#i like that you can do it directly after a meal and it won't fuck your enamel

[confinesofmy]

the tongue scraper i bought came with an oil pulling sachet and while i don't buy the hype ik that oil pulling won't hurt you and i'm a big believer in rinsing your mouth after eating and drinking beverages so what is oil pulling if not an escalation of that? a sensory nightmare, it turns out. it was so unpleasant i started getting angry at anyone i'd ever seen suggesting it. 10 minutes? i don't think i made it to 30 seconds. so nasty.

[doki-doki-imagines]

I want to make a request ^_^

I have a suggestion where the men come home and the air smells so good! They hear their s/o in the kitchen and they find her cooking… with nothing but an apron on. Can you write how Bi Han, Johnny, Kenshi, Raiden and Liu Kang please?

Bi-Han: -He doesn't even notice you at first, walking to his room to wear something more comfortable. -Then, while Bi-Han walks, he suddenly stops. A cartoon-ish sparks appears and eyes get wide. Are you- -He steps back and finally notices your body, your back…naked. -"Oh, you finally noticed Bi-Han!" You turn around, wooden spoon in your hand and a wide smile adorning your face. -Your front is covered by a frilly apron. Something is written on it, but Bi-Han simply doesn't care. He prefered the back. -"So you have nothing to say? Don't I look good?" You sing sang, twirling the wooden spoon near Bi-Han's face. -"I have a better way to use that spoon." He thinks, imagining your ass already red. -"O-Oh. Well, I suppose it wouldn't be bad." You break eye contact looking down, suddenly shy. -Damn, he must have said that out loud. -Well, Bi-Han would be really stupid to let this occasion slip. "And I'm not" this time, he just thinks, big cold hands already on your waist, lips on yours.

Johnny Cage: -Another one that doesn't see you at first, and then realisation hit him the second he is changing in his room. -Runs to you and bask in the sight. -Fuck, Johnny knows you have a cute ass, but that bow at the top really makes it look like a gift wrapped for him. -He'd like not to say anything, just looking at you while you work in his kitchen, but the desire got him into a chokehold. -"Heyyy" Voice deep and hands sliding down your back. "Hey! Wanna taste?" You say cheerfully, wooden spoon near his lips. -Johnny's eyes widened in surprise but nodded at your proposal, eyes closing to taste fully your scrumptious cooking. -But his lips don't find food, but your lips. Tongue already prodding to open him up. -Things escalate pathetically quick. Don't worry about burning the food! You won't reach the bedroom so you'll notice if something is wrong. -Not that you will be in the right mind to care about it.

Kenshi Takahashi: -When he comes back from work, his nose leads him to the kitchen, sniffing the aroma of delicious food. -"What is my sweet cook making?" He says, mouth near your ear while his hands massage your…bare shoulders? -"Mh? Are you wearing a top?" "No dear. Just an apron. Can you feel it?" You turn around and grasp his wrist, moving his hand directly on your chest. -Kenshi sucks in air before blood starts to flow way too fast to be physiological in his blood vessels. -The apron is all lace, he recognizes the texture, and it must be thin since he can touch your erect nipple underneath. -"Cat got your tongue?" "No, my mouth is watering, I know the sight in front of me is delicious." Kenshi gasps out. -You kiss him, and soon he pulls you down on the floor, but not before groping around to close the handles of the kitchen stove. -You need no distraction.

Raiden: -He walks straight into the kitchen after work, ready to prepare the meal for both of you or help you out. -But Raiden gets zapped at the sight! Your sugar paper colored apron, full of ribbons, catching all his attention. Mostly because you aren't wearing anything else. -"Do you need help?" His voice unaffected, but his eyes are fully concentrated on your body, sharps like daggers (maybe he hopes he'll be able to tear the apron down with his intense gaze). "Yes, Raiden. Thank you." You smile back. -You cook with no interruption, Raiden doesn't help much, his eyes fixed on your body rather than on the stoves. -You both sit, dishes in front of you, warm an inviting. -"Can I compliment you, Raiden?" "For what?" "Your self-control." He chuckles, understanding perfectly. -"What do I have to do to make you lose control? Don't I look nice enough?" Raiden gasps loud at your foolishness. "I just didn't want to cross any boundary, but believe me-" His eyes get darker, pupils black pools you can dive into "You look absurdly hot. Come here." Raiden growls out. -You are ready to sit on his lap, to encircle his hips with your legs, but Raiden stops you, clicking his tongue. -His index finger points at his knee, tapping on it. -"You have to pay for teasing me the entire evening. Show me how desperate you are for me." -You nod, mouth dry. -You don't mind this side of Raiden.

Liu Kang: -He knows you will do that, he saw it. Liu Kang awaits, patience is the virtue of the strong. -And damn Liu Kang is really strong. -So, when it finally happens, Liu Kang's smile goes from one ear to the other, his chest rising up and down after a heavy breath. -You turn around, smirk on your face. Smirk that fades quick when you notice Liu Kang's expression; he knew about this. -"You look wonderful." "And you should stop spoiling surprises!" You say angrily, as scary as a pomeranian showing his teeth in Liu Kang's eyes. -The only scary thing is the wooden spoon you are twirling under his nose that may stain his white shirt. -"You are right, dear one. But it just happened! Me and Geras were looking around-" "No excuses, mister!" Now the wooden spoon point straight at his nose, the surprise silencing Liu Kang. -But not for long. -"You are right, I have to ask for forgiveness." Liu Kang says, getting on his knees, while his hands slide down your waist. -"Liu, what are you- Hey!!" You shout in surprise. You didn't expect your boyfriend to lift up the end of your apron, his fingers pinching the cloth up. -Your naked legs, and not only, are in front Liu Kang, that has to keep himself from licking his lips. -"Now is time for the sinner to pay for his mistakes." Liu Kang's hands rub your legs and his head get close to your sex, your apron now covering his head. -You can feel him, but not see what is going on. -The sinner paid well his redemption.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Am I Acting Weird?

Part II

I've been jogging on this treadmill for over an hour now. Cardio sucks, and I hate this old unventilated gym! When I joined the football team, I did it for the parties and cheerleaders! I just wanted to drink with the cool guys and get laid. I still do, but I haven't had a drop of alcohol in weeks. I can't even remember the last girl I hooked up with!

I used to think it was weird that I was suddenly working out all the time. It was like my entire personality had changed overnight.

I know it's not weird now. Max, my younger brother, told me so. I have to keep working out until I become the quarterback of the football team. Then I have to bulk up and train even more, so I can become a professional footballer. That's my new goal in life, and I can't wait for my little bro to be able to brag about being related to a pro athlete.

Sure, I never really wanted to play football professionally. If it were up to me, I'd be out drinking with my buds, but it's not up to me.

That's not weird right?

I shake my head and slow my aching legs. Droplets of sweat run down my face as I work to control my breathing. My whole body is sore from the conditioning. It doesn't help that this is my third workout of the day. Between my morning weight session, afternoon field practice, and this, I am totally whipped.

I stagger over to grab my workout gear. My night isn't over. I still have to bulk my stomach up for tomorrow.

With a frustrated sigh, I stomp out of the gym and march directly into the diner next door. I nod to the greasy cook behind the counter. I've become a regular here, so he knows me pretty well.

"The usual?" he grunts with a toothy grin.

I nod and sink into a booth.

Max, my little brother, got tired of me eating at the house. Apparently, it took our father too long to cook my bulking meals. Max has me eat here after my workouts, and I completely agree. Max shouldn't have to share our dad with me. He deserved to have someone at home cooking whenever he wanted to eat.

"Four burgers, fries, and a soda," the cook snickers as he slaps the tray in front of me, "A growing boy needs extra protein."

I grimace and turn away from the chef. His breath alone is enough to make me lose my appetite, but I take a big bite and swallow. I won't gain mass if I'm not consuming mass, and I obviously need to get bigger.

I've broken out into a second sweat by the time I'm done. Forcing myself to up, I have to adjust to my bloated waist. You'd think I'd get used to a packed stomach, but I always feel uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

I let out a belch and carry the dirty dishes to the back. It always feels weird strolling into an employees-only area like this, but it's part of how I get my meals for free. You see, the cook let's is nice as long as I take care of two things.

The dishes are the first thing.

"Leave the dishes," I hear his husky voice behind me, "I never wash 'em anyways."

I drop the dishes and turn the sink off, holding my gut as it growls in pain. My belly might ache, but I've got one more thing to do.

The cook watches me expectantly. He licks his chapped lips, and grabs at the bulge under his apron, between his two trunks of legs. He's already fishing the thing out. I know what he wants, so I drop to the floor. This has become just another part of my daily routine.

It's how I thank the chef.

I don't know how this became a habit, because I absolutely do not enjoy it! The man is filthy, and a man! I'm not gay! I like women, but I have to eat a lot to bulk up and Max liked the idea of me eating for free. It's not weird!

I let him manhandle me a bit, gripping my head and pulling my hair. The cook gets off faster if he roughs me up a little. He usually only lasts a few minutes, but it's the longest few minutes of the day.

It's not sex. It's just a transaction!

"Oh, yeah!" he growls with his eyes squeezed shut, "Yeah, boy! Fuck!"

I whip my head off his hairy crotch and jump to my feet. I spit into a napkin and wipe my mouth quickly. I know from experience that I won't be able to get the taste of sweat and meat out of my mouth until I brush my teeth thoroughly at home.

My part is finally done here, so I just want to leave!

"Can't wait to see you tomorrow morning, jocky boy!" he laughs, but I've already stormed out, marching down the street to my house. I'm trying not to think about how I'll be seeing him in a few hours for breakfast.

"Hey dad," I mumble, stepping inside.

"Boy," he answers dismissively, not even looking up from his work. As usual, he's wearing his home uniform: a suit and white gloves. I have a similar outfit for when I'm hanging around the house, but dad gets a lot more use out of his now that I'm constantly bulking up. Max is really the only one who seems to dress casually around here anymore.

I guess that makes him the weird one.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to start up a conversation.

"What's it look like, boy?" he answers gruffly, "I'm cleaning up after Max and his guests. Now, either get your uniform on and help or get out of my way."

His attitude makes me cringe a bit. Dad and I used to be really tight. We used to bond over sports and craft beer, but he doesn't really care about anything besides Max anymore.

I don't think he's gone to any of my games for the last few months. He's always cooking or cleaning for Max. I wish I understood. We used to tease Max all the time together, but now he gets angry anytime I try and bond with him. Like, it's totally normal and right for Max to be his new favorite, but I wish we could still chat every now and then.

"Sorry," I mutter.

My father ignores me and heads off to the kitchen in a rush. He looks erratic, and I can tell he's just as exhausted as I am. He's made it a habit of working extra hours at the office everyday. It's so he can bring home the biggest paycheck he can earn every week, but I know is affecting his sleep.

"Where is Max?" I ask.

My dad frowns, tersely responding, "Max took his guests to a movie in my car. The house needs to be clean and snacks need to be ready for when Max gets back."

"Oh," I sigh, "Are his friends staying over again? I'd stay up with you and help serve them, but Max said I should be getting nine hours of sleep every night."

"Go to bed, boy. I'll handle it," he states firmly, putting the final touches on the silver platter.

With that, my father picks up the tray of assorted snacks and walks them out into the living room. There he takes his place by the door and stands in his usual position. It's where he normally waits to welcome Max home everyday. Father and I know that someone like Max shouldn't have to put their own coat away or take off their own shoes.

"Alright, dad, see you tomorrow."

He doesn't answer. He's already standing still as a statue and probably won't move until Max gets back. Hopefully, my little brother won't keep him up too late.

Sleep won't be hard for me to find. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I pass out as soon as I fall on my bed. The rest of the night is a deep and dreamless void, while my stomach processes all the food I ate.

When I wake up, I find dad like this...

"Dad? Dad!" I give his shoulder a nudge.

He jumps to life, jerking his eyes around the trashed living room.

"Did you fall asleep standing up?"

"Maybe," he answers with shock, "Max had me holding everyone's coats while they enjoyed some beer. They must have moved to the bed while I drifted off."

"Aren't they a little young for beer?"

"Max and his guests are welcome to my alcohol whenever they want it!" he snaps back at me.

"Geez, ok."

"You have a workout you need to get to, boy," he barks, "And I'm going to have to hurry if I'm going to clean up this mess before work."

I stare at my father as he scrambles to clean up the living room once again. He looks even more exhausted and disheveled than last night. Hopefully, he would be able to clean everything up with enough time to shower and shave. I know that all of the household stuff is his responsibility, but sometimes it seems like too much.

With a shrug, I turn and step out of the door. My day is going to be the same miserable routine as the last. I'm not looking forward to any of it, but that's not weird. Like Max said, I'll just keep my head down, and power through.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

NSFW headcanons for Jennifer Check and a submissive male S/O?

Anon I love you sm for sending this request in 🥺💗

Jennifer Check with a submissive male s/o nsfw headcanons

Warnings: SMUT, (mean) femdom, submissive male reader (physical descriptions of the reader are pretty vague so this should be able to be read by either cis or trans readers. Lemme know if there's anything that needs to be added or changed)

Jennifer has a more dominant personality in general but it'd definitely be more prominent if her s/o was a guy

Hates being told what to do, but she may humor you every now and then to see just how far you'll go and just how bratty you'll get. It makes the punishment afterwards even more fun

Speaking of punishments, they tend to include spanking, edging/overstimulation, and being forced to watch her get off alone

The last one is her personal favorite. She loves fingering herself while taunting you, saying things like "I don't really need you anyway, I can get myself off just fine without you"

You're not allowed to touch yourself when this happens either :( not that she'd let you cum even if you were

She is such a power bottom!!! fight me on it lol

Listen she loves being in control but hates having to do all of the work y'know what I mean

That doesn't mean she won't tell you what to do though, she's still very bossy even on the bottom

Will flat out tell you if what you're doing isn't pleasing her/is wrong in any way. Sometimes she'll be condescendingly sweet while correcting you and other times she'll just roll her eyes as she grumbles out instructions

Obsessed with humiliation/pain kinks. She can and will step on you (specifically your crotch) if you allow her to

Makes fun of you if you cry at any point during sex but she honestly loves it so much. She just enjoys humiliating you so you'll cry even more (this feeds into her not-so-secret dacryphilia kink)

Also she will straight up abuse your cock btw, whether that be through edging/overstimulating you to the point of tears or just squeezing you a bit too tightly when jerking you off or allowing her teeth to graze your shaft while going down on you

This goes for if you have a t-dick too. Trans guys are not safe from her rough treatment lmao

Prefers receiving to giving because she loves the feeling of suffocating you between her thighs, whether that's from her laying on her back or sitting on your face

That's not to say she isn't fantastic at giving, though, she just has to be in the mood for it. And don't think that you'll get the chance to take control during this time, not when she literally has you by the balls

If you know about her being demon possessed, then believe me when I say she is fully intent on visiting you directly after her, ahem, meals because of how horny the bloodlust makes her. Oh, you don't find her all that attractive covered in sweat and the blood of her most recent victim? That's fine, you can just help her get cleaned up in the shower afterwards ;)

I think she'd be fairly good at pegging because of just how whiny and pathetic she can make you, but she hates all the work that goes into it. Getting her to be on top for an extended period of time is something that happens once in a blue moon, like as a gift for your birthday, but if you beg enough you might be able to convince her to pull out the strap-on. I just hope you like riding, because that's one of the requirements of it

She loves riding btw. Doesn't matter who's riding who, it's one of her favorite positions (and also one of the only times that she'll willingly top without any complaints)

Every session ends with you being marked up in some way, shape, or form. Hickeys, bite marks, bruises, scratches, the whole nine yards. If you want to mark her up too, then go right ahead, she fully supports it and is honestly a little disappointed if she doesn't have at least one physical reminder afterwards

If you piss her off enough but she still wants to have sex then she'll make you fuck her without being allowed to cum the entire time. Or she might finger herself and have you fuck her thighs/tits as a way to torture you

Adores any and every little sound you make. Moans, groans, whimpers, whines, etc. She wants to be able to hear you, which means you're expected to be loud enough to be heard over her own noises

She really doesn't mind fingering you or eating you out, but only if you beg enough. And then she has to hear your soft cries of pleasure while she does it, even with your face shoved into the pillows while you're on your knees with your ass up, or she'll stop. She just loves torturing you what can I say

Anything involving public sex is completely on the table. If she's feeling a bit less controlling one day she might wear a vibrator and give you the remote control to it, but if you tease her too much then your controller privileges will be taken away and you'll be forced to wear the vibrator every day for the rest of the entire week with it up to the highest setting as a punishment

Such a brat tamer. She loves to mock and belittle you while putting you back in your place for acting out, and that includes taunting you for getting aroused when she spanks you for getting an attitude with her

Even if you do behave she's still going to be a little mean unfortunately. She just can't help the way you look at her all cutely with tears in your eyes as you beg to cum (or in some cases stop cumming if you've been at it for a while)

End notes: okay I went a little crazy while writing this due to my excitement but I wanted to cover the most topics as possible (and I'm a little horny for Jen but really who can blame me)

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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[sknnyvanilla]

The Chic Diet by kit olsen

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Diets

The Baby Food Diet

Ohmigod, tell me more, right? Enter: the Baby Food Diet.

You don't have to chew anything since the blender did that for you. Portion control won't be an issue either since all of the stores carry single-servings with really low calorie counts. And, like, I guess that babies need clean and well-rounded food or something because, like, all of the ingredients are things that you've heard before and are actually good for you. It's like a juice fast, but with a little more substance and a little less lawnmower drippings. But, like, waaay more affordable, so you can use all of the money that you save on some flavored Pedialyte, which is really just like a zero-calorie coconut water.

Plus, thanks to all of the crazy and demanding yoga mommies decked out in Lululemon with their obscenely expensive strollers, Whole Foods has really upped their game in the baby food aisle. There's seriously a flavour for whatever type of mood that you might be in so don't even worry about the lack of variety. It's like chic girl heaven. Make sure you get there early though, so you won't have to fight with the colicky toddler in the Missoni Bugaboo over the last "zucchini banana & amaranth."

Ella's Kitchen and Plum Organics are good for your basic blends of fruits and vegetables, but I swear that the marketing team at Earth's Best was targeting chic/orthorexic adults when naming their product lines. "Antioxidant Blends?" "Super Fruits?" "Gourmet Meals and Seasonal Harvest?" Um, yea, okay. Like 6 month olds care about that kind of shit.

So, apparently, Tracy Anderson (bless her heart) suggests that one should consume 14 jars per day. Um, no. It's not like we're headed into famine or something. A couple of jars or pouches should suffice and, even then, you should be watching your carb intake. That means NO all-fruit blends, you fat fuck. Make sure to pick vegetable-heavy varieties, though those can be sugarific also. I mean, even "spinach + apple + rutabagas" has 8 grams of carbs after adjusting for fibre. Ugh. Who knew that babies were such sugar whores? It's just, like, really unfair for all of the other customers who are trying to watch their figures.

Take a good look at Abbey Lee Kershaw and Hedi Slimane. See their jutting cheekbones and bulging eyeballs? Yours can totally be like that too, so long as you're willing to adhere to the uber cutesy diet that these two effortlessly chic Skeletors have been known to follow.

Now, everyone that knows that digestion isn't very glamorous. The act of mastication is, in itself, so very vulgar, and then that nasty bolus of caloric horror settles into your distended stomach, stirring up a whirlwind of has and discomfort as it waits for hours to be broken down. After that harrowing process, a trillion fat globules get sent directly to your upper arms and inner thighs. And then, well, you know... something really un-chic happens in le toilette.

But what if you could bypass all of that unpleasantry and just follow a really adorable diet that consists of only a few hundred calories a day? And, like, your stomach will stay flat since it's not filled with festering kale and noxious fumes.

The Air Diet

Every wannabe Carrie Bradshaw (or Charlotte York if you're really annoying) yearns to achieve maximal chicness with minimal effort. And nobody can do posh like the French, right? Even their diets ooze superior elegance that we ugly Americans could only aspire to attain.

Like, take the Air Diet, or L'Air Fooding as French Grazia dubbed it. God, even the name is so chic, I DIE. So anyway, you basically pretend to eat whatever the hell you want, without actually allowing it touch your lips. Naysayers and physicians will be like, "Ohmigod, that's called anorexia!", but, um, no. Anorexia is what my roommate, Sydney, has, and she won't even go near food without having a twitching episode. This is, like, a lot healthier psychologically.

I mean, I totally get it. Everyone knows that enjoying food is an experience and this diet allows you to immerse yourself in the whole process until the actual eating part. But you still get to order your meal, pay for it, cut it up, smell the aromas, and Instagram pictures of your drool-worthy plate. You just don't absorb all of the calories and fat associated with ingesting the actual food. It's like you're a chic French diet mime who traded eating for the right to talk. Ooh, maybe you can buy a really cute. A.P.C. striped shirt to go with your performance. So authentic.

It's not like you don't eat at all, either. You still get to binge on all of the la soupe a l'eau (translation: chic soup with an uber pretentious name) that you want. Oh, you want to know what's in it> Um, I had the recipe right here. Hold on. Oh, here it is. Boiled water and sea salt. Hm. But sea salt has, like, a lot of minerals in it, right? How nutritious.

So, yea. It seems like the majority of my friends have been on this diet for a really long time. Like even before that issue came out. What trendsetters. I mean, it's a great way for cutting calories, you know? As a bonus, it's not even restrictive! Like, you can help yourself to all of the fancily named soup and air that you want. And, like, a variety of air at that. Just stroll through the perfume section at Barney's or traipse through Le Labo when you're feeling bored with the plain, bourgeoisie oxygen around you. And if you're feeling especially ravenous (um, binge eating disorder, anyone?) you can practice some yoga breathing. It's like dietary meditation. Kay, now Ocean Breath, everyone.

The Paleo Diet

While cavemen might not have been very fashion-forward, they apparently knew how to be skinny motherfuckers. The Museum of Natural History really needs to slim down the mannequins in the exhibit to reflect this don't you think? So inaccurate. Anyway, this hunter-gatherer-centric diet is very simple in that it has one rule- only eat shit that Betty Flinstone would have prepared.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with history, this means that Kettle Chips and peanut butter are no-goes. Anything processed, such as Lean Cuisines, or foods that require relatively modern technology to produce, such as grains, are not allowed. Neither are dairy products, refined sugars, legumes, potatoes, processed oils or alcohol. Yup, even alcohol. No, they did not have "Stone Age" vodka or sugar-free "Bedrock" Red Bull back then. Yes, I am positive.

Anyway, you're basically allowed to have wild seafood, organic eggs, grass-fed game, vegetables, fruits and some nuts. The idea behind this style of eating is that humans, as a species, have not greatly evolved since the era of our cave dwelling ancestors. That is, our digestive systems are largely genetically similar to those of dinosaurs and are still not fully adapted to the vast changes in diet that have occurred since the dawn of the agricultural age. Simply put, we're not that great at digesting the majority of the shit foods that line supermarket shelves today. Yes, even the shelves at Whole Foods.

By following the palaeolithic diet, however, we would be providing our bodies with ideal foods to which our digestive systems are genetically adapted, When we are better able to process and absorb nutrients from these easily digested foods, we would be more capable of achieving optimal health.

But who really cares about primal strength and surly shit like that? Not me or any of my friends, despite the fact that everyone I know has "gone Paleo." What we love about this diet is the amount of control and restriction that it provides the user. You can basically reject most foods so long as you can come up with some inane reason as to why. "I'm only channeling cavewomen who lived in the Northern Hemisphere, and I don't think those were native to that region," you can say with a dismissive sniff as you swat away a platter of seasonal stone fruit. Um, apricots have a lot of carbs, didn't you know?

Plus, the diet itself is just really trendy. It's like the new Dukan Diet, which was originally the new Atkins, which was basically the new Cabbage Soup Diet. You'll probably be consuming the same meals that you normally are, but can now affix the hip label of "Paleo" to your dietary habits. But don't do that shit where you put goat's milk butter in your coffee or inhale bushels of avocados in one sitting- no=carb calories are still calories, after all.

The Ridiculously Low Carb Diet

In the world of the chic, all of the inhabitants are consumed with keeping their carb intakes as close to zero as humanly possible. Throw any generic food product at a chic girl and she can spit back its estimated carbohydrate content in mere seconds. And, as if she were a neurologist treating childhood epilepsy, she knows the ins and outs of the ketogenic diet like the back of her Rodin Crema slathered hand.

Though she may have no idea what mitosis is, or how photosynthesis works, ant legitimate chic girl could pass a PhD-level Nutrition exam with flying colours. "In order to get into a state of ketosis, you need to deplete the glycogen stores in your liver and muscles before even tapping into your fat energy sources. To do that, you have to keep your net carbohydrate intake below 25 grams a day," she will prattle off expertly, though she may not even have the faintest idea what she is actually talking about.

Basically, she knows that the lower your carbohydrate intake, the more fat you will end up burning. Thus, being the borderline-psychotic overachiever that she is, she will set an upper limit of approximately 5 grams of net carbohydrates per day for herself.

Plus, carbs are totes unnecessary. No one has ever looked cute while gorging on a slice of pizza or inhaling a burrito. But nibbling on a piece of asparagus or noshing on a sliver of pecorino is just adorbs. They're like low glycaemic pieces de resistance that compliment your Zac Posen cocktail dress. Bread used to be the official food of peasants, just so you know.

"I only eat foods that are green or white," were the first words that my soon-to be-future roommate, Lauren, ever muttered to me. No mention of her name, age or hometown- nothing. That's how seriously a true chic girl take her carbohydrate consumption- it defines who she is.

"What do you mean?" I had asked innocently like a clueless martian. Mind you, I still wore leggings and thought Greek Yogurt parfaits were healthy at the time. (I know, I know- don't judge me.)

Lauren, bless her heart, had then taken me under her wing, expertly gu8iding me into my current status of perpetual ketosis. We basically subsist on kale, spinach, avocado, egg whites, cheese, white fish and chicken breasts. And what can I say? I'm obsessed. The far just melted off like butter (which is totally allowed, by the way.) Like, I never want to belong to any other metabolic state of mind. It's just so simple, and everyone's doing it. I mean, just saunter into a Fashion Week after party and it'll reek of Chanel Chance and ketones. So chic.

So you can go the high fat route a la Atkins, or limit your fat consumption in the way of Dukan practitioners. Either way, you'll lose the flab and be super taut. But you can never go wrong with the Green and White Diet, the secret weapon of fashionistas in the know. And, while trends may come and go, there is one combination that will always be in style- ketosis breath and look of death. #Chic

The Strategic Starvation Diet

"You just don't eat for, like 18 hours a day," the chic girl will explain when concerned friends inquire about her new stringent diet du jour. "But you totally get to have balanced meals for the other 6! It was on the news. They tested it on mice and they, like, totally lived longer. Ew."

Intermittent fasting is like a godsend for the chic. Apparently, it's actually really healthy and has a bunch of scientific studies published to back it up. Not that the chic girl will ever read them, of course. But if positive results actually exist, then there's actually something to validate her cray.

I mean, what kind of diet condones extended periods of starvation? It's as if this way of eating was made up specifically with the chic bitches in mind. Not to mention that i's supposedly uber effective! Like, in clinical trials, researchers found that overweight participants how utilized intermittent fasting lost way more fat than those who ate the same meals spread throughout the day. I knew that whole "6 mini meals a day" adage was total bullshit!

Of course, the chic girl is just an extreme case of human, so she'll narrow her eating window to 2 hours or so. Some deranged bitches may even aim for 20 minutes! Talk about efficiency.

There's an even wackier version of this method that's been named the "Bulletproof Diet," whatever that means. Basically, you drink black coffee with butter or coconut oil stirred in so that you don't get hungry while in your fasted state. Um, that sounds like a lot of unnecessary calories. And chic girls don't get plagued with hunger- we like to refer to it as "getting of track.: Lile, seriously? Drinking butter> That's not even real fasting. People have no willpower nowadays.

Supporters of this way of eating suggest that people snack on healthy foods during their feeding periods, like bananas and apples. Um, bananas are super starchy. And apples? Did you know that apples don't actually have much nutritional value> The only real benefit that comes form apples is from pectin, which will help to regulate digestion. but since chic girls already consume astronomical amounts of fibre, they won't be receiving many benefits from munching on apples. They can totally get their Vitamin C from elsewhere. Ohmigod, you're learning, like, so much from me. This might as well be a textbook!

I suggest that you nibble on a piece of cheese or some veggies during your allotted eating time. That way, you can totally maximize ketosis and burn as much fat as fucking possible. I mean, Emily Blunt's character in The Devil Wears Prada totally knew what she was doing. She was just way ahead of her time. Like, don't you want to be one stomach fu away from sample size too?

The Raw Food Diet

This one's for the extremists, of which there are many in the upper echelons of the chic. Basically, you stick to a diet of uncooked veggies all day long, with the occasional piece of fruit thrown in. As expected, these bitches are skinny as fuck and look great in just about anything. They also absorb, like, maximal nutrients and have beautiful skin and hair. Plus, they get to lecture and judge others all day long about the importance of enzymes and whatnot. These skinny twigs can also consume bushels of allowed foods and still keep their daily calorie counts in the hundreds. Totes ideal, if you can stomach it, I mean. But have you ever tried raw broccoli or mushrooms? Ew.

If you've lost all sensory input from your taste buds, as can happen when on frightening amount of amphetamines, this is the perfect lifestyle for you. You can be like a super svelte panda bear and nosh on stalks of celery or fistfuls of curly kale all day. You'll lose heaps of weight and will have a spotless digestive tract, I'm sure. Just be proactive about taking, like, 15 Beano with each meal. Gas isn't cute, even if it's being caused by adorable produce like grape tomatoes and baby carrots.

Some people will get all technical and allow themselves to have sashimi, but staunch raw foodists will shake their heads at this practice. I don't see what's wrong with it, especially since sushi is, like, so yum. Anyway, soaked nuts and sprouted seeds are allowed, but make sure to watch how much you eat. They're still packed with calories and, this, aren't totally conducive to rapid fat obliteration.

People on the raw food diet love to chirp about mental clarity and feelings of euphoria, but I think that they're just really happy because they can slip into Gareth Pugh leather leggings without putting up a struggle. I highly doubt that weeping into bowls of raw radicchio and consuming bland vegetables dressed in the salt of my tears would make me feel vibrant and more alive. I mean, I would be completely ecstatic about sticking to a strict diet of copper pennies and shards of glass if it, too, left me with a 3-inch thigh cap. But to each her own, I suppose.

It's also well known that a lot of working models are technically raw foodies since they basically just consume cauliflower smoothies and piles of wilted spinach. No wonder they always look so sad. But have you seen their hip bones? Um, yea.

So I totally just ordered a raw organic vegan Kale Dulse Salad and a cold-pressed coffee from Seamless. They better fucking hurry before all the nutrients break down. Ooh, do you think calories can break down over time too? Let's hope so. Enzymes, here I come!

The One Food Diet

Basically, anyone who lacks even a smidgen of self-control should consider this dietary tactic. It allows no leeway for excuses or exceptions so long as you follow just one simple rule: consume only one type of food.

When you define vague dietary rules, such as allowing low-carb or liquid items, you'll find that the hungry fatass within will convince herself that certain foods fit the guidelines. I mean, butterscotch pot de creme is technically liquid, right? And an entire stick of butter covered in guacamole is totes low-carb. Inhaling, like, three bowls of blood orange sorbet doesn't constitute cheating on a raw food diet, either...

Stop. Just stop. You obvi have issues with following rules, oh voracious one. Technicalities are just fancy excuses for the dietarily inept, and one shouldn't be allowed to make risky, body composition-altering decisions when starving and delirious. So do as the OCD-inflicted waifs do and pick one food with which to thoroughly familiarize yourself to the point of disgust for the next two weeks.

You won't have to waste time obsessing over meal planning or calculating nutritional contents. It's basically like putting your diet on auto-pilot ass you graze on your one allowed food in a fat-shedding haze. Honestly, yo can pick whatever you want, since you'll likely get sick of it as time goes on. Like, did you know that Uma Thurman once went on an ice cream diet? She lost 25 pounds over a six-week period. On ice cream. ON ICE CREAM.

Now, I don't suggest that you pick the congealed, sweetened mucus of dairy cows as your food of choice, as that' s just, like, not really a good starting point. Pick something like tomatoes, or green apples, or avocados, Bananas and grapes work also, but do keep in mind that they are quite high in sugar. My personal choices are either eggs or grapefruit with Splenda. Whatever you choose, make sure to stick with it. That's all there is to it.

Some proponents believe that partaking in the consumption of only one type of food allows your body to become more efficient at digesting and metabolizing it, but I'm not sure. I mean, I guess it makes sense. But who really gives a fuck about all of that health-boosting mumbo jumbo? The real reason that this diet is so attractive and effective is because it helps to teach you a lesson in discipline and restraint. By sticking to this diet for just a short while, you'll see that you're more than capable of controlling yourself when it comes to impulsive food-related decisions.

It's like dietary therapy, but without having to visit an overpriced psychiatrist who just nods along and asks you obvious questions about how you feel about that time you ate a lobster roll. Um, I feel like shit, okay? You didn't need to remind me. That's why I'm allowing myself zucchini slices for the next month, duh.

The Two Cup Diet

Did you know that your stomach is only the size of your fist? So why are you stuffing it until you can't breathe? Um, I don't care if you're a firm believer in Volumetrics- that method only works if you're feasting on organic iceberg lettuce and sparkling water.

Now, getting a bariatric surgery done costs roughly $30,000. Trust me, I went to go get an estimate. The doctor was actually really rude and scoffed at me during the consultation, which I really took offense to. He was all, "Um, you know that this is for, like, clinically obese people, right?" So I was like, "Er, yea. It's called preventative medicine, natch." And then he, like, totally rolled his eyes at me and said in a condescending tone, "You obvi don't qualify for the procedure, especially since your BMI totes falls into the underweight category. Sorrz." I'm not an expert in medical law or anything, but I think that's called discrimination. Horrible bedside manner, not to mention illegal, no? I really need to call my dad's attorney about this.

Anyway, my friend, Melissa, found a totally cheap alternative to getting your stomach stapled until it's the size of a walnut. She learned it from a group of 14 year old Latvian models that she shared a room with during Milan Fashion Week. You basically take two tiny Dixie cups and fill them with whatever food you might please, though preferably of the low-calorie, low-carb and low-fat variety. Then you can enjoy your mini feast without worrying about portion control. It takes the stomach roughly four hours to empty, so you can set an alarm on your iPhone for four hour intervals to remind you of when you're allowed to have another two cups. Um, genius, right? And who said that teenaged models needed to stay in school to have good heads on their shoulders?

Don't abuse this system by using the red plastic cups of beer pong infamy, though. You're not an obese retired frat boy living it up in Murray Hill. By Dixie cups, I'm referring to the uber cutesy 3 oz. waxed paper ones that are meant for gargling in the bathroom. If you want to take it to the next level, you can also use tiny utensils, like oyster forks, to slow down your consumption and increase satiety. There w as this one girl that I interned with who carried around a tiny Tiffany & Co. silver baby spoon with her everywhere. Totally crazy, yet totally chic. Did I mention that she weighed, like, 85 pounds?

So who cares if you look like an unhinged betch for scarfing down tiny bites of wild mushroom fricassee from a mouthwash-delivery vessel using a toddler's fork? You'll be laughing all the way past the antiseptic-scented waiting room of a really rude weight loss surgeon's shabbily decorated Upper East Side clinic while your critics slowly begin to qualify for Lap-band installation. Um, who said that preventative medicine had to cost a year's worth of college tu8ition? People with no self-control, obvi.

The HCG Diet

Only a batshit cray person would willingly stab herself repeatedly while wincing and bellowing in pain, right? Um, yes, but that mentally unstable waif wielding the 25 gauge needle sure is tiny. Enter the HCG Diet, a regimen in which one is required to inject oneself with a variety of vitamins and hormones while subsisting on a maximum of 500 calories per day. HCG, or Human Chorionic Gonadotrophin, is basically a hormone produced by pregnant women soo after conception for... I don't know. The guy who came up with the idea to implement it in a weight loss regimen said that it suppresses your appetite and helps with fat loss, or whatever. Anyway its use as a weight loss agent is, like, really frowned upon by the FDA, which everyone knows must mean that it totally works. Like, remember ephedra? And phentermine? Uh, yea.

It's really easy. You basically follow an ultra low-calorie, low-carbohydrate, low fat, high-protein diet (uh, don't we regardless?) and give yourself daily injections of Vitamin B-12 and HCG in your hips and thighs, respectively. A physician or medical professional has to hand then over, so expect to pay a pretty penny (or 60 thousand) for a three-week program. If you're feeling super ambitious, you can also drag the whole thing our for six weeks!

Everyone will be like, "Er, of course you're losing weight. You're only eating 500 calories each day!" Ohmigod, really? Thanks for the news flash. I totally didn't know that. Um, of course anyone will lose weight on a 500-calorie diet, you observant twats. But who (other than an anorexic ballerina) actually has the discipline to stick to those numbers? Uh, a really chic girl who just blew one week's pay on dietary heroin, that's who.

So even if HCG isn't actually clinically proven to assist with fat loss or appetite suppression, who really cares? Even if you had spent hundreds of dollars on sterile syringes filled with Flinstones vitamins diluted in Diet Sprite, you would still have an obligation to stick to the accompanying regimen. I';s called financial responsibility, people!

But, oh Chic One, how come we can't just use the homeopathic drops that they sell on Amazon? I don't want to hurt myself, you say. I really don't like needles, you cry out. Um, in case you haven't been paying attention, there's a concept called "No Pain, A Lotta Gain." And it's just, like, totes legit? I mean, just because you rub to botulism toxin all over your skin doesn't mean that you're going to do skit about your crow's feet or laugh lines. You're just going to have a really dirty face. But inject some Botox all up in those crevices? Um, hello Bruce Jenner!

Besides, didn't you know that "homeopathic" is just Latin for "faker than a Canal Street Kurakami Multicolore Monogram Speedy 25?" Ew.

The Cabbage Soup Diet

"I lost, like, 10 pounds in 3 days," the chic girl will announce with widened eyes to all of her entranced comrades. "I didn't even know that I had that much to lose!"

Going on the cabbage soup diet is akin to complaining about having to fly home for the holidays or binge drinking over Memorial Day Weekend- it's just ingrained in American culture. Eating disordered betches of yore have passed this timeless diet on from generation to generation and, as unglamorous as it may be, it still prevails as a magic bullet of sorts to this day. So when you need to get skinny stat, show a little patriotic spirit and boil up a giant vat of cabbage and under-seasoned water. Your tummy won't thank you, but your thigh gap sure will.

You can binge if you'd like, but I'm sure you won't want to. The soup isn't particularly enthralling to the taste buds, but the parboiled vegetables will help to satisfy the vacuous pit that is your empty stomach. And, even if you stuff yourself senseless with the tasteless broth, you'll still probably only consume a couple of hundred calories a day. Just don't try to stand up too quickly, or you might just faint from chic overload!

Some variations of the diet allow other foods, such as bananas and meat, but you really shouldn't stray from tradition. Like, what would your ancestors say? They would likely shake their pin curls in disappointment.

The basic recipe calls for cabbage (duh), celery, mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers, onions, carrots, pre-made bullion cubes and your seasonings of choice. Sounds super yum, right? Um, this is when you're supposed to nod and be like, "Ohmigod, delish."

Anyway, I wouldn't bother adding onions or carrots since they're uber starchy. I just don't want you to get kicked out of ketosis, you know? Come to think of it, throw those tomatoes out too. That bouillon just seems totes unnecessary also. Okay, so our soup will basically consist of mineral water and cabbage, I suppose. But now we're, like, totally doing the One Food Diet, too. And Paleo! And, like, this is uber vegan-friendly. Gawd, talk about multi-tasking.

The "I can't see it!" Diet

If you're a fixture on the fashion industry's party circuit, you are well aware of the au courant set's penchant for microscopic portions of distinguishingly decadent food, I mean, what exactly is the purpose of serving miniature cupcakes? Is this a test? Like, what's with the tiny sandwiches and cheeseburgers? Is the bread just there to keep your fingers clean? And someone please explain to me the obsession with canapes and fried puffs. All I see are fat and carbs sharing real estate on a tray smothered in grease and shame. It's actually really confusing yet insulting yet intriguing yet tempting yet cute yet revolting, all at the same time.

Am I supposed to eat it? I think I am. I mean, these kind caterers have already done all of the hard work and cut everything into tiny, guilt-free smidgens. And how terrible could everything be when the portion sizes are so adorable? That grilled truffle oil-infused gruyere sandwich can't be so bad for me, right? It's only, like, half the size of my Amex card. And that microscopic scone? It's the size of a quarter! Having one doesn't make me irresponsible.

Wait a minute. Ohmigod, are people watching? Do I look poor and desperate? How come no one else is eating? Should I not be eating either? I think I just saw that blogger pop a tiny piece of fried macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Or did he? I repeat, is this a test?

There is a reason that all of the offering at such glamorous parties are bite-sized enigmas of congealed cheese and bacon grease. They're your cheat treats! Enjoying a few tiny morsels of forbidden food is totes acceptable, so long as you don't carry around a plate laden with them. As a reward for all of the other 364 days a year that you deny yourself of such scrumptious evils, you are allowed this one window of glorious opportunity to indulge in two or, daresay, three pieces of wanton abandon.

Oh, but the fashion crowd is a clever one. While each itty-bitty hors d'ouevre might seem relatively innocuous, it is still a miniature recreation of something that you would never be caught dead eating in front of Anna Wintour. Thus, you must wolf it down as surreptitiously as possible while still keeping your composure. And in that is where the genius lies.

After committing such a deplorable act as inhaling a mini brownie in three seconds flat while crouched down behind a crowd of fashion photographers, you are overcome with remorse and shame. What has come of you? Have you no self-control? It wasn't even worth it! That's it- no more food for the rest of the night! Then you will ration out a mini green juice for the rest of the evening in hopes that it will at least help to dilute your transgressions.

Do you see what just happened? You got your junk food fix, yet your calorie count for the day will be kept low by the guilt that overwhelms you. If you're lucky, the remorse will spill over into the next day. Maybe even the rest pf the week! D you know what just happened? It's called psychology.

The I'm-fucking-rich-and-glamourous Diet

For the impossibly chic girl, it's raining oysters, sashimi and tartare every night, with a guarantee of accompanying champagne showers. She loves to order seafood towers for the table and is obsessed with rhubarb mignonette. "I'm basically on a raw food diet, as you know," she will explain to her friends as she persuades them into doing a $300 caviar tasting. "Just a really fancy one."

Or is black & blue filet mignon considered raw? Whatever. The chic girl loves her steak, especially if it's of the Kobe Wagyu variety. She'll do lobster or butterfish or even sea bream, but forgoes salmon because it's "so 2011." "I only do lox when I have Eggs Norwegian at Balthazar," she will say with a sniff as she pursues limited menus with disdain. "And I'm talking about Paris Balthazar, not the one on Spring."

She is like a culinary hipster in the sense that she basically shuns anything that wouldn't be available to the general public at Food Emporium. Um, farro risotto? With fucking kale? You better back away slowly before she scratches your face in frustration. How dare you offer her that. She doesn't do proletarian foods; didn't you know?

Basically, she will turn up her perfectly rhinoplasty job at the foods of mere mortals, rolling her eyes if someone suggests going out for pizza and snarling in disgust at the mention of gourmet burgers. "I tried a cheeseburger for the first time whilst on holiday in London last year," she will say as she lets out a harrowing sigh. "It was the worst experience of my entire life."

"Cava is not champagne!" she will vehemently cry out, snatching the menu away from the basic bitch who had the audacity to suggest it in her presence. "And oysters from New Jersey? Get the fuck out of my face."

This emaciated diva loves herself a good tasting menu, even if it consists of, like, 18 courses. But haven't you noticed how all of the nicer restaurants, like Per Se and Daniel, are basically just never-ending parades of microscopic low-carb morsels? Obvi the people in the kitchen get the picture! And as for dessert, this lavish betch never partakes- she's just so full, you know?

So be it foie grais brulee, organic rabbit rillettes or diver scallop carpaccio, this extravagant girl knows how to execute the zero-carb diet in style. And while other chic ladies around town may have to sacrifice pricey food in favour of fashion, this is never an issue for this rich bitch (or, perhaps, her sugar daddy). For the girl on the FRaG Diet, compromise is never an option.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

rivers of red

surprise update for mermaid bunny!! my inspiration do be sporadic lol

anyway, here's to more toxicity between these fucked up skeletons >:3

(cw: violence, toxic relationship, mentions of abuse and suicidal ideation)

it has been weeks and killer still hasn't stepped foot outside of the castle even once.

the others frequently do for their missions. but when it comes to killer, he's always left behind. no one has given him a clear reason yet, and cross, easily the worst liar of them all, has told him to bring it up to dust since he's the nominally their second-in-command. as if killer would ever trust that creep, really.

but having nothing to do except roaming the castle and occasionally going down to the dungeons to ramble at their unfortunate prisoners (more like food source for nightmare) have lost their charm. killer is dying of boredom, being trapped in an empty castle for days on end. it feels weird not being utilized according to his function - he feels as if he's done something wrong. isn't what nightmare has brought him here for? to be an instrument of calamity?

yeah, but shouldn't you feel good about not having to kill anyone anymore? one of the voices in his head inquires.

who cares? it's in your name, killer, another voice crows. maybe kill them all and then nightmare will see your potential.

"i'm not killing anyone here. nightmare won't like that," killer says out loud, as there isn't anyone here to tell him he's crazy for doing so. unlike someone in the gang.

is staying here so bad?

it is! it's so booooring! you need something new, don't you?

but the world out there is such a horrible place! you will have to kill so many people if you step outside.

oh please! you are the most terrifying creature out there. no one will dare cross your path if they know what you're capable of. there's a reason they chose you after all.

killer tunes out the voices as they bicker back and forth. maybe they are right. maybe this is a test and he needs to prove himself in order to be let out of here. he doesn't want to stay here all docile and restless. he doesn't want to be treated like one of nightmare's little meals downstairs, trapped here and waiting for a rescue that will never come.

so when the gang finally comes back, against all his preservation instincts, he goes straight to dust in the great hall, who stills upon seeing him approach.

"we need to talk," he says to dust.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees cross and horror lingering around, but they don't interfere, just like usual.

what? dust signs to him, strangely reserved.

"i want to go out on mission," killer replies.

i'm not in charge of assigning roles.

"you're nightmare's right-hand, aren't you? can't you just put in a good word for me?"

dust looks at him, his eyelights flickering. after a tense moment, he signs, no.

"what do you mean, no?" killer asks, but dust brushes past him. not letting him get away, killer grabs dust's arm. "hey, i'm talking to you!"

the air buzzing around them is the only warning killer has before he instinctively summons his knife as a barrage of bones shoots up from the ground, angling at his midriff. the attacks don't hit him directly as he softens the impact with his knife in the way. he grins at dust. so now they're speaking his language.

before he can jump at dust, someone grabs the back of his jacket.

"no fighting," horror's voice rumbles behind him. cross also appears in front of dust, saying something that he can't hear. the hooded skeleton seems to be shrinking into himself.

"he started it," killer sneers at no one particular. "if it's a fight he wants, then it's a fight he gets."

"don't be stupid," horror shakes him. "you break him, nightmare will break you."

"what?" killer smiles back at the one-eyed skeleton, all teeth. "little dusty there is his pet or what?"

everything momentarily freezes after what he said. horror's grip on his jacket tightens, and cross looks back at him. and dust - killer won't describe it, but the expression on his face is something else. it only prompts him to open his mouth to spit out more venom.

"you can't fight your own battles, dusty? always needing someone for you to hide behind, like the coward that you are?"

"killer, stop it," cross tells him, softly yet sternly at the same time. one of his arms hold out over dust, as if covering dust from the onslaught that killer is ready to unleash on him.

"even now, you have to have cross here to protect you," killer breaks away from horror's grip as he steps closer to his target. "don't you have shame? can you even call yourself our superior like this?"

dust doesn't reply. he doesn't even move from his spot, as cross resolutely stands between both of them.

"nothing to say, right-hand?" killer sneers.

"killer, that's enough," cross scowls.

"scram, guard dog," killer tilts his head at cross. "this is between me and him."

before cross can say anything, a familiar high whine echoes behind him. a purple light illuminates the hall for a second before the gaster blaster goes off. horror, cross, and killer have all teleported away to a safe distance just in time to see the blaster decimate half of the great hall. as the smoke dissipates, dust stands there, a crazed smile on his face. his bi-colored eyelights dart around and catch killer perching on a railing. killer feels something race through his body, the sensation of adrenaline coursing through his leylines that he has sorely missed. he reciprocates dust's smile with his own as he spins his knife in his hand and jumps.

the ensuing fight between the two of them is messy. killer can't exactly tell the intent between each blow dust delivers to him, but dust does fight like someone who wants to see him dead. dust's movements are jittery and unpredictable - he doesn't move like a regular monster for sure, but neither does killer. dust hesitates a lot mid-fight, his eyes flickering in its colors, but a smack to his face always gets him back into the mood quickly. his crazed grin wobbles at its corners more often the more the fight goes on. and killer notices.

when he sees dust takes a misstep and stumble back, killer swipes his knife at dust. the hooded skeleton's eye flares up, and killer anticipates a counter-attack of some sort - maybe a blue magic grab, maybe another intricate attack pattern that dust loves to do. but no, dust's flare only lasts for a second before it gives out, his eyelights fading back to white. his body relaxes as it falls into killer's knife, and on his face blooms a bloody half-smile. killer stares at it, startled.

he changes the angle of his knife at the last millisecond, the spine of the knife instead of the tip hitting dust's zygomatic bone. a small crack appears on dust's face, another injury on his banged up body. killer grabs dust's collar and pulls him up, the hooded skeleton unmoving like a puppet with its strings cut.

"... what was that?" killer whispers at dust, who remains unresponsive. it's like all his fight just escapes his body. the crack under his eye drips red onto killer's hand. his eyelights bore into killer's empty sockets.

let's just kill him, a voice pops into killer's head. the others will have no choice but make you their superior, right?

and then nightmare will kill us for sure. or worse, make us one of his fixture in the dungeons.

come on, do you really think so? what if the cracked head lied to us? you think nightmare keeps around this unstable coward for his abilities?

you really want to risk that?

dust continues to stare at him, not saying anything. not even a scared expression on his face. just eerily serene and smiling as he watches killer raise a knife right at one of his sockets.

after a while, killer throws away the knife and pushes dust away from him. dust crumbles among the mess they've made, and doesn't get up, his eyes still fixed on killer.

"... if you want to die, do it yourself," killer mutters under his breath before teleporting back to his own room.

he doesn't hear from the others for the rest of the day. he doesn't leave his room, opting to read his meager collection of books for the nth time. with no way to tell the time, he stays vigilant against the door of his room, waiting for the mute maniac to come back for revenge. or worse, nightmare. but dust never comes, the hallway outside of his room blessedly and strangely quiet.

it is a while when he hears a couple of knocks on his door, a muffled voice calling him.

"killer, it's horror. get up."

when killer opens the door, horror is standing in front of him with his arms crossed.

"what's the deal, big guy?" killer smiles, to which horror frowns slightly.

"you're gonna have your first mission with me today."

it takes killer a moment to absorb the words. "wait, really?" he says, stunned.

"unfortunately," horror turns to walk away, making killer follow him. "just a small espionage. don't mess it up."

killer beams, his steps having a little spring in it. as the duo passes by the living area, killer spots cross and dust sitting on one of the benches. cross is mumbling something to dust, his head angling down. dust's head abruptly turns and he locks eyes with killer for a second before killer walks past the living area completely.

as horror prepares the portal to their destination, killer can't help but think about what he's seen, his deformed soul feeling as much discomfited as he is able to. much as he tries, he can't remember dust being injured in his right eye at all yesterday.

And if a double-decker bus crashes into us To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die And if a ten tonne truck kills the both of us To die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

~ there is a light that never goes out - the smiths

[chaichaiiskai]

Jack hanma x male reader … you can just do wtv you feel like doing for this … this is probably gonna get ignored cz it’s just ‘jack x male reader’ but if you do .. Yk do smth, thank you 👍🏾

Gotta be honest, I don't remember jack shit about jack (pun intended) aside from his ability to not lay tf down despite getting his ass beat so--- he's very stubborn so I think I can do something with that... Ya didn't give me much to work with but I'll take the reins on this one.

Now, personally, I don't think jack would be too interested in romance since his number one goal is to beat the shit outta his father but for the sake of your request I'm just gonna feed into the fantasy and add a bit of spice. Jack's definitely gonna be ooc

Let's say this takes place a little while after he's defeated by Baki and he's a bit more humble, also he's at the heaping height of 7'11 aka 241 cm. I had no idea what to do!!!! But let's do this.

jack hanma! x male! amab! reader

warnings: amab reader, male reader, mlm, he/him pronouns, homophobes dni, overprotective behavior from jack, no smoot this time cause i wanna give jack the cuddles he deserves and male readers deserve fluff too 🥺

Working could have its downfalls and its moments of relief, especially in this special part of the city. It wasn't exactly the most rundown place, but it wasn't all that safe either. However, you chose not to let that bother you as you focused on doing your job, collecting tips, and then heading back home. Being a waiter proved to be easy enough when you weren't dealing with difficult, idiotic customers who had some kind of privilege problem, complaining about the food not being hot.

"Sir, I'm more than happy to have another meal prepared for you, it won't take too long—" Your insistent words were soon cut off by the sound of the angered man you'd been serving, slamming his fat fist onto the table. You could practically see the veins in his forehead and neck looking close to popping, his reddened face reminding you of Red from Angry birds, he even had the brows to match.

"NO! How dare you disrespect me with this fucking SLOP!" He shouted, and then moved his other hand. In a flash, and before you could brace yourself for what was to come, you grunted when a plate was tossed at you, a bloody steak and hot potatoes were thrown directly at you. Fortunately, you were able to bring your arms up to quickly cover your face, the food and plate hitting your arms before it all crashed to the floor after covering your uniform and shoes in the man's tantrums. A light burning sensation spread over your arms and elbows, but not harsh enough to call for medical care, thankfully.

"Where do you get off thinking you can get away with this, boy!?"

Before you can explain yourself, or even defend your character, perhaps even offer to refund him for the meal he seemed to have a problem with, you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder. Along with the weight, you smelt a familiar cologne, your senses being invaded with a sudden sense of comfort and relaxation. Though, the hairs on the back of your neck knew what was to come next.

Jack.

You looked up at the heap of a man and he didn't look at you, instead, he offered the cloth napkin that he had gotten from the table he'd been dining at. You took it and stepped back, starting to wipe your arms off, taking note of the remaining slight sting you felt from the hot food, you would live but you couldn't believe this guy had the audacity to lie about the food being cold. Why? Did he just want to cause problems on unsuspecting waiters and waitresses? Was it some kind of elaborate scheme to humiliate those that he deemed below him?

"And who in the fuck are you!?" The difficult customer suddenly asked, making a show of getting out of his seat to stand off with Jack even though the blond easily towered over him, but their physiques were somewhat similar. Two walls built of muscle. All that proteins seems to go somewhere.

"Just a concerned customer. You're disturbing my meal, and you're lacking manners." Jack replied, his tone calm and his features as nonchalant as ever. This seemed to anger the other man considerably, seeing how he suddenly thrusted a finger in Jack's chest, soon to be met with the sound of crunching.

He'd broken his finger.

It was his own fault for carelessly touching a man who seemed to be crafted from sheer marble and stone.

The man let out a scream, clutching his broken finger with his uninjured hand, cradling it against his chest. In response, you took another step back and watched, along with many other patrons and staff members. Jack, on the other hand, grinned and looked back at the witnesses who couldn't take their eyes away from the scene.

"You all saw who touched who first, correct? You're all my witnesses."

Before anyone could even confirm what the blond had said, he covered the entirety of the angry customer's skull with his hand and lifted him off his feet. With the swift, calculated movements of a seasoned pitcher, he pulled the man towards himself just by holding his head like an oversized baseball and tossed him forward... right through the restaurant window, much to the horror of everyone in the restaurant-- aside from Jack and you. No, you were already groaning at the idea of needing to find another job.

...

"You can't keep doing this, Jack! Do you know how many jobs I've had to resign from because of you butting into everything?! Those poor people can't even fire me because they think you'll come after them and bash their skulls in with your bare HANDS or something!!"

You exclaimed, lecturing your boyfriend on his repeated offenses when it came to protecting you and your pride at every restaurant you worked at, mostly doing waiter work. The massive man simply chuckled at your words, tossing his arm over your shoulders as he pulled you closer into his hardened side, the warmth he gave off was a nice contrast to the approaching winter night but you were still upset. The two of you were in the back of the van he had bought to accommodate his large stature, while his chauffeur drove you both to the apartment building Jack owned.

"I don't get why you need to work when I can easily take care of you. I already do, but you always insist on working. Are you planning on saving up money and leaving me or something, short stacks?"

You rolled your eyes at the pet name, wanting to ignore him for the rest of the ride, but you couldn't bite your tongue back from recanting. "No. I can't do that even if I tried because I somehow fell in love with you. But that doesn't make me want to stop from going out to work, I want to contribute. You already pay all the rest of the bills." You murmured, crossing your arms over your chest and sighing, your anger dissipating into saddened frustration as you looked down at the van's floor, frowning at the sight of your dirtied shoes.

Jack simply watched you for a few minutes, the gears in his head starting to turn about before he spoke up.

"Why can't you apply for any other job then? Do you have to be a waiter?"

"I don't know what else I'm supposed to do, Jack! It's not like jobs are just falling from the fucking sky and are ripe for the taking!"

He seemed to linger on your words, not effected in the slightest by the raise in your voice. Instead, he wanted to be a problem solver, even if he wasn't the smartest guy out there, he figured there could be something out there for you.

Before the conversation could continue, however, it was interrupted by the van parking, the backdoor opening and you climbing out, rushing out into the underground garage to head straight for the elevator so you could go up to the penthouse and bathe. Jack simply watched your retreating back, rubbing at the back of his neck before he finally climbed out after you. With a quick dismiss of his driver, he began the trek to the stairs, which he preferred to take instead of the elevator, despite living on the 20th floor. How could he even pass up on a workout? It already took a lot out of him to not try and run everywhere, but you insisted on getting a van because you didn't want his body to continue breaking down at such a fast pace. And you usually would have forced him to take the elevator with you, but you were too upset with him and grossed out by your soiled clothes to wait.

As soon as you got into your shared place, you took your shoes off and left them by the door, shuffling across the hardwood floor with your somewhat soiled socks and dropped your bag on the living room couch, making your way directly to the bathroom. Once inside, you didn't bother to shut the door behind you and headed for the shower, turning it on so that it could heat up to the proper temperature before stripping out of your clothes. You dropped the articles of clothing on the floor, knowing you'd drop them in the washer after you were done bathing, and hurried into the shower, instantly sighing in relief as the water began to shower off the stickiness of that asshole of a man's dinner from your skin.

The shower was pretty much a massive glass box, and like everything else in your home, it was meant to fit two Jacks inside of it, making it almost seem like a giant's castle with you inside of it. That was okay with you, everything was just extra comfortable, especially the shower that had sprayers behind you, in front of you, and on the ceiling, rinsing every inch of your body if you so desired. It was a great contrast to the frustration from the day. And you preferred to stop smelling like meat and potatoes.

Eventually, about halfway through your shower, Jack had finally made it inside, grunting as he kicked off his shoes haphazardly, entering and taking a brief look around. It didn't take a genius to know where you'd gone. He put on his house slippers and went further in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark sweats as he entered the bedroom, deciding he'd be of some help.

By the time you came out of the shower, feeling more refreshed with your head a bit clearer, a towel wrapped around your waist and another emcompassimg your wet head.

You noticed Jack first sitting on the edge of the humongous bed, and then a fresh change of clothes splayed out on the mattress beside him. "Thanks, babe."

He hummed in response, removing his phone to unlock and look through it. Whenever he held something significantly smaller in his hand, it was always amusing, no matter what mood you were in. You sighed and shook your head to keep yourself from chuckling, moving to get dressed in one of his t-shirts that drowned you in fabric (no matter what size you are), and pair of comfortable bottoms you tended to lounge around. You decided to finish drying your hair, plopping down beside him, sinking into the firm yet soft bed.

The silence was comfortable in a way, with the sounds of him tapping and you lightly scrubbing away at the moisture on your head.

"How about this?"

You paused what you were doing when he suddenly put his phone in front of your face, showing something to you. You squinted in confusion and leaned in a little to get a better look at what he was showing you. A job listing for a remote job. Immediately, you took his phone from him and looked over the requirements, the description, and everything else in-between. It was almost too good to be true. How did he find something so easily in such a short amount of time? You decided not waste anymore time to rush over to gather your laptop, carrying along his phone, and went to apply for this job as quickly as possible. Luckily, you had a little desk you often used in the bedroom tucked away in the corner nearby the closet. If you got this job then that means you'd have to make up your own office. What were the odds? If you got this job, you might not be as frustrated with Jack as you were before... Who were you kidding? Even if he didn't present this golden opportunity you wouldn't have lasted much longer being frustrated with him.

With a new sense of determination, you were quick to upload your resume along with your application and a few other things you needed, a sense of hope settling itself on your shoulders. Alongside the hands that were currently resting their, Jack peering over your shoulders, not leaning any of his weight on you as he watched you diligently type away.

"Will I get a reward if you score this job?" He finally asked after you hit 'submit' on your application. Breathing out a sigh from your nose, you tilted your head back to look up at him, bumping into his hard abdomen. "Hm... don't know. You acted pretty hasty today, knowing I could have handled it on my own... I think I should punish you."

Jack blinked in surprise for a moment, his mouth soon forming an 'o' shape, followed by a cheeky grin that spread across his face like a forest fire.

"Punish me? Kinda wanna see you try. Doubt you could do anything though." After challenging you, he removed his hands from your shoulders and crossed them over his chest, raising an eyebrow in wait.

You nodded and then pushed yourself out of your chair.

"Bet."

And with the speed of lightening, you hurried over towards the bed and flopped onto your side, immediately getting comfortable and pretending to sleep.

Jack: 🧍

"You little shit."

[quinloki]

for the kink headcanons, can you do Heat, King, and Katakuri with Body Worship, begging/praise, and overstimulation? sorry if this was done before "^-^

Oh King - Hello good sir. I do believe this is the first time he's been asked for. Him and Heat Both \o/

Hmmm... Begging and Praise are pretty different to me, but begging feeds into over-stim, and praise feeds into body worship - so I think I can make this work.

Heat, Katakuri, King - let's go!

Heat:

Body Worship - FUCK Yes - Heat is, to me, all soft edges. Big heart, warm, calloused hands. He's scars and sugar, compromise and negotiation, but also firm and protective. He'll worship your existence with such unexpected gentleness - or expected gentleness if you've been paying attention.

The best times with Heat are those transitional moments, dawn and dusk, when the ship's extra quiet and people are either changing shifts or sleeping off big meals. He'll take what he gives to, letting the two of you be a tangle a limbs and lips, and soft quiet murmurs of love and appreciation.

Begging/Praise - Oh god you don't even know to both. - Praise ties into the body worship, but begging ties into Over-stimulation, which we'll get to in a moment. Soft and gentle as Heat is, I also think he has a sadistic streak. He doesn't want to hurt you in strictest sense of the word, but having you writhing and begging - your face stained with tears for whatever reason, he does enjoy that. So long as he's the source - like the other Kid Pirates, he won't suffer someone else making you suffer.

Over-stimulation - FUCK Yes - This man is a master of turning soft touches and gentle pleasures into absolute torture. He can have sensations building within you for an hour before you realize you're starting to get overwhelmed by it without any hope for relief. Praise turns to begging, soft turns into stern - dusk turns to night. The moonlight hits Heat's eyes and the tension in the air shifts. The softness and the kindness are still there, but there's a powerful desire to make you squirm, to make you beg, to make your body tremble against your will.

Charlotte Katakuri:

Body Worship - Oh god you don't even know - I'd written Kata receiving, but not him giving. The rating's the same either way. The reluctant lover wants you to know his reluctance is his own, and nothing to do with you. He'll praise and pleasure your body for hours on end, with a control that belies his size and stern face. He'll cover your eyes as he rains soft kisses against your skin, and soft caresses will carry such pleasure you won't even be sure if his words or his hands are driving you to the edge.

Probably both.

Begging/Praise - Sure / FUCK Yes - If begging turns you on, Kata will make sure you're begging. It doesn't do much for him directly - people beg him all the time, though not in the bedroom. He's far more interested in praising you, and honestly, being praised in return. Sincere praise, praise that actually knows him for who he is, is very rare in Kata's life.

Over-stimulation - Yes -> Oh god you don't even know - Kata's biggest fear is hurting you on accident. He's a lot bigger, and a lot stronger (unless your OPsona is comparable!) - but he's a very powerful man regardless. He wants you to feel unimaginable pleasure, but he doesn't want to accidentally harm you in the process. Once he learns though, once that future sight of his guides him through a few times, he delights in it. There's no greater blessing than seeing you unravel in stimulation and pleasure, and then watching you unravel in greater stimulation and pleasure because he adjusted accordingly in the time he had available to him.

King (other than "oh, hot." i have not given much thought to King, so this is all pretty spontaneous.) :

WARNING - Kind of Spoilery if you're not caught up on the anime/manga, but not blatantly so.

Body Worship - FUCK Yes - You should worship his body, he's far superior to you, after all. Lucky you to be loved to one such as he. If you have his attention in the first place you're pretty amazing to begin with, even if you aren't of the same tribe/clan as he is. King choosing you says a lot just from that, and he'll worship your body same as he expects to worship his. He might be superior, but he's chosen you, and that makes you superior as well. He won't let you, or anyone else, dispute that fact.

Begging/Praise - Yes / FUCK Yes - Oh you're going to beg. Maybe not for everything, and maybe not all the time, but you better know how to ask him for things properly. He expects creativity, and more than begging he wants to hear your praise. You might as well accept that you're going to be praying to this man on your knees a lot, but your devotion will be rewarded.

You'll more than earn your praise, and you'll get the desires you beg for. Nothing less to be expected of the person King's chosen to have by his side. (Do I think King's a little yandere? ... maybe. >.> )

Over-stimulation - Oh god you don't even know - Having you speaking in tongues beneath him like some follower lost in religious fervor is something he enjoys immensely. He doesn't really care about religion, but the feeling of worship that comes with it. The begging, the crying, the power to overwhelm you inside and out - it all comes together for him and makes the entire kink that much better.

He would never be so base as to be over-stimulated, but you're beautiful when you're coming apart because of him. He can't get enough of it, and honestly only stops so you can be undone again and again.

[aesethewitch]

I'm sorry for bothering you..again

Since you can't make the spell maybe you can Astral project to Toyoko Mew Mew's HQ and ask the person who turned people into magical girls?

Idk if you don't wanna do it can you just tell me how to make spells that actually work?

Hi again!

I don't really do astral projection in general. I can, but it's not my strong suit. It's certainly not something I would do on someone else's behalf. Projecting to a "real version" of a fictional universe is impossible. You could perhaps build a version of a fictional universe within your astral realm, or visit someone else's construction of a fictional universe, but it wouldn't be The Real Thing.

You're extremely unlikely to become an "actual" magical girl. Witchcraft can't make something that's physically, materially impossible come to pass. It can have incredible results, of course (why else would we practice it, right?), but those magical transformations and sparkles aren't real. It isn't possible, unfortunately -- it'd be so fucking cool if it was. I'd be all over that.

Working in a pop culture magic context is a valid way to do magic, though! If you have a passion for magical girls, I really would strongly recommend doing a search here on Tumblr for magical girl pop culture witchcraft, magic, and paganism. It's an incredibly interesting way to do magic! (You might find instructions for altering your Astral Self to be more like your ideal of a magical girl -- which would be the closest you'd get to the Real Deal. Just be wary of "shifting" type blogs.)

As for making spells that actually work, my advice would be to find a system that works for you. In the kindest way possible, I cannot do your research and learning for you. Magic and witchcraft are learned skills that you've got to develop for yourself. My paradigm (the framework through which I view the metaphysical world and perform magic workings) won't necessarily work for you.

First step is to figure out your best source for magic. For some folks, magic comes from within themselves. For others, it's a gift from their deities or spirits. For others, it comes from nature. For still others, it comes from the astral plane. The key is to figure out what's best and easiest for you to "hold on" to make the changes you're wanting to make. Give it a good, solid think. Try some stuff, see what works best.

For me personally, I find the best results in directly manipulating the metaphysical, energetic ties that exist between all things. These "strings" tie Thing One to Thing Two. After years of practice, I'm able to reliably tug on these strings to create change.

Try things out. Borrow spells from blogs and websites and books. Dabble. Test different ingredients. If a jar spell didn't work, what if you burned the ingredients instead? Or what if you dressed a candle? Or made a meal with the same/similar ingredients? So on and so forth. I have a post I wrote awhile ago about making substitutions and changes in spells that illustrates the point more thoroughly (which you can read here, if you like).

As I said, I can't do your learning for you. There are witchcraft 101 posts, books, podcasts, and other sources all over the place. Browse the beginner witchcraft tag, for example -- you'll find all sorts of basic guides from all sorts of viewpoints. Check out the astral projection tag or search for beginner astral projection tips.

If you like podcasts, @/breelandwalker's podcast Hex Positive is really solid for beginners. On YouTube, the Witch of Wonderlust, HearthWitch, the Green Witch, and the Norse Witch are also pretty solid creators whose work I've enjoyed. Books... I cannot recommend, since I honestly don't read a lot of witchcraft books (alas!).

It's up to you to find the things that are going to work for you. I'm happy to give tips, answer questions, and offer my perspective, but it isn't a substitute for doing the actual work for yourself. I do wish you luck!

[sucrows]

https://www.tumblr.com/sucrows/718019701660434432/ough-the-new-crazyb-summer-collab-things-visuals

PLEASE DO IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY

(link to previous post)

alright. doing this hc style because that'd be fun. Also committing a cardinal sin in writing directly into tumblr drafts instead of a second document so lets see how this goes.

uhm "let's see how it goes" it's been almost 5 months since i typed that. writing into drafts is the easiest way to forget about something it seems! Whatever I'll answer this now

and now its been 1 full year since i received this ask and i am only now finishing it up.... not doing graphics or putting this in my masterlist or anything so have fun finding it later on.

Under cut due to length! Primarily sfw with mentions of hooking up

RINNE:

Opens up a dating app profile for the fuck of it while he's really bored, it's not really his style, he'd much rather go out and physically meet someone tbh but why not

Matches with a good amount of people but tends to get bored of conversation with his matches realllly quickly. If he is vibing with someone though he's also really quick to invite them out to a bar or something

If you manage to catch his attention. and you accept his invitation, expect to be dragged around for a whole night of shenanigans

His ideal date is getting lunch, walking around until dark, getting tipsy, then bar hopping. He gets his duties done earlier on in the day so that he can spend the rest of the day with you.

If he ends up not liking you of course, he's not going to spend any more time with you than he has to. He comes up with some random excuse that you both know is bullshit and if you question him, he's not afraid to just tell you with no sugar coating that he's not into you

He'll be flirty and suggestive but he'll probably hold off on actually initiating anything until you either ask him to or make the first move yourself. He doesn't have something against some casual fun. He doesn't really have anywhere to take you back to thought so unless you have your own place, then an alleyway it is

He might actually treat you to a meal as thanks afterwards and just chill with you. After you get up to any kind of fun he's actually pretty calm afterwards.

He won't block you afterwards even if he wasn't really a fan of you. He'll still might hit you up again when he's bored as long as you weren't an explicitly bad lay. There's definitely potential to go from fwbs to lovers with him

Spend enough time with him and then one day he'll just show up and announce you're dating and from then on you'd be stuck with him lol

HIMERU:

So this either goes one of two ways. Either someone else signs him up for a dating app and secures him a date and he gets guilted into now leaving the person hanging OR when out of town he posts a profile with no images of his face just his body to get laid.

In the first scenario, he does his best to seem polite but ultimately disinterested. If you somehow manage to charm him and he has a good time, he'll be pretty conflicted.

He knows it's a really bad idea, but he won't be able to stop thinking about you. He might try to ghost you for a bit in hopes it'll smother whatever interest he had, but it probably doesn't work.

Either he caves when you message him after a good few days or he caves after a week and comes up with some excuse for not responding. From there it's complicated. He's very secretive and honestly it's a red flag but hey if you ignore it that's on you.

If it seems like you can't handle the way he keeps you at an arms-length for a while or that you might be a threat somehow, he will leave you. Most likely via sending a breakup text and then immediately blocking your number.

If we're talking about the second scenario though? His profile is just a pure thirst trap and he swipes on any person who seems like they'd be down for a no strings attached fuck. He's super quick to unmatch or block people if they give him the wrong vibes.

If you fit his criteria and seem like a good fit? He'll invite you to a hotel and spend a few hours with you. After it's all over he'll probably order some food for you both and stay with you until you fall asleep, then he runs off before you wake up.

Depending on how much he liked you and how trustworthy you seemed, he might thank you and promise to text you the next time he's in town orrrr he might also send a goodbye text then block you.

potential for FWB to lovers? would have to really be a slowburn but the potential is there.

NIKI

Ok so Niki is quite busy with his day-to-day life and I can't really see him going out of his way to set up a dating app account. He's another one who probably gets into this from someone else either making him an account or someone else convinces him to do so.

He's pretty liberal with his swiping. He doesn't exactly have a specific goal in mind while he's doing it so he kinda just goes for the ones whose bio makes it seem like they'd get along with him

He's pretty down to go out for a meal with most people relatively quickly but it might take him a bit longer for him to invite somebody out. When he does decide he likes someone enough to invite them out, he's honestly pretty likely to invite them to cafe cinnamon for a treat.

Niki's genuinely a friendly guy and seeks to know someone as a person and a friend before he makes any romantic or sexual moves on anyone. This doesn't mean he wouldn't reciprocate if someone else made the first move though.

If you make a pass at him, he's generally speaking down pretty quickly. Maybe not first date level quickly, but still pretty quickly. He's not really easily embarrassed or a prude by any means so if he likes someone as a person well enough, he doesn't see why not to enjoy himself.

He'll take you back to his place or go with you to yours without much fuss. After you guys have fun, he'll probably try to make some food or raid your kitchen for snacks. He has to feed himself first because of his condition, but he'll always feed you too.

I imagine he's probably bad at reaching out to people first to make plans and often loses track of how long it's been since he last talked to someone, but don't mistake that for disinterest! he's pretty non judgemental and as long as you weren't explicitly an ass, he's very likely to give you a second date.

[always-just-down-the-street]

Chat You Ever Just Think About Cutthroat Kitchen?

For reference, it is 1:04AM as I am beginning to write this, I have been like scrolling through my feed and I saw Cutthroat Kitchen get mentioned in a post called like- "Make Some Noise prompts that will never be on the show but I would like to see them", and I remembered Cutthroat Kitchen and by god I wanna just talk about it.

So, for those who don't know, Cutthroat Kitchen is a competitive cooking show, a term that either needs no introduction or will elicit reactions akin to either "Of course those fucking exist" or "What are you, 85?". The answer is "No", by the way, but my family for some reason loves cooking shows. Always my moms for some reason. But whereas shows like Chopped simply give you like- a set meal and maybe like a whammy ingredient to test your skills with, Cutthroat Kitchen is the funniest kind of bullshit that you can find on television.

It's hosted by Alton Brown, yes, Good Eats' Alton Brown, and the first thing he does at the beginning of every episode is give all four contestants $25,000- only the winner will get to keep what they have, all the other money goes right back into the briefcase. The twist is that unlike, say, Guy's Grocery Games where everyone gets a wacky game to play like "You can only use the frozen isle" or "You must only use six pounds of ingredients", not only are way more stupid and potentially game-destroying punishments on the table, they are for auction.

That's right, the big unique factor about Cutthroat Kitchen is that every round there are 2-3 punishments that you must use your $25,000 to bid on and then give to one or more of your opponents. This money does not refill between rounds, you only win what you don't bid away, and if your opponent has way more money than you do, they are obligated to abuse your poor planning skills! It's fucking awesome!

Here is just a list of actual punishments that people have bid on and subjected their fellow chefs to:

Giving up all of your ingredients and having to pick five new ingredients from a fully Japanese menu. The person punished did not speak Japanese.

Giving up your ingredients and being forced to get new ones from a vending machine.

Halfway through the challenge (Yes, they can happen halfway through a round and not just at the beginning), get chained to an anchor.

Being forced to spin a wheel to determine the only heat source you can use to cook your meal. Every fifteen minutes. Alton had to confirm it wasn't rigged to land on "microwave" because the poor fool got hit with it twice.

Being sent to a soundproof area. While your opponent is being told what they're supposed to be cooking. This was the final round of the episode too, so have fun risking everything on a blind meal!

Not being able to taste your own food while making it!

Being forced to choose to give up 15 whole minutes of your cooking time or use a whole, canned chicken.

All of your knives get replaced by a single ice skate.

You can only cook in two metal ramen bowls. This one also had a very comedic moment of what happened when the chef in question tried to cheat by using a normal pot for an egg when both of her bowls were already being used. Not pictured: Alton taking $500 from the chef immediately after.

You lose the ability to directly cook your meal, and instead must relay all instructions to "Private Bob". This one is extra funny because the chef in question, an army chef (This was an all-military service members episode) just leaned in entirely and began to shout with such zeal and power that it actually distracted the other chefs.

I could go all night telling you more punishments, it's now 1:41AM and I only wrote ten! (Partially because for some reason Wikipedia won't list them all.) And more fun facts- you're not allowed to tell the judge what punishments you got, nor will they care. On five separate occasions, a grown chef got stuck in a kiddie kitchen. That "whole canned chicken" is a recurring death sentence, to the point where that person I mentioned earlier happily gave up the 15 minutes to refuse using it. They only get 30 minutes.

If you have access to Cutthroat Kitchen, watch it. It is probably the funniest cooking show I've ever seen, it blows Guy's Grocery Games clear out the fucking water every time.

[buildingshitwithcrab]

Cincinnati Chili [edible]

Hooboy. Recently--as in, tonight--Ballistic BBQ on youtube had an episode on how to copycat Skyline coneys (chili dogs.) And gdi, I am A Chili Person now because I Have Issues with his lack of research into the subject. I had a comment written out, trying to be both CORRECTIVE yet polite, but you know what? Fuck it. I'm gonna save my long-time, hard-won experience with you fine folk, instead.

Recipe first, then notes:

For those non-fluent in Chickenscratch:

2T peanut oil (optional) 28oz tomato puree 1lb ground beef 1lb ground pork 6 cloves garlic, minced 2t cinnamon 1T cumin 2T Worcestershire 3 bay leaves (optional) 4T white vinegar 2 15oz cans kidney beans, drained & rinsed (see notes) 4T pure chili powder (see notes) 2t allspice 4T unsweetened cocoa powder 2t regular Tabasco sauce

toppings: 1 small finely chopped white onion (optional) yellow mustard (hella optional) finely shredded cheddar cheese (not optional)

Put oil into stock pot; on med heat, sweat 1/4 to 1/2 of garlic until fragrant. Add meat and cook until pink is gone, stirring thoroughly to break grounds into crumbles. No chunks. Skim away fat; does not need to be thoroughly drained unless desired (see notes.) Add puree and remainder of garlic. Stir to combine. Add liquids, stir. Add powders, through a sifter if possible. Otherwise, stir, making sure any balls of cocoa powder get broken down. If adding beans directly into chili (see notes), add them now, and stir to combine.

If eating chili right away, heat until hot, stirring fairly frequently; if making in advance, transfer to a lidded container, allow to cool, and refrigerate until needed. Flavors will develop and meld very nicely over 24 hours, but the hot, fresh chili will still be spicy and tasty.

Makes... gawd... 4-6 adult servings of chili spaghetti, or can cover about 16 hot dogs. We tend to get 2 separate meals of 3 generous adult portions & sometimes a little leftover for dip, from one batch.

(blurry 35mm photos from like 2003)

Notes:

this recipe originated from The Frugal Gourmet Cooks American; as presented here, it has inclusions from the original, and adjustments (usually omissions) I have made over 20-some years of cooking it. I cook it to eat it, not to adhere to best practices nor perfect authenticity.

peanut oil is optional if you go straight to browning the meat and then at the garlic after skimming most of the fat. It's just in the original recipe, and just for sweating the garlic. would NOT recommend subbing any oil with a distinct flavor (olive, sunflower, etc.)

I originally added the bay leaves a few times, but never really noticed them adding much to the mix. safe to omit, if you don't have any.

coneys do not really have beans, unless requested. if you're only going to use the chili on hot dogs, or just don't want them, you can choose not to use any. if you'd like smaller beans on/in coney chili, rinsed black beans work well, also. I like the beans in general, and add them in for convenience, since I'm usually going to have one meal of coneys and one of spaghetti. typically, the beans are a separate topping on the chili, and not folded into the chili itself. people from Cincinnati will judge you. I'm from Dayton, though, so I won't.

ALL Cincinnati chili comes with finely shredded cheddar (looking at YOU, Ballistic BBQ.) it's technically a garnish, but it's a big flavor component of the entire dish. you will not find store-bought cheese shredded as finely as the parlors use. this is expected, and okay.

"chili powder" in grocery stores tends to be a blend of several different spices anymore. I don't know when this happened. additional cumin, any oregano, etc. will noticeably alter this recipe's taste, and in my opinion, not in a good way. BE AWARE that grocers that have sections for Indian ingredients may have jars of "pure chili powder", but these are MUCH HOTTER than the chilis in US blends. Maybe you want that, but don't find out by accident like I did. I recommend cutting to the chase and ordering pure chili powder from MexGrocer.com. I get their California and New Mexico powders, both nice and reasonable, and combine them. one packet of each should yield enough powder for this recipe, with a little left over. a neighborhood Mexican grocery is likely to have pure powders, too, but I don't know the specific types to recommend. some of those can pretty hot by surprise, as well.

skimming the fat is up to you. if you do, your chili will be thicker and a bit brighter in spice. if you don't, it will be thinner (more like parlor chili, tbh,) and a little bit mellowed. the viscosity is the biggest difference. thicker doesn't drip off of coney as easily, but you might want thinner to soak deeper into your spaghetti. however you normally approach excess meat juices should be fine.

another spice altering aspect: you can leave out the ground pork and just use 1lb ground beef, to save money. your chili will have a slightly stronger tomato flavor, and a little more spice. you can also leave out the pork and use 2lb beef, the pork is just ~authentic~ because Cincinnati has a shitload of pork processors. you could probably sub ground turkey for the pork, as I understand it absorbs other meats' flavors, but you'd still need the beef to flavor it. another matter of personal tastes or circumstances.

and another: a spoonful of sour cream on spaghetti chili will mild it down very nicely while still being delicious, if it's too spicy for someone. for coneys or a chip dip, mix your desired ratio aside in a bowl, and enjoy.

by "cocoa powder", the recipe means like Baker's Corner, Hershey's--the same stuff you'd bake with or add to hot milk, just unsweetened. Some people (BBBQ) like to make it sound fancy with "cacao", but it's just unsweetened cocoa.

salt is not included as an ingredient, because my family has cut way back on using it at all for... probably the same 20 years I've been making chili. my dad got diagnosed with high blood pressure when he retired, and to help him out, my mom and I both decided it wasn't our favorite spice in the world anyway, and started leaving it out when it's not necessary (it's necessary in baking. don't fuck too much with baking recipes.) I also find that vinegar has a lot of same zing flavor that salt does, without the salt, and this recipe has a lot of vinegar, plus salt in the Worcestershire, Tabasco, and cheese. that's plenty for us, but feel free to add salt to taste, if you'd like more.

toppings: frankly, everything but the chili itself is one. chili + cheese + hotdog = coney. chili + cheese + spaghetti = 3-way. add onion = 4-way. add beans = 5-way. the mustard is always optional, it's just very popular. I... have never gone there, and don't intend to. parlors also offer very basic cayenne hot sauces, to add heat without much flavor distraction. this is just for authenticity; hot sauce it however you like.

Cincinnati chili, itself, is not Greek--Skyline's founder is. Skyline did not invent the chili. Macedonian immigrants did. Skyline certainly added some Greek influence to their family variation, and a lot of people like it, but BBBQ did not research the history beyond Skyline as a company, and made assumptions. do not make assumptions about history a whole city has civic pride in. shit, just admit you don't know, you're just there to make some good chili dogs, and youtube commenters will fill in those gaps for you.

[lt-wolfpack]

A borrowed great story....

I was leaving the convenience store in uniform one morning after getting my coffee on my way to work. A young man outside the store stopped me by asking, "Sir, may I speak to you?" I said, "Of course, young man, how may I help you?" He was so young. He couldn't have been more than twenty one. Eyes bright, body lean and sinewy like a farm boy. He was obviously nervous and stammered slightly when he spoke. "Sir, I want to work in corrections. Will you talk to me a minute?"

I stood there for a moment and just looked at him. I set my coffee on the hood of my truck and said, "Son, have seat and I'll tell you everything you need to know." He sat on the curb on command, back straight, eyes bright.

This is what I told him......"Son, there's only two types of inmates inside those walls. Those that you'v e already fought, and those you're gonna have to fight. There is not a moment of peace. Ever. 800 pound steel doors slam all hours of the day and night. On one tour of any unit, you will see men crying, men screaming, men laughing, men praying, and men slowly dying inside. Once you put on this uniform, you are a target. Not just in there, but everywhere you go. There is no CERT team at the local gas station at midnight when you stop for gas and realize every asshole in the parking lot is some asshole you've booked, printed, served meals too, pepper sprayed, tazed, or testified against in court. You lose all sense of security. Everyone is a potential threat. You stop eating in restaurants within fifty miles of your facility because some idiot will recognize you and spit in your kid's milkshake. You will become paranoid and distrusting of other people, even people you love. You will never again sit in a room with your back to the door and you will know every escape exit to every room you enter. You will walk around your car in the Walmart parking lot before getting in just to make sure no one's waiting for you or hidden in your back seat. You will take the long way home if a car falls in behind you on your way home. You will do back ground checks on your children's friends, parents, and teachers. You will look for potential weapons and run "what if" scenerios in every place you go....bars, schools, churches, even friend's homes. You will never again be an individual because your safety depends on a whole crew of other officers whose safety directly lies with you. And some of those officers will lie, steal, and cheat to screw you over. Some of those officers will be selling dope and cell phones to inmates. Some of officers will be alcoholics and drug addicts and be off sneaking a nip while your getting your ass handed to you in the rec yard. Cops look at your like your the retarded step child of law enforcement. The courts look at you as the oppressor of the poor and incarcerated. The public doesn't see you at all until you fuck up, then it's all over the 6 o'clock news. People will threaten your children, your wife, your mother, and your friends. You will be assaulted, have bones broken, be bled on, and go home bleeding. You will deal with diseases and contaminations that Chlorox won't take off. You will be over worked, underpaid, abused physically, mentally, and socially. You will be working nights, weekends, and holidays. Santa don't come to a state facility son.

I stared him dead in the eyes for about 15 seconds and said "You still want to be a corrections officer? "The young man rose from his seat and looked me dead in the eye. He extended his hand. With a grip like steel, he shook my hand and said, "No sir, I do not. But can I ask you a question? Why do you do this if it's so bad?" I smiled as I picked up my coffee and said "People like me do this because people like you can't." " I do this because you make a bond with your brother and sister officers you cannot understand until one of your lives is in the others hands". On my way home, a black SUV followed me for six blocks. I drove sixteen miles going home that night. I live four miles from the jail.

[goblin-face-sucker]

grumpy shit under fold

Feeling so fucking crushed tbh. Maybe it's the 2:30am insomnia (which isn't that bad I know). Maybe it's the general feeling of having Too Much to do.

I had like a genuinely really positive day at work - a client fed back how great I was, in front of my head of department. My juniors said they were happy how the project went. This is genuinely huge, because I love love this job, and I am still in probation and I want to pass.

And I tried to celebrate myself! And it gets met with "well duh of course you'll pass probation" like okay haha yeah probably but. I haven't sold anything in, and I'm about five skills behind everyone else on my level. I've never managed anyone before, and it's been over a year since I worked with advertisers directly.

Then we had a great MOTW game, but I felt like I was struggling with my character class cause it didn't feel like it fit the character I wanted play. The keeper said we could change characters at this point, so I was looking, and my friend was looming over my shoulder and I felt so pressured and stressed

I know it's really stupid to get stressed about a ttrpg. I like doing them with my friends, DND is amazing, but I am finding it difficult to relax at all right now, and feel loads of weird pressure.

I also just straight up can't fucking read - no glasses, no energy, and background noise of people talking and I literally stop being able to follow lines horizontally. I can read the individual words, but it's like my eyes won't move side to side anymore.

So I was like struggling to read the different options and I felt embarrassed about it, and they were looming and I love this friend but they can be Very opinionated about what other people should do so I was like "I'm just looking right now" like dude I'm sick, it's after midnight, I don't own a rulebook of this and I can't fucking read so it's taking all my energy. He gets rejection sensitive

So he leaves me, everyone is chatting, I'm looking. I decide now isn't the time and I can stick the class out and maybe the character will die soon, and I can start again anyway. It'll be fun.

But then everyone is like convincing me I should change?? And then my friend just says "you just can't be bothered"

And it just flicked the switch in my brain and now I'm lying awake in The Hole like

Yeah I'm lazy piece of shit.

There is so much stuff I haven't got done. And everyone knows. Like. I haven't painted the ceiling yet, or rode my bike, or cleaned the alleyway, or combined my pensions, or booked a holiday, or vacuumed the bedroom since last week, or changed the sheets, or sorted the laundry, or finished my privacy certificate at work, or emailed that client about their backfill, or worked on my novel, or contacted the Brighton writing group, or meal prepped that chicken, or been to the gym three times this week.

And people keep asking me, and I haven't done it, whatever it is, cause I'm a lazy piece of shit.

[redahlia-writes]

for the write poll tag game, won by the roy kent wip (dear god what have i done)

this fic was born out of me knowing jack shit about football, so watching ted lasso was an experience. but also roy kent <33 and i thought of playing a little bit on that (transl. i was being self-indulgent)

i've never written for him before so the characterization feels a bit off, and it is a wip in its very early stages, coming directly from my notes app so be kind please. also i'm not 100% sure i counted the votes right (i failed maths three times let me be)

“no! i mean—i didn't mean you, i'm sorry,” she said, alarmed, then pinched the bridge of her nose. “i wasn't calling you an asshole. i was calling him an asshole—sorry.” “you said that already,” he mused, and watched her press her lips together in a harsh line, as if keeping the next 'sorry' trapped between her teeth.

“that was a first date? jesus.” “charming, right?”

“ah, shit. love's gonna kill me.” “what?” “uh, nothing. well—my friend lent me this dress,” he looked at her, still puzzled. “her name's love. she actually set this up, thought it'd be funny if i could say 'love brought us together'.”

“good. well, it was nice meeting you, but i'm exhausted—i'll see you tomorrow,” she pointed in roy’s direction, a mock warning tone. “sure,” he sighed. “bye, keely.” as she walked away, roy saw her turn around and, from behind the woman's shoulder, give him two thumbs up and a wide grin. he scoffed.

“so, where are you from?” “well, huh, not here.” “are you fucking with me?” “sorry,” she laughed this time, leaning a little bit closer with the ripple of it. “it's just—i don't know- it's stupid. i'm always extra cautious during first dates with what i say about me,” her eyes widened then, quickly glancing at him. “not that—i mean this isn't—fucking hell.” “it could be,” he shrugged.

“well, i better get—” “can i get your number?” roy asked, hands stuffed in his pockets. she was already turning away from him with a smile, and stopped mid-step. “i thought i'd ask.”

“roy kent? like the footballer?” she asked, looking at her phone screen. “i—sure. that.” he chuckled, and a pout took over her lips. “why are you laughing? is that not his name?” “no, no, you're right. just—didn't realize how much you're not from here.”

good, he typed. and then: do you want to go on an actual date? - depends. know any decent place with actually very good food? that is very specific. - i don't like fancy places, but i do enjoy a good meal alright then. i can cook for you. - oh, so you're a serial killer and i'm your next victim you asked for a good meal. - you own a restaurant? no, but i own a house. - see? serial killer. inviting me to your place on the first date. technically second. he hurried to add the next text. would you prefer yours? - god no, this place won't fit both of us, let alone the good meal you're promising roy let his fingers hover over the screen as the three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared. - alright then. but i will send love your address in case she doesn't hear from me after a couple of days now i know my time limit to make your body disappear. - dang it. a pause. oh, well. i'll take that risk.

“i don’t know the first thing about football, never learned.” “but you know roy kent?” “are you kidding me? you can’t take a walk without hearing that chant—real catchy, actually.”

“you enjoyed me making a complete ass of myself, didn't you?” “no, actually. it was nice to be just roy.”

“i never know when women are attracted to me because of me or because i'm me.” “who said anything about attraction?” she scoffed in mock offence, turning her head towards the other side. roy shifted closer, his chin pressing onto her shoulder. “your clothes are scattered around my living room,” he murmured, and saw at the corner of his eye her mouth split in a bashful grin. “i’m willing to bet you don't find me utterly repulsing.”

[squarebracket-trickster]

Thumbprint Tag

Rules: look back on your work, both past and present, finished and unfinished. What are five to ten narrative elements or tropes that continuously pop up in your work? Give a list of these things!

@on-noon don't mind if I jump on your open tag. I can get soooooo weirdly specific with this...

Oh yes, and I am going to carry on the open tag. Anyone that wants to join may.

Read More because oddly specific requires lots of words--

A female character from a very disadvantaged background (see political prisoner, indentured servant, peasant, enslaved person, poor etc.) who has an unlikely meet cute with someone (male) who turns out to be extremely privileged (see royalty, crazy rich etc.). They become friends. One day she has a really rough day, ends up sick, and he takes care of her (like makes her meals, rubs her shoulders, holds her hair when she throws up etc.). They don't end up dating until a while after this happens. If I had a nickel for every time this shows up in a story I'd have dollars by now.

Two or three female characters that my straight-ass spends years trying to ship with every palatable male character in the story to see if I can make them date. After years without success I finally realize that these characters are lesbians and they were made for each other. When their story arcs get finalized into canon they have an epic friends-to-lovers slow burn romance.

A main female character that, in hindsight, should have been my clue that I had ADHD. Re: talks too fast, says the most random shit, won't shut up, sits weirdly in chairs, really good in a crisis, always waving her hands when she talks, sensory issues galore, no eye contact, last minute queen, always has a song stuck in her head, can list 50 digits of pi but can't remember why the fuck she just walked into that room, and most importantly, me saying about this character, "I feel so relaxed when I write/daydream about her. It's like a release. Like, I can finally be myself and do all the things people think are annoying, but everyone in her life thinks she's funny and likes her energy." Like, you might as well have written MASKING ADHD directly across my forehead.

A monarchy that becomes a republic by the end of the story because I want to write about attractive princes and badass queens/empresses but I am also an anti-monarchist...

A character who was based off an irl friend that lost relevance in the story and got written out, only for me to eventually drift away from that friend or discover that they weren't the friend I thought they were.

Long rants about whatever topic I am learning about in uni at that time (assigned to a particular character for plot reasons). This week's rant was on Populism...

A couple that I decided could never be a couple because the power imbalance and political nonsense was too problematic, who ended up becoming a couple anyways because I have no self-control and them being together was just so *feels*. When all is finalized into canon, these couples get a glorious enemies-to-lovers slow burn that lasts several years and plenty of denial (in homage to my own feelings on the subject).

That moment when a character takes off their disguise and reveals that they are, in fact, a princess, goddess, secret agent etc. in order to save someone's life.

Idk what some of these say about me. idk if I want to know...