#i don't think taste and smell are as closely linked as people think

[kedreeva]

No idea! Unlike COVID people who *lost* their sense of smell, I don't have a before and after to compare to because I've always barely had one. I taste things, but I've got no idea if it's different from what it would be if I had a better sense of smell.

I can't seem to taste things that have capsaicin past the capsaicin. People talk about hot things having flavor but it does not, it just hurts me. I don't think that's smell related though. Unfortunate because a lot of spicy dishes seem like they would be good.

It's also hard to say which things taste different/bad because of smell and which things I can't eat because The Autism Says No. Like does it actually taste that bad or am I having a texture/taste episode where this isn't food according to my brain? I'm sensitive to changes in texture especially on food, and flavor profiles. My mom used a different brand of cheese for the cheesy rice she makes for holidays and it was then Bad. Was it bad because autism said this wasn't the same thing anymore or because the other brand lacked something I could taste or was it normal dislike of a brand for some normal reason? Hard to say. I have nothing to compare to usually.

Unfortunately when trying to describe tastes, it pretty much has to be done by relating it to other tastes or smells, and... That won't work here. So for all I know I could have a normal sense of taste or a completely fucked up one where stuff doesn't taste like it should, and I have no idea how I would even tell that since I have no comparison for what it "should" taste like.

Funny thing about covid-19 induced anosmia is that it's thought to be entirely neurological in nature. So there's nothing wrong with my nose: the problem is that my olfactory nerve is fried. This results in my brain experiencing a smell and turning on a check engine light that says "there's a smell." What kind of smell is it? "Gas leak? Fried chicken? Shampoo? We don't know."

[just-another-fanfiction-writer]

Could you handle me? | Sebastian Sallow x fem!Reader | Chapter One

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Sebastian is always flirting with you and up in your personal space. So you decide to finally let him taste his own medicine.

Warnings: aged up characters, pining, tension (will likely lead to smut in a following chapter), minors dni

~ chapter two ~ chapter three ~ ao3 link ~

Welcome back to my blog!

This marks the end of my 4-year hiatus and I'm really excited. I think I learned a lot since then and hope I can entertain some people with a few HL fanfics.

Stay tuned for more ❤️️

~Mia

Suddenly he moved closer...a lot closer. His arm resting against his cocked hip, his chest almost brushing your bicep. It sent shivers down your spine, but luckily he wouldn't be able to distinguish them from your other shivers caused by this cold evening.

Yet you couldn't help yourself from looking down to the messily tucked in shirt, up his vest buttons, over this deliciously exposed neck and to stop at his teasing smile and dark brown eyes. You raised an eyebrow at Sebastian, crossing your arms (more to lessen your involuntary shivers, whenever his chest touched you) and asked him, what exactly he thought of doing.

His damn perfect smile widened at this question, eyes growing darker.

"I'm flirting, isn't it obvious?"

You couldn't stop yourself from blushing a little, hoping he didn't see it before you turned your face away from him. This feeling...jumping around in your heart like a giddy child...you had to push it away, so inadvertently your crossed arms nudged him enough, so he had to change his position again. Finally there was some distance between you two again. 

Thank Merlin.

"Well, you should stop that. We don't want anyone to think of us otherwise, do we?"

You tried to cover your shaky voice with a playful tone, yet you weren’t sure if it was believable.

When you looked back up into his warm eyes, you wondered…was it a shimmer of sadness in his eyes just now? You couldn't tell for sure, as his smile came back again so quickly. 

Obviously he just wanted to get a rise out of you again. Always teasing, always flirting, always too god damn close. 

He was your friend, your best one to be exact, but oh, how you longed for more. This…flirting…it was the only thing you could allow yourself.

"I don't care what anyone thinks about us.” He answered in a hushed and dark voice. “I only care what you think."

He was standing there so confidently, while you could only notice your knees getting weaker with each second he was staring at you, waiting for a reaction.

Maybe you could allow yourself a little more.

Just a tiny bit more.

Maybe it would shut him up for good.

When you turned to face him completely and mirrored the darkness in his eyes, his ones widened. You didn't notice how his knees also got a little weaker and how his hands started to shake with anticipation, when you stepped closer.

"Oh, so you wouldn't care..." 

You stepped closer. 

"...if anyone saw us..." 

Another step. 

"...being so close and..." 

Another. 

"...personal?"

Now you were close enough for Sebastian to notice the faded scar on your temple, the small small discoloration in one of your eyes and smell this wonderful perfume of yours mixed with your own intoxicating scent.

He had to gulp down against the lump in his throat he suddenly felt.

"No..." His voice was low and raspy, a little shaky even. 

Oh this was perfect. Just perfect.

Finally you would get a little revenge for him always making you feel like you would lose your mind, whenever he stepped into your personal space so recklessly.

A wave of confidence rushed through your veins from seeing him like this. Seeing how his freckled nose flared up with his quickening breath, his cheeks turning an adorable pink and his lips quivering a little.

The gasp that escaped those lips, when you put your hand on his hip to pull him closer, shot right down your body, right in between your legs. You wanted to get used to this feeling. You wanted to just let go and drown in this exciting promise of his gasp.

You had to hear it again.

"Oh, I don't think you'd be able to handle it. To handle me."

Sebastian was barely able to hold back a muttered "Fuck", showing just how desperate he was for you. How much your hand sent tingles up and down his spine and how your dark voice awakened something so even darker inside him.

He bit his lower lip, watching you very intently.

Though his eyes shortly closed with the new sensation of your other hand running up his arm, over his muscular bicep and shoulder, stopping at his neck.

Oh, and when you pulled him down by it, almost fully closing the distance between your lips, he again let a gasp escape his mouth.

This was too fucking addicting.

Your stomach wanted to turn upside down, your legs wanted to give out and your lips...they wanted to kiss him and show him how much you needed him.

Your fingers gently ran up his soft curly brown hair, twisting it a little and scraping his scalp. He seemed to enjoy the feeling, closing his eyes once more, but quickly opening them again, to stare down at your lips.

You neither noticed your other hand drawing small circles on his lower back nor your breasts pressing against his taut chest. Your mind was already dizzy, running a marathon in your head, which your heart apparently took part in, hammering so hard and fast that you could only hear your own pulse in your ears.

Yet the moment your lips ghosted over his plush ones, everything stopped.

As if your whole body just shut down.

It felt like forever until your body turned back on, but it must've been less than a millisecond, when something similar to a siren started to blare a warning in your head.

THIS IS YOUR BEST FRIEND!

Everything inside you started to initiate the plan for Code Red.

You pulled back, stepping away from Sebastian completely, your hands falling down from the desperate grip they just had on him, while your heart ached like a thousand needles were attacking it.

Your eyes darted everywhere except to the brunette, only allowing you to look at him once, to see his reaction to your sudden retreat. Seeing his big wide eyes, you knew you had to cover up whatever just spilled out of your heart. You couldn't let your unusual abrasive behavior destroy this friendship.

So you just giggled half-heartedly, trying to cover all of this up as your usual non-serious flirting. 

"See? Couldn't handle me..."

Your voice wasn't very convincing, but you chose to ignore it as best as you could.

"Now come on, Sallow, you dumbass. We should be getting back to the castle."

Nice save there, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes. Sebastian couldn't see it, as you already turned away, making your way towards the castle.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Heyoooo

First of all, I just want to say that I absolutely love all of your stories, I feel like you totally understand every characters from SnK and I couldn't stop smiling every time I was reading something wholesome (and my heart was breaking when it was sad kfkdndndn), can't wait to start your Jean x Reader slow burn fic. 🤗

I was wondering if I could request some headcanons for girlfriend Pieck x f!reader (if it's alright to ask for f!reader ofc, if not simply g!neutral) ? 👉👈

(Btw, in your masterlist, when we click for the Zeke boyfriend link, it's actually the Dilf!Jean x reader)

Have a nice day/night. 😊

a/n: thank you so much, i adore you! i hope you love my jean fic so much, just bare with me because the first chapter needs to be edited! wlw/mlm/etc relationships are perfectly fine here, and they always will be. i've been waiting for people to request wlw, i feel like it doesn't get enough love and tysm for telling me about my masterlist! i will fix it, anyway heres

girlfriend pieck finger

the sleepiest girlfriend in the whole entire world. she's always sooo tired, no matter how much rest she gets the previous night. always rubbing her eyes and yawning.

pieck naturally smells really good. it's a natural but sweet type of smell. she also has exquisite taste in perfumes and shampoos.

she's not much of a chef but she enjoys baking. her favorite thing to make is probably cupcakes because they're quick, simple and delicious.

she has a really loud laugh. you don't find it obnoxious at all. it's beautiful and reminds you of some sort of celestial being.

i'd say her love language is giftgiving with physical touch being a close second. she's the type to bring you 'just because' flowers.

your relationship with her is entirely freeing and healing. there is no toxicity about it.

she's a bit of a night owl so often times the two of you will be running to the nearest convenience store in the middle of the night for snacks.

pieck doesn't really dress up unless it involves you two going on a date. she likes to wear cute sundresses that are a little bit floral, but not the ugly type of floral. you know what i mean.

she's your biggest supporter. she listens to you so intensely. she's also highly opinionated and will tell you the truth even if it hurts, but she'll deliver it in a nice way.

it's hard to fight with her. she just blankly stares at you and blinks her big grey eyes until you calm down.

she isn't really the jealous type but loves to make the "that musta been your other girlfriend" joke.

she loves to play with your hair. brush it, braid it, curl it, etc.

pieck can't do her own makeup to save her life but she likes to practice on you and it turns out beautiful but also interesting.

she adores her forehead and cheeks being kissed.

she likes to sing with you.

pieck is also very fearless, very bold despite her sweet little face. she's very proud to be your girlfriend. she lets everyone know you're her partner and she is yours. she doesn't care what people think or what they say.

my ko-fi

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt4

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

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Marvin chewed the inside of his cheek as he sat on the street bench, watching people walk in and out of a cafe as his stomach growled. It’s been a whole week since he ‘appeared’ and he’s barely been scraping by. He’d stolen some food but it wasn’t enough to fully satisfy since he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself and he’s been sleeping in the park after he tried breaking into a hotel and nearly got caught when a last-second check-in had him climbing out of a window at three in the morning. 

He tried every single phone number he knew and none of them connected to where they should have gone. Pizza shops, schools, and an elderly woman he spent a long time talking to cause she thought he was her son and he didn’t have the heart to hang up. 

Watching all of those people with their treats and drinks had Marvin willing to do anything for a decent cup of tea right now. Some food with it would be nice too. 

Marvin groaned and tilted his head back, trying to will his body to not want things and he closed his eyes. He felt ridiculous. Sitting on a bench in the wrong country with no access to anything he owned, no one he could get a hold of, hungry, tired, and wearing the jacket of a man trying to drag him away to some ‘House’ with ‘Egos’. 

‘Drag him away’ wasn’t really fair. The poor man seemed to be doing a job and was trying to be the nicest about it. Jackie said there were others, Marvin saw them on the phone, so why didn’t they send more of them out? Or someone else? Was it about that ‘connection’ thing that was mentioned the first time they met? There was definitely something more to all of this than the surface level he could find. 

“Veggie or chicken?” 

“Huh?” Marvin lifted his head and opened his eyes to the sight of Jackie sitting next to him, holding out two, what he assumed were foil-wrapped burritos, toward him. 

“I got a veggie one and a chicken one. I didn’t know if you ate meat or not and usually chicken is a safe go-to if you do.” Jackie explained. “I was starving most of the time I was out on my own.” He added. Marvin hesitated at first but he could smell the food and it smelled so good. 

“I’ll do the veggie one.” 

“It’s a pretty good one, has a lot of stuff for protein and it’s really filling.” Jackie gave Marvin one of the burritos and he started digging into a backpack sitting on the ground between his feet. “I also have some drinks. I got water, coffee, and tea.”

“What kind of tea?” Marvin gave up at this point and accepted that he was going to share a meal with Jackie. 

“I have iced and hot. It’s-uh-I think it’s like a gray tea or something? I’m not one of the tea drinkers in the house, I had someone else make them while I did the coffee.” Jackie pulled out some thermoses.

“You’re the kind of person that overpacks for trips, aren’t you?” Marvin chuckled. “And I’ll take the hot tea.” 

“You can never be too prepared.” Jackie gave Marvin a thermos and grabbed a different one for himself. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like ‘cause we have a lot of different tastes between everyone. Remember the really smart dude I mentioned? He only ever drinks things cold. Something about it ‘tasting like hot’ and like, I don’t get it, but I do get it at the same time.” Jackie pulled out some napkins and placed the stack between them. Marvin was just letting Jackie talk away as he unwrapped the burrito and ate. It was a pretty good burrito, he’ll have to thank the chef at some other point. “Whenever we make coffee together he makes me have the cold stuff with him cause he says I’m too impatient and burn myself too often.” Jackie opened his thermos and took a sip, cursing and hissing a bit in pain.

“Did you just burn yourself?” Marvin asked.

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“I would not.”

“Then, yeah, I did.” Jackie’s confession got Marvin to laugh. 

“Now I can see why he insists on you drinking the cold stuff.” Marvin teased and went back to eating. He was already halfway done with the burrito and he usually didn’t eat this fast but a hungry stomach didn’t care about waiting between bites. 

“So were you in shock again or did I manage to sneak up on you this time?” Jackie asked with a grin.

“I was half asleep.” 

“Damn, I’ll properly sneak up on you one day.”

“Good luck with that.” Marvin winked and Jackie just chuckled and started eating as well. 

The two sat in a strangely comfortable silence as they ate and drank. Marvin finished his food first and then took his time sipping the tea. It was okay, he definitely makes a much better tea, but it still felt so good compared to the cold air. He found himself watching Jackie out of the corner of his eye. Marvin swore that smile was permanent or something since he looked like a puppy with a new toy while eating. He waited as Jackie finished his food, downed the rest of the drink, and then wiped off his face with a napkin, but still had some sour cream on his cheek.

“You missed a spot.” Marvin took one of the napkins and cleaned off the spot. He didn’t even really think about it, he just did it. 

“I-uh-” Jackie cleared his throat. “Are you willing to go to the House now?” 

“Nope.” Marvin popped the p and then took off. 

“Marvin! Wait!” Jackie scrambled to throw the stuff into the bag and ran while zipping it up. “Come on, man!” He saw Marvin slip into an alleyway and he ran there as well. Jackie didn’t see Marvin but did see a fence at the end of the alley. “Faster than I thought.” He ran over to the fence and easily climbed up to the top of it. “Why are there pillows-!” The last word became a shout when something hit Jackie’s side and he fell off the fence and landed on the pillows. 

“Bye, Jackie~!” Marvin sang, standing at the opening of the alleyway, waving, and then running off. 

“I am so grounded after this.” Jackie groaned, letting his face plop down on the mountain of pillows. 

[thereaderinsertlady]

snarles here sneaking into your asks to request snatcher x reader for questober 👻🎃 okay so i had a few ideas for this since you said you like prompts and I've had quite a few laying around because I'm too shy to actually get into writing fanfiction myself hope you like them~ if not feel free to ignore any ones you don't like! - reader was either already a ghost or recently passed away and was reborn as a spirit - i had this idea where subcon has this yearly tradition where all the subconites and other spirits of the forest would make masks and dance in front of a big bonfire in the middle of the village - my random silly lore for this is that snatcher originally set this up as a way to celebrate the rebirth of subcon aswell as mourn the loss of everyone who died when the forest froze over (and also to spite vanessa lol) - after being in a relationship with y/n for a while now snatcher decides to invite them for the first time that's as much as i had for ideas but i think that's a pretty good place to add on from also most of this would probably just be fluff but honestly go wild

:0 hello there!! I tried my best to fit everything you put into one fic- I really liked all of the ideas you put down lmao. Anyways, here's the link on ao3, and I hope you enjoy!

Snatcher x Reader - To be a Ghost

Unfortunately for you, you… were dead. 

And have been for a while. 

It took nearly a year to get used to being dead and having your bottom half end with a tail instead of legs, but you found a way to cope via messing with people with your newfound abilities. Making objects float was very easy– a little too easy. Though, trying to paint a floating mask with a floating paint brush? A little difficult, even for you.

“How’s it coming along?” Snatcher said encouragingly, peering over your shoulder.

“I think it’s… somewhat coming along,” you said, tilting your head to look at it from a different angle. “I think. It seems like it’s missing something…”

“Missing something?” He hummed, leaning in close to look at the mask. “Hmm…”

As you floated in front of the mask, trying to coax the ethereal paint into cooperating and not to drip onto the tree-home’s floor, Snatcher's presence was oddly comforting. His encouragement was a balm to your spectral soul, and you were grateful for his support.

Snatcher leaned in more, his translucent eyes studying your creation intently. "Maybe a touch of cerulean blue around the edges? That might give it a bit more depth. Either way, I think you’ll be able to finish before tonight."

Even though it was always night time in Subcon, they were having an event in the middle of the village. Some sort of reconciliation with life and death and to aid with mourning… or something. You weren’t a hundred percent certain what it was for, but this was the first time Snatcher has invited you to join. 

Really, you were just excited to dance and hang out in front of a warm fire. 

Despite the fact that most of your senses have eroded; taste, smell, touch– you could still feel temperature. You couldn’t warm up by yourself, of course, so you had to find other sources.

“...Say, do you miss being alive?” Your voice was soft.

“Do I miss being in a meat sack?” He snorted. “That old thing was a hindrance! I couldn’t do anything that I can do now!” Snatcher floated past you, flopping down into his maroon chair. 

You chuckled at Snatcher's candid response. "Fair point," you mused, a smile tugging at the corners of your spectral lips. "But there must be some things you miss about it, right? Like... the taste of food, or the smell of roses?"

Snatcher tilted his head in thought, considering your question. "Well, I suppose there were some pleasant moments, yes. I… suppose I miss the taste of bacon, but overall, this form suits me just fine. No need to worry about trivial mortal concerns."

You nodded, understanding his perspective. It was fascinating to contemplate the stark differences between your current existence and the memories of your past life. The transition from flesh and blood to this ephemeral state was a journey of its own.

You continued to refine the mask, each stroke of the brush imbuing it with a sense of depth and mystery. It was shaping up to be a truly unique creation… or so you hoped. It might look a little dumb at an angle.

Snatcher watched with curiosity as the mask began to take on a new dimension. "I can see it coming together," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. His tail flicked against the floor. "You've got quite the talent."

You waved a hand, feeling just a little embarrassed. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m sure your minion’s masks look much better than mine.”

“Well, as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder!”

“Did you steal that quote from a book somewhere?”

“...Maybe!”

You lightly laughed, continuing to work on painting the mask. You could pick items up in your ethereal hands, but not for long. Even sitting down was an issue… Well, that is, if you weren’t sitting in Snatcher’s lap. You blushed at the thought, recalling a few instances where he allowed you to sleep on him.

“...Say, when does the event start, again?”

“In a few good hours,” he answered. “Why?”

You carefully placed the mask down on the table, finished with it and wanting it to dry. You turned towards Snatcher, trying to put on a non-embarrassed face. “Well… maybe we could… I dunno… read a book together or something?”

“A book?” Snatcher seemed amused. “Is this a ploy to come sit in my lap again?”

You grunted, your tail swishing. “A-And what if it is?”

He took a moment to pretend to think. “Hmm… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…” After a pause he patted his lap. “Come hither.”

You tried not to look excited. As quickly as a mouse to cheese, you plopped down onto his lap, cuddling up to him. 

Snatcher chuckled, his purple form providing a surprisingly comfortable perch. You could feel a sense of warmth emanating from him, despite the lack of true physicality. It was a small comfort, a reminder that even in this ethereal existence, there were ways to find solace… Though, you wondered how he was able to sit down for so long without phasing through the chair… maybe it was an experience thing?

As you settled down in Snatcher's lap, he produced a worn, leather-bound book from the folds of existence, teleporting it to his clawed hands. It was adorned with cryptic symbols and strange glyphs, a testament to the otherworldly nature of this place.

He flipped it open, revealing the unique language used. “I’ll read it to you,” he told you, likely seeming your bewildered expression. "Now, let's see what tale we can unearth from the annals of Subcon's history," he mused, his eyes glowing faintly as he flipped through the first few pages. “It’s been a while since I’ve read this…” 

“...Anal?” Your lips quivered upwards as you tried not to laugh.

“Annals, as in yearly.” He pouted. “Silly ghost.”

After a moment his clawed fingers passed over the ancient text, expertly navigating the script and reading it aloud. The words he spoke seemed to come alive, weaving a vivid mental tapestry of Subcon's past. It was a tale of struggles, of rebirth, and of the enduring spirit that lived on in this forest.

…You rubbed your eyes, leaning back into him and getting comfortable. Although sleeping was a bit… difficult to do as a ghost, you found yourself drowsing off, head bopping a few times before settling backwards, against his chest. Although you were always interested to learn more, he was just too comfortable to lay on.

You weren’t exactly sure when you fell asleep, but reality faded away as you snuggled up to him, resting in his lap and comforted by his soothing, rumbling voice…

[traumasurvivors]

This is a blog post I wrote on various grounding techniques. This link leads to my own personal website with other trauma articles. If you want to read the article but don't want to click an external link, it is available under the read more.

For anxiety, panic attacks, flashbacks and/or nightmares.

In those moments, it can be hard to think of what to do. Please consider writing yourself a to do list for those moments that you can go through. Whether it is things from this list I am sharing with you or your own grounding methods you have thought of. Write a step by step of how to get yourself grounded that you can have on your phone or notebook. This will make it easier when you're feeling panicked and/or stressed to navigate through calming techniques. Another tip is to try some of these things when you're calm. Don't try them for the first time when you're in a panicked state.

Physical Sensations

Put your hands in cold water (you could even hold an ice cube.)

Squeeze something soft like a blanket or stuffed animal.

Hold a favourite item like a stimming toy or something you love. If you are outside, consider picking up a leaf (or rock etc) and examining it and how it feels.

Put your hand over your heart and feel it. You are here. You are present. Inhale (through your nose) for four seconds and Exhale (through your mouth) for six seconds.

Cuddle or pet your dog/cat if you have one.

Pick up and touch items close to you. Feel the texture of them, the weight. Really focus on these traits.

Think of things you enjoy touching. I know someone who keeps bubble wrap around so they can pop it when they feel distressed.

Taste

Drink or eat something (if you can) with a strong taste. (Something really sour, maybe something spicy, or anything with a strong taste.)

Chew gum or suck on a mint or similar.

Let a chocolate or similar melt in your mouth. Really focus on the taste and the sensation.

Drink a cold or hot beverage.

Please be aware of your limits. Are you going to be able to focus on this? Is there risk of you choking if you panic and/or dissociate heavily?

Sight

What do you see now? What colours are the walls? What is the floor made of? Name five items in the room with you?

Flip through photos that you like

Read a book, article or something you enjoy reading.

Scent

Spray a scent that is non triggering like a body spray, or air freshener.

Have some essential oils to smell when you need.

Do not light a candle if there is a risk of you dissociating too much to remember it. This can be dangerous. Please only light a scented candle if you are certain it is safe to do so.

Smell your favourite foods, or candy with a strong smell.

Sound

Put on a non-triggering movie/show/youtube video

Put on some non-triggering music.

Listen to the sounds where you are and list them off. Are there bugs chirping outside? Are people doing work outside? Do you hear a heater/fan going? Etc.

Play nature sounds (there are apps that do relaxing sounds. Consider downloading one.)

Call a friend. (If this happens in the middle of the night, maybe ask a trusted friend to send you some recordings you can play of them saying calming things for you?)

Listen to an audio book or read a book you like out loud.

Other

Have an anchoring phrase/mantra like: “My name is ___. I am ___ years old. I live in ___. I am safe. ”

Have a soothing or distracting app you go to on your phone. (There are colouring apps and just nice games or activities to do.)

Try the 5-4-3-2-1 method.

Having a self-care box

Remember that even if it does not feel like it right now, you are going to be okay. You’ve gotten through this before and you can do it again. I believe in you. I hope you believe in you, too.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #148

I did a lot of things today, but somehow I was fairly empty-minded for most of it.

I made a wonderful tea out of two different kinds of chocolate tea and two different kinds of strawberry tea, sweetened with a little honey and cream:

Shortly after that, I went to physical therapy. J came with me, because we were gonna go get pizza afterwards! There's a place nearby called Pizza Palace, which is run by a very kindly older gentleman who makes it a point to speak to us whenever we stop by, because we left really good Google reviews for his shop. The reviews were well-earned because the pizza there is really good, so I am a little confused about the level of gratitude he shows us just for us telling the truth, but if it makes him happy, then that's the important thing, I suppose!

The kindly gentleman has been all over the world and has done a great many things. I really do love when he talks to us; we learn much and his smile is one of the most radiant I've ever seen. And he makes beautiful pizza. I hope that his business might prosper. We told him a little bit about ourselves; I told him about how I used to do mermaid training, and J told him about learning to fly airplanes. The conversation was wonderful. I hope we get to have more.

After we returned home, I decided that it was time to strain the lilacs out of the water that I stewed them in. But I didn't get a cheesecloth because I thought we already had one; we don't. So I made do with a wire mesh strainer:

From there, I poured it into a saucepan and added about 2 cups of sugar. Normally, you're supposed to add as many cups of sugar as there are cups of lilacs, but I find the sweetness to be overpowering if I do that, so normally I add half or less. I had between 7 and 8 cups of lilac blossoms. 2 cups of sugar tasted correct:

From here, you have to let it reduce on the stove at a low heat for a while. It still needs to be reduced because the consistency isn't quite as viscous as I'd like, but here's how it ended up:

...I'll have to finish the process tomorrow, if I have time.

J and I visited Br after this. We went to her house, and I did a lot of leisure writing. I also listened to all the lovely tunes of one of the wonderful folks I met at the gathering of polyamorous people! I think this person's stuff is pretty great! Here's a link, in case you wanna hear it, too:

I really enjoyed listening to all of these. I think my favorites were Eightohtwoelevenen and Fractal Clouds!

Oh! You might also be pleased to know that I got some nice pictures of the sky for you on the way to Br's house... If you look very closely at the first one, you'll see a very faint rainbow in the clouds, near the bottom...

...I hope the skies you fly in are at least as pretty as the pictures of the sky that I try to take for you.

...I don't have much else to say today. Tomorrow, I gotta wake up early and go to the house of the friend who I got the lilacs from; I will have the pleasure of watching over her delightful little son as she works from home! I am looking forward to it, but simultaneously, I am somewhat worried about doing a bad job somehow. This worry makes no sense, given that I literally have a degree in taking care of children between the ages of 0 and 3, but my brain is always worried about being bad at the things I'm good at, so maybe I'll pay it no heed.

I love you. Please stay safe out there, okay? Take some time to dance merrily up in the clouds. Take some time to enjoy some warm, delightful-smelling rains. Take some time to watch the sunrises and sunsets splash kaleidoscopic colors all over the clouds, won't you?

I'll write again tomorrow, as I always do.

Your friend, Lumine

[the-ellia-west]

Geon

*I'm not a huge fan of first person, but let me give you a little bit*

I pace through halls, wings, and towers empty or not, I hardly know unless there's a breeze. Whispers around corners and carried through stars. That's what I'm told they're called.

White is described to me as cold. Empty. But pretty in a silent way. The color of a wedding dress, or the Petals of the softest rose. That's the color of the stars. Like sprays of sand in the Heavens, glittering out of reach of even the tallest spires. It sounds beautiful, expansive, something I could never hope to imagine.

Do I want to see? I don't know. The concept of colors feels so overwhelming. What even is sight? No one I've asked is able to tell me in a way that means something. Trissa got the closest. She on e told me when we were young that sight is the essence of being. Of the world that you can sense before you hear, smell, or touch it.

That's unfathomable in a strange way. You know something is there before you feel it. You know something before you smell it. You know how something will taste before it touches your tongue. I can only describe seeing as knowing. Because I can't know something until it's close to me. I can't fathom the stormy dark greys of stone. The peaceful yet somehow sorrowful blues of water and sky.

They've linked colors to emotions oftentimes and objects. It's strange.

Just like a reflection. It sounds so unreal. I've felt glass, felt skin, but seeing your own face in a piece of glass is so strange to me. People say you can see it in water too. If I could see, would my cup show me myself?

The glass in front of me at this table was said to be a mirror. I may not be able to see myself, but I can feel myself. Cold skin, soft fabric, thick hair. And I feel grey. Not to the touch, but to the thought.

I think of my mother. Her kind words and the soft love she gave me without condition. The kindness and the knowledge she wrapped me in when I needed it.

I've been described many things over many years. But the most disturbing of all was a corpse. A body without breath. A person without life. It's so awful because I know first. I can hear the breathing stop before they see it, feel the warmth and breaths fall still, smell the blood leaving the body. And so I know, and therefore, I see.

But mother. This mirror. Her pink. I'm afraid. I'm sad, I'm sick. I'm not her little prince anymore. Because I am grey, I am empty, and I am angry. And that's not the little boy Mama raised to be a king.

[revvnant]

when did mike's pyromania first manifest, and did it cause him problems in his youth (i.e setting fires and getting in trouble for it)

so first off i'm probably not going to say anything that's new to you sidney, but for people who aren't into it, pyromania / pathological fire setting is not super well defined or understood by medicine; it's a very broad term that covers a lot of conditions that cause fire setting. i've seen definitions that exclude mania and psychotic episodes, but treatment designed around both, and literature that draws close links between the latter and pathological fire setting specifically. i'm not gonna get into the evaluation part of it because i'm still doing research, but just to preface, i'm drawing partially from what's focused on in the four factor fire scale / firesetting questionnaire. u of kent's recent research on this is generally publicly available.

so i don't know that i would even technically class michael as a pathological fire starter, in that it's not the most prominent of his issues and the fires we see him set seem to be well-thought-out and intentional. that said, he strongly hits the 'personal identification with fire' aspect of the scale. i just want to draw a distinction between like... fire being mike's preferred m.o. being a headcanon of mine, and me using canon to say that he's a pathological fire setter. i don't think his two known instances of setting fires / participating in setting fires constitute compulsive or pathological acts in and of themselves, as they simply make sense on their own for getting rid of an offensive building and The Killer. because we get so little for michael in fnaf, i choose to connect him with fire, and i also think it's a double-edged sword — he's highly flammable and fire can permanently kill him, so he can't just do whatever with it; so the compulsions i think he has are tempered by fear of accidentally melting or self-immolating. i think that's an extra factor that other fire setters usually don't share, created by the supernatural elements present in the story.

moving on to my actual headcanons, i think he had a childhood fascination with fire spurred in part by other people making comparisons for him — hotheaded, hot-tempered, short fuse, firebrand, etc. it worked its way into his psychology and first manifested as sneaking cigarettes. he enjoyed lighting them, watching them burn out, the smell of smoke, and the sensation of smoking them ( specifically the sort of acrid taste and feeling in the mouth and lungs ). he grew to like putting them out as well, and the small fires he could start by doing so. i already believe he liked to hang out at the dump ( this is an it / donnie darko reference, we must have our 80s representation ), so it provided him with ample opportunity to start lots of small scale fires. it never escalated past that; he never set fires at school, for example, though he may have been tempted to. he also never set them at work, because electrical fires are sort of a different beast to him and william drilled into his head how dangerous those are. his pride as a mechanic prevents him from setting them. at home, he channels it by being in charge of cooking and the fireplace and is usually satisfied by the flames on the stove.

writing this out has me like wow this is actually his best-managed issue. he has so much going on with his temper and physical altercations that he doesn't really have room for arson. his go-to is always punching and he's psychotic and terrified of going to jail, so it never escalates to revenge fires. but i think he deeply emotionally connects with fire in a few different ways:

the act of destruction. it is cathartic for him to watch something be reduced to nothing, specifically by burning. sparks and ashes appeal to him. contrast with william's affinity for bones and blood as a means of disposal; michael definitely has these as a motif, and is an eleven on the body horror scale of course, but in terms of what he likes, he would see fire as vastly preferable to getting crunched in an animatronic. he acknowledges that it is probably immensely painful and an awful way to go, but on a psychological level, he sees it as less messy and more permanent than other forms of physical trauma.

heat and unpredictability. the way that fire moves and spreads and soaks up oxygen and repels people from it feels very personal to michael. i often describe him as having burning synapses, or a mind on fire, because i think that's how he experiences his own psychosis. his neural forest is being razed. he experiences internal activation and discomfort as heat and dryness, and so when he sees fire, that feels like an externalisation of his feelings. as someone who is kind of shit at expressing himself in a healthy way, fire becomes a sort of shortcut for having to convey distress.

control. as a person with minimal control over his own life, setting a fire is an act of rebellion and an assertion of power. because what the fuck are they going to do about it? he decides what gets destroyed ( to a degree ), he makes it happen, he has the lighter and he can threaten to drop it at any moment. and what he burns is, well, burned. that's extensive damage that's going to be around for a while. it's going to have a psychological and monetary cost to fix. it's going to scar. the damage has to be acknowledged in some way — in a way that the damage being done to michael rarely is. it is an extremely effective way of forcing people to listen to him.

this has gotten long but. basically. no he didn't get in trouble because he was too busy getting in trouble for things like brother murder and assaulting customers, and that cycle didn't often leave room for things like setting fires either as attention seeking or vengeful behaviour. instead it mostly manifested as self-soothing. i think he burned his hands on the stove and oven a lot semi-intentionally. i think his friends were very worried about the dump fires. i think that, while the fright and simulator fires make sense outside of mike being into arson, they also serve as a manifestation of his feelings, the ultimate impossible-to-ignore fuck you, this is how i feel ( fright ) and fuck you, these things are gone forever and you can't hurt them anymore ( simulator ). they made him feel powerful. he just needs to be careful because he's 2x weak to fire.

[awkwardgtace]

Not sure if anyone else has asked this already, sorry if someone has. For your mafia au, aside from size, what other physical differences are there between humans and giants? As for Dabria and the twins. Since Dabria used to be a giant, does she still have her giant traits? Not just her physical ones, but being able to growl and purr as well? Are the twins the same since they have giants blood, or because they were born 'human', they don't have any giant traits?

Don't ever feel bad if someone else has asked something already! I like answering questions for people who are curious about the stuff I've put together and I can give you link to posts if anyone else has <3

For this ask as far as I remember you are in fact for first so on to the answer

So differences between giants and humans other than size:

Number 1 is that humans have a significantly stronger scent than a giant. They could smell a human in another room, but giants need to be on top of each other to know what the other smells like. Humans also just smell better to giants, tastier in a way. Other giants don't have that.

Giants also have better hearing than it seems. It's hard to think of a good example, but Rhys lying on the couch and catching Ryder in Revenge Wasn't Sweet was also because he could hear the human approaching. Not just smell him. He only heard the quiet steps when Ryder was close enough to be grabbed. Rhys could also tell it was Ryder and not a different human.

Humans have a lighter bone structure than giants which makes climbing easier. (Part of why Dabria struggles to climb)

Giants have fangs and sharper teeth in general.

Giants can eat pretty much anything, including metal. It's actually why Ryder is a human that gets so much attention outside the family. He smells like blood and metal which attracts attention. It also explains why he's still around to outsiders. Don't want to lose a taste that's hard to come by

This isn't necessarily a difference, but all giants are not the same type. The Kamia family are actually considered mountain giants. A much stronger preference for humans with scents that aren't food/floral. They're also generally taller and stronger. Something forgotten since most mountain giants kind of died out once there was more intermingling between the giant species and humans. Only someone who studies the history of giants would realize that's why they're so big in comparison to others.

Now for Dabria and her traits.

This needs a little more explanation of my mad science. The thing that changed her wasn't just a shrink ray, it fucked with her DNA. It's part of why it messed up her memory, the shock of something like that means the brain tried to protect itself. Suddenly things you knew wouldn't make sense. One thing she remembers is Ryder's scent, but she's never caught it as a human.

Most of her giant traits are gone. All that remains are sharper teeth and a denser/sturdier bone structure

Her scent as a human is weaker than others. It does exist though. And has certainly been noticed by the giants of her family. One in particular loves it Vitus

The twins are more human than giant because of the mad science. If all three were to suddenly reach giant height Dabria would have the easiest time blending in as a giant. Her scent could be passed off as something else and she wouldn't need to growl or purr to prove herself.

The twins have a stronger than usual scent for humans, human teeth, and the lighter bone structure of humans. They'd be in danger as part of a mafia family because of their bone structure specifically. No telling how something a giant could normally crush in one hand would react to a punch sort of scenario. The mad science basically made the twins extremely human.

Now how the fact they were giant can come into play no one is entirely sure. Until now they were living with strict rules and a lot of fear, so out in the open who knows what could happen.

For all three there's a worry that the science could just wear off, but what that means for the twins is a mystery.

The mystery surrounding the twins is mostly why they were kept alive by the other family.

[wickedtouch]

Tickling Season

You know how sometimes you have the loosely familiar feeling that something is changing, but it's initially so subtle that you just can't pin down exactly what it is. Upon waking in the morning a few days ago, I remained in bed for a moment, gathering my thoughts and forming my intentions for the day. As the fog of sleep slowly lifted and my senses opened up to the world, I noticed something felt abstractly different from my typical waking routine. My concentration was off kilter as I fumbled through the motions of preparing for the tasks of the day, but my memory started to prod me gently about that same feeling, still lingering, yet now distantly familiar. Was I coming down with a cold? No, that wasn't it. I wasn't feeling uncomfortable, per se, just different.

I distracted myself with my usual breakfast and freshly brewed dark-roasted coffee. The coffee seemed better than usual. The morning air was cooler than I expected and the warm, rich brew complemented it nicely. I opened my back door for a moment to stare out into the trees and breathe in the freshness of nature. Ah, that was it, I thought. Fall is here! I laughed to myself for a moment at being overly pre-occupied about solving a useless mystery. I stepped back inside and finished my coffee, reflecting upon the feeling and what it even is. Is it the cool air? Is it the smell of dying leaves? I don't really know. I've always been sensitive to changes in the weather and the seasons. They affect my mood, my sense of taste and smell, and my thought patterns. I always welcome it, though, as it makes me feel interwoven with the fabric of the rest of the natural world. We are a part of it, after all, no matter how much we sometimes try not to be.

Something else interesting seems to happen to me in the fall. I sometimes think of it as the beginning of tickling season. It's a time when my interest in tickling typically spikes. I'm not completely sure why this happens, and it's unclear if this is something that mostly just happens to me, or if others share this experience as well. Brains are weird, and I suspect that by way of association, over time I've subconsciously linked the activity of tickling to that time of year and its tale-tale signs. My guess is that if most people associate tickling with any season at all, it would be summer or spring, especially for those more fixated on feet, as that is when people dawn their sandals, flip flops, and other revealing footwear. I do have a foot fetish, and I do appreciate the warmer weather for that, but it just doesn't have the same effect on my drive to tickle and be tickled as the onset of fall.

My interest in feet could still factor in I suppose. Is it that uniquely beautiful, yet difficult to explain aesthetic of a woman in deep blue jeans warming her bare feet in the sun before it sets? Is it that memory of a girl from years past who sat shoeless on the ground with me at the top of the hill on her grandparent's farm as I tickled under her toes with a piece of straw? No, I'm sure those play into it, but I have at least as many foot tickling memories that took place in the summers of my childhood.

I wonder if it's like a tease that drawls me in when all the ticklish spots quickly hide away under more and more clothing. After all, I do have an unexplained affinity for cute women wrapped up in cozy soft sweaters. It could be simply that the cooler weather encourages closeness and snuggling, always good opportunities to crawl a hand up under the layers to surprise a ticklish tummy. Perhaps it's just the sense that more tickling prospects are on the horizon from my subliminal memories of many past return-to-school seasons.

Another tickling-related phenomenon that occurs for me in the fall, and persists through the winter, is changes in my own sense of ticklishness. Does it happen every time? I'm not sure. But I have noticed a pattern over the years of feeling more ticklish in the colder weather seasons. I don't know what's going on here either. There are far too many variables to consider, and I'm not going to start a tickle research lab with an army of unpaid interns to find out! Is it because I get less vitamin D or release of nitric oxide from sun exposure? Is it a change in my diet? Is the cooler, dryer air just making my skin more frictionless and sensitive? Does wearing clothing that covers more skin lead the nervous system into a false sense of security? It might just be a psychological enhancement due to the elevated attention to tickling in general that fall brings me.

Every time I try to solve the complex riddle of why I am the way I am, I'm met with more questions than answers. Though, I think some riddles aren't meant to be solved, so much as they are meant to be meditated on. For I believe it's the questions that come out of trying to solve the unsolvable that help us answer the more important riddle of who we are, rather than why we are. So while I sit here nearing the end of writing this post, I don't feel I've learned anything new about why this is the start of tickling season for me, but I do feel a deeper understanding of, and connection with, myself for having tried.

In reflecting on what I wrote here, honestly, each time the seasons change I feel it affects how I think of tickling, but fall marks a more noticeable change than the others. Do you associate any particular season or time of year with tickling more than others? I'd love to hear about it if you do.

Take care and happy tickling!

[thatrandombystander]

Saw your french kissing post and I definitely get how it could seem weird. Like if you think about it rationally, it is definitely more "freaky" or "kinky" from an objective perspective and people just treat it as normal because it's so culturally normalized. For me the appeal of it is in like, showing and exploring an intense level of comfort with a person's body. Like when you are that close, you can smell and then taste a person, so if they have bad breath or somehow smell off, it is a very off-putting experience. So that forces me to be very selective about who I would kiss in that way. At least coming from me, a person who has a very sensitive sense of smell. But when someone smells and tastes really good, it is a really refreshing sensation. Like imagine when you are thirsty and you get a glass of very clear, crisp tasting water. Kissing can be like that but in a sort of carnal, body-to-body sense. It's sort of like, I trust you to be safe and healthy enough that I'm okay sharing your germs in a totally intense way. It is also very intimate and kinda busy from a sensory perspective. Like tongues have a lot of sensation and are very interactive because they can move a lot. Also though, there is one last element of it which is that I think it is somewhat of an outgrowth of a kind of primal mammal instinct. Like with many animals like dogs and cats, they use their tongue for grooming and showing affection, like if they want to care for or comfort another animal they will often go over and lick them. And we humans don't really do this but that primal instinct does kind of surface in the more intimate moments so like it sort of makes sense that it would be seen or interpreted as a sort of expression of affection, much the same way a dog who loves you will want to come over and lick your face (even if you think it's gross.) So I hope that sheds some light on why people like kissing. I definitely agree with you though, it seems a bit more freaky than a lot of people let on. And this comes from someone who enjoys kissing a lot, at least if it's with someone I'm extraordinarily comfortable with.

In response to this post.

Hey, thanks for sharing your perspective! Like I guess I kind of get it. Seems like it's just one of the ways to share physical intimacy, not too dissimilar from all the other ways, but for whatever reason this one does not compute with me.

I did have an allo person on that post tell me that they're squicked by french kissing, so I guess it's all just a personal preference thing. Although I am gratified that other people are also able to acknowledge how weird it is.

The linking it to a primal mammal thing is interesting to think about but I guess there's no way to empirically investigate that 😔

[timetraveltasting]

MUGHAL EMPIRE SAMOSAS (16th c.)

Over the weekend, I made my next fun Tasting History dish, Mughal Empire Samosas. This dish comes from the Ain-i-Akbari, or the "Administration of Akbar", a 16th-century detailed document recording the administration of the Mughal Empire under the Emperor Akbar, written by his court historian, Abul Fazl, in the Persian language. Nowadays, this type of samosa would be close to an Indian Keema Samosa, but many of the ingredients listed in this recipe were of Persian origin and were introduced around the time that Babur, Akbar's grandfather, was ruling the Mughal Empire. I chose to make this recipe next because I already really like samosas, and I was curious to find out how different 16th century ones would taste. Max calls the filling of the samosas 'perfect', so that really tempted me to try making these Mughal Empire Samosas despite the complexity of preparation. See Max’s video on how to make it here or see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from his website.

My experience making it:

I made a couple small changes to the modern recipe below. I used beef as my meat, and I also used slightly less clove than called for, as I find that it can overpower a dish and make it taste exclusively of Christmas (which I don't mind, only if it's close to Christmas). Additionally, I used powdered ginger instead of fresh.

The preparation was a bit lengthy due to the many steps, but it was a bit of an adventure! I made a couple changes to the method: I added the ginger at the same time as the other spices (mostly becuase I forgot to add it earlier), and I ended up having to add more water than Max did, mostly because my dough was very dry and crumbly (which may have had to do with the type of flour I used). When I rolled my dough balls into ovals, the edges were quite jagged and frayed, likely a symptom of my slightly dry dough, but I decided to ignore this and begin forming my samosas. Max says forming the samosas is difficult for first-timers, but I didn't find it too difficult. I have small hands that do their best work on this kind of dish. The only thing I may have had a problem with was rolling my dough thin enough and getting it to stick to itself when forming, likely also caused by my dry-ish dough. Nevertheless, I ended up with 12 fairly-uniform samosas, and deep-frying (my first time!) went pretty smoothly. I probably could have let them brown a little more, but overall, I think they came out very well! I served them for my husband and I with some mint chutney and a spicy sour cream sauce I had made the day before.

My experience tasting it:

The samosas had a bit of a thick outer shell, which crumbled a bit when biting into it (like Max warned they would), but the beef and spice filling was definitely tasty! Max says the smell and taste of the filling 'are just like 'Indian food'' to him, but for me there was a bit more of a Persian taste to the filling. The cloves were much more present than I thought they would be, considering I had already added less than was called for, but not in a bad way. The flavours did, in fact, work very nicely together. Luckily, the dryness of the short-bread-like casing was fixed by us dipping the samosas in our mint chutney and sour cream sauce. So, no problem there! My husband and I both enjoyed the Mughal Empire Samosas, but we will probably not make them again despite this due to the long prep time and the fact that it requires deep-frying (it seems wasteful unless you do it often enough, it's probably not the best health-wise, and it still feels like a dangerous task that could leave me with third-degree burns somehow). If you end up making it, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Links to harder-to-find ingredients:

Sumac

Mughal Empire Samosas original recipe (16th c.)

Sourced from Ain-i-Akbari by Abul Fazl.

Qutab, Which the people of Hindustan call sanbusah: This is made in several ways. 10 seer meat; 4 s. fine flour; 2 s. g’hi; 1 s. onions; 1/4 s. fresh ginger; 1/2 s. salt; 2 dams pepper and coriander seed; cardamum, cuminseed, cloves, 1 d. of each; 1/4 s. of summaq. This can be made in twenty different ways, and gives four full dishes.

Modern Recipe

Based on the Ain-i-Akbari by Abul Fazl and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

Filling

2 tablespoons (20 g) ghee

1 onion, diced

1 lb (450 g) lean ground meat, lamb, beef, venison, camel, and bustard would have been used

1 tbsp (12 g) sliced fresh ginger

2 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1 tsp ground coriander seed

1/2 tsp ground cardamom

1/2 tsp cumin

1/2 tsp cloves

2 tsp sumac

Dough

1 1/2 cups (240 g) flour

1/4 cup (45 g) melted ghee

Oil, for frying

Method:

For the filling: Melt the 2 tablespoons of ghee over medium heat. Add the onion and sprinkle it with a bit of the salt, and cook until well browned.

Turn the heat up to high and add the ground meat and ginger. Let it cook for a couple of minutes. Add the rest of the salt, pepper coriander, cardamom, cumin, clove, and sumac. Let it cook, stirring occasionally. You want the filling to be as dry as possible. Once it’s cooked, take it off the heat and let it cool completely.

For the dough: In a large bowl, pour the melted ghee into the flour. Rub the flour and ghee together until it resembles crumbles. You may need to add a bit of water to get the dough to come together. If you do, add it in very small amounts because you don’t want this to be a wet dough.

Once it comes together, knead it for 10 minutes, or until you have a stiff but smooth dough. Set the dough in a bowl and cover with a damp cloth. Let it rest for 15 minutes.

To assemble: After the dough has rested, knead it for 2 to 3 more minutes. Divide it into 6 or 12 equal pieces and put them back under the damp cloth. Each piece makes two samosas, so 6 pieces will make 12 good sized samosas and 12 will make 24 bite sized ones. The larger ones are easier to make.

Roll a piece of the dough into an oval, then cut in half across the width. Apply a little water around the edge of the dough and form it into a cone. This isn’t easy, but you’ll get the hang of it as you practice.

Fill the cone up almost all the way with the filling, being careful not to tear the dough. Put a little more water around the inside of the cone’s open end, and press the dough together to seal. Fold the sealed side down so it’s flat. Cover the samosas with a damp towel and refrigerate for 15 minutes.

While they rest, heat a few inches of oil in a pot to 350°F (175°C).

After the samosas have rested, take them out of the fridge and fry them immediately. You want to keep the temperature of the oil within 20 degrees of 350°F (a candy thermometer is helpful for this). After a couple of minutes, the samosas should float to the top. Move them around every so often so that they brown evenly. Once they’re lightly browned all over, take them out and put them on some paper towels to drain.

Let the samosas cool for a few minutes, then serve them forth.

[septembersums]

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒚 4 | 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌

| 18+ MINORS DNI | taglist | masterlist | art credits |

pairing: suguru x reader

summary: an aspect of suguru's personality that isn't normally talked about is his deep, consuming desire to be praised, to be worshipped, to have people who will devote themselves entirely to him. he has ways of achieving this: charisma, charm, intimidation...

but suguru's favorite type of adoration isn't coerced. it's given freely, openly, honestly, and most importantly, it's given by you.

content: praise kink | cult stuff | curse users | suguru being whiny and desperate for you | topping from the bottom | needy submissive suguru | femdom | submissive suguru | drunk sex |

wc: 1.9k

a/n: i love the idea of whiny needy suguru so much it's rotting my brain. u both worship each other but maybe suguru worships u even more than u do him ;)

links: | ao3 | old tumblr | twitter | discord |

Maybe it started in high school, when Suguru was always known to be the second best. Of course Gojo would tell him that they're the strongest together, that the power difference between the two of them doesn't mean anything, because they're friends.

But to Suguru, it was never good enough. He could never shine on his own when he standing right next to the sun incarnate. He had to leave, he had to make a better world for the people that mattered to him: sorcerers.

Those with cursed energy will rule the world, and he'll make sure of it. He'll be personally responsible for bringing forth a new age where curses don't exist, and for that-- he will be worshipped.

He's already worshipped by his followers, now deemed his family, but their praise doesn't mean half as much to him as yours does.

It was two years ago when Suguru found you working as a barista in a local coffee shop. He'd come once a week or so, and he'd make conversation with you. It was casual talk, nothing of significance; he certainly didn't bring up that you were dripping in cursed energy.

The timing just wasn’t right, not quite yet.

No, he didn't tell you about the world that you’ll rule with him. Until one morning during one of his visits, you were being absolutely berated by a man in his fifties for not getting his iced americano right.

He thought about killing the man right then and there for not noticing your worth, for not realizing that the person he was screaming at was so far above him that she's practically a different species.

A monkey screaming at a goddess-- what a fucking shame.

He threw his iced americano onto your white shirt, you quit your job, and a first grade curse user was born.

Suguru likes to think about that morning when he's drinking, such as he is tonight. Sake always tastes like desire to Suguru. It washes away the vomitous taste of the curses he ingests.

When you walk in the door to his room, sliding it closed quietly behind you, everything tastes and smells like sakura blooms in the height of spring. Sweet and delicate, soft and mild.

You turn to face him, and your wide eyes are so the opposite of his own. Your skin is smooth, plush in all of the perfect places, and your voice is gentle and soothing.

A curse user who carries herself like an angel, he was fucked the day he met you. He'd been chaste before you, abstinent from the sins of the flesh.

It wasn't because of any vow that he took, he just didn't find interest in the women or men who surrounded him, and he could never bring himself to fuck a filthy monkey.

You ruined him, with your soft tits and your wet pussy and your cooing voice. Your domineering tone that’s still somehow full of gentle praises. You ruined him beyond repair.

"Did you call for me, Master Geto?" You ask, falling to your knees before him out of respect.

His cock hardens underneath his robes at the sight of it.

He laughs softly, "You don't need to be so formal with me, angel."

His angel, you’ve been his angel since he first saw you with a halo of cursed energy floating around you like an ethereal glow from the heavens.

"I do," you argue, looking up at him and cocking your head to the side innocently, "because I worship you, Master Geto."

His cock goes from half-hard to throbbing against his thigh, he swallows thickly. There's a red blush extending from his pink cheeks to the tips of his ears, his chest will be splotched with roses, too.

"Is that what you'd like me to do tonight?" You ask, subservient yet sly, “Did you call me here to worship you?”

Because you can read him like a book, and though he's domineering in his daily life-- when you're alone with Geto, he becomes malleable like clay. He becomes needy, he becomes whiny, he becomes desperate.

Your thighs are clenching together already at the mere thought of it.

"Yes," he murmurs softly, "please-- come here."

So, you rise from your knees and approach him. Now he's the one sitting on the ground, while you stand in front of him, running your fingers through his hair.

You undo the loose knot at the back of his scalp, letting all of his raven hair fall loosely around his shoulders. Suguru shivers at your every touch, wrapping his hands around your thighs as he nuzzles you with his nose.

"Please me first," you hum lovingly to him, "and then I'll take care of you."

He nods eagerly, gulping as he lifts up your skirt to inhale the scent of you. He moans wantonly as he does so, nuzzling his nose against your cunt before tentatively swiping his tongue through your folds.

Your head falls back as he licks you slowly, lapping at your slick reverently.

"Good, Suguru,” you moan softly, calling him by his first name and tightening your grip in his hair, "that's good-- that's perfect.”

In front of the others, he’s Master Geto, and you belong to him just as they do. But in private, Suguru is yours.

He whimpers against your clit when you praise him, growing more and more needy by the second. To tease him, you press the sole of your foot against his hardened cock, massaging it while he swirls his tongue against your clit.

"That's it-- oh, you're amazing," you purr, as he finds the right rhythm, "just like that, make me come-- just like that."

His moans against your slick cunt vibrate you to your core, as he greedily laps you up, tongue-fucking the precise spot that you praised him for finding until the coil in your stomach tightens, and you brace yourself against his shoulder.

It hits you like a wave of warm, flowing pleasure, as you come apart on his tongue, shuddering and sighing through it, rocking your hips back and forth against his mouth to ride it out.

You're breathing heavily when you pull back from his face, looking down at him affectionately. Suguru's cheeks are red, his lips are swollen and slick with come, his breaths are faltering and unsteady.

"You look beautiful like that," you say sweetly, before gracefully lowering yourself to your knees in front of him.

You kiss him hungrily, tasting yourself on his lips, before flattening your palms to his shoulders and pushing him down onto the tatami flooring. His robes have already started to fall undone, you help them the rest of the way off.

His chest is flushed pink, much like the tip of his cock when you free it from his clothes. It's red, hard, pulsing in your hand, leaking a more than generous amount of precum as you stroke him a few times.

He whines, throwing his head back. Suguru has the most sensitive cock you've ever touched. He gets hard so easily, he cums so easily.

"Would you like me to ride you, Master Geto?" You ask softly, running your thumb along the tip of his hypersensitive cock.

It’s ironic of you to call him Master when he’s begging you for release like this.

"Y-Yes, please," he stutters, already attempting to thrust his hips up into your hand.

You allow it a few times, making a tight ring with your palm and your fingers for him to rut into, as he moans wantonly. He loves praise, he's addicted to it, and he's addicted to you.

"Ha--Ah--Ah," he moans with every cant of his hips, "oh, please, please--"

You chuckle softly, as you stop stroking him to mount him and press the leaking tip to your entrance. He's already done such a fine job at getting you wet and ready, he slides right in.

"Oh-- Oh," he whines, holding his eyes closed, "please move, please move, please-- please, angel--"

"You're so needy, Suguru," you remind him, as you lift yourself up and let your weight fall back onto the length of his cock, "so desperate, so pussy-drunk already."

"You feel so good, so good," he babbles, thrusting upwards to meet each of your movements, "ah-- ngh-- fuck."

You play with your clit while you ride him, knowing that if he's this horny and needy, he won't last too much longer. Your pussy sucks him up greedly, as your walls tighten around him, and you chase your own release before giving him his.

"Your cock is so big, you're fucking me so good," you tell him, panting now as you search for your high, riding him faster.

"More-- More, more, more," he begs, fucking up into you so hard that you're barely having to move at all, "tell me how good it feels, please tell me, please."

He squeezes your breast with one hand, gripping your ass with the other, as he leans up to suck your nipple into his mouth. Suguru loves your tits, he loves how they bounce when you ride him.

You give him what he needs, you tell him how big and hard he is, how he hits your g-spot with every thrust, how no other man could ever feel as good inside your cunt as he does. He fits you perfectly, he makes you feel so good.

You fall apart again listening to his incoherent babbling and whines, humping him with a hand pressed to his chest to hold him still while you fuck yourself through it.

His heart races when he watches you come, the sounds he makes when you clench around his cock and he involuntarily thrusts upwards are enough to drive you mad.

He says your name like a prayer, "please-- need to cum, let me cum-- tell me you want it, tell me you want me to fill you up-- need to hear it, need it, need it--"

"Cum inside me, Suguru," you rasp, coming back to your senses enough to ride him harder and faster to get him there.

His eyebrows scrunch together, he bites his lower hip, he fucks up into you like an animal who can't get enough.

"Please, Suguru," you coo, "you're so pretty when you're about to come, you make the sweetest faces, I wanna see the ones you make when you fill me up. Show me, Suguru, give it to me."

“Gonna come— Gonna come— I’m gonna— Ah—Oh fuck, fuck—“

And he does as asked, like a good boy. He grips your hips tightly, fucking you with short, stuttering movements of his hips as warmth sprays out inside of you, coating your walls in his sticky come.

"That's it, that's it," you praise him, stroking his hair away from his face as he makes a soft sobbing sound, "that's it— just like that. Good boy, good job, baby. Fuck it all into me, I want it all.”

"Ngh-- fuck, thank you, angel. Thank you, thank-- ha-- you."

You smile and kiss him through the aftershocks. He kisses you back sweetly, letting out soft little sounds in protest of the overstimulation as you milk him dry.

“I love— ngh— love y-you,” he mutters, still so incredibly sensitive from his orgasm.

“I love you too, Master Geto,” you answer with a sly smile.

Your relationship is more special than anyone else's, because you're the only one he falls apart for, the only one whose praise matters.

taglist: @septembersummer | @lilithlunas | @violetsaffron5 | @blackdxggr

[m-jelly]

Having a kid day with Levi… like I saw this thing where olde teens and adults just go to the store get food they ate as a kid and are only allowed to eat kid food for a day ex( Mac and cheese, gummy snacks, juice, etc) and the people who go to the store get like a toy to relieve childhood and only get to watch kid shows like strawberry shortcake, Kim possible etc. I thought it would be fun to do with modern Levi

Sure! I won't be specific though what you get cause I'm in the UK and our snacks are different here, plus my age as well. So, what could bring back memories for me will be different to others. I will do my best!

<;3 @kenkopanda-art <3

Like a kid again

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: modern AU, romance, dating, fluff, wholesome.

Concept: You decide to take Levi on a date to the shops. You take him down memory lane and buy all the sweets, chocolates and snacks from your childhood before going to the toy shop and getting something Levi used to play with as a kid.

Tag list: @levisbrat25 @ladycheesington @skittlelover69 @nbinairyn @nyxiieluna @galactict3a @notgoodforlife @li-anne @strawberrybunny123 @demonsimp6

Levi held your hand tightly as you both moved through the parking lot. He released a long sigh. "So, what exactly are we doing?"

You kissed the back of his hand. "We are going on a date."

"I gathered that." He stood in the lift with you. "But what are we doing?"

"We're going to like a old sweet shop."

He frowned a little. "Why?"

You smiled up at him. "Because you said the other day you missed a chocolate your mum would give you when you were little."

Levi's cheeks burned. "You...you remembered?"

You nodded and pulled him along into the shopping centre. "Of course. I remember everything you tell me." You checked the map and hummed as Levi moved closer to you to protect you from the busy walkways. "Here. We need to go here."

Levi nodded at the instructions. "I'll get you there."

He held you close against him before weaving around people. He winced at the different smells hitting him in the face. Levi wasn't keen on big shopping places because humans were dirty things, but he wanted to have this date with you. He knew you didn't like how noisy it could get either. You often hated loud noises, but he could see how determined you were to have fun.

He finally reached the shop and was hit with a wonderful smell that made him think of his childhood with his mother. "Fuck, this is amazing."

You squealed in delight. "There are so many things here from my childhood!" You grabbed two baskets and gave one to Levi. "Join me!"

Levi chuckled and held your hand tightly. "Sure, but don't let go of my hand."

You nodded and pulled your boyfriend around the bright shop. You filled your basket with everything that sparked a fun memory for you. You put in sweets, chocolate and snacks. You told Levi about your memories linked to them as you smiled. You got a little teary eyed with some of them because they meant a lot to you.

Levi loved every moment. "I love hearing you talk about your childhood."

"I talked a bit too much if I'm honest."

He rubbed your cheek. "No, you didn't. You never talk too much. I love everything you tell me."

You blushed a little. "I'm glad. Sorry, it's taking me a while getting used to someone who likes to hear me chat about me."

He kissed your temple. "Always." He paused a moment when he saw a bag of little chocolates. "Oh...these are them." He grabbed them and smiled a little as memories fluttered in his head. "My mum couldn't afford much when I was a kid, but she wanted me to have treats. She'd buy these cause they were so cheap. They probably taste like shit, but they mean so much to me. If I got sad, hurt or angry she'd give me one and tell me to enjoy the sweet little things in life because you never know when there would be no more." He looked over at you. "I guess that's why I treasure you so much. I don't ever want to lose you or for you to run out."

You welled up. "Levi, that's so romantic and sweet."

He cleared his throat and put the chocolates in his basket. "I'll give some to my mum."

"She'd love that."

He pulled you to the till and paid for everything. "This was a wonderful idea, thank you."

You pulled him out of the shop. "Not over yet! I have one more place I want to go."

Levi stumbled along as you led him to an old toy shop. "Toys? Really?"

You grinned at him. "I know there was a toy from your childhood that you could never afford but wanted, so I'm going to treat you."

Levi huffed. "I don't need a toy."

"Anything."

He rolled his eyes. "Sweetheart, I really don't want an..." He stared ahead to see a Batman action figure. "Batman?"

You giggled as Levi hurried over to it. "Is that what you wanted?"

He picked it up and smiled. "I used to watch the cartoons on TV and wanted so badly to get a figure, but it wasn't in the budget and my uncle gave me one that was clearly a Ken doll painted like Batman."

You snorted a laugh. "That's so Kenny." You rubbed Levi's back. "You can get any Batman thing you want."

Levi's eyes lit up. "Really?"

You nodded. "You can even get the remote-controlled car."

Levi hugged you tightly. "You're the best!"

You laughed as Levi ran around the shop grabbing a few Batman things and presenting them to you. You said yes to all of them and grabbed batteries for the ones that needed them. You paid for everything and adored the happy look in Levi's eyes as he held your hand and walked back to the car with you.

You hummed a little laugh. "You going to play with all of them when we get home?"

"Yes!" He put everything in the boot. "Can umm...can we watch the old Batman cartoon too?"

You giggled. "Sure thing."

Levi hugged you tightly and covered your face in kisses. "You're the best!"

[anywherebuthere]

I had a dream about you last night || j.p.

James Potter x fem!reader

“Even when you’re gone, you are all that haunts my dreams.”

Wordcount: 1969

A/N: Happy (belated) birthday to the only man ever <33 I am illiterate, so I had a mental breakdown writing this <3 please enjoy!! special thanks to @anchoeritic and @gxtitobxby for supporting me via discord and for making fun of the time I got hit by a car :)) @skullsontess07​ I finally posted it pls don’t hurt me <33

Warnings: alcohol, allusions to sex, death, bad writing, especially towards the end. barely proofread because I don’t believe in mistakes <3 /j

Please do not repost this!! I do not consent to this piece of fiction being published on any other site besides tumblr unless it by my doing.

The ticking of the grandfather clock thrummed in James’ ears as he tipped back the empty bottle, the smell of whiskey heavy in the air. He leaned his head against the cold surface of the white plaster wall, scanning the textured ceiling with misty eyes. His home, still half furnished, was riddled with traces of something better forgotten. Even with the weight of alcohol on his breath, his mind is running with memories and daydreams of her. 

He closed his eyes, forcing the imagery away. In the distance, a train chugged on, its lone whistle echoing in the night, and James can’t help but be pulled into an uneasy slumber, memories still flashing through his mind like a broken film. 

-

“Prongs, you git! We’re going to miss the train if you don’t hurry your fat arse.” Remus shouted, frustration seeping into his humoured voice. 

“Relax Moony, we’ll be fine,” he replied, breath heaving slightly from sprinting across Platform 9¾, just narrowly having avoided knocking over an elderly witch. 

As the four boys approached the entrance of the cart, the train’s departing whistle blared. They boarded quickly, though not without receiving a glare from a crew member.

Hurrying down the corridor, the boys glanced through every compartment window, though each appeared to be full of giggling sixth years. That is, with the exception of one.

Near the back end of the Hogwarts Express, was, at last, an empty compartment save for a singular figure slumped against the window. With no other choice of seating, the gaggle of boys slipped in silently, Sirius and Remus snagging the seats opposite to the slumbering girl, their pinkies linked as they whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves. 

Peter, as adverse to the female race as ever, took the seat closest to the door, leaving James to be wedged between the mousy blonde and the stranger, careful not to bump her with his broad shoulders.

The train ride was filled with hushed whispers as the marauders discussed this year's prank for the welcoming feast, a customary tradition they held sacred, as to “start the year right.” 

As they began going over the mechanisms of their plan, they felt the train begin to swerve as it approached a sharp turn. The compartment shook slightly and James suddenly felt a weight on his right side.

He stiffened, glancing over to see that the girl’s head had lulled over from the compartment wall and onto his shoulder. James recognized her as a student in their year. Y/N, who had tutored Regulus the same day that James had helped Sirius prank him as petty revenge for a now long-forgotten argument. 

And well, perhaps James had wanted her to notice him for once. If so, it had been a successful endeavour as he remembered the way her face had contorted in anger, though her attention had remained just as elusive for the remainder of their fifth year. So… perhaps not so successful.

He flushed at the memory. She was now even prettier than the year prior.

“Oh? Is that a blush we see, Moony?” Sirius taunted, nudging Remus with his elbow as he snickered at James’ scowl.

“Bloody hell, piss off, will you? You’ll wake her–” 

He felt her suddenly stir beside him, brows creasing as though on the cusp of consciousness. 

James held his breath.

The moment passed as Y/N nudged her face further into the crook of his neck before settling back into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps he wouldn’t need the prank to start the year right this time around. 

-

It seemed that sixth year would be a good one for James. 

In the early morning of a mid-March day, an unlikely scene unfolded between the shelves of Hogwarts’ library. There he sat beside a bleary Y/N, voice still drowsy with sleep as she read aloud a passage from the Herbology textbook perched between them.

Initially, James had detested the thought of having to wake up at such an ungodly hour for the sake of a project. No other time had fit, not with his Quidditch practices and her absurd number of tutoring sessions. 

Though now, as the early rays of sunrise filtered through the library’s mullioned windows onto her skin, James thinks that there is nowhere else he would rather be.

He thinks this moment will be ingrained in his mind forever. 

“–once a century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers able to attract the unwary.” she paused to yawn, eyebags evident as she turned to meet James’ gaze. She scrunched her nose and he swore he swooned at the very sight. “Are you even listening to me, Potter?”

“I’m always listening to you,” he replied, tilting his head. She grins in response and he notices just how beautiful it is. 

She shifted her gaze back to the textbook lying in their laps, picking up where she had left off.

“Its scent adapts–”

James leaned forward suddenly, capturing her lips in his. The book fell closed between them.

Immediately, almost though by instinct, Y/N reciprocates, moving her lips gently against his as her hand cups his cheek. James finds himself gripping that hand as his other wraps around her waist, finding the small of her back and pulling her impossibly close against him.

She tasted of cherry chapstick and peppermint bubblegum, and though there was nothing particularly special about those flavours, on her, James swears that he could drown in his intoxication alone. Her perfume wafts through the air, the scent causing him to groan against her mouth. 

When they separated at last, his head was swimming in euphoria, his expression dazed. Y/N blinked up at him, sleep wiped entirely from her expression.

“Its scent adapts itself during these times to attract said unwary.” she finishes, sounding breathless still, voice trailing off as James began to laugh hysterically.

She rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly. 

When James still couldn’t stop laughing, Y/N gripped his haphazardly tied red and gold tie, using it to pull his soft lips against hers once more and he was sure in his mind that there would no one else for him.

-

Beneath a great oak tree in the courtyard lay two figures. Under the tree’s twisting branches, they hid in its cool shade from the sweltering afternoon sun. Few places aside from the castle offered shelter from June’s blistering heat and as the semester approached its end, they finally allowed themselves to rest in the gentle breeze. 

James was leaning against the thick trunk while Y/N’s head lay in his lap. His elbow was resting on her abdomen as she drew on his hand, doodling intricate flower designs alongside some… less desirable things.

He felt his heart swell with joy as her laughter filled the summer air and before he could catch himself, he blurted out the thought that had been weighing in the back of his mind since they had started dating.

“Do you ever think about your future?" 

He felt the scratch of her muggle pen slow, as though pausing in thought.

"I want to grow old and die surrounded with people I love, knowing I lived a long and fulfilling life. You know, typical boring stuff," she replied after a moment's consideration. Her eyes twinkled with more, though Y/N never indulged in half-thought-out plans. 

"What about you?" she questioned with the tip of her head. James didn’t need time to think about it. He had known his answer since that fateful September morning when she had slept on his shoulder throughout the entirety of the train ride.

"I don't care what my future is as long as you're there" he answers truthfully.

Y/N flushed, her ears heated. She looked away, the corners of her lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile.

James freed his hand from her loose grasp, hooking her chin to look back towards him before leaning in to kiss her.

Even after all these months, he relished in the taste of her lips. He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of the feeling.

He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of her.

-

The sun was setting in the west on a quiet evening, its golden rays shining on the slick skin of two lovers as they untangled themselves from the sheets, unable to hold in their laughter when one got his foot stuck in the knot of their crochet blanket. 

The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and endorphins as Y/N laid back, her body still bare, not bothering to cover it.

James propped his elbow beside her head, careful not to press on her spread-out hair, his face filled with ecstasy and pure bliss. 

He will never get used to the sight of her in his bed, giggling as the sun reflected off her silky skin. The image of her underneath him is cemented in his mind, permanently lodged there as solid as concrete. He knows now with absolute certainty that there would be no one else for him. 

James’ smile widened further as he nudged his nose into the crook of her neck, leaning in to place a kiss there when his vision blurred.

It was no longer sunset. Rather, the two of them were now enveloped in the dark of night and James is certain he hears the echo of a familiar spell ring off in the distance.

He pulls away from Y/N’s neck. 

She was no longer shaking with laughter, but rather, writhing in pain. There were lacerations all across her torso and James felt something sticky underneath his hands.

They were laying in a pool of her blood.

Panic clawed at his throat and though he had never been averse to the sight of blood, yours was an exception. The taste of bile clung to his tongue. 

“No... No no no no no,” he whispered in disbelief. Swivelling his head, outside the window, he spots a cloaked figure wearing a mask of silver disapparate. 

“No!” 

Grasping for the wand strapped to his side, he murmurs a healing spell, gasping for breath when the wounds remain open. His head was spiralling as Y/N shook her head almost imperceptibly, grabbing at his wrist with a shaking hand.

Carved into her arm was the word “MUDBLOOD” and James felt his vision turn red, suddenly hyper-aware of the blood pumping through his veins.

“James…” she rasped. He gripped her shaking hand.

“Why isn’t it working? Why?” he cried, tears streaming down his face, struggling to breathe.

“Whatever our souls are made of,” she gasped, blood spurting out of her mouth. Her beautiful mouth, the one that tasted of cherries and peppermint, was covered in thick, crimson blood. “you and I are connected.” 

“No! Stop with this rubbish, you’re not going to die!” he sobbed, gripping her bloodied hand like a vice. She continued as though he hadn’t even spoken.

Perhaps she was too far gone to hear him.

“Wh-whatever is beyond this life,” violent ruby coated her mouth as she coughed, blood splattering onto her smooth skin. “Promise me, y-you’ll find me again.”

“I promise,” he cried, sobs racking through his body. 

But she was already gone.

-

James woke with a start, gasping for breath with the taste of blood and “promise” still coating his tongue. He was alone in a house built for two.

In his fitful sleep, he had knocked over the empty bottle of whiskey beside him.

She had hated whiskey.

Had. 

A fresh wave of misery washed over James, adding to the dull pain that never seemed to go away, throbbing through him as naturally as the blood in his veins. It wasn’t enough that she existed still within every corner of their shared home.

Even in his dreams, he is haunted by her memory.

ㄧ

@catching-the-train-to-hogwarts