#ketchup work time

[renai-fr]

Dragon-A-Day 2023- day 5, a Grand Exchange dragon

I drew Susie and Patches, playing poker!

(Whoo boy, this taught me that there's a reason it's a dragon a day, not multiple. Pain in the rear... I really wish I had had time to color, but I didn't want it to take another week. On to the next thing!)

[rabarbarzcukrem]

Ok so it's like.

The motorcycle scene: Touga is obviously imitating Akio and failing miserably. Represents an attempt at achieving maturity and adulthood through adopting empty symbols of power. Gives the impression of movement and progress, but in reality is going in circles. It gets faster and faster, there's a sense of danger and agitation. Touga is driving and Saionji sits in the sidecar, they're not on the same level and Saionji disapproves. Seems like they're heading towards some destination, but they're going nowhere.

The bike scene: A reference to their shared memories. Represents clinging to the past and trying to return to the time of childhood. The wheels may be turning, but the bike stands in place. It get slower and slower as Touga gets more tired until he finally stops completely. There's a sense of nostalgia and emotional fatigue. Touga is the only one pedaling, but Saionji doesn't comment on it (meaning that perhaps Touga being in control wasn't the problem in the first place. Maybe it was always about wanting to restore their lost connection and equal footing). They're facing opposite directions, but at the same time leaning on each other.

[somegrumpynerd]

Bitty update! Or I guess bitties (bittys?) update since there's apparently two of them now.

I didn't expect to see much of them after that last encounter since they seemed pretty unhappy about me getting too close, but I kept leaving out food and keeping my eyes peeled just in case. A lot of people have been saying to leave jerky but I haven't been able to find any so I've been leaving out bread and ham, is this okay for them?

Anyway, the other day when I was on my lunch break I saw the horror bitty scurrying around again. He saw me and disappeared which I expected, but then he came back and just kinda sat across from me and ate?? I didn't want to say anything in case it spooked him so we just sort of ate lunch together in silence, but I did try and take a sneaky picture

Is this good? Is this normal for bitties? When he was finished eating he just got up and walked off and I didn't see where he went, but I assume he's not super scared of me if he sat and ate so close right?

Also I found this cute little ketchup jar, I've been keeping it in the fridge since it's been warm in work and I thought they'd like a cool treat. Well I found it like this the other day so I guess that's a yes lol

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Wait I think I missed something in this incredible saga. Are you going on a date with the coworker??? I swear the last thing I saw was “no I would never” lmaoooo. If so, I (like the rest of snzblr) are anxious for updates about your love life. You’re one of the top snzblr couples now, enjoy 🤙

I did say I would never and I was a fucking liar apparently 😔 it's not technically a date tho bc I never told him it was bc I need to be so casual and mysterious ahdkaksk but it's a date To Me lmao. It's tomorrow tho bc we're still at work rn and it doesn't look like we're leaving anytime soon so at least I have that to look forward to I guess lmao

[potatomannnnn]

Me when the ... Me whe... When.... Uuhhhh.... W.. when the.... Um....

[kindahoping4forever]

Hi😊 I hope you're doing well and the show wasn't too hard on your health♥️ Would love to hear about your time at the forum if you'd like to tell😊

It's so nice of you to check in like this, thank you! 🥰 Honestly, just about every health issue I have decided to flare in the weeks leading up to the show, so I was fairly nervous going into it, but it all actually went really well! (Of course, my body essentially insisted I go into hibernation the entire week after the show but that was inevitable tbh 😅)

The night started off a little iffy when I was waiting for my brother by a concession stand and a passerby stepped on a stray ketchup packet and it exploded all over my legs and bags. 😃 But after a brief pity party and an emergency purchase of unnecessarily expensive bottled water (crazy long bathroom lines limited my options), I got myself cleaned up enough to appreciate the humor of literally getting sauced at The 5SOS Show. 😌 (Sadly, that particular shirt was already sold out or else I would've got it to commemorate lol)

But except for that unexpected moment, it was a fantastic evening! I won't go into details about the show so that I don't have to spoiler tag this post (🥲) but I had the most amazing time. Even though I've obviously been following the tour online, there's really nothing like experiencing it firsthand and I still found myself floored by certain moments.

I'm always happy to see 5SOS but I suppose because of the uncertainty I felt leading up to this particular show, I just remember feeling so, so grateful to be there. Overwhelming bursts of gratitude and joy to the point of tears a couple times, which is crazy because I am far from a soft girlie. It was just a really beautiful experience and I'm so thankful to have had it! 💙

[andhumanslovedstories]

I’ve told this story ten thousand times and I will tell it for the ten thousandth and first: whenever I think about wearing a costume to work on Halloween, I remember the time I saw a doctor breaking what must have been devastating news to a sobbing patient while the doc was dressed as a ketchup bottle.

[alltheprettyplaces]

they have ketchup chips at cub btw

[cursedauxiliary]

some stupid internet/tiktok drama i stumbled upon is ppl shitting on this woman for making dinner for her kids.... like sorry shes not this insanely manicured upper-class trad wife that whips out yeast starters...did everyone just collectively fuckin forget the lackluster shit we ate as a kid??

[dmitriene]

simon riley started eating better when you two got married, surely he was bulky far beforehand, full of muscle mass that ripples in his body at every twist and bend, wide shoulders and beefy thighs, but with you doting on him and keeping an eye so he could eat well both at home and at base by carrying the adorable lunches you make him, he can't stop but enjoy the homemade goodies you feed him.

that's when he starts to gain much more fat, and simon ain't a type of man to feel insecure about something, especially not about his body that brings nothing but awe in people when they notice how big he is, and with couple of layers at his sides and tummy, he feels even more comfortable than he's been before, his chest gotten bigger under tight working shirts, stomach bulging just a bit when he relaxes from his stance.

gotten soft, both body and soul, there's no way he skips the meals that steam of love you make him, always something cute decorating the plate, different figures made of vegetables or fruits, a smiling face made of ketchup, pasta of different shapes and colors, cute toothpicks, you pour your time and soul into pleasing simon, shower him in your boundless care, and he's always grateful.

simon thanks you properly, spearing your tight pussy on his meaty cock, his soft underbelly grinding against your stomach when he pins you into the cotton of sheets beneath, his body enveloping yours with warmth and sweat, as you cling to his broad shoulders, scratching gently at the uneven skin there as he humps your squelchy hole, thrusts sloppy and deep, fat, weeping tip of his twitching cock always catching onto your gooey spot.

he's got the meal, and he's got the sweetest dessert, creamy cunt right between your supple thighs for him to feast after.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[little-pondhead]

[This has me in a chokehold?? Holy shit. Also I’m not skilled with fake text generators so y’all get a painfully typed out group chat.]

Oh, Danny was pissed.

He didn’t know what a Speedster ™ was, but like hell he was going to let his hard work he wasted like that. Fixing the timeline was hard! It was tedious! Danny had to be fully aware of the butterfly effect at all times no matter where and when he was!

And Clockwork is telling him that this happens on a regular basis?? No wonder the old fart got a little cryptic and smart-mouthed at times! Danny would go insane if all he was doing was preventing the extinction of an important beetle but someone fucked it up and now the humans are doing surgeries on grapes and making meatballs out of mammoth meat!

This would not do, Danny decided. If Clockwork was making his apprenticeship official as of thirty seconds ago, Danny was going to take full advantage of that fact.

He stuffed Clockwork’s note into a belt pocket and zipped over to his favorite Nap Room. It was the only room in the entire tower without a clock, which was invaluable when Danny was trying to catch up on sleep. Right now, though, he was more focused on the tiny closet in the corner than his galaxy-themed bed.

Danny threw open the dark purple door without hesitation, almost breaking the handle off in his haste. Sure enough, a mini version of Clockwork’s cloak and scepter were laying innocently on a shelf that wasn’t there before.

Danny didn’t even think twice about it and slipped the cloak on, fastening is together over his shoulders with a little moon pendant. Tugging up the hood so it cast his face in a dark shadow, Danny noticed how the edges of the cape seemed to flow unnaturally, turning into a fine mist that made the cloak seem longer than it actually was. Well that was kind of cool.

He grabbed his new staff next. The scepter was small, a bit shorter than Clockwork’s and closer to the size of a baseball bat. The top held a similar ticking clock his mentor’s had, but it was smaller and nestled in the curve of a Cheshire moon. The body had tiny stars etched into it, and the letter D was stamped on the very bottom like a wax seal.

Danny smiled nastily and took an experimental swing. The weight was good. It felt pretty similar to a baseball bat, too. So Danny was confident he could bonk someone with this if they got too rowdy. Might be useful if he was dealing with the living rather than the dead.

A green sticky note popped into existence on his forehead.

The Medallion is in your cloak pocket. Put it on, the portal will open in 5.2 seconds. Don’t eat any of the grilled cheese.

Reading this, Danny cursed and scrambled to find the Medallion and slung it around his neck, just as a swirling portal opened up under him and sucked his entire being into a vacuum of green and purple.

At least he knows his clock has pockets.

———

Barry Allen was supposed to be enjoying his day off. It was rare when he was free from both his civilian job and his hero one. He was taking the opportunity to run some much-needed errands and was determined to enjoy the day, no matter what happened.

Well he barely made it past noon before those plans were ruined.

Honestly, Barry didn’t even noticed the figure at first. He was just returning from the dry cleaners with fresh laundry in hand, silently nodding along to some music in his headphones and weaving through other pedestrians on the sidewalk. It was the busy part of town, and while usually he tried to avoid these areas just for the sake of peace and quiet, there was only one dry cleaner in all of Central City that could tackle the tough and nasty stains he accumulated through his forensics job.

The point is, Barry didn’t want to be on the street any longer than he had to. But a twitchy shadow in the corner of his eye had him whipping his head around, scanning the crowd to find the source of his sudden discomfort. He looked once and then looked again, sure he was missing something. There was something here. Something dangerous.

More movement drew his eye to a shop window. The store was an electronics one, and had a stack of tvs facing the street, all turned to the local news channel. A figure draped in deep purples was standing there, inches from the glass and seemingly transfixed on whatever the news was showing. A commercial came on and the figure shifted a third time, turning their head to check the other tvs.

The figure’s outline was misty, like they weren’t completely solid, and the turn of their head revealed floating white bangs and a tapered ear. They clutched a short staff in their hands, messing with it like they didn’t know how to hold it. They were anxious about something, Barry could tell.

He sighed, and stopped, leaning against a lamppost to shoot a quick text to the inter-dimensional Flash family group chat.

-

⚡️Ketchup&Fries⚡️

Hey guys, I just spotted an unknown meta downtown. I’m not suited up so if I need backup I’ll let you know.

⚡️Fries&Ketchup⚡️

i’m in class rn. is this permission to skip if your old knees can’t outrun a meta?

Every Ho

Jay and I aren’t even in the same dimension as you right now, so count us out.

Garrick

Speak for yourself. I’d gladly skip this meeting on Mars-32 if Barry needs help.

WallyWorld

I’m in China at the moment, so I can be there if you need👍🏻

🐰OURspeedforce

off world

MustardRuns

Why am I still in this group chat.

quickie-or-quiche

because we hate you

WallyWorld

Oh hold on Hunter showed up. Might take a moment.

Zhu Zhu Pet🐹

Stop running away! I’m trying to make you a better hero dammit!

WallyWorld

Sprinting around your problems won’t make them love you back, Hunter :)

quickie-or-quiche

f o u l

⚡️Fries&Ketchup⚡️

taking a test, shut up guys

Every Ho

Just turn your phone off, Bart

⚡️Fries&Ketchup⚡️

These old phones can turn off???

⚡️Ketchup&Fries⚡️

I’ll just go see what they want.

🐰OURspeedforce

don’t die

MustardRuns

I hope you die.

-

“They have inter-dimensional cell service in this dimension?”

Barry almost yelped and almost dropped his phone, pulling out an earbud as he turned towards the voice. The figure was two inches away from his shoulder, burning green eyes staring curiously down at his screen. Barry hurriedly turned the chat off and slipped the device into his pockets, but the figure didn’t give any sign of being offended.

“U-uh…” he stammered.

The figure continued, ignoring his startled behavior. “I knew this place had to be high-tech in some way, but I didn’t know it was far enough to let civilians send signals through the Zone.”

“Ah, yeah, some of us can…” Barry honestly had no idea what to say. Initiating conversation with an unknown was different than having them come up to you first. His mind was racing, trying to find the perfect response. He decided to play along. “What dimension are you from? I haven’t seen you around before.”

The figure shrugged. Their misty purple cloak moved oddly with the action, spilling farther onto the street and sidewalk. With a mental jolt, Barry realized no one was paying attention to the figure at all. In fact, some of them were even walking through them.

“Oh, I’m not actually sure.” The figure mused, twisting their staff between their fingers. “This is my first time meeting a living human who could traverse the Zone so seamlessly. I’ve never had to give my home a name. I do wonder why you can see me better than the other humans, though.”

“Oh, ah,” Barry scratched his neck. Was it too late to bail? Come on man, think of an excuse! “Well, on this Earth, some humans carry something called the meta gene. It gives people special abilities. I’m not sure who (or what) you are, but metas only take up a small part of the total population nowadays.”

The figure hummed over this new information. The clock on their staff made a light ticking sound, as if to remind Barry of the time. “So you’re a meta, and only metas can see me?That’s very interesting and important information. Thank you, sir. I’ll keep that in mind when going about my business.”

“No problem,” Barry chuckled awkwardly. “If I may ask, what’s your name? If this is your first time here, I can probably help with whatever you got going on.”

The figure shivered. From what, Barry couldn’t tell. Their hood was too far forward for him to see their face, and only a few strands of their whispy white hair could escape from the massive cloak. Their glowing green eyes appraised him seriously, examining every inch of his body. Barry felt like they were picking apart his soul.

Finally, they reached a decision and pulled their hood down. “Please, call me Phantom.” The hollowed face of a young boy smiled unnaturally at him, holding a hand out to shake. “I want you to assist me in my work, until I release you from my service. Will you agree? Ah. Humans still shake hands for important things, right? ”

Barry sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t understand everything the boy had said, but honestly, his looks had grabbed Barry’s attention more than the grating static of his voice.

The boy’s skin was pale and glassy. Smooth, like the color was painted on. Like how a mortician adds color back to a corpse. His teeth were too sharp for a human’s, and Barry instinctively knew that one good chomp from Phantom would land his ass in the ICU immediately. His ears were pointed like an elf’s and his face was angled like one, too. This boy was not human in any way.

Barry almost wished that the civilians around them could see the wispy kid, floating in the air to match Barry’s eye level and looking around with innocent wonder. Just so there was proof that he was most likely about to make a deal with some sort of Fae.

Instead, he forced himself to smile, take Phantom’s offered hand, and recited very carefully, “Yes. Nice to meet you, Phantom. Please call me Barry Allen.”

Phantom’s eyes lit up in recognition. “You’re Barry Allen? Oh, this is great! This makes my job so much easier!”

The hero was almost too scared to ask. “Your…job?”

Phantom nodded and grabbed his forearm, dragging him back to the tvs with surprising strength. “Yes! My mentor gave me your name as a hint, so I suppose you’re going to help me find something.” He jabbed a thin finger at the screens. “This man right here! He’s the source of my mentor’s headaches at the moment. I’m rather upset with him, too. He messed up a timeline I had just fixed, one that I worked so hard on!” The boy released Barry and pouted, looking rather put out. “Do you think you can help me find him?”

Barry stared at the news channels with distant horror growing in his gut. Currently, they were showing a recent clip of himself, as the Flash, zipping through the city like a bolt of lighting.

“I’m not sure…”

Phantom giggled a bit, his eyes turning hard as he watched the Flash clip play again. The two anchormen were discussing the latest crime Barry had stopped.

“Too late! You shook my hand! The deal is set,” Phantom twirled his staff and smiled, like he was telling Barry about a prank he’d just pulled. A medallion hanging around Phantom’s neck glinted in the light as thee boy took his hand again and flipped it over, showing Barry a shimmering mark of a D branded into his palm. “Ah, don’t worry. It’s temporary. I won’t let him hurt you just for helping me. And I won’t hurt him (much), either!”

The boy’s smile dropped. Barry couldn’t pull his hand away.

“I just want to talk.”

DP x DC prompt/one shot :

After another tiring missions of helping Clockwork fix the timeline, Clockwork always assigned him "homework" of rewatching what he did and write a report on how he thinks he did (good, bad, what need to improve, what been improving,…)

As Danny was rewatching the scenes of a timeline being changed by him from one of the many screens in CW's lair like always, suddenly a static displayed on the screen for a few seconds and all his hard work of the week go up in smoke in front of his eyes as another completely different timeline take it's place.

As Danny was currently in shock, suddenly a green sticky note appear on the screen,

[ I am currently occupied with something else today, so as my official apprentice as of right now, i find it upon myself to finally tell you about the Speedster™ problem,

As you can see from what just happened before you, it is rather bad, as the timeline get divergent without considering the consequences, as my newly appointed apprentice, this is going to be your first official mission,

You will find that in the closet inside the room that you normally nap in, there is a new cloak and a time staff that will let you temporarily borrow my power over time, and a medallion, the portal will open after you go out of the lair,

A hint for you: Barry Allen. ]

– C.W

[shotmrmiller]

simon isn't a man you take home. he's for the literal streets. dresses like he's homeless because all that matters is that his throwing knives and handguns are pristine. the only reason his home is spotless is because he doesn't live in it, it's all for show. his pantry has only salt and mouse traps, his fridge a long expired bottle of ketchup and something that if anyone ate, they'd gain superpowers.

he's got a crazy look in his eye, and who can blame him after all that shit he's been through? gut-wrenching betrayal, unimaginable torture, then buried alive shoulder to shoulder with his ol rotting buddy, ol decaying pal? he joined the military a butcher's apprentice, and now he's an echo of what simon riley used to be, a fading silhouette that wanders the corridors in base. a ghost.

he has to play music whenever he's not at work just to keep the screaming voices in his head at bay, and it has to be loud enough to drown out the incessant high-pitched ringing in his ears. a cacophony of noise that wears his thin string of patience into in-existence.

he's a killer, he's a man who's donned his skull mask for so long that he's forgotten the face underneath.

you don't bring a man like him home. and when you eventually did, even your parents had agreed.

he looks one clown short of a circus.

he hovers over you like a ghost. (ha)

possessive, obsessive, paranoid.

he'll kill you if you try to leave him.

simon heard everything, not like they had tried to keep their voice down. it hadn't really mattered to him, empty words pelting knotted flesh only a sharpened knife could cut through. but you hadn't taken any of it.

his little hero, coming to his defense. it'd been the first time- in a long time- that his icy cold, tiny heart skipped a beat.

simon's always been his own savior. he saved himself from the shit life he had with his family by joining the army. he'd clawed his way out of his own grave, freshly turned soil stuck under his fingernails for weeks. he'd gone after the head of roba, in the name of vengeance. even now, he's a part of the justice league, the task force 141.

unsung heroes.

and here you were, standing in your parent's kitchen, all bared teeth and scalding temper- over him.

simon's so aroused that when he rises from where he's seated, he sways on his feet. there's no stopping him from briskly walking over to you and hoisting you up and over his shoulder, heading for the door.

there's no stopping him from throwing you into the backseat, and climbing in after.

you weakly try to stop him with stammered words, just wanting to know what the fuck he's doing but when simon starts to impatiently undo the button of your jeans, his confined manhood pushing up underneath you, it clicks.

you don't want him to stop when the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your slippery clit with expertise, thick fingers curling inside your swollen cunt.

you definitely don't want him to stop when his cock slides through your slick folds, his hand wrapped around his thick base. his tip pushes inside, mild discomfort already flaring. gravity then does the work, slowly sinking you onto him until his thighs are flush against your arse. the sweet, decadent burn of him splitting you in half sparking your nerve endings alight, from the waist to your knees.

you beg him not to stop when he fucks you in earnest; desire, sticky and wet, dampening the coarse trimmed hair of his cock. the air inside the truck muggy, heavy and thick with sex. he places his hand under your navel, right when he knows he is, and grunts when he gently presses down. the noises coming from you and your sodden pussy are obscene, lewd, downright vulgar and he wonders if you'd let him record it- to replace the banal music he usually listens to.

your breath hitches beautifully, and simon makes sure to watch how you let go of his shoulder to weave that hand downward to take yourself over the edge.

"impatient little pet, can't even wait f'me to get ya there, eh?" the low chuckle he lets out is cut short at the feeling of your slick walls fluttering around him, making him groan. he keeps his sharp gaze on you when your body tenses, back arching as you jerk fast, little circles over your pearl. he plants his feet and begins to thrust upward, your weight nothing to his strength and-

how beautiful you look in the pleasure he brings you.

it's cliche, truly, that he comes when you do, but he couldn't care less in this instance. your cunt squeezes him like a silken fist, a tight vice that milks his cock almost painfully so. his grip around your waist is bruising, but it only adds to the sensation- the delightful bite of pain prolonging your pleasure.

the base of his spine tingles from his climax, and his breathing is ragged. alive. your hands skim the wide breadth of his chest, as if brushing off the dirt he'd once been buried under.

his little hero.

you took him home, so now he takes you to his.

(...don't look in the kitchen, pet.)

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Barça Boy

♥ masterlist

♥ pairing: pablo gavi x fem!driver!sainz!reader

♥ synopsis: for as long as you can remember your older brother carlos sainz has been a loyal fan of the football team real madrid. you were an f2 driver who never took your mind off of your own sport; that was until carlos brought you to a barcelona v real madrid game and you fell for a player on the opposing team.

♥ smau - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and hate comments !!!

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 243,530 more

yourusername I've been kidnapped (not clickbait)

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carlossainz55 I'm literally taking you to a madrid game

yourusername exactly 😔

user60 you should be greatful

user60 I'd kill to have those tickets

user71 she's always so ungrateful 🙄

user80 celebrities that don't know anything about the sport getting shit for free pisses me off

user6 @/user80 pretty sure Carlos payed for the two of their tickets but go off

user56 @/user80 not sure she even counts as a 'celebrity'

user7 NEED me some sombas

user8 im obsessed with their dynamic

user2 the sainz siblings >>>

landonorris @/carlossainz55 take me with you next time

user5 aww carlando dates

user3 gonna need a carlando football landolog asap

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Could you at least pretend like you're watching?" Carlos said, gazing at you as you scrolled through your phone.

You clicked the device off and slid it into your pocket.

"I'm sorry Carlos I'm just not really as interested in this as you are..." you paused. "I mean if I want to make it into F1 I gotta train right? I should be on the sim right now."

"C'mon," he groaned. "You're a Sainz, of course you're going to make it. Relax a little. Enjoy the game, please?"

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, "I'll try."

You crossed your arms and watched the game unfold. One of the Barcelona players scored a goal and went sprinting past you into a knee slide. He really caught your eye and you couldn't help but watch him the rest of the match.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by landonorris, fcbarcelona, and 563,649 more

carlossainz55 up for adoption: Y/n. Formula 2 driver and FC Barcelona apologist. Former Sainz.

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fcbarcelona we'll adopt you y/n

yourusername do I get a kit?

pablogavi you can have one of mine

yourusername @/pablogavi 🤭

user9 THE @ IS CRAZY

carlossainz55 😐

user7 GAVIIIII

user5 find yourself a man who will love you even when you wear sunglasses with hot sauce (possibly ketchup?) bottles on them

user8 former sainz 😭

user12 "barcelona apologist" 💀

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by pablogavi, fcbarcelona, and 430,594 more

yourusername I guess I'm a culer now. thanks for the kit @/pablogavi it fits perfectly 😘

comments are restricted

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, and 947,483 more

pablogavi look who I found

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user6 carlos’ face 😭

user50 thought you were “too busy” for football 😐

user61 no way gavi is settling for her

user2 no bc she’s so pretty 😍

user9 they’re literally the cutest couple

user1 those family reunions are gonna be awkward tho lmao

prema_team its good to see you gavi :)

*liked by original poster*

user12 he’s my favorite wag

liked by pablogavi, olliebearman, and 539,922 more

yourusername signed a contract with ferrari next season. I’ll see you on the grid big bro @/carlossainz55

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pablogavi estoy orgulloso de ti hermosa (I'm proud of you beautiful)

yourusername gracias mi amor

user7 so cute 🥹

user8 if I knew thirsting over him on main worked I woulda tried it years ago 😔

user6 madridista v culer war ferrari edition

user10 “my girlfriend is hotter than you” true 🤷‍♀️

carlossainz55 congrats or whatever

yourusername you know you love me

[foldingfittedsheets]

I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.

Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.

I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.

The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.

My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.

But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.

Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.

I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.

The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.

I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.

This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”

I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.

Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”

Terms were agreed.

The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.

“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”

Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”

“I have never been more serious.”

“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”

“No. You promised.”

With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.

I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[alltingfinns]

Why oh why did I look up the Wikipedia article on the 2024 US elections? I’ve given myself an extra year to worry about an election I don’t have a say in.