#korean fire chicken

[gutenachtwort]

Asian - Bul Dak Korean Fire Chicken Recipe Marinated chicken breasts are cooked with a spicy Asian pear, garlic, and honey sauce in this easy skillet dinner.

[superrecordings]

Recipe for Bul Dak Korean Fire Chicken Marinated chicken breasts are cooked with a spicy Asian pear, garlic, and honey sauce in this easy skillet dinner.

[miss-floral-thief]

I don’t think the cashier understood me when I asked about the spice on the Mac salad (new option/addition lol) and the white manager? Wasn’t here that usually explains the meals oh well

[jojolimons]

god i love korean fried chicken

i almost burned down my kitchen over it

[daisynik7]

Warm on a Cold Night

Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

cw: fluff, canon universe, alcohol consumption, Ino and reader are both in their early 20s, suggestive (blink and it’s gone), mentions of minor injuries, love confessions

Summary: You and Ino learn all the different ways to keep each other warm on a cold night in Tokyo. 

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song Warm on a Cold Night by Honne. I’ve always loved this song and it gives me major winter vibes. Thought it’d be cute to imagine it with our boyfriend Ino. Enjoy! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Tagging @kodzukein @crlyhairedwxtch @chicken-fifi @thisisnotashley @saerotonins @batafuraikisu @kentoslvt @rxmbzzz @yoshikasworld, thank you for the interest in this ♥️ also tagging my fellow ino lover @antique-remains, I hope you like this :)

On the first of December, Takuma Ino walks into his favorite Korean barbeque restaurant down the street from his humble studio apartment. His stomach grumbles with hunger; he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, right before he met with Nanami in Ginza to exorcise curses in an abandoned department store. As soon as he made it back home, he collapsed on the couch and fell asleep without meaning to. Now, he hustles, feet shuffling on the pavement, beanie pulled over his ears, though the crisp air still bites his skin. He knows it’s going to be packed on a Friday night such as this. He isn’t sure how long he can last, given how starving he is. He slips inside anyways, the familiar bell ringing above him announcing his presence, ready to try his luck. As predicted, the tables are all occupied. Fortunately, there’s only one other person waiting. 

You sit on the chair next to the hostess stand, scrolling through your phone. There’s a ding and rush of breeze as the door swings open. Glancing up on instinct, your eyes meet his and you give him a cordial smile. He nods, acknowledging you. Yuki, the hostess, greets him happily, recognizing him. “Ino!”

“Hey Yuki!” he grins. “Table for one, please.”

She does a brief scan of the restaurant. “Fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Cool.” He takes the empty seat beside you, shaking his knees, rubbing his hands together, breathing into his palms. “Chilly out there,” he says to no one in particular. 

Yuki doesn’t seem to hear him, walking away to tend to customers. Feeling obligated to answer out of politeness, you agree. “Yeah, freezing.”

“It smells so good in here, I can’t wait to eat. I’m absolutely starving.” He rubs his belly, slouching in his seat. “This type of weather always makes me crave Korean barbeque. I guess everyone has the same idea.”

He’s a chatty fellow, though you don’t mind it. He seems friendly enough, so you entertain him. “This weather is a good excuse to grill meat over a fire. And maybe warm up with a few shots of soju.”

“Now that sounds like a great idea. I could definitely use a drink.” He couldn’t finish an entire bottle himself, just a taste wouldn’t be so bad, right? If only he had someone to share it with.

Another breeze sweeps through as a couple exits the restaurant, hand-in-hand, snuggled in their long coats and scarves. Yuki approaches you with a menu in her hands. “Your table is ready!”

You stand up, ready to follow her. “Enjoy your meal!” Ino calls out.

Something clicks in your brain; you’re not exactly sure why you decide to do this. Maybe deep down, you pity the guy who has to wait another fifteen minutes to eat. Or maybe you want some company on a cold night like tonight. Whatever the reason is, you end up blurting out, “Want to join me?” 

Pleasantly surprised and too famished to deny the offer, he hops out of his chair. “Are you sure?”

You shrug, grinning at him. “Yeah. It’s always more fun with friends, right?”

He can’t argue with that. There’s a strange glow that begins to surround his chest at those words. This might be the fastest friend he’s ever made, and his stomach is more than grateful. They walk together to the table, sitting across from one another, avoiding each other’s gaze while Yuki fires up the grill. Before she leaves, you place an order for appetizers and a bottle of strawberry soju to share. 

Quick to fill the silence, Ino asks, “Do you come here often?”

You shake your head, looking at the plate and utensils in front of you. “I moved in nearby and found this place online. Decided to give it a shot tonight.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat! This is the best Korean barbeque in the neighborhood. I take my mentor out here from time-to-time and even he likes it. And he’s a hard one to please.” He shrugs his beanie off, revealing messy brown hair that you happen to find adorable. Your gaze lingers for a second longer than you intend because when he catches you, he runs his fingers through his brunette locks to fix it. “I wear this all day long, so my hair is probably a mess right now. Sorry.”

You smile at him. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I like your hair. It’s cute.”

He blushes, rubbing the nape of his neck, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” He clears his throat nervously, flushed despite not having a single drop of alcohol in him yet. 

The liquor and appetizers come out shortly. Ino gives you the honors to break the seal, handing you his glass to pour his serving. You cheers with a clink, sinking the first shot easily. It’s smooth going down your throat and you start to ease up in his presence. While you wait for the meat to arrive, you both indulge in corn cheese and the standard fair of banchan, continuing your small talk. He’s cryptic with what he does for a living, unsure how to explain Jujutsu Sorcery to a stranger. You’re honest about your office job, claiming it isn’t the most glamorous. It’s enough for you to be content in life. 

When the meat is served, Ino volunteers to grill it, which you happily let him. He cooks each piece to your liking, plopping it on your plate as he finishes. In between, you continue to take shots until you’re near the last drops of soju. Conversation flows easier with alcohol and yummy food mixed in. Whatever awkward tension there was in the beginning has since faded. It also helps that Ino is naturally a cheerful person who’s easy to talk to. You find yourself enjoying his company more and more as the night progresses. The bitter cold outside is completely forgotten as your cheeks swelter from the sweet soju and smoke surrounding you. The charming smile of the man across the table also contributes to the ember kindling inside you. You wonder if he’s enjoying this as much as you are. You hope that he is. 

Ino’s thankful for the puffs of smoke that obscure him. If not for that, it would be completely obvious how fond of you he is. He hasn’t stopped grinning since you first clinked glasses an hour ago. There’s a tiny part of him that wishes this night wouldn’t end. 

It's only when Yuki approaches you, informing that it’s last call for the kitchen, that you realize you’re the only remaining customers in the restaurant. You’re both stuffed, barely picking at the last bits of banchan, chatting about nightlife in the area. Ino mentions a karaoke bar down the block that he likes going to with his friends. “You should join us sometime,” he suggests, nonchalant. 

Your heart pounds at the invitation; you convince yourself it’s merely a friendly gesture, nothing more. “I’d really like that.”

He hands you his phone, his fingers grazing yours as you accept it. “Let’s exchange numbers. I’ll text you the next time we go out.” A jolt of excitement rushes through his veins at the contact. He yearns for more of it, though he knows it wouldn’t be appropriate to continue touching her, so he twiddles his thumbs beneath the table as he watches you type in your contact information. The next opportunity is immediately after, when the bill comes and both of you reach for it at the same time, Ino’s hand on top of yours, squeezing you gently, trying to pry the check from under you. This time, his entire body is buzzing with electricity, blazing every inch of his skin with a pleasant heat he’s unfamiliar with. 

You smile at him, letting him hold you, relishing his touch. “How about I get this one and you get the next one?”

“I can’t let you pay on the first date. It’s against my morals,” he insists, shaking his head.

You smirk, raising a brow at him. “Oh, so this is a date now?” 

He chuckles, thumb brushing your skin delicately. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, I’d like to do it again with you.” 

You bite your lip, holding back a giggle. “Promise you’ll call me and I’ll let you pay for the next one. Deal?”

It takes him a minute to contemplate, then he eventually agrees. “Deal.” 

You bid Yuki and the rest of the staff farewell on your way out. Ino slips the beanie back onto his head then helps you into your coat. As soon as the door opens, your face tingles from the frigid air and you immediately want to retreat back inside with Ino, but you know you can’t. He walks beside you down the street, fingers less than inches apart from yours. His hands are already freezing; he wants to hold you to feel that warmth again, but he knows he shouldn’t. 

When it’s time for him to go his separate route and you to go yours, you face him, the chill coming out as wisps from your mouth. “Thank you for a fun night.” 

“Thank you too. I’ll call you.” Would it be so bad to lean closer? To feel your lips on his? 

You drift towards him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. It radiates throughout his entire body and suddenly, he’s almost feverish in this icy weather. He’s flustered, repeating, “I’ll call you, okay?” 

Reluctantly, you turn to walk in the opposite direction while Ino stands there watching you, touching his cheek with a goofy grin on his face. 

The cold isn’t so bad the rest of his way home.

~~~

A week later, Ino invites you out to karaoke with him and his friends. As expected, they are as friendly and easy-going as he is, so they welcome you with open arms. His buddy Takashi currently sings a power ballad, belting it out with his whole heart into it and sweat beading on his forehead while the rest of the group cheers for him. Ino sits beside you, leaning in close to make sure you hear him through the noise, breath hot on your ear. “Are you having fun?” 

You face him, noses nearly touching. “I’m having lots of fun.”

“Good,” he smiles. “I’m really happy you’re here.” He lingers on your lips. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night, when you kissed him on the cheek. He swears he can still feel the heat from it. What would it be like if you kissed the other parts of him? How cozy would he be from your gentle kisses? Before he gets caught up in the moment and makes a dumb decision, he pulls back, distracting himself by flipping through the song catalogue. From his peripheral, he notices you studying him intently. You don’t say anything, eventually going back to watching the performances. 

At the end of your session, you bid farewell to his friends. Ino offers to walk with you halfway towards your homes, pausing at the same spot you did a week ago. “Well,” you start, “Thank you for another great night.”

“Thank you too.”

There’s a tense silence, neither uncomfortable nor awkward. It’s just there, palpable and heavy in the air between you. As if you’re both waiting for either of you to say the one thing you’re both thinking. 

He catches on quick. “Want to come over?”

You agree immediately, beaming as you follow him to his apartment complex. He unlocks the door, beckoning you inside. “Sorry it’s so cold in here. The insulation in this apartment is the worst.” He stands above a space heater, clicking it on to the highest setting, carrying it towards the couch. “It’ll warm up soon, give it a minute.”

You sit, scanning the room, noticing the few trinkets he has scattered as decor. Gaming consoles neatly tucked inside the TV stand. Framed pictures displayed on a bookshelf of him and his friends you just met, some with who you assume is his family. There are a couple of posters hanging on his walls, one of a cult classic movie you’ve heard about but never watched, another of unique artwork that catches your attention with vibrant colors. His bed is several feet behind you, the sheets twisted, mostly barren. You shiver in your seat, fully understanding what he meant when he said that the insulation is the worst here. 

He returns with a fleece blanket in his hands, taking his place beside you. “Sorry. It’s like a refrigerator in here,” he jokes, laying it over the both of you. The space heater must finally be kicking in because now, you’re almost too hot, sharing this intimate space with Ino right next to you, his knee brushing yours, shoulders touching. He reaches for the remote, turning the TV on. “So, what are you in the mood for?” He begins listing genres of movies. “Action, horror, comedy…?”

You don’t let him finish, snuggling closer to him, peering into his eyes. “How about romance?”

He laughs, licking his lips, gazing at yours. “That’s exactly what I was thinking too.”

You meet him for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. His hands are gentle, caressing your back while his tongue explores your mouth. Soon, you shrug the covers off, sweltering beneath him as he surrounds you, trailing your neck, moving to your ear, whispering, “I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“Me too,” you breathe out, ready to strip out of your clothes.

“Not yet,” he purrs, nipping at your ear lobe. “I want to take my time with you.”

And so he does, making love to you slowly, cherishing every inch of you. You’re supple beneath him, yielding to every kiss, every lick, every gentle touch he graces you with. You moan into his mouth as his fingers move swiftly between your legs, pleasuring you until you’re stirring with ecstasy. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, calling you endearing pet names that make you putty in his grip. Sweetheart, beautiful, my good girl. It rolls off his tongue naturally, as if the two of you were meant to be like this from the very start. You’ve never been treasured like this by anyone else.

When he’s inside you, his cheeks are flushed, expression hazy, nose nuzzled to yours. You watch him carefully, marveling at his toned physique, running your fingers through his soft hair, tugging lightly at the strands. He smiles at you, blushing. “I’m so into you, it’s crazy.”

You trace his lips with your thumb. “I’m so into you too, Ino.”

He smooches the pad of your finger. “Takuma. Please call me Takuma.”

Giggling, you tease, “How about Taku?”

“You can call me whatever you want, as long as I’m yours,” he answers, stilling his movements.

You kiss him passionately, squeezing him in a tight embrace. “You’re all mine, Taku. And I’m all yours.”

It sounds crazy to be so smitten with someone you barely met after only a week. It is crazy. But something about him excites you, ignites a spark in you. It’s enough that you want to give whatever this is a fighting chance. 

~~~

Ino hobbles out of the train station, limping slightly on one foot, a prominent gash across his cheek that has since clotted from the cold, January air. His beanie is scorched at the top, his sweater ripped at the sleeves, and aside from the obvious cut on his face, it’s dusty with soot and debris, all from the aftermath of today’s battle. He’s a mess right now; it’s been a rough night, exorcising a grade 2 curse in Harajuku. Nanami offered to accompany him back to Jujutsu High to get patched up by Ieiri, but Ino insisted he’s fine, not wanting to appear weak in front of his mentor. 

Halfway on his route home, he stops, contemplating for a good minute before turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction, towards your house. Rather than being alone and cold in his dinky, lonely apartment, he’d much rather be with you. His warm, wonderful girlfriend.

It’s been more than a month now since you started dating, and so far, it’s been going great. Ino can’t remember connecting to someone this well before. Maybe he never has until you. So, when he climbs two flights of stairs up to your apartment, wincing step-by-step because of his sore ankle, he reminds himself that all of this is worth it just to see your bright, shining face tonight.

He knocks quietly on your front door, leaning against it, sighing with exhaustion. It doesn’t take you long to answer, greeting him with your sunny demeanor. As soon as you notice the cut on his cheek and his tattered clothes, your expression turns wary. You pull him inside gently, asking, “What happened?”

He tries to chuckle, which results in him coughing instead, each breath sharp in his chest. “Overtime,” he rasps, flashing you a weak grin. He doesn’t realize how freezing he is until now, enveloped by the residual heat inside your apartment and the presence of you. 

Despite his poor attempt at a joke, you still return his smile, indulging him, not pestering him with any more questions. Ino revealed the truth about his profession two weeks ago, and while you’re still not entirely certain of every aspect of Jujutsu Sorcery, you’re aware enough to recognize the type of danger he faces in order to protect society. The least you could do is keep him warm on a cold winter night. 

You grab the nearest blanket, covering him in it. His beanie is ruined, a giant hole at the top, exposing his brown hair. You remove it, inspecting his face carefully, taking note of the dirt on his skin and the wound on his cheek. He stares at you with tired eyes, this close to falling asleep. You plant a smooch on his forehead, whispering, “Don’t worry, Taku. I’ll take care of you.”

He sinks into the cushions, letting himself relax amidst the soft fabric. Not only is it toasty, it also smells exactly like you, putting him at ease. He’s never been taken care of like this since he was a little kid. He doesn’t remember how nice it is to have someone to lean on.

You remove his sneakers, the soles almost rubbed completely raw from overuse, tossing them with the rest of your shoes by the front door. In the your bedroom, you search your drawers for the first aid kit and cleaning wipes. In the kitchen, you start a kettle of water for tea, something comforting to soothe him. When you return to him, his eyes are half-lidded, head lolling on one shoulder, on the verge of sleep. You giggle, sitting beside him, patting his knee. “Poor baby.”

He nods lazily, turning to face you. “Yes, I am. You know what will make it all better?”

You pull a wipe from the container, carefully cleaning his face. “What?”

“A kiss,” he smirks, pouting his lips.

So cheeky, even when he’s spent, you can’t help but laugh. You use a second wipe to completely remove the grime on his skin, particularly around the cut. “I’ll kiss your boo-boo once it’s all bandaged up. Deal?"

He exhales deeply, satisfied. “Deal.”

This time, you use an alcohol wipe to disinfect the cut first, blowing on it to reduce the sting. Ino sucks in a breath, handling it as best as he can. With a cotton swab and gloves on, you apply the ointment meticulously, making sure not to miss any spots. Then, with gauze and heavy-duty bandages, you finish treating him, happy with your work. 

He watches your every move intently, touched by the amount of care you put into this. His heart races; he’s never been this precious to someone else. He swallows hard, holding your hand in his. “I love you,” he confesses, waiting for your reaction. 

You blink at him twice, in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly. “Yes. I am seriously in love with you.”

“You love me?” you stutter, chest pounding. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “I love you.”

Your throat is tight, struggling to get the words out, the ones that have been lingering on your mind for the past couple of weeks now. “I love you too, Taku.” It’s easy, natural. 

He closes the gap, kissing you, lips soft against yours. And it doesn’t matter that his head is throbbing, that his muscles are aching, or that the tea pot on the stove is whistling it’s high-pitched tune. All that matters in this moment is that the two of you love each other and that you’ll be basking in one another for the rest of your lives. 

[featguler]

PROLOGUE : I WON'T BE ALONE ( FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE )

jude and a couple of his academy mates decide to try the korean chicken place down his dorm's block, famous for its cheese tteokbokki and infamous for its grumpy chef. he meets a girl and shoots the first shot he does not miss that day.

prologue of ' call my bluff '

⌗ pairing : jude bellingham x female original character ⌗ wordcount : 5,743 ⌗ notes : the prologue of this brand new series!! i am so excited. also i said this in the masterlist of this series, but please don't take anything said in this fic is facts... i don't know if jude ever lived in a dorm, and i don't care enough to find out. i've also never been to birmi so... ignore all geographical matters pls. no one in this chapter is real except for jude if you would like to be added to the taglist, please do let me know! surprise surprise, this chapter was actually proofread by my friends, shin (@ludiceousml) and arya (@amigara-vault). love u guys ♡ masterlist.

mini playlist ! 𐙚 forever noah kahan : i'm glad i get forever to see where you end 𐙚 speak too soon wild rivers : i saw you when my sight was sore 𐙚 buzz niki : phone toss when it's risky and you hit send 𐙚 first day of my life bright eyes : i think i was blind before i met you 𐙚 decimal novo amor : i could be alright if you could rewrite my life

The second month of life at Birmingham City is strange. Strange, as in, it feels like floating in space. Strange, as in, it feels like something in between, like limbo. Strange, as in, Jude has not felt yet like he is where he belongs. Strange, as in, he misses Jobe the way he misses his parents the way he misses that old stain on his family sofa from when Jobe spilled boiled corn after tripping on his untied laces.

The academy is an academy, and he’ll be damned if he had not expected the dorm to be just like a dorm. But he thinks that he has widely miscalculated how concerned the people are over football here. Jude did not start out with a burning passion for football fresh out of the womb, after all, he always preferred picking flowers to bundle for his mother.

“I think I’m homesick,” he told Denise just earlier that week in a quiet call on the dorm’s emergency fire exit. “I miss Jobe so much.”

Who's to say that best friends cannot wrestle until the other bumps their leg hard enough on the edge of a coffee table to bruise? While Jude would occasionally have Jobe’s foot on his face to distract him from scoring the penalty in FIFA, they are definitely best friends. And he missed his best friend.

Denise only laughed when she heard the confession, and he felt the ghost of her fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “Homesick, or Jobesick?”

And that made Jude laugh too, because he never really considered homesick as a word containing two separate words. Never home, never sick. Just homesick. So when his mother replaced the vocal point of longing with the name of his brother, he almost faltered. A sentiment so widespread was suddenly customised to fit him.

“Yeah. Guess I’m Jobesick.”

Zakariya was sprawled across the floor of his dorm room when he suddenly began moaning about how sick he was of protein shakes and eggs for breakfast, craving the cheesebokki from that restaurant down the street. Jude wasn’t aware that he had the brain capacity to talk about anything other than Ronaldinho or his hot, older girlfriend, but there he was, practically drooling like a dog at the thought of a Korean cheat meal amongst the vegetables that they shove down your throat in the academy.

Jude’s encyclopaedia of Korean food ends with hot chicken wings, so he propped his head over a pillow, shifting to the edge of his bed to catch Zakariya’s attention.

“Cheesebokki?” He repeated, the word tasted foreign in his mouth. “Sounds good,” it didn’t sound like anything, “let’s go this sunday. After the practice match.”

“It’s spicy,” Zakariya warned, and Jude shrugged. He can handle spicy. Not any less than Zakariya, that is for sure. “Sure, man. If you think you can handle it. I’ll ask Ethan and Teddy if they wanna come along. Jamal, you should come too.”

Jude considered immediately backing off when he heard the names Zakariya brought up. He likes Zakariya. But he can’t say the same about Ethan, and Teddy, he is amicable with. Jamal, the only one he could already call a friend, couldn’t go. After matches, Sundays are reserved for church and his mother; they are about the same thing to Jamal anyway.

Jude called his mum to ask for her opinion—he’s similar to Jamal in this way—and she encouraged him to go.

“Maybe you’ll find that you and Ethan have much more in common than you initially thought.”

He doubted it. Denise was only saying that because she likes Alicia Ewart, Ethan’s mother. Ethan thinks he is too good for the academy, and Jude thinks he’s full of shit.

But he ended up going. He knows that a mother’s blessing eases the path. His mother’s especially.

No one in this world calls Olivia by her Korean name.

Haewon, to her, is simply not an interesting enough word.

She is not saying that she is anything more than ordinary, or even just an inch off of being riveting, but there are two people in just her family with her exact name: her great-aunt and a distant cousin. And despite most of Birmingham not having a clue on who those other Haewon’s are, they are, no less, two extra Haewon’s in her life.

And as a matter of fact, she was named after her great-aunt deliberately, like she is not allowed her own identity. To add icing on the cake, her Haewon translates roughly to sailor or seaman, or something like that; a name that grants nothing but strenuous expectations for her. Her great-aunt’s Haewon, however, translates to beautiful ocean.

Beautiful-Ocean-Haewon was Olivia’s grandmother’s younger sister.

Her grandmother died three months before her father turned four years old, and her grandfather before her father was even born. Yujae Jang was taken in by his aunt effective immediately. He thinks that she was so great (Olivia wouldn’t have a way of knowing as she died before she was even born). He thinks that she was what a mother is supposed to epitomise: unconditional love in a condition where condition is consequential.

But for someone who looks up to mother figures so much, Yujae sure finds it difficult to spare his own wife, the mother of his children, a cordial glance. And a man who does not respect his wife naturally despises his daughter.

He doesn’t have to say it. Olivia knows. It’s her chief theory in navigating her path; the lighthouse guiding her worn down seaboat. From the moment he named her sailor, she knew.

And she doesn’t like to admit it, but though her fragility stands on its toes, balancing on a tipping vase, what she feels, what she thinks, do not matter as much as she would like to believe. Being delicate is something she has long outgrown. It does not interest her anymore. Being frail brings nothing but heartache, and while her heart is not desensitised to stabwounds, she relishes in the fact that a straight face will save herself some embarrassment.

So, she embraces the ocean and sets sail as a seaman.

Names are meant to be prayers after all; some kind of prophecies that name-holders are cursed to fulfil. Her theory states that her father’s disappointment peaked the day she was born, and the little optimism he had gifted him a son three years later.

And this is a lot of thinking for a secondary school student, sure, but thinking crooked is something that Olivia does most days her father decides to scream at her for something trivial. She has gone from wishing him harm in her mind to taking part in the devout practice of self-pity. No one is going to calm her cries and rub her back. Not her mother, not her brother, and definitely not her father. She has got to do it herself.

Now, Philip, twelve years old, is wiping tabletops. And Olivia, fifteen years old, is trembling as she scribbles on some scratch papers, finishing her mathematics homework so that she can spend the rest of the night sobbing against her pillow.

“Welcome to Jang’s Chicken, how are you lot?”

The little bell above the heavy mahogany door  just a few feet away from the cashier counter jingles; her nose is still tainted red and her cheeks are still surrendering to the tears streaming from her eyes.

The restaurant had been so quiet just a few moments ago, and the only sound you could hear was the choir of angry utensils cling-clang-ing against one another as Yujae washes the plate. Her mother is coating raw chicken with egg yolk and flour on one corner table, quiet as she has always been. Philip is cleaning the tables, then spraying some cleaning chemical only to wipe the same spot over and over. A piece of thread could cut through the silence.

But instead of a thread, it is broken by a horde of rowdy boys. Their windbreaker is familiar: a football academy from a couple of blocks away from the restaurant. They are bustling and filled with haste, looking at everything but her, scrutinising the humble decoration of Korean calligraphy all over the creaking walls of the family restaurant.

Olivia can see the spot where her shoes were laid just as she got home from tutoring that day, where she took them off in a hurry to rush to the loo, only for her father to yell at her when she forgot to place them in the cabinet next to the entrance. Then here comes these boys—customers—with their stupid cleats still attached to each of their feet, dirtying up the freshly swept floor, not having a clue what monstrosity their action would lead to if they were Olivia.

She huffs, wiping a dripping snot with the base of her palm.

Fathers can be so evil, she thinks, but her father especially.

The Birmingham F.C. Academy students have been regulars in Jang’s Chicken since as long as Olivia could remember. A group of students from a different year, just a few days ago, had visited the restaurant. Since she started working as a cashier three years ago, they have been coming in. Since before she was even born, they have been coming in. Olivia is not fazed with football; she is not fazed with boys who play football.

She gathers her hair, tying them in a low ponytail before pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“We’re good, how are you?”

The one that looks oldest—or tallest, at least—greets before stepping forward. He grabs one of the oily, limp laminated menus from the tabletop, holding them in a way that is visible to the rest of the crowd. Olivia smiles weakly and decides to not answer the small talk.

“We should get the party box.”

Olivia rubs her nose as she hides a sniffle. “That's 16 pieces of chicken,” she uses her finger to point at a menu on the table. “You can choose up to three flavours for the party box.”

She doesn’t know if she’s gotten good at hiding the nasal in her voice, or if they were nice enough to not point out how red her eyes are. By the way the leader of the bunch glances down at her as quick as he looks away, she guesses that it’s the latter.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees Lip taking a seat next to their mother. She shoots him a look and he sends her a shrug in return.

A boy peeks over the first boy’s shoulder. “What's soju?”

“That's booze,” another one slaps the back of his head lightly as Olivia focuses her attention back to them.

“We don't sell alcohol to underage customers,” she hurries in as well, and the boys nod.

“Obviously.” Murmurs of agreement rustles.

”I want the cheesebokki” — a cute way their restaurant had shortened ‘cheese tteokbokki’ — “and a can o’ Coke.”

A scoff escapes their leader. “Last time you got that, you shitted yourself for a week, didntcha, mate?”

Collective groans emit from the group and Olivia scrunches her nose.

”Not in front of the lady, E,” the cheesebokki enjoyer turns red. “Besides! It’s good,” his hand smacks the chest of a boy closest to him, “and Judey here says he’ll share with me.”

Olivia only smiles, just to be polite, and to hold back a sigh.

Jude has been watching the cashier girl from the back of the group.

The whole walk to Jang’s Chicken, he has been out of it. Nobody has mentioned it, so he thinks that maybe nobody noticed the way he shuffles quietly behind the other three, hands nuzzled deep in his outer. He pretends his huffs were for the cold and kicks invisible rocks to distract his own mind.

He made four chances at scoring just earlier, but none of them made it past the goalpost. And Jude is young enough to want to blame it on anyone else but him, but he is also mature enough to understand that it was nobody else’s fault but his own. The goalkeeper was always distracted, and there were no defenders trying to tackle the ball out of his feet. It was his muddled mind, he thinks, that the ball kept flying over the post.

He has been out of it, and the one to pull him out of being out of it is that cashier girl.

Nasally voice, weakly greeting them. It's her glasses that he notices first. They are big—definitely too big for her tiny face—with red frames taped up in the middle and on the sides. His eyes then travel to the bridge of her nose, and wouldn't you know it, the tip of her nose is tainted the same shade of scarlet.

He wonders why he finds it endearing: the way she holds back sniffles, the way she points out to the menu in exhalation. The more he examines her face, the more he sees her damp cheeks, her lips parting to make way for her breath, and the more is he drawn in. Strands of her hair keep falling even after she tugs them behind her ears, monotonically responding to his friend’s inquiries.

The back of Zakariya’s hand meets Jude chest, and he is taken out of his reverie, humming in agreement at whatever he had said.

“Guess we’ll do the party box, then?”

“Sure,” Jude’s murmurs blend in with the rest. He’s got no energy to go against Ethan. He’s there for the cheesebokki, anyway, and a chance of creating bountiful friendship with boys who are neither Jobe nor Jamal. Not chicken wings.

“‘lright then, the party box, one cheesebokki, and four can ‘o coke.”

She nods and pushes some buttons on the cashier, a loud and ancient machine that looks like someone’s prized possession that they would proudly reveal is older than him. For a moment, his gaze wanders to the fading football stickers—Ronaldo, Spurs, Real Madrid, Benzema, Marcelo—placed arbitrarily all over its body before going back to her.

“Which sauces would you like to go with?”

Honey mustard dip, sweet and sour sauce, and fire buffalo sauce.

Olivia cannot think of a combination more basic.

Teddy whips out his mother’s credit card in an instance, briefly telling the group to ping him their share of the money, and Zakariya complains about how he only has cash. Jude barely registers their banter.

They sit just far enough away from the lady and the boy dipping raw chicken to flour so that they wouldn’t hear their conversations, but close enough for the aroma of freshly fried chicken to wander out of the kitchen window and spike up his nose. He slides a chair out, a barrel of some sort with a wooden back nailed on to it.

Teddy takes the seat beside him. “You’ve been distracted, Judey.”

“I have,” as he sits, Jude looks back at the cashier. The girl is now at the counter, furiously holding back her bangs as she grips her pencil harder. “Think I should ask for her number?”

Teddy shrugs after a small laugh. Jude turns to him with an eyebrow raised. “Well, do whatever you want, but her dad’s a bit…”

“Evil,” Ethan interjects.

Zakariya scoffs. “‘Evil’s a bit of a big word ain’t it, E?”

Ethan grabs a pair of chopsticks Jude knows damn well he is not going to use, and fiddles with it, contending it against each other. “Well, he’s grumpy, that’s for sure.”

“My dad can be grumpy,” Jude insists, like he needs any of their permission. “Reckon her dad won't mind a nice young man like me asking for ‘er number.”

“Nice young man,” Ethan repeats, a little too mockingly to Jude’s liking. 

“Well, I am a nice young man.”

“You’re a young man, that’s what you are,” Zakariya laughs, piling on Ethan’s mockery and they bump shoulders in mischief cackles. Jude shoots them a glare.

“You know what? I say do it,” Teddy grazes his knee against Jude’s. Jude looks at him funny. “Just do it, bruv, take the shot. Ethan’s just bitter ‘cuz he tried talking to her too.”

“Yeah?” At the short smirk on Teddy’s lips, curiosity creeps up Jude’s nerves, eyeing Ethan across from him. Teddy had just officially graduated from being on his amicable list to his like list. “So you got her number?”

“Ha,” a cynical snicker leaves Ethan’s lips. “Obviously not. Her dad got between us.”

“Evil,” Jude repeats, and the rest of the boys nod.

“Evil.”

Mr. Paisley, Olivia’s homeroom, insists that there is no absolute truth in the world except the truths that are backed with numbers. He’s a mathematics teacher, so it makes sense. And to Olivia, one plus one is, definitely, equal to two. But the absolute truth does not interest her, now, does it? Truths, not-truths. None of these really matters in the long run. What matters is how she is going to mend relationships she would not want to mend; whether she will grow up to be more her mother or more her father.

The scrap papers she is scribbling maths equations on was picked up from the large trash bin behind the church her parents go to. She doesn’t go, she is not interested, but her mother would occasionally come home to gift her and Philip excess church brochures that they can use to count, or write, on.

It’s the little ways that they save money. The anxiety that comes with having none was brought down to the children, even when they were born after the years where money had been a problem. That’s just how her family is: rigid, stiff, stationary. It’s the same way she is gripping on her pencil, with the tip of her fingers beginning to hurt, her nail beds turning red against her skin, pale for not having eaten anything aside from three slices of canned peach since breakfast.

“Hey.”

But just like that, her endless stream of self-loathing, maths-loathing, church-brochures-loathing, and Mr. Paisley-loathing thoughts are over.

Olivia slants her eyes as she tries to gain a better look at the boy calling out to her behind her foggy glasses. He is a part of the academy group—the logo, she knows, and that there are no other customers in the restaurant aside from them.

“I’ll have another side,” he offers her a short grin, taking one hand from the pocket of his windbreaker to pick up the menu, “the nuggets.”

She clears her throat against her fist, nodding her head as she stands. “A moment please,” Olivia steps sideways to the cashier, already forgetting what he looks like. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose again. “Nuggets, you can get the sweet and sour sauce with it, or the barbeque for an extra Pound and a half.”

“A pound and a half?”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’ll just do the sweet and sour sauce. It’s better anyway, yeah?”

“I like it better,” Olivia entertains the banter with a light laugh, rubbing the tip of her nose. There is a deep silence between them just for a second. “That’ll be seven and a half, please.”

“You’re crying.”

Olivia’s head snaps up.

She sees him in great clarity this time. He didn’t speak much if at all when his crowd were ordering, and she had not cared enough to examine the boy who had paid for their food, moreover some shorter lad on the back of the group. But there he stands before her, voice light yet thick—though no thicker than her brother’s brummie as she notes.

“Pardon me?”

The situation is so jarring that Olivia cannot help but be offended, even when she knows that she has been crying—is crying, even. She sniffles and feels another tear roll down her cheek.

“Nevermind,” he shakes his head. She watches the way his nose scrunches when he notices the offence in her tone, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone with a battered case. “Can I have your number?”

“What?”

The busy-bee movements from the rest of the restaurant halt. From the corner of her room, she can see the group of boys holding their breaths, her brother doing the same thing too, and her mother staring daggers at her.

“Your phone number.”

“Like,” —

She hesitates, this time fully glancing to the kitchen window only to see her dad slanting his eyes, shooting glares at either her or at the Birmingham Academy boy, she cannot tell.

— “to order food from us?”

He shakes his head. “Like, to text you. If you wanna.”

“But… do you still want the nuggets?”

He laughs and places his phone on the counter, fishing for a wallet from a patch in his windbreaker. He places ten quid next to his phone. “Sure. Let’s get that number sorted out first, though.”

She grabs his phone, and a victorious smile appears on Jude’s face. His stupid plan—”plan”, loosely translating to: just going for the shot—works, and now he has a pretty girl typing her number into his phone.

His eyes dart to the multiple worksheets and eraser dust scattered next to the rugged down cashier, trying to ignore the growing commotion from the lads. “What are you working on?”

The girl huffs a bitter chuckle, her swollen eyes glancing up at him under her bangs for a moment. “Mathematics. Are you any good at it?”

He shakes his head. “The only thing I’m good at is football, Miss.”

She raises an eyebrow, a curious zest sparkling her eyes. “You're a football player?”

“Not yet, not officially,” Jude shrugs. He points to his academy logo on the chest of his windbreaker. “Birmingham F.C.”

“Birmingham academy?”

“Yup,” he nods. “One and only.”

She chuckles again, though he recognizes the lack of bitterness this time. “Y’must be pretty good then, huh?”

“I try my best.”

The muscles in her cheeks are begging for her to smile, but she knows that her father is watching, and she cannot show humiliating emotions before him, not after a bad fight. The tears were bad enough already. She is not going to let the giddy feeling when a boy flirts with her show on her face.

Bitterness bites even harder when she feels, hears, and notices Yujae shuffling closer to her. Olivia hopes she didn’t mess up her number, and returns the phone to the counter without even filling in her name, afraid that her father would grab it and toss it across the room. Or something dramatic like that.

“Haewon.”

She sighs. No one on this Earth calls Olivia by her Korean name. No one but her father. What is it with him and ruining every single thing she has going on in her life?

“Don’t chat with the customers?” He says—in Korean, Olivia guesses to intimidate the boy—though the tone of his voice makes it seem like he is more confused than anything else, and she wants to laugh; she can’t help but share the confusion. It really is not like her to talk to a boy, it’s not like her to talk to a boy who is a stranger, and it definitely is not like her to give out her number to a boy who is a stranger.

“I wasn’t chatting,” she knows that trying to defend herself will not result in the most ideal outcome in the taut stalemate, but the pettiness that runs in Yujae’s blood also lives in hers, so she does it anyway. “He was ordering some side dishes.”

“Is that it?”

She tries not paying attention to the boy as much this time, and punches the button on the cashiering system. She takes the tenner from the counter and places it in the cash drawer.

“What?” Her father hovers next to her when she doesn’t answer. “He asked for your number, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Olivia says, keeping her tone flat.

“And you gave it to him?”

“I did,” she frowns this time, glancing up at her father. “Why?”

“Why did you give him your number?”

“Why not?”

Yujae peers deep into her, like trying to gauge her weak spot, anything that would offer him some kind of reclamation over the disrespect she sends his way. He ends the eye contact with a scoff.

“You won’t get far in life with that mouth and that attitude.”

Olivia rolls her eyes and focuses back on the cashier, letting it print out the receipts after slamming close the cash drawer.

“I’m not trying to get anywhere far in life,” she mumbles, just as he walks away. Finally, she looks back at the boy, going back to English. “Here’s your change and receipt. Thanks.”

“Thanks,” Jude grabs his change and looks at the direction of the grumpy chef—Ethan is right. He does seem evil. He looks back at the girl, “I’ll text you tonight.”

She scoffs, and it looks like she is going to cry more now, but is trying hard to act nonchalant. “I’ll talk to you, then.”

He smiles, and is somewhat not bothered that she doesn’t return it. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Unknown Number: Hello?

Olivia’s face scrunches as she lay on her bed, before breaking into a smile.

The thinning mattress under her sinks in the middle. It had always been that way, and it’s generally more comfortable for her to lay on the edge of the bed. It’s closer to where her phone charger is too. And yet, though she can name a hundred reasons why the rundown house her family and her previously lived in was better than living on top of the restaurant, this—having her own, albeit very small, bedroom and not having to share with Philip—is definitely one of the good things about moving.

Me: hello?

Olivia used to take the top bunk while Philip, sleep tosser, brought earthquakes to her vocabulary.

Unknown Number: I’m the one who asked for your number earlier on today Unknown Number: Remember me?

She giggles to the back of her hand. Now, she doesn’t have to worry about suppressing laughter. There is no brother under her to judge her.

Me: yeah Me: birmingham academy? Unknown Number: That’s right Unknown Number: My name’s Jude by the way Unknown Number: Sorry for not introducing myself earlier Me: it’s calm Me: my name’s olivia Me: it’s nice to meet you, jude!! Unknown Number: It’s nice to meet you too! Unknown Number: Olivia is a pretty name

Rolling her eyes, she huffs through her smile, turning so that she is laying on her stomach, her chin propped on a pillow.

Me: i’ve been told Me: olivia jang Me: like the restaurant Unknown Number: So your father is Mister Jang? Me: more or less Me: he’s a bit scary Me: sorry for earlier Unknown Number: I’m Jude Bellingham Unknown Number: It’s fine Unknown Number: My dad’s a sergeant so I get it Unknown Number: I didn’t land you in trouble though did I? Me: ohh sergeant Me: your dad’s Sergeant Bellingham then Me: no it’s fine Jude Bellingham: More or less Jude Bellingham: Alright, good then

She breathes, going to type a random, stupid question to keep the small talk up but stops when she notices that he is typing. Only for him to stop as well. Bleh.

Me: sorry what were you typing? Me: i stopped typing cuz i saw you were typing Me: sorry Jude Bellingham: Wait yeah I did the same Jude Bellingham: Just wanted to ask which school you go to Jude Bellingham: Small talk, yknow?

She chuckles.

Me: i go to colebourne Me: stechford Jude Bellingham: Stechford is a bit of a walk from King’s Norton isn’t it? Me: well it isn’t like i walk 10 miles a day Jude Bellingham: Still, no? Me: used to live there, but my mum and dad decided to move to be nearer to the restaurant Me: now we live ON the restaurant Me: hahaha

She wonders if she talks too much.

She doesn’t usually speak to boys this way, no—so fluently, so unabashed. While she is open to befriending anyone and everyone, she just can’t find it within herself to open up to the opposite gender. Even with girls, she feels like she wouldn’t tell the history of her residency to someone she just met.

Jude, though, feels different.

It’s how they met, there is no doubt. Just a few hours ago she was made aware of his existence, and whether she wanted to or not, she was sobbing before him, all sniffly with her runny nose. And on top of that, her father had come to scold her. Jude had seen her struggle with school work, seen her cry, and seen her speak in a language she could not call mother tongue. All on the same day. All in the same five minutes.

Even to her girl friends, she had never conveyed such vulnerability. The peeling of her emotions are reserved for her father’s disowning gaze, her mother and brother’s ignorance, and the heedless minds of the restaurant’s patrons. Jude just became the first one to take a shot at cracking her open.

Jude Bellingham: Oh wow Jude Bellingham: Doesn’t it get tiring? Jude Bellingham: The commuting

She smiles, seeing the text, tossing from one side of her bed to the other.

Me: a bit but Me: just a few years left then i’ll be off to uni Me: then i’ll be commuting to uni instead haha

Jesus. That’s like—what?—the fourth time she’s sent three text bubbles in a row. She bites her lips and tries to justify her own excitement: well, it isn’t like he is economical with his replies either, though his syntax hints at being a bit rigid, he sends her the same amount of bubbles.

Olivia tosses again, to the other side of her body.

Jude Bellingham: Yeah? Jude Bellingham: How old are you? Me: i’m 15!! Me: n you?? Jude Bellingham: 14

A burst of light giggles escaping her lips.

Me: woooooow you’re like a little kid Jude Bellingham: Hahaha shut up

She bites her lips.

Me: btw Me: you got an insta jude? Jude Bellingham: I do!!

Olivia’s body awakens, shifting all its weight to her knees before flopping into a curl in the middle of her bed. Her fingers hover above her keyboards. Shit. she initiated, so she must be the one that asks first.

Me: wanna follow each other?

Groaning, she shuts her phone and flicks it two feet away from her, dramatically slapping both her palms—damp due to anxiety—against her face. Her phone dings as soon as it lands on the thinning bedcover.

Jude Bellingham: Sure!!!

Olivia plants her face into her pillow, lets out a muffled kind-of-bellow, before telling herself to get her act together.

Me: what's yours? Jude Bellingham: I’ve got a private one Jude Bellingham: It's jujudedebell

“jujudedebell,” she murmurs to herself, biting the inside of her cheeks.

Me: jujudedebell Me: 😂😂😂 Me: that's such a cute username Jude Bellingham: Hahaha Jude Bellingham: I gotta keep it lowkey, you know?

Olivia rolls her eyes and switches over to the Instagram app, typing the username into the search bar and requesting to follow the first account she sees.

Me: i requested to follow you!! Jude Bellingham: Alright!! Jude Bellingham: You're… viajangoli? 😂

Jude Bellingham: That's worse than mine Me: shut up!! Me: you should help me think of a better handle Jude Bellingham: I’ll let you know when something crosses my mind Jude Bellingham: Oh, miss Jang Jude Bellingham: You're popular huh?? Me: nooooo Me: i just meet a lot of people through internships and volunteering Me: i bet you'll be real popular soon too jude

Isn’t that how football careers usually go?

She bet he’s real popular even right now��proper, actual popular. He said that he’s got a private Instagram; she’s not even going to look up his public one.

Jude Bellingham: Yeah? Jude Bellingham: Also Jude Bellingham: Your most recent post Jude Bellingham: That’s in London ain’t it? Me: yes yes yes!! Me: went there last month for a school trip Me: best day of my life Me: been there? Jude Bellingham: Yeah with my family Jude Bellingham: Best day huh? Me: yeah Me: i wanna work there Jude Bellingham: Ohh Jude Bellingham: Going to London for school too? Me: my dad wont let me leave birmi for uni Me: but i want to work there Me: wbu Me: u got any dream job? Jude Bellingham: Well I’m a fan of this one football player Jude Bellingham: Zinedine Zidane Jude Bellingham: He’s my role model Jude Bellingham: He’s working for Real Madrid now Jude Bellingham: So maybe Real Madrid Jude Bellingham: Hahahaha

She raises an eyebrow at the football club.

Me: what’s so funny? Jude Bellingham: I don’t know Jude Bellingham: Real Madrid just seems so big Me: right now Me: we don’t know jude bellingham 10 years from now yeah? Jude Bellingham: You think it’s gonna take me 10 years to get into Real Madrid? Me: well if you believe in yourself Me: maybe five Me: or even three Me: or tomorrow Jude Bellingham: Tomorrow? 😂 Jude Bellingham: Lmao Me: idk Me: i don’t much about football but real madrid’s my brother favourite team Jude Bellingham: They are? Me: he’s crazy about marcelo or i don’t know Me: sorry lol Jude Bellingham: You’re good Jude Bellingham: How old is your brother? Me: he was born in 2005 Me: so like 12 Jude Bellingham: Oh, my brother’s the same age Me: oh you got a brother too? Jude Bellingham: Yeah, his name’s Jobe! Me: oh cute Me: jude and jobe Me: mine’s olivia and lip Me: from philip Jude Bellingham: Liv and Lip? Me: nobody really calls me liv Jude Bellingham: Well Jude Bellingham: I can be the first

Olivia shuts her phone. She spreads her arms wide on the bed, now laying in the middle, her back aching slightly as she stares up at the ceiling. Her mouth parts, letting the air circulate freely in and out her throat. After a while of trying to digest the odd feeling in her chest, letting it run down to her stomach where it hatches into butterflies, she raises her shaky hands to hold her phone over her face.

Me: mhmm Me: yeah sure you can

[pseudowho]

Do u or Mr Haitch have any favourite recipes? I've been expanding my repertoire lately (made my first rhubarb crumble on Saturday!!! Thank you Nigella Lawson) and I'm curious as to what you and the hubs enjoy

I personally am a total whore for a creamy pasta dish, and I make a sauce with cream, garlic, fresh chillies, and parmesan for tagliatelle.

I also make a beef and ale stew with lean beef, carrots, and Guinness. Add fresh bread and butter and it's the comfort food of the gods.

I would leap through fire for a fish finger (fish stick?) sandwich with loads of tartare sauce, and thick white bread and butter.

r.e. regular dinners we cook at home (for the kids), we do a lot of Japanese and Korean dishes. The kids are mad for Katsu curries. They also adore @mrhaitch when he makes chilli. My macaroni cheese, or daddy's carbonara. My ramen or daddy's Mexican sausage and bean stew.

@mrhaitch loves Cajun, Mexican or Thai dishes, he's big on the heat. He makes a lush jambalaya. He can reblog and input if it tempts him.

We cook almost all our meals from scratch, including chicken nuggets and things. Because our sons are tall and feral and never stop eating.

Love, and hungry now,

-- Haitch xxx

[visit-new-york]

What are some of the popular dining options or food vendors in or around Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Nestled against the stunning backdrop of the iconic Brooklyn Bridge and overlooking the Manhattan skyline, Brooklyn Bridge Park offers not only breathtaking views but also a diverse culinary landscape that caters to every palate. Whether you're craving a leisurely brunch, a quick snack, or a romantic dinner, the area surrounding Brooklyn Bridge Park has something for everyone. In this article, we'll explore some of the popular dining options and food vendors that enhance the overall experience of visiting this picturesque location.

Van Leeuwen Ice Cream:

If you're strolling through Brooklyn Bridge Park on a warm day and craving a sweet treat, make your way to Van Leeuwen Ice Cream. This artisanal ice cream shop, located nearby, is renowned for its high-quality, made-from-scratch ice creams. With a commitment to using natural and organic ingredients, Van Leeuwen offers a delectable range of flavors, from classic vanilla to unique options like honeycomb and earl grey. Enjoy a cone or cup as you take in the stunning views of the park and the surrounding waterfront. The irresistible combination of creamy textures and distinctive flavors makes Van Leeuwen a favorite among locals and tourists alike.

Juliana's Pizza:

Situated just a stone's throw away from Brooklyn Bridge Park, Juliana's Pizza is a beloved establishment with a rich history. Known for its coal-fired brick oven pizzas, Juliana's serves up delicious pies with a perfect balance of crispy crust and fresh, high-quality toppings. The cozy ambiance and friendly staff make it an ideal spot for families and friends to gather and enjoy a classic New York slice.

Gran Electrica:

For those seeking a taste of authentic Mexican cuisine, Gran Electrica is a must-visit restaurant located near the park. With a vibrant atmosphere and a menu featuring traditional dishes prepared with a modern twist, Gran Electrica offers a unique dining experience. From flavorful tacos to handcrafted cocktails, this eatery seamlessly blends Mexican flavors with a contemporary flair.

Smorgasburg:

Food enthusiasts and adventurous eaters alike will appreciate the diverse culinary offerings at Smorgasburg. This open-air food market, located in DUMBO, features a rotating selection of food vendors offering everything from international street food to innovative and Instagram-worthy desserts. From crispy Korean fried chicken to decadent ice cream sandwiches, Smorgasburg is a food lover's paradise just a short stroll from Brooklyn Bridge Park.

Grimaldi's Pizzeria:

Another pizza gem in the vicinity, Grimaldi's Pizzeria, is known for its coal-brick oven pies with a thin crust and fresh mozzarella. This legendary pizzeria has been serving up classic New York-style pizza for decades. With its prime location under the Brooklyn Bridge, diners can enjoy their meal while taking in the scenic views of the bridge and the Manhattan skyline.

Time Out Market:

For a curated selection of the best local eats, head to Time Out Market in DUMBO. This food and cultural market features a variety of stalls offering gourmet dishes from some of the city's top chefs. Whether you're in the mood for artisanal burgers, sushi, or artisanal pastries, Time Out Market provides a one-stop culinary adventure for foodies.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn Bridge Park not only offers a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of the city but also serves as a gateway to a culinary journey through some of Brooklyn's finest dining establishments. From historic pizzerias to modern food markets, the area around the park presents a diverse array of flavors and experiences for locals and visitors alike. So, the next time you find yourself in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, be sure to explore the gastronomic delights that make this waterfront neighborhood a true epicurean destination.

[respectthepetty]

Hi RTP! What are the BLs you would recommend solely for the colors? 🌈

Anon, before I answer this great ask, I want to highlight other posts I've written that are slightly similar:

Reading the (Visual) Rainbow Awards 2023

Overall Winner - Kiseki: Dear to Me

Top Five - Color-Coded Storytelling in BLs

Honorable Mention: Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

5) Moonlight Chicken

4) My Beautiful Man

3) My Love Mix Up

2) Semantic Error

1) Big Dragon

Top Five Color Moments of 2023

Honorable Mention: 7 Days Before Valentine

5) GAP

4) Bed Friend

3) Last Twilight

2) Moonlight Chicken

1) The Eighth Sense

Bonus: Jeff Satur x SHAUN's "Steal the Show"

I don't want to repeat any of the shows I picked, and I'm trying to pick more recent ones so people can find them if they want to watch them, but per your ask, I'm recommending them based solely on colors regardless of how much I liked them.

Recommended Colorful BLs

Honorable Mention: Intern in My Heart

The show is not finished, and it's not a BL, yet it is doing everything right, which is why it gets the honorable mention. Great (Grey) is coded black/dark in the show, and Top is coded pink/light. They are supporting characters who are best friends, and they have stuck to their colors throughout, but in the last episode, they *almost* exchanged colors after Top revealed that he liked Great. Now I'm praying to all the saints for a full color exchange in the finale like I have a personal stake in this because I do! I'm invested, and it better not disappoint me.

#5 - One Room Angel

When I write "Heavenly Human" for a character who wears white, and "Black Brooder" for a character who wears black, THIS is what I mean. A story about an actual angel and a guy who wanted to die was the perfect place to use the light x dark dynamic. However, calling this show a BL is troublesome, which is why it's number five. It still is a great example of what the light x dark color scheme should be used for, and in the end, the guy who wanted to die is much lighter in mood and color, which is what the colors are all about.

#4 - Why R U? (Korea)

First and foremost, that kiss was LIT! The Thai version had Tutor and Fighter's high heat, which could never be matched, but Korea had that kiss, and it ate! But on top of that, it had colors! Ji Oh was a Black Brooder while Lee Won was a Multicolored Menace, and right after this kiss, they flipped colors. That's right! After five episodes of being enemies, they made out for acting "reasons," and then exchanged colors. Normally, Korea is all about the feelings, so the color exchanges in Korean BLs align with a character's feelings changing, but this one directly correlated with a kiss. And for emphasis - That kiss was fire!

#3 - Secret Crush on You

Destiny Seeker might have won the 2023 award for best group effort in color coding, but Secret Crush on You set the bar for that award the year before. This show is Color-Coding 101. Each character has a color, and by each, I mean each and every single damn character in a cast of eleven (plus three fairy godmothers) has their own color. That is a ridiculous feat! Wardrobe, props, and lighting deserved a raise for this show. Some shows can't even get consistent color coding when it only has two characters, but this show understood the color-coding group assignment for the entire series! I'm still applauding two years later.

#2 - Stay by My Side

Taiwanese BLs are my vice. Even the worst Taiwanese BL will still be better than the rest of these BLs. I WROTE WHAT I WROTE. So, of course, I liked this show beyond color reasons, but the colors greatly helped me enjoy the show even more. We had a guy who was haunted by ghosts. He was colorful and light coded. Then we had his roommate who could magically keep the ghosts away. He was dark coded. Read it again. The guy being haunted was bright, light, and colorful, while the guy with the power to help was dark. GENIUS! It was Mr. Unlucky Has No Choice but to Kiss with a supernatural twist. The dark coded guy is sad and isolated but the one who is being HAUNTED BY GHOSTS brings life to his world! Give me a minute. I'm still not over it.

#1 - Pit Babe

I watched this show muted and without subtitles, yet the colors guided me through all thirteen episodes. I understood the plot perfectly because of the colors, and only became confused when people tried to tell me about the actual plot. Alpha? Omega? Santa Maria? Wasn't important. Didn't matter. I don't know them. Red and Blue were the main characters here, and they did their damn job. Babe, in his black, was his own man. He wasn't trying to fit in, but every time the red light focused on Charlie and Way, I was screaming for Babe to run because the colors told me they were still tied to Tony BECAUSE THEY WERE! That's elite color coding, and it ushered in a whole new way for me to watch a show. I loved it.

Bonus: Old Fashion Cupcake

I love this show which is why it is a bonus. Unlike the other shows where I had issues with some part of the plot, Old Fashion Cupcake is as close to perfect as any show has ever come in my personal rating system. It is an Advanced Color Coding course only offered for graduate students, which, honestly, is very Japanese of it because it was in the ties. The color coding showed up in other ways, but the ties were where the story lived since in the past, Nozue was a bright red, but we saw his red damper in the present, which made his loyal assistant bluer. It was only five episodes, yet it used every second of those five episodes in every single way to propel the story forward, colors included. Actually, let me go rewatch this for the hundredth time instead of just writing about it!

[loveandleases]

Hi, hope you're doing well! I have a few questions about the ROs food preferences. Also Chris and jade if you want to.

Sweet or savory, or both?

2. Do they like spicy food, and how spicy do they like it?

3. What is their favorite meal/snack? Besides Mc ofcourse.

Also me here thinking about Mc and Cam sneaking a ton of chili powder into Chris and Jades food and watching their tongues catch fire. 😈

I'm doing well anon thanks! Below the cut ~

❤️ Cam - He is a food lover so he enjoys sweet and savory. Cam also likes spicy food, the hotter the better in his opinion. His favorite meal has less to do with the food and more to do with the experience. Cam and MC make homemade pizzas together quite often. Because of that, pizza is his favorite. When it comes to snacks, Cam isn't picky.

💙 G - They prefer savory, and they like spicy food but it's not the best for their digestive system so they tend to go a grade above mild. G has a few favorite meals and is actually a good cook. Currently, their favorite is Jajangmyeon and yangnyeom (seasoned chicken). Snack wise, G's favorite snack is Kkwabaegi (a Korean donut). You will find them making them from time to time, and happily eating them.

💚 Kara - She like's sweet over savory but will eat both. Kara can't really handle spicy food but enjoys eating it. Tough battle for her, her spice level is mild. Kara is good at baking, not so much at cooking. Her favorite food is quesadillas, mainly chicken. Her favorite snack is ice-cream. There is a reason I use a green heart for Kara, it could possibly be due to her love for mint chocolate chip.

💛 M - They like both. M isn't too picky when it comes to food especially since when they remember to eat is late at night when everything is closed. M likes spicy food, they prefer it to be hot, and enjoy that tingling sensation they get after eating it. M's favorite meal is General Tso's Chicken, the spicy the better in their opinion. Snack wise M loves Melon Pan. They can, and will make it for people.

💜 Isaac - They prefer savory over sweet. They enjoy spice though choose to treat spicy food like a treat. Their spice level is mild/hot. Isaac has one favorite dish, one their mom used to make. Now Isaac's favorite dish (only because their mother is no longer alive), is a stromboli. Isaac's favorite snack is any type of donuts.

🖤 Ardent - He prefers savory, though his niece will feed him treats from time to time. Ardent can handle spice but just doesn't really choose to eat it. If he had to choose he would go with a mild spice level. He has a few recipes up his sleeve, though his favorite meal is Souvlaki (gyros), he can and will make them and possibly get someone else to help as well. His favorite snack is Baklava (he has a killer recipe for it.)

[lemonkeiku]

141 (w/ OC) Hidden Talent Headcanon

Summary: Everyone has their own hidden talent. Because it's hidden, no one knows they have it until they accidentally show it to each other. Some of them were very useful, some of them were completely useless.

Warning: none, possible ooc hc, and bad english

Author's note: This is just a random thought that popped into my head. This is definitely headcanon, so enjoy for your entertainment.

🚬 Price : Speaking in high-pitched voice

Captain Price was known for his heavy voice and smoking cigarettes only made it worse. Despite this, he was surprisingly able to speak in a very high-pitched voice. He's not going to sound like himself when he does that. His talent was discovered by the rest of 141 at the most random moment.

At the time, he tried to mock Laswell by repeating her words in a high-pitched voice. It was a shock to everyone, even to Laswell, who, instead of being offended, asked him to do it again.

💀 Ghost : Doing rap

His rapping ability was completely hidden until Soap dared him to recite a rap lyrics. Not just any rap lyrics, it was from Eminem's song. And with his deep voice, he would sound more attractive when he started doing rap. Trust me. He would sound like he was reciting a magic spell at some point but he still did a pretty good job with those lyrics.

He never intended to learn how to rap tho. He just likes hip-hop and sometimes he enjoys it a little too much. He was a fast reader and talker too. Maybe that's why he can do it easily.

🧢 Gaz : Faking Price's signature

This is a dangerous talent. He can't use it just because he wants to. He could get into trouble if he uses it recklessly. People first found out about his talent when 141 needed Price's signature and it was urgent. Price was nowhere to be found and they had tried calling him. Price just said just wait until he's back or just copy his signature from another document. Gaz volunteered to try copying their Captain's signature and surprisingly it came out exactly the same.

From then on, if the situation was urgent and as long as he had Price's permission, he would sign documents that required Price's signature in his absence.

🧼 Soap : Handling spicy food

He surprised everyone with his high tolerance to spice. When I said high, I mean really high. Everyone thought he was just the typical white dude who would think black pepper is spicy. But when Alex dared the 141 to try eat chicken wings with the Da Bomb sauce, only who Soap didn't budge with the spice. He'd say something like, "it's nice" and continue to finish his chicken wings.

That scene made everyone question their whole life. Gaz and Farah, who could usually handle the spice, gave up after the first few bites. Bambi, who eats Korean fire noodles for breakfast, couldn't even finish her chicken.

🎀 Bambi : Classical singing

Everyone knows Bambi has a few talents in arts. The most commonly known is her dancing ability. But only a few know that she can sing. Let alone classical singing. She was never serious when it came to singing, especially in front of others. She'd sing seriously only when she wanted to and that one precious moment was when there was a singing competition in the agency. Her competitive ass wouldn't let anyone win.

She used to learn classical music and singing techniques when she was little, but stopped because she wanted to focus on dancing.

[pivziksixdude]

Another day, another Fakemon batch! If we ever get another Pokemon Legends game, here is how I think the starters should go. I'm not sure what the region of the next Legends game would be called BTW!

Serperior is now Grass/Fairy-typed, and is based on pre-modern court ladies and how snakes are considered a symbol of protection in Japan. The shiny coloration is based on Japanese Keelback snakes.

POKEDEX ENTRY: Finding the scales emitted by this variant of Serperior is said to bring great fortune to those who find them. The hook on its tail allows it to swing from ceilings while burrowing.

Blaziken is now Fire/Poison-typed, and is (loosely) based on silkie chickens and a Korean folktale called Poisonous Persimmons (https://www.furorteutonicus.eu/germanic/ashliman/mirror/poison.html). The shiny coloration is based on black silkie chickens, while the newfound yellow portions are meant to be based on Hoenn Blaziken.

POKEDEX ENTRY: This variant of Blaziken is calm and level-headed. It prefers to avoid fighting, but in battle can overwhelm opponents with graceful moves.

Primarina is now Water/Ghost-typed, and is based on mikagura singers. The shiny coloration is a reference to red being a color symbolic of prosperity and purification.

POKEDEX ENTRY: Influenced by an uncertain energy, Primarina has assumed this wondrous form. It has a gentle, carefree disposition and is popular with those seeking to create funeral songs.

Made with Aseprite v1.3.2. Permission is not required to use, but credit is greatly appreciated. Thank you!

[thunderheadfred]

Made Korean fire chicken with cheese tonight, and for the first time ever, it was too spicy even for me!? ☹️ Painfully so. I drank a glass of MILK, like a rookie. I think the gochugaru (red pepper flakes) we bought most recently are like… extra spicy or something. 🌶️ 👀 That plus my pregnancy-enhanced sense of smell made for a deadly combo. My German ancestors came out of their graves to slap me across the mouth and hand me a sack of unseasoned potatoes. Oops.

[goodbyeapathy8]

Things I've learned from the crows

For 3 or so years now, I've fed the crows at my apartment. Before I got fired from my job, I also fed the ones at work.

They don't get super close to me, which is fine. I've actually got no desire to have them act like my pets for social media views or whatever. I enjoy watching their antics and just being in their company, from my balcony.

At first I thought I was being a bit paranoid when I'd leave the house & run an errand, feeling like there were crows everywhere, observing me.

But I've since learned that not only are crow territories large, they also have a communication system amongst themselves of people who are safe/not safe.

I've had crows land on trees in front of my car (when I had one), just seeing what I was doing.

And speaking of cars, crows know how to recognize + relate which car was mine, which I was never able to figure out. I used to work for a car company so there were quite a few similar cars, even in the same color, and somehow the work crows knew exactly which was mine. Both as I drove into work (they'd fly towards where I parked, even before I got out) and during the day, when they'd sometimes hang out near my car.

The ones at home had equally fascinating rules about my car as well. When I parked it inside the garage, because it wasn't visible, they'd assume I wasn't home and wouldn't caw for snacks.

And speaking of snacks - they're terribly picky. I try to give them healthier foods because I would hate to cause them harm but every so often they get spoiled.

For the ones at home, they're never impressed with peanuts, despite multiple internet articles proclaiming that crows love peanuts. I've tried shelled ones, soaked ones, etc and they're simply very meh.

They actually like the dog kibble a lot more and since I live in SoCal, I'll soak them during drought so they also get hydration.

It's not all about meat, either, surprisingly. I had a packet of deli ham that I wasn't really into and tried to give some to the crows. They didn't like it either!

And yet somehow we all love fried chicken. That was a special treat day and I almost regretted it because of the fuss they made. There was so much screaming, one fight (resolved), and much disappointment when there was no more fried chicken.

Each crow has its own personality and there are definitely ones that are not the sharpest crayon in the box.

Crows are a lot more social than I anticipated as well. One in particularly, loves to "chat". It took me a while to realize it was socializing with me but after a few times where I threw snacks and it ignored the food in favor of chatting, I realized what it wanted.

It'll sit on the roof across from my balcony, making various sounds from cawing to a kind of chortling to rattling noises. Obviously, I have no idea what it's "saying". But also, if I go back in the house before it's done chatting, expect to hear outraged screaming until I go back out to sit on the balcony to finish listening. Which sometimes goes on for a good 10, 20 minutes even.

Today, I learned that crows have names for each other and after some thought, realized they've either named me or have assigned a call to alert me. There's a different noise they make to let me know they're waiting for snacks and it's always the same one so I assume that's my name/call sign.

I also speak to them in Korean and gesture, and they've learned the "go ahead and eat" wave + Korean because as soon as they hear me, they'll do a fun little nose dive from the rooftop to the place in front of my garage downstairs, where I put their food.

Anyway just posting about my crow friendship because I don't think I've shared in this space. It's arguably one of the coolest things I've done in life so far, to make friends with these creatures.

[ardenssolis]

[I went out with my fam to get some fried chicken from this Korean place, and it is really nice and the food is so good but like -- I bought this boneless chicken with "secret sauce" and it said it was sweet and savory. But instead it was like taking a dip in the fires of hell and I live with regret.]

[renegadeem]

I made some delicious Korean fire chicken and now you have to look at it.