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#last year it was on the other side of baking on the pasta aisle
rainbow-arrow · 1 year
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some news: i survived
some other news: people really don’t expect the salt to be with the other spices
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griefpersevering · 2 years
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the ripples they cause
read chapter twelve now!!
A/N: I was originally going to hold this chapter until Tuesday, but then the announcements started rolling in... congrats, everyone!! I can't wait to still be thinking about some really good lawyers in 2024 :D
Here's a snippet:
The shrine on Peter’s desk is beginning to grow. Ned’s Lego Palpatine and a months-old coffee cup stand next to a framed photo of him and his aunt. Above it, he pinned the fake certificate he got from his ‘internship’ with Tony. And now, in prime position, is MJ’s drawing.
Stephen’s spell was supposed to make the entire world forget who Peter is, and so far, there’s been no evidence to suggest it hasn’t worked. MJ, Ned, Happy… none of them recognised him.
So how has MJ drawn a scene that she shouldn’t remember?
Peter shakes his head, walking over to the fridge and staring at the lone bottle of ketchup and nearly empty jar of strawberry jam inside. He sighs, giving into his hunger and wandering over to the front door, grabbing his wallet, a well-worn jacket, and shoving his feet into his trainers without unlacing them.
The nearest Target is six blocks away, so Peter puts his earphones in as he’s walking. The sidewalks are still icey from the cold January weather, but Peter doesn’t slip. Thinking about MJ’s drawing is only giving him hope, and that’s a dangerous thing to have, so he steers his thoughts in a different direction.
Last night’s embarrassment is enough to distract him. Daredevil is different from the other superheroes he’s met. The Avengers — and all the other people who helped them fight Thanos, like the Guardians — are great for huge battles where the universe is at stake. For the short years he knew him, Peter’s greatest (and only) grievance with Tony was that he didn’t understand the importance of helping ordinary, everyday people.
Yesterday, during their conversation on the rooftop… Peter felt like Daredevil understood him. They were both doing the same thing, after all: putting their own lives and health on the line to help vulnerable people, and doing it without the fame and reward that comes with being an Avenger. In fact, both of them are painted as the villains, when all Peter wants to do is help people.
The automatic doors to the Target slide open and Peter grabs a basket. He wonders if Daredevil has a day job, or if he also gets paid minimum wage at a shitty job with an equally shitty boss.
He tosses two boxes of bandages into his basket, followed by a tub of burn ointment. Daredevil probably doesn’t have to change his own bandages every day. Peter can only imagine him having full medical insurance, taking his injuries to a discreet doctor every time he gets hurt on patrol.
Shaking his head, Peter wanders over to the next aisle and picks up a box of Lucky Charms. In the entire time she had looked after him, Peter doesn’t remember Aunt May successfully managing to cook anything. The plastic tray of the ready-made chicken tikka masala would melt in the oven, or she would forget to put water in when boiling potatoes. Once, she managed to burn herself cooking a frozen pizza. They either relied on takeout or forced down the cold-in-the-middle meatloaf, but neither of them ever learnt to cook.
Peter taught himself how to bake when he was thirteen, but he was starting to realize that humans can’t live off banana bread and double chocolate cookies alone.
“I bet Daredevil doesn’t have to cook his own dinner,” he mutters.
He also picks up a loaf of bread, a jar of nutella, a bag of penne pasta, and three random ready meals before heading to the checkout. As he joins the end of the queue, he notices a sign advertising a discount above a pile of bean bags.
He looks both ways, but there’s no one looking at him. It must be a side effect of the spell; even stranger’s eyes tend to glide over him these days.
Maybe he doesn’t have a lot of money. But he also doesn’t have anywhere to sit that isn’t his rickety bed, and it’s only five dollars…
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Broken flowers.
The lovely @ben-c-group-therapy who asked for this: 
<Hello, me again. I’d love to request some angst with a fluffy end. Miguel or Nick where reader is due to marry another man. The man and reader are at the alter and he just says he can’t marry her and leaves her there. He hadn’t given any clue he would do this. No cold feet. You stand shocked before leaving quickly. So Miguel or Nick was in the audience and they come to find you. Fluff. Comfort. Eventual sparks?? Idk. I can’t get the idea out of my head lol. Thanks so much!>
I decided to do Miguel for you this time. I really hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing this. I love Miguel’s soft side when it comes out to play so I tapped into that and slight Sex and City movie vibes.
Warnings: Being left at the aisle angst with a fluffy happy ending. Very very light swearing.
WC: 2227 
Enjoy x
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You had never been this excited in your life as you were when your dad walked you down the aisle to Alex. You had both picked the Santo Padre country club for your wedding and reception. Everything looked better than what you had imagined it to be. Your eyes were set on Alex from the moment the doors opened stepping through them, but he didn’t look happy so you just put it down to him being nervous. As you got to the front seats you stopped waiting for your mum to stand up taking your other arm to walk you to the alter. Your eyes caught your best friends over your mum’s head, who was sitting next to her, a tear running down his cheek, Miguel mouthed “You look beautiful” and you gave him a wink back.  
The ceremony had run smoothly up until the vows when the priest asked Alex to take your hands and to repeat after him, when you heard him mutter “I can’t”. You looked at the priest who was shocked at his reaction and you squeezed Alex’s arm with your free hand stepping a little closer,
“Babe it’s ok, you’re nervous”
“Y/N, I can’t. I’ am sorry. I can’t”
Your heart shattered when he pulled away from you and he walked out of the chapel leaving you standing there alone, your flowers dropped out of your hand landing on the floor breaking off the stems scattering around the bottom of your dress. No one knew what to do or what to say to you, but you heard the whispering that was getting louder and louder.
Tears welled in your eyes and you just ran. You felt Miguel grab your arm, but you pulled away from his grip and ran straight out the side door. You ran and ran till you got to the edge of the grounds to a man-made lake with a fountain in the middle, you dropped down under a tree in the grass and you sobbed till your whole body was shaking, letting out a loud scream.
Miguel had rage bolting through him at what had just happened to you. You guys had been best friends since high school. You had grown closer and closer over the years, being close with Emily when he got married and you had been there for him when he got divorced. You were one of the only people that never shied away from him, even when he took over the family business, knowing what he was, what he had become and what he did. Other than his mother, you were the most important woman in his life.
You were both brutally honest with each other telling each other everything, other than talking about the Galindo business dealings that you wanted to know nothing about and he knew what you thought about him taking over the business because he was so much better than a Cartel Boss, which weirdly made you closer. His family business never changed your friendship with him and you had inside joke’s when he went over the border and about his yellow rain coat that you had heard rumours about. If either of you were unbalanced or needed someone to tell you to get your shit together, you went to each other.
If you hadn’t felt the way you did about how Miguel delt with things, he would have had Alex in his church pew and would have been in his yellow rain coat making him pay for what he had done to you. Miguel got Marcus to take your parent’s home and stay with them in case they needed anything, Nestor got everyone out and on their way, Paco went to grab all your things from the hotel room you were meant to be staying in that night and then went to get your luggage from your apartment to take it all to his place and he sorted out the reception.
After he spoke to the manger coming to an agreement, he grabbed a chilled bottle of wine that was sitting on one of the tables and started to walk around the grounds looking for you. It wasn’t long before he saw you and his heart broke at you sitting there alone with your dress fanned around you and your shoulders slouched over.
You were looking out over the lake, the sun setting slowly and you tried to work everything out in your head. You didn’t know what happened or why Alex did what he did. As far as you knew everything was fine, he was excited to marry you and start a family. You had both decided that you would stay in your own apartment the week leading to the wedding and move the rest of your things over to his house once you were back from your four-week honeymoon, split between Cabo and Cancun. You had heard from him every night that week so, you were confused at what had happened not being able to put a finger on why.
You were pulled out of your chain of thought when you heard footsteps in the grass, but you didn’t turn around till you heard his voice and he sat down right next to you,
“Mi alma”
You looked over at him, a soft sweet smile on his face and he handed you the bottle of wine after opening it for you. You looked into his eyes for a moment, tears running out of yours and his filled with tears. Miguel put his hand on the back of your head pulling you towards him kissing your forehead. You both sat there, passing the wine bottle between each other watching the sun disappear, the warm wind hitting both of your skins,
“Didn’t see that coming” you muttered taking a sip from the bottle.
“He showed no sign he was going to call it off?”
“No. He told me last night he couldn’t wait to marry me. What a fucking joke” you took another sip of wine.
“Want the rain coat?” Miguel looked down at you with a grin. It was the first time since what happened that you had smiled and had a little giggle. You lent into him, Miguel’s arm going around you, rubbing his big warm hand up and down your arm and you rested your head on his shoulder “Today shouldn’t have happened Y/N, he’s an asshole. You deserve to be treated like a queen” he lent his head on top of  yours and you sighed into him.
“I have to cancel the honeymoon and the flights. Can I use your phone?”
“No” Miguel sat up away from you and you frowned your brows at him “You’re going on that trip; you have been looking forward to it. I’ll change his ticket into my name. We’re going and we’ll have a great time”
“What would I do without you?” you lent over kissing his cheek “Can I have your jacket?”
“Of course”
Miguel shrugged it off handing it to you. You reached behind yourself tugging down the zipper of your dress. Miguel reached over pulling it down the rest of the way, his breathing hitching slightly when your dress fell open to your smooth skin. You pushed the top of your dress to your chest and took one arm out of the straps at a time. You put Miguel’s jacket on and you stood up, the dress fell off you pooling at your feet. You pulled his jacket around yourself and done up the buttons stepping out of the dress, his jacket on you like a short dress,
“You better get home and pack. Flights at 7 am” you smiled down at Miguel before you started to walk away.
“You’re going to leave your dress here? You loved that dress”
Miguel jumped up catching up to you, putting his arm around your neck,
“I don’t want the reminder Miguel, of what was meant to be. I’ am absolutely heart broken, but it’s done, we need to move on”
Eight weeks later
Miguel was surprised and proud at how well you handled the situation, he not handling his marriage break down anywhere near as coolly as you and when you found out the real reason why Alex did what he did, you went for run instead of breaking down. He never pushed you to talk about anything, he waited till you came to him to talk and he held you while you cried. Some night’s you walked into his room crying, he held you while you feel asleep, sleeping in his bed and other nights you were fine. He talked you into moving in with him so you weren’t by yourself and you had organised movers so that everything would be at Miguel’s when you got back.
It was the third week of the trip that you noticed a shift in Miguel and how he treated you, but you didn’t want to pay attention to it so you pushed it away trying not to think about it, but your feelings changed towards him as well. Since you had been back from the trip and getting on with life as best you could, it was getting to the point that you didn’t know if you should step over that line, if you said something and it was all in your head that would be years and years of trust and friendship broken, but you couldn’t live under the same roof with someone that you had feelings for, them not knowing.
When you had been getting messages from him during your day, you smiled at your screen and your tummy filled with butterflies. Miguel was excited to be coming home to you every day and his mind drifted to you most of his day, but the day he knew he had to say something was the day he came home and you were in the kitchen. He had seen you cook and bake too many times over the years to count and the apron you wore, he had bought it for you one Christmas.
When he walked in and the music hit his ear drums, he smiled to himself and walked around till you were in his eye sight. He saw the oven on, by the scent flowing through the house you were cooking your chicken pasta bake and you were leaning over a tray of cupcakes with a piping bag icing them. He smiled to himself and knew at that point he was falling in love with you. He watched on for a while, grinning at how natural it looked for you to be in his kitchen. You sensed that someone was watching you, looking up after you iced the last cupcake. You met Miguel’s eyes and you both grinned at each other, you both stood there starring till heat swept over you.
You reached behind yourself undoing the apron and sitting it on the counter. You started to walk towards him, Miguel matching your steps your eyes not leaving each other’s. You were just about to him when you stopped, he copying you and you were both breathing heavy,
“You feel it too” Miguel whispered, more a statement than a question.
“Yes. I have for a while”
“That night in Cabo?”
“Yeah”
You couldn’t take your eyes off each other, almost like a test to see who would crack first. It wasn’t  long till you had your answer and it was both of you, it was like a magnet pulled you both together. Your arms went around his neck and his went down to wrap around just under your behind, lifting you up off the floor. Your lips met, meeting together like a puzzle, you felt like lightening had struck you and you knew he felt it too moaning into your mouth.
You both titled your heads and allowed the kiss to deepen. Miguel walked you both to the counter, sitting you on it not breaking the kiss. You spread your legs for him and he moved between them, your arms loosened around his neck and your hands went to his bearded cheeks. Your lungs started to burn and you broke the kiss, Miguel smiling up at you,
“We’ve been friends for a long time” your hands ran down from his cheeks and stopped on his chest “You know there is no going back now”
“I don’t want to go back anywhere. Y/N, you’re my best friend. You are the only one that knows me amor, takes me for me, holds me accountable for my actions and you keep me grounded. You are the only one that has ever loved me no matter what”
“As always, you always know what I’ am thinking and say first” you both laughed and you tapped his chest with your hands “I want this, so much. But can we take it slow? It’s a big step for us and it’s the first relationship we have both been in since-“
Miguel curled his pointer finger under your chin and tipped your head back, his other hand going to rest on top of your other one,
“As slow as you want, as fast as you want. We are still the same people, the same friends, we are just falling in love” Miguel peaked your lips.
“And it feels absolutely amazing.”
Tags: @beccabarba​ @alwaysachorusgirl​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ @ben-c-group-therapy​
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themadlostgirl · 3 years
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When It’s Cold (2)
*Horny teens are horny. Mild smut mentions ahead.*
~~~
I laid in bed watching the lightning flash outside my windows as thunder shook the room and rain poured down. As a child a storm like this would have had me hiding under my covers. Tonight though I watched the storm, every inch of my body on alert with every crack of lightning and thunder. The doors to my room burst open with a roll of thunder. A shadowed figured stood in the hallway. My heart hammered fast as I tried to see through the darkness at my intruder. A flash of lightning illuminated the once dark room and I recognized the jagged line down my visitor’s face.
“Felix?” I sat up straighter. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to make sure you weren’t scared.” He prowled closer, a wicked grin on his face as he got to the foot of my bed. “You always were so scared of storms.”
“I was…” I murmured. He was dressed only in a pair of pants. That same chiseled torso I had gawked at earlier on full display.
He crawled onto the bed until he was hovering over me. “Do you want me to stay?” His voice purred in my ear, “I can keep you warm if it gets cold.”
“Yes please,” I let the robe around me fall from my shoulders leaving me exposed. “Keep me warm, Felix.”
“Gladly.” He swooped down upon me.
~~~
I woke with a start. My body was wound up tight and I was tangled in the blankets on my bed. I gazed around me confused before the previous day’s events caught up to me. It felt like a dream that Felix and I had found this mansion last night.
Felix…
The real dream came back to me with stark detail. What had that been all about? I’ve never had a dream like that before. I never have dreams in the first place. Even when I do they’re nothing like that and most certainly do not feature Felix. Yet he had been the epicenter.
Half naked with a devilish grin looking down at my own nude body. I had wanted him to--to--
I buried my face in my pillow. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone to his room last night and saw him coming out of the bathroom. Why did I have to see that? Now I was having borderline erotic dreams about him. Oh screw borderline! I knew exactly what I had been hoping to happen and the aching between my legs only solidified it.
It’s not like I never found Felix ugly or anything. He was pleasant to look at. I dare say at times he was handsome but I never dwelled on it. Maybe a stray intrusive thought or two but they never went so far as my dream had. I couldn’t stop picturing it. Felix and I in bed, his large hands on my body, his lips caressing my skin…
I pressed my legs together as the image took root in my head. Maybe I deserve to indulge a little. For right now there is nothing to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Felix will ever know. My hand dipped between my legs as I let myself fall back into the dream. My body was extra sensitive since I hadn’t been able to indulge in this particular past time since Neverland. Not that I got to do it a whole lot there either. I swear there is absolutely no privacy on that island.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
And none here either it seems.
With a small whine I swung out of bed and pulled my robe in tight. I opened the door and Felix was waiting on the other side already dressed. Could it be considered poetic irony that the boy I had just a moment ago been masturbating to interrupted said masturbation?
“Did you just wake up?” Felix looked me up and down.
“Kinda. I figured I was allowed to sleep in. What do you want?” I stepped back and started collecting my clothes from the floor. 
“Get dressed. I discovered something you’re gonna wanna see.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
“No. Now hurry up.” He closed the door and left.
With a sigh a pulled my clothes back on and followed Felix up a set of stairs to a hallway that led to a dead end. “This is what you wanted to show me? A wall with a picture on it?”
“Watch this,” He pulled the light fixture next to the painting and suddenly the wall came loose and rotated opening up a passageway into a whole new room.
“This place has secret rooms now. Very cool.” I stepped inside. “A library?” I looked at the books but there were no names on the spines. I pulled one off and flipped through it but all the pages were blank. “I will say I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Oh but it gets better.” Felix went over to the desk at the end of the room and pulled open the drawer. There was a button inside. He pressed it and a section of the floor popped up. I knelt down and opened the hatch and my eyes went wide. It was a safe!
I turned the latch and nearly cried at what I saw. Money. Just stacks and stacks of money! One less thing to worry about. We wouldn’t need to scrape by or get jobs. This safe could keep us comfortable for months! Years even!
“How did you find this?” I asked Felix.
“I like puzzles and I like to snoop.” He grinned pulling out a stack of hundreds. The band around it said ten thousand. Ten thousand dollars and there were easily a hundred or more just like it from what I could tell from the naked eye. We have someplace warm to sleep and we have money for food.
I started sniffling and I could sense Felix watching me befuddled. “Sorry, I just--” I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my eyes, “We’re going to survive the winter. We don’t have to be hungry or cold again.”
“I know,” Felix pulled a few hundreds from the stack and dropped the rest back in the safe. “Now how about we go do that grocery shopping you were so insistent on?”
“Yes!” I hopped to my feet. We put everything back in place and left the room. I found a pad of paper and started making a list of everything we would need. Unlike Felix who had spent so much time on Neverland that he couldn’t remember who he had been before being a Lost Boy , I did remember who I was. I remembered the responsibilities I had before Neverland. What was needed when I was made to go to market. The grocery store wasn’t like the open air markets I was used to but it was still the same general concept.
Felix and I got weird looks as we entered the store and I took one of the trollies. My first stop was to grab some toiletries. Toilet paper, shampoo, body wash, loofah, deodorant, toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, and even a set of razors in case Felix wanted to shave. Next we grabbed laundry detergent, dish soap, paper towels, spray cleaner, trash bags, aluminum, and hangers. We would need to go to a different store for clothes. Lastly, food. Now, being the designated responsible person out of the two of us I know we couldn’t just indulge in the sweets and other delicious yet not necessarily healthy food for us.
I sped up and down the aisles with Felix trailing after me as I dumped stuff into the trolley. Chicken, beef, bacon, vegetables, fruits, a ten pound bag of potatoes, bread, milk, two dozen eggs, pasta, rice, butter, flour, sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla, yeast (it’s been forever since I baked anything but I figured I could give it a try), orange juice, apple juice, cheese, canola oil, olive oil, and spices. Then came on the things I knew less about, peanut butter, chocolate chips, gummy candies, dressings, chips, ice cream, instant brownie mix, pizza rolls (they sounded good), cans of soup, yogurt, pancake/waffle mix, whipped cream, cereal, granola bars, pretzels, and tea bags.
Our trolley was overflowing with items as we wheeled our way over to the register. The man bagging our items looked at us strangely as we started unloading our groceries onto the counter. Several minutes and a trolley full of groceries later we were given our grand total. I was scared that we wouldn’t have enough but thankfully we did. We left the store and looked at our haul.
“Hey, Felix,” I paused as we were halfway through the parking lot, “How are we gonna get all this back to the mansion?”
“We steal the cart.” He said it like it was obvious. “Who is gonna stop us?”
“True.” We started out trip back to the mansion and pushed the trolley into the house. We spent the next several minute cramming things into cabinets and the icebox. I pushed the trolley back outside and went to put my toiletries away while Felix took the laundry items down to the basement. I would also need to learn how to use the electronic washers they had here if I wanted clean clothes.
Speaking of clean clothes, “Felix!” I shouted down the steps, “We’re not done yet today. We need to go clothes shopping.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t bring any extra sets of clothes with me when we left Neverland and I’m sick of wearing these dirty rags. Now get a move on!”
Felix came upstairs with a scowl. “Don’t pout. Even if we kept these clothes clean they stand out too much. I think it’s part of the reason everyone glares at us. We’ll arise less suspicion if we blend in. Especially since our mission is to find a way out of here and back to Neverland.”
“Fine.” Felix grumbled. He counted the remaining money in his pocket. “Let me grab a few more bills from the library just to be safe.”
My stomach grumbled and I decided to grab a granola bar to settle my stomach while I waited for Felix. This house was so strange. They didn’t have any dish soap but they had pots and pans. No shampoo but they had combs. Not a lick of food but a cabinet dedicated to what looked like a very fragile table set.
Felix came back a few hundred dollars richer and we made our way back into town for the second time that day. The clothes store was emptier than the grocery store which put me more at ease. Felix and I went our separate ways as I perused around the racks and racks of clothing. I grabbed a few shirts, pajamas, sweatshirts, sweat pants, underwear, socks, gloves, a scarf, hat, a thick jacket, a new pair of boots, and a large messenger bag. When I went to try on some pants though I was thoroughly disappointed. They fit fine but the pockets on them were tiny! I could barely get my hand in them. Was this what pants were like here? Why?!
I went over to the men’s section and found Felix also trying on some new clothes. It was a simple black t-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans but it looked really good on him. He almost looked less foreboding. Maybe that was just due to the fact that he didn’t have his cloak hood up like usual.
“You look mad,” Felix chuckled upon seeing me stomp up to him.
“I am! Look at this.” I squeezed a few of my fingers into my jeans pocket. “These pants have absolutely no room! Are yours like this as well?”
“Mine?” he stuck his entire hand in his pocket up to the middle of his forearm. “Nope.”
“What the hell?” I stuck my hand in his other pocket. These were so much roomier than mine! “Why are these better than the ones in my section?”
“I don’t know,” Felix pulled my hand out of his pocket, his face was red with anger again and he wouldn’t look me in the eye, “You can stop invading my personal space though.”
“Oops, sorry.” I snatched my hand back to my chest. What had I been thinking? I essentially stuck my hand down his pants and for what? Because I was jealous of the size of his pockets? I grabbed a few pants from his section that looked to be my size and raced back to the dressing rooms in my section. These fit just as well as the ones I was wearing now but the pockets were much roomier so I chucked the others away and got the men’s pants.
Felix met me at the registers when he was done browsing. He still wasn’t looking at me. I think I made things between us really uncomfortable. We paid for the clothes but had no trolley this time so had to carry everything in large bags back to the mansion. After we got back Felix disappeared into his room. I changed into a pair of the comfy new clothes I bought and went downstairs to make myself something to eat.
I heated a can of soup up and sat down to eat. I wasn’t in the mood to be so adventurous as to make a full blown meal. Now that we had all the essentials Felix and I could start our search for a way back to Neverland in earnest.
I didn’t see Felix for the rest of the night. Figures he wouldn’t want to be around me after we spent all day together. I drew myself another hot bath and this time was able to actually wash myself with the soap and shampoo we had bought. I felt truly clean for the first time in a long time as I slid on the pajamas I bought and crawled back into bed.
Rain pattered outside and I was reminded of my dream from this morning. A part of me dreading and hoping that I would have another just like it.
~~~
Fucking hell! You were killing him! You had to be trying to kill him! That’s what Felix concluded as he locked himself in the master bedroom of the mansion.
Ever since Felix had let himself be talked into going to Storybrooke with you he had been forced by your side. You were the only Lost One in Storybrooke still loyal to Pan when all the others had run off to find families for themselves. He told himself he was tagging along instead of staying in Neverland to enact revenge on those that murdered Pan but that was only half of the story.
He should have never followed you though. Revenge aside. It hadn’t worked out anyway. Even after he learned that Pan was still alive, albeit in someone else’s body, it wasn’t enough. Pan died anyway before he got to enact the curse that would have turned this worthless town into a new Neverland. Now everyone was happy and safe and you and Felix were both very much stranded.
Finding this mansion had been a sweet turn of luck. He knew you were right when you mentioned needing a better place to stay over winter. Felix didn’t like the cold either but he could tolerate it better than you. Every night since you two got here you would shiver the night away at your camp. The night before it had been so cold that even Felix was cursing the wind. While he shivered though he glanced across the fire pit at you. You were huddled in so tight to yourself. Teeth chattering and body convulsing.
He was glad that you didn’t make any mention of him giving you his cloak as an extra form of warmth that night. He didn’t want to try explaining why he had done it. Terrible complicated feelings that he refused to acknowledge. He pushed them down hard, stomped them into dust so they could never rear their ugly head again.
Then he had gotten out of the bath. Truly clean for the first time in years he had left the bathroom and all those complicated feelings from before shot to the surface at the scene laid out before him. You knelt on the ground with only a towel barely covering you. Your wet hair leaving drops of water rolling down your shoulders and back.
His jaw clenched and he fumbled to maintain some composure as you explained what you were doing practically naked in his room. He had found the robe in the master bathroom and was planning on wearing it to bed himself but when he caught sight of you he was only too happy to chuck it into your arms. He needed you to cover up. He needed you clothed and out of his room that instant!
He was far from relaxed after you had left that night. The sight of you knelt over, the towel just barely covering your ass was burned into his brain. He ignored the stirring under his towel and dove into the large bed. He tossed and turned most of the night trying to rid the image and the thoughts he was having. His mind betrayed him though as it brought him much more vivid fantasies of you on his bed wearing nothing at all and beckoning him to take you.
He woke soon after breathing hard and his hand around his cock. Felix cursed the fact that he had a lewd dream about you of all people. He tried to ignore the images flashing in his head but when he closed his eyes there you were on all fours again with a teasing smile. He jumped into the bathroom and turned on the shower hoping a cold jolt would snap him back to sense but then he was thinking of you in this shower with him. Water rolling down your body, that same teasing smile and sultry voice begging him to take you against the wall.
For a few minutes he swallowed his embarrassment and let the fantasy play out fucking into his fist and pretending it was you squeezing around him instead. He thought of your moans and whimpers egging him on. Begging him to be harder, faster, rougher. He bit his lip to keep from shouting as he finally spent himself and started coming down from his high.
He felt more relaxed afterwards but the release of tension didn’t make him feel better knowing he had masturbated to you. You were his...friend? You two had never been friends before coming to Storybrooke and he doubted that you two were that now. Whatever you were to him he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. You both wanted to get back to Neverland and having obscene fantasies of you was not the way to go about that.
It was still fairly early but he was too wound up to go back to bed. So he got dressed and went exploring throughout the mansion. That’s how he had found the secret library full of blank books and that secret vault under the floorboards. He put everything back in place before racing to wake you up and show you. He had almost forgotten about his dream until you opened the door and he was met with your sleepy face and bedhead. Had you always been this attractive or was it just the layers of dirt that had gotten washed away last night that made you much more appealing to him suddenly? He decided not to dwell on why he was having these thoughts and instead took you down to see the stash of money he had found.
You were so giddy at the knowledge that you could actually have a roof over your head and food in your belly that he found himself smiling too. Your smile was so infectious. He let you take the lead when you went shopping. He didn’t recognize half the stuff he saw in that store but trusted your judgement when you dropped something in the cart.
Then there was when you went to go clothes shopping. Felix wouldn’t admit that he was getting a little worn out of his Neverland attire. It was functional but that was all he could say about it. The smell of it after he had gotten out of the bath the night before almost made him gag. Perhaps this was the reason no one wanted you or him around. You both reeked of years of living in a jungle.
You two were on totally opposite ends of the clothing store so Felix thought he was safe until you came charging into his dressing room ranting about the tiny pockets on your pants. The tight fitted pants that hugged your legs and ass perfectly. Then when you unceremoniously stuffed your hand down his pocket to see how deep they were it took all his self control and thoughts of rotting animal carcasses to not pop an erection right there in the store.
You were trying to make him burst a blood vessel and you didn’t even seem to notice! Which is why he was back in his room sitting on his bed hungry and horny. He was waiting until after he was sure you had gone to bed to get some food. He really didn’t want to chance running into you again and risk those impure thoughts bubbling to the surface once more.
Hopefully today had just been a spoof and tomorrow all these strange new thoughts and feelings would be gone. You two had a mission after all. Get back to Neverland. Lust wasn’t going to help that mission.
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lonelyreputation · 4 years
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The List
A/N: Happy afternoon/evening/morning to wherever you find yourself on this planet! I had planned on posting this ~next week, but I’m trying to be better at posting fics sooner instead of having them sit in my docs for like 2 weeks after I finish sdljfk so here’s this one! I also can’t find the original request or else I would link it, but below is a summary! And it’s allllll fluff ! 
Thanks a million for all your support!! 💖💫 I really appreciate every reader, every like, every reblog, and every reply that I’ve ever received 🥺 It really makes my heart melt lsdjflk
Also, as I’m sure most of you are aware, there was a devastating   explosion in Beirut, Lebanon on Tuesday that killed hundreds and injured thousands. Here’s a really informational text post explaining the explosion with additional resources to help. And if you have the means, here is the link to donate to the Lebanese Red Cross.
REQUEST: Going grocery shopping with your husband Shawn during corona and running into fans 
Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST
Warnings: Coronavirus (please remember to wear your masks!!!)
Word Count: 2.3K
“Do you have the list?” You mumbled through your mask.
Shawn shut the driver’s side door close as he slipped the elastic strings of his mask around his ears, “I thought you had it?”
You looked at him in disbelief as the two of you walked toward the front of the grocery store, “You said and I quote,”  you cleared your throat to lower your voice, “Of course, I have the list Y/n, I’m not irresponsible.”
He rolled his eyes at the glare you sent him as he took out a clorox wipe from a ziplock bag to wipe down the handle of the shopping cart before he put his hands on it, “Tomato tomahto.”
“Shawn, we’re in the middle of a pandemic,” you glared at him again as the two of you entered through the automatic doors, “We need specific things and can’t keep running back and forth to the store.”
“I––Yeah, you’re right, sorry.”
For a second you forgot you were wearing a mask, so you just smiled at him as a response. But when you realized that all he could see were the crinkles at the corner of your eyes, you patted his bicep, “It’s alright, let’s just get what we need and then leave.”
Shawn nodded as he pushed the cart over toward the produce section.  You picked out some lettuce, peppers, apples, and other assortments of fruits and vegetables.  As you were tying a knot around a plastic bag you had put asparagus in, Shawn’s voice caused your head to turn his way.
“How do you pick out an avocado?”
“How do you––What?”
Shawn stared down at the avocados, eyebrows pulled together as he scratched his chin, “Like, I know there’s something about the color and feel of it, but I don’t wanna touch them and then put them back.”
He had a point, you thought.  There was a fear factor about touching a piece of fruit––of touching anything in the grocery store––and putting it back on the shelf that could potentially put someone at risk of getting sick.  
“I guess just grab a few?” You pulled down another plastic bag from the dispenser, wiggling your hands inside to fully open it and holding it out to Shawn, “We’ll eat the softer one’s first and just keep an eye on the rest of them.”
Shawn nodded as he picked up a few avocados and placed them in the bag you held open for him.  Once Shawn had put six avocados in the bag you gave him a look silently asking him if he really needed all of the avocados.
“I like avocado toast,” he gave you a cheeky wink, “And it’s not like we can put them back.”  
You let out an exasperated sigh, knowing full well he was grinning under his mask, as he pushed the cart forward, “What else do we need?”
“I would know if we had a list.”
“I said I was sorry!”
You tilted your head and gave him a deliberate look that showed you didn’t believe him.  You heard him let out a faux disgruntled sigh as he looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes.  Shawn continued to push the cart forward and you told him to jokingly get whatever he wanted since the list was long forgotten.
And he took your lighthearted joke to heart as the two of you went up and down the aisles.  Shawn grabbed various cereal boxes you didn’t even know he liked to eat, seven different kinds of pasta noodles––They’re on sale, Y/n––snacks ranging from potato chips to dried kale flakes, and spent more than enough time in the baking aisle.
You stood next to the cart that Shawn abandoned as you watched him walk up and down the aisle; front teeth biting down on his bottom lip in concentration as he leaned in close to the shelves with squinted eyes, reading the labels.
“You’re serious about this?” You warily looked at the way he was so concentrated.
“Of course,” he said unfazed as he turned his head over his shoulder to give you a duh look, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just so…” Your words trailed off as he whipped his head back around and bent his knees to squint at the labels on the bottom shelf, “Unexpected.”
Shawn let out a little triumphant ah ha as he picked up bread flour from the bottom shelf.  He shrugged his shoulders at you as he dropped the bread flour in the cart, “Everyone seems to be making sourdough bread.”
For what felt like the millionth time since you stepped foot in the grocery store, you let out a sigh, “That doesn’t mean you should.”
Shawn glared at you, “My mom said she would FaceTime me to help.”
Your eyes crinkled as you laughed out loud and pushed the cart down to the cleaning supplies aisle.  You picked up the limit of two packs of paper towels, two packs of toilet paper, but the store was unfortunately out of clorox wipes.  
After you picked up those essential supplies, you went down to pick up some bread, eggs, and then down to the milk.  You opened the fridge door, took a gallon of milk out, but before you could fully close the door, Shawn offered up his spaced-out thoughts.
“What’s the difference between one percent and two percent milk?”
“Shawn, I don’t know,” You turned around and saw his nose an inch away from the glass of the fridge, “And get your nose away––You don’t know who’s touched that surface.”
He moved his head back, but it was still too close then what you would’ve liked, “There’s so many types of milk…And like, non-milk’s…Have you ever tried pea milk?”
You now remembered why you always left Shawn at the house when you went food shopping.
“You usually like fat-free milk in your cereal–––”
“Shawn––Are you Shawn Mendes?”
Shawn pulled his head completely away from the glass and took a few steps toward you as to put some distance between the fans and him, “Uh––Yeah––Hi, how’s it going?”
Even with their masks on, you could tell that they were trying really hard to hold in their excitement.  While the three of them looked to be various ages, you could tell that they were sisters.
“We’re so good––”
“––As good as you can be in a pandemic––”
“Are you grocery shopping?”
The last question made you laugh because if being in a grocery store wasn’t obvious enough, you also had a cart full of food.  But you knew that they really admired Shawn’s music, that they were also probably nervous, and just trying to make conversation with him.
“Yeah,” Shawn smiled at them as he gestured to you, “Y/n forgot the list though––”
“You said you had it!” You cut him off and turned your attention to the fans, “He’s always so forgetful.”
“You guys are too cute––”
“––Yeah like your wedding pictures were to die for––”
“What song did you have your first dance to?”
Like how you directed your attention to the trio of girls, the youngest of the sisters directed this question at you.  
“Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis was our first dance song,” you blushed at the memory that was just a little under a year ago, as you looked up at Shawn, who was already looking down at you with idolization shining bright his eyes for you, “He stepped on my dress a few times.”
Shawn scoffed and the idolization in his eyes turned into bewilderment, “You stepped on my shoes.”
“Tomato tomahto,” you shot his words back at him.
“That is really funny––”
“––That song is so romantic––”
“Can we get a picture?”
The two older sisters apologized and silently berated the youngest sister saying how they probably didn’t want to be bothered while out; especially in a pandemic.  But Shawn reassured her that it was fine.
“Okay, so let’s…” Shawn was trying to strategize the safest way to take a picture with fans, “Let’s do this as socially distant as possible…Hmm…Okay so how about I get behind you girls and you aim the camera up so you’re able to see me in the distance?”
They all agreed with wide eyes and vigorous nods of their head, verbalizing their gratitude toward Shawn and how he was being so compromising and careful with the current situation.  You stood by the cart as you witnessed the oldest sister stretch her arm out so she was able to get her sisters and Shawn, who was standing more than six feet behind them, all into the picture.
“I really appreciate you girls being so understanding with taking the picture and not having it be…normal.  We’ve––” Shawn gestured his hand between you and him, “––been quarantining pretty intensely, but I still don’t want to risk you all––or my wife––getting infected.”
Just like the picture, the sister’s understood his concerns.
“Really, thank you so much–––”
“––This has been the highlight of my quarantine––”
“When are you releasing new music?”
You let out a laugh that your mask, thankfully, muffled as all the sisters continued to talk over each other, but were interrupted when the youngest would blurt out a question.
Shawn’s laugh was more hearty and audible to the fans, “I’ve been writing more,” Shawn gave you a side glance, “I’ve had some good inspiration lately.”
Once they all thanked Shawn again, they were trotting off to wherever they came from.  Shawn was silent for the remaining of the shopping trip, only offering his opinion every now and then when you asked him a question.  Checking out was a breeze, and soon enough you were walking outside with the bags, placing them in the back of Shawn’s car.
The two of you opened your doors, stepped into the car, but before you buckled up, you held your hand out to Shawn who was already squeezing hand sanitizer into his hand.  You thanked him as you rubbed your hands together, the alcohol smell pungent in the car.
“Alright there?” You clicked your seatbelt in place as Shawn started the car.
He placed a hand on the back of your seat as he looked through the back windshield, “Yeah, just…It was nice seeing some fans…Almost forgot I was famous for a minute.”
“You might’ve forgotten that you’re famous, but your fans will never forget you.”
He tried to contain the growing smile by biting the corner of his bottom lip as he looked over at you.  You offered him a shining smile and with a shake of his head and a small chuckle, he placed a hand on your thigh and gave you a slight squeeze.
The rest of the ride was silent and you pulled out your phone to scroll through Twitter while Shawn sang along to the radio.  You were mindlessly scrolling, not really paying attention to your timeline, but then you saw an update account retweet the picture of Shawn at the grocery store with fans.  You clicked on the profile and saw that there was a link to the full Instagram post.
You were directed from Twitter to the Instagram app and smiled at the picture’s caption.
Ran into Y/n and Shawn Mendes at the store! They were very cute, but Shawn forgot their food list!  Y/n kept teasing him. And they were both wearing masks!  And before anyone says anything about the pic, Shawn was more than 6 ft away and stood behind us.  He also said that he and Y/n had been quarantining intensely!  We love our quarantine King and Queen Y/n and Shawn Mendes ✨ 💖💫
You decided to humor yourself and read the comments.  And while almost all of them were positive, there were still some people commenting on how they thought you and Shawn weren’t actually married and it was still just for PR.
Someone did comment: What supermarket? I’m tryna meet Shawn 👀
But the fan, the oldest sister, who you met just under an hour ago at the supermarket responded: Sorry! Not going to give out their private info just in case they live in that area!
You smiled at the thoughtfulness of her response and hearted the comment.
Before you knew it, you were back at your house washing your hands, and bringing in the grocery bags.  You unpacked the groceries one by one, putting vegetables in the fridge as Shawn put the seven different kinds of pasta away in the pantry.
You walked back to where the grocery bags were on the floor, pulling out carrots and red peppers, when you saw a corner piece of white paper slightly sticking out from the top of your husband’s back pocket.
“Shawn?” You asked cautiously, not sure if your eyes were betraying you or not.
He peeked his head over his shoulder, “Yeah?”
Your eyes drifted down to his back pocket, “What’s that?”
Shawn followed your gaze and turned his head down to his backside, with a frown on his face, as he reached a hand into his pocket.  And just as you expected, he pulled out a crumpled white piece of scrap paper, the one you knew you wrote your food list on.
His eyebrows were scrunched together, reading over the list, and then his eyes widened when he realized what he was reading.  He looked up at you with an apologetic look, “Now also wouldn’t be the time to tell you that I forgot to buy pasta sauce?”
Your shoulders fell, just as fast as your mouth, as you looked at him with wild eyes, “You bought seven different kinds of pasta and didn’t buy any sauce?!”
taglist: @fallinallincurls @alina--jpeg @adelaidestreets @5-seconds-of-mendes @particularnarry @now-that-i-saw-u @turtoix​ @shawnsmutal @vinylmendes @mendesficsxbombay @lights-on-mendes
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swordandquill · 3 years
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Title: Winter Break
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.
Ch 2: Fussing - Nate has to choose between supervising a shopping spree or supervising a grumpy hitter. He definitely chooses the lesser evil.
Author’s Note: I still don’t know where this story is going or when the next update will be. 
Many, many thanks to @whumpybliss for beta reading this chapter!
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
"I know what you're trying to do."
Eliot's glare was less impressive than usual, but Nate still would have bet his money on him. Not that he wouldn't always bet on Eliot, and with things much more valuable to him than money.
"Trying to get you to eat saltines, so you don't throw up when you take the prescription strength anti-inflammatories I know you have in your bag?" Nate waved the open sleeve of crackers in front of the hitter.
"Stop fussing," Eliot snapped and snatched the sleeve out of Nate's hand.
Now that Parker had pointed it out, Nate could clearly see Eliot was favoring his left arm. Or, possibly because Parker had pointed it out, Eliot was putting less effort into hiding it.
"They shouldn't be in there alone," Eliot pulled a few crackers out of the sleeve and shoved it back at Nate.
"They're not alone," Nate swapped the sleeve for a water bottle from the grocery bag at his feet, "they have each other. We might be living off of orange soda and Trix for the next two weeks, but I think they'll get each other out of the store in one piece."
Eliot gave him a dubious look but refrained from talking with his mouth full.
"Anyway, I'm listening," Nate tapped the comm he had slipped into his ear.
"Where's my…?" Eliot frowned and tried to reach behind the seat for his bag, wincing hard at the twisting motion.
"Stop it," Nate thumped his side lightly with the back of his hand, "I've got them. Parker hasn't managed to convince Sophie that Froot Loops are both a vegetable and a fruit. Sophie is giving her tips on being persuasive, and Hardison doesn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but one of them has made it into the basket."
"How have they made it this far without dying of malnutrition?" Eliot let his head flop back against the headrest.
"Cereal is fortified," Nate said dryly and poked Eliot with the water bottle, "which bag are your meds in?"
"It can wait until we get to the cabin," Eliot grabbed the offending bottle away without opening his eyes.
Nate didn't have to wrangle an injured Eliot often. Most of the time, he was more than capable of managing his own injuries. When he wasn't, Nate usually let Parker take the lead in poking and prodding while he helped Hardison track down whatever medical help their hitter needed.
Parker needed to burn off some energy, though, and Nate would rather supervise a cranky Eliot than his team on a shopping spree. He had trailed Eliot through the first aid aisle, listened to him mutter over spices and knives on the baking aisle, and then dragged him back to the van with saltines and water bottles in hand.
"Just take the anti-inflammatory," Nate argued, "it won't make you drowsy, and the longer you wait, the less well they'll work."
"Stop. Fussing." Eliot growled, somehow managing to drink his water angrily. Nate was always impressed by how Eliot could make the most mundane tasks look threatening. Luckily for him and the rest of the team, Nate was not easily intimidated.
"Just for the sake of argument..." Nate started.
"No," Eliot said flatly.
"We're stuck in the car until Hardison picks a shampoo. Humor me," Nate ignored Hardison's protests over the comm about his sensitive scalp.
"They need to hurry," Eliot groused, 'the snow is getting worse."
"Right," Nate agreed and held the sleeve of saltines out to Eliot again. He was disproportionately pleased when the hitter grabbed a few more without protest, "so let's just say there really is some shadowy figure waiting behind the curtain to get us…"
Eliot raised an eyebrow at that, probably cross-checking his mental list of people who matched that description, but Nate ignored him.
"And they orchestrated stranding the five us in this specific tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, by waiting until we were both split up on five different planes, and there was a massive storm front to force our flights here…"
"Look, I know…" Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"Which is possible," Nate continued to ignore him, "highly unlikely, but possible. After all, shady figures are usually good at seizing opportunity when they see it. So let's say all of that is true. What's their next move? Where do they expect us to be?"
Eliot frowned before reluctantly admitting, "They expect us to be stranded, at the airport or one of the hotels."
"Right," Nate nodded, "and even if they somehow anticipated us renting a summer house, it would be almost impossible to control which summer house we rented. Hardison must have skimmed through a half dozen search pages worth before we went after this one."
Eliot's frown deepened as he worked the problem and thought how he would have managed something like this from the other side. Nate let him be for a minute because he was still eating crackers while he thought, seemingly without noticing.
"There are ways they could stack the deck in their favor," he finally said slowly. "Knowing what we would want in a place to lay low, making it available even though it looked unavailable, monitoring Hardison for the search criteria he was using, then populating it with multiple properties that they have control of."
"Possible," Nate conceded, "ridiculously elaborate and unnecessarily complicated, but possible."
"So, one of your plans, basically," Eliot snorted.
"I don't have the patience to wait on mother nature," Nate let the jab slide, "my point is, the best thing we can do in this situation is not be where we're most likely to be. The rest, we'll just have to deal with as it comes."
"I know that. It's just…" Eliot just looked worn out now, tired of having to run through every scenario and possibility for every given moment.
Nate had figured out fairly early on that Eliot's paranoia was rooted in both a lot of experience and a lot of trauma. It meant they would be idiots to ignore him when he said something was wrong (and Nate had, unfortunately, been that idiot on more than one occasion, although he tried not to be these days), but they also needed to be a second check on those things for him sometimes, because he could always work his way around to those perceived threats being possible, even if they weren't probable.
It had gotten a lot better over the years, and the team had gotten better at finding ways to help him deal with it when it did come up. There was never a perfect solution, but they were more than happy to settle for an imperfect one if it made things at least a little better.
"And we'll deal with everything a lot better if you just take your diclofenac," Nate cut him off again, "so what bag is it in?"
"Duffel," Eliot conceded defeat finally, "they really do need to hurry."
"I know," Nate turned around and started sifting through the bags they had tossed into the third row of seats, "they're almost done."
Parker had been sitting in the back row, and she had rearranged the luggage that hadn't fit in the trunk to make a nest of sorts for herself around the middle seat. Nate had to practically crawl over the back of the middle row to reach Eliot's duffel bag, and he only felt a little bad for messing up her carefully crafted arrangement.
Eliot carried prescription meds with him and had for as long as Nate had known him. He had worried at first about the bottle of oxi that was always packed in the hitter's personal medkit. In hindsight, he could see the hypocrisy of constantly watching Eliot for signs of opioid addiction while simultaneously getting blackout drunk on a regular basis.
It had only taken a couple months for that concern to shift from Eliot taking too many painkillers to getting Eliot to take them at all. Two years in, and Nate had been worrying about why Eliot felt like jobs would leave him in enough pain on a regular enough basis that he would need to always have that level of painkiller with him. These days, Eliot and meds were mostly a bargaining act, a give and take informed by context and where Eliot's head was at at the given moment.
Oxi made him disoriented and dizzy; he wouldn't take it if he didn't feel safe. Diclofenac made him nauseous if he didn't take it with food (sometimes even when he did). Of the two problems, that was the easier one to solve.
Nate finally managed to find Eliot's duffel bag and pulled the medkit out, tossing the bag back in the pile of luggage for Parker to rearrange and poke through to her heart's content once they got back to the van.
"You want one or two?" Nate opened the kit and sorted through the neatly labeled bottles.
"Just one," Eliot was slumped back against the headrest again, eyes closed.
"You're out of Zofran," Nate shook the empty bottle.
"I gave the last of it to Sophie when we hit that patch of turbulence on the way in for the job," Eliot said dismissively, "it's fine. I'll refill it later."
Nate handed the pill and another water bottle over to Eliot, then texted Parker and asked her to get a bottle of Zofran from the pharmacy. A little thievery would do her good after 8 hours on a plane.
Eliot took the pill, and the van went comfortably quiet aside from the rest of the team's chatter in Nate's ear. It was surprisingly relaxing to listen in on them doing something as mundane as arguing over pasta sauce and gummy frog brands. They were on the comms a lot, but during jobs, there was a certain amount of tension, the constant need to be assessing and reassessing everything that happened.
Nate didn't care what kind of pasta sauce they got, and he didn't like gummy frogs, but it was nice just to sit back and listen to them be together.
There was suddenly weight against his shoulder, and Nate held still as Eliot gradually slumped more heavily against him, eyes closed and breath even. Nate waited until he was sure he was settled before shifting to get an arm around him and stop him from sliding down too far. Eliot fidgeted in his sleep for a moment, then relaxed with a soft sigh.
It wasn't that unusual for Eliot to sleep around them, but after how keyed up he had been at the airport, having him resting solid and relaxed against his side felt like winning.
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chaoticgabby · 4 years
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My Cheap & Relatively Healthy Grocery List for College Students
Context: I had been used to eating fast food so much because it was cheap that when I went to the doctors' they said I had high glucose content. That wasnt good. So I started eating healthier. Anyway let's skip the BS and get straight into it:
Ramen: the OG cheap food. I personally don't own ramen bc I dont like it that much, but if you want to save money this is the meal, at least add an egg or some veggies to make it healthier.
Frozen Veggies: anywhere from 50 cents to a dollar or two a bag. Can easily be kept in your freezer (if you have one) for months
Mac n' cheese: my all-time favorite. Of course, it might not be healthy for everyone to eat pasta all the time, but I do it anyway. Add some real cheese and spices for taste or chicken and veggies in it / on the side.
Other Pasta boxes (Pasta Roni, Velveeta, Hamburger Helper, etc.): basically as cheap or almost as cheap as Kraft macaroni, but maybe you arent a fan of mac n cheese.
Soup (Soup!!): Cambell's Tomato soup is often $1 a can. I like to eat mine with grilled cheese. Thats a whole ass meal. But of course you can get other soups just as cheap. Basically, any canned foods.
Canned foods & veggies: this one goes without saying. Although, the better options are sometimes $2 to $3 the same can be said for frozen veggies, but just heat these up and cook them in fried rice or just add butter and eat them aside a nice entré
Chunk light tuna: speaking of canned foods, canned tuna is soooo cheap and is a great option (if you even like tuna). Dont actually get the "pack tuna" for $1 a pack unless you want to keep it in your bag bc canned tuna is around 60 cents a can. Mix it with Miracle Whip (or mayo) and spread it over break for a good sammich.
Grilled cheese (or cheese toastie if you arent American I think??): similar to previous options, youre getting your cheese and your butter and your bread. Not as healthy as other options but way better than fast food calories.
Quesadillas: similar to grilled cheese, except spICY. My brother only eats these and he has no meal plan. I do it now too. Honestly, adding up tortillas, cheese dip, shredded cheese, & chicken is kind of costly but worth it. Also cooking chicken is annoying bc I dont have time for that. But. Yknow. A great option.
Pillsbury Crescents: a little costly, about $2+ per tube, but still fookin delicious. Also imma be real: actually havent checked the nutrition label to see if these are actually healthy. But these are sO useful. Make them by themselves for breakfast (with jam, eggs, or alone) or use the dough for other recipes. I use these with Manwich sauce, cheese, and ground beef for snacks :)
Manwiches: manwich sauce cans are $1 and although they have some sugar, its not nearly as bad as fast food. Just cook up some ground beef to go with it & maybe add cheese, sliced bread, or hamburger buns
PB&J: Another OG. I could never get tired of these. You just gotta make sure you have soft bread and the pb&j and youre good to go. Although..like.. some people apparently like theirs toasted or with different jams (I like strawberry).
Eggs!!!! : Just keep these in your fridge. Just do it. You never know when youre going to run out of food. Boiled? Scrambled? Fried? Soft boiled? With ramen? Omelet? In fried rice? Egg sandwich??? Eat them with bread, eat them with toast, eat them as a breakfast sandwich, scramble them with cheese, the list goes on. If you dont eat them often, get a smaller carton, but always have eggs! Also, for baking.
Rice, or fried rice: If you like rice, have been cooking rice for a long time, and can actually make it without burning, make sure you have rice. If you like rice but have never actually made it yourself, it takes trial and error in a pot. Or just invest in a rice cooker. Additionally, fried rice is not that difficult to learn & it fits the bill for healthy bc you can add unlimited veggies and meats. Im not here to educated you but the more ingredients, the better, is how i see it.
Fresh Food:
Fruit: I literally have "an apple a day" for breakfast. It's just good for you. Keep them in your fridge to keep them fresh. Keep one in your bag in case you get hungry. Bananas? Awesome! Use them in smoothies or a milkshake or eat them with your cereal or even with peanut butter. Possibilities are endless with fruit. Just make sure they dont spoil. Apples are OG bc they dont spoil as easily.
Vegetables: Make sure to only periodically get them so that they dont go to waste. Make some broccoli with butter & eat it alongside pasta. Or asparagus. Anything you want. Just make sure to have some with your meals sometimes. Greens are good. Additionally, carrots can get addicting if yoh eat them with ranch. The plus side is they are filling. If you have a tendency to want to munch on something: carrots.
Deli Meat / Sandwich Options: I personally dont make deli sandwiches because ham (as well as roast beef or turkey) can be expensive and then wanting to add lettuce and tomato to a sandwich sounds amazing but I'm scared they will spoil. Dont let me stop you though! Sandwiches are amazing.
Meat: you dont want to be cooking meat all the time bc it can get expensive, but the basics I always get are ground beef and chicken. I prefer "boneless skinless chicken thigh fillets" but you would need to cut off the fat. You could always get rotisserie if you arent feeling to for cooking. Also, if you're feeling expensive one week, salmon is just sooo good. I ate it with asparagus and seasoned with lemon. Delicious.
Snack / Dessert Options:
(I personally don't keep snacks or dessert in my home very often bc you dont want to binge eat. But here is what I have)
Peanut butter: classic, filling, can be potentially bad if you eat a shite ton
Nuts: peanuts, almonds, cashews, and especially pecans
Cookies: make your own, a lot of simple cookie recipes exist and it's a lot easier than you think. Baking essentials like flour, sugar, milk, and eggs are not that expensive to keep around in an apartment kitchen. Difficulties may be vanilla extract (the avg student doesnt have this lying around) a baking sheet, a big bowl, and possible a whisk. Store bought cookie dough isnt too bad either.
Box-cakes / box-brownies: simple and easy. Takes a few eggs sometimes and some oil, milk or water. The same goes for pancake mix. Honestly, I had an out-of-country roommate and he had never heard of boxed cake mix or brownie mix. They always made from scratch where he lived.
Low-calorie ice cream: okay ice cream can be pretty expensive and filled w/ added sugars. I used to eat this strawberry icecream sweetened with stevia and it was SO delicious, but I couldnt find that at my grocery store. Other options are "low-calorie" ice cream or "no added sugars" ice cream. I have one of these and the thing abt it is that its just the right amount of sugar to taste like ice cream and the neat thing is that you dont feel like binging it bc it doesnt have addicting added sugars.
Milkshakes / smoothies: this is a tough one bc me and most other students dont own a blender or juicer. I personally get my smoothies from a local smoothie place that only uses fresh fruit and then I ask not to add the natural sugars bc it is sweet enough with the fruit. Natural smoothies are delicious & I find that you can kind of make then if u freeze your fruits and blend w a fork. "Handmade" milkshakes are actually super easy w this method.
Yogurt: just...mmm.
"Healthy" snack food section, often called the gluten-free aisle: im not too experienced with this and im sure they have added sugars too but what I do know is I tried these gluten free oreos once and they were delicious
Fruits: I mentioned earlier but apples are great snacks
Veggies: also like I said earlier, carrots are great snacks. Not exactly a veggie but possibly potatoes for a meal or snack.
Granola Bars: for when youre too lazy to keep up with fruit and if fruit will spoil, granola bars (they healthy kind, not the chewy sugary kind) are so good to have in your pantry or keep in your backpack for a snack (and to keep you from on campus temptations). Also I used Nature Valley ones instead of cereal. They actually dissolve and are delicious with milk, since some cereals are so sugary.
Since my last college tips post got some notes I figured I'd keep writing these advice posts. For reference, I am hoping to become an RA next year at my college, so I'm not just speaking out of my ass. I generally have experience at college thus far and want to help students.
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reminiscences · 4 years
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another attempt at blogging
i started this tumblr a couple years ago at the same time kate did. i can’t remember why—i’m sure tumblr was in the news again for some reason. i guess it was before the great porn purge. i was talking about blogging again this week with my friend daniel, and i woke up this morning and he had sent me a blog he wrote on a new tumblr account early in the morning, so to continue my regression to the early 2010s, i too have rebooted tumblr, given it an era-appropriate name, and decided to give it another go.
the problem with having a newsletter is that i don’t think anyone wants to hear from me in their inbox daily, so i’ve become very precious about the things i write there. it feels like it has to really matter. i like blogs because they’re disposable and can be dumb and not your best writing. how many two-graf tumblr posts did i write in 2011 that were just thoughts i idly had during a statistics lecture? anyway, here’s the first blog, they won’t all be this long probably. 
When I think about eventually looking back at this year I think about what I want to remember from it. I will remember the first week of March. I’ll remember the last birthday party I attended in person at Branch Ofc, a perfectly serviceable Crown Heights bar that was very full of people. I’ll think about that night and how I showed up to the party with a Ziplock full of homemade salted chocolate chip cookies in my purse, how I shared them with a table where the birthday-haver and their friends sat. Breathing in the same air as the four dozen other people crammed into the bar. I can’t imagine it now. I like Branch Ofc because it is unpretentious without pretending to be a dive, unlike Sharlene’s, which tries too hard to mimic the aesthetic trappings of an authentic dive bar but is really just a normal Park Slope bar. Branch Ofc is just a bar where you can buy drinks, and it was an eight-minute walk from my old apartment. It used to be a bar with a photobooth and Big Buck Hunter but I think both of those are gone now. 
For a few days in March, it felt like people were preparing for a snow day. Everyone was slightly more on edge than giddy—but only slightly. “WFH but make it a coffeeshop” I saw on someone’s Instagram story, a selfie with four of their friends coworking somewhere in Bushwick, completely nullifying the point of a work-from-home edict. I ran into my friend Maddie at the renovated Key Food on Nostrand the next week. Maddie, her roommate and I were in the aisle with the Pop Tarts and the Oreos. “I feel like I should get those?” we asked each other, pointing at junk food. I wasn’t wearing a mask or gloves; nobody was. Some guy wearing a Cornell University Sigma Chi tshirt walked by us with the largest bag of dried beans I’ve ever seen in my life slung over his shoulder. That was a man who had never soaked dried beans in his life. I wonder if he ever ate the beans. We were a bunch of idiot 20-somethings blindly grabbing for cans of soup and Fritos for the end of the world. What were any of us doing there? Why was it imperative that day that I make and freeze a lasagna? Maddie’s roommate had fresh lasagna noodles from Eataly she wasn’t going to use before she left for her parents’ house, and she said I could have those. She brought them over for me and I idly wondered if you could get Coronavirus from someone else’s fresh pasta noodles or if the heat of the oven would kill the germs. I made my lasagna.
I’ll think about how March-to-May is just one long gray blurry streak in my head. I baked, I got into running, I said “running with a mask? No thank you, no more running for me,” I got a job, I felt bad about getting a job when everyone I knew in journalism was getting laid off. I did a lot of Zoom Zumba. At first I slept terribly, and then I started sleeping too much, and then I stopped sleeping again at some point during that stretch. There was a novelty to suddenly being inside all the time that made it feel like an excuse to get “really into martinis.” I got really into martinis. Then I stopped drinking for a couple months. Remember “Zoom happy hours”? 
The thing I use most as a means of setting apart different eras in my head is the music I used as a soundtrack at the time. I rang in the 2014 new year in my cute apartment on Westcott Street in Syracuse with my college boyfriend, drunk and blaring Cold Cave, before we walked down the street to Alto Cinco and got Mexican food and passed out. It was my senior year and I only had a few more months of living like this and I loved the small life I’d built for myself there. Of course, it couldn’t stay. When we broke up a year and a half later after he moved to New York, where I had been living for most of a year, I walked around the neighborhood near the Myrtle-Wyckoff stop, close to where we were living together, listening to Mitski’s 2014 album Bury Me At Makeout Creek. I sat in Maria Hernandez Park and watched a bunch of kids play Red Rover. I didn’t especially want to go home because I hadn’t taken an escape route into account when we broke up and somehow timed it out so that things ended after the first of the month, leaving me with three-and-a-half weeks of continuing to share an apartment with someone whose heart I had just broken. In retrospect it’s clear to me that I had just outgrown a relationship with someone five years older than me who hadn’t grown up at all, but I hear that Mitski album now and all I think about are the cold early April days of 2015 when no place and no person felt like home. There’s a line in First Love/Late Spring, by Mitski, where she sings “胸がはち切れそうで,” which translates to something like “My chest is about to burst (with grief).” My advice to recent college graduates moving to New York is to simply not do anything the way I did it. 
So when I think about 2020, I do not want to associate any music I previously had fond memories of with this year. This is unfortunate because every musician I like who produces sad music has nothing but time on their hands now and they’ve all come out with new songs and albums. My recently played selections on Spotify look like a cry for help: Phoebe Bridgers, Bright Eyes, even Tigers Jaw. 
On Saturday I couldn’t sleep in. I woke up at 5:30 and watched the sun appear through my bedroom windows. I kept rolling over, trying to sleep again, but it was futile. Eventually I got up and got dressed, and left my apartment on foot. The walk into lower Manhattan is a few miles from my new place in Fort Greene. I walked west on Fulton, and then down Flatbush. It would have saved me ten minutes to take the Manhattan Bridge, but I’ve always regarded it as the ugliest of the bridges to cross on foot or on bike—last fall, I would walk home from Ben’s apartment over the Manhattan Bridge, and it was just so grey. You get an okay view of Dumbo, I guess, on the walk east, but it isn’t much to look at. When I got back to the Brooklyn side on those walks, I’d get on the A at High Street and take it back to Nostrand instead of walking the last couple miles. 
So I chose the Brooklyn Bridge this time. It was as busy as you’d expect it to be in a non-pandemic event. Instagram boyfriends took pictures of their girlfriends, who took off their masks for a few seconds for the right shot. I saw a couple taking engagement pictures in front of the lower Manhattan skyline. It felt so normal, pedestrians and bicyclists squeezing past each other at the narrow points. 
I was listening to Saint Cloud, the Waxahatchee album that came out a few months ago, turning it over and over in my brain like a rock you pick up at the beach and end up carrying with you on a long walk. The album, outwardly, has this gauzy blue-sky Americana vibe but when you listen to the lyrics of some of the songs it feels like peeling back layers of skin until you hit a raw nerve ending. Every song feels like a eulogy for this year. “You might mourn all that you wasted/That’s just part of the haul,” Katie Crutchfield sings on Ruby Falls. I got to the title track, which closes out the album, as I ascended the bridge. When you get baaaack on the M train, watch the cityyyyyy mutaaaaaaate, she sings. I guess she’s singing about New York. Is there another M train somewhere? I don’t know. I’m going to think about this stupid year whenever I listen to this album, I thought.
I got off the bridge at City Hall, surveyed the ongoing occupation movement there and the literal dozens of cops that had seemingly been deployed to stand there and, at best, do nothing. I walked down Centre Street, eventually winding through the little park by Baxter Street where two adults were playing ping pong, which felt like a socially distanced sport, all things considered. I walked down all those side streets in Chinatown as the sun struggled to break through the oppressive clouds. I walked by Nom Wah, past the salon Polly taught me will give you a very good $12 blowout, past that annoying bar where the bartenders are dressed like scientists, past the place where Kate and I got our auras read on her birthday in January, and ended up at Deluxe Green Bo. I ordered my spicy wontons in peanut sauce and ate them right there, the hot plastic container burning my knees as I sat on the sidewalk. 
Afterwards I walked by all my favorite places—the skatepark under the bridge, Cervo’s, Beverly’s (RIP), Little Canal, Jajaja, the Hawa Smoothie near the East Broadway F. The skaters were hanging out in Dimes Square. Everything had changed but standing outside Kiki’s, it felt for a second like almost nothing had. It was almost a normal Saturday on Canal Street. The sky stayed electric blue until I got back to Brooklyn. 
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So I bought groceries today...
And it went a little something like this.
The roads were empty. Hardly anyone was about. I bowled along with music blaring. It seemed like a movie scene. The carpark, though, was crowded. The queue snaked back out of the door and all the way down the side of the building, out of the entrance and up towards the roundabout. You have to walk all the way back along it to reach the part where you get to stand. It feels somehow executionary.
All the same, the queue was a nice place to be. The sun was beaming down and there was a festival air, a pageantry to the whole proceedings. It was as if we were lining up for a fairground attraction. Everybody was in a good mood, perched on walls, shouting to one another over the mandated distance of one adult bull seal.
I was perhaps half an hour in that queue. We edged our slow way along. A woman got a notification on her phone that Boris had the virus and shouted it out to a ragged chorus of cheers. The couple three down from me kissed in a truly unnecessary display of physical intimacy in these times of distance – how dare they have somebody safe with whom to share their germs? It seems dreamlike already.
Once you near the entrance, the line becomes formalised. Barriers and partitions are set up. Duct tape crosses mark where you are allowed to stand. Security guards in vests and helmets give directions. Every time somebody leaves, with a laden trolley or a thousand bags, somebody else has permission to enter. We inch ever closer.
At last, the old guard gives me the nod and in I go. The foyer is stacked floor to ceiling with bread. We are walled with bread. Thankfully, bread is on the list so I snatch the first loaf I come to and hurry through into the air-conditioned splendour of a surprisingly peaceful shop.
Nobody is talking – everybody came alone, one person per list. Everybody is focused. The reduced numbers make it almost pleasant, for a little while. I fill my bags with celery and grapes. The thing we have in abundance is fresh fruit and vegetables. I suppose the supply chains of those were already set up. It’s the things they don’t get regular deliveries of that are in trouble.
Things got more complicated with the list. By standing on tiptoe and some serious rummaging, I was able to snag the last two tins of tomato soup. Dedicated detective work won me a pot of custard. The intervention of a kindly gentleman found me curry sauce. He was a marvellous chap, on a state-of-the-art mobility scooter with his lop-eared service dog riding high on the prow like the figurehead of a ship.
Ribena was a no-go. Soft drinks are in short supply and rationing is enforced. There were only a couple of baked bean tins left and I snagged those as well – you’re allowed three maximum, well, there were two on the shelf so I took them. The pasta shelves are empty and only the weird speciality rice is left. The biscuits show clearly the nation’s preferences: no bourbons to be found, but you’re in luck if you favour off-brand Nice. Sauces are in short supply. So are chutneys. Indian food is rationed in the international section; there has been sudden demand.
When you get to the frozen aisle, everything is empty. The great bins that are usually stuffed with bags and boxes lie fallow. A few oven chips huddle together in a cabinet. There’s a decent amount of ice cream. Still, that bids farewell to our dear neighbours’ dreams of frozen peas.
The bags are getting so heavy the handles are in danger of breaking off. Pop hits from the early 90s ring through over the sound of tramping feet and the rustle of a thousand packages. The walkie-talkies of the staff crackle. I hunt down crisps, porridge oats, halved walnuts. It’s strange but the seasonal displays are still up, with their offers and their stacks of cakes and Easter eggs. It seems like something from another land. The Pope has cancelled Easter.
Only four tills are open. The queues stretch back down the aisles. If you want anything from an aisle people are queuing in, your only option is to join the line and hope you end up standing next to it eventually. I settle for the line that runs down the laundry aisle. We’re in for a long wait.
The minutes tick by. I glance behind. I am now in the middle of the line, but I have only moved three paces forward. The washing powder so dearly prized is far off in the future. The radio plays something from the 70s.
Twenty minutes now and I’m securely inside the aisle, but still a long way from washing powders. I stare at the fabric conditioners and wonder about their flavours. Lychee and raspberry seems an odd choice but what do I know about lychees? I realise, all at once, that I know nothing about lychees. Have I even seen a lychee? I feel as though I have eaten one but I cannot summon it to mind. The bags are so heavy now. I place one on the floor and flex my fingers. They are purple and bruised, and will not straighten.
Forty minutes in and I start to sway. The washing powders are so close now but I cannot see them clearly, only the edge of one box. I cannot tell if the kind demanded are even there. I had forgotten my low blood pressure – it’s so much better these days, it’s been years since I’ve stood still long enough to feel the danger. I might faint at any moment.
I wonder if that would make the news. Would somebody write a report about the poor young woman who fainted waiting in line to buy soup? Would they sensationalise it, and I would be forced to issue a statement saying that I’m just really bad at standing upright and everybody should calm down? To be on the safe side, I start to shuffle my feet the way Rob-from-Band taught me all those years ago. I perform a little two-step there in line to the tune of the Spice Girls. The woman in front of me glares at me. She thinks I’m being impatient. The old man behind me nods and smiles sympathetically.
“Not long now,” he says.
He is wrong.
One hour in the line and paradise is unlocked. The box sits there, undisturbed. Washing powder! Washing powder to bring home! It is rationed, but that is no matter. I will take all I can lay my greedy hands upon. I will stuff the remaining space in my bags with blue boxes. The prize, so long sought, is mine at last!
One hour and five minutes into queuing, somebody tries to start a line at the next till. They haven’t realised, you see, that our line divides between two. They are politely informed of the situation and advised to join the rear of the queue, now apparently snaking half-way round the shop despite the one-in-one-out rule at the door. The woman throws up her hands and screams.
“We’re all in the same boat,” choruses the line, in dull unison.
I speak with them. I am them. These people and I are one.
The woman yells but she submits, dragging herself down to the far end to begin her own long quest for salvation. We creep ever closer. I can see the tills now, watch the red lights blink as they fail again and again, for some reason overwhelmed. I watch the face of the attendant. She is so beautiful. She is so dead behind those lovely eyes.
One hour and ten minutes. Somebody tries to start a line at the other till.
“Same boat,” we chant, our eyes blank, our hearts as heavy as our shopping bags. “Same boat.”
At last, the queue creeps again. All at once, I stand alone on the brink. Dusty linoleum stretches out ahead of me and there, unreachable, on the other side of the imaginary bull seal, is the till itself. The woman ahead of me starts to unload her trolley. I never knew they made trolleys that big. Things keep on emerging, like a conjurer’s trick.
One hour and twenty-five minutes since I joined the queue. The attendant approaches me and gestures, from a safe distance, to the now-emptied till. I rush, as if anybody would dare to take it from me. I feel I should hurry for the sake of those behind but my limbs refuse. The deadened pace of the last hour has changed me. I am an automaton; I move at one speed only.
The machine bleeps its terrible bleep. I empty the bags to fill them again. I stack tins at the base, top off with grapes. The machine fails. The attendant rushes to rescue me. I nearly weep as I thank her. She, such is the day, does not seem alarmed. She merely nods, a nod of solidarity, of two women stuck in purgatory.
But I have seen the light. The bags fill. I do not see the price as I flail with my debit card. It is plastic, just plastic. I could break it in my hand. It will give me these items I fought for. How does it do that? I no longer know.
“Thank you for shopping with us,” says the machine.
“Thank you,” I tell it.
Do I mean it? Who can say?
Some lucky soul rushes to take my place. I gather up my bags. I do not feel the pain now. My fingers are raw. I feel nothing. I make my way down the long corridor, past the rows of locked tills and unstocked shelves. The doors are ahead. They swoosh, so quiet, to expel me into the foyer of bread. The security guard turns to look at me. He is still here, then, the man who bade me enter. His gaze is a lifeline. I hold it. To drop it would be to fail, to be sucked back inside, to never escape. I am Orpheus. I must not look round.
The portal is passed. I step out onto concrete, into the fierce rush of petrol fumes and sunlight. He nods, and breaks our gaze. The line moves on, the next couple setting out to begin what I have just endured. The line is so long now, so much longer than it was. It does not matter. I am free. I am born anew.
I walk to my car. I left it centuries ago. The music starts where I left off. This is a different world. The sun is so bright. There are children playing in the carpark, running between the cars, ducking down, laughing. They are waiting. Somebody who loves them is buying bread. They are innocent. They are not tainted as we have been tainted.
I am no longer tainted. I am purified. The engine hiccups into life. I drive slowly out. The roadway is lined with people waiting to enter. The pageantry is still there, the festival, the sunlight. They seem to crowd around my windows. The music plays. I know now how Kennedy felt, that day in Dallas, when the crowds cheered his name.
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sprnklersplashes · 5 years
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What To Buy The Heather Who Has Everything
AO3
Martha Dunnstock’s life since the start of her senior year has been unusual to put it mildly. First there was her best (and only) friend joining the Heathers’ clique; and forging a note to trick her. Then there was her kindergarten boyfriend turning out to be gay. Then some more things she tries her best to block out, at least until she’s in the safety of her therapist’s office.
But nothing can prepare her for the fact that The Heather MacNamara is her girlfriend. That small hurricane in yellow she once spent her days cowering away from now walks her home, kisses her nose and calls her lovebug. They sit in Heather’s yellow bedroom, her parents downstairs in blissful ignorance, and talk about anything and everything. Never in her wildest dreams did she think Heather would be someone she would talk to about what scares her and keeps her awake at night.
Still, it’s a shock she can get used to; she thinks as Heather sits down at their lunch table. Not all surprises need to be bad.
“So,” Heather begins, bouncing on her sear. “I was thinking I might have a little get together at my house on Saturday. Are you guys free?”
“I am,” Martha agrees, their knees touching under the table.
“Well my only two friends are busy that night,” Veronica answers with a smirk. “What’s up buttercup?”
“Oh well, I was just thinking of having a small get together,” she explains. “Um, you know… for my birthday.”
Martha almost chokes on her pasta and Veronica’s eyes go wide. She feels her face going red as she tries to clear her throat and get some sort of sentence out.
“Your birthday’s on Saturday and you didn’t tell us?” Veronica asks.
“I just told you,” Heather tells her calmly.
“I mean, yeah… but I really don’t have time to get you a present,” Martha says.
“Oh I don’t need presents,” Heather says, shaking her head and making her blonde hair bounce. “I just want to hang out with you guys. And maybe a few girls from the cheer squad.” There’s one name suspiciously not mentioned and Martha shares a concerned look with Veronica.  Heather Duke can be seen on her own, at a faraway table. Martha can’t help but feel bad; after all, she knows what it’s like to be alone at the table, but the sight of her also makes her want to wrap her Heather in a tight hug and never let her go. “So are you guys in?”
“Definitely.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Veronica adds.
“Yay!” Heather squeals. It’s those little moments that make Martha remember why she loves Heather. “Okay, I need to go to a cheer squad meet, but I’ll see you guys in study hall.” She drops a quick kiss on Martha’s cheek while Veronica pulls a face. “See you later, lovebug.”
“That girl is getting presents from us,” Veronica says as soon as Heather is out of an earshot, dipping a French fry into ketchup.
“Of course she is,” Martha agrees. She and Veronica share a grin with each other. No matter how many shocks there are in her life, there’s always, and she hopes always will be, Veronica.
                                                                                               *****
After school on Friday, Veronica and Martha take the bus into town rather than walking home, or in Martha’s case, waiting for her dad to collect her. The town centre, particularly the mall, is mostly a foreign place to Martha. Outside of the yearly trips down for school supplies, she rarely sets foot there, thanks to both her parent’s financial situation and her own lack of self-confidence (no doubt in part to her own special nickname “Dumptruck”. The posters of girls with slim hips and flat stomachs and the mannequins with their tiny waists make her feel more noticeable than usual as she hides in her pink sweater.
Veronica breezes through the place with ease. She may have toned down her Heathers-esque look after she stopped hanging out with them, trading the blue blazer for a denim jacket, but she still stalks through the mall and navigates in a way that seems vaguely reminiscent of Heather Chandler. As does the red scrunchie that stands out against her hair, holding the dark waves back off her face. But unlike Chandler, Veronica wields her power for good. And Martha can’t deny how nice it feels to simply be left alone, not left out but just left alone.
“Come on, let’s go in here,” Veronica says, pulling her into a brightly lit store with carefully constructed displays in the windows. “She loves it in here.”
They’re not in the store five minutes before Martha understands why. The store is everything Heather would love, right down to the plush white carpeting. The walls are dazzlingly white, glass shelves on one end holding small purses, similar shelves displaying necklaces and bracelets, racks of clothes separating them along the floor; short skirts and dainty jackets and crisp shirts. Everything Heather loves is in this store.
They’re put off the purses as soon as they see the price tags, which is a shame, because they both know Heather needs a new purse and she’d just adore one of those, especially the little sunshine yellow one with a golden kitten hanging off the handle. The image Martha has of her wide brown eyes and beaming bright smile as she holds it is physically painful.
They look through the clothes rails seems like a waste of time. Heather already either has everything in the store or a nicer version of it. She has even said to Martha herself that the last thing she needs is more clothes while Martha stood in the middle of her walk in wardrobe, lost in a sea of yellow fabric.
The jewellery stand is their last hope. It’s likely their safest bet; Martha thinks her girlfriend might be part crow with the way she loves anything shiny or sparkly. Or maybe it’s being the daughter of a man who sells shiny things for a living. But every time Heather is presented with something that sparkles or shines, Martha sees her melt. It’s adorable, really.
“Hey, look at this,” Veronica says, showing her a silver chain with a yellow heart dangling from it.
“That’s adorable! Veronica you have to get her that!”
“I will,” she says, placing the necklace in the palm of her hand and smiling at it. “What about you? See anything you’re getting her?”
“I don’t know,” she answers, scanning over the rail of jewellery. Everything is beautiful and so perfectly Heather, but also so expensive. Her pockets feel pitifully empty as she picks up pieces of jewellery only to set them down after seeing the price tag. The saddest part is that they aren’t even that expensive, just out of her own reach. She picks up a little silver ring with a stone in the middle that turns all different colours when it catches the light. It looks beautiful and it makes Martha smile just looking at it, but what would make her smile even more is that ring on Heather’s finger.
“That’s pretty,” Veronica remarks. “Really pretty.”
“Yeah,” she says, knowing what the little white label says before she looks at it. “Pretty expensive too.” She sets it back down on the display with a resigned sigh
“Hey.” Veronica brushes her hand against Martha’s, her voice low. “Look, I know you don’t like it, but if you want I can loan you some money to get Heather something.”
“No,” she sighs shaking her head. “I know you’re just being nice but… no, I can’t take your money.” Veronica stays quiet, but her fingers lace in between Martha’s as she nods gently. Martha looks around the shelf in a vein hope for something within her price range amongst the glittering mass before her. She’s about to give up entirely when something tucked away behind a pair of earrings catches her eye.
She picks up a small silver teddy bear, heavy in her palm. He holds a little bunch of balloons and smiles dreamily up at her, his little head cocked to one side. He’s sweet and he’s cute and she knows Heather will think so too. But there’s still a nagging sense of guilt as she takes out her purse.
She and Veronica leave the store with their purchases wrapped in pink tissue paper, put in little brown boxes and then into white bags, all at no extra cost.
“You know she’ll love that little bear,” Veronica tells her. “Even I love it. It’s cute and shiny. What more could Heather want?”
“I know,” Martha sighs. “It’s just that… well I wish I could just get her something special you know?” She shrugs, looking down at the bag. “She’s special to me. She deserves nicer presents.”
“Hey, it’s not about how much money you spend on her,” Veronica assures her. “She doesn’t give a shit about any of that shallow stuff.” Martha nods, an agreement on the tip of her tongue, when something catches her eye. Just as they’re walking out of the mall, they pass a bakery with its cakes on display in the window. Martha grinds to a halt as she looks at them; pale pink and blue icing with white piping around the edges, just small enough for one person to eat alone or two people to share. They’re in different shapes; some square, some heart shaped, some circles, but all with dainty piping and carefully iced. Some even have fondant flowers on the top, others have small silver balls or glitter over the top. A sign advertising personal messages for as little as a dollar sits in the window, telling people to make their cake special. An idea unfurls in her mind, a smile spreading across her face. “I know that look.”
“I have an idea,” Martha says. “And I kind of need your help.”
“I’m in.”
They go to the big grocery store opposite the mall, the one that sells everything you could need at a price you can afford. Veronica lets Martha lead her into the baking aisle, a knowing smile crossing her face as she works out what she’s planning. She drops the carton of eggs and bag of sugar into the basket and Veronica stretches up and manages to grab a bag of flour off the top shelf. True, it comes close to flattening them, but that only makes them laugh.
“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Veronica asks as they stand outside Martha’s house.
“I’m sure,” she says. “I want to do this myself.”
“She’s going to love it,” she tells her.
“Hopefully. If I can do it right.”
“And you will,” Veronica says firmly, placing her hands on her shoulders. “You will nail this, and she will love it.” Martha chuckles; with Veronica’s wide, determined eyes, her set yet soft smile and her strong voice, Martha almost believes her herself.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says. Veronica nods and wraps her in a hug. Lately she’s been hugging her tighter than ever; she would almost say she’s holding on for dear life, letting out shaky breaths against her and whispering “I love you” against her shoulder. Martha can’t judge, because it’s what she does too.
When Martha goes into her kitchen, there’s a hasty note from her mom telling her that she’s gone to work, that her dad is still at work and that there’s burgers in the freezer if she wants dinner. She looks around her empty kitchen; the slightly stained brown tiles, the grey countertop, the small green oven. The clock’s ticking echoes off the walls, decorated with cream wallpaper covered in blue flowers. Martha’s well used to the sound and feeling of being home alone; Veronica can only come over so many times, and for a while she didn’t.
She shakes her head and begins unpacking the bag. Of course, her parents being away right now has a big advantage; baking in peace. She wanders over to the cabinet and pulls out the green hardbacked book containing every recipe her grandmother wrote down. And there’s a lot, but the one she needs is the easiest to find, marked with a leather bookmark. She takes the bowls, tins and spoons she needs out of the cupboards and onto the countertop, thankful her family is too sentimental to throw any of this out. She gives the recipe another read-over, double and triple checking she has everything. Then she opens the flour and lets the baking take over.
When Martha goes around to Heather’s house, it’s Mrs MacNamara who opens the door. Heather’s mom doesn’t look like her mom, in fact, she doesn’t look like a mom at all. Her bleached blonde hair curls just above her shoulders and she wears pink lipstick even when she’s not going out. Her white trousers hug her slim body and her fluffy white jumper shows off her collar bone.
“Oh, Heather?” she calls into the house. “It’s your friend Mary!”
“Mom, it’s Martha!” Heather calls from upstairs.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Mrs MacNamara says absent mindedly, already wandering into the living room.
“It’s fine,” she replies in a quiet voice, knowing she didn’t hear her. Upstairs, she hears Heather’s heels clicking against the floor and she comes into view at the top of the stairs, rushing down to meet her.
“Hi,” she says, slightly breathless but still with a wide smile that makes Martha’s insides meld.
“Hey,” she replies. Heather goes to take her hand, only to find them full holding a cardboard box wrapped in yellow paper. She settles for taking her arm and leading her into the kitchen, closing the door gently behind them.
“Martha, I told you, I don’t want any presents.”
“I know,” she begins. “But you’re too important to me to not get you something. Especially for your 18th birthday.” Touched, Heather kisses her cheek, making it go pink. “Come on, open it. I’m dying to see what you think.” Terrified is probably a more accurate term, but she doesn’t tell her that. She holds her breath as Heather carefully peels off the wrapping paper, fights the urge to bite her nails as she lifts the lid off. When she does, her mouth falls into a little ‘o’ shape and Martha hears her gasp just a little. “Do you like it?”
It’s small, as cakes go. If she grabbed a couple of forks they could demolish it in a few minutes. And simple enough, two layers or sponge with raspberry jam and fresh cream between them. She covered it in yellow fondant, knowing from experience it’s easier than icing, and then piped Happy Birthday Heather in white on the top. For an added touch, she added some white piping around the edges, using a picture from her grandma’s book as a guide, and then stuck the bear from the jewellery store on the top.
“You got me a cake?” she asks, her voice small. From the look of her, she’s still processing it.
“Yeah. It was my grandma’s recipe-”
“You made me a cake?” She looks up from the cake to Martha, her mouth still hanging open. Martha feels her heart crush in her chest.
“You don’t like it,” she says. “I’m sorry, I wanted to buy you something nice but money’s pretty tight right now and I didn’t know what type of cake you-”
She finds herself cut off when Heather’s lips touch hers, her hands wrapping around her neck. Martha is frozen for just a minute but kisses her back, revelling in how gentle and soft her lips are-as sweet as Heather herself. Heather’s hand cups her cheek as they pull apart, their noses still touching.
“That was a really nice way of telling me to shut up,” Martha whispers. “So you like it?”
“Like it?” Heather echoes. “You made me a cake. For my birthday. No one’s ever made me things and it’s so pretty and it’s perfect! You’re perfect!” It’s Martha’s turn to kiss her, her lips pecking at Heather’s, her girlfriend’s lip gloss smearing over her lips. “Thank you, lovebug.”
“Happy birthday, Heather,” she says softly. “Though the teddy isn’t edible.” Heather throws back her head and laughs, still wrapped in Martha’s arms.
“How did I get so lucky to have you?” she asks. “Come on, let me get two forks. Or should we get three and leave Veronica a piece?”
Martha smiles as she watches Heather getting out some forks, chatting away to her. They dig into the cake together, Heather ending up with icing on her nose and cream on her chin, which she lets Martha kiss off. Heather gushes over the little teddy too, making him talk in funny voice to Martha. Yeah, some surprises can be really, really good ones.
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shawol9196 · 6 years
Text
Teacher AU 5/?
~5K. Just MinKey, with a mention of side HaeHyuk.
As happy as he is that Kibum feels comfortable at the apartment, Minho starts to doubt his own intentions. Whether it’s for friendly motive or some desire to save him from whatever is troubling him, Kibum is here now. Minho just hopes that soon there’s a sign to let him know.
AFF / AO3, if you prefer.
Minho’s first alarm goes off at 6:30. For a year now, he’s worked on a two alarm system. The first turns on his radio; it’s loud enough that he starts to stir, but not enough to properly wake him up unless the song is obnoxious. The second alarm was a gift from Kyuhyun: a five minute recording of Changmin. Even Minho, the king of sleeping, isn’t immune to the oh so soothing sound of Changmin screaming “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? GET IT MOVING!!! THIS ISN’T NAP TIME, LET’S GET GOING BEFORE I GET OLD!” at the top of his lungs. Normally, the first alarm just barely starts waking him up before Changmin so eloquently finishes the deal. Today though, the radio alone is enough. It’s partially because he’d gone to bed earlier than normal, but mostly because of Kibum. He wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement that he was feeling; either way it was enough to keep him awake. He gets out of bed and makes sure to turn off Changmin’s lovely serenade. After searching for his basketball shorts, he goes into the kitchen with the hope that Kibum is still asleep. He’s not sure why the thought of seeing a barely awake Kibum excites him, but when he sees that he’s already up there’s a small feeling of disappointment. What doesn’t disappoint him, however, is the smell of whatever Kibum’s cooking. He walks over to check if the coffee maker has run yet.
“Did you sleep ok?” Minho asks.
“Yeah, I actually slept really well. Thanks.” Kibum says, not turning around from the stove. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a comfortable bed.”
They both turn to look at each other, but immediately turn back away.
“I’m making pancakes, I hope that’s ok. I just wanted to do something to say thank you for letting me stay here,” Kibum says.
“Oh, you didn’t have to go to that trouble, dude. I’m happy to let you stay, to help out a friend.”
When Kibum doesn’t respond, Minho’s worried that he’s upset him. He finishes starting the coffee before moving so he’s standing next to Kibum.
“I actually really love pancakes, I just feel bad making you feel like you have to do work your first morning here,” he says quietly. Kibum fishes the finished ones out of his pan onto a plate, pouring a new set to replace them. Minho takes the plate but doesn’t move.
“Go eat, before they get cold.” Kibum instructs.
“Kibum, you’re my guest. I can wait til you’re done and ready to eat.”
Kibum doesn’t argue but also doesn’t look up.
“Is this the last batch?”
Kibum nods.
“I’ll set the table then.”
Minho puts his plate of pancakes on the table. He gets butter out of the fridge; it takes him longer to find the syrup. The coffee maker beeps and he makes two mugs, handing one to Kibum. He leans against the counter and watches him attempt to flip the pancakes. There’s something vulnerable about the sight of Kibum: still in what Minho assumes are his pajamas but hair wet from a shower, struggling against one pancake in particular. His quietness reminds Minho of when they first met and the realization that he still knows relatively little about Kibum strikes him. Kibum finally wins his battle against the pancake and his small celebration brings a smile to Minho’s face. He could get used to waking up early, he thinks, if he got to wake up to this sight. With Kibum’s pancakes finished, they both sit at the table.
“So why did your last roommate move out?” Kibum asks as he cuts his pancakes.
“To put it shortly, he got engaged.”
“What’s the longly then?”
“My roommate, Donghae, and I have been friends for a long time. Since high school, actually. He’s a social worker. We moved in here 5 or so years ago, before we were done with school. We tend to volunteer together a lot since we have similar interests and abilities and stuff. Anyways, when I was part of that group that helped attempt to repair your apartment building, he was in it too. He was assigned to a different area, like the 3rd or 4th floor. When we finished and came home, all he could talk about was this doctor that he was teamed up with. How cute and interesting he was. They’d exchanged numbers and it was pretty evident pretty quick that there was something serious between them. They started dating within a week or two, and he started having him -- his name is Hyukjae -- over pretty regularly. Which was fine at first, but then it started feeling weird to be here when he was over. Anyways I mentioned it to Donghae that I wasn’t feeling comfortable with the arrangement and when Donghae mentioned it to him, Hyukjae proposed. They got an apartment within a month and it’s been just me here since then.”
Kibum nods, slowly eating his pancakes.
“What about you?” Minho asks, shoving a huge bite into his mouth.
“What about me?”
“Have you ever had a roommate?”
“I did once, when I was in college. He hated me.”
“I can’t believe that anyone would hate you but I also know college roommates are the worst. What happened?”
Kibum laughs bitterly.
“Well for starters he told me he hated me and that we wouldn’t get along on the first day. He then proceeded to vaguely terrorize me weekly with fun little pranks like stealing literally all of my clothes when I went to shower, throwing water on me if I happened to fall asleep while he was still awake, and stealing my textbooks on a regular basis. He was close to the resident assistant, so I couldn’t complain to her about it. The RA was close to the building supervisor, so I couldn’t go to her about it. The director of housing was on the brink of retiring and wouldn’t do anything unless the president of the university explicitly demanded that he do it, so I couldn’t go to him. I ended up buying a suitcase so I could lock all of my clothes and textbooks up and take them with me wherever I went. I slept on benches a lot and in my classes. I think a lot of people thought I was homeless, not that I can blame them.”
“That’s terrible, Kibum. I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”
Silence ensues. Minho’s surprised that Kibum gives him so much detail, though he feels guilty for asking. His expression is unmistakably pained throughout the story and Minho wishes he could offer something to ease it. He looks at the clock and knows they need to get ready to leave before they miss the bus. He’s finished his pancakes, but Kibum is still eating. He stands and takes his plate to the sink.
“Since you made me pancakes, would you accept if I made you lunch?” he asks as he heads to the fridge.
“Oh, you don’t have to. I’m...I’ll be ok.”
Minho grabs his supplies out and closes the fridge before looking at Kibum.
“Kibum,” he starts softly. “You didn’t bring any food with you, nothing’s going to be open before we get to work, and even though you’re admin today, I know you don’t have time to go get anything while you’re on your lunch break without sacrificing your entire break. I know you don’t want to be burdensome but I’d rather you have at least a little something to take with you.”
Kibum sighs and after another bite of pancake replies with “I guess a small sandwich would be okay. Like half of what you normally take will be fine.”
Minho begins making his sandwich at the counter but as he thinks back to Kibum’s story, he notices Kibum watching him. He moves to the table and Kibum looks somewhat relieved that he can see what’s going into the sandwiches.
“Are you going to come sit in the teacher lounge with me during your break?” he asks.
Kibum looks surprised at the question.
“I understand if you don't want to. It's just if you are, I’ll just put your stuff in with mine so you don’t have to worry about anyone taking it, and by anyone I mean Kyuhyun or Suho.”
Kibum laughs.
“Yeah, I’ll come sit with you.”
*
Over time, their relationship gets more comfortable. When Minho comes home after volunteering on Saturday, he finds Kibum waiting at the dinner table with a pasta bake and a shy smile. On Sunday, they go grocery shopping. Minho makes a list, which Kibum refuses to add any requests to. As they walk down each aisle, anything that Kibum grabs Minho puts in his cart; when Kibum protests, Minho says that they can start sharing grocery bills when Kibum gets settled in. He also grabs anything that he sees Kibum longingly look at but not pick up. It costs a little extra to get so many treats, but the shy smile on Kibum’s face is more than worth the price. When they get home, they start cooking freezer meals for the week ahead. Minho’s surprised at Kibum’s cooking skills: Kibum reveals that he used to volunteer at a elderly care facility; he’d always wanted to learn how to cook so when there was a position open he jumped on it. Minho’s eager to try more of Kibum’s cooking and maybe learn how to get his onions to dice as nicely. Though there shouldn’t be anything charming watching someone washing and cutting potatoes, Minho is enchanted watching Kibum work, regardless.  By the next weekend, they figure out a system. Kibum offers to make their breakfasts if Minho will continue making lunches; their team work on freezer meals means that neither one has to put in more effort. Kibum will pay as close to half of the rent as he can manage and put money in the grocery fund as he can. In turn, Minho agrees to do his best to stop disallowing Kibum to pay for anything. With the ground rules settled, Minho watches Kibum start to allow himself to be. He spends more time in the living room and even makes mention of decorating his room. When Kibum starts asking for help with things like working the washing machine, Minho’s oddly elated. Though he tries not to let himself get his hopes up, it seems like a sign that Kibum is really intending to stay.
As happy as he is that Kibum feels comfortable at the apartment, Minho starts to doubt his own intentions. He continuously claims that it’s just ‘helping out a friend,’ but as he finds himself observing Kibum more and more, he starts to wonder if that’s the whole story. If it had been someone else, would he have volunteered his time and space and money so quickly? When he and Donghae had moved in together, though they shared the space they kept their time mostly separate. They didn’t cook for each other (unless they were hosting a get together); they didn’t watch each other shyly; they definitely didn’t have trouble making eye contact for more than a brief moment. He wants to ask Kibum how he feels about the situation, beyond the standard “is this ok?” and “how is this working for you?”, but he has a feeling that Kibum will just say what he thinks Minho wants to hear. Whether it’s for friendly motive or some desire to save him from whatever is troubling him, Kibum is here now. Minho just hopes that soon there’s a sign to let him know.
*
The sign comes the next Friday. Minho knows something is wrong when he comes out in the morning to a dark kitchen. It’s 7:00, so he’s not up early by any means; he’s also never seen Kibum sleep this late. He decides to give Kibum a few extra minutes: he starts the coffee maker, makes their lunches, even fixing a big omelette for them share. By the time 7:30 rolls around, he can’t stand it anymore. He taps on Kibum’s door. No answer. He knocks a little louder, calls out Kibum’s name. Still no answer. He tries the door and is somewhat surprised to find it unlocked; they’ve been working on trust since Kibum moved in. While Minho trusts Kibum, he knows that Kibum needs more time and evidence, so he lets Kibum decide the boundaries on his own time. He knows Kibum’s been locking his door since the first night, though he hasn’t directly talked to him about it. Minho feels a moment of pride: the unlocked door symbolizes a big step for them. He opens the door just enough to peek in. The lights are still off and there’s a big lump on the bed that Minho assumes is Kibum. He softly calls out for him again before going in. He’s amused at the way that Kibum is cocooned in his blankets and feels guilty for trying to wake him up.
“Kibum, it’s time to get up. You’re going to be late if you sleep much longer.” he says, gently shaking his shoulder. Kibum’s warm to the touch, a little too warm for Minho’s liking. He sits down on the edge of the bed; he shakes a little harder and Kibum finally starts to stir. He blinks, coughs, and finally turns to look at Minho.
“Minho?”
“It’s 7:30 so I came to check on you.”
“It’s what time?” There’s a rasp to Kibum’s voice.
“Do you feel okay? You don’t look so good.” Minho asks, feeling Kibum’s forehead with the back of his hand. He’s very warm and Minho begins to wonder if he’s sick. It takes Kibum a moment to respond.
“I feel cold. And sore. And...and gross.”
“I’m going to go get the thermometer out of my room, okay? Just stay here.”
Kibum doesn’t respond, instead attempting to rearrange the blankets around himself. Minho’s glad that he and Donghae had started a first aid box and that Donghae let him keep it. He finds the thermometer quickly and heads back to Kibum’s room. Kibum’s all but asleep again.
“I’m going to take your temperature, okay? It’ll probably feel cold on your forehead but it’ll be quick I promise.”
Kibum attempts a hum in response, resulting in a cough. Minho’s suspicion is confirmed: Kibum’s temperature is 102℉. He knows Kibum’s in no shape to go to work but he also doesn’t want to leave him alone. At least it’s a Friday and there’ll be no need to find a substitute teacher. There’s a warmth on Minho’s hand and he sees Kibum trying to reach for him.
“I don’t think I can go to work today” he croaks. Minho laughs.
“No, Kibum. I think you should stay in bed today. Are you going to be okay if I go to work?”
There’s a pause and then a hummed yes.
“I’m going to bring you some water and crackers, is there anything else you want?”
Kibum makes a disgusted face at the mention of crackers but doesn’t request anything. Minho goes and gets the promised goods as well as an extra blanket from his room and the box of tissues from the living room. He arranges them on Kibum’s nightstand, then sits on the edge of the bed again.
“I put it all right here for you. I’ll keep my phone on in case you need me, but if you really need someone and you can’t get ahold of me, here’s the neighbor’s number as well. His name is Siwon and he’s really nice.”
Kibum reaches for him again and Minho holds his hand. He brushes Kibum’s bangs out of his eyes; he’s almost asleep again and Minho doesn’t want to keep him awake. He gives Kibum’s hand a gentle squeeze before standing.
“I’ll try to come check on you at lunch, alright?”
Kibum hums in acknowledgement before pulling the blanket over his head.
When Minho gets to school, he finds Leeteuk and explains the situation. He’s understanding and tells Minho that he’ll find someone to cover Minho’s class a little longer so that he can go home for lunch. Minho’s able to put his worry on the back burner in order to teach; it’s enough to fool his students but not enough to fool his coworkers. When he brings his students to the mixed use room for Jonghyun’s Friday Music Extravaganza, Jonghyun doesn’t waste any time asking what’s wrong. Minho doesn’t answer Jonghyun’s question but announces that Heechul (who has a half teaching, half administration position like Kibum does) will be getting the class.  He hurries out of the building and towards home. Unable to remember if they have soup or not, he stops at the restaurant a block from the apartment to order some. When he gets home, the apartment is still quiet. He puts a little bit of soup in a mug and, after knocking, ventures into Kibum’s room again. The blinds are open but Kibum is still mostly under the blankets. The crackers on the nightstand are untouched but Minho’s encouraged by the empty water glass. He sets the soup down and sits down. There’s a muffled “Minho?” from under the blankets followed by attempts to move them; Minho pulls the blankets back enough for Kibum’s face to be visible.
“Did you get some more sleep?”
Kibum nods, coughs.
“I brought you soup. Do you want to try a sip?”
There’s a pause, followed by a barely audible “what kind?”
“It’s beef bone soup. The lady at the corner always makes it and everyone I know swears that it has magical properties.”
Kibum wrinkles his nose but there’s a light in his eyes.
“That’s my favorite soup but I don’t think my tummy can handle it.”
“How about I put in the fridge for later and we try again when I get home.”
“Aren’t you home?”
“No, I’m on lunch break. Heechul is supposed to cover for me so I can make it back.”
“Oh.” There’s a tinge of sadness in Kibum’s voice. Minho grabs the thermometer off the nightstand. Kibum’s fever hasn’t budged.
“I’m going to put this up and get you more water and a tylenol.”
By the time Minho comes back from the kitchen, Kibum’s trying to pull off all his blankets.
“I’m hot now.”
Something in Minho’s brain urges him to say ‘I know’, but he just silently helps pull the blankets before arranging them on the side so that it’ll be easy to pull them back on when Kibum inevitably gets cold again. He checks his watch: his lunch break is technically ending and he needs to get back. He lets Kibum settle before saying a goodbye.
Though he does his best to clean up quickly, it’s still after 6pm by the time Minho gets home. Kibum’s sleeping, buried under his mountain of blankets again, so he lets him be. After heating up some of the soup -- who knows if Kibum will be able to eat it before it spoils and he hopes it’ll keep him running well enough that he won’t get whatever sickness this is -- he starts cleaning the apartment. He’s in the middle of washing dishes when he hears coughing, followed by the unmistakable sound of vomiting. After rinsing the dishes in his hand, he goes to check on Kibum. He’s in tears but it seems like he got most of the vomit in the bucket Minho had brought in for him.
“You alright, buddy?”
Kibum hiccups and shakes his head. Minho walks in further and realizes that somehow, Kibum’s gotten some of it in his hair. He sits as close as feels safe and reaches out his hand, which Kibum gingerly takes.
“I know throwing up isn’t any fun and it probably hurt, but it’s going to be okay,” he says in his most soothing voice. It’s times like these that being a kindergarten teacher is most convenient. He lets Kibum have his little cry, rubbing circles into the back of his hand.
“If I turn the water on for you, do you think you can manage to shower?” he asks when Kibum seems to have composed himself as much as possible. He takes a few deep breaths before shaking his head. Minho knows that Kibum needs to get cleaned, even if it’s just washing his hair.
“Do you think it’d be okay if I washed your hair for you?” he offers.
Kibum looks at him, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Minho hopes he hasn’t crossed a line but it’s the only solution that seems realistic given the circumstances.
“I promise I’m not going to try anything weird. I just want you to be able to get better and I’m sure you’re ready to have clean hair again.”
“I...that should be okay.”
“Are you ready or do you need a minute?”
��Yeah just...just give me a second.”
Minho goes to stand to empty the bucket and get the hot water running, but when Kibum doesn’t let go of his hand he simply waits at the bed. Eventually Kibum hands him the bucket, which Minho sets down temporarily in order to help him stand. Once he’s on his feet, Minho guides him to the bathroom and helps him sit down next to the tub. Minho starts the water so it can warm up; he empties the bucket and gets a few towels while he’s waiting.
“Do you just use shampoo or do you like conditioner too?”
“I like both but at this point just shampoo is fine.”
After making sure the water is warm enough to be soothing, he positions Kibum so he’s leaning on the tub with his head far enough over that the water go down the drain instead of on the floor. He puts a towel on Kibum’s back, just in case; he notices how tensed his shoulders are and pats him reassuringly. As he starts wetting Kibum’s hair he wishes he’d thought to play some music. He’s not sure how Kibum’s head is, so he refrains from saying anything more than little warnings about using water and apologizing for the occasional hair pull. It’s not the first time he’s had to wash someone’s hair: over the course of their respective friendships, he’d washed Kyuhyun and Suho’s hair on more than a few occasions. He’d even washed Sooyoung’s hair after a particularly gross party foul, mostly because he was the only person that she knew there and she was too drunk to do it herself. There’s something different about it this time though, and as he does his best to get Kibum’s hair completely clean, a soft peaceful atmosphere develops. Kibum seems to enjoy it too, the tension slowly disappearing from his shoulders. When he’s done, he takes another towel and does his best to dry him off. Kibum sits up when he’s finished and takes the towel to dry his face off. Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so cute when sick: Kibum’s cheeks are flushed from the fever and his half-dried hair is sticking out in all sorts of odd ways. He realizes he’s staring and looks away, but not before Kibum notices.
“Do I look that bad?” he asks, voice stronger than before.
“You don’t look well, but you don’t look bad.”
“So if I don’t look good but I also don’t look bad, what do I look like?”
Minho studies Kibum’s face a little more before answering, now that he has a proper reason to. Though everything about Kibum has become pretty to him in a way, his cheeks are what stand out right now. Though his fever worries him, Minho can’t deny that the pink hue it’s bringing to his face isn’t anything less than lovely.
“Like a peach.”
Kibum attempts a shy laugh and Minho hopes that somewhere under the fever flush he’s blushing.
“I’m going to go change your sheets, when you’re ready to get up just let me know.”
Kibum nods as Minho stands. As he strips the sheets off of Kibum’s bed, he figures he should wash his own as well, shoving both sets in the washing machine. He hears another hiccup followed by what sounds like dry heaving. When he gets back to Kibum’s room, he takes his temperature again; it’s gone up half a degree. Kibum’s shivering now and so Minho replaces the towel around his shoulders with one of the warmer blankets. As he’s adjusting it, Kibum seems to reach for his hand but doesn’t take it. The heaving starts again, so Minho sits down next to him and rubs his back to try and keep him calm.
“If you want me to stop, just say.”
Kibum manages to squeak out a “please don’t stop’”, so Minho continues until the episode passes. From where he’s sitting, he can see the clock. It’s already 9pm; he gets up and finds his phone, letting the coordinator at his volunteer program know that he won’t be able to make it the next day.
“Are you going to bed?” Kibum asks, voice hushed. Minho would be lying if he said he wasn’t tired but he also knows that he’ll probably be too worried to sleep.
“Maybe. Do you want to lay down again?”
Kibum nods, then adds “But I don’t really want to be alone.”
Minho looks at Kibum’s bed; it’s a single, and while they could fit together on it, Kibum’s a little too sick for that. His own bed, though, is a double; room enough for the both of them (assuming Kibum doesn’t spread out too much) to sleep spaced out.
“Why don’t you come sleep in my room? My bed is bigger, so we could put pillows or something in between us. Then you’re not alone and I don’t keep getting up to check on you. I’ll be right there if you need me.”
Kibum looks at the floor, tilting his head.
“I...I think I’d like that. If it’s okay,” he says, looking up at Minho.
“Are you ready to move or do you need a bit?”
Kibum attempts to stand, but it’s clear that he isn’t strong enough for it. He reaches out for Minho who catches him. Kibum tries to stand and move a few times but after a minute or two, Minho simply carries him from one room to the other. He sets him down on the side of the bed nearer the bathroom then goes back to get Kibum’s pillow and things. He grabs all the extra pillows he has to put in between them. Once Kibum’s settled and the pillow wall is made, Minho takes what might be the quickest shower of his entire life. He’s surprised to see Kibum still awake when he comes out of the bathroom.
“My bed not as comfy as yours?”
“I was waiting for you to get back. If you’re going to let me sleep in your bed with you, I can at least wait til you’re in it to sleep. Now that you’re out I make no promises though.”
Minho laughs at the response and gets into bed.
“Thank you for taking care of me today,” Kibum whispers as Minho turns off the light main light. He had found a nightlight, also courtesy of Donghae, and plugged it in just in case Kibum needed to get up.
“You’re welcome. I can confidently say you’re the best patient I’ve had to take care of so far, seeing as you just slept most of the time and didn’t throw anything at me.”
“No one’s ever taken care of me like this before so I just tried to do what seemed easiest for both of us.”
Minho’s heart drops at the comment; he wants to ask more, but with Kibum’s fever he isn’t sure if he’d actually meant to share that information. Minho can’t tell if its the illness or if Kibum’s actually crying, but either way he reaches out in an attempt to find his hand. Kibum’s is already resting on the pillow wall and he wonders how long he’s been waiting. As he intertwines their fingers,  Kibum goes silent for a while and instead Minho begins humming a tune.
“What song is that?” Kibum asks when Minho reaches the end of it.
“A lullaby my mom used to sing to me when I would get sick. If it’s bothering you I can stop.”
“No, no. It’s...nice, actually. I like it. Your voice is nice. All of you is nice. Especially your personality and your hair.”
Minho’s heart flutters at the compliments and so he starts humming through it again.
"Do I really look like a peach?"
"Yes, Kibum. You have the pinkest peachiest fever I've ever seen."
Kibum seems satisfied with the answer. He starts shifting his head around, so Minho reaches over and moves his bangs out of his face. As he continues humming, he hears Kibum’s breathing slow and his grasp on Minho’s hand loosen. The nightlight is just bright enough that he can see Kibum’s chest rise and fall, and its in that moment that he reaches an epiphany. This whole time, all these weeks since they met, he’s been trying to figure out what makes Kibum’s company so special that he’d been willing to lay out everything for him. As he falls asleep, he thinks back to earlier in the day, to Kibum’s peach colored cheeks, and realizes that for him, in this moment, it’s love.
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gethealthy18-blog · 4 years
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Simple Batch Cooking Meal Plan
New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/simple-batch-cooking-meal-plan/
Simple Batch Cooking Meal Plan
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As a busy mom, I sometimes feel like I spend hours in the kitchen each day and that I finish cleaning up from one meal just in time to prepare the next.
I’ve learned that a little careful meal planning can greatly reduce the amount of time I spend figuring out what to cook and buy at the store. Plus, it’s saved a lot of time in the kitchen!
Here’s how I’ve started batch cooking on the weekends so I spend less time on dinner during the week. Here’s how you can do the same.
What Is Batch Cooking?
The idea of batch cooking is as simple as the name suggests: it’s just doing a week’s worth of meal prep in one go, so that serving individual meals does not take as long to prepare.
I prefer to do a big batch of meal prep on Saturdays, when the kids are happily playing in the back yard with friends and I have a few hours to spare.
In addition to saving time, I’ve found that batch cooking really increases the chances of sticking to a meal plan. You definitely won’t want to waste those healthy meals you spent time preparing!
Note: I did not include breakfast on this list, since we have a simple 4-day rotating breakfast meal plan that involves various proteins and vegetables and I make those each day.
Batch Cooking Meal Plan Menu
Batch cooking takes a little trial and error to get used to, but once you give a try, you’ll love the time you save and the simplicity. Here’s a sample meal plan to get you started!
Day 1
Lunch: Chicken salad over lettuce with carrot sticks Dinner: Shrimp stir-fry
Day 2
Lunch: Leftover stir fry wrapped in romaine leaves Dinner: Sliced chicken breast served with sliced peppers, onions, and baked butternut squash, reheated on a greased cookie sheet. Serve with a salad.
Day 3
Lunch: Reheat leftover chicken from last night, wrapped in romaine leaves and served with avocado and cilantro. Dinner: Chili with sour cream and cheese (both optional) with a side salad
Day 4
Lunch: Leftover chili Dinner: Eggplant pizza with a side salad
Day 5
Lunch: Leftover eggplant pizza or chicken salad Dinner: Fajita salad
Day 6
Lunch: Fajita tacos (using leftover fajita meat) wrapped in romaine with avocado, salsa, cheese and sour cream Dinner: Reheated meatballs and salad
Day 7
Lunch: Tuna salad on spinach or carrot sticks. Dinner: Whatever is leftover!
Snacks
When you’re in need of a quick snack, reach for one of these ready-to-eat nibblers:
Nuts
Deviled eggs
Sliced cucumber, celery sticks or carrot sticks with cream cheese or a healthy hummus
Tuna salad
Fruit
This grocery store shopping list will give you a rough idea of what to buy for a week. Adjust as necessary. It is designed for two people, so just double (or triple or quadruple) depending on family size.
Produce:
2 avocados
2 heads romaine lettuce, kale, or other greens
1 big bag spinach
4 large sweet peppers, any color
1-3 lb bag onions
Fruit, like berries or grapes
2 zucchini or summer squash
1 bag carrot sticks
2 cucumbers
1 large eggplant
1 butternut squash
Cilantro
Dairy:
2-3 dozen eggs
1 lb butter
1 container (8 oz or bigger) of full-fat, plain organic yogurt (either Greek or regular)
1 package cream cheese
1 block of your favorite cheese (this is optional on everything, so just get what you want)
Sour cream (optional)
(If you’re wondering where I draw the line on dairy, see this post.)
Nuts:
Canned Food:
1 can (organic) diced tomatoes
1 BIG (15 oz or bigger) can of tomato sauce
1 can salmon or 2 cans tuna
1 jar of pasta sauce (check ingredients, no added sugar or grains)
1 jar salsa (check ingredients)
Spices:
Meat:
1 lb frozen shrimp (or fresh, just pre-cooked)
1 package bacon (optional)
2 lbs ground beef or turkey
5 chicken breasts or boneless thighs (I get all meat I can’t get from local farms from ButcherBox)
Frozen Aisle:
2 (1 lb) bags frozen broccoli
Batch Cooking: Prep Day Instructions
It will simplify your life tremendously (and make it easier to stick to a healthy eating lifestyle) if you can pre-cook your family meals in one or two big batches. I try to prep everything on Saturday so it is ready for the week, but you can do simple ingredient prep first and save meal assembly for later.
Single-Step Prep:
Cover the chicken breasts in butter and spices and bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Cube two of them and slice three.
Hard boil 6-8 eggs (per egg eater in family).
Pre-cut zucchini, squash, onions, peppers, cucumbers, and other veggies. Store in separate containers or bags.
Cut the butternut squash in half and discard the seeds. Cover in 1-2 tablespoons of butter and spices. Bake open side up on a cookie sheet at 325 degrees until soft (usually about 45 minutes). Store in foil for re-heating.
Peel the eggplant and cut into ½ inch slices. Cook on a greased cookie sheet at 375 degrees until well browned on both sides.
Make the salmon or tuna salad by mixing well-drained fish with ½ package of cream cheese and spices like dill. Store closed in fridge.
Meal Assembly:
Shrimp Stir Fry. Heat butter in a skillet and add 1 pre-cut onion and 1 pre-cut pepper, cook 2 mins. Add pre-cut zucchini or squash and cook 2 mins. Add 1 lb frozen broccoli, cook 2 mins. Add frozen shrimp and cook until veggies are tender and shrimp is heated. Add desired spices (garlic, basil, salt, pepper, etc). Right before eating, add ½ package of cream cheese and stir until melted (optional). Here is the full recipe.
Chicken Salad. Use part of the cubed roasted chicken and combine following this recipe. Store in an airtight container in the fridge.
Chili. Combine 1 pound of the ground meat with 1 can diced tomatoes, ½ can tomato sauce, 1 chopped onion, cumin, and other spices to taste. Find the recipe here.
Eggplant Pizza. Top the cooked eggplant slices with a small amount of tomato sauce, spices, cheese, chopped onions, peppers, or whatever other toppings you like. Store in foil to re-heat. This is also fast to make fresh if you don’t want to make it ahead! So simple I don’t have a recipe for it!
Meatballs. Roll up the meatballs using 1 pound ground meat, Parmesan, garlic, basil, or whatever you prefer. You can also try these Greek meatballs. Bake for about 30 minutes at 350, then coat in pasta sauce. Store covered in the fridge.
Fajita Salad. This one you can prep right before you eat! Heat your remaining sliced chicken breast with remaining sliced onions and peppers in a greased skillet. Season with cumin and serve over greens with avocado, salsa, cheese, and sour cream (optional). Save the recipe to use again and again here.
Deviled Eggs. Carefully slice the hard boil eggs lengthwise and remove the yolks. Mash the yolks with ½ an avocado and season with mustard, dill, or other spices to taste. Scoop the filling back into the eggs and top with bacon crumbles (optional). You can also follow this easy deviled eggs recipe.
Note: The above meal plan is great for any time of year, but I recommend sticking to whatever is in season whenever possible. I talk about my seasonal meal plans in this podcast.
How to Customize Your Batch Cooking Meal Plan
The sample meal plan menu above has worked great for me, but you might not be a fan of all of those options. In that case, you can always customize to create a meal plan you’re excited about! The more you enjoy the meals you’re making, the more likely you are to stick to the plan.
Here are a few other ideas for batch cooking for those busy weeknights:
Make use of your slow cooker or pressure cooker. You can set these up the night before, or have dinner ready super quick in the pressure cooker. Try adding this chuck roast or meatloaf to the rotation! You can also check out these freezer-friendly slow cooker recipes. (If you haven’t tried an Instant Pot yet, you should!… I give my full review here.
Grab a bunch of sweet potatoes. Roast them ahead of time, and then you can slice them for breakfast, stuff them with avocado, of even whip up this sweet potato casserole.
Grab a head of cauliflower. This is another great versatile veggie perfect for meal prepping. Pulse it into cauliflower rice, or roast it in spices ahead of time.
Get basil and make pesto. It only lasts a few days in the fridge, but it makes a great accompaniment to whatever you’re cooking up. This is my basil pesto recipe and I also make pesto with cilantro. Bonus, as a pesto these herbs lasts for up to two weeks without going bad, unlike fresh herbs on their own which only stay fresh a few days in the produce drawer.
Make (and freeze) a big batch of pasta sauce. It’s great for veggie pizzas. You can also use up some ground meat by making it into a bolognese! Get my homemade pasta sauce recipe here.
Got a hodgepodge of food leftover? Make burrito bowls with cauliflower rice, meat, avocado, cilantro, or whatever you have on hand.
Make grain-free paleo muffins! They’re great to have on hand for breakfast, as a snack, dessert, or even as a side dish. I make these grain-free apple cinnamon muffins regularly as well.
Cookbooks That Help
A good cookbook is worth its weight in gold. I use a combination of the following for batch cooking:
The Wellness Mama Cookbook: These are my best 30 minute, 1 pan meals!
Cook Once, Eat All Week: I love these recipes. It gives adaptations for grain free, gluten free, or dairy free diets and has shopping lists and step by step prep lists that my husband or kids can follow. (Have kids take the Kids Cook Real Food e-course first for knife skills, etc.) Tip: I usually double the veggies called for when I use this cookbook.
Real Plans: This app takes the place of my cookbooks most weeks, since it contains all of my recipes and other healthy recipes from some of the bloggers and chefs I love most.
I’ve found batch cooking to save me hours of time each week. If you’re as busy as I am (or even if you’re not but still want to save time!), I definitely recommend giving meal planning and bulk cooking a try!
Also try my batch cooking meal plan for vacation!
Have you ever tried batch cooking? Do you know any time-saving cooking tips? Share below!
Source: https://wellnessmama.com/1106/batch-cooking-meal-plan/
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ofstarsandvibranium · 7 years
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The Cook
Fandom: Marvel 
Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader
As requested by @iamthemaskhewears : Yay! Can I request a oneshot where the reader works with Tony (not necesarilly an Avenger) and she's way younger than him (like mid20s), but they both have feelings for each other? And he doesn't know how to make her know he likes her and that he's not a playboy anymore(or won't be)? Please and thank you ❤
Warning: age difference (reader’s about 24-25)
When you applied to be a cook at the Avengers HQ you didn’t think you’d actually be cooking for the Avengers. You thought you were going to be part of an entire team of staff who’d cook for the cafeteria or something. But nope. You walked into that tower, gave your name to the lady at the front desk, and she escorted you to none other than THE Tony Stark’s office.
“Hey, kid! Tony Stark, but you probably already knew that.” The famous billionaire and superhero offered his hand to you.
You smiled and shook it, “Hello, sir-”
Tony gagged as he sat atop his desk in front of you, “No. None of that ‘sir’ nonsense. Makes me feel old. Really old. Anyway,” he jumped off and circled his desk and sat down, “so you’re a cook?”
You nodded, “Yep. From the basics to the complex. I also bake.”
“Pies? Cheesecakes? Crème brûlée?”
You laughed, “Yes, I can cook those.”
“Great!” Tony stood, “You’re hired!”
You gave him a confused look, “You’re not going to give me a test or ask me any other questions?”
Tony shook his head, “Nah, I see greatness in ya, kid. I’ll take your word for it. As for the test, how about you make dinner for the team and I tonight. If it hoes horribly wrong, then, obviously, you’re fired. If it goes great, you can stay.”
You stood up anxiously, “Great! So where’s the kitchen? I’ll start now.”
Tony clapped you on the back, “I like you already, kid!”
6 hours later, the table was set with all types of food. There was turkey, pasta, nachos, tacos, chicken salad, cheesecake, cake pops, and some rum bread. 
The whole Avengers team sat down in awe, “This...this is intense.” Sam said with wide eyes.
“Like the feasts on Asgard! I feel right at home!” Thor exclaimed with a hefty laugh.
Tony pulled you away from the counter and brought you to the team, “Everyone, this is our new personal chef, Y/N!”
You shyly waved, “Uh, hi. Um, I hope you like everything. I didn’t know what you guys liked so I just did various foods.”
“You did great, kid.” Tony kissed your temple then clapped his hands, “Dig in!”
You laughed as everyone began to pile food onto their plates and started stuffing their mouths.
“Wow! This is amazing!” Steve exclaimed.
You giggled, “Which one?”
“ALL OF IT!” Nat yelled out and everyone agreed.
Tony stood up and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “Looks like you’re sticking around, kid.”
1 year later and you’re still working for the Avengers and you couldn’t be happier. They were your family. You loved them and they loved you.
Your alarm blared at 6:30am letting you know it was time to prepare breakfast. You yawned as you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen. You didn’t need to wear any type of uniform. Tony was all about letting loose. That’s what you love, yes, love, Tony. He’s very open. 
You walked towards the kitchen to find Tony waiting there for you, sitting on the counter with a cup of coffee in hand staring off. You made your way closer to him to see that he already had the ingredients you needed set on the counter.
Your heart skipped a beat knowing how considerate he was. See the thing was that you and Tony flirted...a lot. Behind your playful words, there was some hope and truth to them. However, when it came to Tony’s side, you never knew. Why? Because he was like this with every woman he’d meet. Sure, you found yourself loving him, but you weren’t sure if you’d actually want to be with him if the opportunity came. Tony Stark was a heartbreaker. Everyone knew that.
“What’s on your mind, kid?” Tony asked looking at you with concern.
You shook your head not realizing you were in a daze, “Sorry. Just..thoughts.”
You began to crack some eggs open into the glass bowl that Tony had set aside, “You know you could tell me anything, right?” Tony said in his serious voice.
You nodded, “Mhm.” You continued to add your ingredients in the bowl. Tony didn’t want to push you, so he jumped off the counter and put his finish coffee mug in the sink.
“I’ll be in my lab if you need me.”
Tony struggled to show his affection for you. He’d openly flirt with you and he’d flirt back and he thought it’d be going somewhere. Then next thing he knows, you’re reserved and barely talking to him. He didn’t know what to do. He really liked you, but didn’t know how to get it through to you.
“You could just actually tell her how you feel.” Tony jumped hearing Wanda’s voice echo through his lab. Tony clutched his chest and looked at Wanda. She smirked, “You’re thinking very loud. I can’t help but hear you.” She walked towards him and leaned forward onto his work table, “Just tell her.”
“Does she feel the same way?”
Wanda shook her head, “I can’t tell you that. You have to ask her yourself.”
“How can I when she just pushes me away?”
Wanda sighed, “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s trying to protect herself?”
Tony looked at her confused, “What do you mean?”
“You’re a playboy. You string women along, bed them, then kick them out like they’re garbage. You don’t bother learning their names or anything about them. You flirt until you get what you want then you toss them aside.”
“Y/N isn’t like them. I’d never treat her like them.”
“But she doesn’t know that.” Without another word, Wanda left.
You were dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with purse and keys in hand. You made your way to the elevator and as soon as it opened, Tony stepped out, “Oh! Y/N!” He took note of your bag and keys, “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah. Grocery shopping. Running low on stuff. Did you need anything?”
“Uh, no, but I’ll come with you!” He followed you into the elevator.
“You sure? Don’t you have important Avengers stuff to do?”
“Cap could take care of it. I’d rather spend some time with you.” 
“Oh,” you looked down hoping you weren’t blushing too hard, “Okay.”
“I’ll drive though.” Tony said as he stepped out of the elevator.
“No! That’s okay! Really, Tony.”
“C’mon, babe. Trust me.” Babe? That’s a new one.
You sighed, “Fine.” You followed Tony to one of his Lamborghini's and hopped in. Your eyes widened, “Wow.”
Tony chuckled, “I know.” With that, you two headed towards the local grocery store. 
You thought grocery shopping with Tony would be awkward considering your feelings and your fear of making yourself look stupid, but nothing of the sorts happened. It was actually fun. 
He helped you find everything on your list whilst adding some unnecessary things as well.
“What are those bag of ice for?”
“Margaritas.” Tony said nonchalantly. 
You laughed, “Really? You have twenty plus bottles of expensive alcohol and you want margaritas?”
“Don’t judge me, kid.” Tony said as he pulled you closer by the waist and continued to walk with you down the aisles of food. 
As soon as you hit the candy aisle, Tony went crazy. He threw in bags of licorice, caramel, chocolates, sour rope belts, and more.
“Sweet tooth much?”
Tony gave you a wink and continued to look through the aisle for more sweets. First him calling you ‘babe’, then the waist pulling, and him winking. Was he teasing you?
“Hey, babe! We should make ice cream cake!”
You arched an eyebrow at him, “We? Or me?”
Tony walked up to you, “We. I’ll help.” He walked up to you setting his hands on  your waist.
“What are you doing, Tony?” 
“I love you.”
Your eyes widened, “W-What?”
Tony stepped back and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “I know it’s not the best timing, but doing this domestic stuff just sorta made wanna say it, ya know?”
You shook your head, “I don’t understand.”
Tony sighed, “Well, you see, kid. I love you. A lot. And I’ve been trying to show you for a months now, but I guess you weren’t seeing it. So I’m telling you. And,” he took a step towards you, “I was hoping that maybe you love me too?”
You shook your head, “I do, but Tony, i don’t think we’d work.”
“‘Cause I’m a renowned playboy?”
You scoffed, “Well, you haven’t had many steady relationships, Tony, so yeah.”
Tony leaned over and took your hand, “Just gimme a chance, kid. The last thing I want to do is hurt ya.”
You sighed and ran your hand through your hair. Thinking it over. You came to a conclusion, “Okay. Let’s give it a shot.”
Tony smiled, “Yeah?”
You smiled back, “Yeah.”
“Yes!” Tony shouted. 
“Oh my god! Shut up!” You said whilst laughing.
Tony chuckled, “Right. Sorry.” He wrapped an arm around your waist and you both continued to walk to finish your shopping.
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nickelnumber91-blog · 5 years
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Roasted Tomato Bucatini with Burrata and Basil Vinaigrette
Roasted cherry tomatoes served on a bed of bucatini dressed in a summer-fresh basil vinaigrette and topped with creamy burrata.
It’s September 3rd, the PSL has been out for daaaayyyyzzz now, I saw Halloween candy in the CVS across the street (<– major side eye to THAT), and it’s officially official:
I’m mourning the end of summer.
In years past I’ve totally been that girl stocking up on butternuts and buttercups and delicatas and all the squashes as soon as it was even mildly socially appropriate, but I’ve shifted over the past few years to more of a laidback, “HEY TIME, SLOW DOWN!” mentality.
Maybe it’s that having a kid has softened me, but now I’m basically that girl who cries in the supermarket aisle next to the peaches now that they don’t taste so good anymore. I’m sure I’ll feel similarly about the squashes come February/March when their deliciousness is starting to wane, but for now I’m holding onto summer stone fruit and tomatoes for dear life.
All that to say, even though this may be my last formal summer recipe of the year, rest assured we’re still inhaling heirloom tomatoes, pesto, and plums over here. Just yesterday we had heirloom tomato grilled cheese for lunch and I would have shared the recipe except that I’m pretty sure you can put sliced tomatoes and provolone slices between two pieces of bread without any instruction from me.
This pasta on the other hand, simple as it may be, warrants an explicit and intentional post because it is just.that.good. I really should have shared it with you earlier in the summer so you could make it every week on repeat, but here we are. I suspect cherry tomatoes and basil will be around for a while yet, so there’s still time.
This is like your average caprese pasta but times 10000000000. The basil vinaigrette is good enough to drink and soaks into the noodles so that it dyes them a gorgeous vibrant green. The cherry tomatoes are roasted until they’re sweet and caramelized. And the burrata on top is, well, BURRATA. No further explanation needed. The recipe is from What’s Gaby Cooking and if I knew Gaby in real life, it would be enough to make us BFF, it’s that good.
Roasted Tomato Bucatini with Burrata and Basil Vinaigrette
Roasted cherry tomatoes served on a bed of bucatini dressed in a summer-fresh basil vinaigrette and topped with creamy burrata.
Ingredients
1 lb bucatini
2 pints cherry tomatoes
2 tbsp olive oil
kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
8 oz burrata
For the basil vinaigrette
1 shallot, minced
4 oz fresh basil leaves, stems removed
1 garlic clove
½ tsp red pepper flakes
½ cup olive oil
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tsp salt
Instructions
Heat oven to 400F. Toss the tomatoes with the olive oil and spread on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Season with salt and black pepper, then roast for 20-30 minutes or until tomatoes are caramelized and starting to burst.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the bucatini to desired consistency. Strain and set aside.
Meanwhile, to make the basil vinaigrette, combine all of the ingredients in a blender and blend until pureed.
Toss the cooked pasta with the basil vinaigrette. Divide among serving bowls. Top with the roasted cherry tomatoes and the burrata. Serve warm.
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Source: https://joanne-eatswellwithothers.com/2018/09/roasted-tomato-spaghetti-with-burrata-and-basil-vinaigrette.html
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kissnovel46-blog · 5 years
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Peanut Butter Kitchen Sink Cookies Caramel, Pretzels, M&Ms, and More
Oh yes, these peanut butter kitchen sink cookies (as in, there’s EVERYTHING but the kitchen sink in them) are amazing! Soft, crunchy, caramelly, delicious!
Weeks ago I asked for your help on Instagram (here’s the plea) to name this over-the-top loaded cookie. And wow, did you ever come through! To the tune of 400+ responses! Even more of you chimed in on this Friday Thoughts post with last minute name suggestions. I have loved each and every one of them (I’ll highlight a few of my favorites below) – and laughed out loud at more than one. You guys are funny. 
But in the end, it seemed appropriate to go with the name that sums it all up in one broad, sweeping title (and by far, the most popular name suggested): almighty peanut butter kitchen sink cookies. 
Soft, chewy, crunchy, sweet, salty, caramelly – this cookie has it all. 
When visiting Montana this summer, my sister-in-law, Erin, made these cookies for us two days in a row (because our greedy hands couldn’t get enough), and I knew immediately my blog wouldn’t be the same until I had a recipe like this on my site. Since then, I’ve made these cookies myself four or five times (including making and serving 150 of them at my cousin’s wedding dinner a few weeks ago), and they have skyrocketed to favorite cookie status. I mean, just look at them! The wow factor is huge.
When I was probably about 10 years old, we lived in Houston, Texas, and my mom had a church responsibility to follow up with the young 19-something missionaries serving in our area. One day she went over there to visit with them (and mostly check to see if their often-neglected apartment was getting cleaned), and they proudly told her they had made cookies and sent them to their families!
Because they had a very sparsely furnished kitchen, she was quite surprised. She politely asked them what kind of cookies they had made. Chocolate Chip. Then she kindly and somewhat gently asked what they had used to make them (they literally only had a couple cereal bowls, plates, and a few utensils). Unabashed, they announced that without the use of a large mixing bowl, they had the brilliant idea to use their kitchen sink to mix the dough! (And then borrow baking sheets from a neighbor.) A few more probing questions from my slightly aghast mom revealed that no, no indeed, the rather grimy kitchen sink hadn’t been scrubbed cleaned before the cookie making endeavor. 
I remember my mom coming home and telling us about this kitchen sink cookie experience and with a furrowed brow wondering out loud if she should somehow alert the families that might be on the receiving end of these cookies?? I have no idea if those cookies ever made it to their destination and what the result was, but I’ve always had a bit of a gag reflex thinking of those kitchen sink cookies from the 1980’s
Thankfully these peanut butter kitchen sink cookies I’m sharing with you today are not literal in anyway (no kitchen sinks were used or harmed in the making of these cookies). They are 100% delicious and totally food safe, I promise. 🙂
If you want to see a whole list of name suggestions, here you go. My 12-year old lovingly compiled this list after reading through the hundreds of Instagram responses. So many great cookie name ideas! I just love you guys. 
Here are a few notable/clever favorites: 
–G.O.A.T. (greatest of all time) cookies -Whatcha-Mel-Callsit cookies (hahaha) -What You Find Under the Carseat Cookie (slightly gross but super funny) -Spanx Busters -Pantry Cleanout or Pantry Raid Cookie -Pretzel Monster Cookies -Mary Poppins Cookie (because Mary Poppins is Practically Perfect in Every Way) 🙂
Other than adding in a bazillion extra ingredients, these peanut butter kitchen sink cookies aren’t any more difficult to whip up than your average, every day drop cookie. 
The soft peanut butter cookie dough base is mixed together (in a stand mixer or using an electric hand mixer) with the flour just barely getting incorporated before adding in all those glorious extras.
Why not?? Here’s what’s going on in these cookies so far:
-toasted pecans (I’m normally a don’t-put-nuts-in-my-cookie kind of gal, but they are super tasty in these cookies! Use them!) -peanut butter chips -chocolate chips -caramel balls (I’m talking about the Kraft brand of unwrapped caramel bits similar in size to large chocolate chips; when I’ve been out, I unwrapped soft Kraft or Trader Joe’s caramels and cut them into pieces with my bench knife aff. link…a labor of love that is totally and completely worth it) -M&Ms (I’ve used regular M&Ms, dark chocolate M&Ms, and caramel M&Ms)
I think you could play with the add-ins to your hearts content. What about:
-other chopped up candy bars (the sky is the limit) -pretzels IN the dough vs just pressed on the outside -other types of chopped nuts -coconut
Once the cookie dough is mixed, roll the dough into balls. Because of all the add-ins, the dough balls won’t be perfectly round. That’s ok. All those lumps and bumps just mean extra yumminess. 
Press the top of the cookie dough into the coarsely chopped pretzels and then turn over and lightly press the pretzels into the soft cookie dough so they stick. Again, we aren’t going for perfection here! These cookies have a rustic porcupine-spiked vibe going on, and I love them all the more for it. 
Of course you can eliminate the pretzels from the cookie lineup, but they really do add that salty crunch that is awesome (and they don’t get soft/soggy after baking). 
These cookies will spread just like other drop cookies…but probably not quite as much thanks to all the bulky add-ins. They are meant to be super soft and slightly puffy.
I’ve given some notes in the last step of the recipe directions about how to end up with a flatter cookie if you want (or, conversely, what to do if your cookies are flattening too much). 
Since these cookies have also affectionately been dubbed “clean out the pantry cookies” – I can’t wait to see what other variations you come up with! You clever and adventurous bakers never cease to amaze me. 
Just in case you end up with more cookies than you deem safe for your self-control OR you need to make a bunch in advance, these baked and cooled cookies freeze great (yep, even with the pretzels). I stack the cookies in between sheets of wax paper in a large tupperware and then take them out of the freezer several hours before I want to serve them. Tasty as the day they were made!
After all this talk about PB kitchen sink cookies, looks like I better go grab a couple out of the freezer just to remind myself how delicious they really are. 
One Year Ago: Monterey BBQ Chicken Pasta One Pot Dinner! Two Years Ago: Fresh Zucchini and Tomato Linguine 30-Minute Meal Three Years Ago: Tender Grilled Pork Chops Four Years Ago: Triple Chocolate Zucchini Cookies Five Years Ago: Good Morning Power Muffins Full of Whole Grains and Superfoods! Six Years Ago: Ebelskivers: Puffy Danish Pancakes Seven Years Ago: Cheesy Zucchini Rice Eight Years Ago: Oreo Cheesecake Bites
Yield: 4-5 dozen
Prep Time: 40 minutes
Cook Time: 10 minutes
Total Time: 50 minutes
Ingredients
1 cup (8 ounces, 16 tablespoons) butter, softened (I use salted)
1 cup (9 ounces) creamy peanut butter (I use Skippy or Jiffy)
1 cup (7.5 ounces) granulated sugar
1 cup (7.5 ounces) packed light or dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 1/2 cups (12.5 ounces) all-purpose flour
1 cup (6 ounces) chocolate chips (I use semisweet)
1 cup (6 ounces) peanut butter chips
1 cup (7 ounces) caramel balls (see note) or chopped soft caramels
1 cup (7 ounces) M&Ms (regular, caramel, etc)
1 cup (4 ounces) chopped, toasted pecans
2 cups coarsely chopped pretzels
Instructions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and line a couple baking sheets with parchment paper.
In the bowl of an electric stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or in a large bowl using a handheld electric mixer, mix together the butter, peanut butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt until well-combined and super creamy, 2-3 minutes, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Add the eggs and vanilla and mix well, 1-2 minutes.
Add the flour and mix briefly until the flour is partly combined. Add the chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, caramel, M&Ms, and pecans. Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula (or mix very slowly with the electric mixer) until evenly combined.
Scoop out several tablespoons of cookie dough (I use a #40 cookie scoop) and roll into balls. They won't be perfectly round as all those add-ins will create some bumps. Don't stress. Press the top of each cookie ball into the chopped pretzels (and then lightly press the pretzels into the cookie dough to stick) and place the cookie dough balls several inches apart on the prepared baking sheets.
Bake for 9-11 minutes. These cookies stay fairly puffy (thanks to all the add-ins); for slightly flatter cookies, press them lightly into more of a disc-shape before baking or bake at 325 degrees F. If, for some reason, your cookies are flattening too much, try increasing the baking temperature to 375 degrees F.
Notes
The caramel balls I'm talking about in this recipe are the unwrapped soft caramel bits about the size of large chocolate chips sold by Kraft (usually in the baking aisle). When I haven't been able to find those, I unwrap soft caramels (either Kraft or Trader Joe's) and cut into pieces with a bench knife. It's a labor of love, but so worth it for these cookies!
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Recipe Source: from Mel’s Kitchen Cafe (inspired from a recipe my sister-in-law, Erin, made for us in Montana this summer)
Disclaimer: I am a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for me to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.
Posted on July 30, 2019 by Mel
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Source: https://www.melskitchencafe.com/peanut-butter-kitchen-sink-cookies/
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hannawilliamson · 5 years
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Lifest - Party with a Purpose (2019)
On Black Friday 2018 as the deals rolled in I snagged up two tickets to Lifest 2019 at 50% off. Another year I would find myself in the crowds listening to Christian music on various stages in the summer sun, with nights of concert headliners. Sydney from church decided to tag along this year and I couldn’t be more excited. Since solidifying my faith in college, it has not wavered. I started attending church in October 2017 at Central Christian in Beloit, WI. It wasn’t until May 2019 that I had a shift. I questioned if my lack of attendance was in relation to a friend’s passing, but I didn’t doubt my God or His love. Unclear for the reasons behind my drastic lack of attendance in the month of May, June and July I was hesitant heading into a Christ filled weekend. I dove into prayer asking for a weekend of rejuvenation, a flame to return full into my faith and connection with others in Christ. 
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Day 1: Thursday July 11, 2019 
Sydney and I departed around 12:30PM for a weekend away in Neenah, WI. It was quite a travel, which provided a good opportunity for us to catch up on the changes of life over the last several months apart. We arrived to our AirBnB in the mid afternoon to find the air conditioning cranked, which provided some reassurance for a hot weekend ahead. It was a quaint older home, simple in many ways with it’s own quirks here and there. We claimed our personal bedrooms and headed to the store for some supplies. 
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One of my favorite things about Sydney is her love for food, alternative options and basic cooking methods. Sydney has been vegan for the last several years of her life. I was raised in a home where it isn’t a meal with some sort of meat on the table. Each time I am with Sydney I soak up information about alternative meal options, food benefits and the health behind what we take into our bodies. I was lucky enough to go grocery shopping with Sydney for the first time. We went through the aisles that are unusual for me, filled with organic, vegetarian and vegan options. I love to see and try these options, and typically end up incorporating pieces of the meal into my own life. When we returned home Sydney whipped up a great meal of  homegrown lettuce salad, baked potato and Boca Spicy Chik’n Veggie Patties. Can you tell that I am a huge foodie?
After filling out stomachs we got around and headed to Lifest in Oshkosh, WI. One of my favorite things about Lifest is the organization of the parking, golf cart transportation, police officer supervision of the cross street and the entry process. We arrived first at the Cafe stage direct to the main entrance. We met up with my friend Sarah and her son Carter to finish off the HappyFunTime comedy show. As they grabbed some dinner we couldn’t resist the dough shoppe. Sydney tried the Vegan Chocolate Chip and I had the Salted Caramel Dark Chocolate. Oh how thankful I am for the invention of raw cookie dough as a treat. 
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We headed over to the Grandstand to catch the last half of Kari Jobe singing. It was wonderful to see her in person with her husband alongside sharing some of his own songs. Soon after For King & Country came onto the stage. I first saw them last year at Lifest 2018. For King & Country is a group of truly incredible performers with a great message to their audience. A music group that I would pay to see in concert each and every year (that’s a lot coming from a girl who isn’t crazy about loud music & crowds). We spent the entire concert standing up by the stage, which lead to a swollen knee on my end and very tired feet. Upon arrival at home we recognized the television wasn’t working, a late night as is we both headed to bed. 
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Day 2: Friday July 12, 2019
We woke up to have a good ol’ bowl of peanut butter cereal and chai tea lattes. A vegan breakfast that again, I ended up loving. 
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Once finished we headed out for the day, with the destination of a local coffee shop. Easily distracted we walked ourselves through a local natural product shop and reused bookstore to finally arrive at Timshel Cafe. (Timshel: http://timshelcafe.com/menu-1) Sydney ordered the Vegan Sunrise Wrap and Vegan Chili. I selected the half/half Pesto Chicken Sandwich and Harvest Salad. We chatted, munched and spent some time in our own worlds. Sydney chose to read out of her bible and work on a study, while I worked on my business of Lemongrass Spa. After a few hours out we returning home in the late afternoon for a nap before a long night ahead. While some may say “lazy”, we call it  “relaxed!” 
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As we headed into Lifest we grabbed some french fries and headed to find seats for an evening of listening to Casting Crowns. Not one to recognize a song by the artists name I was pleased to see how many songs I did know the words to. Sitting in the back on the bleachers gave us the time to witness families of all ages gathered together for a weekend of God, music and family. It is a beautiful thing to watch the gaps between generations come together in the name of Jesus. As the day came to an end we spent some time with a glass of wine at home before crawling into our beds.
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Day 3: Saturday July 13, 2019
Sydney Snapchat Saturday! I woke up to snaps of Sydney's face encouraging me to wake up for the farmers market. It doesn’t take much besides the word “market” to get me up, her face and farmers were a bonus though. We got around for the day before heading out to the local market. Walking up I was impressed it was more than five stand, a little disappointed with the repetitive selection. Please understand our standards are high when it comes to farmers markets as we are spoiled by living in/near Beloit, WI where we have one of the best in the state. We did stop and enjoy some Honey Land Juice Co pressed juices. Sydney tried Mean Green (apple, cucumber, kale, celery, lemon and ginger). I picked Sweet Green (apple, pineapple, cucumber and mint). There on the side of each bottle was a subtle bible verse, adding just a touch more love into our days. 
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Straight off to Lifest we went. Upon our arrival we toured around the stages and went through the inside building to tour the various stands of Christian schools, organizations and products. Sydney and I spent some time at a picnic table again enjoying some friends together. We weren’t thrilled with any music going on and decided to head home for some rest before another big night. On our way out my not so hungry self couldn’t resist from bakery treats. I picked up some cream puffs in order to help Sydney live vicariously through my not so vegan choices. It was a good choice indeed! 
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After a nap at home, Sydney again cooked an amazing dinner. Today it was her Papa’s famous wine pasta. Sydney added tofu to hers, and my not so adventurous self returned to my Boca Spicy Chik’n Veggie Patties to mix in.  We spent the late afternoon eating, watching television and chatting. During our time at home I received several messages from an old friend from home, talking about life and plans to catch up. She mentioned her love for watching my faith journey and interested in attending a church service in the future. I kept saying in my head, “God I hear you, thank you for listening to my prayer to call me home”.
Photo: Sydney called her Papa to make sure she had the right steps for the recipe.  
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Eventually we got ourselves around and headed on back to Lifest. As we approached the Cafe stage Sydney encouraged that we stay to watch Jamie Kimmett singing.  I was surprised I recognized a song, and pleased to find a new artist with a transparent passion in their music. As I silenced myself to my surroundings and honed my listening into his music I got goosebumps as you can feel his love for Christ and passion to share that with others. (His Story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXi_fTB0BBU). 
After deciding comfort was the way to go we returned home for a quick change of clothes. Sydney made herself a chai tea latte in a coffee mug for on the go. As we got into the car I questioned her driving and drinking out of a mug, with not confident reassurance on her end we were off. Please note we arrived in one piece with no chai latte casualties on the way. We returned in time to catch the end half of Danny Gokey at the Grandstand. Never before had either of us have seen him in concert. He’s a common name in Christian music these days, so it was incredible to see his stage presence and reliability. Headliners of the night was the American Christian rock band Skillet. I am not one for rock music but I can tell you these people have a stage presence, there is no doubt about that. It was a night filled with flames, smoke and lights. We returned home for our last night in the area. 
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Day 4: Sunday July 14, 2019
A few days prior Sydney and I looked online for a local church similar to our own. After looking at various options, she trusted my opinion in which I selected MillCity Church in Neenah, WI. On Sunday morning we woke up, got dressed, ate quick and checked out of our AirBnB before heading to the morning church service. After a few missed turns we arrived at MillCity Church in Neenah, WI. Upon walking in we recognized it was much smaller than both of us intended, but stayed for the sermon which covered a section out of the Bible. I went in to use the bathroom at a small gas station before we left town, only to be surprised by raccoons in the ceiling. I’ve been in plenty of old farmhouses to recognize the sound but never in a tiled room with the fear of one falling in on me, so I scurried on out before one had the chance. We took a long ride home judging the height of farmer’s corn, discussing the week past and week to come.
It was quite a weekend, filled with a lax game plan for the days, Christian music at night and beautiful sunsets. I returned home with the itch for worship, to be present in God’s house surrounded by people that made me feel at home. I was looking forward to returning to my church the next weekend ahead. 
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