#my french is less than basic

[rigelmejo]

chinese reading notes:

my reading skill is funny (to me) because like. if reading sort of focusing on individual words, like when i read knowing i’m going to look words up (so reading intensively), it feels like i don’t know as much as compared with

when i’m reading extensively, particularly when i play audio (so i can’t stop or pause), when i comprehend things JUST FINE that if i read slower with word lookup i’d be ‘stumbling’.

i think part of this odd contradiction with reading skill, is when i read extensively like i must when audio is playing, i just take the context+hanzi i know+unknown-hanzi-radicals and then make a guess of any unknowns which is usually perfectly close to the real meaning. i have to make the guess instantly so i just rely on what i recognize. Like when i heard “effervescent” or “macabre” something in an english audiobook, i STILL as an adult am not sure on the exact definition, but based on how i heard it in the audiobook or when reading i can guess what it means good enough. 

So like. When I’m reading chinese extensively, which listening alongside audio requires of me, i do the same process in my brain. i see the equivalent of “luminescent” and like with english i just guess based on what i’ve got instantly and move on. Which is a good skill frankly to be able to also do in chinese as in my other reading languages. But, when I slow myself down and MAKE myself look up words, i suddenly am no longer seeing sentences as a ‘whole’ and start using word lookup for lots of individual words i could have figured out from context. On the upside, this word lookup is likely helping increase my mental information of said words. On the downside, it slows me down a lot, and perhaps i should go back to my old rule of “only 5-10 word lookups per chapter” so i don’t pause so much unless its a word i actually could use direct full definition help for.

I’ve been reading dmbj 1, and of course intensively reading it with Readibu (like most things this month). And for the first 3 chapters i’d say that was useful, as dmbj has some genre-specific unknown words (miners lamp, shovels, tomb, bury, engraving, scroll, mummy etc) that were useful to know the Specific Definition for and then repeatedly look up and drill initially so I’d know them quickly. But now that I’m at chapter 11? I noticed that when I extensively read it with the audio playing, i got through the chapter faster and had no problem following the plot. Whereas I know when I extensively read chapter 10 i stopped a bunch to look up words, and now i know i was probably mostly looking up words i’m now familiar enough to grasp in context i was just leaning on word-lookup as a crutch. 

Will i keep leaning on the crutch? Not sure. Like srs flashcards, or Listening Reading Method (when doing both steps 2 and 3), i think repeatedly looking up unknown and ‘foggy’ words as i read does do the repetitive-definition exposure that tends to get words learned quickly. So while repeated-word-lookup of words i’d learn eventually anyway through context slows down reading speed, it does probably allow me to pick up these words Faster than picking the words up only through extensive reading. (On the flipside though, if you’re also doing a lot of reading, a decent amount of extensive reading really really HELPS ones ability to comprehend full sentences whether u know what’s in them or not, so some extensive reading is always good).

I am trying to do a balance right now of extensive to intensive, so that I’m at least Sometimes picking up words the same way i did in english reading. I’m currently extensively reading 梦幻小公主 1, which is perfect for this. It feels a LOT like reading in middle school in english felt for me - lots of words i know, and lots of new fantasy/description words i don’t know but can guess really easily. I also needed to add some fantasy reading anyway - eventually i need to grasp horror (i already have a good vocab for this), crime (decent vocab but i need more police/legal vocab), supernatural (i already have good vocab), fantasy/xianxia (i know basic terms but need more), wuxia (i know basic but need more), and business (need a lot more) genre vocabulary. I’m also extensively reading 镇魂 while listening to the audiobook (who knows how long i’ll stick to it/if i’ll finish ToT), which is a good ‘harder’ novel for me to do other extensive reading in. 

completely unrelated:

nothing like seeing japanese again to remind me how utterly grateful i am for how hanzi work. i learned during studying chinese that i’m actually quite an auditory learner. as in, i tend to remember sounds well and sounds help me remember things, audio learning materials seem to work well for me etc. So with hanzi, usually hanzi only have 1 pronunciation (or a couple in some particular cases which at least for the de/di have to do with grammar function), and that pronunciation usually is tied to a radical in the hanzi. Now that I’ve learned the basic hanzi and gotten farther, i realize how i learn a VAST majority of new hanzi is “oh those radicals! its pronounced X! now i’ll listen to the audio real quick, remember X=this word meaning, and the water radical hints its moisture cool got it!” I remember 搂， 握， 提，抬， 拉 this way - hand radical so it has to do with hand-related verb movements, the other half is the pinyin so i just remember oh lou=X meaning if i see it with a hand radical. Idk if i’m explaining well, but basically sound is a huge way i remember hanzi and their meaning. I see new hanzi and for me the radical/portion related to sound IS the sound ‘spelling’ to me. So its kind of like how i recognize english words but a bit different? like i see “lumi” in english and know that spelling means “light”. Well for hanzi i see the pronunciation portion and know okay i remember that spelling+hand radical = X word. So for me hanzi start looking like word-pieces, which are just as easy to start recognizing as they were in english.

Meanwhile, with japanese, the kanji are truly my weakest point to remember. Remembering the meanings is NOT hard, because so many meanings vaguely transfer from hanzi to kanji or are close enough i can relate the new japanese meaning to the kanji fairly easily. What is hard, is the pronunciation. So many kanji have several pronunciations, and i am used to relating a portion of pronunciation to the radical/portion of the character. with kanji i can’t do that, i might see the same ‘sound’ radical in 3 kanji but they aren’t pronounced the same! And of course i’ll see a SINGLE kanji, and on it’s own it will have a few pronunciations. i never realized my hurdle back when i started japanese years ago wasn’t actually kanji meaning remembering. My hurdle was actually “brain likes to associate ONE sound to one symbol” and kanji do not do that. 

In my brain hanzi are a bit like english in that a portion of it (the sound portion) just is ‘spelling/pronunciation’ in my mind, and then the other portion is a hint of wtf the sound means (which in a way is nicer than english which does not always hint wtf the word means within the word). Kanji don’t seem to have any inherent “this is the pronunciation obviously” component, and i think for me that confuses the hell out of me. Which is even further complicated by the fact kanji change pronunciation representation depending on both words, and conjugations attached at the end. 

Anyway, as a result of my brain getting hung up on kanji pronunciation: my japanese reading-only skills are evolving fairly well (thanks hanzi-near-cognate transfer ToT), and my listening-only skills improve fairly expectedly (yay). But the combination of being able to know the pronunciation of what i read? Is VERY limited to only words i know well through listening. Because i need to know the word SO well that i remember the pronunciation and just match it up to the “symbol kanji-conjugated hiragana” reading chunk. Hence my study has been heavily leaning toward listening to japanese for the past year. Because the stronger my listening foundation, the better my kanji pronunciation. But without the listening foundation in a word, the kanji words keep fucking confusing me - their meaning is easy enough to remember, but their pronunciation (and therefore the specific word they represent) is so hard for me to figure out.  

[a-wins-a-win]

You have elaborate Rory and Meghan lore?? 😀😀😀😀😀

i do have elaborate Rory & Meghan lore!! they are my tragic lesbians and i love them a lot <33

(i have several fic concepts actually, someone just needs to convince me to Actually Write them)

as the story goes, initially Rory & Meghan had hopeless crushes on other girls (Diane & Nadia, respectively). They became friends initially due to proximity and a shared penchant for smoking - which is what would lead them to coming out to each other, as much as they could without saying the words out loud, anyway.

One day they're all hanging out and Rory is getting tired of Lucas & Jason's shit, and when she wanders away Meghan follows her, they complain about boys and Meghan ends up kissing her.

they didn't have crushes on one another beforehand, but as the only two lesbians either of them knew it was all too easy to fall into a not-quite-platonic-not-quite-romantic situationship. as time progresses though they realise that they actually are Falling In Love with one another as people, not just Messing Around as girls.

but because of course Meghan's story ends the way it does, they don't have a lot of time together. Rory is distraught in a way that no one else understands after she dies, but there's not anything that they can really do about it.

[straawberries]

gonna make another post since that usually helps with reach

teehee poll for reach. please read the rest of this if you can

HI IM DELILAH AND IVE GOT LESS THAN 4 MONTHS BEFORE IM HOMELESS WITH NO OPTIONS FOR PLACES TO LIVE

heeyyy its me delilah. im an autistic plural trans girl with ptsd, and im living in an abusive household with my adoptive "father" that absolutely hates me. in less than 4 months, i am going to be kicked out, and i am trying to raise the money i need to survive this event.

ive been trying, pretty much every chance i get, to get a job, but i think because of this shitty small town in texas, everyone already knows who i am and nobody wants to hire me. this means i have to rely on stuff like this.

by JUNE 1ST 2024, i need to make enough money to move out, or else... well, i dont really know what will happen to me (other than vague "homelessness"), but im really scared that it wont end well.

on top of that im rarely being fed enough which is seriously fucking with my mood and making me feel like shit, so im having to balance saving and eating which.. with the money im currently getting, is not very sustainable. other than a few people giving a lot (who i am eternally thankful for and if youre able to do this i would basically do anything for you) im basically getting zero donations.

i get that this kind of stuff is annoying and maybe a bit slow, but just taking a few seconds, maybe a minute or two at most, to give me a small amount of money, would be a hell of a lot more helpful than doing nothing.

C*SH*PP - @delilahswagga

P*YP*L - @delilahkill

plenty of people use stuff like this to scam, so heres some info about me if you doubt that this is true. (copy pasted from previous post)

i have a really big love for performing, i fell in love with theatre years ago and performed the addams family musical as fester about a month ago as my biggest role on stage yet, and right now im in the process of getting ready for antigone as teiresius. i love music, and its one of my life goals to learn as many instruments as possible, and currently i own quite a few, though my favorites are my two ukuleles and my super cool electric guitar. i have 8 partners at the moment, and i have a very big desire to one day live with as many of them as i can. i pride myself on being the best partner i can be, and its been my goal to make all my partner's lives better (and i think ive been doing a good job at it :3)

i love cats an extreme amount, ive never had a cat myself (because my dad is insane and hates cats and tries to hit cats with his truck) but being around cats makes me super happy and always makes my anxieties go away, even when im having an anxiety attack or a panic attack. i really hope i can get a few cats one day, and i want to give them all silly food names :) my fursona is kind of a reflection of that, her name is bagel. some cat names ive thought of are mochi, chili, Supreme Pizza, or maybe french fry :)

im not sure if ill be able to achieve any of my goals if i dont get the financial support i need. ive been.. really close to giving up recently, but i dont want to have to do that, so im going to fight like this for as long as i can.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: none yet

Part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

———————

“John Price, military captain, heavily decorated, and unmarried.” you read off of a printed sheet of paper. He’s the third person you’ve seen today that wants to rent the room available. You were praying this one would be a success. You weren’t looking to house the married couples or the rowdy in love teenagers you’d seen earlier on today.

“Yes ma’am that is me.” He says looking down at you, not metaphorically but physically he’s inches above you. You’re far younger than he imagined, beautiful and so awfully well spoken that he’d assumed you’d be either his age or older.

“If this is your job and you’re not married and don't have kids I’m sure you get paid well. Why do you need a roommate?” You say hoping you don’t sound rude but with a job like that this man could afford much better.

“I’m not home much and basically live on base but for the times I do briefly return home id like it to be in a place like your home, beautiful, deserted, quiet.” The last few places he stayed in were apartments and he wanted to settle into something he actually cared to return to, not just someplace that could hold some belongings.

“Well then Mr.Price let me show you the rooms and house, follow me.” You lead him into your home through the halls and the living room simply showing him around making small talk about your job and hobbies.

“If you don’t mind me asking why is it you need a roommate?” He later returns the question, you halt in your tracks and stand still for a second making John hope he hadn’t overstepped.

“I was in a long term relationship that ended two years ago and when we broke up he left me the house or I technically demanded I keep it and um bills have been hard to keep up with.” You Look him in the eyes and smile softly, relieving him of the anxious feeling he’s holding.

“Sorry for asking.” He sincerely apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it, I think it's better you did because this will lead us to the next thing.” You reassure him and continue walking through a pair of French doors.

“This will be your office, I’m sorry about the boxes, they're a little too heavy for me to carry through this house and throw away.” You point to a fair amount of them pushed into a corner.

“No, don't worry about it, I'll get them out.” He replies kindly.

“And then right through here would be your bedroom.” It's exactly to the right of his office, a huge room which must be the master. He wonders if this had been the room you shared with your ex and by the look that covers your gorgeous features, he’s right.

“It has its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. If you want to live here, I’d like the home to be treated as if we both own it, not like you just rent a room, especially for the price.” You explain and truly that is your hope. He’s the perfect tenant and on his submission form he’s looking for a long term place which would mean less worry about the future bills on your behalf.

“When can I start moving in?” He turns to look in your hopeful eyes.

“Immediately if you want it of course.” You say with excitement. The mortgage payments have been a burden and this was a huge relief.

“Is it okay if I have some of my mates help me take these boxes out?” You nod enthusiastically with a quiet

‘of course’.

“I'll be back here early in the morning, Thankyou for inviting me into your home.” He says turning to make way back down the path you took to the room.

“Thankyou Mr.Price.” You offer your hand as a settlement.

“Call me John please.” He shakes it politely.

“I'll see you tomorrow john.” You say walking him to the door and bidding him a goodbye.

—————-

“Be honest captain, is she cute?” John had the unfortunate situation of having to haul soap with him in his car while the two other men drove the moving truck that he only rented to get rid of the boxes you had.

“She’s nearly a decade younger than me.” He answers hoping that’ll lay it to rest.

‘That doesn’t answer my question.” Soap never chooses peace.

“Yeah she’s stunning.” And really you were.

—————————-

“Hi good morning, come in.” You say opening the door letting the cold air sweep into your warm home. Eyeing the huge men that stood in the doorway.

“Good morning this is soap, gaz, and that's ghost if you couldn’t tell. This is my task force and certainly my best mates.” John replies quickly giving them an introduction.

“Nice to meet you all.” You say trying your hardest to not sound intimidated.

“And you as well, gorgeous.” Soap says gripping your small hand in his own.

“He’s a flirt, don't worry about him.” Gaz says, shaking your hand next.

“Nice to meet you.” Ghost offers you his gloved hand giving you the softest handshake he thinks he’s ever given in his life.

“Well you boys can get too it there is pastries on the counter and drinks in the fridge if you need anything i'll be in my room that’s down this hall.” You say smiling at all of them then reaching into the pocket on your paint stained overalls fishing out a pair of keys.

“Oh and before I can forget John these are yours, this one is too your office and bedroom door and this one is too the house door.” You say handing them over on the pink keychain you’ve kept them on all this time.

“Thank you.” He says before you walk away.

————————

“That little lady does not know how to pack these. They are insanely heavy, how'd she ever expect to get them out.” Soap says picking up a box from the office room that’s filled with papers.

“I don’t think that was her main concern.” John says as he also picks one up walking them outside and into the U-Haul he rented.

“She’s a true stunner though, how will John Price be able to resist?” He teases his captain.

“I’m with soap on that one.” Ghost surprisingly grumbles throwing a box down on the gravel.

“Should’ve seen the way she was looking at you captain.” Gaz enters this pointless conversation out of breath gently setting down more boxes.

“I actually think you're the only one here whose age is appropriate for her gaz.” Gaz makes a sound of disagreement.

“Captain 8 years isn’t what you’re making it seem, don't you remember when soap had a girlfriend like 13 years older than him.” The memory flashes through all their minds and ghost has to keep himself from giggling.

“And don’t you remember how it ended.” It was ugly, soap found that when time passes people get older and being 37 with a 50 year old wasn’t what he thought it’d be.

“All I’m saying is I think some romance with a pretty lady like that could do you some good. I mean your living in a home together tension will get to you at some point.” John rolls his shoulders back and sighs.

“Shut up and get back to work, all of you.” The captain says demanding as they all hurry back inside.

But what if?

——————-

“Wow, I don't know when’s the last time I've seen these rooms empty.” You say walking into the office.

“Was it all his?” John says giving you a one up at the change in clothes. You're wearing your pajamas which consist of shorts and a big shirt.

“Yeah it was, when will you be bringing in your own stuff?” You reply quickly changing the topic.

“I actually have all my stuff in my truck, only three boxes, I’m not a man of many possessions.” He laughs Gruffly swiping a hand over his mouth.

“I have clean sheets in my closet if you’ll be needing some.” You offer politely.

“Please.” He says and you nod, turning to go get them.

“I’ll just be bringing in the rest of my belongings.” He says walking down the opposite end of the hallway.

He brings the boxes in one by one, setting them in the office not paying mind to where you could have gone till he brings the last one in and hears you humming in the bedroom putting what were to be his pillows inside pillow cases.

“Oh love you didn’t have too. I've been making my own bed on base for longer than my memory goes back.” His deep voice slightly startles you.

“Sorry, it's just a habit.” You apologize softly and he wonders if it came off the wrong way.

“No, Thankyou is what I really mean.” He says slightly smiling at the floral print sheets that now adorn his bed.

“Sorry these are actually the least feminine looking ones I have.” You smile realizing how silly it looks for a man as manly as the one who stands before you to have blue and pink flower sheets.

“No worries love.” He nods to you.

“Well I'll see you in the morning, goodnight.” You say giving him a small pat on the shoulder and leaving to what he could only assume to be your bedroom.

He got changed for the night, ready to settle into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows the scent of lavender and a perfume that had to solely be you was invading his senses. Something so feminine and warm and good, god was it good. He turned his head slightly more into the pillow taking a deep breath in and out enjoying it. The more he focused on it the easier the sleep had come and before he knew it he was sleeping like a bear in hibernation.

—————————————-

I’m ready for a new story.

Comments and reposts and greatly appreciated<3

If anyone has thoughts or ideas on how this should go please send them in.

[anyroads]

OK you know what, if we're gonna talk about Bake Off then fuck it, let's do this.

It used to be this wholesome, lovely show! We used to watch it for the bakers! And the learning! And the light banter and occasional bit of coy innuendo! What happened?

Channel 4 happened. When they bought the show they made a number of changes, most of them Not Good™️. Not just in the sense of them resulting in a lot of 😬 and 🫠 moments, but in the sense of how they changed the show's purpose, atmosphere, and brand.

Look, I know most people are just like, "whatever, it's just a baking show," and yeah, sure. But it's one of the UK's most successful TV exports, and where it once shifted the tone of reality competition to being wholesome and supportive of contestants, it's since moved towards creating tension at the contestants' cost. So aside from the fact that most people watching it signed up to watch a nice show, it has also shifted the goalposts of what that even means. And that, lovelies and gentlefolk, is some bullshit.

I decided to break my rant analysis into four main parts: theme weeks, the hosts, the judges, and the bakers. Let's get to it!

Theme Weeks:

If you watch Bake Off, you know the show's always had a specific theme for each week. The staples that come up in most seasons are:

cake

biscuit

bread

pudding/dessert

pastry

patisserie

Less common but consistent are things like caramel and chocolate week.

Then there are the fun episodes! When GBBO was on the BBC, this started out with things tea week, tarts, pies, tray bakes, basically little tangents still focused on emphasizing specific baking skills. In Series 6 (still on the BBC) they had their first nation-focused theme week with French week -- fairly innocuous given that a lot of patisserie is French, France and England share much more culture than either cares to admit [Norman Flag dot gif], and it was a nice change from watching Paul make the bakers do recipes that involved boiling things while talking about how wonderful boiled doughs are (are they, Paul? Are they?).

The show kept mixing it up with innocuous themes like advanced dough and alternative ingredients weeks, European cakes, Victorian week, batter week, and botanical week. And while it was frustrating to watch Paul Hollywood mispronounce things like the Hungarian Dobos Torta and lecture bakers on babka when he clearly knew nothing about it (or about Jewish baking in general, go off Past Me), the show's general attitude was that the judges had their own opinions, which were separate from the immutable facts around the chemistry of baking (more on this later) and shouldn't affect how bakers are judged.

After the show moved to Channel 4, the number of themed weeks increased and more of them focused on specific countries. In 6 seasons on the BBC, there were only two country-focused theme weeks, and in 5 seasons on Channel 4 there have been five. And while they've also had themes like vegan baking, roaring 20s, the 1980s, spice week, etc. the show has really started to go hard on exoticizing other cultures in outright disrespectful and racist ways. There's been Italian and Danish week, German, Japanese (it wasn't, it was East Asian week), and now Mexican week (which doesn't touch on interspersed Jewish bakes that didn't get a theme week, like versions of bagels and babka set as technical challenges that were borderline hate crimes and mansplained by a guy who has no idea how to make either and once wrote in a cookbook that challah was traditionally eaten during Passover). Each time the hosts played up the theme with racist bits and jokes that can be used as evidence in court if your case is "why should shows with scripted content have a professional writing staff."

Which touches on other issues the show has now...

The Hosts:

When GBBO was on the BBC, the show was hosted by ✨Mel Giedroyc✨ and ✨Sue Perkins✨. They encouraged the bakers! They'd hold stuff for them sometimes! They were interested in them! If a baker had a breakdown, they would start singing copyrighted material to render the footage unusable! When the show moved to Channel 4, they left, though I'm not unconvinced that Channel 4 offered them impossible to accept contracts to force them out so they could rebrand the show. They replaced them with Sandy Toksvig and Noel Fielding. Sandy was a lovely host in the vein of Mel and Sue, and she and Noel had a relatively sweet rapport, but she left a few seasons ago and was replaced by Matt Lucas.

Noel Fielding is mostly known for his quirky brand of comedy, a sort of British Zooey Deschanel who's goth from the neck up, an upperclass British gay divorcee from the neck down, and basically an early 60s Beatle re: trousers. Matt Lucas has almost definitely never watched a single episode of GBBO and his most redeeming quality is his thinly veiled contempt for Paul Hollywood.

The two treat the baking tent as their personal playground. Far from the supportive attitude of Mel and Sue, they tend to get in the bakers' way during the most stressful moments, especially when they try to do hilarious "comedy" bits (I can't not put that in quotes) like Noel's talking wooden spoon thing, or Matt talking over Noel to do time calls. During theme weeks like Japanese and Mexican week, they do culture-specific bits that are both racist ("just Juan joke" and "is Mexico a real place?") and unsurprising, given that both Matt and Noel did blackface on their respective sketch shows and absolutely could and should have known better because it was already the current fucking century.

All this to say, there's now a separation between the bakers and the hosts, as if they're on different shows. The hosts are doing their own thing and the bakers are doing GBBO. The show has gotten meaner to the bakers, and the hosts aren't there to support them anymore, they're just there to be comic relief. Because when you refocus your show on stressing the bakers the fuck out, you need a forced laugh I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The Judges:

First of all, a sincere congratulations to Paul Hollywood who managed to squeeze I jUsT cAmE bAcK fRoM mExIcO aNd YeT sTiLL pRoNoUnCe PiCo De GaLLo As 'PiKa De KaLLa' and I aM aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS wHiCh aRe MaDe WiTh DiGeStiVe BiScUiTs AcCoRdiNg tO mE, aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS, just two in a giant pile of astoundingly wrong hot takes, into a short enough time span that they all aired within Liz Truss's term as Prime Minister. A true man of accomplishments.

In the interest of fairness, I need to preface this with a disclaimer that, due to the fact that I've been watching Bake Off for most of its run, I'm biased. Specifically, I can't stand Paul Hollywood's smarmy, classist, egomaniac ass because he's proven time and again he's more interested in looking smart than actually knowing what he's talking about. Since the show moved to Channel 4, they've changed the occasional handshake Paul would give bakers to the HoLlYwOoD hAnDsHaKe™️. It's gone from being an emphasis of someone's skill to a goal, a reward, and one that emphasizes the judges' place above the bakers.

The judges used to function as teachers, imparting their skills and insights to the bakers. When the show was on the BBC, the voiceover leading to a judging would focus on the bakers' work being finished, saying how it will now be evaluated based on their skill and how well they met the brief. The voiceovers now, on Channel 4, focus on the judging (literally saying something along the lines of, "the bakers will now be judged by Prue and Paul"). There is a clear distinction Channel 4's producers have made, to mark that the show is now about whether or not the judges approve, not whether the brief was understood and executed well. On the BBC, it was irrelevant whether the judges liked a particular flavor, as long as the bake was well-made. Now, the bakers are expected to know the judges tastes and cater to them, which is frankly bullshit. A judge doesn't have to like a flavor to know whether or not it was executed well, ie. is it carrying a bake and was it meant to etc.

The judges have been turned into a brand. Cynically, Channel 4 knows that by building them up and focusing the show more on them, they can exploit their image more for profit. In the process, they've become much more biased and their own biases have come out as well. Most recently in the flaming dumpster fire that was Mexican Week, Paul Hollywood tried to intimidate a baker by telling them he had just gotten back from Mexico (which must have been a fruitful learning trip if he couldn't even learn how to pronounce pico de gallo correctly). Where do I even start with this? Here's an amateur baker from England (the show specifically casts middle and lower middle class bakers for the most part??) who likely can't afford trips to Mexico, who lives in a country with incredibly limited access to Mexican cuisine, who is expected not only to understand the cooking and baking traditions of a completely different culture but to do so well enough to play with it and do something creative with it. On top of which, one of the judges is now using his privilege of traveling halfway around the world as some kind of leverage, as if this were a bar that any amateur British baker could clear.

Prue, meanwhile, has openly asserted her biases against cultural flavors and textures, prioritizing her own personal preferences over them, as if they were in any way relevant to the skills and knowledge necessary to execute the tasks she sets to the bakers. She has also been consistently elitist, criticizing bakers for choices they made that were clearly informed by their experiences within income brackets that are too low and foreign for Prue to comprehend. She once had a go at a baker on a Christmas special because his Christmas dinner themed bake didn't have a turkey, even though it was clear from the stories he shared of his own Christmases that his family likely couldn't afford one. "It's not really Christmas dinner without a turkey," Prue said into the camera angrily while sitting on a chair made of live orphans and telling the ghost of Christmas Future to come back when he had another museum gift shop necklace for her to round out her collection.

The show is no longer about which baker has the best skills. It's become about which mortal can appease the gods of Mount Olympus, ie. the judges.

The Bakers:

Remember when the show was about them? Channel 4 doesn't! Because this is a reality competition show, the bakers are chosen both based on their skills, as well as cast-ability. They're cast as characters, distinct from each other, from different areas, age groups, ethnicities. All of them are amateurs. All of them are middle or lower middle class. They've ranged from college students to supermarket cashiers to prison wardens to scientists.

Something I noticed when the show moved to Channel 4 is that the baker who goes home in the first week is always wildly behind the rest in skills. I have no proof of this other than my eyeballs and deductive reasoning skills, but I think that Channel 4 deliberately casts a ringer each season who they think will be an easy send-off in the first week, just to get the audience's feet wet.

Anyway, like I said, this show used to be about the bakers - about them building skills and learning, and having walked into the tent with a self-taught foundation and understanding of the processes and chemical reactions involved in baking. When the show was on the BBC, the end of each round had some (often brief) moments of tension - will they finish in time? Will they get their bakes on the plate before time is up? Did they forget to add sugar to their batter and only remember at the last minute? In the end, they usually managed to finish and we'd all breathe a sigh of relief and think, yeah! You go, Bakers Who I'm Rooting For!

Now, on Channel 4, the end of round drama has been stretched to be so much longer that they've composed extra music for it. The bakers often seem out of their depth, whether because the instructions for the technical challenge are too vague (bake a lemon meringue pie??? As if anyone in the UK under the age of 60 has had one in the last decade???), or because they were expected to bake something that required a more than a basic foundation they weren't told of. Often it seems like they just aren't given enough time, a tactic used by reality competition shows to manipulate contestants into giving the cameras more dramatic content. On top of all this, the hosts get in their way, instead of helping them plate their bakes. As has been pointed out before, when everyone fails the challenge, the real failure lies with whoever set it.

In conclusion:

The show no longer exists to teach the bakers - and the audience - skills or knowledge. It now manipulates contestants for dramatic effect and prioritizes showing conflict over wholesome content. Channel 4 sees the bakers as social media content they can churn out season after season, and don't care about them because in a few months there'll be a new batch to exploit. Meanwhile, the judges are also out of their depth, co-opting recipes from other cultures and butchering them horrendously, while the camera gives them nothing but status as they hold bakers to the expectation that they learn how to make things very much the wrong way. If you saw any of the tweets about Mexican or Japanese week, or read my post on how Paul Hollywood isn't allowed to go near babka ever again, you'll understand.

So what would fix all this? Scrap the current judges and the hosts altogether. Bring back Mel and Sue, and replace the judges with expert bakers who have a love of their craft and want to share it with others. The draw of GBBO used to be its warmth and comfort - if Channel 4 isn't going to start its own version of Master Chef For Bakers, then it needs to stop trying to find a balance of how it can insert that vibe into GBBO. It can't. That's not a thing. Stop trying.

[kcrossvine-art]

haiiii dungeon delvers! This is a quick one, gratefully both the materials and the dish-type are very close to their real life inspiration :D

As we speak, my favorite catgirl bestfolk is getting introduced to the anime and you haven no idea how much self control its taken to not immediately jump forward to be in sync with her, but theres SO many good recipes before we get there!!!

We will be making a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet today!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet?” YOU MIGHT ASKIts made from the egg of a basilisk, which isnt a large chicken egg but instead a large snake egg. Oblong shape, soft leather texture, and no eggwhites just yolk.

A large daikon

½ lbs fatty bacon

Shallots

Garlic

Chicken eggs

Salt

Pepper

Arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

You could try cooking this using actual snake eggs, but theyre hard to come by and reportedly quite bland compared to chicken eggs. I tried getting my hands on an ostrich egg for the pizzaz of it all. The zoo lady was kind in her dismissal.

AND, “what does a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKOmelettes are standard fair but here we cook them like a french omelette and wrap it up like a burrito at the end.

Wetter eggs than im used to ( <- american)

Daikon and bacon r very tasty together

They end up having the same texture almost

Intensely savory. Heavy on the tummy

Chopped green onions would bring more levity to the filling

Ketchup pairs well

(but i prefer medium hot sauce)

Dark coffee pairs well

The acidity of the above 3 is what makes them work with this nutrient Dense dish

. In the show, decapitated mandrakes are more bitter than mandrakes left 'whole'. If you want that difference, using sweet/sour sauce on some of the daikon while it cooks will make the non-sauced daikon seem bitter by comparison. . Maybe ferment daikon too? . Adding a small amount of water with the bacon transfers the heat evenly, a small amount as to cook off before the fat/grease renders. Could also try cooking in the oven.

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

"Consisting of a fluffy Basilisk egg omelet filled with minced Basilisk bacon and mandrake.If the mandrake used was killed with its 'head' still attached, it will be less bitter and more mellow" This dish is important as it marks the beginning of Senshi and Marcilles bonding, and the lead-up gives us our first glance into the school Falin and Marcille met at. Objectively the recipe is basic but it was challenging to write out.

Omelette making is muscle-memory, so having to learn the french variation and slow down felt like trying to ride a bike side-saddled.

It took about an hour and a half from laying out the ingredients, to eating the finished thing. I had to take a break in the middle of cutting veggies as my wrists are flaring up, so you could probably go faster unimpeded.

What would you rate this recipe out of 10?(with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 large daikon, chopped

½ lbs fatty bacon, chopped

2 shallots

3 cloves of garlic

3 Eggs

Salt

Pepper

Some arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

Method:

Chop your bacon into roughly ½ inch squares. Cut off the ends of your daikon and cube the rest. Thinly dice your shallots and crush your garlic cloves.

Bring a cast iron skillet to medium-high heat. Once at temp, carefully add your chopped bacon to the pan with a very small amount of water.

Add your chopped bacon and stir-fry until almost cooked.

Add your shallots and garlic. Cook for about a minute or until the shallots have softened.

Transfer the bacon, shallot, and garlic mix to a bowl. Set aside. Lower the cast iron skillet to medium heat.

Place your daikon cubes in the cast iron skillet, you should still have enough bacon grease. Add salt and cook until lightly browned on each side.

Add roughly 1 tablespoon of water. Lower heat and cover. Simmer for 2 minutes.

Once your daikon are softened, transfer to same bowl containing your bacon, shallots, and garlic.

Crack your eggs into a seperate bowl and whisk for 2 minutes until 'frothy' with no egg whites visible.

Bring the cast iron skillet back up to medium heat. There might not be enough bacon grease left, so feel free to add butter! If the butter browns you've gone too hot.

Pour your eggs into the skillet. Use a spatula to spread the eggs, scraping down the sides of the pan. Sprinkle salt and pepper in, to taste.

Once your eggs are mostly solid, pour the bacon, shallot, garlic, and daikon filling into the center. If it starts to separate- stop touching and let it rest. Gently fold the edges of the omelette overtop the filling.

Lay a few pieces of arugula on a plate, and flip your omelette onto it :) enjoy!

[verstappen-cult]

Okay so this is my first request even having but I just had this random idea. So basically I had knee surgery recently (won't get into that 😂) but I was just wondering if you could write a fic about lestappen where their girlfriend gets surgery and basically the whole thing is just fluff tbh add whatever u want or whatever surgery if u write this. But I just feel like they would definitely make me feel loved after surgery

“Are you comfortable?” Max asks, fluffing the pillows behind your head.

It’s the third time he asks you the same question in a span of ten minutes. You don’t want to be rude, he’s just trying to help, so you smile up at him.

“Yes, baby. Thank you.” He opens his mouth to speak again but you beat him to it. “Weren’t you going to stream today?”

Max frowns at you, and shakes his head. “No, I told the boys I won’t be present today. I’ll be taking care of you.”

Your heart melts. If it weren’t for the surgery you just had that makes it a little difficult to move, you would be getting up to kiss him.

“I won’t go anywhere, and I already have everything I need here,” You take his hand, caressing the inside of his wrist with your thumb. “You can go, I’ll call you if I need anything. Besides, you know how much I like to watch your streams.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, “Yes, go!”

Max leans and kisses you gently, being very careful, and then flies out of the room shouting something similar to I love you.

You reach for your laptop, ready to watch your boyfriend. And he really wastes no time because in less than five minutes he’s joining the stream, the viewers going absolutely crazy about him.

“I wasn’t going to join today, Crane. But my girlfriend insisted!” Max says and you can’t help but smile.

“She had surgery recently, no?”

“Yeah, nothing too serious. She’s resting now,” Then he looks at the camera and has the audacity to wink.

The stream goes like any other, they joke around, they play and joke some more. You don’t even notice when an hour has passed, it’s only when you look up to see Charles at the bedroom door that you realize how late it is.

“Charlieee, I missed you.” You pout, making grabby hands at him. He immediately makes his way to you, leaning to leave a kiss on your forehead. “What took you so long?”

“I couldn’t find the medicine you needed but I got everything after searching literally everywhere.” He takes off his jacket, sighing. “I picked us some dinner, too. Where’s Max?”

“Streaming.” You say, pointing to the screen where he’s looking very focused and hot.

“What?!”

But before you can beg him not to say anything, he’s already storming out, going directly to Max’s streaming room. You can’t move but you still have a front row seat.

Looking back at the screen, you see Charles’ legs coming into view. You see in slow motion how he removes Max’s headphones off his head with a little more force than necessary.

Max turns around and a smile makes its way into his face. “Hey love, didn’t hear you come in.”

“You left her alone?! She just had surgery and you left her alone?!”

“She insisted!”

“You should’ve said no!” Charles gives Max’s shoulder a little push and storms out.

You can hear him saying something in French from your room, and you know he’s just cursing Max for leaving you alone.

You hear Max’s friends laughing and making fun of him while your boyfriend looks embarrassed, cheeks impossibly red. He says a quick goodbye before shutting everything down.

Charles enters the room, brows furrowed.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, trying to look more angry than amused. “He didn’t want to but I insisted.”

“I told him to take care of you while I was out, was that so hard?”

Max shows up then, shoulders slumped and looking like a kicked puppy.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t need you to be by my side every hour of the day.”

Charles' expression relaxes and he opens his mouth to argue, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“I’m not finished,” He closes his mouth and you sigh before saying, “Max, come here.” He immediately does, sitting by your side. “You’re gonna apologize to him now.” You speak to Charles this time, looking intently at him.

Charles lets his head fall forward. Now he’s the one who looks like a kicked puppy and you try very hard not to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, getting up just to sit at the other side of his boyfriend.

“It’s not like you left me alone yesterday so coy could play some FIFA while Max was training.”

Max gasps, clearly offended, “I want a public apology.”

“It was supposed to be a secret!” Charles groans and you slap his arm.

The smile is back on Max’s face.

“They’re gonna make fun of me for life.”

“They already make fun of you, Maxie.”

“Okay, rude.”

“And by the way,” Charles glares at you, pointing an accusatory finger at your face. “We’re just trying to take care of you. I don’t care if we annoy you, we’re not gonna stop.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Charles shuts you up with a kiss. He does the same with Max, peppering his face with kisses as an apology too. “I’ll grab dinner and we can watch a movie.”

Max stands up and follows Charles out of the room.

“I want to help too!”

“No!” they shout from the kitchen.

[legalkimchi]

Please learn more than just a Phrase.

I don't expect people to be subject matter experts on issues of global politics.

But false equivalency is rampant in online discourse regarding three major conflicts in the world today. I am using the word conflict in this post, however, when applicable, i will use other words to describe specifics. (Nuance folks... it's a thing)

So i start off with an assumption that most people don't understand the basics of most international events. As an american, i only know some of the stuff that is happening within my own nation. This is not an insult to you, dear reader. Rather, it is a position we all must realize we are in. You do not understand most world issues.

You just don't.

you aren't there. it isn't your life. you don't have the academic background.

I saw a post recently calling for "freedom for Palestine, Sudan, and Congo."

And it bothered me. Not because i am opposed to peace, (how is asking for ceasefire a bad thing?) but rather because i believe simplifying the conflicts with this wording showcases the ignorance of the differences.

Not all conflicts are the same.

In palestine, we have a convoluted mess where two groups claim a territory as home. getting into the in-depth story of this conflict takes time. Foundational elements of it take place thousands of years ago, but the conflict itself is only about 75 years old. So it is a long and short story. Currently, the sovereign state of Israel is engaging in a genocide in Gaza. Asking for freedom for palestinians makes sense. they live in an apartheid state and would like a state of their own. they wish to be free of occupation. you can argue with the details, be pro-israel, or whatever, but that is the basic ask of palestinians. (if you want to get into anti-semetic regional sentiment or the desire of certain groups to eradicate the israeli jewish population or Israel as a nation that's a different topic, not the point of what i'm talking about.)

In the Congo and Sudan, it is a different story.

Let's start with the Congo. First of all, Which Congo?

Let's please understand that there is the Republic of the Congo and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The Republic of the Congo is a former french colony. Then there is Democratic Republic of the Congo. Some of us might remember this country as Zaire.

the DRC is the congo we are talking about in the news. This was a former belgian colony and the atrocities committed by the belgians there rival any genocide in human history. i've seen estimates between 5 million and 20 million deaths. some estimates state the population of native congolese were cut in HALF. since the turbulent start of the country after their independence in 1960, the country knew relative peace until the 1990s. Then a mixture of a weak central government and the Rwandan Civil war (which had it's own genocide you may have heard about) spilled over into what was then Zaire. Zaire dissolved, and the DRC took it's place, But the wars have been raging off an on since then. earlier this year, more civil war violence erupted AGAIN. This displaced millions, AGAIN. while the DRC is a bit of an autocratic and repressive regime, the rebel groups are groups with ties with the Rwandan government and the other group with ties to Isis. It's awful all the way down.

Sudan has had an ongoing civil war for over 20 years. I remember this because i helped lead some anti-genocide protests regarding Darfur when i was in college 20 years ago. I've been following this conflict for nearly my entire adult life. you may have heard about this with regards to the Save Darfur coalition regarding the genocide in Darfur. Well, that genocide has continued (albeit with less intensity) for 20 years. the civil war lasted until 2021, but restarted in a different form in late 2023. the conflict is now between two different sides of the military government fighting each other.

It is an awful conflict full of awful leaders. Sudan's government suffered a revolution in 2019 from a dictator, only to have that government overthrown in a coup by the current dictator. The Sudanese military is supported by folks like Russia and North Korea. you might see that among the other countries that support sudan, bunch of communist countries, and you might think "hey, maybe al-Burhan is a leftist".

no... no he is not.

He is a military despot. He has no ties to any real ideology. He just runs sudan as a military dictator.

So who is opposing him?

The Rapid Support Forces. and you may be thinking "ok, so they are the good guys? trying to overthrow the dictator?"

No... They are the ones that instigated the Genocide in Darfur.

This is a situation is "no matter who wins, the people of Sudan lose."

So when folks claim these are all the same. Or wonder why folks talk about one and not the other.

there are reasons. These are very different conflicts. Please learn about them. It matters more than spouting some 4 word slogan calling for "freedom."

Find out what the people of these areas actually need. Learn more about what is happening. My description above is incomplete. I may even get some things wrong. I am trying to keep informed, but I am not an expert, nor do i live there. Raise voices from the region and find out if there are ways to help.

[kitchenwitchtingss]

RECIPES I KEEP IN MY ONLINE KITCHEN WITCH JOURNAL #2

I love making these oh my gosh.

Why?

It's really fun

It's been a while since my last one

I get an excuse to try yummy recipes

You all are way too good at what you do

It's fun x2

Teas, Drinks, And Syrups

🍊 Orange Peel Tea 🍊

Violet Lemonade

Coconut Summer Drink

Dandelion Honey

The Best Hot Spiced Cider recipe you’ll ever try

Apple Cider is basically a homesteading spell

Rose Lemonade Syrup

100-Year Garlic (Garlic Honey)

Fire Cider Spell for Winter Protection

Blackberry & Apple Jam

Witchy Recipes - Blackberry Lemonade

Baked Goods + Sweets

Prosperity Bread

Lavender Earl Grey Cookies

Easy Rosemary Focaccia Loaf for Love and Protection

Heavenly Lavender Scones

Honey Vanilla Peach Butter 🍑

Pumpkin Pie Dip 🎃

Vanilla-Pumpkin Cupcakes

Soups, Stews, And Dinners

Super simple secret potato soup

Forest Porridge

Heartwarming potato soup

Perfect Homemade Garlic Bread

Creamy vegetable soup

Springtime Soup

Stuffed Maple dijon glazed roasted butternut squash

Summertime stir fry

Sabbat Stuff

Litha Orange Honey Cake

Litha Thyme Chicken

Stuffed Apples for Mabon

Mabon Mug

Imbolc Pretzel wreath

Oatmeal Bread for Lughnasadh

Samhain Mulled Cider

Samhain Irish Apple Cake

Angel's Best

(my favorite recipe posts I've made over the years, plus backstories that sound like your grandmother's reminiscing over the past.)

LATE WINTER BUTTER ROLLS

My first post I ever made. I was pretty new to the tumblr community at the time. I loved kitchen witchcraft, and I'm the type of person who will ramble on about how much I love cooking and baking. This blog gave me an outlet to express my love of cooking, baking, paganism, and witcraft. And these rolls are very tasty, I make them to this day!

WITCHY TOMATO BASIL SOUP

Tasty, simple, and a crowd-pleaser. It's perfect for a beginner kitchen witch! It was also the second recipe I ever posted.

SWEET CREAM BUNS

It was a recipe given to me by one of my good friends at the time. Every time I make it, it gets devoured in less than 10 minutes. It was also my first recipe to get over 50 notes. I was shocked but ecstatic that so many people would even give it the time of day lol.

WITCHY THUMBPRINT COOKIES

These ones were just fun to make and delicious lol.

A WITCH’S COZY BUTTERNUT WINTER SOUP

A quick soup that feeds a lot of people during the fall season. Fall is my favorite season, so of course I'm very biased lol.

SAMHAIN PUMPKIN BREAD

I love pumpkin bread and apple cider... So why not combine the two? This one was definitely one of my favorites of all time. Moist pumpkin bread and chocolate chips have to be one of my favorite things on this planet. It also makes for the perfect gift for friends and family. Yummy!

ANGEL’S AWARD-WINNING LEMON POPPY SEED BREAD

I love dessert loaves of any kind, so naturally, this would be on the list lol.

MAPLE BUTTER COOKIES

Super simple comfort food! I love any time of cookie with brown sugar.

BRING ME POSITIVITY PECAN FRENCH TOAST BAKE

I love French toast, and I love positivity~

SAMHAIN SOUL CAKES RECIPE

These are really good! And traditional. If you celebrate Samhain, I recommend you make some soul cakes and have friends and family help decorate. I give the littles a bag of orange frosting and let them go crazy lol.

FEEL BETTER CHICKEN SOUP

One of my most recent is my witchy twist on chicken noodle soup!

[sunnyskiesscareme]

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Jack and Y/n meet in French class, and Y/n quickly finds out how fond she is of her annoying classmate

Warnings: a bit of angst, mostly fluff

Notes: this is my first fic! Please be nice lol. This was poorly and quickly proofread

“You are asking to leave, again? You got back to class 2 minutes ago!” Her teacher scolded.

Usually, Y/n’d roll her eyes at one of Jack’s many interruptions. She didn’t want to be in French class any longer than the rest of their classmates, and Mrs. David had started to keep the class in during break for one minute each time she was interrupted. At least this time she’d have a few extra seconds to scribble down the rest of her notes.

“But Mrs. D!” Jack started, a sudden urgency in his eyes, “Water is a basic human need! I’ll be back in 3 minutes, tops.”

“And somehow, Mr. Hughes, I don’t believe you.”

“Why? You can trust me, Mrs. D.” He wrapped his arm around his friend Trevor, who sat beside him, clearly amused. “You can have Trevor escort me!”

The teacher hummed, tapping her index pointer against her lip, as if she were considering it. “Y’know, that isn’t such a bad idea!”

Both Jack and Trevor’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But I won’t send Trevor.” Jacks smile fell just as fast as it rose. “I think… Y/n would be good for that job.”

Y/n’s eyes snapped up and away from her paper at her name, glancing behind her at the boy who stared right back. She sent her teacher a pleading look, her eyes wide and head slightly shaking.

“Uh, are you sure? She seems to like this class. She should stay.” Jack said, and Y/n shot him an annoyed glare.

“Just the reason to rush you right back! Go on.” Mrs. David ordered, and Y/n stood from her seat with a sigh. She stood at the door, watching as Jack smacked Trevor across the back of his head for something he’d whispered in his ear. Y/n didnt know they knew how to whisper.

She let Jack lead her, not believing that he’d actually left to get water from the fountain, but not a snitch. She was almost surprised when he did end up walking to the fountain, and she leaned against the wall and checked the time. She furrowed her eyes when he immediately started to walk back to class.

“Where are you going?”

He stared at her. “Narnia.”

She hummed, scrunching her nose at him in annoyance. “You said three minutes. We still have two.”

Jack looked at the clock she pointed at, and then back to her. “You don’t wanna get back to class and finish the love note your writing to Mrs. D?” He mocked.

“What?” She scoffed. “You really think I want to spend my lunch hour in French class because two idiots think they’re funny? I want to be there less than you do, I bet. At least you have your friend.”

“Please! You are Mrs. D’s friend. You’re probably the only one in that class who actually does the work.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry that the teacher likes me more than you.” She crossed her arms. “Plus, won’t you get kicked off of your hockey team if you don’t do the work?”

He paused, squinting his eyes at her. “How do you know I play hockey?”

Y/n stared at him, checking his pupils in case he were concussed. Who didn’t know Jack Hughes played hockey? “Look at yourself.” She said, and almost apologized for it sounding so mean.

Jack actually did look at himself, looking down at his clothes and his hands. He immediately whipped his head back up, as if he hadn’t meant to actually look in the first place. “What?”

“I mean,” she waved her hand up and down at him, “look, listen.”

“Are you trying to be mean right now?”

“No!” She insisted, genuinely. “Really! Put your hat on your head. Talk like a normal person!”

“You are being mean!” He stressed. “What’s wrong with my hat?”

She sighed. “Nothings wrong with your hat. I’m sorry. Just… actually wear it. All you hockey boys just, just put it on your hair. Put it on your head.” She reached out and tapped the top of his hat so it hugged his head comfortably, wiping away a stray lock of brown hair that poked out of it. “Now it won’t fall off every time you move, and you don’t look like a douchebag.”

Y/n finally began to walk back to class as Jack looked at his reflection in the window of an empty classroom. He caught up to her, quickly. “What’s wrong with how I talk?”

“Listen, stop calling girls ‘smoke-shows’ and ‘puck bunnies’ and I promise you’ll get more of them.”

“Hey! I get plenty.”

“Okay.” She put her hands up. “None of my business anyways. Be a douchebag whenever you want, just not in this class. I don’t really want walking you to the water fountain to become a daily thing.” She sighed.

—

Jack was quieter for the rest of class, even hissing a ‘shut up!’ to Trevor sometime during it. All he could think about was the girl who put his hat on his head properly and pushed the hair out of his face. He hoped she didn’t see the blush that burned on his cheeks. He hoped she didn’t really hate him, either.

Jack wouldn’t have been able to count every time his older brother, Quinn, made fun of the way he wore his baseball cap even if he tried. Still, he never listened until now.

Jack had bragged to Quinn that despite being younger, he was the stud of the family. He’d relish in the attention he got and in the pretty giggles he’d receive if he smiled at a girl in the hall. He told a girl once that he preferred it when she wore her hair down, and to this day, he hadn’t seen her put it back up.

Y/n was different. Some days he wished she sat the other way, so he could see her much-too-pretty face during class instead of just the back of her head. Still, he assumed it was for the best, for if he could see her, his ego would probably be blown by the many eye rolls and head shakes she preformed because of him.

He had never called Y/n a ‘smoke-show’, even though he probably would have if she didn’t seem so unimpressed with his very existence. Why would she mention that? He had never called her a puck-bunny. In fact, he had never once seen her at a hockey game. Why?

Jack tried to fool himself into thinking she had just been jealous that he never called her any of those names, but he was kidding himself. He took out his phone and texted a girl who had asked for his number a while ago. Maybe she’d pet his ego. That’s what girls usually did.

It was proven true. Pretty compliments filled his screen and to each one he sent a heart emoji back. He went to bed feeling worse than he did before.

—

Her knee was starting to hurt from holding it up so it wouldn’t touch his. The table was too small for two people to sit at, yet here they were, half of the tables empty as Mrs. David put each student into a pair. Y/n had gotten a warning that she’d be with Jack beforehand, and a peppermint candy as a thank you, for Jack had been far less disruptive since their walk. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t listen to the instructions her teacher was spouting when Jack was beside her, looking at her. Why was he looking at her?

He fiddled with his chain necklace as he did so, completely oblivious to the fact that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. How could she act so normal around him? How could she look so pretty? How could she be so smart and do so well in a class she hated?

God, she hated French class.

She fiddled with the corner of her paper, pinching and curling the corner and immediately scolding herself afterwards for ruining what was once so pristine. She tapped her fingers on the table, distracting thuds coming from underneath them. Quickly, she ripped that corner off, and put her pencil to work.

She didn’t need to pass him the note, for she knew he was peeking over her shoulder anyways.

Sorry for being mean. I like your hat better this way but coulda been nicer

Jack grinned.

-

Jack didn’t need to invite her to his house. He knew that. All that was required from the pair was a performance of them talking to each other in French, pretending to meet each other for the first time. He invited her over anyway, and she accepted.

If he asked, she’d tell him that she’d only accepted because he said she could stay over for dinner, or so she could see his hot older brother. She’d never tell him she accepted because she wanted to spend time with him. See where the jack Hughes slept, where he got dressed, where he ate breakfast.

That would be embarrassing.

[heartsforvin]

Heyyy loveee!!!🫶🏻

All your latest stories have been so beautiful and interesting, I love them!!😮‍💨

dad!Vinnie lives free in my head forever was so beautiful😭🫶🏻 If it's not too much trouble you could do another one where it's Vinnie and the Reader's daughter (or son) first day of school As if it were her first day in life and they take her to class and everything becomes emotional because her baby has grown quite a bit🥹💕

I hope you can do it if you want obviously, I send you all my love and I hope the work becomes less burdensome 💌🫂

ALL GROWN UP

this is sooo cute 🥹

thank you for the request !!!!

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; a bit sad, crying, use of pet names, pure fluff otherwise !!

summary; it’s your son’s first day of school and you can’t help but be an emotional wreck at the fact your baby’s growing up

ever since your son was born you dreaded the day he started his first day of school. he was a pretty easy newborn and toddler, so you figured the first days of school would go smoothly, right?

wrong. well, it went smoothly for your son and husband, but for you not so much.

you woke up to vinnie peppering kisses all over your face as he whispers for you to get up.

“c’mon, baby, i got wes all ready.” he told you as you slowly sit up and rub your eyes.

yawning, vinnie slowly drags you out of the bed. you slip on your slippers as you and vinnie make your way to the kitchen.

“mama!” your five year old son exclaims as he sees you enter the kitchen with his father.

you smile and ruffle his hair as he finishes up his breakfast. “what’cha got there, bubba?” you ask him.

“dad made me french toast with strawberries,” he replies with a smile. “said i need a good breakfast for today.”

you smile and nod. “first day of school, you excited?” you ask as you take a seat next to your son.

meanwhile, your husband is plating up more french toast with strawberries just for you. he hands them to you and kisses your head.

wesley nodded as he finished chewing his food. “so excited!” he exclaims.

he soon finishes his breakfast and vinnie goes to help him brush his teeth. you finish up breakfast yourself and decide to get dressed.

about ten minutes later the three of you were finally ready to leave. you helped your son slip on his shoes and vinnie helped him with his backpack before you headed out the door.

☁︎·̩͙✧

your foot anxiously shook against the car as the three of you were on your way to the school. vinnie held your hand, squeezing it occasionally to try and calm you down.

“you’re more nervous than wes,” vinnie lightly chuckled as he took a quick glance at you. “he’s gonna be fine, babe.” he reassured.

you smiled at vinnie then took a glance at your son in the backseat. he was kicking his feet while looking out the window.

you knew he was going to be fine. he’s never had a problem with other kids, and was honestly the most extroverted five year old you’ve seen.

ten minutes later you arrive to the school. vinnie parks the car and the two of you unbuckle and turn to face your son.

“you ready, bubba?” vinnie asks wesley as you watch your son grab his backpack.

the boy gives you both a smile and basically out of the car before he can respond. you and vinnie smile to each other before getting out of the car.

vinnie grabs wesley’s hand as you hold your hand in his, the three of you making it to the entrance of the school.

once inside and guided to the classroom, you can see the smile on your son’s face widen at your excitement.

you’re excited for him, proud of him, but a little bit of you is sad at this milestone. it’s a bittersweet moment to watch your son grow up, learn new things, experience life. part of you wishes you could just hold onto him forever.

rounding the corner, vinnie notifies you that the room you’re looking for is the second door to your left.

the three of you stoped a few inches from the classroom to say one last goodbye to your son before the end of the day.

you and vinnie crouched down to wesley’s height and smiled up at him. “you’re gonna do great, wes. mama and i wanna hear all about your day when we pick you up, okay?” vinnie says.

wesley smiles as he tugs on his backpack straps, ready to go into the room and finally start his first day.

he turns his gaze to you and sees that you’re crying. “don’t cry, mama.” he says as he hugs you tightly.

you hug him tightly even if the backpack on him is in the way. you laugh lightly before you kiss his head.

“i’m just so proud of you, baby,” you inform your son as you hold his face in your hands. “you’re gonna do great and meet some great friends, you got it?”

wesley smiles and hugs both you and vinnie. “i got it,” he smiles. “can i go now?”

you chuckle softly and ruffle his hair before you and vinnie tell him you love him. before you know it your son is in the classroom and the door is shut.

you and vinnie look into the window as he hugs you, kissing your cheek as he reassures you your son will be okay.

as the two of you walk back to the car hand in hand. its quiet for a minute before vinnie speaks up.

“you know what this means,” vinnie speaks. you already know where this is going, you playfully roll your eyes at him but let him continue. “now we have more time for ourselves.”

you laugh and hit his chest. “you’re insufferable,” you tell him. “you’re lucky i love you.”

vinnie laughs as he holds you tighter, the two of you getting into the car quickly after.

“as much as i love him, im glad it’ll just be us for a few hours now.” vinnie says as he starts up the engine.

you laugh again. “that sounds terrible, vin,” you tell him. “but i’m glad we do too.” you smile before kissing him.

you knew your boy would be just fine at school, that he’d make good friends and learn good things. you knew you’d be fine, too. you just might need a little more time than others.

hiii !!! i loved writing this , it was so cute !!! i hope you all enjoyed reading it !!!

oh also !! for some reason tumblr isn’t showing some of your guys’ users that are on my taglist. so i swear im not forgetting you, it just won’t let me tag you for some reason 🥲

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @forevergirlposts , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @visualbutterflysworld , @louloulemons-blog , @lovingsturniolo , @violet0182 , @laylasbunbunny , @hallecarey1 , @kriissy4gov , @supabhad , @slvthrs , @kayleiggh , @st4rswrld ,

[leclsrc]

a certain romance ✴︎ cs55

genre: fluff!, humor

word count: 4.5k

A love affair is never an easy thing to keep under wraps. Or, the four times your two brothers almost catch you and Carlos together, and the one time they finally do.

notes... reader is a leclerc, one sexual allusion but it’s not bad, french that is basically translatable thru context clues

auds here... req’d, sort of twice! was gonna make this a full fledged fic but i went with the short route to keep it brief. i hope u like this anon/s :) title from a song of the same name by the arctic monkeys. also there is use of y/n which i generally don’t like using in fics bec i feel it disrupts the flow, but it wouldn’t have fit any other way so. must b all... enjoy!

If you told Carlos Sainz that he—a full grown, mature, twenty-eight-year-old man—would be tiptoeing on the balcony of a hotel in Monaco (shirtless and fully terrified, no less) eight months from now, he would laugh at you. But he’d be doing so anyway, fearing something in the room behind him rather than the alarmingly high distance he’d be possessing over the road below. He’d inhale, exhale, recites a few proverbs to keep himself calm. But now, if you told him, he would mumble something along the lines of estúpido, because really, how the hell would he get himself into that situation?

Don’t worry. He’s going to find out.

“I’m not really looking to date,” he says wisely, taking another swig of his beer. “I think racing is the number one thing on my mind. And it’s difficult to maintain a balance of both.”

Lando clears his throat, tipsy from having exhausted his drinks and then some. “Mate, quit being a pessimist. You Spaniards, I swear. That’s not necessarily true. I made it work.” He presents two thumbs, pointing them toward his beaming, dopey face. 

Carlos stares. “Luisa broke up with you.”

“Right then, you arse, twist the knife,” Lando mutters exasperatedly, his thumbs drooping down and his smile dropping. Carlos can’t help but throw his head back in amusement, eking out apologies in between bouts of laughter. The younger just mocks the laugh, finishing the beer he’d been drinking. 

The two are on the balcony of Lando’s flat, overlooking the expanse of Chelsea. The subject of girlfriends and looking for love had been between them for a while now, seeing as they were both single; they’d often greet each other with a Got a girlfriend yet, cabrón? And, while the conversation was generally harmless, it did tend to push Carlos into a state of introspection regarding his own love life.

“But honestly, really.” Carlos says. “I just don’t know if a girl is what I need right now. Unless somebody perfect drops on my lap.”

“I’m going to ignore how pervy that sounds—but I get it. I guess the career thing’s just the priority, huh, mate? And speaking of career”—Lando rifles through his jacket pocket and fishes his phone out—“we’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t leave in the next fifteen.”

Ah, dinner: the only reason Carlos had chartered a jet to London earlier today in the first place. Proposed out of sheer fun and then carrying on because it actually seemed like a doable idea, Lando had texted a few drivers and invited them and however-many-pluses they wished to bring to an upscale restaurant in the city as a way to get in touch.

It didn’t seem ideal, until they realized that 1. Lando, George, and Alex were already in London, and 2. Charles was with family and had a meeting there, too, and—well, at that point Carlos had basically succumbed to peer pressure and gotten on a jet straight to the UK. Lando always had a penchant for making these plans and spending the entire time making dirty jokes and/or getting tipsy and/or using his camera to take pictures of any and everyone, which really just made the dinners all the more fun.

They clean up the bottles of beer they’d drank from, and Carlos pulls his coat on by the door, still unused to the overcast British weather. “Who’s there later?”

“The boys, Arthur… Lily, Carmen. I think. I mean nobody brought their mums or whatever. That’s all of ‘em, I suppose.” Lando inspects his outfit in the mirror by the entryway and swaps out his jacket for a different one, ushering Carlos out the door and into the waiting car. Something about I’d rather be driven around than drive a pretentious sports car around the city looking like a daft prick. 

They’re halfway to the restaurant, both on their phones, when Lando suddenly gasps softly and goes, “Right, and Charles’ sister is going too.”

Carlos looks up, interest piqued. He hadn’t heard much of Charles’ sister before—you’d dropped by a few races, and had always been present for the entirety of the Monaco weekend, but you weren’t engaged in racing as much as Charles’ other siblings. He’d shaken hands with you and made the polite, necessary, albeit totally rushed small talk. “Y/N,” he recounts. “Right?”

“Yessir,” Lando says, letting Drake filter through the AUX of the car. “The one in law school.”

He nods, trying to pick out specific memories. None really come to mind—it’s all introductions that repeat themselves. Hi, Carlos Sainz, Charles’ teammate. Oh, hi, I’m Charles’ sister. He faintly recounts finding you pretty, but having not seen you at the paddock for quite a while, he considers his memories dubious at best. He leans back and listens to Lando rap Rich Flex with an obnoxiously posh accent instead, and figures if he dies now, at least he wouldn’t have to keep hearing this.

The restaurant is nearer than they anticipate, so the Drake rap-along session is cut blissfully short, the pair being ushered into the private seating area, coats taken and wine served. They join George, who, at his insistence, had made the reservation in the first place even if Lando had suggested the restaurant, and Carmen. 

“Charles and Albon?” Carlos asks when he takes a seat, greeting the couple.

“Charles and Arthur are on their way, but Alex is stuck in Harrods with Lily and Y/N. They got busy looking for shoes or something. Poor guy,” George says, half-laughing. 

“I so wish I met up with the girls beforehand,” Carmen mopes, “the sale at Harrods is amazing.”

The conversation descends into a multitude of different topics, as they always do when Lando and George lead the way—racing (obviously), Carmen, Daniel Ricciardo even, dogs, any plans of adopting dogs, and then, because George Russell is a little shit, he says: “Feels nice being the only guy with a girlfriend at the table right now, innit?”

Carmen pinches his arm but he persists with a smile. “No, but really. You two are just about the most eligible bachelors ever and still single. What gives?”

“I for one am not into monogamy at the moment,” Lando says matter-of-factly. “I’m twenty-three, mate. I’m trying to have fun. But Mr. Almost Thirty here is a different case.”

“Ay,” Carlos gripes. “It’s not an involuntary thing. Just want to focus on racing.”

He prays then for this topic to come to a close so he won’t have to explain himself all over again, and reprieve comes in the form of Charles and Arthur entering the room. Already Charles is talking, before he even takes a seat, and Arthur is nodding along—something about how London traffic sucks, how are your streets so small, mate, oh my God Harrods is so full, Lily and Y/N have been at it for hours, poor Alex, he volunteered to stay. The guy spouts words quickly and easily, in an accent that sounds both English and French.

The rest of the wait time happens fast—Lily and Alex rush through the entrance, apologizing for being late. The lines are so long, Lily explains, taking a seat and leaving the other side empty. When her boyfriend tries to sit there, she swats him away, goes, babe, no, that’s for Y/N. So her boyfriend sits woefully across her and beside Carlos instead.

“Where is Y/N?” Charles asks. Carlos is also curious, albeit inwardly. He didn’t even know you were arriving until late, and still he hasn’t seen your face.

“Sorry, I had to check something with the valet,” a voice goes, and then you’re sliding into the seat across him.

The thing is, Carlos has been stunned before.

It’s sort of a non-negotiable when you go into such a demanding, high-risk sport. If he’s careening into another car, or the side of a circuit—obviously, it stuns him. Everything spins into slow motion for a few nerve-wracking seconds. But he’s also been stunned in all the good ways: when he can tell he’s in the lead, when he overtakes the car in front of him, when he bounds past the flag and realizes it’s a podium finish. So, yes—Carlos is fully familiar with the gut churning, belly spinning delirium of being stunned. So familiar, in fact, that he’s grown familiar with it, developed a second skin for it, welcomed it with open arms.

Which also explains the way he sees you laughing quietly at something Lily says and subsequently realizes, with apprehension and dread, that he is stunned.

—

The first time it happens is after the dinner—not just the dinner, but the drinks and the London walk that followed, accompanied by three noisy and drunk tour guides (read: Lando, George, Alex). Charles and Arthur, almost as drunk, follow the tour with loud jabs of their own, and Lily and Carmen are filming everything on their phones. You’ve been on your phone checking an email, and Carlos takes a call from his cousin, which naturally leads both you and him to trail behind the group.

So, when you’re both done taking calls and checking emails, it’s the two of you left to your own devices. You swing within the awkward few moments of deciding whether to rejoin the group or just keep trailing behind, your shoes clicking softly against the cobblestone pavement, accompaniments to Lando’s loud singing of Piano Man. 

“What’d you think of the wine?” You ask, your accent sliding easy into the syllables but not losing its distinctiveness. 

He pretends to ponder, even if he’d given Lando a full-scale review when they first left the restaurant, and turns back to you. “It was okay. A bit too sweet for my taste.”

“Exactly! That’s what I told Arthur, but he found it perfect. I guess kids these days just don’t have taste.”

You both laugh at your sarcastic use of “kids”, knowing you’re just two years older than your younger brother. Carlos opens his mouth to speak, trying to find footing, the perfect suave thing to say to possibly land himself in a position to flirt.

Right then, Lando reaches the crescendo of Somebody to Love (he can’t ever finish a song), and then Charles is turning around to find you and Carlos engaged in conversation. His lips stretch into a mischievous smile.

“Aye, Carlos! Back off the baby sister, mate!” He slurs, clapping Arthur on the back to catch his attention.

Arthur’s eyes narrow playfully, darting in between you both. Carlos just raises a middle finger in response, sending the brothers into unnecessarily extensive bouts of laughter. You roll your eyes, blowing a raspberry. “Putain. These fucking shitheads never leave me alone.”

George is in the middle of teaching Charles to say sod off instead of back off when Carlos purses his lips and, on a whim, turns and goes: “Is there a rule against dating drivers?”

You try and fail to hide a smile. “Hmm. None, I don’t think.”

Silence. Then you speak again, coy. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Carlos says. London is suddenly a place of magic. “No reason at all.”

—

It’s at an afterparty, the second time it happens—and technically the first where you and Carlos actually connect properly. In hindsight, it might’ve been stupid to flirt with him in the middle of the dance floor—something he thankfully realized in the moment, taking your hand and guiding you through the throng of people into the back exit.

Nobody said first kisses had to be remarkable in the romantic sense. Sometimes they’re in seedy European alleyways, with a fist bunched into his polo and a hand on your hip. It had to happen this way, because how else would two months of beating around the bush culminate? Because even if you’re drunk, you can’t stop thinking about how much you want to kiss him again. Tomorrow morning. And the next.

You pull away, but he speaks first, voice rushed and semi-sobered. “Let’s not.”

Humming, you try to swallow the lump of distress in your throat. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, nervous now, gulping. “Because—of the bro code.”

You stare. “Is that a Spanish thing?”

“B-ro c-ode,” he says again, enunciating the syllables; the Spanish accent doesn’t go away, and neither do his hands, hot and big on your hip and waist. 

You move your hand from where it’s fisted into his shirt, cupping his neck. Then you burst out laughing, much to Carlos’ confusion. “That is so not a thing,” you press, unconvinced.

“It is. Bro code. I just crossed that line, dios mio,” he says, clearly way more stressed than you are. 

“Bro code isn’t upheld for boys over twenty-one,” you say haughtily. Right then, you hear Arthur’s voice through the door and it swings open a few seconds later. In the span of those moments, you shove Carlos away nervously and attempt to look like you weren’t doing anything.

Arthur’s on the phone, speaking in quick French when he sees you and Carlos at a respectable distance. He tilts the phone away, mouths What’s up?, pointing at the both of you.

“I felt like vomiting and he was nearby,” you reply, nodding. He’s out of view, exiting the alleyway within seconds and back on the phone. 

You exhale, and turn back to him. “Okay, so maybe the bro code is a thing.”

He looks at you as if to say no shit. “I don’t think we should do this,” he says, but his tone betrays himself.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

“Right, yes.”

A beat. “Can you kiss me again?”

—

Against all odds, you and Carlos had managed to successfully start dating under your brothers’—ergo the majority of your mutual circle’s—noses. You’d only let it slip to a few close friends and family, and in Carlos’ case, Lando, because Lord knows the guy could not keep his mouth shut for the life of him. And even if it was stressful, and it often felt like any moment would be interrupted by somebody catching the both of you on the phone, or even together, neither of you could deny how good it was.

It’s five months later—five months of pure bliss, for the most part. Save for multiple close calls, you and Carlos had enjoyed each other’s company. You’d tried to navigate how everything would work once you realized you both wanted something more out of the relationship, but neither of you wanted to deal with the hassle of your overprotective siblings yet. You’d resorted to hours of FaceTime, everyday texts, and if the world was on your side, the occasional date. 

The last method is easily your favorite, you both—and when the drivers get three weeks off and Carlos spends it in Las Vegas, that’s how it happens, the third time. Carlos visits you at your hotel, relishing in the eleven-thirty emptiness of the communal area, swimming in the jacuzzi and giggling about something into Carlos’ neck. You barely remember the joke; you’re honestly just welling up with enthusiasm and an endless supply of laughs that your boyfriend is finally with you.

Your head is still dug into Carlos’ neck, laughing about something else now, when you hear faraway footsteps. Having grown used to being a pseudo-patrolman, your eyes dart up immediately, and your stomach drops when you see, seriously, of all fucking people—Charles and Arthur. 

“Oh my God,” you mutter, dumbfounded. A hand wet with jacuzzi water taps frantically on your phone; sure enough, you’d gotten texts from the both of them about dropping by your hotel for drinks. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

You disembark from your position on your boyfriend’s lap, hoping the hickey he sucked onto your neck won’t be visible from meters away. Your eyes shoot up again, and they still haven’t spotted you. Holding your breath and bracing yourself, you turn to Carlos, place two hands on his shoulders, and shove him underneath the water.

They spot you then, waving enthusiastically. “Drinks!” Arthur shouts, mimicking a beer bottle with his hand. You chew your lip nervously, raising one hand and waving back.

“Don’t wait up and I’ll just meet you at the bar!” You holler, watching as they pass through the entrance at a truly leisurely pace. 

Once they’re in, you haul your boyfriend up and he breathes deeply, anxious. “Puta madre.”

“I think we should tell them soon. I don’t want you literally dying just for the sake of keeping us a secret,” you say, maintaining a safe distance and constantly turning toward the entrance just in case. You reach for his hand underwater.

“It’s thrilling, actually,” he winks.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bother.” You say woefully, guilt eating at you a little bit. But he takes your hand, squeezes it among the jacuzzi bubbles.

“Nothing’s a bother with you.”

—

Charles knocks on your Monza hotel room door when it happens the fourth time, opening it once he finds it unlocked—and then freezing when he finds you buried in your duvet ’til your shoulders. You’re in your silk pajama top, arms and mouth outstretched into a yawn when your eyes meet, hair disheveled. You blink.

“Charles.” You say confusedly, letting your arms drop. “Tu vas bien?”

“Mmm, ça va.” He pauses. “Et toi?”

“Moi aussi,” you say casually. “Any reason you came into my room without waiting for me to answer the damn door?”

He smiles, as if remembering why he invaded your privacy. “Right, I came in here to ask if you’ve seen Arthur.”

“I’m clearly by myself in bed, so no,” you respond cuttingly. “Last I checked he was walking around with Lando.” The two had become fast friends after the London dinner. 

Your elder brother hums, then moves to take a seat on your bed, to which you quickly reach over, grab a complimentary soap bar (on the bedside table and not the shower, which you’d found weird), and toss it square at his face. “Ah—ay! What the fuck?”

“Don’t come near me,” you say. “I’m sick.”

“Sick? What rubbish. You were literally at the paddock hours ago totally fine.”

“Don’t be daft. Not that kind of sick, you arse—”

“Not that kind of sick,” he mocks, exaggerating his accent and raising his voice a few octaves to sound like a silly version of you. He raises an accusatory finger. “You lie, you lie!”

“I am not lying,” you insist irritably, sitting up a little and cocking your brow. “Tu es insupportable!”

You slide into a flurry of angry French and Italian in your valiant efforts to defend your innocence, and Charles is infected into doing the same. Eventually the room is just filled with indistinguishable insults and scoffed phrases of merde, ah bon?, and immensely accented What thuh helliz your problem?s. You even chuck another hotel soap at him for extra measure, but he manages to catch it this time. It’s childish, like many of your petty fights born out of irritance.

“I’m on my period, you prick,” you say as a last resort, once the insults have run their sufficient course. “I couldn’t be arsed to find Arthur.” His eyes narrow, doubting you, but ultimately he admits defeat, walking back to the door to exit your room. The door’s out of view of your bed, so you brace yourself, waiting for it to open and click closed.

“You better not be harboring a fugitive in here!” He says, but only half of here is heard before the door clicks shut and drowns him out. The tension leaves your body and you heave a deep sigh, relaxing backwards and biting your lip. 

The thick silk duvet flips upward and Carlos surfaces, face flushed from being in hiding for so long.

One arm is still curled around your thigh, the inner part of which is rubbed raw from his facial hair being against it. You stare at one another with dopey smiles on your faces, relieved that you’d managed to act fast and flip the huge blanket over Carlos—although he had conveniently been in that position to begin with. 

“Do either of you ever shut up?”

“One more word and I’m kicking you,” you say, reaching an arm out to stroke his jaw. You smile, laughing a little. “I’m not bluffing.”

“Scary, princesa,” he teases, hauling himself up to press a lasting kiss onto your lips. You smile into it, out of relief that your nosy elder brother didn’t catch you, but also out of the way your heart swells when Carlos smiles.

—

“You’re absolutely sure it’s the right room number?”

“100% positive. 613, Y/N Leclerc.”

“And not any other Leclerc.”

“Mate, I just said Y/N. Get a grip,” Lando scoffs. “My investigative skills pay off. Still don’t understand why you couldn’t have just asked her yourself, seeing as though you two are, I dunno, dating.”

“It’s a surprise, man,” Carlos says cuttingly, facing the lobby of the Hôtel de Paris. “Alright, thanks, cábron. I’ll see you soon.”

“Get some!” The Brit whoops, and then Carlos is taking the elevator to your room.

He didn’t think of himself as much of a surprises guy, but then again—he didn’t think of himself as much as a flowers and teddy bear guy, but he’d gotten you those every month since you became official; he didn’t think of himself as much of a physical touch guy, but he was always the one initiating hugs and cuddle sessions. The list goes on.

He knocks, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

Much to his relief, it really is you who answers, with the face of surprise he wanted out of this. Before you utter a word, he’s dipping down to kiss you, and you find yourself returning the kiss, knowing you’d lost your boyfriend’s presence for so long. It quickens fast, and Carlos wedges himself in, kicking the door closed behind him.

You pull away. “Wait, I—”

He kisses you again, and you can’t resist, laughing at his persistence. He pulls away to tug his shirt off, and that’s when you crash back to reality. “Mmmm—Carlos, this isn’t my room!” 

Everything happens fast after that.

The door starts opening and Carlos hears Charles on the other side of it, talking about there was a room mix-up, Y/N, this is mine and 615 is yours—he misses the rest of the sentence, clutching his singlet to his bare chest and allowing himself to be pushed by his girlfriend out the door of the balcony. Thinking he’s safe if just for a moment, he turns, but finds he still sees the room—the curtains don't cover him enough. 

And if he can see the room, he figures, the room can see him. And if the room can see him, Charles will see him when he’s fully inside. 

You’re gesticulating wildly with your hands, trying to find a way to distract your brother, turning away from Carlos briefly to maybe just accept your fate. Charles shuts the door, facing you and, consequently, the balcony doors. Your heart seizes. Surely, Carlos must be there—there’s no other place left for him to hide, unless he miraculously fit his blocky, broad frame behind a random potted plant.

“Something wrong?” Charles says, and you whip around. The balcony’s blissfully empty.

“N…othing.” You say. “Nothing.”

“D’accord,” he says promptly. “So. Dinner?”

Your head spins, unable to formulate a reply. Where could Carlos have hidden?

The balcony is a bit wide, but the entirety of it is visible, and, well—Carlos is clearly not. There’s one lawn sofa, and one plant, neither of which seem to harbor your favorite Spaniard, so where the fuck is he? Because of course, he’s not stupid. Surely. He’s twenty-eight, you think.

What kind of guy would climb onto the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother?

Carlos cannot believe he’s on the banister of the Hôtel de Paris just to hide from his girlfriend’s older brother.

In the scurry of it, he hadn’t even gotten properly dressed. So here he is, braving the frigid sixth-floor air and the harrowing height at which he stands, brandishing his shirt like it’s a flag and standing like he’s on a podium. He feels like he’s about to die for love. Like some Shakespearean hero.

But when he digs deep he figures he doesn’t actually mind at all. Sure, he feels like he’s on the brink of death, but he realizes it’s for you in the end, and that comforts him. He never thought he’d do this, ever, not even if he was paid, or bet on, or for a Real Madrid win. He leans back and ignores the asphalt below. He’ll stay here as long as he needs to.

“Mate, get down from there.” Carlos looks up to see Charles and Arthur going absolutely mental, even taking a few photos for good measure. Relieved, scared, and just glad his stint on the banister is over, he climbs off and pulls his shirt back on, crossing his arms. He spots you inside, smiling but also insisting they delete the incriminating evidence.

In the end, seriously? This is the reaction you and he hid from for eight months? You walk over to place yourself beside Carlos, watching your brothers. Two fools laughing at everything, each other, their sister, and her boyfriend. “Jig is up,” Charles says. “But we’ve known since you two kissed outside that club.”

You roll your eyes; clearly, you’ve already been told this information. But Carlos is slack-jawed with shock—they did all that on purpose. How fucking cheeky, really. He figures they gave Lando the wrong room number through the grapevine, too.

“But,” Charles says, wiping real tears from his eyes, “I know you love my sister, mate, so I’ll be the first to say I approve. Arthur will be the second.”

“I approve,” says Arthur dumbly.

“We approve,” they say in unison, then they’re laughing all over again. You swat both of their arms in retaliation, which causes the teasing to subside.

“Now, cábron,” Charles says gleefully, “we do have a couple of questions for you…”

You squeeze his hand. Even if he prefers the banister, your presence is comforting all the same, and he’d answer any totally unnecessary, pointless, silly question from your brothers if it means he gets to hug you again later. If you told him eight months ago he’d be this in love, he would’ve laughed in your face. But here he is anyway. 

It’s comforting.

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Unnecessarily Convoluted Analysis of TWST Dorm Architecture

Putting that Art History degree to use 💪 I am getting my Masters in art history, so I am like semi qualified?? to do this. Tried my best with some of the dorms since some don't have an explicit cultural/architectural parallel irl. And obviously lots of liberties taken since I'm sure the people at Disney were not going for historical accuracy

Masterlist here

Much of this analysis can from my Spolia fic (Malleus x Light Fae MC)

Diasmonia: Early Gothic

Gothic- but early gothic. It's got a few flying buttresses, indicative of technology in later gothic movements- but in combination to the lower ceilings (lower than later gothic), fewer levels (celestory, triforium, doric columns, and shorter windows makes me think it's early gothic (more towards Norman architecture/Sens Cathedral), because it's a lot simpler and less technologically developed than high gothic (larger windows, rose windows, higher and pointier style, flying buttresses, more decorative stuff like Corinthian columns and stained glass). Still, I think the Fae would be been more concerned with its structural integrity against the waves of time- therefore gargoyles become a very prominent symbol in protecting this eternity and preservation of architecture since it basically prevents rain/weather from eating away at the building.

There's some interesting symbolism with Malleus' fixation with gargoyles, but I'm sure you can make that connection on your own based on what's out in Chapter 7 and how he reacts to both Lilia's and MC'S impending goodbyes.

Gothic was actually a term used by the French to demean the style, since it was seen as more 'savage' and 'lower' than classical architecture- which is symmetrical, solid, and values very literal and realistic (albeit idealized) characterization. Gothic architecture in contrast is a lot more airy, focuses on light and windows, and values more allegorical representations, which is why it resonated so well with the religious ruler and monarchies because they were able to not-so-subtly point to their influence and power in every single way without it being in your face all the time.

Because of this very stank contrast, it was labeled as "gothic" because people were criticizing it to be "savage" and "unkept". The goths were painted this way because they were mainly responsible for Rome's downfall, leading to the dark ages. Regardless of the French ruthlessly roasting the goths, this type of design flourished after the dark ages because technology was beginning to be advanced once more, and materials were more readily available.

My theory would be that the fae began to first develop this architecture because they had the advantage of magic, but then the humans were influenced by it- which leads them to high gothic (Noble Bell College), as well as Baroque and Rococo architecture (like the Pomefiore dorm). The Fae kept their style of early gothic since they didn't really see a point in changing much- maybe just more decorative gargoyles called grotesque as a symbol of the Fae's gratitude in their protection against time.

Also the hallways have what are almost like ribbed vaults which was one of the primary and first symbols of gothic architecture because they allowed more weight to be distributed to the vaults, and therefore allow for bigger windows.

Another distict characteristics in gothic architecture are clearly defined elevations.

Traditionally, they will have the celestial at the top, then gallery, then the main arcade (especially as we get into the later gothic periods and buildings get even taller and taller). Of course Disney isn't completely accurate with these things, but it seems that they're sort of going for that vibe, as many things end up being as our contemporary notions of historical design often creates a vague iconography of things that is often a copy of a copy of a copy of the original medium.

However I do think the intention to mimic the original design is still there overall, and combined with many of the other elements such as the prevalence of pointed arches that are a symbol of gothic architecture, and the sheer number of windows that were allowed originally due to the technological advances of the gothic era (and of course Malleus' own obsession with gargoyles), I think it would make sense to categorize this is like "gothic adjacent".

If I were to redesign the diasmonia dorm however, I would definitely begin by fixing the exterior- but I think they were referencing Malificent's tower in the Disney movie than any sort of historical accuracy lol. You win some, you lose some.

Pomefiore: Rococo with a touch of Art Noveau

Very obviously modeled after French Rococo architecture- the illustration of the hallways of Pomefiore dorm are almost exactly like the Palace of Versailles

It is definitely a toned down version- but pretty spot on, right? When I first saw the Pomefiore dorm I immediately Googled a picture of the Palace of Versailles cause I knew I saw it somewhere. Autistic spidey senses at it again.

Honestly wish they went more all out with the chandeliers, and had painted ceilings on the dorm colors- but I feel like they got the general vibes right. It feels closer to Romanesque with its simplicity but it still holds an aura of decadence and frivolity that I like. Very rich, extravagant like it's members (maybe not so much Epel lol)

Elements of Art noveau in the furniture (the peacock chair) and the embroidery of the uniforms.

Also, the peacock chair sort of reminds me of James McNeill Whistler's Peacock Room. He was an American impressionist that was sort of the forefront of art nouveau, since impressionism was one of the mainstream movements that really began the explosion of Japanese inspired design that is also used in Art Nouveau aesthetic.

(Vil would definitely have this room if he could)

The carpet in the room reminds me of William Morris' designs, and just art nouveau in general.

As far as I can tell, the exterior is based on a variety of German castle styles from 13th century Romanesque styles, to 18th century Neo-Gothic styles. Which is coincidentally what a lot of the castles on Disneyland are based off of.

Everything is very florial, Corinthian, and extravagant. I love it. It's very baroque, I dig it.

Scarabia

Please don't come for me I'm not as well versed in Non-Asian and Non-Western architecture except for religious architecture in Turkey and Jerusalem so I'm gonna try my best with this one

So I think it mixes a lot of the icons we think of in association to Arabic architecture like domes, pointed/ogee (rounded, then pointed)/multifoil (multiple curves) arches, and ornate floral designs that derive from the use of calligraphy in Islamic structures (as iconography, or pictures depicting the faces and bodies of religious figures were not allowed).

And I think all those tiny buildings resemble Minarets, or tall towers built adjacent to mosques where the muezzin can issue the call to prayer. But the artists were probably like "hm. Not enough. How do we make it more arabic??" And of course the contemporary orientalist perspectives that dominate the artistic realm made they go "quick just add a bunch of domes"

I think Kalim's room and the lounge in particular best shows the general "airiness" that parallels Islamic acthicture (ie the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque on UAE)

Open air courtyards are also a characteristic element of Islam architecture, which you can see with the areal view of the dorm, and also makes sense with Kalim's unique magic.

Jali window designs (the intricate gold metal covers on the arches) are also popular on Islamic architecture

The Haga Sophia in particular has been described to have a dome "suspended by the heavens", as the section connecting the building and the dome is made entirely of arches that allows the sunlight from the heavens to pour inside the building. Though the haga Sophia is a very special case, as it was occupied by varying religions with different architectural styles at certain periods- I think it's also a good representation of our contemporary prototype of Arabian architecture that makes up the final design of the dorm.

Ignihyde: Classical Greek

Looks like it's modeled after the Parthenon, which was built during the Classical period on Greece where Athens was flourishing as a center of mathematics, technology, and architecture. These are sentiments which becomes reflected in the Renaissance afterwards, such as symmetry and a very systemic way of approaching things. I think it fits perfectly with this dorm, since they're the "tech geeks" of NRC

It's got your pediment, your doric columns (would have preferred ionic columns but whatever Disney), your arcades. Pretty straight forward unlike the actual movie it's based off of lol (Hercules has so so many mythological inconsistencies. Like why are you talking about Achilles in the movie??? Trojan was hasn't even happened babe stop manifesting that shit)

I think the symmetry and order of Classical Greek design goes well with the overall futuristic look Ignihyde and the Island of Woe are going for. Pretty clever, Disney.

Heartslabyul: Tudor Revival Style

Though Alice in Wonderland is set in the later 19th century, I think the Tudorian Revival style than began in the beginning of the 20th century just shortly later fits best.

Turdorian revival style is characterized through half timbering, which is like the timber panels you see on the surface of the building; oriel windows (windows that jut out); mock battlements; and courtyards.

The Tudorian revival style also takes elements from Elizabethan era architecture and perpendicular gothic architecture, hence the long gallery and the tudorian four point arch)

The glass panes in the lounge leaves me to believe it's sort of like a glass house where part of the house is sort of like a greenhouse. This is characteristic of Victorian glasshouses that rose with the availability of timber, paint, and brick and the popularity of botany in the Victorian era propelled by botanical imports from British colonies. Architecrs like Joseph Paxton were also known for his opus magnum- the Crystal Palace, which held the Great Exhibition of 1851 (kind of like a world expo with the theme of industry and art) also popularize the movement- and was a significant sign of wealth, as glass and window taxes were especially high. But in the later century when iron and steel frame construction was advanced, people could be built out of iron and window panes, so they could be assembled easily, and also afforded by middle class citizens.

So it's basically a mix of Elizabethan and Victorian revival styles (tudorian and gothic), which is in theme with the Victorian period the original media is set in, albeit taking inspiration from styles little later in the period.

Savanaclaw:

Again- I am blind when it comes to Non-Asian/Non-Western architecture- but this one was kinda confusing cause it really doesn't have any architectural cohesivity??? Like it's just got a general "jungle vibe" which I'm not surprised at because Disney is infamous for glossing over non-white cultures and kind of just simplifying them into a "general vibe" which wow yikes my guy

Kind of reminds me of Mese Verde, which are structures made directly within a cliffside, or the Great Mosque of Djenné and the African Heritage house in Kenya which have very smoothed, natural designs that blend into the environment

What I could gather from my research and my juicy autistic brain, savannas are regularly subjected to wild fires- so a lot of the heavy, rocky architecture and interior style makes sense, opposed to one made of wood (which are mostly in the inside of the structure, besides the roof which I imagine is less likely to catch on fire). Much of the building seems also to be directly carved within natural rock formations- a very functional use of the resources around you- very savannaclaw!

The textiles in each of the dorm members' rooms resemble Kente fabric, a style of hand weaving from Ghana, originally reserved for royalty but now commonly worn for ceremonial occasions and such. Also unlike other African textiles styles, it's strictly a male practice. I think it would make sense for Sunset Savanna, a place where women are highly respected and perhaps take on more political and military positions- leaving largely men to the practice of textile making (both are honorable acts- not comparing the two). There aren't distinguished aesthetic styles of textiles that differentiate each weaving from another- rather, it is divided by technique and region- so this is not like a definite connection, just thought it was interesting to includle

Textiles seem to occupy the only decorative role in the entire dorm- so perhaps there is significant cultural significance? Maybe there is a certain region that's known for their practices? Or is weaving a symbol of adulthood or growth and therefore is why they're hung up in each of the dorm member's rooms with the exception of Ruggie, who may not have had the socioeconomic privilege of making one? Or does the practice vary across species? Much to speculate 🤔

Octavinelle: Art Deco and Art Nouveau

Saved this one for last because oh boy I don't even know where to start with this. Obviously the design is very creative and I love it, but there's a lot less historical elements I can use to analyze the style, kind of like the Savanah claw exterior.

But it leans towards the art deco style, which is most fitting for the business dorm I think.

Elements of Art deco like geometric aspects of design, thematic and aesthetic consistency, and decorative/geometric windows are seen throughout the dorm interior and exterior

But I think the art nouveau elements are also there too, with the cheeky sea-themed elements that use natural shapes and icons into the architecture, design, and surfaces of the dorm.

Otherwise, not much else to say about this dorm 🤷 it's not really based in anything historical but there are bits and pieces of art nouveau and art deco in there, but I definitely wish they would lean more into the art deco elements since I think it would go well with the general themes of the dorm values.

So uh, yeah. Told you it would be convoluted.

Feel free to add and or correct!

[riordanness]

crazier - p.jackson

1.1K wordcount

warnings: slight slut shaming??

requested: no

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” I stare at my best friend, half in shock, half in horror, half in amusement. Fine, I know that technically that equals 150%, but I failed maths in school, okay?

Percy laughs, a mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. “I'm never kidding,” he says. “Especially not with you.”

I shake my head slowly. “I am not getting on a skateboard, Jackson.”

“Come on!” he pleads with me, and it takes every single bit of willpower I have to resist his puppy dog eyes. They remind me of a baby seal, cute and sweet and innocent.

“Why?” I whine a little, swinging my legs underneath the cafeteria table. I stare down at my ‘food’, something that I think is supposed to resemble mac’n’cheese and is actually just smushy looking yellow stuff.

“Cause it’s fun,” Percy says. “And I’ve wanted to teach you since forever.”

“Really?”

“Well, okay,” he relents. “Not forever. I haven’t exactly known you for forever yet, so… I guess I’ve wanted to since we first met.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And, tell me, how did we meet, Percy Jackson?”

Percy grins, shoves an extremely gross and greasy french fry in his mouth, and scrunches his nose at me. I’d never admit it out loud, but that nose scrunch of his was the single most adorable thing under the sun.

I toss my ponytail. “C’mon. Tell me.”

“Well, basically… I saw you, thought you were cute, you saw me, thought I looked like trouble, and we became friends.”

I roll my eyes lightly, but I’m pretty sure my slight embarrassment is obvious. Percy had thought I was cute? Yikes.

“I didn’t think you were trouble,” I tell him. “I knew you were trouble.”

“Oh yeah?” Have I mentioned how cute Percy looks with his eyebrows raised in that slightly teasing way? I shouldn’t love it as much as I do, but… well. I can’t help what reaction I get from this boy’s good looks.

“Hi Percy.” A girlish voice from behind me greets my best friend with a flirtatious smile. “Don’t you just hate sitting here with her?” Ruby shoots me a distasteful glance, and I make a face at her. “Wouldn’t you rather sit with us?”

Ruby is the prettiest and most awful girl in school, and she’s obsessed with Percy. Not that I can really blame her…

“Uh, no thanks,” Percy says, his lips tight in a thin, polite kind-of smile. “I’m perfectly fine sitting here with y/n.”

“But she’s so… boring!” Ruby sighs dramatically, widening her blue eyes wide. “And you and I are so… interesting.” She steps over to him, and traces a finger up his hoodie sleeve.

It’s Percy’s turn to make a face. “Uh- thanks again, Ruby, but no, really. I’m good.” He looks at me, and a little bit of his calmness washes over me. Somehow, I feel a whole lot less threatened by Ruby, almost like magic.

Ruby rolls her pretty eyes. “Well fine.” She gives me another glance, looking me up and down. I shoot her a fake smile.

“Have fun with… her,” Ruby says, her dislike for me practically dripping from her mouth. “I’ve heard good things about her abilities with boys.”

Percy is on his feet in an instant. “Don’t talk about y/n like that.”

Ruby laughs, somehow sounding both pretty and delicate and ruthlessly cruel. “Oh honey. Just telling it how it is.”

“You won’t say anything of that sort about her again.”

“And why not?” Ruby gives him the eyes.

Percy hesitates, looks at me, then his gaze hardens. He stares down Ruby. “She’s my girlfriend. And I do not like you talking about my girl like that.”

I’m frozen, half impressed, half confused, half in love. And yes, I know that’s too many halves. We already discussed this.

Ruby doesn’t exactly know what to say. “Oh,” she squeaks, and then turns on her heel and makes a hasty exit.

Percy doesn’t look at me as he sits back down. There’s silence for much longer than I can handle.

Finally, I find my voice. “Your girl, huh?”

Percy almost flinches. “I’m sorry.”

I laugh, a little breathlessly. “No. It’s fine, honestly. It was… kinda cute.”

“Oh.” Percy’s cheeks are pink.

Before I could say anything else, the bell for the end of lunch rings. Kids all around us get to their feet, scrambling to get back to class.

I glance at my best friend. “Wanna ditch?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Twenty minutes later, the two of us are sitting side by side atop the skate park, our legs dangling.

“Still want to teach me to skate?” I ask.

“Course I do,” Percy says.

Neither of us have mentioned the girlfriend thing, but I kind of want to. I’ve been crushing on Percy for years, and it’s honestly about time he finds out about it. I love the guy, but bloody hell he’s oblivious.

“Teach me then,” I say nonchalantly.

“Wait, for real?” Percy twists to face me.

I give a shrug. “Why not? It’s not that likely I’ll die.”

“I won't let you die.” Percy grins. “Come on!”

I honestly thought skateboarding would be easier. Turns out I have absolutely terrible balance, and can barely even stand on the stupid board, let alone move around on it.

“Here.” Percy’s hands are on my waist, steadying me. Well, steadying me physically, but sending so many butterflies all through my middle I almost die right then and there. “Just breathe,” Percy says, “and don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking,” I say, my voice clearly panicky.

Percy laughs, and I decide that it is my favourite sound in all the world.

“I love you.” At first, I think I must be so scared about this skateboarding thing that I’m hallucinating, but no. It’s real. Percy Jackson really just said that.

I struggle for words. “What?”

“I love you, y/n,” he repeats, a little more hesitant this time. “I’ve been loving you for as long as I can remember knowing you. And when I pretended you were my girlfriend earlier with Ruby, well… I realised how much I wanted that to be true.”

I have a stupid smile on my face. But right now, I don’t even care. “I love you too, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy grins, tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Ice-cream on the beach tonight?” he asks. “I’ll prepare everything and ask you to be my girlfriend properly.”

I laugh a little. “It’s a date.”

“Yeah.” Percy’s smile is like melted chocolate, warm and smooth and gorgeous.

“Now, get me off this ridiculous skateboard.”

[shoku-and-awe]

Do you have a personal ranking of the different convenience stores in Japan? The ones off the top of my head I can think of are 7-11, Lawson, Family Mart, Daily Yamazaki, and Ministop.

This is a great ask, very much my field of interest! But I don't rank them hierarchically so much as.... territorially(? situationally?) because they have different strengths but here it is!

------------------------------ 7-11: The conbini I'm most attached to! Generally has the best bento selection, and also the best-smelling coffee. (All the grind-and-brew coffee machines are basically the same quality, but the 7-11 ones really smell great.)

FamiMa: The best fried chicken! And generally a good chuhi selection. Also has far and away the most iconic jingle, and now I get this absolute bop by Miyachi stuck in my head every time I visit.

Lawson: Best for its special stores! Discount store Lawson 100 was a godsend for groceries and household supplies my first year in Tokyo. And I will stop basically anytime I see a Natural Lawson (aka Natty Law aka Naughty Lad) because they have organic/imported/upscale/health/vegetarian stuff you won't find elsewhere.

Ministop: Great for softserve ice cream and also hotcase and deli items! The deli items feel more homemade than at the Big Three. Also they have halohalo and sticky rice dumplings that I always mean to try.

Daily Yamazaki: Kind of a wild card! These days they have interesting variety and grocery items (the other day I got these kimchis and a liter of unbelievably sweet organic soymilk that was in a plastic bag for some reason), fresh breads/pastries and Japanese sweets, and snacks that aren't major brands. But! Until recently, they were kind of..... hmm. Of the two near me, one was staffed by a very old woman on an oxygen machine who completely ignored you (both things *very* unusual for Tokyo) and one by the absolute tiniest old woman I'd ever seen and a very smiley man who was either her elderly son or somewhat younger husband, both utter sweethearts. The stores were dingy and poorly lit, and the selection was somewhere between basics and bare bones—but also some nights they would sell fresh cream puffs from a French bakery?? Chaotic, kind of a grab bag, some Building 19 vibes (IYKYK). Then in maybe 2018ish, there was a major overhaul and now they are as shiny, well-lit, and antiseptically clean any other chain. If a little less friendly.

New Days: I added this one! Easy to overlook because they're teeny, with a very basic selection, but that's because they're only found inside of JR train stations. I don't think that they're anyone's conbini of choice, but they're there when you need them! (Sometimes.) ------------------------------

Also honorable mentions to Poplar, which I never see anymore (East Tokyo only?), and to Three-F, which seems to have been bought by Lawson, and 🫡 RIP to Sunkus (run by Circle K), which I always liked. When I lived near the red light district, we always used to stop at Tokyo's last surviving Sunkus on our way to see the pharmacy with the goat.