#i would say strawberry but you're allergic

[theatrenerd622]

Hallie Parker after meeting someone identical to her with the exact same birthday likes the same (weird) food combinations, is allergic to the same things and had the other half of her ripped picture of their parents: "We're like sisters"

[moviecritc]

strawberry shortcake ⋆ carlos sainz smau

pairing: carlos sainz x reader (fc: various from pinterest)

summary: everyone is surprised about the woman that carlos is dating, knowing how classy he is

warnings: some hate comments

a/n: i'm blonde and i'm planing to do pink highlights for this summer, so this seemed fun to do <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted!

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yourusername 9 to 5 🌶️

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yourbff stop being so cool you're making others seem lame

user1 is this carlos new gf?

user2 i think she is! they were seen together two weeks ago, he soft launched a dinner and now she's posting watching the race, so they probably are

alexandrasaintmleux ohh gorgeous 😍 liked by author

user3 girl you're like 27 what are you doing dying your hair pink

user4 nah some people are allergic to having personality

carlossainz55 🥰🌶️

user5 pls tell me that he's just being friendly user6 no bc what is he doing with a girl like that... she looks so messy user7 that's exactly what i was thinking! nothing against her, but she's not the type of woman for carlos

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user1 i'm sorry, but she's a no for me

user2 she works in fashion????

user3 ultimate cool girl frr

user4 ok i've stalked her and she is GORGEOUSSS, and effortlestly cool?? i would die for being half cool of her

user5 dying my hair pink rn

user6 i can't believe there's people saying that she's not enough for carlos?? girl, carlos is not enough for HER

user7 FRRR she is THAT GIRL, in capital letters and bold

user8 i've dig a little and i found a few things: she was born in ireland (irish queen, i can't imagine how cool is to hear her talk), studied marketing at trinity college and moved to london a few years ago, she was a month in madrid last march (probably when she met carlos)

user9 i mean cool, but please go touch some grass

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carlossainz55 So excited to race in Australia this weekend 🔜 🇦🇺

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yourusername 🤞🏻🔜

user1 SHE'S COMING TO A RACE? user2 honestly i would be embarrased to go to a gp with her

user4 carlos you have to update your taste in women bc wtf

user5 imagine calling yourself a carlos fan and hating on his gf who literally did nothing

user6 we're not hating, she's just vulgar, that's factual

user7 i can't believe people is making this post all about his relationship

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user1 her outfits are in another level

user2 Carlos couldn't stop touching her, he's DOWN BAD

user3 she looks so sweet, i don't understand the hate

user4 she's iconic, you guys are just boring people

yourusername just posted on her story!

[caption 1: gettin ready for the race 💋] [caption 2: thank you for this @scuderiaferrari]

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carlossainz55 c'mere i need my good luck kiss

carlossainz55 i mean you ARE the prettiest and i'm the luckiest

user1 ok you actually look nice

user2 first time i see one of the wags being grateful with the team

Carlos interview after quali

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f1 CARLOS SAINZ WINS IN AUSTRALIA 🤩

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user1 SMOOOTHHH 🌶🌶

user2 and this man doesn't have a seat?? be ffr

user3 ALL I SEE IS SAINZ, ALL I SEE IS CARLOS SAINZ 💅🏼

user4 and that podium>>>>>

user5 YESSS his gf was there and looked so so happy user6 omg i saw it!!

yourusername VAMOSS ❤️💛

user7 oh hi y/n user8 you speak spanish? user9 i love her. i don't care you guys don't, but she's da best

carlossainz55 just posted!

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carlossainz55 Unforgettable weekend ❤️💛

tagged; yourusername

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yourusername Beyond proud of you darling ❤️🥹 liked by author

carlossainz55 Te amo ❤️ user2 AAAAHH I LOVE EM user3 brb im taking a bath with a toaster

user1 so we're hard launching now?

user2 she's his lucky charms, 100% sure

user3 bro casually hard launches in his race win post

user4 carlos and y/n picture was a jumpscare. but like a good jumpscare, and not scary at all im actually in love with them

user5 looking for a third?

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yourusername Left the office to support this handsome fella 💞💞

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carlossainz55 Te amo, hermosa. My lucky charm 🍀👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

yourusername Can't wait to the next one 😊😊 user2 I CAN'T THEY'RE TOO PRECIOUS user3 there's nothing better than private but not secret but also not too private relationships

user1 I thought i was early but carlos' already here

user4 and they've been dating for over a year, if i had to wait so much to post carlos sainz i would've died

user5 ugly as fuck liked by author

user6 not y/n liking it- user7 LMAO I ADORE HER

alexandrasaintmleux Coolest ❤️

yourusername i'm afraid that's you hun ❤️ user8 this is so cute ngl user9 wags that get along with each other >>>

user10 y/n, do you speak spanish?

yourusername Un poco, Carlos me está enseñando 🥰 (a little bit, Carlos is teaching me)

elleuk and carlossainz55 just posted!

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elleuk He was the only non-Red Bull Racing race winner in last season in Formula 1, and the first one this year. And althought his place in F1 is still unknown, it is certain that Carlos Sainz has already left a legacy in the sport.

The April issue of ELLE UK is out March 28. Read the interview at the link in our bio.

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user1 Oh we all know who edited this pictures

user6 and he even changed the pfp to the first one, he's obsessed

carlossainz55 Thinking of pursuing a modeling career after this

yourusername You should. I'll edit your pics 🤝 user3 i'll tell my kids they were adam and eve

user2 the pictures are fabulous

user7 we all say together: thanks y/n

user4 WE'RE BEING FED WITH THIS PICTURES

user5 why is anybody talking about the interview?? he's the CUTEST talking about her

user8 YESS, i read it and i died of sweetness user9 they're so wholesome i love them

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine falls in love with his pretty neighbor.

Genre: Fluff 🍰

Warnings: swearing, blood, def a cliché mess but in a good way (hopefully)

~ breaking my T.S title streak for this one! inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It truly was some cruel sick joke that the sweetest looking girl he had ever seen had moved into the house across from his.

Tangerine honestly couldn't remember the last time he let himself have anything truly good in his life, since he knows everything he touches burns right in front of him. Which meant he made the decision that he can't afford that with you—so he's stayed as far away from you as possible.

You, on the other hand, have never wanted to become friends with anyone so much as you did with your two, mostly quiet, neighbors in the house in front of yours.

You'd overheard some neighborly gossip that they weren't to be messed with—gangsters or something like that. You didn't really believe those rumors considering you'd seen one of them, the one with dark skin and platinum hair, feeding the birds that rest on their porch. 

What kind of dangerous gangster would care about birds?

So, that's why, one month into having moved in, you stand in front of their door with a plate of miniature strawberry shortcakes displayed neatly in a pink tray. It feels corny and stupid when no one answers the door for a moment. You raise your hand to knock again when eventually the door opens and you look up, making eye contact with eyes that are the prettiest shade of blue you've ever seen.       

The man is dressed in a white button-up, half of it unbuttoned in his trousers and his brown hair is curled naturally, the ends sticking up messily as he looks you over. He tucks something behind him, clearing his throat awkwardly as his gaze falls to the tray in your hands. "Pastries," he says, his voice velvety and his British accent thick. 

You hold the tray out closer to him. "Shortcakes. I made them myself," you say with a smile and the man just looks annoyed—his lips twitching as he looks you over again, taking in your apron and the cream that's smeared on your cheeks. 

"It's late," he points out calmly, "much too late for afternoon tea."

He's right. It is. It's almost seven—you'd just taken more time with the cakes than you'd wanted. You feel embarrassed now and lower the tray.

"Oh," you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd had a whole introduction plan and now you're flustered. "You could use them as a late-night snack—" you pause, trying to explain, "Most nights, I see that your lights are on when I wake up at around three or four am for water and–well if you already can't sleep, a sweet treat wouldn't do you any harm?"

You feel like the creepiest stalker as the man's eyes widen. 

"Sorry, this was a stupid," you say and turn around, preparing to walk away when the man's voice interrupts your thoughts. 

"I'm allergic to strawberries," he says, "but my brother isn't. He'd love them. Here, I'll take 'em." He takes the tray from you as you turn back around and he looks down at the cakes he's now holding. Tangerine can tell you clearly spent time on them and he has to fight himself not to smile. 

"Thank you—"

"Y/n," you say your name much too quickly, itching for connection to this mystery man. 

"Thank you, Y/n."

You don't even hesitate when you ask, "And you are?"

Tangerine hesitates. He can't tell you his real name. Speaking to you like this, out in the open, is already risky. He sniffs nonchalantly and uses an excuse, one he hopes you won't question too much. "My friends call me Tangerine."

You laugh and the sound is so beautiful it's unfair. "Tangerine? What? Is that some shitty drunken inside joke with your mates at Uni?" you guess, pushing down the curiosity to jokingly ask if you using his nickname makes you his friend. It's too soon for questions like that.

He shrugs. "Mm, something like that," he says and he doesn't elaborate further. You wonder if you'll be worthy of his real name one of these days, but for now, this feels like some progress. You smile at him, rocking on your heels for a moment and then you look back across the street at your house. 

"Well, Tangerine, it was lovely meeting you but I should—" you point behind you with a smile. "I'll see you around and hopefully I can meet your brother! Enjoy the shortcakes!" you wave and skip down the steps as Tangerine watches you, his stomach filled with unfamiliar, normally dormant, butterflies.  

He chuckles, biting his cheek, and then walks back inside. He untucks his gun from his trousers and slides it into the designated drawer of the entrance table, shaking his head with a small smile as he remembers your wide grin. He returns to the living room and puts the tray next to Lemon's puzzle. 

"Someone important?" Lemon asks and then he looks up and sees the cakes. His smile widens and he doesn't hesitate to take one. "Ooo, pastries," he exclaims and practically stuffs one in his mouth, humming with joy. 

"Nah, just our neighbor," Tangerine says and runs a hand in his hair, leaning against the table and mindlessly playing with one of the puzzle pieces as he remembers how pretty you looked. 

Lemon cocks an eyebrow and speaks with his mouth full. "Which one?"

Tangerine shrugs. "Does it matter?" 

Lemon rolls his eyes. "Yer bein' weird as fuck. It was that cute bird from across the street, wasn't it? The one ya keep starin' at when you can see 'er from 'er window—like some creep—"

"Oh, piss off," Tangerine grunts, lowering his head to hide how pink his cheeks have turned.

Lemon hums, continuing to eat the pastries you'd made them, and grins. He knows how his brother is; always too damn proud to admit he has any feelings other than nonchalance and disdain. But he's seen how Tangerine is smitten with you without even an interaction and he can't wait to see where this goes. 

"Want one?" Lemon asks as he motions toward the tray.

"No. I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lemon laughs. "Ya aren't allergic to strawberries, you numpty."

Tangerine stands straighter, eyeing the tray of what looks like really delicious shortcakes for a moment until his jaw clenches and he turns around, his thumbs hooking in his pockets. "I am now," he says bluntly.

* * *

Lemon has gone inside first as Tangerine hangs behind, making sure the garage is fully secured. He's exhausted and there are dark bags under his eyes. Usually, he'll take the inside entrance into the house, but this morning he needs some fresh air after that mission. He walks outside and looks up at the dusty pink sky. It's 4:30 am in the morning—no sane person would be up. 

"Mr. Tangerine!" 

He startles at his name, holding his hands behind him—knowing they're still covered in blood. He looks up and his eyes widen when he sees you.

You're walking across the street to meet him, tightening your ponytail as your grin widens. You don't look sleepy at all. "Good morning," you say and look him over, "Weird running attire," you joke, mentioning the navy blue suit he's wearing.

"Running?" he echoes. 

You drop your arms to your sides, looking him over with a small, amused, frown. "Oh– I just assumed—most people, including myself, are only up at this hour for a morning run. What are you doing?" 

You ask the question so innocently that Tangerine doesn't know how to answer. 

He can't exactly tell you what he's been doing. How the truth is he's been out all night killing for money. He pushes the image of your disappointed and scared look from his mind and lies. "Oh, I like seeing the sunrise," he says, sounding nonchalant, pushing his hands in his pockets quickly so you don't see the dried, crimson, mess. 

Hopefully, you'll leave him alone soon. 

Unluckily for him, you don't leave him alone. "Oh! I love watching the sunrise!" you say, smiling as you point behind you, adjusting your sneakers. "We should go see it someday," you offer kindly, your tone a more sincere nonchalance than he was, "no pressure or anything." 

Tangerine is speechless. He blinks at you, his sharp blue eyes scanning you up and down. You must be kidding. No sensible soul would invite a stranger to do something seemingly so intimate. You shouldn't be inviting him like this, you don't know him. He's dangerous. 

"You don't know me, why would you want to do that?" he asks bluntly. 

You shrug, still looking as nonchalant as ever. "Can't know you if you shut me out," you say, smiling, as you return his bluntness. When he doesn't answer, you just send him a small wave, saying your goodbyes as you begin your run. 

Tangerine is tempted to run with you now. To protect you. He shakes that thought. 

Lemon interrogates him the moment he comes back inside. "Flirtin' with her now, Tan?"

"You're gettin' on my fuckin' tits," Tangerine grunts, your offer still swarming his mind. Lemon laughs. 

Tangerine doesn't have much peace until he eventually, after you deliver more and more pastries as an excuse to talk to him, accepts.

He doesn't sleep a wink that night. He's a nervous wreck as he plays every scenario in his mind and spends hours in the kitchen just to see your smile when he walks out of his house with a covered basket as the morning sun prepares to peak from the clouds.

Your eyes widen and you rush over, your pretty sundress hugging you in ways that make him lose his mind even more. 

"You made something?" you ask, grasping at his arm. Tangerine hums, guiding you to his car. 

"I know a spot," he whispers, hiding his smile. The drive is silent but comfortable and when he drives you to a park, he walks with you up the hill. You watch with amusement as he fusses over the picnic cloth and then opens his basket and pulls out a bowl of strawberries drizzled with frozen chocolate and a small bowl of whipped cream. You both sit down and you look at him, slightly confused. 

"As a thank you for the shortcakes."

"I thought you were allergic to strawberries."

You both say in unison and you laugh. Tangerine's cheeks turn pink and he runs a hand in his hair, answering you, "I- I lied. I just, I was nervous," he says as he picks up a strawberry and outstretches his hand. You smile and look at the cream.

"You whipped this yourself?"

He nods. "The store-bought cream is always disgustingly sweet," he shakes his head and dips the strawberry in the cream before he turns to you again, your knees almost touching as you lean in. You refuse to take the fruit and instead, you part your lips and stare at him, your heart hammering. 

You wonder if this is too forward, but Tangerine brings the strawberry to your lips. It takes bittersweet, like how you assume he would taste, the dark chocolate mixes with the whipped cream, and some falls from your lips. He doesn't say anything as he catches the drip with his thumb, looking at you intensely as his heart beats loudly in his ears. 

"Were my shortcakes too sweet for you?" you ask in a murmur, his hand not leaving your face. 

Tangerine knows he shouldn't. He knows he'll hate himself after but nothing sounds more appealing than kissing you now—so he does.

He can taste the chocolate on your lips as his hands cup lightly around your throat, his touch light. Just enough of a warning as to who he truly is. You gasp, not minding at all, as you kiss him back.

As complicated as you know it will be, this feels so right. 

Tangerine's hand finds your waist and, bunching up your dress a little in the process, he pulls you in closer. He takes a breath, looking down at you as he ignores the screaming in his head. "No," he whispers, knowing damn well he'd held himself back from tasting them, "No, they weren't too sweet for me."

It doesn't matter because, in the end, he isn't talking about the shortcakes.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv

[artdcnaldson]

and when we move on (we dont) and get a new boyfriend and get engaged all within the span of six months and suddenly art finds himself at your engagement party and you look happy and he thinks maybe he imagined his importance to you - maybe he had it wrong and he was the fleeting obsession. how else are you able to move on so quickly? he's miserable but he still plucks up the courage to come congratulate you even if he doesn't mean a word of it. says, "you look beautiful - honestly." just because, well you do.

and its then that your mask slips - you look like art punched you - not those slaps you'd both traded in the past - but like he'd genuinely punched you in the gut. wounded ane pained like he'd just said the most awful thing in the world to you. and your hands tremble when you hand him your champagne glass and mumble "im sorry - excuse me -"

you have to be somewhere alone. suddenly constricted and panting and you find and alcove to lean against and you feel tears burn your eyes and even worse still, a presence at your back - "hey, what -" because of course its him, of course it is. "what's wrong - what did i say -"

you could laugh. you could laugh if a sob wasn't cut off in your throat. you hate him. on your engagement day. the nerve to say you were beautiful. with those genuine eyes and soft expression - like he meant it. like he always thought you were.

he breaks your heart and and you try to move on - you let yourself drown in the next man that shows you attention because arts words follow you everywhere - how you're not the marriage type - well, your fiance wanted you. he wanted you and that had to be enough because if you remained alone and unwanted you think you'd die from the pain of it -

so for him to say something like that now - all of the sudden -

"why do you hate me? i left you alone, didn't i? patricks still your friend. you have everything you wanted - I just want to move on, art. I just want to be wanted - why are you here?"

GODDDDD your mind <3

You know it’s sudden— everyone knows it’s sudden. But you’re the only one who knows why you rushed into it so intensely. Why, after six months with someone, you agreed to marry someone who you hardly even knew.

You knew the basics— Charlie wanted to be a college professor. His mother was filthy fucking rich, old money, and she liked that you came from an affluent background. He enjoyed skiing, and watching tennis, and he did rowing in high school. He was allergic to cats. He liked ordering raw oysters and slurping them down embarrassingly loud at restaurants. He never ordered for you, always paid the bill, never pushed you past a heavy makeout session on the couch.

Because you couldn’t go past that anymore. You couldn’t be easy, couldn’t give it up. You had to be the type of girl someone would marry, you had to be girlfriend material, and wife material, and mother material.

Charlie wanted to get married, wanted a big family, and you checked those boxes for him. You’d never have to want for anything, he’d pamper you and keep you spoiled like you were used to. He was strawberry blonde like Art, but his smile was more refined and practiced, and you wish it wasn’t. When he proposed you said yes, and cried tears that were supposed to be happy, but how could you know for sure?

Art shows up to the engagement party as Patrick’s plus one, and you feel dizzy. But you have to be normal— you can’t give anything away. You just… try to avoid him. When he starts gravitating your way, you find an excuse to talk to someone else, or make your way into the kitchen for a fresh drink. Anything to stay away, because you can’t fucking see him. You can’t do that right now, or ever.

But of course he finds a way— he’s too polite or maybe he’s just too cruel to leave the party without offering a congratulations. You’re cornered like prey, grip so tight on the stem of your champagne flute that you’re worried it’ll snap.

And he doesn’t say congratulations. He just looks at you with a genuine, completely earnest smile and says, “You look really beautiful. He’s really lucky.”

You feel your heart seize in your chest, like someone’s grabbed it and squeezed viciously. The corners of your mouth twitch downwards, but you fight it and bring a polite, practiced smile to your lips. “Could you excuse me for a second?”

He looks confused as you put your glass in his hand, as you close his fingers around it so he doesn’t drop the expensive crystalware. As soon as you’re sure he has it, you’re weaving through the many guests to find solitude. Most of them are Charlie’s friends, few are your acquaintances— people that would just as soon pray on your downfall as they would offer a sweet congratulations.

You slip into the hallway feeling suffocated, drawing quick breaths through your nose until you tuck yourself away in a nicely tucked away alcove and take a slow, steadying breath.

But Art lingers at the edge of your vision, and you want to just cry and cry as he gets closer, as he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, what…” his brow furrows, he searches your face for some sort of clue, something to help him understand. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

The noise you let out is strangled, almost animal. You look at him and see that he means it, he doesn’t fucking know, he doesn’t understand. Maybe he just can’t.

“I can’t believe you’re—“ your voice cracks and you look away from him. You can’t stand to see that kicked puppy expression, the earnest concern. You can’t fucking look at it. “And after everything?”

Charlie is a good man. Charlie makes you happy, or he can one day, with time and distance. And he sees you as someone he wants to spend his life with. Isn’t that enough? Why is Art trying to spoil it for you when the alternative is proving him right? That would kill you. You’d rather just die.

“I was just…” he trails off, turns your face toward him with two fingers against your chin. The softest he’s ever touched you, and it feels so foreign and wrong that it shatters something inside that you thought you’d fully repaired. “I thought you’d want to know. That I still think about you, that I want you to be happy.”

Tears spill down your cheek, inky and black from your mascara. “You’re so fucking mean, Art.” Your voice is weak as you look at him. He drops his hand back to your side, but stays close, so close you’re reminded of how intoxicating his presence can be. “Why are you doing this to me? Huh? I did what you asked and I left you alone. And I didn’t tell Patrick, because I didn’t want to hurt you. Why isn’t that enough? Why are you trying to spoil this for me?”

Confusion and hurt flashes across his features. Is that what you thought he wanted? For you to really leave him alone? He didn’t want that, it nearly fucking killed him. He spent the end of senior year tanking in tournaments, he hardly slept.

Patrick had told you about Art floundering, and it made you sick. You’d actually laid in bed crying about it, wracked with guilt. You thought it was all because of you, because you’d distracted him and ruined him.

It felt like he was there only to remind you that you were poison. That you would do the same to the sweet boy just through a set of double doors as you had done to him. But you wouldn’t. You’d never do that again.

“Charlie wants me. I’ve been his girlfriend for only a few months and he already wants to marry me,” your wavers pathetically as you think back to what Art had said back home. The prospect that he could be right was fucking terrifying, but you’d left that girl behind. “He could be the only one who wants me like this. So why are you trying to show up to my engagement party and look at me like you— like—“

You can’t say it, but he knows. He looks at you and he knows. You wince as he sinks to his knees in front of you, tears filling your eyes. Because his hands slide up your calves, settle on the back of your thighs.

He kisses your knee, softly, reverently, looks up at you with soft, desperate eyes. You sigh softly as his lips trail up, skimming along your soft thighs. You lean back, pressing against the wall, feeling yourself melt for him.

“Art,” you gasp weakly. “You can’t. We— we can’t.” You know you’re speaking the truth, but your words and your actions aren’t aligned. Your fingers card into his hair, and your entire body lights up when you finally touch him again.

It aches in your chest— longing and hurt and love and hatred. You never felt as much as you do with him. Charlie doesn’t light up that part of you the way Art does. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it needs to be hidden away, cut off like a rotting limb.

His lips press to the spot just beneath your hem, and he peers up at you. “Let me.”

Not a question. A plea. Let him.

Let him what? Love you? Touch you? Let him eat you out in the shadows of a hotel hallway? Let him back in? Let him have you? Let him be yours to worship again?

“Okay,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.” You repeat, just to make sure you’re certain. Of what, you don’t know.

His head slips beneath the skirt of your dress, and you moan softly at the press of his lips over your panties. Soft, sweet kisses over the fabric that make you open up for him. You feel need dripping from your center, longing.

You haven’t been touched since him— not that he’d ever actually tried. But having him touch you, kiss you… it feels like ice melting.

He tugs your panties to the side, mouths at your cunt like he’s kissing it. Like he’s kissing you. You moan softly, let your head knock against the wall.

“Art—“ you practically sob. His tongue parts you, laps at you from your dripping entrance to your clit. He moans and nuzzles closer, lets his nose rub against your clit as he presses his tongue inside of you. He squeezes at your thighs, dimples the plush flesh there.

You’re so sensitive— it’s a combination of months of barely even touching yourself, of missing him, of craving him. You’re dripping onto his tongue, moaning softly. You can’t manage more than soft gasps of his name, pleas for more— Art Art Art Art Art.

He draws your orgasm out easily, like it belongs to him. Laps at your release, works you through it until your knees are shaking. He pulls back, mouth glistening with your release.

He stays on his knees, presses another soft kiss to your thighs, and another, over and over again. Soft, reverent, tender. He looks up at you so earnestly, so desperately, that you feel a sob stick in your throat.

“I need to get back,” you say suddenly, when the ache in your chest is too much to bear. “Charlie’s probably wondering… you know— I’ve been gone too long.”

“Charlie?” Art asks, his voice weak, pathetic. He’s still looking up at you from his knees, and he has to scramble up when you start walking towards the women’s bathroom to tidy your makeup. “Why are you doing this?“

He could be asking anything. You answer what you think he needs to hear, what h ended a to know. “He’s going to be a good husband, Art. He’s always sweet, and he’s never… he doesn’t just see me like— like what you see.” You take a steadying breath. “What you said to me back home was true, I know that now. But I can’t just be alone. It’ll kill me.”

You pause, let your lip twitch into a sad smile. “Just please leave me alone, Art.”

You slip into the bathroom, he hears you click the door locked so you can’t follow. Not like last time. When he returns to the party, he drinks three more glasses of champagne. He leaves before Charlie gives a toast to you, to your impending marriage. He can’t fucking stomach it.

[darsynia]

Banana (Steve/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: Steve unexpectedly stayed over, and you want to make him the best breakfast ever.

Length/Warnings: 1,700 words | sexual contact

It's your ACTUAL BIRTHDAY @ronearoundblindly!! For banaNA, the delicious centerpiece of my 7 Ro Roll stories, we've got an established relationship morning interlude of teeth-rotting fluff. Enjoy!!

Excerpt:

Steve sets his fork carefully onto his plate, lifting up his napkin to wipe his mouth. The look in his eyes is warm. “You’re hoping I stay over more often?”

Two months ago you’d have worried that was some kind of relationship test.

One month ago you would have been scared to admit how much you think about sex with him.

Today you say, “Yes, I am.”

Loving Steve Rogers has made you more confident, and someday you’ll tell him that.

Banana

You really hadn’t expected your boyfriend to sleep over. It wasn’t the traditional date where you dress up in something beautiful and eat out at a ritzy restaurant, then come home and undress to experience something beautiful. It was the kind where he comes by with takeout and the two of you watch movies until you both fall asleep on the couch.

Still, you’d like to make the morning intentionally special for Steve.

You can’t ask him what he likes for breakfast while he's in the shower, but you're sure he has a metabolism-stimulating plate of protein every morning, looking like that. After assessing what's in the fridge, you make the decision to go all-out. He’d been used to mess hall communal meals back in the army, right? Plus, there's a kitchen in the Compound, so he probably makes his own breakfast. You lose a few minutes just picturing that.

Ten minutes later you’ve made him a plate with two kinds of eggs, sausage patties, buttered toast, and a little cup of sliced strawberries. The glass of orange juice ended up using the rest of the carton, but you can always buy more.

You wait with bated breath with your own breakfast, a generous bowl of oatmeal with your favorite fruits garnished with brown sugar. Steve doesn’t need to know those were the only eggs, nor that you made him the last of your sausage.

“Wow that smells great, are you setting up your crock pot or something?” he calls out from the hallway. You grin, excited for the surprise. Soon he’s coming into the kitchen, still drying his hair off with one of your towels. He smells amazing, and everything about the moment is exactly what you’ve always wanted.

Except… he looks uncomfortable.

“Please tell me you’re not allergic to eggs,” you fret.

“Oh, those are for me?”

“Well, yeah, look at the size of the plate! I guess if you want the oatmeal…”

He’s walking into the wide kitchen doorway, disappearing behind the wall for a moment (during which your mind races, thinking of all the things you could have done wrong. Does he dislike pepper? Allergic to citrus? What if he hates sausage? Why did you think this is a good idea!?).

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s got a banana in his hand, along with a fork, knife, and spoon. “Together, we’re a table setting,” he jokes, holding them up.

You almost facepalm-- you’d completely forgotten silverware. “Thanks.”

After the eggs and fruit are gone (accompanied by many enjoyment noises that punctuate your discussion of baseball), he points at the empty bowl of strawberries with a neatly-sliced piece of sausage on the end of his fork.

“You should know, I usually only eat a banana or some sliced fruit like this for breakfast, but this is delicious. Thank you.”

You conjure up the least embarrassed smile you can manage, but inside you wonder whether his honesty is warring with his sense of politeness.

“You’re asking yourself if I’d lie to make you happy, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Guilty,” you sigh. “I’m glad you said something before I made this mistake multiple times in the future.”

Steve sets his fork carefully onto his plate, lifting up his napkin to wipe his mouth. The look in his eyes is warm. “You’re hoping I stay over more often?”

Two months ago you’d have worried that was some kind of relationship test.

One month ago you would have been scared to admit how much you think about sex with him.

Today you say, “Yes, I am.”

Loving Steve Rogers has made you more confident, and someday you’ll tell him that.

He stands, coming over to take your hand and draw you solicitously up to your feet for a sweet, brief kiss. Steve's expression turns more serious, and he looks you right in your eyes.

“I’m hungry.”

You cannot be reading him right. It’s wishful thinking.

“There’s still that bana--”

Steve interrupts you with another kiss. It’s full of passion--a rough hand at your hip, thumb caressing your cheek, teeth scraping out of desperate sloppiness. The man is wrecking your mental health, but you’re right there with him, slowly filling up with heated liquor at every swipe of his tongue. He lifts his head and smiles gently, his lips twitching for a few seconds before he leans his head back and laughs.

Two months ago you would have thought he was laughing at you.

One month ago you’d have nervously played along in confusion.

Now you shove at his shoulder in mock frustration. “Out with it!”

“I can’t pull off that line, I’m sorry! I did my best,” he confesses sheepishly. “I woke up in the middle of the night on the couch with you asleep on my chest and texted Clint about what to do.”

“Oh, God,” you say, trying valiantly to hold back a giggle. “Why Clint?”

He backs up into the kitchen with his hands held up defensively. “I thought I could trust him! I figured Natasha would give me… questionable advice,” Steve says, “--and neither of us wanted me to ask Tony.”

“Oh, God,” you say again, this time in actual dismay.

“Exactly.” He pulls out one of your leftover containers and its matching lid, and holds them up.

He looks so good in his tight pants and form-fitting t-shirt that you gather up all of your Steve-loves-me courage.

“I thought you were hungry?” you say impudently, walking over and taking them out of his hands to set on the counter. Sliding your arms up around his neck, you kiss him with as much fervor as the kiss just minutes ago, letting your hands roam into his hair, down over his arm muscles, and finally to your goal, his waistband. Because you want his full permission before you do anything further, you mouth your way from his lips to his jaw, so he can say something if he needs to. If his enthusiastic participation in the kiss so far is any indication, though, there’s hope he’s up for it.

You circle the button of his pants with your thumb, slipping your fingers past his waistband. He hasn’t put on a belt yet, and there’s something intimate about it that’s beyond anything sexual, like he trusts himself to be not fully put-together around you. Falling asleep on the couch with you is one of those kind of things, too.

Steve whispers your name in a hoarse voice that’s rich with desire.

“Yes?” you question, hoping you’re not pushing too much.

“Yes.” 

Arching up to give him a kiss, you release the button and push the zipper down slowly, as much a caress against his groin as anything else. Steve throws a hand out to the side, and you feel a surge of excitement to think he’s so enthusiastic already.

“Here,” he says, throwing the towel that usually hangs from the oven on the floor at his feet, eyes full of amused apology. “Believe me, I’ll want to hold on.”

It’s so Steve Rogers to worry about your knees.

There’s nothing you can say that won’t sound terribly gauche or overeager, so you kiss his chest and pull his pants down to his feet, kneeling as you go. You look up at him, holding eye contact as you tug down his boxer briefs--but you don’t have the bravery to keep his gaze for your first taste.

Steve’s holding himself rigidly still, but you can feel his leg muscles tighten up even more when you take him into your mouth. It’s validating as hell. You pull back, sucking, loving the feel of him, warm and vibrant and wanting you. 

At that point you let yourself bliss out, eyes closed and fully attuned to him. When he makes a guttural little sound of need after you do something, you add it to the rotation, and when he starts to rock his hips forward, you quicken your pace. Everything is perfect; the crease of the towel digging into your knees, the taste of precum in your mouth, the searing ache between your legs, and most of all, how alive Steve is under your tongue, against your hands, in your throat.

“Ahhhhh,” he groans, and slams a hand onto the counter. You realize you’d hummed in happiness, and god, he’d loved that. You let out a little moan of pleasure of your own at the thought of just how wet you’ve got to be by now.

As a reward for you both, you hum again.

That sends him, starting a glorious chaos of holding on and taking it all in. When Steve reaches down and flails at your hair and shoulder, you let him pull you up and into his arms. Steve holds you tight to his chest, right each there against the counter with his pants around his ankles, each of you pulling as much oxygen and approval into your bodies as you can.

He pets your head and leans down. “Want to know what Clint said to tell you if the first line worked?”

Two months ago you were sure you weren't good enough for him and it could never last.

One month ago you’d have worried this levity was a sign you'd done a bad job.

Now, you glare up at him in utter adoration.

“If it’s something about being barefoot in the kitchen, Rogers, I’m going to go to the bedroom and finish by myself.”

“Never mind,” he says, moving sideways just long enough to get a hand on his pants to tug them up. He does the button but not the zipper, then picks you up, heading into the hallway. At the doorway to your bedroom, Steve fucking Rogers looks down at you with a loving expression and says, “Don’t worry. I’d never leave you behind.”

[willowser]

bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

mina suggests speed-dating.

first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.

in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.

— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.

you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.

when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.

to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.

it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.

sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.

and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.

the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.

the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.

you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.

"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"

you agree. "definitely one to remember!"

"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."

you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"

"time's up, extra."

you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.

you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.

"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.

"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."

"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.

you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.

"they were very nice, thank you very much,"

"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"

"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"

"and i would have—"

"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"

"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"

and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.

you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"

bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.

"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"

"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.

distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.

in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.

bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"

the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.

and then mina notices.

"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.

bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.

"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.

it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"

"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"

the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.

—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.

you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.

"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.

bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."

"but why do you even care?"

another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.

liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.

"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."

"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"

"why do you?"

you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.

the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.

before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.

and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.

"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."

there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.

maybe for him, it is.

"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."

"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"

"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"

"—going home with some dumbass?"

"well, yeah!"

"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"

"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"

but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.

and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.

behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.

[narcjsistx]

Hi, I hope you're doing well.🤗 I absolutely love your relationships HC.🤩 I don't want to be rude, but could I request from Toma!Chifuyu and Tenjiku!Kakucho (my favorite boys)? Thank you very much.❤️

HI! thanks for the request, hope you have a good day 💜 you didn't specify the theme of the hcs, so I'll use the basic one as it would be in a relationship (if I made a mistake, tell me immediately, I'll correct it and do the theme you like most!) Furthermore, I'm still not used to making two characters in one post, so as soon as I have 2 free minutes I will post the part dedicated to kakucho :)

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒!!

— Matsuno Chifuyu in a relationship HCS ᡣ𐭩

He's clearly the kind of guy who learned everything slightly romantic he does from a romantic manga he read. He's canonically a fan of Ai Yazawa, the creator of Nana, so who knows, maybe sooner or later he'll give you some glasses with strawberries

It seems impossible but he asks Takemichi for advice on how to deal with you. We all know that Takemichi isn't exactly the person with the most self-esteem in a relationship, however he has always helped Chifuyu, despite sometimes getting into trouble for stupid mistakes. Hanagaki had advised him to get you some flowers to give you after school, but he got the ones you're allergic to. He panicked when he saw you sneeze so many times in a row while you told him to move the flowers away from you

He's slightly unsure of himself, but he doesn't show it. As a result, he feels slight jealousy which he hides quite well, he knows that you would never cheat on him and therefore he represses this side of him because he knows that it is useless. Maybe when he doesn't succeed he'll show off a little more, perhaps resting his head on yours or giving you a few pinches on the side

A typical date might be at a comic book store. He would like to spend time with you at his side while you talk about the comics you are reading or would like to read, and I don't know why but I can see him showing you the cover of a romantic manga where the two protagonists are while he says "this could be us"

Your first kiss wasn't actually planned, or at least not for him. It was Baji who insisted that he had to kiss you, he didn't agree because he wanted you to take the first step and he didn't want to force you anyway, Baji ignored it and pushed him against you. As luck would have it, the impact made you kiss

More than a few times he faked his condition after a fight. You have an unwritten rule that says that after every fight he has to call you, because you want to know if he's okay or not. He often says he feels fine even when he has a few broken bones. He hates seeing you worry about him, so he tries to lie as best he can

You automatically entered the group formed by him and Baji. You're both his two favorite people, so why not all of you hang out together? You often go on long motorbike rides, you and Chifuyu on his motorbike and Baji on his, or you simply like to while away the hours at the arcade in Shibuya

The first time you went to his house, the first person, or rather animal, that welcomed you was Peke J: he immediately approached and started meowing. You spent a few hours with the cat on your lap while petting it, while Chifuyu whispered that you were giving more attention to the cat than to your boyfriend

He's the type to celebrate every date, even a stupid one. For example, it was precisely midnight and you were sleeping when you received a phone call from him. You asked him why he called you so late, which was unusual because if he called you it was before you went to bed. He, extremely happy, said he had called you because it was the date when for the first time, two years earlier, you had sat together in class, but at the time you weren't even friends, therefore not even engaged. You wanted to insult him, but you admit it was nice

I don't know why but I see him as someone who LOVES matching clothes. Like, if you casually told him that you're going to show up on a date in a beige dress, he'll do anything to find something beige in his closet. He finds it a nice thing to do as a couple

[pathologicalreid]

love criminal minds and also love complaining about criminal minds plots in equal measures, on of the things that just takes me out of an episode so fast is when Penelope is typing random shit into her database and coming up with like left handed criminals allergic to strawberries who drive blue cars and shopped at cvs yesterday like it's always so lazy it's like the writers just gave up on coming up with a conclusion and are like *insert Penelope solving the case here*

OH MY GOD THE REID THING YEAH like his addiction was so mismanaged if you were going to do such a bad job at it then don't even bother coming up with it?

it doesn't even have to be super detailed but Jesus you can't just forget about it and bring it up seasons later in an off camera mention!!!!

normalize being able to criticize something that you love - you can still love something and analyze it

left handed criminals allergic to strawberries who drive blue cars and shopped at cvs yesterday is so fucking funny and you're so right!! also my girl breaks privacy laws left and right!! she presents herself as a special agent when she's not supposed to!!! i love her but what is happening!!

reid's addiction is always a big debate in the fandom but my biggest quarrel with it (at least right now) is how they only bring it up when it's convenient to the plot!

in 7x2 "proof" reid throws it in jj's face (i love this! spencer is a cunt sometimes! stop infantilizing him!) they talk about it when he's arrested in 12x13 "spencer" but it's always glossed over like they don't actually want to address it they just add it to his list of trauma!

BUT in 6x13 "the thirteenth step" he talks about each step of recovery, i fucking KNOW the writers had reid specifically say this line for a reason!!! in 8x2 "the pact" they mention the idea that one of the victims might have been contacted by a dealer to get a fix, and spencer says "you usually contact the dealer to buy, not the other way around" AND WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU MAKE HIM SAY THAT

i think there is a lot of disconnect between episodes and the way they're written because there are different writers for the episodes but the way it all plays out you'd think they pay literally no attention!

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 8: Nipple play

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader

Word counting: 920

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Unprotected sex, Jack being the menace he is.

Main Masterlist | Cowboytober Masterlist

If you could think straight at that moment, you would remember you had different goals for that afternoon. You planned to plant the strawberry seedlings you brought by the morning, and you even had started doing it, problem is that you didn’t expect to have your concentration fucked up by Jack. Yes, he had told you he’d be busy helping the ranch hands fix a few fences that afternoon, what he conveniently forgot to tell you was the fact that the work would be done just a few meters away from the house, giving you a detailed vision of it.

And that was how you ended up pinned down against the mattress panting while Jack’s hands traveled over all your skin, the roughness of them accentuated by the manual work on the fence. You had no thoughts going on your mind as you wrapped your legs on Jack’s hips, sighing when his length brushed against your sensitive flesh. Caught by the moment as much as you were, Jack leaned down and kissed you, holding one of your thighs roughly while sliding inside you in one steady thrust, but despite having his focus briefly taken by the welcoming warm of your insides, Jack instantly noticed your soft whine and how your muscles shrunk, promptly stopping and pulling out, looking worried at you.

“Something wrong, honey?” he asked with a concerned frown, caressing your cheek. You shook your head negatively, not wanting to spoil the moment, but also not wanting to push your discomfort further.

“It's nothing serious, just... I suppose I shouldn't be so rushed.” you tried to make the matter clear without being too specific, despite imagining he'd not be convinced with so little information and confirming it as he furrowed his brow, clearly unsatisfied with such vague reassurance.

“Sweetheart, what's really going on?” His hand caressed your thigh softly as he waited for your response. You took a deep breath, realizing you’d need to be more direct.

“Do you remember my pollen allergy was a bit wild yesterday?” he nodded, still with a frown “Well, I took a good dose of anti-allergic, and forgot that antihistamines act precisely drying the mucus membranes, all mucus membranes.” Your voice got quieter at each word and you concluded the sentence looking away with flushed cheeks, praying he'd understand what you were trying to say. Jack promptly got what you meant by “all mucus membranes”, the advantages of all those boring biology lessons from his time as an agent.

“Poor thing... No wonder why you're uncomfortable.” He smiled empathetically, cupping your face and kissing your forehead “Do you want to stop for today?” You shook your head, still desiring intimacy but needing some adjustments first.

“No, but I’ll need a little help.” Jack nodded understandingly and leaned close, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Consider it done, sugarcube.” He said with a charming smirk before starting trailing kisses along your neck, working his way down to your chest, fully aware of how much “damage” he could do to you there. With no rush, he cupped your breasts, softly rubbing your nipples with his thumbs. “Does this help, sweetheart?” Jack asked cynically as you sighed heavily.

You nodded weakly as your body softened under his touch, and goddamnit, the man knew very well where and how to touch.

Enjoying the view of you slowly melting on his hands, Jack made a bolder move, letting go of one of your breasts, giving you no time to try to put yourself together before his lips were wrapped around your nipple, sucking and nibbling it with no much gentleness, aware that you enjoyed a little bit of roughness there; and he couldn’t be righter, since you already were contorting under him. Not missing a chance to mess with you, Jack rolled your nipple between his fingers slightly harshly while leaning his head backward, lightly blowing against your sensitive peak and smirking as he heard you whimper.

You knew the teaser you were married to, but it never ceased to amaze you how Jack seemed to casually remember all your weak spots when he needed them, and you surely weren’t complaining about it, even when it made you lose all your self-control, just like when he once more got your nipple stuck between his teeth while pinching its twin intensively. At that point, you were about to forget why he started with that to begin with, since you could feel the wetness between your thighs as you pressed them together in a failed attempt to relieve the need that was growing in your lower stomach.

“Jack… I think we can try again.” You spoke amidst ragged breaths. Jack smiled against your skin and moved up to give you a soft peck on the lips.

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable again, right?” Jack waited for you to nod before proceeding, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck while once more moving inside you, not moving promptly to see how you reacted “We’re good, sugar?”

“Yes, keep going.” You answered with a sigh, not a single remaining of discomfort. Jack obliged promptly, grabbing one of your thighs and leaning his head down, wrapping his lips around your nipple again, pulling your slightly surprised look to him.

“Just makin’ sure you’ll stay soft and wet.” Jack winked at you and resumed his teasing at your hardened bud, giving you no other choice but to laugh and relax on the mattress, just enjoying the delicious attention of your husband.

Tagging: @missladym1981 @alex-does-art-things @beefrobeefcal

[newobsessioneveryweek]

IT'S SUCH A CUTE SHIPPP I always saw potential for it ever since their friendship was shown in ToA and i was so surprised when I saw there was barely any content of them lol!! Keep making ur art and hcs i will absolutely be lining up to read a fic if u ever publish one!! <3333

Thank you for enabling me 😈 I shall do my best to deliver 🫶🏻

In fact I'll give you an hc right now for the price of free! It's been in my head since I started down this rabbit hole and shows no sign of relenting until I write it down :']

So I headcanon all of my blorbos as left-handed because I am left-handed and it's just fun to project :]] so in my WIP fic Sherman trains Connor in their spare time and notices that he's left-handed. The following interaction occurs:

Sherman: You're left-handed?

Connor: Yeah... Is that bad?

Sherman: No, it's good. It's a competitive advantage

Connor, skeptical: How so?

Sherman: Most people who are trained to fight are given right-handed opponents. So to them, naturally, you'd be an anomaly, trickier to beat because you're coming at them from an angle they don't expect. You, however, have been fighting normal people your whole life.

Connor: Hey!

Sherman: You have the advantage.

Connor, considering this: What if my opponent is also left-handed?

Sherman, swaps his sword to his left hand: Let's find out.

Connor: You're left-handed?

Sherman: Ambidextrous.

Connor scoffs: You're even less normal than me.

Sherman: Shut up.

BONUS HC! It shall definitely be in A fic if not THE fic so stay tuned :3 I'll bullet point this one.

This happens when the relationship is pretty much established. So let's say Pre TOA, post HOO? Around there

Sherman wants to take Connor on a date. Like a proper date because let's face it, there aren't many options within their environment and circumstances. War after war, confined to the borders of camp? Nah, there's no romance to be had there.

So Sherman asks Katie and Travis for ideas since they are the happiest couple he knows other than Percy and Annabeth. And Travis is his brother and knows him best.

Katie suggests he take him on a picnic.

Sherman thinks that's a rad idea!

Now he just has to find out what Connor likes to eat

So he asks Travis

Big mistake

Travis snickers (first clue. Goes right over his head)

He looks Sherman in the eye and says Connor just loves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He insists upon this.

Strawberry jelly in particular. "And remember, it MUST be strawberry jelly."

Sherman loves peanut butter and jelly! He thinks "wow, this is so easy!" Thinks nothing of Travis's devious look and the fact that Katie is shooting him weird glances.

He thanks the couple and leaves

Fast forward to the date

Sherman presents the sandwiches which he lovingly made with his own two hands. This much he tells Connor

Connor looks at the sandwiches with real fear in his eyes (clue number 2!)

Connor asks "so this is a peanut butter sandwich?"

Sherman nods

"with strawberry jelly?"

Sherman nods again, his excitement waning a little at the line of questioning

"Mhm. And did Travis happen to tell you that I like peanut butter and strawberry jelly?" (Clue number 3)

"Yes? Is there a problem?" Sherman's disappointed look makes Connor reconsider what he's about to say so he just says "no, of course there's no problem" followed by nervous laughter. (Clue number 4)

Connor takes his sweet time biting into the thing but once he does shit goes down.

It is here we find out Connor is allergic to peanuts AND strawberries.

Sherman fireman carries him to the infirmary. Will supplies an EpiPen. Crisis averted. Travis arrives having seen Sherman's frantic rush.

Sherman yells at him. "Why didn't you tell me he was allergic!"

Travis has the decency to look at least a little guilty. "Okay, but in my defence, I didn't think he would actually eat it."

Later Connor tells him that it was the most delicious poison he's ever eaten

This will find a way into a fic at some point. I just wanted to get it off my chest though.

[lostonehero]

More of the new mech au

Because I'm thinking about it and I'm stuck at home with pneumonia

It's an absolute shitshow when the mechs (minus Nastya because she has her limits but did warn Martin beforehand because he made her a matching blanket and taught her how to get Jonny to drink tea) start working at the Institute

Jon is furious he was not informed of new assasitants he didn't approve of and he fucking hates Jonny to no end.

Martin blames himself but does appreciate GP Tim bringing in homemade bread pudding, saying it reminds him of home.

Jonny doesn't have his guns on him because he would never risk hurting Martin, but he is ready to grow out his horns to gorge Jon, and he despises growing his horns out.

Tim didn't realize GP last name was also Stoker, so he's very confused, and GP isn't helping anything by telling the truth. Tim honestly just thinks he's insane.

Sasha thinks this is hilarious but is also grateful to have other people to experience the weird things and maybe have someone check out that appearing yellow door. She has bo idea that they are aliens nor that they are immortal.

Martin only knows they are aliens.

......

New archive chat

Jonny D'ville has been added

Gunpowder Tim has been added

Jonny D'ville changed his name to Jonny

Gunpowder Tim changed his name to GP Tim

Jonny: the cooler Jon is finally here.

Jon: Why did you even get a job here? Why did Elias hire you?

Jonny: don't care

Martin: Jonny, please be nice. Also I brought your favorite mug don't steal Jon's.

Jonny: ok

GP Tim: Man, killed with kindness

Martin: Oh, right, Gp, I also baked a tray of biscuits as a thank you for the bread pudding. I'm almost done with the sleep Mas you requested.

Tim: dude don't tempt Martin. He got rid of all the starters shit in the breakroom when I accidently mentioned I was allergic.

Sasha: to be fair strawberries would actually kill you.

Tim: at least I can handle kindness I can see Gp and Jonny covering their faces. I think Jonny threw his phone.

Martin: he did. Although I didn't mean to embarrassed them. Oh, right, I do crochet and knit, so if you guys want anything, I have an overabundance of yarn from TS who doesn't understand what restraint means.

Sasha: can you teach me to knit?

Tim: Oh me too we can have a knitting club.

Jon: I know how to sew it, and it can't be much different. I shall join you.

Martin: I sure yeah that can be fun.

.....

Marius is sent down to check on everyone. He's in a posh suit, and his hair is barely able to cover his pointed ears.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Jonny raised his brow putting down a statement.

"Mr. Bouchard requested that I uh change my wardrobe. I'll be honest I don't enjoy it, and having my hair slick back is quite er.... unfortunate." Marius can see a small twinge of sympathy from Gp Tim, who knows he had nerve endings in his hair. He found out by accident giving him a surprised haircut as a prank, and there was a lot of blood and screaming. "He asked me to come down and observe how everyone is getting along. Raphella is in artifact storage, I don't know how she got there."

"Figures." Jonny rolls his eyes.

Marius waves at Jon, who heads out of his office. "Oh, Mr. Bouchard also asked me to tell you that TS in artifact storage needs to give a statement. It said that a ring master ripped their voice out, and it was uncomfortable to grow it back."

Gp Tim mumbles. "Why would someone steal a voice?"

Jon nods. "I will head over there."

Sasha raised her brow. "Who are you?"

Marius opened his mouth and then shut it. "Marius, I'm Mr. Bouchard new assistant. How are you doing with new coworkers?"

Sasha hums. "It's fine. Weird having two Tim's."

"I'm the original Tim. Thank you very much." Tim smirks tossing a crumpled ball of paper at Gp Tim.

"Just because that's true doesn't mean anything." Gp Tim smiles, catching the paper ball.

Sasha sighs. "Boys, please."

"An assistant?" Jonny snickers.

"You're one too, Jonny." Marius huffs. "Please try not to hurt your coworkers."

"I make you no promises." Jonny scoffs crossing his arms.

Martin smiles softly, handing Jonny a mug of tea. "Hello Marius, don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on him. And Jonny finish that you need to drink more fluids."

Jonny smiles softly sipping his tea the heat not bothering him.

Marius smiles. "Are you adjusting well, Martin?"

"Oh, it's quite nice having Jonny and Gp here. Although Jonny can get a bit jealous, which isn't bad but it wouldn't really matter if he didn't keep trying to fight Jon, our boss." Martin smiles sheepishly.

"You're word than Jonny." Gp raised his brow.

Tim slides his chair over to Gp. "Tell me everything."

Sasha does the same. "Our soft boy Martin, who couldn't hurt a fly, gets jealous?"

Martin covers his red face knowing damn well he would kill for Jonny if he asked.

Jonny matches the blush, hiding his blush with his mug.

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

Could I please get a HC for Felix from Last legacy for an MC who when they first woke up there had unnaturally colored hair (blue if I'm being self-indulgent or basic F/C if non descriptive.)

How Felix would react to MC's hair color fading and maybe him helping them dye it again.

Of course! Sorry it's a little short, but I hope you enjoy this - it feels so very good to write again, and I hadn't realized how much I missed Felix!

Fandom: Last Legacy

Character(s): Felix

Warnings: None

For starters, I'm going to take a slightly unique angle on this and assume that hair color changing is not that unusual in Astraea. Sure, one could argue that Rime's strawberry pink hair is as natural as his antlers, but what about Anisa? Her mother's hair appears to be solid, yet she's got those lovely streaks in her hair. So it's possible, however... I'm going to say that it isn't dye, but magic.

Imagine salons employing mages who can color your hair instantly, along with other feats, such as causing it to grow out instantly when you've tired of a short haircut. Or salons with a host of magical potions in stock that can be applied to your hair similarly to our dye and instantly causes the color to change! I imagine this is a bit more expensive than just getting a haircut, though, which might be a good way to explain the lack of such vibrant colors in Astraea - most people cannot afford it, or maybe can't access any salons with such options. Or mayhaps it's simply more common than we were led to believe!

For funsies, I'm going to say that Felix's hair is naturally a much duller shade of brown, but during his early teenage years he experimented with spells and potions to color it a bright purple to scandalize Escell, but it didn't quite work, so now it's just... got this purpleish hue to it.

It might So when you turn up with colored hair, it's the least of anyone's concerns. Forget your hair, they want to know where you came from, how you ended up here, and how to get you home!

But the thing about magically colored hair is that it doesn't quite suffer the same phases as our dye. It's either fully permanent, if one could pay enough or find a talented enough mage, or it simply fades away like magic and leaves your natural color behind. But this... this is different. The color fades, and your roots begin to show through as your hair grows out, and no one's ever seen anything quite like it before.

Once Felix finally notices, oblivious little dork that he is, his first instinct is that something is wrong - he skips straight over the possibility that you might be sick, as Sage would surely suggest, and instantly fears corruption. If magic is the thing that colors hair, then surely it must be the cause of strangely un-coloring hair as well. Think of it as an allergic reaction, of sorts; right as you start learning how to perform magic and becoming more and more proficient with it, your vibrant hair seems to wither and become dull.

It's Felix, so... he probably doesn't bring it up immediately. Instead, this loveable idiot decides to fix the problem himself, and tries dissuading you from using magic. The sudden 180 from encouraging you to study the heaviest tomes and practice until you're utterly exhausted to trying to talk you out of doing those exact things is... concerning, to say the least, and you're not that easily convinced.

One way or another, it comes out, whether it's you confronting him, Felix spilling his concerns on his own, or some knightly intervention from Anisa. You explain that your hair is dyed, and Felix freezes, assuming you meant, you know... died. Hopefully you'll explain the difference to him before he launches into a tangent of apologies.

Once he understands, however, he's on a quest to renew your hair for you. He either attempts it himself - which, as mentioned, might not have the best outcome - or he takes you to the best salon in Porrima to have your hair professionally done by a proper mage who can ensure the color will never fade again, unless of course you want a different color.

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open!  Tag List 🐝

[heart-n-sol-critters]

Even though I'm a Craftyday/Sun flower shipper I do really like this ship and have a couple of headcanons that I would like to share with you! :D

• Their ship name is either Sunkiss, Sunnycuddles, or Puppylove

• They have tons of sleepovers together

• Once every 2 weeks they go on a date

(It's always something really cute like- going to the museum, having a picnic, baking together, going roller skating, picking flowers, watching the fireworks together, going to the beach, going to the carnival/state fair etc..)

• Kickin and Hoppy LOVES to tease Dogday by impersonating Bobby's voice and saying things like "Oh Dogday you're so strong and handsome!" "I just wanna hug and kiss you all over!" "Carry me away your arms!" and laugh as they watched Dogday's face turns as bright as a strawberry from embarrassment

• He think that Bobby's beauty is a complete UNDERSTATEMENT. He thinks that she's the most beautiful girl in the entire world

• Despite the fact that Dogday is allergic to chocolate, that isn't stopping him from getting a box of chocolates just for her

(he usually just gives it to her while wearing gloves and a mask)

• Dogday loves to surprise Bobby by giving her a big beautiful bouquet of flowers out of nowhere

• Bobby loves to surprise Dogday by jumping out of nowhere and smothering him with kisses and hugs

• Whenever Bobby is wearing lipstick or lip gloss, she'll leave hundreds of tiny little kiss marks all over Dogday's face

• Dogday will often make heart-shaped pancakes for Bobby

• THEY CALL EACH OTHER EVERY SINGLE PET NAME IN THE BOOK.

• Their favorite activity is making friendship bracelets together

• Dogday lets Bobby do his makeup and nails

Bobby: "Hey Sunshine"

Dogday: "Yeah Babe, what's up?"

Bobby: "I have a question..."

Dogday: "Well what is it?"

Bobby: "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Dogday: "Uhmmm.... Yeah, sure!"

Bobby "WAIT REALLY??!!?"

Dogday: "Well yeah! I'd probably keep you in a cage for your safety and I would probably let you move around my hand"

Bobby: "YAAAY!!"

• Dogday is VERY protective of Bobby to the point where the other critters have started calling him "Bobby's guard dog" WHICH IS VERY TRUE, because whenever someone tries to be mean or belittle Bobby, he'll get all up in their face and act 10x more aggressive than they were to Bobby

• If someone makes fun of Bobby, she'll cry. BUT If someone made fun Dogday and made him cry OH MAN IT'S GOING TO BE A LIVING HELL FOR THEM. IT WOULD BE A BLOODBATH

(she wouldn't kill them. she would just give them a severe ass whooping while screaming at to never mess with Dogday ever again. (they're just both very protective of each other)

• My headcanon for Bobby is that she has separation anxiety and abandonment issues so, when Dogday found out about it PRIVACY WAS NO LONGER A THING. HE WOULD CLING ON TO HER LIKE A KOALA AND SHE LOVED IT. THEY STUCK TOGETHER LIKE SUPER GLUE, IT HONESTLY IMPRESSIVE HOW CLINGY THEY ARE

• PDA IS THEIR WHOLE THING. They'll hold hands, hug, cuddle, kiss each other, and even nuzzle their noses with 0 SHAME WHATSOEVER.

• Catnap, Bubba, and Kickin are Dogday's wingmen and Craftycorn, Picky, and Hoppy are Bobby's wingwomen

• Bobby has a A03 account and secretly writes fanfics about her and Dogday

(the only ones you know about are Crafty and Hoppy)

• Their favorite outdoor activities are going on the swings, playing tag, and playing fitch

• They have tons of karaoke nights

• They both love the fireworks but Dogday HATES how loud they are so whenever they're watching the fireworks together Bobby will cover Dogday's ears whenever a big firework is it about to explode

• They'll often play board games and video games together

Kickin: "Hey, Bubba"

*Bubba looks up from his book to see that it's Kickin*

Bubba: "Hmm? Oh hi Kickin, what's going on?"

Kickin: *point at Bobby and Dogday who are currently on the floor and look very angry while also being on the verge of tears* "What's up with them?"

Bubba: "Hmm? Them? Yeah, they just got into an argument. Don't worry about it"

Kickin: "Okay? If they just got into an argument, then why are they holding hands?"

Bubba: "Because Kickin, they get sad whenever they get into an argument"

• PDA IS WHOLE THING. They'll hold hands, hug, cuddle, kiss, they'll even nuzzle there are noses with 0 SHAME WHATSOEVER

• They're very much Barbie and Ken core

(Specifically from Life in the Dreamhouse and not the Barbie movie. if ykyk.)

• DOGDAY GIVING BOBBY PRINCESS TREATMENT👏 👏👏>>>>>>>

• Dogday is such a gentle man to Bobby like- He'll open the door, clear her chair, and just be a straight-up walking green flag

• Dogday will pick Bobby up and spin her around just like how Disney prince does to his princess

• Whenever they're apart from each other for more than 5 minutes they'll become super sad and miss each other

Bobby:*sighs* "I miss my boyfriend"

Hoppy: "OH MY GOD. BOBBY. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN YOU SHUT UP ABOUT DOGDAY FOR AT LEAST 1 MINUTE PLEASE??"

(don't get me wrong, Hoppy does care about her best friend's happiness however, when she hears about her talking about her boyfriend ALL THE TIME. she does get a little tired from it)

That's all I have for now! I hope you like it!! :D

these are all so good !! :D

[wistsandmagic]

Hi i just ope it’s ok to ask about this, and feel free to ignore if you’re not comfortable discussing it, but I saw you mentioned baby food pouches on a post about disautomnia. I have (stupid anxiety disorders) issues with trying new foods but I think it would help me with some of my issues. would you mind kind of describing the taste and texture of the ones you like? And if you have anything you recommend re: brand, flavor, etc? Again if this isn’t something you’re comfortable talking about with a stranger I totally understand, and I hope you have a good day either way

Oh my goodness, yes, I would be perfectly fine with that. Just a disclaimer: I have autism and a lot of food allergies on top of everything else, so even my baby food options are a bit more limited than what you may want, but I will happily tell you what I can.

I do not eat any of the meat ones, just fyi. Pureed meat hits all of my squick buttons, on top of making me violently ill. BUT, the fruit and veggie ones are GOOD if you know what to get. I will say that the texture of almost all baby food pouches are some variation of apple sauce. Some are a bit 'grittier' than others, some have a more pudding-like texture, but none of the ones I eat are slimy or anything like that. It's just mostly applesauce-y. The pudding-textured ones tend to be more breakfast food-types, along with actual oatmilk pudding ones, and I use those more as a treat than anything else.

For taste...the brands I get are pretty much exactly what they say on the tin with a bit of lemon juice added to most of them for the preservation properties. (I am allergic to most commercial preservatives! 8D) I cannot recommend ANY baby food that has peas in it, because the pea-taste will overwhelm EVERYTHING else. I do not like peas, so this makes it a no-go for me, but hey, if you like peas yourself, maybe try it? Of the brands I get, I tend to get the ones that are a blend of fruit and veggies so that the slight sweetness of the fruit can help cover up some of the veggies that I don't like, it just unfortunately does NOT work with peas.

I'm VERY partial to the Happy Baby/Happy Tot brand of baby food (I think the overarching brand is called Happy Family???), the Gerber ORGANICS (not the regular, they have weird texture issues), the Holle brand, White Leaf Provisions, and Plum Organics. Holle and White Leaf Provisions are a bit more expensive, but they're nice to have as a treat. Also, if you have a Kroger, their in-house brand, called Comforts, is surprisingly good. The banana/blackberry and the pear/green bean ones are REALLY good. This is literally the only way I will eat green beans because I HATE THEM. The apple cinnamon oatmeal one of the Comforts brand is a good one for breakfast, if you're not super allergic to apples.

I don't know how you feel about spinach, but if you need some brain-fog help, the Happy Baby brain blends with banana, spinach, passion fruit, and oats is VERY good. The banana lends a smoother texture and the passion fruit takes up most of the taste. I have found that they actually DO help my brain fog for a bit, since I can no longer find the Brainiacs brand. (If you can find those, I HIGHLY recommend the fruit and veggie blend applesauce pouches of those, they're so good and such a good way to get your vegetables AND help keep you clear-headed.)

Otherwise, things like the Happy Family "Love My Veggies" with squash and banana and pumpkin is good, ANY of the "Super Morning" ones are good, the "Fiber & Protein ones with squash and cinnamon are good, as well as my favourite, the Fiber & Protein Pear, Raspberry, Butternut Squash, and Carrot one, and ALL of the "Super Bellies" types are good, though my favourite is the Banana, Carrot, and Strawberry one. Oh, also, just the plain Happy Baby Pear, Squash, and Blackberry one is amazing. And for a treat, if you want something that tastes exactly like Christmas, see if you can find the Banana, Plum, and Granola one. I can't explain why it tastes exactly like Christmas, but it does. I use that one when I am having a day where nothing tastes right or even remotely close to good and getting myself to eat at all is a chore. Because at least then I will have a bit of something in my stomach and it is a comfort-taste. Gerber Organics makes some good ones too. Their "For Toddler" line is usually the ones I go for, in the "Plant-Tastic varieties. The "Banana Berry Veggie Smash" one is quite good, as is the "Summer Fruit and Veggie Smash". I can't quite recommend the Fiesta Blend one universally, because it has a bit of an aquired taste, but if you want to try it, I recommend getting just one and making sure you eat it cold, it tastes much better that way.

I have no specific recommendations for the Holle and White Leaf Provisions ones, because I like all of them. I do recommend going in cautiously with the White Leaf Provisions one that has beets in it, as I know beets are a bit of an aquired taste. I had to aquire the taste with the help of my roommate actually managing to make beet food in a way that did not set off my texture and taste aversions, so maybe steer clear of that particular one until you're feeling more adventurous?

As for the Plum Organics, the "Mighty 4" line and the "Fruit and Veggie Blends" line are ALL good. Also the Protein and Fiber one that has white beans and strawberries in it, because the texture is amazing on top of the taste. Don't be afraid of the ones that have kale or spinach in them either, the taste is not strong. It just tastes fresh, not slimy-cooked, and this goes for all the baby foods I recommend.

Oh! And Peter Rabbit Organics (another sadly expensive one) has some good ones too! The Banana, Mango, Broccoli and Kale one is very good cold, and if you just want a bit of a sweet snack, the Banana, Raspberry, and Blueberry one is a good one to treat yourself with after trying something new.

Also, just as a little treat to expand your horizons a bit: try the Gerber Strawberry Rhubarb pudding cup...things. They're not the jars, they're the little plastic square things that come in two packs. If you've never tried rhubarb before, this is a good way to start and it tastes good warm or cold, so you can even pour one of these over vanilla ice cream for a topper and it's quite good.

I'm sorry for giving you a text wall like this, but if I can help at all, I would love to be able to. Good luck with your food journey, and hey, maybe let me know if you try any of these and like them? I'd love to know if it helps you with some food aversions!

[powdermelonkeg]

Important distinction

You guys CANNOT be conflating terms when it comes to looking out for disabilities. It isn't fair to the people you're trying to protect.

Elon Musk has donated four million dollars to every member of Twitter staff he's fired is unreality. It's something that sounds like a news headline. It's misinformation. It's something you need to fact check.

Elon Musk was booed at a comedy show, during which he did not say a single joke is a true fact. It's something that also needs to be fact checked.

Tagging the second entry as unreality makes you unreliable as an ally.

If someone has a habit of posting unreality, then posts something new, you cannot automatically tag that as unreality, too. If you're tagging for unreality, you're saying "I am a trustworthy source, and I can verify for you, personally, that this is not true." You are taking on that responsibility of fact-checking.

Do not tag as unreality unless you know, FOR A FACT, that what you are tagging is not true.

If something is trippy to look at, like a changing poem or ai art, then yes, that is something you can tag with unreality, because the people that suffer from delusions and such have asked that it be tagged.

SIMILARLY

Gifs with flashing lights can set off epileptic people. They have asked that we be considerate and tag such gifs with "pulsing lights."

If a gif does not have pulsing lights, do not tag it as having pulsing lights. You are being asked to put a warning sticker on hazards, and instead, you're locking them off from content that is safe for them, that they might enjoy.

Picture that you're deathly allergic to pecans and love strawberry lemonade. You ask people to tell you if things at a party have pecans in them.

Someone slaps a "this has pecans" sticker on the strawberry lemonade that everyone else is drinking.

You would really like some strawberry lemonade. You would really like to have what everyone else is having. But you can't take the risk of it having any pecans in it. So you don't take any.

That is what you are doing when you incorrectly label both of these.

[allylikethecat]

smoothie anon here, im not allergic to bananas but i HATE the texture and flavor so i always leave them out of smoothies i usually use strawberries, mango, pineapple, and dragonfruit it’s pretty yummy if i do say so myself

anyway since my mind is on smoothies rn out of all your fictional mattys which one would be the most likely to spend the $18 on the infamous erwhon smoothies and would his fictional george also indulge or would he silently judge (this question is very silly but i hope it makes you think hehe)

Yesss I love that even though you're not allergic to bananas you are anti banana and don't include them in smoothies. I tried to give Pop a banana once because horses are supposed to love bananas and its not like I could eat it and he was like NOPE and spit it out at me so like he is with you on that bananas are gross - I also never thought of putting dragonfruit in a smoothie- I bet that's delicious!

Hmmm that is a good question my dear Smoothie Anon 🥤 (That is also your new name now, you are stuck with it forever) I think Duckling's Fictional!Matty or Present Day Infection Verse Fictional!Matty would be most likely to get one. Duckling's Fictional!George would also get one, he'd think it's fun they are doing it together. Meanwhile, present day Infection Verse Fictional!George would VOCALLY judge, but then drink it when Infection Verse Fictional!Matty decided he didn't like it. Infection Verse Fictional!George would then be extremely annoyed by how much HE likes it and how he kinda wants to get one tomorrow too 😂

Thank you for sending me this fun question! It really did make me think lol Thank you so much for sending in this fun ask and for the continued support! I hope you had a lovely weekend and a great upcoming week!

❤️Ally