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40sandfabulousaf · 5 days

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大家好! I returned to Song Yue, the restaurant Pa introduced me to, with LL, the expat friend from China, in tow. Both Song Yue and Din Tai Fung serve dishes from Taiwan island, but they couldn't be more different. The latter is famous for la mian xiao long bao (handpulled noodles and soup dumplings); the former specialises in jia chang bian cai (homestyle cooking). We had pork ribs and radish, poached cabbage with fish maw and egg floss, as well as ginger duck, their specialty dishes. LL especially loved the pork ribs and radish, as did I, although everything was excellent. I also collected the Legend Age moisturiser and eye cream which I'd ordered. LL included a foundation FOC for me to try, as well as a facial mask sheet. Yay!

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A new stall serving Western-style meals opened near our office and they offered a promotional price for teriyaki grilled chicken to mark their opening: $6.90 (regular price $9). SC, ML, MI and I decided to try it. I asked for teriyaki sauce on the side but ended up not touching any: the dish was tasty on its own. The chicken looks large but it's pretty flat and quite crispy whilst remaining tender and juicy. The meal came with 2 sides: 4 onion rings and buttery mashed potato. This was undeniably good, but $6.90 good, not $9 good. I won't be ordering it once the promotion ends. The quantity of chicken doesn't justify the price tag.

Another week, another bowl of zha jiang mian (pork noodles in bean sauce). The stall I was at seemed to be owned by Malaysians rather than China nationals. I decided to give them a try and requested for additional vegetables to go with my noodles. Instead of shredded carrot and cucumber which are usually served with this dish, there was... a mound of lettuce. I was disappointed but tucked in anyway. Honestly, it wasn't bad. The noodles were quite smooth and slurpable and the tasty sauce coated each strand without being too salty. My main gripe is, the soybeans were too hard and chewy instead of soft and palatable. It isn't something I'll specially return for, but it was decent. I'll try their tomato egg noodles next time if I happen to be within the vicinity and have a craving for some.

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I'm not a fan of coleslaw because many places add too much mayo and the mixture ends up gloopy, but I needed my veggie fix during WFH lunch this week. Coleslaw was the only veggie menu item at the stall serving local western style meals near my home, so I ordered it along with chicken spaghetti. The portion was pretty reasonable for $3 and it was actually good! The thinned out mayo didn't overwhelm the crunchy sweetness of fresh carrots and cabbage. I polished off the little dish before tucking into the chicken and spaghetti. This still isn't my favourite way to eat vegetables, so it will remain a last resort. On the bright side, I know where to get some coleslaw that isn't gloopy now!

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It's been another eventful week as more nations signal their displeasure against the war in Gaza, from Chile joining developing countries rallying behind the genocide case against Israel at the ICJ, France banning Israeli companies at a weapons exhibition, Maldives banning Israeli tourists to Ghent University severing ties with all Israeli academic and research institutions. I hope this brings some comfort to Palestinians in Gaza, where children are once again suffering from malnutrition following Israel's invasion of Rafah. The above video shows very disturbing images of sickly, emaciated children. One can only hope their nightmare ends soon and this war finally comes to an end. Stay strong Gaza! 下次见!

#Youtube

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twothumbsandnostakeincanon · 6 years

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This isn't really a prompt so I'm sorry but just like any stargent please? Obliviousness? Pining? Maybe a dream or two about Stiles?

This??? Turned into a soulmate au???????

???????????????????

I’ll be real most of this was co-written by a neat bourbon.

Christopher Robert Argent didn’t have a soulmate.

It wasn’t unusual. Roughly a quarter of the population didn’t. Another quarter had more than one. The other half had the standard, One for One Soulmate Match.

But not Chris.

He knew because his dreams were his alone. They never took on that particular sharp quality that everyone described when they were viewing the day to day life of their soulmate. Around the age of 18, when most of his friends were excitedly describing trips to the grocery store, or a laundromat they’d never seen in the hope that someone else would recognize it and be able to point them in the right direction, Chris was dreaming about the stages of wolfsbane poisoning and how to recognize a banshee.

By 20, he’d accepted the sting of not having a soulmate, and agreed to the arranged marriage his father wanted. A daughter came shortly after, and Chris thought that not having a soulmate was worth this. His eventual divorce was worth this. Raising her as a single parent with no support from extended family was worth this. His baby girl was worth everything.

So how was he supposed to explain to her that he’d started having dreams about one of her best friends?

__________

“Hey Daddy,” Allison said, dropping a kiss on his cheek as she sat at the dinner table. Picking up her fork, she continued, “Stiles is coming over to work on our American History project in about half an hour.”

Chris inhaled sharply and choked on a piece of lettuce. Coughing, he grabbed his water and tried to clear his throat.

“You okay?” Allison asked, concerned.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Uh, you and Stiles have a project together?” Chris prompted.

“Oh, yeah. We’re doing a report on William Henry Harrison.”

Chris furrowed his brow.

“The president who died a month after taking office from pneumonia?”

“Yep.”

“... That was Stiles’ idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yep.”

His idea. Because he was a high school student, invested in the shortest, easiest project possible.

High. School. Student.

Young. Probably not even capable of having soulmate dreams yet.

Chris sighed, and then concentrated on eating his dinner fast enough that he could shut himself away in his office before Stiles arrived.

He was just cleaning up the last of the dishes when the doorbell rang. Chris cursed quietly to himself, hurrying to dry off his hands and disappear-

“Hey Mr. Argent.”

Chris spun around, trying to arrange his face into a casual, no-I-wasn’t-running-away expression.

“Hello, Stiles. How are you doing?’

Stiles dumped his backpack on the table and leaned a hip against it, crossing his arms. It made the definition on his forearms stand out-

Chris deliberately snapped his gaze back up to Stiles’ face.

“I’m fine. We have a lacrosse game tomorrow night, you should come.”

Chris took a brief moment to consider Stiles, sweaty and worn from lacrosse, approaching him after-

“Ah, I have some prep work I need to do for a gun show tomorrow night, Stiles. Sorry about that.” And God, was he ever sorry.

Stiles was clearly disappointed, but just shrugged and said, “Maybe next time? We have games every Friday.”

“Maybe,” Chris agreed before hightailing it out of the kitchen.

__________

“Hey Chris,” came a voice from down the aisle. Chris looked up to see Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles pushing a cart behind him.

Chris sternly reminded himself that cereal boxes are not camouflage and tried to relax his stance.

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” Chris asked.

“Oh don’t be like that,” the sheriff said, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he reached him. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing. Make sure Stiles isn’t making a nuisance of himself while he and Allison work on their project of theirs,” he chuckled out.

Chris smiled stiffly and looked back at the cereal boxes, looking at the labels as if they were hardline journalism. He definitely didn’t say I wish your son would make much more of a nuisance. I wish he would break every single goddamn thing in my house, so that maybe I wouldn’t be so pitifully sad every time he leaves.

Instead, he said, “Nah, he’s a good kid.” Eager to do something with his hands, he grabbed a box of Trix and dropped it in Stiles cart. Then, clearing his throat, he said, “Well, I better get back home and make some dinner for Allison. Be seeing you.”

It wasn’t until he’d made it all the way home, cooked dinner, and gotten halfway through the dishes that he realized he’d picked out Stiles’ favorite cereal, the one he saw him buying in dreams at least once a week, and given it to him.

God fucking damn it.

__________

Stiles didn’t have a bad life.

It wasn’t “My Super Sweet Sixteen” all the time, but it wasn’t bad. He had friends, his dad clearly loved him, and they didn’t struggle to pay basic bills.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have bad days.

Chris woke up one Thursday morning after a dream. A sharp, clear, Stiles dream, where Finstock had reamed him in front of the whole team for fumbling a couple of catches.

Chris knew without a doubt that it had happened the day before, and he also knew that he would finally be going to a damn lacrosse game, if only to try to wipe the downtrodden expression that Chris had seen.

The next night, Chris made a point to cheer loudly whenever Stiles was on the field, celebrating his successful passes with a touch too much enthusiasm, if Allison’s looks were anything to go by.

After the game he tried to sneak out with the rush of the crowd, but Stiles still caught him.

He was sweaty and breathing hard. They’d just barely won, and he was clearly riding the high.

“Mr. Argent! You came!! I heard you cheering! Holy shit, you’re a yeller aren’t you?”

Stiles lunged forward to give him a hug, battering Chris slightly with his chest pads.

“Oh shit, sorry-” and before Chris could even think of a protest, Stiles was ripping off his shirt, and then the hard pads, leaving him in a paper thin, completely transparent undershirt. Then the hug was happening again.

Oh Lord, the hug.

Chris silently, but fervently hoped he would get a replay of this moment in a dream.

Eventually Stiles pulled back, smile beaming.

“I-”

He was cut off by a horde of lacrosse bros, barreling down on them to cheer and push him toward the locker rooms.

Stiles tried to say something else, but it was drowned out by the general crowd and excitement of teenagers.

Teenagers.

Chris sighed.

Turning to look, he saw Allison at his elbow, smiling her dimpled smile.

“Are you going to stay?” she asked.

Chris shook his head.

“I don’t want to get old man cooties all over your youthful fun,” he teased. Allison laughed and leaned forward for a hug.

“You don’t have old man cooties, dad. Not since you stopped using Brooks Brothers aftershave. You could stay, you know. It’s not just us whippersnappers who get together after games. Melissa will be there, and the sheriff if he doesn’t have to work. Derek and Peter will be there too, and Laura comes sometimes. Burgers and milkshakes are an all ages kinda deal.” She paused for a moment. “... You’re allowed to have relationships outside of me and business, you know.”

Chris stared at her as she paused again, clearly steeling herself.

“... if you happened to discover that you have a soulmate, you could pursue that.” Her words couldn’t have been more to the point.

“Allison,” Chris said slowly. “What do you know?”

“I-”

“ALLISON!” Chris heard Lydia yell from across the stands. As soon as Allison was distracted, Chris slipped away.

Whatever Allison knew, he didn’t think he was ready to hear.

__________

Chris was two fingers deep in whiskey when there was a knock on the door.

It was late, but Allison had texted as soon as she realized her dad was gone.

10:23 p.m. AllyI’ll be home by 1. We’re talking in the morning.

It was only about 11:30 now, so it wasn’t likely to be her. She rarely forgot her key anyway.

Chris reluctantly lurched out of his chair to check the peephole, just in case there was some kind of emergency.

There wasn’t an emergency, but there was a Stiles.

Chris opened the door just as he raised a fist to knock again.

“Oh!” Stiles said, jerking his hand back and almost unbalancing himself. Chris quickly stepped forward to catch him, but the whiskey had nibbled away at his own equilibrium, and he ended up overcorrecting and dragging them over the entryway, into the house together.

They fell back against the wall directly behind the front door, Stiles pressed against Chris, and Chris feeling too stupid to remember why that was a bad idea.

Then they were kissing.

A deep, searing, tongue tied, slick lipped kiss that started at the mouth but quickly moved to the whole body. Stiles was clearly inexperienced but very eager, and Chris had never felt so engaged in a kiss.

His hands gripped Stiles’ waist while Stiles’ framed Chris’ face, stroking along his cheekbones and petting down to the back of his neck. When Chris licked along the point of one of his canines, Stiles moaned, and Chris finally had to pull away to breathe heavily.

Stiles didn’t give him a moment, though, immediately latching his mouth on to Chris’ neck, sucking and licking his to his collarbone. Chris tilted his head, exposing more area for him to work with. He had a fleeting thought that he’d never tried to sell guns with a hickey before-

And the sudden realization splashed over him like a bucket of cold water.

“Stiles- Stiles, stop. Stop.” Chris couldn’t bring himself to physically push him away, and it clearly took a moment for the words to pierce the fog of lust that Stiles was currently lost in.

“What?” he asked, pulling back, brow furrowed and eyes slightly dazed.

“You- I- this is illegal.” Chris finally pulled a hand away from Stiles to rub it down his face. “Oh God. You’re the sheriff’s son.”

Stiles looked confused for a moment before his expression suddenly cleared.

“I was held back in fifth grade,” he said. “The year my mom died-” he cut himself off, looking uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I had to repeat fifth grade, which made me a year older than all the other kids. Which means I’m still a year older than all the other kids.”

Chris’ mouth was hanging open.

“Which means I’m definitely legal,” Stiles continued encouragingly. “And… also old enough to be having soulmate dreams?” he finished tentatively, turning the statement into a question asking something other than what the words said.

For the rest of their lives, Chris would blame his slow uptake on the whiskey.

Stiles would blame it on his mind-bending kissing skills.

In any case, it took a solid thirty seconds before the light finally clicked on, and Chris dragged Stiles all the way inside, barely pausing long enough to text Allison that she should stay at Lydia’s that night.

#nobodyinparticular98 #stargent #stargent fic #hey this could totally count as part of chris argent appreciation week #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #tumblr fic and kinda fic

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