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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months ago

Note

If you’re willing, for a dash of angst-tober

Miguel meets you, for obvious reasons you can’t resist him. He’s sexy, smart, charmingly catty and unfunny in a cute way. No shit you’re in love, you two go on a couple dates but he’s oddly distant and you don’t know why.

He clearly feels the same but he’s holding back. Soon when you get tired of waiting for him. So you start seeing other guys, but they aren’t him. You’re consumed by longing, no other man can compare (how could they).

Miguel finally calls you back after a week. He says he’s sorry for blowing you off, and he’s ready to commit. Saying,

“I love you Gwen Stacey”

…..and years later that decision will come to haunt him hahahahahha hahah HAHAHAHAHAH

Only if you’re a willing and not a coward

😈😈😈

Never back down never whaaaat!!! 😈 Lol anyways here ya go moot, this one's for you. 🖤🖤 All hail your amazing brain for this idea! So beautifully angsty. Happy Angstober! 🎃 @miguel-ohara-wifey

would've been you 🍂

CW: MINORS DNI, X FEM!READER, READER IS MIGUEL'S VERSION OF GWEN STACY(READER IS NOT GWEN, AND obviously NOT ATSV), CANON DIVERGENCE, ANGST, NO HAPPY ENDING, DEATH, BLOOD, BREAKUP, RELATIONSHIP DIFFICULTY, NON GRAPHIC SMUT.

WORDS: 1.7K

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

Crimson. Not red. Not scarlet. Not cherry, but crimson. Crimson in particular.

Crimson. Beautiful, deep crimson. Alluring, so calmly bewitching. Like the pleasant feeling that attacked every nerve in your body that rendered you with the consistency of a cloud after downing a glass of wine. Getting lost in the eyes of the lover who smiled from across the rim. The softest moan leaving your lips as you sat at the edge of his bed and felt the chill of the tension of the heated room spring goosebumps all over your naked body he was slowly undressing, laying you backwards on those silk sheets, thighs opening as his hands trailed fire and scored themselves to undying memory on the shadow of your skin.

His eyes...

You stare at Miguel from across you at a restaurant, your lingering gaze he senses without even needing to meet it with his own. He simply brings his hand above the table, giving yours a tender squeeze as you peruse the menu.

You realized then you might have been in love with him.

Your story was simple, transpiring like most any other couples who meet and wind up luckily in love. The outward beauty he possessed was increasingly obvious, but his deadpan demeanor and unserious quips were what endeared himself even more to you.

And he could only stand there in shocked disbelief. Almost like you were a stray cat that clung to an owner you selected by chance who originally thought himself incapable of returning such warmness.

The hell you saw in a sad old man like him? He didn't understand it, but he couldn't help but welcome it. Your cheesy grin, the playful banter you met with his sarcastic remarks.

"What are you making us for dinner?" You'd ask.

"God, I don't know babe..." Miguel's fingers comb through his tousled locks of dark brown as he looked at the pitiful items in your sparce pantry.

"Tomato reduction with melted mozzarella and cured meat, warmed in a flaky pastry?" You ask from the open freezer.

"The shock?" He looks at you, quickly overshadowed by unamusement, however he still holds back a chuckle. "Hot Pockets?"

"The highest level of cuisine!" You toss the box back onto the shelf, "The way they come out of the microwave like Satan's taint around the edges yet Antarctica in the middle reallyyy sets them apart."

"How else?" He smirks.

"Just the way I like it." You hum as you dial the number for your favorite takeout place, not noticing the ache in his chest as he looked back at you.

Even Miguel O'Hara wasn't immune to the temptation that came with breaking his own rules.

The daughter of a police chief.

Why, oh why, did it have to be you?

Rules he watched bitterly as his own colleagues suffered countless times before, seemingly unfazed by their agony, almost a little sadistic as they cried for their dead loved ones. It was all a part of the plan. The unpleasant truth.

You don't become Spider-Man by just putting on a suit.

Feelings must take a backseat when the security of the multiverse, the entire foundation of the very fabric of millions of innocent lives were at stake.

And how that foreign pain never quite made itself so painfully understood to him until it just so devastatingly involved the soul he fell so deeply and hopelessly in love with.

And so, like with many of his dealings before, he left you high and dry. Protective measures he took like muscle memory.

He would hurt you first before you could ever think about hurting him.

Even if the heartbreak was by grand design. The fabric of the multiverse knitted permanently with the inevitable tragedy of your demise that could not be undone.

"We can't.....we can't do this." He said simply before he left you like a ghost in the rain, turning away before you could see the tears that threatened to escape. Cursing his name.

Run away, numb himself, just bottle it up like he always does when he's confronted with matters of the heart that even toyed with the idea of showing his belly. His vulnerability. His weak spot. Calls unanswered. A number out of service.

He was never here and you never awakened the latent stirrings in his heart that just so ached for warm connection that you fulfilled at last.

You cried. You cried a lot. Sobbed for his presence that left you with a hole in your chest. Who would you gripe about work to? Who would hear your ugly laugh besides him and find every part of you that you thought wasn't worth writing home about, to be the endless rumination that haunted his mind?

Nobody but him. Nobody like him anywhere. And so you trudged forward with your weary and flayed heart, trying to act like the gaping hole he left in it didn't make your lungs feel like they were full of water every time you breathed.

Selfishly, spitefully trying to find a replacement in the arms of strangers. Hell, even some of them you knew. Ben Reilly. Peter B. Parker. His coworkers, his friends, even.

He ruined your life and trampled your heart so you'd smite him back where it really hurts. That's right. You'd go so low as fucking Ben Reilly and Peter Parker.

---

"Fuck, baby...did he ever fuck you like this?"

"No..." You moan loudly, knowing damn well every time you closed your eyes you only saw the persistent layer of the damned red of his eyes.

Peter's cock wasn't as girthy as Miguel's, but the length was close enough that if he fucked you deeply at just the right angle, it could spur vivid memories of all those nights, all those times Miguel O'Hara made love to you, fucked you senseless.

You moan and sigh, touching yourself, loving the way this new man below you was putty in your hands while you put on a show. His lustful gaze for a moment you mistake for the feeling of being desired, being loved. For now, you figure, it's enough.

But Peter couldn't fix it. Neither could Ben.

Fucking Ben.

That one really stabbed Miguel in the heart. Sinking so low that you'd give your body to a man who was nothing like him. Somebody he thought was below him. Somebody you knew damn well he disliked, and well, you gave over the most intimate parts of you he so foolishly thought you reserved for himself.

He felt sick when he overheard him talking about it. How you moaned his name, whined so sweetly for him. How he ate you out. How he bent you over in the very bed you and him shared just weeks prior.

A dull knife in his heart when he found out you even fell asleep together.

Did he make your toes curl like he could? Did he make you cum? Did gracing the peaks of ecstasy with Ben feel anything like how it felt when you were with Miguel?

Did those 7 goddamn months even fucking matter to you at all?

----

Miguel calls you black out drunk,

"Ben....fucking Ben...how COULD you?!"

The shade of bleeding red he saw put the intensity of the natural crimson of his eyes to shame.

You stayed silent. You got exactly what you wanted. The deadly blow had its intended effect. But it didn't feel as gratifying as you thought it would. It made you feel worse. Even as he was yelling over the phone.

"How was he then? Is he as good as me? Did you think about me while he was fucking you? Did you even have the heart to take down our pictures together before you invited his slimy ass over?"

Your chin trembles and Miguel stops when he finally hears you cry.

And despite everything, he would take you back in a heartbeat.

"Who's gonna be there to listen to me complain about work every day, huh?" Miguel sobs. "Who... who's gonna remind me to take out my contacts? H-How am I supposed to finish that fucking show we were watching together....?" He pauses, the anger tightening in his belly like a fist,

"What do you see in him?"

"Miguel?"

"Answer my fucking question. What do you see in him?!"

"Why do you keep talking about Ben?"

"Because Ben doesn't fucking love you the way I do!" He breaks down and your vision is completely clouded over in tears, hand shaking on the receiver as he finally admits what you so desperately wanted to hear.

"I love you. Do you still love me?"

"I n-never stopped loving you, Miggy..." You cry.

"You still think of me?"

"All the fucking time. I can't get you out of my head."

"You want me?" He whispers.

"More than I've ever wanted anyone."

"I'm coming over. Right now."

-----

And, just for a moment. Simply loving you made him forget about the inevitable dread of losing you.

It was a day just like any other day in the fall. When the dead leaves mixed with the rain and the ground was a soaked grey, reprieving the gloomy city from the consistent smog that covered the clouds. A remarkable chill in the air laced with nostalgia and petrichor that could be cured with a sweater, making the hot temperature of a warm beverage so inviting.

It was wonderful day, and all because you stayed in bed together five minutes longer than you should have. Your coffee mug next to his, eggs on buttered toast, nudging his hip as you ate by the stove. Quiet domesticity with the intimate element of routine that caused him to distinctly remember thinking:

"I can see this happening every day for the rest of my life."

And he left. Had he known, had he guessed. He wouldn't have let you leave at all, just stay there safely snuggled with you against his chest.

----

Crimson. Haunting, beautiful crimson.

The sea that left your battered body covering the street while Miguel shook with grief. The blood loss was such that it exceeded the time it would take for your spirit to depart your body. The disturbing fact that you were barely holding on was even more painful.

The devasting fact that you were probably suffering in your final moments and couldn't even see him or speak. He told you all of the things he was sorry for in final confession, but it only came out as the distant echoings of his fading voice as the slow, delayed compassion of death quietly led you by the hand.

"I love you....I'm not sorry for that..."He whispers, but the light in your eyes had already gone out.

---

#from my trees . ˚ 𖧷 ·𓇥 ° . ♡#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara angst

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wooahaes · 8 months ago

Text

taste test

pairing: non-idol!jun x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 11/13

word count: 3.9k~

warnings: major food mentions throughout the entire fic!! mentions of reader being impulsive at some points.

daisy’s notes: i love when i get to write jun just being a sweetie btw

summary: Jun has grown accustomed to the way his soulmate eats. He hopes they don’t hate him for the way he snacks and sneaks bites of his cooking, or for the way he experiments in the kitchen sometime. But running a restaurant means he’s constantly evolving the menu… So if it leads the two of you together, then that’s good, right?

Jun turned ten years old and was… upset, to say the least, that he didn’t have a soulmate. His mother had smoothed his hair back gently and told him not to worry. If he didn’t have a soulmate, it would change nothing about him. He was still the smart little guy she had raised so lovingly, and it took nothing away from his worth. And if he did have a soulmate, then hopefully he would find them one day if so he chose. She supported him wholeheartedly, and Jun would look back on the memory with nothing but undying love for his mother for handling the situation so well. Of course, it took a few days for Jun to realize that the flavors he kept tasting on the back of his tongue were more than just cravings and his imagination… but that didn’t change the gentle comfort his mother had given him. She’d held his hand at the doctor, too, and throughout the tests to make sure that all was well with him.

His doctor had straightened up the papers on his desk—results of said tests, no doubt—and looked at Jun’s mother. “It’s the most common sign,” he said, and relief crossed her face immediately. “But it still happens.”

His mom had questions. Jun just focused on the lemon-flavored lollipop he’d been given, mind wandering a bit. Apparently, it was common enough for doctors to hand them out to kids to soften the blow of whatever came next in visits like this. Soulmates were normal enough, but Jun knew as much as his mother that some people had… less ideal soulmate marks. One of his classmates felt her soulmate’s pain (sometimes so bad that she cried, the feeling so new to someone with only so many years of life lived). One of his teacher’s had yet to meet her soulmate at the beginning of the year, only for sparks to literally fly when she ran into a new member of staff an hour later. None of his classmates had been hurt by the slight shock, but Jun couldn’t imagine having a mark like that—even if his teacher swore that it just felt soothing. Adults lied to kids all the time just to put on a brave face, after all.

It’d been a lie to say that Jun’s sign had no influence on him and his life. He had learned to cook alongside his mother and step-father so that he could take care of himself in the future, yes… but it did help him when he was trying to figure out what his soulmate was eating. His taste buds matured more and more with age, and eventually he liked to think he had a pretty solid understanding of what his soulmate was eating. He could pick out the sweetness of vanilla ice cream on apple pie, the buttery crust and cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg pointing him in the right direction. He knew the umami of different meats and the savory sauces they were cooked in. He had to adapt sometimes based on what he had available… but Jun would meet those cravings he felt, just to understand his soulmate a little better. Not that anyone complained when he did: his family adored his cooking, his friends loved a free meal, and his coworkers weren’t going to turn down leftover cookies and whatnot when he brought them in during his work study job in college. What was the point in making so much food if he couldn’t ensure the people he cared for were well fed?

That was what led him to dropping out of one school (sorry, dreams of being an actor) and pursuing culinary school in the end. He went through years of long hours and endless studying just to end up where he was now: standing in front of an empty building, arms folded across his chest. A few of his friends stood there with him, admiring the place he was officially renting out. It had taken a while to save up and get approved for loans and square away all of the business side of things (and even still, he had orders to make and so, so much more work ahead of him)... But holding the keys in his hand made it all real.

This was step one of many for finding his place. And if it led his soulmate to him, then he would be happy.

Everything was wrong, and Jun couldn’t figure out what the problem was.

The restaurant was doing well, thankfully. He wasn’t in the red, although business could be better. People liked having authentic Chinese cuisine, and Jun was more than happy to provide it and share more of his heritage… and occasionally pack a takeout container a little more full for the college student who looked on the edge of a breakdown. But the restaurant could be doing better, making more money, and that meant he needed to make adjustments. He’d gone over survey cards, trying to figure out what needed to be fixed, and that was what led him to now. He’d been cooped up in his apartment for days now, trying to perfect a dish from his childhood that he couldn’t get right. Mingyu was sitting at the counter, muttering something to Minghao as the two (alongside Seokmin) tried to figure out what element was missing from it all. Seokmin suggested something sweet, but Jun had shot it down when Seokmin suggested a little more sugar: he’d already tried adjusting the amount, sorry. He’d even tried brown sugar, honey, and plenty of other alternatives, just to see if maybe he’d been going in the wrong direction.

One of his arms was draped over his eyes as he laid across the couch. What was missing…? He could call his mom, but part of him wanted to figure it out for himself. The answer was right there on the tip of his tongue, his lips almost tingling in the strangest way.

“It feels like it should be obvious,” Seokmin sighed, toying with the bracelet around his wrist. “Shouldn’t it be?”

It was. It had to be. That was why it was so infuriating. Jun turned over with another sigh, shutting his eyes. It was as if the answer was burning within him now, yet still out of reach.

“Maybe it isn’t sweet,” Mingyu picked up another piece of chicken, holding it up to the light for a moment, as though it’d give him the answer. “It’s already sweet as it is… I don’t think making it sweeter would help.”

That burning had traveled to the back of his tongue now, and he jerked up. Wait a second. What the hell was his soulmate eating? He knit his brow together, frowning. This wasn’t the time for them to be messing around with some spice challenge—and judging by the cold, mild taste that subdued that heat, that must have been what they were doing. Yet once the taste of milk had disappeared, the burning was already back. What the hell was his soulmate doing? That mild taste washed over his tongue again after a moment, only to be followed again by a heat that nearly made his eyes water.

Jun tore off of the couch, immediately rushing to the cabinets. That cooling sensation hit him again, and the burning never came back, but Jun could see great, big neon signs when they were right in front of him. He’d added a little to begin with, but maybe…

“Jun?” Minghao watched as Jun pulled a container from the cabinet, making his way over to the pot. “What are you?”

He mixed in more red pepper flakes, far more than he’d done the first time. “It’s not spicy enough.”

Seokmin blinked in confusion, looking from Jun to the other two friends present. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be that spicy.”

“It’s still supposed to have a kick,” Minghao said, sniffling. Of course Minghao wouldn’t have caught it: the poor guy was still recovering from a cold. “Jun, I thought you—”

Jun tested the sauce, shutting his eyes… and there it was. How the hell did you…? Maybe you were like him and understood food, too. Or maybe you remembered the previous times he’d eaten this dish and realized it wasn’t burning your mouth enough. The only real question that remained was what the hell did you decide to eat? He paused, wondering if you were out there, eating raw peppers or squirting hot sauce into your mouth just to send him a sign. He paused, looking down at the bottle of red pepper flakes. Now that he was thinking about it, the taste was exactly what he was looking for—

No. You didn’t. No. He looked up, brows raising as he processed this new theory. Some people could handle red peppers well, but apparently you couldn’t (at least not raw) considering you had to douse the capsaicin with milk or something quickly to try and spare yourself that pain. All of it was just to send him this signal that something was missing and you knew what it was. He found himself smiling. He hadn’t even met you yet, and already he was a little endeared to you.

He returned the favor to you later, though. The cravings hit him in that weird way that made him feel like you were taste testing, and Jun didn’t think twice before shoving half a lemon into his mouth. He’d recognize the dish you were making later, but he didn’t care about the weird looks that the others had given him. Minghao, who knew the deal, had given him this look that was a mix of understanding and downright disgust.

Seungcheol had sighed, getting up from the table. “You’re so weird,” he said, making his way to the kitchen to get the other lemons. “Those were supposed to be a palate cleanser…”

He’d apologized profusely afterward, not realizing that people had paid him any attention, but he hoped you appreciated his help. Maybe he couldn’t help you directly in the way he’d begun yearning to… but he was fine with making a fool of himself like this to help you in return. After all, that’s what a soulmate was for… Right?

“Jun.”

So maybe it was another one of those nights. And maybe Jun messaged the group chat to see who wanted to come with him to get ice cream this late. What was so wrong with that? Soonyoung sat across from him, a cup of sorbet in front of him that he kept pushing around with a pink plastic spoon. Jihoon’s lips were closed around a bright blue one, his frozen yogurt melting in its cup as he watched Jun carefully. And Wonwoo sat beside him, phone in one hand as he held a cone in the other. Jun had carefully picked out every single part of the little sundae that sat in front of him now: the flavor from the back of his tongue, the toppings what he thought you were out there eating on your own sundae… Was this your favorite? Or was it just what you wanted today? He recognized some of the flavors from past times, and yet today the craving was strong enough to drag him out of bed.

“Hm?” A bright green spoon hung from his own mouth, and all he could taste was plastic now. His mind had wandered a bit too much again, but… that was normal when he had his soulmate on his mind. All he wanted to do was meet you and know you. “Yes?”

“You’re thinking about them again,” Wonwoo said in a low, calming voice. There was no accusation in it, no teasing jab at him for getting caught up in silly, sappy thoughts again. Not that his friends teased him for it often—they did, but their teasing was usually saved for Mingyu and Chan and Seungcheol. “Is something on your mind?”

There it was. That’s what they’d all been wondering, after all: the concern was written on their faces, plain as day. Jun pulled the spoon from his mouth, “I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

“About?” Soonyoung’s foot nudged against Jun’s in an attempt to prod more information from him. “You can share if you’d like.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to figure out where to start. He had a lot of thoughts about you—the same as anyone would, right? He knew that you most likely wondered about who he was as a person. “I hope they’re kind.”

No one said anything yet, just to give him more space to speak as he processed his thoughts.

“I think… I used to have all of these ideas for what I wanted in a person. I wanted them to look a certain way, to act a certain way…” He trailed off. “And… I think now I can’t help but think that all I want is someone I can be happy with. Someone who accepts me for me.” He scooped another bit of his ice cream up, pausing for a moment before eating it. “Someone who I can accept, too.”

“You will,” Jihoon spoke up immediately. “Accept them. I think… I think you’ll be happy with them.”

Soonyoung’s eyes crinkled in delight, “They’ve burned their taste buds for you before. I think they’ll be perfect for you.”

It earned a warm chuckle from Jun, smiling to himself again. He always found himself smiling when you were on his mind, and he hadn’t even met you yet. How was he supposed to go through his days when he did meet you? The same way the others did after meeting their soulmates, he assumed. Was it strange to wonder if you were like him? A little odd at times, but warm and caring and silly?

“He’s gone,” Wonwoo gently teased, smiling to himself. His phone lit up a second later from my love and Wonwoo, too, was gone with that bashful look on his face. Wonwoo had never been the kind of person who yelled his love from rooftops, but showed it in the way his eyes always seemed to sparkle a little more, heart fluttering smiles and rosy cheeks to define it.

“You are, too,” Jihoon chuckled. Yet it was Jihoon who quietly loved his soulmate, too, always mindful of their limits in the way they were mindful of him and his limits. Jun had seen them interact a few times, and he saw the way he’d wordlessly take his soulmate’s hand when the crowds were thicker, and didn’t let go when they were through it. Little displays of affection that he’d never comment on, just to spare Jihoon the embarrassment of being called out for it.

Jun watched Soonyoung for a moment, just to be aware of him. Soulmate talk went fine with him most of the time, but everyone knew that Soonyoung (just as Seokmin did) had his moments of insecurity with his own lack of a sign. Yet he was smiling to himself, and immediately jumped to teasing Jihoon for something that he’d said about his soulmate not long ago. It turned the latter’s cheeks bright red as he complained, waving him off. So what if he liked his soulmate? That’s what they were there for, right? They were supposed to be someone that he liked. And yet Wonwoo had chuckled, joining in on the teasing as well.

Jun just smiled to himself, savoring the sweetness of the moment and the ice cream.

For the most part, being friends with Jun meant they had special privileges. When Seungcheol asked if they could all meet up close to closing so he could share some special news (with the promise that at least he would help close up for the night), Jun had agreed easily enough. Not everyone could make it, but Jun carried out a tray of dishes to set in front of those present. Seungcheol had been talking about how different his life felt now that he could see color, no longer relying on which light was lit for traffic lights or asking people for the right color apple. He'd pulled over a chair, breaking into a pair of chopsticks so he could reach out and snag a dumpling while he took a few minutes to rest.

"Also... All of you are terrible!" Seungcheol huffed. "I told Seungkwan first and he immediately started sending me pictures of myself in ugly outfits you all swore went together!"

It earned a snort from Jeonghan, who'd been busy typing something out on his phone. "We didn't do it all the time, you know."

Seokmin was staring at his watch the entire time, and Jun reached out, fingers brushing his bicep. "Are you okay?"

"Just waiting for something," he said. Then he looked up, the realization dawning on him as he shook his head. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm fine. Just..." He looked at the door again. "Waiting."

Seungcheol changed the topic away from the outfits he was debating with Joshua (no, he did not like that neon shirt, thank you), "We're going out on Tuesday, actually. I think you guys will like them..."

Jun smiled to himself. It was nice seeing Seungcheol so at ease. The idea of never meeting his soulmate had been weighing on him for a while now, and even more-so since everyone else seemed to be finding their soulmate over the past year. Before he could join the conversation, he saw Seokmin getting up and heading toward the computer right as the door opened, a little bell jingling. Jun excused himself from the group as Seungcheol continued on about his soulmate, making his way over to the counter.

"Sorry," the customer had said, and Jun had slid the menu across to you without much thought. "My friend, Minho, came here with a couple friends and said you might be able to help?"

Jun just blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry. With...?"

"My soulmate had this dish a few days ago," you rested your hands on the counter, "and I've managed to narrow it down based on a lot of Googling. But there's a couple things I'm not sure about, but Minho said what I kept describing sounded like Chinese food, and--"

Jun waved a hand. "I understand," he said. "I have the same sign."

You sighed in relief. "Good. It's not the rarest sign, but people don't always get it since it’s still uncommon, y'know? Your soulmate must be lucky, though," you drummed your fingers against the counter. "Also... Sorry about coming in this late. I saw you're closing in an hour, and—”

Jun stopped you there. "It's okay," he insisted. "It's what I'm here for. Just tell me what--"

"Jun," Seokmin called out, looking up from the monitor. "There's a request for takeout. I'm gonna confirm it, alright?"

Jun waved him on, and turned back to you. "Sorry. The food...?"

You'd started to rattle off what you'd tasted days ago, saying something about how the craving never fully left you. Jun helped square you away, telling you to sit wherever you'd like and he'd have your food out as soon as he could. He made his way to the computer where Seokmin stood, brows knit tightly together.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, keeping his voice low. "You seem... different."

Seokmin shook his head. "The ticket's on the line," he kept his eyes glued to the screen. "Just... thought I recognized the name."

Jun shrugged it off and went to work, Mingyu having already made his way back into the kitchen to help. Soon enough, several orders have been made and plated. Mingyu walked away, making his way to greet you while Jun uncapped a sharpie with his teeth. Seokmin watched as Jun drew a little cat onto the corner of one of the lids, and then a little flower next to it.

"Someone else could pick up the order," Jun said after capping the marker again. "If you don't want to go."

"No!" Seokmin paused, waving a hand. "I mean--The money is good, and my bike is outside. I'll try to be back to help clean up." He tied the bag after throwing in a few utensils and fortune cookies, pausing before he turned away. "Jun?"

He looked up from where he was tidying things up behind the counter. "Hm?"

Seokmin went to speak, and then turned, gazing at where you sat alone. He shook his head, turning back to Jun. "Actually... Don't worry about it."

Jun was definitely going to call Seokmin in the morning if he didn't make it back before they all left. He watched as he made his way out of the restaurant, waving to the others before going out for a late night delivery, and Jun sighed. Maybe he was having an off day. He'd mention it to Minghao if nothing else, and maybe he'd check on him tonight. He turned, grabbing a rag on his way back into the kitchen so that he could start cleaning up again, only to catch himself freezing once he recognized something.

That blend of spices. The sauce on your meal. He turned, staring at you as he watched you eat in peace. You. He dropped the rag, body moving on its own as if you were a magnet drawing him in. He slowed to a stop, unsure of what to say. You looked up, confused for a moment.

"I think..." His voice came out hoarse and quiet, and he cleared his throat. "I... I was perfecting this recipe a few days ago."

You stared at him. "Huh?"

"This is—This is the improved version," he said, hands curling around the back of an empty chair. Just say it, a voice in his head said. All he needed to say were those three words, and yet they felt lodged in his throat.

"You're...?" You dropped your chopsticks with a gasp, standing up. "You?!"

Jun didn't know whether to be hurt by that or not. "Would you rather I not be—”

"I have eaten so many stupid things for you!" You said, loud enough to get the attention of Jun's friends. "And--And you kept eating stupid things for me when I couldn't get the recipe right!"

He laughed. "I know—"

"Oh my god," you said. "No wonder you were always right. I mean, sometimes it didn't really help because I didn't have the ingredients, but—but you still tried!" You'd laughed, warm and vibrant. "Oh my god—I'm sorry, I just—No wonder you knew what I was talking about."

Jun caught a glimpse of his friends all silently watching, and he waved them off. "I..." His face was burning, and he started patting himself down to find his phone. "I really don't want to talk more in front of my friends."

You glanced over to them, and then nodded. "Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I just—I really should have come with Minho that time, huh?"

"Maybe..." He'd plucked his phone from his back pocket. "I could buy you dinner? If you want—”

"I'd like that," you said, accepting his phone. You punched in your number before adding a little heart emoji by your name. "Now I can go straight to the source for my cravings."

He laughed softly again, holding his phone closer to his chest. "Whatever you want," he said. "Just say the word."

With a smile from you, Jun felt his world change entirely. "I'll hold you to that, chef."

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #junhui imagines #jun x reader #junhui fluff #jun fluff #junhui x reader #wen junhui x reader #wen junhui x you #seventeen fluff

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boiohboii · 1 year ago

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Our wedding menu (Lando Norris x reader)

When your friend leaves you to entertain yourself you decide to try something really new.

in which you wanted to have fun and a really handsome, curly haired british boy is your victim.

N.B: just a silly little drabble inspired by this video, hope you guys like it! WARNINGS: not proof read, spelling mistakes maybe? Also, don't do that in public, this is just for fun really. Let me know what you guys think!

masterlist

When people are bored they watch a movie, read a book or maybe go outside and look around. But you weren't feeling like doing any of those things, your friend has left you to go on a date and honestly you can't blame her, the guy was extremely handsome and so so polite, which is why you are currently sitting in a cafe doing what you do best- people watching.

There was an old couple sharing their lunch and smiling (they are what anyone dreams of, in Monaco with each other after however many years of marriages), there was an employee on the phone behind the counter probably arguing with someone by the movements in her hands and the chewing of her own lips, and there was a group of guys (fuck off, why are they so handsome) who you are pretty sure are famous- if the guys, girls and old rich people coming up every few minutes asking for photos and autographs weren't enough of a sign the billboards you've seen scattered around Monaco in your short visit of 4 out of these 9 guys (that's a big ass friend group) were confirmation of them being models at least (which adds up to these looks).

Now you weren't much of a jokester in front of strange people, especially not a group of 9 handsome guys, but hey life is all about trying new things which is why you decided it'd be fun to try and see what their reactions would be.

Standing up you rushed out of the cafe, was it a good idea? No. Did you have enough social energy to pull this off? No. Do you have enough confidence to talk to one handsome dude who is in the middle of his handsome friends? Also no. But none of that stopped you from going to the burger truck a few blocks down asking for 2 double cheeseburgers and 2 chocolate frosties. After taking your receipt you stood in line, waiting for your order.

"I love their variety so much! Everything is available"

"Yes! I am so happy that they have no meat options"

Oh shit. What if he's vegan!

Leaving your place in the line you went back to the cashier and ordered the most appealing name from their non meat menu.

After finally having your food in hand you went back the same way stopping in front of a flower shop, what flowers should you get? would he even accept the flowers? What if he's allergic to flowers?

Opening up Google you searched for the flowers that don't cause allergies, seeing roses on top of the list you decided to get a small bouquet of 4 roses before placing it carefully in your bag (in another zipper away from the food).

Entering the cafe for the 2nd time today you took a look around, extremely happy that the barista kept her word and made sure that all of the tables are taken and the only chair empty is besides the curly haired boy laughing at something his friends have said.

"Hi, I'm sorry to interupt but can I sit here?"

You asked as you looked around the table, upon seeing all of them looking at each other you explained further "it's just that there's no other chairs available, as soon as there is one I'll be gone, promise"

"Oh yes, of course, you can stay as long as you want"

The guy with green? or is it blue? eyes replied, while everyone else gestured for you to take a seat.

"Thank you," as you placed your bag you asked the one question that would decide if you should move on with whatever it was you were going to do "oh, sorry, do you have a girlfriend? I don't want to overstep or make any misunderstandings" you asked the victim of your plan, upon shaking his head you took a seat.

Sitting down you decided to start your plan, fishing the necklace out of the small zipper you turned to the boy sitting beside you holding the necklace between both of you

"Can you please do this for me? I can't reach"

All chatter around the table stopped, you can feel 9 pairs of eyes on you as you gave the boy a small, apologetic smile.

"Oh, uhh- yeah of course," ohhh, he's british, damn you might actually fall in love "let me just figure out how it works."

As he clasped the necklace together you thanked him, moving onto your next step which consisted of you bending down to get your mirror and your lipstick out of the bag, staying in your position you moved the bag a bit to the right before adjusting yourself a bit so that what you're doing would be noticed. Not bringing your mirror onto the table but still visible enough for the 9 guys to see you applying a new layer of lipstick, you can hear them questioning what you are doing and it just made you want to get up and run back to your hotel room.

You already started, no going back now.

Being satisfied with how the lipstick looked you placed it back in the bag before sitting properly, smiling at the blue eyed guy in front of you.

Waiting a bit so that the guy besides you isn't speaking to someone before you move onto the main plan.

Upon seeing him get his phone out you decided to go ahead, it's now or never

"We had a date, no?" you whispered to him as to not get the attention of his friends, at least not this soon.

The man blinked at you before looking around him, wanting to make sure you are talking to him "I'm sorry?"

Before he could even question you any further he saw roses within his eyesight

"These are for you," you pushed the bouquet into his frozen hands "hope it smells as good as you"

Red started covering his face, looking around at his friends, who quietened down as soon as they saw the red roses, searching for an explanation.

When you kept looking at him with that smile he let out a small thanks before smelling the flowers.

Okay, nice, so far so good, why is he so flustered oh my god, he's the cutest.

"Oh, I also bought burgers"

"I'm sorry, what is this about?"

"I also bought drinks, one is oreo and one is hershey, well it was supposed to be hershey kisses but they ran out so let me just," leaning over to him, you kissed his cheek "there you go, now you can take the hershey one"

The other 8 boys howled in laughter at the wide eyed, red faced boy staring at the drink in front of him on the table. He bite his lips, trying to prevent a smile from breaking out onto his face.

You decided to get your phone out and wait a bit before you moved on further with the plan, the group going back to their conversations while the brit besides you kept taking glances at you, thinking you wouldn't notice, but you did and you also noticed that he is not touching his burger, only drinking the frosty.

Dipping your hand into your bag you got out the other burger "that's a non meat burger, bought it just in case."

"Oh," he took the food from your hands, nodding his head in thanks "you didn't have to."

Giving him a full smile you went back to your phone, waiting for him to eat a bit of his sandwhich so you could make the next move. The way he gets flustered and shy makes you want to ask him out on an actual date, he is so fucking pretty.

"Do you like it?"

Nodding, he smiled at you as he gave you a thumbs up as he can't answer while chewing.

"I'm really glad, I was thinking about adding it to our wedding menu," the dark haired man sitting on the other side of the british boy choked onto his drink, looking at their group of friends wanting to make sure that he heard correctly "not as a main dish, more like a snack really."

The boy besides you shrugged, thinking about how a burger truck would look in a wedding.

"Mate, you better not forget my invite if you're gonna have burgers at your wedding."

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris #f1 fic #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader

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weirdmarioenemies · 4 months ago

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Name: Gnat Attack

Debut: Mario Paint

I love flies! Diptera is my favorite insect order! But the world as a whole does not love flies. Just look at Flyswatter. An entire genre of item that exists to try and kill flies! It would be nice if everyone could love flies while still being reasonably careful about the biting and disease-spreading one, but at least the prevalence of fly swatting means I get to talk about some Weird Mario Flies!

Fly is the most basic fly. I wouldn't want anything else for this role! A classic gray housefly who will land on your food and rub its hands together. One of the most charismatic fly behaviors! It looks like they're scheming, but they're really cleaning their hands when they do that! It would be nice if they did it before landing on your food, but they're not being rude on purpose... or are they?! (they are not. They are not smart enough to do that)

Fly does not have interesting behaviors and in fact cannot even attack the player, but the most interesting thing about it, to me, is their relationship with Munchers! If a Muncher is shaken enough in Super Mario Maker, flies will come out, and swatting them is the way to start the Gnat Attack minigame. But why here? Why Muncher? I guess it's because of the Venus Fly Trap inspiration, and compared to standard Piranha Plants, Munchers look more like they would catch bugs, rather than tear meat from bone. Perhaps this is rudely shaking out the Muncher's meal! That's not nice! And then the player most likely just wants to swat the fly. What a waste! At least eat it.

Big Fly is the first dangerous one, and can attack the hand that holds the flyswatter! What's it going to do? Spread pathogens? Suck blood? Fly into your eye and make you blink a lot? None of those things! It will fire Projectiles. Its shiny green exoskeleton brings to mind the green bottle fly, which does not have any Projectile Attacks as far as I know.

I don't know why, but Big Fly is the only one from the original game to not return in Super Mario Maker. Maybe its attack pattern didn't work well with the new control method? It DID feature in the pause menu, return in the WarioWare version of Gnat Attack, and even get to be on the title screen there! Maybe all that went to its head, and it started demanding too much. A rabbit carcass all to itself at the snack break area. That's just too much rabbit carcass! You're not too good to eat at the same rabbit carcass as the rest of us!

Fly Parent is my favorite one! For many reasons! This is not Fly Mother. This is a non-binary parent birthing insects out the wazoo! Representation Win! I'm glad it's yellow, because that reminds me of hoverflies, my very favorite flies! The sweet little slurpers who just want to drink nectar, and mimic bees and wasps for protection! As babies, though, they are voracious predators, and Fly Parent differs in this regard.

Instead of larvae, Fly Parent gives birth directly to Fly Children! These have the most basic fly design possible, but their circumstances are interesting enough to compensate! I assume you know that flies, as with many insects, hatch from an egg as a larva, then later become a pupa, and finally emerge as a winged adult. Fly Children, however, appear to be these very winged adults, and also look nothing like Fly Parent! There are a few possible explanations.

One: Fly Parent is artificial. Its abdomen is bizarrely shaped, and honestly rather artificial-looking. It is not a true fly, but a transport for a fleet of real, tiny flies.

Two: Fly Parent is PARTLY artificial. It has an artificial womb to raise young in, allowing them to undergo complete metamorphosis inside, feeding the larvae with mechanical bug milk. As for the children being so small... they're premature? I don't know!

Three: Fly Parent is an adoptive parent to the Fly Children, and has a great relationship with its countless adult children of a different species.

I think any of these is a pretty great option! I'd be happy with any of them being confirmed if Nintendo ever does a Reddit AMA to answer Mario lore questions!

Fly Bomb is what it looks and sounds like. A fly, that is a bomb! A Bob-omb, specifically, since this is Mario. I always get a kick of how this style and color of eye often denotes a bomb in this franchise. There are ants and termites that are able to explode and sacrifice themselves for their colonies, so maybe if there were eusocial flies, Fly Bomb could become real! Hopefully it would be spherical with a string fuse, too! Bob-omb is a flawless design, and it has even fewer flaws when it is also a fly. I think, lore-wise, this could have been the creature to inspire the creation of Bob-ombs in the first place!

Finally is King Watinga! The big bad robotic fly who is like, leader of the flies or something? I don't know. I don't think this entire insect order has a single leader, between you and me. But someone made a robotic fly and it's mean. King Watinga is capable of spawning Fly Children, which I think backs up the Artificial Fly Parent theory! I don't care much for his design, but it is so silly for there to be a Boss of the flies, a Mastermind behind a mildly annoying buzzing. It's an organized thing! Also, I don't know why he is named King Watinga. Watinga is a last name most common in Papua New Guinea, and I have no idea why a robobug is named it! Does anyone know? Will anyone tell me? Please? Thank you

#gnat attack #mario paint #super mario maker #fly #big fly #fly parent #fly children #fly child #fly bomb #king watinga #mario #mario enemies #mod chikako #warioware #warioware inc mega microgames

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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I imagine that werewolf bodyguard reader has a big appetite so I'd like to think they'll cuddle up to anyone that offers them food, may i please request an affectionate wolfie reader?

Skipped lunch again... Something you shouldn't with strength being your most contributing factor, but with so many prying eyes recently you were dedicated to your post. You eventually crawled away with your tail tucked between your legs as the howls from your empty stomach alerted your fellow guards. You'd serve no use to the team in this state and thus you excused yourself to scrounge around for something quick to hold you off until you got off. You could probably eat an entire city with how your hunger pains clawed at the lining of your stomach - but a sandwich would do for now.

"Y/n! Come here for a sec, we got something for ya!"

The smell hits your nose before their whistle catches your ear. Mouthwatering chicken, hot out of the fryer. You sniff around, following your keen sense of smell to the bed of a truck where two of your coworkers sat with a large plastic bag between them. The bag was tilted on one side and you could see the bucket full of golden chicken within. You wipe the corners of your mouth as you address them.

"Need me for something?"

"Guess you could say that. We were just on break and saw this local joint was still open at this hour so we stopped by for a bite. Noticed you'd been on your feet all day and brought you a treat for your hard work."

The non-speaking party pulls out the bucket and places it on the floor of the trunk. It pains you to tear your eyes away. If you had one, you'd need it all. "Maybe some other time. I don't get off for another hour."

"Aw, don't be like that! Our wolf needs their strength. Just a couple bites, yeah?" The guard grabs a drumstick and waves it at you. You will your eyes shut, but the smell lingers and takes pilot of your feeble mind. You climb aboard the truck bed, squeezing between the two as you hold their wrist steady. You strip the bone of its meat in the matter of seconds, setting your head on the lap of its giver as you chew. Your arms hook around their leg; teeth snatching the bits of chicken they offer as their companion rubs your back; gently reminding you to chew before swallowing with a tap to your shoulder blades.

You swore you stop after one more piece. You had a post to return to and a boss depending on your loyalty. One turned into three til you'd eaten three quarters of what was intended to feed a family of six. You lay between the pair sluggish and a sponge for their soft pats and praise. It reminds you of being the runt of the litter being given extra attention - something you hadn't been in a long time. Couldn't say you didn't miss the treatment despite being bigger than most humans you'd met thus far.

When a hand comes to stroke your jaw you find yourself leaning against it as your head hangs from the weight of fatigue. Your lips rest on their wrist and you instinctively nestle into their warmth as your breathing slows. The heavy bounce of a heel on concrete drags you from sleep and towards the unamused, jealous gaze of your boss.

"Evening, Y/n. You two."

Crumbs fall off your face as you sit upright. "Evening, boss...."

"I believe I've told you before about spoiling them with junk food. In the car, Y/n. Now."

Expecting to be chewed out for abandoning your post you're surprised to end up at a fancy steakhouse after a silent drive. Sitted at the table already stacked with nearly every meal on the menu, the waitress sets a fork and knife in front of your boss while leaving you with no utensils.

"Um... can I get a fork too?"

Your boss cuts a piece of meat and holds the fork to your lips. "No. This is your punishment for skipping lunch and not asking me to bring you food first. You are not leaving this table until these plates are licked clean."

Your stomach grows. "I'm not sure if that will really be a challenge..."

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #werewolf reader #yandere drabble #yandere oc #soft yandere

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autistichalsin · 2 months ago

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I think a lot of non-Americans don't realize just how deeply meat eating is tied in with conservatism here, and a lot of Americans don't realize just how much that isn't a thing in a lot other cultures. Like yes, duh, there are a lot of cultures where due to the local ecologies, a diet made up of a lot of meat is the norm. But what I'm talking about here is the specifically American style of meat eating.

Here, not only does meat-eating get conflated with gender, but it does with national identity as well.

Meat eating is seen as masculine; vegetables (and sometimes even just sweets!!) are seen as feminine. "Soyboy" and "soyjak" are called such because soy is seen as feminine, partly for being a vegetable, and partially because of some fearmongering over the estrogen content of plants, especially soy. The most common rationale for vegetarianism- compassion for animals- is relentlessly mocked, and stereotyped to be for teenage girls in a rebellious phase. In fact, there was a national chain restaurant a few years ago that introduced a veggie burger to its menu and advertised it as "for when you teenage daughter is going through a phase." South Park had an entire episode mocking the main characters for a temporary decision to not eat meat, saying it would literally make them grow vaginas, because veggies are for women and women are STOOPID.

Further, meat eating gets conflated with American identity, particularly if it's beef. People make all kinds of noise about supporting farmers (even though, hint, there's a 97/100 chance your steak did NOT come from a cow farmed by a local, small farm, but instead by a corporation, unless you specifically go out of your way to shop local). And it's no coincidence that so many Americans are so against even token efforts at environmentalism considering just the strain ranching and the infrastructure to support it (I.E. growing feed for the cows) takes on the environment. Environmentalists get branded as woke commies because trying to take even the tiniest efforts to stop ranching from fucking up the environment (take a look at what's happening in the Amazon due to ranching, fascinating stuff. And yes by fascinating, I do in fact mean horrifying) means less beef and that means you HATE AMERICA and just want our MEN to be a bunch of weak SOYBOYS.

This insanity goes so deep, in fact, that multiple hardcore Christian cults literally instruct their members that their kids expressing a desire to become vegetarian or eat less meat is a sign they are being brainwashed by satanist cults.

America has set up this ridiculous, bizarre, utterly insane meat-worshipping culture where tossing a slab of beef on a grill and charring it is seen as the epitome of masculinity and Americanness and being a Good Christian, where skipping meat for ONE MEAL will turn you into a degenerate satanist leftie commie soyboy, and it's as hilarious as it is frightening. There are even movements to ban "Meatless Mondays" from public schools (some school districts will pick a single day of the week not to serve meat in the cafeteria) because it will "corrupt the youth" and/or is "unhealthy" for them to not eat meat for one meal a week. It's absolutely bizarre beyond words.

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angelmush · 2 months ago

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hosting a small halloween party kind of thing before we all go to the halloween event at the local amusement park!!

so here is the little snack n drink menu:

- baked brie w some of the leftover pastry dough i made, maybe w fig or raspberry spread? not sure yet

- a mostly pantry charcuterie board w a couple rly solid aldi cheeses + meats, autumn fruits (i got pears, apples, + pomegranate), salty olive-y briney things, nuts, jams, + chocolate

- i have brown butter miso toffee pretzel chocolate chip cookie dough in the freezer i’ll bake too for somethin sweet (they r rly good, my favorite recipe ive ever made)

- my mom’s go-to simple party appetizer for my entire childhood was dates wrapped in thick cut bacon and this group of ppl rly loved this last time i made it haha so i’ll make some again

- a bright slime-green apple-y cocktail for the festive color mostly but also bc we have sooo much midori to use up LOL

- and a non alcoholic drink w a homemade blackberry syrup for the brilliant purple color, blood oranges, + sparkling water ? not sure if it’ll be any good we will find out hahaha

#honestly i love hosting #it gives me something to DO i feel a billion percent less awkward bc i am tending to people #the only thing that worries me is my sweet but excitable dog #he just adores guests and his enthusiasm is hard to match 😭😭#he’s got a powerful full-body tail wag that can clear a coffee table in a single swipe #he has no concept that not every person can reciprocate that level of enthusiasm lmfaooo #how to tell your labrador not everybody loves 80lbs of hot breath + hair #he’s a good boy tho lol i made him some frozen food puzzles to do so he’s not breathing down everyone’s necks lolll #personal

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anendtopursuit · 1 month ago

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wrong organ saying curly was originally written to have a british accent is so vindicating to Me Personally bc as a brit, so much of my initial liveblog was "??? the captain is british and nobody told me???" and i thought i was losing it bc nobody else seemed to notice

but like!!! the vocabulary!!! the sentence structure!!! meat pie on the menu!!! "now i'll go bonkers looking for it. cheers." and "for a short kip" (from the demo) and ending his suggestions with "yeah?" (which i'm sure other people from other countries do too, but strikes me as Very English* fsr) and polle's posters saying "don't be daft" like. i realise this is the stupidest thing to get excited about (bc let's be real, if there's any group that is in no need of extra representation, it's white brits) but STILL. i was RIGHT. my silly little changes-nothing-of-importance headcanon was FOUNDED.

*idk where in britain he's meant to be from but 9 times out of 10 when non-brits say "british" they mean "english", and i'm english so i have the best frame of reference here. yk.

#shoutout to scotty cgspirl for sending me this and making me cackle like a supervillain #i am no longer apologising for how britishly i write curly's dialogue in my mw fics. it's close enough to canon that i have lost all shame #i am so embarrassed to be posting this but alas. i am cringe and i am free #og #horror tag #mouthwashing #captain curly #fav

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chefkids · 1 year ago

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Knife Theory

This is the third part of the Spoon-Fork-Knife Theory that I believe makes up the main themes of the whole series and each season. Make sure to read The Spoon Theory and The Fork Theory too.

Carmy was on his literal last knife, as none of them were sharp, until he found his good knife on the floor after trying Sydney's stew. Sydney spent years working at Michelin restaurants and then overworking herself and spreading herself too thin with her catering business, and this was her her last hope and push forward after failing on her dream. Carmy has been on non stop knife mode for a decade, he did not even stop to grieve his brother, he just kept working and working.

When Carmy didn't have any "spoons" or help, he hurt himself using a knife. The same thing happened to Sydney because she was over exerting herself. Both of them are used to living in full knife mode. Carmy was selling jeans and his brothers jacket just to buy meat. He was literally giving his blood, sweat, and tears for this place.

Season 1 was all about Sydney and Carmy's "knives" and having to push themselves to the limit because of their passion to try and make The Beef into something better. Sydney used her knives and overspent her energy until she hurt Richie, the person that kept getting in the way of her using her knives both literally and metaphorically, and eventually she broke down and crashed. Carmy who was already on his last knife, struggling just to keep the lights on before Sydney arrived, finally felt the burn out when she left and almost let the restaurant burn down.

At the start of Season 2, Carmy is at a somewhat peaceful and chill place where he actually has free time, and the first thing he does when he's by himself is play with a knife. He needs the chaos and he doesn't know how to exist without being on high alert and pushing his passions to their limit. He then goes and sets practically impossible standards by planning to open in 3 months. He thinks he's using his knives to push himself to greatness but at the end of it all, what he has done is created new set of problems, also known as "forks", by avoiding his responsibilities and forcing others to have to use their "knives" and "spoons" to get things done because he is absent.

Tina ends up getting Carmy's knife both literally and in terms of being the one to push herself to her passion. She was putting all her energy into helping Sydney with the menu and to trying to get Ebra to have the same drive as her. Both things that really should have been Carmy's responsibility as Syd's partner and Ebra's boss. All while Carmy is off doing whatever with whoever.

Now, in the words of Carmy: if they want a Michelin star they are going to have to care about everything, more than anything. They are going to have to push themselves to their limits and they are going to have to use their "knives" again, but if they do there will inevitably come a big crash and burn at the end when everything comes catching up to them.

Read The Spoon Theory

Read The Fork Theory

#the bear meta #the bear #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #spoon theory #fork theory

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crossedwithblue · 3 months ago

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The Sharmas, and vegetarianism in India

I just finished the books and this stood out to me. One side of my family is Jain, a small religion philosophically very similar to Buddhism, with a similar emphasis on nonviolence and the complete avoidance of harm to any human being. This includes:

No meat, obviously. Eggs are also excluded (as in the more general Indian definition of vegetarianism) No root vegetables, even, because you have to kill the whole plant to get them. Interestingly, non-lethal animal products are fine - milk, honey, wool - so it's not the same as veganism. I'm not sure what the position is on the hidden life-cost of milk i.e. the death of male calves because it's a waste to keep most around. This is common enough that retaurants will have 'Jain options' on their menu/allow you to request a Jain version of a dish, and it's a widely understood dietary requirement (though most people in India seen to think Jainism is a branch of Hinduism. It's not, it's a completly splintered-off heterodoxy, but we don't need to get into that).

They also don't use leather or silk since that does require death to produce, though my granny does have a 'peace silk' sari that's made without boiling the cocoons.

No eating after sunset and no eating food kept overnight, because they had some concept of germ theory and knew that bacteria bred more after dark. Pre-fridges, this is generally a pretty good idea in a hot country, anyway.

A yearly ritual where you meditate and ask forgiveness from any creature of any kind that you might have injured, deliberately or not. It's meant to be an acknowledgement that you've done wrong and a meditation on forgiving other people because everyone's fallible. You also exchange this with anyone you can - friends, family etc. I have very very mixed feelings about this one, how valid and meaningful it usually is in-practice and its actual effect on most people's mental health, but I'll leave that out of this post LOL

In the same vein, a prayer ritual you do at the temple where you repeat the same request for forgivness while repeatedly moving from a standing position to kneeling and prostrated with your head on the floor, the gradual standing - kneeling upright - kneeling fully - completely prostrate timed to the lines of the request. As my mum pointed out, it's also pretty good exercise, like a slowed-down bungee squat that's also gentler on your joints. I can picture El doing it for mana.

If you thought this was intense enough, the monks and nuns take it to another level. They eat nothing but boiled vegetables, lentils and grains, and I believe are not allowed to wear any clothing but what is purely plant derived, so they are closer to veganism in that sense. They have little brooms they use to sweep the path ahead of them to avoid stepping on insects (which, since they spend a lot of time on the road physically walking from place to place, presumably slows them down as much as you might imagine. They wear masks over their face to avoid inhaling small insects and keep out bacteria as much as possible (presumably the tiny insects are more of a concern if, again, you're pretty much sleeping out in the open in a rural area).

Not Jain any more, but upper-caste Hindus from some regions, essentially the priest caste, are also pretty strict vegetarians to the point that they're quite snobby about it. They are vegetarian because they consider it necessary to ritual purity, and look down on people who aren't - according to my mum, who went to uni with a lot of people like that, the reason why they accepted her relatively easily was because she was also a very strict vegetarian. I'm not sure if those guys avoid root vegetables too - mum had to start eating them at uni, anyway, because she would have struggled for food otherwise.

The Sharma family's insistence on strict mana reminded me of these practices a lot. They won't use any malia because you cannot get it without deliberately causing harm to another living being, even if that's just a blade of grass. I don't know if Novik was aware of this but it's pretty plausible and if she was, it adds a lot of context to her making El half-Indian and giving her paternal family similar beliefs. My headcanon is that they are indeed Jain - there's a pretty big community in Maharashtra/of Marathi origin.

#el higgins #the scholomance #a deadly education #the last graduate #the golden enclaves #arjun sharma scholomance #deepthi sharma scholomance #galadriel higgins #via shitposts

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astarion-approves · 1 year ago

Text

The Waiter

'There stood the most gorgeous man Tav had ever seen in their life. Tall with pale skin, ruby red eyes, and hair as white as snow. There was a certain air about him, it felt like being charmed into bed without so much as speaking a single word in return.'

The reader falls in love with their waiter in the Czech Republic.

Modern day 'reader' x Astarion. 1.7k words

Slightly NSFT (no actual sex or descriptive sex), excessive second hand embarrassment, reader is a moron, some Czech, third person.

Thank you to @chenziee for your help on this. I only speak English and she was an absolute saint to translate some dialogue for me.

Keep reading for the full story.

The Czech Republic was seemingly a little peaceful country compared to America, but the food was… interesting to say the least. Time after time, Tav found themselves in search of something familiar to have during their vacation. They ended up spending more time having fruit, cheese, and wine than anything else.

Finally, their friend, Eliška, put her foot down, dragging Tav to a traditional restaurant and insisting they try the food that her country has to offer.

“I warned you before you came to visit,” the friend said with a soft laugh as they were both seated at a small circular table. “I knew you wouldn’t like our food.”

Tav crossed their arms over their chest in defense. “It’s not my fault all your food looks so…” They gestured to a plate being carried out from the kitchen, something that looked like raw dough covered in a brown gravy with some form of meat and cabbage next to it. “Whatever the hell that is.”

“Vepřo knedlo zelo,” Eliška spoke quickly, the foreign language beautiful but words Tav didn’t understand. “It’s roast pork, dumplings, and sauerkraut.”

Tav shrugged. “That doesn’t sound bad. I guess I could get that.”

“Nope,” Eliška shook her head and opened the menu that was sitting on the table. “I’ll be picking for you.”

“Oh shit,” Tav grabbed their own menu, hoping to see what monstrosity their friend might order for them.

But of course it was all in Czech.

“Anything but blood sausage, please.”

Eliška snorted but continued flipping through the menu, a menu with no pictures of course.

While she browsed you stared at what you assumed was the wine menu, ‘Víno’ was one of the only words Tav managed to learn thus far and being drunk on vacation was their plan for most of the trip anyway.

“Dobrý den. Máte vybráno?”

Tav looked up from their menu, their eyes meeting with the waiter, and they felt as if they’d been kicked in the chest.

There stood the most gorgeous man Tav had ever seen in their life. Tall with pale skin, ruby red eyes, and hair as white as snow. There was a certain air about him, it felt like being charmed into bed without so much as speaking a single word in return.

Tav leaned forward in their chair, trying to figure out if those red eyes were just a pair of contact lenses. He tilted his head and raised a single brow at them.

Fuck—that was adorable.

Tav looked to their friend, who was still studying the menu. They mumbled something to the waiter, which Tav assumed was ‘just a second.’ The waiter nodded and turned to leave—

“Is he on the menu?” Tav blurted out before the waiter was outside of ear shot. “Because I want a bite of that."

“Jesus Christ, Tav.” Eliška swung the menu across the table, successfully hitting Tav on the side of their head. “Don’t just say shit like that!”

“It’s not like he speaks English anyway!” Tav defended. They’ve only been in the Czech Republic for a few days but besides their friend and other tourists they haven’t come across many non-native English speakers that could understand Tav’s version of English. Plus, only much younger people seemed to be learning English, while their waiter looked to be in his early 40s. “Anyone who speaks English here can’t understand me, we’re fine. I speak too quickly, remember?”

Eliška glared at Tav. “You only say that because I do all the talking. Please just.. try to hold your tongue. You could offend him.”

Tav held their hands up. “No promises.”

Soon the waiter returned, carrying two glasses, one in each hand. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms riddled with thick veins. Tav sat back in their chair and just watched as the man put a glass down in front of them. How could forearms be that sexy?

“We need a new waiter, I’m going to melt just by looking at this man.”

“Tav,” Eliška hissed. “Shut the fuck up.”

He looked between the two of you in confusion before speaking, “Vybrali jste?”

“Dvakrát tlačenku s chlebem, džbán s vodou a sedmičku rulandy červené, prosím,” Eliška replied quickly, refusing to look at Tav while they spoke.

The waiter nodded, scribbling into a notepad with what Tav assumed was Eliška’s order.

“Did you get wine? If not put him in a tall glass for me—“

Eliška kicked Tav under the table, making them gasp in pain. Those heels were vicious.

“Ask him what his name is, I want to know what name I’m going to be dreaming of tonight.”

“Tav—“

“Oh my god we should ask him to take a picture with us to celebrate my first traditional meal—“

“Tav, stop—“

“Oh yes, kind sir, in my country waiters do take their shirts off for photos, it’s perfectly normal—“

“Tav, so help me god—“

“What’s ‘please fuck me’ in Czech?”

“‘Fuck’ is pretty fucking universal word, you idiot.”

“Just ask him his name, please?” Tav put their hands together, begging their friend for this one favor. This one obnoxious, ridiculous favor.

Eliška sighed and turned to the waiter, who still stood there looking confused but seemingly entertained at their interaction. “Já se moc omlouvám, mojeho kamaráda by hrozně zajímalo... Jak se jmenujete?”

The waiter chuckled, putting his notepad away and turning to Tav. He crouched down, putting himself at eye level with Tav. “Astarion,” he spoke slowly, softly, his voice deep and calm. Those red eyes stared back at Tav with ease, glimmering with amusement.

“Oh,” Tav breathed out. “Fuck, even his name is gorgeous… Astarion.”

Astarion smiled and stood back up, then Eliška thanked him and finally let him leave the table, the waiter pausing to look back at their table once before going into the kitchen.

“Astarion,” Tav repeated the name, enjoying the way it felt on their tongue. “Astarion—“

“Mhm, and not a common name in Czech at all, Tav.”

“Sounds Czech to me.”

“It’s not—“

“Oh he’s coming back!” Tav was grinning at his return, excited to see him again so soon, and carrying a bottle of red wine.”

Astarion opened the bottle with ease, pouring some into a glass and handing it to Eliška to be tested. She lightly twirled the glass before taking a small sip. But Tav wasn’t even paying attention to what she thought of the wine. They were more interested in watching Astarion as they worked.

“He opened the bottle so easily, Eliška. It's official. I'm in love.”

Eliška hummed and took another sip of the wine. “It’s literally his job to open bottles all day, Tav.”

“Bet he’s skilled with those long fingers then.”

Eliška ignored Tav and put her glass down. She spoke to Astarion, who filled the glasses and placed the bottle down between them.

Soon Astarion was leaving again, only to return shortly and carrying two plates to their table. Tav smiled as the meal was placed in front of them—

But the smile dropped into a frown when they looked from Astarion’s handsome face to the plate he just set down.

“What in the fuck did you order us?”

Eliška snorted into her wine, breaking into a laugh as she watched Tav stare at their meal in shock. “It’s domácí tlačenka.”

“Eliška, this looks like if you took bologna and made it evil.” Tav poked at the meat with a fork, unsure of how to proceed.

“Try it,” Eliška replied. “You’ll like it.”

“Astarion,” Tav looked away from their plate and to the now grinning waiter, at least he was being entertained by the silly picky American. “My future husband, can you believe she’s trying to make me eat this?”

“No.”

“See!” Tav pushed their plate away, refusing to try the dish. “Even this handsome god of a man doesn’t like it.”

“Uhhhh… Tav—“ Eliška tried to speak before being cut off by them.

“You can eat this weird ass dish, meanwhile I’m going to drag Astarion to the nearest hotel and let him be my meal instead,” Tav said and laughed at their own joke.

Eliška just stared at Tav in horror. “Tav… you need to stop speaking now.”

“Stop worrying,” Tav said and rolled their eyes. “He doesn’t understand me. Right, Astarion?”

“Right.”

“Just like I said, Eliška. He doesn’t speak a single word of English.”

“Not a single word,” Astarion said with a nod.

“Tav, please... take a second and think—“ Eliška grimaced as Tav cut her off once again. This time the woman keeping her mouth shut.

“I could go on for hours with everything playing through my mind right now with this man—“

“Oh my, please do tell.“

Tav laughed and turned their focus onto the waiter, who simply smiled back at them. “I’m here for two more weeks on vacation but I don’t want to see the sun again. I want you in my hotel room, fucking me until I can’t walk, fucking me until I forget my own name, fucking me until I lose sense of time and the Czech government comes to find me because I’ve been reported missing—“

“That is an awful lot of sex, not that I’m opposed to it—“

“I’m going to drag you back home with me, just so I can wake up every morning and see the most handsome creature in the world lying next to me every day of the rest for my life.”

“How romantic.”

“Then I’ll marry you and we’ll be together forever.”

“Fine. But only if we continue living here. American healthcare is a joke.”

Tav laughed and turned back to Eliška, smirking at them in a ‘I told you so’ kind of way.

“See? He doesn’t speak any English.”

“Tav… You are an absolute fucking moron.”

“What—“

Astarion hummed, drawing Tav’s attention back to himself.. “I can’t miss work, but I do get off in two hours. Let’s try a date first, before we get married. Alright?”

Astarion turned and left, the waiter laughing to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen once more.

“Wait…” Tav looked from the kitchen and to Eliška. “Did he just speak English?”

Eliška just shook her head in disbelief.

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