#but I can’t work on it rn and I’m frothy

[salemssimblr]

I like tattoos and wips so have a bit of both ;)

[rintarous]

when you can’t fall asleep

↳ out of curiosity, you tried the infamous dalgona coffee (frothy coffee) that’s been going around social media. with the said ingredients, you could’ve sworn that you can take that much caffeine but here you were tossing and turning in your bed, unable to fall asleep. so why not go to your boyfriend’s room and ask him if you can sleep next to him for the night?

a/n: i do NOT recommend that you try the coffee AT ALL!!! i’m literally running on like 2-4 (seperate) hours of sleep rn and i shit you not i was able to fall asleep normally at like 5 in the morning so 🤡 + i’m lit rally in love w todorokis hc its too funny

BAKUGO KATSUKI:

at first he’d be so confused but welcome you with warm arms

till he remembers that you asked HIM to make you the drink

so he’d give you a full on lecture and a stern scolding about how he was right all along and you should’ve believed him now you’re suffering because of the after effects of strong coffee

in a hushed tone of course

cause it was TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING

you’d pout and tell him that you’ve tried so hard to go back to sleep but fail each time

he listens but doesn’t say anything so he grunts in response

cs mans was turned away from you but still kept an arm around you

your head was throbbing and you can feel the caffeine pumping through your veins making you jumpy time to time

which kinda annoys bakugo at some point

but knowing what caffeine does to your body

he just ,,, goes with it

but his patience is decreasing little by little

and after hearing his bed creak and you tossing and turning for what seemed to be like 2 hours straight

he finally hears your little snores

which makes him happy cs FINALLY you fell asleep with him

but he looks at the time and reads it was FIVE IN THE FUCKING MORNING

and you two had classes at like 7

so neither of you had a good nights sleep

bakugo on the other hand sleeps at like 8 so he’s fine

but you???

running on 2-3 hours of sleep????

bakugo was highkey concerned about your health and well being for the day

and made you drink how many cups of water to at least get the caffeine out of your system

your classmates were looking at you funny

especially the ones who were on his floor

not just by your state atm but the fact they found you coming out of bakugo’s room that day early in the morning

and because they obviously heard his bed creak that night

and no one had to courage to ask bakugo without being blown away literally

so they just kept it aside

but it eventually got to bakugo cs bakusquad couldnt keep their mouths shut

so bakugo had to explain what happened to you

and now bakusquad minus bakugo and you want to try the coffee for themselves

despite your protests

oop their loss

KIRISHIMA EIJIRO:

kiri would probably be one of the people who’s a heavy sleeper among this bunch

so you had to bang on his door a bit louder for him to get up and yank the door open

his sleepiness would go away the moment he notices its you who knocked on his door

“babe? it’s like 3 in the morning what’s up?” he yawns, stretching his long limbs

you’d instantly tell him about the coffee you just drank 8 hours ago and it’s still having an effect on you

he’d let you in and instantly he flops down on his bed

leaving you little to no space

but you shove his heavy ass to the other side of his bed

since his room was a bit.. hot ,, you didn’t bother on draping his blanket on you

cs u were already sweating to begin with

and the fact he snores loudly

it made the situation a lot worse since you literally can’t sleep

your head was already throbbing due to the after effects of coffee

and his snoring wasn’t helping at all

so you shake him awake

and mans was startled and was about to scream due to your hair being down and his room was so dark

“JESUS BABE YOU SCARED ME SHITLESS” he puts a hand over his chest

“that’s not very manly now is it” you growled in response

making him confused

then he’d be like: oh yeah you can’t sleep... sorry bout my snorin’ babe 

he kisses your cheek randomly in attempt to say sorry

you rolled your eyes and faced away from him

eijiro shrugs and drapes his arm around you and pull you to his chest

and since he noticed you wincing earlier when he made a loud noise, he massages your head to ease the pain a bit

AND GOD IT FELT AMAZING 

because of this, you finally fell asleep in his arms

SHINSO HITOSHI:

he’d be so confused on why you were at his dorm room at ungodly hours

but then he’d be on high alert when he sees you on the verge of crying

“i-i can’t sleep even if i want to and i’m just scared i might die in my sleep so can i sleep with you tonight?” you babbled

shinso immediately makes room for you and before you know it you were in his arms

he’d ask you wtf happened to you and why you can’t sleep

then you tell him about the infamous dalgona coffee that’s been going around

“wait.. how many tablespoons of black coffee?”

after you tell him, he proceeds to lecture you about black coffee and why you shouldn’t drink it

later, shinso falls back asleep on his own leaving you awake in his arms

you tried and tried to make yourself fall asleep but it wasn’t working at all

as the time ticks away you were growing desperate and desperate

you even thought about asking shinso to use his quirk on you

and if that would it take for you to fall asleep peacefully then you’ll take it

so you shook him awake.. again

“what?” he mumbles, still sleepy

“i know you said you wouldn’t do it to me, but i’m really desperate now.. can you use your quirk to make me fall asleep?” you asked, avoiding eye contact with shinso

shinso looks at you bewildered

cs no one asked him purposely to use their quirk on them

but it really seemed like you weren’t falling asleep any time soon

and the fact you had school in the morning

after an inner argument with himself, he agrees to do it

“okay..”

so he asks you a basic question and by the time you know it you were brainwashed

he basically told you to fall asleep

to which IT WORKED

when shinso heard your breath go even

he’d smile slightly knowing you were finally able to go to sleep

so he’d pull the blanket over you and to himself

and now you two were on your way to dreamland

bonus: since you couldn’t wake up (as you were still brainwashed) shinso had to shove you to the ground to get the effect away

“hey what the fuck?” you asked, vision still hazy

“sleepyhead” shinso mutters as he shoos you away since he was about to get ready to attend classes

TODOROKI SHOTO:

you find yourself knocking on his door at like 1 in the morning

at first he’d be like: why are you here?

and you’d tell him about the coffee situation

and lowkey he wants to try it for himself too just to see what happens to him

but then he’d scoot over and give you some space so you can lie down next to him

but todoroki falls back asleep literally the moment you lie down

so you had to shake him awake again

“what?”

“i can’t sleep shoto”

“... then close your eyes til you fall asleep”

and turns away from you.. AGAIN

he hears you “tsk” and feels bad

so he turns to you and brush your stray hairs away

“okay i’m sorry.. but what happened to you that you can’t sleep”

you gave him a brief explanation about what happened

and boy was he still confused

not knowing what to do he just draped his right arm over you and instantly you felt the light cold breeze against your skin

you’d probably ask him to keep the room temperature down so his room would be like so cold

and the best way to fall asleep fast is to sleep in a cold room right

but somehow it made the situation worse and now you were just staring at his ceiling for god knows how long

so you shake him awake again

“shoto it’s not working” you hushed

and now the dude is raising his eyebrow in confusion

“well, what do you want me to do?”

suddenly you remembered how your mom either used to pat you or rub your sides till you fall asleep when you were younger so you ask him to do that

“if that’ll take you to fall asleep then let’s do it” he yawns

you lie on his arm and next thing you know he’s patting your thigh continuously while closing his eyes

shoto must be a miracle worker or something cs the next thing you know you were knocked out cold

and being the dense bitch he is

he didn’t bother to wake you up when he woke up

so he left you sleeping in his room till you woke up on your own at around lunch

and at school everyone’s like: dude why aren’t you with y/n

and he’d be like: oh she’s sleeping in my room

everyone gave him a confused stare

and then the door suddenly bursts open

to reveal you with your unkept uniform and hair thrown into a messy bun

“ooh someone had a rough night” kaminari snickers but you used your quirk on him to shut him up

todoroki spots you and deadass goes: oh there she is

[widgenstain]

Tag Game

@sielustaja tagged me ages ago and I should be working soooo... :DD

what’s your favorite song(s) to sing/hum? I do hum and sing all the time, but there are no specific songs. Usually something I listened to recently. 

what’s your favorite flower/tree/plant? Sweet mock-orange, birches (even if they try to kill me every spring), Dandelion 

favorite colors? Blue, green, blood red

what do you always doodle? I hardly ever use notebooks anymore, therefore I hardly ever doodle

how do you take your coffee/tea? I pretty much drink every version of coffee that isn't just coffee flavoured, frothy milk. Tea only pure, no milk, no sweetener. 

favorite candle scent? I have a very fine nose and most flavoured candles are an offense to my senses. Can’t go into Lush stores for this exact reason. 

what perfume do you wear? I wear a deodorant by the German company Speick (highly recommend the brand, the have awesome natural cosmetics), no perfume, except maybe an occasional sprizz of some old Bvlgari perfumes I need to use up.

what’s your go-to dance move when you’re alone? Wild gyrating mess

favorite quote? Pffff, I suck at remembering direct quotes. My blog title? Wien ist Essig für die Seele. favorite self care routine(s)? Hm, good question. I’ve only recently started to wear make-up again. Not much, just a bit of tinted cream and mascara, but the act of painting on my face in the morning is comforting in ways, as it gives me a few minutes to focus on my appearance.

fuzzy socks or house slippers? BAREFEET

what color are your eyes? Mud

what’s your favorite eye color on others? Blue

favorite season? Summer

cheek, neck, or nose kisses? I’d kill for a good neck kiss rn. 

what does your happy place look like? Like an Italian villa after a quick shower in late summer, with the stones of the patio still warm and night slowly setting in.

favourite breed of dog? I’m a cat person, so I have no dog preferences.

do you ever want to be married? No. I want that dress though.

cursive or print? Cursive

favourite weather? If I’m outside: Warm. If I’m inside: thunderstorm

[jenthehenrn]

STEAK

This is a work of fiction.

I'm a registered nurse who works at the Critical Care Unit of a busy level II trauma hospital in the Southwest. My typical shift starts at 1900 in the evening to 0700 in the morning and my typical "customers" are a motley sort:  "Homie" drop-offs (wounded gang members dumped right at the ER curb by their "friends") with gunshot wounds fixed with chest tubes and vacuums draining their lungs. Nursing home elderlies, neglected and festering deep in sores and feces. Frothy overdoses, mangled motor vehicle accidents, cardiac arrests, alcohol withdrawals, schizophrenic wig-outs, customer service complaints…you get it.

A bruised and nervous woman staggered into the ER. This wasn't the first time she showed up in the odd hours of the night. She would check with complaints of various sorts. A head bump. A twisted arm. A broken tooth. A stubbed toe. And on cue, her sobered husband would show up hours later demanding to see her. And once he was by her side he would hover on her every word. Coddle her. Taunt the staff. Raid the patient food fridge. Then he would demand they leave for home....only for her to return a few evenings later.

It was a pitiful cycle of spousal abuse and we did everything we could to get her to press charges. We left post it notes as she went to the bathroom, dropped cues in our conversations with her, arranged numerous social services consults, and even tried to isolate her from the husband. But she denied the signs, brushed off the police, and clung to her husband like a prince. And the more she kept coming back, the more pissed off we became. Our hands were tied.

I was on shift when she came in with a chief complaint of a sore throat this time. Wide red bruises wrapped around her neck; the telltale signs of manual strangulation. Unlike her previous visits, Dr. O'Neill (a young female resident) decided to admit her in the hospital for a day or two.

The husband exploded. "The fuck she's not staying in here!"

"Strangulation to the neck causes throat swelling and an increased risk for suffocation. We'll b treating her with steroids and monitoring her should the swelling get worse."

"She's stupid and clumsy, yo! She fell and hit the counter. That's what she did!"

"That doesn't match the injuries to her neck."

"Bullshit, she's fine!"

Dr. Stevens, lead doctor of the ER, approached the couple and tapped Dr. O’Neill by the shoulder. "There's an old lady with a head lac in gurney five. I'll take over."

Dr. O’Neill sighed, shaken but relieved. She took the chart from his hands and marched to the next exam room. But not before shooting a sarcastic gaze: good luck with this one.

The lead doctor smiled at the couple and introduced himself with a chirpy voice. "I'm Dr. Stevens, I'll be taking over your wife's case." Dr. Stevens had recognized the wife numerous times but never treated her. Until now.

"Finally! A real doctor,” the husband scoffed.

Dr. Stevens held out a cup of water and some Tylenol. "First of all, you're cranky and I'm hearing you're having a headache. I want you to take this and get that taken care of."

The husband snatched them with a swig and a gulp.

"Now that I've introduced myself, can you tell me what's going on?"

"Yeah," the husband interjected. "She fell on the floor and her sweater got wrapped up in her neck. That bitch doctor wants to keep her here. I ain't paying bills for that."

The doctor stroked his beard for a moment. Then he turned to the silent wife. Her head was bowed under her hoodie.

"Is this true?"

She feebly nodded. Or tried to.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes," she said hoarsely.

"Oh good. You can talk."

"Yeah, cause she won't shut up," the husband berated her. "Next time, you listen exactly what I say, babe. Or this shit happens again."

"Why! You're exactly right!" Dr. Stevens chimed in. Then he sternly turned to the wife. "Listen closely. All of this can be avoided if you serve your husband what he wants. Just imagine the trouble you're putting your husband in! A good wife should stay put, keep the house tidy, and get him a whiskey and some nice juicy steak after a long day's work. Every single night. No exceptions."

"Ha! That's fucking right. You hear that? Babe. Every night," he boasted. "We can go, right?"

"Certainly. We can't legally hold you against your will. One of the nurses will hand your wife an AMA form. Have her sign and you'll be on your way. Here's your script for a steroid and throat spray you can take to any pharmacy."

"Awesome," he sneered.

On cue, I printed up the AMA form and script and headed to their gurney, only to find the husband exit the ER with his wife in tow and her medication scripts in the trash. I marched up to Dr. Stevens at his desk, fuming.

"Ornery?" he calmly noted the anger across my face.  

"'A good wife should stay put'. What the hell was that about?"

"She's been here seven times. Patients like her, you give them what they want. Not what they need to hear."

"You just gave her a death sentence! He'll kill her."

"We'll see," he shrugged, grabbing the next chart.

Weeks passed. Months passed. The wife never returned. I started to worry but the endless flood of patients each night kept me distracted. In time I forgot about her.

Then I saw her, back in the ER. But she was different this time. I didn't recognize her at first. She had an upright posture. She had blush and lipstick on. She was colorfully dressed. Not a single scratch or bruise was on her. She sat next to a gurney where an unconcious unruly man was covered in tubes and machines.

I overheard a conversation between his nurse and Dr. Stevens:

"32 year old male alcoholic found unconscious and not breathing at home by his wife. Unknown down time. CPR was initiated on the field. ROSC achieved in 30 minutes. GCS 3. Hasn't moved at all."

"Any reflexes?" Dr. Steven’s asked.

"Absent. Brain CT's crap. Ammonia level's 280. Liver is toasted. His wife is over there. Says he's been taking Tylenol for headaches."

Holy shit, it was the husband! I stared at the bloated guy on the gurney. His face puffed, his skin yellowed, and he had a rounded protruding belly. He didn't look anything like her husband except those women tattoos I remembered on his arm.

Dr. Stevens made his way to the gurney. "Ma'am, I'm Dr. Stevens. We've met before."

"I know," she shook his hand.

"There's no easy way to say this, but your husband has alcoholic hepatic encephalopathy and anoxic brain injury. We've placed him on life support to keep him alive but the damage to his brain is done. I'm sorry."

"Will he ever wake up?"

"I'm afraid not."

She tearfully shook her head. "Every dinner, I cook him steak and whiskey. He was so happy, he'd sleep it off. So I cooked more."

"Every night?"

She nodded. She would go on to say how less angry he became. He was able to sleep more. There were less arguments, less beatings.  She had more freedom to clean the house, dress herself, go shopping, handle the bills, and cook meals. All while unknowingly poisoning her husband. With Tylenol and steak and whiskey.

There was a long moment of silence between the two. Dr. Stevens patted her gently on the shoulder then walked away.

The wife later took him off life support and he died the next day. I never saw her again. Rumor has it she went through an epiphany. She sold the house. Went to college. Found a job. And married a better man.

To this day, she still cooks. Mostly dishes of lean chicken and a glass of fine wine. But steak and whiskey is her specialty, and she saves them for those special occasions.

- OrneryJen RN, CCRN

[myempireofsalt]

Store Bought Hero

Store Bought Hero

Dedicated to @caffeinewitchcraft and her eternal love of superheroes. Thank you for your writing!

--

If natural heroes didn't work, store bought was fine too.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself as you peruse the discount racks at your favorite clothing store that definitely does not start with 'K'. Everyone knows natural heroes shopped at Gucci and sidekicks at Macy's. You, however, have bills to pay, mouths to feed, and a gigantic fucking load of student loans on your back.

You eye a sequined leotard and run your hand up and down the rough scale-like fabric to watch the colors shift from a too shiny silver to a lurid cherry red. You like shiny. You like shiny an awful lot and that's how you got yourself into this entire mess in the first place.

"How was I supposed to know the stupid anklet was his downfall?" You grumble as you, reluctantly, turn away from the sequined nightmare and start eyeballing a pair of pleather pants that might just make a good costume base. "It's not like I walk around with my weakness in plain sight."

It wasn't even a decent anklet either; not even sterling silver or real diamonds. It was nickel plated and the rash it gave you still itched even a week later. Some sort of curse for the unwary, or so the hero had claimed when you'd given it back to him a day later.

In exchange for falling for the good old fashioned sob story that was your life-- lightly embellished, of course--you had to become his sidekick as penance for your crimes. After all, you were in ‘dire need’ of a good role model, yadda yadda yadda. You’d stopped listening to his moral prattling about the same time he tried to invoke the ‘daddy issues’ card. He gave you fifty bucks towards a ‘basic’ costume and sent you on your way with a time limit while he grabbed some frothy concoction at that one coffee shop just around the block.

With, of course, the added caveat that you weren’t to embarrass him with your costume design.

Not like he was one to talk with that whole ‘90s cyberpunk meets Hawaiian vacation Dad’ theme he had going for himself. You’ve seen runway fashion disasters with better sense than that and mutter that very thing under your breath while you snag a few promising pieces-- and the leotard-- off the rack and head for the dressing room to start trying things on.

Twenty minutes later you ignore the call coming in from your new boss and call your oldest instead. They’re much like you in that they’re level headed, intelligent, and have a smart mouth the likes of which would, and had, get anyone else slapped through the wall and into next week. You would never lay a hand on your kids, any of them,  given that you’d gotten your fair share of being knocked through walls growing up.

“Hey, what’s the name of that one bird that steals shit?” You ask as you shimmy into a pair of leather shorts with sequins on the ass. You’re definitely about ten pounds shy of ‘Juicy’, as the word on your butt says, but this could very well be the start of something amazing.

“Maybe you wanna be more specific unless you want me to read descriptions for the next ten years?” There’s yelling in the background and your oldest tells them to settle down.

“What’s all that about?” You ask as you sift through the tops for something that would go with it. Your hand lands on a peacock blue-and-green number that doesn’t look bad but isn’t quite what you’re looking for.

Your middle child’s voice is loud and clear on the line now. “If you buy those shorts I am putting myself into the Child Relocation Program and you’ll never see me again.”

You consider it for a moment. Mortal embarrassment of your thirteen year old or being a mildly less disaster than you feel you are on a good day. You feel yourself smile. “Clean the kitchen and I’ll consider it.”

“I knew you were going to say that! You’re the worst.”

There was some fun in having a child whose superpower was precognition. “So did you clean the kitchen?”

“Duh!”

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Put Nat on the phone.”

“Promise me you’re not buying those first.”

The way they say ‘those’ makes you laugh all over again. “I’m not buyin’ ‘em, don’t worry.”

“And that weird guy isn’t buying them either?”

Damn it. “Nope. He won’t buy them either.”

“No stealing them either!”

Double damn it. “Fine, fine; the shorts stay in the store.”

“Thank you.”

The phone goes back to your oldest. “So, about that bird?”

“Jackdaw, Magpie, Corvids.”

“Corvids? Like crows and shit?”

“Yup.”

Jackdaw didn’t have that something you were looking for. Didn’t roll off the tongue the way it needed to in your head when you imagined some Big Bad Villain spotting you mid-villainous speech. Corvid didn’t either; Crow wasn’t hitting any notes either. Raven was absolutely taken by no less than eighty-three variations in your city alone. Rook had some fun possibilities if you actually bothered playing and learning chess terms. (You can’t; your attention span is utterly lacking and you own that. You’d probably be good at it too is the sad part.)

Your eyes fall on the silver-and-red sequined leotard again.

You hear your middle child screech in despair in the background and the younger two tell them to shut up.

Nat, ever patient and ever your child, smiles on the other end of the phone. “I think that’s the one, Magpie.”

Magpie... yeah, you like the sound of that one. Magpie it is. “It’ll make a good base; is Morgan--”

“McFreakin’ Losing It? Yep.” You can hear the sounds of pencil scratching against paper.

“What are you doing?”

“Fulfilling the prophecy as foretold by the ancients long ago.” if Nat’s voice were any drier, they’d be dust. “I’m designing the rest of your costume so you’re not a total train wreck and Morgan can die quietly.”

“You’re my favorite.” You say as you gleefully stuff the leotard-- you’ve tried it on twice and know it fits like a dream-- back on its hanger and wiggle out of the shorts.

“Remember that when I inevitably try your patience in all of forty-five seconds.”

Nat hangs up on you and you feel nothing but pride in the way these sassy children have grown up under your less than skilled thumb. You’ve not been the best parent or even the best role model. It’s funny what unresolved childhood issues and bad habits will do, but damn it you have given it everything you have up to and including your favorite line of ‘do as I say not as I do’.

They’re still good kids. They’re going to end up heroes in their own right with or without superpowers. That, above all else, is all you want for them so that they’re twice as capable as you’ve ever been in your life.

Your phone beeps and you glance at the text message.

Black thigh high socks. Get two pair. Amazon sucks for deals rn.