#vending machine for vegetables

[sputnikodin]

it's really nice to be at the point where even if i feel baselessly shitty at the start of a day i can pretty reliably improve my mood by doing a lot of little things that make a difference when added together

[shoku-and-awe]

Found more old photos of farmstand vending machine produce! These were called 水前寺菜 suizenji-na, or Gynura bicolor, which sounds a little vaginal. I like it.

Obviously it was the purple that attracted me, but unfortunately that disappears once it's cooked. I just treated it like spinach and sauteed it up with olive oil and garlic, but if I see it again, I'll do like they apparently do in Okinawa and add it to miso soup or blanch it lightly and dress it with ponzu. Yum.

[cnvendingmachine]

fresh food vending machines# farm fresh/fresh food

[thebestsetter]

Sae's nutritionist has been having a hard time ever since the athlete started a family with you.

Sae has always followed his diets strictly. Never ate chocolate, avoided sugar the best he could and mainly ate only fruits and vegetables. His behavior was always praised by all his nutritionists because of how easy it was working with him.

Sae started to "disobey" his diet when he moved in with you.

It all started when you began to cook him lunch for after morning practice. You knew he had to follow a strict diet, so you never made something too unhealthy. Sometimes, you even sneaked some sweet treats for him, but it was too little to do any harm, so his doctor just pretended not to notice it.

But this?? This was too much.

"Sae-kun" he said, pointing at the pink princess pot on Sae's hands "W-what is this?"

"My daughter packed my lunch today" Sae smiled softly, just like he always did when talking about you or your daughter. The doctor would've thought the whole ordeal was cute, if not for what was inside the pot: a box orange juice you buy on those vending machines (it's orange color was almost radioactive. God knows how much sugar there is in it), a (very) poorly made pink cupcake, with rainbow sprinkles all over it; and scrambled eggs (thank God at least one healthy thing).

"You can't possibly be thinking about eating this" his doctor deadpanned, but quickly added "T-the cupcake and the juice, I mean. The eggs are fine"

Sae's smile instantly fell, and he stared at the nutritionist with a frown

"What's wrong with my daughter's food?" It wasn't a question. Sae was daring the doctor to say something bad about the cupcake his sweet, lovely daughter made, staring at him with a cold and almost dangerous gaze.

The poor doctor should've stopped there. He really should have. But if he let Sae eat this Chernobyl looking cupcake, he might as well just throw his nutrition degree on the nearest trash can.

"It's not good for your health" the nutritionist said, staring at the Cinderella that was painted on the top of the pot "As an athlete, you know it's important to lose old eating habits. You can't eat this."

Sae stared at the doctor for what felt like centuries, but finally looked at the cupcake and carefully picked it up, holding it in his hands like it was the most valuable thing he ever held.

The way his gaze softened just by looking at that sorry excuse of a pantry almost scared the doctor. One second, he was looking at him with what could only be described as pure hatred. The other, he was looking at an ugly cupcake like it was a masterpiece.

Anyways, Sae's doctor was just glad this was over with. Itoshi obviously was going to throw the cupcake away, eat the eggs, and just order something else to compliment his lunch. It would all be okay.

Or so he thought .

"You know" Sae started, peeling the paper that was carefully wrapped around the sweet treat "It's interesting that you talk about losing"

"Why?" The doctor asked, not really liking Sae's voice

Sae stared at the man for a while, then slowly looked at the cupcake and brought it up to his mouth. Just as he was about to take a bite out of it, he stopped and stared at the man again

"Cause you just lost your job"

"What?"

"You're not deaf" Sae said "You're fired. Grab your stuff and get out of my sight"

"You can't do that!" The doctor screamed at him, which only made Sae roll his eyes

"I can and I did. Out. Now."

The nutritionist knew it was useless arguing with the stoic Sae Itoshi. With a sigh, he turned away from the player to go and collect his belongings

"Just one more thing before you go"

He heard Sae say, which urged him to turn around. The moment he laid his eyes on Itoshi, the footballer took a bite out of the pink cupcake

"This is fucking delicious."

The doctor would NEVER eat a cupcake in his life again.

Masterlist

[bruciemilf]

Young! Dick thought living with Bruce was unbearable until he ran away and lived with his short of-kind of- through adoption - uncle.

“He has you on a curfew? Lame. Go out, have fun, get stabbed. Builds character!”

“Vegetables? lol?? Here’s 20 bucks and a soda. Vending machines’ down the street.”

“You wanna get a tattoo?? Hell yeah. Come on, my buddy doesn’t check ID. He has his own needles. You’re vaccinated, right?”

TJ completely vanishes when he wants to. Like there’s an underworld in Gotham only he has access to. He becomes one with shadow and leaves Dick by himself for a worrying amount of time.

And patrol? Nightmare. First off, TJ’s turf crawls with filth from head to toe. He’s in the red light district, — every section of Gotham is a red light for Dick, thought, — raging from worst, to a thing beyond worst.

Bruce isn’t surprised when a small bundle leaps into his arms the minute he crosses Owl-Man and his newfound sidekick. Former. Dick is no sidekick. He’s Bruce’s partner.

“Asleep?”

“Sedated.”

“Junior.”

“Have you seen this kid flip? You’re welcome. Anyway, happy I could help. You know you totally owe me one, right?”

“Come home for dinner.”

“Nope.”

“Alfred says so.”

“God damn it.”

[dannysdcxdpblog]

a list of incorrect quotes from batfam and danny's group

bruce: I don’t remember that. dick: Do you remember that night last week when you slept in a revolving door? bruce: …No. dick: Okay, do you remember when you were chased by those wild dogs for two miles? bruce: Not especially, no. dick: It was in between those two things.

-----------

tim: Woah dude, premarital handholding? That’s just not cool or groovy.

-----------

danny: tim, we tried things your way. tim: No, we didn't. danny: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

-----------

bruce: If you think I’m playing favorites, you’re wrong. I love all of you equally! bruce, earlier: I don’t care for tucker.

-----------

barb: :) damian: >:( barb: Turn that frown upside down! damian: ):< barb: Not sure what I was expecting…

--------------

dani: The scariest president had to be Rushmore because he had four heads. barb: Yeah, it’s a good thing we captured him in that mountain, even if we have to live in fear of the spell wearing off. tucker: Do you two still believe in that legend? Come on, Rushmore was killed a hundred years ago! We’re safe now. bruce: You people have clearly never taken a history lesson. His body was never found.

--------------

steph: I’m the smartest, wisest person in this group. jason: Really? Then why is your hand stuck in a vending machine? steph: I paid for my Mars Bar, I’m getting my Mars Bar.

--------------

damian: Ugh, there’s always that weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder. damian: glares at bruce bruce: Well, sorry I have morals!

------------

bruce: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time. tucker: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

-------------

danny: I'm a nice person, but I'm about to start throwing rocks at people.

--------------

danny: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL- dick: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

------------

dick: I am not a whore, and, not that I’ve done the math, but, if I were, I’d be the super classy kind that gets flown to Dubai to stay in an underwater hotel.

--------

tucker: Some people are like slinkies. bruce: What? tucker: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. bruce: bruce: Please don't push tim down the stairs. tucker, pushing tim down the stairs: Too late.

---------

tim, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

----------------

dick: Is five a lot of followers? danny: Depends on the context. danny: On Instagram? No, not a lot of followers. danny: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers.

[lale-txt]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

♫ Middle Kids - Bootleg Firecracker

I'll be your midnight bootleg firecracker I could blow up in your hand It could be great or a disaster That's the point that I am after

✰ 𝐜𝐰: the panic attack from the prologue is continuing here for a bit! written part between the handwritten notes and SMAU parts.

⭅ back to m.list

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Everything is on autopilot; it always is when the panic takes over. The blood rushing in your ears, the air squeezed out of your lungs, the blurry tunnel vision. Your shaky hands slam a few banknotes too many on the counter but you don’t wait for the change back; you’re out the door already when a voice is calling out to you, but you ignore it. Everything in you is telling you to run.

Foolish. So damn foolish. You’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Falling in love with the idea of someone; blindly following a siren call only to turn into a wreck. It’s a familiar pain, there’s a strange sense of safety in it. Don’t fly too close to the sun, don’t get loved too much, or else you’ll burn yourself.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Makki is talking relentlessly to you on the phone. He knows how quiet you get once the anxiety kicks in, how you can’t focus on anything but the overwhelming urge to run, how hard something as simple as breathing is when you get into your head like this. You wish he were here to hold your hand through this. You wish you never came here at all. You wish you weren’t so desperate to be loved.

Are you outside? Okay, good. Can you sit down somewhere till Bokuto picks you up? A bank maybe? Oh, wait, your location says there’s a playground right around the corner. You see it? Do they have swings? Remember in high school when Oikawa kissed the ground face first when we challenged each other who could swing the highest? You and I laughed so hard we almost had an accident. And of course Hajime won, stupid beefy monster that he is. Bet he’d still do, we should really try it out next time we’re all visiting home. Ah, there’s a vending machine? I knew that beeping was familiar. Whatcha gettin’? The same juice box like you always do? You know what we should do tomorrow when you get home? Grab some boba from the store you had pinned forever, my treat.

The tight knot in your chest is slowly unraveling as you listen to your best friend’s voice. In the background you occasionally hear Yukie munching on something, probably the vegetable chips you made yesterday. She’s less calm than Makki is, you can tell from the lack of blissful humming she usually does when eating and her hushed voice, asking Akaashi when Bokuto will get there. Despite everything, you manage to let out a small, hoarse laugh. At least it will make a great story with some water down the bridge.

“There you are.”

A warm voice, kind. Almost familiar, as if you’ve heard it in a dream before. You look over your shoulder and freeze, almost dropping your juice box. It’s not Bokuto, but the same guy from Onigiri Miya who you snapped at earlier when he asked if you were alright, while blotches of snot were dripping on your half-eaten onigiri. You feel hot shame creep up your neck, your heart rate picking up again. He tips his cap back a bit to get a better look at you under the dim light of the street lantern and you feel the urge to flee again.

“You were gone so fast, I couldn’t give you this,” he puffs, as if he actually ran after you. He holds up a brown paper bag, the logo of the shop stamped on it. “Since you didn’t seem to enjoy the onigiri you had at the shop, I packed you some more to eat when you’re feeling more like it.”

“That’s not necessary” you mutter while your eyes dart left and right, searching for a way to escape this situation. Somehow he is making your skin crawl; not because you feel like he’s gonna harm you, but because he makes you feel seen and you really, really hate that.

“Please.”

He takes a step towards you and shoves the bag into your hands, almost making you drop your phone. Makki on the other end calls out your name, sounding slightly concerned, but who wouldn’t be when their friend was approached by a stranger at night in an unfamiliar place far, far away from home?

“I don’t want it,” you say, your voice a bit more steady now. Your brows furrow and for the first time you look back at him. Somehow your panic is slowly getting replaced by irritation. Just what was his problem? “You’ll get in trouble when your boss finds out that you’re giving out stuff for free.”

This makes him laugh; a sound so clear and warm, washing away your worries for a fleeting second. How strange.

“It’s sweet that you worry, but I am the boss,” he replies with a smug smile and uses the second of surprise to firmly plant the paper bag into your hands. His fingers graze your skin and you can’t help but notice how warm they are; and you think about flying close to the sun again and it makes you want to cry.

Everything in you wants to run from this kindness. Run, before someone can notice that you don’t actually deserve it. You’re good at that, aren’t you? 

For a few heartbeats you’re too stunned to speak and the bag with onigiri weighs heavy in your hands. Hot shame crawls up your spine and your neck again, remembering how you cried at the counter and snapped at him like a hurt dog. Why would he even come after you, when you’ve already made your best effort to push him away? To get rejected again? You couldn’t even fathom to imagine.

“Hold up,” you say eventually when he’s about to turn around and leave, probably sensing your discomfort. You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, with this faint smile playing upon his lips and his dark eyes searching yours, searching for something you could never offer and yet you can’t look away either. Your stomach is doing a funny little flip. 

From the depths of your bag you pull out the marred box of cupcakes you still have with you and hold them out for him. You don’t dare to look inside, but you can imagine they must look like a hot mess by now (probably even worse than you feel at this moment). 

“They’re lemon lavender cupcakes,” you explain and look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “After my own recipe. I baked like ten trays of them last night and those are from the best batch but I doubt they’re still any good now. The rest I left with my roommates, though honestly they’re not the best food critics and just happy when they’re being fed.”

Without noticing, your voice gets a bit more steady and excited now that you get to ramble about food, your brain pleased over the distraction. It’s the one thing that always helped with the panic. Your fingers are still fiddling, your weight shifting from one foot on the other, but your breathing is calmer now and the instinct to run is subsiding. 

“The lavender syrup I used for them is homemade, too. Tastes great with some sparkling water and mint. We grew the lavender I used on our rooftop garden. I’ll admit I’m not the best at keeping plants alive, but Akaashi does that for us thankfully, he’s amazing. I also have some tomatoes growing there, and tomato salad in this summer heat just hits differently in my opinion. Anyway, sorry for the cupcakes, I don’t know why I gave them to you, they’ve probably gone bad by now so you can just throw them out and–”

“What’cha talkin’ about? These are amazing,” the guy mutters with his mouth full, one smushed cupcake in his hand that he took a big bite out of like an apple, buttercream at the corner of his mouth. You snap out of your haze and blink at him as he takes another big bite, eyes widening and head nodding approvingly as he chews. 

He doesn’t seem like he’s lying or doing it only out of politeness–because you obviously had a very bad night–no; it’s as if he’s genuinely enjoying the food you made. Something inside of you twists again and it’s all too much. 

Thank fuck you don’t have to think about this any further, because the familiar face of Bokuto appears from around the corner, eyes lightening up when he recognizes you as well. He waves from a distance and you grab your things, hurrying past the boy who makes your tummy feel funny and towards Akaashi’s boyfriend who holds out his arms for you. You fling yourself into them for a quick hug and then quickly drag him away, unable to think about anything but putting some distance between… well, everything. 

“Was that Myaa-sam? You know him?”, Bokuto asks when he shoulders your bag, one arm around you as you walk back to his place. He’s not loosening his grip around you and you have a good idea what Akaashi must have ordered him to do: Don’t leave Y/N alone until she’s on her train back tomorrow.

“His onigiri are the best! I always tell Kashi he should bring you some when he’s here but he has no self-control and eats them all in one go. They taste best fresh anyway, you should try them while you’re here,” Bokuto rambles. You’re grateful for it, though. It’s easier than having to explain everything that happened and why your heart seems unable to stop pounding, and it helps you not to scream when really it’s all you want to do right now.

✽ 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐫𝐮𝐧…

only a handful fun facts because this chapter is long as it is heh

yes the Tokyo group can afford an apartment with a rooftop garden. no i don't know how. one of them is secretly rich i guess (probably Makki)

Kiyoomi and Y/N sang Good Luck, Babe! 31 times that night

Atsumu makes a horrible bartender but somehow no one is stopping him either

Y/N likes to scribble every fleeting thought down because otherwise she will forget them in a heartbeat

grocery store runs together are one of her favorite activities with friends

✰ ��𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @notverymarley @yuminako @gigiiiiislife @wyrcan

@krissiekris @kentocalls @simp-simp-no-mi

send me an ask or dm to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[autumnmobile12]

I'm imagining before they took over the Paranormal Liberation Front, these guys probably survived off of vending machine snacks, canned whatever, and maybe had to dumpster dive at least once. (Oh, the indignity.) They don't strike me as having hunter/gatherer know-how unless it's raiding somebody's vegetable garden.

...definitely an interesting sight, turning on your porch light and finding the nation's most wanted squatting in your backyard like a bunch of raccoons as they make off with your turnips.

And what's funnier about the canned goods situation is the LoV didn't seem to be hiding out in places that had electricity/gas/running water, so there's also the nightly dilemma of either eating cold soup or playing Russian roulette in asking Dabi to heat it up and praying he's not in a murderous mood.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I love how so many of us saw Lazard and decided that he is both the parental stand-in unit and the zookeeper of all of SOLDIER.

He doesn't need to be enhanced; the single parent anxiety and stress give him all the necessary abilities and power he needs to call upon when time demands!

 

–🪷

Lazard: I am a professional Director of SOLDIER, not a babysitter.

Also Lazard, in the same day:

• *passive aggressively sweeping the lounge* You will all miss me when I die."

• "Zack Fair, you are NOT having vending machine snacks for lunch. You will eat a vegetable or so help me Gaia I will take away your phone."

• "Sephiroth, for the last time, a leather coat is not proper attire for a Shinra gala. Here's that blazer I got you. Yes, it's still black. No, you can't bring Masamune."

• "Angeal, please stop bringing in stray puppies. This is a military facility, not a rescue shelter... but since they're already here, I'll set up a playpen in my office. Oh look! This one likes me, how adorable."

• *rewards good behavior with gold star stickers and lollipops*

• *on the phone* "Sephiroth, I don't care if you're in the middle of a mission. Did you eat your lunch? I packed you a balanced meal and those protein bars you like."

• *In the break room* "WHO PUT THEIR SWORD IN THE FRIDGE!?"

• *while picking up boots someone left in the middle of the hallway* "Oh, forgive me! I wasn't aware we lived in a barn!"

• *While Sephiroth and Genesis are yelling at each other in the background* "Be nice to—BE NICE TO EACH OTHER. HEY—HEY! NO SHOVING—for the love of—*removes shoe to use for discipline*

• "Genesis Rhapsodos, did you just use fire materia to heat up your coffee? We have a perfectly good coffee maker RIGHT THERE."

• *while Sephiroth is venting to him in his office* "Yes, Sephiroth, I'm aware Professor Hojo is a bastard. Now go have a fruit snack and lay down. Would you like a coloring book?"

• *during a meeting with the president*/ *aggressively gesturing for AGS to sit up straight*

[yerimbrit]

WWIB > 5. lunch with pretty (wc: 1.2k)

danielle grins happily as she listens to y/n explain each classroom and their respective teachers. mrs. kim and mr. park, the math teachers, mr. baek the literature teacher—the list goes on. y/n has more annoyed complaints to say about mr. song, which makes danielle giggle with her hand covering her mouth.

she notices her mentor has a hard time making eye contact with her. everyone that she's talked to is okay, but it seems it's different when it comes to danielle. it reassures her in thinking that her seatmate may already have some feelings for her too.

"mrs. kim is nice, but she keeps giving us pop quizzes," y/n gulps down the last of her pocari sweat and throws it away at the nearest recycling bin. "i don't know about mr. park but from what i've heard for eunchae—the girl who kept poking me in class today—he likes pop quizzes too."

danielle takes a sip of her strawberry milk. y/n was adamant about treating her, even if it was just the school vending machines. they finally replaced the selection with better drinks, and everyone's been swarming the machines during break according to the girl. "that's bad," she pouts, "i can't do well on tests without studying super hard; i'll have to study everyday."

y/n widens her eyes and shakes her head, finally glancing at danielle. the transfer student's eyes glimmer with genuine fear. "ah, it's not that bad! they're usually right after we review some introductory material or something like that, don't worry."

they walk through the hallways. some students stare in awe at danielle as they walk past the pair, even more so when she greets each of them with a bright smile. y/n looks like she's seconds away from either passing out or growling at the other students.

they're about to enter the cafeteria when danielle stops briefly. "you didn't have plans with your friends, did you? i know i asked if you wanted to eat lunch together but it's not too late to back out..."

y/n ponders for a moment, glancing around. "i'll... i want to eat lunch with you, it's okay. do you know anyone else here?" she slowly asks. 'she really has a permanent smile on her face,' y/n notes in her head.

"i have a friend who's a senior, but she's... busy today. i can always catch up with her later!" danielle answers easily, hoisting her backpack up to adjust it.

y/n nods and they walk into the already-bustling lunchroom. they don't bother getting in line since danielle brought her own food for today and y/n had a particularly big breakfast with haerin.

"you're not gonna eat?" danielle decides to question this decision, pulling her comically large lunchbox out of her bag, which separates into three different containers. she almost looks disappointed at the lack of food in front of her mentor. 'she's really expressive,' y/n adds to her mental note.

the girl in front of her stares in bewilderment, looking between danielle and her abundance of food that she prepared for lunch. "is that all for you?" she asks in astonishment, before quickly realizing that danielle might take it the wrong way. "i mean, not that i'm calling you-"

y/n gets cut off by the girl laughing. the sound makes her feel like she's floating, ready to ascend to whatever's up there. 'this must be heaven.'

"it's okay! i'm a big eater, i'm pretty active. i used to do track back in australia, but i had to quit because my family was moving back to korea."

the girl across from her nods in understanding, drumming her fingertips on top of the table. "you're from australia?"

"yeah! i was born there but we moved back and forth between seoul and newcastle. my mom's korean."

danielle takes the lids off of her lunchbox containers, revealing a copious amount of gimbap, some cutlery, and a whole box dedicated to a mix of cherry tomatoes and baby carrots. she gestures to the container filled with the fruits and vegetables. "want some?"

"oh," y/n's mouth forms an 'o' shape, and she picks a cherry tomato from the pile. "thank you."

the australian watches as y/n pops the fruit into her mouth with expectant eyes. "is it sweet?"

"mm, very."

"that's good! i love fruits and vegetables, i can't go a day without having them. oh, especially carrots. i love carrots," danielle rambles as she picks up a piece of her gimbap with her chopsticks and shoves it in her mouth. she repeats this until all of her lunch is gone, before y/n can even blink.

"hey loser," eunchae sets her tray down on the table, taking a seat next to y/n. "hi danielle!"

danielle flashes a huge grin and waves, recognizing the girl as the person that y/n was talking about earlier. "hello! eunchae...?"

"big baby..." y/n mutters under her breath. unfortunately for her, eunchae hears it and pinches her on the side. they side-eye each other.

then, as if nothing happened, she turns back to danielle with a friendly expression. "that's right! yunjin-unnie told me lots about you."

this turns out to be something that danielle didn't expect, because she lets out a loud gasp. "you know yunjin-unnie!?"

y/n curses at eunchae in her head.

the two get wrapped up in an exciting conversation about yunjin and how they know her, and also getting to know each other in the process. danielle, yunjin, and another girl named yuna grew up together, and they still keep in touch even now. they keep each other updated on almost every detail of their lives while danielle is away, and also exchanging small pieces of gossip.

eunchae's older sister, chaewon, is close friends with the musician, and she describes them as a "budding situationship" before she laughs it off and changes to a different subject. internally, y/n takes back the curses she directed to the younger girl as she also got to know the pretty girl better through their interaction.

two figures approach their table and eunchae and danielle's conversation is put on pause in order to see who arrived.

"ah, finally!" y/n stands up, moving her bag so the student council power couple could sit. "you took forever."

"danielle," eunchae starts, pointing to the girls that had just settled down in their seats with a lunchbox that the secretary packed. "this is hanni-unnie and minji-unnie, our very own student council secretary and president. guys, this is danielle, the new transfer."

"wow! it's so nice to meet you! i didn't know y/n-ssi was so connected."

"it's very nice to meet you, danielle," hanni states, making a face at y/n, who flips her off while the bright girl isn't looking.

the rest of the girls finish their lunch, with some taking their share of danielle's offered tomatoes and carrots (minji made a face, though no one except hanni and y/n noticed), and soon lunch was over. y/n's face pales at the bell.

she still has class with the new girl in two periods.

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taglist: @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @nnewjeansstuff @airice @yeetaberry127 @multiliker @saysirhc @shozeu @nwjnsloona @hannienthusiast @hotluvlet @gayforalll @technicallyimportantsweets @jeindall777 @popasi @gtfoiydlyj

[cal-writes]

Could we pooooosssssibly get #7 "I brought you dinner” - with lawzo from the fluffs 😘

dunno if this counts as fluffy but i had a blast

-

“Hey Law-“

“What?!” Law’s head snaps up from where he’s had it pillowed between his hands. One minute of silence. That’s all he wanted. And yet he was denied even that. “What, what is it now? Who is dying? And can they wait five fucking seconds for me to catch a break?” He feels breathless by the end.

Zoro is standing in the doorway of the staircase as Law’s words echo up and down. His EMT uniform is unbottomed at the top, sweat and dirt clinging to his clothes. There is a black eye starting to form on his eye from where a patient accidentally punched him earlier today.

He looks about as ragged as Law feels and he regrets his outburst immediately.

Zoro just looks at him, his expression betraying nothing before be lifts his arm into the doorframe. Plastic crinkles.

“I brought you dinner. Or lunch. I guess.” He says awkwardly, producing plastic cutlery from his uniform pocket.

Law’s shoulders drop. “Thanks.” He feels close to crying in relief so he makes grabbing hands for the offering.

Zoro snorts, shouldering into the staircase to sit next to Law on the steps. The door falls shut behind him.

“Pretty sure that’s breakfast actually.” Law mutters as he tears into the bag. Two styrofoam containers bearing the logo of Hatchi’s restaurant two doors down from the hospital. He mostly serves seafood which Law hates but he has a vegetarian rice dish that he loves only on days like this because the portion is huge, dripping in oil and has enough vegetables that he doesn’t feel awful for scarfing down the entire thing.

Zoro takes the bottom container that smells like prawns but Law gratuitously decides against making a comment because he is too busy shoveling rice in his mouth.

Out of another one of his many pockets Zoro produces a cola from the vending machine that he puts in Law’s hand after opening.

“Going for tripple shift again?” Zoro asks before he eats a prawn whole - tail and all.

Law ends up nearly downing half the can before he comes up for breath. He hadn’t realized how ravenous he had been.

“Wasn’t going to before that pile up.” Law groans. They don’t tend to have many emergencies but when they do they really make all them work for it. “Haven’t you been here just as long?” He realizes suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at him while holding onto his can.

Zoro chews, lifting an eyebrow. “I left to get food.” He says simply. “And am officially off the clock now because I got stabbed.” He adds before eating another prawn, licking his fingers free off grease.

“You- what? Where?” Law puts his food and drink down so he can tug at Zoro’s jacket who lets him pull it off his shoulders. The white shirt underneath is half read and cut at the shoulder to make room for a piece of gauze. Law scoffs in disbelief. “How do you get more injured than anyone else in this entire city?”

Zoro just shrugs with his non injured shoulder and if Law weren’t attracted to him he would strangle the man. Which is when he realizes how close they are sitting, in a dark and abandoned staircase, all by themselves, Zoro half undressed.

Law lets go of him and clears his throat. “What do I owe you for food?”

“Nothing.” Zoro says and Law already opens his mouth as Zoro lifts a prawn at him in return. “Franky opened the vending machine for all employees and Hatchi still owes me from losing our match last week.”

Law shuts his mouth with a click. He grabs his food again, glaring at Zoro from the corner of his eye.

He will later blame it on feeling delirious after 13 hours of work. “For your services then. Or are they also free?” Law asks, licking his spoon as he says it.

Even in the dark of the staircase under the green emergency light he can see Zoro flush. “I mean-“

-

thanks for asking! for these fluff prompts

[lcvebuckley]

a recipe for disaster (and love)

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

prompt : day 2 - cooking together | word count : 1.6k | rated : G

a little late but this prompt is the first one i've worked on and it's been in my drafts since mid-jan so i was so excited to share this!! it took a bit longer to edit cus it's my first attempt on a crack-ish fic and i'm a little skittish about it hhh also might be a little ooc for tommy but let's just pretend he can't cook 👍

enjoy! ♡

“Babe, I don’t think this is right,” the older muttered, frowning at the bowl. “How many cups of salt did you say it was? Two right?”

Silence.

“Tommy,” Evan said slowly, walking over like he was approaching a wild animal. “I said two spoons, not cups.”

Or in which Buck's cooking lesson had gone wrong.

full version below or read on ao3

------------------------------------------------------

It started with a complaint. Not the typical “I’m hungry” complaint, but the kind that simmered just below the surface, coming after a long shift, a bruised shoulder, and precisely zero decent meals. Tommy had been running on caffeine and protein bars all day, the kind of combination that made him cranky enough to snap at his own reflection if it looked at him wrong.  

By the time he got back to his place, he was a walking embodiment of exhaustion and mild annoyance. Evan was already home, cheerful and relaxed, humming to himself as he moved around the kitchen with ease, a pan sizzling on the stove, the scent of garlic and something buttery filling the air.  

Tommy’s stomach growled aggressively, which he thinks was quite obvious since he noticed how the younger froze before turning around, flashing that annoyingly perfect smile—like he wasn’t out here casually committing acts of culinary excellence while Tommy was out there fighting for his life with a vending machine that ate his dollar earlier.  

“Hey, babe!” Evan greeted, wiping his hands on a dish towel, his curls slightly damp which Tommy assumed is from a recent shower. “I made dinner.” 

The older dropped his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and trudged over, not forgetting to lean in for a quick kiss. Having Evan to come home to has been the perfect antidote for his bad days and today was no different.

The plate Evan set down was a work of art—some kind of roasted chicken with golden, crispy skin, surrounded by perfectly seasoned vegetables. It looked like it belonged in a magazine. 

He picked up a fork, took a bite, and nearly groaned out loud. It wasn’t fair. Nothing should taste this good.  

And that’s when it happened. The words escaped before he could stop them.  

“You know,” Tommy started, casually enough to pass for nonchalant—except it wasn’t. Not even close. Evan looked up, attention snagged instantly. “I’m jealous the 118 gets to eat your cooking every day while I have to wait two days just to see you, let alone have dinner together.”

Evan blinked. Once. Twice. Then a slow grin—the kind that made Tommy’s stomach flip in that irritating, lovesick way—spread across his face like Tommy had just issued a personal challenge. 

“Oh,” Evan said, leaning against the table, arms crossed in the way that made his biceps look unnecessarily good. Tommy tried not to think about that because, apparently, his offhand comment had intrigued his boyfriend more than intended. “Is that the problem?” 

Tommy realized what was happening a second too late. He could’ve backtracked. Played it off. But no, his pride wouldn’t let him. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, stabbing another forkful like it had personally offended him. Which it kind of did in a way. “Must be nice, having a personal chef at work. Meanwhile, I’m over here with dry sandwiches and sad granola bars.”  

Evan’s grin only grew. “You could just… learn to cook, you know,” his voice was dripping with amusement, his eyebrows arching like he was already imagining the thought of Tommy cooking.

Tommy shot him a look. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, if it bothers you that much, I can teach you.” Evan’s voice was annoyingly casual, like he wasn’t shattering Tommy’s fragile ego with a single sentence. “That way you won’t miss my cooking so much when I’m not around.”  

Tommy couldn't help but to feel a little offended. “I can cook,” he protested. Sure, he wasn’t exactly Evan-level in the kitchen, but he’d made eggs and bacon before. Perfectly edible eggs and bacon. There was also that one time he tried stir-fried rice… but he preferred not to talk about that.

Evan bit down a chuckle. “I didn't say you can't,” he replied, his face morphing into that smug look Tommy secretly loved—but also knew meant he was about to get teased within an inch of his life. “I just think you’re… a little amateur.” he finished, his hands waving around as if they could make his words feel less like a stab.

Tommy’s mouth opened, then closed. He couldn't even deny it.

“Which is why I’m willing to teach you,” Evan added. “I’ve perfected my skills over the years thanks to Bobby, and I think you’ve got potential—as long as you follow my instructions,” his grin stretched wide, all gleaming teeth and overconfidence.

Tommy, of course, could never say no to Evan.

And that’s how, two nights later, he found himself standing in their kitchen, sleeves rolled up, apron on (which obviously comes from Evan’s apron collection), and he's glaring at a box of spaghetti like it owed him money.  

Evan’s so-called “lesson” started off easy enough. They were making pasta carbonara—simple ingredients, simple steps, Evan had said. Foolproof.

The younger moved around the kitchen like he belonged there, confident and effortless. He cracked eggs with one hand, diced pancetta with precise flicks of his knife, all while humming some random tune. He assigned Tommy the “easy” tasks, which felt suspicious.

“Just start boiling the pasta and mix the seasoning for the sauce. I’ll handle the pancetta,” Evan said, flashing a grin like this wasn’t a setup for failure. Well, Tommy's failure specifically.

Tommy nodded like he understood the assignment. In fairness, it sounded easy. Boil water. Season the egg mixture. No problem.

Except now the mixture looks odd and Tommy felt like he did something wrong. “Babe, I don’t think this is right,” the older muttered, frowning at the bowl. “How many cups of salt did you say it was? Two right?”  

Silence.

The kind of silence where you could hear Evan’s soul leave his body.

“Tommy,” Evan said slowly, walking over like he was approaching a wild animal. “I said two spoons, not cups.”

Tommy froze, the whisk dangling from his hand like a weapon of culinary destruction. His brain short-circuited. Embarrassed? Yes. Stupid? Extremely.

The younger burst out laughing and started wheezing as he clutched to his sides and Tommy groaned, dropping his head onto the counter in defeat. “I feel like an idiot.”

Still laughing, Evan slid behind him, wrapping his arms around the older’s waist in a warm back hug. His laughter softened as he pressed a gentle kiss to Tommy’s shoulder, resting his chin there. It was supposed to be comforting, probably. But it was distracting. Evan’s warmth pressed against him, his breath brushing against Tommy’s ear, and suddenly the bowl of regret salt mixture didn’t seem so important.

“You’re not an idiot,” Evan murmured, though his voice was still shaking with amusement. “You’re just… aggressively enthusiastic about salt.”

The older groaned louder, trying to bury his face in his hands. But Evan was relentless, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Tommy’s neck and shoulder, his arms tightening in comfort. “You’re doing fine,” he murmured, even though he was still chuckling. “Seriously. Look at you, whisking that mixture like a pro.” 

Tommy huffed, turning slightly to glare, but the younger just smiled and stole a quick kiss, all soft and sweet like he wasn’t still laughing internally. Tommy wanted to laugh along so bad but instead he groaned, dropping his head back against Evan’s shoulder. “I'm still an idiot.”  

“You’re my favorite idiot,” Evan whispered, punctuating the words with quick kisses along Tommy’s jaw, peppering them like little apologies for laughing. “Plus, you’re way too hot to be bad at anything. It’s honestly kind of comforting that you have flaws.”  

God, Tommy felt both flustered and annoyed. He swatted at Evan’s arm half-heartedly, but the younger just laughed and kissed him again, this time lingering a little longer, soft and warm against his cheek.  

The chaos didn’t stop there. In the distraction of affectionate teasing, the pasta water boiled over dramatically, sending a hiss of steam into the air like it was personally offended by their public display of affection. Tommy panicked, knocking over the pepper grinder, which rolled off the counter dramatically like it had somewhere better to be.

Eventually, by some miracle, they salvaged the dish. Somehow.  

The carbonara wasn’t perfect. Slightly too much salt—even when they redid the egg mixture that was Tommy’s salt disaster mix, the sauce a little thicker than Evan’s usual. But it was edible. Decent even. Good enough to stop Tommy from complaining about not having Evan’s cooking every day. For now.  

They collapsed at the table, Tommy stabbing his fork into the pasta with exaggerated exhaustion. He tasted it cautiously, then nodded. “Okay. It’s not as good as yours, but it’s not terrible.” Evan also took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before smiling. “Told you. You’ve got potential.”  

“Remind me to not ever do this again,” Tommy muttered, shoving his plate aside and reaching his hands toward Evan. After the day he’d had—culinary disasters and enough salt to season an entire city block—all he wanted was to hold Evan’s hands and forget about the embarrassment.

The younger grinned, propping his chin on one hand like he wasn’t responsible for half the chaos. “One dish isn’t gonna keep your mouth shut, baby.”

Still, he reached over with his free hand, letting Tommy intertwine their fingers. His grin softened as the older absentmindedly played with his fingers, tracing the lines of his knuckles like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tommy rolled his eyes, squeezing Evan’s hand gently. “Can’t you just cook for me?” he asked, practically begging. He even tried to do one of those wide-eyed looks Evan always pulled whenever he wanted something—big, dramatic, puppy-dog eyes. But judging by Evan’s snort, it wasn’t nearly as effective. Mental note: work on that.

The younger shrugged, casually smug. “Maybe when we’re married and I become your househusband, sure,” he said with a wink. “But for now, you’re on your own.”  

Tommy blinked, pretending to be caught off guard. He forced a laugh, but inside, his heart did a somersault. Little did Evan know, there was already a ring hidden in Tommy’s sock drawer.

Yeah, Tommy thought, stealing one more look at Evan’s soft smile, maybe not for long.

[tehrevving]

Vincent Valentine Week Day 2 - Technology

Vincent gets a phone.

Warnings: Mildly suggestive (lewd emojis)

You regret volunteering to help Vincent get a phone. You should have just let someone else handle it, someone less likely to give into his ridiculous whims. You had planned to just go into the store and get him the cheapest, dumbest phone you could find. He’s completely useless with technology, a combination of not having kept up with its innovations and his unique physiology.

Instead of everything going to plan though, Vincent is standing in front of some high end special edition monstrosity, covered in swirling red and silver. It would suit him of course, but you’re the one that’s going to have to deal with it being too complicated for him to use. You’re shaking your head, completely exasperated while the poor store assistant looks on at the both of you utterly confused.

“That’s a full blown smartphone Vincent,” you sigh. “I really think you should just get something basic to start with. You know you’re going to struggle to use it.”

He levels you a look that would send weaker mortals running for the hills, unfortunately for him, you’re used to his shenanigans.

“Don’t be like that,” you chide. “You remember the microwave right? The door at that hotel? The vending machine?”

“This one,” he states, clearly and succinctly.

You sigh, knowing that you’re not going to be able to change his mind. “Fine,” you grit out. “Fine. Fine.” You turn to the shop assistant, their jaw almost on the floor. “This one please. He’ll pay for the phone, but can you just add him to my plan?”

It’s an excruciating few hours later and you’re still sitting with Vincent, regretting all of your life decisions up to his point as you show him how to use the phone. You’ve downloaded all the basic apps he’ll need and explained to him how to make a call and check the maps. You’ve written instructions in the notes app too, but you’re not sure if he’ll be able to remember how to access them. You also went into settings and gave yourself the ability to track his location. You don’t plan to stalk him, but you think it’ll come in handy.

You’ve taught him how to send messages, how the on screen keyboard works and how it doesn’t work with his gloves. You hadn’t even realised he would have to type with one hand, you’re just thankful his hands are big enough to span the entire screen. You’ve shown him emojis and gifs, just so he knows they exist. You think that’s almost everything.

You sigh and press the home button, sending him back to the main screen. “Send me a message,” you order gently.

You watch as he slowly but correctly navigates through the various menus, selects your name and then types out a message. Your phone pings:

Vincent Valentine: Hello.

You’re not going to laugh at the capital letter and full stop, that’s completely fine. You quickly type out a reply:

You: 👅🍆

He tilts his head as he reads the message flashing on the screen on his new phone. “What does that mean?” he asks, sounding extremely confused.

You turn to face him. “What do you think it means?” you tease.

His forehead wrinkles up with confusion and it’s adorable. “You would like to,” he pauses, sounding completely unsure. “Lick vegetables?”

Barret snickers loudly from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but laugh too. “No.”

You lean up and tap gently on Vincent’s arm. He knows what that means and leans down, placing his ear by your lips. “It means,” you whisper, tone teasing, “that I want to suck your dick.”

Vincent pulls back to his full height. He hums, tilting his head at his phone screen, studying your message. “I see,” he murmurs and turns his phone away from you, scrolling something on the screen.

You wait, relaxing against him. You’re going to need a drink tonight, multiple drinks. You like him, you care about him of course, but sometimes it’s really difficult to be patient with him. Your phone buzzes and you look at it:

Vincent Valentine: 👅 🍑

You can’t help the loud burst of laughter that escapes you. Vincent looks down at you with an extremely confused and concerned expression. Honestly that just makes you cackle harder. “That was good. A really good try,” you reassure him. “Unfortunately that means something else.” You beckon him down again and whisper in his ear. “That means that you want to eat ass.”

He draws back, his face completely scrunched up with confusion. “Why does that have shorthand?” he trails off, often confused by modern sexual slang. “Would you like that? Should we be doing that?”

You squeak and bury closer to him with embarrassment, shaking your head. “No it’s fine,” you stammer.

He chuckles, hand ruffling your hair gently. “Then how do I say what I meant?”

You pull away with a sigh and start scrolling through more emojis.

You’re lying in bed that night about to sleep when your phone buzzes unexpectedly. You grab it, finding a message:

Vincent Valentine: Goodnight. 😘

You can’t help but smile, quickly sending a similar response. Maybe him having a phone will be worth it, despite how much pain it’s going to cause you.

[cnvendingmachine]

fresh food vending machines# fresh vending machine# farm fresh vending m...

[monsterswithimagines]

Maccas - Nathan Young

Nathan Young x Female!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You and Nathan are sorting through food for the needy. Nathan is being unhelpful.

Words: 1.1k

A/N: honestly, this is just kind of a practice-fic. I'm trying to decide if I want to write a multichapter fic about Nathan or not.

~

Sally had decided this morning that splitting your group up was the only way to get you all to be at least mildly productive.

Of course, she'd then gone about it in the dumbest way possible: she'd stuck Alisha and Curtis together on litter duty, which probably meant they were going to end up shagging somewhere, and she was making you and Nathan sort through food for the food drive. Simon and Kelly–who were somewhere else in the community centre sorting through clothes donated to a charity shop–were probably the only ones getting any real work done right about now.

To be fair, it probably wouldn't have mattered who Sally had put Nathan with. He was never productive and he wasn't about to start now.

Just now he was sitting on the floor stuffing his face with a family size bag of crisps.

“You know those are meant for the needy?” you asked, rolling your eyes at him.

“I am the needy,” Nathan said good-naturedly. “If you hadn't noticed, I'm livin’ in the community centre.”

He had a point, but you weren't about to concede to that when he was making you do all of this work by yourself. Instead, you set another box of sorted, non-expired food on top of the last one you'd filled and sighed, looking at all the unsorted cans, packs, bottles and whatever-the-fuck that you still had to go through.

“Alright then,” Nathan said, getting to his feet in a semi-graceful motion and wiping his greasy hands on the sides of his orange jumpsuit. He walked over to the boxes you'd already sorted. “Where do these go?”

“The front hall.”

Nathan nodded, but when he attempted to lift the box you'd just set down, he quickly dropped it again.

“Jesus! Did ya have to make it so heavy?”

You gave Nathan an unimpressed look and, with some grumbling and grunting, he picked up the box again and began to carry it where it needed to go.

Only for the bottom of the box to rip before he'd even left the room.

The food went spilling everywhere. It was a good thing it was mostly cans you'd put in there–they may have been dented, but at least they weren't breakable.

“Nathan!” you exclaimed.

“What? That wasn't my fault,” Nathan complained. “You didn't need to fill up the box that much!”

“You're supposed to hold the bottom when you lift it, you twat,” you snapped, pulling a hand through your hair. “Do you have no common sense?”

“Well, clearly I don't!” Nathan said, leaning down to pick up cans and setting them back on the table with the unsorted stuff. Great. “What is this shit, anyway. Beans? Classic. That's what people need. More beans.”

“You're such a wanker.”

You fell silent, then, even as Nathan kept chattering on about how beans were the worst type of vegetable, right below beets and brussel sprouts. You were only half-listening, checking expiration dates and putting things into a new box.

“And look, it's not that I don't think people need vegetables, okay? But I'm just sayin', some carrots, some peas–” He paused. “Anyway. Y'know what poor people really need? Condoms. I'm tellin’ ya, they just wanna be able to shag without the danger of having yet another tyke they can't afford. Condoms and maybe some booze. You're never hungry if you drink enough.”

“Is that what you're doing then?” you asked, glancing at Nathan. He seemed surprised you'd interrupted his ranting. “Getting drunk every night and shagging people?”

“Well,” Nathan said, grinning. “Not every night."

You gave him a look, and he shrugged.

"I just kinda sit around, eat whatever I can get out of the vending machines and go to bed early.” A short moment. “Sometimes I do nick some beers from the kitchen. But don't tell anyone.”

That was just… profoundly sad. You didn't know what to say to that.

“What about you, then?” Nathan asked. Suddenly, he was next to you, actually helping you sort through things. Admittedly, he just sort of chucked everything he deemed edible into boxes without caring if that counted as ‘sorted’ or not, but it was more than he'd been doing before. “What do you do every night?”

“Not much, either, I guess. Sometimes I go for drinks with some mates.”

Less and less, these days. Ever since you'd started community service, it was as if your old mates had faded into the background of your life, replaced by your fellow young offenders. Sometimes you and Kelly went out to the pubs, and Alisha had tried to invite you to go clubbing with her a few times now–but that didn't really seem like your scene anymore.

Then there was the times you all went out together, but it made no sense telling Nathan about that, considering he was there.

“Mostly I stay home, clean up around my flat, read a little,” you said with a shrug.

“So you have no life, the– Ow!” Nathan rubbed his arm where you'd just punched him. “Jesus.”

“I used to have more of a life before I went and got myself arrested,” you said. “I'm pretty sure going out and getting profoundly fucked up on several kinds of substances breaches the terms of my ASBO. Or at least, the things I do when I am that fucked breach them.”

“Pretty sure we're way beyond breaching ASBOs at this point,” Nathan pointed out. Then: “we should go out sometime.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, yeah, we'd totally have fun. You and me and a couple'a shots, maybe some coke or somethin’. Who knows what we'd get up to?”

“That sounds like a bad idea.”

“No, no, it'll be fun!”

“Yeah, no.”

“You're so boring.”

Maybe you were, at that. You really had been more of a party girl before community service. But look where it had gotten you: stuck at the community centre every day, the blood of a probation worker on your hands…

You tried not to think too much about that.

Nathan was silent–somehow–for a whole minute before he said:

“So that's a no to the going out thing, then? We don't have to do drugs, we could just go to Maccas or something.”

You looked at Nathan and found him very pointedly not looking at you.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No!” Nathan exclaimed. “Well, unless you're about to say yes. Then yes.”

You blinked at him.

“Um,” you said. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Nathan asked, looking at you somewhat hopefully.

“No to the drugs. Yes to Maccas. And I'm not a shagging on the first date type of gal.”

“Right!” Nathan said, grinning. “Gotcha!”

He was a lot more helpful sorting through the rest of the food after that, and even managed not to rip any more boxes.