#then i eat the un buttered side

[a-sleepy-ginger]

8/2/24

❆❅❆❅❆

Double ender toast for break fast! (They were really thick too!)

Had tasty dinner

Leak in the kitchen got fixed

Friend sent me a photo of their cat in a froggie hat (adorable)

Got alot of my psychology essay done

[pinkslipxox]

Can you do young Miko x Dominican Fem!reader fluff maybe them cooking together and it’s just chaos

I love this!!! Of course my love 💞🫡

——————————————————————————

Laughter and playful shouts echoed throughout the house. A shriek escaped your lips when you felt cold liquid splash you by none of other than your girlfriend, who laughed at your reaction. You grabbed the first thing you could reach, which was a handful of uncooked rice and threw it at her, revenge once again yours.

The delicious aromas of Dominican and Puerto Rican cooking wafted over the air; arroz con gandules, tostones, mangú, chuletas— all part of your dinner for tonight. You and Miko have put your heads together and decided to make a three course meal of your respected cuisines. Yet somewhere during the cooking, a food fight broke out between you. You’re not sure how it started or why, but you didn’t care. Nor did you mind that the kitchen was an absolute mess.

“Cabrona!” Miko squealed as she playfully tackled you to the ground, your laughter uncontrollable.

“Eres fucking loca!” You smeared her face with butter that was splattered on the ground. “Eat that, Miko!”

“Y/N, basta!” Miko laughed as she began to throw whatever food she could grab from the floor at you.

You smirked. “Solo si me das un beso.”

“Come here, then, sweetheart,” Miko hummed as she outstretched her arms for you.

She pulled you with ease into her lap. Her hands found their way your hips, your hands cupped her face tenderly, and neither of you could wipe off the smiles off your faces. You closed the small gap between the two of you, lips molding together oh-so-sweetly, your heart fluttering as the kiss becomes more passionate.

All of the sudden, the fire detector went off.

“Ay, coño!” you exclaimed in horror as smoke began to escape from the oven. The two of you scrambled to your feet, nearly slipping in the process, and Miko handed you the oven mitts.

“Be careful, mi amor,” Miko warned as you took out the contents from the oven.

A cloud of dark smoke flowed out of the oven as you opened the door. Miko grabbed a broom and shut the fire detector off. What was burning were the chuletas that the two of you had put in earlier. They were completely forgotten in midst of the chaos that was happening between the two of you.

You looked at Miko. Who looked at you. And the both of you started back at the burned chuletas.

All you could do was laugh.

“Oh, my God…” Miko moaned as the laughter died down, pulling you to her side.

“What a mess,” you giggled and kissed her cheek. She then gently turned your body so that you were facing her.

“But it’s our mess,” Miko murmured, her lips brushing over yours. “Our beautiful, chaotic mess.”

Leave it to Miko to make any situation romantic.

“Mi reina…” you hummed as you pressed your lips against hers again.

“We should probably shower first before we clean up everything,” she said with a chuckle and you nodded in agreement.

“We could shower together.” You didn’t even try to hide your smirk. “You know, to make it faster, save water… but no funny business, María Victoria.”

“No te prometo nada, princesa,” Miko smirked before carrying you out the kitchen bridal style and into the bathroom.

Where you continued your funny business under the shower.

[pineappleciders]

Could we get headcanons for how would it be being Team Craig beloved adopted child? Like- idk- reader is this sweet kid who wants everyone to be happy and then Craig and Those guys are like- the protective parents while Clyde is reader's adorkable big brother 😱

craig and those guys adopting a sweet reader who acts like their kid/little sibling; platonic headcanons

includes: craig, clyde, tolkien, jimmy, and tweek

A/N: i know tweek technically isn't apart of catg, but since he often is in fanon i decided to add him!! people r always debating whether jimmy or tweek is in craigs gang but why not both!!!!!!

personally i see tweek as the butters of catg. like he's there sometimes but not all the time ykwim

whenever craig and tweek get into a dispute it's like watching your parents argue

despite you being the same age as tolkien, your parents often leave you with him as your babysitter (your parents love him to death) and you two always end up playing games and eating snacks

they're kind of. confused about you. like craig might treat you like butters at first but gets berated by the rest for it once they all realized ur actually cool and not stuck-up

jimmy ruffles your hair and treats you like you're his little sibling, and goes 'oooooo' and asks constant questions if you have a crush on someone

if you're shorter than tweek he leans on your shoulder or head, because he knows it pisses you off. then he giggles deviously about it

craig is kind of. always trying to get your evil side out. like he's completely convinced you're not 100% angel and he tries to annoy you to get you to get angry

u and clyde hang out a lot. like you're always at each other's houses, people at school started to actually think you two were related

lots of video game nights. you all come to someones house (usually tolkiens because he's loaded) and play video games on the couch and in his room all night long. also lots of sleepovers

i feel like when ur choosing teams for a sport or a game, some of them are begging for you on their team and some of them are begging that you aren't on their team

jimmy, tolkien, and clyde want u on their team. craig does not. he doesn't because he thinks u suck (he doesn't mean it, he just wants to be a dick. unless you actually do suck)

with tweek it depends. like he might agree with craig and he might not. it really depends on what the thing you're doing is

clyde leans on your shoulder when you two are standing in the halls with a smug look on his face (he wants to embarrass you)

tolkien (and sometimes jimmy) always help you with studying and homework. like they'll teach you the entire subject and make sure you're prepared for the test

jimmy cracks (un)funny jokes to embarrass you in front of your friends

they get all pissy if someones annoying you. craig in particular is not afraid to get physical if you're getting bullied or something. he'll never admit it though

tweek likes to annoy you, but he's also probably one of the more sentimental ones (next to tolkien and jimmy). like he'll be there for you emotionally and stuff, even though he isn't always the best with feelings

jimmy is very encouraging. like if you're down or anxious about something he'll listen intently and give you the most motivational pep talk you've ever heard. he cares a lot and shows it with quality time and just being there!!!

tolkien is very good at listening. he might not understand everything you're going through, but he tries very hard to hear you out and give advice. he also reassures you that he's always there for you

craig isn't the best at showing his own emotions in the first place, so he's kinda. panicky if you're sad. he's learned a lot from tweek though, and will listen closely and try to validate what you say.

clyde doesn't always understand, but he tries. he'll listen to you talk and gives shitty advice, and is generally kinda knuckle-headed. he genuinely cares though

craig tells you about his silly little interests, and like forces you to play with stripe. he also rants to you about space and shit and you always fall asleep to it

whenever everyone falls asleep in the living room while playing video games, you're the one left awake, and you can't help but feel immense happiness at how peaceful they look.

[creedslove]

DESERVE IT - PART FIFTEEN

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier does his best to apologize to you, which isn't a lot but it is enough, especially when he decides he needs an important answer from you

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff

A/N: Hi besties this is a very short chapter compared to the ones I've written before but I covered everything I needed to in this one. It is not my best work but it is not my worst either, I hope you guys will like it because I loved it and it's soooo cute 🥺🥺🥺

• PART ONE TO FOURTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

2.5k words

If you had the guess the cause of your death, you would have guessed: Javier Peña

Because that devilish man, was indeed, the death of you.

He chewed you up and spat you out and you didn't even complain about it because he could make you cry and whimper and beg you for more.

And that was exactly what happened. After nearly giving you a heartache, of pretty much breaking up with you, disappearing for several hours at night and making you sure you would be alone, Javier got into his apartment, fell onto his knees, your knees, called himself a dog at your feet and then started eating you out.

You barely reacted other than throwing your back against the wall for balance and whimpered. Loud. And then you moaned and called your name. And a part of you had a petty desire of screaming his name as loud as you could, so you could get in the way of Steve's and Connie's fight because there was no way he could get away with that behavior without being scolded by his wife, and then, in case they had already finished their argument and went to bed, you wanted to wake them up, by showing them unlike what Steve had said, you and Javier were going strong, that you were a real couple, that your relationship was for real, no matter what Steve, or anything thought of it, you loved Javi and he loved you.

"Fuck you Javier" you whimpered as he only raised his brown eyes at you, but didn't stop his mouth from wrapping around your clit, suckling on it and dragging another moan from you.

You gripped his hair, the same forceful grip he had on your hair when you blew his cock, he often fucked your face, so it was only fair you fucked his face.

You looked at him and bit your lips ``listen to me, Javier'' you managed to mumble between moans and pulled his head away from your cunt, watching as he swallowed and ran his tongue over his lips, smearing with your wetness. Javi had the puppiest eyes in the world as his thumb wiped a drop of your honey and he paid close attention to what you had to say "you don't get to do shit like that and then come back here, so if you wanna make it up to me, you gotta do it good, Javier. You got me? You gotta make me scream'' you said, staring daggers at him.

He swallowed again and nodded once more, he would do anything you asked him, commanded him, demanded him if it meant you would stay with him. He was so into you it was pathetic and now he couldn't even hide it anymore, you were a necessity, an obsession, something he craved and begged for every day and night.

You gripped his hair again and pulled it rather painfully "me has dicho que eres como un perro a mis pies, ¿No? Entonces, muéstrame"

You didn't often speak Spanish with him, but when you did it was enough to drive Javier Peña insane, it was like adding the code and pressing the buttons to set off a bomb.

He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your center closer to his mouth. Your back was against the wall, at the same time he leaned forwards, his big hands guiding your legs to his shoulders, and his face back deep into your core.

His jeans were tight and his cock throbbed inside of his pants, but at that moment Javier was so hungry for you, he was at your feet, savoring your sweet, juicy cunt and he wanted that forever.

His hands went from the side of your thighs to your lower belly, your skin always felt like butter under his rough touches and he carefully used them to spread your lips open, revealing you entirely for him.

Javi could see your clit hard and sensitive, twitching at the air as he stopped to watch his work of art. He smirked softly and gently kissed it, drawing whimpers from you.

"Don't tease me, perro" you gripped his hair again, feeling a little annoyed and gasped as you felt Javier's teeth scraping softly against your bare clit. He very softly placed a love bite on it, making you squeal and immediately suckled on it, as air escaped your lungs and you moved your hips against his face.

His knees hurt and his shoulders burned but he didn't give one single fuck, he was having his time with you and even if he had to take all the painkillers in the world it would be completely worth it. The way he devoured you was something else, Javier had always been a great pussy eater, but at that moment he wanted to blow your mind and he was achieving his goal as your legs shook and you tried as best as you could to sustain your own weight.

Javi's tongue explored your pussy, sliding it up and down and finding your pouring hole, your sweet juices floating his mouth as he tongue fucked you, going as deep as he could, feeling your internal walls squeezing it at the same time his perfect curved nose brushed against your clit, driving you insane.

You were so caught up in your pleasure, calling his name like a prayer and never wanting it to stop, but the urgent knot on your lower belly sent shivers down your spine and before you could even warn Javi you were cumming.

Hard.

For him, on him.

Javi couldn't sustain your weight any longer and as you came and convulsed in his mouth he pulled you to his lap, the two of you on the floor, tiredly as you stared into his eyes, you leaned in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips and wrapping yourself around him, wanting him so close to you, your bodies tangled together, his scent on you. You broke the kiss and cupped his cheek, staring into his eyes, as he helped you get your dress off, revealing your naked form for him.

Javi's lips latched onto your nipples, one at a time, licking them and suckling on it, as your hands ran through his hair, softly now, gentle even.

Javi was still completely silent, he hadn't dared say a word, but one simple command escaped his lips.

"On all fours now, cariño" he whispered against your ear and watched as you got in position for him, which you gladly did, spreading your legs wide for him. Your sex glistening with your cum, all for him again.

Javi gave you one last lick, his tongue running through your slit, flicking your sensitive clit and going to your asshole, circling it gently before he smacked your cheek with one hand.

The other unzipping his jeans and freeing his cock, pre cum glistened on his tip, as he was so ready for you.

He didn't take long to get inside of you, getting his length as deep as he could and moving his hips, fucking you as hard and fast as he wanted, on the floor, like the two animals you were.

When you finally got off the floor, Javi held you by the waist, taking you to bed, throwing his body heavily against the mattress and pulling you for a kiss. Just as he predicted, his entire body ached, but it was worth every second of it. He still hadn't explained or apologized, he didn't know how to start. What was he supposed to say?

That he went nuts when Steve mistreated you? That the guilt he felt from his past actions almost cost him his relationship with you because for a moment he really thought you'd be better off without him and that he should leave you alone to live your life with someone who actually was worth of your love? Or should he start by telling you about how he broke into Judy Moncada's house and the only reason why he wasn't a dead body being dumped in some shallow grave in the middle of woods was because she thought his attitude was actually amusing?

No, he couldn't do that, he couldn't say those things. It would be just a mix of embarrassing and stupid, but you read him like a book and you just knew he was avoiding talking to you.

"Javi… we need to talk" you said but he frowned as he looked at your knees and saw the bruise forming on them from being on the floor while he railed you "shit, princesa, let me take care of it…" he got up and went to the bathroom, returning some moments later with a bottle of lotion you'd left there sometime shortly after you'd started dating and squirted something onto his hand, sitting next to you and applying it to your knees, massaging them gently along with your thighs.

"You do know we need to talk, Javier" you broke the silence though you could feel yourself melting onto the couch at your boyfriend's ministrations on your skin. You had just had a real tiring day, too many emotions all at once, and to finalize things, you had orgasmed hard, more than once, so it was a fair assumption his little massage was making you less and less willing to have a serious talk with him.

You knew it was his intention all along, but at that point, it felt like it didn't even matter. You closed your eyes and relaxed but opened them again as your felt Javi's fingers on your clit, circling it and making your legs twitch

"No amor, please… it's too sensitive now" you bit your lips and stared at him, who nodded and kissed his way up your thighs, getting on your stomach and resting his head on it. Javier's arms wrapped around your figure and snuggled there, falling into a comfortable silence. He let his thoughts run freely and forget all about what happened earlier. He was taken back to the warmth of the weather in Laredo, the green of the fields, the small city and the familiarity of it. He liked picturing you there, always dressed beautiful in summer dresses, not so different from Colombia after all, he liked imagining you running along with him, going to the stables and petting the horses, because Javier was sure you would be the kind of girl who would love to pet the horses, and he was also sure the horses would gladly let you pet them, because you were impossible to resist, and that, he knew for a fact.

He sighed as his dreams were so sweet, he loved daydreaming about that, and when you began playing with his hair, then he felt he had died and gone straight to heaven.

You loved to feel him nuzzling your womb, he looked like a lazy old cat sprawled all over you, and it warmed your heart. It was something so simple, so domestic and once it seemed so out of reach, when you thought you and Javier would never be able to have that, you even thought you would never be able to be more than just a lay for Javier, but there you were. You were with your man, in a sweet moment, late at night, giving him all the affection he needed, he craved but he thought he didn't deserve it.

He was relaxed and kept his eyes closed, but you knew he wasn't asleep, so you thought it was time to bring things up.

"Javi… we need to talk about tonight… I'm so sorry I acted that way, but I wasn't expecting Steve being such a dick, and I know I told you many times I don't hold your past against you, but I can't help being jealous of you, because you are attractive and handsome and even hookers want you" you sighed "but I know you are mine just as I am yours, but it still makes me jealous" you admitted as Javi opened his eyes and looked at you. He gave you a sad look, and you knew what he meant. He couldn't erase his past, and he couldn't undo those things. God knew he would have if he had the chance, but he was already thankful you loved him without judgment.

Javi licked his lips softly and stroked your hand, as you continued

"And I got also very worried about you and what he said about Los Pepes, please Javi, be careful, don't do anything stupid because if something happens to you I am sure I'm gonna die"

He swallowed hard and got even closer, cupping your cheek and looking into your eyes. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, heart heavy in his chest at your words. Javier Peña almost sacrificed himself so many times at work, but it wasn't just because he cared about his job, about the people and the country he was currently living in. But it wasn't just because of that, he was also lost, personally lost, he had nothing to actually live for, nothing that held him back, but he was tired of it. He was tired of screwing things up, of endangering himself like that, he wanted to be safe for once, because now he had something good, he didn't want that life any longer and above all, he didn't want to make you suffer.

"Y/N I'm gonna ask you something and I want you to know that I ain't joking, I need an answer, a real one" he said as he licked his lips once more and rubbed the back of his neck, watching as you nodded, both on curiosity but also anxiety. You had no idea what he wanted.

"Will you marry me?" He asked and you felt your heart was bursting out of ribcage. You couldn't even believe your ears and if he hadn't warned you he wasn't joking or if he wasn't staring at you apprehensively, you would have been sure it was just a joke.

"What?" It was all you could whisper at him, tears slowly flooding your eyes, as the emotions were getting more and more intense.

"Not right now, cariño and it doesn't have to be in Colombia, it can be when we get our beautiful life in the ranch, and I get if you are afraid of answering me, I know you've had your heart broken by someone you loved once and that you were left at the altar and fuck, I also know I am a walking red flag but I need to know if we have a chance, I need to know if I will have something to fight for, something to-"

You interrupted him by placing your lips against his, closing the distance between you two as you cupped his cheek and deepened the kiss. You didn't need him to say anything else, it wasn't even necessary and you didn't want him to fall into another round of self-deprecating thoughts.

You broke the kiss, smiling as you stared into his eyes and nodded, feeling the happiness overflowing you. Absolutely nothing else mattered in the world but you and Javier, who was going to become of soon-to-be husband.

"Of course I'll marry you Javi"

_____

A/N: hey besties, I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, our story is almost over and well, I want Javi and reader to have their happy ending soon 😍🥺 😍🥺😍🥺

I mean, would you say no to marrying this mf?

[copias-girl]

Thinking about being domestic with Copia...

Eating breakfast together, watching movies on the couch together, snuggling up together in bed and falling asleep...

Anon!! I’m!!! Kissing you for sending this!!! 💋💋💋 adding a cut bc I basically just wrote a whole fic about this lmaoo

Colazione, Un Film, e Dormita

𖤐 Colazione

You begin to stir in the morning, sleepily feeling around in the bed for Copia, but you quickly realize he isn’t there. His spot is still warm though, so you know he must not have been gone long. After blinking your bleary eyes a few times, you pull yourself up, shivering a bit as you reluctantly leave the warmth of your shared bed. As you walk closer to the kitchen, you can hear rustling and… you grin to yourself as you hear Copia humming.

You spot him standing at the stove, wearing nothing but underwear, his back still covered in your scratches from last night. You watch him for a few moments, stifling a giggle at the way he sings some odd little song to himself. What a dork. Your dork.

Finally, you quietly pad up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and nuzzling your face against his back, sighing into his warmth.

“Dolce!” He beams, pleasantly surprised at your arrival. “Faccio le uova, si?” He smiles proudly. They were going to be sunny-side-up, however he broke a few yokes so he decided to make them scrambled instead. But you didn’t need to know that. You only hum in response, peppering kisses all over his back, studying the little freckles that are dotted all over his flesh. You skim your fingers up and down his chest for a few moments, relishing in the way he melts into your loving touch. You give his lovehandles a little squeeze before caressing his soft tummy. Copia was always self-conscious about that part of him, but you go absolutely crazy for it. You suck a little love-bite into his shoulder while you skim up and down his happy trail, fingertips just barely dipping into the band of his underwear.

“I-I hope you’re hungry, Dolce.” Your sweet old man chuckles breathlessly, trying not to get too distracted and overcook the eggs.

“Mmm I’m starving, amore mio.” You kiss the back of his neck, burying your nose into his soft, greying hair. “I’m always hungry for you.” You add quietly, giggling at the way he stiffens in surprise at your words.

You keep your arms around him as he scoops the eggs from the pan into two bowls, only releasing him so you could pour two glasses of orange juice and join your man at the kitchen table where he’s buttering the toast.

“Thank you for breakfast, Co-Co.” You scoot your chair closer to his and pull him in for a sweet kiss.

“Anything for you, Principessa.” He sighs against your lips. “I would make even more for you, if I were a better cook.” He grins.

“Well, it only makes the things you do cook all the more special.” You press several soft kisses to the corner of his mouth before reluctantly pulling away before the food gets too cold.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, and Copia’s chest swells with pride as he watches you shovel big bites into your mouth, humming happily at the taste.

Your bare leg comes to snake around his under the table, caressing his calf with your foot, just wanting to touch him in some way. Copia gazes at you dreamily while he eats, admiring every little detail about you. The both of you are so at ease, so content in the hazy morning sunlight filtering through the window. You could have giggled at the sight of you both, bed-headed and eating eggs with toast while you sported only your panties and a small sleep camisole; Copia in only his underwear. This must have been how Adam and Eve felt in the Garden of Eden, bare yet not ashamed. You absolutely adore how the two of you can be completely yourselves with each other, not needing to put on airs. Or proper clothes. You love the way Copia’s tummy looks as he slouches in his chair, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hand while sleepily munching on a bite of toast.

You could live in this moment forever; love hanging thick and warm in the air. You can practically see little pink hearts floating all around as you quietly study one another. After finishing your food and drinking some juice, you move to sit on Copia’s lap, curling up on him, your face buried in the crook of his neck. His soothing, accented voice coos sweet nothings to you as you kiss his neck and jawline, loving sighs falling from your lips as your man holds you close.

“Dolce. Oh, Dolce.” He squeezes you tightly, caressing your back; kissing your forehead, your cheek, and finally finding your lips with his own.

It isn’t long before you decide to go back to bed. But not for the purpose of sleeping.

𖤐 Un Film di Notte

Movie nights with Copia are always so fun, especially when you watch scary movies! Copia’s exaggerated reactions and gasps always leave you giggling and swatting at him. You pick out an old vintage horror movie, curling up together on the sofa in his rooms, your limbs entwined with one another. You card your fingers through his luscious hair while he caresses your thigh, using the scary moments as an excuse to press closer and closer against one another.

“Don’t worry, Dolcezza, I will protect you, si?” Copia murmurs into your hair, and you turn to capture his irresistible lips in a passionate kiss. Copia kisses you back feverishly, his needy hands grabbing at you and pulling you on top of him. You both blindly reach for the remote control to pause the movie so you don’t miss anything, giggling as you make out for a little while.

When your moans fade into soft sighs, you both pull away, snuggling back into your previous position and resuming the movie with your arms wrapped even tighter around one another.

𖤐 Dormita

You and Copia always get ready for bed together, often showering together and making love under the steamy stream of warm water. You wash each other’s hair, lovingly sighing into each other’s mouths and trying not to get soap in your eyes.

You help each other dry off, slipping on your pyjamas before standing at the sink together and brushing your teeth while making silly faces at each other in the mirror.

Finally, you crawl into bed with one another, stretching and melting into the mattress. Turning to face each other, you quietly speak about the day, telling Copia things that you didn’t get a chance to earlier. He does the same, making you giggle at his stupid jokes and random thoughts that he wanted to tell you during the day. You mindlessly trace the lines on his pretty face while he speaks, occasionally interrupting his soothing voice to steal lazy kisses.

As your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, Copia takes you into his warm embrace, and you bury your face in his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, hands stroking down your back.

“I love you.” You murmur, just on the verge of slumber.

“Oh, Dolce. I love you, my little mouse. I love you.” Copia whispers, so much emotion dripping from his words, you could practically drown in it.

You melt into each other’s warmth, fitting together perfectly like two puzzle pieces, and it isn’t very long at all before sleep claims you. You and Copia hold one another tightly all night long, and you can’t wait to wake up and kiss him again tomorrow.

Finito <3

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Bordeaux

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: She's not exactly sure why she's invited Marc to Bordeaux.

Warnings: mentions of the death of a loved one, written in two hours, poorly edited (author has BDE)

A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my head ever since I watched Un Beau Matin. Any dialogue I used from the movie is bolded down below. English translations will be given at the end of the fic. French is not my native language, so please excuse any mistakes.

I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

Élodie had invited her, once again, to the villa in Bordeaux. Had tempted her really, with the promise of sunshine and a warm, swimmable, ocean. Two things that were a rarity to come by in London, and a luxury spilled in abundance in the South of France. 

There was also room that would be left empty, Élodie had said, a friend of a friend had cancelled last minute (so much the better for everyone else, if you asked her sister), and if she wanted to, she could bring a friend. 

Friend, being a word heavily insinuated and laden with worries unsaid. 

A word that she bravely took at face value and approached Marc with the offer. 

Though it was easy to play oblivious to her sister’s intentions, it was less possible to ignore her own motivations. 

Why Marc?

At face value, it was because there was a loneliness in him that she felt was reflected in herself. Because he was the only person she dared call a ‘friend’, ever since moving to England and isolating herself on the little island. 

She liked to believe Marc was a friend. They went out for lunch almost every week and usually, Friday evenings, she’d come over and get a little tipsy on wine, tipsy enough that her words would slur and her well-practised English would slip and fall into her mother tongue. Once or twice a month they go and see a play or movie, or to the orchestra, with drinks before and dinner after. 

Those nights, the formal nights, Marc is partial to an all-black getup, a black dress shirt that he leaves unbuttoned, a black suit. It’s an image that alights a squiggly feeling inside of her, one a clumsy child’s hands would make with a broken blue crayon on paper. 

Other than that, sometimes Marc comes over for brunch on Sunday mornings, a concept he’d introduced her to and one that she’s come to grudgingly see the appeal in. He sips coffee with her and eats buttered toast and makes her laugh with crude little pequin peppers of jokes. 

But never, from either side of the conversation, has there been any hint towards inviting more people into their bubble. 

Her excuse is simple, she doesn’t know anyone else to invite. Everyone she knows is on the other side of the Channel. 

Marc’s excuse is not so obvious to her. She squints through the parchment papers of them, and can’t come up with a satisfactory answer. 

She wonders that maybe the reason why she hasn’t bothered herself to find more people she’d be able to call friends was because she was happy with Marc’s quiet companionship. His not-so-smiling-smiles, the way his eyes crinkle when he gives her a belly-laugh like a giant Ferroro Rocher ball, wrapped up in golden paper. 

She’s moved to England for almost a year now, and she’d only been lonely the first two months, before she ran into Marc in a coffee shop, tears in her eyes and ready to call this new chapter over before it was written. 

Sometimes, she tries to reason that it’s because he’s an American, a foreigner in a new continent. That his move was more intense than hers, and together, they found each other in the margins and happily decided to set up camp. 

His Americanness is also a blessing in disguise. The dreaded oral exams of her youth were always in a quite generic, American accent. When moving to London, she’d had a false sense of security that there would be a very short adaptation time to the English accents, since she could understand the unobstructed audio of the woman saying I like bananas very much. What is your favourite fruit? in her BAC listening exams. 

Coming home from work, her head is pounding from the struggle of trying to sort through the various inflections, tones, speeds of the seemingly infinite variations of a single accent. She feels betrayed by the French public education system. Nobody had prepared or warned her about this. 

When she talks to Marc, however, it’s easy to understand him. It relaxes the joints of her brain, soothes it over. It’s the reassurance that she’s not in fact stupid and incompetent, things her coworkers must surely think of her after she’s asked them for the fourth time to repeat themselves. 

She could also argue and say that she had already pushed away many of her own friends, heaping handfuls of time before her move. That the very reason why she changed countries was to start fresh, and that inviting her old university friends to the vacation would be awkward and heavily-charged with betrayal, a step back. 

Despite all this, she hasn’t been able to ignore the true reasons underneath her choice of Marc. 

Quite simply, she could have just said she had no one to invite over. 

It would have resulted in a decently heated exchange or two, about wasting her life, about using her youth to find someone to settle down with before she was too old for it. 

Not a pleasant experience for what should have been easy vacation, to kick back and destress. 

But at least she would have had an easy mind about her own choice.

Yet, looking at Marc now, playing with her niece, she’s not sure she regrets it; even if her mind has been plagued with the why of it ever since they arrived.

He’s letting her niece play with his cheeks, letting her hands push around an imaginary bubble of air in his mouth.

The two of them had been able to surpass the language barrier quite easily it seems. Though little Anaïs, at only five, had been sure to show him that she was quite well-versed in English by rattling off the alphabet and counting to twenty-five for him, the difficulties only starting from seventeen. 

Relaxed and sunkissed is a nice look on him. 

Laughter comes easier to him now, even if their jokes and stories are poorly translated and lose a lot of their mirth in English. The smile lines are deeper than the frowns, the delicate folds around his eyes like embroidery almost always present. 

In London, Marc combs back his hair meticulously. She’s seen him do it, grumbling and swearing under his breath when it doesn’t fall the way he likes it to. 

In Bordeaux, he lets it loose, free from the obligations of work and life and the fresh air and the saltwater bringing out the best of it. His short curls move as if they have a mind of their own. 

She longs to thread her fingers between them, to sink her teeth into the exposed, caramel-like freckled skin of his chest as if it were cotton candy and salt-water taffy. 

She had meant to be reading. 

The sight in front of her, the view of the ocean just a stone’s throw behind the two, was much more appealing at the moment. 

The glassed door opens and there’s the gentle swish of Élodie’s sandals, the faint thud of a tray of lemonade and wine hitting the table beside her. 

“T’as soif?” 

She shakes her head, murmurs her thanks. She’s the type of sleepy that comes from too much rest and sunshine. 

The hinges of the chair squeak as her sister sits down beside her. 

The moment before it happens, she knows it’s coming. They’ve barely had any time alone together since her arrival, and Marc’s presence had already raised quite a lot of eyebrows, undeterred by the fact that they had separate rooms. 

It’s the perfect moment for some older sister grilling. Everyone’s retreated to their own rooms, or to town to stock up on some groceries and alcohol. 

Marc doesn’t understand French, Anaïs too little, and too preoccupied, to understand what they’re truly saying. 

She tsks and sets down her book a tad too harshly on the table, “Putain, Élodie-”

“J’ai rien dit!” she holds her hands up in defence. 

At the sudden sound of an argument in the making, Marc looks at the two of them, a crease forming in his eyebrows that fades as soon as she smiles back at him. 

The momentary distraction gives Anaïs the executive power to decide that a change in pace would be nice, and she pounces on him from behind. 

Marc’s taken aback but then he laughs out, turning behind him, “You’re a bit of a monkey aren’t you!” They tumble together onto the ground, the girl’s excited giggles swirling up into the ocean air. 

The sight warms her heart in ways that his all-black look does, and she knows better than to dive into those emotions. 

“Il est beau, ce Marc, non?” Though the question is teasing, though she’s heard it multiple times from the people in the villa, there’s an undercurrent of sisterly concern and worry. Despite all the troubles Élodie gives her, it’s a sound that pricks tears from her eyes, reminds her just how homesick she’s been this past year. 

She takes an exasperated breath and picks up her book again, “J’en sais rien.”

There’s a heavy pause, almost as if it exists outside of Marc’s happy world. She’s never heard him giggle like that before, it twists at her stomach in unignorable ways. 

“Tu l’aimes?” 

She turns an unread page and hopes the thundering of her heart isn’t too loud. 

Her sister’s eyes soften, out of the corner of her eye she sees her head tilt towards her direction, “C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche?”

“Non,” she concedes and picks at her thumb, then thumbs the corner of her books, letting the pages run under her finger. 

“Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune,” she rolls her eyes at this, it’s the same excuse every time. “T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée.”

When it’s clear that she won’t respond, Élodie continues, slyly, “Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien?”

It stings like a bee, her words. The images that arise in her mind against her will are like poison, homebrewed alcohol. 

She stings back, “Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille.”

That manages to shut off the conversation, though there’s a sour taste in her mouth that also hangs in the air between her and her sister. 

With a squeal, Anaïs runs towards her mother, a grin pressed into her cheeks, “Maman!”

Élodie takes her daughter in her arms, kisses her cheeks, “Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien?” The girl nods, hugging her back. “T’as soif, alors?”

Marc gets up from the ground, and brushes off the dirt from his shorts. There’s a groan as he tries to stand up, and he rubs his back soothingly to combat against it. 

She treasures the sound he made, the gentle frown in his face and the soft way it faded away with the pain in his back. “Are you thirsty, Marc?” she calls out to him. He comes to stand in front of her, and he nods, an open smile hanging around his face like morning dew. “Wine? Or lemonade?”

As she pours him some wine, her niece some lemonade, Steven looks at her from the wine bottle with a dumbfounded expression, his eyes dark and serious with grief. 

A glance at him makes Marc wonder what kinda stick his alter’s got up his ass now. 

But the wine is refreshing, and it brushes away any thoughts of Steven and of the heated words the sisters had exchanged as he was playing on the ground. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly. (Part 2 to this is looking enticing lemme tell you)

Masterlist here, requests here.

Translations:

T'as soif? - Are you thirsty?

Putain, Élodie - Fuck, Elodie

J'ai rien dit! - I didn't say anything!

Il est beau, ce Marc, non? - He's pretty, this Marc, isn't he?

J'en sais rien - I don't know what you're talking about.

Tu l'aimes? - Do you love him?

C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche? - Is it his memory that's stopping you?

Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune - So what's your problem? Sweetheart, it's been almost five years since his death, and you're still young,

T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée - You have the right to love, to be loved.

Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien? - So, you don't care that Marie likes him?

Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille. - Elodie, you're worse than Mom. Leave me alone.

Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien? - Hello, my angel, were you having fun?

[itookyoudown]

From nothing but time (hard time)!

Tim thinks there's nothing to say about it. Conversation (and action) over with the night. He’d be wrong. Raylan’s head and now shirtless shoulders and naked arms pop up by the side of Tim’s bed. He’s peeled off his shirt and stands there looking at Tim with a smile in his eyes.

“Tim, you want a taste of Kentucky?”

Tim rolls his eyes. And then he closes them. There’s no potential threat in the question. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Raylan’s dick is hard again. Thus no way for the other man to weaponize it. Not yet. Tim’s still got another thirty to forty minutes before he might have to shove off an attempt for a second round.

“Think I’ve had my fill for the night,” Tim declines in a dry, disinterested tone. He knows now what the inside of Raylan’s mouth tastes like.

He hears something tinny open and close. Tim does peek to find out what that’s about. Raylan’s holding out the little box that he keeps his personal effects in. Letters. Snacks. Shit like that.

“They’re butter cake,” he whispers. Raylan is already holding out the tin for Tim to take one. As if he can’t imagine Tim saying no.

Tim squints at him. “You do know it’s candy you’re supposed to lure boys with if you’re looking to get your cock sucked. Cookies? Cakes? Now, this is what witches use as bait for kids they wanna cook up. Unless you're trying to eat me?”

A shit-eating grin stretches out Tim’s lips. God, he loves this. This is the kind of shit that gets him hard. Or it would have, if he hadn’t just shot off three minutes ago. “This is cultural appropriation, Raylan. You’re mixing up unseemly fornication with cannibalism.”

“Eat the fuckin’ cookie, Gutterson.”

Tim’s never had someone threaten him over baked goods before. He keeps his gaze pinned on Raylan’s face as he dips his fingers into the tin box that Raylan’s still holding out. Slow. Careful. He’s wary about this.

“Why you sharing your mama’s cookies?” he asks. 

There’s no afterglow in prison, but apparently, there are cookies. Tim shouldn’t take the cookie. For much the same reason he shouldn’t call Raylan Raylan.

There are stories about Raylan. There are so many stories about Raylan. While Tim thought most of them were bullshit…the more he gets to know Raylan, the more he believes there's more truth to them than lie. 

And one of those stories that might not be such a tall tale is that Raylan shanked a man for stealing one of the goodies his mother bought in on family day.

“I told her ‘bout you,” Raylan answers nice and easy and with absolute unbidden honesty, “and she told me to share.”

Un-fucking-believable. It’s true. Even murderers still love their mothers.

Ohh yo. Justie i’m glad you asked this one so I can ramble about it quite a bit. This fic’s popularity has always surprised me and I’m still floored by the folks that have reached out to tell me it was one of the fics that drew them into reading more Justified fanfiction or set sail the givenson ship for them.

This was written back in my early days of writing fanfiction for the very first time. I wanted to test out my comfort zone and also give back in some way to the fandom that had given me so much joy, so I hosted a mini prompt fest (Givensongiving) right here on tumblr and invited justies to send me prompts for givenson fics.

You can thank @sublightsleeper for prompting “involuntary arousal + prison sex, gimme that sweet sweet au sauce” and thus this fic was born.

It was hugely inspired by the prison scenes in Justified and other shows such as Oz, Orange is the New Black, and a lot of nonfiction books + documentaries I’ve read over the years about the USA prison system.

When I thought about how to put Raylan and Tim in a prison setting, I immediately went with the idea that they both ended up as inmates. I think I briefly considered the idea that they were both guards. Or even doing guard/inmate, but I didn’t really get any noncon or darkfic inspiration from the prompt. Besides, I did want to preserve the equal footing they have had on the show with each other and I was drawn to painting a friendly/comforting connection between them as they're locked up.

Once I knew I wanted to do inmate/inmate, there was zero question on HOW Raylan and Tim would end up in prison: they’d be there for murdering their fathers.

I can clearly remember thinking about how Raylan would have killed Arlo and had this thought: “what if Raylan killed Arlo with a baseball bat? That’d be hot…but also horrifying for him so let’s explore that”. It felt really fitting to me to have Raylan kill Arlo in such a “personal” way (close and personal and frantic and messy) and Tim to kill his father in an “impersonal” way (cold and distant with a gun and utilizing military tactics).

ANYWAYS. Sorry for all the background rambling onto rambling about this specific bit!

This whole exchange was really meant to highlight the different ways that Raylan and Tim have learned how to survive prison and the effect it’s had on their ability to make connections with others and how to navigate relationships.

Tim rolls his eyes. And then he closes them. There’s no potential threat in the question. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Raylan’s dick is hard again. Thus no way for the other man to weaponize it. Not yet. Tim’s still got another thirty to forty minutes before he might have to shove off an attempt for a second round.

Prison has hardened Tim. He’s closed himself off behind a very high wall to protect both his emotions and also physically safeguard himself. He’s always looking out for an angle that someone might use to hurt him. In this case, when Tim worries about Raylan trying to initiate more sex, this is Tim being painfully aware that his cellmate could regard his agreement with consenting to sex this time as consenting to sex always. 

Earlier in this fic I implied that Tim is a survivor of incest & SA, so it was important to me that I circle around to that reveal again and have Tim anticipating this violence (and have him ready to defend himself)…but having him do it in a very Tim-like way. His casual acceptance of the possibility of it was really meant to highlight the horror of what’s happened to him in the past.

I also feel like the cold, factual, and slightly paranoid way that Tim reacts to Raylan in the immediate aftermath of their sexual encounter was a good contrast to Raylan’s more lighthearted approach as well. Tim hasn’t done as much time as Raylan and Tim got to live life a little before being locked up. And because of that I think Tim’s viewpoint of what they’ve done is more practical – he’s in prison and cut off from the outside world, he’s making due with what and who is available to him. He’s touch starved and knows it and so seeks friendly hands for a few minutes of respite without expecting anything beyond that.

“They’re butter cake,” he whispers. Raylan is already holding out the tin for Tim to take one. As if he can’t imagine Tim saying no.

You have no idea how long I spent researching “traditional kentucky desserts” and “popular kentucky desserts” before I settled on butter cake cookies lol. I really wanted it to be something simple but distinct, something that Frances would actually bake and she’d be able to take into prison for Raylan.

This was also, once again, Tim making implications about his past and being purposefully offensive about it because he likes to tell his little jokes as his primary coping mechanism.

Compared to Tim, it was my goal to make Raylan…I don’t want to call him soft, even though his behavior is obviously softer when you compare it to Tim’s. Raylan is still a very violent and angry man in this fic. His murder of Arlo sent him to prison and him assaulting and murdering other inmates has ensured he’ll be a lifer. He’s also still a smooth talker and likes to tell others what to do (hence him telling Tim to eat the fucking cookie).

However, I did want to draw attention to the fact that Raylan has spent more of his life inside of prison than outside of it. He went in while he was still a teenager. He’s never known the outside world in an adult way, so there’s absolutely a childish edge to him and a degree of innocence in the way he tries to grow closer to Tim.

And I did want to make it clear that despite Raylan’s charm and the fact that he’s over 40 years old in this, he’s emotionally underdeveloped and has a much more rosy view. He is very much experiencing A Big Crush on his new cellmate (and is over the moon that the newest boy on the block likes him best) and is treating their time together as if they’re “dating”. He’s also obeying his mama’s advice on how to treat Tim because yes this is also sneaky Raylan is a mama’s boy propaganda fic.

As an aside, I loved including Frances even if she’s in the background. It felt so good to write at least one AU where Frances survived Arlo even if that meant she lost Raylan to prison. She got to live!!

(author commentary ask game)

[chirpbudgie]

hay :-) so our discussion of gidget in rtaos… not necessarily canon to the au but i liked what we talked about a lot

cws: just food mentions, i think. and a lot of upset boys.

They’re back, they’ve got Their Narrator and they’re safe. Everyone’s somewhere on the verge of tears, triumphant and distraught in different measures. But the storm has passed, the clouds have cleared to a blue sky.

Spencer takes a deep breath. There’s just one more thing he needs to know. He checks all the small spaces first, around and under the couch and in the cupboards he should not be able to fit in but can. Gidget has a tendency to hide when he’s upset, after all.

Leigh almost instantly catches on, and soon they’ve got a small search party. A few minutes turns to ten, turns to twenty. There aren’t that many hiding places, are there? He has to be here somewhere—Gidget was the first to go through, right? Nancy sent him ahead early. By all accounts, it seemed that way.

Would he—no, Gidget knows better than to leave the house without his key. Right? But if he was panicking, then…

Spencer paces in his room, hands shaking. He’s a single category-0 event away from tearing the place apart. Gidget is nowhere to be found and he can’t handle that after hearing those screams. He slumps against the edge of his bed.

A whimper.

He looks around fast enough to give himself whiplash.

He didn’t make his bed, so the blanket is pouring off the side, but it’s also moving. Spencer pulls it away slowly, as to not startle his boy.

Gidget’s face is flushed from old tears, eyes puffy and brimming with unshed ones. He un-wedges an arm and makes a grabby hand. He says simply, “sssssduck.”

What the fuck. Spencer can barely squeeze his arm in that gap. A relieved laugh bubbles out, bordering hysterical.

“Found him!” Spencer calls down the hall.

It takes some tugging to get him out. Someone has to squeeze under the bed and help from beneath because his leg got stuck. They can’t pull the bed out, because that risks Gidget hitting the floor and manhandling him, and the boy won’t let go of Spencer anyway. Bruises have already begun to form where he squished himself too much, but the rescue mission is a success.

This is good. Spencer needed a distraction after everything that just happened. He has his boy to care for now, who probably hasn’t eaten yet. It’s been a rough day, so something gentle on his stomach. Some rice and maybe some veggies. A peanut butter granola bar if he’s feeling adventurous.

Gidget starts to whimper every time he’s alone, so they settle for a piggyback ride to the kitchen. Leigh holds him so the boy can watch Spencer move around the kitchen. He’s the only one who can make white rice how Gidget likes it. (Which is crazy, because he microwaves it. That’s not even cooking.)

The poor boy is exhausted, they can tell. His face is still blotchy, like he was crying when they weren’t looking. He refuses to eat unless it’s fed to him, and even then he takes longer than normal. At least he accepts water; they have to refill his cup twice.

“What’s wrong, little buddy?” Spencer asks gently. He could catch that wobbly lip from a mile away.

{I don’t feel good} Gidget signs. Tears are flowing like a waterfall again with no sign of stopping.

Leigh, still holding him, puts a hand on his forehead. His eyes go wide. Spencer checks too and has a similar reaction.

“Why don’t we get your bear? It’s past time for your nap.” Spencer’s just about out of words for the day, but he’d do anything for his boy.

Gidget whimpers a little. It’s as close to an answer they’ll get. He’s drooping like a dying flower.

It helps sometimes, being the same person in technicality. They can tell what pajamas he wants, how he wants to be tucked in. That he’ll get fussy if they leave before he’s asleep. And Spencer uses his special trick that always helps Gidget relax. It takes much longer than usual, but when his goodnight kiss comes, he’s out like a light and barely wakes until the next morning.

(The thermometer reads 102.4° Fahrenheit. When the sun goes down, it’ll be 103. Just how much contact did he have with Perry, anyway?)

[parfumieren]

Jeux de Peau (Serge Lutens)

In a 1938 photograph taken by Roger Schall, the great French novelist Colette sits at a rustic dining table buttering a slice of bread. To be more precise, she's solidly paving it with thick shingles of fresh butter-- and quite a job she has ahead of her, too, since the slice she holds is itself the length of a house brick. An expression of intense concentration dominates her face; she caresses the rough-textured surface of the bread with both her eyes and the rounded point of the knife, seeming to note with rapacious delight each place where she might first choose to sink her teeth.

Yes, Colette surely knew on which side her bread was buttered… because she wouldn't dream of delegating that task to anyone else. But Colette did not just eat her good buttered bread. She also thought about it-- and wrote on the subject at length.

La mère et le fils venaient de prendre ensemble leur petit déjeuner et Chéri avait daigné saluer de quelques blasphèmes flatteurs son “café au lait de concierge”, un café au lait gras, blond et sucré que l’on confiait une seconde fois à un feu doux de braise, après y avoir rompu des tartines grillées et beurrées qui recuisaient à loisir et masquaient le café d’une croûte succulente. (Mother and son had just finished breakfasting together, and Chéri had condescended to praise with an oath his cup of 'housemaid's coffee', made with creamy milk, well-sugared, with buttered toast crumbled into it and browned till it formed a succulent crust.) --CHÉRI (1920); translated from the French by Roger Senhouse (Farrar, Strauss & Giroux, 1951)

There is in Chéri a reference to a “café au lait de concierge” that has aroused -- and I choose my words advisedly -- a hungry curiosity, which I have until now left unsatisfied. A concierge once gave me this recipe for a breakfast guaranteed to dispel the shivers on winter mornings. Take a small soup tureen -- the individual soup tureen you would use for a soupe gratinée -- or a sturdy bowl in fire-proof china. Pour in your milky coffee, prepared and sugared according to taste. Cut some hearty slices of bread -- use household bread, refined white will not do -- butter them lavishly and lay them on the coffee, ensuring that they are not submerged. Then all you have to do is place the whole thing in the oven and leave it there until your breakfast is browned and crusty, with fat, buttery bubbles sizzling here and there on the surface. Before breaking your raft of roasted bread, sprinkle on some salt. Salt counteracting the sugar, sugar with a faint taste of salt, that is one of the great principles of cooking that is neglected in a number of Parisian puddings and pastries, which taste bland simply because they lack a pinch of salt. --Article authored by Colette for Marie-Claire, January 27, 1939; excerpted in Colette: A Passion For Life by Genevieve Dormann (Abbeville Press, 1985); translated from the French by David Macey

Serge Lutens has also thought about bread a good deal-- not to mention the lait gras that best accompanies it. In Jeux de Peau ("skin games"), he and Christopher Sheldrake have wedded together notes of creamy comfort and roasted warmth to recreate Colette's café au lait de concierge for the wrists rather than for the breakfast table.

Though a yeasty, sweet quickbread loaded with toasted pecans is the main dish here, I can't overemphasize how great an effect this fragrance's milky element has on me. If the first thing you learned as a kid in the kitchen was how to properly scald milk for béchamel, then you know well the curiously maternal aspects of this process-- tending the flame with an anxious eye, taking the milk's temperature as solicitously as one would a child's (except that in this case, a fever of 180°F is considered no cause for alarm).

Then, of course, there is the skin-- a thin film of protein which collects on the surface of heated milk. Known as kajmak throughout Eurasia, paneer or malai in Southeast Asia, Devonshire or clotted cream in Great Britain, and natas de leche among the Basques of Spain, it possesses an intriguing texture and sweet, creamy flavor worthy of its round-the-world following. Serge Lutens surely is teasing us with his knowledge of this unique treat. In fact, amongst the children of the above cultures, it's agreed the best destination for it is -- what else? -- a slice of toasted bread.

If you are looking for spiritual nourishment (or simply a barrier against winter's chills and ills), I suggest you avail yourself of some Jeux de Peau. Spray it on your wrists and wear your sleeves long. When needed, lower your nose into the protected warmth of your cuff and breathe in the golden scent of succor.

Scent Elements: Milk notes, coconut, licorice, osmanthus, apricot

[n-r-drafts]

These aren't really recipes — more methods — because uhhh I don't have them written down anywhere.

(added after I typed this all up: I went and checked OP's post, and the tags said "no red meat." I'm not sure if pork counts... if it does, well, perhaps this will help someone else who can eat pork? Otherwise, turkey-ham can be substituted for ham, and chicken or turkey can be substituted otherwise.)

Cornbread muffins with cubed ham and corn kernels added are pretty good, and they keep well frozen. Jiffy corn muffin mix works great, but you can also google for copycat recipes if you can't get that; it just means more measuring, though you can do that part ahead of time. You could throw in some cheese and/or chopped jalapeno, too, if you wanted. If you don't want to bother with muffins or don't have a muffin tin, you could also make it in a casserole dish and just cut it into squares. I think it would be good served with greens (collards or turnip greens) on the side, if you like those.

The "leftover frittata" is another classic:

Basically, cook/heat up/combine whatever ingredients you like in a skillet with seasonings and then pour a bunch of beaten eggs over them. Add cheese if you want. If your skillet can go in the oven, the whole thing can be baked until the eggs are cooked through, or you can just leave it on low heat on the stove, same idea, and maybe flip over some sections carefully. The idea is to have it turn into something you can serve in slices, more or less, but it doesn't have to be pretty. Whatever you put in shouldn't be very wet or oily, but otherwise just about anything goes; it's just up to your taste.

Possibilities for ingredients to throw in include...

Proteins: ground meat of choice (browned with garlic, salt, pepper), cubed rotisserie chicken, ham or cooked bacon ...or honestly you can leave it out because all that egg is plenty.

Vegetables: broccoli (steam in the microwave first), chopped bell pepper (frozen works), chopped onion, or spinach/other greens.

A starch: cubed potatoes (good use for leftover hash browns or french fries), perhaps squash? or if you don't put a starch in the frittata, just serve it with toast or something.

It's basically an un-fancy quiche without the crust.

One of my favorite and very simple dinners is:

pan-fried pork chops (seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic)

baked whole sweet potatoes (with butter), and

brussels sprouts (steam-in-bag, tossed with butter and some garlic+paprika-based seasoning salt after cooking).

It helps to have an instant-read thermometer for temping the pork chops, so you'll know when they've reached a safe temperature without overcooking them. We usually use pork loin, cut into thick steaks, since it's cheap and also boneless. All of it makes for really good leftovers. The sweet potatoes are basically hands-off once you wash them, so there's plenty of time to get the pork chops cooked, and then the brussels sprouts take hardly any time at all, so it's pretty easy even if there are multiple dishes. If you don't bother with a baking sheet and just use aluminum foil under the potatoes to catch the drips, then there's only one pan to wash, too.

If you wanna, you can also serve the pork chops with apple sauce or cranberry sauce, but I don't find it completely necessary.

edit: the sweet potatoes take MUCH longer than the specified 45 minutes total cook time, oops! So that's something you'd probably want to make ahead to have later. They DO keep very well - about a week in the fridge! - and you can cook a bunch at once.

White bean chili is also delicious:

ground turkey (or pork)

chopped onion

canned beans (whatever kind you like as long as it's not red or black, could be a few kinds for variety)

canned green chilies (the milder kind, can also add jalapeno or serrano if you like more spice)

canned corn

chicken broth

lime juice

spices (garlic, salt, white pepper [or black pepper if you only have that], cumin, paprika, cayenne I guess if you like spicy?, and some recipes I've seen call for cinnamon, which is interesting, but I've never tried it)

Sweat/saute the onion in oil until translucent; add ground turkey and spices, go until just cooked; add the canned stuff (beans, corn, chilies) and just enough chicken broth to let it simmer without burning; simmer ~30 minutes, stirring periodically, or longer if you want a more broken-down texture on the beans. Adjust seasoning to taste. You can mash some of the beans also to thicken it. Add lime juice to taste. If you are up to it, a garnish of fresh cilantro and green onion in each bowl is a good finishing touch.

Optional: You can serve it with tortilla chips if you want; maybe sour cream? avocado? pepper jack cheese? idk I'm not the boss of you.

Also works well for using up leftover chicken (shredded) if you don't want to bother with raw meat; just put the cooked chicken in toward the end instead.

If you have an Instant Pot, this dish could probably be adapted for it to reduce the simmering time.

Do any of u have decent recipes that are like 5 ingredients (not including spices) and take 45 mins or less to prepare i gotta stop eating sandwiches for dinner

[stealinghoneyfrombees]

FAVE K-TUNES OF 2023

(In order of artist, then release) # 3YE - LOCO A aespa - Hold On Tight aespa - Welcome To MY World (feat. naevis) aespa - Spicy aespa - Salty & Sweet aespa - Thirsty aespa - I'm Unhappy aespa - Better Things aespa - Drama aespa - Trick or Trick AGUST D - D-Day AGUST D - AMYGDALA AGUST D - 극야 Polar Night AILEE ft. Lil Cherry - RA TA TA Apink - D N D ATEEZ - BOUNCY (K-HOT CHILLI PEPPERS) B BBGIRLS - ONE MORE TIME BEBE YANA - 64 BEBE YANA - VROOM VROOM Billlie - EUNOIA BLACKSWAN - Cat & Mouse BLITZERS - Macarena BOYNEXTDOOR - But Sometimes C Cherry Bullet - P.O.W! (Play On the World) Crush - 미워 Ego D DALsooobin - 다나카상 TANAKA SAN DEAN - DIE 4 YOU DINO - Wait DPR IAN - Welcome To The Other Side DPR IAN - So I Danced DPR IAN - Peanut Butter & Tears Dreamcatcher - OOTD Dvwn - Highteen E ENHYPEN - Bite Me ENHYPEN - Sacrifice (Eat Me Up) ENHYPEN - Chaconne ENHYPEN - Bills Epik High ft. Hoshi - Screen Time EXO - Let Me In EXO - Hear Me Out EXO - Cream Soda F FIFTY FIFTY - Cupid fromis_9 - #menow G (G)I-DLE - Queencard (G)I-DLE - Lucid (G)I-DLE - All Night (G)I-DLE - I Want That (G)I-DLE - Eyes Roll Golden Child - Feel me GOT the Beat - Stamp On It H Han Seungwoo - Dive Into Hyolyn ft. Paul Blanco - This love I I.M - OVERDRIVE INFINITE - New Emotions Itzel - Dreaming Of The Days ITZY - BET ON ME ITZY - Kill Shot ITZY (Lia) - Blossom IVE - Kitsch IVE - I AM IVE - Blue Blood IVE - Off The Record IVE - Baddie IVE - Either Way IVE - Holy Moly J Jessi - Gum JIHYO - Killin' Me Good JIHYO - Closer JIHYO - Room JIHYO ft. Heize - Don't Wanna Go Back Jimin - Set Me Free Pt.2 Jimin - Like Crazy Jimin - Face-off JK Kim Dong Uk - Better Jinyoung - Cotton Candy K KAI - Rover KAI - Say You Love Me KAI - Sinner KARD - ICKY KEY - Killer KEY - Good & Great KEY - CoolAs L Lacuna - Wings LEE CHAEYEON - KNOCK LE SSERAFIM - Burn the Bridge LE SSERAFIM - UNFORGIVEN (feat. Nile Rodgers) LE SSERAFIM - No-Return (Into the unkown) LE SSERAFIM - Eve, Psyche & The Bluebeard's wife LE SSERAFIM - Perfect Night Loossemble - Sensitive Loossemble - Newtopia M MISAMO - Marshmallow MISAMO - Do not touch MONSTA X - Beautiful Liar MONSTA X - Daydream MONSTA X - 춤사위 Crescendo MONSTA X - LONE RANGER MONSTA X - Deny MONSTA X - 괜찮�� It's Okay Moon Jong Up - X.O.X N NCT 127 - Ay-Yo NCT 127 - Skyscraper NCT 127 - Fact Check NCT 127 - Misty NCT 127 - Love is a Beauty NCT DOJAEJUNG - Perfume NCT DREAM - ISTJ NCT U - Baggy Jeans NCT U - PADO NewJeans - OMG NewJeans - New Jeans NewJeans - Super Shy NewJeans - ETA NewJeans - Cool With You NewJeans - Get Up NewJeans - ASAP Nine - beyOnd NMIXX - Love Me Like This NMIXX - Roller Coaster O ODD EYE CIRCLE - Air Force One ODD EYE CIRCLE - Je Ne Sais Quoi ODD EYE CIRCLE - Love Me Like ODD EYE CIRCLE - My Secret Playlist Onew - O (Circle) P P1Harmony - JUMP pH-1 ft. KEITA - Metronome Q Queenz Eye - UN-NORMAL R Red House - WOMAN Red Velvet - Chill Kill Red Velvet - Underwater Red Velvet - Will I Ever See You Again Red Velvet - Bulldozer Ryu Sujeong - Non-Fantasy Ryu Sujeong - Grabby Girl Ryu Sujeong - Love or Hate S SEVENTEEN - F*ck My Life SEVENTEEN - 손오공 Super SEVENTEEN - Fire SEVENTEEN - I Don't Understand But I Luv U SEVENTEEN - 음악의 신 God of Music SF9 - Puzzle SF9 - Love Colour SHINee - The Feeling SHOWNU X HYUNGWON - Love Me A Little SHOWNU X HYUNGWON - Slow Dance Silica Gel ft. So!YoOn! - Tik Tak Tok Silica Gel - T Silica Gel - APEX sogumm, Silica Gel - I Love You SOOJIN - 아가씨 AGASSY SOOJIN - Flowering Stray Kids - 락 LALALALA T TAEMIN - Guilty TAEMIN - The Rizzness TAEYONG - 404 File Not Found TAEYONG - Back to the Past THE BOYZ - WATCH IT TWICE - MOONLIGHT SUNRISE TWICE - SET ME FREE TWICE - BLAME IT ON ME tripleS - Rising tripleS - Colorful tripleS - The Baddest tripleS - New Look TVXQ! - Down TVXQ - Rebel TVXQ - Rodeo V V - Rainy Days VIVIZ - MANIAC VIVIZ - Untie VIVIZ - Overflow W Weeekly - VROOM VROOM Weeekly - Backwards WOODZ - Drowning WOODZ - Busted WOODZ - AMNESIA Y Yena ft. BE'O - Love War YUGYEOM - LOLO Z ZEROBASEONE - In Bloom

[kinsey3furry300]

The past was the worst: part 51, 324. The OG food desert

While I feal that, rightly enough, people here are criticising the deplorable state of over-processed, un-nutritious food in the west in general and the US in particular, I’m also seeing a lot of whimsical, “Oh people in the past ate an all organic healthy diet” bullshit, and I’m like to remind everyone that the past was always awful, food deserts in the US are nothing new, and in fact a lot of the very first processed foods were well-meaning attempts to fix them.

Bottle formula: Over one in ten first time mothers don’t lactate, or don’t produce enough milk for their baby. Before bottle formula, unless you were rich enough to afford a wet nurse, those babies would die, or suffer lifelong developmental problems. Is formula right for every mother? No. Did Nestle trick millions of people in the developing world into thinking that they needed bottle formula, and them make them make it with unclean water killing over seven million babies? Yes. But stop demonizing formula as a concept, it really helps some people.

Hydrogenated vegetable oils: you know those old-timey 1880s to 1900’s pictures of The Lower West side, where it’s nothing but conservative Jewish families living very crowded conditions? Yeah, there was a reason for that: Lard, it was in EVERYTHING. It was commonly added to bread in the Victorian period! Outside of specialist shops in big cites, every fat available was either prohibitively expensive, or pig-based. This kept Jews, Muslims, and vegetarians restricted to tiny areas of major cities, essentially enforcing ghettoization. Crisco was seen as a legit miracle when it came out: a hard cooking fat that was plant based and cheaper than lard. Because it was so cheap, it went everywhere and replaced lard in most common uses.  Suddenly, people who didn’t’ eat lard for ethical reasons could live wherever the hell they wanted, and Margarine suddenly made it possible for poorer families to butter their fucking bread for the first time in history.  Should you be eating tones of Hydrogenated Vegetable fats? Should they be in fucking everything? No, but you already knew that.

Supplements. Okay, and this ties into the history of America’s first food desert: the EINTIRE POST CIVIL WAR SOUTH. So, between the 1870’s and the 1920’s, the entire deep south was repeatedly ravaged by a mystery disease called Pellagra, or “The spring sickness2. Symptoms included skin rashes, skin legions, secondary gangrene of the skin legions, swollen and bleeding tongue and gums, hair loss, extreme light sensitivity, loss of mental function, un-coordinated movements and poor balance, confusion, and in extreme cases, insanity, hyper-aggression and death. It was seen as “Human rabies” and no one knew what caused it: epidemiologists were at a loss, and no known bacteria, parasite or virus seemed to be the cause. It was an unknown, unstoppable Specter, looming over an enter quarter of the USA.

And yeah, it was discovered to be a vitamin B3 deficiency. It was striking every spring because fresh food wasn’t available over winter.

People brains just stopped working because they we’re getting their vitamins.

The cause of this was, of course, poverty. Poor sharecropping farmers, black and white, were forced as an economic necessity, to plant cash crops like corn, tabaco and cotton, on every inch of land they had. Growing a home vegetable patch was simply an aspirational notion outside of the economic reach for most people. Entire generations lived on cornbread (made with lard), bacon, and canned vegies brought in cheap form California. Canning at that time, involved boiling the cans for a prolonged period as opposed to milder steam flash-heating starvation. Vitamins did not survive the process.  People fucking died of malnutrition in the richest nation in the world, sounded by fertile farmland. Their kids got rickets, adults got scurvy, and people would occasionally just go fucking mental because their brains weren’t getting b3.

When doctors discovered this and pointed out the obvious solution: lift these people out of poverty, it was of course shot down by politicians. Research on dogs (who can get a similar illness form b3 deficiency) was hampered by the fact that the typical southern cornbread diet was so bad, the dogs refused to eat it. When Dr Joseph Goldberger tried to trick the dogs into eating the bread by spearing it with savoury brewers yeast extract, he discovered that yeast extract was a cheep and easy cure to the illness. Brewers yeast, malt extract, cod-liver oil, concentrated lime juice, vitamin and mineral enrighed flour, florinated water, and that weird boomer obsession with force feeding kids milk at every opportunity? All the first generation dietary supplements were very needed and very well intentioned efforts to stop actual debilitating illnesses at a cost that everyone could afford. Do you need 3000 pills including something Gwyneth Paltrow spat out of her over-steamed Virginia? No, but you knew that already.  

So yeah: eat what you like, try to eat well, and never forget, the past was just the worst and the cause of these problems is always poverty and inequality, so maybe do something about that.

[loveharlow]

CUPCAKE CHAOS

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [1.4k] A lazy Saturday spent attempting to bake before JJ shows up.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ fluff, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), mentions of drugs, swearing, mentions of food

A/N‧₊˚ This is my first post on here, I'd been stalling by organizing my blog (which I haven't even finished😭). I'm very nervous but I hope you guys like it!

˗ˏˋ jj masterlist ˎˊ˗

IT SEEMED AS IF ALL THE POGUES WERE BUSY AS SOON AS SUMMER BEGAN. John B was hanging with Sarah, Kiara had to help out her dad at The Wreck, Pope was getting the last of his community service hours, and your boyfriend wasn't answering his phone at all.

You had the house to yourself considering your parent were out on yet another business trip and you, being used to their absence, knew they wouldn't be back for another week at least.

It was around 2pm that your immense boredom and the unbearable silence of your home had taken over, prompting you to get out of bed and to look for something, anything, to do.

You tried looking for something to watch, all the shows seemingly uninteresting or cheesy. You tried stepping outside for some fresh air but the scorching sun that typically adorned the sky of the OBX didn't seem as appealing as it normally did, almost immediately bringing on a headache.

So, here you were, rummaging through the cupboards in your kitchen for who knows what.

Opening the cabinet just above the stove, you found some baking essentials—flour, icing, sugar, etc. You remembered your mom kept a recipe book from your late grandmother who loved baking with her whole heart.

She made all of your birthday cakes and treats and it became a staple of hers.

The only problem was you didn't exactly know where said recipe book was. Your mother never told you. But it had to be in the kitchen somewhere.

AFTER a couple minutes of going from cabinet to cabinet, drawer to drawer—you found the little recipe book. A small brown notebook that your grandmother printed her name on to. The small thing barely able to close with how full it was; inked pages, colored tabs sticking out of the side.

Sitting down on the counter-top, something your mother would surely scold you for, you flipped through it—searching for anything that sounded appealing.

A couple minutes pass and one page catches your attention. Valentine's Day Filled Strawberry Cupcakes. A brief glance over the recipe told you it was essentially just vanilla cupcakes iced with strawberry cream cheese icing and some kind of strawberry-purée filled center. Now, of course, it was nowhere near Valentine's Day but... who says it had to be in order spread a little love?

A smile crept its way onto your face, that sounds so damn good right now. You loved strawberries, you loved cupcakes, and you hadn't eaten anything all day.

You went back to the now open cabinet that sparked this idea, pulling out some of the ingredients that the cupcakes required; flour, sugar, baking powder, and vanilla extract. Moving to the fridge, you pulled out more. Eggs, Butter, Milk, Strawberry Cream Cheese... —who bought all of this? Your parents aren't necessarily home to cook often and you usually order something or eat with the Pogues. You should be grateful, you guess.

There were a couple of other ingredients you gathered and some things labeled as optional such as sprinkles and food coloring.

With everything laid out in front of you—the ingredients, the mixer, and your utensils, you washed your hands, dried them and turned to pre-heat the oven.

"Let's try not to screw this up."

"SHIT!" That was the sixth time you had over-filled one of the cupcakes tins. You wouldn't be so upset if it wasn't such a frustrating task to un-fill it, having to scoop out some of the batter and drag it, very messily, to the next tin, little splotches of pink-ish batter scattered all over the metal pan.

While you were wiping your hands on the apron you had conveniently found after you got flour on your shirt, there was a distinct knock at the door that let you know who was there before you even opened it.

Groaning slightly, you trudged over to your front door. Swinging it open, quite aggressively might I add, letting a gust of wind in that swayed your loose apron and dusted some of the flour off of you.

"Woah, what...happened?" Your boyfriend chuckled, still standing on your doorstep. He was visibly trying to hold in a laugh, causing your hand to fall from the door and cross them both over your chest.

"It's not funny." You huffed, glaring at him. You turned on your feet and began to make your way back into the kitchen, noting the sound of his heavy boots entering, closing the front door, and continuing to trail after you.

You came to stand back in front of your half-filled tray of cupcake batter. JJ entered the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, taking in the chaos before him. Batter-covered spatulas and spoons in the sink, measuring spoons covered in flour, egg shells sitting at the top of the waste bin. There was so much going on.

"Oh. I really like what you've done with the place." He joked.

When he took in your seriously defeated expression looking down at the tray in front of you, he entered the kitchen and made his way over to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder, feeling your tense shoulders deflate. "What's wrong?"

"What else? Everything is a mess." You grumbled. It truly wasn't that serious but you couldn't deny that you were beyond frustrated.

He suddenly found the situation less humorous. Albeit, you'd probably be laughing about it too once you actually got the task done but he knew how frustrated you got when you felt like you couldn't do something or it didn't go as smoothly as you had hoped. No matter how small or big it actually was.

He unraveled himself from your waist and he turned your body to face him by your upper arms. His hands dropped to the counter behind you, careful not to knock anything over. His face now inches from yours, eyes glazing over your grumpy expression.

You quirked a brow, a silent expression of your confusion. From your perspective, he was just staring at you. Suddenly, one of his hands came up to brush his thumb in between your eyebrows. "Fix your face. They're just cupcakes, sweetheart." He spoke softly and smiled, trying to uplift you.

Whether it was shown on your face or not, it was working. "But it shouldn't be this difficult. I went over the recipe like ten fu-

"Language."

You rolled your eyes slightly and sighed, throwing your head back slightly. "Maybe I'm just tired. Or hungry. Or lonely because all my friends are busy and my boyfriend wouldn't answer his phone-"

"Ow!" He cried when you plucked his arm. "Uh, for starters, I was busy, too. Little Miss Violent..." He muttered in mock offense, rubbing the spot where you pinched him lightly. "Some Kook was looking for someone to mow their yard quickly for 200 bucks, which is insane, so I took it. I didn't see your call until I was done and I thought I'd come over to see you."

"Is that why you smell like grass?" You questioned teasingly, a visible smile edging its way on to your face.

"Shut up." The blonde spoke, seeing the smile you tried so hard to hide. He grabbed the sides of your face and pecked your lips multiple times.

"JJ!- C'mon-"

He stopped and let your face go, he moved his hands to ruffle your hair. "You're so cute when you smile." The boy gushed. "Now, do you want some help? Because, I for one, am an excellent baker."

You snorted at that, causing the blonde boy to quirk an eyebrow. "Are you now?" You inquired, moving past him to wash the mess off of your hands.

"I bake brownies all the time." He assured from behind you.

"Edibles. You make edibles all the time."

"Same difference. They're just fun brownies. We could also make the cupcakes fun-"

"We're not putting weed in the cupcakes, JJ." He groaned and rolled his eyes. "But, if you want to help—see if you have more luck pouring the batter in than I did. Don't over-fill them though, just a little past the-"

"I got it, I got it..." He cut you off while you dried your hands and he began to pour the batter in with ease.

"Well, excuse me." You teased.

After a few minutes, JJ had poured the batter in the tray with minimal effort and he did it near perfect. He took a dramatic bow and winked, eliciting and eye-roll from you as you slid the tray carefully into the oven. Before you could fully close it, JJ spoke.

"Are you sure we can't just a put a little-"

"No weed in the cupcakes!"

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow.

[jeza-red]

The thing about milk is that it being rotten has little to do with splitting. Un-pasteurised full-fat milk will split over a few days and apart from a thin skin on the top it's still perfectly tasty and edible. A bit sour and amzingly refreshing. In Poland it's still a popular drink - now made commercially, due to lack of access to fresh milk in most places, but it's still a summer staple on many tables. Nothing better than a plate of boiled new potatoes with butter and dill, a fried egg and a glass of sour milk on the side.

I think it splitting naturally was more likely than adding acid to fresh milk, becaue eating it wasn't an act of desperation in most cases - it was just another dish people developed into something else.

I keep thinking about that one post that was going around talking about the potential origins of cheese and everyone immediately jumps to it must've been rotten milk that they ate out of desperation. But I'd like to posit that the first cheese was probably someone adding an acid to warmed milk and realising it splits it. Like it's not that big a stretch of the imagination for someone to think "oh I like warm milk but I also like this acidic fruit, I wonder if I can mix them". From there a little experimentation on separating the new curd from the whey and you've got a simple fresh cheese.

I dunno I think the reason I wanted to make this post is just that we tend to desscribe a lot of discoveries around food as desperate acts of starvation and not genuinely thought out experimentations based on observations like every other form of human knowledge. Ancient people weren't stupid starving unwashed masses and it's important to remember that. They were people who could think and deduce and logic their way through things as good as you or I.

[seraphinarh]

✿ * · (  jorja smith  ,  cis woman  ,  she / her   )   a  little  birdy  told  me  SERAPHINA  RENEE  HAMILTON just  moved  to  sunset  hills  .  have  you  met  them  yet  ? they  look  somewhere  around  TWENTYTHREE  ,   if  i  had  to  guess  ! pretty  sure  i  heard  them  driving  down  the  street  playing  PEARS  by  WESTON  ESTATE  ,  they  sounded  a  little  pitchy  but  they  had  the  spirit  !  must  be  their  favorite  or  something  .  hey  …  it  looks  like  they  just  moved  into  DUSK  DRIVE  .  have  you  heard  about  what  they  do  for  a  living  ?  someone  told  me  they’re  a  BOTTLEGIRL/WAITRESS  @  AFTER-HOURS  &  WORKING  TOWARDS  HER  MASTERS  IN  NURSING  ,  but  who  knows  if  that’s  even  true  .  guess  we’re  just  gonna  have  to  wait  and  see  .  nervous  ? maybe  you  should  be  .  sunset  speaks  just  posted  about  them  …  apparently  they're  RESIDENT  ID  020  ?  between  you  and  me  ,  i  think  that  might  spark  some  things  in  the  community  …  but  what  do  i  know  !  you  guys  might  get  along  just  fine  !  (  fd  ,  she/her  ,  22  ,  est .  )

 wanted connections + musings + headcanons + memes + tags

.🔥° › about !

name: seraphina renee hamilton nicknames: sera, phina (emory) renee (mother’s side), phiphi (father’s side) age: 23 birthday: febuary 2nd, 1999 ( aquarius ) height: 5′ 3″ hair: depends on the month; braids, silk press, natural, ponytail, & wigs eye: dark brown scent: daily cocoa butter & vanilla ; bumbum cream evenings kay ali vanilla piercing: ears & nipples aesthetic: blurry  pictures, dancing on tables, natural baby face, sunkissed chocolate & vanilla, aa’s y2k, everyday is a fashion show, sleep during the day, overdressing to every event, fairy lights in the forest, all black everything, party all night & work all day, crocs & high heels, smart girl with a bad side born: brooklyn, new york romantic orientation: panromantic sexual orientation: pansexual marital status: single languages: english, french, and haitian creole likes/dislikes: eating out, career choice, shopping, taking pics, / being alone, liars, loud mouths traits: loyal, distant, aloof, bubbly, intelligent, spiritual, calculated, reserved, people pleaser, determined personality tropes: aquarius sun, fearful avoidant attachment, entp, gryffindor/hufflepuff, the mystic & the maiden (feminine archetype), oldest daughter syndrome criminal record: n/a drugs | smokes | alcohol: no | no | yes

.🔥° › this or that !

introvert | extrovert | ambivert organized | disorganized risk-taker | cautious close-minded | open-minded quarrelsome | peaceful calm | anxious | restless generous | stingy | in-between disagreeable | agreeable | in-between patient | impatient modest | conceited | in-between outspoken | reserved tardy | punctual leader | follower | flexible empathetic | un-empathetic frank | secretive optimistic | pessimistic | realistic traditional | modern | in-between polite | rude | in-between hard-working | lazy manipulative | straightforward | both switch | submissive | dominant

.🔥° › snapshot !

seraphina is the daughter of two immigrants. her father is english while her mother is haitian. they met in new york city where she’s originally from. being the eldest of three children, she’s basically been a part-time mother once she was old enough to watch her siblings.

if there were two things her parents valued it was an education & religion. in their eyes the only way to move up in society was through school and faith in god, so growing up seraphina went to a catholic school until she was in high school then she went to a public school. she isn’t religious at all. she believes in the christian god but also has a lot of interest/beliefs in other religions and spiritual practices. she’s a fake catholic.

she moved to california the summer before high school. it was a complete culture shock. it wasn’t even big things that affected her, it was the small nuances that made her feel out of place. her new york attitude didn’t clash well with her peers. 

the way she talked, dressed, and held herself made her seem like a threat. seraphina was everything but intimidating or conceited. she was a sweetheart, introverted, naive, and somewhat of a pushover since she came from such a strict environment. 

she spent her freshman and sophomore year in the shadows, mostly alone. she was always smart so she had acquaintances who often asked for help with assignments but that’s about all. never really had friends. she got picked on a few times, once even getting into a fight however, that treatment didn’t last for too long.

mid sophomore year seraphina became close friends with her science lab partner. through that, she joined student government which forced her to socialize more and start to fit into/have a role at her school. by the time she graduated high school, she was vice president of student government, one of four co-captains of the caribbean dance team, and valedictorian.

she was able to earn a full scholarship to shu as an undergrad. sera started out as a premed student however her gpa wasn’t high enough to get into the program so she changed her major to nursing her sophomore year. she graduated within the top five percent of her major. she decided to work for a year as a nicu nurse before going back to school for her masters. being a registered nurse, seraphina only worked roughly three days a week for 12 hours a day, so it was easy for her to be to have side hustles. she only stopped working when the semester started. she learned from past mistakes that it’s physically too much for her to work 2 jobs while in school. she’s currently trying to get her masters in nursing with the plan to become either a traveling nurse practitioner or simply a nicu nurse practitioner. 

sera’s been working at after hours as a bottle servicer & waitress, sometimes a bartender if they’re under staffed or busy since her freshman spring semester. seraphina loved a good party and she loved getting tipsy at work even more so. the only reason seraphina decided to work at a strip club was because she’d be damned if she didn't take advantage of misogamy while she was “young and hot.” she perfered the strip club in comparison to the actual club because sunset hills is a college town which means most people going to the clubs are broke students. at the strip club, the guests show up with the intent of spending money on girls which applies to the waitresses as well. she mostly works weekends when she’s managing two jobs but once she went back to school, after hours became her main job again.

sera is the type of student who sleeps in the middle of that day. she likes to have her classes in the morning. so even on work days she’ll do an overnight shift at the club, come to her room, shower, eat and then head to class. after class she would either hang with friends, do her school work or go home to have dinner and sleep before heading to work, this is the same routine now that she lives on dusk drive.  

she’s also the type to do everything last minute. there’s been a number of times where seraphina would be sitting in the backstage, doing her assignment because something’s almost due or just late. this is also her philosophy in life — she runs on black people / caribbean time

on her off days, she could be found doing someone’s hair, chilling in the middle of the courtyard, eating, singing, or dancing. she used to be more active in clubs when she started at shu but she realistically doesn’t have the time

seraphina often comes off a bit standoffish with a rbf but she genuinely isn’t mean unless shes provoked. in that case, she’ll drag the fuck outta you with no cares in the world. probably not physically because she’s very social and tends to know damn near everyone’s business.

currently opened to all connections

[doublezipper]

“What about that road-trip?”|| StevexEddie

‼️contains vol2 spoilers‼️

Context: Eddie and Steve, are now in thier thirties with 4 adopted kids. One day while sitting at home eddie decides he wants to have a road trip after remembering Steve’s speech in the van ( lets just pretend Eddie didn’t die after that scene lmao lets just pretend he lived and Now him a Steve and married)

NOT SPELL CHECKED

Warnings: I don’t think there is any but let me know if there’s one I should add!

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“Looks like Ozzy slept in today” Victoria scoffed as ozzy walked out of him room, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding a plush bat in the other hand. Ozzy was the youngest of the Harington children. He had dirty blond hair that went his his shoulders. Victoria was the oldest child. She had short brown hair and bright blue eyes. The middle children were twins, Rose, and Axel. Rose had ginger hair that she always kept in a ponytail and Axel had black hair that he always kept clean-cut. You can tell that Eddie came up with Ozzy and Axels names. “Be nice he’s just a toddler” Steve said as he walked into the kitchen where Victoria was standing. “Well I made some breakfast” Victoria said will she stepped to the side, revealing two plays with stacks of pancakes on them. Steve smiled and he walked to Victoria to kiss her on the forehead. “ should I go wake up Rose and Axel so they can enjoy some of your amazing looking pancakes?” Steve smiled. “I’ll go wake up Axel and rose, could you wake up dad please?” Victoria asked. “Sure thing” steve nodded and he went back to his room to wake up Eddie

Steve stood in the doorway, admiring how un-peacefully his husband slept. “Morning Ed’s” Steve said. Eddie was still out cold. Steve walked to the bed and leaned over, no just hovering over his face. “Eddie?” Steve whispered. Eddie grumbled and squeezed his eyes shut. Steve leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Eddie smiled and opened his eyes. He kissed steve back but this time it was on the lips. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in the kitchen” steve said and they broke their kiss. Steve was now sitting on the bed next to Eddie as he was still laying down. Without warning Eddie pulled Steve down onto his chest. Steve smiled and he rested his face against His lovers chest. “Could we just stay like this forever” Eddie grumbled in his morning voice as he wrapped his arms around Steve. “But I think your really gonna like it” Steve said and he got up from the bed and pulled Eddie by the arm. Eddie stumbled off to bed but followed Steve, sleepily.

The rest of the family was already sitting at the table waiting for thier dads. Eddie was instantly grinning ear to ear when he saw Victoria with a flour covered apron on as she distributed the pancakes. Eddie wasn’t good with words sometimes and his kids understood that so Victoria took the smile as a thank you. Steve sat down and Eddie sat next to him. Rose was already scarfing down her pancakes as if she was starved and Axel was making sure he evenly spread his butter. Victoria has just sat down and Ozzy and as cutting his pancakes into squares before eating them. Steve almost looked shocked as he took a bite of the pancake. “How did you manage to make these, thier amazing!” He exclaimed as he looked back up at Victoria. “What’s that supposed to mean, that I’m a bad cook?” She joked. With that Eddie tried a pancake and was shocked by how good it tasted and quickly cleaned his plate. Eddie and Rose were the first yo finish so they sat at the table and waited for everyone else to finish.

Eddie looked at Steve as he remembered the day they were in the van. He was telling Nancy about a dream he had where he had 6 kids and each summer they went out and explored the country. They only had 4 kids but Eddie wondered if Steve still thought about that road trip sometimes. “Hey Steve” Eddie said as he turned to steve. Steve looked up from his plate, cheeks full and looked at Eddie almost saying “yes?” With his eyes. “What about that road trip?” Eddie asked. Steve looked confused for a second then he looked a bit shocked. “ oh come on Stevie, you know what I’m talking about” Eddie said while smiling. “How did you hear that?” Steve questioned. “Well you suck at being quiet, hun” Eddie said. “You heard all of it huh?” Steve sighed. Eddie looked down before saying “ I heard you were with Nancy in that dream”. Steve looked worried and empathetic. “Well that’s what I said.” Steve paused. Eddie looked back up at him. By now the kids had put thier plates in the sink and left the table to go watch a movie or play music or whatever they did during the day.

Steve looked at Eddie dead in the eyes and said “but I didn’t mean it”. Eddie’s eyes lit up. “Then who was with you in that dream?” Eddie asked, excitedly. Steve tools Eddie’s hands in his own and said “you”. Eddie smiled softly, it looked like he was tearing up. “I only told Nancy she was in it because I wanted her back” Steve paused again. “ or Atleast I thought I wanted her back but I was really just trying to distract myself from who I really wanted” Steve said, giving a crooked smile to Eddie. “I love you so much Harington” Eddie said as he started to cry. Steve stood up, still holding Eddie’s hands as he guided him to the bedroom. The sat on the bed and fell into a warm embrace Eddie laid on top of Steve’s chest and he traced circles into Eddie’s back. “Well where do you wanna go on a road trip to?” Steve said jn a low voice. “Wait are we really gonna go?” Eddie said, his head jolting up in excitement. He looked like and excited puppy. “I mean if you want to then yeah” Steve blushed.

“You said something about the grand canyons? How about we go there?” Eddie suggested. Steve smiled “ how do you remember what places I said I wanted to go?” He asked. “Cause I thought about that day a lot, I remember every detail.” Eddie said. Steve hugged him tight, that day was hard for everyone, especially Eddie, he almost died. “ I don’t know what I would have done if you died.” Steve said. “Let’s not think about that” Eddie whispered. They cuddles silently and calmly with one another for a couple minutes.

“Should we go tell the kids to pack up?” Steve asked. “We’re leaving today?” Eddie asked. “Yeah why not” Steve replied. “Well what are we waiting for then?” Eddie said ecstatically. “Well your gonna have to get up first” Steve chuckled. “Oh god no!” Eddie said in a over-dramatic tone. They both got up and walked to the living room. “emergency family meeting!” Steve shouted. All the kids came downstairs almost instantly. They all sat on the couch or the floor. “How would you guys feel about a family road trip?” Steve asked excitedly. They all looked at each other and nodded in approval. “Alright then get your shit packed cause we’re leaving in 20 minutes!” Eddie said. “Eddie!” Steve looked at Eddie wildly. “The children!” He told Eddie. “They’ve Heard worse” Eddie said as he rolled his eyes.

*time skip*

“Alright are you guys sure you packed everything?” Steve asked as he sat in the driver seat. The all made sounds of approval as they got comfortable. If Eddie said in the front seat he wouldn’t be close enough to Steve as he wanted to be so he decided to sit on the floor of the van next to Steve’s seat, resting his head on his thigh. “The cops are gonna pull us over if they see you not in a seat” Steve said. “That’s why we’re gonna take the backroads” Eddie smiled. Steve smiled and shook his head. “Ok so Black Sabbath or Metallica ?” Eddie asked as he held two vhs tapes in his hand. “Black Sabbath!” Ozzy shouted from the back. “ Black Sabbath it is!” Eddie exclaimed. “How did I get so lucky” Steve sighed as he rested his free hand in on top of Eddie’s head, playing with his hair. “ I could say the same thing” Eddie said looking up at him with loving eyes

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