#SPOONING THESE DESIGNS INTO MY MOUTH LIKE SOUP
Text
☆how they take care of you when you’re sick (gojo, geto, nanami)☆
「GOJO」 is going to baby the hell out of you.
The minute he finds out his darling s/o is sick, he's off to the pharmacy to pick up literally every medication known to man. If you're cold, you better believe he's dressing you in one of his oversized hoodies and piling blanket after blanket on top of you. Are you hungry? He's off to the convenience store to buy as many sweet treats and savory snacks as he can carry, teleporting back to your living room in a hurricane of sticky buns and bags of chips. Nothing will keep him away from you, either - your snotty nose and wet cough are no deterrent for Gojo, and he's cuddling you and kissing your feverish forehead every chance he gets. "My poor sick baby," he coos, dragging you onto his lap and letting you curl up against his chest.
(Of course, this means he gets sick as soon as you're better, and you have to baby him right back because he's acting like he's dying.)
「GETO」 has more than enough experience dealing with various illnesses from taking care of Mimiko and Nanako, so expect to get near-perfect treatment.
When you're hanging your head over the toilet in the middle of the night, retching up the last of the bile in your stomach, he's right beside you, holding back your hair and gently rubbing your back. He'll wipe your mouth off with a wet rag, giving you a cup of water to rinse your mouth out with and leading you back to bed. When you wake the next morning, he's already been to the store and back, anti-nausea and fever reducing medication at the ready. He'll lay in bed with you all day, holding you in his arms and pressing an ice pack to your forehead while you watch trash T.V. and eat whatever take-out you think you'll be able to keep down. When you're vomiting again minutes later, crying and apologizing for making him deal with this, he bears a gentle smile and tells you "Let me take care of you, sweet girl."
(He absolutely refuses to let you take care of him when he catches your nasty cold, but doesn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips when you gently untangle his hair, matted from days of laying in bed.)
「NANAMI」 will cater to your every whim... but he's treating it like serious business.
Instead of endless snacks and sweets, he's laser-focused on cooking you healthy meals that are easy on your stomach and designed to help your body fight off the illness. He won't allow you to sit in your own sick for days on end, insisting that you bathe despite your weak protests (but he will run you a warm bath and kneel beside you as you soak, washing your hair for you because you're too tired to do it yourself.) His attitude softens when he sees you curled up in bed at the end of the day, cheeks flushed red from your fever and dark circles lining your under-eyes from exhaustion, and this is when he'll crawl into bed with you. Spooning you, he wraps an arm around your middle, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and murmuring "Feel better soon, princess."
(When Nanami inevitably falls ill after this, he'll bear it stoically... but he doesn't mind when you feed him warm soup and let him rest his aching head on your chest.)
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#geto suguru#nanami kento#gojo x reader#geto x reader#nanami x reader#sash writes#jujutsu kaisen headcanons
561 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey guys! I wanted to put together a list of low spoons foods, and thought you might enjoy it. My primary objective was to come up with a list that requires little to no prep, is relatively inexpensive, and has a fairly long shelf life. There's also a few of my favorite simple recipes at the end. Bon apatite!
Proteins:
Tuna/Canned chicken: Canned tuna/chicken can usually last a few years, and you can get it for a dollar or two, sometimes cheaper. It can be cooked easily in a skillet, eaten raw, or added to soups/pasta. Mix with some mayo for a quick tuna or chicken salad that goes well on bread, tortillas, or crackers. You can add raisins or cheese for a little extra variety as well!
Breakfast sausage: A lot of meats are really scary to cook with, but I've come to the conclusion that breakfast sausage is designed for people with that groggy, zombie-like morning brain, so it's fairly simple; just pop it on a plate (usually with a paper towel to catch the grease) and toss it in the microwave. You can get it as links or patties, and if you're like me where foods with a hint of flavor are unreasonably spicy, there's a maple variety that's sweet rather than spiced.
Deli meats: There's no rule against buying a package of pre-sliced ham, turkey, roast beef or even bologna that's designed for sandwiches and instead just snacking on it when you need some protein, or just serving it on the side with your meal. If it feels weird to just eat sliced deli meat and you've got the time and energy, get some sliced cheese as well, cut them into squares with a butter knife, and eat them with crackers for DIY lunchables.
Peanut Butter: Peanut butter is an excellent source of protein, and you can eat it on bread, crackers, tortillas, celery, pancakes, or even just on its own on a spoon! If you don't like the texture, you can mix it into something else like oatmeal, sauces, or pancake batter. If you don't like the flavor, try it with a little cinnamon sugar (put cinnamon and sugar in a jar or shaker and shake it until incorporated.) If you've got a peanut allergy, alternative butters are good too, but often separate if you leave them out for too long, but are much better in baking than on their own.
Eggs: Making eggs is hard sometimes, but you can boil a bunch in advance and leave them in the fridge for when you need them (not too many or for too long, though.) Just put them in water and bring it to a boil; once the eggs start to float, leave them there for ten minutes. Once they're done, drain them and leave them in cold water for ten minutes to cool. Either peel in advance if you've got the time, or peel as needed. Store in an airtight container in the fridge.
Dairy:
Sliced Cheese: Just like with deli meats above, you can get sliced cheese to chomp on when you need a little boost. There's a lot of flavors to choose from!
Shredded Cheese: Shredded cheese is great for sprinkling onto your meals or just snacking on handfuls of. You can also throw some onto some tortilla chips and pop 'em in the microwave for ~30 seconds to make quick, cheap nachos.
Cheese sticks: Not a fan of eating slices or shreds of cheese? Cheese sticks are much more snackable and can be eaten on the go!
Yogurt: You can eat it as is, or you can mix in frozen fruits and honey to create an almost ice-cream like treat!
Chocolate Milk: A carton of chocolate milk that you are going to drink is better for you than a carton of regular milk that is going to go bad because you can't bring yourself to drink it. If you're like me and milk leaves a weird taste in your mouth, try following it with water or finishing the milk before you finish the rest of your meal.
Cream Cheese: You can put this stuff on anything, guys. Bagels? Crackers? Toast? English Muffins? Tortillas? Regular muffins? Cookies, even? Go crazy!
Cottage cheese: A lot of people like cottage cheese for salads or with peaches, but it can also be tasty on its own.
Grains:
Crackers: You can eat them as is, you can add cream cheese, nutella, peanut butter, tuna salad, deli meats and cheeses, or you could dip them in a spread like hummus, guac, or ranch.
Tortillas: Sometimes bread can be Scary and Evil and there's no way you're gonna eat a whole loaf before it goes bad. I get it. Tortillas last longer, they're a better texture, and it's only eight servings per bag. Use them whenever you'd make a sandwich- pb&j, ham & cheese, tuna salad and more can all go in a simple wrap or roll up. If you're feeling ambitious, you can also make a quick breakfast burrito by throwing scrambled eggs and breakfast sausage in a tortilla with a little cheese.
Pancake mix: Boxed pancake mix is simple enough- just add water, or milk to make it fluffier, then cook according to instructions. It's a little time consuming, but it's simple to learn, and if you make a big enough batch you can just pop them in the microwave, airfryer, or even the toaster in the morning for the rest of the week. You can also spice up your mix by adding frozen fruits, peanut butter, bacon bits & cheese, or chocolate chips, or by replacing the water in the recipe with coffee, apple cider, or chocolate milk!
Toaster Waffles: Toaster waffles are great for a quick breakfast or snack, but can also be used for sandwiches, or topped with a protein like peanut butter!
Fruits and Vegetables:
Raisins: Raisins are sweet, inexpensive, take a long time to expire, and are guilt free— no one in the history of ever has ever felt bad about eating too many raisins! You can easily throw them in a trail mix (trail mix is a loose term; just throw whatever little snacks you have in the pantry into a bowl and mix 'em together,) or a chicken salad, and they're really good sprinkled on peanut butter!
Dried fruit: You can find these in the trail mix section of most stores. If you don't like raisins, there may be a different dried fruit you do like. Dried bananas are delightfully crunchy. Dried mango is still a little moist. Find a dried fruit that works for you!
Pickles: Pickles are a vegetable with an extremely long fridge life. You don't have to settle for pickled cucumber though; you can find all kinds of pickled vegetables at the store, or ask a friend who pickles (you know which friend came to mind) if they have a jar of pickled veggies they'd sell you or any tricks to pickling your own.
Frozen Fruit: Fruits last so much longer frozen, and you can get fairly good sized bags of them for not too much at the store. They're great for mixing in with yogurt, baking, pancakes, and more!
Frozen Vegetables: If expiration dates are your worst enemy, consider getting some longer lasting frozen veggies. They can be microwaved or added to soups or ramen. If you're not a fan of the taste, you can hide them by adding some in with the frozen fruit in a smoothie.
Canned vegetables: Canned veggies also last a while, and can be added to soups, boiled, or sometimes eaten as is.
Canned soup: Tomato soup or a soup with veggies in it is a great way to get some vegetables into your diet. You can also add any canned, fresh, or frozen veggies to any can of soup you have on hand to use up some of your leftovers before they go bad.
Tomato sauce: If you keep a jar of marinara, pasta, or pizza sauce on hand in the fridge, you can spread it on any grain you have lying around (bagel, biscuit, crackers, bread, english muffin, tortilla) and add shredded cheese to make a quick and fun pizza. You can go crazy with extra toppings as well!
Applesauce: It's great as is, but you could also mix in brown sugar and cinnamon, or add it to pancakes or oatmeal. It can also be used as an egg substitute in most of your baking, and you can even use it as a spread on pancakes!
Quick Recipes:
3 Ingredient Pancakes
• 1/2 cup applesauce (or one mashed banana)
• 1 egg
• 1 packet instant oatmeal
Mix all ingredients together and cook on a greased skillet at 375°
Two Minute Mug Cake
• 6 tablespoons boxed cake mix
• 4 tablespoons water or milk
Combine ingredients in a mug and microwave for one minute.
Toaster Crispy Quesadilla
• 1 tortilla
• 1 slice of cheese (I like to use cheddar!)
• deli meat
Place a slice of cheese toward the top of the tortilla. Layer desired amount of meat on top. Fold the sides over your meat and cheese (so they can't drip out the sides) then fold in half over the cheese (so it won't drip out the bottom.) Place in the toaster with the open end UP! Toast as desired.
Tuna Bagel Melts
• plain bagel
• tuna salad (one can of tuna with a few spoonfuls of mayo to taste)
• two slices cheese
Open the bagel and spread tuna salad on it. Place the cheese on top of the bagels. Broil or airfry for a few minutes.
Cracker Pizzas
• a dozen crackers
• a few tablespoons tomato sauce
• three slices of cheese
Arrange the crackers on a plate. Spread a spoonful of sauce on each cracker. Fold each slice of cheese into fourths so they break apart. Place one little slice on each cracker. Microwave for thirty seconds.
Simple Smoothie Recipe
• 1/2 cup yogurt
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1/2 cup frozen fruit
Combine all ingredients in the blender. Blend.
[To make this easier, pre-mark your blender. Add a half cup of water to your blender and mark with a sharpie to the fill level. Repeat twice. You now know what level to fill each ingredient to without the hassle of measuring them.
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little Dove | Chapter 1
You sat in the fitting room, picking at your fingers, legs bobbing up and down waiting for Tigris to bring out the dress she hand sewn for the ceremony.
“Ta-da!” she announced pleased with herself as she wheeled the gown out on a mannequin carved to your measurements.
You gasped in awe. It was a deep red with a provocative sweetheart neckline. The length was past the floor, sprawling out. A good excuse to use the new platform heels you bought a few weeks ago.
Immediately undressing, Tigris helped you step into the dress, fitting perfectly to your curves as always. The fabric was a soft crushed velvet, lined with a slippery satin that made it comfortable to move around in.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Tigris”
“It was nothing! All I could think about was you on that stage wearing it.”
You blushed and kissed her cheek.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you exclaimed. “Do you think he will like it?”
“He’s already seen it.” she winked. You stared at her quizzically.
“And?”
“He wanted me to raise the neckline. I told him I would but”
“But you didnt” you laughed
“He just doesn’t get it. He’ll forgive me someday”
You watched yourself in the mirror, heart starting to race at the thought of actually winning this award.
She showed you the different hairstyles and accessories she envisioned with her dress and you let her do her magic, saying yes to almost everything she proposed due to excitement and the inability to actually think straight from the nervousness.
You were against 3 other candidates, 2 from the gamemaker committee and one from the presidents cabinet. You constantly ridiculed your mind with doubts, these other people had far more important jobs and positions in Panem. Plus you were the only female nominee.
“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” She asked as she removed the last necklace option.
“Do you really think I can win?”
Her face immediately crossed at your silly inquiry.
“Are you joking? No women in Panem has had the balls to do what you’ve done. You’ve gone out of your way to get these billionaires to donate to your campaign. You went to the districts personally to see the televisions installed. You designed the campaign ads yourself and gave dozens of speeches infronts of hundreds of people to support your initiative. You did all of that ideating and creating by yourself and made it happen. None of those other losers came close to the amount of work you put in this year to make a name for yourself. If you lose this award to one of them I’ll make their wives lives hell.”
You looked down and smiled at her outburst, grabbing her hand over your shoulder and squeezing it.
“I couldn’t do this without you.”
There was a knock at the door
“Miss Y/L/N, your driver is here.” One of Tigris’s assistants announced through the door.
“That’s my cue” you said standing up preparing to have Tigris unzip the dress off of you.
“Tell Coriolanus I said hello.” she said flatly.
It was the day of the awards ceremony and you woke up to an empty bed. Coryo had mentioned he had some duties to attend before the ceremony, but you were not expecting to him to leave so early. You hadn’t been very vocal about your anxiety surrounding the event that night, in fact you rarely spoke about it with him.
It was only spoken about once during dinner with some of Coriolanus’s old peers that he would occasionally have over. Keeping them in good spirits in case he needed their support down the road.
“So did Y/N tell you about her nomination?” Clemensia asked across the table at Coriolanus, sitting at the head of the table.
His eyebrow quirked up.
“Nomination for what?”
“Innovator of the year!” She cheered, tipping her wine glass at you. You politely dabbed your mouth from the spoonful of soup you just swallowed. A blush creeping up your neck to your face you sat as still as possible, not moving your eyes away from Clemmie.
“I nominated her.” Festus chimed in. “The work shes done at the firm has been stupendous” He added.
You finally gained the courage to look over at your boyfriend and his jaw was clenched. The room was silent before he forced a smile.
“That’s lovely, congratulations Y/N” you smiled softly back at him and placed a hand over his. He didnt move, or acknowledge the touch, he kept his forced smile and used his other hand to raise his glass.
“To Y/N”
“TO Y/N” Everyone exclaimed.
It was previously planned before the dinner that you would be staying at Coryo’s that night, but after dinner you wished there had been a car waiting to take you home. The silence in the apartment after the guests left was suffocating. The clinks of glasses and dishes as you and Coryo cleaned up the table were the only sounds to be heard.
You were wiping the counter as he starting to losen his tie and uncuff his links.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this award?” He asked with no emotion.
Without turning to face him you sighed.
“It’s not really that big of a deal, it’s just a nomination. I doubt I’ll even get it.”
He huffed and walked over, standing inches infront of you.
“Tell me about it.” He looked hard at you, furrowing his brows, eyes piercing into yours.
“It’s one of the newer ones they’ve come up with for this years ceremony before the reapings begin. Its a way to celebrate everyone who’s played a part, they’re making them bigger and bigger every year.”
“Yes I know about this ceremony, we’re invited to it and I’ve gone every year since University. I’m asking you about your nomination and how you qualified.”
“I was nominated for Innovator of the year -” he interrupted “By Festus Creed” stating annoyed. He walked over to the fridge to get a glass of water.
“Well yes, I didn’t ask him to, if thats what your thinking.” He let out a dark laugh.
“No thats not what im thinking. Im thinking he did it to get under my skin. He’s always trying to find ways to undermine me, he probably knew I wasnt nominated for anything.” He sat the cup down forcefully.
That’s when you realized this anger was not from you not telling him, perhaps he even knew. He didn’t seem surprised when it was announced at dinner, he seemed annoyed if anything. The attention turning from him hosting his guests to them toasting to you. He was jealous.
“I was nominated for my implementation of the Hunger Games being televised in the homes of every district resident, and my hardwork at campaigning to get people to advertise and put money behind the games.” You simply stated. Turning to finish wiping off the counter and walking to the sink to rinse your hands.
“I don’t think I’m even going to win Coriolanus.” you sighed wiping your hands on a towel. “Im against 3 other strong candidates who have done much more important and serious jobs than this. Plus I’m a woman, there has never been a female winner in any of the categories since the beginning of the games and these ceremonies. In all honesty, I think it was Festus who was trying to get under my skin and humiliate me infront of all of Panem. For me to think I even have a chance to have my name on a screen among those who have a bigger legacy in the history of our country. I just made some flyers and put up some TVs in the districts.” Tears brimmed your eyes at the reality of it all. The shame you felt from getting your hopes up.
You heard his footsteps creep behind you, quickly wiping your tears before he could see how pathetically emotional you were getting over this. He touched the back of your arm and kissed the top of your head.
“You’re going to win.” He stated plainly, then left the room.
An Avox brought breakfast to your bedside as requested. Unable to get most of it down, you slowly sipped the tea as you flicked through the TV, finally settling on a kids cartoon just to have some background noise as you tried to calm your nerves before having to start tonights preparations.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t believe you made me come here” Tigris whispered, annoyed.
“I’m sorry he wanted us to arrive together and I couldn’t convince him to get ready at my apartment.” you shrugged.
Tigris and her crew of makeup artists got to work, putting heat on your hair and moisturizing your face.
The sun was beginning to set, and you had about a full bottle of champagne down the hatch by the time they were done. Slipping on the gold strappy platform heels you’ve been daydreaming about, you walked over to the full body mirror Coryo had hanging in the guest bedroom.
“WOW” you exclaimed. “I can’t believe you made me this pretty”
Tigris shushed you with her hands and picked up the train of your dress to lay around you, as designed. She handed you the box of the final necklace that was decided upon before whisking her assistants and tools away.
“See you at the ceremony Y/N” she cheered before shutting the door.
Taking the next few minutes of silence to admire yourself in the mirror, you were so absorbed in your own beauty that you didn’t even hear the door open, or his footsteps walking toward you.
Only until you heard his voice did you notice his presence.
“Need some help with that?” He motioned towards the jewlery box set on the stand by the mirror.
You nodded your head excitedly and he opened it, smirking at the large piece of jewlery.
You eyed the exquisite gold necklace, lined with small diamonds around the base.
“Tigris has a taste for the extravagant doesn’t she” you laughed sheepishly, not remembering it being an option she provided during your last visit.
“I actually picked this one out.” he whispered in your ear. He motioned for you to lift your hair, and he placed it gently against your collarbones, fingers tracing lightly around your neck as he clasped it.
You turned to face him, your nerves easing looking into his familiar eyes. “Thank you, I love it.”
He placed a small kiss on your cheek, avoiding the lipgloss that was applied a few moments before the team left.
“The car is here” he said standing back up straight and eyeing himself in the mirror, making sure he was in check for the event. Sweeping a hand over the side of his hair to calm a strayaway that had popped out.
“Coryo I’m nervous” you squeaked out.
He didn’t react, still staring at himself in the mirror to make sure all was put together.
“Don’t be love, you’re going to win.”
His eyes flickered over to you for a second before placing a hand on your waist.
“C’mon now, don’t work yourself up over this. Let’s just have a good time.”
Coryo wasn’t always the best at comforting your ailments, but tonight he was being particularly insensitive. Now no longer nervous, but frustrated you huffed, grabbing your purse and pulling up the train of your own dress to the car. Fiddling with your idle hands again, since he wasnt holding them, burrowing into deep thought of the morbid embarrassment you feel if you didn’t win. How sad it would be for Coriolanus to be seen with someone who was a loser. Your throat tightened, letting out a sob you had been holding the whole car ride.
“Pull over.” he demanded to the driver.
“Dove, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t think I can do this, I can’t bare to humiliate you like this. Can we please go home and forget this. If anyone should be winning anything its you. Im so silly to think-”
“I need you to listen to me right now. You will not humiliate me, you should be proud of yourself for being nominated. Its an honor, one that you have rightfully been nominated for. You wouldn’t be here if there werent people behind those doors who didnt believe that. Please pull yourself together, for me?” He held your hand, fingers tracing the side of your face as you stared into his eyes, searching for more. You wanted him to be proud of you, to be more open. About anything.
“Okay.” you whispered. “I’m ready”
“Go on.” Coryo instructed the driver. He held onto your hand until the car came to a stop again infornt of the parade of photographers outside of the building. He released your hand to step out, waving the cameras away so he could come around to your side of the car. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and flashes blinding you slightly, making you forget where you were, what you were there for and what you were wearing. Immediately becoming self conscious, you gave a small smile to the cameras before grabbing Coryo’s hand to lift yourself from the car seat.
After regaining your composure, you put on the performance you usually gave to those outside of your close circle, a radiating confidence that had people swooning at the sight. You gave a smirk at the cameras before leaning over to give Coryo a kiss on the cheek. He rolled his eyes, only slight enough for you to see. The camera men cheered, begging for more.
This was what originally attracted Coriolanus to you. Your confidence and way with people. You couldn manipulate people with your smile, sarcasm and humour. People would fight for your attention in conversation, dying for you to hear what they have to say. You were such a people person it made him sick. You were also better at networking than him, which would make his blood boil if you took it too far.
Your flirtatious manners have gotten you into trouble a few times with him. Taking just a little too far for his liking, but he could never stay mad at you, since he knew it was all an act. All a performance. Behind closed doors your were doubtful, over thinking every interaction you had. An intense anxiety over every decision you made. On the outside you were so sure of yourself. But on the inside you were always second guessing and frightened.
That was the difference between you two.
As for Coriolanus, his confidence outside was just an expression of how he felt inside. He was more sure of himself than anyone you had ever met, which is what attracted you to him.
Together you were a force to be reckoned with.
He let you have your time with the cameras, letting them get shots of all angles of your dress and accessories.
“Who designed your outfit this evening Y/N”
“Tigris Snow of course, who else?” You smiled brightly, placing your hands on your hips and winking at the camera man the question had been asked from.
“But this necklace is from my lover, Coriolanus.” You gesture over to the man standing to the side. The cameras began to flash and point at him. They began shouting questions at him, except they weren’t the normal questions he’s usually asked at these events.
Like what new laws hes proposing, or when he will run for president.
No.
Tonight they were all questions about you.
You tried reading his face to see what he was thinking, but just like you, Coryo put on an act for the cameras.
“Do you think Y/N is going to win Innovator of the year?” One shouted.
Unable to read his expression as you guys strode up the stairs, him holding onto your train for you this time, he stops and turns to look over his shoulder
“Hell yes she is.”
#coriolanus snow#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#thg#coriolanus snow x reader#coryo snow#tbosas fanfiction#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x female!reader#coriolanus x y/n#coriolanus x reader#coryo snow x reader#coryo x reader#coryo x you#coryo snow fanfiction#tbosas fic#thg fanfiction#coriolanus snow smut
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alex Keller SFW relationship headcanons
Since my first post on this man did good, here's some SFW relationship headcanons to feed your delusions 😀
No warnings on this one, folks. Was made with both masc and fem readers in mind, but some of the specific headcanons are leaning towards a specific gender.
Enjoy!
-Love languages are physical touch and acts of service. Loves giving + receiving touch, but feels more inclined to spoil you by doing things for you.
-Will do chores you despise if you're sick/tired. As much as you may insist it's fine and that you can do it, every once in a while you'll find your designated chores (as well as the ones Alex already does) finished.
-He passes out compliments like it's candy, and his words are honestly as sweet as it, too. So sincere with everything he says, no matter how self-conscious you may be, he'll do everything in his power to make you feel like royalty.
-A big fan of just relaxing with you. Y'all could be doing basically anything, whether it's watching TV or making food or cuddling, and no matter how mundane things may be, Alex would much rather just enjoy the simple moments and appreciate the time he's able to spend with you.
-Nicknames for you include: Baby (baby girl/boy/doll), sweetheart, sunshine, dolly, darling and the occasional love or sugar.
-I feel like he's a God at back massages. No particular reason why, he's just good at them.
-The inside jokes are top tier. The type of inside jokes you and Alex have are probably so ridiculous that to anyone besides you two, you guys look insane.
-Whenever he sees anything that reminds him of an inside joke y'all have, he'll literally have to place a hand over his mouth while snorting. Then he'll text you about it so fast he makes like 12 spelling mistakes.
-If you have a favorite animal, color, show, etc, you best believe he's going to go out of his way to buy you gifts of those things. He'll just come home one day with a plushie of your favorite animal with the widest grin on his face.
-"Look what I found at the mall! You still like bears, right?" (Totally didn't use bears as an example bc my favorite animal are bears..)
-Loves relaxing on your chest. Whether you're taller or shorter, it doesn't matter. Your chest = his pillow.
-Loves it when you run a hand through his hair or touch his facial hair. Also, please cup his cheek and give him as many kisses as you possibly can.
-Will MELT if you fall asleep on him.
-His favorite places to kiss you are the cheeks, forehead, nose and ofc the lips.
-Always has an arm around your shoulder or waist or holds your hand in public. He's not very possessive or anything, but he just feels the need to show you off. Its kinda like he's saying "Hey, look at the absolute eye-candy I scored." And he gets all smiley when someone compliments you.
-Favorite cuddling positions are spooning (he always insists on being the big spoon), or where you're practically on top of him and using his chest as a pillow (and vice versa).
-If you also want kids and can get pregnant, he's completely fussing over you the entire time. You're not allowed to lift a finger
-He'll also do the same if you're sick or on your period if you're afab.
-Once, while he was on deployment, you got sick and told him about it.
-"Aw, sunshine. I'm so sorry to hear that :(" is what his text said, before asking you exactly what you needed. Then boom, all of a sudden his mother pays you a surprise visit and makes you some soup. It's totally not like he asked if she'd be willing to check up on you or anything because he couldn't be there..totally not 🙃
-Also, I headcanon him to be a major mama's boy. Maybe he's got an older sister or two as well, idk.
-I feel like family is very important to him. As such, he's always dragging you over to see his family.
-Always getting you to play with any nephews/nieces he may have and when you do, he gets massive baby fever.
-Either way, I feel he's fairly knowledgeable on things like periods and such, which is probably why he's so good at taking care of you
-If you're amab and need some new clothes, he'll gladly go through his old ones and see if anything catches your eye.
-Will let you wear a shirt of his regardless of gender, though.
-He knows how much you love wearing his t-shirts and sweaters, regardless of if they fit you or not. So, one time while he was on deployment, he "forgot" a shirt at home and once he "realized" he'd "forgotten" it, he told you to keep it safe.
-"Alex? I think you left a shirt behind."
-"Thats alright, sunshine. I've got plenty of other clothes. Can you please keep it nice and warm til I get back?"
-Y'all always have a meal over FaceTime together when he's deployed.
-Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, he sends you a text and a picture of said thing.
-And said thing is usually either really beautiful, like the sunset or a flower that caught his eye, or something really stupid like a pic of a weird looking cat from the internet or a giant rat he saw around base.
-"Saw the rat that's been terrorizing the base's kitchen today. Reminded me of you ❤"
-"Wtf"
-"Why would a rat remind you of me?"
-"Because it steals my food and leaves crumbs everywhere but is still pretty damn cute."
-"🖕"
-"Love you too, dolly."
-Def wants some sort of pet with you, especially a dog.
-If you're allergic to dogs, he'll try to get a hypoallergenic breed.
-Although he's certainly not opposed to most other pets! Prefers dogs to cats, but he still likes them, so if you would prefer a cat he's down to get one.
-Asks for pics of said pet while on deployment constantly.
-And when he's home, his entire camera roll is just filled with the goofiest pet pics.
-Such a bad cameraman when it comes to animals for no reason. Will make the most beautiful, expensive and well-groomed ragdoll cat look like a sewer rat with just one photo 💀
-Somehow takes amazing pics of you, though. Manages to make you look absolutely gorgeous/handsome everytime.
-Stays up late just chuckling at messages between you two on deployment. Does the same for pictures of you, too.
-When he returns home, though, there's barely a night where he's up past 11 pm, because you're there to cuddle him to sleep.
-Overall, Alex would just be such an attentive, loving partner. You, your safety, your family and making you laugh are his main priorities.
Another one done! Definitely enjoying writing these, so let me know who I should do next.
#alex keller#alex keller x f!reader#alex keller x y/n#alex keller x male reader#alex keller headcanons#alex keller cod#cod modern warfare#call of duty#alex keller x reader#alex keller x you#headcanon#i'm still a disappointment to my parents
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pearl and Grian Being Sibs
Pearl was at her base with Grian. As siblings there was a moral obligation to hang out at least once in a while. And not that Pearl would ever admit it, but she enjoyed these sessions however much she pretended to be annoyed every other month. They’d been sitting in companionable silence for the past couple minutes.
“You know how you’re really annoying?” Grian said suddenly. Pearl looked at him like ‘gee, thanks’.
“Yeah, but you honestly can’t say much.”
“See, I’ve devised a way to find out who’s more annoying.”
“And you’ve been doing this instead of working on your base?” Pearl teased. Grian fluttered his wings so that they smacked her. “Fine.”
“It actually came to me when I was cleaning my room. I found a whole lot of feathers that have just fallen off. And I don’t want to throw them away. So I thought you would like them.”
“Yes, I want them, but what does that have to do with how annoying I am?”
“I knew you would want them. But I didn’t feel like being that easy to work with. So every time I’m annoying, I get to give you a feather. The catch is, every time YOU’RE annoying, you have to give me something.”
“I can work with that. You’re really annoying anyway. But what do I give you in return? I don’t have a whole lot of something.”
“You DO have a whole lot of wooden soup spoons that you buy since you make a lot of soup.”
“I don’t have that many…” her brother raised his eyebrows.
“Here.” He opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a box from the bottom that was half as tall as he was (which honestly wasn’t saying much), filled almost fully with soup spoons.
“And I know that’s not the last of them. You’ve got another box around here somewhere, I know it.”
“Okay, fine.” Pearl admitted. “Maybe I do have a thing for wooden soup spoons that I can’t do anything with.”
“Excellent! So whenever you’re annoying, you have to give me one of them. The other catch is that you can’t purposely be less annoying.”
“Deal.”
Four months later
“Why’d you call me here? I was going to show you something at my base.”
“Well, I’ve got to show you something first, then we can go to your pile of rocks.” He fluffed up his wings in indignation.
“Okay, what?”
“I made some art with your feathers! You always have a lot of big blue feathers, medium red feathers, and little yellow ones, I’ve noticed. So I designed the perfect pillowcase!”
Pearl proudly pointed to a rectangular throw pillow that was sitting on a shelf. It depicted the Australian flag, but rather than the white of the stars and Union Jack, it was yellow. Grian walked over and stood on his toes to better see it.
“Wow. Those are all mine. Of course it’s beautiful.”
“Unfortunately you don’t have white feathers, but yellow’s close enough.”
“Oh, you could have just asked if you wanted white feathers.” Grian closed his eyes for a couple seconds, and before her very eyes the yellow feathers became white in a rippling motion from the inside out. The girl’s mouth dropped open.
“You’re telling me that if I wanted to make a Canadian flag I could just ask you for a lot of big red and white feathers?”
“Yup. Avians can shift wings and wing colours.”
“Annoying pigeon.” In response, his wings shifted blue grey - like a pigeon.
“We should go over to my place,” Grian said, shifting his wings back. once he decided that Pearl had gaped enough.
“Funnily enough,” he remarked as they traversed through the nether. “I made some art with your spoons too.”
“Great to see that they’re not just collecting dust anymore.”
“Oh no,” he said very seriously. “They’re still going to be collecting dust, just in a cooler way.” Pearl snorted.
“Here we are!” Grian said, heading to his living room. The white walls used to be blank before, but now one was decorated. The spoons had been arranged in a pattern with spiral arms extending from the center all the way to the edges of the wall. They’d been painted various shades of green, too.
Floating shelves (which upon closer inspection were made of soup spoons) were stuck in between the arms, and they held cute succulents and photos of various Hermits (Pearl and Scar occurring a lot). As expected, the parents were absent.
“That’s a very BDubs style accent wall, I’ll say that.” Pearl quipped.
“He did help me with it, actually. Not that that makes it any less good.”
“No, you’re good. Stress actually helped me with mine as well.” They turned to face each other, plopping down on the couch.
“So what we learned is that we’re both really annoying.”
#writeblr#writers#grian#hermitcraft#hermitcraft grian#hermitcraft fanfic#fanfic#pearlescentmoon#skyblings
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spirktober 2023, day 20: Protect
Protective!Spock is my favoriteeeeee <3 so here we go!!
Also posted on AO3 here!
☆☆☆
Starfleet, in its infinite wisdom, had changed the design of the cutlery in the mess halls, and Kirk hated the new ones.
They were balanced differently, they were less ergonomic, and --- as he bent down to regather the knife that had slipped down off his plate onto the floor for the third time in as many days --- they refused to stay where they were placed.
He returned to upright to see Uhura and Bones staring in states of shock at Spock, seated next to him. Spock placidly spooned plomeek soup into his mouth and gave no indication that he was aware of their attention. He finished his meal, slid his spoon into the bowl, and stood. “I will be in Laboratory 7 for the remainder of Alpha shift,” he said. “Good-bye.”
“Bye, Spock,” Uhura said faintly, and she and Bones watched him leave with that same slightly dazed look.
“Alright,” Kirk said. “That’s enough. Why are you looking at him like that?”
Bones and Uhura looked at each other before answering, which was never a good sign. Uhura must have won whatever argument they were silently having, because it was Bones who sighed and said, “Jim, have you ever noticed that Spock is slightly… overprotective?”
Kirk started. “Now, I wouldn’t call it over-protective,” he said, shifting in his seat. “He’s loyal. He’s a Vulcan. The ship and her crew are his responsibility, as first officer.”
“Not with the crew, captain,” Uhura said. “It’s really just with you.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Mr. Spock is the best first officer in the Fleet. Everyone says so. Protective? Sure. But we seem to get into trouble more than most, so that’s probably for the best.”
Bones and Uhura exchanged another glance. “If you say so, captain,” Uhura said, and they finished the rest of their meal in relative peace. Kirk had nearly forgotten about the exchange until his padd pinged with a message from Bones as he was preparing to lay down for the night.
>TheRealMcCoy: just saying
>TheRealMcCoy: [Attachment: securityfile3214-25.gif]
Kirk tapped on the gif and it opened. It was a looping video that Bones must have pulled from the security feed, or bribed someone else to pull, more likely. It showed a black and white view of the officer’s mess hall. Kirk saw the square table where he, Bones, Uhura, and Spock had shared lunch earlier in the day. He watched himself set down his knife, which promptly slid backwards off his plate and bounced to the ground. He saw himself bend over sideways to grab at it, ducking his head down beneath the level of the table.
He saw Spock lean over and cover the corner of the table with his hand. He saw himself come back up, and as his head cleared the edge of the table he saw Spock straighten back up and return his hand to its standard position in his lap.
Kirk sat down on his bed, expanded the .gif to fill his whole screen, and watched it again. He leaned down to grab the knife and Spock covered the sharp corner of the table with his hand until his head was safely away from it. He watched the .gif over and over again, memorizing the little protective gesture of Spock’s that he hadn’t even noticed at the time but was now immortalized in the security footage. Spock hadn’t even turned his head to look at Kirk before moving to cover the corner. How frequently had this happened? How many of these moments had Uhura and Bones seen that he hadn’t?
>JTK: Huh
>JTK: Okay
>JTK: I still don’t think it counts as OVER protective
>JTK: does this happen a lot??
>TheRealMcCoy: the good lord gave you your own eyeballs
>TheRealMcCoy: how about you use them
“Computer, lights to zero,” he said. He lay in the darkness, trying to sleep, unable to wipe the sight of Spock’s hand sliding over the table’s corner out of his mind.
☆☆☆
Kirk watched his first officer carefully over the next few weeks, and it was an enlightening experience. Nothing in Spock’s behavior or demeanor had changed, but Uhura’s comment of “it’s really just with you” had latched in his brain and reframed how he saw the little quirks of Spock’s protectiveness. They sparred in the gym and, even though Spock threw him, Spock’s hand was behind his head before he hit the ground. They ate lunch in the mess hall and Spock inserted himself in the seat between him and the security officer with a peanut butter sandwich. And, without fail, when the new shitty knives slid off his plate and he had to retrieve them, Spock’s hand was between his head and the table’s edge every time.
How had he never noticed this before? The Enterprise, when flying on her own, was not a particularly dangerous place. And yet almost every time he encountered something that was slightly hazardous to himself, Spock was there. Each observation warmed him. His stoic, unfeeling, deeply Vulcan first officer was protective of him. He still wasn’t sure if he would call it over-protective, though.
Kirk did keep a small collection of .gifs on his padd when he could get the security video discreetly. He liked the proof.
☆☆☆
Kirk thought that there was a slight possibility that Spock was a little overprotective of him when he went missing for only a few hours --- alright, was kidnapped like a damsel --- on an away mission and Spock went, according to all reports, absolutely berserk. His first introduction to this idea was Spock ripping the door to his cell clean off its hinges. He threw it behind him, where it hit the wall of the corridor with an almighty clanging, and stepped inside. Kirk stared at him from where he sat on the cot in the corner. Spock stared at him, chest heaving, face flushed green, and as he registered Kirk’s unharmed state and general air of relaxation his breath slowed until he was very nearly back to his normal appearance.
“Hello there, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, slightly bewildered.
“Captain,” Spock said, inclining his head. He straightened his uniform shirt and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m gratified to see that you are well. I believe you are free to go.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” he said, rising from the cot. “You were able to negotiate with the rogue faction?”
“Yes, captain,” Spock said, and turned to follow Kirk out of the cell. “I found that they were willing to acquiesce to my demands rather quickly.”
“That’s good, very good,” Kirk said distractedly as they walked down the hallway. He did not see any sign of his security team, and there were unconscious guards lying solo or in piles at regular intervals along the hall and down the stairs. He recognized his kidnappers from their clothing among the guards, but they were also all unconscious.
“What, ah, negotiation tactics did you use, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked as they ascended the stairs into the front hall and reunited with some red-shirted security officers. They stood around with their arms crossed, phasers holstered, and they gave no indication of having participated in any sort of strenuous activity. What had their role been in the fight with the guards…?
“Vulcan ones, captain,” Spock said, and if he noticed that the security officers stared at him with an interesting mix of respect and horror, he gave no outward indication.
“Ah,” Kirk said. “That’s… good.” He had a feeling he could guess what Vulcan negotiating tactics were, but he reserved judgment until he had received mission reports from his other officers. Spock walked alongside him with his usual reserve, and as he was now free from the cell he had formerly been trapped within, Kirk found that he had no complaints of however Spock chose to negotiate on his behalf.
On the ship, in his quarters, he read over the reports from his security team, which varied from professional to unfortunately creative, in mounting disbelief.
First Officer Spock proved the efficacy of the Vulcan art of Suus Mahna in about thirty seconds…
Science Officer Spock kicked down the door to the building and then neutralized the entire kidnapping party…
Mr. Spock in combat is, in my professional opinion, somewhat of a demon…
God help the man who gets between Spock and the captain.
Kirk pressed his intercom button. “Mr. Spock, could you please come to my quarters for a moment?”
“Yes, captain.” Spock’s response came immediately, and the man himself appeared in Kirk’s doorway about twenty seconds later. “How can I help you, captain?”
Kirk handed the padds with the security reports to Spock and sat back down in his desk chair. “Could you please review these and let me know your thoughts on their accuracy?”
Spock raised one eyebrow at him, but said, “Certainly, captain.” He stood in front of Kirk’s desk and methodically skimmed over each report. He set them down one by one until his hands were empty, and then he clasped them behind his back.
“I believe these reports to be mostly accurate, if unfortunately unobjective,” Spock said.
Kirk blinked. “So you did kick the door down.”
“Yes, captain.”
“And you refused to wait for the security detail.”
“I did not need them, captain.”
“And you neutralized the entire threat before ripping my cell door off the hinges.”
“I believe you witnessed the second part firsthand, captain.”
“I see,” Kirk said, and covered his hand with his mouth to hide his smile. When he had regained control of his face and looked suitably serious, he said, “Mostly accurate? What in the reports is false?”
Spock straightened the pile of padds on the desk in front of him, forcing them into perfect alignment. “I do not believe there is a god in this universe that could help the man that stood between us. Good night, captain.” He turned on his heel and left, leaving Kirk gaping at the space he had left behind. He looked back at the stack of padds on his desk to his closed door once more, replaying Spock’s departing words to him in his head.
“I’ll be damned,” Kirk said. He had never been one for pick-up lines, and he wasn’t even sure if that was one, necessarily, but… that was one hell of a pick-up line. He made copies of the security reports and added them to his little folder of proof and if he smiled to himself while he washed his hair in the shower then it was nobody’s business but his own.
#spock#spirk#kirk#my writing#spirktober 2023#spirktober2023#k/s#kirk/spock#k/s ficlet#k/s drabble#i don't remember the official lengths for the different words but i wouldn't call this a full length fic
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
over your death - idol! beomgyu
☆ sad fanfic bro :( oh and gn! reader
tw: reader's death(?), angst tho
summary: you had been diagnosed with cancer but that doesnt stop beomgyu from loving you
you peeked through your room's window to see the view you've always cherish, a nightcity view...you had requested to move rooms just to see this kind of view
oh how you wish it would be amazing just to walk normally, hand in hand with your boyfriend taking a stroll in the city
but you couldnt do all that...
not with your life is on the line
after the doctor announced that you had been diagnosed with cancer, you knew that the chance of being alive is low and you need to accept that no matter what
having cancer is one of the toughest challenge that you've ever faced in your life. with you being weak 24/7, having to wear different designs of beanies ever since you shaved your head and laying or sitting in bed all day knowing you cant walk properly anymore
after everything youve been through, but still, your boyfriend of 5 years wouldnt leave you
he was there for you before and after you're diagnosed with cancer
and you were there for him before and after he debuted as an idol
indeed, having an idol boyfriend is hard but both of you had your relationship under control
you turned your head to the sound of your door opening, making a screeching sound
"hey my love, i brought you some food, i know how much you hate hospital foods anyways" your boyfriend, beomgyu, said giving you a soft smile as he sets down the plastic bag he was holding
you quietly thanked him before turning your head away from him, continuing to admire the view
beomgyu knew that whenever you do this, as in 'admiring' the view, you mustve been in a very deep thought
he sighed before sitting down on a chair next to your bed as he gently grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles
"whats on your mind, honey?"
you snapped back into reality as soon as you heard his voice
"hm? nothing, nothing at all, i was just enjoying the view" you looked at him with a reassuring smile
"mhm..i've known you for years, that doesnt look like nothing...cmon tell me"
"i was just wondering if you had a good day today" you fake smiled at him hiding away your actual thought
"hmm my baby is worried about me huh? lets just say i had one hell of a day, so many interviews and photoshoots but in the end, i get to see you and thats the best part" he smiled, stroking your cheek with his thumb as you both stare each other in the eyes with full of love
he decided to broke off that eye contact, as much as he loves to stare you in the eyes, hes been worried sick whether you've eaten or not
"have you eaten yet?" he asked
you shook your head no as a respond
he quickly takes out the food that he brought that was in the bag, as he gently open the lid of the container
once he opened the lid, your hospital room is now filled with the smell of fresh, steamy tomato soup, your favorite
"why do you even like tomato soup...its tomato" beomgyu makes this 'disgusted' look on his face which made you chuckle
"It tastes good okay...look, if you dont want to feed me anymore then i can feed myself, i have hands anyway" you gently take the container from him jokingly but he stopped you from taking it
"yah! I didnt mean it like that, just because i hate tomatoes doesnt mean i cant feed you...plus its MY job to make sure youre well fed" he scoffed followed by a soft smile
he stirred the soup with a spoon, before scooping some of it, bringing it close to your mouth
"say ahhh"
you giggle at his childish behavior before opening your mouth, letting him feed you
"Is it good?" he asked
you nodded your head in response
you suddenly had the thought that what will happen to beomgyu if you happen to pass away?
"beomgyu...if i die-" before you could finish your sentence, beomgyu cuts you off
"y/n. you know how much i hate hearing you say that word, stop saying youre gonna die, youre not going to. you'll fight this okay? i'll be here with you every step of the journey, we made a promise to get married and have 3 kids together, remember?"
tears started to form in your eyes after seeing beomgyu being this desperate. he needed you in his life, he couldnt continue his life without you
"dont cry please...dont cry" beomgyu quickly place down the soup on the bedside table and sat on the bed with you, wiping away any tears that fell down from your eyes
"Im sorry..." you whispered
beomgyu couldnt help but shed a tear himself, he hates seeing you like this, seeing you in pain
if he could take away all that pain, he would
he couldnt help but to kiss you, a kiss that was passionate, loving and full of emotions
....and that was the last moment you had with beomgyu before you left the world
now, beomgyu is kneeling infront of your tombstone, with his head down, dressed in all black as he sobbed quietly, with the support of his 4 members behind his back
soobin rubbed his back as a way to comfort him but that didnt stop him from crying and wiping his tears every second
"beomgyu, lets go home now okay? the funeral's over" yeonjun said in a calm tone
beomgyu shook his head "i cant hyung, i cant" as he cried alot harder
the 4 members looked at each other with concerned look in each of their faces, worrying about beomgyu
the atmosphere is filled with nothing but the sound of beomgyu sobbing
yeonjun, the eldest among all, finally spoke up to break the silence
"we'll be in the car, take your time beomgyu"
as soon as his 4 members left him all alone, he took his chance to speak to your tombstone
"y/n-ah, why did you leave me? why didnt you take me with you? what am i gonna do without you now? WHY" he cried alot harder at the last 'why', he's stressing out to the point he cant think straight anymore
he's not mad at you, he wouldn't blame you. ever. he's mad at himself for not taking care of you properly
if only he had been taking care of you alot harder, you wouldn't leave, he thought
#tomorrow x together#hueningkai#taehyun#beomgyu#soobin#yeonjun#txt x reader#txt imagines#txt fluff imagines#txt soft imagines#txt angst#txt headcanons#txt reactions#beomgyu x reader#soobin x reader#yeonjun x reader#hueningkai x reader#taehyun x reader#beomgyu angst#beomgyu x y/n#txt × gn! reader#txt fanfic#beomgyu fanfic#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#kpop scenario#txt scenarios#txt
246 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sick in Public - part 3
This is an indirect continuation of my Sick in Public series – it can be read without reading part 1 and part 2. While the previous two parts represented a blog post Bernie has written to describe his experience with vomiting on a bus, this part is about a new character, who found inspiration in Bernie's post and tried to recreate it herself. ;)
Kinks: emetophilia, stuffing for emeto purposes
OCs: Emily (pic)
Warning: slight nsft (mentions of arousal)
===================
My name is Emily, and I am an emetophile.
I’ve been fascinated with puking for as long as I can remember, but only after leaving for college and getting my own room away from my family, I have found courage to experiment with self-induced vomiting.
I’ve been following the blog of this one digital artist who draws a lot of emeto and asphyxiation stuff. But occasionally he makes a post about himself vomiting irl as well. Recently, he wrote a post about his true experience of throwing up on a crowded bus and it’s given me brain rot. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The image of chunks of vomit reflecting back onto my skin as I puke on the doors of a bus was living in my brain rent-free 24/7. I was obsessed. I needed to feel it.
I’ve never had the courage to make myself vomit in public, but it’s one of my biggest fantasies. Nobody would suspect a thing. When people see a petit, innocent-looking 19-year-old girl get sick on a bus, they’re not going to assume that she is a gross degenerate who gets off on making a public mess. They are going to think she is very ill and feel sorry for her, maybe even comfort her. Something about the idea of deceiving people like this made my brain tingle.
The important question was: how do I induce nausea inconspicuously? I went to the internet to research ways to induce vomiting (this search itself made me excited to puke right now). I saw a picture of mustard dissolved in water and it kind of looked like orange juice so I figured it might be a sneaky way to make myself sick in public.
On the designated day, I took an empty 0,5 L bottle, added three teaspoons of mustard in it and filled it with water. I put on a light orange dress with a pattern of white flowers (hopefully I’ll be able to wash vomit stains off of it).
I wanted to fill up my stomach as much as possible, so I cooked a vegetable soup and forced myself to eat the whole pot. I was starting to feel a little queasy from fullness, but I didn’t give in until I swallowed the last spoonful. My belly felt heavy and tight. It became visibly round and protruded from under my dress.
After the large meal, I hopped onto a bus headed for the shopping centre. I sat at the back of the bus, away from people, so that they would not realize that the orange juice smelled like mustard. When I settled down, I opened the bottle. I took a sip and grimaced. The taste was revolting, but I tried to supress gagging because I had to remain inconspicuous.
I was only able to down half the bottle, the taste was just too much. My mouth started salivating a little and I gagged into my palm. A bit of acid came up to my mouth, but I swallowed it back down.
The bus ride took ten minutes, during which… nothing happened. I was queasy due to the gross taste, but it didn’t seem that I was going to vomit. My fantasy of feeling droplets of vomit reflect back onto my skin off the doors of a bus was not going to become a reality.
Oh well. If I’m already at the mall, I might as well buy a new summer dress.
I got off the bus and made my way towards the entrance of the mall, feeling water sloshing inside my heavy stomach. The disgusting taste lingered on my tongue, and I felt a bit queasy and lightheaded.
I entered the mall and headed for my favourite clothing store. As I was browsing dresses, I still felt nauseated, but at this point I didn’t think much of it. I became more interested in shopping than in throwing up. I found a delightful light green dress with a pattern of white flowers that I was sure would go great with my red hair, and I made my way to the changing rooms to try it on.
Suddenly, I was overcome by a shiver followed by a cold sweat.
No – no way that I’m going to vomit NOW…
But there was no mistaking the feeling as my throat tightened and my mouth filled with a large amount of saliva.
I basically threw away the dress and ran out of the store. I emerged at the central plaza of the shopping centre. In the middle of it was a small fountain surrounded by benches. I knew where the bathroom was, but I could tell that I was not going to make it there.
I stopped halfway to the fountain. I was shaking and my legs felt weak. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt a little dizzy. The time has run out. I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees.
“Egk – guuuurh – cough!”
I gagged and retched, and a small amount of brownish water came out my mouth and fell on the tiles below.
“Cough, cough…………”
I’m not vomiting that much yet, maybe I can still stop it… I tried to supress the nausea by sheer willpower, but my belly convulsed forcefully, putting pressure on my overfilled stomach, which sent a large amount of undigested soup up my oesophagus. A waterfall of puke spilled out of my mouth and splashed noisily on the tiles underneath. The puddle was light brown with visible pieces of vegetables. It didn’t look all that different from the soup I had eaten. This thought created a mental image of me eating puke, which made me shudder and immediately retch again in disgust. A small, rather chunky wave of vomit made its way to my mouth and I let it spill out. A piece of vegetable stayed lodged at the side of my tongue, tickling my throat, which stimulated my stomach to spew uncontrollably. “Uuuuuuuuurrrgh!” – splash, splash! The intensity of this heave put tears in my eyes. I could barely catch a breath, and I was swaying on my weak legs.
I startled when I felt a hand on my arm. I flinched and looked in that direction, while I was still coughing and gagging as the aftereffect of the last wave. Through vision blurred with tears, I recognized a tall man. “Are you alight, miss?” he said in a kind and soft voice. “Let’s sit you down, okay?” He took my hand and lead me to the bench at the base of the fountain.
As soon as I sat down, saliva started filling my mouth once again. I was breathing rapidly, and my heart was pounding in my ears. I was covered in sweat, my belly muscles hurt, I was trembling with sickness, and I just wanted this to be over. I tried to breathe deeply to soothe the nausea, but it wasn’t working. My stomach contracted and more vomit shot out of my mouth, staining the bottom of my dress and splashing on the tiles underneath.
“Huuuuurk!!”
I felt the stranger’s gentle hand caressing my back as I gagged and coughed up forgotten chunks of food from the depths of my throat.
I tried to breathe deeply, for the nausea was overwhelming. There were tears in my eyes, my whole body was trembling, all I could do was breathe. Breathe in, breathe out…
I looked up at my saviour. „Th-thank you…“ I strained through my tense throat, just before a massive wave overtook me. My stomach contracted painfully, and I lurched forward, a watery projectile shooting out of my mouth. It went on for longer than I thought possible, water after water making its way out of me without a break. When it finally ended, I felt a bit dizzy. I tried to breathe, the outside world felt distant, and the only thing I sensed was the hand on my back. When I managed to catch my breath, I opened my eyes and noticed that the puddle of vomit in from of me was HUGE. I was worried that the people might suspect something… But what could they possibly suspect? Nobody is going to assume that an innocent-looking girl overate on soup and then took an emetic to make herself violently sick in a mall.
The man kept rubbing my back, which felt comforting.
“What happened to you, young miss? Why are you so sick? Should I call an ambulance?”
I shook my head dizzily. “No, i-it’s fine…”
I barely managed to finish the sentence before I coughed up another mouthful of bile. It did not shoot far so basically all of it landed on my dress.
I breathed and breathed, and then my stomach contracted again, straining heavily to get just a little bit of water out.
I breathed in and then I started to feel better. The sweet after-vomit feeling of relief washed over me and made me feel light and ecstatic. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasant feeling while the man kept rubbing my back.
When I opened my eyes, I looked down at the massive pool of vomit on the floor. I thought that this huge amount of water and all of these chunks of food came out of my stomach, and it turned me on. My panties were completely drenched, but I wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or if I had pissed myself due to all the straining. Maybe both.
I decided that I should leave before the cleaning staff shows up and starts yelling at me.
I smiled softly at the man (probably didn’t look that charming with pieces of barfed up leak lodged between my teeth). “Thank you for your help, I feel better now. I will leave now. My dad is at the parking lot, he will take me home,” I lied, because I didn’t want to inconvenience the man any longer. I got up and made my way to the exit on weak legs. When I got on the return bus, I sat next to the window and I closed my eyes. I smiled. I did not end up spewing chunks onto the bus door, but it turned into an exciting experience nonetheless.
===================
Disclaimer: This is a fetish story and as such meant to be fiction and not an inspiration for irl deeds. Do not try this "at home". (Also pls don't try to make that mustard emetic, I'm not sure how safe it actually is and I heard that it might not be safe for people with diabetes or a heart condition etc.)
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Worldbuilding Eating Utensils in Fantasy
Okay okay okay... so I just watched this Utensil Design video and I was like. Omg. This is SO COOL! It's got some pretty sick real-life worldbuilding, so I immediately began to think about it in my world.
Maybe I am WAAAAY too detail oriented with my worldbuilding but honestly, it's not like I'm neglecting my characters and storytelling -- I just also wanna visually design everything to be slightly to the left of reality...
youtube
The Tl;dw:
Forks only became popular because of Italian pasta
Christian Priests thought forks were "the Devil's utensil" cuz like pitchforks. No forks. God gave you hands for a reason.
We should bring back eating knives
Chinese Chopsticks were considered to be refined while knives were considered barbaric by early Confucianists -- and thus, they belonged in the kitchen, while daintily picking up pre-chopped food with chopsticks is good
Chopsticks in Japan are considered a bridge between food and your mouth, just like bridges cross rivers or trees bridge you to the Gods. There are celebrations surrounding chopsticks when you're born and when you die. It's a BIG big cultural thing.
In India, your different fingers activate different chakras, so eating with your hands helps connect you to the natural world
So anyway, with those VERY COOL revelations (but seriously, go watch the video), I did some more worldbuilding on Yssaia's eating utensils. Please reblog or something to tell me about your world's eating utensils!
Here's mine:
Northern Culinary Tools
Northerners primary use eating knives -- cutting off their portion of food at the table -- and everyone carries their own set when going to eat at another person's house. This is also because, if someone is going to stab you, everyone is going to want to have their weapons on them.
Finger foods are not unheard of, but are more rare due to the prevalence of gloves year round. They are considered to be more intimate and/or lower class, depending on the context.
Soups are just drunk out of the bowl. Spoons are only for serving.
Demons
Eat with their hands or other shapeshifted appendages. Why would they waste effort making them when they can just bring the food to their mouth with their hands?
Among the Northern Demon Lords, there is probably some etiquette about how you do this (You can't just like gorge yourself with your mouth and dump it into your gullet all the time). It probably has to do with appearances to other people and maximizing your politeness and minimizing how easy it is to steal from you.
Sealfolk
Selkies are known for eating bowls of mackerel, eels, and sea grass whole. Because they can. They probably also invented forks for stabbing slippery things and then eating them. However, unlike in Western culture, you are not expected to eat the whole thing in one bite. You can stab and then take smaller bites off your fork.
Southern Culinary Tools
Southerners use chopsticks and bone spoons in conjunction with more disposable utensils, such as bread, to eat -- due to the heavier reliance on frying and boiling in their cuisine. Their food is generally warmer overall and, in some regions, spicier, thus making it physically harmful to eat with just your hands.
Also, the heavier reliance on fermentation in Telethens means you don't wanna put your filthy hands in the brine or you'll ruin its balance -- you have to use chopsticks to pluck stuff from the jars.
Sidebar: When I do revisions on my webfic, I am ABSOLUTELY going to have to have a scene where Arlasaire learns or even simply complains about having to use chopsticks and that is HILARIOUS.
That being said, the Blood Tsars -- particularly in the South East -- eat more with their hands due to long term connection with Demons. Designing food correctly for manual consumption + the ability to elegantly eat food with your hands and disposable utensils is considered peak culture there.
#worldbuilding eating utensils#fantasy world#worldbuilding#fictional world#utensil design#cultural differences#writerblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#creative writing#writing#worldbuilding details#real life worldbuilding#Yssaia#Amaiguri#design theory#Youtube
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
"If you two are going to the NPP," Piotr dropped on his designated spot by the campfire, "I need you to collect a few slime samples, and get reading from the magento-sonic -"
"Who told you we're going to the power plant?" Beaver interrupted, his spoon of chtchi paused halfway between his bowl and his mouth.
'Us?' Slava silently asked, with a raised eyebrow, as she pointed to Beaver, then to herself.
"Well, that girl you've been following for the past two weeks is going, sp I figured you'd follow her there too." Piotr replied, confusion slowly slipping into his voice.
"I mean, if you need those readings that bad,"
"I'm not going." Slava interrupted.
"What, too scared of the radiation, Monolith, the military and the psychic mutants?" Beaver jokingly asked.
"No, I know a tunnel that'd let us sneak in from the radio city,"
"Dygha?"
Slava nodded.
"The Union might have fallen, but the infrastructure is still there. Failsafe upon failsafe, escape route upon escape route," Piotr added, not without a touch of nostalgia for a time he never knew.
The topic changed to Soviet infrastructures, as Beaver trailed on about the some bunker by his place back in Kiev in between two slurps of soup.
"What we're we talking about anyway?" He eventually noticed that his companions were visibly getting bored.
"The NPP."
"And how I'm not going."
"But why? You love that stuff. Artefacts, fuckers to kill," Beaver insisted.
"Well for starters I need to do a cig run by Cordon,"
Without a word, Piotr threw her a sealed pack of Donskoi Tobak. She nearly caught it, and it landed on her lap. She examined the brown packet with a smile before continuing:
"And second, when people go to the NPP, be they good or bad, they start talking about the wishgranter. What would you do? What would you get? Who would you kill? Who would you sell? I can't stand that."
Beaver scoffed.
"You can't stand stalkers talking about their hopes and dreams?"
"If they had hopes and dreams they wouldn't be here."
"That's harsh. What about science, wanderlust, duty towards the people outside?"
"Not everyone has these same noble thoughs about science and the betterment of humanity as you."
Slava got up, pocketed the pack of cigarettes, and wiped off dirt from her jacket. She headed towards where she'd stashed her other supplies, and began gearing up under the slightly offended gaze of Beaver.
"So no data then?" Piotr pleaded.
"No. I'll leave you boys to it." She threw her backpack over her shoulders, with as much ease as her kevlar would allow. "But you might have a point about duty. Maybe you should pay that old friend of ours a visit?"
"Fedya what's his name?"
"Fedor Okeseivych Vorobev?"
"Hell, I don't know his full name. Yeah, the short bald man. He's shit at taking lead, but-"
The two men simultaneously scoffed at Slava's last phrase. She rolled her eye and threw her hands up in the air.
"Whatever. I'm not even surprised. He'd go if you ask real nice,"
"Like 'on my knees' nice?" Beaver asked with that half flirty half joking tone he liked to use.
"Maybe if we give him real good directions, he'd be able to go all of the way," Piotr added.
"I'll be in Cordon. Screw you both," Slava stormed off, presumably west, away from the marshlands.
#s.t.a.l.k.e.r.#drabble#oc: beaver#oc: slava#oc: piotr#a few more of these scenes and I'll have enough for an AO3 fic ^^#I'm working on a few more sketches too#wanna draw all their backstories
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
Best wishes for your Birthday dear Ro! If this interests you maybe a Drabble with some cooking and teasing Steve shenanigans. Also, I'm so in love with dignity of his choice. I live on angst now.
The Thought That Counts
Warnings: not vegetarian? splash of language? definitely zero editing
“Nobody move,” Steve yells.
You, Natasha, and Bucky freeze in your seats, eyeing each other warily. Nat’s face remains completely neutral as the clattering continues to roll through the apartment. Bucky has to put his vibranium hand over his mouth to stop from laughing out loud. You just grimace as you hear the oven door unceremoniously slam shut way too hard.
You scoot out your chair.
“NO.” Steve catches your gaze, pointing to pin you in place. “I said I would do it, and I will.”
“This is one of those times where ‘can I cook you dinner’ and ‘may I cook you dinner’ is an important distinction,” Nat mutters loudly, pursing blood-red lips together with the slightest turn up in the corners. “How long’s he been like this?”
“I’m FINE!”
You startle in your seat and shut your eyes, hoping to tune out the aggressive boiling noise from a pot on a too-hot burner.
“This would be hour four,” you say as calmly as you can manage.
Bucky snorts.
“I heard that,” Steve calls before a dejected and whiny, “noooo.”
“At least it smells good,” Nat admits, draining the last of her glass of pinot.
The dragging sound means—at last—the pot is off the stove, and you sigh in relief.
“I heard that too.”
“Nothing, honey,” you feign, “I’m just going to pour us all some more wine, okay? I’m pushing my seat out now.”
“It’s not funny,” he gripes, but from the rustling (and only slightly softened clattering of dishes), he’s moved to plating the meal now.
Thank god.
“No one is laughing,” Nat shouts back encouragingly, punching Bucky hard in his flesh shoulder.
“Nope,” he chirps in response. “Just lounging out here, drinking wine.” Bucky’s mouth is wide open in a silent cackle though. He could sit here and watch Steve do this all day…
…because it might take Steve all day.
“Don’t make me spit in your food, Buck.” Steve knows. He just knows.
And Bucky simply shrugs. “Been in the army. I’ve eaten worse.”
The cork finally pops out under your weak pulls; weak, of course, compared to everyone else in the room. In unison, Natasha and Bucky hold out their glasses to you, ready for dinner since they’ve been listening to the show for twenty minutes now.
Then there’s silence. It goes on too long.
The three of you return to anxiously looking between each other and making wild gestures to communicate what you should do. Finally, after Bucky has tried to tap out a response on the table and you mouth back that you don’t know Morse code, a plea emerges.
“Keeps. Can you come here, please.”
Oh, it’s sad, too. Poor thing. You’re expecting Hiroshima in your kitchen. It’s…wow, okay, it’s fine.
There are a few dishes by the sink, but most are rinsed and sorted into the dishwasher. This man has put a design of sauce on each plate while the meat rests on a cutting board. The soup starter that was boiling over is singed along the water level in the pot, but that's it. You’ve burned something worse just this week.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
He made all that noise, all that fuss, and that absolute punk did just fine. In fact, everything looks excellent, and you’re so frustrated that you march out to go grab your wine before coming back, leaving Bucky almost blue in the face out there.
“What? What could you possibly need?”
Steve holds out a little spoon. “Taste test?” His bright blue eyes are obnoxiously soft and loving.
From the table you hear Bucky blurt out, “when do you want me to tell her you were our Cooking Commando?”
I had far too much fun writing this actually. Should have been criminal. Also, thank you for the love on Dignity. I kinda pulled a fast one on some people and went heavy angst when other parts aren't that way, so it's nice to hear not everyone is like "burn the witch!!!"
divider by @firefly-graphics
#ro answers#steve rogers#steve x reader#steve rogers fic#fanfic#steve x you#steve rogers fanfiction#captain america x reader#captain america fluff#captain america x you#captain america fanfiction#captain america#fluff and humor#seriously i made myself laugh AGAIN
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tornado Recipe UltraJune
(Symphony Futility in Z major)
Unstageable play
Regiondirect→Camereye stood parallel
A kitchen in an upper middle class home. It’s a dim noon. The counters+sink are lit by adjustable lamps on two aluminum racks overhead. In the middle of the room there is one center island; marbletopped, with two wood doors that open for access to inner-cabinet storage. The sink is in the back at stage right. There is a window above the sink. The Readers can see on the outside that there’s a dreary dusk sky, plus a cloud above. All the cabinet doors are white, the sinkfaucet is gold color, the cabinet doors are gold color. A rack of silver soupladles+spatula+tongs+whisks+tablespoons is mounted on the wall over a blender and beside a black air fryer. Right side: Out of the refrigerator come both hum and icerumble sounds. A windchime sings in parallel with nearing thunder.
(egg timer, stove, junk drawer full of rubberbands, unused tools, a tape measure, whole drawerfull of clean knives+forks+spoons, a dishwasher, a spice rack with one hundred flavors, a microwave, )
Flying soup ladles calmly stir a pot of boiled tin foil. The air fryer cheerfully pops its door open. A gantry crane lowers its chain from the ceiling, on the hook is a red wicker basket full of leather wallets. Two big bowls spin slowly like tops on the center island, one full of ice cream and the other full of fresh soup. The airfryer drops its door open and slides out its metal rack. A forklift made out of an exercise machine takes the basket and dumps the wallets on the airfryer’s rack, which is stuck out like a tongue. A flying pair of tongs with biplane wings serves rolls of bread from a tray out of the oven. The air fryer timerknob is now switched on and the timer is making its quick chatter sound. Icecream and Soup bowls drift and bounce together a bit like careening tops, and now the leather bakes.
Regiondirect→Stage right (Begin ruination of a birthday lunch)
A cardboard box full of embarassing memories is spilled down the stairs: Thousands of ruled paper sheets with awful poems written on them go wafting into the kitchen where they float around and fold into paper airplanes, then they land on the center island in perfect rows like jets on a battleship.
Poemjets: We’re here to attack your confidence with this cringey reminisence.
A stolen medalion flies through the air and crashes into the stained glass sconce of an antique wall lamp which is mounted in the living room: Sconce is shattered when it hits it. Shard after shard of red and blue crystal-cracked glass falls into a steel cauldron on a wheeled cart on a line of railroad tracks sitting on the carpet: The cart drives and the cauldron is taken to a forge by the fireplace where the glass is melted down and poured into a mold that shapes it into a skull: This forms the skull of a clueless fool, this is the first and most important skull.
Blue+Red Glass Shards
Blae+rued Gless Sharides
Blaew+Rueld Gleessh Shparides
jBlaw+Ruelld Gleetssh Sparidens
jblaw+rulled Gleethss Spaidens
Jblaw+krulled tGleeths Spidens
Jlaw skulled tleeth Spienes
Jaw skulled Tleeth Spines
Jaw Skull Teeth Spine
Jaw, Skull, Teeth, Spine
Regiondirect→Stage middle; from mouth of humanactor one
(activate buffoon here)
Foollessclue:
I am going to get this job. Before they mock me and I evaporate. I am going to get my job. j’andob→And keep my job once I have it; I will have a job: this job I am applying for, I will not be mocked or evaporate→ I am applying for a lifetime career→My choices are God’s design→I am not a deadbeat+/or wastrel ‘l ‘el ‘l ‘rel ‘l
Regionpoint: High up at stage middle:
Four cabinets above a stove open and reveal a long television screen behind them, the screen plays a panorama video of the inside of a grocery store on a time lapse, rapidly showing shoppers moving around and down aisles through a full day. So the commerce source of groceries plays inside the storage destination of groceries.
Regiondirect→Stage left+downstage
Foolllessclue walks like a desk, heavily skulking: A Huge wooden desk in the office room walks like a heavily skulking crab from its place in the office into the doorway of the kitchen. The desk Stomps and sprouts two claws made of stationary: Protractor joints, fountain pen fingers plus inky venom in nibs and two eyeballs on stalks that are webcams.
Deskrab: I make my next shell out of your hard work and notes. If you ever do any hard work again.
Foollessclue stands in the doorway and contemplates going back to bed. Then an idea comes to him:
Foollessclue: Eureka! Wow! Golly! Lord Almighty! The truth has arrived!
A wrecking ball made out of a soccer ball weighing six tonnes falls from the ceiling and crushes the center island: obliterated the bad poems, marble landing strip, and cabinets, instantly.
Chunks of marble fall into a plexiglass gutter and the camereye view changes
Regiondirect→ Camera is now low and pointed upwards: the reader can see through the stage floor to where a plexiglass gutter runs from stage right to left, with cold green water thrashing through it toward a previously hidden now→revealed underground room where a cashregister with bulldozer tracks and an abacus with centipede feet are seen watching the deluge of marble chunks and water fall from a sewer pipe above them into a trough before them.
Hot water spinning in a blender elsewhere.
Rock and Water dropping top right to bottom left.
Cash register bell ding sounds when the drawer pops→slides.
The cash register reaches out with a thin alu-wire appendage, picks pieces of marble out of the wet junk, and carefully organizes them into its drawer compartments. The abacus keeps record while a gooseneck lamp uses square chalk to write mathematical figures on the wall.
Two haggard bowls spin slowly like tops on the plot of the destroyed center island: Now one is filled with pinecones+dry ice and the other full of burning coals+dominos.
A bookshelf gets into a fistfight with the front door. The front door comes unhinged and walks backwards into the stage right of the set while the bookshell follows it and throws punches with arms made out of desk lamps. Sound: of bulbs shattering on punch-contact. The door topples against the fridge: KO. The Shelf keeps punching with lampfists until the door is busted full of holes, then the door breaks almost in half and crumples on the floor up against the fridge.
Regiondirect→ Camera cuts back up to oblique angle of Foollessclue frantically scribbling ideas in a big leather planner
Foollllessclue: I will invent a way to cure all diseases: I will socialize with the society. I will take pictures of every single thing that has ever existed. I will get a job making Christmas cards.
Foolllllessclue gets on his moped and rushes down to the job office. Each of his pockets is jammed with crumpled social security cards, resumes, a half eaten highschool diploma, and a computer eyeball.
A framed photo falls from the kitchen wall and lands face-down: Nothing breaks. The framephoto begins to crawl around on the floor like a bug and bites at the ankles of a chair which kicks and stomps back. Both of them go in circles around the left side of the kitchen.
The leftover marblewater swirling in the trough that couldn’t be fit in the cash register’s abdomen was scooped up by a bucket held by the abacus and laid out on a table. The gooseneck lamp sprouts a tungsten arm and starts using epoxy and bolts to connect the pieces of marble together, end to end, particle by bit, until the dusty chunks are two long bars. The cash register now takes out a chisel and rapidly sculpts the repaired marble bars into two legs, this makes the first pair of legs.
Marble Chunks Bolts
Mairble Chaunkes Beoelts
Mahirble Caunkes feBoelts
Mahigrbles Cankes febelt
mathigrbles Cankves febet
maThigbles Caves feet
aThighles Calves feet
Thighles Calves Feet
Thighs Calves Feet
Foollllllessclue uses his two marble legs to walk into the job store. But his foot gets caught on the doorway and he trips→and his pockets spill their garbage contents everywhere. ←↑→
A suitcase with eight thick-tired wheels (The front two bigger than the rear six) drives like a semi onto the middle kitchen tile at stage middle: and parks. And honks a horn.
Now there’s a sound of two numberlock clasp unclinching, the hinged clasps pop up: then it’s door-like top half opens on the hinge, it drives back/steers to readjust a bit: top half all open: A water fountain sprays out, cubes of ice and a layer of sleet float in the cold, cold water inside this case. A rope net with many small buckets hung on loops at the knots of its threads, is lowered by a golfclub seesaw, gently, into the case, from where it snatches a small portion of water.
(Certain parts of the rear set walls are actually transparent television screens with translucent texture applied to them to give the illusion of tile and drywall. To give readers in the audience the ability to see scenes in the backyard, the screens are turned off, and are looked through.)
Regionmention: Dry ice smoke still looms around in levels, the whole set has developed it’s own climatology with clouds in layers of various hot smogs. The stormcloud aboutside the windows is now flinging billiard balls onto the roof, and into the windchimes and birdfeeders. The windchimes panic and take flight in an instant, the chime goes off stroking through the sky like a squid, hanger upwards, decorations and metal pipes flexing like thick kite streamers beneath. One of the square metal birdfeeders falls from its hanger and starts spinning aggressively on the grass like a top, then starts cutting the soil like a tornado, then shoots off like a flying saucer, and crashes through the window: slowed by the exploding glass: drops into the sink with a bang-loud clang.
Birdfeeder: I was made to feed dinosaurs, but now I’m run aground.
The hail is destructive: Little bombastic billiard balls coated with razor blades and ice start to punch like bullets through the ceiling of the set, fall down on the floor, and shatter out as colored dust and airborne metal while the kitchen tiles start sliding left like a conveyorbelt.
Regiondirect: → (Pathetic here)
Foolllllllessclue: I need a new pair of arms. See? These two limbs are a fool’s impliments.
The kitchen tiles start to undulate aggressively like a solid white ocean.
Kitchentiles: Out! GET OUT! No more of this nonsense. I am meant to be walked on, I am not a landfill.
The Air Fryer’s door falls open and the ExerMach Forklift grasps and moves the tray of melted, smoking, burning leather-walletpile up into ↑ the air. A sentient cloud of smog floats down like a jellyfish and mingles with the rising fumes of fired leather. The sinkfaucet tries to spray the wallet tray with water to put the flames out but only succeeds at waterboarding the birdfeeder in the sink.
A huge pair of hands both wearing motorcycle gloves descends from the ceiling; fingers pointed at the back of the stage, one hand at stage right+one at left, they descend on the rack of burnt leather. A cabinet door above bangs excitedly. The blender swirls hot water. The ExerciseForklift bows and condescends→moves to stage left→into the shadow a bit. Readers see the gloved hands scoop up the leather and stretch it: Outward streetching burnt, charred moneywallet, streeetching out a whole rectangular platterworth. Down below, hot coals and smokey dry ice are getting flung everywhere when the two bowls get mad and attack each other. Up above the GlovedHands form the hot wallet material into two arms→starting at the elbows and strexpanding outward toward the hand and shoulders. A flying pair of tongs with helicopter rotors hovers over and helps be blacksmith→it pulls and sculpts out the leather to form two palms and ten fingers. A third hand holding a bottle of wood glue descends between and squirts it in the folds of the leather and a serpent made out of thick twine with a blowdryer for a head is charmed by a tornado siren to rise out of a low cabinet. The blowdryer snake sprays heat onto the glue to dry it: This is the first pair of arms.
Wallet Leather Ash
Wallcet Leathear Ansh
Wallicet fLeatohearm Andsh
bwallicep florhearm hAndsh
ballicep forhearm handsh
bllicep forearm hands
Blicep forearm Hand
Bicep Forearm Hand
Foollllllllessclue: I will use my arms to get a job making Christmas cards. I will mail my Christmas cards to every person on Earth. Everyone will love me. I’m going to make a lot of money. Money will be given to me out of love. People will pitty me. I will make money from love.
Stage right side of the kitchen implodes in a shower of blasted apart ceramic plates, tossed around silverware, twigs + leaves off tree branches, atomized drywall; flung up tiles. The whole upper floor comes down
Regiondirect→
A set of bedroom furniture is dropped into the destruction. a king size bed plummets with sheets+blanket flapping.
The Cash Register, Abacus, and Lamp respond with alarm to the sound of destruction above. A dark storm cloud, floating not more than 15 feet above the ground, coasts through the exposed hole in the house and then starts to rapidly pour floodsurge levels of water into the kitchen scene. Eventually the water reaches the translucent gutter and starts to pour from high right to low left into the secret room belonging to the Abacus, Lamp, and Register.
Abacus: We’re going to drown. I guess I can count the water by volume.
Lamp: This downpour is erasing my chalk. I can’t work in a flood.
Register: I will rust and jam shut. The marble will be lost within me.
A huge billboard with the words “Too Bad So Sad" and "I Don’t Feel Bad” written in bright blue on a yellow background crashes through the stage wall from right to left like a battering→ram: tosses bedsheets, wood and tree chunks around while swinging across the set.
Regiondirect→From stage right (With happiness)
Foollessclue runs into the kitchen waving around a stack of Christmas cards while loudly exclaiming “I have the solution! I have the answer! I will find success and happiness!” Right as the ceiling collapses and buries him under the entire set. The water continues to rise until the whole room is a flooded half-floating landfill. Burnt things and wall studs floating on rain. The lights extinguish. Try again.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
The role of spoons in our lives
Spoons. What is the role of spoons in our world? A simple object that can be found in every home, in any country, used by me, by you, and every other person in this world. People seem to be missing or ignoring the importance of spoons, but in my opinion, a spoon is much more than a simple utensil.
Spoons have many different functions, from the one we all know, it helps us eat, to other functions such as serving, measuring, stirring and skimming. Outside the culinary world, spoons can be used as mirrors, since some people often use them to check if they have something stuck in their teeth or even if their hair looks good. This type of use of the spoon is often seen in movies, presenting how such a simple object helps us in many different ways. Spoons make our life easier. Even the features of a spoon were designed to fit our needs. The size and form of the oval part differs depending on the type of food we use it for or depending on the function we need it for.
The most common type of spoon is the tablespoon which has a wide basin, to be able to fit enough food on it, such as chilli or ravioli, and has a slightly curved handle. This design is different from a soup spoon which has a round deep basin and a straight handle. This way the basin of the spoon would work like a bowl. Imagine how easy that would make it to drink the soup! So the design of these utensils make a big difference in their function. I mean, if you decide to use a soup spoon to mix a drink, that won’t succeed in making it taste authentic since the design of it is not made for that. However, if you use a bar spoon, which has a long corkscrew handle, you can be sure that it will stir your drink correctly. (Matsuno 2022)
I find it interesting how in history people used to hide their silver spoons with the rest of the cutlery and claim it was a necessity so that it wouldn’t be confiscated (Wierzbicka 2017). And it is not only the material silver that is seen as a precious material, but the phrase “silver spoons” refers to the bible, “have been born with a silver spoon in their mouth”, which symbolises a person who inherited wealth. However the material, silver, also has good properties. I remember how at my church after you pray, the priest gives you a spoon of red wine, which should symbolise the blood of Jesus. But the same spoon is used for all the people in the church, which made me a bit concerned at the time. However, I discovered that silver is known to be good for our health and has antibacterial effects.
Spoons have high value in our society, because there are cultures who use forks to eat, others use chopsticks and in some cultures you eat with your hand. However in every single culture, you use spoons, even if that is to eat, stir or serve a meal. “Spoons hold up a mirror to the surrounding cultures precisely because they are universal.” (Wilson 2012) Besides the fact that spoons are part of every culture and everyone's home, they have a deeper significance in each of our lives. As babies, our parents feed us using a spoon to direct us to eat the baby food. Gripping the spoon as babies is one of our earliest milestones, therefore making spoons an intimate tool in our lives because they are part of our evolution, “spoons are a natural and intuitive tool for us to use.” (Sharp 2019)
In conclusion, I believe that spoons are significant objects in each of our lives and through the use of their different designs, each having their set functions, they help us by making our lives easier. I find it fascinating how all the different types of spoons act like a family for us that assesses us on a daily basis. If we start to look around we will realise how often we are surrounded by a spoon every day, and therefore the impact they have in our lives.
References
Matsuno, Yuka. 2022. “17 Types Of Spoons, Explained.” Tasting Table. https://www.tastingtable.com/1107019/types-of-spoons-explained/.
Sharp, Alice. 2019. “The Magic of… Spoons – Alice Sharp.” Alice Sharp. https://alicesharp.co.uk/the-magic-of-spoons/.
Wierzbicka, Anna. 2017. “The idea of a 'spoon': semantics, prehistory, and cultural logic.” ScienceDirect. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0388000114001120?via%3Dihub.
Wilson, Bee. 2012. “What Your Spoon Says About You.” The Atlantic. https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2012/10/what-your-spoon-says-about-you/263416/?utm_source=copy-link&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=share.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Entry II - Chant
As you can imagine, things escalated from there. I spent a few minutes on the phone with the increasingly distressed administrative assistant at the front desk before uniformed police came thundering through the morgue’s double doors. I think they had shown up with the assumption that this was some kind of prank, but the exasperation - and color - drained from their faces as the sight of a naked millennial shivering in a plastic sheet.
I won’t draw things out with all the details of their questioning, and the subsequent back-and-forth between the responding cops and the medical examiner upon the latter’s return from lunch. Suffice to say I had nothing to offer them by way of explanation, and the examiner was in very much the same boat.
By all accounts, I was brought in with a vicious, gaping laceration down the center of my chest - every bit the lifeless corpse. After documenting my information and tagging my wrist, the examiner left to grab a burrito. I know, it’s not a satisfying answer for anyone involved.
The cops dug up a spare set of scrubs, which I gratefully slid into, and brought me over to the station for further questioning. I could tell that the day’s events had weirded them out tremendously, and my total amnesia was a long way from putting them at ease. They answered most of the questions I had - where we were (American city on the East Coast), what day it was (Thursday, October 4th), was I under arrest (I wasn’t). The more actionable questions - notably among them “what is going to happen to me” - they assured would be addressed once we got to the precinct.
Arriving at the station, they hustled me inside. Moving briskly past the curious glances of cops, concerned citizens, and criminals alike, they found the designated interrogation room and opened the door to let me in. It turned out that it wasn’t like the procedurals on TV where they keep the interviewee waiting. A detective was already waiting for me, with a steaming cup of coffee and a bottled water in front of the vacant chair opposite him.
Still barefoot, I padded over to the metal seat and slid uncomfortably into it. Despite the responding cops’ awkward assurances, I still felt like I was in trouble. The rational part of my mind, clinging to logic like Odysseus to his mast, reminded me in vain that I had done nothing wrong, that the police were just as dumbfounded by my circumstances as I was. It had limited success.
The detective, a veteran with intense eyes and significant beer gut, introduced himself as Lieutenant Hill and, again, assured me that I was not in trouble.
“Understand kid, it’s not every day that a dead girl wakes up and scares the ME’s secretary half to death.” He began riffling through a folder containing several important looking documents before looking up again. “You hungry?”
I shook my head, a jerky, insectile motion. My stomach was in knots; I doubted I could keep anything more substantial than coffee down. Hill seemed to pick up on this. He pressed down on an intercom, installed in the wall to his right, and buzzed in.
“Hey Ramirez, can you get the kid some soup?” He turned back to me, “You like chicken noodle?” I shrugged, and he buzzed into the intercom again. “Chicken noodle, if they have it.”
As it turned out, I like chicken noodle soup. I spooned the hot broth into my mouth, slowly at first, then faster, as Hill laid out all the documentation he had surrounding my untimely demise.
The pictures were the worst. I hadn’t clearly seen my reflection since waking up, so the bloody, clinical photographs of my stricken corpse were my first reintroduction to my own appearance. One more thing to work out in therapy, I guess.
My body was splayed out on the floor of an abandoned apartment building, Hill explained. My shirt had been torn down the center of its V-neck a good eleven inches or so, and the bloody mess that had been my sternum yawned from between the ripped fabric. The rest of my clothes were untouched.
CSI had noted that there were ligatures on my neck and wrists, indicating bruising from some kind of restraint while my attacker mangled my upper torso, but otherwise no sign of a struggle. The ME hypothesized in his early remarks that I had died before I could bleed out. Hill indicated that it “looked like some Temple of Doom shit,” a reference I definitely did not understand at the time.
I took in these details with an aberrant cocktail of shocked detachment and rabid curiosity. I couldn’t remember anything. Even the goriest of these facts I absorbed with gratitude - anything to help me frame my own existence. But if Hill thought that presenting them to me would help jog my memory, I was forced to disappoint him. These things would might as well have happened to someone else, for all the good it did my recollections.
Ultimately, the detective slid over a thin black wallet, which turned out to be mine. Inside was an out-of-state driver’s license, about thirty bucks, a credit card, and - if you can believe it - an honest-to-god library card. All of it, the cash excepted, was labeled as belonging to “Emily Chant,” and the picture on the license matched the face of the corpse in the photographs - only slightly livelier.
I just stared at the wallet’s contents for a minute, taking them in, as a well of emotion broke through the barrier of my traumatic shock. Confusion, fear, relief, anger, all of it flooded my senses and threatened to overwhelm me. I exist, I remember thinking, I’m a person, I’m alive. But what can’t I remember?
Hill watched me in thoughtful silence before speaking up, “Gonna be a bit of a pain, but we’ll reach out to the Jersey City Police and get you home. Once you’re back hopefully you’ll be able to -”
The detective was cut off by an abrupt buzz from the intercom.
“Andy, we got someone here for your Jane Doe.”
Hill’s eyebrows arched up in surprise before furrowing in suspicion, but the intercom continued.
“Says he’s her lawyer.”
0 notes
Text
Whump Setting: Autumn
Since everyone is so excited for fall, here’s some fall-based Whumpee things!
Whumpee crouching down behind a tree, hugging their knees to themselves with their hand pressed over their mouth to quiet their erratic breathing. Hearing Whumper’s crunch through the leaves as they slowly draw closer. Their legs burning, but not daring to rustle the leaves themselves and give away their location.
A freezing whumpee clutching tight to a scalding cup of cider or hot chocolate. It burns the flesh of their hands, but warms them enough that they don't care about the pain. Let's just hope their hands aren't shaking so much that it splashes out.
Whumpee wearing chunky sweaters and turtlenecks that cover all their bruises nicely.
“I like this pumpkin carving a lot. Really some of my best work. It’s too bad they rot out…say, what if I carved the design into you instead? No no, don’t move. Stay very still. Yes, I’m serious. This way you’ll always have something to remember this day. You’ll see it and think of me. Isn’t that nice?”
Soups! (Some of these are recycled, but apparently I love soup whump?)
…Soup burning down Whumpee’s throat when they are forced to eat too fast.
…Caretaker gently feeling a trembling Whumpee spoonful after spoonful. Coaxing them to try to eat just a little more before they sleep.
…Whumper gripping Whumpee’s hair and forcing their face down into a bowl of soup when they’ve been refusing to eat. Their options are drink or drown.
…That moment of pure peace, warmth, and tenderness when Whumpee is given their favorite comfort soup. Then, the cold reality of their situation twisting back through their blood. The soup goes sour in their mouth, but they swallow anyway.
A Whumper stalking a frantic Whumpee through a corn maze. Cold air rips down their raw throat as they run into dead end after dead end, hearing Whumper’s voice teasing and taunting them as it grows closer and closer. Whumpee can tell that they’re close, but can’t see them through the corn.
"I don't like it when you wear things like that. I can't see an inch of skin. Take it off." "But it's freez-" "Take it off."
Whumpee tied up by a campfire, begging Whumper to turn them or let them move as one side burns and the other turns to ice.
A Whumper who volunteers at the local haunted house choosing their next Whumpee by the screams they like best. It's a terribly efficient interview process, they don't know why more people don't do it.
"Could...could I have another blanket? Please, it's gotten so cold." "That depends. What are you going to do to earn it?"
A captive Whumpee forced to watch horror movies. They've always been terrified of scary movies, but it's somehow infinitely worse with Whumper's arms snuggled around them.
Whumper musing to themselves throughout the movie, "Ooh, that's interesting," or "I'm going to have to try that," making Whumpee squirm.
Captive Whumpee looking out the window for the first time in a long time and seeing red, orange, and yellow leaves littering the ground. Maybe even some bright snow. Slowly realizing just how long they've been there.
"I love fall. I can decorate that lovely neck of yours with purple and blue and no one will notice. Oh, don't give me that. You know it looks pretty."
Whumpee sprinting through morning fog, barely able to see around the grey lingering in the air. Their frantic breaths letting out puffs of vapor as they spin in circles, hopelessly lost.
#hmmmm I think I'm going to have to write a drabble on that corn maze one#can't stop thinking about it#autumn whump#fall whump#whumptober#whump prompts#whump tropes#whumpee#whump#knives#strangulation#strangling
224 notes
·
View notes
Text
matching onesies with him.
Books : Dazai | Chuuya | Oda
Shelf : Mixed
Genre : Fluff, domestic
Note : I did this of my own accord because I am, in fact, a softie
Dazai Osamu
This clingy crackhead.
Dazai will be the first to come up with the idea. It's actually a random one and he asked it so spontaneously, he doesn't expect you to actually say yes.
"Sure, why not?" You agreed.
He's both surprised and elated, and he didn't hide this reaction at all.
"Oh, darling!" He wrapped a hug around your neck. "You always revive my heart with your love!"
You both will be enthusiastic about picking the onesies and agree to surf the net instead of looking from shop to shop since Dazai is under the supervision of a certain angry Kunikida
It almost feels like babysitting. Not that you hate it right? Should you get an identical pair with different sizes? Or complementary ones?
Dazai will call the customer service to ask if they have black crow onesies since crows represent death in some cultures. The response is obviously no and it's obvious that the customer service was confused.
"That's a shame," Dazai whined disappointedly, shoulders dropping. "Wouldn't it be both cute and poetic if we had a double suicide while wearing matching crow onesie? Two achievements in one!"
At that point you wouldn't even be surprised anymore. You will just take the phone away from him to apologise and thank the customer service. You have to convince Dazai that you won't find a onesie of that kind
"Wait, don't tell me," You stared at him. "The reason you want to get onesies is just to wear a matching crow pair?"
"Is it?" He grinned mischievously. "Maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong, but I just want to match with you."
Other ADA members will wonder what you and Dazai were doing, Kunikida the most. He isn't exactly curious, more like suspicious. What's that good-for-nothing Dazai up to now?
Eventually you find a pair of identical ones. Kind of rare designs too! Guess what?
Crabs! In red! The little eyes on the hood!
It will take less than a week for the onesies to arrive in a small box. When it does Dazai will pull out a cutter so energetically Atsushi will think he's going to pull a suicide attempt with it
"AAH! Dazai-san! No!"
Nothing will happen aside from Dazai stabbing the box (while making sure he doesn't cut the onesies inside. he's good with blades, ex Port Mafia and all)
The crab pincers for your hands are soft like mittens and so smooth???? Imagine sweaterpaws but with crab pincer mittens (!!)
It will take everything in you to stop Dazai from wearing it that instant since a client Fukuzawa talked about will be coming. You will need Atsushi's help to take it off him but let's not talk about it
Both of Dazai's legs are already in the onesie too..
It seems like Kyouka wants one. Yosano and Naomi will tell Atsushi to buy the girl one and match with her
When Dazai and you go home together, he will be so excited to wear the onesies immediately. Dazai will be light on his feet.
And when you finally put yours on? Pictures. Dazai will take lots of pictures of you. You're a piece of art and he wants pictures so he can recall the image anytime
"Oh, dearest~ How is it possible for you to be so cute?" He began his dramatic poses, a hand over his head while spinning like a ballet dancer.
You both will take a lot of couple pictures.
"Love, you are so adorable I want to eat you!"
"Is it me who's cute or the crab?" You teased back.
When Dazai makes a troubled expression to answer your question, you will have to pinch him 💢
If you can cook crab soup, wouldn't it be funny to make and eat one with Dazai while wearing crab onesies? He will be so clingy when you do it, like an old school married couple; when you cook, he'll be bugging you while hugging from behind. It feels cozy, don't blame him
You have to be keen with your eyes so you won't miss Dazai secretly pouring ajinomoto to the soup. Get him a healthier diet, I'm begging you.
"Look, the crab is red like us." He pointed at the soup. "And like your face when I do this." He took advantage of you turning your head to peck your cheek.
He will also pinch your nose with his pincer mitten. "Boop!" It's a challenge. Boop his nose back.
You think he's already as clingy as he can be, huh? Wrong. You are absolutely wrong. If he previously sticks around you like a magnet, this time he's glued to you.
Even in the shared living space, he won't let you go. Is it the softness of the onesie under his touch, the warmth, or your cuteness? Well, it's all of them. What then?
Snuggles.
You both cuddle together in the futon until falling asleep together. You feel twice as warm.
He's the big spoon, let him feel the smoothness of the onesie while feeling your heat. And for once, the double suicide joke stopped for the rest of day. That's how much this impacts him, and you're proud of him.
Nakahara Chuuya
Matching with Chuuhuahua in a onesie? You lucky fella.
You have to be the one initiating it with Chuuya. Baby boy will be like "Eeh?" at first. He's not against it at all but more like, confused. The request is out of the blue
"Come on, why not?" You tilt your head. "It will feel so soft to cuddle with?"
That's it, that's the spell for him to agree
Mans is a Port Mafia executive, you can't go out from shop to shop in a mall to get your onesie with his schedule, so you have to settle with online shopping with this guy too
Only when he has time to spare from beating up people
You will sit together on a couch at the headquarters once Chuuya and you don't have missions. It's a good chance to relax and unwind together too
Chuuya knows best where to find clothes, including onesies. There are so many options! Dinosaurs, frogs, bears, Sanrio characters, Doraemon, Pikachu, Line characters, pandas, unicorns, penguins!! (I should stop fantasizing Chuuya in each of them)
Chuuya will act cool and chill about it at first, but he actually got invested in choosing and thankfully he isn't a crackhead unlike a certain someone
He has a good fashion sense I don't accept criticism, and this side of him will jump out while both of you scroll the catalogue. He nails both street wear and mafia outfits daily, so you can bet he'd pick the best onesies for you both
"This one doesn't suit you," He moved to the next option. "These are the only colours available? Pass.", "What's with the unnecessarily long tail?", "Oh maybe this? Wait, I don't like the stripes."
Of course, he will listen to your opinion too but since you feel he's better at this, you just either nod or shake your head with him
You have to be careful with your words when picking the size (this is much more valid if you're taller) or he'll go "I'm not that short!"
Kouyou and Mori (+ Elise) will catch you both on the couch together while browsing, comfy and all, and Kouyou asked what you two were doing. Chuuya's face will be as red as wine.
When you want to explain, his gloved hand will cover your mouth and he frantically shakes his head, screaming "Don't!" silently.
But alas, while you want to tell him there's nothing to be embarrassed of, Kouyou will take the phone from your hand with a curious grin and a "What's this~?"
Chuuya will just accept fate at that point, growling to himself and all
Kouyou and Mori won't expect to see a catalogue of onesies, apparently. The "Huh," on their faces are hilarious, and Mori will be instantly inspired to get a full set for his Elise-chan, much to her distaste.
While Mori and Elise are going at it, Kouyou will actually share her opinions. Chuuya will crawl out from his burrow of embarrassment and listen to her with you.
"Rather than identical ones, these would be much better. They have variety." Kouyou said. And you both will agree. You both have been eyeing a specific pair anyway
You both will decide to get complementary ones! Chuuya's will be a brown teddy and yours a white bunny! (Try googling Line's Brown and Cony, they're cute you won't regret it) Kouyou will totally agree with the decision.
When the package arrives, both of you will open it together. Chuuya's eyes for clothes are never wrong, the quality is immaculate. So warm and smooth, not a seam out of place.
Imagine the blush on Chuuya's face when you put on the white bunny onesie. The bunny ears on the hood! The fluffiness! His flustered face!
He will be slightly hesitant to put his own on, but when he does, you swear you can die from the cuteness. Want to see more cuteness? Tease him about it, and maybe he'll tickle you down until you're too breathless to tease him.
Chuuya doesn't want to say it explicitly but it does feel really comfortable, it's suitable for winters too.
As usual, Chuuya will be the big spoon. You will melt into his warmth and the smoothness of his onesie, and you can tell he's enjoying it too, from the way he'll drag his hand all over you to feel the smooth fabric
"It's a good thing we listened to ane-san's suggestion, hm?" You asked. "I didn't exactly like the matching penguin pairs."
"Yeah, this isn't bad at all." Chuuya admitted, snuggling his chin into the crook of your neck. "You're so warm."
Oda Sakunosuke
First off I'm Odasaku's lover before I'm anything else.
When the weather gets cold, it's your idea to get onesies for the kids. They could use some cute onesies to sleep in.
Unlike Dazai and Chuuya, Odasaku will have time to spare to go shopping with you. Being the handyman of Port Mafia has its good sides, after all.
The atmosphere is identical to a date! You both meet up at evening after work, have a simple dinner first, then start the shopping. Shopping for the kids' onesies with him makes you feel like a parent doesn't it?
Odasaku and you will make sure not to pick flimsy, thin, or rough ones. Only the best for the kids. Both of you put your keen eyes to use, examining every considered piece
Odasaku and you will definitely discuss whether to get five identical or different ones. After considering that the kids have different personalities, choosing different pieces will sound more ideal. You both will grant them the liberty of picking themselves.
"We just have to make sure they don't fight over it." Odasaku said.
Lion, dinosaur, piglet, panda, and penguin. That's what you both will choose!
Odasaku is a man who doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeves, so you relied on his eyes when it comes to him. You will see love and sincerity. He picks each piece with careful consideration.
The store clerk will throw an unexpected (yet clichéd shoujo) question at you both. "You picked such good choices. We have sets for adults too, why not match with your children?"
Odasaku and you will widen your eyes. First of all, parents? And match? Both of you stare at each other in confusion. Should you get two get a pair for yourselves?
"Why not?" Odasaku eventually said.
Odasaku's will be a brown dog and yours a white cat (remember that one official art of Odasaku with puppy ears? <3)
Odasaku and you will immediately visit the kids and give them their onesies. Their excitement in picking one for their own made you smile, and you can see the joy in Odasaku's eyes when the kids thanked him and you. He doesn't smile, but you don't need him to just to know he's glad his children love your pick. The way he pats their heads already speaks volumes of love.
Thankfully no kid wrestled to get what they want. You were especially concerned Kousuke will compete with someone
Odasaku will bring a secondhand polaroid he once bought at Yokohama's flea market to take pictures of the kids. You will herd the children to gather for the picture while Odasaku looked for the right angle in the other side of the room.
"Why don't you stay there for the picture too?" Odasaku asked you, half of his face behind the camera.
You kneel behind the kids and put your hands on Sakura and Yuu's shoulders, the ones who stood on the far left and right. That much is enough to warm Odasaku's heart, but when you too, smile for the camera, he freezes for a while to take the sight with his eyes
The picture comes out nicely. You will end up convincing Odasaku to take more but with him in it, together, all seven of you. You would need the curry diner owner's help to take the picture
"Sakunosuke, smile, will you?" You held his shoulder while you both kneeled behind the kids for the picture. He would be a little stunned
He smiles, but it was faint. Nevertheless, you recognise the content in his eyes in the photo, and it's enough.
When it's just the two of you in the living quarters, you will have to remind Odasaku that he too, bought a onesie. He will gladly put it on him since you look so eager, he's curious how it feels too
Your heart stops when he put on the hood with the puppy ears. You will have to fight back the urge to attack him with cuddles right there and then when his confused and innocent face matches the onesie so much!
"You're adorable," You smiled half teasingly, taking in the look of confused Odasaku who looked down at his onesie. The weight of the material felt right, it's like a cozy blanket.
"Try to put yours on," He says. When you did, his heart also missed a beat. The kitten ears on your head! The pure snowy white on you!
Odasaku is a bear hugger and when he hugs you, his embrace will feel tighter than usual. It's no surprise, he likes you and cats, and the way you interacted with the kids that day played tricks on his heart. You hug him back and ruffle his head while he mumbles his thank-you's at you
That night's sleep will be filled with nothing but cuddles of love and adoration. Yes, Odasaku is the big spoon, but you will also hold his arms tighter around you as you both drift into the night, chatting about life.
#bsd#bsd x reader#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#oda x reader#odasaku x reader#dazai headcanon#chuuya headcanon#odasaku headcanon#oda headcanon#bsd fanfic#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#dazai x y/n#chuuya x y/n#odasaku x y/n#oda x y/n#dazai x you#chuuya x you#odasaku x you#dazai hc#chuuya hc#odasaku hc
575 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
snowmist-hashira
Snow_BlueSkye
thepaleunicorn
- DSU -
daily-plush
Oughhhh ( ͡° ᴥ ͡° ʋ)
tigerart
Jojo does art