#it fit on the pan without cutting it

[anopenbookunderlockandkey]

The 118 Chaotic Pizza Chat

Buck: This is what I fear when you make pizza, Eds

*tweet of pizza sitting directly on the oven rack imploding and looking like a mushroom cloud*

Bobby: Don’t put it directly on the rack Jesus

Buck: 😂😂😂

Eddie: 😬

Tbh I fear that too

Hen: You can!!!! Prevent it!!!

Bobby emphasized Hen’s message.

Hen: ?????

Eddie: But the bottom! Won’t be crispy enough!

Also my pizzas don’t fit on the pans

Buck: Flip the pan over!!

Eddie: Your weird little rectangular pizzas do but my circular ones don’t

Buck: Use the other side and then the whole bottom won’t fall out

Eddie replied to Buck’s message ( Flip the pan over!! ) *sends blinking meme*

Buck: Or, consider, buy yourself one of these bad boys

*sends link to pizza stone*

Hen: get a pizza stone

Eddie: Where would we store that 😭😭😭

Chim laughed at Eddie’s message.

Buck replied to Eddie’s message (blinking meme): Lol have you never done that 😂?

Eddie: Not once in my life, no

Bobby: You store it with the pans

Eddie: Flip the pan over??? wtf

Hen: Where else would you store a pizza stone

Chim laughed at Hen’s message.

Buck: We have a few fully empty cabinets 😂. In Inconvenient spots, sure, but it’s not a commonly used item lol

Bobby: You don’t have to get one with handles so it doesn’t take up as much space

Ravi: This is a chaotic chat right now 😂😂😂

Eddie: If you mean the one above the fridge, you can fuck off 😂😂😂

Hen: Get a step stool

Eddie: We have two lmao

Chim: Grow taller

Buck laughed at Chim’s message.

Eddie disliked Chim’s message.

Buck: One above the fridge, one below the stove 😂😂😂

Chim: Keep some kitchen heels at the ready

Eddie: Oh I don’t trust the one below the stove, absolutely not

Buck: Also as Bobby said, with the normal pans 😂😂😂

Chim: on top of the refrigerator

Buck: You say that like the bare oven rack is significantly cleaner 😂

Chim: In your room

Eddie: No no no that bottom drawer is nasty have you opened it recently??

Also it’s weirdly small? I think?

Chim: Right I know you’re cooking it but dude how old is that oven and food that is going inside it is just raw dogging it

Eddie: 🤷🏼‍♀️ have literally never once thought about that in my life tbh

Buck: No so I have no recollection of what it looks like 😂

Buck: Raw dogging it 😂😂😂😂

That just made me laugh so

Chim: Good I’m glad because brain fog made it really hard to remember that phrase

Hen laughed at Chim’s message.

Chim: The other option was bare assing it

Eddie: Well ya nailed it, so a plus

Buck: You nailed it so hard I had to explain it to my cap in our side chat 🤣🤣🤣

Ravi: just to circle back

To flip the pan over

There’s a Reddit thread that agrees with Buck

Eddie: Good for Buck 👍🏻

Ravi: Though the rigidity advice seems important to note

Buck: I’ve only used this method once for something I can’t really remember. But it wasn’t pizza 😂

Eddie: Also our pans pop and my actual fear is the pizza being awkwardly launched right to the bottom of the oven

Buck: I was just brainstorming for you. I didn’t say this was a perfect solution 😂

Eddie: I have put a pan on the rack below the pizza before

Bobby replied to Eddie: this hurts my soul, just put it on some parchment paper

Ravi: The other advice for you in this thread: *photo of round pizza cut in half to fit on a pan*

Eddie: Lololol I can imagine trying to cut a frozen pizza in half and it just shattering 😭😭😭

Eddie: But i feel like if I bought, like, a fancy frozen pizza that wasn’t thin crust, that could be genius

Chim: Idk that looks like a thin crust pizza example for you 😂

Hen: If you look closely you can see “thin” on the underlying box 🕵🏻‍♀️😂😂😂

Buck: But your pizza has shattered before so lol

Bobby replied to Buck: WTF

Eddie: Right but that’s target brand

I don’t fuckin trust the giant store brand 😂😂😂 Lolol do you tho???

Buck: Lmao no less than any other pizza probably

Buck: @Bobby Eddie dropped it on the ground

Eddie: Whole thing shattered

And I feel like something similar would happen if you tried to cut it while it was still frozen

Chim: Can’t know unless you try

Ravi: please send a video when you try

Buck, 10 minutes later: The funniest thing to me in this

Is that several of you lived with me and Eddie for like six months in a space that absolutely was not meant for four grown adults never saw him commit this food crime 😂

Hen: To be fair I did my level best to avoid perceiving any of you when we weren’t working. I love you, but that’s way too much time to spend with people you’re not married to

Chim, at the exact same time: we can’t all pay as much attention to Eddie as you, Buck

Ravi: ☠️

Hen: yeah... yeah. Mostly that

Inspired by a real life conversation with my roommates and this tweet:

https://x.com/superloafcat/status/1737541460524700083?s=46&t=2TrTjov11H9w1pzmJGEYpw

Written for/with @professionalprocrastinator22 and our concerns about food crimes committed by @gravelyhalversobbing EXPOSING YOU

[foxmulderautism]

autistic boys when they realise the egg theyre eating feels like Egg

[headkiss]

I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Lilacs: symbolic of first love, remembrance and rebirth

In “Nosferatu” (2024), lilacs are mentioned throughout the film, and they are associated with Ellen’s character, and with her psychosexual connection to Count Orlok.

The Lilac shrub (Syringa vulgaris) is native to the Balkan Peninsula, and journeyed from the mountains of Eastern Europe to the garden courts of Turkey, Austria and France. And it was in Paris that the Lilac was wildly cultivated and hybridized, creating the many contemporary varieties of the flower.

This flower is rich in symbolism, and it’s meaning interchanges depending on its color. While white lilacs symbolize purity and innocence, purple signifies remembrance, and first love.

Lilacs have a sweet and intoxicating fragrance, and we see Orlok mentioning this perfume as he reminisces of Ellen, with Thomas on his castle, and steals the lock of her hair from the golden locket she gave her husband.

Before departing to Transylvania, Thomas gifts Ellen a bouquet of Lilacs, which is a popular choice because it evokes feelings of young love and innocence; however, lilacs remind Ellen of Orlok, not of Thomas. As he see her connecting these flowers with Death (Orlok archetype), and not with her marriage to Thomas.

And this meaning will endure throughout the film, from their first scene (when teenager Ellen experiences sexual pleasure with Orlok and he reveals himself); until their final scene (as they lie together and embraced in death surrounded by lilacs).

Lilacs as loss of innocence to her first love.

In the Victorian era, lilacs were a reminder of first love, indeed. They were also used by widows, because they were considered mementos of an deceased lover, which is very fitting for Ellen and Orlok story.

Lilacs are also associated with Greek mythology; the myth of Pan and Syrinx.

Syrinx was a beautiful woodland nymph who had many times attracted the attention of satyrs (half-human, half-animal beings, very connected to their sexuality and animal nature), and fled their advances in turn. She worshipped Artemis, the goddess of wilderness, and had like her vowed to remain a virgin for all time (ie. belong to no man and be whole within herself).

Pursued by the amorous god Pan, she ran to a river's edge and asked for assistance from the river nymphs. In response, she was transformed into Syringa - which Pan cut to fashion the first set of panpipes, which were henceforth known as syrinx.

Pan was the god of shepherds, fertility, the wild, and spring. He had the upper body of a man, but the hindquarters, legs, and horns of a goat - much like Christianity’s representations of the devil (likely due to Christianity's demonization of sexual energy). He was a lustful god, known for his sexual prowess, and therefore symbolized the physical pleasures of life, which could be associated with Venus (pleasure) and Mars (desire) - or the balance between feminine and masculine.

The story of Pan and Syrinx symbolizes the pain of lust and desire. It can also seen as a representation of the power struggle between one aspect of the feminine (Venus) and masculine (Saturn & Mars) energies in Greek mythology, with the male god trying to impose his control over the young, beautiful female.

When Syrinx transforms near the water, a symbol of life and feminine energy, she transforms into a new form of life to protect her creative [sexual] energy from Pan. As he fashions his panpipe from her branches, he still manages to use her as an object in some way - but she also becomes a symbol for him. Without her, his ability to create music does not exist in the same way, and his legacy is drastically deficient. In a way, her new version of self overpowers him, and channels her creative energy through him to create art through music.

[burningred1989]

EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE

A/N: Final part of “A Budding Connection”

“Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you.”

PART 1: A Budding Connection

PART 2: The Shift

P ART 3: Bridges to Mend

PART 4: Cracks in the Wall

PART 5: The Contract Ends

MASTERLIST

<<<<<

Years after their heart-wrenching breakup, Y/N and Harry lived their lives apart, both navigating stardom with aching hearts. Though the world saw them as two separate entities, fans knew better. Their music told the story of a love that refused to die, lingering in the silences between the notes and the longing woven into their lyrics.

<<<<<

"Every breath you take, every move you make..."

The applause echoed throughout the room as Y/N’s name was announced as the winner of Album of the Year. Dressed in an elegant gown, she gracefully made her way to the stage, clutching her award tightly. The cameras panned to Harry, seated in the audience, clapping harder than anyone else. His green eyes sparkled with pride, but there was something deeper—a longing, an ache that hadn’t faded over the years.

"Every bond you break, every step you take, I'll be watching you."

As Y/N delivered her speech, she thanked her team, her fans, and her family. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled slightly. Then, as she concluded, her gaze scanned the room until it landed on Harry. For a moment, time seemed to stop. Her lips curled into a small, shy smile—her nose scrunching in that way Harry used to adore.

Harry’s heart clenched. He returned the smile, his pride unmistakable, though his eyes revealed the silent pain of knowing he could never be part of her life again.

<<<<<

"Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace”

A year later, Harry’s name boomed through the speakers as he was awarded *Album of the Year*. The audience erupted in applause, but it was Y/N’s reaction that captured everyone’s attention. She rose to her feet immediately, clapping enthusiastically, her face glowing with pride.

“I dream at night, I can only see your face..."

As Harry walked to the stage, his eyes darted toward Y/N. She stood in the front row, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. Her gaze was locked on him, her expression soft and warm, as though she was silently cheering him on.

“I look around, but it's you I can't replace..."

When Harry began his speech, his voice was steady, but his emotions were barely contained. He spoke about the importance of connection and love in his music, his voice faltering slightly when he mentioned how loss shapes the art we create. Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she nodded gently, understanding his words on a level no one else could.

As the cameras panned back to Y/N, her proud expression lit up the room. But for Harry, her look was more than that. It was a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d shared, everything that still lingered between them.

<<<<<

“Oh can’t you see, you belong to me. How my poor heart aches, every step you take”

The internet exploded. Fans dissected every moment from both Grammy nights, piecing together the silent story unfolding between Harry and Y/N. Edits began circulating, their interactions paired with the hauntingly fitting lyrics of "Every Breath You Take" by The Police.

The first scene showed Harry clapping with longing eyes as Y/N walked to the stage, her radiant smile lighting up the room. The second scene cut to Y/N standing proudly, her hands clasped in front of her, watching Harry accept his award. With the text in front—“I’ll be watching you”

<<<<<

"Every smile you fake, every claim you stake, I'll be watching you."

Clips of their stolen glances and subtle smiles were seamlessly paired with the lyrics. Fans couldn’t stop talking:

- *"The way he looks at her—he’s still in love."*

- *"Y/N’s smile when she saw him on stage… my heart!"*

- *"This edit with ‘Every Breath You Take’ is so hauntingly beautiful. It’s like they’re still watching over each other."*

<<<<<

“Every single day, every word you say..."

Harry and Y/N returned to their separate lives, but the echoes of their love remained. Fans scoured their music for hints of each other, piecing together lyrics that spoke of heartbreak, longing, and quiet admiration. Their love, though lost, was immortalized in their art.

"I'll be watching you."

Neither Harry nor Y/N ever acknowledged the Grammy interactions or the viral edits, but they didn’t need to. The connection was still there, unspoken yet undeniable, like a melody that never fades. And as the years went by, the world continued to watch their story unfold—two hearts forever linked, even in their distance.

A/N: Thank you for reading!! <33

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Pizza

Cornicione

Italian for the cornice, or ornamental molding on the edge of a building. When it comes to pizza, it refers to the outer edge.

Cornicione is a great word for English speakers who are looking to talk about the crust in a fancier way.

The True Neapolitan Pizza Association (Associazione Verace Pizza napoletana, or AVPN) has just as strict rules about the cornicione as it does about every other part of a Neapolitan pizza: it must be about half an inch to an inch tall. Bonus points if the cornicione has small air pockets.

Margherita

A thin dough topped with tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, and basil.

The story goes that it was invented in 1889 by Raffaele Esposito at Pizzeria Brandi for the visiting queen of Italy, Margherita of Savoy.

Tomato sauce, mozzarella, and basil were chosen to represent the colors—red, white, and green—of the newly united Italy.

Whether or not the story is true is up for debate.

Neapolitan

Started in Naples, is the most clearly defined pizza thanks to the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana.

The dough has to be made with solely 0 or 00 Tipo flour (a type of finely milled flour considered ideal for pizza dough), water, yeast, and salt.

The Neapolitan pizza is a type of margherita, though topped with very specific ingredients: buffalo mozzarella, San Marzano tomatoes, and basil.

Finally, it can only be cooked in a wood-burning oven for 90 seconds max.

Mozzarella

Fresh, unaged Italian cheese traditionally made with milk from water buffalos in Italy and Bulgaria. The taste is mild and the texture semisoft.

Strictly water buffalo mozzarella is what true Neapolitan pizzas use—that’s mozzarella made from the milk of a breed of Italian water buffalo.

However, the mozzarella you find in the grocery store is most likely (unless labeled otherwise) a fresh and unaged cow’s milk cheese.

Pizza al taglio

One of the common slices that you’ll find in pizza shops in Rome, the name for pizza al taglio comes from how it’s served: al taglio means "by the cut."

The pizza has a thicker crust and bottom than what you’ll find in a Neapolitan pizza, and it’s rectangular instead of ovular.

The toppings are wide ranging, and there’s a good chance that there’s a set of toppings that fits your liking if you find yourself in a well-stocked shop. When you find that perfect pie, you order by the square slice, similar to New York-style pizza.

Pizza alla pala

This is another style of Italian pizza with a straightforward name.

Alla pala is Italian for “on the paddle,” and sure enough this ovular pizza is served on a paddle.

It requires an electric oven that gets to just under 600 degrees Fahrenheit versus a scorching hot wood-fire oven.

The thick crust is topped with ingredients after it spends time in the oven as opposed to the crispy cooked toppings you’re likely to find with pizza al taglio.

The most surefire way to know it’s alla pala, however, is to look for the paddle.

Pizza al padellino

What’s known as pizza al padellino in Italy is what people in the US know as pan pizza (padellino translates to "pan").

The style is typical to Torino, Italy, where it’s made in a round pan that allows for a thick crust that can be loaded with any variety of toppings.

Grandma pie

Grandma pie is sort of like a twist on a Sicilian pizza with a homey, nostalgia-inducing name.

The rectangular, pan-baked pizza’s main difference is a thinner crust that doesn’t have as much time to rise.

It’s also typically made without a dedicated pizza oven (neither wood-fired nor a specialty electric oven), and the sauce often goes over the cheese instead of having the cheese on top.

New York

The thin-crust pieces are routinely served by the slice (never by the “piece”), which is kept behind a glass deli-style counter and is reheated in a brick oven when pointed at by the next customer in line.

The toppings can be simple or complex, and the slice is always pliable enough to be foldable yet strong enough to hold its own until you have time to finish it.

Detroit

Similar to Sicilian and grandma style.

It’s rectangular and cooked in a pan, and the pieces are square.

The dough is fluffy like a Sicilian sfincione, and the sauce goes on top of the toppings and cheese like some grandma pies.

St. Louis

If the thick Detroit and Sicilian style pizzas had an opposite, it would be St. Louis-style pizza.

The most defining pizza style from Missouri: unleavened crust that has toppings so evenly distributed there’s no crust to hold onto.

It also has what’s deemed Provel cheese, which is a stringy blend of cheddar, provolone, and Swiss cheeses.

Sicilian

Describes the style from Sicily.

Only there, it’s called sfincione, which means “thick sponge.”

The focaccia-like base is topped with tomato sauce, veggies, anchovies, or whatever else you prefer. Instead of mozzarella or another soft or melty cheese, sfincione gets a hard cheese.

Apizza

Apizza (pronounced "abeets”) hails from New Haven, Connecticut, and is a thin-crust pizza that’s made similarly to Neapolitan-style pizza.

The dough, however, is a high-gluten and high-water dough.

To work it into shape, pizza makers use potassium bromate flour and let the dough go through a long and slow rise time.

The resulting pizza is hand shaped, given a few toppings, and then thrown in a hot coal-fired brick oven.

The name apizza is based on the Italian a pizza, meaning “the pizza.”

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: Ellie's in your house again

"Ellie," You say," What are you doing?"

She swears, jumping out of her skin and dropping the frying pan to the ground. "Jesus Christ," She gasps in her stupid accent," What are you doing here, kiddo?"

"This is my house," You reply," What are you doing here?"

Ellie's your Mamma's new girlfriend. Before her was Beth when you lived in England and now that you're in France, it's Ellie. You don't really know how you feel about Ellie just yet.

She makes Mamma happy, that's true, but she's in your house too often for your liking and the sting of Mamma's breakup with Beth is still a little too fresh in your mind.

"I slept round," Ellie says, bending to pick up the dropped frying pan and place it on the stove," And now I'm making breakfast."

You stare at her in suspicion before nodding. "Cool," You say," I'm going to see Mamma."

Ellie catches your arm before you can leave and you frown at her.

"Daan's still asleep," She says," Don't wake her up, kid."

Mamma always tells you not to do exactly what other people say without getting something out of it yourself so you cross your arms over your chest.

"What do I get if I don't?"

Ellie groans and you pull your arm away and take a firm step towards Mamma's closed door.

"Hey! No, wait! Wait! I'll...er...You like pancakes? I can make you pancakes."

You think about it for a minute.

"With syrup?"

"With syrup."

"Okay."

You hopped up onto one of the seats at the kitchen island and waited, just staring.

It was clear that Ellie didn't really know what to do with you. She had never really interacted with you on her own. You were Daan's kid and she was Daan's new girlfriend. It was only right that you seemed a little aloof around her.

You were older now than Ellie knew you were when you had interacted with Daan's previous girlfriends. You had your own opinions now and, clearly, one of these opinions was that you didn't really enjoy this veritable stranger in your house.

"Is it hot all the time in Australia?" You ask suddenly.

Ellie begins to mix her batter. "No, not always. It gets cold in the winter like everywhere else."

You made a noncommittal noise and reached out for some of the fruit in the fruit bowl. "Did you have a girlfriend before my Mamma?"

"I did."

"But Mamma's better." It wasn't a question and you bite into your apple as you kick your legs in boredom, sparing a look back at Mamma's closed door.

"Er...yeah," Ellie replies, finally putting the first of her batter into the pan," I guess you can put it like that. Me and your Mamma just fit better."

"Mamma and Beth used to fit," You say," Before we left and they argued. I'm not Beth's baby so they can't share me like my friends who have divorced parents get shared."

Ellie doesn't quite know how to respond to that as she plates up a pile of pancakes for you and a pile of pancakes for Daan.

"Mamma and Beth argued and argued and I never got to see them because they didn't like letting me see them angry. People who used to fit don't always end up fitting properly."

"I-I'm not trying to take Daan from you," Ellie says eventually. She's not looking at you but she's stopped plating up food to talk. "Look, kiddo, I'm dating your Mamma. And I don't plan on breaking up anytime soon." She turns around to look at you. "I understand that this is new to you and you're probably still a little hung up about Mead but I'm not going anywhere and neither of you. Can we just coexist?"

You stare at her for a moment before standing. You're not very tall for your age but it doesn't stop you from walking like your Ellie's height, sidling up next to her and scraping the pancakes meant for Daan onto your plate.

"Mamma doesn't like pancakes for breakfast," You tell Ellie," She has gross yoghurt and oats and some cut-up fruit." You reach for the squeezy bottle of syrup. "It's in the fridge."

Ellie looks at you in disbelief. You've somehow smuggled all of the pancakes onto your plate even though it was meant to be split between you and Daan.

"She likes the chocolate protein shake better than the mango one!" You also repeat before scampering off to wait by Daan's door.

You don't enter without Ellie but once she opens the door, you've bolted over to Daan.

"I was nice," You announce to your Mamma, who sits up in bed wide awake and looking like she had been for a while now," Promise."

Ellie slides back into bed on your other side, forcing you in the middle of them as she passes Daan her breakfast bowl. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to catch y/n watching you from the hallway," Daan replies," And long enough to send her in to bond with you."

"Didn't bond," You insist through a mouthful of food," Just talked."

Daan smiles fondly at you, collecting some of the syrup from your plate with a finger and sticking it into her mouth. "Of course," She says," Because you're too cool to bond with your Mamma's new girlfriend."

You shrug but then quietly admit," Ellie made me pancakes. I guess she's kind of cool sometimes."

For some reason, that makes Ellie feel more proud and triumphant than any Champion's League medal ever could. She feels smug which Daan definitely spots from the way that she rolls her eyes.

"Cool enough to join us at the park today?"

You begrudgingly sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

[crystallizedtwilight]

🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 20! 🎃

Lock, Shock, Barrel, and Calliope questions that call for quick answers will be under the cut in batches of 10-15 🧡

Previous bulk questions batch

She wants to adopt every dog she meets honestly 🥹

If Oogie was in a gambling mood it usually wasn't a good thing.

Something equal parts dangerous and hilarious apparently! [x]

They already have their skincare routines down!

There's a couple of those in the lb tag 😚 Barrel is very romantic and Lock loves to be showered with affection as long as it's in private.

Thank you! And yes! They do prank each other on occasion. Gotta keep each other sharp! [1] [2] [3]

He did at first (and was too "cool" to tell anyone) but now he's an expert at capturing them.

Mike Cachuela, who helped design the trio, stated how he spoke with Henry Selik, the director of the movie, about who the trio could be. The initial concept was that that they were tasked with keeping Oogie Boogie imprisoned and feeding him bugs. However, this concept was later changed so the trio would be Oogie's henchmen instead.

No, all three of them love their natural hair colors! (Which, lucky, I've been dying my own hair for 10 years lol)

She gets up, makes herself some tea, and reads her potion book to clear her mind. If that's not enough, she'll go for a flight.

No. I'm aware he returns in several spinoffs—Oogie's Revenge, Kingdom Hearts II, one of the novels—but this AU uses the movie as the sole source material. Resurrecting Oogie is an easy way to reintroduce peril and doesn't require writers to explore who the trio are without him. That separation, freedom, happiness, and concept of the trio stepping into their own identities is exactly what I want to explore!

(Zero's Journey is my favorite tnbc book because the trio are shown carrying on happily without Oogie for once and I love that!)

❗️[SENSITIVE: TOPICS OF ABUSE]

The trio state that they believe they will be harmed for failure / displeasing Oogie across multiple media:

____

"We can't say, the boss'll whomp us if we do!" (whomp, verb: to strike heavily) - Lock [source: game, The Pumpkin King]

The trio tremble visibly at Oogie's feet, holding onto each other as he reveals his plans. [source: game, Kingdom Hearts I]

In an interview Stephen mentions that, out of the three of them, Oogie might be meanest towards Lock or treat him the worst. [source: Stephen Buckley, one of the main animators on the movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas]

"If I were on his Boogie list, I'd get out of town." / "We do our best to please him and stay on his good side." - Lock, Shock [source: movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas]

"Jack will beat us black and green." - Lock, Shock [source: movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas] Through Jack has never shown himself to be physically violent, the trio assume all authority figures show their displeasure in this way.

"Don't hurt us, Jack! She's with Oogie!" - Lock [source: game, The Pumpkin King]

"'Stead of treated we get tricked. 'Stead of kisses we get kicked!" [source: stage performance, 2003 Disneyland "Haunted Mansion Holiday" wherein the trio perform an excerpt of "Hard Knock Life"]

"Looks like my no-good henchmen thought they'd cool their heels in Halloween Town 'stead of helpin' the boss man do his job...well, I can decide which of 'em I want to eat later." - Oogie Boogie [source: game, Disney Magic Kingdoms]

The camera pans out, displaying the masks of several previously devoured trick-or-treaters on the treehouse walls. None of these fit the trio's faces, revealing that Oogie has eaten several children in the past. [source: movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas]

[zvdvdlvr]

Okay but hear me out Hotch's love language is acts of service. That man is a caregiver and maybe I'm projecting because I'm currently taking care of my own stitches but like if you were hurt in the field and got cut by a knife or something he would absolutely go out of his way to clean your wound and rebandage you as needed. Or like if you burnt your hand grabbing a hot pan or something while you guys were making dinner 🥲 he's just so soft

Yes. Absolutely. This is literally him.

Aaron’s always gonna blame himself, no matter if it really is his fault or not; so taking care of you in any way, shape, or form is always gonna be an opportunity Aaron will take.

Even if you aren’t dating Aaron still wants to help patch you up because thats just the kinda guy he is :))

im giggling thinking about being in a relationship woth Hotch and him sitting you down to rewrap a bandage, put vaseline or aquaphor on your stitches, or even putting ointment on a burn.

Boyfriend!Hotch fawning over tou after you burn yourself making dinner for you, him, and Jack!!!!!!! He would undoubtedly drop everything and run over after hearing you hiss in pain and cuss quietly (he admires how you try not to cuss in fromt of Jack). “Oh, honey,” he’d coo and pull you over to the sink. I NEED HIM TO CALL ME ‘HONEY’, YOUR HONOR.

Can you imagine him kissing the bandage too after you cracked a joke about him kissing Jack’s boo-boos?? 😥😥 i actually need him.

OKOKOKOK

imagine you just got cut by an unsub:

It wasn’t Hotch’s fault, no matter how much you tried to reassure him as the medics stitched up the admittedly deep cut on your thigh.

The unsub, you tried to reason with him, was just a hunter with very good aim and a warped mind. But Hotch wouldn’t have it. He literally wrapped your arm over his shoulder so he could walk you out to the medics, paced on the ground outside the ambulance, and refused to let you drive to the plane and hotel without him.

So that’s where you are now: opening your door for Hotch and Jack to enter your house.

“Hi, y/n!” Jack greeted, throwing himself out to hug y/n’s legs. You patted his back and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey kiddo,” you greeted, trying to hide the wince on your face before Aaron saw.

But he did. “I, uh, told Jack you got hurt and he… decided he would throw a fit until he came to make sure you weren’t sad.”

That made you smile; yeah, Hotch, blamd it on Jack. “You’re the sweetest, Jackie-boy. No way any one could be sad around you,” you practically sang, picking the boy up. “Come in, Hotch. I see that first-aid kit you have.”

Hotch pretended not to see the way you favored your uninjured leg over the other when you set Jack on the couch, already knowing what movie he wanted to watch.

“Hey,” you said finally, “Jack’s watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier.” You took a seat at the table.

“He was excited about coming to see you,” Aaron admits. “He told me that you’re his favorite because you ‘like Captain America, always have candy, and make sure he’s never sad’, according to him.”

You laugh a little, but your heart is swollen up in your chest like a balloon. You’re Jack’s favorite? “So… tell me why you’re really here, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You pause, seeing Hotch’s eye contact falter. “What?”

“You can call me Aaron. We aren’t at the office, so I don’t see a problem in you calling me Aaron. And my son is on your couch, so…” He trails off, a smile pulling at his lips.

You think you can feel little a butterfly volcano erupt in your stomach. You’re hot boss is smiling at you. Inside your house. “So,” you start again, voice quieter this time, “why are you here, Aaron?” You want to scream. Hotch’s name on your tongue felt foreign but you really wanted to get used to calling him by his first name.

“I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself after getting,” he paused, thinking of the blood staining your pants when he first saw you, “cut up by the unsub.”

“If you want me to take my pants off, you just have to ask,” you scoffed, tugging down your sweatpants to reveal a bloodied bandage wrapped in gauze. Your shirt was oversized, falling to just above the end of the gauze. “I changed the wrap a couple hours ago, but I got bored and moved some stuff around and it probably started bleeding,” you explained, watching Aaron pull set your leg on the chair he was sitting in to rewrap your injury.

“Y-This is okay?” He asked, large hands hovering directly over your skin.

After nodding, you swallowed as you watched Aaron carefully unwrapped the thin gauze and inspected the dark red patterns staining the bandage.

He doesn’t say a word as he rips the bandage off, not saying a word when he feels your hand fly to his shoulder for support- something that makes him flush a little.

“Aaron, I can do it mysel-“

“Let me take care of you,” he interrupts, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes that he does so well and you know you’d listen to him if he told you to rip your heart out of your chest and give it to him just because he’s got you wrapped around his pinkie.

“Okay.”

Despite the movie in the background, you both fall into silence; afraid to break the silence.

He had to admit, Aaron hadn’t felt so giddy in a while. Even here, on his knees in your home, Aaron found himself once again questioning if he wanted to make a move. He felt you squeeze his shoulder a little as he dabbed some cold ointment on the stitches but he wanted to feel your hands on him. Rewrapping the bandage would be the awkward part: having to get his hands very close to your sex.

“Do you want to do it?” Aaron asked.

“I think you should. I might mess it up or something,” you shrug, clearly lying. But Aaron wanted you to lie.

So carefully, gingerly, Aaron wrapped the guaze over the bandage, hands gliding over your thigh to make sure the thin material would stay.

“Done,” he announced. “Does it feel okay? Not too tight? Too loose?” He asked.

“Perfect.”

He looked up at you. “y/n?”

“I think… my thigh’s a little sore. You uh, might need to kiss my boo-boo to make sure I feel better.”

A sly smile grew on Aaron’s face while he watched your face turn red and you avoiding eye contact.

So Aaron leaned over and pressed his lips to the sterile gauze, kissing the material covering your skin.

The butterfly volcano had successfully self destructed, making every body part possible buzz at the sight of Aaron leaning over you.

[scleroticstatue]

Feminine Plots

Okay, I've been thinking A Lot about basic plot types and how classically feminine stories fit into neither the traditional (masculine) archetypes nor the traditional plots. After a lot of studying the major plot beats, I think all female-led stories* fall into one of seven plots. I'm using Disney movies to demonstrate this because just about everyone has seen them, but I think you could apply these to just about any feminine-based story.*

So, without further ado:

The Hard Work Plot: The heroine of this story is a hard worker and is tested by the plot to prove her kindness and generosity. If she passes the test, she wins and is rewarded for it. This is the basic plot of Snow White, Cinderella, and Tiana/Princess and the Frog.**

The Beast Taming Plot: The heroine of this story is put in a situation where she meets a monster, learns to understand it (usually through a heightened state of empathy), and then tames it to become socially acceptable for the norms of society, often ending the story by using the tamed monster to defeat a more villainous character who has been accepted by society. This is the plot of Belle/Beauty and the Beast, Moana, Jane/Tarzan, and Lilo/Lilo & Stitch.

The Transformstion Plot: The heroine meets an outsider who is threatening her home/family/people, who are stagnating or stifling. She spends time getting to know the person and their culture, and then uses her friendship to transform her own culture into one of flourishing modernity. This is the plot of Ariel/The Little Mermaid, Pocahontas, and Jasmine/Aladdin.

The Restoration Plot: The heroine is in a kingdom/household of dwindling power. Her quest is to restore the damaged relationships and undo the evil that caused the kingdom to dwindle. There's a very high chance that the heroine doesn't actually do the restoration herself, rather she makes other characters realize they have responsibilities and duties they haven't fulfilled, who then fix the problem instead of the actual female lead. This is Aurora/Sleeping Beauty, Elsa/Frozen, Mirabel/Encanto, and Nala/The Lion King.

The Balancing Plot: The heroine is proven to be unfit for feminine life and goes on a journey to prove she is capable of fitting in with the guys, only to realize that what she needs to restore peace and joy to her home/kingdom is the very feminity that she rejected. This is Mulan and Merida/Brave.

The Maturing Plot: The heroine is a naive individual who is exposed to the big bad world. Her idealism transforms the big bad world to be softer, but she also realizes there are bad things out there and that are/will take advantage of her if she lets it. In the end, she usually has to fight the bad guy/embrace her duties and responsibilities to save her home. This is Alice/in Wonderland, Wendy/Peter Pan, Giselle/Enchanted, and Rapunzel/Tangled.

The Sacrifice Plot: The heroine has a group that she is some sort of caretaker for (a princess, a lover, a support class). She does something, usually accidentally, that causes her friends to end up in danger, and she has to sacrifice herself to make up for those wrongs and save her people, usually ending up coming back to life because the other leads are so inspired and love her so much they make sure to save her. This is Tinkerbell/Peter Pan, Meg/Hercules, Esmeralda/Hunchback of Notre Dame, Kida/Atlantis, Anna/Frozen.***

EDIT: After workshopping this, I've decided I was missing one which seems almost exclusive to mothers and wives:

The Witnessing: The heroine must prepare another to become a Sacrifice/go to war/fight without her interference, and she has to let go and let them take on the trials of the world. Her plot arc succeeds when the people she's equipped successfully encounter the world without her guidance. This is Mrs. Potts/Beauty, Grandma Tala and Sina (the mom)/Moana, and Grandma Fa/Mulan. It's rare, so there's not a lot of these are protagonists, but it is a legitimate feminine archetype.

Star explanations under the cut.

*I'm being very specific here and talking about stories that are associated with the feminine, not stories that are traditionally associated with males who have then taken on female leads. And, while you can look at these as entire plots, these are also applicable as character arcs. The Lion King, told from Simba's perspective is the classic Call to Adventure. However, from Nala's perspective, she is the Restorer who, after watching her kingdom fall to ruin, has to go find the proper authority, mend his relationship with his father, and then return him to the kingdom to fulfill his responsibilities. While some more modern stories have female leads that don't fit these categories, I would argue they're not trying to appeal to women, but to a general audience and just happen to have a female protagonist, who could easily be swapped out for a male protagonist without changing anything of the story (and that, imo, makes for a very bad story indeed).

**There is a secondary dimension in these stories, which is the staticness or dynamicness of the characters. The classical Hero's Journey features a dynamic protagonist, who is expected to change throughout the run of a story. However, in most female-led media, the lead character is already virtuous and good. She is a static character that is then tested to see if she will fold under pressure. Snow White and Princess and the Frog both feature Hard Work narratives; however, Snow White is a static character who has to prove through a series of trials that she's good hearted and the world won't turn her cynical, while Tiana is a dynamic character who has to grow from cynicism to accept love as a virtue. While it is more traditional of older stories like Grimms' Fairy Tales, the Arthurian mythos, or Classic-era novels, static protagonists have almost entirely died out in favor of the Hero's Journey dynamicness. However, it remains a staple in Feminine Stories, even in modern stories: Moana, Anna/Tangled, Lilo/Lilo & Stitch.

***The Sacrifice Plot is a little odd, because there's usually another plot on top of it; Anna has a (slight) Maturing Plot, Meg has a Balancing Plot, Kida has a Restoration Plot. However, in the end, it's not a philosophical shift that defines their character, but their willingness to sacrifice for those they love. Yes, Anna was duped by Hans and has to accept he's not the good guy. However, she still falls in love with a man she just met (just a different one) and her narrative is instead trying to fix the problem she made when she upset her sister and her climax is when she essentially dies for Elsa, who then saves her with their sisterly love.

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Oscar Piastri x Male Reader

Losses

Sry for no updates, was a bit busy with stuff, but am here. Hope you lot enjoy, even if my writing is not what is used to be. Like Icarus, ambition leads to downfall.

Warning: might be sad

Enjoy!

I did not know the dierection I waa taking this in, I just went with the flow, hopefully it makes sense(?)

I look down at the casket where my mother lies, I was held by my dad so I could see.

"Is mommy going to wake up?"

"Not this time, Champ."

He said as he kissed the top of my head, my hair became wet as he trembled.

"Why?"

"She's going to live with God now, Y/n, and she will be waiting for us."

Our eyes met, mine filled with wonder and curiosity, childish whimsy. His wete full of sorrow and despair, akin to a world without light, it was dark, lifeless.

—

"Osc, please, what did I do?"

I asked him as I held his hand, trying to prevent him from walking away.

"It won't work out, Y/n."

"Why?"

"it just w-"

"But why? Was it something I did? Have you found someone else? Please, I need to know where you are going, I need to know you'll be safe, that I can that I- that you-"

My breathing became labored as I let go of his hand and sat down on the floor, struggling to breathe. When I let go of his hand, he immediately became concerned and turned to me, he squatted down.

"Are you okay?"

He asked but I couldn't speak, my breaths were shallow but it felt like it won't go out, my breathing was frantic and I became light headed.

"Come on, stay with me, breathe with me."

He said as he grabbed my hand and rested it over his chest so I could follow. I slowly began to calm down, but worry took over panic.

"P-please Osc, where?"

—

"Daddy?"

I looked down at the casket where my father lies, while I was held by my uncle.

"Is Daddy going to wake up?"

I asked my uncle.

"He's- uhmm, he won't."

"Why?"

"Because he is very tired, and he needs to rest up for some time."

"That's not what daddy told me when mommy went to live with God, Yestermonth."

"It's last month, Y/n, not yestermonth."

He broke down in tears, he struggled to wipe it off, as more kept flowing, like a hydra, the more heads to cut, the more head there will be.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry, Y/n, you're so young, you're so very young, you are 4 years old. Yet you lost more than most anyone your age."

He kissed the top of my head, my hair felt wet afterwards. It's like dad.

"Is Daddy with mommy?"

—

It's been a few days since Oscar left, he still didn't tell me where he went. But I see his social medias, he's with a girl.

"You moved on so quickly, while I hurt in the past you don't look back to. Silently hurting while you live your life, with your new future."

I said to my myself as I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly my phone rang, and I looked at the I.D, it was him and it was a video call.

"Hello?"

I said as I answered the call.

"Hey, I heard you were Oscar's ex."

The camera panned to a woman who was moving suspiciously and moans were heard.

"I am he, why?"

"Just wanted to rub in tour face how good I am pleasing him."

The camera switched from the front to the back. Showing a naked Oscar who had his eyes closed and his hands on her hips, he was moaning and groaning and started to move his hips up and down.

"Bye bitch."

She let out a moan before hanging up, when the call ended, I laid in bed my phone still in my hand, and I was feeling something, it wasn't jealousy, it wasn't anger, nor was it sadness. I ponder more as my face remained neutral, I was feeling something but I don't know what. I wanted to react, to thrash around and be violent, but I couldn't. Is this what being dead inside is like? Feeling something yet nothing at the same time. In limbo with emptiness and feeling everything.

—

"Hi."

I said to the guy who was sitting on a table all alone in a café that was full.

"Would you mind if I sit here?"

I said as I pointed to the seat infront of him.

"Be my guest."

He smiled at me, he was gorgeous, he was handsome, fit and has the folden retriever vibes. His smile was perfect, his hair a mess of beautiful brown hair that complimented him. I couldn't held but stare and analyze him as I sat down.

"Oscar, Oscar Piastri."

He reached his hand out, with a friendly smile.

"Y/n."

I shook his hand.

"You have nice hands."

"Thank you."

I said sheepishly as I let go of his hand but he didn't let go of mine. The barista called out my name and I got up, he let go of my hand too.

"I noticed your finger has a ring mark."

He asked as I sat back down with my order.

"I lost it, like 3 days ago."

I took a sip of my coffee.

"Good thing, you won't be losing me anytime soon."

—

"I guess we are all destined to lose a few things, but I didn't expect to lose parts of my life."

.

[queercoshon]

And here is part three, about a week late lol

Christmas Eve

It takes you a few tries to heave your body out of the kitchen chair, the stove timer sound drilling into your skull. You miss the button a few times, alcohol swaying your hand and concentration. But you manage to hit it and get some peace and quiet finally. You even remember to turn off the stove.

Bending over to get the lasagne out is a little difficult, your gut is still a bloated orb and completely in the way. Your balance is also already off from the copious amounts of intoxicants coursing through your body. Somehow you manage to get it out without burning yourself or falling over.

It still needs to rest though, so you have more waiting to do. You grab some beers from yhe fridge, and the bottle of baileys for good measure, and make sure they're within arms' reach of the couch. Either from a drunken stupor, couchlock, or food coma, you're making sure you won't be getting up again.

You also grab a box of hostess cakes, for when you need a flavour change, and chips for a texture change. Your munchies are killing you now, so you gotta be prepared.

Finally the lasagne is cool enough to cut and transfer to a big serving dish. You don't know if you'll actually be able to eat the whole thing, but the booze and weed are certainly saying you can. You can't keep it in the original pan; you've burnt more than a few pillows by using them as a barrier between your food and your belly table.

Getting the dish to the living room takes maximum concentration. The world is swaying, and the ground feels uneven. How will you keep it level? There are a few close calls where you almost dump lasagne all over yourself and the floor, but you always catch it. Can't be wasting food.

The couch gives an ominous clunk and creak when you lower your girth onto it, but you pay it no mind. You make sure the beers are on the couch beside you; can't have a repeat of last night.

It takes you a minute to start eating. First, you lean back and stroke your belly, rubbing in soothing circles. You're still physically full, even if the weed is telling you otherwise. You're so high, and very drunk, and rubs just feel so good. You were meant to be a fat, drunk pig, just getting fatter and more incoherent.

Your rubs loosen up some burps, and then you feel ready to eat. The pillow barrier is set up on your bare stomach so you don't burn it with the hot serving tray.

You manage to put on a dumb stoner comedy despite really struggling to use the remote. What button did you mean to press again?

Finally, it's time for dinner. You dig in with reckless abandon, burning your mouth just a little bit with the first few bites, and chugging half a beer to cool it down. A massive belch works its way up before you start scarfing down dinner.

You shovel it into your mouth, nearly forgetting how to breath as you focus on consuming as fast as possible. You grunt and groan as your feeding craze intensifies. Your nose flares and snorts as your body fights you for air, making you sound and look like an engorged pig.

You eat three large pieces in fifteen minutes. Your stomach complains under the added pressure of the dish on it, despite it being emptier. Without thinking, you drain the rest of your beer and take a swig of baileys before stuffing your face again.

Getting fucked up on baileys is hot, it's such a sugary, heavy, empty calories drink that is too easy to suck down.

A pressure builds in your gut, and you worry about hiccups or vomiting, but a forceful burp explodes out, your gut feeling euphoric relief. You rub a few more out and realize you're getting really full. A break is needed. You pull out a joint and manage to get coordinated enough to light up. An inhale hits a bit to hard and you devolve into a coughing fit, holding the lasagne so it doesn't fall and your belly so it doesn't explode.

You barely catch your breath before the hiccups start. The tray wobbles dangerously as your gut bounces against your crotch. It haphazardly gets moved to beside you on the couch, and you hold your gut to stabilize it.

Didn't you read somewhere drinking water would help with hiccups? You don't have water, but you do at least have a drink. You crack a beer and drink deeply, until you need air. A few seconds of respite come, but as soon as you dare to believe they're gone, another hic jolts your whole body, sending ripples through your fat. So you drink again, less this time. Didn't work, try again. And again. And finally, they subside. You have no idea that there's basically three mouthfuls in the can. A few burps rumble out and you get right back to your feast.

It's getting increasingly hard to get the food onto your fork. You can't make your hands cooperate, and every movement is clumsy. It doesn't help that your vision is swaying and blurring. Instead of frustrating though, you find it funny. You've gotten so drunk you're struggling to do the most basic tasks, like eat or change the volume on the tv. If you could reach, you would have started getting yourself off, but your gut got too big for that a while ago, so you'll just have to keep eating.

Your pace slows drastically once you get halfway through the fifth piece. It hits you like a ton of bricks just how full you are. Your gut is a solid mass, with barely any give even with the flab. It's now been 24 hours of binging, and you're starting to really feel it. Fucking glutton. You rub your gut, using it to apply pressure to your crotch, trying to create friction. It's not enough tho; the only way you're getting off is if you eat yourself into an orgasm.

You need a break from the lasagne, the tomatoey burps coming up are starting to feel dangerous. So you drain the rest of that beer and start working on the hostess cakes. You still have room in your 'dessert' stomach.

The change in flavour really helps, and you're able to once again mindlessly plow through your food. Your focus is drawn to the tv, each stupid joke making you laugh around a mouthful of cake.

Your head lolls as you look around for the baileys bottle. Found it. Figuring out the screw top is hard, and getting the opening to your mouth is even harder, but you manage, only spilling a few drops down your front. You meant to only take a gulp or two, but it was so difficult to get to this point, might as well make it worth it. So you drink deeply, feeling the sweet cream bloat your abused stomach further, and know you have about five to ten minutes before you'll be completely useless.

Moans blend with panting as you pull your sticky sweet mouth away from the bottle. The cap gets haphazardly twisted on and you prop the bottle up in the corner of the couch. Your gut is creaking again with every breath. Gurgles of complaints get louder the harder it works to digest. Low burps keep coming up, your belly just desperate for any sort of room it can make.

Everything is swaying and spinning, so you close your eyes and your head involuntary slumps forward. Your mouth is open and you can feel drool starting to form, but there's nothing you can do about it. Any noise or movement is purely from instinct now, the soft kneading and rubbing of your belly, moans that get interrupted by belches and dangerous hiccups. You don't register that any of this is happening. The combination of getting incredibly stoned, drunk as a skunk, and stuffed like a pig has made you catatonic.

By the time you come to earth again, the credits are rolling. Fuck it felt good to be that fucked up. You're going to keep going.

It takes a few tries, but you eventually get the remote pointed at the tv and put on a tv show, something that will autoplay for a while.

Before continuing with your debauchery you have to get up to use the bathroom. After working up the momentum to rock your body up put of the indent on the couch, you stumble for far too many steps before barely catching your balance.

On the way back you grab an edible. It'll be hot in about half an hour when it starts to hit. Will you even remember you've taken it? You stand in the kitchen leaning heavily on the counter, but still swaying dangerously, trying to get the stupid package open. You struggle with these things sober, but as fucked up as you are it now seems impossible. Eventually you give up and cut the bag open with scissors and triumphantly pop 5mg in your mouth. You grab a bottle of water and take a swig to wash out the aftertaste. After that it's back to the living room, your feet shuffling and stumbling, never feeling like they're fully under you.

You fall back onto the couch, too drunk and full to do it with grace. The couch gives another dangerous clunk, and the liquer bottle falls out of its crux. It only spills a little from the side of the cap, but you decide it's a bad idea to have it on the couch. The cap comes off, and you let your head fall back as you drink.

Your gulps are audible, desperate, sloppy. Cream drips down the side of your face. You're so fucked you try and gulp a few times after you've drained the bottle. Your arm falls and the bottle rolls off to the side, leaving a little trail of liquid on the couch. A few drunk hiccups rock your body and you seriously worry about the contents of your stomach, but it stays put. The gurgles somehow get louder tho.

Time for another break. You don't mean to take one, but you can't move anything voluntarily now. You just cradle your aching gut, unable to figure out how to move your arms to soothe it. Every once and a while another glorp will push up another burp, making your head bounce and then loll back to the side. Sometimes you moan, even if you don't know it. Your eyes close, and you let the sensations of being a glutted pig wash over you.

Aches radiate from your poor belly, so overfed for so long that every part of it is completely rounded out, making it look like a completely separate part of your body. You can't help but pant, your lungs far too encroached upon to breathe regularly. You feel like a cartoon character, gut enormously stuffed, woozy and out of it, completely round after gorging for days. And you still have another full day to go.

You rouse a little to your stomach growling. You're starved, but you're as round an full as ever.

The edible. It's starting to hit, and the overstuffed ache in your belly is dulled to a soft throbbing, and somehow that's pleasurable for you.

Any normal person or sober person would be concerned about the amount already packed inside of you, but you know you can handle it. You spent the last year going from just overly chubby to a full on fatty; you know how to keep pushing, so you do.

The lasagne is too heavy now, even in your reinvigorated state, so you alternate between chips and hostess cakes, enjoying the sweet and salty flavours. Strings of little burps spill out, your gut desperately trying to get any relief. Itchy pain shoots over your skin as it stretches, your stomach visibly pressing against it. You can feel new stretch marks coming in, and you still keep going. Your pants turn to moans and gasps, and you literally gorge yourself to climax for the first time.

You barely finish by the time you pass out in a drunken food stupor, dead to the world until tomorrow.

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 40, 2 octobre 1870, Paris. Toilettes de Mme Bréant-Castel, 28. r. Nve. des Pts. Champs. Collection of the Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

Jupon en linos vert à rayures de deux teintes vertes, garni d'un volant surmonté d'une natte en taffetas vert. Jupe en même linos, bordée d'une frange verte, surmontée d'une natte pareille à celle du jupon; cette jupe, assez longue devant, plus encore par derrière, est relevée de chaque côté, un peu en arrière de chaque bras. Casaque ajustée à longues basques, pareille à la jupe et garnie de même; sous la casaque se trouvent deux pans arrondis en même étoffe, avec même garniture, retombant au bas du dos. Les manches de la casaque sont demi-larges, et garnies d'un volant surmonté d'une natte en taffetas vert.

Petticoat in green linos with stripes of two shades of green, trimmed with a flounce topped with a braid in green taffeta. Skirt in the same linos, edged with a green fringe, topped with a braid similar to that of the petticoat; this skirt, quite long in front, even longer in the back, is raised on each side slightly behind each arm. Fitted jacket with long tails, similar to the skirt and trimmed in the same way; under the jacket are two rounded panels in the same fabric, with the same trim, falling at the bottom of the back. The sleeves of the jacket are half-wide, and trimmed with a flounce topped with a braid in green taffeta.

—

Jupon en faye violette, avec bord inférieur découpé en dents arrondies, bordées de trois biais en velours violet; sous ces dents une dentelle de Bruges blanche; sous cette dentelle, un volant plissé, en faye violette. Tunique en même faye, garnie comme la jupe, mais sans volant plissé. Casaque ajustée à basques courtes devant, longues sur les hanches et par derrière, avec bord inférieur découpé et garni comme la tunique; les manches demi-larges sont garnies de même, et se terminent par un volant plissé.

Petticoat in purple faye, with lower edge cut into rounded teeth, edged with three purple velvet biases; under these teeth a white Bruges lace; under this lace, a pleated flounce, in purple faye. Tunic in the same faye, trimmed like the skirt, but without a pleated flounce. Fitted jacket with short basques in front, long on the hips and behind, with lower edge cut and trimmed like the tunic; the half-wide sleeves are trimmed in the same way, and end with a pleated flounce.

—

Fillette de douze ans. Jupe en mohair maïs, entièrement plissée, à plis plats. Tunique pareille garnie d'un volant étroit, posé à tête; sous ce volant, bande de broderie anglaise sur nansouk. Casaque ajustée, à longues basques, garnie comme la tunique. Ceinture en large ruban écossais, vert, rouge et bleu.

Twelve-year-old girl's dress. Skirt in corn mohair, entirely pleated, with flat pleats. Tunic similarly trimmed with a narrow flounce, placed at the head; under this flounce, band of English embroidery in nansouk. Fitted jacket, with long tails, trimmed like the tunic. Belt in wide plaid ribbon in green, red, and blue.

[noodle-is-unstable]

It Pains Me

All of my writing is completely Gender Neutral Reader. There is no reference to gendered body parts (Imaging a Ken Doll if you will). Due to this I use more vague language, and nothing is as specific or specified. Please be advised this writing style isn't for everyone and it is okay to skip.

Ft ~ Takuma Ino x GN!Reader

Kink ~ CTB (Cock and Ball Torture)

Synopsis ~ Ino was being a little too needy, but it's nothing a cage can't fix

Content Warning ~ 18+, Smut, sub Ino, cock cage, clamp, rough treatment of Ino's cock and balls, cum eating. Idk Adult Content.

1.7K Words, I don't proof read

There was a soft sizzling sound coming from the pan behind you.  Rhythmic chopping of vegetables keeping you occupied as you prepared dinner.  That was until Ino walked into the room with a soft sigh.  It was quiet at first, barely a sound above breathing.  WHen you ignored him though he escalated.  The sighs getting louder, adding in hand and arm motion.  It was only when he dramatically fell on the counter, hand to his forehead and a sigh that forced all the air from his lungs that you finally paid him some attention.

“Yes?” You giggled at his dramatics.

“Oh so I’m not a ghost and you CAN see me.” Ino pouted, just as dramatically.

“Whoa, who said that?” You gasp, looking around like he is in fact a ghost.  This only deepened his pout as he gently hit your arm.  “Okay, okay!  What can I help you with?” Your laugh was light before you put down the knife,  giving Ino your full attention.

“Attention!” Ino groaned dramatically, once again.  “I’ll die without attention!” He went limp, tongue hanging out of his mouth.  You couldn’t help but laugh.  He was so silly.  You leaned down and started kissing his face all over until he cracked, a smile forming on his lips.

“Is that enough attention Tinkerbell?  I’m in the middle of making dinner.” You move away to start chopping again when Ino grabbed your wrist.

“Noooooo.  I need more.” Ino moved your hand to his cheek and began to nuzzle it.

“Kuma, I’m cooking.” A slightly annoyed sigh left your lips.

“But I need attention.” Ino’s brow furrowed, his pout returning.

“Takuma.” Your tone was warning.  You could see Ino’s pupils dilate at your sudden tone change.

“What if I don’t stop?” Ino swallowed hard.  So there was something he wanted this entire time, more than just attention.

“Go get it.” You sigh, trying to hide the smile sitting on your lips.  Ino moved at the speed of lightning, sprinting to the bedroom.  When he returned he was holding a small metal object and a key.  He handed them to you, hands shaking in anticipation.  It was his cock cage, one of many.  This was a middle sized one, it wouldn’t hurt if he was soft but it would absolutely constrict him the second he got hard.

“Tell me why you chose this one.” You asked as you began to undress him from the waist down.  You started fitting the cage on for him as he spoke.

“I chose this one because it’s-” Ino sucked air through his teeth as the cold metal toughed him.

“Because it’s?” You urged him to keep talking before you continued.

“Because I like how it’s restrictive when I get hard but I can still feel it on me when soft.” Ino rushed out.  His hips bucked into the cage on their own.

“Good boy.” You smiled, locking the cage around him.  You could see the space already being filled as blood pumped to Ino’s cock.  The curve of the cage didn’t allow his dick to stand fully erect, fighting against the cage.  You could see the veins pulsating as the restriction got worse.  It was a never ending cycle.  The harder Ino got, the more the cage restricted him, but the more it restricted him the more excited and hard Ino got.  You stood back up, placing the key in your pocket before washing your hands.

“If you behave and keep that on until after dinner I’ll give you a reward.” You told Ino, returning to cutting the vegetables.  He was just looking at you with a slight pout though.

“But-” He started before you pointed the knife towards him.

“That’s not behaving.” You warned him.  He immediately shut his mouth and swallowed hard, giving you a small nod.  You could see his cock harden more though.  Constricting against the cold metal.  Your attention went back to cooking.

While you cooked you could see Ino moving around, pacing.  He tried to watch TV but would randomly peer into the kitchen to see how things were going.  He never said anything but he was growing antsy.  Pacing, fidgeting, unable to sit still.  Though his pants were on again, you were positive he was impossibly hard beneath his sweats.  Little did he know, you were purposely cooking at a slowed pace.  Dragging out his torment by seconds, even minutes.

“Dinners ready.” You finally call out.  Ino basically leaped into his seat as you put a plate down for him.  He was shoveling dinner down like he was on a time limit.  You had barely taken a bite and he was halfway done.  The second he finished eating he eagerly sat across from you, watching your every move like a dog begging for food.  You ate at your usual pace, trying to ignore his intense gaze.  About halfway through eating you sighed, putting your utensil down to match Ino’s gaze.  His eyes lit up when you finally gave him some attention.

“If you clean up dinner, I’ll give you your reward now.” You offer him a sly smile.

“Deal!” Ino almost jumped from his seat.  His eyes were wide, legs shaking in long awaited anticipation.  

“Come, come.” You chuckled, motioning with your fingers for him to follow you.  Ino was on your heels before you could even stand.  Grabbing the front of his shirt you began to drag him to the bedroom.

“Pants off pretty boy.” You instructed him as you went below the bed to drag out the box of toys.  Sifting through you grabbed a few items.  By the time you had turned your attention back to Ino he was on the bed, naked from the waist down.  The cage was tight against his poor hard cock.  Clear red lines were formed, his swollen dick was pooling out of the small gaps in the cage.  From the looks of it he had been hard most, if not the entire time you were cooking dinner.  The end of the cage was damp with drooling pre cum.

“What’s the safe word?” You asked him, kneeling down between his legs.

“Red.” Ino’s voice was closer to a whimper now.

“Good boy.” You praised him, laying the toys you grabbed on the bed beside him.  “The cage only comes off when you cum, okay?” You looked over to him.  His lip was in between his teeth as he nodded.  “Let me hear you say it.”

“Understood.” Ino’s voice was almost as strained as his cock was.  

“Good boy.” You praised again, watching his cock pulse at the words.  “Let’s start then.” You grabbed the Wartenberg Wheel first.  A small, metal pinwheel with spikes at the end.  Gently you ran your fingers over the skin poking through the cage.  Just your fingers was enough to have Ino gasping, eyes pinned shut in pleasure and pain.  As a habit you moved your hand to his mouth.  Ino’s lips wrapped around two of your fingers, sucking and gently biting them for comfort.  With your free hand you gently began to run the spiked wheel over the cage and Ino’s skin.  The sound of metal running over metal and Ino’s whimpering gags filled the room.

“What’s the safe action?” You asked Ino, knowing your fingers in his mouth restricted his words.  His hand quickly moved to tap your arm three times.  His glossy eyes watching you, waiting for approval.

“Good boy.” You cooed before harshly slapping the cage.  Ino let out a gagged yelp, tears pooling in his eyes, abs tensing.  You waited for a moment, giving him time to use the safe action but he didn’t, so you proceeded.  When you slipped your fingers out of Ino’s mouth he let out a pained whine.  Wet eyes watched you, wanting to know why you took his comfort away.  He watched as you pulled his tight balls down and placed a clamp around them.  You began tightening the clamp, slowly applying more and more pressure to the sensitive area.  A broken mix of cries and moans caught in Ino’s throat.  Tears spilled down his face as you continued tightening the clamp.

“Such a good boy for me.” You cooed, whipping his tears away.  “Does it feel good?” Your free hand was gently rubbing the flattened flesh that poked out of the clamp.  Ino nodded through gasping sobs.

“M-hm.” Was the most his broken voice could crack out.

“Good boy.” You harshly slapped his compressed balls.  A pained wail echoed in the room as his head fell back, more tears.  Your fingers returned to his mouth and he instantly began sucking and biting them again.  The sound of metal echoed as you flicked the cage, teeth sinking into your fingers again.  His tip was leaving like a faucet now, precum drooling out of the cage.  You could tell from his glazed, dazed eyes he was close.  His balls were contracting in the cage, abs flexing as he sobbed gently.  In one smooth motion you roughly slapped his balls and pressed the spiked wheel into a gap in the cage.  As he gasped on your fingers you quickly released the clamp, blood rushing back to the area.  With a final harsh flick to his tip, Ino was choking on his wails, cum shooting out of the tip of the cage and onto your hand.

“Good boy, you did so good, Kuma.” You praised him, soothing him through his pained orgasm.  His body continued to jolt as what seemed to be endless spurts of cum escaped him.

“That’s my good boy.” You continued until he stopped spasming, until he was only panting and silent tears fell.  Your switched hands, allowing Ino to suck and lick his cum off your hand desperately.  You went into your pocket and took out the key.   Unlocking the cage, you freed his poor, abused cock,  Thick red, almost purple, lines sat on his poor abused cock. 

“You did so good.” You assured him, placing a few gentle kisses on his dick and balls.

“I love you.” Ino mumbled, tongue still swirling around your fingers.  

“I love you too.” You continued to assure him.  You already knew you’d have to clean up from dinner after what you put him through.

About the Kink: Cock and Ball Torture is a sexual activity involving the application of pain or constriction to the cock and balls. This may involve directly painful activities, such as genital piercing, wax play, genital spanking, squeezing, ball-busting, genital flogging, urethral play, tickle torture, erotic electrostimulation, kneeing or kicking. The recipient of such activities may receive direct physical pleasure via masochism, or emotional pleasure through erotic humiliation, or knowledge that the play is pleasing to a sadistic dominant. Many of these practices carry significant health risks.

How to Practice the Kink Safely:

With any kink it's important to have a safe word, action and sound. The action is in case it's not possible to be verbal. The sound is incase it's not possible to make words or move. Pick something easy to remember and wouldn't come up naturally. Eg. Red, 3 fast taps, 3 repeating grunts

Loss of blood flow is one of the greatest risks in cock and ball torture and may cause irreversible damage. Bleeding is an indicator of unsafe behavior. Because numbness may result from circulation problems in the affected member, the level of pain is not an indicator of a problem and signs of danger include numbness or loss of color and edemas. Bondage in which the testicles are tied to another object is especially dangerous, increasing the risk of damaging the testicles through excessive tension or pulling. The most serious injuries are testicular rupture, testicular torsion and testicular avulsion, which are medical emergencies that require urgent medical attention. Please use extreme caution when participating in this activity. Constantly be checking in on the person whose cock and balls are being damaged. Always have safety measures in place to immediately get restrictive devices off. Truthfully this activity shouldn't be participated in and can cause severe damage and trauma to the genitals. Exorcise caution and mitigate risk where possible if you do choose to participate

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nikolai tells Alejandro about the day he met Price for the first time.

cw: none.

The safehouse that sat just outside Chicago was pretty tidy, all things considered. The sofas had stuffing in them, there was a pool table with most of its balls and three cues, and there was a kitchen stocked with an adequate number of pots, pans and miscellaneous utensils. Miscellaneous, because the only three things Soap ever saw fit to use was knife, fork and spatula. The cutlery was optional.

Unlike Nik, who had been holding out with his previously undisclosed talents, and was currently whipping up dinner for the three senior officers. Gaz, Soap and Rudy had ordered pizza from a decent looking joint in Chicago town, and the four empty boxes and half drunk Pepsi bottles still sat scattered on the low coffee table as they watched Price, Alejandro and Nik chatter in the kitchen.

Ghost was asleep on the sofa, one arm slung over his face as he dozed before his meal. The fact that he had stolen several slices of pizza as well had surprised precisely no one.

After some fiddling, Alejandro managed to get the small stereo on the kitchen counter to work, the crackly voice of Madonna rising above the sound of sizzling garlic and onion with ‘Like a Prayer’. It was back in the charts thanks to some new superhero movie in the cinema.

“I remember when this was released,” Nik said. “March 1989. A few months later the Berlin Wall fell and I had my first kiss with a German girl from the west, an American radio station was playing in the background, this.” He chucked a handful of peppers into the pan, stirring them into the onions.

Price grinned fondly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Always a hopeless romantic. Couldn'ta had any hairs on your chin even, Nik.”

“I was fourteen. Almost a man.”

“Ha, I was four. I always forget...”

Nik winced. “Oozush, you make me feel like a… what is it you say?”

“Cradle snatcher.”

“Yes, that,” Nik said, deadpan.

“Did ya kiss random girls in the street a lot, or was the fall of the Soviet empire a special occasion?”

“You make me sound like a pervert…”

“Ahh, ignore him, Nikolai. These young officers have no concept of romance and the… emotional power of revolution, of history in the making,” Alejandro chimed in, “a kiss exchanged on the cusp of a new dawn, it is a powerful thing.”

“Thank you, colonel.” Nik slapped Price’s hand as he reached for one of the cherry tomatoes on the edge of the chopping board, and weathered his baleful gaze with a placid stare. “Has the captain ever told you the story of how we first met?”

“Oh, bloody hell, Nik, I really don’t–”

“No,” Alejandro said, grinning. “I would love to hear it.”

Nik raised his eyebrows at Price, who covered his face with his hand, groaning into his palm. “Not my finest hour…"

Nik cut open the mince and passata before he continued; revenge was best extracted at a leisurely pace so it could be enjoyed. “I was sitting in the Prince of Wales after my shift had ended at the embassy, minding my own business, when this young, baby-faced man sat on the stool next to me and ordered a pint of bitter.”

“Nik–” Price warned, but without heat; the embarrassed smile made his whiskers twitch.

“He was wearing his beanie, his civilian clothes, but he had British military written all over him. He might as well have arrived in his parade uniform. I knew MI6 would be sending someone to meet me that day, but a young man straight out of Sandhurst was a surprise. He was trying so hard not to look at me and I decided to see how long he would last.”

“Two years out,” Price corrected, his cheeks reddening in preparation for what came next.

“‘Ow’s yer English?’ he asks,” Nik’s impression of Price was perfect and Alejandro chuckled into his beer, “and I reply–”

“--how's your Russian?” Price added, pained. "It was bloody nonexistent, wasn't it? What a wanker."

“The flush was enough. I was not sure whether MI6 intended me to provide him with intelligence or take him to bed, I am certain either would have satisfied their goals at the time.”

“I was trained as a soldier, not a bloody spy. You were my first big mission in that area...”

“A honey trap,” Alejandro said, knowingly, and Price's face turned a darker shade of red.

“Da. A very sweet one, with such serious eyes for such a young face. But they had done what I asked; sent a soldier I could talk to, not a spy to manipulate me. We talked for hours, and every time I tried to bait him, he remained stalwart and honest to his mission. It was impossible to say no. It is for John Price that I turned informant.”

Price tipped his beer in a toast and then necked the rest. Perhaps to hide the look in his eye from Alejandro, but the colonel was far too shrewd to have missed it. He was also, however, a gentleman and didn't push for any further acknowledgement.

Nik finished up the bolognese with fresh pasta, some mushrooms, tomato puree, spices and red wine, before serving it up onto four plates. “Lieutenant!”

Ghost rolled off the sofa, kicking Soap's feet out of the way, and dragged himself up to a kitchen stool. “Smells good,” he grumbled. “Wassis about you bein’ a honey trap, sir?”

“Thought you were asleep,��� Price murmured, shaking salt and pepper over the top of his meal. “It's classified. Strictly need to know.”

Ghost hummed as he rolled his mask up to his nose and tucked into his dinner. He would ply Nik with bourbon for the intel later, because he absolutely needed to know.

Nik pulled up the stool closest to Price’s side, and they sat shoulder to shoulder as they had fifteen years before in the Prince of Wales. Back then, Nik had been full of fear and uncertainty, his conscience a writhing mess inside his chest, the spectre of depression darkening his eyes.

They had tried to turn him in Copenhagen but he had resisted. He had known they would try again when he was stationed in London and he had been ready to resist unless they met a specific set of his criteria. Nikolai had thought it unlikely, until Lieutenant John Price, young, completely out of his depth despite being so clearly brilliant, but so determined to get it right, had talked him into believing there was hope after all.

Nik's hand found Price’s knee under the table, his thumb stroking over the top, and the backs of Price's fingers passed back and forth over his weathered knuckles in return.

Nik had bound his destiny, his soul, to John that day. He had only realised it some years later when his head had cleared enough to listen to his heart, but since then, he had never looked back.

[idkfitememate]

Hear me out but horse!creator finding out where kaeya live and just flopping on his bed and just falling asleep. I don’t know how they fit, he problem has the princess wooden bed polls on his bed frame if anything. But just horse!creator back on the bed hooves up Towards the ceiling, with kaeya coming back for patrol or to drunk and needed a nap maybe diluc has to bring him back home and they just see a horse on the bed snoozing away.

Ps I feel out of spite if not just to mess with kaeya that horse!creator likes to be with diluc

-🐎anon



Neigh

My House Now

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Diluc & Kaeya x Horse!Reader

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. :

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Crack & Crack

“What the…” Those were the only words that could leave Diluc’s lips.

Before him you lay in Kaeya’s bed, completely covering the spread, hooves in the air and mouth wide open allowing your demonic snores to fill the room.

Diluc huffed, adjusting Kaeya Om his shoulder while continuing to stare at you to try and make sense of the situation. While thinking, you shifted, rolling over to face the duo with a loud thump. The readheads eyes traveled to the bluehead who hiccuped in his sleep - terrifying and should’ve woken him up but didn’t so that was concerning - then to you, who snored away and twitched lightly.

For a moment, Diluc heavily considered just tossing his brother overtop your body and calling it a night - as it was cutting into his… nightly activities.

Deciding to find some mercy in his heart, Diluc gently set his brother down propped up against the bed, then walked over and started to gently shake your… shoulders??? He had no clue anymore but was a little too done to care.

After light shakes didn’t work, he moved to harsher shakes, then full on throttling, he may have even gave you a little tap whos to say.

Eventually after a few solid minutes of shaking Diluc gave a reluctant sigh, rising off the bed and making his way to pick up his brother. Once safe in his arms he turned around, only to be met with your silent, standing form behind him.

He jumped, shock clumsily hidden after a moment which led to you both staring each other down. Diluc analyzed you in the silence, noting your barely visible breathing and somehow scarily sharp eyes despite just waking up. He was again shocked when you started to walk, floorboards creaking under your weight while you shoved yourself behind him, angry curses and muttered whispered under his breath.

Once settled fully behind him - and be for r he could fully react - you grabbed the man by his scruff in your teeth. He flinched hard, immediately moving to fight back against you. You snort as you start to push him out of the room, the awkward position causing him to stumble over his own feet as you led him out.

A few long, torturous minutes later you came to the front room. You stop pushing Diluc, allowing him to take a moment to breathe. Before he could complain you snatched Kaeya out of his arms and toss him onto the couch with minimal effort.

Diluc was at the point where he couldn’t even be shocked anymore.

Then, you walked back over and gripped his collar in your teeth, and threw him out the front door.

Diluc stared at the door, looked at his hands, and simply walked off.

“I don’t have time to deal with this…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍨🍮🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Kaeya woke to sun in his face and crusty and sweaty clothes clinging to his back. Something else he noticed was the smell.

The smell of eggs and breakfast.

Wicked hangover pounding in his head, the Captain walked into the kitchen to find you standing with a pan with frying eggs.

Without looking at him you plate the eggs, revealing a wide spread of foods. You snorted at his jaw dropped expression and walked over to him, hooves clicking across the floor. When you reached Kaeya you placed a hoof under his chin and closed it, the squeezing beside him and out of the kitchen leaving him to his breakfast.

“What… the fuck..?”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : I feel like Horse!Creator Reader is deadass just. The horse from Tangled. You know which one.