#Salad box online

[inhydrogreens]

Hydroponic Vegetables Online in Delhi NCR | Inhydrogreens

Hydroponically grown vegetables retain their freshness and flavor for much longer. This means that when you buy Hydroponic vegetables online, such as leafy vegetables in Delhi, or buy herbs online, they stay fresh for longer periods of time and don’t need to be used immediately. Moreover, this makes them ideal for a monthly salad subscription in Delhi, as you can be sure that your produce will stay fresh throughout the entire month.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

"This is a nice place," you look around a the brunch bistro and rub your arm. The upscale venue isn't your usual joint. You're a grab and go girly aside from your girls' nights. 

"Peggy likes it," Mr. Rogers spreads his shoulders wide as he peruses the menu in his hand, dwarfing the patio style chair, "I'm more of a pub food guy but guess it's a bit early for that." 

"Oh, well, thanks for bringing me," you smile, "I... I don't eat out a lot." 

“No?” He wonders, “guess it’s no fun eating alone,” he chuckles and tilts his head, “kinda why I asked you to come.” 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t mind so much but I’m a homebody. I like to sit at home with Mitzy and knit.” 

“Mitzy?” He narrows his eyes, “so not a husband, a girlfriend. 

You chortle, “my cat.” 

“Oh,” his cheeks tinge a little pink, “right, the picture on your desk.” 

“Yeah, her,” you smile broadly, “she usually steals my yarn though so I don’t get much done.” 

“That’s cute. Peggy doesn’t like pets,” he sits back and puts down the menu. “I cat sat for Bucky for a week back when we were engaged...” 

“Mr. Barnes has a kitty?” 

“Don’t let his hard exterior fool you, he’s not as bad as he looks,” he scoffs. “So...” he slaps his chest and drags his hand down to his stomach, “getting peckish? Whatcha thinking of getting?” 

“Hmm,” you lean forward and browse the offerings, “maybe the beet salad.” 

“Beets?” He makes a face. 

“Uh, yeah, my mom always used to have beets. I dunno.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re close with your mom.” 

“Was,” you keep your eyes on the menu, “she... passed.” 

“Uh, wow, I’m sorry. I...” 

“It’s fine. Oh, reminds me, I sent your mom her flowers for the month. Lilies.” 

“Ah, thanks. Yeah, I should call her,” he says, “but lately, I just haven’t had a chance. Every time I do, it’s just another argument with Peg--” 

He stops himself as the server returns. Your chest pangs in sympathy. Peggy hadn’t sounded happier earlier. You wonder why. Marital stuff. You’re not so sure you ever want to find out. 

“Do we know what we want?” The pretty redhead smiles. 

“Ladies first,” Mr. Rogers gestures to you. 

“Oh, sure, um, could I get the beet salad?” You say. She scribbles on her pad and looks at Mr. Rogers. 

“Ah, sure, I’ll get the roast beef with the caesar salad, dressing on the side please,” he smiles and offers his menu, “oh, and a refill on the coffee.” 

“Sure thing,” she takes both menus and heads off.  

You turn your attention to the window and look at the flower boxes just on the other side. Your eyes wander up to a passerby walking a tiny white dog and you grin. You continue to watch the world pass by, a serene glaze rolling over your vision. 

As the waitress returns with the carafe to fill Mr. Roger’s cup, you sit up and blink away your haze. He smirks over the rim of his cup and sips. You give a guilty shrug. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, it was... it’s fine. You looked... peaceful,” he says, “what are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing, really, croissants.” 

“Croissants?” He muses as he places his mug on the table. 

“Yeah, for next weeks meeting. Croissants or scones.” 

“Both?” He suggests. 

“That works,” you agree. 

“Hm, you look like that, thinking of work?” 

“I was thinking but not,” you say.  

“Right,” he nods and looks down glumly. “Wish I could get my mind to stop.” 

“Mm, I guess... I guess you’d have a lot to think about.” 

“Well, I can’t complain, you take care of most of it,” he runs his fingertips along the cup handle, “you really do just make everything easier. I never have to worry about you, Rosie.” 

“It’s my job,” you trill. 

“And you do it well and with a smile on your face. Some days... that smile keeps me sane,” he says. 

It’s your turn to blush. He can be so cheesy. You’re quiet, not sure what to say. You should thank him, maybe? 

“Well, what about a gift basket?” You cheep. 

“Huh?” Confusion lines his forehead. 

“Oh, my, sorry, I was thinking out loud,” you giggle and sit forward, “for Mrs. Rogers? She seems stressed, you too. You could send her a surprise and maybe... maybe take her somewhere nice. Not a restaurant, too busy but—but--” you keep yourself from rambling and press your fingers to your lips as you cup your chin. “Sorry.” 

“No, no, I like it. A gift basket, yeah, chocolates?” 

“She likes vanilla lattes so maybe a gift card too? She can treat herself.” 

“How do you know that?” He asks. 

“She always sends me for one when she comes in,” you shrug, “I’m more into the cinnamon dolce myself.” 

“Cinnamon, hmm, me too,” he agrees. “Where we you thinking I should take her?” 

“Oh, now I think of it, it might be expensive,” you cringe and drop your hand to the table. 

“She’s my wife, I shouldn’t worry about the money,” he says, “so?” 

“I’ve never been but um, like, a spa? Or maybe a massage place? A couples’ massage? Get the tension out?” 

“Mhmm,” he nods and his eyes narrow, “that isn’t a bad idea.” 

You grin and twiddle your fingers restlessly. Now that you can smell the kitchen, you are pretty hungry. You jitter your leg under the table as Mr. Rogers toys with his tie. 

“Too bad,” he says, “any man would be lucky to call you their wife. Maybe one day, huh?” 

[urlittlevenicebitchh]

𝟏𝟓𝟎 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

go for a walk

take a nap

go to a pet store

play just dance

look at grosspo

find a new aesthetic

design your dream wardrobe

read

make a list of movies/tv shows/books you want to watch/read

color

write a short story

make a vision board

journal

make spotify playlists

write a letter to your future self

go to the gym

draw your dream body

have a photoshoot

explore somewhere new

join discord/insta/tumblr groups

writeaprisoner.com

learn a language on duolingo

make a new social media account

find new makeup + hairstyles to practice

watch a childhood movie

declutter your phone

online quizes

at-home spa day

make a time capsule

play roblox or minecraft

make a photo wall

start a manifestation journal

test old pens and markers

rearrange furniture in your room

unsubscribe from emails

make a birthday/holiday wishlist

upcycle old clothes

make a bucket list

clean your car or room

declutter bags

find a new podcast to listen to

update your resume

apply to jobs

paint or draw

practice gratitude

yoga

start a bullet journal

create a 5 year plan

start a free course

discover new music

work on your insta feed

sell clothes online

start a blog

organize a drawer

clean your makeup brushes

learn a new skill

start a youtube channel or podcast

call a family member

build a puzzle

plan your week

paint your nails

learn a new dance

laundry

write a letter to a friend

find a pen pal

write 3 short-term goals

work on current goals

plan your next vacation

explore your neighborhood

do a face mask

organize your closet

find new blogs to follow

do a hair mask

do mirror work

take a shower or bath

pinterest crafts

watch youtube

tan

dust your room

tye dye clothes

facetime friends

make a comfy fort

invite a friend over

go to the mall

amusement park

homework!!

binge a movie/tv series

make slime

scrapbook

sidewalk chalk

have a tea party

make friendship bracelets

thrift

plant a flower

go through old magazines + make collages

hand massage

make your own face scrub

create a skincare routine

research something you've been meaning to learn more about

make popsicles

create a budget

drink water!!!

meal plan

sign up for volunteer work

watch a random documentary

follow new tags on tumblr/insta

hug your pet

organize stationary

watch a ted talk

clean mirrors in your house

reply to old texts

write your own list of things to do

make lists

visit a museum

go to the beach

sign up for a workout class

meditate

tidy your desk

make a warm drink

practice hand lettering

vaccum

5 minute doodles

follow a disney animation lesson (youtube)

watch animal videos

online crossword puzzles

origami

find live shows in your area

play board games

go for a drive

go through junk drawer

pick flowers

start a nature journal

do therapy worksheets from pinterest

make weekend plans

research your family tree

create your own game

make a fruit salad

print coloring worksheets

poetry

ride a bike

play a childhood game (mine's animal jam :) )

search for your spirit animal

paint rocks

random act of kindness

make a busy box

plan a yard sale

start/join a book club (can be virtual :) )

shop ikea online

make room decor

closet fashion show

[great-and-small]

I kept getting these weird posts in the turtle tag for a supposedly informative reptile forum and… please just look at this image

Like, what are those horrific half sea turtle AI abominations?? Definitely not box turtles lol. So I went to this website to see why the fuck they’d create such a monstrosity and oh my god. Do not ever go to this site for reptile information ever. It is one giant chaotic fruit salad of ridiculously fake AI turtle images and even more dubious computer generated “articles”. This is the kind of content you can expect. How much do turtle does

Every article is like this and the images are so so bad- like what are these fucking things 😭 why does one of those “sulcatas” have a nuchal scute and one doesn’t… where are their forearm spurs? What is going on with the toes?!

Pretty upsetting to see the AI takeover in the pet world like this. Lots of people rely on online content to learn about their husbandry and care, and the thought of someone unknowingly using a website like this to care for their pet (especially one so sensitive as a turtle or tortoise) is horrifying. Please be careful where you get your information, because I can guarantee you a website like this cannot be trusted with your animal’s life. I wish the owner of the website were a real person so I could put him on blast but for some reason I have my doubts 🤔

[artificial-transmutations]

Transformation Letter: Charlie

Hi my name is Charlie, I would like to be transformed into any man you want. But not an object please. I am 26 yo, 170cm tall with a slim twink body. I have white skin, blue eyes and short dark hair.

You hesitate slowly before putting the envelope into the box. It is not that you are unhappy with who you are, but somehow, the thought of becoming someone else is oddly interesting to you. With a silent thud, the letter falls into the box - it's done now, and you can't retrieve it.

The shady online ad had promised that changing your body was not only possible, but really easy to do, too. All you had to do was write a letter to the company and they would care for the rest. To be honest, you don't really believe in all that. It was scientifically unlikely that anyone had developed a technology to change bodies - let alone at a distance knowing nothing more than your name. But still, you had been curious enough to try it.

So, you composed a lengthy letter, describing exactly who you are and what you want changed. That you are happy with your slim build but would like to change certain details. For example, your dark hair could be a bit more interesting. And your butt could be a bit juicier. Oh, and if they shaved one or two years off, leaving you at 22 again, that would certainly not hurt.

It's not like you are old, not even having hit 30 yet, but the gay community was somewhat superficial - picking up guys had been easier a few years ago.

You even attached a picture to your letter showing how you look right now.

What you didn't do though, is read the description of the ad thoroughly. Instead of monetary compensation, they reserved the right to choose your transformation. All the details you worked out for your change will ultimately be in vain - and you are entirely at the mercy of a faceless internet company, having unknowingly sealed a contract that grants them all rights on your physical appearance.

Of course, you know nothing of that. After having put in the letter, you head back home and fix yourself a salad before heading to bed early.

Over the course of the next few days, absolutely nothing happens and soon, you have already forgotten the strange ad and the letter you sent. You continue to live your life without knowing your letter has been dispatched, delivered and processed at its destination. Until, a good week later, suddenly, your face feels itchy. Thinking nothing you scratch at the itchy spot, but the itching returns a few moments later.

When you touch your chin again to scratch it again, your hands meet an unfamiliar feeling. There are short, bristly hairs on your chin! But that's impossible! You never grow a beard, and you distinctively remember being entirely smooth this morning. You quickly rush to the bathroom to have a look in the mirror and almost can't believe your eyes:

There is a clearly visible five o' clock shadow in your face, looking alien and ill-fitting. But it's definitely there. When you touch the short hairs again, you can feel the short hairs bend slightly to your touch. They are dark and clearly visible against your skin. This is definitely *your* stubble! You are growing a beard!

Suddenly, you remember the letter. But that can't be, can it? You certainly didn't wish for a beard! Perhaps this is some kind of side-effect?

You have a closer look at your face, searching for further changes. You notice a dirty spot on your cheek.

Has this been there a minute ago? You try to rub it off but only manage to smear it across your face. You try again, this time with water, but as you look up, you find the dark smear having spread all over your face. Even worse, when you try to wash it off, only some of it comes off. The rest of the dark muddy dirt seems to have seeped into your skin and has made it darker than before, like a tan.

You can even watch the tan spreading in the mirror. Going down your quite hairy chin onto your neck and disappearing into your shirt at the collarbone.

Quickly, you try to wriggle out of your shirt, only to find that surprisingly difficult. When you finally manage to do so, you understand why at once: Your body has bulked up considerably! Your torso that has darkened with the spreading tan and is also covered with stubbly dark hair is way more muscular than before. Your shoulders are broader, and your entire frame is... bulky to say the least. There is not much left from your original slim and twinky body. By the second, you're becoming buffer and darker. When you look back into the mirror, your face reminds you nothing of what it was! It even appears as if you have actually gained a few years, putting you at least past the mark of 30.

This is impossible! You have to stop that. You need to call the company right now!

With that thought, you rush to your laptop and try to remember the company name. Artificial something was it, right? Transformation? No, wait. Transmutation. That's it. You start entering the company name into the search engine but find it increasingly difficult to do so. You do know how to type, of course, but your hands are getting bigger and less precise. When you finally hit enter, the search engine lists the results.

Or, at least you think it does. You blink once, squint your eyes and blink again. You can clearly read the letters on the screen, but the composition makes no sense at all. It's like trying to read an entirely different language. But that can't be! English is your mother tongue, you should be able to read it clearly. Instead, you only recognize very few simple words. "and" for example, or "I".

It's no use. You have lost the ability to read English. But certainly, you can read another language? You try not to think about anything as you type a new query in the address bar of the browser.

Well, good news is that you can read the texts again when the site loads. It's clearly Spanish that you have no problem understanding. But instinctively, you have entered a porn site. Gay porn, to be precise - good. At least this hasn't changed.

Just looking at the pictures makes your cock grow in your pants. And grow. And grow. When you look down at your lap, you recognize a massive beast of burden that certainly wasn't there before, either. Curiously, you unzip your pants and are greeted by a large, throbbing, uncut cock, framed by dark curly pubic hair. Of course, in your old body you always shaved your pubic hair neatly. However, here it's ungroomed and a dark contrast to your tanned brown-ish skin. With the cock that has sprung free, you also freed a cloud of musky smell. The manly smell of unwashed groin and sweat, along with traces of piss and precum.

Without thinking, you take a deep breath and then another one. That smells good, you decide, and your throbbing cock agrees. You grab your large cock with your large hand and start a video with your left one.

As you watch the manly figures on the screen fucking each other, your quickly start to move your hand up and down your length, too. A deep, rumbling sound escapes your throat and soon, your heavy balls begin to churn. You are going to cum!

The thought makes your head spin, and you quickly aim your cock at your laptop's screen. Your mind is so overwhelmed with lust, it's not like you can even think anymore. When your first rope of cum lands on the screen, splashing all over the photos, the second shot flies even further and lands in a pool of white semen on the keyboard.

Huffing and panting, you slowly regain clarity. God damnit, you didn't really do *that*, right?

Worse enough that you snuck into your clients home and used his laptop to watch porn, no. Now your sticky cum is slowly running down the screen and dripping under the keys. There's no way you’re able to clean this up properly.

Awkwardly, you use your shirt to wipe over the laptop superficially. Still, there is a clearly visible spot of dried cum on the screen and the keys will be sticky to operate. You briefly consider cleaning the machine with water but don't want to damage it.

It's no use. You just hope your client won't notice until you are gone. On that note, you quickly make your way back into the garden, resuming your work in the heat of the summer, only clad in a short pair of shorts that accentuates your huge Mexican cock.

Gone is Charlie the twink. Your new life is Carlos, the dumb and randy Mexican gardener.

What is this? A "Transformation Letter"? Yes, you heard right! Over at my riot page, you can send transformation letters that will change your life forever. The only catch? You can't choose what you will become. Carlos here is certainly changed a lot, but not like he intended. Would you be luckier if you tried? Head over to the instructions to try your luck!

[singlesomethinginstyle]

It is festive season in South Asia, and women are some of the most overworked among all social groups.

Suddenly, it is not just you, your partner/parents/siblings anymore - it is the entire extended clan, khandaan, their nosy relatives even with several degrees of separation.

The bulk of festive burden falls on women. From the cooking, an extensive menu that comprises unhealthy food which will not be fully consumed because everyone is diabetic or dieting, and the heartbroken woman has to finish what she painstakingly prepared or watch it go to the trash, to endless decor needs, shopping and gifting the extended family (a fine art which, god forbid you gift one relative something and another differently, tempers erupt) not to mention your own professional deadlines because your boss wants everything early so he can justify the 3-4-5 fay holidays.

Then comes the dieting because you KNOW you will be judged for your appearance, the clothing choices, the exhaustion of dealing with nasty relatives and the politics.

And if you're queer, in the closet or struggling or even simply wanting to be single or avoid marriage, suddenly your life is everyone's business, and this endless social nightmare, the bullying and the ostracism is the opposite of divine, it is debasing. God forbid if you are part of an inter-caste or inter-faith coupling, the negativity is worse.

Here are a few tips on how you can take care of yourself during this season.

You've gotta put yourself first. You cannot fight multiple battles on multiple fronts if you cannot take care of yourself first. FEED YOURSELF FIRST.

Look in the mirror ' and tell yourself - this festive season I am celebrating ME - I will feed myself first. You cannot fight big battles on an empty tank.

1. Food: eat before everyone else - get in the kitchen, make yourself something healthy in half an hour, cut a salad, a bunch of fruits and eat first. Cut up a few veggies at night, put it in a tiffin box and leave it in the fridge. When everyone is snoozing, have that. They will balance out all the junk that will go into your stomach. Don't start any ridiculous fast that will drain you. Get a doctor's note if you are being pressured and say - sorry maa ji. Health reasons I have to be careful.

2. Get a pre-festival health checkup. Go to the doctor and get your stats checked. Some labs offer full-body general health checkups at discounted rates. Grab a package and finish it. When you know where you are struggling, yiu can avoid making it worse.

3. Protect your money. Festive seasons have a pile of insidious stupid expenses that pile up and guess who pays ? The woman, the wife, the daughter in law. Do you think your Husband or inlaws will shell money out for that cute decor and diya set? No way. If you hold them accountable, they will probably give some money for all the gifts relatives give. Remove your credit cards and debit cards from online shopping sites. Pretend something is wrong with your card and it got blocked. Make your husband or In-laws pay instead.

So get realistic, set up a budget and empty your bank account into an FD. Congratulations, you only have a SMALL amount of money left for decorations - use that to get inventive and clever. Pull out old newspapers, and get into wealth-from-waste mode.

If you are even smarter, you will quietly set up an alternative savings account WITHOUT a debit card or credit card and squirrel away your Dussehra - Diwali bonus into it. If your husband asks, "Sorry yar, iss bar company mein bonus nahi de rahe hain, kaafi projects mein behind hue and they arent doing that well"

If you are still living with your parents make it a point to save every money gift you get. Take the cash, hide it safely and don't touch it. First opportunity - put it in the bank account (your own, not a shared one)

4. Secure your Jewelry. A pot of desi women are given gold and precipus jewelry during their marriage but this is often sneakily taken away by your mother in law in order to "safeguard it". It is usually in the bank or a locker you do not have access to.

So, this festive season, go FULL on TRADITIONAL. Wear that old saree, and ask mom in law for your jewelry because your extended family etc are mentioning seeing those pieces from your wedding, because they got sentimental. And then sneakily after the festivities, hide them in your own little locker (which you bought beforehand) and quietly head to the bank, and deposit it in a safe deposit box in YOUR name.

Remember, GOLD is one of the most secure available financial assets for a desi woman. But the gold you have is often controlled by your in-laws once you marry over. So make sure you take iy back bit by bit. And when they ask - make excuses like - the clasp is broken, need repairs, mom wants to upgrade it a little etc. And never give it back to your inlaws. Your gold is YOUR legal property. It should not go to your inlaws.

5. Mentally prepare for tough conversations.

Festive seasons are hard on women and they socially slaughter your dignity. Prepare snarky, sarcastic answers or don't hesitate to shut down what comes your way. But since many of you are raised to be docile, remember to anticipate all the tough topics someone will raise to criticize you, think of their personaliry and prepare some snarky answers beforehand. If a relative is asking abiut your marriage, ask them when their son is going to move out or if they're still a financial burden. Ask if their husbands have stopped ogling the maid. Don't be scared of going offensive. These guys are not your friends and won't hesitate to pull you down.

6. Prepare Me time. Make a set of activities, like groceries etc, that that can leave you alone and give you breathing space from the khandaan. Take longer to shop alone and take a break in the neighbourhood park. Use this time to meditate, check in with yourself and your goals and give youraelf a spiritual pat kn the back.

7. Prep an easy menu and donate the remaining. Plan a food menu that is not extensive. Order delicacies if possible, instead of Doing it Yourself. There is no BEST BAHU and BEST WIFE contest to win. Get the load of cooking off your back. If there is food leftover, call an orphanage and send it to them. Do not eat excessively out of guilt. Donate it to those who need it. When the burden of cooking is reduced the guilt of forced eating goes doen and you won't be putting junk in your body.

Remember - you are your own best friend. Festivals will take a lot out of you. They will cause families to get into unnecessary pissing contests and you have to bear the laborous brunt. So safeguard your time and energy.

[bangpop91]

The Breakfast Aisle

I am finally caught up! This is is my story for Day 5 of @bucktommypositivityweek and today's prompt is coming out scenes. I hope you all enjoy this short little drabble.

Buck and Tommy had a rare Saturday where both of their days off lined up, so they were taking advantage of it to spend time together while catching up on domestic chores and errands. That morning they’d already gotten the laundry sorted and several loads of laundry finished, written up their meal plan and shopping list for the week. Currently they were traversing the grocery store, getting their weekly groceries and picking up the ingredients for the chopped salad and Tiramisu they had been told to bring to the 118 family barbecue that evening.

They were in the middle of the breakfast aisle comparing the nutrition labels for two different brands of pancake mix that proclaimed to be high in protein.

“Buck?” He turned around at the familiar voice, not expecting to see Taylor standing there with her own basket of groceries over her arm. 

“Hey Taylor.” He says, doing his best to be friendly. Their breakup had been as amicable as it could have been given all of the circumstances of the last few months of their relationship. He might not be the biggest fan of her tell-all book about the 118 but he is grateful she protected their identities at least. “How've you been?” He asks, trying not to sound uncomfortable as Tommy sticks the chosen brand of pancake mix into their cart and marking it off the list.

“I've been good, really busy.” Buck nods, he's sure. Last he'd seen online Taylor had been picked up by a major news outlet as an investigative journalist. “How've you been?” The conversation is awkward and stilted despite their best efforts.

“Good, busy as well.” He says vaguely. Tommy is patient as ever, letting Buck try to wrap up the conversation while answering a text on his phone. Taylor nodded uncomfortably, shifting her stance.

“Um, who's your friend?” She asks nodding towards Tommy, who snorts at the question.

“This is Tommy, my boyfriend.” He says doing his best to maintain the attempt at friendly yet awkward conversation. He watches as a complicated emotion flashes across Taylor's face before settling on neutrality.

“You're gay.” She says flatly and it makes him feel defensive. After figuring he's bi, and started coming out he had thought that would be it. He'd be out. He hadn't anticipated that he would be spending the rest of his life coming out or having to clarify his label.

“Bisexual.” He responds defensively. Taylor looks like she wants to say more.

“We should keep going, Darlin. We still have a lot to do today before the barbeque at Bobby and Athena's new place.” Buck could kiss Tommy for giving him an out to end this awkward conversation with Taylor. Buck nodded to Taylor.

“Good to see you Taylor.” He said simply as he and Tommy started moving towards the other end of the aisle, Tommy grabbing a box of his preferred protein bars and a box of Jees's preferred granola bars for when they babysit in a few days. Taylor says her own good-byes moving in the opposite direction. It definitely could have gone worse, but he also hopes he doesn't run into his ex again for a long while.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi Fen!!! Popping in to ask what you think the moon boys’ hobbies would be (if they weren’t so busy moon knighting). (For Steven, I feel like studying ancient Egypt is more like a passion, so like what else do you think he’d be into?)

K. Love you! Byeeeee.

IDJIDHVDHFH Oh my gosh, I love this ask so much! Thank you so, so, SO much for sending it! ❤️(ILY!) Did I think about this at work for a good 1 and 30 mins instead of working on a spreadsheet? No, of course not, I would never do that… 👀

I have narrowed it down to one each to save everyone from seeing my absolute madness.

Moon Knight Boys Headcanons & Hobbies

Rating: PG  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Swearing

Steven: Cooking

Okay, here me out. So, I’ve seen opposite ends of opinion on this one (both are valid) but I’m going with Steven is a very good cook, and he likes cooking. 

He’s been vegan for a while and it’s only in the last couple of years that food places have really been trying with vegan and vegetarian options that aren’t salad… bread… (chips if you’re lucky) So, I think he enjoys making lots of different recipes. 

It started out with him just making vegan ones and then, over time, became him changing other recipes to make them vegan and coming up with his own. 

Absolute master at vegan cakes, no one can ever tell the difference, and, in fact, a lot of people compliment him on ‘the best cake they’ve ever had’, ‘so light and fluffy? How do you do it?’ “Well, that’s the secret, innit?” (whisk the aquafaba like your life depends on it and sweet potato) 

Steven is absolutely horrified by the food Marc makes himself. (Plain chicken, rice, spinach) 

“Where are the flavours Marc? At least some herbs? Spices for fuck’s sake? I can’t believe you’re eating plain steamed chicken?” (He doesn’t even care that it’s meat, it's just the lack of flavour.)

“It’s boiled chicken actually.”

Steven loses his goddamn mind. 

“I don’t care what bloody macronutrient you are monitoring, you are not eating that.”

It’s not that Marc can’t cook, he just doesn’t see the reason to put the effort in when it’s just for himself (doesn’t feel like he deserves it.)

Steven grumbles to himself and refuses to let Marc cook his own dinner if he can help it. “If you’re going to eat meat, at least treat it with respect, yeah? Bring out the flavour?” He usually preps something for Marc, so he can cook it quickly when he’s hungry. 

Makes so many cakes and pastries for Jake. Leaves them in boxes with ‘Jake :)’ written on a post stick note on the top. Jake is always so touched and surprised when he does. They have taken to playing a little game where sometimes the food is vegan and sometimes it’s not and Jake has to guess. He’s more accurate than most people, but it still only averages around 70% right. (69% if we’re being exact, and Marc is sure Jake’s messing with the correct statistics on purpose.)

Marc: Fantasy Baseball and Fantasy Football

Literally takes it so seriously. Has spreadsheets filled with information and pours over every single statistic like it holds the answers to the universe. It only got more intense when he found a forum for people with the same interest and he literally will spend hours talking online about it.

“It’s not about getting the best players, it’s about making the best team.”

Jake has joked that he puts Steven and his love for history to shame and if those spreadsheets weren’t saved on the computer Marc would have boxes and boxes and folders upon folders of printed out info and then there would be zero space in the flat. 

When Marc annoys Steven, Steven tells him to “go play with your pretend american cricket and american rugby” to piss him off. 

(Marc retaliates by incorrectly pronouncing UK places. 

“Steven, maybe we should take a trip to Ed-in-b-row” 

“It’s Ed-in-bruh.” 

“How about Sus-SEX or Es-SEX?” 

“It’s Sus-SIX and Es-SIX.” 

“I do love Green-WITCH at this time of year.” 

“IT’S GREN-ITCH! Jake, you're from New York, how is Greenwich pronounced?” 

“I’m not getting involved.” 

“Ha! That’s because he agrees with me!”

When things get really heated, Marc threatens to make a cup of tea in the microwave. Steven says he doesn’t care because he makes coffee in the microwave all the time and it’s fine. Jake puts an end to it by saying hot chocolate tastes best with water and then laughing when both Marc and Steven gang up on him. 

“I cannot believe you think that mate.”

“You know how many different types of milk there are?”

“Absolutely disgusting.”

“Cow, goat, soya, almond, coconut, literally any of them instead.”)

Jake: Knitting

Wanted something to keep his hands busy, that he could pick up and put down, and that he could take in his cab when he was stationary and waiting for fares. 

Took to it a lot quicker than he thought it would, and can just zone out and knit. It helps keep him grounded. 

He feels like he has spent a lot of his time destroying and there is something so satisfying about being able to create. 

Once he mastered the stitch he quickly moved onto making clothes. Before Marc and Steven knew about him he used to knit jumpers for Steven and hide them in the wardrobe. 

Jake makes Marc a cartoony style baseball jumper that he also loves, and a thick cardigan for Steven that is covered in hieroglyphics (he spends months researching the language to get it to make some sense, and works in a dig at Khonshu in there and has Steven crying with laughter.) 

When they know about him Steven excitedly requests the “most garish and over the top Hanukkah jumper anyone has ever seen!” Jake does his best, presenting it to Steven (and trying to hide how nervous he feels) Steven loves it and refuses to take it off all winter. 

Most people think Jake has a stern glare when he wants, but you can never be sure if he’s planning your destruction or trying to work out how many balls of wool it would take to make someone your size a jumper.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[liminalweirdo]

okay once again i am coming to tumblr to ask for help as in HOW DO I EAT MORE VEGETABLES IN THE AGE OF LISTERIA. lol but no really, here is the problem:

i was a salad guy, i used to eat mostly raw veg but i don't feel super comfortable doing that rn.

i'm also autistic and i end up getting super overwhelmed every dinner time because adding new steps for dishes i haven't made before is really daunting, and when i start looking for new recipes online it's like there are so fucking many? so i freeze.

basically i love vegetables and pre-pandemic i ate them all the time but now that we can't go inside grocery stores where no one's masking and can't pick out our own produce, most of the produce we DO get from the store pickup/delivery is... disappointing at best. like sometimes we get it and it's already rotting.

needless to say i eat like 70% less veg than i used to and it's been really negatively affecting how well i feel.

farmers markets are too expensive for me to go to with any sort of regularly. we're considering farmers boxes but they are also kind of prohibitively expensive rn, so i guess i'm looking for like... idk, other solutions, if they exist?

or maybe i'm just hoping for literally any ways to eat more greens/veg that i can

1) cook/heat in some way because covid, and because it can hide the quality of shitty veg at the supermarket

2) aren't very very time consuming (i'm willing to spend like an hour making supper but that's about my energy capacity)

3) aren't something i need to buy an air frier or like a fucking sous vide or something to prepare

or maybe suggestions for veg that keep a little longer than greens do because we kind of shop just twice a month for covid exposure reasons?

this doesn't need to be like "healthy eating" i'm just looking for more variety in my diet.

anything, pls? recipes, ideas. i love veg i will eat all of them, i just never really learned to cook them well, or how to incorporate them into a lot of meals when it's not, like, salad

or even where do you get veg that is kind of affordable/doesn't suck?

[omentranslates]

Trigun Maximum Chugai Grace Cafe Collaboration - I Translated the Website :3

Hi I saw someone on twt wanting this to be translated and that's literally all it takes to get me moving anymore so!

Anyways I translated all the food and drinks, I found the references they chose really cute except for the evil one lmao and I also included the unbelievably small print drink ingredients if you wanna try mixing them yourself!! 🫶

Also also, if you know how to use a proxy, there is actually some stuff here that overseas fans can get our hands on!! Under the cut to keep the dash clean!! Hope it helps!!!!!

Edit my dumbass forgot the original announcement link sjshsk IT’S HERE!!!

So, the menu

Going from left to right we've got

"Battle Sausage Spaghetti"

"As Many Salmon Sandwiches You Want"

"Love&Peace Donuts"

"Banana Sundae"

and on the bottom row

"The Perfect Meal Plate: Vash's Handmade Fried Rice and Salad" ((´༎ຶོω༎ຶོ`) o k )

"Particularly Wonderful Udon"

"Mille-feuille with Ceylon Tea" (i believe the first part specifies gateau mille-feuille but I went to episode one and checked the subs for what they had her say officially and they left the gateau off so I did too)

"Latte with a random character art"

Character Drinks!!!

The Bride Soda, which comes with a double-sided postcard of the sworn friends (very common nickname for Vash and Wolfwood in JP fandom and ig official uses it too)

So the soda is their proprietary thing, it doesn't say what flavor it is or if it has one, but the shotglasses come with a little bit of smoked oak syrup and black ceylon tea and you're meant to fill the rest of the glass with soda and drink it that way. And then the rest of the text is just information and disclaimers for customers that plan on taking the bottle home (I guess it breaks really easily that’s So. lmao).

Vash's Drink <3

strawberry syrup

carbonated water and lemon juice

yellow candied cherries (drained cherries) and ice

Wolfwood's Drink

crushed coffee jelly and cafe ice (ice made and flavored with concentrated coffee and fruit juice)

brewed iced coffee and gum syrup

blue curaçao syrup and carbonated water

experimental ampules filled with blue soda

the cigarette is full of light brown sugar you're meant to mix in before drinking

Knives's Drink

apple juice and round sliced apples

mint and ice (it looks like mint leaves but full disclosure they have blurred that kanji to all hell I have no idea)

Legato's Drink

blue curaçao syrup

grapefruit juice

carbonated water and a mint cherry

a lemon and ice

Collab Merch

(Overseas pay attention here!!!!!! ChugaiOnline is opening these to online orders so we can get them with a proxy, I'll leave their link at the end of this section!!!!!!)

I've also listed all the prices in yen here so you can convert them to your currency, and all of these are the prices including the listed Japanese sales tax. If you want to see the price without it, it’s just the other number on the image!

So they've got

Two way acrylic figure stands (the main stand comes with a ball chain, you can reference these on Amiami for what this kind of product looks like I'm prettyyyyy sure like they're called different but it looks like they go together the same way). Anyways this is a set of 6 and 1650 yen each, it looks like you get to choose which one you want but they don't have a deal listed for getting all of them.

Next to it are the buttons (also called can badges idk which one is more common over here), set of 12 (6 are regular and 6 are glittery variety). They are 550 yen per button AT RANDOM, THEY WILL GIVE YOU A RANDOM ONE, or a box with one of each all 12 for 6600 yen.

Below that is the polaroid collection, it's also a 12 piece set and you can get A RANDOM ONE, THEY DO NOT LET YOU PICK for 330 yen each or a box with all of them for 3960 yen.

The same exact deal with the plastic (like a vinyl material) postcards underneath, they're double-sided and come one for 660 yen each at random or the whole set for 7920 yen.

The calendar is for 2025 and is 1980 yen probably obvious but y'know

I would be so shocked if a proxy actually let you ship the Kuroneko sama cookie discs lmao but hey wtf they're 1080 yen.

The Bride soda is listed here because this is the same merch that will be sold in the shop but they specify elsewhere that it's not available for online order even in Japan you have to go to the cafe ;-;

Also this is just personal experience but a lot of proxies will not let you get like blind or random stuff like the buttons they don't let you pick which one, some of them will only let you get it if you're getting the whole box.

Annnnnnd online order special gifts!!

For every 3000 yen spent in merch (including tax) you will get a random postcard from this set!! There are 15 to collect, they are NOT divided into halves of the event, you can get any of them at any time or all at once!! However, you can't combine orders made at different times/by different people to get more and if they run out that's it. Altho fwiw I have never seen an event run out of these lol

The online order period will be from Friday, May 24th at 11 am to Sunday, June 16th at 11:59 pm (both JST) and items will begin to arrive (within Japan, proxies will have to handle our own shipping ofc) from August 2024 on a first ordered first shipped basis.

CHUGAIONLINE STORE (JAPAN)

Ok, this last bit is relevant to the in-person cafe experience so it's just for if you're curious about other cool things going on or you have a hobby of watching JP mercari like a hawk and wanna know what to expect!

Guests who reserve places at the cafe online will get copies of some of Nightow sensei's most prized sketch pages, they'll get 3 random ones! Like with the special gift postcards, there are a limited amount and this event will end when they're all gone.

And these are the coasters, guests will get one with every item they order off the food or drink menu at random (while supplies last)! The variety you can get is split between the former and latter halves of the event so there's something new to come back for even if you've already been once! (The first 12 days is on top and the last 12 days is on bottom)

They're also doing a wallscroll campaign!

They'll have these decorating the venue, and when the event is over a raffle will be held where the winners get to pick out a scroll of their choice!

OK I THINK THAT'S EVERYTHING RELEVANT HAPPY TRIGUN MANGA CAFE EVENT!!!!!

[inhydrogreens]

Find the Best Hydroponic Salad Store In Delhi NCR | Inhydrogreens

When it comes to choosing greens from the Hydroponic Salad Store In Delhi NCR, this is one of the most frequently asked questions. By examining the vegetables' colour and quality, you may determine whether they are fresh and of high quality. Given the prevalence of online shopping, you can check the ratings and reviews to confirm that the retailer is providing you with the highest-quality greens.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Monday's are always difficult. Especially as you cling to the good vibes of a girls' night out. The mood was a bit spoiled by the presence of few unexpected bosses but Elfie and Billie kept you all on track. Still, it wasn’t enough, you’re not ready for another week. 

You might not be but you make sure Mr. Hansen is. You have everything on his desk waiting. His coffee is in a travel thermos keeping warm, his daily itinerary is ready for him, and when he gets in, you’ll go to get his breakfast so it’s hot and fresh. 

You yawn and uncrinkle a pleat in your dress skirt. The brilliant shade of green is as bright as an emerald with a trim of yellow at the collar, belt and hem. It's loud but you don’t mind a bit of boldness. 

Mr. Hansen rushes by so quickly he catches you by surprise and your barely catch sight of him over your monitor as you snap your teeth down around another yawn. He’s so quick, he’s a blur. His door shuts behind him sharply and you stand as you go rigid as a pole. Oh no, what now? 

You don’t linger to figure it out. What you know about Mr. Hansen is that it’s best to let him simmer down on his own. The time it takes you to get his organic wrap should be more than enough. You head off with your purse and a bounce in your step.  

It feels good to be moving around. If you’d sat any long, you would risk an ambush nap. You can’t imagine your boss would appreciate that. 

You get to the bistro and put in your usual order. They know you there. They have a ticket ready to ring up and you pay with the company card. You step aside and chatter with the girl at the till about her film class in college. She’s sweet and very passionate about independent movies you’ve never even heard of. 

You claim your order and the complimentary iced tea Kamila made you. You thank her extra and head out, making note to return the favour the next time you stop by. You rush back to the office building a block over and barrel into the elevator. You smile at a man from the eight floor and wait for yours to ding. 

You carry on through the ritual of readying Mr. Hansen’s breakfast. You zap it in the microwave just to make sure it’s still warm and set out the porcelain plate. You lay it out with the little side of greens and tomato salad and leave your iced tea on your desk. 

You knock on Hansen’s door. No answer comes but you know better than to let yourself in. You knock again and put your ear to the door. A third time gets you a response. 

“Fast,” he demands from the other side. 

You open the door and declare your purpose, “Breakfast, Mr. Hansen!” 

You bound over as he keeps the back of his chair to you. You can see the top of his head over it despite his efforts to hunch down. Is he hiding? You put the plate where you usually do as he angles away from you. Is it Mr. Hansen? His hair isn’t that dark... 

“Mr. Hansen, is everything okay?” You ask tenuously. Silence. You hold your breath as he doesn’t move. You gulp and take a step back. “Sir...” 

“Fine,” his hits the armrest and spins around. 

You let your breath out with a gasp. Oh god. His hair is pitch black. The box dye has that blueish tint to it and is less than complimentary to his skin tone. Not to mention he didn’t touch the mustache. You do your best to control your expression and your. 

“Oh, wow, Mr. Hansen, did you get a new tie--” 

“Shut up!” He roars, “it’s not funny.” 

“Nothing’s funny, sir, I didn’t laugh.” 

“I can see your cheek...” he wiggles his finger tersely, “don’t.” 

“Sir, really, I’m not,” you assure him, evening out that ripple in your stomach and your breath. “You know, when I was in college, I killed my hair with bleach and died it green.” 

“Yeah, because green looks so good on you,” he chirps as he scowls at your dress. 

“Thanks, sir,” you smile, “but there is a point. I hated it. I got colour remover and managed to get to a decent brown.” 

“Colour remover?” He narrows his eyes. 

“Not as harsh as bleach but it stinks like rotten eggs. I think you could probably get at least a few shades lighter. And since it’s not green, you won’t go greener. Shouldn't.” 

He shifts his glare to the wall and his forehead pinches. His nose crinkles by his nostrils and he pokes his cheek with his tongue. He clucks and shakes his head. 

“Fine, go get it.” 

“Oh, uh, me? Sir--” 

“No one else is seeing me like this so go fucking get the remover,” he rolls his chair towards the desk and snatches up the wrap, “that shade of green makes my eyes bleed.” 

You give another gentle expression. You truly pity him. You’ve been there before. He was only trying to feel better about himself. To try something new. It happens, but you’re not so sure he should trust you to fix this one. 

There’s not much of a choice. You go back out to your desk and grab your iced tea and purse. Off to the pharmacy. It's kind of fun. An unexpected adventure to keep yourself from falling asleep. It’s exactly what you need. And who knows, if you can help Mr. Hansen get the inky dye out, he might lighten up. Literally.   

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A large bowl filled with rice noodles, julienned carrot and cucumber, piles of herbs, and grilled 'chicken' strips; a bowl of sauce with minced chili and garlic is to the side. End ID]

Bún sườn nướng chay (Vietnamese rice noodle salad)

This is a vegetarian ("chay") version of bún gà nướng, a Vietnamese rice noodle ("bún") salad with grilled chicken ("gà nướng"). Chewy rice noodles, fresh vegetables and herbs, and a tangy, slightly spicy sauce combine with grilled or pan-seared 'chicken' to create a rich, flavorful, well-rounded dish. A marinade of lemongrass, sugar, garlic, and vegetarian fish sauce caramelizes around the 'chicken' as it sears, creating a sweet-and-savory crispy coating that perfectly complements the bright, herbacious salad. This dish can be made with Vietnamese sườn non chay, or with any meat substitute you have on hand.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Serves 4.

Ingredients:

For the nước chấm (dipping sauce):

1/2 cup water

Juice of 1 lime (2 Tbsp)

2 Tbsp rice vinegar

1/4 cup vegan fish sauce

3 Tbsp sugar

1 red chili (de-seeded and sliced)

3 cloves garlic, minced

Fish sauce doesn’t take “like” fish, merely fermented and intensely salty. You can buy a bottle of ready-made vegan fish sauce from a Southeast Asian brand such as Au Lac, or you can make your own by combining the following ingredients:

For the vegan fish sauce (nước mắm):

3 Tbsp liquid from a jar of fermented bean curd

1 Tbsp white miso paste

1 Tbsp light soy sauce

1/4 tsp salt

For the chicken (gà):

300g vegan chicken substitute (I used Gardein), or 100g sườn non chay

2 cloves garlic

1 stalk lemongrass (or substitute lemon zest or a bit of preserved lemon pulp)

Juice of 1 lime (2 Tbsp)

1 Tbsp vegan fish sauce

1 Tbsp vegetarian oyster sauce

1 Tbsp Vietnamese soy sauce

2 tsp vegetarian 'chicken' broth concentrate, or bột nêm chay (optional)

2 Tbsp brown sugar

1 Tbsp neutral oil

Sườn non chay may be found in bags online or at your local Asian grocery–the bags will be labelled “sườn non chay” as well as “vegan meat slice,” “textured soy bean protein,” “vegetarian food,” or “vegan food.”

Bột nêm is a Vietnamese seasoning sold in powder or granule form. Vegetarian (“chay”) versions of the seasoning may contain shiitake mushroom, lotus seeds, carrots, tomatoes, and kohlrabi, as well as salt and MSG. It can be purchased in pouches or boxes from an Asian grocery store, or you can use any other vegetable stock powder.

For the salad:

300g vermicelli rice noodles

2 cups bean sprouts

1 large carrot (julienned)

1 seedless cucumber (julienned)

6 leaves romaine lettuce (julienned)

1 bunch fresh cilantro

1 bunch fresh rau răm (Vietnamese mint), or mint

2 stalks green onion, sliced

Handful of peanuts

Fresh Vietnamese herbs can be found in the refrigerator section of an Asian grocery store, particularly one that specializes in southeast Asian food. You can also experiment with whatever leafy herbs you have on hand.

Instructions:

For the chicken:

1. (If using sườn non chay:) soak meat slices in cool water until rehydrated. Squeeze out excess water and cut each slice in half along its shortest dimension, to get two blocks of the original height and width.

2. Slice lemongrass. Peel away any tough, dry outer leaves to reveal the yellow-green leaves within. Remove the root end of each stalk, as well as the tough green portion at the top of each stalk (reserve this latter to boil in stocks). Thinly slice the tender yellow portion of each stalk.

3. Mix all marinade ingredients in a large bowl. Marinate chicken for 20-30 minutes while you prepare the nước chấm and vegetables.

4. Remove the chicken from the bowl, leaving any excess marinade behind. Heat a couple teaspoons of oil on medium in a large pan then sear the chicken, turning once, until deeply golden brown on both sides (or use a charcoal grill). (If using a pan) filter marinade to remove lemongrass slices, then pour extra marinade over the chicken and cook, stirring often, until coated.

5. Cut chicken into strips, or as desired.

For the nước chấm:

1. Mix vinegar, lime juice, fish sauce, sugar, and water in a small saucepan. Heat, stirring, until the sugar has dissolved.

2. Remove from heat and add minced garlic and chili. Pour into a bowl and allow to cool.

For the salad:

1. Boil the vermicelli according to package directions. Drain and rinse with cool water to halt cooking. Toss with a little bit of neutral oil to avoid sticking.

2. Roast peanuts in a dry pan on medium-low, stirring often, until golden brown and fragrant.

3. Julienne carrot, cucumber, and lettuce. Roughly chop herbs.

4. Plate vermicelli followed by vegetables, herbs, chicken, and peanuts. Spoon some nước chấm over the salad and set remainder to the side to serve.

[flyingwargle]

sunaosa week day 5: bento

training is often split into morning and afternoon sessions, with conditioning in the first half, and practice in the second half. the athletes are given two hours in between for lunch, many opting to return home to cook, following the strict diet created for them by their nutritionist, with a few staying at the gym to eat in the lounge, using the microwave, toaster, or electric kettle to warm up homemade lunches, leftovers, or a haphazardly assembled combini meal from the 7-eleven across the street.

komori, washio, and suna often eat together, newbies of the team. komori is a decent cook, although he hasn’t graduated beyond burnt eggs, soggy rice, and using soy sauce to season everything. washio is better, often spending his weekends experimenting with new recipes, like barbecue-glazed ribs, butter shoyu chicken, and tonkatsu ramen.

suna, on the other hand, can’t cook to save his life, unless it’s reheating leftovers or adding noodles to boiling water. and yet, he brings a bento made with love every day – grilled fish, seaweed salad, pickled vegetables, and absolutely divine tamagoyaki that komori always steals whenever he isn’t looking.

“hey, guys!” nagito slides into the empty seat beside komori with his 7-eleven haul – three onigiri, two sandwiches, several energy bars, and a carton of juice. “what’s everyone eating?”

they show him their various bento boxes, but nagito only whistles at suna’s. “the boyfriend does it again! i thought the two of you are long-distance?”

“yeah, but he’s staying with me for a month as a break,” suna replies. “i tried telling him that he doesn’t have to cook for me, but i can’t keep him out of the kitchen. he’s been stressed out lately with the restaurant, and i want him to cook for fun while he’s here.”

“maybe he can give motoya a cooking lesson,” washio suggests. “pivoting your focus away from work to instructional might help him relax.”

“are you saying that my cooking sucks?” komori asks, showing off his poor bento of rice covered in furikake and soggy karaage that he picked up yesterday at the supermarket.

"yes. i could use a lesson, too. i want his expertise on how to grill fish.”

suna nods, taking his phone out. “sure, i can ask. you want in, nagito?”

“might as well,” he chirps. “it beats having combini food every day!”

the middle blocker sends a text to his boyfriend, and they continue their discussion about coach’s proposed rotational changes, and the exhibition match scheduled at the end of the month. when practice starts again, they pack their bento boxes and head for the locker room.

komori eats the same thing every day, so he makes a game with nagito to predict what protein their teammates will bring. washio is more of a red meat guy, but suna often has fish, until one day, he brings a huge container of pork gyoza to share. “’samu was experimenting with a new recipe,” he said as explanation.

“osamu should move in with you permanently,” komori says, plucking another gyoza from the tray.

“trust me, we want to. maybe in the future.”

it continues for the rest of the week. after the weekend, the group gathers for lunch, komori proudly revealing his soba noodles instead of soggy rice. “you upgraded,” washio remarks. today, he has sushi made from scratch.

“nagito and i split a huge pack of soba noodles! the supermarket sold bottles of sauce too, which helps.”

“oh, you went with boiled noodles!” nagito slides into his seat beside komori. “check out what i made!” he lifts his lid off, the irresistible scent of yakisoba filling the room.

komori is immediately envious. “i thought you didn’t know how to cook!”

“it wasn’t that hard! i just followed a recipe online and fried everything together. a lot of noodles got stuck to the pan, though. i had to toss it.”

washio chuckles, but it’s short-lived. “i guess suna isn’t joining us today.” he was late to conditioning too, haggard with dark circles around his eyes. komori lost track of him after they stopped for lunch.

it’s about an hour into their lunch that suna appears, sliding into the seat beside washio. “hey.”

“where did you go?” komori asks, in lieu of a greeting.

“had to go back home for a bit. i didn’t want to bother ‘samu, so i came here to eat.” instead of putting his usual bento box on the table, it’s a bag from 7-eleven. inside are sandwiches, a gyudon, several protein bars, and energy jelly. he drags his feet to the microwave to heat his gyudon.

“no bento today?” nagito ventures when he sits back down. suna simply shakes his head, leaving it at that.

komori doesn’t push, but then the same thing happens the next day, and then the next. by the fourth day, he just sleeps while they eat, until nagito pokes him with his chopstick. “hey, you need food. did you bring lunch?”

“no,” comes the muffled reply.

“did something happen between you and osamu?” komori asks. “like…like…a fight? or…”

suna turns his head until he’s facing them. “no. i mean, kind of. he was being…stubborn when i tried telling him to rest more. the next day, when i came home, i found him collapsed with a fever.”

“oh.”

“why aren’t you with him?” nagito asks.

“his stubborn ass won’t let me take care of him, said he doesn’t want to interfere with my training. i asked coach for time off, but ‘samu insisted.” suna’s eyes glitter with unshed tears. “i didn’t want to make him more upset, so…”

washio places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “i’m sorry to hear that.”

“let’s buy medicine and food for him after practice,” komori suggests. “you also need food. i’ll run out to 7-eleven and grab something.”

“i’m not hungry–“

“too bad,” nagito says, snapping his bento lid shut. “you need to stay healthy if you want to take care of miya. we’ll be right back.”

after practice, they split between the supermarket and pharmacy, reconvening at a nearby restaurant to pick up takeout. they follow suna home, stepping inside the darkened apartment. “’samu?”

coughing answers him. suna doesn’t hesitate to drop his bag and kick his shoes off, hurrying to the bedroom. komori, washio, and nagito linger in the kitchen, putting takeout containers in the fridge, heating congee in a small pot, and getting a glass of water ready with medicine. washio transfers the warm congee into a bowl, nagito finding a tray to put everything on. komori carries it to the bedroom, where he hears hushed voices.

“ya don’t hafta worry ‘bout me,” is osamu’s rasp. “i can care fer myself.”

“’samu, your fever is over 37 degrees,” suna says softly. “i know you can care for yourself, but you aren’t alone. i’m here. and…” he glances over his shoulder at the trio. “there are others that want to help, too.”

komori enters, putting the tray on the desk. osamu is under the covers, cold compress on his forehead that’s slick with sweat. washio and nagito step into view, as well. “suna is right,” washio says. “we all need a helping hand once in a while.”

“just let your boyfriend coddle you,” nagito adds.

“exactly. thank you, nagito.” suna turns back to osamu. “we have food for you, too. can you sit up?”

he helps him upright, then feeds him small spoonfuls of congee at a time. the trio slip outside, lingering a moment more to observe. the couple’s voices are quiet, osamu’s resistance melting with every spoonful. the tension in suna’s shoulders lessens, replaced with a soft smile full of affection. komori guides his teammates out, putting their shoes on and collecting their bags.

osamu will be in good hands.

[museenkuss]

It’s come to a point where I’m just sick of online consumerism. I want to read physical magazines instead of cheap, churned out click bait articles or dramatised YouTube “essays” by people who may or may not know what they’re talking about. I want to go to a store and get inspired by the displays, check the quality and fit of the garments and chat with the salesperson, instead of click-drop ordering stuff that’ll arrive at a point where I’m already half bored by it and still have to check fit/quality. I want to go to the cinema to watch films on big screens and enjoy the velvet, popcorn-scented atmosphere, instead of watching films on streaming services, one eye on my phone the entire time. I want to go to grocery stores and walk around the aisles or take a stroll on the market instead of ordering boxes that’ll deliver floppy salad leaves and individually packet portions of rice of questionable quality.

This internet-mandated “comfort” is sucking the soul out of everything, it’s turning every aspect of life into a grey sludge of sitting in front of a screen.

[naturally I’m well aware of the fact that this comfort is making life easier for a lot of people and I’m not shaming them for using services that help them in their daily life. Apart from sharing my personal perspective, I’m also worried about the fact that online consumerism is slowly killing every real life service and that is sad.]

[bunnyanqel]

Inside, and Closer Still

Summary: Makayla's always rolled her eyes at the women who thirst over men with babies. It's stupid and an exaggeration, or so she thinks until she realizes how revved up seeing Eddie with kids gets her. Thankfully, Eddie's totally on board with her newfound breeding kink.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, MDNI, smut, dirty talk, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, unsafe sex, daddy kink, established relationship, creampie, dacryphilia, safe to read if triggered by pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy, discussions of family planning, rough sex, mentions of lactation

Notes: At the end of this fic, Makayla and Eddie discuss her going off birth control to actually become pregnant, he talks about wanting to see her pregnant and she makes a note to schedule a gynecological appointment, but there's no actual pregnancy occurring in this fic.

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 also on AO3 ! 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

The first time Makayla saw Eddie cradling a baby in his tattooed arms, it was at the supermarket.

She’d darted off to go grab a gallon of milk because it wasn’t a trip for groceries unless one of them forgot something and had to run to grab it while the other was being rung up by a bored cashier, and when she’d returned, he had a baby in his arms, saying something to the exhausted mom behind him as he rocked the baby back and forth with a tenderness and gentleness that made Makayla’s heart swell.

She was tempted to make a joke, to ask him who’s white baby that was—hello, she was Black with a capital B and couldn’t be mistaken for anything close to white—but the sight of him, his eyes crinkled, his cheeks rosy, bouncing that baby was a swift, brutal gut punch to her ovaries that robbed her of her ability to speak for the rest of the trip.

She simply padded up to the cashier, placed the gallon of milk on the belt, and watched the discounts bring down the price because if she looked at Eddie, she might get arrested for public indecency for the things she wanted to do to him in that moment. Her heart pounded the entire time she stood there, her body flushing hot, pussy squeezing—a familiar set of emotions and sensations when it came to her drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend.

When women online tittered about how hot their spouses looked caring for children, she’d always brushed it off as exaggeration or maybe she wasn’t wired to be horny over that. She’d seen those videos and acknowledged some of the spouses really did look good, in their element as they cared for their children, and she’d always supposed it must’ve been one of those things that tickled certain people’s fancies. Like some people liked ranch over balsamic vinaigrette on their salads—a preference.

Until now.

Until that grocery store trip.

Until she saw how tenderly Eddie cradled the baby, like he’d been doing it his entire life, absently swaying his lean hips back and forth, rocking and soothing the baby, who was fast asleep. Until she saw how at ease he was with the infant, how he didn’t seem at all concerned about dropping it or holding it too tight, as natural as breathing.

After they’d paid and put their things back in their cart to take it out to his van and Eddie had handed the sleeping baby back to the mom almost reluctantly, after they’d gotten home and started putting away most of the cold groceries, Makayla ventured it.

“So you like babies?” she asked as she stuffed a box of cereal into the pantry. It was an effort to keep her voice light, casual, to make it seem like she wasn’t vibrating with arousal right now, though he probably could tell. He was good at reading body language, sometimes catching her moods before she felt them, like some sort of emotional alert dog. Great when she didn’t mind it, not so great when she was trying to be nonchalant.

“Huh?”

He was half-buried in the fridge, rearranging the thousands of yogurts and leftover boxes to make room for the meat they’d bought, so all she saw was the back of him.

She leaned against the counter and admired the way his skinny jeans clung his thighs and legs before padding across the room and snapping the waistband of his bunched-up boxers, revealed by his T-shirt lifting away a sliver from his jeans, playfully.

A little laugh escaped when he bolted upright and smacked the back of his head on a shelf.

“You,” she drawled slowly, running her hand along his broad back, relishing the heat of his soft skin, “babies, likey.”

“I don’t mind them, yeah,” he admitted as he shuffled back and unfolded to his full height, rubbing the back of head.

Now that he wasn’t doubled over, he was almost eye-level with her, maybe an inch or two taller, not that it made all the difference to either of them. When they first got together, she’d expected her height to be a problem but he’d simply shrugged it off.

A furrow creased his brows as he closed the fridge door and leaned against it, his dark eyes examining her. He was a mix of contrasting colors—white skin, dark eyes, red mouth, dark hair—and sometimes she couldn’t believe how pretty her man was. “Why?”

Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she simply said, “Seeing you take care of the baby…was hot. Like, really hot. Now take off your pants so I can suck you.”

A grin split across his face as he hurried to be obey. He didn’t need to be told twice.

The second time he held a child, it was at a cookout Wayne’s work hosted, only this time it was a coworker’s toddler, who squealed and screamed and giggled happily as Eddie tossed him into the air and held him by the leg and sword-fought with sticks they found.

She spent most of the time distracted by it, watching him play and bring a smile to the boy’s face, her body hot and pussy throbbing. Part of her felt bad for being so turned on around Wayne’s coworkers and their families but it wasn’t her fault—it was Eddie’s.

As soon as they got back to their crummy apartment, she was on him, clawing his shirt off and kissing him hungrily, desperate for his touch, for his cock. He laughed at her aggressiveness and then moaned when it translated to her swallowing his cock in one swoop. Any humor seemed to fade in the face of feral desire, and he fucked her right there on the kitchen table, the legs squealing across the flooring as he pounded into her hard and determined.

When they came back down, she grinned and bit his chin playfully, heartbeat dropping back to a standard rhythm.

“You really like seeing me take care of kids,” he said absently as he ran his hand up and down her leg, uncaring of the prickle of hair and instead drawing connecting lines with her moles. “Like, really .” He kissed the length of her throat, nipping and licking.

Makayla flushed hot despite the fact they were both partially dressed, her skirt rucked up around her hips, and he was still inside of her sensitive pussy, soft and warm.

“Pervert. You aren’t going to complain if it gets you laid,” she muttered, but her tone was affectionate, and her embarrassed smile marred her complaint. “Imagine if I was actually pregnant. I bet the hormones would make me super horny.”

He hummed noncommittally. “You want hamburgers for dinner?” he asked finally as he eased out of her and kissed her softly.

“Is the sky blue? Duh!” She hopped off the table and waddled down the hallway to get cleaned up. In doing so, she completely missed the contemplative look on Eddie’s face.

“How do you feel about breeding kink?” Eddie asked halfway through their very hungry late night make out a week later, breathing hard, his face flushed, eyes dark with arousal, hand up her shirt and squeezing her bare breast. His bare, inked-up chest was pink too.

Makayla, pulling away with spit-wet lips, blinked up at him, her brain not firing on all cylinders thanks to his hungry kiss. It took her a second to register the question, and even longer to reply. “Huh? I mean, it’s…it’s not something I ever considered before,” she admitted as she wiggled underneath him, settling back down after a moment. “Why? Is that something you’re into?”

“Maybe. You just get so…horny…you know, when I’m helping with kids, and it got me thinking, that’s all.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he traces her belly button, making her shudder.

“Something new,” she added as she ran her hands over his ropey arms, feeling the heat of his silky skin under her palms. Lugging around band equipment had really toned him up from the boy she’d met four years ago. “Mm. I don’t mind. Safeword?”

A dimple appeared in his cheek as he grinned, leaning down to rub their noses together. “I’m in if you are—all the way, baby. But the word’s Hellfire.” A pause. “Anything you don’t want tonight?”

She shook her head at his usual check-in, heart swelling at his thoughtfulness.

The shift that came over him was a visceral thing, his expression becoming tight and strained, as he leaned down and kissed her hungrily, his tongue threading around hers. His fingers ran through her still-wet hair, closed tight, keeping her in place as he started to grind against her, rutting her through the thin barriers of their underwear.

What Eddie lacked in substantial muscle—more rangy, lean than anything—he more than made up for it both sexual stamina…and his big, meaty cock. Nine thick cut inches, damn near four, almost five inches wide, flushed red and covered in sensitive, fat veins. Taking him was almost always a bit of struggle, requiring lots of lube and gentle thrusting, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness that damn near almost always reduced her to tears? Worth it, every damn time.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he groaned when he broke the kiss, grinning crookedly, his words breathless. His eyes were pupil-blown as he leered, taking her in, admiring her dark, dark, almost-black complexion that contrasted so strongly against his, her hard nipples, her soft belly, her thick thighs spread wide to accommodate him, the wet panties clinging to her.

She rocked her hips, grinding down on him.

He moaned and shoved aside that big sleep shirt she always wore to bed on the nights she wasn’t naked, his head dipping to mouth at her breasts.

The heat of his mouth made her arch her back, pleasure fissuring behind her eyes as they squeeze shut. “Eddie,” she sighed as she sank into the mattress beneath them, focusing on the searing suction of his hungry mouth, his tongue circling her nipple, teeth scraping. His free hand found her neglected breast and squeezed that beaded nipples between his big knuckles, toying with it.

Blood thumped in her ears steadily as he licked and sucked at her sensitive, pebbled skin, too intent on prepping her for his cock to tease her the way he did sometimes. Alongside the rush of her pulse was the white-hot pleasure, thick and syrupy, searing her from the inside out, making her sink her hands into his hair, making her grind against him and sling her legs around his back.

Eddie was meticulous when it came to pleasuring her, whether he used his tongue, cock, fingers, or a toy, and right now was no different, his tongue flicking across her nipple, tugging it between his teeth as he pinched and rolled the other one. She knew for a fact that if he wasn’t bracing himself, his free hand would be in her panties, stroking and teasing her clit as he brought her to multiple orgasms.

His hair tickled across her skin, light enough that she squirmed away, and her breath punched out of her lungs when her movement caused his teeth to scrape.

The noise that escaped her was wild and high-pitched, a keen if she ever heard one, as she shuddered at the delectable sting of bright pain, unexpected and sudden but not unwelcome. Even though it was an accident, she didn’t mind; sometimes the pain only heightened the pleasure.

“You want my cock?” he asked as he freed her nipple and slid down her front, scraping his teeth down her belly. Then he blew a raspberry forcefully into her belly button, the vibration making her laugh.

“You know I do, Eddie,” she replied, still laughing even as he yanked her wet panties down her thighs and knelt between them, shoving her legs apart. She was still laughing breathlessly when he licked a hot stripe up her pussy, the sound choking off into a loud moan, as he set about making her cum enough to wet the blankets underneath them.

He worked her to three orgasms, pulling off to let her body calm down before diving back each time, before he shoved his pajama bottoms down and settled between her still-shaking legs. As he did so, she fumbled to get the value size bottle of lube from the nightstand and handed it to him.

“Color?” he asked even as he liberally smeared cold lube up and down his swollen, red cock, his hips rolling forward on every pass of his fist.

“G-green,” she rasped as she wrapped her legs around his waist, mewling when the blunt, slippery head of his cock pressed against her entrance. “Please, Daddy—need you in me. Don’t you wanna breed me?”

His groan was indicative of his arousal, his self control fraying steadily under her teasing and the use of Daddy. Nothing got him horny like her calling him that.

“You ready, baby?”

“Born ready.” She grinned as he inhaled a big gulp of air and began to push, breaching her pussy. Even with the lube and three orgasms making her sopping, it was a tight squeeze, and he slowly fed her inch of thick inch in short thrusts, each punch of his lean hips forcing more and more into.

Over and over.

An inch, a thrust, another inch, another thrust.

He was splitting her apart, fucking her deeper and deeper every time, and when he was finally fully seated, they both moaned. His arms shook on either side of her head, and sweat ran down his pinched face.

“You okay?” she whispered nervously, watching him with big eyes as her throat tightened. “We don’t—we can—”

“You just…” he trailed off, adjusting his knees, and whimpered when it jostled his cock, making her clamp down on him. “I’m gonna fuck you, hard and fast, okay? I need to pump into your little pussy and fill you up.”

Before she could say anything, he was moving, sliding in and out of her, his thighs smacking into hers. He withdrew, she sobbed, and he slammed back home, breaking her open and rearranging her insides.

“Oh my God!” she cried out, toes curling helplessly as she lay there, unable to do anything except accept the pounding, her wet cunt squelching and gurgling around his cock. Tears sprang to her eyes as every punch of his hips forced the air from her lungs, and all she could do was cry and mewl and sob, his cock striking something just shy of painful inside of her, and even though she wanted to crawl away, she wanted to lean into it all the same.

“God, baby, your cunt’s squeezing me so tight,” he grunted above her, his voice low and guttural as he labored over her, sliding his cock deeper and deeper, like he was trying to force her organs out of the way to make room for his cock. Like he was trying to imprint the shape and size of his cock into her. “You like Daddy’s cock in here, fucking you so hard and deep you cry?”

Her cunt squeezed at his words, the absolute filth coming from his kiss-puffy lips.

He grinned. “Oh, baby, your pussy just got tighter. You squeezed me. You know Daddy likes it when you’re a mess because of him, right? You’ll be an even bigger mess when you’re dripping with my cum. Just a bitch in heat, huh? Needed your man’s cock inside of you, humping away, filling you up?” He withdrew and pushed back in hard, his thighs slapping hers and then ground his hips.

She almost bowed off the bed as he pummeled her sensitive insides, throwing his weight on top of her. Her breath squeaked out as he truly fucked her, hard and fast and deep, using her like she was a sex toy, a receptacle for his cock and his cum.

“You were made for me, baby. Look at you and you greedy little hole, swallowing my cock up,” he grunted in her ear as he speared her again and again, riding her rougher and rougher, until the bed started scraping across the floor. He was breathless now, his exhales wheezing in her ear, as he pounded her. “Made for my dick, made to be my little broodmare, hm?”

A particular hard thrust made her cum unexpectedly, the orgasm crashing through by surprise, her body jolting in the tight restrains of his ropey arms and his weight, her cunt squeezing and milking him. The wail that escaped her was cut off by his tongue in her mouth, plundering, twining around hers and muffling her cries as he took her cunt.

“I’m gonna cum in you, baby. Gonna cum, okay? Just lay there like a good girl and take what Daddy gives you—that big load in your poor little raw pussy. Okay? Okay. Daddy’s gonna cum—oh, fuck—yeah, yeah, yeah! Uh, uh! So good, so good. I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He’d began to cry, his tear pattering on her chest, as he rapidly approached his own earth-shattering orgasm. “So glad you’re here—fuck, fuck—be glad you’re on birth control otherwise— shit, shit , shit— Daddy would be pumping that cunt full of his cum and fuck you even as you got big and pregnant and your tits leaked milk.”

His hips snapped against hers painfully as he started grunting, a sign he was on the cusp, even as he kept babbling.

“Even then, baby. You’d breastfeed and come back to me and Daddy would make you sit on his cock while he sucked on your big swollen nipples,” he rasped, stilling abruptly, cock still lodged inside of her as he came, a broken moan spilling out from his lips. He kept moving, kept rocking through his orgasm, and she clamped down her muscles on his cock, prolonging his pleasure.

It wasn’t until much later, after they’d showered gingerly and drank some water while snacking on ice cream, that she brought up his dirty talk.

“What if we really did try to get pregnant?” she asked quietly as they cuddled on the couch, watching sitcom re-runs.

“Is that something you want?” he asked in return, running his hand up and down her bare arm. “Because I’d…I’d like that.” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, it is.”

“You wanna be a mommy?”

“I mean, it’s only fitting… Daddy .”

And before they climbed into bed, she made a sticky note and slapped it on the bathroom mirror: visit gyno about going off BC.