#i think it's one of those fish meals u can just cook with literally nothing but vinegar

[marmastry]

If Maya was a food dish, what would she be?

Literally a Sweet & Sour Maya-Maya 😭

[trivialoveclub]

2020 Year in Review!

hey! i was tagged by the absolute angel that is ⚘ @unefleurofferte ⚘(tysm my love! 💞) for this 2020 tag! first off (even tho it's the middle of january already 🤡) i wanted to wish everyone a happy new year! not to get sappy 💀 but even tho i don't rlly talk/interact that much, it brings me a lot of happiness seeing u guys on my dash 🥺💗 i genuinely am supporting and rooting for you all and i wish u guys all the love and kindness in this new year bc you deserve it babes 💖

Rules: answer the questions about 2020 and tag some people to pass it on!

5 Fav Films You Watched in 2020

🎬 Soul (2020) "Your spark isn't your purpose. That last box fills in when you're ready to come live."

🎬 Onward (2020) "I never had a dad, but I always had you."

🎬 Klaus (2019) "A true selfless act always sparks another."

🎬 Diecisiete (2019) "You think I'd be doing all of this if I had no heart?

Maybe you're trying to get it back."

🎬 East Side Sushi (2014) "You know behind every great restaurant here, there are great latinos, in the back, in the kitchen, hidden. Prepping the food and making you all look good. Well, I don't want to be in the back anymore."

5 Fav TV Shows You Watched In 2020

📺 Like in The Movies (2020) "Do you ever feel like you're not the protagonist of your own story?"

📺 Given (2019) "Do you have anyone you like, Haruki-san? If that person suddenly disappeared from this world, what would you say?"

📺 Banana Fish (2018) "My soul is always with you."

📺 Masterchef Junior (2013-) Not a quote but Gordon Ramsay always says the dishes has "finesse" and now i can't stop saying it in everything 😭

📺 Next in Fashion (2020)

5 Fav Songs You Listened To In 2020

🎶 UGH! : BTS 🎶 "You're allowed to be angry, but bothering someone else's life, I don't like"

🎶 Fuyu No Hanashi : Given 🎶 "Just like the snow that hasn't completely melted in the shade I continue on with these feelings inside of me."

🎶 So Beautiful : DPR Ian 🎶 "My love is turning kinda gray / My heart is looking the other way."

🎶 PSYCHE : Joohoney 🎶 "All of the world pay attention"

🎶 Stay Tonight : Chungha 🎶 "Tell me what you wanna do, run away or stay tonight"

Top 5 Albums of 2020

💿 Map of The Soul 7 : BTS

UGH! ⏯ Black Swan ⏯ Inner Child

💿 Fatal Love : Monsta X

Sorry I'm Not Sorry ⏯ Nobody Else ⏯ Guess Who

💿 Ungodly Hour : Chloe x Halle

ROYL ⏯ Forgive Me ⏯ Lonely

💿 Mixtape [ PSYCHE ] : Joohoney

PSYCHE ⏯ Intro (Ambition) ⏯ DIA

💿 Chromatica : Lady Gaga

Replay ⏯ Sour Candy ⏯ Alice

Top 5 Books You Read in 2020

🤡 🤡 🤡

...i haven't read for fun in years 😔 i used to read a book every single day :(( but! i already have a list of ones i want to read so this year for sure im gonna be that girl again 🤧💅🏼

💌 How did you spend your birthday this year? 💌

uh hahaha 🤡 suddenly i can't read 🤡

well...i had to take my drivers test but i had no idea how to park so i mean obvs i was gonna fail 💀 so i got super anxious and then had a breakdown in the back seat when it was getting closer to my turn 😭 my parents had to reschedule it and take me home. i felt like such a disappointment. so it started off absolutely horrible, fortunately the rest of the day was a lot better but oof 🤪

💌 What was your most memorable day? 💌

i honestly cannot remember anything 😭 it's like one big blur but ummm...probably finishing high school! i felt like i could finally breathe 🥲

💌 What was your most memorable meal you had this year? 💌

hmm...ooo probably when my abuelita made us a bunch of paches de papa 🥺 i ate them for a whole week and i loved it entirely...my heart is pache shaped 🤧💘

💌 Did you find any new hobbies or interests in quarantine? 💌

hmm i don't think i got any new ones but i did get to be reminded again on how much i genuinely enjoy making food and like decorating/personalizing things! ☺💖

💌 What was the last big event/thing you remember doing before covid? 💌

uhhh i honestly can't think of anything? i literally don't go out 🤡 like im in chilling in this quarantine lifestyle bc nothing has changed for me 🤪

💌 5 good/positive things that happened to you in 2020? 💌

🌱 i finally escaped high school! 🎓🎉

🌱 i decided to take a gap year and the burnt out student inside me feels like she can finally exhale

🌱 i can't remember if it was in early 2020 or late 2019 but anyways I GOT MY DRIVERS LICENSE 😝😝 i honestly...do not know how i got it...i took 15+ minutes to park (as u can see your girl didn't learn her lesson) but bless that man for passing me i hope u have a beautiful life sir 😭💖 however i have not stepped in the driver's seat since then 💋 i refuse 💋

🌱 i honestly would say watching Soul 🥲💗 i've always been obsessed w my meaning and purpose in life and that movie rlly just hit home for me...i think about it everyday and im literally starting to tear up right now so let me just stop 🤪

🌱 hmm honestly just being home 💗 i now have an excuse to stay in all time and that brings me so much peace in my heart 🤧

💌 Biggest messages or lessons learnt from this year? 💌

that there's a lot to live for. and i rlly want to enjoy it? and like w the gap year i still feel guilty and still feel like im wasting time and not being productive (love being a capricorn 🤪) but im trying to not think like that...and the fact that Soul came out and it's whole message is literally like life is beautiful and it's meant to be lived 🥺 it rlly like...set that for me u know...there's so many little things that truly make me excited about life and i want to enjoy it and after those 4 years in high school of constant work and stress and losing my entire mind maybe i actually deserve it 🥲 so um yeah..sjdkajd

💌 And what are you most looking forward to in 2021? 💌

a lot ☺ everything honestly...wow omg that's so weird asjakjd ahhh 😭😭💘 [insert that paul rudd who would have thought not me meme] but i wanna do sm much!! bake and cook and learn to knit! and personalize my clothes and READ! and watch movies and shows! and i'll also be going back to school so i rlllllllllyyyyyyyy want to learn how to manage my time bc my procrastination truly fucked me in the ass in hs 🤡 but yeah im excited ahh! ☺

And We're Done!

oof my memory is so awful i feel like i can't remember anything that happened in 2020 🤡 this ended up being a bit long 💀 so if u made it to the end...thank u for reading...ily 😚💌 besitos for you! 💞

tagging these cuties 💘: @moonlattae @fluorescente @glossierjoon @ardores @star99 @jooniephoria @ahearthrob @catboyjm @yoongidisease @violetmoonlits @koyan @stardustyoongi @7blueside @m1amor @sobsyub @m8nstruck @souheii @1okyos @virgomoon @alevchaan @jihyoist

[imperfekti]

Tenipuri Party: Echizen Ryouma profile translation

TN:

In the absence of an official English version, this translation is intended to help those who can’t read the material in the original language. Please support Tenipuri by getting your own copy of this book - it is worth it! There are various ways of purchasing it even for those not living in or visiting Japan.

The pictures I have included in this post do not show full pages.

On Echizen’s style of speech: he uses boyish style with pretty straightforward and brief sentences. In Japan it wouldn’t be considered exactly polite in style, even if the content is not exactly rude.

I’m still working on Japanese, so there might be mistakes. Please let me know if you spot any translation errors so I can fix them here!

U-17 Japanese representative, middle schooler Seishun Gakuen tennis club player 33,432 votes

Leading to the stars, going beyond Tenimuhou - the samurai that conquers any heights!

Message

You’ve always been looking at me, haven’t you. I’m grateful for that. Thanks. Regardless of the ranking, I’m your number one. Right? Cheer for me more and more. Because I’ll take you along and go even higher.

Profile

Middle school 1st year / December 24th /  Capricorn / O type / 151 → 152.5 cm / 50 → 47 kg / Left handed

Special techniques: Twist serve, Drive A, Drive B, Drive C, Drive D, Cool Drive, Muga no kyouchi, Tenimuhou no kiwami, Samurai Drive, Hope (kanji: Hikaru Dakyuu)

Play style: All-rounder

Family: Father, mother, female cousin, cat (Karupin)

Father’s occupation: A temple’s substitute head priest

Hobbies: Clearing borrowed games, watching cat videos

Favourite saying: All or Nothing

Favourite color: Silver

Favourite foods: Fried fish (the type with not much bones), Chawanmushi, famous sweets

Favourite book: TENNIS LIFE (an American tennis magazine)

Favourite music: J-pop

Preferred type of person: Someone who looks good in a ponytail

Preferred date spot: Santa Monica Pier Pacific Park

Most wanted thing right now: A smart watch

Weakness: Early wake-ups, paparazzi

Elementary school: Los Angeles State Saint Youth Middle-school 

Committee: Library committee

Strong subjects: English, chemistry

Weak subjects: Home-ec (cooking), Japanese 

Often-visited place in school: Under the big tree behind the school

Uses allowance on: Fanta

Skills beyond tennis: Being liked by animals, peeling fruits cleanly, horseback riding(?) 

Routines during tournaments: Soaking in an open-air bath

Favourite anniversary: Any day as long as there’s tennis

Preferred travel destination: Snow viewing onsen

Present for a special person: Just tell me what you want

Interview

“As long as I can play tennis, I don’t care which team I play for”

Congratulations on being reinstated as Japan’s representative! For Echizen-senshu, what was the experience of fighting as an American representative like?

What was it like…? Normal. As long as I can play tennis, the country is irrelevant.

Did you have a strong desire to play on the same team as Ryouga-senshu?

No, I wanted to play against him. But in the end, he was being evasive and escaped.

Where there any impressions you had looking at the Japanese team from the outside?

They’ve changed a bit, somehow. Fuji-senpai, Atobe-san, that person called “the child of god”. And… Akutsu-san too. Not bad, everyone.

Is that the reason you returned to Japan’s team?

Not really. It’s just that when I thought about who were the people that made me strong… If you’re fighting together with someone, I guess I’d do it here.

Sometimes, a samurai-like aura can be felt around Echizen-senshu.

Hmm… I don’t know since I can’t tell myself. When I was fighting the French prince, I guess it was said that he was a knight and I was a samurai. He was a troublesome guy, but the match with him was fun. Well, I’ll win next time too. The horseback match was a tie, but next time I’ll win that one too.

Party Talk

Q: Is there any table with players you’re interested in? A: Not really… But I guess there are strong looking guys at the German table. Well, I’d beat all of them.

Q: You offered Fanta to Tokugawa-san, didn’t you? A: He drank it in one go. I wonder if it was that good.

Q: Could it be you’re having taiyaki for the first time? A: Yeah. Why is it shaped like a fish? I’ll eat from the head side.

Q: Your suit is wonderful. Did you tie the necktie yourself? A: …How about not treating me like a kid? Well, I had it tied for me.

Q: Ah, suddenly a cat is clinging to Echizen-kun...! A: The Australian rep’s cat? There, there…

Fashion

“When we met by coincidence the other day, you were wearing a T-shirt with a strange design. What country’s brand was that?” (Yukimura)

“I’ll give you some hand-me-downs next time. But maybe they’ll be too big for you, Chibisuke?” (Ryouga)

“Koshimae is always wearing a cap! Lend it to me too!” (Tooyama)

“Basically I like clothes that are easy to move in. I guess I wear half-pants and shorts a lot.” (Echizen)

“Heeey Echizen! Are you wearing the socks we bought for color variation when we went shopping?” (Momoshiro)

Album

This is an album that happened to be in my backpack when I came to Australia. I think I got it after the nationals when I was leaving for America. Look at this and remember, they said. …But email and phones exist. Mada mada ne. 

Room

Looks like stuff from America has increased While I was gone, mom and the others have rearranged my room, and exchanged stuff like the TV for a new one. The stuff I was made to take to the camp has also increased. I always play tennis at home too, though, so I’m only in the room when I sleep.  

History

Age 0 December 24 Birth

Age 5 Eats his beloved dried kombu at home Lives together with Ryouga for a short while in Los Angeles During elementary school, wins American Jr. tournament 4 times in a row

Age 11 September Graduates from Los Angeles State Saint Youth Returns to Japan with his family Goes to an onsen for the first time, likes it too much, sticks to using a bathtub (*1)

Age 12 April Enters Seishun Gakuen's middle school department, becomes a regular in the tennis club At a family restaurant, orders a kid’s meal recommended by Momoshiro Victory at district preliminaries finals (Fudoumine), wins against Ibu in S2 Loses to Tezuka at the courts under the overpass

June In Tokyo prefectural quarterfinals (St. Rudolph), wins against Yuuta in S3 Victory of the tournament (Yamabuki), wins against Akutsu in S2 Struggles with classics at the end of term tests, study session at Fuji’s house

July In the first round of the Kantou regionals (Hyoutei), wins against Hiyoshi as the reserve player Second round (Midoriyama), wins against Kiraku in S3

July 24 Wins against Kirihara at a tennis club in Kanagawa

July 27 Tournament victory (Rikkai), wins against Sanada in S1

August 17 Nationals tournament second round (Higa), wins against Tanishi in S3

August 19 Quarterfinals (Hyoutei), wins against Atobe in S1 Semifinals (Shitenhouji), has a one point match with Tooyama that ends in a draw Drinks “Cola” in the yakiniku battle

August 21 Loses his memory during the training with Nanjirou in Karuizawa 

August 23 Nationals finals (Rikkai), arrives at the stadium by Atobe's helicopter Regains his memory through playing against his past rivals Wins against Yukimura in S1, wins the nationals championship

August 26 Goes to America

November Returns to Japan, participates in the U-17 camp Doesn’t play against Minami in the friendly-fire matches, loss Participates in the mountaintop training With Tanishi and Kenya, finds a secret passageway at the depths of the cave Protects Tokugawa, has to leave the camp; goes to America together with Ryouga Beats 24 American representative contenders, becomes an American representative Does BBQ with Kiko and Dudu, fries fish

December U-17 pre-world cup begins Faces Tube Republic, wins the first match U-17 world cup begins Match against Sweden, wins against their captain (*2) Calms his worries, returns to Japan’s team and becomes a representative Beats Aramenoma in an unofficial match Gets lost with Tooyama in the athlete village (*3) Quarterfinals (France), wins against the Prince in S3

TN:

*1 I don’t really understand the sentence fully, so this is a bit of a guess.

*2 In the magazine release, this match was against Denmark, but was changed into Sweden in the volume release. 

*3 Literally “becomes a lost child”.

[curlyhairedcuties]

am i the only one who thinks it would be super cute trying to teach austin how to cook

Omg! When it’s dinner the whole time he’s trying his hardest bc 1 he’s trying to impress u and 2 he wants to be able to do it on his own but he keeps on messing up but it’s ok bc he’s trying so so so hard so eventually you step in and tell him to just watch you. But breakfast is another story So (y’all know I love morning blurbs and literally all I can cook is waffles and fish) you wake up right as Austin does and u decide to go downstairs , after a nice morning cuddle sesh ofc, to make waffles and austin follows. When you’re getting everything out you also decide to make chocolate waffles, omelettes, bacon, and butter biscuits. Austin is so confused. So he’s like “baby what’re u making” and u reply “just some yummy choco waffles, two omelettes for me and my baby, bacon, and butter biscuits with syrup” and he’s still confused as fuck but he wants to help. So he’s like “baby can I help” “of course love can you get me a bowl out of the cabinet behind your head” bc u know Austin can’t really cook so the most help he’ll probably do handing u stuff. While you’re mixing stuff for the waffles he’s handing you everything and he asks if there’s a ‘technique’ and you start laughing so hard u snort but then you’re like “why baby? What does that mean?” And he gets all quiet and he’s like “when I said I wanted to help I meant to cook not to hand you things” so you hand him the bowl and tell him to mix till it gets a bit thicker while u start the omelettes. You’re so focused on the omelettes that you completely forget Austin’s still mixing but it occurs to u that the thickness should’ve been good a few minutes ago and u go to get the mix and it’s entirely too thick. “It’s ok baby I didn’t describe the thickness you didn’t know what you were doing. We can still use it it’ll just take longer for the waffles too cook but go ahead and add a fourth cup of milk to soften a little bit. Wait! No I’ll do it you go watch the omelettes and flip them every 35 seconds” (I have no idea how to make omelettes bare w me) and he’s like “ok baby I will sorry about the mix. Wait how do I know when he’s been 35 seconds” “count in ur head austin”. (I’ve eating omelettes like twice in my life I have no idea what I’m doing but if y’all wanna slide in my dms with an omelette recipe pls do) anyways he does a good job flipping for the most part but he broke it a lil bit but it doesn’t matter or anything but now y’all r up to seasoning, and he is a white man. You tell him add a pinch of salt, pepper, basil, and coriander and just a little bit off the habanero pepper blend. He has no idea what a pinch is so he literally puts his fingers on the spices and takes out a pinch of everything but when he gets the habanero pepper he doesn’t realize the bigger side is open so he accidentally pours like half of the bottle on yalls omelettes. “Shit Austin” you say “I’m so sorry baby” “it’s fine I don’t like omelettes anyways I only wanted them bc u like them. Now while you were making the omelettes I made the bacon so we can make the biscuits together. And the omelettes thing seriously doesn’t matter anyone could make that mistake babes”. He has so much fun making those biscuits w you bc the whole time y’all are joking and throwing food at one another and absolutely nothing goes wrong. And afterwards the waffles taste amazing, you helped him make scrambled eggs and those were great, the bacon was good, and the biscuits were delicious and he’s still sorry about the omelettes but it doesn’t matter bc it’s his off day and he’s gonna help u w every meal even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

[randomfandomimagine]

I was recently thinking about a YouTuber!AU and what kind of videos the Chocobros would do. Whats your headcanons for them?

I was inspired by the Youtubers I follow and I had a lot of fun writing this, imagining the Chocobros as Youtubers and comparing them to actual Youtubers! Thank you so much for requesting, here it is: 

Ignis:

Iggy does a lot of reviews and recommendations

About this book he read, or this recipe

Obviously there are a lot of cooking videos

He would so collab with Rosana Pansino

Ahd he tries new recipes of his own on his videos

Some of them don’t turn out good and he thinks it’s good for a laugh

But most of them look and taste amazing

He also loves interacting with people to share that passion for cooking

And encourages his fans to send him pics of their own meals

But Ignis also gives his opinion on a lot of matters

Even if most of them are political or social

Many depending on things that happened on the world

The name of his channel would be simple and ellegant

Simply something like ‘Ignis Scientia’ or a varity of it

Prompto:

Prompto’s channel is pretty varied

He mainly posts vlogs, but other things too

Like a small goofy sketch here and there

Or an unboxing of this cool thing Noct bought him

But his usual content is vlogs

He goes out with his friends and vlogs about it

There are a lot of bits

Of him goofying around, most of the time with Noct

Other times he posts gameplays, but not too often

Most likely when he’s playing something online with Noct

Or just those games he’s specially excited to try

And since he’s so excited, passionate and bubbly about it people love it

He also interacts a lot with his fans, he is so grateful for them

He admires Markiplier and Jacksepticeye so much

Especially the latter, they’re pretty alike

You wanna see Prompto on Youtube? Literally just follow Robbie Daymond aka Prompto’s English voice actor 

Seriously, though, he’s awesome and he’s basically like Prompto. I recommend it hahaha ^u^

His channel is called something cute and hilarious

Like a good pun of his name with something adorable he loves

‘Choco Prom’? Something like that

Gladio:

His channel is all over the place

There’s not one kind of video, but a lot

Depending on what he felt like it at that time

He doesn’t even care, he does what he wants with it really

Sometimes he doesn’t get a lot of views but he doesn’t mind

What’s important to him is how fun it was to film

And especially if there were still people that loved it

I feel like Gladio loves time lapses in his videos

He does a lot of work outs, so that happens

But he also does funny sketches from time to time

A lot of it is him being silly with Iris

Sometimes he brings Ignis (it’s hilarious because Ignis doesn’t goof around like Iris even if Gladio tries)

Or Noctis or Prompto, who really spice things up

Other times he’ll talk about whatever he feels like it each video

Like the new season of this show he loves

Or this really good book he just read

He also does a lot of challenges

Kind of like Team Edge

His channel would be called ‘Amicitia Daily’ or something like that

Noctis:

Gameplays, mainly

He loves playing lots of games in his channel

Has a lot of series going on

You know one of them is Assassins Creed

Others are ongoing series because they are about online games

And that way he can play with Prompto on his videos too

He’s also pretty chill about it and never rages

Noct will roll his eyes often at games, though

But then he carries on playing like nothing happened

Even if his character just died or something

Also, he knows a lot about them and people enjoy watching him

Because he always finds secrets and treasures as well

He loves playing fishing games and his fans tease him about it

Apart from gameplays, he does other things from time to time

Sometimes he will get the gang together to play board games

Because Noct really enjoys them, especially card games

His channel name would be something cute, epic and nerdy

Along the lines of ‘King of King’s Knight’ or something

[gallifreyanlibertea]

Nautical Nonsense (1/?)

a/n: this started off as a really silly SpongeBob AU I had in mind about a year or so ago. I hope to god this doesn’t mean I’m writing second-hand SpongeBob fanfiction but yeah, I... yeah. It’s not meant to be serious, and it’s just, if anything, personal indulgence. 

Each chapter’s title will reference the episode that inspired it, in case you wanna watch it and catch any references :)

Help Wanted

His morning alarm was a foghorn. A bold, bellowing, yet somehow strangely noble sound, which yes, was quite literally a foghorn.

Alfred Jones didn’t understand what made the noise so appealing. Was it the childhood he spent living by the sea? With the faint noise of ships and the crashing of waves against the shore lulling him to bed? A life by the coast with the smell of salt in the air, the taste of it on his lips after wading into the afternoon tide, the dreadfully parched state it left his hair?

Whatever it was, it sure as heck woke him up.

But no, today wasn’t the day to hit snooze and steal himself more time. He found himself springing out of the warmth of his sheets, padding off into the bathroom with a willpower not many people had so early in the morning.

“Today’s the big day, Gary!”

(Gary responded with a drowsy mew before letting his head flop back into the bedsheets.)

Yes, today was a big day indeed.

The getting-ready bit was easy. A quick shower and an adequate amount of teeth-brushing later, he was slipping into relatively-formal clothes and heading out the door, stopping to lift his weights for a bit because he had to be in top physical condition today, truly.

The real problem lied in the nerves that hit after he stepped out onto the welcome mat. What was otherwise a beautiful day, with cotton-candy clouds and skies so blue they warranted ukulele music to fit the mood, seemed crushingly large. Everything seemed so full of expectation to Alfred, who, to face the facts, wasn’t quite ready to be an adult.

And if anything, today, the big day, required of him to be an adult.

“I’m ready.” A chant under his breath, following his inhale and his exhale as he walked down the street with a bounce in his step, face set in determined stone when he was, in fact, not very ready.

And despite the “you got this!” text from Gilbert, a friend who wasn’t known for being awake in these early hours, Alfred still felt the heavy dread in the pit of his stomach.

He was applying for a job in what was easily the finest eating establishment ever established for eating.

He was applying to work at what stood right before him, in all its glory: The Krusty Krab.

Sure, it was a kitsch eatery themed in a way many others were, especially seeing as it was located in a seaside town like theirs, but oh. Their burgers, their fries, heck, even the soda anyone drank within the four walls of the restaurant was made ten times better.

Alfred wanted so desperately to work there.

“Oh god, I’m not ready.” Were the last words he murmured before shoving through the glass doors because he knew. Gilbert would slap him left and right if he gave up this opportunity.

(Unknowing to Alfred, of course, an existing employee had already begun to mourn his sanity at the sight of Alfred’s arrival. A certain neighbour of Alfred’s who thought work was the only place he could escape that loud, loud manchild.)

“Uh, Mr. Kirkland!”

Alfred seemed plenty oblivious to the audible groan from the cash register, where a dejected Roderich Edelstein buried his face into his palms.

He instead kept his eyes trained on the Mr. Kirkland mentioned, who stood staring at him with scraggly brows raised.

“Hi, I’m Alfred, I-”

Alfred liked to watch action movies. Especially the ones with the overdone special effects, where a flying kick could be slowed down so it seemed like years before the foot hit the enemy’s head.

Well, right now was something similar.

His view of Mr. Kirkland, along with Roderich who now seemed to be peering over the register, jerked like in the films, slowly shifting until it was way above him and he, a bit winded, had fallen to the ground.

Oh heck.

The red flooding to his cheeks came as fast as he’d scrambled to stand up, brushing off his clothes with a sheepish smile as Mr. Kirkland’s brows shot up impossibly high.

“Uh- Hello, permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Mr. Kirkland didn’t respond.

“Hah, tough crowd. Well, uh, I’ve been training my whole life for the day I join the Krusty crew!” Alfred managed a grin, “Couldn’t help but see the Help Wanted sign and, well, when do I start?”

Of all the things that could go wrong, every single one of them had managed to share the spotlight.

“Well, lad, it looks like you don’t even have your sea legs.” Was Mr. Kirkland’s response after what seemed like ages of silence. The accent made the message heavier than it was, slamming into Alfred with its rolled ‘r’s and overall piratey aura.

Well, Alfred supposed it was what he deserved for being cocky.

“It was like, a nail in the boards or something-”

“Well,” Mr. Kirkland sighed, carding his hand through his cherry-red hair as Roderich gave him a narrow-eyed look Alfred didn’t quite understand. “Look, lad, I’m sorry.”

“Mr. Kirkland, just one chance!”

What had Alfred done wrong? Besides the falling on the first impression and the excessive talking, there couldn’t have been anything barring him from being an adequate fry cook, right? Yet there he was, standing before the employer of his dreams, watching as his friendly neighbour Roderich gave Mr. Kirkland looks akin to those he’d give Alfred when knocking on his door over a noise complaint.

(Roderich’s violin pieces didn’t sound as elegant when accompanied by grating laughter and dimwitted squealing. He doubted the ambience of his workplace would be affected any different.)

“Listen-” Mr. Kirkland began.

The hiss of a bus slowing to a halt. “Uh-” Alfred threw a glance over his shoulder, turning back with a frenzied smile, “That’s a tour bus chock-full of people, I think you’d need the extra help, just try me out, will ya?”

And so Alfred gained himself the honour to wear the Krusty Krab cap, a white, blue-billed, anchor-adorned cap resting atop his blond locks as he flipped patties like there was no tomorrow.

Mr. Kirkland surely didn’t mind, no. After all, who could mind the sound of a ringing register and the smell of coins in the air? Roderich didn’t seem to mind either, what with the monotonous droning of his “may I take your order” and that secret smile hidden behind his deadpan demeanour.

(Roderich was not smiling.)

All was well that way.

Gilbert had taken him out to the movies that night and they’d stuffed their faces full of candy and cola, giggling up the driveway to Alfred’s house as Roderich watched, narrow-eyed, from his window.

“So you got the job!” Gilbert said.

“Yeah, I got the job!” Alfred shouted for what was nearly the eighteenth time that night. “I get to see Roderich all day now, isn’t it neat?”

Alfred and Gilbert sent a coupled wave in Roderich’s direction, through his window- neighbours to neighbour- and Roderich shut the curtains. Gilbert grinned, patting Alfred on the back.

“Don’t make new best friends, okay?”

“I don’t think I can, Gil.”

Alfred had always believed you could only have one best friend. The fact lied in the name, for only one thing could be the best and for him, it was Gilbert. Never mind the fact that the two were essentially polar opposites. So what if Alfred wanted to work a job and Gilbert was content playing video games in his house, living off his parents’ money? So what if Alfred wanted to explore the world, and Gilbert was content living under a rock? It just worked!

“Send me a postcard, Al.” He’d say, “Yanno, where you’re out in the desert or Brazil or something, bring me something nice.”

Yes, they were best friends, and nothing Alfred could think of could change that.

That was, at least, before he went to work on his fifth day at the job.

“Welcome to the Krusty Krab, my name is Roderich. May I take your order?” A voice that was as dead as the evening rush.

Alfred chewed his grin as he absent-mindedly spun his spatula. Evening hours were his favourite, because like a good story, every workday had a climax and every evening came with a resolution.

This was the resolution.

The sizzling died down, the last customer had walked in to order one last meal, and Alfred would prepare it, Roderich would serve it, and the register would ring, for the last time that day. The glass door would thud as the last customer pushed through it, and if Alfred was lucky, Mr. Kirkland would let him flip the We Are Open! sign.

Plus, Alfred could only go so long without wanting rest for his achy arms.

“Alfred, I need ten Krabby Patties to go.”

Blue eyes blinked. “Ten?”

A sigh and Roderich turned, narrow eyes glaring through the window into the kitchen. “I said ten, didn’t I?”

Ten was an awful lot. Nothing Alfred couldn’t handle during a lunchtime rush, but with arms as sore as his and a mind winding down with the sun on the horizon, it didn’t seem like something he really wanted to do.

But so be it, ten was ten.

He fished a patty out onto the stove.

“Forget it, Alfred, you don’t have to make that order.” Mr. Kirkland called from outside.

Alfred turned his furrowed-brow gaze to Roderich, who replied with a monotonous “whatever”.

Alfred turned the stove off.

“I’m a paying customer, I’ll have you know. I demand my ten burgers to go!” Another accent, this one a smoother lilt.

“Come flip the sign, Alfred lad.” Mr. Kirkland interjected. “We’re closed.”

Mr. Kirkland turning down a paying customer? Alfred slipped out of the kitchen, leaving the spatula on its little hook by the stove, swiping his hat off his head and holding it to his chest, “Sir, it’s only ten, I can make it, no problem.”

“It’s not about that, Alfred, just flip the darn sign.”

Roderich sighed from behind him, slipping out from his counter, a kitschy boat extension attached to the wall. He was quick to leave, not much for the drama unless it was on the television.

Alfred, however, was nothing if glued to the scene.

“Cute fry-cook,” The stranger flashed him a dry smile, to which Alfred responded with a red-faced grin, “Did you tell him what happened to the last one?”

Suddenly, Alfred didn’t feel like grinning anymore.

“Relax, lad, he didn’t die or nothin’.” Mr. Kirkland said, rolling his eyes, “He just left because Plankton ‘ere wouldn’t stop pesterin’ him.”

“Untrue!” The man whose name was supposedly Plankton shrieked in response.

Alfred’s head hurt.

He was never one for suspense. No, not suspenseful books or movies or stories his grandmother would tell him that had a climax further from the beginning than a few seconds. Heck, even school books they were forced to read, when showing even a sliver of suspenseful promise, he flipped to the last page and relieved himself. Alfred didn’t like suspense.

So naturally, it made sense that Alfred had bit his lip and made a meek interjection into what was blossoming into a full out one-sided screaming match. “Uh, who are you, exactly?”

Mr. Kirkland sighed, rubbing the space between his brows, “Go home, lad, don’t bother yourself with this.”

“Ah, you’re just scared he’ll take my side, aren’t you, Allistair?”

“Lock up on your way out, Alfred.” And Mr. Kirkland was gone, dragging the stranger by the collar until they were out through the glass doors and Alfred’s curious eyes caught another inaudible argument. Mr. Kirkland gestured, Plankton gestured more, and Mr. Kirkland was gone after one sinister point in Alfred’s direction, possibly a “don’t talk to him”.

Alfred slunk back into the kitchen, tossing the patty into the bin and cleaning his spatula in warm, soapy water. Surely this Plankton guy couldn’t be dangerous, right? Why would Mr. Kirkland just let him hang around, then? Alfred was a valued employee!

He patted the utensil with a towel, letting it hang on its hook before going out to the register. Even though Mr. Kirkland usually got the collecting-money job done the second after the last customer left, there was no harm in checking.

“Hello there, Alfred, was it?”

“You’re not supposed to be in here, we’re closed,” Alfred said shakily, checking the register. Empty.

He moved into the kitchen, hoping his lack of conversation would drive the stranger away, only to find upon his return with a soaked rag that Plankton was now seated at one of the tables, picking at the sleeve of his green sweater.

“You need to leave, sir.” It was a wobbly request.

“It’s awful mean of Allistair to leave you in here to clean up all by yourself, isn’t it, now?”

“It’s my job, I’ll be fine!”

“Well, let me help.” And Plankton was out of his seat, hand outstretched as Alfred reluctantly placed the damp rag in his palm. “I’ll clean the tabletops, I suppose you’ll sweep up?”

“Oh, uh yeah.”

Alfred liked to sweep. It put a lot of work in his arms, but it kept his hands dry and the floors neat. He definitely liked it better than cleaning tabletops- floors rarely had particles of what was inside someone else.

Plankton seemed to agree, judging by the downward curve of his lips as he placed the least possible skin contact into the dirty towel.

“So, Plankton-”

“Please don’t call me that.” The man who did not want to be called Plankton sighed, nose crinkling at a particularly hard ketchup stain. “I’d rather you call me Arthur, that’s my actual name.”

Arthur. The name suited him. Whenever Alfred thought of British people, the name Arthur was the first in mind, along with smooth, pretty accents and a mean sense of humour.

Arthur’s accent was smooth and pretty but he didn’t seem to be mean at all.

In fact, he seemed pretty nice as he was scrubbing down tables so Alfred wouldn’t have to. Not to mention using the word “please”, now that was nice if anything.

“Plankton doesn’t sound much like Arthur to be a good nickname.” Alfred pointed out.

Arthur shrugged, “Allistair has been calling me that since I was three, when we would play pirates.”

That was a cute thought. Alfred couldn’t help smiling at it, a small Mr. Kirkland with a piratey hat to match his piratey voice.

“He said it was because I was small, and always wore green.” Arthur paused, eyes drifting down to his green sweater, an action that pulled a laugh from Alfred’s lips. “I suppose I am still small and green.”

Alfred swept absent-mindedly, growing weary of the dull throb in his biceps. “How do you guys know each other?”

“My name is Arthur Kirkland, we’re brothers.”

Brothers! There was nothing dangerous about a brother. The knot between Alfred’s shoulder blades loosened a bit and he let himself smile, loosening his work uniform’s bright red tie. “In that case, I can go make you your order really fast, anything for the boss’ bro!”

“I can’t ask you of that,” Arthur said with a small smile.

Alfred mirrored the smile, putting his broom into the back closet and fetching himself another rag to help Arthur finish a particularly tough ketchup stain.

“Tell you what, how about I come by tomorrow, lunch? You can give them to me out back.”

The knot was back and a nervous chuckle passed through Alfred’s grinning lips. “Why’s it gotta be so secret?”

Wide green eyes.

Gary liked to eat off of Alfred’s plate when he wasn’t looking, especially when Gilbert would force them to watch horror movies and Alfred took to burying his face into his palms at a particularly quiet scene, the ones just before the jump scare.

Gary would walk onto him just then, nipping at the tub of popcorn in his lap.

He’d widen his eyes when Alfred caught him. It was kinda like what Arthur was doing just then.

Alfred just didn’t know what it meant.

“Um, Allistair is a bit mad at me, so I feel it would be best if I didn’t show my face- or that you didn’t tell him you were, uh, doing this for me.”

“Why is he mad?”

“Oh,” Arthur chewed his lip, letting his eyes glance the lock screen of his phone before coming back up to meet Alfred’s gaze. “You know, brotherly spats. Nothing serious. See you tomorrow?”

And he was gone, leaving spotless tables and a confused Alfred in his wake.

Alfred locked the doors of the Krusty Krab behind him, the cool evening air leaving goosebumps on his bared arms, left to the elements by the short white sleeves of his work uniform.

The floor had been swept, the money had been tucked away into Mr. Kirkland’s office and the sign had been flipped at last, but somehow, it didn’t feel like a resolution.

Instead, as he walked back to his house, waving “goodnight” towards Roderich’s window, who replied with a fond tug of his curtains, it rather felt more like the moments that warned him to flip to the end of the book. The parts of the story that climbed into a climax, suspense.

And Alfred’s stomach hurt.

[majorsarcana]

some more shunts 2 hate ig ..

hale, mackinley. thinks about murder an unhealthy amount. emotions ? don’t know her. she sounds cute tho. hates chocolate but has made cadbury mini eggs her bitch. couldn’t care less about her wealth and will casually mention her mansion back home in passing. can fake cry on command and considers it one of her favourite talents (after murder of course). monotone bored voice almost all the time. shit movie fanatic —— has watched fifty shades enough times to know the dialogue. has a weird dead butterfly collection for whatever reason. considers her unhealthy under eye circles her #look.

delaroux, beauden. jason nash of vlog cult. memes about wanting death and from the shit he pulls everyone figures he’s actively seeking it. it’s become concerning but it brings views so nobody cares enough. uncle kracker fanatic. can’t ever be assed to wear a matching pair of socks. owns one (1) good pair of jeans. keeps track of all 42 hate fan accounts of him on twitter. swears too much for his own good. in the midst of receiving a restraining order from his ex (madison please come back, he swears he’ll stop fighting your new bfs). has the least amount of instagram followers in his friend group and wears it like a crown.

clark, anthony. honestly just season 1 nick who i just now realized got the same last names so uh cool ig .. anti-religious stemming from some personal issues he’s yet to work out. paranoid through the fricken roof. wants a big happy family but there’s no fricken way that’s in his immediate future. almost always has greasy hair. hates social media with a burning passion. a weirdly good cook —— can take whatever’s in your fridge and turn it into a full course meal. so broke that if somebody stole his wallet he wouldn’t even call to close his bank accounts.

bates, inez. secretly keeps adopting dogs and hides them in the storage room at her workplace. knows like 6 languages but nobody ever believes her. come to think of it, nobody really believes anything she says. tried to pierce her own nose one time and ended up in the er because of a blood infection. has a bag of wigs and right mannequin feet in her closet at home. nobody asks why and she doesn’t elaborate. tells you disgusting meat facts while you’re eating it despite not being vegan. gets in to too many bar fights and surprisingly wins every single one. eats way too much avocado.

caine, blanca. currently fucking shit up in a cult. was stolen as a baby and is beginning to suspect it. worked her way up to becoming said cult’s oracle and absolutely abuses her power and position. honestly doesn’t believe much of what the cult’s about but thrives off the authority she’s got. wardrobe consists of white flowing dresses and secret red lipstick she wears in private. cannot swim and is deathly afraid of water. keeps a journal where she records everything, including some potential blackmail secrets.

eades, ryland. wanted to become a big time director but settled for an assistant. the most dramatic person ever, honestly. wears too much black but she looks good in it so she doesn’t complain. shit talks the rich but wishes she could afford a sports car. cannot keep organized for shit. hates pda and will get physically repulsed if she sees any of that het shit in public. epitome of it’s not what you wear but how you wear it. zones out when she’s given any useful information and scrambles about on google looking for some help.

sanna, floyd. king of development aka flipping 180 because i cba to write sad smoke 1.0 floyd. fell off the wagon when the supposed love of his life nia left him high and dry (miss u salt). always has a flask of whiskey hidden somewhere on his body. can dress anywhere from a slick black suit to in-your-face patterns *see harry styles. on his way to inheriting his family’s company and probably run some kind of political campaign in the future, depends if he feels like it. harry villiers from the riot club 100%. has too many awards from fencing stored away.

marx, ophelia. diet consists of leftover chinese food and an unhealthy amount of redbull. shows up to class ten minutes late claiming she slept in which is half true because really she fell asleep on the bus and missed her stop. exclusively wears sweatpants and uggs and will punch anyone in the face for pointing it out. naps way too much. says she hates carly from econ because of some mysterious beef she refuses to spill but really she’s never talked to her in her life and just envies her organization and perkiness. habitually forgets to eat dinner. questions if her degree is really worth it. call her karl and nothing else or else die.

fonseca, gemini. wears expensive lingerie no matter the occasion. obnoxiously flaunts her wealth. disguises insults as compliments that you won’t realize were hostile until the next day. is always that bihtc that shows up to brunch in a deep cut red silk slip dress, asks if she’s overdressed and everyone assures her she looks great. literally loves fishing for compliments. head is shoved too far up her own ass. lives for milk maths with rose petals. throws too much tantrums to get her way and when those don’t work she goes rogue.

[cywscross]

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7 | Pt.8 | Pt.9

bloop

After a couple days and still no sign of his dad at home, Stiles is too impatient to wait any longer so he ambushes the man at the station instead, waves the papers at him, and flails about how awesome the tech camp will be.  He’s caught him at the perfect time too – the Sheriff is on the phone, probably with someone important, and he already looks exasperated before Stiles even opens his mouth.  Stiles only needs to ramble for about forty-five seconds for his dad to get the gist of it, and after an absent scan of the info package and permission slip, he signs his name on the dotted line, mouths have fun and make sure you have your phone turned on at Stiles, and then goes back to his phone call and whoever is squawking at him at the other end of the line.

Stiles suppresses a fist-pump and ducks back out of the office post haste instead, waving at Jenna on his way out the door and stuffing the papers away in his bag with his other hand. The Sheriff’s used to Stiles finding himself something to do over the summer anyway, whether that’s hanging out with Scott or (fake-)visiting people out of state, and so long as he doesn’t do anything that will land him in a jailcell (or anyone else in a jailcell for that matter), John Stilinski is just relieved Stiles won’t be around to stumble his way neck-deep into some kind of trouble that will mean giant headaches for everyone involved.

Parental supervision taken care of for the summer, Stiles hurries home to finish packing.  Peter will be doing the same, and Stiles will swing by to pick him up early tomorrow morning.

Afterwards, he does a quick run-through of the house, making sure nothing is too dusty and the garbage is taken out.  He did the shopping earlier but he double-checks the fridge anyway, making sure it’s stocked with frozen foods and boxed leftovers, the latter for which he quickly writes ‘EAT THESE FIRST’ on a slip of paper before taping that on top of one of the containers.

Almost eighteen years and Stiles honestly still doesn’t know whether or not his father can whip up anything more complicated than a cheese sandwich.  Claudia did all the cooking when she was still alive and well.  Then there was a period of time in-between when he and his dad literally ate nothing but takeout and instant noodles and canned soup.  And once Stiles managed to teach himself, he’s been doing the cooking ever since. If the Sheriff ever cooked, Stiles can’t remember it.

So when he’s not around, he always makes sure the house has enough food to feed his dad, even if it is terribly unhealthy, but it’s not like he doesn’t know the Sheriff sneaks burgers and other junk on a near-daily basis anyway.  He just pretends he doesn’t know because he’s long since resigned himself to the fact that all his health lectures will always go in one ear and out the other when it comes to his father.  Sometimes, Jenna manages to redirect the man from the nearest In-N-Out or pizza place to somewhere that actually serves a rounder meal, at Stiles’ request, but Stiles understands that the Sheriff is still her boss and she can’t actually order him to eat something healthier, especially since it’s personal business.  So Stiles makes up for it during the meals that his dad shows up for, and it’s why he almost always ignores him whenever the man complains about all the vegetable dishes Stiles serves him.  Very rarely, he gets steak with his pasta, along with a large side of asparagus, but that’s the extent of Stiles’ leniency.

The Sheriff will get the whole summer to indulge his terrible eating habits this time, and the mere thought of it is almost enough to make Stiles want to cut his trip short.

Almost.  But Stiles also thinks of open roads and city lights, and he remembers sitting at the back of a bus, crammed in the corner by a window as it trundles along the quiet countryside in the early hours of the day, taking him from one town to the next as he watches the sun creep over the horizon through sleepy eyes, and there’s no way he’s giving that up.

He sweeps through the rest of the house, pausing to tape more instructions in the laundry room because his dad is okay with the dishwasher but Stiles knows he always gets the washing machine and dryer settings wrong when he has to do his own laundry.  Fortunately, it’s a problem that can be prevented easily enough.

He leaves the weekly shopping list on the dining table with the envelope of discount coupons, and beside that on another sheet of paper, Stiles scribbles a reminder to eat at least a few salads, to not work too hard and sleep in an actual bed, and to be careful while he’s at work.  It’ll probably make the Sheriff roll his eyes but at least Stiles can say he tried.

Duties taken care of, Stiles finishes off yesterday’s leftovers for dinner before getting ready for bed.  He’s planning to be up by four, and he doesn’t want to oversleep.

His phone buzzes just as he’s pulling the blankets over his shoulder.  When he checks, it’s a message:

:I’ll see you in the morning, Stiles.:

Only Peter, Stiles muses, could make a simple text sound like both a threat and something between a question and an expectation at the same time.

:430am: He types back.  :don’t oversleep or il call u lazywolf forever:

:I would never.:

:Goodnight, Stiles.:

:nite peter:

At 4:28am the next morning, Stiles pulls up outside Peter’s apartment building to find Peter already sitting on the bottom step of the stairwell waiting for him.

“G’morning,” Stiles mumbles around the coffee he just bought, thrusting the second one at Peter as the werewolf slides into the passenger seat and tosses his duffel and sleeping bag into the back.

“Good morning,” Peter casts an amused glance at him as he balances the coffee between his thighs and digs into the McDonald’s paper bag for a breakfast burger.  “Don’t wrap us around a tree before we even get out of town, Stiles.”

Stiles cracks a yawn. “I just need the caffeine to kick in, and then I’m good to go.  You got your passport and stuff together?”

Peter nods, fishing out his wallet.  “Driver’s license too, and I have access to one of my bank accounts again.”  He smirks almost grimly.  “I always knew it was a good idea to keep a private account that my family didn’t know about.  And things get done much faster when people owe you a favour or two on the illegal side of life.”

Stiles rolls his eyes but he can’t exactly refute that.  And at least Peter has his identity and some money again.  He already knows the werewolf still hasn’t gone to Derek to ask for his share of the Hale Pack money, never mind the insurance payouts from the fire, and Stiles can’t even blame him.  Stiles wouldn’t go begging either.  It feels wrong to have to ask for that kind of thing from someone in the first place when at least part of it – if not most, considering Derek wouldn’t even have been working six years ago and therefore wouldn’t have contributed a single dime to the family accounts – should rightfully belong to Peter, and doubly so when that someone is both your family and your murderer.  There’s just something seriously twisted about that.

He takes one more gulp of coffee before setting that aside and pulling out of the parking lot.  It doesn’t take more than a few minutes to merge onto the road that would lead them out of Beacon Hills, and another ten minutes sees them driving past the Thank You For Visiting Beacon Hills! sign.

“So where to first?” Peter enquires, absently rolling the window down to let the wind riffle their hair.

“Maps are in the glovebox,” Stiles tells him.  “But I was thinking we could head up to San Francisco first before crossing the Oakland Bay Bridge and going straight east from there?”

Peter shrugs.  “Sounds good.  I haven’t been to San Francisco in years.”

“I went last year, and the year before that, but I always just passed through,” Stiles admits. “Maybe we can stop for a day or two this time?  If you can remember any favourite restaurants or something, we can go to those.”

Peter brightens.  “The Orpheum Theatre, Stiles.  That’s a must if we’re stopping.  Maybe we can even watch something if tickets haven’t been sold out.”

He whips out his phone and presumably begins looking up shows and availability.  Stiles grins and turns most of his attention back on the road. He can’t say he’s been to many theatres – there’s only one in Beacon Hills with an actual stage anyway – but hey, he likes musicals, and it’s nice to see Peter already enjoying himself, with plans of his own for their road trip.  Stiles was a little worried that Peter only wanted to come because he didn’t want to be left behind, and that was probably a part of it, but it looks like the werewolf’s pretty happy about the road trip itself too.

He speeds up as they turn onto paved street, and Peter glances up, looking almost startled.  The first rays of dawn are streaking up over the trees and across the sky from their right, making the leaves glimmer green-gold and painting brushstrokes of orange gilded with the faintest hues of pale blue across the dark night canvas.

Something in Peter’s expression eases at the sight, like an invisible weight being taken off, and it erases some of the lines on his face.

“…I’d forgotten,” Peter murmurs after a long moment of peaceful morning silence, with only the wind crooning in their ears.

Stiles glances at him even as Peter’s gaze remains riveted on the view blurring past the half-open window on his side.  The man tilts his head back and settles deeper into his seat, putting his phone away in favour of unwrapping his burger.

For a while, it doesn’t seem as if he’ll finish his thought, but then he says, quietly, “I’d forgotten, that the world isn’t always so terrible.”

Stiles says nothing in response.  It doesn’t seem like something that needs an answer.

Not when he started travelling to remind himself of that exact same reason.

They reach San Francisco a little before nine, and they end up checking into a hotel just a ten-minute walk away from the Orpheum Theatre.  They drop off their bags and duck out again to sightsee, with Peter taking the lead as familiar locations come back to him.  They go to City Hall, the Opera House, and a truly astounding number of churches. Peter’s fascinated with their history, and Stiles learns more about their architecture and design, reconstruction post-earthquake, and even famous events that took place in them than he ever did at school.

They stop for tacos in-between before Peter shows him the Main Library.  It’s a large white building, with seven floors total and a glass ceiling.

“I’m pretty sure I saw this place in City of Angels,” Stiles mutters.

Peter rolls his eyes and drags him off to see the Asian Art Museum next door, which is apparently where the old Main Library used to be before the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989 hit it.

“Are you sure you were a lawyer and not a history professor or architect or something?”  Stiles asks suspiciously.

“Very sure,” Peter snorts, mouth twisting oddly.  “…Teaching history wouldn’t really have benefitted the pack, so it was always more of a hobby for me.”

Stiles studies him for a moment, and he doesn’t push when Peter doesn’t continue.  Instead, he points at a colourful mural on one side of the building they’re standing in front of.  “Tell me about that.”

Peter’s more than happy to continue as Stiles’ tour guide, but they do eventually need to head back to the hotel for a shower and a bite to eat if they want to make it to the production at the Orpheum Theatre tonight.

They watch Billy Elliot, and it’s a lot better than Stiles thought a live theatre production would be.  Beside him, Peter stays intent and focused the entire show, only stirring for intermission, and he almost looks teary-eyed at one point.  Stiles spends the time with one eye on the stage and one on Peter – he can’t help it, it’s one of the most human moments he’s ever seen Peter in, and he thinks that’s more fascinating than the production.

The actors deserve the huge round of applause at the end, but the enthusiasm Peter shows still takes Stiles by surprise.  The smile on his face, even more so.

“Did you have fun?” Peter asks on their out with the chattering crowd.  The werewolf slants an amused look at him.  “What with staring at me the whole time.  We could’ve stayed at the hotel for that if I’d realized you were so fascinated by my face.”

Stiles flushes.  Busted.  “I wasn’t- well, I mean, not the whole time.  And,” he tacks on defensively, “you were… different today.  Happier, I guess.  And I’ve just never seen that before.”

Peter arches an eyebrow. “I assure you, Stiles, I have been quite happy spending time with you over the past couple of months.”

Stiles’ cheeks feel hotter than ever, and he splutters wordlessly for a moment, floundering for something to say.  Nobody’s ever-

“I just mean you were happy over doing something!”  Stiles hastily amends.

-told him they were happy to spend time with him before.

“I had no idea you were such a history buff!”  Stiles rambles on, not giving Peter time to say anything else potentially embarrassing. “And you really like theatre, huh?”

“When performed well, yes,” Peter nods.  “And tonight’s was excellent.”

“It was pretty good,” Stiles agrees, relaxing a little.  “I’ve never been to one before so it was interesting to see how different it was from movies.”

You poor deprived child, Peter’s face practically screams, and Stiles has to roll his eyes and dig a pointy elbow into the man’s ribs. Peter flashes his eyes back at him, as playful as they are bright under the sidewalk lights.

They make their way back to the hotel, and they’re both tired enough to retire to their room directly, ordering room service instead of going out to find someplace to eat.  The room isn’t big but it’s comfortable enough for two, furnished with two twin beds, a clean bathroom, and a table and two armchairs they can eat at.

“Did you stay at hotels when you travelled alone?”  Peter asks after swallowing a mouthful of his halibut dish marinated in a garlic-butter sauce.

“Cheap ones mostly,” Stiles shrugs, reaching for his water.  “Sometimes I slept on the bus if it was an overnight one.  And once I walked from Portland to the next town so I just found trees and bushes to sleep under.”  He grins at the appalled expression Peter aims at him.  “It wasn’t that bad.  Better than sleeping in some stranger’s car when they gave me a ride, right?  And you’d have no problem doing the same if you went on a road trip without a car.”

Peter actually presses a hand over his eyes for a moment before lowering it and giving Stiles the flattest, most unimpressed look possible.  “Yes, but unlike you, I can rip anyone’s throat out if they’re stupid enough to try something.”

Stiles just waves a dismissive hand.  “I was fine though.  So you know, all’s well that ends well, right?”

Peter heaves a deep sigh like the dramatic asshole he is.  Stiles rolls his eyes.  “I’m alive.  I never even had to stun-gun anybody.”

Peter still looks kind of dubious but at least he eases up on the judgemental concern routine upon hearing Stiles – obviously, because he’s not stupid – at least carried around a weapon.

“You worry too much,” Stiles tells him, returning to his fish.  “Besides, I have you this time, and I promise if anybody attacks us, you can put the fear of God in them.  I draw the line at killing them though, unless they try to kill us first.  And I have my jeep.  I didn’t tell you to bring a sleeping bag just so it can take up space, you know.  The backseat of my car folds down, and we won’t be able to stretch out or anything, but it should be big enough for two when we stop in the middle of nowhere.”

Peter sighs again but relents with a nod.  After a moment’s consideration, he adds, “It’s not that I think you can’t take care of yourself, Stiles, but there are still a lot of things out there that won’t spare you just because you’re young.”

Stiles snorts and jabs his fork at him.  “I already know that, Peter.”

Peter studies him for a long minute before nodding again.  “Yes, I suppose you do.”

The matter is dropped, much to Stiles’ relief.  Peter’s never been prone to pushing an issue further than Stiles can stand, so there’s that at least.

They finish the rest of the meal in companionable silence.  Peter pushes the cart back out into the hallway afterwards, and Stiles ducks into the bathroom first to get ready for bed.

The room has two twin beds so they each get to claim one.  He’s used to being in much closer proximity with Peter than this so it doesn’t feel too strange as he watches the werewolf check the locks before getting into bed as well.  He spares a few seconds to tap out a text message to his dad that he’d arrived safely at camp before plugging his phone in to charge.  Peter uses the other socket for his own phone, and then he reaches over to click off the lamp, leaving the room awash with shadows.

“Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“You had fun today too, right?”

There’s a helpless sort of fondness in Peter’s voice when he responds.  “Silly boy.  Of course I did.”

“Good.”