exotic flavors

Slytherin things:

-Listening to the same song 50 times in a row without getting tired of it.
-Cheerily saying “it’s okay,” “it’s fine,” or “no problem” when on the inside you’re seething with rage and already envisioning your revenge.
-Keeping things forever if they were given to you by someone you love, even small things like trinkets and scraps of paper.
-Feeling really powerful when you can finally bring yourself to throw out something you’d kept from a person who’s no longer a part of your life.
-Drinking caffeine in the PM.
-Giving second chances, third chances, fourth chances… but then cutting people off completely when they finally push you too far.
-Buying yourself presents when you’re sad or stressed.
-Having entire conversations made of inside jokes.
-Preferring unusual, unconventional, and exotic flavors.
-Keeping the heat low and burying yourself under piles of blankets to sleep.
-Having an organizational system that no one else understands.
-Not dressing weather-appropriate.
-Cooking fancy meals for just yourself.
-Being really good at picking out gifts for other people.
-Fighting through physical pain and illness when you have stuff that needs to get done.
-Memorizing songs and poems and running through them in your head for fun.
-Staring at the stars.

Angry Girl Review: Eleanor and Park

One time in college I turned in an essay and my professor underlined a sentence I’d written and told me it wasn’t the appropriate register for a university essay and I have crazy respect for her so I tailored my papers for the rest of the semester but this isn’t a university essay so I’ll start off with

WHAT

THE FUCK

WAS THAT

Let’s start with the most glaringly obvious: the racism! 

The sad thing is that half these descriptions are obviously supposed to be flattering except they’re… not… 

Wow ninjas and East Asia what a novel concept wow 

Wow because East Asian men aren’t emasculated in American media at all

THIS KIND OF SPEAKS FOR ITSELF.

by the way this is so very Memoirs of a Geisha-y because Park happens to be a half-Korean kid who LOOKS more Asian than his brother

But Park has green eyes!!!!! so magical!!!! So EXOTIC!!! Also “almond-flavored” please that’s not the most cliched description for Asian eyes in the book

Here have some more grossness around those oh-so-exotic “Asian” eyes

Please let that sink in for a moment. Like Ming the Merciless. Who, as you might know from the Flash Gordon comic, was originally introduced in 1934 and is a pretty clear stand-in for, uh… yellow peril. upon googling, looks like this:

Sooo…. yeah.

But then Park has a couple of self-hating moments where he of course implies that Asian women have it easier:

“White guys think they’re exotic”. And that is flattering why, Park? “Exotic”, really? And Eleanor isn’t exactly doing a great job of not contributing to this harmful mentality when she explicitly thinks that he’s “prettier than any girl”. Again:

But then!!! Eleanor makes it all better!!! By saying this!! In the middle of a STEAMY LOVE SCENE!!!! (which by the way neither steamy nor lovely just creeped me out a lot because of the following passage):

This Othering, this fetishization, does not stop through the entire book. Finally, we get towards the end: 

So no, Eleanor never gets over Othering her boyfriend.

Wait hold on Asian women don’t get a pass either, as Park’s mom is painted as the oppressive parent who doesn’t like “weird white girls”, but according to Eleanor…

 

“his” Dainty China person because of course Park’s mom isn’t a person, but a literal object to be moved and shifted according to the whim’s of Park’s dad, a Korean war vet. 

Here have some more bad stereotyping of Asian women as “thin pretty and petite” and Eleanor’s own self-hatred and fat-shaming:

Black women aren’t exempt from being props to uphold Eleanor either. Her two “friends” at school (I say “friends” in quotes because they don’t really comment on anything except how cute Park is and they all make fun of those OTHER nasty white girls in gym class together), oh, and Rainbow Rowell writes them like this:

“It was an honor that they’d let her into their club”…the “you’re not like THOSE white people club???" 

"I got a man”, REALLY??? 

Park’s “Asian”-ness As Other and He Could Have Been Edward Cullen, What is the Goddamn Difference

I would have felt better if Rainbow Rowell had written Park as a vampire or a werewolf or some other inhuman creature, the stuff of teen girl YA fantasy because a) vampires and werewolves don’t actually exist and therefore you can write them any way you want, albiet cliched, whatever–at least you’re not contributing to some very harmful societal stereotypes. 

Park, as you can see from the previous citations, is written out to be this “edgy” indie boy who wears eyeliner and listens to the Smiths (which wow I rolled my eyes at) and is also a loner at school in and his edginess and “magic” make him stand out in much the same way a vampire or a werewolf or otherwise nonhuman creature would. These descriptions of Park really made me think of Twilight and no, not because they are things that “normal” teen girls say or think but because we’ve seen this archetype of, for lack of better word, “magical boy” that comes barging into sad-manic-pixie-dream-girl’s-but-not-like-the-other-girls’-life and sweeps her off her feet:

How artsy, edgy, and NOT PREPPY, he wears all black.

Who else had a face “like a chiseled marble statue in its perfection”? (psst, it was Edward Cullen)

who else was described as “godlike” “angelic” and all that crap? Vampire boy Edward Cullen. Louis and Lestat and Claudia, all of our favorite too-gorgeous-to-be-real fairytale creatures.

But when you use those kinds of descriptors for a character who is very visibly POC and then give them an uncommon feature like ~green eyes~, do they not become a kind of mythical creature in, the stuff of exotic fantasy? Do they then become dehumanized and not real, only the kind of boyfriend a girl can aspire to get?

The answer, of course, is yes. But dreaming about dating a vampire or a werewolf is so very different and again does not carry the same weight as being hellbent on dating a ~perfect Asian boy~. Because at this point it is not about Park. This is not Park’s story, even though he shares half the title. This is Eleanor’s story, the manic pixie “not like the other girls” girl, with her crazy red hair and her weird clothes and her desire to get away from it all. 

Eleanor’s entire story is painted on a canvas of abuse and neglect and sadness, so of course she needs some magical boy to literally swoop in and save her– at the end, Park takes her to Minnesota where her uncle lives, away from the safety of her stepfather who is out for her blood. Eleanor is the most precious person in the world to Park, so much that he doesn’t care about his family anymore and the only person he cares about is her. How the hell is that any kind of healthy way to have a relationship?

Park’s Asian-ness is only brought up in the context that it is different to what Eleanor is used to, that it is EXOTIC and MAGICAL and because of that she likes him. No, but it’s in the text, where Eleanor openly admits to fetishizing:

I didn’t end up CARING about Eleanor’s family situation at all. Her relationship with her mother was completely one-dimensional, as was the relationship with her siblings and her stepfather. It was almost as though the backstory was there to make Eleanor more sympathetic to the reader, which as a reader I didn’t end up buying because there was literally no depth to any of it.

Similarly, Park’s relationship with his parents is weird and disturbing and also one-sided. His mom speaks broken English and is demure but madly in love with his dad, who, need I remind you, “liberated” her from her oppressive country. Miss Saigon, anyone? Park’s dad is typical American machismo, a simple kinda guy, but at heart a good one. I feel like the PARENTS’ relationship was something I was more interested in than Eleanor or Park, had it not been written like a weird yellow-fever wet dream, where the white dude comes home and just makes out with the Asian woman all the time and she stays home and tends to their perfect house and their perfect family. 

Rainbow Rowell has explicitly stated in an interview that one of her inspirations for writing Eleanor and Park and for making Park Korean was that her father had been in the Korean War:

1. My father served in Korea, in the Army.

This is probably the most obvious explanation.

My parents separated when I was in the second grade, and I never knew my dad that well. I didn’t grow up with him around. But I remember being fascinated by the fact that he was in the military – and stationed in a place where there had been an actual war, even though he was there decades after the worst of it.

There was this photo of him, in uniform, hanging over my grandmother’s coffee table – an unrecognizable teenager with short hair and tiny wire-rimmed glasses.

Every once in a while, if he’d had a few drinks, my dad would talk about the Army. How he signed up at 17 to avoid getting drafted and sent to Vietnam. The Army wouldn’t send a 17-year-old to Vietnam, he said. (I have no idea if this, or much else my dad told me, is true.)

He was especially proud of having protested the Vietnam War while he was in Korea. There was a clipping from a military newspaper with photos of the protest. I was 12 or 13 when he showed me this, and I definitely didn’t get it.

Over the years, I’ve had people tell me I must be confused about my dad, that there weren’t Americans soldiers left in Korea in the ‘70s. But there are still American soldiers in South Korea. We never left.

Anyway, the other thing my dad would talk about, every once in a while, was a girl he’d known in Korea. My mom says he carried this Korean girl’s photo in his wallet for years after he came home. He’d been in love with her; my mom thought he still was.

I used to wonder about that girl. About how he met her. Whether she spoke English. Whether she was his age. Whether it was some secret love affair, or something her friends and family knew about … What if she was his soulmate?

What if fate and circumstance and the U.S. government had come together to deliver my father across the continents to his soulmate – and he just left her there.

He could have stayed, I thought. He could have brought her back. Omaha is a military town; people bring wives and husbands back from all over.

I remember being so angry with him. First for leaving the person he was meant to be with; then for leaving my mom, the person he wasn’t meant to be with; and then for leaving all my brothers and sisters and me in his wake.

So … in Eleanor & Park, Park’s dad gets sent to Korea because his brother has died in combat in Vietnam. He meets his soulmate there. And he brings her home. 

He “liberates” her. And puts her in his pocket like a China Doll, right?

These were only a few selections out of the many, many in the novel. Over and over again we’re slammed in the face with the fact that Park is Asian, he’s half-Korean, but only in the way he looks and almost always in the context of his relationship with Eleanor, never by himself. Half the book is supposedly written from Park’s perspective but he never really introspects on his identity except during that scene when he’s with Eleanor, bitter that there aren’t any “hot Asian guys.” Not even Asian AMERICAN, just “Asian”. As though the author were not aware of the hybrid culture that exists in the country–maybe because Park’s “the only Korean in Omaha?”

What first love story is there to tell? They start off hating each other and he makes her a mixtape and asks if she listens to the Smiths, and given that this book came out after Five Hundred Days of Summer… 

I’m not sure what the point of the book was. To make people want hot Asian boyfriends?

This read like bad Tamora Pierce Circle of Magic Trisana Chandler/Briar Moss AU fic.

  • white person: where are u from
  • me: what
  • white person: u know. what nationality are u
  • white person: what shade of yellow. what flavor of exotic. what country is ur family from. from what city in the Glorious Country of Asia were you birthed. what Foreign Land were u born in
  • me:
  • me:
  • me:
  • white person: from what branch of Orientalism do u derive yourself from
A Pinch of Nutmeg

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: 6500

Summary: The reader is a young and upcoming chef who takes up an opportunity in Vancouver where she by chance befriends Jensen. 

Obviously I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time.

Welp, I did it again. Again, this is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. 

After taking a break between high school and college, you enrolled at local university to simply appease your parents’ desires. But your true passion belonged to your part-time job. You were plainly a line cook at a restaurant which was joined with a brewery yet the chef valued your opinions and even featured some of your creations on a seasonal rotating menu.

You had countless arguments with your parents about pursuing this venture further and applying for culinary school but their disapproval was clear. They didn’t think it held a future or would put on too much stress. They thought you should enroll in college for a ‘real career’ as they put it. You just felt they never understood your passion. Neither of them drank alcohol, your dad never touched a vegetable, and your mom was too overwhelmed from your younger siblings to even try to cook something that was not prepackaged and frozen. You had considered applications for culinary schools but never took that final step. It was the last argument you had with them that pushed you to register at least for some gen eds.

At the present moment, your classes were the furthest thing from your mind. It was ‘Restaurant Week’ in your city which encouraged people to dine out, try new foods, and for chefs to create weekly specials offered at a reduced cost. One of your dishes was featured for the week. Poutine with breaded fried chicken livers and a maple, mustard gravy. Yes, livers did not sound appetizing, but done right, they were extremely savory and delicious, so much so it was sinful. And you wanted to show your town that. You even invited your parents to come try it, proud one of your items was featured but they had yet to show.

Currently the dining room had a 45-minute wait to be seated and orders were flying in nonstop. But it fueled you, thriving under the pressure. You were focused on your station and were even helping others pick up the slack.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you think people like Reyes because he's the spicy Latino character? im trying to understand the hype. I kind of think people just like him for being hot brown boy with hot accent.

lol wtf you’re like the third nonny to ever ask me to speak for the entirety of Reyes stans and tell you why we like him. I mean, whatever answer I give will be personal and not necessarily a reflection on the community, so let me get started on something I can generalize: fetishization.

[*Note I have a small postscript answer anticipating Sloane Kelley’s characterization at the end of this post.]

Short answer: No, but… Long Answer: Yes, but… >both buts lead to: but racism is something we participate in regardless of whether or not we are anti-racist.

Basically, we consume and propagate tropes and images regardless of how we problematize it, and it’s really up to your consumption of Reyes’s character to determine your complicity in the fetishization that inevitably follows a character like him.

The Unintentional Lecture on the Spicy Brown Boy with an Accent Trope

I think you’d all be lying if you say you didn’t get a wee bit charmed by the accent when you first heard it. It’s subconscious; it’s ingrained in everything we consume; the person with the accent is exotic, mysterious, and jarringly different from the identities you formed in the creation of your protagonist.

Writers, filmmakers, and artists have constantly employed accents for characters to instill a very impermeable yet nonetheless alluring sense of “difference.” This is why George Lucas racistly gave the aliens accented English in the prequel trilogy despite having given them acceptable yet unintelligible (to us) alien languages in the original Star Wars trilogy. The bureaucrats starving Naboo for a trade deal get the haughty Japanese businessfolk accent; the slaver who owned Anakin and is “stingy” has a vaguely semitic accent; Jar Jar Binks with his “massah” lingo and incoherence eerily mimics the language white writers ascribed to black slaves in 19th-century fiction (as seen in Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Huckleberry Finn), and it’s weirdly reminiscent of Jamaican accents as well, so you can’t help but think of his “tomfoolery” in a racialized undertone. I’m sorry to call out George Lucas in this (I’m really not tho), because he isn’t alone. My point is that in the most blatant of cases, accents from real communities and groups are transposed onto alien or monstrous creatures in a move that simultaneously anthropomorphizes them (i.e. giving them voice and characterization) without granting them the dignity of being fully human and an American or British accented English seems to be the dominant mode of doing this. [Let’s not talk about how Bioware has handled accents for aliens in GENERAL in the ME Original Trilogy for now, because this is complicated]

On the flipside you can dehumanize human characters by giving them this same treatment of accents. See this post for an elaboration.

What happens when you give a human character an accent?

Keep reading

June Eleventh

Dan did not like birthdays. He didn’t have anything against the desserts, or the presents, or the scent of birthday candle smoke. He quite liked all of those, actually. One of his first childhood memories was going to his friend Christopher’s third birthday party. He remembered the velvety chocolate cake, and thinking that one day, he would have that same cake on his own birthday. His mother had always bought vanilla cake for birthdays, and he’d never had the heart to say he’d prefered chocolate. But despite all that, he liked nearly all aspects of birthdays.

For other people. Not for himself.

As a kid, Dan had liked his birthdays. Heck, he even looked forward to them, the presents and candy and pinatas. But gradually, as he grew older, he noticed the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Winnie the Pooh themed decor start to disappear, until themed parties were deemed only for “losers.” In fact, it was on his fifteenth birthday that he realized– he was no longer a kid anymore, and all birthdays did was tell you that you were a year farther away from watching Sesame Street and playing Pokemon, and a year closer to the adult world and boring office jobs and worrying about bank loans and dating, which he thought was disgusting, and inevitably, he realized, death. That day, he excused himself from his French classroom and ran to the boys’ bathroom. He stood in front of the foggy mirror, peering at his pale reflection tinged with green from the faulty bathroom lighting, wondering when he’d suddenly become so old, and exactly when his childhood had slipped from his desperate grasps until it only existed in his memory.

That was why, on June 11th, 2017, Dan did not want to wake up. He had though, a few rays of sunlight beaming in through the windows in his room, shining directly in his eyes.

This, he thought as he pulled the grey covers back over his head, was not a good way to start a day. Having your eyes directly assaulted by a sunbeam. He wished it would rain, or at least be cloudy, as a way of watching his already somber mood. But upon checking the weather app on his phone under the covers, the light illuminating the creases of fabric, he was informed that his birthday was going to be, as he muttered to himself, “bloody brilliant.”

The sky was an exuberant shade of royal blue, with puffy clouds almost resembling marshmallows inching proudly across. The sun was shining brightly, and the birds outside his window were trilling a morning sonata.

“Bloody brilliant,” he repeated. It was as though the entire world wanted him to be happy today, when all he could think about was the inevitability of death. He felt like lying on his bed for the rest of the day, curled into a lump of bitterness and regret.

He knew that at any moment, Phil would come bursting in with some silly cake and party hats, or a messily-baked pan of homemade brownies, or cupcakes from the bakery down the street in some exotic flavor like “avocado” or “mango-chili” or “dark chocolate-bacon.” The thought of Phil brought a small smile to Dan’s lips. Even on days like these, somehow, Phil was always able to make Dan happy. He remembered when he’d been in college, horribly unhappy with his life, in what he liked to describe as his quarter life crisis, and Phil would randomly grab his hand and pull him out of the apartment on mystery outings. Sometimes they’d go buy ice cream cones and eat them in the park nearby. Sometimes they’d buy weird board games from Japan or Italy and spend the night trying to figure out how to play. Sometimes they’d just wander around, their fingers almost touching as they walked side by side. Whatever it was, Phil would always manage to make Dan laugh, even if it was just with a stupid pun.

Dan lay on his bed, letting his eyes shut. His breath became even, and after a few minutes, he was fast asleep again.

 

Dan woke with a start. He pulled the hot covers off his head and grabbed his phone from his bedside table. It was three o’clock! He’d been asleep for hours! He scrambled out of bed. Phil must be worried sick! He grabbed a pair of dirty jean off the floor and pulled them on over his pajama shorts.

“Phil!” he called as he hurried downstairs to the lounge. His voice echoed off the walls, mixing with his heavy footsteps. He opened the door to the lounge to find… no one. He checked the kitchen. Nothing. Phil’s room. The bathroom. The gaming room. The balcony. Phil was nowhere to be found.

Huh, Dan thought, brewing himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He must be out, he reasoned, pouring coffee into a large mug. He took a sip and sighed. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad. Dan never liked big celebrations for his birthday. He always tried to act happy and upbeat, when really, he just wished that he could sit alone in silence, mourning another year closer to death.

He padded back to the lounge, where he scrolled through Tumblr on his phone. Birthday messages from his friends and followers filled his screen. He sighed and tossed his phone aside. He couldn’t escape from his birthday. Any other day, he’d appreciate those posts, but today he couldn’t stand them. Mindlessly, he grabbed his phone to tap out a thank you tweet to everyone, knowing it was the nice thing to do. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like his somber mood leaked into the tweet as he reread it before posting it. Everyone would notice his lack of enthusiasm, he worried, before realizing it was hard to ever sound enthusiastic over a tweet without overusing all-caps and emojis. Oh well, he thought.

He pulled out the Nintendo Controller and launched himself into a game of Mario Kart, hoping it would take his mind of off everything.

 

Hours passed.

Dan finally looked up from his hundredth game, realizing it was already six o’clock. Phil hadn’t bothered to text or call or leave any signs. No DMs, no Snaps, nothing.

But as Dan refreshed his Twitter feed, a tweet caught his eye. It was Phil’s. Just random gif of a birthday cake.

Dan thought nothing of it until he noticed Phil had tagged his location. Someplace called “Bob’s Boba.” Dan remembered walking by it a few weeks earlier and agreeing to try a bubble tea from there at some point with Phil. Now, as his stared at his screen, he almost felt betrayed. Sure, it was small, but they had agreed to go together! And now Phil was off galavanting with who knows to get bubble tea!

Dan frowned. Phil wasn’t one to go back on his promises. What if Phil couldn’t help that he was at Bob’s? What if-

No, Dan shook his head. It was too impossible. But what if? Dan bit his lip, and couldn’t help but let the thought flood his mind.

What if Phil had been brought there by a kidnapper? He hadn’t told Dan about any plans he’d had today.

The hairs on the back of Dan’s neck stood on end. Phil, poor innocent Phil. Kidnapped?

Dan couldn’t stand thinking of his best friend being dragged around by some huge thug, tweeting random gifs to make it seem like everything was normal, against his own will!

He should phone the police, Dan realized. His finger hovered over the nine on his phone’s keypad. No, he thought. He wasn’t even sure that Phil had been kidnapped. He would go to Bob’s, he reasoned, to find Phil for himself.

He ran upstairs and quickly changed out of his pajamas and old jeans into a pair of clean, nondescript ones and a shapeless black hoodie. He couldn’t be bothered to be recognized today, not when he was on a mission. He grabbed his headphones, his wallet, and his keys, shoved them into his hoodie pocket, pulled on a pair of worn black Vans, just in case he needed to run, texted Phil a few hundred times with no response, and headed out the door.

He passed the cute hipster cafe, the grocery store, and the Starbucks. After a while, the buildings began to blur together into a jumbled mess. He was sure he was going the right way. Right? He looked up at the street signs, but they all seemed unfamiliar. He turned to his phone to check Google Maps, but suddenly realized, to his dismay, that he was over his monthly data limit, only eleven days in. He muttered curses to the sky, which, he noticed, was looking grayer than before. In fact, it looked positively cloudy, the cheery sun from before blotted out by ominous masses of cloud.

It started raining a few minutes later. Dan groaned, cursing his earlier self for wishing it would rain. This wasn’t a light rain, either. At first it was a few drops, but then, just like that, it was pouring. Dan was soaked to the bone in an instant, water sloshing around inside his drenched shoes. He shivered in the dark light, ducking under awnings in an attempt to keep dry. His teeth chattered, his hunched figure dripping and dark. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his fingertips grew freezing in his pockets. The rain stung his arms, coming down almost sideways in the wind.

Finally, he came to a street called Borrows Avenue, which sounded familiar. He could’ve sworn Bob’s was nearby, so he picked a direction and walked in it for a while, hoping he was going the right way. After a few minutes, a glowing neon sign came into view up ahead.

“Bob’s Boba.” Dan grinned, breaking into a run. He flung the foggy glass door opened to find a nearly empty shop. A woman with blue hair stood at the counter, a few years younger than him, looking boredly at her phone. A pretentious-looking older man sat by the window, stroking his pointed beard and scratching away in a small leather notebook. Beside those two, they were alone.

“Um, excuse me?” Dan approached the woman at the counter. She looked up, snapping gum in her mouth, and raised an eyebrow, as if to say “what do you want?” Dan bit his lip and continued. “I was just wondering if you’d seen a tall guy come in here, about my height, with uh, black hair? Blue eyes? Pale skin?”

“Nah,” she mumbled through her gum. “I didn’t see no one lookin’ like that come through here.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, or as thoughtful as one could look while blowing bubbles with their gum. “Wait, actually. Black hair, right?” Dan nodded. “He left, like, twenty minutes ago, or somethin’. He was with a tallish guy and a shorter woman. Blonde, I think. They went that way.” She pointed out the window.

The man sitting in the corner looked up from his work. “I could’ve sworn they went thataway!” He gestured in the other direction.

The two argued for a few minutes while Dan used the Wifi to check for new tweets. Indeed, Phil had tweeted another gif, this time a bowtie tying itself. Again, he’d tagged the location, somewhere called “Pixel.” Dan loaded Google Maps, thanked the woman as she yelled, “No, you’re wrong, you bloody twit!” at the man, and hurried out the door.

Another ten minutes in the rain and he arrived at the store. It was a video game store that Dan made a mental note to return to. Again, he asked the cashier if he’d seen Phil. Again, the guy described the same group of people as the woman at Bob’s, and directed Dan in their direction. Again, Dan checked Phil’s tweets and found another gif. This one, however, was not tagged with the location. Dan sighed with defeat as he stepped out into the rain. Phil, wherever he was, was definitely not kidnapped, and was obviously avoiding Dan. Surely he’d gotten his hundred texts! Surely he knew!

Dan wandered dejectedly home. What was he even doing with his life? Twenty six whole years of what, chasing his friends who clearly didn’t want to be found? He sighed. Another birthday went wasted. Dan hated birthdays, but even he couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit annoyed with his friend. Deep down, he knew that he really didn’t hate the silly cakes and streamers and party hats. Deep down, he liked knowing that his friends cared, even if he didn’t like knowing he was a year older.

Dan was shivering by the time he reached his building. He rubbed his red nose, thinking about Phil on the elevator ride up.

Phil was the one person he knew he could depend on. Phil, who would bring him little gifts without any real reason. Phil, who had supported him for years. Phil, with his clear blue eyes and brilliant laugh that could light up any room. Phil, who, Dan realized, he desperately wanted to be with. He wanted to spend his birthday with Phil, he realized. He wanted to spend today with Phil, and tomorrow with Phil, and, he realized he sounded a bit like a strained fanfic writer, everyday with Phil. He couldn’t erase those eyes, that smile, those eight years of companionship. And yet… he thought, as the doors opened to his floor, there was something missing. Some little piece of the puzzle that was Dan and Phil… gone. Had it ever been there? He trudged to the apartment door, dripping, sultry, and alone.

A sliver of light shone onto his feet from under the door. He must have left the hall light on. He pushed the key into the lock, leaned into the door, and…

“SURPRISE!” The light blinded him for a moment, and suddenly Dan realized he was facing his friends. There was PJ and Chris and Louise and Cat and Joe and Alfie and Casper and even Tyler Oakley in the back. And then, popping up right in front of him was Phil. His glowing face, his shining blue eyes, his dark hair falling in his eyes. And suddenly, Dan grabbed Phil into a huge hug. Phil, his Phil, had been planning all this for him! Phil leaned in Dan, even though he was getting wet from Dan’s jacket.

They both pulled away after a moment, realizing their hug had lasted a little long.

“Happy birthday, Dan!” Phil grabbed Dan’s hand. It was warm and reassuring. Dan was too busy grinning to speak.

“Thank you guys so much!” He finally said after a moment of standing there, awestruck. As his friends started to mingle and chatter, Phil explained that he, Louise and PJ had gone to Bob’s and Pixel to get presents, and to get Dan out of the house so they could set up for the party. It touched Dan that Phil had done all this for him.

 

The party started to wind down a few hours later. Dan’s friends stood in small clumps, talking and eating slices of rich, velvety chocolate cake. (How Phil had known that Dan loved chocolate cake, Dan had no idea. Lucky guess, he assumed with a smile.)

Dan had wandered away from the friendly conversations and up to the second floor with the balcony that looked out over the city. The rain had stopped, but the scent still lingered in the night air. Dan sighed, staring up at the huge, glowing moon. A few small clouds scuttled across it, but otherwise, the night was clear. The stars formed criss-crossing constellations above, and the street lights did the same below. For once in his life, Dan felt truly happy. He hadn’t known this feeling in a long time. He wasn’t worrying about the future or wishing for the past. He was thinking about now. He was living in the moment, like Phil had to always remind him to do.

The door creaked open, and as if on cue, Phil slid onto the balcony beside him. Neither one of them said anything for a while, but instead, they stared out at London in silence, their shoulders touching.

“Beautiful night,” Phil finally remarked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of like you,” Dan blurted out before he could think. He blushed, looking away.

“Or you.” Dan looked back at Phil, surprised. He’d never really been the flirty type. They were flirting, weren’t they? Dan’s heart began to flutter without any reason to. He didn’t need to be nervous around Phil, right?

“Thanks so much for everything, Phil. I mean it. The party, the cake, everything,” Dan looked into those familiar blue eyes for a moment before he realized the were getting closer to him.

“How about this?” Phil’s voice softened as he leaned into Dan. They grew still for a moment, their lips almost touching. Then, as if he’d played out the moment many times in his head, Dan brought his lips onto Phil’s. It was so natural, their bodies intertwining together, their hearts beating as one. They finally pulled apart, smiling and blushing. Their fingers remained intertwined.

“I should probably go back inside,” Phil smiled up at Dan. “They’ll wonder where we are.”

“I’m going to stay out here for a moment,” Dan beamed back. Phil shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Dan to stare up at the sky. For some reason, his cheeks ached, and then he realized it was because he was grinning so hard. He brought his fingers up the his lips. He could still feel the pressure of Phil’s lips upon his own. The puzzle that was Dan and Phil was complete. He laughed out loud, knowing he was the only one who could hear it.

And that was how, on Dan’s twenty-sixth birthday, on the balcony on a flat in London, on a cool summer night, Dan suddenly realized– he had loved his birthday.

not worthy pt.3

It hurts you know. To look at someone who is worth so much to you only to realise they don’t see you the same way. It hurts a lot. 


pairing: jungkook | reader
words: 2.5k
angst (i’m so sorry again actually no i am not)
summary: the plan was to live happily ever after with Jungkook. not let your stepsister take him away from you
a/n: i said that it was going to revolve around jungkook and y/n but i wanted to focus more on the breking point so pls hold yourself and wait for the next part i just love torturing you all


pt 1. pt 2. pt. 4


They say it takes time to heal, that it would stitch up the wounds that was clotted with all misery and clear up your mind that was overwhelmed with nothing but thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.

Silence has become too unbearable, become so attached to you that you felt numb just by carrying that weight all around. Whatever that you have been looking forward too was now nothing but a meaningless plan that you have sketched perfectly at the back of your head. Whatever that was killing you slowly inside was starting to eat you up slowly, and you could feel the pain gnawing you away.

Jungkook didn’t even make any attempt to call you or text you or show up at your front door ever since that argument. Paranoia settles in, and then comes the part where you start to overthink, wondering if it was now your decision to go out and talk to him. Courage was never by your side during this entire ordeal, and it was time you pluck it out and talk it out with Jungkook. Just when you were about to dial his number, a shadow loomed over you.

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i am very intrigued by all the references to the Sunbreakers i’ve been seeing in exotic flavor text

i find them to be one of the more interesting factions in the Destiny universe, so i’m really hoping they make an appearance in the DLC; Ouros sounds like the sort of badass lady i’d like to meet

Drabble - 32 (I think I’m in love with you, and i’m terrified) Riker

“You know this might be the best flavor of ice cream I have ever had.”

“Really?” Riker responded, putting more ice cream onto the pink spoon, and shoving it into his mouth contemplating how fond he was of the newest ice cream flavor he was trying. You nodded your head. “Goat Milk Honey Rosemary. Huh…” Riker licked the top portion of his lip where some flavor remained, and shrugged.

“Yea, its so unique.” You awed. This was probably your favorite thing in the world to do. Hang out with your best friend Riker, and celebrate your time-old tradition. You did it once a month, every month. One of you would pick an ice cream shop, and you both had to try a flavor you had never had before. This month it was your turn to pick.

There was a new indie coffee shop, and you couldn’t resist. You loved the adventure in it, it might’ve just been ice cream but to you, and him it meant a lot more. Your friendship was built on this tradition.

You met in an ice cream shop right when Riker had moved to California. It was a rustic Greek shop named Pagoto. You bumped into him, and almost made him drop his cone on the ground. He stumbled, managed to save the cone, and both of you laughed. You realized both of you had the same flavor. Being such close friends for so long, you knew the two of you couldn’t be more different in taste. You loved the exotic unique flavors that weren’t afraid to take risks. Unique, and creativeness, while he loved the simple flavors. He thought “if it can wow me without all the extras, it is a true winner.” But at that store, in your first meeting you had chosen the same flavor. You had been best friends ever since.

“Its definitely different.” Riker muttered. You chuckled.

“That’s what I love about it! Its unique, it fresh, its creative. Who every came up with it had talent you have to give them that. When you think of goat milk, and rosemary its not very appealing so they also had to have guts to produce something so unique, and expect to get a hit out of it.” Riker rolled his eyes, and you noticed. “What was that look for?” You defended.

“You pick away ice cream likes it’s an exquisite painting or something.” He suggested.

“It is art, its frozen art.”

“You know I love that about you.” Riker admitted as you continued to walk down the street path up to his car.

“What’s that?”

“What you said, how you talk. You treat everything so delicately. Everything is art in your eyes, and its beautiful. I wish I had your kind of vision.” You blushed. Lately there had been something else going on, something more. Riker has always just been your best friend in the world, you knew him for almost seven years now. He was just Riker but slowly that changed. You started to get butterflies from him, and sometimes you felt he was feeling the sparks, and even trying to light them on fire. You had one, or two close calls but nothing ever confirmed if it was a bud trying to grow, or just a figment of your imagination.

“I just try to look at things in the best ways.” You spoke. Sometimes you would try to drop subtle things. And when you felt he was trying to drop those hints too, it made you extremely nervous. You were crazy to get your heart involved in some fantasy of you, and Riker and what maybe could be some day a thing, a real thing.

You had so much to loose. You, and him had the best friendship in the world. There was a bond between the two of you. You understood each other, you took care of each other. What would happen if you jeopardized that for some silly mislead feelings?

You arrived at Riker’s car, and he took out his key to unlock it. You opened up the door and sat in the passengers’ seat.

“You know this ice cream was pretty good, its unique I’ll give it that, but it definitely isn’t my favorite.”

“Oh yea, and what was your favorite flavor we’ve ever tried?” You inquired. Riker put the key in ignition, and started the car. With a smirk he replied.

“I’ll show you.”

**

“Where are we even?” You asked as Riker’s car pulled to a stop.

“Trust me.” He smirked again. You followed him a short distance, and stopped in front of an old building. Windows were all foggy, and had minor cracks. The brick was crumbling, but was still in good enough shape to be a sturdy recognizable building.

“Pagoto” you whispered looking up, and down at the piece of old architecture. Riker’s smile grew.

“You remember this place?” he asked.

“How could I forget.” You sighed in brief disappointment. You knew it had shut down, but it was still sad to see it live in person. Pagoto the source of all your history with Riker was over. It was still a nice sentiment to see it. You hadn’t been there since the day Riker, and you met.

“This was my favorite ice cream shop of all times.”

“Yea?” you asked smiling.

“Yea.” He contently agreed.

“Do you remember what we both got that day?”

“Of course. We both had strawberry waffle cones. I almost tripped you, but in the end we laughed. You’re usually the one for the classics but I have to say this was probably one of my favorites.”

“You know what I love most about this place. The ice cream was great but it’s not about that.”

“Then what is it?” Riker stepped around, and faced you instead of the old abandoned ice cream shop.

“You. I met you here. This place brought us together, and without you my life would be totally different.” Riker looked into your eyes, deep into your eyes. You felt your heart race, it kept would beat faster every time he looked at you a certain way, and right now he was looking at you that way.  Just the way he looked at you, it almost made it hard to breath. Then in a moment, all of the sudden it happened.

Before you could even think his lips were on yours. All the sparks, the hidden feelings you knew they were real. Your heart boomed. You pulled away. Riker looked at you again with wide eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut, and shook your head.

“Why not?” Riker’s voice cracked.

“Riker, I don’t think this is right…”

“I do.” Riker cut you off.  “I have feelings for you. Feelings that aren’t going away. Don’t tell me you don’t feel them too.”

“Riker we’ve been friends a long time. I love our relationship, and I don’t want to risk that.”

“I love our relationship, and I love you. There’s something between us, and I want to explore it. I would rather regret something I did than something I never did.”

“Riker the truth is, I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.” Riker’s lips briefly crept into a smile.

“You don’t think I’m scared?” He agreed.

“I don’t know Riker.” You were so confused, and nervous. There was so much in jeopardy.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, but this isn’t going away. I am seriously in love with you no matter how terrifying it is.” Thoughts of being more than friends with him were terrifying. You had never really had good luck with love, and you didn’t want to ruin something that was already so amazing. He was right though, these feelings were real, and they weren’t going away. “Don’t you think-” Riker started; but before he could finish you cut him off.

Your lips were on his again, but this time it was by your actions. You were fully embracing it this time though, and he was fully into it as well. You reached up, and tangled your hand in his hair. There was such a huge spark between the two of you, and it couldn’t be ignored. It was time to face your fears.

You pulled away again, but this time you smiled. You found it completely hot how Riker bit his lips, and smirked. You mumbled once again.

“Lets be scared together.”

meltyfacesyndrome  asked:

Your sweets headcanons had me drooling over several deserts I never heard of and because it was very fun too read: HC for Junkrat, Tracer and Dva?

I am glad to hear they were fun to read! I’d gladly do some more they are very fun to write

Junkrat:

  • Has never been a particularly crazy person about a certain food group because growing up how he did, he was required to eat simply what was given to him
    -Not out of enjoyment, food wasn’t fun it was simply a means of survival 
  • However, I totally believe Junkrat has a sweet tooth and a lot of good memories of his revolve around sweets
  • Enjoys sour candies, he loves challenging himself and eating something super sour and trying not to make a face about it
    -Sometimes he’ll challenge others to a sour candy-off, like I fully believe Lúcio and him have daily sour offs because despite the fact that Lúcio hates sour candies he thinks its funny trying not to make a face and really the two of them look completely stupid, yet adorable when they do this
  • Anyways, Junrkrat is a huge chocolate fan and no one can tell me otherwise that he doesn’t enjoy very shit brand chocolates in secret
    -His favorite are like those valentines chocolates with the flavor fillings in them like orange or raspberry; we know who is super excited for that valentines day after chocolate sale
  • There’s an Australian cookie called a Tim Tam and it’s basically just a chocolate cookie with chocolate cream filling and chocolate coating the exterior 
    -Junkrat used to eat these as a rare treat growing up and sometimes, when him and Roadie are robbing a place and there is a snack machine, he’ll bust that shit open and steal all the Tim Tam’s okay and everyone is like?? but he just stuffs them in the bag and carries on with their mission
  • Fairy Bread is like a kid’s dessert in Australia and it’s extremely basic and is easy to make for all families of all economic standards because it’s literally white bread covered in butter and sprinkles 
    -This was Junkrats go to sweet treat growing up and he sure damn loved it
    -Sometimes when no one’s around he’ll go make it and eat it in secret (he doesn’t know why but something about sprinkled bread embarrasses him slightly but our cutie enjoys it to pieces)
  • Lamington’s are his favorite sweet treat of all time
    -They are an Australian treat and basically cube-shaped slice of sponge cake, covered with chocolate frosting and desiccated coconut.
    -Sometimes served as two halves with a layer of jam and cream in between and Junkrat enjoys it best this way

Tracer:

  • Tracer is a big fan of like artificially flavored candies
  • Doesn’t enjoy very rich, or decadent desserts I think they overwhelm her so if she does eat something like that it’s in very small portions
  • Dude okay does anyone know those like strawberry wrapped candies that sometimes grandparents have in candy jars and like they come from the void or something because I’ve never seen them sold in stores or anything?? (these if you don’t know what they are)
    -Tracer loves these like she is in kahoots with the grandmas in the void that make the candies and she has loads of them in her pockets and in her room
  • Isn’t a very big chocolate fan, she has to eat them in small doses so sometimes she can enjoy all the fun sized Snickers and Hershey’s
    -She loves Hershey kisses but not because its that good or anything but the intricate cute wrapping is nice to her
    -I also see her making lots of jokes like “Hey love, wanna kiss?” and then they say yes and she’s in a fit of giggles as she hands them chocolate and thinks she’s original (bless her pure heart)
  • Lollipops are probably her favorite hard candy because she likes leaving them on the left side of her mouth for a long time and having all the sugar stick to her cheek when she switches it to her next cheek
  • Artificially fruity flavored candies like skittles are her guilty pleasure and it’s a horrible addiction she has when she’s got packets of Nerds and Bananas (they are little banana flavored and shaped candies in Australia?? I think they have them everywhere, but I could be wrong)
  • Only chews fruit flavored gum, doesn’t like the minty or other exotic flavors
    -Unless it’s the Hubba Bubba long tape gum because she loves trying to chew all of it at once
    -Someone always has to help her after this because she nearly chokes every single time
  • Omfg she totally loves wearing those candy necklaces and bracelets made of rings of little candies that you bite through out the day, she eats that shit like it’s food from the Gods
    -She once (as far as we know) put on a shit load of candy necklaces, bracelets, and a few ring pops and was like candy queen throughout the entire day 
    -Had skittles in her pockets and threw them at others to bring joy to all because she is the most generous queen bless her

D.Va:

  • Oh she absolutely loves sweets and anything with sugar really
  • Throw something at her and tell her theres sugar in it and she’ll just put it in her mouth without really looking at it
  • Doesn’t enjoy anything sour or spicy
  • Yagkwa is her favorite childhood sweet
    -It’s basically a fried doughy dessert flavored with sesame oil and ginger and drenched in honey
  • Is in love with Pepero which is basically really a pretzel covered in dark chocolate
    -But like, in Korea they have a Pepero day which is equivalent to the Valentines day and you basically present your lover with a box of Pepero and
    -Imagine D.Va receiving a box of pepero and immediately blushing at the love filled implications, but smiling because they taste amazing and she’d be so flattered she’s precious someone stahp me okay
  • Is very fond of manjoo which is a pastry filled with sweet potato, red bean, or sesame, and are topped with pieces of dry fruits or nuts, including jujube, pine nuts or sugarcoated chestnuts
    -Her favorite is a red bean filled manjoo topped with sugarcoated chestnuts, she also loves when they come in the fish shapes bc its cute
  • Really likes ice cream but she prefers hand held cones and popsicles because they are easy for her to hold and eat quickly
    -Favorite flavors are probably sherbet because of how colorful it is and the fruity taste, and probably birthday cake bc she likes it when there are swirls of blue icing in it and topped with sprinkles
  • On the topic of frozen treats, one in Korea is frozen persimmon and she loves that shit
    -Likes to add cream to it when she can to add to the sweetness
    -I’m sorry but D.Va with a cute smile while enjoying frozen persimmon and cream is so cute to me idk why??
the taste of you

Originally posted by bangts

Its difficult to survive on your own when his love is all you need in your bloodstream. Trust me, the world will taste completely different on your tongue without him.


pairing: taehyung | reader
words: 2k
genre: fluff, angst
summary: taehyung is everything you consume, touch and see. now, without him, you can’t differentiate what is real and what is not.
a/n: was drinking some toffenut latte and i thought of taehyung 


Taehyung is like warm hot chocolate at night, a mixture of cinnamon and toasted marshmallows with a hint of love. He leaves a tangible taste of spice and sweet, a concoction that spreads in your bloodstream like wildfire, like a never ending surge of affection and bliss that you have gotten so used to it since the day he said hello. At night, when the stars flickered against the midnight blue, you would find comfort in his embrace, grateful for the way his arms fit around your figure as the ambience transcends into peace and tranquility as he whispered arbitrary declarations of love that tickled your ears like bedtime lullabies.

While the city of Seoul basked in the chilly air on a mundane Thursday night in the middle of January, where people roamed the streets in thick scarves and cars blare horns and orange streetlamps give colour to the city, you and Taehyung would lounge on the maroon couch of the apartment that oversees the beautiful snow city. Head in the clouds and heart set on blazing fire, there was nothing more than the splendid thought of being in your lover’s arms as you acquire the queer habit of admiring the outside on winter nights.

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anonymous asked:

Not an adorable ask, but do you like ice cream? Elaborate if you can!

I do like ice cream but I don’t like the usual flavors, I like green tea or melon flavored. I like the exotic flavors of ice cream and how it melts in your mouth slowly.