#i hate cream corn

[randomwords247]

Cooking and baking

A small pet peeve of mine with cooking and baking is when recipes say the container rather than the amount

Like, instead of saying "500ml of cream" you say "a pot of cream". Or "a whole can of corn". Like okay which kind of can??? What amount???? Corn comes in more than one size you can't just tell me a can. PLEASE i am begging you tell me the WEIGHT

This is especially a problem with recipes from different countries, for example America. Because your stick of butter is different to our butter. STOP SAYING STICK OF BUTTER TELL ME THE QUANTITY IN GRAMS PLEASE I HAVE A FAMILY

that being said I feel like I see this crop up in like american recipes in particular. Idk if I've ever seen a recipe in one of our cookbooks that does this....

anyway please just tell me the gosh darn weight I am dying here I have a family I JUST NEED TO KNOW THE WEIGHT

[troopingfairy]

reading up on what's happening to our hermanos in argentina and then how the usa probably had a hand in the coup that ousted dilma here in brazil in 2016 etc

( not to mention palestine and sudan and yemen and )

i feel so tired

why do we have to pay again and again and again so the usa and billionaires can maintain it's power and hegemony

just why

[lauriscomic]

Episode: 5 “Lactose Intolerance”

Anyone who is as hardcore as me? Who is lactose intolerant but still consume dairy products and embrace the consequences?

[atelierlili]

Gale and Katniss in District 13.

Gale: Ew, we're having cream of corn again. I hate how mushy it is.

Katniss: *sniffles* It's the exact same shade as Peeta's eyebrows.

Gale: The what-

[risuola]

ENTRY #5 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // There's sugar to your kisses, it tastes like dessert.

contents: arranged marriage!au, fluff — wc. 2093

a/n: you welcomed the series so warmly and lovely, that I made this part longer. it's sickly sweet, it's fluffy — enjoy!

series masterlist

“What the hell am I doing–“

You groaned. Again and again. Sighing and throwing your hands into the air, helpless and hopeless. Resignation crawling up your skin, threatening to fight and win with your stubbornness and determination. You felt the characteristics you proud yourself with falter and peel away along with your pride and dignity and you found it ironic — pathetic — that years of harsh trainings, of bloody torture you endured, years of fights and pain did nothing to break you and now you’re losing your mind over a goddamn mochi.

Mochi.

A dessert made of rice dough, sweet and objectively adorable with its round shape and sugary filling. If someone asked you how much time you spent in the kitchen already, heating up the glutinous rice flour, mixing and kneading the dough, you wouldn’t know. Hours, most likely. Fighting a battle that you weren’t ready for, mixing ingredients, adding water, whisking, and then kneading again, burning your fingers and pads of your palms more times than you’d ever admit. And you hated it. Hated the corn starch that dusted all around the place, the sticky mass of heated rice flour that you tried to get just right and above all, you hated how much time it took you before it finally started to look like something you can work with.

“There we go,” you mumbled, kneading and stretching the dough between your hands and the marble countertop. There was a reason you were a fighter, not a cook and the current state of your kitchen made enough of a proof. Mochi now, cleaning later.

The fillings were delicious, you had to pat yourself on the back. You were very lucky today to grab the sweetest strawberries you ever ate. They tasted like summer, like hot, tropical heaven and you fought with yourself before you ate them all. The cream you whipped turned out just perfectly thick and fluffy. Then the green edamame paste — your husband’s favorite — came out just as good. Decadent almost, smooth and sweet, with perfect, bright green color and texture of a cloud. Half of your cream you mixed up with melted chocolate and while happy with the insides, you were still a little concerned about the dough.

You’re not gonna be defeated by a rice dough.

You managed to roll out the mass very thinly, perfectly, and began forming mochi, which turned out to be much easier to do than you anticipated.

Take the dough.

Scoop on the filling.

Close the dough.

Roll.

Repeat.

You filled up a tray, all of the balls prettily displayed on top of a parchment paper and you took it upon yourself to have a taste of each one. Delicious. Absolutely mind-blowing.

To the fridge they go.

Now clean.

* * *

Satoru got home around 7 pm — typical, if nothing comes up or hold him at work. His job as a teacher, you learned it quickly, was repetitive, predictable. He’s out the door just shy of 10 am and back near the evening, before the soft pinks and oranges of the summer turn into nightly blues and greys and you grew to appreciate the routine that settled into your lives. Spending most of the days separately made the first weeks of marriage much more bearable. It gave you and him enough time to get used to the new situation and cool off after many fights you had. But that was about to change and you were meaning to tell him today, sweetening the deal with mochi.

Oh right, mochi!

It got you a little too excited for Satoru to ignore, you looked a little brighter than usually, nervous even and he found it concerningly amusing. You’re rarely happy to see him back, he’s more used to see you ignore him than to greet him, and even if so – you’d usually pass him with a hi or an attempt of a small talk that he hated. Gojo couldn’t tell what was it that made you so much more vibrant that evening, you looked thrilled, your eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the house. You almost looked… happy? To see him? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Did something happen today? You look oddly excited,” he spoke, following his usual routine of taking off his uniform jacket and putting it neatly on a hanger in the hallway, folding his blindfold in half to have it ready in the morning and washing his hands and face. The soft, dry towel soaked up the excess wetness from his skin as he patted it away, pointing his ocean-blue eyes toward you expectantly.

“Well, yes, kind of,” you replied and dropped onto the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room. You twisted your body slightly and looked at him, and he got the hint because few seconds later, he sat down next to you. “Two things. First, I got an offer to work as a teacher in your school. Yaga contacted me–“

“You are the new teacher for the second years?” Satoru cut you and you couldn’t read him. A slight surprise was all you could decipher from the expression of his features.

“Yes. Well, not yet,” you sighed, “before I agree I wanted to ask you what you think.”

“And you’ll do as I say? Since when you’re doing as you’re told?” He teased and for a moment you considered eating all the mochi yourself. Maybe tying him to the chair and devouring it right in front of his eyes? You opened your mouth to say something rather unpleasant before he spoke again. “If you’re asking me for permission, we both know you don’t need it. I’m sure kids will benefit from having you to lead them.”

“Are you willing to be civil with me if we spend more time along each other during the day? Last thing I need is to argue with you more than we already do.”

“We don’t argue that much lately,” he protested and you huffed out a chuckle, nodding in agreement. You didn’t fight at all, if you think about it. It seemed as if slowly you were getting used to… everything.

“So, you’re fine with the idea?”

“I’m fine with the idea, yes,” he said, running a hand through his white, slightly damp hair and brushing it back. You took in his features, allowing yourself to just stare at the man you married, because even if wedded, you see him no more than his students are. He still sleeps on the couch; he still spends most of his time outside. “You’re staring.”

“I am,” you confirmed, shamelessly and it made him chuckle. “Talking about staring, close your eyes.”

“Why would I–“

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” you ordered, getting up from the comfortable seat you were sunken into. “Please?”

“I’m honestly concerned,” he said but reluctantly lowered his eyelids. As if it made him any less aware of his surroundings. “What are you planning?”

“Don’t peek.”

Quickly, you padded into the kitchen and uncovered the mochi you kept out of the fridge for about ten minutes now. You took the tray and a glass of water and got back to where Satoru was situated. With his eyes closed, comfortable against the cushions. He felt your weight sinking onto the pillows next to him and a hint of something sweet in the air.

“Open up,” your voice made him hum, still uncertain but curious nonetheless. ‘Open up’ was such a foreign command for him to follow and the small amount of trust that was secure between you and him had to suffice for him to comply. “There we go,” you almost whispered and Satoru slightly flinched at the first contact of his mouth with, what felt like, a blob of cold unknown substance. For a reason he couldn’t really rationalize, he grabbed onto your waist to balance himself, even if there was nothing to throw him off.

Slowly, with caution, Gojo closed his mouth, allowing his teeth to meet the dough, go through it. Mochi. He recognized the sweet taste of his very favorite treat immediately but something about what was just melting against his tongue felt different to what he’s used to. The rice envelope was softer but chewy, sweetened just perfectly and the paste inside — green bean — had a texture of silk and butter, a luscious heaven itself. He felt it spreading along his taste buds, warming against the insides of his cheeks. A perfect mixture of fluffy inside and glutinous outside. So sweet, so delicious.

“Oh my god,” he whimpered. A sound so foreign, that it almost surprised you if not for the very vibrant wash of pleasure that relaxed his features. Just as the mochi melted in his mouth, he melted against the couch.

“Was it good?” You asked, while the answer was relatively clear from what you had a chance to witness. “I made them for you and they are not perfect yet but–“

“You made this mochi for me?”

Satoru’s bright blue eyes snapped open and his grip on your waist tightened. A shock pushed to the front of his expression, he blinked — once, twice — before you nodded slowly. Then he followed the direction of your gaze; his own landing on the tray full neat rows of plump rice balls, so perfectly imperfect against the dark wood below them. He could tell some had a green undertone, the edamame filling, and some were looking white and plain. Next row seemed to have chocolate inside and he could catch the hint of it in the air.

“You made all of this? With your hands?”

“From scratch, yeah,” you nodded, reaching for another one. “Chocolate.”

Being fed by you — his wife — felt odd, unfamiliar, and yet the subtle brush of your fingers against his lips whenever you gently pushed the doughy ball into his open mouth felt just right. Satoru thought he could get used to it, and the mochi.

“So you’re not only a good cook,” you’re not, but you hummed. “But also you can make mochi? If we weren’t already married, I would have asked you to marry me now.”

“That easy, huh?”

“That easy.”

You shook your head, visibly suppressing a giggle and Gojo hoped you wouldn’t hold it. It’s only now that he’s learning how pretty is your smile, how your eyes crinkle every time you allow your face to relax and take on a pattern of joy. He likes the shape your lips form, how they stretch whenever you’re happy and how your brows lift up just slightly above your half-closed lids. He wished you’d let yourself burst out laughing, but instead you shook your head yet again and let out a sigh of content. Good enough.

You reached onto the tray again. This time it was the white blob of doughy goodness hanging heavy between your dainty fingers. “This one is my favorite.”

There was no need to tell him twice. Satoru opened his mouth, eager for the sweetness you called your favorite although from your words he had a suspicion what was inside. Strawberries. You love strawberries. He learned that during the wedding celebration, when you eyed the fruit on his piece of the cake with the most adorable envy he’s ever seen – and then, those very same eyes glittered with pleasure when he exchanged his plate with yours. He remembers how you left the red, plump strawberry for the last bite, how you sighed with content as you bit into the juicy flesh of the fruit, how you nearly purred despite the stressful predicament you were placed into.

“Divine,” Gojo purred himself, as the flavors mixed in his mouth. The crisp, fresh strawberry, along the velvety cream and chewy dough made for an experience he could only compare to orgasm.

He wanted more.

Craved more and he blames it on you that the moment you sunk your teeth into the sweet treat, he leaned closer. His mind went blank when he wrapped his own mouth around the half mochi that sticked out, his lips brushed against yours. A drop of red juice run down his chin, wet and sticky against his skin. He didn’t care. Greedy for more, for you, he leaned in even more, tempted by the sweet taste of your sugar-powdered lips flush to his own.

You gasped. Purred. In surprise, in pleasure, or both.

The feeling unfamiliar, addicting, syrupy.

You should stop it.

You wanted more.

He should stop it.

He wanted more.

It was slow, sloppy and nothing but strawberry and cream.

taglist: @kinny-away , @anan-baban , @lotomber , @netflix-imagines , @kawliflo , @nishloves , @ghostfacefricker6969 , @thejujvtsupost , @yozora7154 , @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost , @ae-mius , @ropickle , @chokesonspit

[bouncybongfairy]

Everything & The Kitchen Sink

Butch Wolverine x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Logan promised to come home early from the bar after her shift. You make dinner and get ready only for her to come home late and drunk. This some how leads to the two of you tribbing on the counter.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Fingering, Tribbing, Nipple Play, Squirting

(THIS IS A W|W FANFIC)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were cleaning up the kitchen after making dinner. Logan was supposed to be home over an hour ago, she was working as a bouncer at a local bar. She promised you she’d come straight from work, you’d spent all day preparing for just that. Cleaning the entire apartment, did all the laundry, made dinner, ect. Took a long shower, exfoliated and moisturized. You already wrapped her plate up and stored it in the microwave. Preoccupying yourself by watching TV until you fall asleep. 

Logan carefully unlocked the door and saw you laying so still and statuesque. In comparison to what she sees at the bar all day you truly looked like an angel. The light of the television casting on you like you were glowing. She was past tipsy but not staggering or anything, she liked seeing how peaceful you were; knowing that once you woke up it’d be a completely different story. She opened the microwave and started salivating, it was her favorite. Baked potato with sour cream and chives, corn on the cob, two slabs of steak cooked medium rare, grilled shrimps and roasted carrots. 

It looked so amazing she didn’t bother heating it back up. Stuffing her face, only using utensils when she had too. She hadn’t eaten anything before or during work and drank on an empty stomach. It was like the plate was fucking glowing. Lighting the cigar she had tucked behind her ear. Too drunk to care that she was sparking up inside. She came over to you and ran her finger along your bare thigh. Wearing her tee shirt and the band of your panties peeking out. 

“Mmhm, you’re so soft,” she grumbled to herself, letting her calloused hand run up and down your skin. Stirring you awake and gently letting her body fall on top of yours. You were starting to stir awake, remembering how late Logan was. You push against her shoulders but she doesn’t care. Continuing to kiss your neck and grope your chest. The liquor and burnt smell of the cigar coming from her breath only reminded you of her loyalty to the bar. 

“You’re late,” you huffed, sitting up and trying to get out of her grip.

“Was a late night baby,” she mumbled.

“And you're drunk,” you said, successfully wiggling out of her grip. Picking up the coat she let drop on the floor when coming home. Logan took this opportunity to grip your hips and thrust herself against you. 

“So?” she laughed, pulling at the waistband of your panties and letting them snap against your skin. Entertained by how you jumped and squealed when the elastic hit you.

“I waited for a long time… I was all excited and you left me waiting..” you trail off. It sober her up a bit, knowing that you had waited for her while she lollygagged at the bar. Logan didn’t realize how much her company meant to you. Probably due to her own insecurity but she missed seeing the way she undervalued herself was affecting you. She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you to her chest. 

“I should have come right home. I’m sorry,” she said, kissing the top of your head. 

“It’s okay, I know you have a lot going on. Just promise for next time,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I’m glad you ate,” you said, noticing her dishes on the counter. 

Logan wasn’t paying attention anymore, now completely focused on running her hands down your body. She couldn’t get your smell out of her nose and it was starting to affect her self control. You were oblivious to how worked up she was becoming, Instead being off in your own little world. As much as you hated her cigar habit, the smell was somewhat comforting now as much as you complained about it. Sometimes you’d avoid washing the smoke smell off hoodies and pillow cases. You moved your hands up to her hair, brushing the loose stands out of her face. Eventually running your nails down her arms, you could feel the goosebumps form; her body hair standing somewhat making you giggle. 

She was breathing hard, especially when you looked up at her. Big doe-eyes staring up at her, eyelashes fluttering and hair messy from your nap. Logan smashed her mouth against yours, bringing her hands up to cup your face. Pressing herself against you, pinning your body to the kitchen island. Her thumbs rubbing your face as you work your tongues together. It was sloppy and getting more heated by the minute. She grabs you by the waist and sets you on the counter. Her eyes damn near boggling while watching the recoil of your breast from being sat down so hard. 

She grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it over your head, exposing your chest. Seeing her so animalistic and feral was making your stomach feel inflamed. A deep blush covering your face and neck while wetness starts to drip down your folds; Logan herself felt a heartbeat in her jeans. Your noses were pressed together and you could smell the whiskey on her breath. Normally it would bother you but it was undeniable that when Logan was drunk she didn’t hold back during sex. Normally she was more gentle, enjoying giving you pleasure. The liquor made her more brutish and unfiltered and it was so fucking hot. 

Hearing all the filth that slipped past her lips that normally went unheard due to her shyness. Using her strength against you, biting down on your soft skin with brutal force. Logan pecked your lips before moving down to your chest. Taking one of your nipples into her mouth and starts sucking and flicking her tongue. You ran your fingers through her hair and moaned loudly. Arching your back and balling your fists up in her hair. Your legs immediately begin to tremble from the pleasure. So sensitive from the anticipation that has been building in your belly all day. Resting your lips on the top of her head while groaning and whimpering into her hair. She pulled your panties to the side and used her middle finger to feel around your folds. 

Smearing your wetness all over your lips before pushing two fingers into your entrance. She was completely zoned out, having your tit in her mouth while curling and pumping her fingers in and out of you. Any time she nips at the senstative bud you tighten yourself around her fingers; only encouraging her to do it more. Your walls felt so velvety against her digits. She broke out of her daze and pulled away from you slightly to see your face and God what a sight it was. You were completely red in the face, practically panting trying to catch your breath. 

Eyebrows furrowed and nipples puffy and swollen; a light from above the kitchen island shining down on you. Making your chest glisten from the saliva covering your breast. You pulled her onto the counter to join you and started tugging at her jeans, which she quickly took off. Laying her back against the cold tile of the island. Before climbing on top of her, you sink your tongue between her folds. Spitting and flicking your tongue around, looking up to see Logan on her elbows. Cursing and sputtering while pushing herself against your mouth. Getting a little too excited you reach up and try grabbing at her chest. She snatches your wrists and pulls you towards her; now straddling her, you knees on either side of her hips.

 “I’m not that drunk,” she huffs and starts gripping your hips, prompting you to start grinding your hips. 

Now rubbing each other's sexes together, your wet folds sliding between one another. The tile was hurting your knees a bit but it didn’t stop you from quickening your pace. Finding the perfect rhythm, your clits continuously brushing against each other. Logan was arching her hips up, positioning herself so she could watch you ride her. Sitting up on her elbows and watching your tits bounce, saliva dripping onto her stomach. Too pussy-drunk to care if you were drooling or not.

“I’m cumming…” you groan out, taking her off guard.

Grabbing two handfuls of Logan's hair and pinning her fisting to the counter below you two. Your fists on either side of her head while riding out your orgasm. Squirting without stopping grinding your hips, causing the wetness to spread and spalsh all over Logan’s stomach. She immediately cums from watching you unraveling into a squirting fucked out mess. Digging her nails into your hips while thrusting her hips up, trying to get closer to you. Crying out, so overstimulated and jerking your hips forward. You collapsed on her chest, not giving a fuck about sleeping in your own wetness. Logan was too drunk to care, using the tee shirt to cover you like a blanket and falling asleep with you on her chest.

[heartfullofleeches]

Fall Food Yan Poll

We have Mallow [marshmallow] and Mocha [chocolate] for the winter, an assortment of ice cream people for summer so why not keep the ball rolling for other seasons as well?

Our choices are:

Pumpkin Puree - Care for a pumpkin latte? How about some pie? A wanderer who rolls into town as the leaves turn brown to fulfill that seasonal craving for all things pumpkin. Has many children who have tragically passed and prays you'll be there to help them mourn and care for the living ones <- they're all pumpkins

Candy Corn - First to arrive, last to be picked. Why does everyone hate how they taste? They can't be that bad- You don't think they taste bad.... Do you? They taste good paired with other things if you really don't like them that much..... Just don't turn them away :(

Apple Cider - Bubbly and Sweet. Wherever apples are you'll be sure to find them somewhere nearby. Saves the biggest and juiciest for you. Just - be sure to keep them away from any moonshine unless you like your cider with a spiked kick to it. Instead of carving pumpkins they carve apple. It's not weird! If anybody thinks otherwise they'll have a new canvas for their carving skills

(Just kinda curious if anyone would pick the last option. If it wins it wins but I tried to be strong this time only to make them all cuties I'd love to have)

[justasecretflower]

🤍- ouran host club with a Pregnant! S/o

Characters are all older.

Ouran! High school host club

~fluff.

Honey Senpai🍰

- He’s so sweet with you!

- you guys eat cake with each other 24/7

- offers to carry you everywhere if your feet hurt, he’s insanely strong and can lift you up easily.

- gets you all of your cravings.

- lets you hold his bunny when you have mood swings💕

- gets the baby their own bunny before they’re born with the name you picked embroidered on the ear.

- when you cry, he cries.

- you’re crying because you can’t have a craving? So is he, you’re crying because you just saw a video of a baby seal? So is he, you’re crying because you love the baby you haven’t even met yet? So is he, also he’s holding onto the ultrasound with a death grip

- speaks to your belly alllll the time like atp if people are around him they’d think an actual, real adult was speaking to him he’s so engaged in the little conversations with your belly.

“Hmm should we have strawberry or coconut cake first baby…let’s choose both!”

“You know I’ve been so excited to meet you, me and your momma. Look! Here’s a picture of you!” As he shows your belly and ultrasound

“Good morning baby, how are we feeling today?”

“Goodnight baby! Dont give your mommy a hard time this night alright?” He would whisper, kissing your belly goodnight with a bright smile.

- if someone makes you cry or feel insecure about having a big belly he just gives them a look and they run away.

-cries when he sees the tiny baby clothes.

Tamaki Suoh 🌹

- he’s so dramatic 🙄ughhh

- “are your feet tired my love?! You’ve walked 20 minutes already today! Your feet must hurt my baby must be kicking in there ready to rest!”

“Someone get my darling a foot massage and a back massage spa day booked right now please! She must be hurting all over!”

- he’s making sure you don’t move an inch.

- knows more about what you should and should not do pregnant more than you do?

- gets all of your cravings x10. Like, you want some corn? Suddenly, there’s fried corn, corn on the cob, corn off the cob, creamed corn, popcorn, corn and beans, corn on some mashed potatoes. Everywhere, and you best bet they’re the best corn that they could possibly get.

- he finds your bump so cute, you have new maternity pictures every month with a new theme he puts on the wall blown up in size.

- girl dad. Just saying…

- sometimes he just randomly stops his whole charming prince act, gets on his knees and hugs your bump, sighing in contentment.

- spoils the baby rotten before they’re even here.

Kyoya Ootori

-now..you’re not gonna like this but he’s a little disconnected to the child until he meets them irl.

- like, he just finds the kid a tiny bump on his wife’s belly.

-sometimes, you’ll catch him staring at the ultrasound, tracing the outline of the baby carefully.

- he hates getting woken up, but if you’re sick in the middle of the night he’s immediately at your side rubbing your back and asking for some staff to help.

- researches about all of your symptoms, cravings, mood swings, what happens to the body during pregnancy and during the after math in postpartum.

- already has a therapist and a calm down room for you if you get ppd or ppr so that you can simply feel at peace.

-he cares more about you ngl.

“My dear no- you can’t deli meat like that it’s highly risky for salmonella. Put it back now.”

Kaoru Hitachiin

- cries so hard when you found out. Just fell to his knees and started crying.

- he’s more open about his feelings, much softer than his brother, so he’ll talk to the bump and tell you everything he’s feeling, asking in turn how you’re feeling as well and if you need anything.

- very very understanding of your pain.

“I know, I know, you’ll be okay, I understand that it hurts right now though”

“Hey we’ll get through this, what do you need right now?”

When you throw up or are having severe back and feet pains.

- doesn’t let anybody comment or joke about your belly if it makes you insecure. He kisses it and tells you how much he loves you and your belly.

Hikaru Hitachiin

- you’ve never seen him so serious in your entire life.

-it’s like he’s a different person?,.

- he’s extra careful, makes sure you’re protected and feel safe.

-he jokes with you when you feel like you’re in pain or when you’re throwing up to make you feel better.

- finds you absolutely radient when pregnant lemme say..

“It’s so small!” When holding up baby clothes.

- puts his headphones on your belly to have your baby listen to music.

- when you try to do anything that you used to do like play fight or pillow fights he’ll barely even use strength.

“Come on Hikaru you seriously can’t even aim for me anymore?”

“I was! It just went the other way!”

“Hikaru it’s in the bathroom toilet.”

- keeps the ultrasound in his wallet.

Takashi Morinozuka

- 100% your #1 protector

- you’re not lifting a finger near anything that’s easily breakable or that can hurt you.

- one of the times you saw him break the non chalent act is when you first saw the ultrasound. He took a breath in and his eyes lightly lit up

- you’re never on the ground. Like, he’s always carrying you everywhere..

“Mori i can walk you know.”

Mori- “😒…”

- loves to feel the baby kick! He will literally sprint over to you if you say that the baby is kicking

“Mori do you think I’m fat?”

“No.”

“You😭definitely 😭 do😭”

“😟…”

Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles, he cannot get OFF OF YOU!!

- spooning you, he’s big spoon ofc, hugging you from behind, having your legs wrapped around his waist, carrying you bridal style.

Ritsu Kasanoda

-sobbed when he found out you were pregnant

-he’s such a softie like

- he crotchets the baby plushies

- gets the baby blankets, pillows, stuff for their wall, so much stuff, so many toys…

- when he smiles the biggest is when he’s leaning his head on your belly and stroking it gently, talking to the little one inside.

- constantly worried about what’s good or bad for you.

- “hi honey, how’re you feeling today?”

“My precious baby inside of this belly.”

“I’d burn the world for you and I haven’t even met you yet precious baby.”

-his staff is terrified, if they make even the slightest comment about your belly negatively.

-if someone does certainly they’re a rookie because nobody from his syndicate would say that.

- sobs when he goes to ultrasounds with you.

- reads parenting books. Tries to. He can’t focus for that long but when he can he’s reading parenting books.

need requests so bad

Tags

[isoobie]

moots and what they remind you of!

omg sorry this took so long 😢

@boyfhee / she reminds me of cats, bubble tea (even though she hates it), webtoons, kdramas, video calls, late night walks, shared playlists, making food together, baking, bsf tiktoks, sharing airpods, album unboxing, badminton, enoclock, heejay, mirror selfies, best friend dates, cute cafes & big fat HUGS

@weoris / she reminds me of cherry blossoms, spring, rain on a sunny day, ice creams, jungwon (of course 🤞🏻) & train rides !!!

@urszn / she reminds me of jelly 🫰🏻, dyed hair, field trips, sports day, filming funny tiktoks, mark lee n riki & curly haired guys

@voikiraz / mari reminds me of love hearts (the sweet), summer time, park sunghoon ur bf, the word pookie & funny reels

@hoonvrs / saint reminds me of coca cola, funny memes, relatable tiktoks, uncontrollable laughter, accidental voice calls (iykyk 🤞🏻) & HOON

@yeokii / hana reminds me of anyone but heeseung (jokes u remind me of hanni sm), the colour baby pink, angst fics 💔, discord, gaming, cheese corn dogs & floral perfume

@hysgf / mika reminds me of kiss of life, chaeryeong & heeseung, nude colours like beige grey n black, pinterest 👏🏻, black cats & madison beer

@okwonyo / jiji reminds me of mochi, pretty pink bows, compact mirrors, soft makeup, the colour pink <3, wonyoungism, pilates, wonyo & jake OF COURSE

@tyunni / may reminds me of skittles, riki obviously, yuqi + minnie, vintage cameras, sneaking out of lessons together 🙉 & theme park rides

@wonryllis / she reminds me of sweet drinks like milkshakes, halloween, late nights, tulips, the colour beige + purple, fantasy and historical webtoons, cyberpunk core, jungkook (your loml 🙈) & the city tokyo

@wvnkoi / seol reminds me of dancing competitions, fun days out, r&b rap music, mark lee n jaemin, the whole of zb1 n boys planet & the colour deep blue !!

@seongclb / kat reminds me of jayhoon SO MUCH, kdramas, big chunky black glasses, rap music, fluffy blankets 🤲🏻, teddy bears & an older sister!

@atrirose / seiu reminds of a pink girly, milkshakes, strawberries n cream, MINGYU, being a passenger princess 😾, barbie, banana bread & anything coquette !!!

@yenqa / yen reminds me of yunjin, nayeon + jay all combined into one, pretty nature, the colour lilac and sage, vanilla, bows, coquette fashion & stars

@100203s / chae reminds me of tall green plants, all the riize members, the colour green (a nice one like emerald) & wave to earth 🙈🙈

@jjunae / she reminds me of mocktails, summery fruits like watermelons and grapes, leehi the singer, yunjin n jongseob :D, cute decorative lamps & silly diy projects 🙌🏻

@bywons / sru reminds me of coffee, the colours light pink and light brown, seashells, quiet music, daffodils 🔥, JUNG WON (more than hee i think and maybe bc of ur user) & poetry

[mad3lyncline]

𝑴𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑲𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 . starters taken from mythical kitchen youtube videos . adjust pronouns as necessary !

we're adding ingredients you'd never expect to find !

if that doesn't make you feel something , you don't have a pulse !

i mean you go in there knowing what you're going in there for ? it's great !

what are you thinking ? you got any tricks up your sleeve ?

i'm doing good ; i'm ready to make a kick ass burrito .

wow that knife is sharp ! just got right in there !

no , that's a little – leaning on sociopathic . . .

what do you people say nowadays instead of yolo ?

sometimes we say 'eff it we ball' , or 'send it' .

you're technically the boss . . . and i use 'technically' . . .

[ name ] made the ultimate decision to get the most high tech looking one .

look at this boiling meat !

if you scan the QR code it goes to a pharrell williams curated playlist .

is there anything else you want me to do with these peppers ?

what up , it's [ first name ] 'fortnite' [ last name ] and i'm here to rock and roll !

they're selling books in stores now ?!

for my ingredient i've picked the pink sauce as seen on tiktok and instagram .

he looked like either mumford or one of his sons .

my secret ingredient is bacon because that is part of my milennial culture .

it's so brave he picked bacon ; way to explore the outer edges of creativity .

okay so here's the thing , my strategy for this is to say as many words as possible that [ name ] doesn't know .

you should try doing zero things and getting on tiktok instead !

what do the kids love more than ramen ? nothing !

now we're gonna make bleu cheese whipped cream .

i hate the burger king !

burger king , your bones will be ground to dust & people will forget your name !

you want a little nub of velveeta to keep you going ?

why did you get the apple cider ? you reasonably thought this could be milk ?

i really thought vlogging was the future , man .

what is the voice ?! what is the voice , it's infuriating !!

i feel like i need more corn syrup .

[a-typical]

Probability figures in everyday decisions we make. Consider the public’s sentiment toward genetically modified organisms—GMOs. Reactions tend to be bimodal, depending on your politics, itself a warning flag. The truth and efficacy of science should never correlate with your political views.

The food chemical company Monsanto, now owned by Bayer, developed a genetically modified variant of corn that was completely resistant to glyphosate, a weed-killing herbicide marketed under the name Roundup, which they also developed. Monsanto scientists genetically removed their corn’s susceptibility to the chemical. This potent combo—Monsanto’s GMO corn coupled with Monsanto’s weed killer—enabled farmers to spray their entire crops and have the herbicide kill everything but the corn. The Vermont ice cream company Ben & Jerry’s uses corn syrup as a sweetener for some of their products. (Yes, I too was surprised to learn this.) News that some of their ice creams had trace amounts of glyphosate from the corn used in their syrup created a media dust-up. In response, Ben & Jerry’s decided to stop using GMO corn syrup altogether, even though the one-part-per-billion detection levels of glyphosate were far below US and European standards. Since many people who buy Ben & Jerry’s ice cream lean left—aligned with the company’s generally progressive views on all things—Ben & Jerry’s Homemade Holdings Inc. judged this ban to be a wise business decision.

Let’s look closer at what happened there. Every substance you could possibly ingest, food and otherwise, has a calculated lethal dose associated with it, measured by what’s called LD50. That’s the dose per kilogram of body weight where 50 percent of the people who consume that amount will die quickly. These data often come from tests on laboratory mammals such as mice. There’s another metric, called no-observed-adverse-effect level (NOAEL), which addresses the long-term influence of a substance on your health and is more sensible when thinking about food safety. LD50 helps to make a different point. The smaller its value for a substance, the more lethal it is. As such, tables of LD50s can be quite illuminating. Here’s a sampling:

Sucrose (table sugar) | 30 grams per kilogram

Ethanol (common alcohol) | 7 grams per kilogram

Glyphosate (Roundup) | 5 grams per kilogram

Table Salt | 3 grams per kilogram

Caffeine | 0.2 grams per kilogram

Nicotine | 0.0065 grams per kilogram

The most lethal substance on this hand-picked list is nicotine. Caffeine looks quite potent too. Just drink about eighty demitasse cups of espresso if you want to die from it. Next comes salt.

The least deadly on the list is sugar, as you might expect. Notice further that glyphosate is less lethal than table salt, but not by much. Actually none of this concerns us here. What matters is what happens to a 150 lb. (70 kg) person who eats Ben & Jerry’s ice cream—a fact I calculated but relegated to my Forbidden Twitter file, where it remains, simply for how disturbing it would be. In social media, I never intend to be disturbing:

You would need to consume four hundred million pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream for its trace amounts of glyphosate to kill you. But after only 20 pints you will die from its sugar content.

Ben & Jerry’s made the right corporate decision if it protected their profits. Although they could have also used the occasion as a teaching moment—a mind-blowing lesson on comparative risk. But that works only if people are open to learning. In modern times, many of us don’t satisfy that criterion, perhaps because, according to the nineteenth-century British essayist Walter Bagehot,

One of the greatest pains to human nature is the pain of a new idea.

It is, as common people say, so “upsetting;” it makes you think that, after all, your favourite notions may be wrong, your firmest beliefs ill-founded.… Naturally, therefore, common men hate a new idea, and are disposed more or less to ill-treat the original man who brings it.

— Starry Messenger: Cosmic Perspectives on Civilization - Neil deGrasse Tyson (2022)

[preet-01]

blinking my big wet eyes at you what are your maxiel political au ideas

Anything for you ☺️ so this au is set in the US because that’s the election process/political system/geography I know best. Max is a Senator from New York and his family doesn’t have any political background. Daniel is from a very prominent political family (think Kennedys, Roosevelts, the Bush family) and his dad is the former governor of California. Daniel met Sebastian at either Yale when he was doing his undergraduate degree or at Georgetown when he was getting his JD. At the start of the story, Daniel is a constitutional lawyer.

Ideally, the story would go from about 3 years before the campaign trail to announcing a reelection bid. Here’s a bit from the campaign trail

“Why does the campaign trail always have to start in bumfuck, USA?” Daniel groans as they’re driven from the airport to the hotel they’re staying in. Their bus is filled with campaign staff, but Daniel, Max, and Sebastian are sat in the back. They should be going over a plan or the schedule of events. But Daniel had found a new hate of Iowa’s endless farms and corn. God he missed DC, hell even New Haven had been better than this, California and New York even better.

Iowa is not on the list of states that Daniel would like to visit. Like what even is in Iowa?? He’s never found out, nor does he particularly care to find out. But their country seems to be beholden to the whims of Iowa when it comes to the campaign trail.

Despite not being representative of the country’s population, the Iowa caucus remains the first campaign event. So much so that it’s written into law or something like that they remain the first event of the trail — one of his professors at Yale had grumbled about it a lot from what he remembers.

“It’s a longstanding tradition, Daniel,” Max says, unlike Daniel, he’s got a file in hand filled with important information about Iowa and its goddamned corn. “Did you know that Iowa’s eastern and western borders are made almost entirely of rivers? They are the only state where this is so,” Max says. With a quick glance at the file in Max’s hand, Daniel realizes that this is not a fact that is written out, but one that Max just knows.

“I did not know that, Maxy,” Daniel replies because what else is he to say to that?

“Don’t be so glum about being in the middle of nowhere, Iowa is the ice cream capital of the world. So you get to eat all the ice cream you want at most of the campaign events in Iowa,” Seb kindly informs him. Well that’s something to look forward to, he supposes.

After a while, Seb leaves them in the back and goes towards the front where the press secretary is.

Bored of the endless corn that makes up his view, Daniel turns his attention to his dear husband. In their DC and New York brownstones, they’d kept separate bedrooms despite being ‘married’ for almost three years now. But on the campaign trail, Seb had told them that they would need to share a bedroom. Lest the opposition or press find out that the Senator from New York does not have the picture perfect marriage that most people are jealous of.

“You should fuck me tonight,” Daniel states with no preamble. And as expected, Max sputters.

“What??” His precious file is completely forgotten as he looks at Daniel with his big blue eyes and yeah Daniel wants to get fucked tonight. Specifically by his husband — it had been much too long since the last time it happened in his opinion.

[callalillywrites]

🔪 Smash, Save, Slash, Smooch🔪

(In any character version of any verse/AU)

Or I go with option E and STEAL and keep them all for myself. 😈

Okay, okay, I'll play by the rules.

Smash (-ing the competition) + Jake - We're doing all the games and fun things at the fall carnival/festival from the corn maze to the three-legged race and more. He makes the whole day just that more enjoyable and fun as we share silly jokes and egg each other on. We're both worn out by the end of the day, but that's not going to stop us from having a bit more fun when we get home.

Save (the last piece of pie) + Steve - This man has a sweet tooth and with his job as Cap, I'm not going to deny him all the sweets he can handle (myself included when I'm inclined 😉). I'll even make sure we have plenty of whip cream around for pie and other activities.

Slash (myself accidentally) + Ari - That man is a distraction. Just look at him with those open shirts and short shorts. You just know he's doing it on purpose while I'm trying to cook (which I really hate). Comes in looking like a beastly god and oops the knife slips and cuts my finger. Guess he'll have to take care of it and then finish up dinner for us or order food in.

Smooch (all day, everyday) + Curtis - This man hasn't had the easiest life. Softness is not something he's used to, so that's what I'll be giving him as we explore this new world together. Lots of kisses, soft touches, and all the hugs he can stand until he realizes he's worth loving and having some softness in his life.

I really went fluffy with these, but I can't help it. These four just bring it out of me (even if I still need to watch Ari's movie).

[ani-coolgirl]

What You're Looking For

Written for @wincestwednesdays prompt 1: lost

Read here on AO3

When DJ gets home, the house is a wreck.

Not again, he thinks with a sigh, dropping his bag by the door. He checks the wards on the doorframe (unbroken) and makes sure the door slams when he closes it.

���Dad?” he calls, keeping his hands up as he edges further inside. No surprises, no sudden movements. He learned that sneaking back in the house after midnight once when he was a teenager. Swears he can still feel the bruise sometimes. He teased his dad about it exactly once; the utter mortification that crossed his face sort of killed the fun. “You home?”

Of course he is. He doesn’t really get out these days. The doctors say it’s for the best.

Suddenly, Dad blows by him, a whirlwind of anxiety and agitation. “—find them—” DJ catches before his dad disappears into the kitchen. Oh, he hasn’t gotten into the knives yet, at least. That’s good.

DJ catches up with his father just as he yanks open the knick knack drawer. Objects are pulled out and discarded at random—thumbtacks, rubber bands, bottle openers, and scraps of tinfoil pile up on the countertop and spill onto the floor.

“Woah, woah, Dad, slow down—” DJ makes sure he’s in Dad’s line of sight when he lays a hand on the man’s shoulder. He’s only shrugged off, which DJ takes as a win. “What are you looking for?”

Dad steps around him and yanks open the cutlery drawer. Luckily, he takes out the drawer organizer and gives it a shake instead of pulling spoons out one at a time. “I can’t find them.”

“Find what?”

Strangely, his father wrenches the freezer open and peers inside. “The... My...” He snaps his fingers impatiently; the words are gone. The freezer door bangs shut as he pats himself down; then makes a fist under his chin, jerking downward before crossing the room to dig around in the cupboard. A light bulb goes off in DJ’s head.

“They’re in the safe, Dad,” DJ reminds him gently.

Dad spins around, brow furrowed, can of cream corn in one hand. He opens his mouth but then pauses, hesitating. He sets the corn down. “Junior?” he asks tentatively.

DJ nods. “Junior,” not “Dean.” Another good sign. “Yeah.”

Dad pats himself down again but stops himself mid-motion as if scolding himself. DJ waits in silence. His father takes a slow breath and looks him in the eye. “What safe?”

“C’mon.” DJ doesn’t lead him—Dad hates to be led—and also doesn’t check if he’s being followed. If Dad comes, he comes. If not, well, he’ll calm down eventually. He usually does.

Dad follows. DJ goes to the master suite, wincing at the chaos within (Dad started here, obviously), and surreptitiously kicks the piles of clothes littering the floor aside as he heads to the closet. He clicks on the overhead light and motions his dad inside. He can see how Dad missed the safe if he forgot it was there. Unlike the gun safe in the corner (open, but emptied out months ago, thank god; DJ tries not to think about any weapons hidden around the house he might’ve missed), this one is built into the wall with a false panel keeping it hidden. It’s also covered devil’s traps and protection charms, both visible and invisible, some with rather nasty side effects. DJ sets the panel aside, enters the combination (01-24-79), and pulls the door open.

There are a handful of objects in the safe: a few photos, a baseball, a deck of cards. All sorts of odds and ends, all appearing mundane but every one of them containing extraordinary stories (only a few of which DJ’s heard). But the photos and the baseball and the cards are bypassed. He knows exactly what he’s looking for.

His dad looks ready to weep when DJ drops the objects into his hands—a leather necklace with a brass, horned figure and a car key. Stumbling to the bed, his father brings both to his mouth as he drops as if kissing them, eyes sliding shut. A single tear escapes the corner of his eye. “I thought I lost them. I-I- thought I’d—”

DJ sits beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Not an easy task—his dad’s a big guy. “We put them in the safe so you wouldn’t lose them, remember?” he explains, giving a gentle shake. Dad nods but DJ’s fairly certain he’s lying. That’s okay. It’ll come back to him, probably. Softly, he adds, “Do you wanna sit in the car?”

Not the mid-sized electric sitting in the driveway. The other one. The one parked eternally in the garage and covered with a tarp. The one DJ wasn’t even allowed to breathe on until he was almost sixteen. The car.

To his surprise, Dad shakes his head. “No. No, I’ll just—” he sniffs and looks up, eyes clear. He glances around. “The... damn, the house. The house is a mess, I need to—”

He tries to rise. DJ lays a hand on his chest. “Dad, no, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“No, no, I need to clean up—”

“Dad, I’m telling you, I’ve got it. You should rest, you—”

“No!”

DJ jumps. That’s the drill sergeant voice. The voice he used when he taught DJ how to shoot and made him memorize exorcisms before moving into his dorm. It makes the man sound ten years younger. Dad always gets upset after he realizes he used that voice. Always said it made him think of DJ’s grandpa.

He automatically sits a little a little taller, but Dad’s already softening. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” Dad apologizes. “Just, it’s my mess. I can at least help pick it up. I can do that much. Please.”

As if anyone can say no to that face. DJ nods and Dad’s face cracks into a weak smile. “I think broke a vase,” Dad admits as they stand.

DJ rolls his eyes. “That fake Ming thing? Good. I always thought it was ugly.”

“That was a gift from your mother.”

“That’s probably why she gave it to you, to see if you’d say anything. I’m telling you, she’s laughing at you every time she sees it on the mantle.”

Dad’s laugh is genuine. “That sounds like your mother,” he agrees.

DJ gestures towards the closet. “Want to put them back?”

His dad wavers for a moment but shakes his head no. “Later,” he says. “Go grab the broom. I’ll be there in a minute.”

DJ steps out. But he hangs around for a moment right outside the doorway. Just in case.

For a long moment, there is nothing. But then: “I miss you.”

There’s no question who his father’s talking about. There’s never any other person on his mind when he gets like this. Actually, DJ’s pretty sure that’s who’s always on his mind, and these are the only times he can’t hide it.

Then, so softly DJ almost can’t hear it: “I love you, Dean.”

Love. Not loved. Not past tense. Never past tense. DJ’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not. His dad has always talked about Uncle Dean like that—as if he’s just around the corner, ready to crack open a cold one. That impossible expectation is why his dad and mom never got married, he thinks. When DJ was feeling sort of petty and resentful for not having normal parents (at least you can explain divorce; he never had any idea what to say to other kids on the playground when asked) he figured his dad was a liar. That Uncle Dean was really just Dean because nobody talks about their sibling like that, alive or dead (and DJ’s known people with both). No one but the most devoted widowers mourn like this; as if the world is inalterably changed and it’s everyone else who’s is strange for not seeing it.

But then DJ always remembers the look on his dad’s face the one and only time he asked why he didn’t have a little brother or sister; the haunted look in his eyes when he said, “I want you to live for you, okay?” As a kid, DJ didn’t know what his father meant. Now, knows three things: he had an uncle named Dean; his father will always be wrapped in grief; and he understands. As much as he can, anyway.

DJ gets the broom. A few minutes later, his father appears and together they laugh over the shards of the knock-off vase. As they put the house together, not for the first time this year, DJ thinks it won’t be long before his father finds what he’s really looking for.

[satelitis]

FOODS I HATE BC IM A PICKY ASS EATER!!!

— fish (cooked, i like sushi)

— baked potatoes

— the sausages in bangers and mash

— reese’s peanut butter cups

— twizzlers

— chocolate ice cream

— zucchini

— brussel sprouts

— french onion dip

— mustard

— sour cream

— mayonnaise

— liver

— tofu

— godbstobbers

— squash

— eggplant

— peppers

— onions

— chicken noodle soup

— coke a cola

— oranges

— apples

— bananas

— cake (i like cheesecake)

— cupcakes

— rhubarb

— cottage cheese

— swiss cheese

— colby jack cheese

— pepper jack cheese

— bleu cheese

— tuna

— raw mushrooms

— olives

— clam

— oysters

— lobsters

— crabs

— hot tea

— black coffee

— dark chocolate

— beets

— black licorice

— plain oatmeal

— grits

— corn beef hash

— any type of egg besides scrambled UNLESS it’s on a breakfast sandwich

— grilled hotdogs

— marshmellows

— asparagus

— salads that aren’t regular salads (ie; egg salad, pasta salad, etc. i like fruit salad tho)

— calamari

— gummy peach rings

— sour punch straws

— circus peanut candy

— spam

— candy corn

— kale

— prunes

— burger king food

— hardees (carl jr) food

— chilies food

— philly cheese steaks

@ivyppoison