#after that TL mess

[factoseintolerant]

My head turned a long time ago.

[hauntingofhouses]

"why would you ship mizu and taigen together they're sooooo toxic ugh taigen is AWFUL and mizu should be with ME instead!!!"

of course they're toxic they're both deranged and terrible and that's why they're perfect for each other.

cuz like omg you think mizu would treat you well? mizu would abandon you. look at how she left ringo multiple times. ringo who treats her so well and is nothing but patient and caring and loyal. if you are insecure she will laugh at you because she has no social tact. look at how mikio said "it's a stupid dream" talking about his ambitions of regaining his honour and mizu straight up chuckles and tells him he's right because it IS a stupid dream. and at this point their relationship was cordial and she was even warming up to him!

like. arguably, taigen would be a better romantic partner (per the ideals of his time and culture of course), or at least he would be on paper. cuz i mean as a husband, as he is now, i think he'd be awful. but i'm talking about if you and him were dating or courting or just seeing each other romantically, he would be good to you. like we saw how he behaved with akemi and he was nothing but sweet and gentle. the very reason akemi wanted to marry him so bad was because she KNOWS without a doubt that he respects women and would treat her well. "oh but he cheated on her with the prostitutes while celebrating his engagement!" yeah but per the norms of the time and place, it was not considered cheating and akemi (as well as any wife or romantic partner of that period) would not have minded or even cared.

and yes taigen IS an asshole and he IS obnoxious but come on. so is mizu, if she is allowed to act like herself around you. mizu will tease you and mock you and challenge you and even poke at your insecurities (see:her goading mikio on even though he clearly did not view her teasing as light-hearted banter and took it all very personally). she would tell you to your face if she thinks you're being annoying (see:mizu rolling her eyes and telling akemi to straight up just "shut up" when she'd believed mizu had killed taigen).

mizu is not merely a hot and talented badass with a sword and the insane hyperfocus on her desire for revenge which literally drives her to withstand like, extreme amounts of damage and survive it. mizu is also flawed and the show does a good job at showcasing this, and showing us that she's not merely a victim but also a multilayered person. we see throughout that mizu is blunt and sarcastic and prideful.

oh what's that? oh right, very similar to taigen, who is also hot and talented with a sword and with insane hyperfocus on his desire to duel mizu and regain his honour. taigen who is also flawed (though, arguably, more so) as he is blunt and sarcastic and prideful.

the only thing that sets mizu and taigen apart is the fact that taigen is a man and is not mixed race, which thus affects their positions in society and how people perceive them. these are external factors. taigen being a boy who is not blue-eyed allowed him to easily mingle with the other kids in the village, all of whom were similarly fed the same prejudiced values which led them to gang up against mizu and bully her.

but take all that away. strip them down to the bare essentials. suddenly it's like they are the same person copy and pasted.

and that's what makes them even more interesting. yes absolutely they would be toxic. whatever souls are made of, mizu's and taigen's are the same (derogatory). and we literally see them fight all the time!!!! but the thing is they are both deranged when it comes to this.

do you get me. they both literally get turned on by sparring. mizu's whole spar with mikio was her way of flirting. just look at how she smirked at him and said "unsheathe it" like it's clear that this is an innuendo of not just unsheathing his weapon but also what's in his pants. then during the chopsticks fight with taigen in the snow, despite mizu literally being injured and taigen trying to attack her, mizu gets attracted to him. meanwhile taigen got a boner after wrestling with her in the forge.

taigen goes around saying he wants to kill mizu to regain his honour but he still literally risks life and limb for her constantly. mizu gives ringo stomach ulcers by going around flinging herself into near-death situations 24/7. she ups and leaves her beloved swordfather with barely a goodbye twice to pursue her batshit far-fetched quest for revenge (against people she doesn't even KNOW btw because she literally starts off with practically No Leads and not even knowing the NAMES of the white men who are her maybe-fathers).

these bitches are crazy and you know what good for them. that shit needs to be contained and quarantined though and that's why in that sense they would be good together.

i want to put them both in a jar and shake it very hard and see what happens. personally i think they will argue and insult each other while working perfectly in sync with each other to break out of the jar and then proceed to kill me and make out sloppy style over my dead body while they're both covered in blood.

like that's it that's the dynamic. send post.

[illmoraineakoi]

So how many times do you think Victim tried to commit suicide after Mitsi's death, but never actually got very far because of the fear of potentially waking up back on the PC?

And how many times do you think he was so far beyond caring that he actually did try?

And how many times do you think Agent found him before it was too late?

IMO, all three are a non-zero number.

[msphagime]

Waking on Dagon Island

"I've no regrets... none... yet I wish..." "I wish-" "I wish to fall asleep in my room, on Berk, like I used to. And... And I wish, once I wake in the morning, to see my father- my dad, sat for breakfast." [...] "Heiress Astrid...!" "Can you believe-" "Gods, every time I see her, I fear...! I fear that this will be the time they call her Chief."

Value practice + Gradient map fuckery

Don't you hate waking up from a dream where you got along with your father, only to find out that somehow, while you were sleeping, you've found your way to the island that forever doomed you away from home, for better or for worse? Yeah, me too.

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

I feel like Cleo and Etho could be (unknowingly aromantic) friends with benefits in college who had an unplanned pregnancy (Scar) and due to societal/social pressures and internalized amatanormativity got a bit of a shotgun marriage over it, then said marriage inevitably starts to fall apart a few years later because neither of them actually ever wanted to be married or parents and are kind of romance repulsed by the whole situation on top of all the logistical stress and peer pressure of it all, so ofc they pull a "having a baby to try and save the marriage" (Bdubs) that went about as poorly as you can imagine before finally deciding "y'know what, fuck societal expectations" and finally get a divorce

Over the course of the next several years they have the whole messy exes thing going on LimLife-style, with Cleo single parenting and Etho kinda hovering about the whole situation awkwardly, before eventually things start to simmer down over the decade following their divorce as they settle into no longer being forced into a romantic partnership, Etho actually bes a decently supportive ex who pays child support and is available for babysitting and whatnot, and by the time Scar and Bdubs are becoming adults and the pressures of parenting are lifted to some extent, Cleo and Etho have fully divorced themselves from societal expectations, realized their aromantic, become amicable and eventually friends again, and then at some point - probably because of being tight on money? idk - move into with Grian and end up as roomies

Cleo and Etho are far happier back in their initial qpr friends-with-benefits relationship without kids or romance in the way, especially now that they're also older and more mature, and Scar and Bdubs are just sitting there like. We went through a whole childhood with divorce for this. You two just getting back together. wtf

[codecicle-archive]

wanted to apologise for possibly being someone who fucked up ur tl with 18+ slime posts (coming to grips with how tagging works on this here webbedsite!) please take my sincerest (anonymous) apologies ur a cool goober 🙏

ay man it's alright!! really!!! i understand most of the 18+ people are coming from websites like twitter or tiktok so they don't quite understand how it functions :-) if you ever need a tutorial or any help with understanding the culture here, shoot me an ask! it's insanely different from other social media and i completely understand its weird to adjust to and navigate. peace and love + have fun with your slimeposting ✌️

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

.

[deus-ex-mona]

it started as a simple song-inspired fic, how did it end up like this

[jaylaxies]

TEASER: ONLY IF YOU SAY YES (please say yes)

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, angst.

word count: estimated 15k words. (currently 8k)

teaser wc: 748 words!

synopsis: having your enemy in your friend group was tiring enough, but having him shift into your apartment at the same time all your roomie friends had their club’s exchange program? that was your final straw.

warning: the fic will contain 18+ content, minors dni.

a/n: hihi loves <3 sorry for the delay but the fic is getting longer than intended! so i’ll just leave a little teaser as something to compensate while i finish writing. also, the given teaser is unedited, changes might be included in the fic <3

taglist is open! comment/send an ask to be added <3 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog! blank blogs will not be added to the tl)

With tiredness still evident in your eyes, you worked the stove on, grabbing a pot to heat up water, standing still as you took the support of the marble countertop, your palms lay flat on it as you stared at the packet of mint chocolate that was in the shelf in front of you, something that Sunoo possibly had forgotten to take with him.

“Not sleepy?” A husky voice made you gasp and turn around, caging you right in between the counter and Heeseung.

“Fuck! You scared me,” you gasped at his shirtless figure, “why the fuck are you awake and why are you not clothed?” You asked, distressed.

“I heard noises from the kitchen so I obviously had to come over and check,” he said, tilting his head innocently right after, “I have to make sure the princess is safe, right?”

“I can very well take care of myself, thanks,” you huffed, waiting for him to move, which did not happen.

“Okay, then try pushing me away,” Heeseung said, a slight close-lipped smirk present on his face.

You simply made use of the little space to pour the hot water into the cup noodles, covering it with its lid.

“You love these games too much, don’t you?” You said, finally looking up to see his body right in front of your face.

With thick yet lean muscles, he stood tall, his clavicles visible in an attractive fashion as the dim lights of the room only enhanced the slight traces of his abs, making it evident that Heeseung included working out in his daily routines.

You gulped unknowingly, closing your eyes for a second before meeting him, only for his eyes to fall on your lips for a slight enough, just enough for you to miss it.

“Not gonna push me?” He asked, still playful, but with a gentle rasp in his voice.

“You’re not appropriately clothed for me to touch you, Heeseung,” you said, trying to muster a bored, unimpressed expression, as if your ears weren’t burning warm.

“Why? Does skin to skin contact scare you now?” He challenged, “one touch is all it takes, babe.”

“Oh lord,” you groaned, stretching your neck back, only to find Heeseung’s gaze more intense than ever, “fine, move.”

You placed your cold hand on his warm torso, right above his heart, and you could have sworn it was beating a tad bit faster than how a normal heart should be beating.

Pushing him was practically impossible, especially when he bit his lip and chuckled, not moving an inch despite your efforts. The room felt warm as you scoffed and retrieved your hand.

“Can’t move?” He teased.

“I’m just tired, move.”

“Or, you’re just weak.”

“That’s all you can do Heeseung, challenge a tired girl who’s trying to eat.” You pushed him again.

“I’m strong, princess. Don’t you see?” He pointed at his body, and you closed your eyes yet again, trying to convert your feelings into anger.

“Your body might be strong but your fucking ego is weak.” You said finally shoving him enough for you to move.

“Now, now. That’s wrong, princess.” He said, grabbing your cup noodles and testing your patience yet again.

Messing with you was one thing.

Messing with you while you were sleepy was another thing.

But messing with you while you were sleepy and hungry, that was war.

“Give me the noodles back you small dicked asshole!” You chased after him.

He stopped you easily with a hand, twirling you around and pulling you back, his bare chest pressed against your back.

“Small dick, hm?” He mumbled, keeping the noodles on the counter beside you, dragging his warm fingers across your bare tummy, stopping right on your belly button, “it would go up to here, yeah,” he caressed the area before letting go of you.

You stood there, breathing hard as your cheeks burned with the implication of his cock in your cunt.

“How do you even get women, all talk and no action?” You asked, walking back to your room with the noodles in your hands, avoiding the fact that you were completely flustered.

“Oh I’ll show you all the action you need to see, princess,” he winked as you turned to look at him, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatpants, “g’night, darling,” he smirked, walking away as you spent the night punching your pillow, eating your now soggy noodles.

Lee Heeseung was going to be the end of you.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[fairuzfan]

Hey, so I just saw your "Normalize making IDF soldiers social pariahs" post (the replied on it were turned off so I couldn't say this there). I am by no means disagreeing with and I am definitely not saying that this applies to every IDF soldier or even the Canadian cyclist mentioned, but I really do want to point out that conscription is a Thing in Israel and nobody has a choice whether or not they serve - and also that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of current IDF soldiers who are willingly serving who hate the war in Palestine as much as we do

TL;DR - Deciding to treat an entire group of people as social pariahs is what got us into this mess in the first place - the actions of one doesn't speak for the group

you can dodge a draft, muhammad ali did it and went to jail. Tal in israel did it and he went to prison for 30 days. i dont really have any sympathy for idf soldiers. i dont super care that theyre conscripted, if they actually really did disagree enough they would leave the army. Here's a testimony from a former IDF soldier who left the IDF after they realized that they were participating in the murder of children and families. To emphasize, I think IDF soldiers who participated in the IDF and are taking active steps to counter their past should not be treated like social pariahs.

joining the army is not treated with the scorn it should be. like at all. so if we show people that you cant live in peace if you participated in the harassment and murder of palestinians, then less people will be willing to put themselves in "danger" and not join the army. because even if they weren't committing the most obvious form of genocide now, they still harrass and accost palestinians as their least lethal form of intimidation that they regularly participate in, even outside of gaza.

What got us into this mess is the colonization of palestine and racism. You can choose to be a soldier or not.

[ms-demeanor]

Can you offer any advice for avoiding hoarding when part of the problem is that trying to deal with the clutter and garbage and dirt causes paralyzing anxiety? I want my house to be clean and cluttered because it's stuff I like, but instead it's full of trash and stuff that had a place but doesn't seem to fit back in it after being used.

I can absolutely offer advice about that.

Short TL;DR:

Select the room you want to clean and make a map of it.

Divide the room into small segments like "top of desk" or "cabinet under sink" or even "half of junk drawer." SMALL segments.

Designate bags "trash," "donate," and "consider later."

Schedule a time to work on cleaning each segment, don't just assume "i'll do it next week." Write down an assigned day for each area.

Go into your target area and sort things into those bags.

Optionally, create a bag for memento items to put into a specific memento box/book.

Take bags out of the space when they are full to make more room to work and to see progress.

Do the section for the day and stop. Don't get overwhelmed by a ton of stuff, stop when you've done what you planned for the day (unless you've got good momentum built up and continuing will energize you.)

Long TL;DR:

Go someplace where you are not looking at the mess. You want to draw a map of the room, but you do not want to be in the room. Work one room at a time.

Divide the area you want to clean into very small spaces. You aren't cleaning an entire desk, you are cleaning one drawer of a desk.

Take three containers with you for each section: one trash bag, one donation bag, and one bag of stuff to consider later.

Plan out time to work on the space. Don't say "I'll do the whole thing this weekend" or "I'll get to it after the holidays," sit down and write out a schedule. There's a version of this called 40 bags in 40 days that people do for lent (that was the version of this i first found and followed the first time i did it), but you could do it in ten days, or a hundred, just try to stick to working on each segment on the day it's scheduled.

In each space, keep the stuff that's obviously meant to go there in that space, so if you're cleaning a desk drawer and it has a stapler in it, the stapler can stay there but if the staples and paper clips and rubber bands are a mess put that stuff into the "consider later" bin. Same thing with papers; if you've got a bunch of papers and you may need to keep some and may need to trash some, put them in the "consider later"

THERE IS AN OPTIONAL BIN FOR PEOPLE WHO WANT TO HANG ON TO A MILLION MEMENTOS AND CONCERT TICKETS AND SUCH. I make them by getting gallon freezer bags and filling them up with business cards and concert programs and scraps of wrapping paper and birthday cards. This isn't quite "consider later" because it's probably stuff you know you want to keep, this is "I don't have a home for this thing right now but it's not trash" so this is a temporary home for that category.

Remove stuff from the space as you work. As you fill up a bag of trash or consider later or donate, take it out of the space so you aren't looking at it and you can see the progress you're making on the space.

Do each section as you come to it on your schedule and then call it quits. If you cleaned out the counter next to the sink and that was your area for the day, you don't have to worry about the area under the sink unless you have the energy and enthusiasm for it.

Philosophical musing about why this works

The reason this kind of plan works (for me) is by pre-managing several things. You know you're working with a limited area, you know what you're going to do with the stuff you find in that area (put it in one of your bags or leave it where it is if it belongs in that area), you're working on a limited time so this can't stretch out forever it's just a little chunk, you're thinking about the space as you build your plan so you're visualizing the anxiety inducing thing outside of the space that actually gives you the anxiety which hopefully allows you to detach slightly from the anxiety, and you're getting your steps lined up ahead of time so there's no muddle of "what do i do now, how do I get started" - you get started by grabbing your bags and you go to that day's scheduled section.

The whole thing is constructed to prevent you from getting overwhelmed.

I used to try to clean my room as a kid and I would find something that needed to get put away but I didn't know where it went so I'd spend a bunch of time trying to make a space for it and I'd end up getting lost in the weeds of imagining how I'd use the item and if the new place for it was accessible, and oh look at the items that I found in this other place where I was going to put this item and this method cuts off all of that. Where I am putting the item is in the bag, where it is going is the "consider later" pile and when I've cleared out most of the space I can consider where things go when I've gathered all the uncertain things into one place instead of continually unearthing them and disrupting the process of going through stuff.

What it means to Consider Later

The reason you're working room by room is because you should be isolating the consider later pile by room. If you're cleaning out the bedroom you may end up with stuff that belongs in the kitchen or the office, but you'll end up with a lot of stuff that belongs in the bedroom. When you've worked through all your segments, you can sort the consider later pile and now that you have all the objects together, you can consider whether some of them belong together in a space in the room.

For instance, when I first did this there were a lot of books that needed to go on bookshelves, but my bookshelves weren't accessible in the early parts of the process. So books from the floor and the bed and the nightstand went into the consider later pile and after the whole floor was clear and there was no trash on my desk and all the books I was donating had been pulled from my bookshelves, I was able to organize all of my books at once instead of stumbling across a book every four minutes and trying to shelve it.

That's what spawned the memento bags for me; there was a ton of stuff in my consider later bags that didn't precisely have a place but weren't trash and needed a place made for them. If I'd struggled to find where each item went as I cleaned it would have completely stalled me out.

I kept finding yarn as I went but I didn't have a dedicated yarn spot, so I just put yarn in the consider later pile and at the end I found a basket for it and put it on a shelf in the closet that had been cleared out when I'd donated old clothes. If I had tried to find a spot for the yarn before donating the clothes, I would have had to move it once the better spot opened up, so saving all the consider later stuff for later saved me from having to move stuff several times.

If you're in a small space or if you're living with people and you can't make a pile of stuff in another room for two weeks, at the very least remove the trash and donation bags as you go and designate an area for your consider later pile; maybe a laundry basket or something similar so that you can keep it mobile as you clean.

It's kind of like moving in to a new space. When you move in to an empty room, you have all your stuff in boxes and you need to figure out where it goes and that can take a while, but it's sometimes easier to find a place to put things in a new environment than it is to put things back "where they belong" because maybe you've added a dozen skeins to your collection and they don't belong in the little yarn bag anymore.

What to trash, what to donate, and what to consider later

Trash should be immediately obvious as trash. Anything that is trash goes in the trash bag right away.

If you find yourself thinking "but I might use this plastic fork that came with my value meal," or "this receipt may be important," put it in the consider later pile and don't think about it right now.

The donate bag should be for stuff that will still be useful for someone, but won't be useful for you. Clothes that you don't like, books you hated and won't re-read, toys you don't want to keep, all of that goes in the donate pile. If you think you might want to keep a piece of clothing but you want to make sure it doesn't fit, don't stop to try it on now just put it in the consider later pile and you can sort it into the donate bag later.

"Consider later" is for anything that requires more than thirty seconds of thought or effort to handle. If you're looking at your desk and you've got a keyboard for your computer on your desk that keyboard is staying there and doesn't need to be considered. If there's an empty takeout cup on your desk, that cup is going in the trash and doesn't need to be considered. If there's a receipt for your computer sitting on your desk, you may want to save that for record-keeping purposes but may not have a place to put it, so that is what you consider later.

Some guidelines on what is or is not trash

You might look at a sturdy plastic cup from a gas station and say "that isn't trash, I could use that, that's still good" but unless you have a specific purpose in mind for it right now, that is trash. If you wouldn't put it in a donation box to be used for some ambiguous future purpose, you don't need to keep it.

If you have a specific purpose in mind, like using an old milk jug to make a watering pitcher for your plants, it may not be trash. But only ONE is not trash; more than that is trash.

If you wouldn't need to have a hard copy of a paper and you have an electronic copy, it is trash. This means receipts for most everyday purchases like groceries and fast food. Don't keep receipts for items past their return period, don't keep receipts for items that you have a digital copy of unless that item cost over $1000.

Nice cardboard boxes (or good glass jars, or sturdy plastic takeout boxes, or cleaned food containers) that you don't have a use for are trash (or recycling, depending on where you live, but still in the trash category).

If you know someone who is specifically looking for an item (like maybe the neighbor kids are asking for cardboard tubes for a science project, or you work with a meal delivery group that could use extra packets of takeout utensils, or you have a friend who is into canning and has asked for jars, or if you make your own soup stock and need containers to put it in, or if you have a friend who is moving and needs lots of good cardboard boxes) then these items don't *have* to be trash but if you are just keeping them in your space and not giving them to people who want them or putting them to use yourself, they are just trash in your space and you should throw them away.

Memory Books/Memento Bags

I make memory books out of the little items i collect into one gallon storage bags. They allow me to hang onto the stuff that I want to keep because it brings me good memories without having a pile of random junk and sometimes without having to keep the item, or having to keep the whole item.

If the thing I want to keep because it brings me good memories is bulky, perhaps I can take a put a picture of that item to put in the book. If it is a worn out shirt, perhaps I can cut a patch off the shirt to put it in the book. If it is a card, perhaps I can cut out just the front of the card, or I can almost certainly just throw away the envelope and put the card in the book.

If you have things that do *not* fit into the memory book, like costume jewelry or rocks or a weird toy you got out of a coin machine on a really fun family vacation, you can also make a memory box; I have some of these and they've got a bunch of truly random crap in them, but I *like* having the nametag from the four hours that I worked at Denny's, or the keychain from when my mom took me to the morgue training class. It's fine to like these things, and to keep many of them, but you want to keep them someplace that they won't stress you out; that might be a display case for nice things, but it also might be a pretty velvet bag that you periodically pull out of a drawer and sort through like a magpie, or a wooden box that you painted.

You can also be selective about this stuff. You don't need every piece of costume jewelry your grandmother owned; keep the pieces you really like or the ones you have strong memories of or the ones that are very nice or the ones that are in good shape. But look, my mom was a teacher and she had a wide variety of goofy holiday jewelry that she wore in the classroom and I don't need to hang onto that. I don't need the big plastic ghost earrings that won't fit in my plugs, but I'll hang onto the spider brooch. She collected cheap watches - I don't need all of her four dollar watches, I can keep the nice ones, or the one that she got for ten years at her job. Do the same thing with stuffed animals and baby clothes and magazines and children's books. You don't need to keep all of it, and keeping all of it isn't going to help you remember that time more, or remember that person better.

Do you really want to keep it or do you feel obligated?

Youtuber Caroline Winkler (who has some great videos about home organization that I like a lot, in particular "this is why your home is a mess" - with the caveat that she likes closed storage and my ADHD ass loves open storage) has a really great tip on getting rid of stuff that works a LOT better for me than the Marie Kondo "Does this spark joy?" question and it's the Red Wine Test. Instead of asking if an item sparks joy, you ask yourself "If a bottle of red wine spilled on this (or if it was in some other way damaged) how hard would I try to fix it?" If you wouldn't try very hard, or if you would be *relieved* then you can get rid of that item. If one of the Venom mugs I have on the shelf fell down and broke, I wouldn't try hard to fix it. If my cat stuffed animal from when I was a kid tore open, I would immediately be looking for my sewing kit.

.... I should recycle those cheap teal glasses, actually.

Some general tips that may help to get you started that work for me and my ADHD and may work for you and your anxiety:

Start a timer for a short time. You don't have to clean your whole house, you are just going to pick up for five minutes. Then you can stop, and you only have to face a *little* bit of the anxiety.

5-4-3-2-1-go. Don't overthink it, count down quickly and then get up and do something. Keep going in as long a spurt as you can manage without getting too upset, but cutting down on the time for pre-game fretting might help with the anxiety.

Do the smallest amount possible. You don't have to clean this room, you just have to take one dish to the sink. You don't have to do all the dishes, you can just unload part of the top tray of the dishwasher.

Some general tips on trying to keep a space clean:

First, encouragement: It is a lot easier to maintain a clean space than it is to create one.

If you're thinking that something needs to be done and it can take you under five minutes to do it and it's right in front of you, do it. I do this with my dishwasher. It turns out unloading the dishwasher is the main thing that stalls me on dishes and keeps my sink full, so now when I'm waiting for the kettle or letting my tea steep, I unload whatever I can get done in that time. If I have the vacuum out and I did my living room but the hall and the bedroom could use a quick pass too, I vacuum them while I've got the machine in my hand.

Set success traps. Success traps are things that let you fall into succeeding by front-loading the effort (or executive function) of cleaning with planning. Trash collects in your living space? Put a bunch of little trash cans everywhere. Cleaning your bathroom takes extra time because you have to go get glass cleaner and paper towels from another room? Keep a bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels under the sink. You never sweep because it is a pain in the ass to get the broom out of the broom closet? Hang the broom from a mount in the kitchen. It takes too long to clean the counter because you have to pick up a bunch of makeup brushes and bottles and soap? Put that shit on a tray and now you only have to move one thing to clean the counter.

And for your specific question, with "things never seem to quite fit back where they came from" sounds like you're playing storage tetris, which is when things have a place and it is a *very specific and exact* place that doesn't have a lot of room around it. You may need to think about downsizing for your space, or, more likely, think about more efficient storage. That Caroline Winkler video I linked has some tips on this ("don't store things in a way that will make you angry like putting your common use objects on an out of reach shelf or you'll never put things back because it's hard to put them back" and "maximize your weirdo spaces" speak to your situation, i think) that I've put into use, particularly in my kitchen. It was hard to keep the counter clear because it was hard to put my stand mixer away because the rack for the stand mixer had a wok and a bunch of cast iron pans and a panini press and a chafing dish on it; I put the panini press and the least-used cast iron and the chafing dish and the wok in a more out-of-the way cabinet (because i basically never use them but they're very useful when I need them) and now that shelf has a little grill, my more commonly used cast iron, and my stand mixer so putting away the stand mixer is a lot less effort so my counter stays clear. I wasn't using the top shelf of my dish cabinet for dishes because it's too high up for daily use, but it's perfect for the rice cooker, waffle maker, and food processor that I use less than my dishes but more than my george forman grill.

And anyway, the TL;DR for all of that:

Work a little bit at a time, be nice to yourself, don't keep things that aren't worth keeping, and configure your storage in a way that works for you (by keeping your lifestyle, the way you use things, and how easy it is to put away into account before deciding that's where something lives).

Good luck!

[ladystoneboobs]

idt we talk enough about how a song of ice and fire is also the song of incest and cannibalism. i mean, sure, obviously both of those subjects are noted as present, but the saga feels much more known for its incest, which idt is fair or accurate to the later materiel. iirc, jaime fucking cersei next to their dead firstborn is the last instance of onpage incest happening in present tl, and after that it's all about the cannibals, baby.

(disclaimer: cw/tw sa, cw/tw rape, and i'm not counting cousincest as that's normal in-world even for non-targaryens and also still legal in many places in our world today, nor counting the faux-incestuous freudian mess that is littlefinger/alayne(sansa)/sweetrobin, nor any dark humor jokes and/or unfulfilled threats wrt forced cannibalism)

in fact pretty much all the active incest during the present tl happens in those first 3 books:

the twincest as a major plot point ofc, kicking action off when bran saw them fucking in a tower

and viserys creeping on dany and twisting her nipple

tyrion relating his backstory to bronn wherein he and tysha were both raped by proxy by his father, tywin (tho tyrion does not use that terminology)

craster still being alive to rape and impregnate his own daughters (resulting in dozens of forced incestuous relationships)

and theon unknowingly groping his own sister while she (knowingly) groped him in return

jaime's early pov recalled how he shut up cersei with kissing when they fought after bran refused to die

bella of stoney sept trying and failing to seduce gendry who is (unbeknownst to them both) her half-brother as both were sired by robert baratheon (only example in these 3 books where incest was averted before any sexual activity or incestuous contact occurred)

the aforementioned sept twincest next to joffrey's corpse

tyrion learning from oberyn about cersei twisting his penis when he was a baby

cersei's failed attempt to seduce jaime in wst, pulling out his dick for either a bj or hj until her talk of tyrion's death made him lose his boner

while incest is not exactly absent from the text after that, it seems to exist in the feastdance only in hypotheticals or past memories:

aeron's trauma flashbacks of his (implied only in published text) csa by euron

jaime still feeling lust when seeing cersei nude

and her fond reminiscing about them fucking behind robert's back/brief dream of them as a married couple before her walk of shame

and cersei remembering another she twisted tyrion's baby penis

victarion misinterpreting asha's offer of partnership as a marriage proposal and suddenly looking at his niece in a new way with "his manhood beginning to stiffen"

jaime's recollection of fucking cersei at darry next to robert as he was passed out drunk before cersei sent him to hunt arya (which would have happened back in agot and the point of this scene is more his failed hunt for a child just to make cersei happy)

arianne's "uneasy" memory of a past fantasy about being seduced by a man whose description is suspiciously similar to her late uncle oberyn

the aborted marital match of aegon/young griff to his purported aunt dany

illyrio saying (the now dead) viserys tried to rape dany the night before her wedding to drogo (another event from agot concerning a guy we already knew was into incest)

and tyrion once saying he wanted to rape as well as murder cersei

conversely, the cannibalism in the earlier books is most often only unproven hypotheticals alluded to as possible cannibalism:

old nan saying the others fed their dead servants the flesh of human children (which we have not yet seen with any wights so far, whether or not one counts walking undead eating human flesh as straight-up cannibalism)

the mystery meat in flea bottom's bowls o' brown which may or may not contain symon silver tongue after tyrion had him killed

renly's recollection that cressen kept stannis from catapulting their old master-at-arms by saying they may need to eat him later (which did not come to pass thanks to davos)

joffrey telling his people to eat their own dead (with no way of knowing if any actually did)

lady hornwood eating her own fingers (though bran's pov only notes them being chewed on, not swallowed. it's only in adwd that people talk of her eating the fingers.)

the mentions of the ice river clans being the cannibals beyond the wall (who are def not among the free folk jon snow gets to know onpage, making it just background detail)

bran's (possibly mythical) story of the rat cook

and biter chewing on people he attacked and other corpses (which seems to be just a side hobby connected to his killing method moreso constituting a snack than a full meal from a person butchered for meat. this tendancy of his is just background detail in acok, with biter chewing a corpse in the background after the weasel soup operation, and the hindsight implication that it could well have been him rather than dogs or wolves who had "been at" the corpses after the skirmish where yoren was killed)

while the feastdance feels much more in your face with cannibalism, having not only more total mentions of the practice but also more confirmed, actual cannibalism (as opposed to the ambiguity of each and every bowl o' brown), for those who know how to look at the evidence:

jaime learned that his father's mad dog aka the mountain fed parts of vargo hoat to all his prisoners (including vargo himself) after recapturing harrenhal

and euron bragged about pulling a similar trick with the warlocks he captured (the only twist being that the warlocks knew what they were being forced to eat, which vargo hoat and wylis manderly etc at harrenhal likely didn't)

the elder brother of the quiet isle told of biter eating all of a woman's breasts at saltpans after she'd been raped and killed (prob the largest amount of flesh biter's confirmed to have eaten from one corpse)

bran and co. ate "pig" supplied by coldhands which had to be long pig aka human meat

brienne felt her face being eaten by biter in her own pov (which is so much worse than him chewing others in the background of the weasel soup scene)

theon was told that two ironmen at moat cailin were found eating their dead comrades

the astapori were said to eat their own dead while under siege by the yunkishmen

and then were said to do so again in refugee camps outside meereen

sam and davos sailed past skagos and remembered stories of skagosi cannibalism

khrazz the pit fighter cut the hearts from his defeated foes to eat them

cotter pyke's last letter to jon snow said the wildlings were eating their own dead at hardhome

4 of stannis's men were executed by burning for butchering and eating other men (with asha wondering how many others had done so without being caught)

and ofc the frey pies with wyman manderly having his 3 former guests killed and serving their meat to their own kin and the other guests at ramsay's wedding while eating some himself too

two of these examples (involving gregor clegane and euron greyjoy) must have actually happened during the course of asos, but grrm chose to give us the gruesome details in affc, which was brand new information about men we already knew were villains but did not know were into that fucked-up shit specifically, unlike being reminded that agot-era jaime and viserys wanted to fuck their sisters. (and not unlike how adwd has the clarification of multiple characters saying lady hornwood ate her own fingers as opposed to bran's acok pov just saying she chewed on them.) it's as if after craster was killed and jc effectively broke up grrm decided cannibalism was the taboo subject matter he would fill the later books with, so we'd really feel the increasing danger of starvation-induced cannibalism with winter's arrival (and have no trouble believing rickon's new home of skagos really is a cannibal island). however, in-universe it feels like there's some sort of environmental balance connection so that the decrease in one formerly common behaviorial abomination just allows another such abomination to fill in the gap with a sharp increase in activity, like deer overpopulation resulting from lack of predators as if all the active incest somehow stopped more people from eating themselves or other people.

[rikiislvr]

✧ k. - nishimura riki

pairing: nishimura riki x afab!reader

summary: one wrong slip up, can shatter some hearts.

warnings: cursing

you and niki got into a heated argument, all because you tried to go through his phone for something, and he got really defensive about it.

and you immediately knew he was hiding something from you,

“you always let me look through it!? i don’t understand what changed all of a sudden.” you scoff and cross your arms as you stood from the bed, niki was sitting at the edge, his phone in his pocket as he rubbed his temples.

“just because i won’t let you go through it, means im hiding something?” he shakes his head.

“why can i just.. you never had a problem with it!” you tilt your head, “well i do now. and i don’t want you to look through my phone. now can we just go to sleep now? gosh- ive had a long day and i’m annoyed y/n.”

you scoff at his tone, “i’m good. i don’t wanna sleep in here tonight. i’ll take the couch.” you grab your pillow. “are you serious?” he watched you, you didn’t reply, you just left the room and went to the couch in the living room.

niki got up and followed you, “don’t be like this.” he sighed, “be like what?” you roll your eyes and laid the pillow down,

“you never sleep in here. can you just come to bed?” he pushed his hair back, “no. i’m fine on the couch.” you look at him.

niki was over it. he was frustrated with the day in general, back to back activities for the recent comeback, he didn’t have time to come home to this.

which is exactly why he was going to say something he was gonna regret for the rest of the night…

“you’re being so stubborn. you’re being so annoying all because i won’t let you look through my damn phone y/n?! it sounds like insecurity really..” he shouts suddenly,

you gasp softly, your eyes began to swell with tears as you looked down, niki immediately realized he messed up,

“shit.. no, hey.. i’m-

“i’m leaving.” you push past him and into the bed room, niki was confused at first but caught on what you just said, immediately chasing after you,

“babe..? where are you going?” niki asked, a hint of worry in his voice. you grab your bag, packing whatever you can, “i can’t stay here tonight.” you whisper.

niki walked over to you and grabbed your hands, “no no.. you don’t have to leave, please? i’m sorry, i don’t know why i said that.. i’ll-

“you don’t have to do anything niki. i’m just gonna go.” you zip up the bag, you walked past him and went to put on your shoes, grabbing your keys from the hook, niki followed after you,

“no baby… please, please don’t go? i’m sorry.. i really am. i don’t know why i even said that… you just.. you can’t go through my phone.” niki looked down, you wiped your eyes.

“it’s fine. i don’t want too anymore anyways.” you shrug and left the apartment door.

once the door shut, niki felt his heart shatter. “shit.. no no no..” he whispered to himself, running both hands down his face,

he knew he messed up.

he just didn’t want you to look through his phone.

not because he was cheating or.. talking to someone else.

it was because he had photos of the ring he wanted to buy to propose to you. and he couldn’t delete it.

and he knew if you seen it, it would spoil the surprise.

but he could’ve came off better with his words, he sighed to himself and sat at the counter in the kitchen, staring off at the wall.

he had to apologize to you,

and he knew the best way to do so.

a/n: this was kinda short but hey it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while, gotta post something! sorry for such a sad draft haha :(

tl: @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet

[lyculuscaelus]

So lately I’ve been seeing a lot of posts asking people to stop trying to make Odysseus look nice in their works cuz he’s a “messed-up person in the mythology”. Your opinion is valid however I have but one thing to point out:

You want to know who started all this? Who started to “make Odysseus look nice” in the first place?

It’s Homer. It’s nobody else but Homer himself.

A non-Homeric Odysseus would try to murder people out of his own interests. He’d murder Palamedes without remorse (and we’d be cheering over this but it’s a murder after all), he’d attempt to murder Diomedes just to get the Palladium himself, he’d volunteer to kill Astyanax…meanwhile you wouldn’t find any mention of either Palamedes or Nauplius in Homer’s poems, neither did he mention anything abt the Palladium heist (and Diomedes necessity did not happen until Conon’s version), the death of Astyanax, the distribution of war prizes, etc. And all the details in the Odyssey seemed to deny the existence of Nauplius’s vengeance at all, so Odysseus would not take any of the blame.

A non-Homeric Odysseus would be depicted as “cruel, treacherous”, meanwhile in book 10 of the Iliad Odysseus was not mentioned to have killed anyone during the marauding, neither did he promise Dolan anything at all. The negative interpretations are denied by these details subtly put by Homer.

A non-Homeric Odysseus would be widely known as a “coward” for only shooting arrows from afar. But Homer gave him a spear and had him absolutely slaying in both the Iliad and the Odyssey. That part of Ajax’s speech was invalid already.

Most importantly—a non-Homeric Odysseus would be having kids everywhere else, and the loyalty to his own wife as seen in the Odyssey is no where to be found. Meanwhile his lineage was a single-son line made by Zeus in the Odyssey, and his love for Penelope was one of his main drives, especially seen in book 5 of the Odyssey. He loved his family as a loving parent—something you don’t get to see in most of the non-Homeric writings—for most of the time they followed a different tradition indeed, in which Odysseus wasn’t half as nice as in the Odyssey.

TL;DR: in case you haven’t noticed, the characterization of the Homeric Odysseus was quite different from a non-Homeric version of Odysseus. It’s not that Homer didn’t know of the existence of other versions—he knew them too well, which is why in his version of the story, you don’t get to see any mention of them.

[eldritchneuro]

One thing that I seen Stampede Wolfwood often characterized as by folks is well... distant is probably the best word for it. Mopey. Averse. The sort of guy who you wouldn't catch asking for a hug on the worst day of his life.

But I don't think that's true. Or at least, not beyond being a front he puts up. And there's one scene that for me confirms it. Because when Vash gets shot in Julai, Wolfwood's first response isn't to attack back.

It's to run over, put an arm out for support, and check in on him. Only when Vash shows himself to be okay do we see Wolfwood tell these people to back the fuck off.

You could read motivation into this act of comfort. There's fuel here for shipping, or perhaps Wolfwood is that terrified of his boss's mark getting injured. But it does also pair nicely with another scene not a few minutes later.

"My body moves before I can think."

In the split second before someone gets hurt, Vash isn't considering whether or not he should help them. He just does. The desire to protect is something so deeply ingrained in his core that it has become pure instinct.

And I think it's the same with Wolfwood. The moment that he takes to put up that shield of unbothered-ness is a moment too late. Big brother Nico has already taken action.

And even when he's just messing around, for someone who is meant to be cold and uncaring, Wolfwood's suspiciously handsy. This scene between him and Meryl would not have the same affectionate 'bickering siblings' vibe if he didn't insist on throwing his arm around her.

He's trying to mask it here by being annoying, but there's affection here. Not just emotionally, but through physical touch. Proximity too - guy's not adverse to getting up in people's faces to nick (ha) stuff.

And even at his most hostile and snappy, well, there's no strict reason why he has to get so close to Vash and grab him by the shirt like this:

But is it really a surprise that Wolfwood's like this? After all, the flashback with Livio shows that he was absolutely an affectionate and caring kid, even if edgy-teenager logic would have it utterly mortifying to admit out loud. The Eye of Michael can try to beat it out of him all they want, but a desire for closeness isn't something you can just remove from someone. It may end up muted, sure, but deep down it will always still be there.

TL;DR Wolfwood is absolutely secretly the biggest cuddlebug on this godforsaken planet and you can't convince me otherwise.

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

tl;dr hitting blinkers on a dab pen with stoner!suguru getou [prev] [nxt]

your situationship with suguru remains undefined. not that it’s pressing—you’re comfortable with deepening the relationship before labeling it. to you, he’s your man that’s not your man, but that’s your man. and if that’s confusing, then trying to define your relationship with gojo might just send you into a spiral. you quickly learned that being involved with suguru means gojo is automatically part of the package, like some bizarre two-for-one deal. 

after only a couple of interactions, gojo was already insisting you call him by his first name, texting you like you’d been friends for years. suguru warned you he was clingy, but you’d imagined it on a smaller scale. not that it’s a problem—he’s not annoying. if anything, he’s entertaining, sending you memes, munchies, and random gossip. since suguru doesn’t seem to mind and occasionally looks relieved to have gojo off his back, you’re happy to go along with it.

the conversation you find yourselves revisiting the most is about suguru’s uncanny ability to outsmoke both of you. every single time, with no exceptions. while you and gojo are baked into the furniture, marveling at how vivid your senses have become, suguru is casually riding a mellow high, maybe a little giggly, but never anywhere close to where you and gojo end up.

the downside? for you, it means being hyper-aware of his fleeting, soft touches—every caress amplified, every kiss leaving you spiraling. one brush of his fingers, and you’re a mess, a pillow princess completely wrecked before things even escalate. you wish you could share that out-of-body, dreamlike state with him, instead of the night ending with him looking after you and gojo like a couple of overgrown children.

gojo, ever the opportunist, proposed a solution: dab pens.

“totally different experience,” he assured you. while building tolerance to smoking is something you can gradually ease into, a dab pen hits like a truck—instant and overwhelming, a visceral high. he already had one picked out, but you can’t help the pang of guilt that creeps in. is it wrong to be plotting on suguru like this? the question lingers, so you text gojo for some reassurance.

satoru :3: nahh its morally grey

you: that’s still not good

satoru :3: everything is relative, the earth is flat, life is a simulation satoru :3: come on I alr bought the cart

you: oh brother you: fine pick it up rn bc I got my shift covered tmr and suguru’s free tn

satoru :3: kay! btw its 90.02% thc satoru :3: the packaging has an alien abduction on it :P

you: you’re not making me feel better

satoru :3: my accomplice <3

you: what if it doesnt work you: ive seen him face 4 blunts. back2back

satoru :3: not if we hit blinkers yk his ass is competitive

you: I just might die tn…

accepting that you have no idea where the night will take you, you call an uber to their apartment, savoring what feels like your final moments of lucidity for the day. when you arrive, you see suguru sitting on the stoop of the building, passing a blunt to toji, whose bruised eye is still faintly visible, serving as a reminder of his failed attempt to hit on you.

men are so uncomplicated—they argue, tussle, and then they’re back to being cordial like nothing ever happened.

as you approach, toji ashes the blunt and nods in acknowledgment. you squint, making out the detailing on toji’s sweatsuit—it’s denim tears, and overall he looks way more put together. his dark hair is trimmed neatly, and he’s sporting a silver chain. suguru’s lounging comfortably in grey sweats, and an oversized black tee. he rises, effortlessly pulling you into his arms. 

“hey baby,” he greets warmly, and you can smell the faint mint of his shampoo beneath the haze of smoke clinging to him. you squeeze his waist, drawing back to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“hi sugu,” you eye toji warily—nodding his way, “toji.”

suguru gestures to toji, “go ahead and top that off, we’re heading in.”

“good lookin’,” toji replies with a sly smirk, waving you away, “see ya.”

the elevator doors slide shut, commencing its ascent, and you can’t help but ask, “is toji out here robbing folks?”

suguru chuckles, clearly amused. “kinda. he started scamming, swiping cards, and jamming chips—that kind of thing.” he shakes his head. “honestly, he’s really been hustling. I’ve never seen him more actively involved with megumi.”

you draw in a breath, “well… that’s good?”

inside, the apartment is clean, lavender-scented, and gojo is already sprawled on the couch, watching cartoons. he brightens when he sees you, enthusiastically patting the seat beside him.

“finally! we’ve been waiting forever.”

“forever” turns out to be less than an hour, according to suguru, but gojo whines dramatically anyway. 

“so,” suguru drawls, eyeing you both suspiciously, “what are you two plotting?”

gojo disappears momentarily, returning with the dab pen like a magician revealing his trick. 

“ta-daa~!” he announces.

suguru blinks, unimpressed. “it’s just a pen?”

“not just any pen,” you reply, resting a hand on his thigh. “trust us.”

gojo smirks. “unless you’re scared or something?... pussy.”

suguru raises a brow, grabbing the pen. “so how are we gonna do this?”

you clasp your hands together, “we can only hit blinkers.”

just as gojo predicted, suguru’s competitive streak takes over. after throwing some jabs and a quick trip to the fridge to stockpile water, you’re ready.

gojo takes the lead, he activates the pen, pressing the button down five times until it glows an ominous red. he lifts it to his lips with a mock salute taking a deep, dramatic inhale. the faint woosh of his draw drags on for several seconds until the light blinks. 

he ghosts the thick smoke for a moment, then exhales in a steady stream. “easy.” he declares smugly—until the coughing starts. his bravado crumbles as he hacks and sputters, spilling water in his frantic search for a sip.

your hit goes about as well. the initial inhale feels smooth, but halfway through, your throat ignites like you’ve swallowed fire. you’re left chugging water, gasping for relief while gojo’s laughter fills the room.

suguru’s hit is no different. he takes the pen with his usual quiet confidence, lips curling around it like this is nothing. the first few seconds are smooth—calculated, even—until the thick, milky smoke betrays him. he chokes, his back shaking as a fit of coughing overtakes him.

“shit,” he rasps, eyes squeezed shut as he leans back. “that cart packs a punch.”

twenty minutes pass, you think you’ve suffered through three, maybe four more hits and you’re all sprawled on the couch in a collective stupor, shoulders pressed together as the room swirls in a pleasant, woozy haze.

your head feels like it’s been submerged underwater. being sandwiched between suguru and gojo, doesn’t help, the warmth of their bodies makes you hyper-aware of how sluggish and foggy you feel. instinctively, you twitch and then wonder if anyone noticed. the tv sounds several decibels louder and you realize that gojo has been watching scooby-doo. 

“hear me out—,” gojo declares out of nowhere, “velma?”

suguru hums. “not really a hear me out. most people would.” he looks at you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’d love to see you dressed as velma—have you fumbling for your glasses.”

your cheeks flush, but gojo ignores it pressing on. “fred?”

“basic.”

“okay… I got it. the sheriff, he’s got big dick energy.”

you decidedly don’t hear him out. but, he’s already moving on to the next “pressing” issue.

“guys. guys.” he jabs a finger at the screen, “I neeed that big-ass sandwich. like right now. ’m starving!”

honestly, he’s got a point. the towering sandwich dripping with sauces and stacked with layers of meat and veggies looks incredibly appetizing in your current state. suguru seems to agree because he grabs your hand and drags you to the fridge.

the sight inside is… grim. two eggs, a loaf of bread that looks like it’s been there too long, a couple of protein drinks, and some beer.

suguru lets out a long, dramatic groan. “guess we’re hitting the corner store. at least it’s only a block away.”

“an adventure!” gojo leaps to his feet, spinning in an exaggerated flourish. “let’s go!”

the three of you pile into the elevator, the hum of its old machinery filling the small space. when the doors creak open on the ground floor—the correct floor this time (you may have accidentally pressed the second floor first)—there, waiting for you, is obstacle # 1: the brats.

megumi and his friends are darting back and forth across the lobby, their shrill laughter echoing as they roughhouse. you think they’re playing tag, but you’re not sure. the three of you freeze, exchanging a silent look before attempting to walk in a straight line toward the door, as if that might somehow make you invisible.

it doesn’t. if anything, it makes you look incredibly suspicious.

“you guys look weird!” a high-pitched voice cracks through the commotion. “you know you don’t need to walk in a line—we’re not at school!”

you glance down to see one of megumi’s friends: a boy with short pink hair and big brown eyes, staring up at you curiously.

megumi approaches, scowling. his dark brows knit together in a way that makes you feel like you’ve just been caught red-handed.

“I know these guys,” he announces, side-eyeing you all. “they’re friends with my dad. and they’re too old to still be walking in lines.”

he tilts his head, sharp and accusatory. “did you guys cook with my dad’s pot?”

gojo, the boldest of the three of you, raises an eyebrow. “what?”

“you know, my dad’s pot. my mom’s always telling him to stop using it because it smells funny. I don’t know why he doesn’t just wash it. after he cooks with it, he acts weird like this too.”

oh.

suguru takes drastic measures. “megumi, nobara just tagged you back! are you really going to let that slide?”

megumi whips around, glaring at the little girl with cropped brown hair. “nobara!” he yells, charging after her.

taking advantage of the distraction, the three of you bolt for the door.

outside, the crisp night air greets you. despite the brief confrontation, you continue walking in a rigid line, suguru leading the way toward the corner store. you’re at the back, stumbling over your own feet every few steps. gojo, meanwhile, is completely engrossed in his phone, so much so that he almost walks into a pole.

reaching the corner store comes with a short-lived sense of accomplishment until you encounter obstacle #2: deciding what to buy.

inside, the fluorescent lights are harsh and invasive, humming faintly. the cashier, a thin man with neatly parted black hair and sharp cheekbones, greets suguru with a polite nod.

“what’s up, ijichi?” suguru says, raising a hand.

“welcome back, getou. let me know if I can help you with anything,” ijichi replies, his voice monotone but cordial.

you stalk the aisles like predators circling prey, overwhelmed by options. after what feels like an eternity of indecision—picking things up, putting them down, and staring some more—you finally gather your haul and head to the register.

ijichi surveys your collection with barely concealed disbelief: a cinnamon roll, two twinkies, a ready-made hotdog, a bag of hot fries, two cherry cokes, and a pack of gummy bears.

as he rings up your total, you think you catch him gagging slightly. you clutch the back of suguru’s shirt for support, and he glances at you, startled, as if he hadn’t realized you were standing so close.

ijichi bags your items in a flimsy plastic sack, his expression somewhere between amused and horrified. “have a… safe night.”

the bell jingles as the door closes behind you, and a cold breeze makes you shiver. gojo digs into the bag immediately, tearing open a twinkie wrapper with his teeth.

“’s’jus me,” he mumbles through a mouthful, “or waf he lookin’ at ush weird?”

suguru points to his own mouth. “satoru, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

gojo swipes at his face, wiping crumbs on his joggers. his phone dings sharply, and he frowns, glancing at the screen before looking up at you nervously. in comes obstacle # 3: gojo’s spontaneous antics.

“satoru,” you say, crossing your arms both to steady yourself and shield against the cold. “what did you do?”

suguru doesn’t notice your exasperation—he’s in his own world, his hair draped over his shoulder, stray strands framing his face. his faraway expression, cheeks puffed out slightly, makes him look softer than usual. you’d think it was cute if you weren’t so annoyed.

gojo’s explanation spills out in one breath. “okay, so watching scooby-doo made me think about dogs so naturally I started looking up puppy pics on insta, and a breeder I know—,” he gestures to suguru, “yaga, posted about a litter of puppies he’s trying to sell, and I, uh… I made an impulse buy.”

“what?!” you and suguru exclaim in unison.

gojo flinches but presses on. “I wasn’t thinking! they’re pit-lab mixes, and soo cute I couldn’t resist. I didn’t think he’d be ready to sell one so fast, but he’s here now.”

as you near the apartment, you spot a black suv parked out front, hazards blinking. its headlights flash as if signaling to gojo, whose unmistakable white hair gives him away.

gojo shakes his arms out. “guys, do I sound normal? I need to fix this before I come off as an irresponsible pothead.”

“you are an irresponsible pothead,” suguru deadpans, though he smirks. “but yeah, you’re the most coherent right now. lead the way.”

the suv’s window rolls down, revealing a bulky man with dark glasses and a goatee.

“satoru, that you? suguru? long time no see. hop in—the puppies are in the back. you’ve got the pick of the litter.”

gojo heads for the rear door, but suguru tugs at your shirt, pulling you back. his voice is quiet, almost hesitant. “hey… I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed. can you wait with me for a sec before we deal with gojo’s nonsense?”

your heart melts. “of course.” you wave gojo off, telling him you’ll catch up in a minute, and follow suguru into a narrow alley running alongside the building. it’s secluded and dimly lit, the faint sounds of the city echo in the distance as you stop and turn to him.

grasping his hands, you intertwine your fingers with his. his face is slightly flushed, his expression open and vulnerable.

“are you okay? do you want to go inside?”

“no, no—” he waves it off, his voice soft but tight. “I’m just… overstimulated. everything feels too loud, too sharp. I’m all over the place.”

you snort softly, amused by the unexpected role reversal. “that’s how gojo and I end up feeling half the time. you’re so cute.”

rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, you press a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“what do you need from me?” you ask.

he leans into your touch, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “this is nice,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist and nestling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath is warm, tickling your skin.

instinctively, your hands sweep under his loose top, brushing over the warmth of his back. his body shivers at your touch, goosebumps rising beneath your fingertips.

“how’s this?” you ask softly.

“good,” he breathes.

you pull back slightly, cupping his jaw and bringing his face close. your lips hover over his, teasing. “just focus on my touch, okay?”

he hums in agreement, and when your lips finally meet, he responds with uncharacteristic urgency. his kiss is fervent, a raw expression of need that makes your pulse race. his hands grip your hips firmly, drawing you closer as his mouth moves against yours. he licks into your mouth, brushes his tongue against yours, making you gasp, then tilts his head to suck on it.

when your fingers trail to the waistband of his sweats, his breath hitches sharply. his reaction is all the encouragement you need, the air between you dense with tension.

he groans, his voice low and ragged as your palm brushes over the prominent bulge straining against the fabric. “fuck—ah, more.”

you glance up, his flushed face and dilated pupils making your heart race. without hesitation, you sink to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes with a teasing smile.

“more?” you echo, pulling his sweats down just enough to release the pressure. leaning in, you blow warm air over the outline of his thick cock through the thin material of his boxers. he shudders, his composure shattering.

“sugu I want to taste you,” you murmur, your voice dripping with need.

he curses under his breath, fumbling to free himself. his hand wraps around his thick shaft, slowly pumping himself once, twice, before guiding his tip along your cheek. pre-cum smears against your skin, warm and sticky. 

“aah,” he groans when you stick out your tongue, letting a trail of saliva drip onto the concrete below. he presses his tip to your tongue, rubbing it up and down as you curl it along his slit.

replacing his hand with your own, you lick a slow, deliberate line from base to tip, savoring the salty tang of his pre-cum. his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently as you take him into your mouth, inch by inch, until your lips are flush against the tuft of black hair at his base.

“baby, you feel so good,” he rasps, his voice heavy with pleasure. “your mouth is so warm, wet—” you swallow, tightening around him, and he chokes out a shaky breath. “—and tight.”

you cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. his hips jerk, a low moan spilling from his lips. tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you keep your gaze locked on his, letting the sight of his unraveling spur you on.

“I’m close—fuck,” he warns, his voice tight. 

pulling back, you kiss along his shaft, your hand stroking him in slow, deliberate motions. you glance, lips curling into a sly smile as you whisper, “sugu, come inside.” 

his breath catches as you take him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. his moans grow louder, uninhibited, as he grips your hair and begins to guide your movements, fucking your throat.

“ah—fuck, gonna come,” he groans.

you intertwine your fingers with his free hand, holding his gaze as you pull back to suck on his tip, tongue swirling over the slit. with a long drawn-out groan of your name, he spills into your mouth, hot and thick. you swallow every drop, licking your lips as he twitches in your grasp.

“fuck,” he breathes, his voice shaky as he tucks himself back into his sweats. “you’re insatiable.”

you rise to your feet, knees aching from the rough concrete. he steadies you, brushing stray hairs from your face. leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to his lips, letting him bask in the afterglow.

but when you glance over his shoulder, your heart sinks. a few feet above you, a first-floor window you hadn’t noticed before now has its curtains slightly parted. behind the glass, a familiar face smirks at you.

toji.

you freeze up as he leans casually against the window frame, his brows wagging. he raises a finger to his lips, motioning for you to keep his presence quiet. his amusement obvious.

mortified, you whip your gaze back to suguru, pretending nothing happened. the curtains slide shut in your peripheral, and you suppress a shudder, vowing to bury the memory of toji’s shameless voyeurism.

“you good?” suguru asks, brushing your hair back into place.

“yeah.” you mumble. “let’s get back.” 

hand in hand, you return to the street, your absence evidently unnoticed. tucked between two parked cars, gojo sits on the curb, cooing at a tiny white puppy wriggling in his arms.

“satoru,” you gape. “you actually went through with it?”

he grins up at you, holding the puppy aloft like a trophy. “isn’t he adorable? named him gojo junior.”

suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long, tired sigh. “just—let’s go back upstairs.”

the three of you collapse onto the couch, exhaustion settling in. you curl up against suguru’s chest, your limbs boneless, as gojo turns on the tv. the puppy nestles in his lap, so he carefully reaches for the dab pen on the coffee table, grinning lazily.

“one more hit to top off the night?” ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 after ten hours of deep, uninterrupted slumber, you stir awake to the gentle warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains, coaxing you back to reality. the unfamiliar comfort beneath you takes a moment to register—you’re not on the couch anymore. suguru’s bed cradles you, his arm draped securely around your waist. his breath is steady against the back of your neck, and as you try to shift, his hold tightens.

“mm, too tired. stay,” he mumbles groggily.

a smile tugs at your lips, and for a brief moment, you consider giving in. his warmth, the soothing rhythm of his breathing, and his gentle scent are enough to make you melt back into the mattress. but you’d rather not over-oversleep.

suguru’s hand snakes into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands with a languid tenderness. “what if we just… stay here all day?” he whispers, his lips grazing the nape of your neck.

the temptation is overwhelming. his gentle strokes and soft breaths pull you toward complacency, but you’ve already slept more than enough. with a groan, you prop yourself up against his pillow, feeling the resistance of his arm as he tries to pull you back.

“come on, suguru,” you say, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “time to wake up.”

he grumbles something incoherent and eventually lifts his head, his cheek faintly indented by the pillow. his squinted eyes and weak smile somehow make him even more striking. the sunlight spilling into the room catches the soft angles of his face, illuminating him perfectly.

“too early,” he groans, shielding his eyes with his hand before reaching out to pull you into a lazy kiss. his lips are warm, slow, and deliberate, but you break away, placing your hands on his shoulders to gently shake him.

“you’re impossible,” you tease, laughing softly.

you reach for his phone on the nightstand, thrusting it in his direction. “here, play some music or scroll through your timeline—do something to get your brain working.”

suguru takes it with a half-hearted hum, pulling you back into his chest as he unlocks it. he scrolls aimlessly through his playlist, swiping through songs too quickly to process. then, a slow, melodic guitar riff fills the room, and his hand finally falters. the soft acoustic melody of sunflower drifts through the air, a perfect match for the warm, serene moment.

his free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as he sways you gently. the vibrations of his hum resonate in his chest, and you can’t help but lean into the sound. you savor this side of him—the quiet, vulnerable suguru who lets himself soften in the morning light.

but then, a thought surfaces. the dog. the vivid memory of gojo proudly holding a squirming puppy the night before is unshakable.

“suguru,” you whisper. “what about the dog?”

his body tenses and his eyes snap open. “the wh—” he bolts upright, groaning. “shit, the dog. he really did that? I was hoping I made that part up.”

the two of you stumble into the living room, both disheveled from sleep. gojo is sprawled on the couch, one leg hanging off the side, snoring softly. the puppy darts around the room, tiny paws clicking against the floor.

suguru scoops up the wriggling pup and plops him onto gojo’s chest, startling him awake.

groaning, gojo blinks blearily at the excited puppy licking his face. you watch in real-time as all of yesterday’s events finally catch up to him. he looks up slowly, blue eyes wide, panicked.

“guys,” he says, voice cracking. “how do I return a dog?”

{taglist: @inthedarkshadows000 @saltyhansen | insp: @tojisth3rdwife‘s ask linked [here] ty! ᡣ𐭩}