue the beginning of a friendship that had Oscar Piastri calling you ‘bro’ and shortening your last name as per Australian rite.

Even if you had sworn off that sort of thing.

“Oscar, man, if you ain’t here to train then why are you?” You said, locking the plates in place on the smith machine. You lifted up your hood up and ducked under the bar to rest the metal against you shoulders, the hood acting as a cushion. The starting weight was light enough that you wouldn't have to worry about music for your first set. Besides, if Oscar was here, he could be the entertainment for this set. “You forget that this is a driver’s only gym. You could get in trouble." The sarcasm was all too clear in your voice.

No one used the ‘drivers-only’ gym. It was something that every Grand Prix had set up. Mobile, communal and high-end, it had enough equipment to rival the local 24/7 studio franchise gym that seemed to exist in every neighbourhood. Despite the fact that every driver preferred to train at their own motorhome gym - or that every team had their own mobile gym set up in conjunction to the motorhome - F1 still went about packing up and moving their own studio gym to every single location come race weekend.

If anything, it was a nice stop during the presentation walk during the sponsorship lunches where good old Stefano Domenicali would show off all the amazing resources that the Grand Prix space has to offer. 

So, no. F1’s Driver Gym was not used.

The only reason it wasn’t gathering dust was because every weekend it was packed up and moved. That and you woke up at 4am every weekend to destroy your muscles in the familiar red and black equipment.

"You're here." Oscar reminded you. "And not a driver."

You ignored him and just kept up with your repetitions, focusing on engaging your glutes and keeping your core tight. Oscar was silent as you finished your first set. When you finished your last rep, he stood up and came round as you locked the machine. He knew you well enough to pick up the 10kg and help add it to the sides.

"Thanks." You said. Oscar nodded and added the weight to the other side. There was a quiet air for a moment and you went to pick up your headphones to put them back on. Things were getting heavier and you would need music to get through the next few sets.

“I might be leaving Alpine.” 

You looked up at Oscar who dropped the bomb and then looked back at your headphones. You sighed and then dropped the headphones back to land in your gym bag. Headphoneless, you went back to the machine and Oscar took your invitation.

“Zak Brown approached me yesterday and suggested something about picking me up for next year.” Oscar said.

You just kept squatting. Oscar was far too removed to yet be aware of - well, everything.

“And with talk of Fernando quitting, I know that Alpine will be calling me up but do I trust that? Honestly Lando has been doing so well and Ocon has always pissed me off.” Oscar watched as you started to struggle.

He stood up and came around to help you but you just shook you head. You pushed through one more rep and then called it. 

“He does have a punchable face.” You said, now out of breath. Esteban had always annoyed you and before meeting Oscar, you used to dread the weekends where you were put on Alpine.

Your friend handed you the water bottle sat beside your gym bag before you could even ask. You gave a two finger salute in thanks as he continued on.

“And Lily and I got into this massive fight again! Apparently I don’t communicate enough!” He huffed. “But I sent her flowers and chocolates because she’s going through finals and she likes daisies and Cadbury."

“Yeah, but is that her love language though?” You asked, dropping your bottle and going to stack up the final set of weights on the smith machine. Oscar stood up again to help you.

“Her what?” He asked, handing you the plate.

“Love language.” You answered, still panting, and explained, “You’ve got physical touch, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation and acts of service.” 

“Are you saying people love in specific ways?" Oscar asked, quick to process new information as always.

“Exactly. You did something nice for her, an act of service. Maybe all she wants is a nice, long phone call or maybe some texts complimenting her or something.” You shrugged and then brought up your headphones.

Oscar accepted this, knowing the last set would require music.

He watched you as you settled back under the smith machine bar and went on squatting more than his body weight. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. He really shouldn't have been surprised at your lack of surprise. Little shocked you. That or your might’ve already known and just kept it to yourself. F1 Hospitality were a part of the Formula One Group and, therefore, were not associated to any one team. They had rotations across all teams and, therefore, every member of staff were required to sign an NDA. Not that ever did anything in this damn place.

Still, Oscar knew that you were one of the few genuine people left in this place.

He knew that there would’ve been so many opportunities where you could’ve easily done something for yourself by recounting something you had overheard while pouring Toto Wolff his coffee or serving Mattia Binotto his lunch. It was the reason why so many teams hired their own internal hospo staff.

It was also the reason why Oscar felt comfortable coming to tell you about Alpine and McLaren before he had even told his own parents, or Lily. The argument with his girlfriend had prevented him from getting any sleep, mulling it over in his mind for hours. Oscar knew you would be able to help him through it all.

And that you would be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour.

By the time you had finished your first set, he was Googling love languages and having a quick read through. 

By the time you had finished your second set, he was halfway through doing the love languages quiz.

By the time you had finished your third and final set, he was seeing what the problem was between him and Lily.

“I think Lily is words of affirmation and I'm acts of service." He said, coming up to the machine as you stepped back and pulled down your headphones. You blinked and nodded, still put of breath. "I think I forgot to check in with her and send her some compliments. Tell her I'm proud of her for getting through exams. Especially because she never is one for gifts, really."

You held out your hand to him. "There you go. Growth."

"I don't know what to do about Alpine."

"Call a lawyer."

Oscar pursed his lips and then considered this. That wouldn't be his first move but thinking about it, it was probably for the best. "That's actually a good idea."

"Isn't that why you're here?" You retorted. "Since you're not here to train. Speaking of which, the fuck is that?"

“What?” He asked and realised you were looking at his feet.

“Zak Brown isn’t going to hire you if he finds out that you’re wearing fucking thongs with socks.” You said, finally recognising the flip-flops he wore with some white socks that really needed to be washed. 

“You’ve been a great help, thanks.” Oscar smiled. You rolled your eyes and went to your gym bag. Pulling out a pair of white Adidas Sambas, you tossed them to Oscar.

“Put these on.”

“Is my footwear really that offensive to you?”

“We’ll go run the track.” You said then gestured to all of him. “It’ll help you burn all of this off.”

Oscar sighed and did as he was told. He laced up the shoes you'd given him that surprisingly fit his large feet and followed you out to the track. He used his pass to get through since a driver running the track at 5:30 in the morning would just be seen as the dedication to the grind. A Hospitality staff member would just be accused of breaking in. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going through a crisis. I’ve always wanted to do a morning run on the track.” You said with a grin as the pair of you came to the starting line that, in a matter of hours, would be full of mechanics, engineers, reporters, camera crew members and, of course, drivers.  

“If I get a seat at McLaren, you can be my trainer.” Oscar said as you both started warming up into a light jog.

"Ha." You snorted. "As if you could afford me, bro."

next ch [2] >

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 54

Part 1 Part 53

Months pass, slow and stretched out, like the bubblegum El’s taken to chewing. Sometimes, she’ll wrap it around her pointer finger and pull it, teeth clamped around the other side until it’s elongated – all air, stretched past recognition until it snaps.

That’s how the summer passes, foisted from adult to adult to adult. If Mom’s busy, then it’s Jonathan. If Jonathan’s busy, then it’s Uncle Wayne. If Uncle Wayne is busy, then it’s hopper. Never any of the parents who don’t know. It’s a lot of time being cooped up inside, going crazy.

For the first time, school being back in session is a relief. He’ll take the monotony of schoolwork and the stress of being zombie boy over staring at his ceiling for a second more. The party grumbles about their precious free time being sucked away, and Will echoes along, complaining about the homework and tests and boring hours, but his heart’s not in it.

When he’s home, it’s like the walls are closing in. With that in mind, he slips out his window, unnoticed. The party had talked about going to the arcade. Will hadn’t been invited. They all knew he wouldn’t be able to go; Tuesday’s were the day when no one was free. Jonathan had photography club after school, and everyone else worked. He’d be stuck at Melvald’s sitting quietly in the corner as his Mom worked.

But not today. Today, he gets on his bike and starts riding. He makes it to Mirkwood before things go wrong. He hears it: that static, horrific clicking. He falls off his bike, and it’s like he’s back in last November, scraped knees and all. He gets up and runs, bike abandoned at the side of the road.

His breathing is ragged by the time he’s back in front of his house. He whirls around, pulse in his throat, and sees nothing at all. There’s no sound, no Demogorgon stalking toward him, petal mouth opening. And it’s the middle of the day. There’s nothing at all. Will swallows, throat clicking with how dry it suddenly is.

He climbs back in through the window, disheveled and sweaty, hands shaking. He changes his dirty pants, dunks his face and hands in the abandoned water glass at his bedside. Good as new. Will closes the blinds, and sits down on his bed.

They’re probably there already, crowded around Pac Man or Dig Dug, the shape of Will’s absence a hole they always seem to leave open for him. He clenches his fingers around his knees, staring at his closed window.

What would Steve do?

Steve wouldn’t hesitate; he would’ve already been at the arcade, laughing at the center of everything like always. He wouldn’t be falling off his bike and seeing things that weren’t there.

With that thought, Will stands, walks purposefully out his bedroom door. Mom’s packing bologna sandwiches into her reusable lunch box, one for her and one from Will. He freezes at the entryway to the kitchen and watches her work.

“Are you ready to go, sweetie?” she asks, pouring coffee into her dinky little thermos, not turning around.

Will takes a deep breath. “I want to go to the arcade with my friends.” He tries to say it confidently, but it comes out wobbling all over the place.

Mom pauses, still holding the coffee pot in one hand, tilted at an angle that would have it pouring all over the countertop if it wasn’t almost empty. She stays like that for an endless moment before putting the coffee pot on the counter with a quiet click. Will wonders if it’ll burn.

She turns around, biting her lip. “Sweetie, Hop and Wayne are both at work, and you know Jonathan is–”

“Why can’t I go by myself?” he interrupts, trying not to think of how much of a disaster that’d been a few minutes ago.

Mom’s shoulders slump. She crosses her arms, hunching into herself, mouth scrunched up just like that time she’d tried a lemonhead for the first time at Jonathan’s wheedling. She’d spit it into her hand within seconds, staring down at the thing with horror.

That’s how she’s looking at Will now. Like she’s spit him out and couldn’t imagine having ever had him at all. But then it passes, and it’s just his Mom, looking worried.

“Do you think Steve and Eddie could take you?” she asks.

It’s a compromise he’s happy to grab with both hands. “I’ll call them.”

He picks up the phone, dialing the number by rote. He’s dialed it enough that he could do it blindfolded.

“Munson residence.” Steve’s voice sounds gruff, like he’s been sleeping. Or crying. Or like whatever had happened in the Upside-Down to make his voice gravely and rough in the hospital all those months ago. “Hello?”

“Will you take me to the arcade?” Will asks.

There’s a long enough pause that Will starts blushing, especially when he hears his Mom huff about phone etiquette behind him. But then Steve says, “sure, want me to come get you?”

Will glances at the clock hanging in the living room, squinting to make out the numbers. “Can you be here in ten minutes? Mom has to go to work.”

“Sure kid,” Steve says, pausing long enough that Will almost hangs up, before saying quietly. “She still not letting you stay home alone?”

“No,” Will says, just as quietly, pointedly not looking over to where his Mom is hovering by his shoulder.

Steve sighs, tinny over the distance between their houses. “Okay, see you soon kid.”

“Bye,” Will says, but Steve’s already hung up.

He puts the phone into the cradle, feeling excitement and dread burble up within him in equal measures.

“Are they coming?” Mom asks.

Will nods, walking into the entryway to slip on his shoes. “Steve is. I’m not sure about Eddie.”

His Mom hums. “What a lovely boy.” She digs around in her purse, depositing a handful of quarters into his waiting palm. “Do you need anything else, sweetie?”

Will shakes his head, tucking the loose quarters deep into his pocket. He waits by the door, like a dog waiting for his owner to come home, metaphorical tail wagging while his Mom putters around trying to find her work smock.

Will doesn’t recognize the sound of the car that pulls up; its engine quiet enough that he mostly hears it by the sound of the tires rolling over the loose debris that always covers their driveway. He does recognize the knock a few seconds later. Three light knocks, barely loud enough to reach Will where he’s standing by the door. Like Steve knows exactly where he’s waiting. Because he does.

Will wrenches the door open, already smiling. Steve’s standing there in his customary blue jeans, and a blue polo, hair perfectly coiffed, jean jacket thrown over the whole thing. “Hi,” Will says.

“Baby Byers,” Steve replies, nodding down at him, before looking behind Will to where his Mom’s now hovering. “Ms. Byers.”

“Oh, honey. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Joyce?”

Steve smiles, that crooked one he does where just one side of his mouth turns up. “At least one more time, huh?”

Mom laughs, stepping around Will to pull Steve into a hug. She hands over a few bills that Steve stuffs into his wallet with instructions to get them both something to eat.

Steve’s Bimmer is sitting in the driveway behind their own junker. It’s nice enough that it should contrast, but it’s been rotting in front of the Munson’s trailer without being washed for long enough that he can’t tell the difference. It smells musty when he climbs in. Steve stares at him pointedly until he buckles his seatbelt, and then they’re off.

They leave in a line, Steve backing up with his Mom only seconds behind. Will’s almost surprised when his Mom doesn’t follow Steve’s car the whole way. She turns off, and their cars part ways.

Will grabs the opportunity with both hands. “Can we go get my bike?”

Steve glances over at him with a raised brow, but keeps both hands at ten and two. “Where is it?”

“Mirkwood.”

Steve sighs, but turns around, and notably doesn’t ask. He finds it without prompting, the white of its body stands out in the dirt. He’s just glad no one has picked it up and ridden away. Steve grumbles as he struggles to stuff it into his trunk, before stuffing it into his backseat, muddy tires and all.

They’re back on their way, and Steve still hasn’t asked. That’s what makes Will open his mouth. “I tried to ride it to the arcade,” he says, picking at the small hole in the knee of his pants. “But I heard it.”

He can see Steve’ fingers tighten around the steering wheel from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“It was like before,” Will mumbles. “Like when the Demogorgon got me.”

Steve’s knuckles are white, but his voice comes out even when he asks, “do you think it was there?”

Will thinks back, past the panic and the running and the breathlessness. “No,” he whispers, watching color bleed back into Steve’s hands. “It was probably a squirrel, or my tires on the leaves. I just panicked.”

Steve sighs, lets the R.E.M song live fill up the silences all one its own – Did we miss anything? Did we miss anything? Did we miss anything? Did we miss anything? – He pulls in smoothly into an empty spot at The Palace.

Steve doesn’t turn off the car, so Will makes no move to get out.

Steve sighs again, reaching over to switch off his tape deck. The silence is deafening, but Steve doesn’t let it linger. “You know,” he says, not looking at Will at all. “Uncle Wayne told me it’s called shellshock.” He takes a shuddering breath before letting it out smoothly. “It’s like when something bad happens and sometimes your brain can get like, stuck there? I guess?”

He’s staring out the windshield, like he’s somewhere else. “Are you okay?” Will asks.

It takes a second for him to blink back into life, but when he does, Steve turns his head to smile down at Will. It still looks sad. “It’s hard sometimes, bud,” he says, reaching over to squeeze Will’s shoulder. “But we’re getting through it, aren’t we?”

Will’s not sure why he thought Steve and Eddie would bounce back so much better, had already bounced back, even. But Steve’s shoulders were always so squared, and even in the hospital when he’d been wan and tired, he’d seemed so strong. Unbreakable.

“Yeah,” Will exhales. “We will be.”

They get out of the car in sync, Steve slowing his pace so Will can keep up with his shorter legs. Steve reaches over his head to pull the door open, waiting for Will to walk under his arm and into the sanctuary that is the arcade.

Just like he imagined, all three are crowded around the pac man machine, Lucas maneuvering the joystick with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. Will sneaks up beside them, Steve just behind, and the machine is in sight just in time to watch pac man blip out of sight, eaten by a ghost for the last time.

“It thought you nerds were supposed to be good at this kind of thing,” Steve says, plopping his arm onto Mike’s shoulder to peer over at the screen. “Doesn’t that mean you buttheads are dead?”

They all turn in unison, Lucus’s brow already furrowing before it smoothes out when he sets his eyes on Will.

“Will!” Lucas shouts, as all three tackle him noisily, the steadying hand Steve puts on his hand the only thing keeping him up. He’s surrounded on all sides, safe and warm.

“Wow, thanks for making me an afterthought,” Steve says, rolling his eyes bitchily until Dustin runs at him, tackling him in a hug of his own that has Steve’s eyes widening before his smile softens and he ruffles Dustin’s hair.

“Hey, Steve,” Dustin says, lisping over the T as he smiles goofily up at Steve.

Will watches the interaction, fondness filling him up entirely.

“I thought you couldn’t come!” Mike says, dropping his arms from around Will and taking a step back. The broad grin on his face takes the sting out of it.

“Mom said Steve could take me,” WIll mumbles.

Lucas looks up at Steve, that same starstruck look on his face that they’d all started to have as Will shared more and more about Steve’s heroics on the other side. “Cool,” he whispers.

Steve’s ears turn red and he coughs before immediately diverting attention away from himself. “What’ve you twerps been up to?”

WIll listens happily to his friends complain about the new player on the scoreboard, MADMAX, and how even Dustin couldn’t seem to catch up to him.

It’s been a while since they’ve had a mystery that wasn’t life or death. Will wonders who this Mad Max is and if he’d let them watch him play.

Part 55

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

[the-froschamethyst4]

Beach

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Alejandro x Wife! Readeer

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, children, language, married couple, brief nudity, breastfeeding,

𖤐Summary: Alejandro and his family wanted to go to the beach so of course Alejandro was going to deliver that promise to his family

————

————

Alejandro had planned a trip for his wife and two kids. Y/n had brought up going to the beach, Y/n wanted a trip after giving birth to their baby boy Santiago.

Alejandro sat in his beach chair watching the water crash against the shore of the white sandy beach. Alejandro then looks down at his wife on her stomach her bikini top undone to get her back.

His 4 year old daughter at his feet burying his feet in the sand and his 2 month old son Santiago was asleep in the little baby tent he set up for him so he wouldn't burn.

"Maria, you wanna go to the water?" He asked his daughter who was wearing a light pink bucket hat. She looks up.

"Yes, papi," she says, Alejandro leaned over and grabs her floaties they took off her so she could eat her lunch and enjoy the sand.

He helps her put them on and took a hold of her small hand as they walked to the cold water. They stopped at just the edge of the water, he bends down to her level holding her close to his side.

Alejandro walked into the water and guided Maria to where he was. He held her to his side as the water splashed them, she giggles as Alejandro would gently dunk into the water and quickly come up before the waves took them out.

"Alejandro...can you tie my back?" Y/n mumbles against her arms. She just barely opens her eyes and mumbled again. "Alejandro?" She sits up holding her bikini top against her chest and sees he's not in his chair and Maria wasn't around, but she hears loud giggling coming from ocean. She turns and sees her husband and daughter playing in the water.

She tries to tie her top and looks at her baby boy. Santiago stirred in his sleep but was still asleep. She moves to the baby tent laying in the tent while her back half was out of the tent.

She cups his chubby cheeks and his eyes slowly opened. He giggles and kicks his feet. She takes his tiny feet and kissed his soft baby feet making him giggle.

"You are so cute, baby," she says, kissing his chubby cheeks again.

"Oh he's awake," Alejandro was carrying a tired Maria. Her chin resting on his shoulder and her arms were around his neck.

"He just woke up," she says, kissing Santiago's forehead.

Y/n picked up her baby boy and sitting in her own beach chair, Alejandro sits in his chair holding onto Maria. Y/n moves the strap of her bikini and Santiago attached himself to Y/n's nipple.

Y/n leans back and looks up at the sky, the sun was wanting to go down and Alejandro placed his free hand on her thigh.

"When he's done you wanna head up to the villa?" Alejandro asked.

"Yeah," she says, looking at her husband.

---------

Y/n carried Santiago and carried the bag that held the baby tent as Alejandro was packing up everything into the little wagon. She looks at her husband seeing if she could help.

"Do you want me to carry anything?" She asked.

"Nah, it's okay, mi amor," he says, kissing Y/n's lips and following her into their rented villa.

Soon entering the villa, Y/n had placed Santiago on his playmat and Alejandro took his daughter into her bedroom, removing her floaties and helping her into some better clothes so she can sleep.

"Papi, can I have water before I go to bed?"

"Sure, amor," he kisses her temple and let her get change and he went to go get a glass of water for her. Y/n was changing out of her bikini and put on panties, shorts and a t-shirt.

Y/n walked back to the living room just passing Alejandro and getting a small tap on the butt from her husband.

Y/n laid next to Santiago as he hits the small stuffed bunny. Her fingers tickled Santiago's belly earning giggles from him.

Alejandro came back and looked down at his wife and baby son. He joins his wife and son on the floor kissing Santiago and tickling him to earn some giggles and laughs from their son.

"Mami, could you read me a story?" Maria asked coming downstairs.

"Sure, baby," she gets up off the floor and follow her daughter to her bedroom leaving Alejandro and Santiago together.

Alejandro looks at his son and he's how Santiago looks like a carbon copy of Alejandro, same hair, eyes, and nose.

---------

Y/n and Alejandro walked hand-in together on the beach, no sun in the sky only the moon. They took a small walk on the beach with no kids, both were asleep back in the villa.

"This is nice," Y/n says, leaning on Alejandro.

"I'm glad you enjoyed this," he says, kissing the top of her head. "Let's go," he says as they walk to the villa, opening the sliding door and getting some wine and enjoying the rest of their night together.

[bullet-prooflove]

Birthday Celebration Bingo: Cake - John Nolan x Reader

Tagging: @ravennaortiz @anime-weeb-4-life @trublu2u @hellostickerdoodle @kmc1989

John doesn’t tell anyone that it’s his birthday. Truthfully he doesn’t want the reminder that he’s the oldest rookie the LAPD has ever had, he’s just happy to let the day pass him by.

When he’s assigned to the crime scene, he’s gets a little excited. It’s his first mandatory callback and he’s eager to get started.

“It’s just guard duty.” Sergeant Grey tells him. “You have to stay until the detectives release the scene.”

The thing about guard duty? It’s kinda boring. It’s meant to be an hour or two tops, but he’s on hour five and his phone battery is starting to die out. There’s only so much Angry Birds the poor device can take.  

When he hears the elevator chime he’s practically frothing at the mouth for company. He already  counted the exact amount of ceiling tiles in the conference room and the waste paper basket is overflowing with the screwed up wads he’s been trying to dunk.

He doesn’t expect it to be you stepping off the elevator. You have a white carrier bag in your hand and smile that gets his heart racing.

“This is your case?” He says as he picks up the clipboard and moves to greet you. The crime scene tape is tied to a plant in the corner and the reception desk. You linger on the opposite side of the barrier.

“God no.” You say indicating to the crime scene tape. “If it was mine, you would have been set free hours ago. This is Bertrum’s mess.”

“Oh.” He says, before tilting his head to one side, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown “So why…”

“Happy birthday.” You say, removing something from the carrier bag and setting it on the desk between you. It’s a white cake box from the Hummingbird Bakery. He smiles as he opens it. It’s chocolate, his favourite, the words ‘Happy Birthday Officer Nolan’ are written in white icing.

“You mentioned last week that your was birthday coming up and you weren’t doing anything to celebrate so I thought I’d surprise you.” You tell him as his eyes raise up to meet yours. “Then I heard you were trapped here so I thought I’d drop by on my lunch break.”

“Becca, I honestly don’t know what to say.” He tells you, his palm brushing across his mouth. “Can I hug you?”

You haven’t known each other very long, not more than a few months but the two of you have a connection. It started when you met during a crime scene, the two of you had made each other laugh and from there it had shifted into something a little more.  There’s feelings there, certainly on his end, yours, he can never be sure.

“I brought you cake. I think it’s customary.” You remark.

He ducks underneath the tape, his arms wrapping around you, drawing you close. You fit against him perfectly, like the missing piece of a puzzle and in that moment John realises that he doesn’t want to ever let you go.

The two of you hold on for a long time before you pull away so you can rifle in your purse. It takes you a minute but you finally manage to locate the two wooden forks you stowed away. You press one into his hand before gesturing towards the cake.

“Shall we?”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bradshawsbitch]

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅱ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 2.5K

× chapter warnings; swearing, mentions of infidelity, general adult themes.

disclaimer; I am basing most of the chefs/waitresses on people I have worked with/encountered. Most of their traits will be as realistic as possible.

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“So, would you like to go out for drinks and maybe get some dinner? When’s your next day off?”

The wet rag stilled as you were about to dunk it in hot water again, the knife you’d been about to polish suspended in mid-air. Thea was smiling at you as she made her way through the newly washed wine glasses, checking for water spots and polishing them out with her own cloth. The two of you were standing at the cashier, during the time between the end of lunch and the start of dinner service that was almost always completely quiet.

“Are you talking to me?” your voice was a bit small, uncertain, seeing as another waitress - Mir - was fiddling with the sound system just a few paces to your left. Perhaps Thea was asking her.

“Of course I’m asking you, Cookie!” Jake’s nickname for you seemed to have stuck for most of the staff - apart from Bradley, of course, who still mostly called you ‘Bambi’ or ‘Flounder’ - if he spoke to you at all, something that made you grit your teeth. 

Thea told you that she’d like to get to know you better, which made you smile - and that smile turned into a wide grin as Mir asked if she could come too. Truthfully, your other friends had accidentally taken a back-seater as you’d started working the restaurant. There just never seemed to be a time that fit.

They worked when you were free, and you were headed to work when they got off. During the weekends was when you always had to pull doubles, or just shifts in general - and most of your friends used Sunday as a wind down, and Monday they started their dreaded week again. Those had now turned in to your Saturday and Sunday. 

Which was how the three of you landed on dinner and drinks tomorrow evening, a Sunday. The notion felt a bit strange to you still, but you could tell the other girls had gotten used to it. As you continued polishing cutlery, you found yourself giddy at the notion that you were getting accepted into the small crew of people that worked here. You hadn’t talked to Mir much, but apparently she liked to gossip. And the upcoming dinner reservations seemed to have made you a new ear for her to talk to. 

At the end of your shift, you were pretty certain you knew most - if not all - about the chef’s and servers personal life. John had dated a fellow waitress a few years back, and she’d dumped him in the parking lot. Mickey had been caught getting it on in the maintenance closet, and Jake apparently had an on again off again girlfriend. According to Mir, it was ‘a whole mess’ because Jake’s girl had cheated on him, and then he’d cheated on her after that to retaliate - and now they were back together again. 

She spent about 40 minutes lamenting the loss of a chef who’d previously worked here. They had had a drunken hook-up, and he’d accidentally come up her nostril. This fact made you spit out the sip you’d taken out of your Pepsi Max. Mir only sniggered, winking at you before continuing with her story, as if having cum up your nose was completely normal. 

“What about Bradley?” the sentence slipped out before you could stop yourself. Immediately, you regretted it, as Mir’s head snapped to yours, a curious look in her eye. 

“Rooster?” Mir stalled a little. “You should stay away from Rooster, Cookie.” she sounded as serious as you figured Mir could sound, and it only made you more curious. 

“You know why we call him Rooster, right?” she leveled you with a knowing look, and you shook your head silently. “He gets a lot of chicks, yeah? Sleeps around a lot. Mates all year round if you get my drift?” the euphemisms were starting to make your head swim. 

“Anyways, one of the waitresses quit abruptly a couple of years ago. Complete mess. Poor thing was wrecked–” the rest of Mir’s sentence was drowned out by an elderly man, asking if y’all served coffee. Licking your lips, you took the draft of beer you’d been pouring to the waiting table - a small frown apparent on your face, deep in thought about the information you'd gotten out of Mir. 

As you made your way over to the computer that held all of the orders you put in, you noticed that the time on one of the tables seemed a bit outrageous. Over an hour. They’d asked about their food twice now, and you’d looked apologetic before telling them it should be out soon. Now though, you could feel their harsh glares on your back, and you figured it was time to ask the chefs when they were pushing it out.  

Walking briskly to the kitchens, you saw Jake man the window, calling out a new check as he went. Usually it would be Bradley calling out checks and plating, but for some reason he always had the grill when you worked. 

“Hey Jake, I was just wondering–” your soft sentence was drowned out by Bradley loudly calling time on another table. “-- I was just wondering when table 53..” once again you were cut off.

“Listen, Cookie - you’re too nice. Too soft spoken, okay. Tell me what you want.” Jake was rarely unkind, in fact, he’d been very nice - if not downright flirty since you started, but now his voice was strained with stress. He looked at you fleetingly, seaglass eyes hard as Bradley barked out about timing. 

“Well, table 53 has waited for quite some time now, and I was just wondering–” Jake sighed tiredly, whisking away to grab a saucepan, yelling ‘behind’ as he danced behind Bradley’s back. You thought of Thea, and Mir, and John - they usually just talked as loud as they could - kept their sentences short even though you had been raised to ask nicely for things. To say please. To say ‘may I’, to say ‘is it possible’. 

“Where the fuck is table 53?” 

Everything stopped. Jake smirked, he looked pleased. Your loud voice had rang out, stress and agitation shining through as your eyes widened slightly. 

“Time on table 53?” Jake called out loudly to his fellow chefs, quickly scanning the row of checks before him. 

“What’s on it?” Bradley looked confused, counting the current steaks he had on the grill. You rambled off the order off the top of your head, and Bradley shook his head. 

“Well, Flounder - seems like you fucking forgot to put that order in because we don’t have it!” your mouth dropped wide open at the way he was speaking to you. You just fucking checked the computer. You had put it in!

“I have put it in! I swear, I just checked the computer–” 

“It ain’t fucking in here, sweetheart!” the term sounded scathing falling from his lips “And Jake doesn’t have the fucking check so you must have missed it. Fucking waitresses, I swear to god,” Bradley made a show of slamming cupboards as he talked. Tears swam in your eyes. 

“Don’t have the check, Cookie. It’s alright, sometimes you miss putting orders in - happens to everyone. Tell me what you need and I’ll bump it,” Jake spoke to you and you wrote the order down, fighting hard to keep the tears at bay. You knew you’d put it in. Why didn’t anyone believe you? As he called the order out loud, Bradley exploded again.

“For fuck’s sake, Bambi - that’s a well done steak! This is a fucking 40 minute wait!” Bradley yelled. “Calm the fuck down, Rooster - use one of your medium well ones!” Jake barked back, gesturing for you to leave the kitchen. You did so, biting your cheek to keep the tears from falling freely. Outside of the door stood Thea, putting some dirty dishes in the dish room.

“Hey, hey, honey - what’s wrong?” her voice was soft, reaching out to you. You explained quickly what had happened, and her brows furrowed at your words. “You’re sure it’s in the system?” 

“Yes! How else am I supposed to know they’ve been waiting for an hour and twenty minutes?” your voice was high pitched, stress and anxiety lacing into every word. Thea pulled you to the computer closest to the kitchen, checking your table. Her eyes widened slightly as she read the information there. 

“Fucking…” she trailed off, clicking a few buttons, and a new check appeared where the receipts usually showed up. Thea marched into the kitchen, and you hurried after her like a small child who’s scared of losing their mother in the grocery store. 

You didn’t catch the first part of the conversation, but made it just in time for Bradley to be stood head to head with Thea, towering over her as he read the check - Thea’s eyes ablaze with rage. “You can’t always fucking blame us for everything Rooster!” Thea yelled as Jake scrambled around his station, looking to see if he’d missed it somehow. 

“Oh shit…” Jake’s voice was pained, embarrassed almost, as he held up a check. It had fallen from the rows, down onto the small shelf below the window - where they kept the clean plates. 

“Jake… please, be so fucking serious right now,” Thea’s voice was trembling with annoyance. Bradley looked so shocked he could hardly speak. “You, you fucking big idiot of a man…” Thea’s finger was pointed into the black clad chest of Rooster. 

“I’m sorry.” the words were spoken through gritted teeth, but for once, Bradley’s brown eyes were fixed on you. Thea balked, a look of pure shock on her face. She blinked a couple of times “Well I’ll be damned. Good boy,” she said sarcastically, patting his chest before turning to you. “I’ll deal with your table. I’ll give them a discount, and these clowns will bring out the food as soon as it’s done with their sincerest apologies!” she left no room for argument, grabbing a hold of your forearm and leading you out of the kitchens.  

Smiling softly to yourself, you later saw Bradley’s large form look so out of place on the floor, stopping by the booking computer, squinting to try to find the table. He stopped Mir to ask her which one it was before he made his way to the waiting table, offering his apologies, a bit awkwardly, as to the wait. Mir didn’t waste a second before she scurried over to you, eyes wide.

“What’s Bradley doing in here?!” you merely shrugged, pouring some red wine into a glass. “Thea told the chefs to bring out food to that table cause they messed up the check for me,” Mir’s eyes widened even more, like you had just told her the juiciest gossip she’d heard for years. 

“Oh my- but he could’ve sent Jake… He would usually send Mickey, I guess, he’s most comfortable talking to guests… oh, I need to go ask Jake!” and just like that, Mir was gone. 

As service wound down, you closed out your last table, sighing happily as Thea asked you to take the dishes today. Most of the staff hated closing down the washroom, but you didn’t mind. It was like a reprieve - a room where you didn’t have to smile, a room where you could just… rinse, stack, through the machine, onto shelves. Easy. Un-tying your apron, you walked towards the kitchens to see if there were any stray plates or glasses you needed to take.

“Hey, Cookie - say, you wouldn’t mind fetching me a jug of water? Haven’t had any since lunch,” Jake confessed with a small smile, still working on plating up some last minute orders. It was always hot in the kitchen, but now you had the time to take in the conditions the chefs were working in. Bradley looked worse off, brow heavy with sweat at the grill - and Jake’s longer strands that peaked out from underneath his hat had curled slightly due to the warm window. 

“Of course! Mickey, do you need anything?” you turned to the pastry chef, and he smiled at you before asking for a Pepsi “To get the energy going again,” licking your lips, you only hesitated for a moment before you turned towards Jake again, taking a small breath before you dared “Bradley?” furrowed brows and confused brown eyes looked into yours.

“We can share the jug of water,” said Jake dismissively, figuring Bradley would stay mute. “I’ll take Fanta… s’got more sugar if you’re looking for energy, Mick,” he turned to send a small smile to Mickey, who only laughed before wiping down his station. 

“Sure, I’ll be right back,” figuring you’d be nice, you put some ice into Jake’s water, but refrained from doing so to the sodas. You’d heard them ask of the other waitresses not to put any into the beverages that weren’t water, they’d just end up watered down by how fast things melted in the hot kitchen.

“Ugh, Cookie! You’re a star!” Jake exclaimed, “I could kiss you. For that, you’ll be getting the best staff meal today,” he winked at you and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you.

“Oh so that’s how it’s done? I was wondering how Mir always ended up with a medium rare steak at the end of the shift…” the tone was teasing, and Jake chuckled “You know it, babe. Took Mir way longer to figure that out though,” narrowing your eyes, you looked at Jake. Truly looked. You knew now for a fact he had a girlfriend waiting at home, but you’d seen him and Mir flirting outrageously before. You were actually quite certain the blonde waitress had a bit of a thing for the blond chef. 

“Hm… good to know.” quirking a brow, you turned on your heel to disappear back into the dish room. 

Washing the dish pit usually took a couple of hours, and you found yourself getting lost in the monotony of it all. The boys could be heard from the kitchens, laughing and joking around as they cleaned, listened to music, and argued over sports. Sporadically they’d bring in some dirty plates they’d found, Mickey and Jake apologizing as they did so. As you were hosing down the floors and the actual machine, you noticed the chefs had changed and were ready to go home. Your heart skipped a beat at seeing Bradley in a pair of black jeans and a tight fitting dark t-shirt. It hit you then that you’d never seen him without a hat on, and the way his hair curled slightly against his forehead had your breath stuttering a bit again.

Mickey dragged you from your thoughts by calling your name and saying his good-byes. Waving gently, you smiled at him as Jake approached you for a hug “Bye, Cookie - good job today!”. Last out was Bradley. He stopped for a moment in the door opening, taking in your slightly soaked frame. 

“Bye, Bambi. Sorry about before,” he grumbled before he hurried off. 

For the first time, ‘Bambi’ wasn’t filled with as much disdain as it had been before. Damn the butterflies fluttering in your stomach to hell.

next chapter

ahh! part twooo, it's a slow burn folks! also, in my experience - ain't no way a chef would actually take your plates out to your table - but this is fiction and this is my way of daydreaming about them doing something nice for you... ahhh *dreamy sigh* there is something wrong with me

@dhwanishah09 @keyrani @roosterforme @bradshawbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @up-thereinthesky @gracelovesteller @lt-bradshaw

[suzirya]

Joys:

Found a leaf to meditate on throughout the day in blazing colours, pet a dog named Milo who kissed my hands and whose excitement at being loved was palpable, saw dryer-lint clouds scudding across the sky so fast, saw leaves whirling into the air like notes caught up and scattered. Read the first chapter of Inciting Joy by Ross Gay on the bus and felt it tug on me.

Walked to the coffee shop and when I came inside the barista said yeah you better come in here and not walk on by and we smalltalk shot the shit while I got a cayenne-orange coffee. Went next door to the bodega-style store that was being restocked on fresh fish and other sundries and whose delivery people were polite, excuse me, thank you, and the owner went to the cafe next door to get me little containers of butter and a knife so that I could have those to serve with the sourdough I got for any of us who are at work today. Also Milano double-chocolate cookies. And the loaf was gone by end of day, and the cookies well-munched.

The smell of a perfume I wore that reminds me of two people at once and that I can enjoy by holding my inner wrist up to my face, interesting weathering shades and tones on concrete, seeing construction workers stretch and hold ladders steady for each other, heartbreaker chile made by El.

Listening through a playlist and feeling happy with the flow of it at last. Warm breeze on a lunch walk. Everyone cutting each other a bit of slack, a lot of grace, don't worry about it.

Lovely convos on and off by text with a best dearheart friend. My coworkers and I wishing each other a night, be well, take care.

Seen: a young man having his hair cut by another young man on a rental-house porch while wearing a giant T-shirt, and it's dusk, and another probable housemate carrying a case of ginger ale past them into the home, and feeling tender about it all.

A free shot of sake from a kind bartender at dinner part one.

El wearing a cologne of theirs I love and me feeling more grounded because of it.

Having a space to gather in for a bit after work and eat dinner in community. A dog who's happy to see us. Juniper and cedar notes in a fizzy beverage. Floor time. Lying back with my eyes closed and listening. Improvised music featuring a drum set, a bass, piano, flute, and trumpet as well as hand percussion and humming. Sometimes fumbling and not-working but working towards. Sometimes harmonious and fluid and "clicked" into place. A period of silence in the middle of the improvised sound. Candles. And a room to retreat to while others in the gathering space clamoured, and it felt like being younger and listening to the party in the next room while taking a sensory and stimulation break. The joy of building a grilled cheese at a DIY bar in the two-person kitchen and someone else cooking it for me, assembly line style. My friend present there letting me share their tomato soup because there was only one bowl left but they wanted to let me dunk my grilled cheese. All of us in the room promising to talk to our therapists and resolve emotional residues before committing to a major change in our hairstyle because we all kinda wanna buzzcut down to near-bald again. And texting, again with dearheart friend, about playlist brainstorming, which is playful and felt good. And breaking a glass in an improvised wreck room. And the casual presence of group chats.

And a hot shower.

And posting this that I've been working on since 9 am this morning, to see how the little things can add up, which has always been something I can do to get through and then get to it.

[fullmetalfisting]

I had a lunch meeting and we all had sandwiched from Jimmy john’s. Since there were a few left, I put them in the break room with a little sign that said “free.” I came back 10 minutes later and an employee was eating a bowl of soup but he’d put two of the turkey clubs in the bowl for some reason. He wasn’t dunking it either. They looked like the twin towers rising out of his Tupperware.

[aughtpunk]

IT'S KETAMINE TIME TOMORROW!!

That's right! Tomorrow is Ketamine Thursday! The day when I go to a clinic to get dunked in a vat of ketamine to keep my brain from devouring itself every time I have to get out of bed!

For those who don't know my treatment causes a major dissociation episode that sucks hard so to keep my brain from fully sinking into the depths I ask you, YES YOU to send in questions for me to answer while high! It's fun! It's educational! It prevents me from experiencing ego death!

So feel free to send in any questions you like! Ask me about my fanfics! My OCs! My AUs! About Echo of the Larkspur! About The Midwife Fables! About the book me and my brother wrote when we were kids! Ask invasive personal questions! Or what I'm planning to have for lunch!

Anon is on, but remember! Don't send anything super creepy or death threats/suicide bait or I'm turning it off

[pttwice]

Can you do baby tzuyu(5-6month) go to the beach with her mama jeongyeon and mommy nayeon and her big sis dubchaeng ❤️

hi hi! absolutely :) it’s just gonna be more of a lil’ drabble! i hope that’s okay!

mermaid

|| little!tzuyu, cg!2yeon, bigsis!dubchaeng ||

“Okay, Tzu. You’re all ready to go.” Nayeon gave her baby a gentle kiss on the forehead before guiding her to Dahyun and Chaeyoung who were building a sandcastle.

Jeongyeon fell asleep the second she put her beach chair down in the sand, failing to make it through even a page of her book.

Beach days for the girls didn’t happen often, but when they did, they were the best. Jeongyeon always took the time to relax and Nayeon took the time to actually catch up on her reading.

“Can you guys play with Tzu for a bit while I read?”

Dahyun looked up from the sandcastle and gave her mommy a thumbs up. “Yeah, mommy. Gonna let Tzu build da castle!”

Chaeyoung nodded in agreement and gently pulled the little over to join her in the sand. She handed the baby a pink shovel and continued to add to the sandcastle.

For a few minutes, Tzuyu entertained herself by digging and putting the same sand back into the hole she just dug. Once she got bored of her little game, she set her shovel down and intently watched what her big sisters were doing.

“Tzu, wanna help?” Dahyun brushed some of the sand off of her hands and extended a bucket out to the baby. Tzu just tilted her head a little and babbled softly, poking the bucket.

“Hey, Hyun?” Chaeyoung watched the little interaction, unsure if Tzuyu was old enough to actually build the castle instead of destroying it. “Maybe should do dis after. Tzu’s too little.”

Dahyun watched as Tzuyu giggled and kept poking the little bucket. She set it down and thought for a second. “Maybe we could bury her!”

Chaeyoung’s eyes lit up at the suggestion and she positioned Tzuyu so she was sitting. “Do you wanna be a mermaid, Tzuyu?”

Tzuyu babbled more and clapped her hands together. Her big sisters took that as a yes and started to bury Tzuyu’s legs.

Nayeon glanced up every few minutes to make sure her babies were okay, smiling as she saw the three playing. She took a few pictures before returning back to her reading.

By the time Tzuyu’s legs were buried and Dahyun and Chaeyoung and made her a mermaid tail, Jeongyeon had finally woken up from her not so impromptu nap. She got up and stood over the littles, hands on her hips as she looked down at them.

“Wow, you guys did a great job. You look beautiful, love bug.” Jeongyeon let out a soft chuckle. The mermaid tail was a bit short and a little wonky, but it did kind of resemble a mermaid.

“Thanks, mama! Tzu looks pretty!” Dahyun proudly stood up, her bottom and her legs covered in sand from sitting in it for so long.

“Are you guys ready for some lunch?” Nayeon pulled out the cooler and Dahyun and Chaeyoung ran over towards their mommy, excited to eat after working so hard.

Tzuyu watched as her big sisters ran to get food and whined softly. She held her hands up, not wanting to be left out of lunch.

“It’s okay, baby. Mama’s gonna get you. Ready? Here comes Tzu!” A big smile made its way to Jeongyeon’s face as she pulled Tzuyu out of the sand, freeing her of her mermaid tail. The little laughed excitedly as her mama carried her over to the rest of the girls.

The rest of their beach day was spent building more castles, Jeongyeon dunking Nayeon into the water — much to her dislike — while the littles splashed around, and a very sleepy baby Tzu by the end of the day.

[multifandomthoughts]

Scaring up Confidence

Requested by @meme-queen-lucy

Looking in the mirror, you give a smirk to yourself. Over the weekend you had found the cutest outfit, one that accentuates your curves. You had already felt good about yourself when later that day you found the perfect pair of shoes to go with it!

“I wonder what my crush will think of it…” you muse, getting ready to head out the door. Your crush, Billy Loomis lived in your head rent free. While other girls drooled over the jocks and the nerds, you had your heart set on him.

He has friends, but always seemed to you to be a bit of a loner sometimes. It’s odd, despite being with a bubbly popular group, he always seems to be the odd one out. And despite being with the popular kids, he was always extremely warm and kind to you.

It was just one of the many reason you’d come to be so smitten. So now you’ve gathered all your courage and put pen to paper to tell him so. Your handwriting wasn’t as neat as you’d like it due to your heart feeling like it was going to beat out of your chest. Once finished, you let out a heavy sigh. Is this really the right way to go about it? His friends could find it before he does and ridicule you. You know he’d stand up for you, but the embarrassment…Fuck it, you think. No better time than the present.

His locker was easiest to discern as he had covered his in punk and horror movie stickers. You could feel yourself begin to shake once again as you approach. Knowing your nerves would only be getting worse, you force your feet to move and with a quick glance side to side in case anyone was watching, you slid the note through a slit in the top of his locker door. Stumbling, you proceed to run away from the locker with blundering steps as you reach the bathroom. Filling the sink with cold water, you dunk your face in it immediately.

You couldn’t give less of a shit who was to find you, calming down was your first and only priority. All there was to do now was wait. Thoughts begin swirling in your head, a cloudy storm beginning to form.

Days begin to pass, and no response through phone, face to face or note. You begin to think that maybe that daring confession may have scared him off. You hadn’t been anything but friendly and kind to him, no reason to suspect that you harbored a deep crush.

It’s a few days later that the response finally comes, and to your surprise it’s in the middle of lunch. A sudden chill comes down your back, and you realize it was an ice cube slid down the back of your shirt. With a gasp and a sputter, you turn to see who did this and find it’s Billy grinning like a cheeky bastard. “Hey! What was that for?” You pout, poking his chest. “Thought I might give a scare to the person who scared me.” Your face drops and you stare directly at his feet. “No, no, no! Not like that!” Billy spits. Gripping your hand with a solemn face, he drags you out of the lunchroom where nobody can see.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, but the note you left in my locker scared me a bit. A lot of people don’t like me and my friends, so at first I thought it might have been someone threatening to beat me up.” With a deep sigh, and a tightened grip on your hand, Billy continues to speak. “But I couldn’t be happier with what the note actually said. I’ve done my best to be kind to you so that you aren’t afraid of me. And…I guess in doing that, I harbored a crush on you, and hoped you would do the same.”

Without a second to speak, you tackle Billy in a hug. He likes you back, and wants to be with you! You can feel him tenderly placing his hands on your love handles, and you can feel his heartbeat. Holding back tears, you remove yourself from the hug, and look up at him, beaming. “So, would you potentially want to go on a date with me? You inquire. “Of course! We can hang out after school, maybe get a bite to eat? I want you to meet my friends, too!” Flashing that sweet smile you spent so many days dreaming of, you can feel your heart beat faster.

Wanting to make him smile even more, you try and think of other date ideas to offer that he’ll like. “We could also go see a movie together some time, I like a lot of the same stuff you do so you wouldn’t need to tone it down for me or change your picks for my sake!” Sure enough, he does grin at that and raise an eyebrow. “Alright, I may take you up on that.

So tell me then… what’s your favorite scary movie?”

[allidopas]

saw a vid dunking on that boyfriends webtoon again and god the comment section was atrocious. at what point is ironic homophobia just literal homophobia?

"I'm a gay man but this comic makes me understand why people call us slurs" type of shit like hello?

"the author is a creepy fujoshi who fetishizes gay men" the author is a gay trans man. Not that a gay person can't fetishize gay peope, but maybe take a step back and reevaluate that line of thought? cuz you're siding with these dudes:

"ummm but the author drew RPF nsfw!" unless they're aggressively advertising this RPF nsfw then just let people have their kinks man. its not like BTS will see it. are you not allowed to have the hots for real people?

frankly i'm iffy on RPF but this feels like a really puritan-y reason to hate someone's comic.

and literally all the relationships in the webcomic are consensual and healthy. what about this warrants homophobia let alone transphobia

"it's still really cringe" yeah i'm sure that's what the schoolyard bully thought of the weak little nerds he beat up for lunch money. i thought this was the "be cringe be free" website?

"it's just a joke!! it's not that deep!!" kind of hard to seperate the true ironic jokesters from the real homophobic people ill be real with you chief.

idk. it's so disheartening to see, i guess. especially knowing that those Cringe Ads, which were one of the big reasons the creator was dogpiled, weren't even approved by the author. idk why i decided to talk about this it's just terrible i guess

[malina-33]

Single choice

Summary: It’s summer 2022, Nortern Italy, Miles and Alex are on vacation before The Car tour.

And they are happier than ever.

Word count: 3,5k

A/N: I missed the everyday cozy life of their relationship, so I wrote this :) Creative-crisis conversations presented as well, but they don’t take far away from the happy ending. Inspired by "Call me by your name", so for a better atmosphere, I advise you to include this playlist in the background.

Also, English is not my first language, so if you find grammar mistakes, feel free to point them out to me!

Enjoy these two sweeties💕

The wide shirt's hem fluttered in the warm wind, three buttons at the top were casually undone, and the sleeves were carelessly rolled up to the elbows. Alex, covering his eyes, lay on a soft sun lounger under the shade of the terrace's arches of their small villa in Portofino, stretching out his long legs. His chest rose and fell slowly in sleep, while his hands rested relaxed on the armrests. Silken curls played with the gusts of breeze, but surrendering, they fell onto his face and tickled his nose, causing the man to unconsciously wrinkle it like a child.

Miles couldn't take his eyes off this literally biblical scene. "Taking Al away to the Italian Riviera for two weeks before the tour started was my best decision" the man thought smugly. Only God knew when they would be able to spend such peaceful time alone again, without rushing anywhere and hiding from anyone. And now, leaning against a marble column with his hands folded on his chest, Kane smiled until wrinkles formed around his eyes, unable to believe what he was witnessing. These sprawling palm trees in their backyard, the deafening trills of southern birds, the sweet sea air, and a serene tanned Alex in a milky linen suit, quietly dozing off after lunch - all of this was now accessible only to him, Miles, and he savored every second of this vacation that sometimes seemed surreal, like a calm before the storm. But he persistently pushed away such thoughts, continuing to revel in his own paradise.

They had already spent 10 days here, the first 3 of which they didn't venture beyond their plot on the hill, which offered a breathtaking view of the coast and emerald water. They were lingering in bed for a long time under the biting rays of the sun, plucking mandarins straight from the tree, and listening to vinyl records of Celentano on the veranda in the evenings, intertwining in each other's arms, merging and becoming the one. Then, finally realizing that missing the opportunity to stroll through such picturesque streets would be a crime, they started going out in town under the mountain after the sunset, when the heat subsided and the cicadas began their twilight concert. Every time they ordered a new pasta dish in local restaurants, hoping to try them all, but that was Italy...

In the mornings, they descend to the pebble beach, where Alex could lie for hours, reading books, while Miles were snorkeling in the Ligurian Sea, growing tired of waiting for his lover and retaliating by playfully splashing him with cool droplets. They would play in the water like teenagers, dunking each other or taking turns piggybacking. When the sun would started to scorch their skin, they would go to the local deli for ready-made lasagna with eggplant, always getting a few types of cannoli, new bottle of wine, olives and fruits. They would then retreat to their villa for the rest of the day, either playing the guitar, the only one they brought from their stuffy LA studio, or playing board games (for which Miles constantly called Alex "nonno," while he calmly continued to roll the dice), or falling asleep under the shade of the leafy trees right on the grass.

Miles hadn't laughed so often and so loudly, and more importantly, so genuinely, since their last joint tour. He felt an immense universal joy that was bursting from his chest, causing his cheeks to ache from the ever-present smile on his face. He felt alive next to the dearest and only person who truly understood him, which Alex had been for the past 17 years.

"How have we put up with each other for so long, Milo?" Turner laughed, finishing his glass of semi-sweet red wine.

And Kane replied seriously, capturing his alcohol-glistening gaze: "I no longer know how to live without you, Al."

And it was the absolute truth. They often had conversations like this, but Alex never actually put up with Miles, he did love him. He only put up with being apart from him. And it was always important for both of them to hear this small confession, like a spark of a cricket in the foliage, but a heart-wrenching one, even after a year, or 10, or 20 years of their relationship.

Relationship? Friendship, love, presence by each other's side, support, musical inspirations, passionate desires, care, hurt, forgiveness, kisses, hugs backstage and on stage, touches all over their bodies, eloquent glances, and ending with a single word proposals. That's what their relationship was. And if Miles were offered to never be a musician but to love Alex, he would still agree without any hint of hesitation, somewhere deep inside bitterly realizing that if Alex were faced with such a choice, he would have to think about it.

But at this moment, Miles didn't want to think about it at all, he only wanted to listen to his lover's steady breathing and bask in the fading sunlight with him. Miles walked around the column and silently sat down on the edge of the lounge chair. He lightly ran his hand over Turner's knee, not wanting to disturb, and then traced chiseled fingers slightly higher, along his thigh. However, even these gentle movements made Alex squirm, furrowing his brow and rolling over to the other side.

"Shh, sleep, my dear, I didn't mean to wake you," Miles whispered, soothingly continuing to stroke the man's leg.

"But I'm already awake," mumbled Alex sleepily, opening his eyes and immediately squinting in the bright light.

"What a shame," Kane sang mockingly, secretly delighted by this fact because he had missed Alex during the silence at their villa and mindless wandering through the rooms while he slept in the fresh air, "Will you move over?".

Alex squeezed himself into the corner of the lounge chair, making space as much as the single bed allowed. Miles approached him with a cunning smile, lying on his side, unable to fit his broad shoulders on the mattress even if he was alone, and invitingly opened his palms. Turner simply snorted and muttered something about a smug cat, pressing his back against Miles' contrasting cool chest compared to the scorching heat outside, covering man's hand that rested peacefully on his waist with his own, and intertwining their legs.

"So, you woke me up just to sleep together all cramped up? I don't want to anymore," Alex slowly stroked Miles' wrists, who closed his eyes in pleasure.

"Mmm, I just got bored being alone, you've been sleeping forever!"

"Mi, maybe an hour and a half at most," Turner said in a lecturing tone, turning slightly to give Kane a disapproving look.

"Well, I call that forever. Anyway, since you're already awake, let's think about our plans for the evening," Kane quickly changed the subject, kissing Alex's back of the neck, "I saw a poster for a local concert in the neighboring town. We can rent a scooter to get there, it's just a few kilometers away."

Alex burst out laughing at the last words, turning in his lover's embrace and almost touching noses with him.

"Oh, Kane, you don't even have a driver's license! And the fact that I rode 100 meters on it in a clip means nothing."

"We'll figure it out somehow, it can't be more difficult than tuning a guitar for the first time."

"Well, since I have such an experienced and confident driver, I can't deny myself the pleasure," Turner teased, pouting his lips and furrowing his brows like a college girl.

"Gosh, how cheap that sounds, Al. Those are second-rate tricks from middle school. Did I teach you to flirt like that?" Miles rolled his eyes, hiding a smile in the corners of his mouth.

"No, I think we just fucked right away," Alex retorted, immediately receiving a playful jab in the ribs, "Hey! Am I lying?"

"Do I need to remind you who first put his knee between my legs in the dressing room, huh?" Miles smirked, tucking Alex's overgrown locks behind his ear and stroking his slightly stubbled cheek. He looked angelically peaceful now, despite his unholy words.

"And do you regret it?" Seeing the silent denial, he continued, "Well, neither do I. So you don't need to teach me how to flirt, maestro. If we want to find a free scooter before sunset, we need to start getting ready. I was also planning to take a shower," Alex casually mentioned, slyly avoiding eye contact and running his hand suggestively along Miles' waist.

"Well, that's better already, at least the hints are subtler, but you've lost your touch. I'll have to remind you."

"Oi, you better do it indeed" Turner whispered in his ear. Honestly, he was amused at how they, two grown adults, were behaving as soon as intimacy was mentioned - it was like they were back in 10th grade of the school.

Once he calmed down, he reluctantly slipped out of the warm embrace and gracefully got up from the sun lounger, stretching and rising on tiptoes to better loosen his stiff limbs. Miles settled himself more comfortably, royally occupying the vacant spot and propping his head on his hand, watching Turner's toned body with a hungry gaze. He could do this for hours, knowing every mole, wrinkle, and scar.

"What are you looking at? Trying to find gray hairs?" Unable to withstand his scrutinizing eyes, the frontman softly spoke. Now he had his hands in the pockets, exposing his face to the sun and wind, which cautiously peeked onto the veranda through massive columns. Somewhere far below, the sound of the waves and children's laughter could be heard. Idyllic.

"It's too early for you to worry about that. I just can't get enough of looking at you. Clearly, this lifestyle suits you well, even though I fattened you up a bit, considering you were all skin and bones when you arrived."

"Afraid of breaking me?"

"I am," Miles admitted, not completely sure if he interpreted the question correctly. Turner smiled disarmingingly, the way he only smiled at him, leaned in, still keeping his hands in pockets, and planted a chaste kiss on the man's forehead before disappearing through the door.

"Catch up, or I'll manage without you," Alex said over the shoulder, fully aware that he wouldn't be able to handle anything without Miles. Not in life, not in the shower.

***

Comparing guitar tuning and riding a scooter turned out to be inappropriate, as Miles pointed out rather immodestly, getting behind the wheel, because the second one was elementary. During their short ride along the coast, Alex couldn't stop capturing breathtaking views with his vintage Canon. The peach-colored waves gently licked the shore, competing with each other for ownership of every stone on the beach, while the numerous bushes along the road swayed in the wind.

The neighboring town turned out to be Santa-Margherita-Ligure, welcoming the men with the warm glow of lights strung between each café and the loud Italian laughter that didn't quiet down until late at night. Leaving their mean of transport on the waterfront, they headed towards the main square, where light jazz melodies could already be heard. Ordinary chairs stood right on the historical cobblestones, occupying almost all the space, and a small mobile stage had been set up in the center, where musicians were tuning their instruments.

Taking seats in the corner of the front row, the men waited for the performance to begin.

"Have you forgotten what it's like to be on the other side of the stage?" Miles whispered, his lips almost touching Alex's ear.

"Sometimes I even prefer it here," Turner sadly smiled, "no obligations, masks, rehearsed lines, or unjustified expectations. You just exist in the music without thinking about how to reproduce it. I miss that."

Kane anxiously studied Alex's face from the side, trying to understand if he was speaking in a state of creative melancholy inspired by the upcoming concert or if he was simply revealing his deep pain that had burdened him all this time.

"Hey, I didn't mean to put you into existential ponderings. We can talk about it if it really bothers you, but not now. I purposely brought you here to relax and spend these last days with an empty mind, not to reflect on one careless question"

Miles didn't condemn him, but rather tried to hide his own anxiety behind a feigned admonition. He gently squeezed Alex's hand, caressing his knuckles with his thumb, and warmly smiled, knowing that this was the only support he could offer in public.

"Sorry-sorry-sorry," Alex babbled, running his hands forcefully over his face and organizing his thoughts, "forget about those words, we'll come back to it another time. You can hit me if I utter another sad-philosophical phrase that upsets you tonight."

Miles only laughed at that, patting his friend's knee, and, unable to resist, left an unnoticed kiss on his cheek, indicating that he would never fulfill his request in their lifetime.

Lost in conversations, they hadn't noticed that all the chairs had been taken and the band on stage was counting down seconds until the performance began, tightly gripping their bows in their hands. The increasingly suspenseful sound of the violin filled the entire square, eliciting sudden shivers from the audience and instantly isolating them from the rest of the world. Alex's full attention was now focused on the five people on stage, the sound that seemed to exist right in his head, and the melting night air. Rarely could he simply enjoy the melody without trying to dissect it into notes or analyze the lyrics.

Miles usually smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows that arose from such contemplation with a kiss, and he was ready to do it now, but as his gaze slid across the side of the face, he unexpectedly saw a serene smile on partially open lips. Turner leaned back in his chair, holding his hands between his thighs and slightly covering his eyes, which indicated his complete absence in our reality and his presence in his own, understood only by him and undoubtedly bringing him pleasure.

The concert lasted only an hour, not abundant in a wide repertoire. Towards the end, young men and women, children, and even racy grandmothers and grandfathers stood up from their seats to dance right in the square, laughing loudly at their clumsiness. Alex and Miles only watched this scene with warm smiles, tapping their feet rhythmically on the stone pavement, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention to themselves. The clock on the tower, located on the western side of the square, as was customary in all ancient city planning laws, struck 10 o'clock exactly at the moment when the musicians, in the heat of the final chord, sharply raised their bows towards the pitch-black sky, ending the performance. The square drowned in applause and whistling, evoking familiar motives from men's careers.

The air intoxicated their heads, and not wanting to return back so early, they turned into the depths of the city. Turner continued to photograph the local architecture and Miles against its backdrop with mocking skill, not allowing the camera to hang peacefully on his chest for more than two minutes. And when tourists would disappear from their sight, Kane with the agility of a cheetah would press Alex against the nearest wall of another you-know-who-lived-in-this-house-you-lustful-bastard building, pulling him into a tempting kiss and, despite all protests about his indifference to history, smiled contentedly on his lips, feeling Alex pull him closer by the collar of his leopard-print shirt.

They would laugh drunkenly, without drinking a glass, immediately receiving Italian curses from open balconies in response. They would play tag on narrow streets, after which they breathed heavily, resting their elbows on thr knees and joking about their advanced age. They would eat mango ice cream, licking the sweet drips from each other's fingers, and would never stop thinking for a moment about how lucky they are to be loved here and now.

***

They returned to the villa at midnight, exhausted from their long walk, hastily discarding their sticky clothes as they collapsed onto the unmade bed. Alex, resting his chin on Miles' chest, looked at him with such devoted eyes that Miles' heart skipped a beat at the impossibility of resisting those bottomless depths. In the moonlight, his sharp features softened, Alex's fingers gently tracing along the line of his jaw, while a warm smile lingered beneath his closed eyelids, etching itself into Miles' memory with fiery strokes.

"Mi, are you asleep?" Alex asked in a barely audible voice, listening to the rhythm of Miles' heartbeat beneath his cheek.

"No," Miles replied just as softly, shifting slightly on the crisp sheets to find a more comfortable position.

"Do you remember what I told you today about not feeling freedom in music?" Alex continued, as if afraid to disturb his own thoughts, "well, I realized just now that I'm the one closing myself off from it. But you know when? When you're not here. I'm tired of pretending to be someone else without you, tired of feeling not myself without you. And today, there on the square, when you were holding my hand, it hit me that since we met, no one else has come this close to me. You were and still are the only person who truly knows me. Can you imagine?" His voice broke into a hoarse laughter that, truth be told, sounded hauntingly beautiful in the peaceful silence.

"No one really knows me except for you. And I've been afraid to show my true self to anyone but you. But today, for the first time in a long while, I was able to listen to music without thinking about anything else but your fingers on my hands. And I realized," he paused, unconsciously gripping Miles' shoulder tighter, "I realized that I can perform on stage, just thinking about your hands, and then I won't have to try to hide behind a fabricated image to entertain the audience. Damn it, at 36 years old, I've come to the realization that I can simply sing without pouring my own problems into the songs, but instead, just give people the sound. A sound that resonates in their minds, in their feet and hands, a sound that makes them feel alive. I can make at least one of their days truly happy, just like you make my life happy simply by being with me."

Throughout this entire time, Miles never removed his nimble fingers from Alex's head, combing through his hair and soothing him. He could listen to his voice forever, automatically arranging the words into lines for new songs. The sight of Alex — until it stole the air from his lungs, until it brought tears to his eyes, until his pulse faltered in his veins, until a volcano of warmth erupted in his chest. Until he feels alive again.

"Al, if you haven't realized in 20 years of performing what you do for the lives of everyone who attends your concerts, then I'm going to have to enlighten you now," Miles chuckled softly, continuing to massage his head, "everything you've done for the industry is your way of existing in this world. You don't know any other ways, and that's your strength, not weakness. Your music is literally you, it's not about trends or fan requests. It's about how you communicate with others. You have an incredible gift of conveying intangible values through your lyrics. I have no idea how the gears in your mind work, but damn it, you're exceptional. And I swear, anyone who has ever heard any of your songs has pondered the words, thought about what you wanted to say, and ultimately thought about themselves. Your music has meaning, it's not just a string of letters for the sake of rhyme. It's a dictionary of your life. And since the day we first met, I've been carefully studying all your meanings and embodiments, so my music is about you and for you. You are my only inspiration, and if all you need to write a new song is a notebook and an image in your mind, then all I need is you by my side."

Miles may have wanted to add something more, but unable to bear the weight of such declarations of love, Alex impatiently kissed him, exhaling loudly from the fulfillment of a desire that had been building throughout his entire speech. Kane, quickly finding another activity for his tongue besides talking, trailed it along Alex's lower lip, feeling every crack from the salty water.

Alex smiled like a child, whispering 'I lovelovelove you' into his man's lips, continuously running palms along his cheeks. They continued to gaze at each other for a long time, carrying on a quiet conversation interrupted by occasional kisses, shivers down the spine, and tearful thank yous for everything. Even the stars, cautiously peering through the open windows, blushed at their whispers under the thin blanket. Only with the first rays of sunlight, when words ran out and lips swelled from endless contact, men finally fall asleep in a tangle of intertwined arms and legs.

And if Alex were offered to never be a musician but to love Miles, he would without hesitation write a song about it. Because it would be meaningless to confront the person with a choice who made it 17 years ago.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: I sincerely want to believe that this is how everything really happened for them. All in all, these two deserve a happy ending. I will be incredibly happy if you leave feedback after reading! Everything that was born in my head would very much like to find a response in you💔🥺

[littleblondesoprano]

4,9, 14, 24

Thank you!! :D!! I'm whacking this under a Read More because apparently I like to talk, lol.

4) List five of your favorite recipes, share them if you like!

1) Peanut Butter Ramen: I've been addicted to this lately. What you're gonna do is get your ramen noodle block (whichever you like, but mom and I get our favorite kind from Costco). Cover it in water and pop it in the microwave for 3 minutes.

While that's cooking, you're going to assemble your Team. You Need: Peanut Butter (any kind, but we use Justin's, the one with honey in it), Garlic Powder, Onion Powder, Five Spice, Ginger, Coconut Aminos (can use Soy Sauce in its place). Raw veggies, sriracha, sesame seeds, and french fried onions.

You're gonna slap like half a cup of peanut butter, however much garlic, onion powder, ginger, and five spice you think you want, a splash of coconut aminos, and mix that shit together. You now have your peanut butter sauce.

Next, your raw veggies. You can throw legit whatever you want in there, but I use bell pepper (Red), carrot slices, green onions, purple onions, and cucumbers. Slice your veggies to mouth-sized pieces to your heart's content!

Drain out the water from the ramen with a similarly sized plate on top of the ramen noodles. Once you are done choppin, plop in a good 3-4 heaping tablespoons of your peanut butter sauce to the ramen, all of your chopped veggies, then top with sriracha, sesame seeds, and french fried onions! Combine and FEAST. Keep in the fridge, and you can easily get 4 meals out of this sauce.

2) No Bake Cookies (Boiled Cookies) I've had these so many times in my life and they are always fucking bangers. Cannot go wrong with these!!

3) Salmon-Avocado Sushi Salad: Mom and I make sushi for lunch (and I usually get two more meals out of sushi rolls too) and all the leftovers go into a big bowl that I call 'sushi salad' and can eat 2/3 of before feeling sick because it's just so good that you don't want to stop eating. Keep in mind: This recipe is for 2 people across multiple days - it's 5 meals out of this amount, including sushi salad. Which is a lot, in and of itself.

You Need: 1 Can Salmon, 2 packs Nori sheets, 2-3 english cucumbers, 3-4 carrots, 3-4 ripe avocados, black sesame seeds, Coconut Aminos, 1 red bell pepper, 4 cups sushi/sticky rice. Tupperware containers. Water. Big Knife. 3 bowls. Rice cooker.

Properly clean your sushi rice and pop it in the rice cooker (or use the stove, whatever). While that is cooking, slice your english cucumber, carrots, and red bell pepper into long, thin slices. Drain your canned salmon and turn on the sink to make the liquid go away faster bc my god does it stink. Empty salmon into bowl, and crack open your avocados - scoop out whatever meat inside is not bad and add it to the bowl with your salmon; once all avocados are free of their husk, get a potato masher or fork and go to Town. I like my meat mixture like a green ooze, but if you want chunks, don't go Fully to town. Take an Exit or two before you are at Blob level ooze. Set off to the side.

Get another bowl and fill it almost to the brim with water, this is to dunk your Big Knife in so the sushi/sticky rice does not adhere to it in between cuts, bc it will TRY.

Once rice is done, lay out a Nori sheet and cover in rice, making sure to leave space at the top - like the header on a google doc - to wet so the Nori will stick to itself and Become Roll. Layer in your fillings - we start with sesame seeds, then the Meat Ooze, then cucumbers, then carrots, then bell pepper before Rolling. Do this until you have today's lunch, and two days worth of sushi (usually, two medium sized tupperware containers, single layered).

Now armed with your left overs, you're going to cut up the rest of your veggies into bite sized pieces and throw it in the bowl with the Meat Ooze. Toss in a handful or two of sesame seeds, two Nori sheets (torn up, for bite-ability), and not all of the rice, but a good chunk of it. Top with a shit ton of Coconut Aminos, stir up, and Enjoy. :3

4) Pickle Chicken: This is a pretty easy one, but it is time consuming. You Need: Chicken Breasts, Big Pickle Jar (24 oz), Garlic powder, Onion powder, salt and pepp, panko bread crumbs, flour of your choice, egg or milk or both, an Air Fryer but two is better.

You're gonna beat up the chicken and then submerge it in a bath of pickles and *lots* of pickle juice. Marinate them bois in pickle juice in the fridge for two days. Come back to it having assembled a wet and dry breading station: in one container we have a beaten egg, or milk, or a mixture of both - and in the other corner we have our Spices (onion, garlic, probably salt, pepper and w/e else you want) flour, and bread crumbs. Beside that we have as many air fryers as you can plug in without throwing a fuse.

Spray the insides of the air fryers with nonstick things, like Pam. Take that Pickled goodness known as chicken out of its briny grave, dredge in the dry, then the Wet, then the dry again before tossing very quickly (but not too quick to splatter) into a heated air fryer. Do this until all fryer space is full or you are out of chicken. Flip the chicken at the 10 minute mark, then fry an additional 12-15 minutes, or until the internal temp reads at least 165F/80C. Then pop that sucker on a sandwich, or enjoy with honey mustard if you know what is yummy.

5) Rotisserie Chicken Salad (Add Dill if you like Dill. And green onions) I used to eat a version of this for a while when I first came home from college! Very good, very refreshing, esp with crackers or on a sandwich with some lettuce + cucumbers. (Pro tip: cherry tomatoes on the side go beautifully with this. I also add like, half of the mayo, I don't like my chicken salad soupy.)

9) If you could go anywhere in the universe and in time, where would you go? What would you do? Who would you be?

I would go back to Ancient Rome, when the Coliseum was almost completed. I had a dream - but it just felt different than a normal dream - that I was standing on top of a hill, with, I guess, my partner in that life, watching a big block being lifted with a rudimentary crane as the sun was just starting to set. I want to go there, not just to see what I think is a past-life version of myself, but to just look down from that hill. I have the image stuck in my brain - it's been a few years since I had the dream - and I really want to see it for real. I'd also just really love watching a naval battle happen in the coliseum bc that sounds wild.

14) Would you ever visit a lighthouse?

I have already! On vacation a long while ago (2012-ish?) we visited the Saint Augustine Lighthouse in Saint Augustine, FL. It was beautiful, and really fun! The view is so worth going up all those stairs, and, it's haunted! We mainly went bc it's haunted, but it was really fun! I'd totally go back. And ofc, I would visit a lighthouse, they're often haunted and I'd fucking love ghost hunting in one.

24) Be honest, do you have stuffed animals?

I have many!! I'll even show ya pictures! I have two Ghostface plushies because I fucking love that man, that mythos, that bod, that knife.

I have a lil ghostie who falls off my bed every single night, so I just put him on the floor. And a GIANT ghostie that I got from TJ Maxx last year in the Halloween section because I loved it.

A big ol' bat!! I think I got it from Michaels when the Halloween stuff was on sale. And I have a bat Ugly Doll (does anyone else remember when those were big?) I have my other Ugly Dolls, but they're in a bin. The Bat has special privileges on account of being a bat.

I have a bichon frise dog plush, bc my paternal grandma had a bichon named Bebe and I loved her dearly. This plushie is named Sassy though. I think mom got her for me when I was a toddler bc we were on a long car ride (10 hours) and I didn't have a stuffed animal with me.

I have Beast, from Beauty and the Beast. I got him from when I went to Disney, almost eight years ago? He falls off a lot. And a $6 Build-a-bear from the $6 build-a-bear day. I got it in college; it used to have little overalls, but they ripped so I shoved the fabric in my fabric stash (ziploc bag) and now it is Nakey. It is also ripped down the back for some reason, and I gotta try and sew it back up.

A ram, very fluffy, very cute. It holds up the rest of the plushies. Foundational King.

A ragdoll plush that looks a lot like Fluffy when she was little! Dad bought her for me when I moved four hours away for college, so I wouldn't miss my Fluffy as much. (Read: I did miss her just as much, but the plushie was very nice).

A roadkill Bunny that I adore! The ones on Etsy sold out way too fast, so I got one from Amazon. The quality is definitely not as good, but I love it just the same.

A giant sheepdog! I don't remember if I named it or not, it's been so long. I took it to college with me because I legit cannot sleep without it or without pillows/a person in its spot. I need to have both sides of my body barricaded when I sleep. i am not joking when I say my body wakes me up if it falls off of the bed.

I also have all the plushies (stored away, ofc) that I loved when I was little, like the sock monkey mom passed down to me (Monkey-Lunkey), or Googly-Eyed Scooby, or the horse from Toy Story.

[managician-tls]

Asuka Affection solo - 1

Asuka thinks and behaves very... how do I put it... shonen protagonist-ish. Even Protag-kun is a bit put off by it in this story. I loved translating this one.

When she talks about training for a 'special move' for basketball, I've mostly kept the term 'special move' as 'Hissatsu technique', from the original word hissatsu-waza. There's a popular sports anime out there that uses that wording, and I thought it gives her speech a good dose of that "sports idiot" energy.

(Also, her voice actor voices one of the main characters in said anime. So it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up!)

Featured characters: Asuka, Protag-kun

Location: Behind the Gym

Asuka: Hyaah! Momocchi Takeoff ���

Hop! Step! Juuump!

...Wh, whoah!? Why you'd move out of the way? That's troublesome, you know!

No, yeah... I get what you're saying, okay! If some girl you don't know suddenly jumps at you, it's normal to avoid her, I get that!

But I wanted you to take the hit like a man~? Like, with a "bam"!

Nn? Ah, I forgot to tell you! I'm Asuka Momochi, from Class 1-A! I'm in the Basketball Club. It's nice to meet you~

You're that "senior transfer student", right? There's a rumour going around that says you'll hear out any request! If you're free, there's something I'd like you to help me out with~ ♪

You'll do it? Yaay, all the senpai in my academy are so reliable...... ♪

Alright ♪ With that settled, I'll ask for the favour right away! You know the old basketball goal that's over there?

The goal from the gym is usually folded back, to make sure it doesn't get in the way... Meaning that, in lunch breaks like these, the only thing that can be used is the goal over there.

That's why I practiced with the basketball I'm always carrying around. I'm wearing the school uniform, though, so I can't move around too brusquely, see~? I really love basketball ♪

I can only train the basics on my own, which is a problem, but I'm saved now that we happened to run into each other~

If it's alright with you, I'd like you to assist me while I learn a Hissatsu technique ♪

Eh, because, see... It's obvious I'd want a special move as a Basketball Club member!

Using Senpai as a stepping stone, jump and then throw a dunk shot! I thought I could go about learning to do that, and that's why I jumped at you earlier ♪

Once I get the hang of it, maybe I'd be able to do a second jump mid-air! And then, from high above where nobody can reach it, shoot the dunk — that's my Hissatsu technique...... ☆

Ah, what's up with that face? Stop it, stop giving me that "Aah, so you're an idiot..." look! Uaah, don't look at me the same way Mother does~!?

A-Anyways! I'll give it another go, so I'm counting on you~ ♪

Hop! Step! Juuu... Jump?

Fwah? Like I was saying, why you'd move out of the way~? Senpai, you meanie!

Aah, while I was all in a fluster, the school bell rang... If we don't hurry up to class, we'll run late, won't we~?

Geez, I guess it can't be helped... I'll put the Hissatsu technique on hold until I get a new chance to learn it.

'Till next time comes, please make sure to practice with me for it, okay, senior transfer student? Hmph, hmph!

[lightvsdark18]

Some responses to voicelines (Ruggie)

Hey, here's your prize! Shyeheehee, ain't it nice to be rewarded just for coming to school every day? You better be here tomorrow, too.

*confused and shunned to speak*

Why're you tryin' to look after me? You're such a weirdo.

What's wrong with wanting to help you out?

You really are such a goody-goody. Don't come cryin' to me if it bites you in the rear. Though depending on what it's about, I miiight be inclined to lend a helpin' hand.

Good to know, you brat.

Looks like I'm still growing. I gotta keep you around!

Oh, now you need me.

School Uniform

As they say, there's no such thing as a free lunch.

Unless someone else is paying for it.

Can you really afford to be spacing out?

... Maybe a little bit.

Need somethin' from me? I'll hear you out if you gimme something in return.

Like what?

I'm willing to keep an eye on Grim anytime you need a break. How's ten marks an hour sound?

... I'll think about it.

You gotta think about what you'll be doin' after graduation and act accordingly. Life doesn't end with graduation, y'know.

I'm fully aware of that, Ruggie. It's just hard when you have no motivation.

P.E. Uniform

I'm a whiz at sports. Well, I'm better than you, anyway.

I don't play sports, so you're really not complimenting yourself there, Ruggie.

Uuugh, I'm starving. I wanna gorge on sugary donuts dunked in milk until I pop.

... Chocolate donut holes.

You got on Coach Vargas' bad side? Just compliment his physique and all will be forgiven.

But he doesn't deserve compliments from me.

Labwear

You'd better stay away from the botanical garden. If you bother Leona while he's trying to nap... Ooh, I shudder to think.

You act like I haven't disturbed his naps before.

Jack is growing a cactus in his room. Is it for emergency rations or somethin'?

I think he's just growing it for fun.

When it comes to cooking, all I can do is throw together whatever's on hand, but it seems like Leona doesn't care as long as it's edible.

I have a cheap meal idea: rice, ground meat and taco seasoning.

I can tell you what was on last year's test. I'll even give you the friend discount!

I think I can handle the test on my own, thanks though.

Ceremonial Robes

You don't know about this school's history? But you GO here!

That doesn't mean I'll look up the history. I shouldn't even be here.

How about a nice picture of you in your robes to remember the occasion? It's just ten thaumarks a copy! What a steal, right?

Really, Ruggie?

Ugh, I'm beat. I'm always so tense durin' formal ceremonies, since I'm not used to them yet. How about you?

I get fidgety from sitting for so long.

Your makeup's smudged. It's okay, I'll fix it. Don't worry, I used to do this as a part-time job!

Oh, okay.

Dorm Uniform

Who just stepped foot in my territory?

I got leftover cookies.

I'm heading to the cafeteria with Leona. Wanna come with? Havin' another gofer will make things a lot easier.

*shakes head playfully*

The most important thing on the savanna is to never let your guard down. If you do… you'll be someone's dinner!

Grim, he meant you'll get bullied.

Even if you can't use magic, there're plenty of ways you can make up for it. Want the whole lecture?

No, not really.

Gala Couture

I used to babysit the neighborhood kids back when I lived in the slums. I'd make 'em flower crowns like this.

Aw.

Leona looked almost princely in his fairy getup. ...Wait, duh. He IS a prince.

But he doesn't act like one.

Easy there. If this outfit gets wrinkled, Professor Crewel's gonna chew our heads off.

He can kiss my ass, I don't want to be here.

Halloween

You better run if you don't want your treasure plundered!

What happens if I don't have treasure for you to steal?

Hmm. Pie, gratin, soup… Oh, don't mind me. Just debating what to do with all the pumpkin guts we scooped outta the jack-o'-lanterns.

... I think the soup because it's chilly out. Heh, pumpkin donuts.

Did you see what Ortho did to scare people? He'd ambush 'em and blast loud screams and banging sounds. The way people jumped and freaked out was hilarious!

I hope he doesn't do that to me cause that hurt me than scare me.

It's a Halloween night packed with ghosts. You might wanna take off now if you don't wanna get scared.

You're saying this to a horror fan. The fun is just starting.

Pirate ships remind me of this time I worked on a cruise ship and got real seasick. Luckily, I adjusted after a few days at sea. a price, of course.

You worked on a cruise?

[shivasdarknight]

I did this at my campus because Turning Point (literally them + the college republican club) was posting really egregiously bad posters that covered up and sometimes destroyed posters of left to semi-left leaning clubs (like a feminist bookclub, or the BSU), and I was in the area a lot anyways and would rearrange posters to free them up but wound up getting sick of their 2nd amendment poster and socialist posters that went up.

so I might've.

gotten 200 stickers of this image:

and slapped them all over the posters to cover the social media information, qr codes, etc. did this whenever i saw them, carried the stickers around, and pressed them down hard enough that if someone took it off it'd destroy the poster. so it was strategic because it kept people from easily going to their site while also vandalizing it in a goofy way to humiliate them

I did this for months in 2020. it pissed them off clearly because the stickers were getting ripped off, there were new crappy posters going up, i sometimes saw republican club assholes hanging out by one board that was on my way from lunch to work.

my roommate was in on it and let me know that college socmed pages - like a fb page, various snapchat accounts etc - were talking about this. and widespread dunking on Turning Point because someone already started by being ridiculous about it. I was even in a democrat club meeting (which hilariously was full of people like me, actual leftists wanting to push everyone left) where a known socialist was sitting there telling everyone about the stickers and wanting to meet whoever it was and the liberal president at the time got prickly because it's "not how they do things" when the republican club (who I could go Off about) was doing worse but he was mad about my stickers. And given it pissed them off, it did end up contributing to the decline of Turning Point posters on campus. So I consider it a win, and highly encourage people to do similar shit like straight up tearing down posters

also i still have stickers left :3c

To anyone wondering if it's worth it to tear down fascist posters or whatever. I spent a few months last year engaged in silent battle with another student at my school who was putting anti trans stickers up everywhere. I had it down to a system where every night I would walk the five block radius they went up in, and tear down all the ones I could reach, and use a stick to put duct tape over the others. Like, within hours of the stickers going up, I would have already purged the whole zone. I knew the basic schedule of whoever put them up based on when and where the stickers appeared. I probably could have found them in person if I'd wanted to. And I told all my classmates and friends what the stickers looked like and got them to rip them down too. And after a few months of this, the stickers slowed, and then stopped forever.

My point is, a lot of this fashy or right wing stuff is one local weirdo. And if you pay attention, and do a little light organizing with your friends, you can basically make their efforts into a giant sisyphisean exercise in misery. You control your streets!