#i had cereal this morning with regular milk

[peacesmith]

why do i keep doing this to myself

[mellowsadistic]

Birthday Party - Part 3

One Year Later

Sarah’s soaking wet diaper squelched between her thighs as she toddled into the kitchen where her aunt was making breakfast.

“Good morning, baby girl,” Helen cooed at her twenty-one-year-old niece, reaching out to cup a hand to the front of Sarah’s nappy through her baby duck patterned onesie. “What a soggy girl! But I don’t smell any poo-poos just yet. Go take a seat, little one. Auntie will have your num-nums ready in just a second.”

Sarah blushed furiously, but even though much of the hypnotist’s conditioning had been undone and control of her body had been returned, her resistance had long since disappeared. She clambered obediently into to her highchair, her breasts wobbling freely in her loose onesie, and sat down on her pissy diapered bottom, wrinkling her nose in disgust as her bum pressed heavily against the sodden padding.

A few moments later, the microwave tinged, and her aunt took out an enormous bottle of warm milk and plonked it down in front of her. Sarah looked at it with distaste. It was breastmilk, she knew. One of Helen’s friends was producing too much of it for her own baby to take, but she was more than happy to deliver a regular supply of bottles to Helen’s house to make sure it didn’t go to waste.

Fighting her revulsion, Sarah took the bottle with both hands and lifted the rubber nipple to her lips. Her mouth latched on instinctively and she began to suckle, feeling the warm, creamy breastmilk squirt across her tongue and flow down her throat. She sucked quickly, but the bottle seemed endless – even after fifteen minutes, she was barely halfway through the enormous thing, and she already felt full to bursting!

Sarah let out a feeble whimper as she thought about her once-tight, sexy tummy. Her mother and aunt were careful not to make her gain too much weight, but her formerly trim stomach was gone. Her belly had a cute layer of what Helen called her ‘baby fat’, perfect for tickles and tummy raspberries. Even her face had a slightly rounder, ‘cuter’ look to it. But Sarah knew better than to throw a fit over her baba. Her aunt was quick with a spanking, and looming over everything was the threat of being reduced back to being a helpless prisoner inside a baby-brained body.

After a few more minutes of mindless suckling, Penny joined Sarah at the table, flashing her babified older cousin a bright smile before tucking into a bowl of cereal with milk.

Sarah couldn’t help but notice how her little cousin’s table manners had improved. It wasn’t long ago that she’d ended every breakfast with soggy cornflakes and milk on her chin, but now she didn’t spill a drop. Straight away, Sarah felt something clunk into place inside her head. She let out a quiet little moan around her bottle, but there was nothing she could do – not all of the hypnosis had been removed, and when a compulsion hit her, she was powerless to stop it. Penny had done something mature, and that meant Sarah had to do something immature.

Immediately, she popped the bottle out of her mouth, blew a spit bubble, and dribbled breastmilk down her chin. She could feel it soaking into the collar of her onesie. Messy girl, a voice echoed in her head. Mucky tot. Dribbly, soggy, wet little baby. Penny giggled at her, and Sarah shoved her bottle back into her mouth to resume her sucking, her face as red as a tomato. No matter how much time passed, it never got less humiliating. She was a grown woman for goodness sake! She didn’t deserve this! Just because she’d been a little rude one time, it wasn’t fair to turn her into some kind of overgrown baby! She’d been taken out of university of course, and there was no chance of going back – her auntie said that if she was lucky, maybe one day she’d be allowed to grow up a little bit more and get a job pushing shopping trolleys at the local discount supermarket. But that was it. No more ambitions. No more dreams. Just minimum wage, and well-used nappies hanging off her hips.

Tears started welling up in Sarah’s eyes, but before a tantrum could really get started, she was distracted by another feeling. There was a sudden fullness in her bottom. Her bladder control was totally gone, and Sarah found herself helplessly dribbling pee-pee into her diapers on a near constant basis, but even after months as little more than an adult-sized toddler, she still had at least some control over her bowels.

With a hiss of air, she finished her bottle. Feeling almost nauseous at the amount of breastmilk now sloshing about in her tummy, Sarah gently lowered herself out of her highchair, clenching her bottom tightly.

“Um… Auntie…�� she said, waddling up to Helen and putting on her best pleading look, “I really need to go poo-poo. Do you think maybe I could use the potty?”

“Sarah,” Helen said sternly, turning to look at her niece, “you know the rules. You get to have control over your body again, but you are not an adult anymore. Your mother convinced me not to make you act like a total baby all the time, but when it comes to your potty training, I’m putting my foot down. You will never use a toilet again, young lady. You wear nappies now, and nappies are for pooping in. Now squat down and make a messy in your pants right this instant, or I’ll call the hypnotist and have you cooing and gurgling in your crib by tomorrow!”

Her lower lib trembling pathetically, Sarah fell into a squat, all traces of the formerly proud, snarky young woman gone for good. With a loud fart, she started pooping her diaper. She could sense the smiles of her aunt and cousin above her as she grunted and strained to make yuck-yuck in her pants right in front of them. As the heavy, disgusting load dropped into the back of her nappy, Sarah burst into tears.

“That’s a good girl,” Helen cooed, her face alive with malicious delight, savouring the sight of her niece packing her adult Pampers like the ridiculous baby-woman she’d been turned into. “Get it all out. Right in your pants like a silly little baby.”

Sarah’s vision was blurred by her tears, but she felt her aunt take hold of her hand once she’d finished pooping. Helen led her into the living room and positioned her in front of the television, where some inane children’s program was showing.

“Be a good girl and watch your kiddie shows, Sarah,” said Helen, smirking. “I need to take your older cousin to kindergarten now, so I want you to stay right here. I’ll change your diaper when I get back.”

Sarah only sobbed.

“And your baby monitor will be recording,” Helen went on. Sarah felt her stomach plummet. “I’ll be reviewing the footage later,” her aunt continued warningly, “and if I don’t see a happy big baby girl dancing along to her silly programs, you’ll be getting a very nasty spanking when I get back. Is that clear, little miss?”

“Yes, auntie Helen,” Sarah whimpered, as the embarrassing, babyish music began to play. Helen and her daughter turned to leave, and Sarah started to dance. This was her life now, and she had no choice but to get used to it.

The End

***

If you want to read more evil stories about women being transformed into overgrown babies, I also post on SubscribeStar.

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 6 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 3.6k

warnings: established kidnapping, extreme abuse, power dynamics, manipulation, gaslighting, drugging, rape, developing stockholm syndrone

“You got a clock,” you noted as you admired the basic clock hanging just above the cabinets in the kitchen. You had been pouring yourself a bowl of cereal when you noticed it but pushed it aside to gaze up at the instrument that read late morning.

  “I did,” Natasha confirmed as she came up beside you to look at the clock. You stood in silence for a minute and you were grateful that the clock didn’t have a consistent ticking sound emanating off it. 

  “Thank you,” you said sincerely. The redhead nodded simply and went to grab her own breakfast but stopped dead in her tracks when her phone chimed with a sound you had become familiar with as some kind of work emergency. Natasha’s eyes scanned her screen like a hawk before she whizzed around and headed for the stairs without a beat. 

  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” she called back over her shoulder as she ran the steps three at a time. You nodded back unbothered despite her not seeing you and grabbed some milk from the fridge and a spoon, bringing them over to the kitchen island where you sat and continued to look at the new addition to the apartment. 

  It was only when you were half way through your cereal that you realised you had never heard a beep indicating that the door by the stairs had locked behind Natasha. It was loud enough that even when you weren’t listening out for it, you could hear it even from the bathroom. You frowned and leaned back in your seat to see if the Avenger was still lingering around the apartment but you couldn’t see her. You shovelled down a couple more tablespoons of your cereal before placing the bowl in the sink and wandering out into the main space and towards the stairs. 

  You froze when you saw the door slightly ajar. You didn’t dare take a step any closer at first, assuming that the redhead was standing just behind the door waiting for you to take the bait. You swallowed a lump in your throat and strained your eyes to see that something was wedging the door open, as though catching just as Natasha had run out. It would make some sense if it had happened so quickly that the redhead hadn’t even noticed, still, you were cautious. 

  You eyed up the door for a while, playing different scenarios over in your head of what could greet you behind the barrier. If it really was an opportunity to leave, you needed to take it. You were all too aware of how complacent you were becoming in the apartment and as much as you wanted to stop it you couldn’t seem to. There in front of you was a chance to put an end to it all. So you started up the stairs. 

  Your feet felt heavy as you trudged up each step, as though you were on your way to the gallows. You kept your eyes trained on the door, waiting for the redhead to jump out and even lingered on the final step to see if anything would happen. Seconds passed in a deafening silence so you pushed the door open slightly to see that it had been wedged over by a metal pencil holder and multiple fountain pens on the floor. You ignored them and continued on, taking in your surroundings as best you could. 

  The space in front of you seemed to be an open planned office. There was a considerably large desk with multiple monitors placed precisely with numerous other tech you didn’t quite recognise placed across the workspace. There were also several shelves placed near the desk that kept numerous ornaments on display that you didn’t have time to examine. 

  You continued down as the space turned into a large corridor with two sizable rooms either side of a divot. The doors were shut and there was no indicator of what was inside but you didn’t much care about them, you only wanted to find the main door that you discovered to be within the divot. It wasn’t quite what you were preparing for. Given the state of the apartment’s other devices, you figured the main door would have even more extravagant technology to it, instead, it was just a simple handle for the doors that always opened from the inside but always locked from the outside. 

  You grabbed the handle and swung the door open in a flurry of movement then haltered before your feet could step over the threshold. You were scared. 

  Ahead of you was a lobby perhaps two hundred square feet wide. There was a small white sofa against the far wall that looked as though it had never been sat on and reminded me of the ones in dentist practices. There was no other input of interior design or decoration to the room, leaving you to stare directly ahead at the elevator in front of you. There was only one button to the side, one button that could take you back outside. Strangely, you felt your chest tighten at the thought. 

  What would you even do when you got out? You didn’t know New York at all, you had no idea where you actually were, not to mention you had no money or a phone. If you explained to a stranger or the police what had happened, would they even believe you? Perhaps if you left out the fact that it was an Avenger that kidnapped you it would be more believable. But what was to stop Natasha from finding you again, she would surely know what your first move would be. 

  Besides…did you even really want to go? It was hard supporting myself, working non stop just to pay rent and have food on my plate. You were exhausted and it seemed like there was never going to be an end in sight. What did you even have to show for any of it? You barely had anyone to share it all with either. You had started to think you never would, that you wouldn’t ever attain the company you so desperately desired because no one would ever desire it from you. Everything was hopeless. At least the hopelessness you felt with Natasha was a secure one, at least that’s what you thought. You were always too preoccupied with fearing she was going to hurt you than fearing she would kick you out, because that’s what you thought you wanted. 

  Your head pounded as you attempted to process it all. You were there against your will. You had spent so much time thinking of ways you could get out, yet when you were given the opportunity, you just couldn’t. But you had to. 

  You took a tentative step over the doorway and out into the harsh lighting of the lobby and froze again. You hated it. You hated weighing up such a decision in your head, you needed someone to make the decision for you, to lead you away or push you back in. You didn’t know what was best for you. 

  You took another step so that both feet were beyond the apartment when all of a sudden you were being hauled back in by your hair and slammed against the nearest wall. You cried out and struggled against the crushing weight of the redhead as your mind raced with what had just happened. She was still in the apartment? 

  Natasha slammed the door shut with her foot, the obnoxious bang making you jump and cower further into the wall. “You fucking bitch,” she spat and pressed something solid into your back. You whimpered when you realised it was a handgun and felt bile rise in your throat. “You really thought I was so stupid that I’d leave the fucking door open?” She demanded. 

  “No! No, that’s not-” you tried desperately to defend yourself but Natasha didn’t want to hear a word of it, instead hitting the back of your head with the weapon with a dull thud you didn’t truly feel till a few moments after. “Please don’t kill me,” you begged, completely at the redhead’s mercy. 

  “Oh, detka. I’m not gonna kill you,” she cooed, condescending dripping from her voice. “You’re not worth the trouble.” You exhaled shakily and screwed your eyes shut as much as you could, awaiting an explanation. 

  “You know, in Iran, they still cut off the fingers of thieves. Sometimes even their whole hands,” Natasha explained with a storyteller air. You began to panic as you immediately recognised where she was going. You squirmed against her but stopped when she put the gun back against your back. “They make sure the low life that tried it won’t even think of doing such a thing again, it works perfectly. I always admired how they think and I reckon I can use that right now,” she explained slowly. 

  “No, please!” You whimpered but she immediately shushed you. 

  “You tried to run away, malysh, from the home I was so generous to let you into. So now I have to make sure you won’t ever try that again.” Without a pause, Natasha drew back her heavy boot, this time alerting you to the metal cover on the toes, and kicked your ankle with what felt like all the strength in her body. You cried again and would have toppled to the floor if it wasn’t for the redhead holding you up.

  “I’m sorry!” You sobbed. Unfortunately the redhead wasn’t done and pulled her foot back to strike you again, impossibly harder than the first. You screamed as your whole leg erupted into a blaze of pain, as though every single nerve ending had been subjected to Natasha’s anger. You think she kicked again, but you blacked out too quickly to know for sure. 

  Natasha stepped back when you passed out and let your limp body drop to the floor in a heap. She stared down at you, anger continued to course through her veins fiercely. There had been a point when she watched you that she genuinely thought you wouldn’t leave, that you would close the door and pretend you hadn’t seen it open. She was foolish. You had made her think foolishly. You weren’t any different to the others and the fact she had believed you were, even for a minute, made her furious. They all tried to leave, every single one of them. Even with your conflicting emotions you were ultimately no different. 

  The redhead didn’t wait for you to come back around before she held you by the back of your shirt and dragged your unconscious body across the floor to the stairs with ease. It was only once you got to the landing that you started to come to. You were merely confused at first as the room and floor moved beneath you but once you reached the first step you were immediately alerted to what was happening and your ankle flared up once more, this time along with your back as the redhead dragged you down the unforgiving steps.

  You made a futile attempt to squirm out of Natasha’s grasp but it was to no avail and you continued to be dragged down, each step hitting as much of you as possible. It felt like it was never ending and eventually the flat floor was a welcome relief although the burning in your ankle never let up. You knew straight away it was broken. You had never broken a bone before. 

  Natasha flung you across the bedroom floor where you lay like an abandoned mutt then hauled you up onto the bed. You made eye contact for a moment and you were struck by just how furious the redhead was. She looked as though she was using all her self restraint to stop herself pulling out the gun lodged in her waistband and putting it to your skull. You cowered back, unable to bear another second of those piercing green eyes and sobbed into the bed. You didn’t care how weak you appeared. You had fucked up so you had to face the consequences. 

  You thought Natasha was going to hit you, beat you, kick you, strangle you, anything like that. Instead, she walked away, leaving you in a defeated heap where you stayed for days.

*

  You didn’t understand what Natasha wanted. You didn’t understand what you wanted. You didn’t know what you were expected to do or what you should do. You were paralysed under the uncertainty of it all, always spending so much time figuring out how to even react to something that it was over before you even got half way to figuring it out. 

  When Natasha fucked you she made it clear she was frustrated by your constant lack of response. Your body felt too heavy to provide any kind of physical reaction to the redhead and you were too tired to be at all verbal. Luckily, Natasha’s touch still made you wet, even if it took a little more to get there, but you rarely came, too caught up in your head to be able to follow through for that long. It certainly didn’t help that you were in constant intense pain as the redhead gave you nothing for your ankle, not that you would have been capable of taking a tablet anyway. It constantly felt like your bones around your foot had been shattered and the skin around it mangled. Although you refrained from looking at it, you could feel that it was getting more and more swollen too. You would be concerned if you weren’t more worried about how to please Natasha again.

  As the days went on, the Russian only grew more irritated by your mental absence, of course not taking any blame in the slightest. At times, she wondered if you had reached your breaking point and if she should just put you both out of your misery, but something told her not to do it yet and instead see if there was anything else you had left to offer. 

  Little did either of you know that you shared a unique sense of betrayal. You had believed things were turning around, that Natasha was very gradually becoming more sincere. But her test had left you back where you started: unsure what to make of the redhead but knowing she wasn’t good news. 

  Meanwhile, Natasha felt betrayed that you had led her to believe you were different, that you would be the first one not to leave and that something new would finally happen. You had both been feeding yourselves lies about the other under the illusion of wanting something better. You were both fools, the only difference was that while you accepted the feeling, Natasha was adamant to get it out of her system the only way she knew how, to make you look worse. 

  It was by no means hard for the Avenger to get ahold of the muscle relaxant drugs, nor was it to administer it. You didn’t even flinch when she pushed the fine needle into your arm and let the fluid seep into your body. It was quick working, but you hadn’t even realised what you were feeling until Natasha’s hands were on you in an all too familiar way. Except when you tried to tilt your head down to watch her spread your legs, you discovered that you couldn’t. 

  Immediately panicked, you parted your lips to tell the redhead that you were unable to move but was terrified to discover that it extended to your mouth and you were only able to make a small sound of distress. It was enough to get Natasha’s attention although when you saw the small smirk on her own lips, your panic only grew. 

  You tried with all your might to move your arms or legs or anything but to your dismay, you were completely paralysed. It wasn’t that your body felt heavy or stiff, more that it simply wasn’t there. Soon, you had lost all sensation entirely, even that of Natasha’s. You watched on in horror as she put her hand to your cheek but felt no contact. 

  “What’s the matter, detka? You don’t like it like this?” She asked with a pout. You made another small noise in the back of your throat that only amused the redhead more. “Well I didn’t like how you were being before,” the Russian said simply. “You didn’t react to anything I did and yet you were still wet, so I thought it wouldn’t make much difference if I made sure you really couldn’t move,” she continued as she leaned closer to you. “Besides, at the end of the day, it’s really not your call,” she shrugged and took two fingers in her mouth before dropping them between your legs to touch you in a way you would never know. 

  Natasha took her time in exploring you. She knew your body well but was interested in the new way you lay sprawled out for her with no way of denying her. It wasn’t exactly how she liked it, there was no fight for her to win or control for her to gain. Not to mention there was no way to make you cum in such a state, but it was making you scared, and that was enough for the redhead to make her point clear enough that she was sure she wouldn’t have to return to the method. 

  Soon enough, tears were rolling down your cheeks for the spy to wipe away with a satisfied hum. You stared up at her pleadingly, knowing she knew you hated the position she had put you in and praying she would stop. “Oh this still isn’t fun for you?” She frowned mockingly. “It’s not the best for me either, detka,” she continued though her voice took a threatening edge. “But this is just how it’s gonna have to be from now on unless you start giving me what I want again,” Natasha explained slowly, prying herself away from you and undoing her belt buckle to display the sizable strap on she was packing. It was the same one that under normal circumstances you whined and cried when Natasha fucked you with it, at least it didn’t hurt that time. 

  The redhead crawled on top of you again and shushed your insistent noises, giving you some time to bathe in the anticipation before she was driving herself forwards. She dug her fingers into the sheets around your head and used them as leveredge as she buried her head into your neck. You wondered if she was leaving marks there. You hadn’t missed the occasional sound of her dragging her nails across your skin and knew you would find red streaks there as soon as you could look again. 

  By the time the redhead finally grew either tired or disinterested, the unknown chemicals in your body were starting to wear off. You had your nerves back and felt all the small touches and brushes from Natasha, even finding a faint voice, but your limbs felt too heavy to move so you continued to stay where you were next to the spy with her running her hands through your slightly tangled hair. 

  You lay in silence for a good while, neither of you attempted to sleep or make conversation, but just being content to lay still. You didn’t like what she did. You had never felt so helpless in your life and you had feared it was going to continue for a much longer period of time. However the aftermath was something you were more comfortable with. You enjoyed it on the rare occasions Natasha went as far as to play with your hair, it would have lulled any other time. It was almost enough to make you forgive her so soon as well. Knowing how pathetic that was, you forced yourself to hold the grudge for longer, trying to hold onto those fears. 

  “Why don’t you fight me anymore?” Natasha asked suddenly. Her voice made me jump a little. 

  “I don’t…” you frowned, trying to clear the fog in your brain, “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “I thought you had a lot of fight in you,” the redhead said plainly. You were too muddled to take the insult for what it was. 

  “I did fight. A lot,” you pointed out, thinking back on your attempts. 

  “I wouldn’t say a lot,” Natasha replied. “You did give it some good attempts, but then you stopped. Why?” You gathered as much strength as you could to peer up at the spy who looked at you expectantly. 

  “I did it yesterday.” 

  “No, you walked through an open door and I broke your ankle. You didn’t try to fight at all,” Natasha pointed out and at the very mention of it your ankle started to throb. “You only fought me in the first few days but then nothing for weeks,” you frowned again and put your head back on the spy’s chest, getting too tired to understand what she was getting at. “So why?” Natasha pushed again.

  “I just didn’t want to,” you said simply. 

  “But why?” The redhead could tell you were close to telling her what she needed to know to better understand your character but she could also see you were close to sleep and it would be hard to get you this loose tongue again unless she pumped you more full of drugs, something she didn’t fancy doing. 

  “I think…” you started, trying to piece together your thoughts. “I think I don’t want to go.” Your answer hung in the air. 

  “Have I broken you?” Natasha asked outright. She didn’t know the answer herself and wanted to know if you did. She was surprised to hear a faint, sleepy chuckle from you.   “I was starting to think you might complete me,” you said then fell asleep, leaving the redhead more confused about you than she had been the entire time you had been there. Now that was new.

[eppysboys]

Tim Bruckner, creator of the artwork on Ringo Starr’s landmark 1973 album Ringo, interview with The Beatles Bible in Febuary 2015:

Did you work closely with Ringo on the cover concept, or were you given free rein? What was your design brief?

They already had the images of Ringo leaning against the giant letters, à la Elvis. In the original pictures, Ringo’s shirt is blue. They had it retouched to make it red. There was no concept at the time. I put together 10 concept sketches and they picked the one with him on stage with a balcony full of people. There are 26 portraits in the balcony. The rest are people I invented.

I was working on the design at the R or R offices at night. When I needed inspiration, I’d take a walk through the London streets and come back to work inspired. I didn’t meet Ringo until I went to England so I don’t know what his involvement was beforehand.

Ringo’s cover sidekick, the cherub, happened after I got home. Having met the man and spent some time with him, I understood how important humor was to him and his circle of friends. The cherub just seemed like an natural extension of that part of his character, funny and a little mischievous. Was the cover an intended homage to Sgt Pepper, with the faces in the background?

I’d never intended it to be connected to Sgt Pepper at all. The only directive I got was their desire to have the musicians who played on the album represented on the cover in some way. Klaus Voormann, who did the art for Revolver, had designed and completed a piece line art for Ringo’s cover. Ringo decided against using it.

It was never used. As far as I know I have the only copy, although I assume Klaus has the original.

The motto “Duit on mon dei” (‘do it on Monday’) appears at the top of the Ringo sleeve, and was also a Harry Nilsson album title. Was it Ringo’s stipulation to have it on his record sleeve, and was it a regular in-joke at the time?

This was Harry’s invention. He wanted to make it a joke on a Latin motto. I think the only reason it got on the cover was they thought it was funny and asked that I include it. Did you know any of the Beatles prior to 1973? Did you consider yourselves friends, or was it more of a professional relationship?

I’d not met any of the Beatles prior to working on Ringo’s album cover. Over the course of a couple of years, I got to know Harry and Ringo pretty well. More so Harry. He’d commissioned a couple of pieces of art from me. He lived in an apartment on the corner of La Cienega and Sunset, and I visited him there a number of times.

During that time, I lived in El Segundo, a beach community outside of Los Angeles. There was a silent movie theater down the block from me and Harry and his current girlfriend came over. We had a few drinks and all walked down the block to see Lon Chaney in The Phantom of the Opera, with the hand colored section. It was the first time either one of us had seen it. He was an intelligent, caring, funny and talented man with a penchant for things that were not good for him.

I was friendly with Ringo but I wouldn’t say we were friends. I was lucky enough to have been invited to his house while I was in England, where I met George Harrison, and his lovely wife Pattie. I’d met John Lennon a number of times while he was producing Harry’s Pussy Cats album. He was always kind and patient with me. I have two significant memories of John.

I was supposed to come to the Malibu house to give Harry and Ringo updates on Harry and Ringo’s Night Out. I was eager and anxious and got to the house mid morning. I didn’t know at the time that morning, for the house residents started after noon. I was sitting in at the kitchen table, waiting.

One of the house staff offered me breakfast. A bowl of cereal. I poured out a bowl full of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes and was just about to pour the milk when John came in, sat down, smiled, looked at me, the bowl of cereal and said, “Ah, sitting on a cornflake.” Perfect.

One late afternoon, I think it was a Sunday, I was sitting on the couch. John came in and sat on the chair opposite me. I don’t remember what started the conversation, but he made a point to tell me that women were people too. They thought, felt, reasoned, reacted, created, explored, angered, were saddened, equal to that of any man. Often more so.

I was young and not very evolved. He must have seen something in me that prompted his observation. But that was one of those light bulb moments. I thought about what my attitude had been to the women in my life and realized it needed adjusting. His words altered my relationships profoundly for the better.

One of the things I learned during that time was how transitory your relationships are, especially with famous people. I saw it over and over, people who were near the inner circle desperately trying to hold onto their place in the mistaken belief that fame rubs off. It doesn’t, at least not in those days. The famous have their own friends, their own lives and their own sense of who they are and what they need to get done. If you can contribute to any part of it, you’re lucky and it can be hugely fun. The key is to recognize when it’s time to move on. And move on.

One of the saddest things I witnessed was a person who had been part of the celebrity society but was not as relevant as they once were and the desperation they went through just to stay where they were. When you hear a celebrity see a person coming and they say, “Oh, it’s her/him,” as if the Grim Reaper just stepped into the room, it’s kind of a heartbreak. But you can’t say anything. Partly, because they don’t believe you. They see it as a way to move them aside and move yourself in.

[thegoosewiththemost]

Slice of Life with BJ

For @nak3d-snak3 , I finally finished off your prompt!

Hey how you doing? Could i have a day in the life hc's with bj and his s/o? Like whats a common day for them? I have other ideas for requests but don't want to be to demanding. Cheers!

- you cannot drag this man out of bed to save your life if he doesn’t want out. Beetlejuice sleeps like a sack of bricks that have been haphazardly thrown across your mattress and if he’s somehow lain on top of you, good luck getting out of there.

- cuddle time in the mornings is a regular occurrence and most days you set the alarm half an hour earlier to make time for that daily morning debrief, allowing yourself that buffer time to wake up slowly and enjoy each other’s company.

- sometimes when it’s cold you find the excuse to drag the entire blanket with you both to the kitchen

- you work together like a well oiled machine in the mornings. After much dedication, determination and false fire alarms being set off, Beetlejuice turns out to be a surprisingly capable cook. Typically he’s the one who will make breakfast if it’s more complicated than cereal and milk. You’re in charge of making the beverages and doing the dishes afterwards.

- the bathroom is your private space away from each other and the one boundary that you insist on keeping with Beetlejuice. Despite the progression in your relationship with each other, he is as clingy as ever and though he is less insecure about himself, he still struggles with the fear of losing you and so he compensates for this with constant touches whether it’s from his feet seeking your legs under the blankets when you sleep to a protective arm around you when you’re out together.

- takes the initiative to order for you when you’re going out for coffee because he knows exactly what you want.

- while his possessiveness of you had lightened up significantly after knowing how you felt about him and after much reinforcement of the fact that you weren’t leaving him high and dry, he still occasionally feels threatened by people who he thinks are better than him.

- good luck to anyone who decides to hit on you, because they might just encounter a very spontaneous accident like a spilled drink or have their belongings swept away by a strong wind. He’s the first to defend you against any unwanted attention.

- some things don’t change, like his mischief and his sexual appetite, but for the most part, you can tell that he’s much more relaxed than he ever was before. More genuine and less of a parading conman because he has no need to hide anymore.

- he takes pleasure in the smaller things in life, like watching the lizards catch their prey or the sensation of being hugged and loved as he is without fear and pain.

- when you’re home he’s joined to you at the hip, going where ever you go and leaning into your touch where he can.

- loves being held and sinking into you during movie nights. The combination of your familiar scent and the security he feels with your arms around him is what does it for him. He absolutely melts when you feed him snacks or massage his scalp and shoulders.

- chick flicks take pride of place alongside horror flicks and comedic movies in his preferred movie lineup.

- likes to become your personal cushion when you read your books aloud to him.

- he likes to partake in your daily rituals, maybe in an attempt to copy them but also out of intrigue and because he likes to imitate what he deems as normal for living people. You have a skincare routine picked out specifically for him and you go through the motions together every morning and night. You have too many pictures of Beetlejuice with a wet face mask on saved to your phone.

- kisses goodnight happen without question. He likes to sleep with his face in your neck or your hair and it takes a while to figure out the ideal sleeping position where he isn’t snoring, usually with careful repositioning on your part after he falls asleep.

[hoenn-hakase]

I'm not even sure who to share this with, so I'm spilling it here 😂

So the other day my folks were talking about trying to be more healthy during the summer and one of the things to come up was instead of buying Almond Milk for my grandma while the rest of us use regular, we should all just switch to almond milk and see how it goes. Well since we'd be using more, I bought two cartons at the store yesterday. ...Only to trip while putting away groceries, land ON THE CARTON and busted it like a balloon. I was wet, and hit pretty hard, but I think my pride was wounded more than anything. But at least we had the second one so it's not too upsetting just ugh wasted milk and money and (⁠╯⁠°⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠╯⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

So this morning, I went to pour milk for my grandma's cereal and I'm pretty sure it said to shake in case of settling like you would juice. (Note this isn't the new one, it's the one we already had in the fridge.) Either way, the lid flipped off at first shake and I got splashed all down my right arm like from shoulder to wrist. Like how? HOW?!?!?! So I immediately went to show my grandma while I'm still soaked and told her that I'm pretty sure the world is telling me to stick to regular because clearly the almond milk doesn't like me. 😭

What is my luck stat this week???

[boghermit]

Durge / Tav maybe-modern asks 1, 2, 4, 12, 21, 25 for Salem

1. what smiley would they use the most if they had a phone?

🍄 or 🔪

2. regular morning beverage (and snack) order?

coffee with milk and no sugar, or some kind of strong black tea. He’d probably go for toast and eggs, maybe some kind of omelet, and some berries on the side. Or he’d be like me, utterly lazy about breakfast, and just eat cold cereal.

4. if they went to a modern day university, what would they get their bachelor’s in, and would they enjoy it?

I could see him majoring in something related to biology, medicine, or agriculture. At the same time I think he would just hate college and the academic field in general. As far as the medical field goes he’s more “shady medieval medicine” than “modern medicine proven to actually work.”

12. if they were at a corporate or school-sanctioned group bonding event and someone asked them to say one fun fact about themself what workplace appropriate fact would they choose?

“I can do this. [grunts, explodes into a puddle of mud, and morphs into a vulture]”

21. do they use duolingo and what's their longest streak?

He tried to use Duolingo to learn Infernal before getting pissed at the owl for guilt-tripping him, deleting the app, leaving a toxic review on the app store, and just buying a book on how to speak Infernal.

25. how do they address groups of people in group chats or in person

“Hey chat” and “[loudly] HEY! UM! YOU ALL!” and [prior to the Nautiloid] “Hello, meatsacks.”

[lonelyfanboy48]

Steven Universe Of The Creek Chapter 13 The New Day Of Fruition

The sun rose above the creek after the rainstorm from last night. It stopped raining at about three thirty in the morning, while the clouds drifted away in short order. Despite the outdoors being wet with the dirt in the creek having turned to mud, kids are still gonna come over to hang out.

Craig woke up and immediately got himself out of bed. Even if he had more sleep than last time, he still needs to clean Steven’s clothes, even if he’s willing to come out right away. After he got out of his bedroom, he headed to the bathroom where Steven took off his clothes to put it in the dirty laundry basket. He heads downstairs to the washing machine in the kitchen where he put all of Steven’s clothes in. After putting the detergent soap in, he closed the lid and turned on the machine.

In the living room, Steven slowly opened his eyes while yawning. Even resting under a roof, his body is still shaking from the events that happened last night. He was too concerned about thinking about his current problem rather than encountering two gems, who are probably still around in the neighborhood.

After Craig poured his cereal in his bowl, he entered the living room just to notice Steven waking up from the couch. “Steven?” He spoke to which Steven turned around.

“Good morning.” He shyly smiled. “It stopped raining, are you thinking about going to the creek?”

“Well…” Craig headed back in the kitchen to the refrigerator while opening it. “Is there anything else you wanna do?”

“No, not even a bit.” As Steven heads straight to the kitchen table, Craig just poured milk into his cereal while sitting with Steven face to face. “I see you just started the washing machine huh?”

“Usually my parents do the laundry and they taught me how but…” He took a bite from his cereal.

“You don’t want to do it?” Steven guessed as Craig nodded. “I’ve been through that.”

“Maybe cleaning the laundry just to clean the clothes even if it’s important…wasn’t as important as you.” Craig continued to eat his breakfast while taking in the peace around him after the storm from last night, despite the noise from the washing machine.

“You know…you saying that I’m more important than laundry was the last thing I would expect to hear from a kid but…nothing’s too crazy anymore.” Steven commented.

“Well if you wanna go to the creek, I don’t even know where to start to be honest.” Craig replied. “I know I didn’t mind that when we met for the first time, but I wasn’t thinking about you. Just your gem.”

Steven didn’t forget that Craig’s friends saw his gem last night and if he wanted to set things quickly, he needed to find Craig’s friends even if he never got to know them unlike Craig. “When we go to the creek, do you want to know a little more about me and my life?”

“That’s fine, there’s a lot going on after seeing you glow pink. Especially those…gems.”

“Aquamarine and Ruby? Trust me, even if they’re my problems, they don’t compare to anything else I’ve gone through.”

After Craig finished eating his cereal, the washing machine took its time to clean everything through Steven’s clothes. Steven put on his clothes despite how they were a bit too warm. While Craig was washing his dish, he got out of his pajamas and changed into his regular clothes. He and Steven headed out and walked into the creek itself.

The leaves from the trees dripped down water after the storm from last night. Steven and Craig needed the fresh air in order to get along better. Even if they have to deal with the creek still being wet, the sun will manage to dry things as quickly as possible.

“So Aquamarine and Ruby who attacked you, are they your enemies?”

“They’re the only enemies I have at the moment. But compared to other enemies I’ve had in the past, they're more annoying than dangerous.”

“Yeah, they were smaller than me, but way more powerful.” Craig responded, keeping his hands in his pockets. “But when I saw them, they were a different gem.”

“True, but in reality, they’re the same person. It’s called fusion.”

“Fusion?”

“Long story, but one of my mothers is actually a fusion…who I just talked to last night who told me to work things out with you.”

“Do you mean…Pearl? Amethyst? Garnet?”

“The latter.” Steven answered. “This may be hard to believe, but there are more Rubies aside from this one. And the Ruby who’s on my side is fused with Sapphire, they’re Garnet.” He stopped himself while showing Craig a picture from his phone. The picture itself showed Ruby and Sapphire at the wedding at the beach, then he scrolled to another picture of him hugging Garnet after she fused back.

“Ohh…I completely forgot that you told me about the wedding, and the fusion two nights ago.”

“I didn’t feel the need to tell you, since it was the day before yesterday.” When he put his phone away, they resumed their walk. “But then again yesterday was the day we didn’t expect to turn out terribly.”

“You know Steven, things don’t turn out the way I wanted at the creek, but compared to yours, it’s much smaller in scale.”

“Did you remember what I said about the Gem war?”

“Yeah. And about you…turning into a baby…I never saw a TV show that did that.”

This causes Steven to sigh, knowing he has so much work to do. “When I showed you a picture of Yellow, Blue, and White Diamond, there’s another Diamond…who’s my real mother.”

Craig stopped himself, thinking that a Diamond far bigger would be Steven’s mother of all things. When Steven took notice, he wasn’t surprised, but knew Craig would catch on, even by a little. “How??”

“She turned into Rose Quartz, who was the mother I remembered the most in my childhood, only to learn, just like Ruby, there are more Rose Quartzs. She’s Pink Diamond.”

“Pink Diamond…that explains why you were glowing pink last night…and about you turning into a monster.”

Craig had more questions than necessary, but he didn’t know where to start. Rose Quartz, Multiple Rose Quartzs, and Pink Diamond turning into Rose Quartz, he can’t even think of one thing without getting confused or overwhelmed.

“Craig, you don’t wanna know everything about Pink Diamond, but it’s hard for me to be mad when I lose it.”

“But how is Pink Diamond the reason you glow pink?”

“Because I can’t control myself forever. You can’t be the nicest and self-controlled person when you're a gem at the same time.”

“So, Pink Diamond was the biggest enemy in all this?”

Steven lowered his head while answering his question. “Yes.”

“Then it’s best if we leave it at that.”

“Pearl would tell you everything if she was here right now.”

When Craig thought about Steven’s guardians and his downplay stories from his family reunion, it became clearer as day that whatever he’s downplaying is always the other way around. But when it comes to Pearl, Amethyst, and Garnet who’s a fusion, he never understood how important his life was with the three.

“Steven.” Craig came up with a new question. “When you put saliva in my ear, all I saw was pitch pinkness in my eyes. Not only did I feel sparkles, but the old emotions I had between you were gone. Do you do this with people?”

“Yes.” Steven answered. “You see, my saliva heals corrupted Gems when they are damaged. I helped with Connie’s eye vision when he took a sip of my juice box years ago.”

This causes Craig to come up with another question. “Do they get powers like you do?”

Steven shook his head in response. “Would you expect other people to explode like yesterday at my apartment? I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s probably best that it didn’t.”

“I don’t even know what it would feel like if it's true.”

Steven could imagine what a human would do if they had powers like this, but on the other hand, Gems require gems for powers regardless of them being different from one another. “The chances of you having powers are one in a million. And even if you’re a gem like me, you have to cooperate because it’s still dangerous.”

“I know, Aquamarine and Ruby felt powerful together just by seeing their powers.”

“That’s mainly because of the fact that they’re in a fusion. And there are many more fusions that are bigger and stronger than them.”

Craig wondered what fusion would feel like inside of the mind with others, but cooperating with another person would be harder than he thought. “It seems that this type of specialty is a huge custom to Gems.”

“Well, I can fuse with my dad and Connie, but it’ll only work if one of the two are a gem. I’m not gonna explain a lot about it because it’s too complicated for you at your age.”

In a moment of realization, Craig wouldn’t experience fusion if he found a gem similar to Steven. Not to mention he still has a lot of understanding of Steven’s life as a gem. Then again, he needed to set things straight by having his friends be part of it.

“I think we should have my friends be part of this. Let’s save some of the details when we go to the stump which is where my friends are waiting.”

“You're right. Besides, the amount of kids that I saw last night, you have almost the same amount of friends that I have back at Beach City.”

“You really want to meet them?”

“That and more by chance, because I doubt I’m leaving anytime soon.”

Craig smiled from Steven’s eagerness to give the creek a chance by starting somewhere and he’s more than thankful to start off with his friends. “Okay let’s get Kelsey and J.P. to catch up with us.”

“That’s the spirit.” They return to their walk while heading to where Craig spends most of his time with his friends. The following step of getting to know each other to resolve their newborn friendship.

[singlenessofaim]

Fic #4--Holding Back Tears

Fic Four for Fic Fest. This comes from the Febuwhump prompt list.

This is a child fic and is based off my own head canon that Matt and Nick were adopted. At this point, Nick is six years old and was adopted first...without Matt.

----

“Nick. Nicky. Time to wake up, dear.”

Nick blinked his eyes, squinting at the sunlight seeping into his bedroom. A hand was nudging his shoulder. His thoughts, still sleep clouded tried to place it.

“Come on, Nicky, got to get up. I’ll make you some toast, ok?”

‘Matty….?’

Nick blinked again, his vision clearing and he saw…no, not Matt. He was looking up into the kind eyes of Joyce, his new mom.

“Good morning,” she said. “Did you sleep well? Breakfast will be in a few minutes.”

Nick nodded and crawled out of bed. He had been here two whole weeks. How long was it going to take before he stopped thinking he would wake up to dark brown eyes staring at him and playful punches to his arm?

A couple minutes later, he was seated at the table, munching on a bowl of cereal and milk. His new father, who was also called Matthew, started the meal with grace. Then Mom sang while she puttered around the kitchen. He ate silently while watching them.

Breakfasts with these parents were so much different. Mother often wasn’t around and Father…Nick usually wished he was around much, much less. But when they were there and when they bothered with making breakfast, it was filled with yelling and often ruined food. By the end of it, he and Matt were usually told to go away.

Not here. Here, Mom and Dad seemed to always want Nick around. There were smiles, soft words, laughter. It was easy to get caught up the mood they created.

Joyce paused. “Nick? Was there something you wanted?”

“No um,” he mumbled. “I like your singin’. ‘S pretty.” Joyce beamed at him.

“That’s sweet of you, Nicky. Thank you.” Dad ruffled his hair.

“Hey Nick, your mom and I are going to take you to the store this weekend and you can help us pick out your things for when you start school this fall. How’s that sound?”

Nick’s stomach clenched. He knew he would be leaving kiddy garden and starting regular school soon. But….

“Don’t worry Nicky, we’ll go together. I’ll show you around. It’s not bad. You’ll see.”

Nick swallowed around the lump in his throat. Matt wasn’t going with him to school. He wouldn’t be there to tell him anything about where to go or what to do. He’d be alone.

“Good,” he warbled. “I…I like it.”

Mom and Dad gave each other a look with slight frowns but made sure to give Nick more smiles with Dad ruffling his hair again.

Later that afternoon, Nick’s stomach growled and he slinked toward the kitchen where Joyce was starting the preparations for dinner. He was able to watch her for almost two minutes until she finally noticed him with a start.

“My goodness, Nicky, you would be so good at Hide and Seek,” she said. “I did not hear you come in here at all.” She walked over to crouch down in front of him. “Would you like some lunch?”

“Yes, please,” he murmured. She smiled and guided him to sit down at the table. A couple minutes later, she brought over a glass of milk with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Nick stared down at his plate. The sandwich had been cut diagonally.

“What’s the matter, Nick?” Joyce asked. “Did you want something else?”

“Here you go, Nicky. Peanut butter and jelly squares. Just how you like them.”

“No,” he said. “I, I like peanut butter and jelly. I…I really like it.”

Joyce rubbed his back and went back to what she was doing while he stuffed the food into his mouth.

‘The sandwich is good. Mom and Dad are good. This place is good.’

‘This is home. It’s good that I’m here. It’s so much better than where I was.’

‘It’s so much better.’

Nick was watching cartoons on the TV when the doorbell rang. Mom answered and she came into the front room with a man Nick hadn’t met before.

“Nicky, this is your uncle Terry,” Mom announced. “He was in town and wanted to meet you.”

“Hi there, Nick,” Terry said. “Nice to meet ya. Hey, I got some stuff for you.”

Nick watched as Terry pulled a large bag from behind his back. From it, Terry pulled out various action figures: a couple of superheroes, a pair of G. I, Joes, some knights.

“Oh, and finally, there’s these,” Terry said, pulling out one last set of figures. “I got you Hulk Hogan and Macho Man.”

Nick held the wrestling figures in his lap, staring, his lip starting to tremble.

“I’ll have Hulk start another faction this time, ok? And the Undertaker will be his opponent.”

“Let’s start another tag team tournament. Macho Man will be special guest ref.”

“I want to be a wrestler. And you can be my tag team partner, Nicky….”

Nick jumped up and ran out of the front room into his bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed. He buried his face onto his pillow, his breaths heaving as tears finally streamed down his face.

‘I want to go back. I want to go back to Matt. I don’t want to be here without Matt.’

‘Please…please let me go back.’

‘Please…’

But deep down, Nick knew. There was no going back. This was where he would stay.

And it was that thought that made the tears continue to flow.

[blondebeardtheparent]

Captain’s Log

Stardate 20241022

Y2 S1 D30

Simon had an important life experience this morning. My boys have been drinking milk by the liter of late. At the current rate, they are able to polish off two boxes a day. In order to slow their consumption and cut costs, my wife and I decided to try using powdered milk. I made sure that I had it ready before the boys got to the table so I would not get pushback from the get-go.

I tried it in my cereal first and knew that it was not exactly pleasant. Isaac came next. He made a face but didn’t comment. Then Simon came to the table; I closed my eyes and waited.

“It tastes horrible!” he wailed. “I KNEW I would hate powdered milk. Breakfast is ruined!”

“There’s a little bit of regular milk left in the fridge.” I said trying to soften the blow. “I can mix it in.”

“No, you’ll waste it! I’ll just have a smaller bowl of cereal.” So he did.

I don’t see this experience as a bad thing. A lot of times, we don’t realize how fortunate we are until we face loss. Our family has always had enough to provide for little luxuries, but we are in a dry period right now. It will not last forever, but while we are here, it is good to learn how to reduce our spending and to make things stretch.

I don’t know why we are wandering the desert at the moment, but as I look at the Scriptures, I can see that we are in good company. Time in the desert toughens us up. It humbles us. It makes us grateful for when things come a bit easier. Sure, it tastes horrible, but it’s not forever.

Right now, I’ve got two pathways ahead of me. One leads me to work, the other leads home for the holidays, but neither are within my control. In the back of my head, I still have this idea for a small school by the ocean somewhere, but I don’t know how it fits into the current scheme of things. One day at a time.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS IN LOVE - Chapter 8 - Part 1

BOOK THREE: 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

"Ya' know, I saw a pretty blonde walk out this morning. I was gonna flirt with her but then I thought 'nah, I don't want Noah's sloppy seconds'" Ciera jested dryly from where she sat on the couch, legs crisscrossed, with a bowl of cereal in hand.

The Regular Show was playing on our T.V.

"Oh, she was far from sloppy, you should've gone for it, She was really good at giving head, you would've loved her going down on your ten inch dick," I spoke with a straight face as I grabbed myself a bowl and poured Cinnamon Toast Crunch in before adding milk.

"Damn, you should've set me up."

"Blondes aren't your type," I commented.

I didn't actually know if that was true or not but I've never seen her with a blonde.

"I'd make the exception if their hot," Ciera said.

I sat down next to her and we ate our breakfast in a comfortable silence and watched the cartoon but a terrible thought was eating away at me.

I reached over and set my bowl down on the coffee table.

Looking at Ciera, she had her bowl tipped up as she drank the remainder of her cereal milk.

"What if someone you don't want to talk to might possibly have an eating disorder? But they're not in my life anymore and they have plenty of support around them, so I don't necessarily want to get involved but what if no one is involved in the situation and I'm the only one whose noticed?"

"Hmm," she pounded.

"So, Sam might have an eating disorder and you're not sure if Boring Benjamin or Sam's parents know about it and if they do know about it, are they doing anything about it?"

"Yes."

"Noah," she set her bowl down next to mine and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before continuing.

"This is Sam we're talking about. Maybe you don't still love him- though I think you do..."

"That's..." Ciera cut me off before I could deny her accusation.

"But at one point you did. Deeply, so you're allowed to be concerned about his health. That being said, Sam might not want you in his life, but if I'm being honest, he's clearly in love with you still, or at least has unresolved feelings. Who goes to a school where their ex attends?"

"Well, he's with Boring Ben. He probably just came to UIC to fuck with my head," I muttered.

Ciera rolled her eyes.

"Stop with the cynical mood. You broke up with him. Sam didn't know you were wanting to get back together with him when he slept with Carter."

"Even if I wasn't going to get back together..." I started raising my voice but Ciera held up her hand to stop me.

"Yes, Sam and Carter fucked up. I agree with you and why you're mad at him, I just wanted to remind you of your decision."

I sighed.

"Whatever. So, what should I do?"

We had more pressing manners than my failed love life.

"I don't know," she spoke genuinely.

"Eating can be a touchy subject for people even when they don't have an eating disorder, so it's gotta be way more triggering for Sam. Ask Dr. Zinko when you see him," she shrugged.

"Yeah I guess."

But I didn't see my therapist until Friday and part of me wanted to do something now about it.

*********

So on Wednesday morning at eight am, I made Sam breakfast and put it in a container to give to him.

I still cared about Sam, so it wasn't weird to be concerned... yet as soon as I saw him sitting in Math 102 around 8:45, texting on his cell-phone with a damn smile on his face, I felt like a fucking idiot.

Sam and I weren't together, we weren't friends.

Hell, he shouldn't even be in my life then.

What the fuck was I thinking?

He was probably having a stupid grin for Boring Benjamin, his boyfriend.

Sam hadn't seen me yet, so I decided to bail and go to my seat.

Then I stopped.

What if Sam really was going through this alone?

What if he had no help.

I groaned. Fuck.

I turned around and as I walked towards Sam, he looked up at me.

He seemed stunned at first that I was even coming up to him, which I didn't blame him.

I stopped in front of my ex and dropped the container on his desk.

"Huh?"

Sam didn't say more than that.

"Why aren't you eating?" I asked a little harsh which wasn't intended but for some reason I was always riled up when I thought about or got near Sam lately.

He looked shocked at my questioned and I raised my eyebrows as if to say 'hello, answer the question.'

But all he said was

"I... um."

He looked down at the container.

"What's this?"

"Breakfast. Pesto eggs, bacon and blueberries. Not eating is dumb, Sam. You know that and if I have to make you breakfast everyday or every class, I will."

Sam's eyes widened.

"You made this for me?"

What I was going to say was 'yes because for some reason I still care about you.'

But I was feeling weird and anything but calm at that moment, at least on the inside, so what I said instead was...

"Fuck off and eat," and I walked away.

In my seat, my knee bouncing up and down, I watched Sam.

I wondered if he was going to throw away the entire container of food as he stared at it but then he slowly opened the plastic lid and pulled out the plastic fork I put in there.

Oh God, I felt like a pussy.

This was shit his boyfriend should be doing, not me.

Now Sam's gonna think I'm hung up on him.

'Which I wasn't.'

But then Sam took a bite and I exhaled, my knotted gut untangling.

He took another bite and I felt myself start to smile until Sam looked back at me and I looked away.

That was when our professor walked in.

[starvebuteat]

Ok I spent to much time on this stupid thing just to delete itself,

The food Iisted that stayed at the bottom

every modifications fvcking hours spent on this I'm annoyed fuck this, food is a bitch I was just looking for a pic to put so it's pretty idk but no tumblr want my skinny eating habits to stay secret, what's the secret??? Intense restriction duh. But fat to regular people(or americans probably) see intermittent fasting and restrictions as torture, I know I saw tiktok and comment about ":0 my doctor this and bla bla bla" listen I'm 24 and idk I feel like my usual dinner and meal at night are already to much and anyway

Ill start tomorrow...that got me annoyed and sad, like bro ive been bony bitch for more than 8 or 9 years I know how to eat to stay skinny 'my way of eating' how much I spend eating it ' my food, everything was there, ughhhhhh bye then...ill go cry and smoke cause I kinda wanna dye ehhehe

★

Ah yeah I forgot about my public personal diary:')

For 4 days I ate:

2 small 'more like average size' pancakes with Nutella(probably weird but, that lasted me all day and I gave a little slice to my parents when they saw me make it.)

Poutine(I ate it in two portions and didn't finish it)

1 peanut butter toast(my stomach was growling like a monster I had to calm it down lol)

Raviolis with 2 slices of bread(ate it all it was my peanut butter toast, after someking weed;'))

3Chocolate chip cookies(I had to have a dessert \[~‘- '~]/

Chocolate pudding(it went with my cookies and I had the munchies)

I'm surprised I can't remember what's else I ate. I hope and sure I forgot about what other food I had,

Strawberry with raspberries but left my plate there all night(0ops)

I had spaghetti too(:)) a favorite in my childhood)

And few bites of jell-o(and idk why but my tongue suddenly started to get swollen???)

1 pocket pizza(growling monster again)

1 waffle with maple syrup(I got distracted, lost completely and couldn't eat the other one cold and semi soaked)

Few(strawberry)mini wheats with milk( it was early early morning and my stomach wanted breakfast at 5am lol)

I was eating the cereal and cookies at the same time, one bite was cookie and few mini wheats there, bite cookies and finish cereal and end it with a dessert(xDlol)

Chocolate chip cookies(they there all crumbled cause I like to eat them hot in the microwave but it dries up:')

Chips(I didn't even want them)

And poutine again (currently eating it but writing this too:"))

I know I change word in modifications but I honestly don't know what's is said in this post ok bye now.xox

I ate HAVING to eat, let me eat When I Want merde.

[202310271]

Facebook 1

A nice snack to grab is “overnight oats.” Fill with milk, oats, and “the good stuff.”

I got 6 jars online for $16, $2.67/jar, each 16 oz. 4-5 in. 1 lb. I may need more if they take long.

It’s nice it’s not something like meat, just cheese, just dry goods, something with too much sugar or high fructose corn syrup, a coffee with caffeine, expensive addictive frozen pizza products and little side dishes or messed up Tyson processed chicken strips/nuggets (with like pieces of cartilage in several or so over every pack.) Just a vegetable drink is not enough. Sweets can feel trashy to the U.S. or too heavy and eventually not tasty. DoorDash may have too many fees, and going out may take too much energy even if you “have a car.” Smoothie are good, but this is  different and has the cereal or “oats.” I only got one kind of overnight oats ingredients, and I got bored of my strawberry smoothies, or blended apples with water though it tasted fine and went down quickly, like 4 or 5 apples at a time, good with NutriBullet which releases vitamins by blending so finely somehow. Another good thing so far is sliced pieces of ham but the regular kind not deli cold cuts. The extra sharp cheddar cheese blocks, sliced into chunks or in other ways with it is good.

So, I can wake up and grab the chunks of cold ham and cheese.I just made the overnight oats and had some not finished soaking when I woke up. I just had some now after doing some laundry and before doing more, and it’s worked well. Sometimes, I just don’t eat or order because I don’t want more ham, chicken, beef, pork, turkey or in sandwiches etc., with the chopped potato “fries” and my cooked vegetables which are improving. So, that’s what overnight oats are good for. So far, I had them as oats (large packages,) whole milk (2 gallons in fridge,) coco powder (“4-6 heaped TEAspoons / day” but no sugar? and tasted good concentrated at bottom of little glass jar,) honey (large pack,) and vanilla extract (got a cheap replacement store brand.) So, oats, whole milk, coco powder, honey, and vanilla extract, in al 6 jars and I’m on the 2nd one. It seems good as an emergency if you don’t want something like meat in the morning or just eggs or an omelet or strong dessert, or in between strenuous and taxing chores or tasks, something I think I will like as a dessert or just a snack… So, it’s good for after a stressful activity, going out, exercise.  It can replace dessert or serve as morning coffee, while you make something like a meal for breakfast during/after, which I had soup of just beef and 3 beef cubes, stir fried broccoli, and baked big potato fries. It’s good whenever you are hungry, some breakfasts, if you just don’t want meat.

[tiredsurvivoronmain]

All questions from 1 to 10 please. Don't want to overwelm you to much.

1. What goes  first - cereal or milk? Cereal.

2. Which planet  is your favourite? JUPITER!!! The cloud formations and storms are so beautiful and hypnotic.

3. What made you  smile today? Thinking about all the nice/fun Weskers I've been getting in DBD lately ^^' Before the anniversary nearly every killer I was getting was facecamping, body blocking the hooked survivor so rescues were nearly impossible, tunnelling and slugging. Then Wesker coming back for the event and most of the being goofy/nice/cute is making me soft ;w;

4. What do you  like to do most, on lazy days, when you have no commitments? Art, listening to music and gaming.

5. What’s your  favorite chewing gum flavor? I don't like chewing gum but if I had to pick, mint.

6. Sunrise or sunset? Sunset, BUT when I was flying to northern Ireland to see family the flight was very early in the morning and it was absolutely stunning.

7. What food  should be banned in the universe? Coleslaw. The look and smell of it makes me nauseous and retch, get that shit away from me XP 8. What is your  favorite board game? Scrabble. Playing it with my parents gets ugly though because dad knows really obscure words and I'm good at getting small words in clustered areas of the board and sabotaging everyone's planned words which pisses mum off LMAO

9. What is your  favorite tea? Regular, green, lemon and honey (as in lemon slices and a spoonful of honey)

10. What colour  were the walls in your childhood bedroom? Did you choose it? Why? Red I believe, I think I chose it. No idea why though lol

[smokyjoesclothing-blog]

My first memories of Papa

My very first memory of my Papa Morry, aka Smoky Joe, was waking up to his gentle touch and whisper in his apartment in Chicago, only a few years before he and my Gramma Shirley decided to move from Chicago to central Florida to be closer to my two older brothers and I, three of his grandsons, his pride and joy.  “Joey, are you still asleep?” I was only about four or five years old, and I was visiting him and my Gramma Shirley, with my parents and two older brothers.  It was cozy in the bed, warm inside and chilly and cold outside.  I wasn’t used to the cold of Chicago, because my parents had moved to Central Florida when my mom, Papa’s oldest daughter, Jan, moved there with my dad.   Now, groggy, and slowly getting up, I was just four or five years old, and in a strange place, his apartment where he lived with my Gramma.  Papa was super excited that we were visiting him and wanted my brothers and I to get up at his early hour, well before the break of dawn to share in his elaborate breakfast at the kitchen table that he would prepare for himself on a regular basis to eat alone while working to solve the Chicago Tribune crossword puzzle.  But, on this morning, he wasn’t alone; we were visiting and there was no way he would eat by himself while his boys were there.  So, he woke us up to join him.  He took my small hand into his large leathery one and walked me to the kitchen where Mike and Steve, my brothers, were already partaking in his smorgasbord of delicacies waiting in the kitchen.  Cereal, milk, plenty of fruits, cut watermelon, cantaloupe, berries, grapefruits cut in halves, toast, and any other fruits that were available in the apartment.  He loved waking very early, sometimes at 4am, to have ample time to prepare huge meals for himself, or any of his family who happened to be in the apartment.  He typically would do this alone, or if my Gramma happened to be awake also, she would join him in her cotton nightgown that she often would wear all day while staying in the apartment, cooking, cleaning, watching tv, and being the silly gramma, she was known to be.  Gramma’s antics were legendary and continued to be throughout her lifetime, but that’s another story.  We ate in our pjs, and if so inclined, changed into some regular clothes, or if we wanted, stayed in our pjs.  After breakfast, the four of us boys all walked down the chilly stairwell on our way to the two-car garage of the apartment building.  Opening the door, I still remember the smell and feel of the air: cold, damp, and rubbery are the closest adjectives I can find to describe the feel and smell.  I remember the smell as one so foreign to my young and fragile nostrils.  My mom and dad were not around this morning, and we didn’t care.  We were now with our Papa and felt the warmth and love of his presence.  We felt an adventure awaiting us.

As Steve, Mike, and I opened the door to the garage, we saw his dark blue Lincoln Continental Town Car, stretched long and stylish, larger than life, as if mirroring his own personality and presence. We climbed inside and the pungent smell of the garage now turned to the equally, yet different pungent smell of the interior of his Lincoln.  A combination of leather from the seats of the car and tobacco from his pipes and tobacco foil container. He smoked cigars as well as pipes, but I believe pipes were his favorite and any cigar smells were overtaken by the strong smells of the pipe tobacco.  The seats were soft and comfortable, the bells and whistles inside the car abundant and the most luxurious available that money could buy.  Papa loved his family, and he also loved to live well.  Automatic seats, able to recline in seemingly an unlimited number of directions; up, down left, right and diagonal.  Windows with similar buttons that would automatically make the windows go up and down, like magic.  This was new and cool to us boys who were used to the manual roll ‘em up kind.  He seemed to have all the latest gadgets money could buy, including some of the first remote control tv sets with four oval buttons that we needed to push down with two of our small fingers to change the volume, channel, and mute.  But now we were in his tank, his Lincoln, pressing buttons, moving the headrests up and down, laughing and sharing with each other the cool things that Papa’s car could do!  Papa laughed out loud too and was smiling ear to ear as we all had such fun playing.  He couldn’t be happier to have us with him.  And with us in the car, up and down and up and down and down and up they went, over and over again, as we played with this magical toy that our Papa enjoyed as much as us.  As he opened his door to enter the driver’s seat, he reached to the middle of the front console to grab one of the two or three pipes sitting in the large car ashtray.  His door stayed open, and we heard a loud “bang! Bang! Bang!”  My brothers and I were startled! Was that a gunshot?! No, it was just our Papa banging his pipe against the door railing that runs alongside the bottom side of the Lincoln.  Why was our papa doing this?  It was new and neat, but our papa did it, so it must have been cool.  This is how he emptied his pipes before getting ready to pack them up with his favorite tobacco.  This ritual was not unlike his breakfast routine and seemed to occur the same way each time he entered his car getting ready for his journey in the morning to the golf course, every morning, if there wasn’t too much snow on the ground to prevent him from playing golf.  Before he departed, he grabbed his zippo lighter, and with a puff, puff, puff, smoke billowed out as he peered through his corn-rimmed glasses to see if the embers of the pipe was just as he wanted it.  And, off we went, or as his wife, Shirley, our Gramma would be known to say, we were “off like a dirty shirt!”

[huntingingoodwill]

waitress! (r.f.)

masterlist

pairing: robert fischer x waitress! reader

desc: in which you’re intrigued by the important looking man with a froot loops addiction who goes out of his way to eat at the diner you work at every morning.

“I will have…” His voice had trailed off pensively as he flipped the sticky, peeling menu over in his hand. “Froot Loops.” He said decisively. 

Your jaw had paused its movement, hanging a little slack as you stopped chewing your gum, blinking at him in disbelief. His pale pink lips turned up into an unassuming smile. 

You had raised your eyebrows, chuckling a little as you scrawled the order down onto your notepad. 

“Okay.” You had muttered through your lopsided smile, fingers ghosting his as he handed you the menu. “Froot Loops.” 

That was the first time you met him. He intrigued you from the start.

A man like him, in his sharp suit and expensive car, looked far too important to be smiling at you gratefully as you poured milk into his little plastic bowl, leaning forward to avoid staining his pristine dress shirt while slurping up the neon rings. 

He looked far too important to even be in the dingy little diner you worked at, a quiet place on the outskirts of the city. It was far out of the way of anything exciting, its purpose usually reserved to serving travellers who were just passing through. 

So, it was even more intriguing to you that he kept coming back. 

It had been a week since your first encounter with him, and he arrived every morning at the crack of dawn. 

Now, you braced your hands on the counter, restlessly tapping your fingers against the surface as you narrowed your eyes, staring at him curiously. You hardly got any regulars, but he showed up every morning, disgustingly early, just to have a bowl of the same cereal in the same squeaky vinyl booth. You couldn’t figure him out. 

You watched him take the last, dribbling sip of coffee from his mug, and you took the opportunity, picking up a fresh pot and hopping over the counter. 

You refilled his mug full of the black, steaming liquid as he thanked you, scanning through the newspaper.

“You know we serve real food, right?” You smirked, picking up his now empty bowl, the colourful dust from the cereal clinging to the bottom of it. 

“Froot Loops are real food. Breakfast of champions, right?” He reached a finger out, tapping on the bowl in your hand. “Besides, your real food probably isn’t served on dishes with kangaroos on ‘em.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked down at the childishly designed bowl, a tiny cartoon kangaroo hopping along the bottom of it. 

“No respectable place should serve food on plates without cartoons on them.” He said in mock seriousness. 

“We’re not really a respectable place.” You raised your eyebrows, nodding toward the drab interior of the restaurant, all dull fluorescent lights and greasy linoleum. “But, next time ‘round, you order an omelette and I’ll get the chef to serve it on whatever plate you want. Does you no good, eating that sugary crap everyday.” You laughed. 

“Thanks.” He grinned, peering at the little metal badge pinned to your uniform, your name spelt in looping cursive. “(Y/N).” 

“You’re welcome…” Your voice lilted questioningly. 

“Robert.” 

“Robert.” You repeated.

“Would you like to sit down? I’ll buy you a coffee.” He offered. 

“The coffee here is shit.” You blurted, eliciting a laugh from him as you gestured with the pot in your hand. “And I can’t, sorry.” You said, giving him a rueful smile, eyebrows furrowing. “My boss would kill me if I do.” 

“And you’d break my heart if you don’t.” 

You bit your lip, eyes flickering around the diner, noting that your boss was still in the back, probably thumbing through his phone and staving off sleep. 

“Well,” you said, sliding into the booth across from him as you set the bowl and pot back onto the table. “We can’t let that happen, can we?” 

You leaned forward conspiratorially. “Can I ask you a question, Robert?”

He looked at you amusedly, nodding. 

“What’s a man like you doing in a shithole like this?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He chuckled, feigning innocence. 

“Oh, you know!” You exclaimed, jabbing a finger into his arm, prompting his laughter. “We never get any regulars. But you-” You waggled a finger in his smiling face. “Come here every morning, right at the break of dawn, driving all the way up here from the city just to go right back down. Why would anyone go through all that trouble just… for a bowl of cereal and some bad coffee?” 

“Maybe…” He drummed his fingers on the table in contemplation. “I just really like Froot Loops.” 

You shot him a derisive look.  

“Okay, okay… well, there’s just a lot to like here.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Sure… I mean, the service, for one. There’s this really great waitress here.” He mumbled, lips turning upward.

“Oh, really?” You smirked.

“Really.” He laughed. “She caught my eye the first time I came here and well... she works all alone during the morning shift. She’s pretty, and always looks at me a little weird whenever I come in. I’ve been wanting to talk to her for a while now, but I just haven’t got the guts.” He gave you a shy smile. “So I wake up early, drive up here from the city, eat, build up the courage to talk to her, lose it, then drive all the way back down just in time to go to work.” 

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, and you knocked your scuffed sneaker against his polished dress shoe. 

“I don’t like cowardly men, Robert.” You joked, picking up his mug and taking a sip. 

“I’ll have to work on that, then.” He replied, holding out his hand as you placed the mug back in it. 

“(Y/N)! What the hell are you doing?!” You jumped as your boss appeared in front of you, his harsh voice an unwelcome interruption.

“It’s alright, sir, I asked her to-” Robert began, only to be cut off immediately.

“Look buddy, I don’t pay her to sit on her ass out he-” 

Robert dug into his pocket, pulling out a couple of bills. He placed them on the table, sliding them in the direction of your boss.

His eyes widened. It was more than what both of you would have made on your shift. Your boss cleared his throat, sheepishly tucking the money into his pocket. 

“...Carry on.” He coughed, walking away with his tail between his legs. 

You turned to Robert, laughing incredulously. “You like me that much, huh?” 

He raised his eyebrows as he held his coffee to his lips, obscuring his smile. 

The two of you talked for ages, laughing until the sun peaked over the hills, shining bright golden rays through the windows and illuminating his bright blue eyes, highlighting the freckles on his cheeks. 

Your eyes widened, grabbing his wrist and looking at the face of his watch as you snapped back into reality. When you were talking to Robert, it was like you were in your own little bubble, time trickling by without you noticing. “Don’t you have to get to work? You’ll be late!” You exclaimed. 

“No one cares if the boss is late.” He said, causing relief to wash over you. 

“Brag.” You teased. 

“But I could go for a coffee.” He said. “Somewhere you actually like. And, maybe somewhere that also has cartoon kangaroos on their dishes. Y'know. A respectable place."

You laughed, hurriedly untying your apron, tossing it over the counter, and ignoring your boss’ annoyed expression as the balled-up cloth thwacked him in the face. 

The bell on the door sounded overhead as he held it open for you, making your way toward his car. 

You tucked your hands into your jacket pockets as the gravel of the parking lot crunched below your feet, letting out a low whistle as you laid your eyes on his no doubt expensive car, the model looking out of place in front of the lacklustre restaurant.

"You like it?" He asked.

"Sure I do!" You replied, admiring it. "Who wouldn't?"

"You wanna drive it?" He offered.

You gaped at him. "Seriously?"

"If it'll make you happy." He said. You nodded eagerly and he grinned, tossing them in your direction as he rounded the car, sliding into the passenger seat.

You drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you settled into the seat, whooping as you revved the engine, feeling the car rumble to life.

"Where to, sir?" You flashed him a gleaming smile.

"To the city!" He exclaimed, causing you to let out a joyous cheer. He turned to look at you, his lips quirking upward. "Together, this time."