#honorable mentions: carrots

[notrimbaud]

my favourite foods in no particular order

- focaccia

- tiramisu

- hazelnut ice cream

- hummus

- croissants

- toast

- pumpkin

- strawberries

- cashews

- gnocchi with tomato sauce

- frozen grapes

- naan

- pita

- batbout

- fruit flavoured greek yogurt (mostly strawberry and blueberry)

- porridge

[nyxthedragon225]

I love that Luffy's crew consists of: Famed Pirate Killer Demon Of The East Blue, con artist, pathalogical liar, long lost prince, small creature MD, last remaining member of a lost civilization and most dangerous woman in the world, cyborg who bites people REGULARLY, an old world pirate who just kinda plays the violin most of the time, and one of the seven warlords of the sea

WHO is doing it like him

[milfdarthrevan]

Between this and a mention of King Ironfoundersson earlier, she definitely knew Carrot.

[pentrologram]

john price but he finds out he has a daughter.

some ex, a girlfriend or a wife that gave birth last week. only now mentions it to john, pictures of a beige little baby. a girl. his girl, now. he pays child support and life goes on- he takes a little more leave now, just to spend time with his girl.

until she’s not her girl anymore- until he stops by his ex’s flat and there’s another bloke there, holding his daughter.

shit explodes and when she refuses to tell john who the mystery man is, she lets slip that his girl wasn’t his to begin with. the real father had left, far out of the picture, and john was the most stable person she knew, she had said. but he’s livid. livid enough to start a custody battle over his eight-month old daughter.

and by some stroke of luck, he wins. it feels like all of it was for naught, though, when he realises how fucking expensive it is to raise a kid.

he has to take a desk job at work, but that quickly proves ineffective, because he just can’t get up later in the day and falls asleep at work frequently. his bad knee protests everything he does now that he’s relaxed a little, no longer living adrenaline filled day to day, and before he knows it, he’s at the doctors for joint pain.

*when did a doctor’s appointment get so bloody expensive?*

one thing leads to another and he sells his house, gets fired after an honorable discharge and files for joblessness.

he moves into an apartment complex. it’s dingy and he has to treat the bathroom three times for mold, but he cleans it up nice when his joint don’t hurt and when his girl is asleep.

and then there’s you.

you live in the flat over. unfortunate like him. you say hi to him and smile at the baby when he runs into you when you get home at the wee hours of the night and he’s taking her out for a breath of fresh air after a crying fit.

you tell him to not use milk in her formula. you tell him to use baby powder, because diaper rash is a real thing, contrary to what he thinks.

he’s grateful.

when she starts sleeping through the night, he takes late night smoke breaks, usually around when you get home (a happy accident, he tells himself). one time he offers you a cigarette and you stay out like that for a while in warm summer air. you look tired- are those bags under your eyes or is it makeup?

he doesn’t ask.

it’s been a while since he’s been in the dating scene, but he doesn’t think he’s overthinking things when you give him a platter of freshly made cookies on your day off. he invites you in because he’s nothing if not polite, and you have a mutual rant about the rising price of groceries and rent and how terrible the landlord is while the baby eats carrot mush in her high chair.

and- really, would you blame him if he kisses you on his next cigarette break?

[ary11y]

RUBS MY HANDS EVILLY LIKE A FLY

BFDI is a classic and a great one to watch first, it has a lot of silly moments.... Like VERY silly (LOOKING AT YOU NICKEL FROM BFDIA /pos,) it has more like cartoon logic and doesn't pay attention to real logic much

Now, what if you want to watch something more serious that will make you cry eventually? Well, that's where Inanimate Insanity comes in!!! Originally starting as a silly little cartoon like BFDI, S1 doesn't have much lore (just some issues between characters,) but S2? You better prepare to cluckin BAWL your eyes out /silly, S3 is kind of a mix of S1 and S2 with it being very silly but having quite a bit of lore, making it a season with good balance. I'd recommend that when you reach S2 ep14 you skip to the third season and when you finish S3 you go back to S2 ep15 for the lore to make more sense, however you can still watch it normally if you want to, I'm just a silly person giving tips B]

If you feel like BFDI and II are too long, you could try Animated Inanimate Battle, which has only 4 episodes with the fifth one being on the making!!! And yet somehow in just 4 episodes and two shorts iirc it manages to create an amazing story and a lot of rivalries. Some people might think it's a little too cringe for them (justified imho as a huge AIB fan) and that the lore is too forced (I myself think that tbh) but the series still goes hard as hell and I recommend it a lot B]

Also there's this one object show that...,.,..,..,.,. I Do Not Know what's going on (but I like it), I don't remember much about it but I do remember it was practically a fever dream to watch, it was called Battle For Pincode and it has a very nice mix between fever dream and the most heavy lore you've ever seen (can't say it with certainty though, I forgor a lot about it 💔)

Made by the same creator, we have X-Ford!!!!!! It's a very nice anime-styled cartoon about Baseball, their friends and school, apparently!!! Similarly to BFP, I don't really remember much about it, but I do know that I loved it

Next up, Object Filler 1 and 2!!! It has been a WHILE since I last watched it and I barely remember anything about it but I think it's like a joke object show??????? At least the first season, the second season seems to have taken a more serious approach (not fully iirc). I didn't forget it fully so I guess it must've been good, which is why I'm recommending it!!!!

One that was quite popular in its time (idk if it's still popular since I don't watch much OSC related stuff anymore 💔💔) was The Nightly Manor. It's an object show whose focus is a murder mystery on the first half and on the second half it's characters suffering!!!!! Hooray!!!!!!!!! Trauma!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In all seriousness though, I love that object show a lot and the songs that appear are BANGERS

A fairly loved one (I think??? It must still be popular right. Right.) is The Daily Object Show, an object show that's......... Well, daily!!!!! It's a very silly object show that has 9 SEASONS????? HOLY HARMONIA- ANYWAYS, in this object show the characters fight for differently smelling lotions.....,.,...,..,......,.,.,.,. Except when they're not ig??????? Anyways, in later seasons the lore turns more heavy even though I can't really say how bc I didn't watch the last season 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

By the same creator, we have Tiny Taco Tales; a spin-off of TDOS starring three characters and a half going on silly adventures!!!!! I may be biased (they're three of my favorite characters) but I love this cartoon, mainly because it's mostly sillyness B]

WOAH OKAY THAT WAS A LOT uhhh thank you for coming to my TED talk -runs away-

OH AND A NOTE DON'T EVER WATCH OBJECT TERROR OR ANYTHING MADE BY ITS CREATOR PLEASE SPARE YOUR EYES

raises my arms open out to the people in my phone

which object show should i start first ,,

[pedrospatch]

splash

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?” 

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks. 

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her. 

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply. 

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him. 

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[red-doll-face]

I loved ur fic abt having to warm up with Arthur. He was so cute in it hehe. Imagine if he picked you flowers and brought them to you and was all shy and embarrassed about it ahhhhhhh🤭🤭🤭

hiiii !!! thank you so much for this wonderful ask!! ive had this in my inbox for forever so, soo sorry. 😳😳but i wrote something for this and a little self indulgent detail bc im on my period and was craving something super fluffy for my boy... i for sure included what you wanted but i added more situational stuff. I hope you like it!!!💖💖💓💓😭😭🥹🥹 @emerald-ranch thanks for giving me such a good idea for this piece queen, love you sm 💓💓 tags: fmc, periods vaguely mentioned, arthur is sooo sweet so fluffy, not quite an established relationship yet but theres something there 👀

(high honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. reader

Arthur shares his space with you when you aren't feeling well.

It was only a matter of time before you could stop hiding this little problem of yours. Before, you had hidden away; Abigail had let you stay in her big tent but when she got into a severe spat with John and she stopped sleeping there, you had lost your solution to this problem. You had told Ms. Grimshaw. You asked her if it would be alright if you stayed away from chores today. She raised her brow, the line of her mouth turned skeptical. She laughed at you, like she would a child faking a cough.

“What are you, the only woman in the world? You ain’t special. Now, get back to work! I don’t want to hear anymore of this belly achin’,” She seethes and you look down after you give her a weak nod. You look around nervously. You know that today will be bad. You just feel it. The squeeze in your lower belly and the nauseous unease in your stomach tells you so. You walk to the cutting board, bidding Pearson a good morning. 

“You look… pale,” Pearson asks suspiciously but you brush him off with a tight smile. You go back to chopping vegetables. The morning develops into a sweltering noon. The overwhelming smells of the camp and the morning chatter only put you in a precarious state. The last person you’d like to see you like this comes by, tells Pearson he’s going out. “That’s good, I was this close to ripping the leather off the boots around here,” Pearson jokes and Arthur scoffs before passing you, where you continue working sluggishly behind the chuck wagon. 

“You alright?” you slowly lift your head to look up at him. You don't even have it in you to shyly avoid eye contact with his sharp blue eyes and his look of real concern. You trail up the length of his body, up his gun belt and to his brown hunters jacket. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask, clinging to the edge of the wooden table. You turn your back to the produce you had been chopping, resting briefly against the support of the surface. You face him fully, even if it’s not the best idea if you want to keep hiding how much the pain is crawling down your thighs. It sears into your muscle, dripping like hot wax down your body.

“Asked if you was feelin’ alright,” he wants the truth out of you but you bite your lip. Ms. Grimshaw said she didn’t want to hear it, you aren't sure how much you’d like to discuss this with him. Disgusted or dismissive, either or both would only serve to make things worse. Arthur dismissing you like Ms. Grimshaw would have you about ready to cry, overcome by the disrupting emotions that always come over you at times like these. He looks you over, assessing your wellness maybe. It certainly isn’t in the wobble of your knee under your skirt or the pallid color of your face, a cold sweat breaking over your forehead.

“No — I mean yes! … I’m feeling ok,” you mutter, but you aren’t convincing anyone, especially not Arthur. He tilts his head and stares down at you. He’s absorbing details (the half chopped carrot you’ve been taking way too long to finish up with, your nails digging into the grain of the wood) and you do your best to smile and dismiss his badly hidden worry. You can still see the way he hesitates to walk away, shuffles his boots in the dirt, shakes his head just slightly. He’s right not to believe you. 

Weakness in your body begins to form, building up inside of you the longer you’ve decided to ignore this pain. It’s been burrowing holes through you all morning, for hours, you’ve stood upright, trying to keep yourself from slipping. But just as Arthur is about to wish you a good day and head to his horse to ride off, you clutch at your abdomen, bent over. As if you’ve been flayed open. Your pained moan makes him put a hand over your shoulder. 

“Jesus, girl, what’s wrong with you?” you can’t muster a response, too busy trying not to fall backwards. “You need to lay down?” 

“Please, I can’t…”

“Like hell, you can’t. C’mon,” he tries to guide you but your legs hardly move like his, and he doesn’t linger a second longer. He has one of your arms around him to help, holding you up. The other camp members watch curiously but you pay them no mind. Another wave of clenching ache, like a lance through your midsection, has you doubling over again. You shuffle along with Arthur who lets you sit on his bed. He urges you to lay down. 

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on wit’you but reckon some rest might help,” you clutch at your stomach, curling in on yourself. Arthur glances around, hands stiffly at his sides, unsure what to use them for. You can’t pretend not to enjoy the comfort his mattress offers, to lay down on something soft. Embarrassment has no place in your mind as you let yourself follow his direction. Surrounded by his things and his scent, you collapse ungraciously on your side. Every moment of agony makes you whine, close to tears. 

“You eat somethin’ bad? Pearson’s stew finally get the better of ya?” You shake your head, you gasp and let your eyes glaze over, unable to really converse with him. Your fingers tangle in his sheets. He cusses, calling for help. Abigail and Tilly rush over when he says your name. Abigail nods at Tilly. 

You can make out some pieces of their conversation, it’s all muffled as your pain drowns everything out around you. Bits and pieces of the people surrounding you filter in and out. You're sweating under your skirt and you have half a mind to feel bad for putting your shoes up on Arthur’s bed. His own kindness isn’t lost on you. 

You catch words here and there. Abigail mentions your monthly. She looks at you, as if thinking better of it. Perhaps you should be ashamed but all you can do is pant and wail. Tilly returns with a cool cloth for your forehead and something pleasantly warm to place gingerly on your stomach. The brief pleasure it brings you makes you relax a little. You fall asleep to the sun's glow through the thin canvas over Arthur’s bed and the smell of the earth, the lulled tobacco scent that soaks into his sheets. The smell of his hair on the pillow, the summer sweat. 

When you wake, sleep is a stone tied to your ankle, pulling you down until you wiggle free. You feel awful as you turn to see Arthur slumped in a chair at your bedside. His hat is pulled down low and he snores quietly. How he sleeps like that, you don’t know. It brings a small smile to your face, watching him doze off in the light of the candle lit at the table next to his bed. 

But the only reason he’s there is because he had given you his bed. Even when he could be using it. You can’t see much past the canvas flaps that had been lowered to keep the chill of the breeze out but you sense the evening blue. The lack of voices tells you that it must be far past dinner already. Maybe even an hour after midnight, you can’t hear much but crickets and the snap of firewood burning at the fire nearby.

Looking around more, you focus on Arthur’s tent. How strange, you had never noticed all of the little things he places around himself. Photos of people, a small flower. An honorable little picture of an older woman, his mother, you think. Your mother had always told you to look for men who loved their mothers. That detail twinges at the strings attached to your heart. 

You sit up carefully, a blanket that's been tugged over you falls away. He wakes as you make the smallest noise. Startling, he looks up a little, straightening his neck out. He clears his throat as he rolls his shoulders out, his jacket hung on the wooden chair he sits on. He puts his hat on his head, placing it back on top instead of tugged over his eyes. 

“Feelin’ better?” his voice is a little gruff with sleep and you don’t trust your own not to falter so you nod. You feel all of your memories come back, the pathetic whining and whimpering, like a kicked puppy. You sigh. Arthur nods as well. 

“I’m sorry, I took your bed,” 

“Ain’t takin’ if I put you on it. If I didn’t want ya on it, wouldn’t’ve put you on the damn thing,” he pulls a cigarette from his side table and strikes a match. He holds it delicately between his lips before he lights it, you watch as the flame flickers, to the tune of the wavering candle. He watches you from the corner of his eye. 

You try not to read into how he worded that. Want. You smile softly. “Thank you for… helping me,” your voice is nothing much but a whisper. “And thanks for letting me lay down here. I didn’t want to cause so much fuss,” the rags that Tilly prepared for you sit next to a bunch of flowers. Red and pink, little bunches of petals gathered around the stems, wreaths of blooms at the end of the stalks. You’d like to say something about them but you bring your attention back down to your hands in your lap. 

“Didn’t put me out or nothin’, I was out most of the day anyway,” He puffs on his cigarette, wavy mists of smoke coloring the air between you. “What was goin’ on with ya, looked like you was ‘bout ready to put your breakfast all over my shoes,” he chuckles, a playful glint in his eye.

You cover your face, rubbing and heaving a big breath. “I thought I remember someone telling you,” 

“They did… Abigail did. If it’s all that business, how come you don’t get like this all the time?” He seems genuinely interested in the habits of your menstrual cycle. You’ve never had a man take an interest in such a taboo topic. But you suppose most of the girls are open about their privacies, most feel comfortable sleeping in their underwear in the evening. You continue despite the warmth that rushes to your cheeks.

“Well— usually, Abigail hides me in what was her tent. But now John is in there and she can’t keep me from Ms. Grimshaw anymore. I’m sure she had something to say about my sleeping here today,” he shakes his head. 

He adjusts his legs to relax them further, leaning back and kicking them out. “She’s tough on you but I told her to leave well enough alone. You wasn’t gonna go back to choppin’ carrots like that,” you feel like you’ve thanked him enough. Where all of this comes from, you haven’t decided. The men here don’t pay you much attention and Arthur is always rather soft on the girls, all of you get greetings from him. But perhaps he does linger with you a while, asking if you’re okay. If you need anything; his low voice feels like his calloused fingers when it touches your ear. And you do give him sweet smiles. Everyone seems to think Arthur Morgan isn’t much more than a bitter old soul. But you watch and you see fluttering moments of his kindness. Like bursts of sunlight through a canopy of trees. 

He reaches behind himself to the flowers on the table at the back of his chair. He sniffs before handing them to you. “Brought these for you, saw ‘em while I was out huntin’, thought they might cheer you up a bit,” You take them from him, briefly touching his own hand. Shock gathers at the corners of your lips before they push back into a smile. The stalks are fresh and stiff, the scent of them naturally brightening. 

“Arthur, I… thank you, really,” he hums. Arthur plays with his cigarette, fumbling at it. You play with the thin velvet of the flower petals. “What are they?”

“Yarrow. Grow just about anywhere,” he means to humble them, to bring them down. But you hold them tighter. 

“They’re beautiful,” you catch his stare but you can’t drag your eyes away from him. Arthur doesn’t look away as he flicks the butt of his cigarette away, grinding it beneath his heel. Every second feels like ten and the minute could be an hour, ensnared by him. 

When he’s walking around camp, he squares his shoulders, marches with purpose. Now, he slumps forward. Tired or weighed down. He takes an uneven breath. “I- I think I should leave you to your own bed, shouldn’t I… But thank you again, I really do mean it,” you start to lift the blanket off of yourself. He opens his mouth. Like he wants to say something. You pause a moment. 

“What’chu talkin’ bout, you’re sick,” he says as if he thinks you’re being ridiculous. He motions to you with his hand vaguely.

“Arthur, I’m not- I’m not sick. It happens all the time. I think I’ve caused enough trouble today,” 

“N’ you can promise that you won’t go startin’ up again? Cryin’ and rollin’ around?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Avoiding his eyes as you say that isn’t what you should have done if you wanted him to believe you. 

“You’re lyin’,” You bring your shoulders up before dropping them. Twiddling your thumbs, the flowers in your hands become your focal point.

You give an idea some thought. Sharing a bed with Arthur Morgan isn’t the worst idea you’ve had in your life. The rumors that would circulate make you think twice. Neither of you would hear the end of it. The camp in which the Van Der Linde gang resides isn’t a place without a gossip mill. But… you trust Arthur. If any of the men, you trusted him. With your life, you knew you could.

Putting Arthur out of his own bed isn’t something that appeals to you at all. 

“It doesn’t seem right, taking your bed. I’ve been in it all day, I could move over if you like,” it’s your clumsy attempt at humor poking fun at your own imaginings. But he doesn’t smile. 

“You mean that?” As if you pressed the very air from his lungs, he dips his head low, hardly breathes. He stares down at the dirt, before he sits all the way up. He turns to you, something you’ve never seen pulls at his features. Makes his brow scrunch and his cheek pull in like he’s chewing on it. 

“Do you want me to? To mean it?” Your head is full of hot air, dizzy at the thought. You set the flowers down on the crate behind you. Your hips lift and scoot to make what little room you can for Arthur’s frame. You had always known he was quite big, wide shouldered. Nothing makes you realize that more than the way you turn on your side to fit him. You’re in a dream, you must be. 

One you don’t want to wake from. You soak up his warmth, listen to the sounds he makes. Arthur arranges himself so awkwardly it could make you laugh if you didn’t fear breaking this trance he’s in. You bunch your hands up close to your chest, tucked into his shoulder. The wind playing with the flaps of canvas around you distracts you enough to let him settle.

The black hat he wears everywhere sits on the table, he rubs one of his hands over his cheek, down his jaw. “You’re alright with this?” 

“I trust you.” There isn’t much room in his bed, you don’t even know how he sleeps in it comfortably with him being as long as he is. But maybe he doesn’t. He comes back to it most nights though. He came back to it tonight, even if he knew you were sick and that he’d want to make you stay in it. You squeeze into Arthur’s side. 

He scoffs like he has something funny to say about your words. In the dim candle light, his chest rises steadily. This close to his neck, you can feel his pulse pick up, like yours as you come to your senses. You are sharing a bed with Arthur. There's a tightness in your belly, fingernails dig into your palm. 

“Thank you again, for letting me stay,” you whisper but you forget that you’re facing his ear. He hasn’t once turned to look at you. The smallest tremor goes through him. The tiniest details of him become more apparent to you. A nicked scar on the bridge of his nose, sweat beading on the tanned skin of his throat. His brow pinches and his eyes stare at the bottom of his make-shift roof. 

“S’ no problem, now… jus’ sleep, will ya?” you nod, trying to keep what fraction of space you can between you but you give up, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Arthur,” you murmur, humming as you sink comfortably next to him.

“Night,” his stiff response makes you stifle a giggle. Relaxing into his bed, you sigh. Even if you’ve been sleeping for most of the day, you still find it again quickly. 

In the morning, the bed is still warm but you’re alone in it. In the haziness of sleep, you can hear scratching and some shuffling, the jingle of Arthur’s spurs as he pulls the flap open and slips out. You open your eyes more when you’re sure he’s gone, the quiet command he gives his horse to go.

On the table, is a note, white smooth paper, smudged with black powdery pencil lead. You pick it up gently before reading it, the gray morning light lets you read. You touch gently at where he started and crossed out his words twice before starting again.

‘Hope you feel better today. You can hide in here if you need to.’ 

You smile as you go back to your small space amongst the girls with your two prizes. A bouquet of yarrow and a pretty note signed by Arthur Morgan. 

just what the doctor ordered for meeee so sorry if this isnt really your thing but thanks for reading !!💓💓💖💖🥹🥹

[peachdues]

SANEMI V. NO-NUT NOVEMBER

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳

In honor of it being Thanksgiving in the US, I thought I would feed you all. Happy Turkey Day, skanks.

CW: MDNI. Explicit sexual content.

Let’s count the ways you’ve tortured him over the last thirty days

You would purposefully wait until he arrived back home at his estate before getting yourself off — in his bed, or in his private bath, so that Sanemi had to watch or feel you working yourself, whimpering his name as you imagined your fingers were his.

You’ve never seen a man wound tighter than Sanemi, coming home after a long night of fighting demons and having to put up with incompetent younger Corps members, who is greeted with the sight of his lover, in his bed, legs spread wide open as she plunges her fingers in and out of her wet and ready core, moaning his name. 

You also were fond of trouncing around his estate wearing little clothing — if any. In fact, you were far more fond of wearing nothing but his haori as you cooked for him. Sanemi thought you wouldn’t be able to resist him sidling up behind you and sliding his hands between its open folds to rest on your bare waist. He thought. 

As it turned out, you were more than happy to swat away his eager hands and resume chopping vegetables. Sanemi managed to hold in his groan of frustration until you bent over to pick up a stray piece of carrot that escaped the pot.

Not to mention it was his BIRTHDAY on the 29th and you wouldn’t so much as let him eat his favorite cake (your pussy) 

“But I’m not the one being pleasured, it’s you,” Sanemi’s voice bordered on a whine as he danced his fingers down the curve of your outer thigh.  You swatted his hand away. “Need I remind you that, on more than one occasion, you’ve had to change your clothes after spending time between my legs?”  Sanemi’s eyes are nearly bulging out of his head as you primly turn away from him, tightening the blanket around your half-nude form. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me —“ “Goodnight, ‘Nemi. Happy Birthday.”

But when the clock hits 12:01 AM December 1?

“If you think you’re walking out of this not pregnant — or that you’re walking out of here at all —,” he said severely, yanking you by the calves until your ass was pressed against his thighs. “Then you’ve got another thing fuckin’ coming.” 

Listen. Sanemi respects the fuck out of women, but you’ve been disrespecting him for the last month. He’s about to get MEAN.

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Sanemi is going to need to purchase new furniture by the end of it; shit’s getting smashed by you two. The bed, dressers, tables, you name it, you’re getting fucked on it, and it’s getting broken. 

You are being edged to oblivion. If you whine or complain, it only makes the punishment that much worse (so does crying but he actually wants to see those big fat tears). Sanemi breaks up pace consistently to ensure this happens.  Also, he’s gonna cum as much as he wants, but you’re not until he says so.

And when he finally, finally lets you cum, don’t you dare think it’s over — now he’s going to overstimulate you until you’re sobbing (again)

“You think you’re done, sweet girl?” His saccharine coos made your stomach curl because you knew that tone meant he was being anything but sweet. “Like hell you are.” Sanemi flipped the pair of you over, forcing you to lay with your back against his chest, your arms pinned behind you. The hand not restraining you slid to your throat, gripping softly and tilting your head back against him as Sanemi began to thrust sharply up into you.  “I’ve had to watch you cum around everything but me for the last month, darlin’,” his teeth sank down into the soft flesh between your shoulder and neck. The wince you made at the sharp prick of his teeth was quickly chased away with a few soothing licks and caresses from his deceptively soft lips.  “So you’re gonna be my good girl and cum on my cock until I’ve decided you’ve had enough. Understand?” 

It gets to the point where you genuinely cannot tell apart the fluids on your skin — sweat, your cum, his cum, or your tears 

When he’s finally out of stamina (which is like. days later, RIP you), the last few rounds are much slower, and he’s much softer and clingier. Granted, he’s shooting blanks by then because he’s also overstimulated and exhausted, but he thinks he’s made his point clear enough. He’s actually asking you for just one more, and if you’re crying, he’s quick to kiss the tears away and murmur words of encouragement and love

“Fuck, baby,” Sanemi moaned, his feet digging into the plush of his futon as a means of giving himself leverage to push into you, his thighs and hips having long since lost the ability to work with the same vigor they had when he’d first bent you over. “You feel too fucking good to stop.”  You cried out, fists clenching against the painful pleasure your lover continued to bestow upon you. Part of you was desperate for him to stop, to rest, but your body kept betraying you, your legs tightening around his waist to hold him in place.  “S-Sanemi,” you whimpered, fingers digging into the ropey muscles of his shoulders, unable to decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. “No m-more — I c-can’t —“ “One more, sweetheart, just one more.” He cooed, bending his face low to brush kiss after kiss against your lips, swallowing your moans and whimpers. Sanemi braced his weight upon his fists, situated on either side of your hips as he continued to rock into you. His pace now was far at odds with the one he’d maintained over the last day or two, with the scar-speckled Wind Pillar forgoing his vicious, unrelenting speed that had you clinging onto the nearest piece of furniture for dear life in favor of something far softer and more gentle.  “You can do that for me, right?” Sanemi circled his hips. "Just one more, sweet thing, that's all I ask." 

And you give it to him; though there are big, fat tears leaking down your cheeks and though every nerve in your body is screaming for a break, you come apart around him once more. But Sanemi still isn't fully satisfied even though he's a groaning, cursing mess rutting into you, so his thumb works its way between your legs and presses down. Only when a surge of your sticky fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin, does Sanemi finally relax, his own climax rolling into him like a steady wave.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Can u pretty please make daddy some Disney descendants headcanons and Rodrick Heffley too???

But kitten whiskers- I don’t do descendants….. BUT I WILL DO RODERICK

Roderick Heffley Hcs (General)

-he’s so bisexual you guys like actually in my brain he’s canonly bisexual

-he really likes getting his makeup done but pretends to hate it, like if you do it at first he’ll complain about you touching his face but love the feeling secretly and the result

-I feel like he has some really unnoticed trauma with how his parents treat him

-Greg gets to sort of be a brat and do whatever but I headcanon that maybe he thinks he’s really not good enough because his parents treat him like a delinquent

-everyone does, actually. His teachers, peers… imagine having that repeated over and over… eventually you just… believe it

-damn I didn’t mean to turn this angsty but yk it’s Roderick what do you expect

-He drinks milk from the carton (canon but honorable mention)

-I feel like he likes punk, emo, and rock music genres a lot and switches quite frequently between genres in his bands music

-also he’s a horrible driver (also canon but honorable mention)

-I also think he’s a horrible pedestrian, like he just doesn’t look before jaywalking

-absolutely the type to roast Greg about any music he listens to, unless Roderick likes it, then he will get some passive approval

-he thinks he looks a lot cooler than he does sometimes tbh, but honestly just has low self esteem due to his environment

-I don’t think he likes any veggies besides carrots unless they are on pizza, I just think he’s a picky eater lmao

-speaking of food he LOVES potato chips

-I think he’s not super informed on politics which can be annoying but sometimes he gets really into it which is nice to see, and if he had a partner he would let you rant about them

-I think he totally paints his nails, other colors than black too and doesn’t gaf if anyone has anything to say about that

-I think he really is a mamas boy at heart, I think even though they have more banter they get along a lot better than him and his dad

-but I feel like he thinks neither of his parents really understand him, and music is his way of coping with that sometimes

-if he hears someone talking about a band he loves he will get super duper excited but act disinterested so nobody thinks he’s uncool

-honestly just low damn self esteem and confidence, even if he pretends otherwise

-would have an amazing relationship with his brother if his brother would stop being a tattle tale 💀

-he gets paid around the neighborhood to do certain jobs like mowing grass or shoveling snow but he sucks at all his jobs, wether that’s being on time, or doing them in general, so most of the time Greg end up stealing his jobs

-the one subject he is surprisingly decent at is English- specifically reading comprehension. I feel like he has a lot of really interesting concepts but he doesn’t know how to word them correctly- and is too scared to anyway because he thinks no matter what he’s gonna sound stupid

-he has that one thing where there’s constant ringing in your ears from listening to music far too loud

-he lives for weird ass graphic tees and cool belts

-I feel like he likes some really niche bands and gets pissed whenever/if it ever goes mainstream- “I liked that before it was popular” 🤓☝️

-OKAY he does that thing where if a girl wear a band shirt he asks if she can even name five songs because he thinks it’s like flirty but it’s actually just annoying and he gets slapped for that

-The hygiene on this mf is disgraceful- only starts wearing deodorant AFTER he gets a partner

-one time he went out and got his ears pierced and probably now had some cool ass earrings

-even though he mains the drums he can play the bass and guitar pretty well

[bethecliche]

family dinner l vincent renzi x f!original character

summary: your kids don't want to eat your food and vincent comes to the rescue word count: 2.6k content: female reader, no mention of skin color, hair or apparence, no use of y/n, maternity, food, kids being kids note: a short and quickly made story to thank you all for "my love mine all mine" good reception! omg 100 notes what a honor!!! from now on, word count will only increase :')

The table was set, but there were still two things left for dinner to be complete, one of which was Brigitte's food choice.

“My sweetie pie, would you rather have carrot or potato?” She asked the beautiful baby girl on her lap, pointing to the two options inside the kitchen cabinet. The baby, who had her head resting on her mother's shoulder, quickly stood up with interest in the bright colors inside the cabinet and was ready to stretch her hand to try to pull something out.

“It's too heavy for you, Brie. If you try to pick it up, you’ll drop it on the floor and make a mess for mommy to clean.” The mother warned, kinda hoping that her daughter would understand and stop reaching out to grab everything she saw in front of her, which didn't happen. Brigitte was in a pointing at everything phase and loved to knock things out, specially the ones that break.

With her eyes shining, the baby now bounced in her arms, excited as she recognized the jars in front of her as her baby food.

“Gu.” She tried to say, still pointing forward at the cabinet, but now looking at her mother, hoping she would understand what she was saying.

And she understood, just as she understood all of her daughter's almost words. “That’s it, my love. Food!" The older one repeated correctly so that Brigitte could repeat and learn. “Say it again: food. Fooood.”

But the baby was not interested in learning to talk, she was hungry and continued to push her weight towards the closet. Not wanting to take more long with it, her mother gave up and decided that Brie chose the potato flavor since that was the direction she pointed to. She placed the baby in her high chair and started to feed her.

Not long after the third spoonful, her restlessness began again and her pointing habit returned. She was completely uninterested in the spoon in front of her face and kept pointing to her brother's plate at the other side of the table.

“You can’t eat that, it’s your brother’s. Babies like you drink milk and eat baby food.” Mom said, pushing the spoon closer to her face.

But Brie wasn't caring about her food anymore. She was hungry but for the only thing she couldn’t eat: her brother’s food.

“You wanted it two minutes ago! How can you change so quickly?” Said her mom trying to laugh at the situation. The baby just kept trying to leave the high chair to crawl the table while the mom kept putting her down. “Can’t you eat at least two more spoons? For me?”

She tried to bargain, however Brie didn’t care.

“Baaaa.” Babbled the baby, in her way of saying “brother” and showing again her desire to whatever he was eating. But luckily for Brie, at that moment her mother noticed her son and how he was not eating too.

Little Vincent's plate was also full, even though she had put it down more than 10 minutes ago, right before looking for Brie’s food at the cabinet. The little boy was always the first to finish, looking forward to the rule that he could only eat dessert after cleaning his plate. Now, even with a pudding (something he loves) waiting to be devoured, he didn't want to eat the main plate.

“Vinnie, your food it’s getting cold.” She pointed out, turning towards her son to also give him attention. “Is there something wrong?”

“I do not like this.” The 4 year old said in a soft voice, almost embarrassed to speak out loud and upset his mother.

The woman, not understanding, insisted. “It’s made from cheese. You like cheese!"

“But I don’t like this one.” He pushed the plate away lightly and placed his little elbows on the table, frustrated, probably understanding that he won’t be able to eat pudding today.

“But I've never made soufflé before and you didn't touch the food. How do you know you don’t like it?”

“It looks ugly so I don’t like it.” He said pouting.

“Baby, it doesn’t look ugly!” She gave an uncomfortable laugh, not wanting to belittle her own creation, but she understood that it was paler and smaller than it really should be. “At least not that ugly.”

The front door opened before she could say something and the second thing missing from dinner appeared. Vincent entered quickly, leaving his coat and briefcase on a table next to the front door. He looked very tired and sweaty, but he kept a smile on his face for his family.

“Hello, reasons for my happiness.” That was the first thing he said as he approached the dinner table. He squeezed Brie's cheeks, gaining a smile with her little baby teeth from her and her arms thrown in his direction, asking to be picked up, which he couldn't resist to say no.

“Daddy!” Said little Vinnie, leaving the table and his sad face to hug his father's leg.

“Hey, champ.” With his free arm, Vincent got his son up too, kissing his forehead and shaking him a bit to get some giggles, putting him down again. Now for his wife, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips (gaining a “bleh” sound from their son) and sat down in front of her.

“Sorry for being late for dinner. You won’t believe the case that came to me today. I had to drive to meet a friend and… Well, I won’t talk about the details in front of the kids.”

She gave him a weak but happy smile, looking a little tired but trying not to dampen the mood. “It’s okay. We kinda just started.”

She started to put her food down on her plate, since Vincent arrived and could help her with the kids.

Already noticing there was something wrong, he continued on to a subject that might please her. “What did you do for dinner today, babe?” Even with everything on the table, he asked his wife to answer, as she loved talking about her attempts in the kitchen.

Most of the days, Vincent was the one cooking at home and she only made the most basic parts or simplest foods. Her husband has always been a handyman in the kitchen and prepared one thing tastier than another. Often, he would make some preparations on the weekend so that they could eat for the rest of the week, but as his work schedule was busy that month, his wife tried to cook something new to make his life easier.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t known for her cooking skills and that’s why Vincent took care of that part.

But after becoming a mom, she decided she wanted to cook more for her children and today’s experience was not the best.

“Soufflé au fromage. My mom called today and we talked about things I liked when I was a kid and after finding out what soufflé was, I wanted to eat it everyday, all the time. So I decided to make one for us.” Said sitting on the table again.

“Aw, that’s really sweet of you, babe. I didn’t know that.” He stretched forward to hold his wife’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. “But why do I feel there’s something wrong?”

She sighed, throwing herself back and pretending to melt on her seat. “Your kids.”

“What did my little rascals do? ‘Cause they’re only mine if they’re bad behaving.” Vincent said with a teasing smile, managing to get a grin from her too.

No matter how frustrated she could get in any type of situation, Vincent never needed to say or do much to make her forget her problems. His jokes or reassuring words always made her believe she could get out of any bad mood. That’s kind of his thing.

“I’m starting to believe they are plotting against me.”

“No, they would never plot against you without inviting me.” He jokingly said, giving her hand another squeeze and smiling at her. “Let’s start with this cute baby here. What’s the problem?”

“She forgot her teeths are still little and wants to eat the soufflé she can’t have.”

Vincent started to shake his leg up and down to bounce the baby, who began to giggle happily.

“That’s always a thing with her, huh? But that’s the secret. She always wants something she can’t have.” He proceeded to reach for the baby food in her seat and put it in front of them on the table. He filled the spoon the most he could and pretended to eat, opening his mouth and passing the spoon right next to his cheek. “So good. Let me get more.”

It didn't take long for this to attract the little girl's attention and she began to pull her father's arm, interested in what he was doing.

One spoonful after another, Brie was completely interested in finishing her meal and Vincent placed her back in her baby seat to move on to the other question.

“You make it seem so easy.” Said his wife in disbelief, still shocked with his efficiency to solve the problem.

“You deal with worse situations than this all day. That’s nothing.”

With their one year old in diapers and their four year old potty training, he could only imagine how her day went being a stay home mom. 

At this point, Vincent got up from his chair and went in direction to his son, picking him up from his seat and showering him with kisses. “What about this young gentleman here? Huh?”

“I’m innocent.” Said Vinnie making one of his cutest faces to appeal to his father, who just laughed along.

“That’s something a bad guy would say.” Replied the lawyer.

Brie was a very predictable girl. She is curious, likes to investigate the house and poke at everything in front of her, so assuming that she would want something "forbidden" was easy. Vinnie was a different story. When he puts his foot down, he won't change for anything. He also knows his parents are light hearted and usually goes along with his wishes.

“He also refuses to eat.”

“But I don’t like it!” Vinnie stated with a sullen face.

“Have you tried?” Vincent asked his son, to which Vinnie replied shaking his head no. “Then you don’t know what you’re missing! Soufflés are actually very good, especially the type your mom made. You’ll never know if you don’t try it.”

“Then I’ll never know.” The little boy shrugged.

Mrs. Renzi couldn’t resist but burst into a laugh, not believing what the 4 year old was saying. “He got your sharp tone.” Said pointing to Vincent, who provoked her by sticking out his tongue.

Vincent took the spoon and tried to feed the kid too, earning grunts and "no's" from him. “You’re growing and you need to eat to be big and strong! Just like your dad.”

“Can’t I just eat beef? I like beef. I don’t want to like anything else.”

This case was lost and the only thing he could do was accept it. Vincent looked at his wife, who just shrugged, satisfied that at least they got 1-2.

“It’s okay, we won’t insist anymore. But mommy worked hard to prepare this meal, be grateful for her efforts.”

Vincent released the child, who ran towards his mother and apologized for his behavior, promising he wouldn't do it again. “Sorry again, mommy.”

“It’s okay, my baby. I’m not mad.”

She made a move to get up, with the idea that she would make the steak for her son, but Vincent put her down, kissing her forehead and assuring her that he would take care of it.

“Let me do it. You need to relax a bit. Finish your food.”

Once again, she picked up her fork and now could finally eat.

-

After the difficult dinner, the Renzi family sat in the living room to finally enjoy dessert. Lucky for them, the pudding had come straight from the market and the woman had no involvement in its preparation.

For family time, they watched Frédéric Anton scolding the Masterchef chefs for their mistakes. A very educational program for them.

“It was terrible, wasn’t it?” She asked Vincent as soon as he sat down, kinda already knowing the answer. Vincent took a little more to eat since he had to prepare a different dish for his son and at that point, his wife was already cleaning Brie in the bathroom, so she couldn’t see his face eating the food first hand.

He wrapped his arm around his wife, shaking his head. “It’s not terrible. I would never use that world.” 

“Then you love it?”

“Love, love…” He looked away with a small smile on his face, a little unsure of what to say. “Love I only have for you.”

Rubbing herself a little closer to Vincent's embrace, she felt the response was enough. “Good answer. I’ll let it slide.”

The two were finally having a moment together (with Brie off to the side drinking a milk bottle and Vinnie distracted by the television and the pudding, sitting on the floor). Vincent kissed her cheek and then her mouth, hugging her body against his and finally enjoying the warmth of her body. She also couldn't resist his touch and her body was completely relaxed, feeling light and untroubled to be next to him.

But they had children, so it couldn’t last long, of course.

“Mommy, I want to eat that.” Vinnie pointed to the television that was showing this week’s challenge, which was a carbonara dish made from scratch. He jumped up and down, excited “Mommy, can we eat this pasta tomorrow? Please, please, please!”

“I bet your dad knows how to do it.” She replied to take away her responsibility for this work. “How about asking daddy to prepare it? Tomorrow is his day off, he will have time to cook this for us.”

“We can prepare together, like the chefs on television. Look!” He pointed once again to the TV and ran to the sofa, jumping between his parents. “It'll be fine, won't it? If we do it together…”

It was his way to say again that he was sorry for not liking her food and how he had hope for her cooking skills. She felt relieved and really loved, with Vincent by her side also giving her support. There was no plot against her, after all.

“Sorry again, mommy. I like your food sometimes.”

“I can sleep with that.” Said jokingly.  “Okay, we’ll do it.”

Little Vincent offered her a well accepted hug, followed by big Vincent joining too. She already anticipated that it would not go right on her part and carbonara would turn into carburnara, but to have her children and husband next to her, believing she could do it, she felt like she could make a thousand mistakes, ‘cause they would still be there waiting for another try.

“I can't wait to try this dish.” Vincent said out loud.

“No, daddy. I said I want to eat so it's just for me. You’ll only help because you’re an adult. Stated the young boy.

“You won’t give me even a small, small piece?” Vincent asked, pretending disbelief.

“No!” Vinnie said laughing and running across the sofa to get to Brigitte, now on his mother's lap. “Maybe I'll share it with Brie because she's cute. But only with her.”

Vincent, offended by his son's selfishness, started tickling him and his wife took the opportunity to tickle Brie too, leaving the room filled with laughter.

Food really brought people together. Especially the Renzi family.

[murderoushagthesequel]

so i had an idea this morning and it is now all of your problems, your welcome it's wonderful.

regulus. as a holland lop animagus. it's perfect, they're adorable and prissy and needy and spoiled little brats. and they're also really sweet and cuddly and will bite you if you don't pet them enough.

he's so spoiled by james who makes him homemade salads and feeds him far too many strawberries and bananas and he has his own room in their house.

james wanted to call his carrots and regulus hates it but he offered everybody 50 galleons (the equivalent of about $3000 or €2730) to go along with it so now he is called carrots. honorable mentions include socrates from remus and stabbers from barty.

when they're in school regulus would wake barty up in the middle of the night with zoomies and face licks because he needs attention.

he also loafs on james' chest and they both absolutely love it. *insert vivian's incorrect quote about reg getting attention and then transforming back to a human so he can get a kiss*

he also gives so many tooth purrs when he gets pets :))))

around anybody other than james and pandora hes more like the killer rabbit from monty python, snowball from secret life of pets, or angel from mlp

also credit to @canyouhearmyfear & @where-is-vivian for like half of these headcanons lol

anyway this is my new favorite idea and i'm obsessed with it and i'm giggling and smiling and stimming

[theyhitthepentagon]

how i think all pikmin would taste but ive never actually played the games except like an hour of the first one

red yellow and blue pikmin all taste like celery or carrots, probably celery. would devour these things as a side to chicken wings. DIP THEM IN RANCH

2. purple pikmin would taste like an apple i think. maybe a peach. you can eat these things on their own honestly

3. white pikmin tastes like a burger. or onion ring. cant decide. probably poisonous based on the red eyes

4. pink pikmin are like wild strawberries. either that or black berries

5. green one is fucking awful. tastes like earwax. dont eat it

HONORABLE MENTION: bulborbs taste like crab but are as easy to eat as shrimp

[pinkchampagne]

♡ 365 Soft ♡

Pink Champagne's Personal Development Plan

updated december 6, 2024

this is my version of 75 Hard, modified for a realistic approach to long-term personal development and self-improvement. though i was inspired by the structure of 75 Hard, this isn't a short-term challenge. i've organized this plan as a lifestyle blueprint that can be continued for longer than 75 days.

unlike a crash diet or a challenge intended to be started and stopped over and over again, this set of guidelines can be easily implemented into one's life, and here’s why:

i will not lie and say i don't care about physical appearance, but the focus of this strategy is to feel better and improve overall health. my plan explicitly outlines which foods to gravitate towards and which to cut back on. there are no bad foods; this is just what works for me.

crash diets and workout challenges might produce the superficial results you want, but implementing a health strategy that focuses on the big picture is more beneficial in the long run. i’m easing into it, allowing cheat days, and not setting a 75-day timeline. give yourself grace and celebrate your wins.

i love the basic concept and structure of 75 Hard, however, progress pictures are generally most helpful for those who are trying to improve their physical appearance. since this is a long-term plan prioritizing health over appearance, i replaced this section with one on consistency in general, focusing on routines and habits. i also added a self care section because that’s extremely important to me. i will continue updating this post.

with healthy habits comes a healthy body and mind. take care of yourself and you will reap the benefits, mentally and physically.

🫧 DIET

alcohol:

weekends only

never alone

water between drinks

no shots/shooters/bombs etc.

5 drink limit

be mindful of who you're with; do they encourage good habits/behavior?

cut back on the following significantly:

sugar

dairy

carbs

red meat

processed foods

caffeine

exceptions: feta, parmesan, greek yogurt, kefir, mayo, bacon, honey, matcha, celcius

notes:

begin taking marine collagen and chlorophyll for skin and hygiene

increase fruits and veggies: romaine lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers are my focus right now.

increase protein intake: chickpeas, peanut butter, eggs, black beans.

honorable mentions: oats, blueberries, avocado, sweet potato, carrots, broccoli, spinach, kale, white meat, kombucha

🫧 WATER

100 oz a day. i'm purchasing a brita faucet filter and a new water bottle to encourage this goal.

🫧 WORKOUT ROUTINE

mondays, wednesdays, fridays:

30 donkey kicks, each side

30 fire hydrants, each side

3x

tuesdays & thursdays:

30 second plank

30 second side plank, each side

30 crunches

3x

notes:

sometimes i do my ab workout on saturday or sunday as well to get a third one in.

i plan on working cardio and physical therapy exercises into this routine eventually.

i’m thinking of purchasing a home pilates reformer!

🫧 SELF CARE

skin

wash face twice a day + use zit stickers

rhassoul clay/charcoal/honey face masks

sheet masks

actually use my quartz roller

ice roller, gua sha, steamer

red light therapy!!

body

exfoliating body scrub

first aid beauty kp bump eraser for legs

glycolic acid for legs + under arms

pumice stones for feet

misc.

continue getting hair cut every month and a half

be more consistent with brow waxing

get rid of old clothes + build new wardrobe

🫧 KNOWLEDGE AND GROWTH

daily podcast playlist

personal development podcasts & youtube - listen to at least one ep/vid a day

date yourself instead podcast – lyss boss

hail yes podcast

hailey gamba on youtube

thewizardliz on youtube

tam kaur youtube + self obsessed podcast

books - 30 minutes a day

freedom is a constant struggle - angela davis

a people's history of the united states - howard zinn

i'm taking book and podcast recs!

🫧 CONSISTENCY

follow budget

follow morning, evening, bedtime, and weekend routines

meal prep for weekday lunches: couscous salad with chickpeas, feta, sundried tomatoes and white wine vinegar + lemon juice dressing

create & post content every day ♡

[corr-upted-s-avefil-e]

Mafuyu Asahina HCs

• She has DID. Her amnesia barriers are really bad, which is why she doesn't remember much from her childhood (mentioned during a conversation with her mom in Mirage of Light.)

• She has a pair of small earbuds her mother bought for her hidden, in fear her mother will take them with the rest of her music. When she moves in with Kanade, Kanade let's her use some big headphones and attempted to hide them once out of instinct. It didn't work, and she stopped once she realized what she was doing.

• She really likes carrots and apples, it is her preferred snacks, system wide.

• She has three alters. Yuki, apathetic and blunt ( personality seen around n25 ), Mafuyu ( honor student and polite, seen around strangers and her mother ), and Own ( more emotional and rash compared to the other two, seen at the end of the main story. )

• She doesn't care for classical that much, but sometimes uses it to fall asleep so she has a playlist for it saved.

• She doesn't like dogs very much, as they are loud and she doesn't know what to do with them.

• Uses all pronouns but defaults to she/her for masking purposes a lot.

• When unmasked, sometimes she will use her honor student voice to be sarcastic. Only n25 can tell when she's being sarcastic. She's mainly sarcastic to Ena, who hates it.

• Spotify algorithm hates to see her coming. Nobody knows what she likes to listen to, not even Mafuyu. Ultimate shuffle button, Spotify puts on random things to compensate. The only liked songs are n25 songs, though.

• She has low verbality episodes. She will mask to push through them, which causes burnout and will just sit in VC with the rest of n25 silently, who's used to this.

• Clings to Kanade after a while of moving in. Hand holding, slumping on her, head resting on Kanade, cuddling, anything. Not necessarily romantic, just in general wanting physical contact. It's more of a grounding technique then anything. Kanade is perfectly content with this.

Feel Free To Add On!!!

Saki / Tsukasa

[cryingpariah]

Pari, in honor of International Women's Day, would you perhaps like to share with me your favorite One Piece women and what you love about them?

(Jackie's one of my faves and I hope she's treating herself today!)

I LOVE TALKING ABOUT THE GIRLIES YES PLEASE!!

(I sincerely hope Shriek and all the gals on the Victoria Punk are getting waited on hand and foot/claw, it’s what they deserve!)

Honestly any of the gals that aren’t the worst are my faves 😗😗 but my top picks (in no particular order) are as follows:

- Nefertari Vivi: Damsel in distress? She’s the damsel CAUSING distress! Alabasta is one of the best arcs/sagas and Vivi is the heart behind all of it! Lover her defiance, feistiness, inability to shut her yap sometimes (🤣), everything about her is lovely! (Her and Jackie are spending IWD getting on Morgan's every last nerve and sipping tea)

- Nami: Our very first girlboss, we pledge allegiance to ye 🫡🫡!! She set the precedent for good female character writing in OP with her complexity and tragedy while also being a silly goofball! Has never not slayed an outfit nor an enemy!! Plus she’s one half of the ultimate best friends duo in the entire series with Usopp!!

- Nico Robin: THEE weird girl representation!! Big old brain to think with, big old eyes to stare at you with blinking, big old mouth to say the most unsettling things! Was fighting for my life trying not to like her during the Miss All Sunday era but I couldn’t stop myself 😫😫!! Her DF is in my top 3 DF's I would want (though I do not have her gracefulness 😭😭)

- Carrot: My daughter #1! In a world where Vivi isn’t the final Strawhat I’d totally be cool with Carrot joining the party! Her arc from WCI to Wano was amazing and her bond with Pedro broke my heart every-time Toei decided to run that flashback back 😭😭! Without her we wouldn’t have gotten that iconic introduction to Sulong! I think about her art of the Strawhats almost daily!

- Charlotte Pudding: My daughter #2! Oh how she broke my heart during WCI😭😭 aND THEN SHE GOT NAPPED BY BLACKBEARD?? CAN MY GIRL CATCH A BREAK MY LORD?!? SHE'S LITERALLY JUST A GIRL!!! If/When Garp escapes/breaks out/is rescued he BETTER take Pudding with him!!

- Boa Hancock: so Pari fun fact, I was so excited to get to Impel Down because I wanted to see Ponytail Buggy that I watched the entirety of Amazon Lily in one day…which was a horrible mistake because I was crying so bad about Boa and her sister's backstory I couldn’t function. I didn’t dislike Boa beforehand but since then I have been a staunch Boa Hancock lover and defender. She has done nothing wrong ever and if she did they deserved it.

-Charlotte Brûlée: Just like me forreal. My brother (who was pushing me to get into One Piece for ages) told me there’d be a character who’s basically me in WCI and it's Brûlée! Very tall, very gangly, off-putting, says anything literally anytime, she couldn’t get more me if she tried! You could say…it was like…LOOKING IN A MIRROR!

[Honorable mentions because this could go on forever: Reiju, Stussy, Bonney, Ginny, Conis, Charlotte Lola and Chiffon, Shirahoshi, Otohime, Baby 5, Viola, Dadan.]