#or if I don’t want meat that is being served at an at home function. “Are you veg?” No I just think chicken is yucky. Please leave me alone

[hostilehospitalbeds]

can we please as a society normalize not consuming meat at EVERY meal. No im not veg. I just am choosing not to have meat in this meal. It’s a perfectly good meal the way it is. I like it. Let a girl eat her carbs and cheese and veggies (and maybe some other protein like beans or eggs) in peace!!!

[volkswagonblues]

a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks. 

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim​) 

(note: #2:  I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15. 

From My Asakusa: 

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master) 

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine. 

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this: 

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology. 

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 13

Hello friends we have come to the end of Cult Girl. Thank you all for hyping me up throughout this story and giving me the confidence to actually post my work. Y/n and Hannibal throw a dinner party.

The sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the entire kitchen in that homey mid-morning glow. You were enjoying your coffee and scrolling through an article on your phone.

"Senator Hatch reportedly coughed up his late wife's toe on the floor of the precinct." You read out loud. "Huh. Wonder how that could have happened."

You side-eyed Hannibal, who was contentedly sharpening his knives. Placing a rather large meat cleaver to the side, he met your gaze. "I have my ways."

You finished off your coffee and brought the mug to the sink. "There was no way Theresa was going to survive that night, was there?"

"Clever girl." Hannibal praised.

"You were going to kill her if I didn't, were you?" You felt a smile coming on. "Did everything turn out as expected?"

"Darling, this all went much better than I could have ever hoped for." He smirked. "See, I had the whole evening mapped out. I was hoping you'd be the one to deliver justice and kill her, but I had to prepare for the possibility that you wouldn't."

You folded your arms and leaned against the island. "Is that why I was so sick that day?"

You could have sworn you saw some hesitation in Hannibal's face. Maybe even a touch of regret. "Yes. You needed an alibi. It was as easy as removing a single birth control pill from your packet. You'd see it was missing and think you'd already taken your medicine-"

"So I'd neglect to take my focus meds." You cut in. "Yeah, I knew something was off."

"By the end of the day, you'd be experiencing full withdrawal symptoms." Hannibal nodded. "I don't take any pleasure in upsetting the delicate balance of your brain chemistry, and for that I am sorry. I did what I had to."

"Yeah, don't ever do that again." You ordered, no disarming smile in sight. "I need those meds to function."

"I promise you, darling," Hannibal said, sincerely. "I would never keep you from being anything but your very best. I was just looking after you."

"I suppose now that all this is out in the open, you won't need to pull any shit like that again." You muttered. "But I'm still going to keep my pills at my apartment."

"That reminds me." He said. "Would you like to invite your roommates for dinner tonight? I've prepared a wonderful Spanish-inspired menu that's perfect for entertaining."

"I'd love for you to meet my friends, but, they all keep such weird hours I doubt they'll all be free tonight." You shrugged. "I'll give them a call though."

"Wonderful." He smiled. "You make arrangements while I prepare the kitchen."

You stepped into the office and called up Pilar. She answered within the minute.

"[F/N]!" She near shouted. "Holy fuck, how are you doing?"

"I'm actually doing..." you looked back into the kitchen, watching your beloved Hannibal in his element. "Really well."

"I heard about your cousin." Pilar cut in. "One down, two to go."

You snorted. "No fucking shit."

"Sorry, was that okay for me to say?" She apologized. "I know you said Theresa was a bitch, but it's your trauma and I-"

"No, you're fine." You laughed. "She was a bitch. Hey, do you have any plans tonight?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so." She answered. "Why?"

"Hannibal wants to invite you all for dinner tonight." You said with an audible smile. "Y'know, to celebrate the bitch's death."

"Yo! Steph!" Pilar shouted across the room. "Wake Randy up! We're having dinner at [F/N]'s rich boyfriend's house!"

You could make out Stephanie's voice in the background. "It's about damn time. We've been waiting for her to redistribute the wealth."

"She means thank you for the invitation." Pilar corrected.

"It's not like I had to twist his arm or anything. It was his idea." You chuckled. "He loves having guests. And excuses to dress up."

"Oh so we're getting fancy, huh?" Pilar's voice turned up in excitement.

"Hey [F/N]!" Randy snatched the phone from Pilar. "Text me the menu for tonight. My girlfriend'll steal a nice bottle of wine to pair. She's a pro, she works over at Cavatappi's wine and spirits."

"Much obliged, Randy." You said. "I'll see you guys at seven."

You returned to the kitchen with a smile. "They're coming."

"Well, we don’t have a moment to lose, then." Hannibal placed something wrapped in butcher paper on the counter. "Come now. Let me show you how to properly prepare a heart.

You and Hannibal spent the rest of the morning and the whole afternoon preparing a bountiful meal. You reveled in the irony of finally finding a space for Theresa in your life. That space just so happened to be on the stove.

Seven came far too quickly, but your friends were always a welcome sight. You greeted them at the door with hugs, Hannibal watching with stoic adoration.

"Guys, this is Hannibal Lecter, my partner." You introduced. "Hannibal, this is Pilar, Stephanie and Miranda."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies." Hannibal greeted. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

"Here you go, Dr. Lecter." Randy handed him a bottle of wine. "Thank you for inviting us."

Hannibal examined the bottle. "Yes, this will pair quite nicely with our meal. Thank you very much. [F/N], could you show our guests to the dining room?"

You nodded and accepted the bottle, given the extra responsibility of pouring. You led your friends to the dining room and wasted no time distributing the alcohol.

"A toast." Stephanie rose her glass. "Too many of history's worst have had the privilege of dying on their own terms. Today, we celebrate the death of one who didn't: Theresa [L/N]."

"She will join her sisters Nancy Reagan and Madame Nhu in hell tonight." You concurred, tapping your glasses together with a series of satisfying clinks.

"Okay, you need to spill." Randy scooted her chair up and leaned towards you. "How the hell did you get away with it?"

"Well, it helped a lot that her husband was already a felon." You teased. "If I didn't kill her, he was going to eventually."

Pilar made a face. "I can't believe it took actual murder to get that latter-day lump thrown in prison."

"Well, the LDS church is a very influential organization with a stronghold on all of Utah." You explained. "There's a long history of legitimizing sex abuse there."

"We know, cult girl." Stephanie laughed. "You remind us every time your pedophile cousin-in-law comes up. Relax and take your victories where you can get them.” 

“Ladies,” Hannibal entered. You rushed to his side to help him with the dinner plates. “Have we ever tried organ meat before?” 

Everyone’s eyes found Pilar. 

“Braised liver is delicious and you guys are just cowards.” Pilar protested. “I will die on this hill.” 

Hannibal smiled and presented your friends with their plates. “You are a woman of good tastes, Pilar. Our first course is Riñones al Jerez.” 

“Kidneys.” Randy translated. “Who’s kidneys are we eating today, Dr. Lecter?” 

He tilted his head. “Theresa’s, of course.” 

“I don’t care whose organs you harvested.” Stephanie said, her eyes rolling back into her head. “This is delicious.” 

You and Hannibal shared a glance and a smile. 

You and your roommates devoured the Riñones al Jerez, then dug into the next serving of heart stewed with chickpeas and olives. You finished off the evening with natillas de leche and a bottle of Sauternes Hannibal just happened to have lying around. 

“This is the first time since like, Keith Raniere got sentenced that I’ve seen [F/N] happy-drunk.” Stephanie observed.

“Or even just... happy." Pilar said, looking at Hannibal. "I'll have some of whatever she's having, please."

"My pleasure." Hannibal poured her another glass of wine.

Your phone began to buzz on the table, capturing the attention of your guests. You didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Nobody else in the world had such horrid timing.

"Shit, you've got to answer it here!" Stephanie pleaded. "So we can all give her a piece of our mind!"

You looked over to Hannibal, who you knew was just as curious.

You dragged the answer icon across the screen and put it on speaker. You gestured for your friends to be quiet. "Yeah?"

"Well look who finally decided to pick up." Grandma said. "Thank you for gracing me with your attention. I know you have so much going on right now, you're just too busy to pick up the phone and talk to your grieving grandmother."

"For your information..." you stumbled over your words. "I was interrogated by the police yesterday. I think that counts as having something going on."

"Are you drunk?" Her voice was laced with a disproportionate level of disgust.

"I'm grieving too, Beatrice." You counter. "What, suddenly you're the only one who can drink the pain away? That's not very democratic of you."

"In your state, you shouldn't even be thinking of alcohol!" Grandma scolded. "You of all people should know the effects alcohol has on an unborn baby."

You smacked yourself on the head. Of course Theresa would plant a seed to fuck you over one last time. "Did Theresa actually tell you I was pregnant?"

"It was her last message to me, actually. Anyway, you're coming home." Grandma said, without so much as waiting for a response. "I won't have my great grandchild living in that dangerous city that your cousin was killed in."

You exchanged looks with your friends, who were going through the same combination of emotions as you were. Grandma's words just seemed to fade out as you shared an entire nonverbal conversation with the people around you.

"And you're leaving that terrible, terrible man."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and looked at you, waiting to see how you'd respond. You knew what you had to do. It was finally time. You did something you should have done a long time ago.

"No." You said, your nerves loosened by the wine.

"What?"

"No. And I mean it." A big smile crossed your lips. "Theresa lied to you. I'm not pregnant. And you have to live with the fact that your granddaughter's last words to you were a blatant lie."

Hannibal looked at you with pride and your friends began to silently gas you up with encouraging gestures. "

"...And that you're the only one to blame for her deception." You continued. "You raised her in your own image."

"This is why I refuse to let you raise my great grandchild with that man!" She wailed. "He's twisted your mind against me! He's made you cruel!"

"Hannibal made me see clearly that you made me cruel." You said with absolute certainty. "You'll never see me again."

"Don't be like your mother, [F/N]." Grandma snarled. "Don't cut people out for trying to help."

"You'll never see me again." You repeated and decided to leave it at that. You ended the call and blocked the number, joined by an eruption of excitement from your friends.

It was finally over. Your life could truly begin.

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - Another day in Dahlia

Summary: When worlds collide, Aaron and Smartass has the ‘old, married couple’ moment when a wolf is loose in a hypermarket. 

-

Dahlia is lively today, the afternoon sunlight dazzling upon the city. Familiar faces, familiar sights and familiar roads are everywhere. 

And yet, the man who couldn’t stop bickering with his lover since the two of them stepped out of IKEA is a changing man living in this familiar city. 

Aaron likes to think that he retains his best qualities despite the passing of time. Firm, true and level-headed - traits that have served him well both in his personal and work life. Traits that have earned him recognition, achievements and praises. However, against a fiery soul housed within an infuriating yet gorgeous body, Aaron has never felt so breathless and helpless. 

And most importantly, lovestruck. 

Unstable and uncharacteristically hesitant, the pieces of himself that are held together with patience have been pulled apart by its seams. But they weren’t destroyed; no, they rearrange themselves into an amazing new form. Aaron isn’t quite yet certain what that new form brings, but already, he could feel himself grow into a man that wholly compliments his lover. 

Like a planet revolving around a beautiful, bright star. He can’t help but be drawn by the star’s gravity. 

There’s balance between them, despite their strong-willed personalities. They sooth the other when one burns too brightly, they offer guidance when the other is unsure. Balanced and happy, that’s what they are. 

There’s never emptiness when silence envelops them. Isn’t there a saying that whenever you’re with your loved one, silence is never oppressive? 

Although, to be fair, silence doesn’t last long whenever they’re together. Not when there’s always something to bicker, something to discuss and something to tease about. 

Case in point, the ugly as fuck lamp that Aaron fought tooth and nail to convince his partner not to buy. 

“Look, it’s not even your money; I was going to use mine for it!” 

“It’s not about the money, Smartass.” Aaron replies back with a roll of his eyes. They’re at the parking lot getting ready to head off to the hypermarket next. The two of them had spent four hours of furniture shopping at IKEA after his Smartass made an offhand comment last week about his couch being way too old and lumpy for gaming nights and movie marathons. 

But before either of them realise it, what was supposed to be a simple couch purchase turned into perusal of dining tables, desks and floor lamps. Aaron got them back on track when you excitedly pulled him towards that last part.

Aaron had never before questioned your taste in furniture before but at that point, he starts to draw the line at a red, human shaped floor lamp. It bows slightly with the most creepy smile he had ever seen on a statue before. 

“I just don’t want to have a heart attack everytime I wake up, alright? You wanted it in our bedroom, beside our bed and it’s creepy beyond all reason.” 

“It’s functional though.” 

“So were the other floor lamps.” Aaron easily pointed out. He opened the car door and waited, unamused, for you to get in. Unfortunately, judging by how your arms folded across your chest in a stubborn pose, his spitfire didn’t want to drop their conversation. 

“What if I put it in the living room?” You suggest instead, the familiar defiant spark made itself known. 

Aaron held himself back from groaning in despair. Why are you so hung up about that lamp!? “I don’t think it’ll fit with the… aesthetic of our house, OK?” He tried the tactical approach first, knowing that a straight up no would not pacify his partner at all. “How about this; we’ll go with your couch and desk and my preference for the dining table. There. Is that good enough for you, Your Highness?” 

You purse your lips, but the both of you know that you’re not so hung up about the floor lamp to drag this argument any further. Aaron wisely chooses not to comment how your lips slowly curve into a smile. 

“Fine. I’ll let you win this round - ”

“Oh my god - ”

“But in return, I’ll be taking over for lunch later.” 

Aaron immediately shut his mouth, surprise and secretly a little giddy that his Smartass had taken the initiative of making a meal for them. That lasted for about a split second before something dawn onto him. 

“You want free reign at the hypermarket later, right?” 

This time, you beam happily but say nothing as you finally slip inside of the Mercedes. And as usual, silence spoke louder than words. Aaron exhales loudly, not knowing whether to laugh or mutter a curse. Trust in his lover to have the final say, ultimately. 

But that’s one of the many reasons why he fell so hopelessly in love with you. 

-

The hypermarket is busy for a Saturday. Smartass pointed at the sales and promotions board display in big letters and numbers when the two of you entered the building, hand in hand. Ah, that makes sense. Children run about clutching snacks in their little hands to convince their exasperated parents into buying, worned out staff restock empty shelves and the scent of fresh produce and floor detergents clings in the air. A familiar sight. 

“How do you feel about crabs?” Smartass begins the conversation. Aaron doesn’t understand why you bother asking him when you’re already dragging him towards the cold, seafood area. Aisles of fresh fish of all kinds are clearly displayed for visitors, the more expensive kind are packaged and a few men are working behind the butcher service counter. 

“I can go for some crabs. It’s been a while anyway.” Aaron answered, grabbing a nearby stack of baskets for their grocery. He tried to recall the last time they had any seafood and his mind helpfully supplied a restaurant where they went to for dinner in March. 

He lets you gather your thoughts as you stare at the frozen crabs critically as if they were spreadsheets. “I’m thinking of rice with a side of buttery crab meats, Salmon sashimi, Shiitake soup and lotus root salad. Sounds good?” 

As soon as he invited his Smartass to permanently move in with him, you had totally taken over the kitchen. Apparently you weren’t terribly amused when he admitted that he’s not much of a cook but hey, he never once complained when you served the best homemade vegan burgers with a glare and a silent, “Go ahead. I dare you to say that they taste like shit. Make my day, Aaron.” 

So instead, after he cleaned their dishes, Aaron proceeded to throw his lover on their bed to thoroughly thank you for the meal. 

Four hours later, the flushed and surprised expression on your face was so worth it. 

But we’re getting off tangents here. 

“Sounds absolutely delicious.” Aaron replied and startled his Smartass with a sudden kiss on your cheek. “Now stop glaring at the crabs and pick some already. We have half of the ingredients back home and I’d rather not spend the rest of our remaining Saturday in the hypermarket. So let’s get to it.” 

Smartass hum in agreement and grab your own basket. Together, they made quick work of what they needed to buy. Not just for lunch, but for the upcoming weeks too. Crabs, Salmons, some meat and later pea sprouts, red cabbages and lotus root - the both of them are more inclined to healthy meals rather than take outs and it really helps that Smartass suggest preparing ingredients that they could cook for the rest of the week, given their busy work lives. Vegetable dishes are flexible and easy enough to cook into anything anyway. 

They moved on from the frozen, seafood aisles and the produce section to where the personal care products are. Aaron holds up his phone in between them so Smartass could check what’s next on the list. 

“Oh shit. I totally forgot that my shampoo and conditioners just ran out.” Smartass blurted. “Thanks for adding that into our grocery list.” 

Aaron scoffs. “You mentioned it twice during dinner last night - in between debating whether or not Game of Thrones is better than Lord of the Rings, mind you - so I can understand why you forgot” Colourful rows of shampoo bottles greeted them when they walk past a couple who’s pushing their trolley carts away from the shelves. He grabs your favourite brand and places them in his basket. “You’re brilliant, Smartass, but I can’t help pity that poor hamster living in your brain for having to run in its ball all day long.” 

You gasp, affronted, while Aaron laughs at the look on your face. Even smacking his arm did nothing to stop his laughter. “You’re too easy to rile up sometimes, you know that Smartass?” He smirks and grabs a toothpaste next. They’re running low on that too. In retaliation for his remark, Smartass sneakily pulled that toothpaste out when Aaron was checking his phone and chose the one with the strawberry flavour instead. 

When Aaron shot you an inquisitive look, you just smiled innocently and quickly distracted him by insisting that they need to get some snacks. 

“That reminds me, it’s not on the list but we have to buy ramune soda. Oh, and some potato chips too.” You pointed out as the two of you rounded away from a large family who stopped in between the body wash shelves and hair serums. “Have you noticed that we go through ramune sodas like crazy lately?” 

The snacks and beverage section is one of the highlights of this hypermarket, in Aaron’s humble opinion. Not only do they have an abundance of the local goods, they also have a wide selection of some really good imported snacks or as Aaon like to call it, your ultimate weakness.  

“Yeah but be honest, are you really going to stop your addiction anytime soon?” 

“What is this? Bully me day?”

“Hey, you’re the one who said it, not me, Smartass.” Aaron is quick to quip back and this time, you roll your eyes. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t mean that you have to like it. 

But that’s Aaron - his words always serve a meaning and come straight from the heart when it’s for the things that truly matter. It’s annoying and yet, it’s one of his best qualities. 

However, just as you were about to rebuke him, the two of you heard a passing conversation nearby the soda shelves. 

“ - not going to play bartender at home again, Angel. Why not? Alright then; let me jog your memory, hmm? The last time I left you alone in the kitchen for more than 3 hours, you came out carrying a tray with the embodiment of everything unholy on this planet separated into three shot glasses.” 

“It was just ramune soda mixed with rose syrup, grass jelly and vinegar!” 

“Asher had a stomach ache for a week, Angel.” 

“But Davey, how do you expect me to get better at it if you don’t let me practice? See? There’s a flaw in your plan!” 

“I’d rather we go to a bar the next time you’re in the mood to poison the both of us.” 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation but you couldn’t help snicker at the stranger’s very much put out and deadpan tone. It gives an implication that this isn’t the first time this ‘Angel’ did something as crazy as mix sodas with vinegar. Hell, even the man’s comment earned a soft chuckle from Aaron. 

“Sounds like he got quite a handful lover over there. Remind you of someone?” Aaron whispered. They couldn’t properly see the couple due to a stack of Dorito boxes in between them but you could spot a tall man wearing a pretty nice looking leather jacket and his partner beside him.

“If you’re implying that I’m unreasonably difficult - ”

“No, no. Just… hmm, passionately stubborn, I suppose.” Aaron nonchalantly replies with a smirk. He guffaws when you poke at his sides and spin around to the rows of ramune with a dramatic huff. Aaron easily follows suit with a fond smile. 

This section of the aisle is quiet unlike the previous ones that’ve been, Aaron noticed. The humming of the air conditioner above them and the crinkling of a plastic bag of chips in Smartass’ hand were the only sounds that broke the comfortable silence. Even the murmurs from the other couple melts into background noises the further Aaron and his walk away. 

That is, until a hair-raising snarl shattered the quietness. 

What’s worse, it sounded like a wolf. 

Aaron reacted instinctively. He opted for the defense - grabbing his Smartass’ free hand, pulling you close to him. His searching eyes are frantic while his mind is trying to make sense that a wolf is somehow in this hypermarket. Full of people. What the fuck!?

Smartass, however, opted for the offense. You grab the nearest glass bottle by the neck and were about to smash it against the metal shelf if it weren’t for Aaron’s quick thinking. He immediately grabs your wrist and shoots you an incredulous look. Silently judging your choices in life. 

‘You have a better idea on how to deal with a fucking wolf!?’ Smartass demanded in silence. Your expression is bewildered; as if you couldn’t believe that Aaron wouldn’t let you shank an unknown threat just around the corner. 

In return, Aaron pulls you closer to his body and glares out, ‘I’m not letting you throw yourself in front of a wolf!’

‘I’m protecting us!’ Smartass countered back, glaring just as heatedly. 

A sweet giggle suddenly interrupted their mental argument. Their hearts skip a beat in fear at the unknown. 

“Ok, ok. How about this, Davey: I'll let you dress me up when we go to the bar tomorrow. How’s that? Does that make my Wolf not jealous anymore?” The same voice they accidentally eavesdropped previously bargained in a teasing tone. 

Smartass and Aaron exchange a bewildered and confused glance. What the fuck did they just said? My Wolf? Was the realistic animal snarl came from the boyfriend!? He must’ve some serious vocal cords and throat to be able to make that sound!

Aaron exhales loudly while Smartass allows him to grab the glass bottle that you were still holding to put it back on the shelf. 

“I think I just lost five years of my life.” Aaron complains.

Smartass said nothing. Without even saying anything, you march to where the couple are. Aaron curses under his breath and quickly chases after you. 

The man in the black leather jacket and his partner glanced at his Smartass when you approached them with a practised smile. One that Aaron knew meant trouble. How could he not when he’s the receiving end of that smile more than he could count. 

When Smartass wants answers, you’ll do everything in your power to get it and Aaron is really not looking forward to wrangling his partner from starting a brawl in the middle of a damn hypermarket. 

“Hi there.” His Smartass began, your body language deceptively open and friendly. “Are you two alright?” 

“Eh?” The one standing beside the tall, frowning man replies with a blink. Upon closer inspection, Aaron realises that he and what looks to be the leader of a local gang are similar in built. 

“Can we help you?” The gang leader interjects. He’s frowning but he doesn’t appear angry. Just confused like his partner. Though he nodded in greeting when Aaron slid up beside Smartass. 

“Didn’t you hear that noise just now?” Smartass plays shock. “It sounded like someone released a wolf in the hypermarket!” 

The man in the leather jacket suddenly looked like he just sucked a lemon; his eyes are comically wide. Meanwhile, his partner’s eyes are equally as wide. Aaron detects a hint of realisation glint in their eyes. Now isn’t that interesting? 

Well, Smartass thought so too. You pressed on. “You heard it too right? Damn near give me a heart attack! I wonder if the nearby staff also heard it - ”

“It’s probably the ventilation system or something.” The gang leader quickly replied, his expression oddly shifted to neutral. Beside him, his partner opens their mouth to say something but he quickly presses his palm over it. They throw a pointed look at him but he resolutely ignores it. “Anyway, good luck with your grocery shopping.” 

Aaron watches him grab his partner by the hand and gently drag them away. It was only when they’re out of sight that they started furiously chatting. 

“Wow, Davey, your slip up was even worse than Asher’s!” 

“We’re so not telling him about this, Angel.” 

“...Does this mean I can tell Babe instead?” 

“Wha - No, that wasn’t an invitation to tell his Mate!” 

Aaron turns to Smartass who just shrugs. Neither of them could figure out what just happened. He’s just glad that you let them escape. 

“Maybe they have some really kinky roleplaying thing going on.” Smartass guessed, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. 

Aaron runs his palm down his face in exasperation. “I don’t give a shit, Smartass. Can we please just finish up our grocery shopping already? I’m starting to get hungry.” 

“Alright, alright. We just have to grab a few more things and then we can pay.” Smartass assured him and off they continued on their way. 

Though neither of them still couldn’t help but wonder how the hell that man managed to sound like a wolf so accurately. 

Kinky roleplay or not. 

-

I’m tentatively planning to make this into a mini series including the rest of the non-empowered characters with their lovers. I’m already writing for Oliver and Baby so we’ll see how that goes! 

[spencers-renaissance]

Hunger

Summary: Spencer really likes his new coworkers: they're nice, welcoming, friendly, and made his transition to the BAU as easy as possible. Which makes it impossible for him to turn down an invitation to eat dinner with them at an upscale fancy restaurant, no matter how anxious that makes a boy who grew up with next to nothing feel.

Tags: insecurity, anxiety, allusions to poverty, hurt/comfort, team as family, angst with a happy ending, fluff, background jelle

TW: mentions of poverty, financial difficulties, and food insecurity

Pairing: Gen (Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid)

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills my "trying not to cry" bad things happen bingo square and is set a few weeks after Spencer joins the BAU, in an AU in which Elle was there before him.

Everyone is so nice, is the thing.

And that’s great. Really, it is. Spencer isn’t about to complain when JJ kindly walks him through the filing system all the while asking questions about him and his life, or when Derek ribs him gently about his ducktail hair or his nerdy brain. No-one cuts him off when he gets carried away — unless it’s time-sensitive, of course — or teases him about anything that cuts too close to home. Being the new guy in the most prestigious unit in the FBI could’ve been a nightmare, but this team made it easy. He’s so grateful for all of it.

It just makes it really hard to turn down dinner invitations.

He watches his shaking fingers in the mirror as they button his shirt up and wrap his tie around his neck, poking it fastidiously under the collar, not a wrinkle of fabric out of place. He glances down at the countertop again, re-reading the restaurant name copied down in JJ’s careful handwriting onto a piece of copier paper regardless of having committed it to memory the first time he heard it. Sur la Rivière: a fancy European restaurant in DC.

He’d hoped for a cheap and cheerful Chinese when Hotch had first brought up the idea of a team bonding dinner, something more his style, but he’d smiled anyway when Elle had mentioned this place her foodie friend had recommended, no matter how strained it might have been. He’s the new guy after all. He doesn’t expect much swing when it comes to choosing where to eat.

As soon as his shirt and tie are perfectly in place, he gets to work on taming his curly hair. It makes him look younger when it’s loose and fluffy, and with a baby-face like his combined with already being the youngest person in the entire FBI, every year he can add on counts. Soon, though, there’s no more grooming he can use to stall the inevitable, and he sighs tiredly before clicking off the bathroom light and heading to the hall.

He collects his phone and wallet, checking for the sixth time that evening that his credit card and extra money to tip the waiter is definitely in there, grabs his keys, and heads out of his apartment. Derek is in his car waiting on the curb for him like he promised he would be, looking effortlessly suave and cool in a way Spencer never will as he honks his horn at the sight of the younger man walking towards him.

“Pretty boy!” he calls, his grin making Spencer smile, too. “Took you long enough. Hop in, fancy European cuisine awaits.”

Another rush of nerves floods Spencer’s stomach at the mention of the fate he’s signed up for, but he smiles anyway as he opens the passenger door and slides in. “Thanks for giving me a lift, Derek,” he says, hating that his anxious discomfort is so obvious in his voice.

Thankfully, Derek doesn’t pick him up on it, simply pulling away from the curb and beginning the drive across town. “How many times do I have to tell you not to mention it? I live less than ten minutes away, Spencer, it’s really not a problem.”

Spencer flushes a bit at that, wringing his hands in his lap as he watches the streets of his district pass by out the window. “Well, I appreciate it anyway,” he settles on, flashing Derek a quick smile that he doubts he sees anyway with his eyes glued so firmly to the road. “Riding the metro is a nightmare at this hour.”

“Never learned how to drive? I didn’t have the money for lessons, Spencer wants to say, irrationally frustrated at his situation. I was rushed through the academy too quickly to learn something as trivial as driving.

“I was too busy getting five degrees,” Spencer says instead, forcing a smile on his face. He wishes he wasn’t so well-practiced at managing other people’s emotions; wishes he could say what he’s really thinking. But he can’t, not in front of the people he’s trying to impress, not so soon.

“Alright, alright, I get it, you’re a genius,” Derek chuckles. “I’m glad you’re coming tonight, we all are. Gideon didn’t tell us much before he left, just that you had an IQ of 187 and he’d pulled a lot of strings to get you in at only 22.”

Spencer winces slightly at the mention of his ex-mentor. “Yeah, I’m sorry he ran out on you guys so suddenly.”

“Hey, from what I hear, he did the same to you,” Derek counters. “You guys seemed way closer than we were anyway. I never really liked the guy.”

As much as most of Spencer hates Gideon for abandoning him without warning, leaving him to find his footing in the FBI alone and afraid, a small part of him still itches to defend him. “He was a good mentor. Not such a good friend, as it turns out.”

Derek looks away from the road for a moment and shoots him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, man. But Gideon’s loss is our gain. You’re gonna be an amazing asset to the team, I just know it.”

A genuine smile crosses Spencer’s face at that. “Thanks, Derek. I can’t wait to really get stuck in, you know?”

“I remember the feeling.” Derek grins again.

They continue chatting for the rest of the journey, Spencer finally relaxing into the company of a new friend— that is, until Derek cuts across one of his stories from his second PhD. “Hey, the restaurant should be up on the left somewhere but I can’t see it…

“Oh, there,” Spencer says, pointing at the sleek, almost anonymous-looking black sign hanging above a set of fancy doors. How can doors be fancy? They’re supposed to be functional, not pretentious. All of a sudden that sinking feeling that had lifted on the car ride over settles back into his stomach and he can’t help but swallow nervously as Derek parks the car and they step out into the street.

Everyone’s already seated when they finally push through the restaurant doors, and Spencer hates that he made them both late with his apprehensive stalling, but no-one really seems to mind as they all cheer happily at the sight of them, ignoring the dirty looks it earns them from the other patrons.

“You made it!” Penelope squeals as she gets up from her seat to give Spencer a hug. He’s a little touch-averse, really, but something about Penelope’s hugs make him never want to leave her arms. He does anyway, though, and he and Derek find their seats opposite one another at the end of the table.

“I’m glad you’re here, Spencer,” Hotch says kindly as the waitress passes the two late-comers their menus.

“You’ll fit right in,” JJ promises, “we’re like a weird little family, to be honest.”

Spencer flushes a bit under the attention of so many experienced FBI agents, but he nods anyway before they all get started on deciding what to eat. He listens vaguely to everyone talking amongst themselves, giving one another suggestions in a way that corroborates JJ’s statement, and all of a sudden Spencer’s collar feels tight. It’s not just the nerves of meeting new people or the anxiety of an alien social environment, he realises he doesn’t recognise a single item on the menu.

He knows what the words themselves mean, but reading the words 'tortellini of venison’ and trying to imagine deer meat pasta is not easily done. The only simple meals seem to be seafood and Spencer’s never been a fan of fish. The only food he can even begin to imagine himself actually putting in his mouth, chewing, and swallowing is the porterhouse steak: not that he’s ever really eaten much red meat like that.

Spencer isn’t a fussy eater. He’s eaten a wide variety of dishes from any number of different restaurants across multiple cuisines, he’s just never had the kind of money to eat at a place that serves caviar, for God’s sake. Far too soon, the waitress wanders back over to the table, taking everyone’s orders with a polite smile on her face.

He listens as everyone confidently orders their meals: the smoked trout, the Moroccan quail, the lobster tagliatelle. Spencer thanks the heavens he isn’t a vegetarian, at least, but it’s not much of a consolation prize when everyone’s eyes fall on him.

“Uh, I’ll have the porterhouse steak,” he says uncertainly, hoping nobody notices the sweat beading on his forehead or the anxiety raging behind his eyes.

Everyone seems to accept his answer, the waitress taking their menus and walking back towards the kitchen as the rest of them resume their conversation. Hotch’s eyes linger a moment too long on him, and Spencer thinks he sees something like concern in his gaze, but before he can think much of it, Penelope’s drawing everyone’s attention to JJ’s bracelet.

“Can we please appreciate this?” she says, sounding scandalised for some reason Spencer can’t quite discern from context yet. “Elle, baby, you have taste. This is absolutely gorgeous! Are you sure you don’t want to date me, too?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raise slightly at that. “Oh, you two are together?” he asks, although now that he realises it he’s not sure how he didn’t notice sooner.

“Are you sure you’re a profiler, kid?” Derek laughs. “They don’t exactly hide it.

“Even though they’re supposed to,” Hotch chimes in with a faux stern look. “You two are gonna have my job at some point.” “Aw, but where would we find another Unit Chief that would help us hide our secret so well?” Elle says charmingly, making everyone laugh, including JJ, who presses her face into her shoulder fondly.

It’s easy for Spencer to momentarily lose himself in the banter, smiling as they tease one another, interspersing their gripes and funny stories from work among it all. They include him in all of it, and he doesn’t feel left out for even a second, finally relaxing into the unfamiliar environment of a fancy restaurant, eased by the reassuring company of his new team.

“JJ’s right,” he muses out loud when there’s a brief lull in conversation, “you guys really are like a little family.”

JJ leans away from Elle towards him for a moment, wrapping him in a side hug. “And you’re the perfect addition to it, Spence,” she says softly, everyone’s expressions reading nothing but fond agreement. “We needed a little brother to add into the mix.”

Spencer blushes again but leans into her touch.

No-one gets a chance to say anything else before the food arrives, the servers bringing JJ and Elle’s meals first, then serving Hotch and Penelope, before they finally bring out his and Derek’s order.

Everyone dives into their food, immediately making noises of contentment, passing bites around to one another, but Spencer can’t join in the jubilant celebration of a good meal. He picks his knife and fork up shakily as he stares at the massive portion of steak in front of him. It’s served with roast potatoes and flecks of a pointless salad that he suspects is only there as a garnish rather than actually part of the meal, but that’s not what has him worried.

This huge slab of meat hasn’t been sliced beforehand. He knows that he’ll shake the whole table if he tries to do it: it’s a massive, impenetrable slab of red meat that Spencer has no chance of enjoying, let alone finishing. He stares at it as tears burn in his eyes: he’s so out of his comfort zone and he’s so terrified of messing up and pushing away these newfound friends that he can’t move.

“Spence?” JJ cuts in gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look up, only to find everyone looking at him with worried expressions on their faces. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” he says, standing up abruptly, the disturbance of the table barely registering in his brain. “I just need a minute.”

He rushes out of the restaurant without looking back, drawing in deep breaths as soon as he’s in the cool evening air of spring. Thoughts race through his mind at a million miles an hour as he grasps for something concrete to grab onto, eventually settling for a tall flower pot.

“Spencer?”

He looks up to find Hotch standing next to him, deep concern written across his face, and Spencer’s heart clenches at the thought that he’s already messed this up so quickly. Could this night possibly get any worse?

Apparently, it can, because all of a sudden he feels his face crumple and the stinging tears finally spill down his cheeks. He sinks down to the ground and buries his face in his hands, humiliation glimmering in every cell of his body.

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says gently, lowering himself to the cool pavement next to him and placing a warm hand on his back. He lets him cry it out for a couple of minutes, his palm drawing small circles in between his shoulder blades, trying again to get through to him when Spencer’s sobs calm down slightly. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

With a shuddering breath, he forces himself to lift his face from his palms, although he still refuses to meet Hotch’s eyes, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the Korean restaurant across the street. “I guess it just all got to be too much,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Hotch says encouragingly. “What specifically?”

“I— I didn’t have much growing up. It was just me and my mom so we were living in the middle of Vegas on a single disability check each month. And, uh, then I went to college, and I was barely scraping by there, too. It’s only recently that I’ve known the luxury of knowing for sure I was eating that night, and it still gets to me sometimes when I’m faced with fancy restaurants and heavy, expensive meals. My body’s had to work for years on virtually nothing, there’s no way I can stomach a steak like that. I guess, all those feelings that are a lifetime in the making combined with the anxiety of eating with the team for the first time… wanting to make a good impression, it just all got too much. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Hotch raises a hand, and Spencer finally meets his eyes, finding nothing but compassion and understanding there no matter how much he searches. “You don’t need to apologise, Spencer, not for something like this. I’m sorry that none of us thought to make the first team dinner with you a more casual affair, and I’m even more sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell us you were uncomfortable.” “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but I’m glad you accept my apology,” Hotch says, smiling softly. “You know, we all bring baggage with us, Spencer. I can’t relate to food insecurity, but I had my own issues when I first joined the BAU. I grew up with a pretty terrible father, and the thing I found myself reprimanded for the most when I was a new recruit was the inability to follow orders. I’d spent my whole life scared of this man, obeying his every word, and I couldn’t help but hear him when my superiors would tell me to do something. When I was finally free of him, it was like I couldn’t help but rebel.

“You’re not the only one whose childhood follows them around, and I’d much rather it be something like this that we can easily manage, than something that will affect you or the team in the field, okay? Instead of beating yourself up over things you can’t control, try and remember that you have a whole new family who will do anything they can to make you feel as comfortable as possible. We already think the world of you, Spencer. Sacrificing fancy dinners that — let’s face it — can’t beat cheap junk food anyway is hardly a big ask.

Warmth spreads across his chest at Hotch’s words, replacing the feelings of failure and rising anxiety with something that feels like a promise of all the good to come. There’s something fatherly, something deeply paternal in Hotch that there wasn’t in Gideon, and it’s the most comfort Spencer’s felt in years. “Really?”

“Really,” Hotch nods, squeezing his shoulder gently. “You wait here one minute, okay?”

“Okay…” Hotch is gone before he can finish replying, and Spencer is left staring at the doors confused, until the rest of the team are piling out of them a few minutes later, Hotch bringing up the rear with his jacket and wallet in hand.

“We just paid the tab. How does cheap Chinese food eaten in the park a couple hundred yards down sound?” Hotch suggests, raising an eyebrow as he smiles warmly at Spencer.

He looks around briefly at the rest of the team, who are all giving him encouraging looks, not a trace of judgement or annoyance to be found.

“That sounds amazing,” he laughs wetly, the tears springing to his eyes this time caused by a completely different emotion. “I can pay you back, though.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” Derek says, patting Spencer’s back, “we’ve got it. Now, come on, I’m gonna order sweet and sour chicken balls, and I want them now.”

“That’s what she said,” Penelope giggles, linking her arm with Derek’s.

“That was terrible, baby girl, but I love that you tried.”

“Do you want to share shrimp chop suey with me, babe?” Elle asks JJ as they clasp hands, walking a couple of steps ahead of them.

“Well, I’m certainly not sharing with any of these losers,” JJ teases, before kissing Elle’s cheek.

Spencer feels Hotch place his hand on his back, and he turns to smile gratefully at the older man. “Thank you,” he says quietly, trying to convey just how earnestly he means it. “No-one’s ever done anything this nice for me before.”

There’s a slightly sad tinge to Hotch’s smile, but it doesn’t look like pity. “I’d get used to it if I were you. That’s just how we do things in the BAU.”

Well, if that’s the case, Spencer thinks, smiling as he falls into step between Hotch and Penelope, I think I might just stick around.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @jellejareau @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic-not-stupid(taglist form)

[thanatophobia-thoughts]

Moving on from Routine, let’s look at Emotional Self-Care. This is Self-Care that you use to improve your emotional stability. This is what Emotional Self-Care can take the form of (though I do not use all of these; I will talk more about the ones I use):

Comfort Food

Taking a “mental health day”

Napping and/or Sleeping In

Binge-Watching Comfort Shows/Reading a Comfort Book/Listening to a Comfort Podcast/Comfort Music/Comfort Video Games/Etc.

Long Baths

Venting

Reflecting on the Good

Meditation

Taking a Walk Outside or Hitting a Treadmill

Turning away from Social Media

Lighting a scented candle

Giving Gifts

Crying/Screaming/Emotional Outburst

Breaking Breakables

Playing with and/or Petting a Pet or Animal

Telling Other People You Don’t Want To Interact With Them (Right Now)/Boundary Setting

Taking care of Plants

Journaling

Cleaning

Treating Yourself (non-food)

Every time I googled “emotional self-care”, I got some things like “set boundaries”, “learn to say no”, and “create a support system” – all of which are very good things, but they don’t really fit the quick regulation criteria that I’m going for here.

So, which of these do I personally use? Comfort Food, Mental Health Days, Sleeping In, Comfort Media, Venting, Reflecting on the Good, Meditation, Hitting a Treadmill, Scented Candle, Giving Gifts, Crying, Animals, Boundary Setting, Cleaning, and Treating Myself.

I’d take care of plants but right now I don’t have a good space for plants.

I’ll look at comfort food last, because I have a list of food.

Mental Health Days, I usually try to schedule ahead of time, around days or times I know are going to be hectic. I know that after a convention, for example, I need “cooldown days”, so usually I will take the following Monday-Wednesday off from work to cooldown from the convention.

If I don’t know ahead of time, I do feel comfortable enough to call in sick, but I vastly prefer being able to plan it, simply because of who I am as a person. It is sometimes a necessity. Sometimes there is just too much going on, and I need to step away from everything. Usually on these days, I will sleep in, or sleep for most of the day, with the promise to go back to normal tomorrow – and that is how it should be.

These are tricks to put you back in line in caring for yourself! To get you back to normal!

Now, most weekends I do sleep in a little. I wake up every day at 6am, so on weekends, I will absolutely let myself sleep in to like, 9-11. It’s a good thing I have this blog on a schedule.

Binge-Consuming Comfort Media: I do not consider this the same as observing New Media, because often for me that is a Personal Self Care, and not necessarily Emotional Self Care. It can be, but more often than not, it gets my thinking fired up and engages me in a wholly different fashion. For example, I consider playing Final Fantasy XII to be a “comfort game”, but I will not consider playing Elden Ring for the first time to be “comfort”, so much as Personal, because the former I have already done, while the latter is something new and is creating new experiences for me. One regulates my emotions, the other does not do so in a foreseeable fashion. In new games, I do not know the experiences I will have, whereas with old games, I can predict them.

I will usually use Binge-Consuming Media in downtime that I have nothing else to fill, but do not have the energy to try something new right then (usually with the promise that I will return to new things in the near future, usually the following day when this happens on a weekend, or the next weekend if this happens on Sunday). Binge-Consuming Media also tends to occur normally on Weekday Evenings, as I tend to lack any desire for new media after work. It thus helps me to stay in a calm mood throughout the night, and prepares me for the next day of work by maintaining mood, rather than changing it.

Venting has to be done with care; I have friends I can vent to, but the vast majority of them only end up aggravating me more when I vent to them. Venting is something I tend to reserve for after I’ve figured out what I’m going to do, and I just need someone else to know my pain, because very rarely are people actually able to give me decent advice. Yet, venting is still useful because it lets me finally express it, and lets other people into my life, which is healing, and allows me to move forward without feeling like I’m keeping a secret.

Akin to that, reflecting on the good is a bit more of a solitary action, but it’s useful to remember that a “bad day” isn’t a bad life. To think of the people who love me, to think of the good things that did happen, even amidst the bad, and to remember there are more good things to come. After a particularly bad day at work, remembering good things, good phone calls with customers, and just good people, is always helpful, and can prepare me to continue through the rest of the day.

Meditation is something I try to do every day, and I do feel that it helps me focus on the moment, as well as helps me work through my thoughts when I’m not meditating.

Back when gyms were safe, hitting the treadmill was great for days I just couldn’t fucking convince myself to do my weight training. It still got me in the gym, it still got me exercising, and it helped me beat out the anger while listening to a podcast or music. I felt like I could breathe. I miss this, a lot, and I look forward to being able to return to this, or getting the “Just Dance” games for my home so I can do a similar thing, without going to the gym. I was then usually able to resume weight lifting the next day – and it kept me from breaking my streak of going to the gym, back in the day.

Aromatherapy is just a thing. I enjoy it, it helps me, and I love candles, haha.

Giving Gifts is also something I like to do. Making other people happy, makes me happy, and this is often a surefire way to do that. It can be as simple as a bit of chocolate, it doesn’t have to be anything extravagant. Of course, I have to make sure I am financial stable enough to do that.

Crying – when I need to. Sometimes I will have to kind of force it, by putting on a movie I know will make me cry, because just bursting into tears from stress without additional stimuli can be hard, but once it’s done, it is so relieving, and it allows my brain to start to function again without feeling as much in a daze.

It’s true I do have pets, and they’re kind of around me everyday, so this is more of a routine one – the animals are a constant source of comfort, but if you don’t have pets, visiting a pet store may be beneficial to give their animals a bit of affection, or going to an animal shelter. Or perhaps watching cute animal videos if those aren’t options.

Boundary Setting is also important. While sometimes, it can be good to help others when you’re going through a thing – I find it helpful sometimes – at other times it is just too much. Being clear on that, and also giving your friend some idea of when to “check in”, is good. It also lets your friend know a bit of a time period, so they know it isn’t a permanent block on conversing. Being open and clear about your situation can only do you good when it comes to your friends – and checking in with them when you’re ready!

Cleaning is oddly enough something I do when I’m preparing for something that is Good. I feel like I must cleanse the area in preparation of the New Good Thing. I will do this when I buy a new gaming console, or a long-awaited game, for instance. It makes things feel fresh and rejuvenated. It lets me walk into the New Thing as if it is a New Thing, and it starts it off on good footing. Some of the anxiety and anticipation of it, is quelled.

Treating Myself, when it’s non-food items, is usually things like clothing for me, or new PJs lately. I will also invest in books I plan to read, one day, eventually, cute Star Wars things, shows and/or movies to watch that are new, or things that generally speaking bring joy into my life. Sometimes emotional regulation, is also about reward. If you’re doing good in your life, you absolutely SHOULD be rewarded for it! Otherwise, why bother with balance and moderation? Why not live a hedonistic lifestyle? That would be far more pleasant if balance and moderation don’t have rewards. Not all emotional regulation is just to stop being sad, it’s also to be vindicated and celebrate good events. Celebrating IS regulating, when it calls for it, obviously. So I’m not encouraging here spending your money on whims because you are sad, but spending it more when you’re happy, and doing good.

And then we get to Comfort Foods. What do I use for comfort foods?

Chipotle Gouda Pasta Salad

Lime-Chipotle Pasta Salad

“Chicken” Fried Steak (Scare quotes because I’m a vegetarian so it’s fake meat)

“Tuna” Salad

Cheesecake, particularly raspberry white chocolate, or turtle.

Ice cream, particularly from Cold Stone, but usually either Rocky Road or Raspberry with Chocolate Chunks. There’s also Love Potion #9 which I have to drive a significant distance for….

Extra Lattes (note the extra – I already have these planned in with my meal plans).

Hot Chocoalte

Potatoes O’Brien and Gravy

The idea behind Comfort Food: Eating tasty food often restores a mood, or at least puts us in a better mindset. They aren’t always the healthiest things, though they aren’t necessarily unhealthy. They have to be done in moderation, as you see I indicate with lattes it’s “extra” lattes that go on the comfort food side. I usually have two decaf lattes a week, one on Wednesday, and one on Friday.

Comfort Foods are for a “limited time”. An extra latte means I don’t get one the following day, or I don’t get one every single day of the week. I take the comfort it offers when it’s needed, and resume my usual drinking habits.

Things like Pasta Salad are for weeks when I need a bit of help, or when I’ve done good, because they’re multiple serving things. So like, my birthday week, eating a pasta is good. Or a week where everything went to hell, and I can’t focus on making something “new” and I just need to eat – but then it’s right back to normality after that week. This is not have pasta for an entire month, this is a way to set intentions, and work on orienting myself back to normal with food I love, and food I can make with my eyes closed.

Single-serving things, like cheesecake or hot chocolate, are usually Reward self-care. Like fuck yeah, I did great, I should give myself a little treat. It encourages my good behavior, and does not become an indulgence. It also ends up “planned”, and so the rest of the meals work around that indulgence so I don’t go overboard with it, either.

Knowing what foods, and what I use them for, helps me to use them when they will be most beneficial for me. Things like “extra lattes” also makes me think: Do I really want to do this now, or wait until the day I’m going to have it? Is there a reason I need it now? What will I do after I have it? How does this impact everything else in the balance?

So these are kind of the “quick trick” emotional self-care tools I use. Obviously, you should try to have a steady way of regulating your emotions, but shit happens. Cars break down, work days suck, friends are angry, people die…we need to have tools to get “back to normal”, or close enough to normal.

And you should also, absolutely, take time to treat yourself in self-care! If you don’t reward yourself, what’s the point in being “balanced”, and not just living a hedonistic lifestyle? That’s why comfort food as rewards is a thing! It’s why you can use these as rewards, if it helps, for doing good!

These are just what I do, and what I suggest. These are ideas to get you thinking about what you could put on a list, and how that could help you. If these same ideas work for you, great! If not, you just have to feel out yourself to determine what will help you! Brainstorm with your loved ones!

[dangerousconnoisseurdonut]

When a Demon Seduced an Angel

Context: this is a (rather large) snippet from my own prompt in which Bruce is an adorable and fierce Angel who, instead of having fluffy, white, birdlike wings like all the other angels, has black, leathery bat-like wings and is tormented for it. To show the other Angels that he is good and not a demon in disguise, Bruce has taken on several high risk missions on his own, and successfully stopped numerous demon campaigns. Unfortunately, this causes the demons and their generals, The Legion of Horribles and the Brigadier Generals, Jim and Alfred (who all, strangely enough, have birdlike wings unlike their demon underlings) no small degree of vexation. So they catch him and present him to their generals... and they are stunned! This cute, little baby bat is the one causing so much trouble? Jim is the one who suggests they take the pup’s loyalty and twist it to them. The others agree, and this is Alfred’s ‘session’ with the cute little Angel.

Alfred made sure he had everything set up before allowing the pup to be brought in; the candles were lit, the wine was comfortably chilled, and his secret weapon would be in full view of the pup when it was time. He knew exactly how to make that pup sing like a nightingale, Jim and Victor thought they had broken through with all their Daddy Play the other day but he was going to have the pup leave his body by the time he was done. He looked up when some demon grunts brought the boy in, more than one sporting bruises and scratches. He wondered about the ‘All-Father’s’ sense of humour in creating such an intoxicating creature and putting him on the side of the angels. The white clothes he had been captured in had done nothing for his skin, but the dark clothes he now sported showed off his creamy skin, his dark hair, and beautiful dark green eyes. The boy was sin personified but he was on the side of the Bible humpers; he wondered if the boy was supposed to be the ‘great reward’ for being good, wholesome, and all around boring. He certainly appeared to be a tall glass of holy water.

He watched as the underlings maneuvered Bruce until he was in the center of the room, removed his shirt, and attached to a hook hanging overhead. Alfred smirked as he watched the pup try and get his balance; he had arranged the hook so that Bruce would only be able to stand on his tiptoes and any kind of struggling would have the boy flailing in the air. And Alfred could foresee a fair bit of struggling. As a gift however, he nodded that those beautiful, butter soft leather wings be released of their harness. He heard Bruce sigh a little in relief at the release of pressure and smiled as he came into view of their baby bat.

“Comfortable?” He relished in the glare he received in return as the pup responded,

“If I was in anyway comfortable, I would be home right now instead of being surrounded by demons.”

“Such attitude when we’ve done our best to make sure you were comfortable.”

“Oh yeah; those chains you used to pin me down and keep my wings bound the other day were really comfortable.” Alfred merely shrugged and replied,

“You tried to leave without saying goodbye pup; that’s bad manners and Victor and Jim had to get tough with you. Though, judging by your reactions, you didn’t mind being their ‘Daddies Boy’.” Alfred smirked as Bruce blushed and looked away before continuing,

“Tell me, Brucie, what do you know of the senses?” Bruce glared at the ‘Brucie’ bit before responding,

“They are a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus; one of the faculties of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch.” Alfred rolled his eyes before yawning and responding,

“Figures an angel would give such a dry description of something so essential. I think you need a little lesson on the senses.” So saying, Alfred produced a red silk blindfold and wrapped it around Bruce’s eyes.

“First, we are going to start off with two of the most disregarded senses; taste and smell. You ever eaten pup?”

“Of course not; angels have no need to eat so why waste the time?” Bruce responded as he tried to keep track of the demon.

“Demons don’t have to eat either Baby Boy; we do it because we enjoy it, something I doubt you’ve ever actually done. So, let’s see if I can’t help you understand our enjoyment of the act. We have a chef down here that is so good; it’s said that when her husband sold his soul for some idiotic reason, she offered her own soul that she could make a dish that would bring tears to Mephisto’s eyes. Poor dear didn’t realize that Mephisto didn’t have tear ducts but the meal was so good, when he took her soul, he placed it in the kitchens, allowing her to try all manners of dishes. Last I checked, she’s never been happier, and she hopes you’ll like what she made up for you. She made you a lovely herb encrusted lamb with some lovely roasted Brussels sprouts, some creamy herb mash potatoes, and a lovely purple cabbage salad with cranberries and mandarin oranges to cut through all the richness of everything. To start you off we have a lovely, refreshing chilled watercress yogurt soup that will do a lovely job of waking your taste buds up and for dessert, she made a delicious blueberry and lemon tart that will top things off beautifully. On the off chance you don’t like the tart, I also have some lovely strawberries and cream, which is a favourite of mine.”

“I really don’t see the point in any of that; angels and demons feed on cosmic energy, we have no need for such things.” Bruce retorted at the food listed. He honestly had no concept of any which had been described to him, and didn’t see the point in consuming human food that would not give them any extra energy.

“That’s the whole point; decadence, doing things not because you have to or because it serves some kind of function. Doing them simply because it feels good, which you are about to get a lesson in, so open up.” Bruce didn’t want to but knew the sooner he indulged this demon and showed him how pointless such a thing was, the demon may get irritated enough and send him away. He opened his mouth and let the demon place the spoon with the cold soup on his tongue before it was tipped down his throat. He had to admit, there was an interesting flavour to it and it was rather refreshing

“You like that?” Bruce was fairly certain he could hear the smirk on the demon’s face so responded,

“I never said humans don’t know how to prepare food to their liking, I just don’t see the point on wast- hmph!” Bruce suddenly found the spoon back in his mouth with more soup as the demon responded,

“I can see that I have my work cut out for me in teaching you about indulging; fortunately for you, I have the patience of Job, so we can keep at this for however long it takes.” Alfred took a mouthful himself before giving Bruce another. It wasn’t long before the soup was done, and he wondered how the stubborn angel would deal with the lovely rack of lamb. He cut off a nice sized piece of the medium rare lamb and held it first under the angel’s nose so he could get a good whiff of it.

“That, my pretty little bat, is a perfectly cooked medium rare lamb. For humans, the scent alone can be enough to get their mouths watering and scent is a powerful memory trigger so, the next time you are around humans, you will remember this scent and remember that a demon was the one who woke these senses up in you.” When Bruce opened his mouth to retort, the piece of meat was tucked into him mouth and the forced closed as Alfred instructed,

“Now, we don’t choke but it can be uncomfortable to swallow a piece of meat like that whole, so take your time in chewing it, but just let it sit on your tongue for a minute, let the flavour of the meat, the herbs, the tender sauce all mix together on your virgin tongue, and try to tell me that it’s not worth savouring and eagerly awaiting the next bite.” Bruce did as instructed and let the meat sit on his tongue, and couldn’t hold back the moan as the flavours seeped into his tongue and it felt like there were fireworks going off behind his eyelids.

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Bruce slowly chewed the piece of meat, indeed savouring it before swallowing it and taking a moment to collect himself before responding,

“Yes, it’s good, but angels aren’t meant to indulge in such things; it’s wrong!” Alfred swallowed his own piece before replying,

“If it’s so wrong, Brucie, then why did the ‘All-Father’ give you taste buds? Is it wrong on the same level as those who condemn homosexuals? I know more than a few angels who would like to see them down here.”

“No! No, the All-Father loves us all! He wants us to love each other, not hate!”

“Then those angels are wrong in their condemnation?”

“Yes!”

“Then why are they right about their opinions on food right? Or their opinion of you for that matter?” Bruce shrunk in on himself so Alfred sighed and gave him another piece of meat, this one with some of the mash potatoes, creating a lovely combination of flavours. After a couple more bites, he gave him some of the salad, and he seemed to enjoy the refreshing acidity. Soon, Alfred poured the conflicted angel a refreshing glass of wine and pressed the rim to his lips.

“This is a delightful little wine that pairs beautifully with lamb that offers the restraint to complement the delicate, gamey flavor of lamb and the deliciously jammy sweetness to go with the fig-port sauce. And so help me if you give me some speech about how angels aren’t supposed to drink spirits, I am going to get a Succubus in here that will tease you for hours, and even you can’t handle that.” Bruce whimpered as he parted his lips and allowed himself to take a few sips, finding it bracing and actually quite nice.

“Now, you ready for your dessert?”

"I would... like... to try... them both, since I’ve never actually had fruit, though I’ve noticed humans enjoy it.” Alfred smiled as the pup asked for something he wanted, even displayed a little greed and gluttony as the pup wanted to try both, and cut a small piece of tart before presenting it to him. He parted his lips and took the tart with the firm crust and enjoyed the sweetness of the blueberries and the zing from the lemon. Alfred then took a piece of strawberry and scooped up a bit of cream before presenting it to the abandoned angel. He watched as Bruce seemed to enjoy the strawberries just a tad more, so he grabbed another piece and, when he opened his lips, he used the strawberry to trace the pup’s lips. As confusion fluttered over the pup’s face, Alfred very casually asked,

“Did you know that some people consider certain foods to be aphrodisiacs? They are seen as being able to arouse a person. Strawberries are one of those foods; I suppose it has something to do with the juiciness and some say that a ripe strawberry, after you’ve bitten into it, looks a lot like a woman’s pussy.” Despite the fact it should not have been possible, Bruce found himself choking on the strawberry he had just gotten.

“You alright love? You want some more wine?” Bruce didn’t know how a demon could sound so innocent, but this one pulled it off quite well.

“Humans enjoyed using food for sex long before we even dreamed of it. I happen to know that it was some decadent woman in Greece who one day, tired of her husband ignoring her, actually started inserting grapes into her pussy. She and a slave boy had a lot of fun trying different foods, right up until her husband killed them both. It was a little closer to modern times when they started using things like whipped cream and chocolate spread, something I’ll have to be sure to bring next time as there’s more than one part of your body that would look good covered in chocolate and cream. Now, if you’re done eating, I think we are ready to help you learn about your next two senses; hearing... and touch.”

To Be Continued...

[ahgaseda]

enough | one

even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...

summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

“Sorry, Mom,” you apologized under your breath as you stepped into the warm, bustling hallway of the agency. The building may as well have been your second home at this point, considering you spent most of your free hours under its roof.

Your place of business lay hidden beneath a layer of secrecy, operating within the guise of an illustrious marketing firm. After all, prostitution was still very much illegal. But evading the law in such sparse times had become an undeniable artform for creatures of the underworld.

However, you had yet to jump from that hyperbolic bridge. Until today. Hence the apology to your mother.

Being an escort that didn’t have sex with her clients had allowed you to earn enough to survive. Men paid for your company, nothing more. They took you to candlelit dinners or upper class events, because in the world of preternaturally rich people, having a gorgeous slab of meat on one’s arm was a blatant demonstration of funds.

Also, if the society they ruled knew who they actually slept with, their careers would be over as quickly as they began.

When you first came to the big city from your humble hometown in the countryside, you swore to yourself you would never sell your body to make a living - no matter how comfortably you could thrive if you did. But keeping your head above water was no easy feat and you were thrust back into the bottomless pit of debt and insecurity.

Seoul had become more and more expensive around you and you could feel the sensation of water rising over your head, drowning you in the hopelessness of it all. Your hopes and plans for the future were costly and the bank refused to grant you any more loans.

Then, you were reminded that sex sells. You had the advantage of being a woman in a world of ravenous men. Your employer had always given you the option of stepping into darker circles when you needed more. You met every criteria on the checklist of powerful, wealthy suitors.

Who needed dignity anyway? It was but another luxury you could not afford.

“We have just the client for you,” explained Seokjin, predictably diplomatic when discussing every dirty detail of his illegal business arrangements.

You were more than grateful and certainly never faulted him for it. Seokjin was a remarkable boss, especially considering his line of work. He had spent more than his fair share of time on the streets from a young age and he grew to provide individuals a safer, more regulated way of earning money the only way they knew how.

“He’s new,” Seokjin added, breaking you from your reverie. “Never hired before. Specifically asked for a virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin, boss,” you deadpanned, inevitably daydreaming of the one man that had ever known how it felt to be between your thighs.

How many years had passed since you last saw him? Four or five, maybe. In your mind, you tried to play clueless with yourself, but truth be told, you knew the exact day you left him down to the very hour. The bitter memory was fresher in your imagination than recalling what you ate for dinner the night before.

Seokjin twirled a pen through his knuckles before resuming his notes. From what you knew, he preferred to document everything in excessive detail. That was the lawyer part of him. Knowing that your own employer had worked his way from streetwalker to successful attorney and business owner gave you a blossom of hope for your own future.

“I’m referencing your lack of sexual activity with any of your previous clients,” Seokjin clarified, his tone level. “You have served as a public escort, not private. Emotional, not sexual.”

You nodded your understanding, already missing the simpler days that would soon be forgotten to you. Though life had abandoned most of its simplicity since you moved to the big city. Weighted under the gravity of your decision, your thoughts drifted back to that fateful morning when everything changed forever.

The rain had poured from the blackening sky and you were relieved the drops would conceal your own tears. Thunder roared with a vengeance and drowned the shouts following you as you leapt into the truck that would bring you to the city.

Your boyfriend had been a step or two behind, slamming his hands on the door and begging you to stay with him at the top of his lungs. You watched him through the window, apologizing over and over in a pitiful chant. His yelling turned to pleading and desperation, and when the truck drove away, he chased behind it.

Eventually, you lost sight of him in the rainfall as you sobbed uncontrollably. You could only imagine how long he had spent running after you.

Seokjin called your name tenderly and you blinked back to your surroundings, shifting anxiously in your seat in an attempt to rouse yourself. Meeting his gaze, you made some off-handed comment about lack of sleep, but to a man whose entire survival had once completely relied on the sharpened skill of reading people, you were an open book.

“You don’t have to do this,” he lamented, sympathetic. “The women that choose this path, do so because they want to. Clearly, you do not.”

Your experience with sex was narrow, that much you were certain. Given you had been out of the metaphorical saddle for almost four years, you wondered if you were even remotely good at the act anymore. The only partner you had ever known was heavily biased, in your opinion.

You recalled how it felt to ride him, wincing at how hard he could grab your hips while he begged you to slow down just a little, afraid he would blow his load too early. Getting off on the heady feeling of power with how easily you could ruin him, you would giggle and quicken your pace, grinning with victory when you felt him shudder with release beneath you.

“No, I do,” you insisted, readjusting your position in the chair at your unclean thoughts and the way they made your pulse throb. “I do, honestly. You know I wouldn’t waste your time unless I was sure.”

Seokjin sighed, recognizing the signs of someone who had made up their mind. After a short pause, he diverted your attention and asked, “How is school?”

“Good, actually,” you chirped, delighted he would opt to change the subject to something less heavy. “The general requirements are all done which means I can spend more time focusing on my major.”

“You’ll make a great doctor,” Seokjin crooned, sincere. “I just know it.”

You smiled. The compliment and vote of confidence warmed your very soul.

Seokjin wasn’t obligated to smooth your feathers. He was your employer, but he also served as a confidant and friend to those who needed him. You were the type of girl that never should have darkened his doorway, but life forced your hand and rather than accept defeat, you clawed a path over every obstacle you faced. Seokjin admired you for that and recognized you as someone that reminded him of his own tenacity.

Noticing you had relaxed, Seokjin gave you a reassuring simper before returning to business, informing, “There will be a function tonight. Lots of powerful people will be mingling and your new client will be present. I can have you added to the guest list and you can meet him, but only if you feel ready.”

You appreciated the fact your first meeting with the client would be in a crowd full of people. A man willing to pay for his own personal sex toy must have been a low-down dirty bastard, you surmised. Frankly, you were terrified to meet him, expecting he would see you as an object to possess and not a human being capable of pain.

The saving grace was you had unshakable faith in Seokjin. He screened every client personally and had a zero tolerance policy toward any form of abuse. Plus, he employed some of the most no-nonsense bodyguards you had ever seen. Your personal favorite was Hoseok. He was number three on your speed dial and your emergency contact on all medical forms at the university.

“Just like that?” you questioned, skimming over the document Seokjin pushed toward you. It was puzzling to you - how easy sacrificing a part of your soul would be. You naively expected some bells and whistles.

Seokjin hummed an affirmation and responded, “There’s absolutely no commitment to do anything physical with him tonight. He will be made aware as well. You have to agree to a contract of consent with him established by this agency because money is involved, similar to the ones you have had before. Tonight, you simply meet him, get to know him. Then, in the morning, you give us your answer as to if you wish to proceed.”

Signing your name on the page, agreeing to an initial evaluation with a potential client and swearing not to engage in any sexual activity with him until a contract had been signed, you acknowledged, “I understand. Thank you.”

Your employer accepted the document and slid the page into your file, tucking the folder away into his locked drawer. With that business concluded, Seokjin laced his fingers together over his desk and mentioned with a smile, “The event tonight is formal. I suggest you buy a new dress. Use the company card. We will add it to his bill.”

You chortled and stood to leave, shaking his hand and saying, “Pleasure working with you, boss.”

Seokjin rose and squeezed your fingers. “As usual, the pleasure is all mine.”

Making the long, arduous trek to your little apartment, you kept your head lowered, eyes on your shoes and every labored step you took. You wondered how many days from now you would be heading home in a walk of shame. Tears threatened behind your eyes, but none appeared. Your reserves were empty from the amount of crying you had done over the past few weeks.

Not long after you departed the agency, you came to a stop before a large stone building with a courtyard set in the center. Surrounded by well-trimmed hedges, students glided in and out.

The medical school you hoped to attend within a year or two was a massive, daunting building, but you had seen the inside during a quick tour and knew the place to be modern and professional and - in your humble opinion - warm and welcoming. Excitement gathered in your chest at the sight and for a moment, you remembered the determination you kept stored deep down and tapped into the current for the remainder of the day.

Your father was a farmer. Your mother was also a farmer. All of your neighbors within a ten mile radius were - big surprise - farmers. You were born and raised in a little town surrounded by nature and you were taught to cultivate the land from a young age.

But your heart was in a hospital and had been since the first time you were able to speak to your physician during a routine annual check. You told him you wanted to treat the sick and to your surprise, he encouraged your dream with a smile.

From that moment on, your mother rebuked you for wanting to abandon the family tradition of agriculture, as she called it. People like you and her were never meant to aspire to anything greater than the hand life dealt them, she said.

Your father, on the other hand, secretly fueled your plans at every turn. For your tenth birthday, he bought you a stethoscope which became the most sentimental item you owned. It was one of the few things that had survived your journey to the city when you ran away.

The town you came from left much to be desired. Once a simple place for hard-working residents, machines and modern advancements turned an entire way of life on its edge. Soon, your home became a breeding ground for gangs, using the rural, poverty-stricken lands for a perfect nest to hide from the law and conduct their devious affairs. Name any contraband and it was run through your streets; guns, drugs, and even women. Anything and everything was available for the right price.

Not much time passed before everyone came to recognize a simple principal: you either got in the gang or the gang got you.

You couldn’t abide by that and you would rather leave than accept it. Your heart yearned for the simple life of those that came before you; the straight and narrow path of working hard with your hands while earning your education. Without any options, you ran and turned away from your home, never looking back. And to your dismay, the big city was even more ruthless.

But you couldn’t go back. It wasn’t a matter of pride... it was the boy you left behind. You couldn’t come home and see the devastation left in your wake. Even your own family had broken all contact with you when they discovered you sold your body as an escort for wealthy men. No matter how many times you tried to convince your parents you weren’t sleeping with these people, they didn’t believe you. And you couldn’t blame them.

They didn’t know you anymore.

What you quickly learned was the city was no different from your little town except the stakes were higher. You had much farther to fall. The players in such a dangerous game were ruthless and influential and walked in plain sight without fear of consequences. You had heard the other girls chatter about the clients they regularly entertained and how deep they were in when it came to the illegal way of life.

You had most certainly jumped from the frying pan and into the open fire.

These same men meandered through the room you entered that evening, themed with gold and maroon for the elegant fundraiser. A few took long, lingering glances at you, shameless with their intentions as their eyes hovered far too long on your ample curves. You paid them no mind and made your way to the bar.

The gown you wore for your first meeting with the potential client was sultry purple. “A statement of royalty,” the dressmaker had exclaimed when you tried it on. Of course, she would say nearly anything while trying to entice you to spend a lump sum on one of her pieces. Given the money wasn’t coming out of your own account, you had no qualms when it was time to swipe the company credit card.

Hell, this man would more than likely be fucking you in the near future. He could splurge for a dress.

The thought made you overthink, as you often did, and you sipped your wine while you sat at the bar. From what your forthcoming coworkers told you, selling your body to the right man was a gold mine that surpassed security and landed in excess. Most spoke of riding a man so good the reward was a luxury car or a penthouse apartment overlooking the city.

You tried not to be disgusted, but it was a rebellion against everything you had been taught about respecting your body. You never thought you would reach this point in your life - putting a price on your own head to survive.

“Hello, beautiful,” greeted a husky voice at your side, an older man offering you a glass of bubbling champagne.

Jolting from your internal monologues, you turned and bowed your head politely, speaking your greetings shyly. A shudder of remorse tore through you. Would this be your future? To be owned by a man who had accrued enough wealth to feel he was entitled to your body as he pleased?

Briefly, you remembered the boy who had stolen away your heart. The boy who was patient and gentle with you at every turn. The same boy who was always tempted to fight any man who didn’t give you the respect he felt you deserved. Damn it, you knew he would hate you for what you were about to do.

“Don’t ever let another man touch you,” he had whispered in your ear once while taking you against a wall.

Soaked to the bone from an impromptu dive in the neighborhood lake that quickly devolved into a tangled mess of limbs, your boyfriend lost any and all patience when you begged him to soothe the ache between your thighs from his hot, wet kisses. You cried out his name softly as he held your hips and bounced you up and down to meet his thrusts, filling you with his cock and making stars appear behind your eyes.

“I won’t,” you swore against his neck, gasping for breath and locking your ankles around his waist.

He nipped at your jaw then, groaning in the back of his throat at the scorching heat of you around him, and growled possessively, “Because you’re mine.”

Fire gathered behind your cheeks, clouding your head, and you blinked rather rapidly as you tumbled out of the memory. God, you had almost forgotten how good he felt, skin against skin. No man would ever make you feel that way again, not that you had even given one the opportunity. You had tasted paradise and no one else could ever hope to compare.

Reminding yourself to pay attention, you focused your gaze on the visitor offering you a drink, realizing rather quickly he was not your prospective client when he failed to utter your designated alias. Clad in a fitted suit, the man introduced himself by his position and holdings and then proceeded to flirt borderline aggressively. The moment you could cut in between his words, you graciously told him you were expecting someone. Offended that you dared dismiss his entitled ass, he rose from your side and stormed off, taking the untouched glass of champagne with him.

You exhaled to release your irritation, drumming your manicured nails on the counter and resting your head on your free hand. The longer you waited, the more you wallowed in indecision. Could you really go through with this?

Suddenly, your phone rang and you pulled the vibrating device from your clutch. Your brow furrowed when you didn’t recognize the number, but you answered anyway with a rushed, “Hello?”

“Did that bastard really take the drink with him?”

You chuckled at the annoyance in the stranger’s voice and glanced around to see if any of the men at the fundraiser could be holding a phone to his ear.

Finding no one on their mobile, you nodded and replied coolly, “Yes, he did, but I prefer my wine anyway.”

“Is that so?” the stranger rumbled. “Hand your phone to the bartender for me.”

You narrowed your eyes in surprise before calling the pleasant server behind the bar over. Giving him your phone, adding that you were as clueless as he was, the server chuckled at the caller and echoed after a moment, “Your tab? Got it.”

You took your phone back from his outstretched hand and purred, “Very generous of you, sir.”

The caller chuckled and persisted, “Anything you get goes on my tab and I took the liberty of ordering you a White Russian, if you don’t mind.”

“We have made the jump from wine to liquor so soon, have we?” you joked, thanking the bartender when he made the drink and slid the glass your way. “May I ask, why a White Russian?”

The caller took a sip of his own drink as he leaned leisurely against a pillar and mused, “You look like the type of girl to nurse one while you scan around the room for me.”

You giggled, amused. “Well, you’re in luck. They are my favorite.”

“Imagine that,” he sang, but you failed to hear the lack of surprise in his reply. “Take your time with it. You need to be coherent for this conversation.”

The assertiveness in his voice snared your attention, because there was something strikingly familiar about it. With a smirk, you rebuffed, “Are you implying I am a lightweight?”

The client chuckled ever so subtly and replied, “I would never insult your alcohol tolerance, but yes, you do strike me as one.”

“It seems you are right again for the most part,” you admitted, giving the room another glance over for participants on their phones and finding none. “If I start singing Fall Out Boy at the top of my lungs, I’ve officially reached my limit.”

This time, he openly laughed.

The sound registered deep within you, because this delayed sense of familiarity was growing stronger.

“Alright, pretty lady,” the caller asserted, steering the conversation with a firm hand though he sounded rather young and carefree to your ear. “What is your game?”

You shrugged nonchalantly and returned, “I’m not playing any games.”

Abandoning his hiding place alongside the pillar, the stranger was quick to interject, “You most definitely are and I’m more than ready to play with you.”

You wanted to be ashamed at how effective his banter was thus far. You found yourself biting your lip and resituating on your bar stool. The rush of flirtation was pleasant, foreign to you after so long. Personally, you greatly enjoyed verbal sparring and rarely could someone hold their own against you.

Glancing at your glimmering fingernails, you sighed as if in deep contemplation, “Life is merely a game in the grand scheme of things. Isn’t it?”

He hummed an agreement before offering, “As are relationships between people.”

“I agree.”

“I like to hear you agree with me,” he confessed lowly, voice dropping an octave.

To which you replied, “You are easy to agree with, sir.”

Then, he quickly veered back to his easy-going and flirtatious manner to whisper, “I’m still trying to get a read if you’re submissive or if you just try to appear that way because you think it’s what I want.”

You swallowed nervously, viscerally reminded of the situation you were in. Harmless flirting had been fun, but now you remembered why you were here in the first place - to be someone’s plaything. To be used and used until nothing was left of you.

At your conflicted pause, the caller coaxed, “I’ve spooked you, little one.”

You came back to your senses and stuttered over your words, “No, I, uh...”

“Take a breath and sip your drink.”

You obeyed without a second thought, welcoming the liquor and swallowing a mouthful. Your conscience was too strong for this, but the duality of him had you snared like a wild animal lured into a false sense of security. He balanced adeptly between hot and cold, reeling you into a disarming sensation of safety before trapping you in his clutches. Because all the while, you knew he was a dangerous man and yet he made you brush aside your instinctual fear of him.

“Well, well, well, you are a bit submissive,” the stranger taunted, obviously pleased at how mindlessly you had heeded his order with no resistance or snark. “But you’re skittish.”

“Am I?” you sassed skeptically, glancing around with narrowed eyes. “Are you an expert on me now?”

He tsked his tongue and muttered, “And there’s that little streak of fire. I like it.”

You flushed. Your mind raced at the thought of your potential client. He had a way with words and he clearly enjoyed the banter. It seemed he wasn’t intent on just bending you over a surface and having his way with you.

He wanted to play.

Rising from the bar, you tucked your clutch to the inside of your arm and carried your drink, still holding the mobile to your ear. As you glided across the marble floor, you scanned the room for men on their phones, ready to hunt.

“You know what they say about playing with fire,” you smarted, words hushed.

He chuckled and sounded as if he were also in motion, potentially avoiding your gaze. With a smirk, he asked, “Are you going to burn me?”

“I might,” you replied boldly. “But I get the feeling you would like it.”

“You’re right about that. How the tables have turned. Are you reading me?”

You snickered, licking your bottom lip before sipping your drink. After swallowing the alcohol, you exhaled and asked cautiously, “Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded, slinking behind a pillar, and spoke almost sternly, “If anything between us goes beyond tonight, I want you to be honest with me always.”

That response surprised you and you didn’t bother to hide it. For all his potential danger, he didn’t instill in you a feeling of maliciousness. You were becoming less and less afraid of him. “I appreciate that,” you finally told him.

“Hit me.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned on your heels, surveying the upper decks in the massive gallery, and inquired, “Why do this?”

He growled, “Why pay a woman to fuck me?”

His blunt words sent a shiver through your body. This man didn’t carry much fear, that you could tell. You were intimidated by your potential client already and you hadn’t even laid eyes on him. Pinching your lips, you hummed, “Mm.”

“My job mostly. I can’t have a normal relationship in my line of work. And I’m not the type who should try,” he explained without hesitation. There was nothing dishonest or remotely offensive in the way he spoke to you, which made you wonder what kind of position your client held that would lean him toward this inclination.

But you remembered something he said previously and turned his words back on him when you remarked, “You’ve already brought up submission. I think you like the power balance this would give you.”

There was a pause. Then, he exhaled, “You’re right again.”

You smiled victoriously, taking a sip of your drink, and resumed walking across the room.

The caller chugged some of his own alcohol; you could hear the ice cubes clinking against the glass. “I know you’ve never done this before. I specifically asked for that,” he began, sounding piqued with interest.

“Yes,” you murmured, shivering at where this line of question might go, but knowing you had opened the door in the first place.

“Why are you doing this?”

Flinching, you felt your heart clench. For a moment, your mind showed you that hated memory - of the only boy you ever loved chasing you down as you scrambled into the truck. He beat both hands on the door and screamed those exact words to you at the top of his lungs.

Shaking your head to snap out of your thoughts, you played cool and echoed, “Why am I agreeing to let someone fuck me for money?”

He was entirely unaffected by your language as he said, “Yes.”

Frowning at the mental image of bills piling on your coffee table at home, you answered, “Because these are hard times.”

That was a valid enough reason for him apparently. “I hear that,” he rasped.

Pensively, you nibbled on your bottom lip as you walked through the sea of patrons, tasting the slightest remnants of the White Russian on your tongue. Accepting defeat when you still found none of the men on their phones, you asked demurely, “Any more questions, sir?”

Playfully, he chuckled and teased, “No, I just wanna flirt with you some more.”

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes and said, “I’m listening.”

“I’m watching the way you move,” he sang, drifting from his perch. “You’re beautiful.”

Spinning in a quick circle, with a simple statement you were reinvigorated to find your client and called with curiosity, “Where are you?”

Amused, he easily ignored you and continued, “You’ve passed through a crowd of people and everyone has moved out of your way. Did you even notice that?”

Glancing around to see a small empty radius around your presence, you whispered in disbelief, “No.”

It was time for him to take control. Monitoring your movements from above, the caller couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of you, at the way the violet gown hugged your curves and displayed your beauty in all of its glory.

Finishing his drink, he continued, “You walk with confidence. You’re assertive and commanding.”

Something was nagging at you, tugging on your instincts as you meandered through the crowd. Your mind had already solved this mystery, had already put the pieces of the puzzle together, but you were in too much denial to accept the signs.

The client moved to another shadow, noting your gaze kept passing over the gallery above, and taunted, “If I were any other man and I saw such a stunning goddess coming toward me, I would fall to my knees and worship her.”

“What a silver tongue,” you droned, feigning indifference. As a waiter passed by, you discarded your now empty glass on their tray.

“My tongue is ready to do things to you, sweetheart.”

You stopped, biting your lip again, and persisted, “You said, if you were any other man. Are you implying you wouldn’t bow down and worship me?”

He swallowed the last mouthful of his drink and chuckled, “You don’t fool me. I know what you are.”

Hesitating, you resisted the urge to be offended, but the feeling seeped its way into your voice when you asked, “What I am?”

Licking his lips like a predator on the prowl and moving in for the kill, he elaborated, “You’re a rare breed.”

Approaching the stairs to the overhead gallery, you tapped your fingers on the bronze railing and ordered, “Keep talking.”

“The world has made you strong and hard. You demand respect because no one has given it to you. Even when you’re afraid, you can convince everyone else in the room that you are fearless.”

Brow furrowed, you questioned, “And that’s rare?”

“You, my dear, are no lion. You are a lamb.”

You stopped, blinking in surprise. A glimpse of his face flashed in your mind and for a moment, the world began to spin around you.

He resorted to a guttural snarl as he continued, “You may try to convince the world you are the untouched goddess who needs no god, but behind closed doors you wanna scream and beg for Daddy to fuck you harder.”

Saliva had gathered in your mouth. You knew your client when he spoke in that tone, a tone you once knew so intimately. The years had made his voice deeper, more mature and roughened by the cruelty of life experiences.

But you angrily cursed at yourself for not recognizing him until now.

At your lack of a reply, the stranger pressed coyly, “Am I close?”

A memory tore across your mind of the man who once called you the love of his life, the way he held your face and told you he would never leave you. You remembered how raw and firm his voice had been when he promised to fight every battle that needed to be fought to keep you safe.

Hands shaking, your voice broke when you choked, “Jinyoung?”

For the first time since the call began, there was only silence on his side of the line.

The absence of an answer served as confirmation and you furiously shouted into the phone, “Jinyoung!”

“Took you long enough.”

Before you could utter another word, the call went dead.

next chapter →

a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[jeanjauthor]

The ‘dreaded swimsuit season’ is coming up, and that means people are going to be obsessing about food and exercise and losing calories.  First of all, I’m not a medical professional nor a nutritionist nor a physical therapist etc, so definitely consult with the appropriate personnel...but I cannot stress strongly enough, you must consult with non-fatphobic medical personnel.

Fatphobia kills people of all bodyweights, and this blog does not support fatphobia, especially medical fatphobia.

Now, with that said...if you want to be healthy, there are plenty of non-fatphobic things you can do about it.  And the biggest things you need to know about how to go about it are: understanding your metabolism, understanding how muscles can affect your metabolism, and understanding how diet (foods, not fatphobia industry) can affect your metabolism.

Given all the fat-shaming bullshit thrown about in the so-called “Health Industry,” it sounds counterintuitive, but you actually need to eat more in order to lose weight.  You need to teach your body that it’s not in starvation mode anymore, that it has plenty of calories and nutrients...and just start moving more.  Not necessarily exercising more, but moving more.

2,000-2,500 calories a day is the range for a “normal” body-weight-and-size person.  However, the more exercise you do, the more muscles you have, or simply the bigger a person you are (the more cells you have), the more calories you need.  Unless you’re seriously short & skinny, a 1,500 calorie meal is a starvation meal, and that will put your body into “OMFG SAVE ALL THE CALORIES AS FAT!!” mode.

Literally, a toddler’s caloric needs are 1,100, and they range from 20-35 pounds.  You’re several times that much.  This doesn’t mean that if you weigh 175 pounds that  you need to eat at least 5 times as many calories, however!  In truth, you only need about double that, because a toddler’s metabolism is geared toward growing, whereas an adult’s metabolism is geared toward maintaining.

The best way to understand this is to realize your metabolism can be divided into 4 categories.

Your Resting Metabolic Rate is simply the amount of calories needed to keep you breathing, your blood pumping, your organs functioning.  That’s 60%-75% of your caloric intake. You have your Thermic Effect of Food, which is another 10%, literally the energy it takes to chew and swallow and digest food & drinks, and then to excrete the leftover bathroom waste. The remaining two types of calorie burning are Non-Exercise Activity Thermogensis, and Activity Thermogenesis.  Of those lattermost two, your body actually burns more of the Non-Exercise calories than the Active Exercise calories...and it is designed to burn more when simply moving.

Literally, just moving a bit more than you usually do in a typical day will burn calories effectively.  Move around the house on every commercial break, stand up and sit down more often, change your position more frequently, raise and lower your arms, gently swing or kick your legs...just move more.  When they say 30 minutes of (gentle) exercise a day, this is exactly what they are talking about.  You don’t need weights, you don’t need machinery, you don’t need a gym membership.  Just move.  It’ll be a gradual process, but so long as you’re eating foods with plenty of fiber as well as other food types, you’ll feel full and won’t feel starved.

Now, if you want to burn calories even faster through vigorous exercise, you can do that, too...but again you need to use your metabolism.  Make sure you’re not starving, because your body will go into a panic attack thinking you’re not only starving but are being chased by bears and will need plenty of fat to survive while you’re unable to gather food, etc because zomg you’re being chased by bears!!1!  (Truly, the metabolism is a primitive/primal minded thing based upon hundreds of thousands of years of hunter-gatherer lifestyles, and does not comprehend modern life at all.)

And then, what do you do to burn more calories?  You build muscles.  Muscles burn a lot of calories.  Not just through using said muscles in excercise, but muscles will burn through calories even while simply resting.  The more muscles you have, the more calories your body will burn.

How do you build muscles?  Well, there are two types of muscles, which while it sounds cannibalistic, we’ll call white meat and dark meat, because it’s the easiest mnemonic to remember.  White meat (think breast meat on a chicken) is designed for strong but brief actions...and men have more white meat muscles than females, though obviously they have both kinds.  That brief sprint towards a prey animal, the thrust of a spear into its body, aaaand done.

Dark meat muscles are meant for lower-strength repetitive actions.  Walking around reaching up or stooping down or digging while gathering plants, with no need to rush and plenty of opportunities to rest.  Chasing after young children.  Weaving baskets, scraping and tanning hides into furs and leathers, cooking...these are tasks that require little to moderate amounts of strength, but most important, repeated movements.  Women tend to have more dark meat muscles than men, though obviously they have both kinds.

(The reasons why wild ducks, partridges, grouse, etc, all have dark meat breast muscles is because they use those muscles to fly long distances. Chickens evolved from jungle-floor hunt-and-peck birds that mostly flew only short distances to get away from predators by flying up to the nearest tree branches, so they literally just needed a burst of strong energy over a short period of time, hence white meat muscles.)

Which type is better?  Both, ideally, because they are useful in a variety of different ways.  Which is better for burning calories?  Ideally both, but it doesn’t really matter.  All you need to do is build muscles.

As for how to do that...you know how you feel when you exercise until you are sore?  That’s what you need to do.  This is where weights and machines and treadmills do come in handy, but still aren’t necessary, since you can lift and lower objects around your home, and get exercise bands or surgical tubing for resistance training, and go for longer walks, etc.

The object is to (gently!) push your body to the point where your muscles are sore.  You can do this by lifting weights for a few repetitions near your limit (use a spotter & practice safe lifting skills!!), which is a white meat muscle activity, or you can use lesser weights or resistance machinery (surgical tubing counts), but just do it more, which is dark meat muscle activity.

You can also do the “step down” method of weight training or resistance training, by starting near your limit, going until your muscles burn, then resting a few minutes while gently shaking out, massaging, or relaxing the muscles in question to help move the lactic acid out of your muscle tissues, along with hydrating. Then you “step down” the amount of weight (say by 20%-30%) and doing another set of reps (repetition movements) until again it’s a struggle, then another few minutes of rest, hydration, etc, before stepping down again, doing some reps...and then again when it’s at the lightest you can for as long as you can, then rest that muscle group.

Regardless of which way you weight/resistance train, take a full 48 hours off.  Or as close to 48 as you manage--weight train 3 times a week, and then take up to 72 hours (three days) off so your body can fully recover.  You can still exercise, but do not use weights or resistance machinery/rubber bands, etc.

Let your muscles use that 48 hours to heal, and eat more protein sources to help your body build more muscle strength, along with a variety of nutrients to get the right kinds of micronutrients.  Again, I must emphasize: Do not starve your body.  It will go into fat-storage mode and will only barely repair your muscles, nevermind build them bigger.

The goal is to build more muscle tissue.  if you are hungrier than usual, eat more.  Your body will tell you what it needs if you listen, and there are plenty of charts out there with “if you are craving X,Y, or Z, then try eating healthier foods A,B,C, D, E, or F!” and they’re actually not inaccurate...but it is okay to have the “less healthy” foods in moderation, same as in everything you eat.

But seriously, up your protein intake, which is what your body needs to build bigger muscles.  The average (again, your needs may be more) person needs about 4 ounces (115 grams) of protein per meal, so you can shoot for more than that.  And get your proteins from a variety of sources.  Humans can manufacture a good number of amino acids (the building blocks of proteins), but we cannot synthesize 9 of them, the “9 essential amino acids.”

These 9 essential amino acids are: histidine, isoleucine, leucine, lysine, methionine, phenylalanine, threonine, tryptophan, and valine.   Foods that contain all nine essential acids are called complete proteins. These include eggs, fish, beef, pork, poultry, and whole sources of soy (tofu, edamame, tempeh, and miso).

While plant proteins have lower essential amino acid contents when compared to animal proteins, they will also have different ratios of the various amio acids compared to most animal-based proteins.  This is something that vegetarians and vegans need to keep in mind.

Some plant-based foods can be combined together to complement and/or supplement.  “Rice & beans” is one such combination.  Basically, you combine a grain (in this case rice) with a pulse (legumes, like beans, or peas, etc).  Here in America, in Mexican restaurants, a serving of refried beans and Spanish rice (seasoned with tomatoes & spices) is often automatically included as a side for most dishes.  This provides a great deal of carbohydrates, but it also provides a more or less “complete protein” set of those essential amino acids.

Corn, beans, and squash plants do the same thing, providing a complete protein when combined together, as well as plenty of carbs.  These three plant types are the “Three Sisters” of indigenous North Americans.  They are best when planted together, the corn providing a trellis for the beans to grow upon, the squashes spreading out across the field to smother competing weeds, and together they feed people reasonably well.

However, they are still more carb-heavy than protein-heavy, which means vegetarians need to rely upon other sources such as nuts, plus eggs, dairy, and/or fish (if pisco-lacto-ovarian vegetarians).  Vegans in particular need to be extra careful.  Yes, peanuts have a lot of proteins compared to their carbs, same with almonds, etc, so definitely add nuts to your diets!  But just be aware that you’re going to need to be a lot more conscious of your protein types & sources--and make sure to get a variety of sources--if you’re trying to build muscles while on a vegetarian or especially on a vegan diet.  A purely plant-based diet will not have nearly as balanced a set of amino acids as what animal-inclusive diets can contain.

If you’re lacto-ovarian, this is made easier because milk, cheese, and eggs are wonderful foods with a lot of nutritional value.  If you eat fish as well, even better, full proteins in fish as well as in egg whites, etc...but that brings me to another caveat, because you should probably eat the egg yolks as well as the egg whites.

Do not skip out on fats.  Unless you have a genuine doctor-ordered medical reason, do not cut all fats out of your diet.  Your brain needs fats in order to function.  And just as with amino acids in various protein sources, there are different types of fats as well that our bodies need in different amounts for different reasons.  This isn’t to say you should chow down on the equivalent of a full stick of butter (1/2 cup, 65 grams) with each meal (unless you’re camping outdoors in winter in the far north or a mountain, because then you need fat in your diet for your body to literally burn to help keep you warm).

It’s just that you don’t want to go completely fat free...because if you do, your metabolism will go into panic mode in its primitive/primal-minded way, “ZOMG IT’S LATE WINTER/EARLY SPRING AND NOTHING HAS ANY FATS IN IT WE’RE ALL GONNA STAAAAAARRRVEEE!!” Your metabolism will start turning carbs and even proteins into fats in an effort to ensure your brain (along with other vital organs) will have enough fats to keep functioning.  So go ahead and put some butter on your toast.  Even better, put some nutbutter on your toast, since sunflower butter, peanut butter, almond butter, all those things have proteins and fats as well as carbs.

Also, your body actually does need cholesterol to function, but only in smaller amounts than you’d think.  HOWEVER, if it doesn’t get enough of the right types of cholesterol through diet, your body will make its own cholesterol, and will make more than you need, out of carbohydrates.  (Yeah, this one was a shocker to me when I learned about it, and the answer blew my mind.  Seriously, our body will make up to 10x as much cholesterol as we need if we don’t eat it, so it’s best if we do eat it.)

So how much does an average person need to consume of these critical cholesterols that it absolutely needs?  ...About 1-2 egg yolks a day (or comparable alternative sources; vegans, do some research on alternatives, or just accept that your body may try to overproduce certain cholesterols if it’s feeling nutrition-starved).  Seriously.  Just that much is enough. (Again, your needs may vary based on your body size, metabolic rate, and/or environment.)

So.  Put it all together, and you have:  1. Eat a variety of foods in sufficient quantities and qualities (fats and proteins included) to ensure your body stays healthy; 2. exercise just enough to push your muscles into feeling sore; 3. Rest 48 hours while eating a bit more protein to help your body repair and build bigger muscles; 4. Lather-rinse-repeat... and you’ll eventually get bigger muscles that burn more calories simply by existing, as well as whenever you use them to move just a bit more than you normally would.

Dark meat muscles burn more calories when at rest because they’re designed that way, because they’re small effort but frequent use with multiple short rests, lots of blood flowing through them, and thus are more metabolically “charged” than white meat muscles.  However, white meat muscles tend to be the largest muscles, and thus while not designed to burn calories as efficiently while at rest compared to dark meat muscles...they actually end up burning about the same through sheer volume.

Work on improving your muscles, move a bit more every day, eat more conscientously but not through the heavily warped fearmongering lens of the Diet Industry’s blather and/or tactics, and you will be healthy enough to go to the beach and enjoy it.  Not because you’ll have lost weight, but because you will be healthier.  (Fun fact: muscles are denser and heavier than fat, so you could literally lose inches while gaining pounds from your body burning the fat with its now increased muscle mass.)

And yes, you can weigh 260 pounds and still be healthier than someone who weighs 160.

In other words, if you have a body, and you go to the beach with it, you now have a beach body.

You’ll just be less likely to get out of breath while swimming or building sand castles or playing volleyball or whatever if you’ve upped your exercise levels between now and then.

Also:  CONTINUE TO WEAR A MASK IN PUBLIC.

Get one that matches your swimwear, or makes you feel silly & fun.  Even if everyone started wearing their masks (not going to happen, but one can dream), it will to take us all of 2021 to quell the pandemic...and because people won’t be wearing their masks, keep wearing that mask.  Yes, even if you have had all your shots.  Because people aren’t wearing masks, the virus is able to spread, and when it spreads, there’s always a chance it will mutate, and cause new strains of infections...which it already has.  So wear your damn mask.

[hecohansen31]

The Perks of The Toys

Modern! Ivar+Tinder Date! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Since I saw that you quite liked ‘The Perks Of The Bush’, I decided to create a series of fics written on the ‘taboos of sex’, starting from pubic hair and moving onto involving sex toys during sex.

I have a few idea on how to continue, but I wanted to tell you that if you have any ideas or proposals of things that you’d want to see in the next chapter, I am here for it.

Feedback is more than welcome: it makes me write faster and make my heart flutter with happiness!

Hope you’ll like this!

Have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex, Sex Toys, Light Grinding, Mention of Prank War

Before Ivar, you had been a single girl for quite some time.

This meant that you had had to satisfy yourself in some way.

And whenever your own fingers weren’t enough, you had learned to discover a new world: sex toys.

You had been pretty skeptic about it all.

There was no way a thing in rubber and plastic could make you feel as good as a man could.

But apparently it could.

And you had found yourself falling down that rabbit hole, collecting quite the impressive number.

And it had been quite, back in those crazy days.

But now you had a real thing, which was better than any toy.

And yet, although they simply laid unused in a bag, you hadn’t been able to part yourself from them, thinking that you couldn’t simply throw them away, because not only it’d be a waste of money, but also you thought it’d just be bad for the planet.

You didn’t know how to properly ‘dispose’ of them but the fact that they kept on hiding on your wardrobe felt heavy on your conscience, even more now that you and Ivar had moved in together.

Mostly because… a girl with a boyfriend didn’t use toys.

If she did, she wasn’t satisfied with her man.

Which wasn’t true with Ivar.

It was more like a sentimental value, because of all the ‘good moments’ you had spent with them.

But at the same time, you were well aware that if Ivar ever found out about ‘your little secret’ it’d destroy him and that small sexual confidence he was slowly building up, since your relationship had reached that level.

So, you had been trying to find a proper way to dispose of your sex toys, eventually finding out that a local sex-shop was organizing an event to collect sex toys and to give them ‘new life’, recycling them, through some new process.

That morning you had gotten the bag out of your wardrobe, as Ivar slept in a bit, since it had been a tough night for him his legs paining him thoroughly and stopping him from sleeping properly.

You thought of bringing it there after work and you could already feel lighter as if you had already solved the problem.

And you had felt so light… that you had forgotten the box at home, leaving it to a rather curious Ivar…

… who checked the box worried you had forgotten something important, just to make a rather… weird discovery.

He certainly wasn’t clueless to your time as a single woman and even more certainly he recognized the objects in the bag.

But he was shocked of finding out that after moving in together and having what he thought was an ‘healthy sex life’, you still had them.

Anger followed his insecurities and he wasn’t able to stop himself from throwing the bag down the small coffee table it was set onto, and as he did so, although the toys stayed in place, a small piece of paper came out of it, and curious investigator Ivar immediately lightly crouched down to collect it.

Maybe you hadn’t solely hidden a stash of sex toys, but also a relationship…

As much as Ivar tried to keep his calm, knowing that most of the time it was just him being paranoid, he couldn’t help but rush to irrational thoughts.

But the small piece of paper wasn’t any admission of guilt.

It was a form for the donation of some objects to a local sex shop (yeah he had definitely had to wait for Hvitserk outside of it) to recycle them, listing your name and your number, with a quick description of the products you intended to donate.

And then there was a small note about the reason behind why you had decided to donate.

And that was what struck him.

You had written:

“The toys are still functioning, and I am not donating them because of any malfunction, but I found somebody who makes me feel like I don’t have to use them”.

He wasn’t completely blushing.

And he was feeling just a tiny bit guilty of having gone through your stuff and for having mentally  accused you of something you obviously didn’t have any say in, although he still felt like he needed to talk with you.

And as he was thinking all of this, his eyes fell on the various ‘toys’, shifting swiftly past them, till he found a few ones that he couldn’t help but be curious about.

… and something more as he imagined you using them.

He licked his lips, and quickly closed the bag, throwing out the donation form.

Maybe these toys might still have some use between you two.

As you came home that night, you finally realized what was the task that you had forgotten about: taking the toys to the sex shop.

And worst of all, you had left them on the coffee table, for everyone to see, hadn’t they been shielded by the fabric bag you had stashed them in.

So, you literally huffed out a breath of relief, as you found the bag untouched where you had left it and smelled the wonderful perfume of a homemade meal, as Ivar came to greet you from the kitchen, an apron over his pajama, signaling he had worked from home.

You immediately came to him, gently kissing his lips, as he giggled at your eagerness, answering your kiss and then proceeding to bring you closer as he took in a good look at you.

Something was making him strangely affectionate.

“… welcome home” he huffed on your lips, as you tried to dive in for another kiss, just for him to turn around as a timer went off.

“Gosh aren’t you a little housewife?” you made fun of him, just to be threatened by a jokingly harsh look “… ok ok, man of the house”.

“How was work?” he asked, as he went to check on the meat, before he disposed a few appetizers for you to snack on, as you waited for everything to be cooked.

You opened a bottle of wine, pouring yourself a big glass, trying to appear as calm as you could, avoiding to think about the fact that your secret was still out in the open.

You should have set a note on your phone to bring it with you, so you wouldn’t forgotten about it anymore.

“… pretty nice” you mumbled, pouring a glass also for him and bringing it to him “… what about you? Did you work from home?”.

He nodded, as he came to get his glass from your hands, just to be stopped by your lips, as you held out the glass.

“… did you take some medicines?” you reprimanded him, since he wasn’t supposed to mix alcohol with the medicines he was taking.

“At lunch” he replied with a quick look at you, before stealing the glass, as he instead kissed you to distract you, finally gaining the upper hand “… so I am cleared to drink”.

“Not too much”.

“Ok, mom” he mumbled with a grimace, accompanying you back to the table, as he went to grab the food, which appeared delicious solely from the smell and you were quickly served, as you tried to understand if your lover was just trying to be romantic…

… or there was something behind it.

You didn’t in the slightest link Ivar’s behavior with your ‘toy collection’, thinking he had probably screamed at one of his brothers and he was trying to get you to apologize to them from him.

“What is this for?” you mumbled with a full belly, as you finished your second glass of wine, feeling definitely relaxed and sending a small look to your beloved, who had a sly smirk on his face, lightly teasing the board of his glass.

“Can’t you accept the fact that I am a decent boyfriend?” he shot back, as he held an hand out for you, but you sent him a questioning look.

“I hope that you know that I won’t help you in any prank way you have put yourself in” you retorted, as you gulped down your glass of wine, just for you to choke onto it as Ivar replied.

“… then you won’t help me understand what is in that bag on the coffee table”:

Fucking busted!

You risked choking on red wine eventually spluttering it everywhere, aware that Ivar had looked through your stuff.

“… you shouldn’t have opened it” you tried to shift the blame, but he just sent you a look as if to say ‘don’t even try’ “… it isn’t what…”.

“I do have to say that it bothered me at first” he mumbled, and although his tone was evidently playful you could hear the brutal emotion he had felt when he had found your stash of sex toys “… I mean why use a silicon model when you have the real thing”.

“Ivar…” you tried to plead with him to let you explain, but he raised a hand to tell you to let him continue.

“… and then I found the note, and I thought that… that maybe I should think before always assuming the worst”.

You were speechless but had to say something witty.

It was simply how your relationship with Ivar worked.

“And you had to find my stash of sex toys to realize this” you blurted out, as you both soon erupted in laughter and you couldn’t help but feel the blush on your cheeks dampen.

Maybe you didn’t have to talk about this…maybe you could just laugh it off…

“… you shouldn’t throw them away”.

… or maybe you had to endure a rather confusing talk with Ivar.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to use a silicon substitute” you challenged him, and he smirked at you wolfishly.

The kind of smirk that made you clench your thighs in anticipation.

“No, you certainly like me better” he smirked confidently and although you muttered a light ‘asshole’ under your breath, you loved seeing him so sure about himself.

It was definitely a strong aphrodisiac.

“… but we could use some toys together” he continued as he sent you a shy look, looking out for your validation softly “… I mean I do have to know how you can use some…”.

“Ask away, boy” you mumbled, making him laugh, as you moved yourself for the ‘exploration’ in the bedroom.

Part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was nice to know that Ivar hadn’t taken it personally, but instead had tried to incorporate it in your sex life.

You found it sweet.

And fucking hot.

A lot of men would have shamed you, made you feel horridly for feeling the need to come without them, but it honestly made you feel good.

Even more as Ivar looked at you like you were a sex goddess as you explained the use of the various objects.

A few were non-working, because the battery had died down, and you’d definitely have to clean a few more because they hadn’t been used in such a long time, but it was definitely becoming a possibility the more you talked about it.

“What is this?” asked Ivar picking a small steel butt plug, with an aquamarine heart handle, making you smirk lightly.

“Butt plug” he immediately dropped it, sending you a worried look “… never used it, don’t worry. I got it in a flash sale on a black Friday a bit of years ago…”.

“You do buy sex toys, as other women buy bags” he mumbled, sending you a joking look, as you swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

“These ones give me much more satisfaction” you replied as you sent him a lightly reprimanding look “… and don’t look at me like that, like if you, yourself, don’t collection little vintage cars…”.

“Guilty” he mumbled, before he picked up the butt plug as you set up a small bullet vibrator, your favorite toy since it was sleek and cute but had led you in so so much pleasure that you were glad its battery wasn’t destroyed “… and about the butt… the plug… not interested in butt things?”.

Ivar’s malicious gaze definitely made it quite the trick on you.

“… never had anybody to try it on” you led him on, as you kneeled closer to him, taking the plug from his hand and nearing your lips to his mouth “… want to try it on, my might Viking?”.

“You mean on you, right?” he tried to protest, but you simply sent him a smirk.

“… not exactly, but we can discuss about it”.

“It is not open to negotiating” he growled as you lightly grinded yourself against his straining cock, his pajama pants doing literally nothing to hide it.

And if Ivar hadn’t changed his usual habits, he certainly wasn’t wearing nothing underneath them.

“The prostrate is there for a reason!” you joked and he sent you an even harsher look “… ok we’ll try it when you are ready, in the meanwhile what about a bit of the old love-making?”.

“I think that I can agree on at least that” he muttered and he pushed you down onto the bed, making you giggle at his eagerness.

But he still reached out lightly for one of your toys set in your bag: a big and very purpley dildo.

“Can I use this as a joke to Hvitserk?”.

And sometimes you wondered whether your instinct was ever wrong.

---

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---

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[jisungsmochi]

the bubble tea girl - ljn

bubble tea shop worker! reader + new employee! jeno hehe 

just a shit ton of fluff tbh i am so soft for jeno 

word count: 3.5k 

a/n: this is the second instalment of my nct dream job au hehe, please enjoy and as usual, i apologise for any mistakes :)) p.s look how cute he is 

//

you were standing outside the bubble tea store you worked at called, Tea-riffic. totally cheesy, but very popular. you were hanging up a ‘now hiring’ sign at the front window of the store. your manager was seeking new employees as many of your previous co workers had outgrown the small franchise and moved onto bigger job opportunities, you couldn’t really blame them. you had worked there for a little less than a year, and quite enjoyed your job.

after securing the sign, you headed back into the store to continue working. shortly after you had served a few customers, you noticed a boy with round glasses, wearing a black hoodie and some sweatpants, stop to read the sign outside. he made eye contact with you through the window, causing you to lose your train of thought and forget which order you needed to start. you saw him chuckle to himself at your actions but chose to disregard it and continue with your order.

part of you hoped that he would come back and apply, but that was just you being delusional.

the next day you came into work was three days later. you greeted your fellow coworkers before heading to the back to start on orders.

‘hey y/n, we got fresh meat’ your coworker, yeji joked. it was a term you used for all new employees, meaning someone had just applied and gotten a trial shift.

‘ahh yes, someone to torment’ you giggle before following her to a different area in the back, waiting to be introduced to the new trainee.

‘hey guys this is jeno, he’s here for a trial shift, i entrust that you will take care of him and help him if he asks’ your manager stated as you looked over at the boy. it was the same boy from days before but only this time, he wasn’t wearing glasses. you gave him a shy smile in which he returned.

‘y/n, since you’ve been here the longest out of everyone, could you just help him out today?’ your manager ordered as you nodded in response, ‘sure thing’

jeno looked stunned when he heard that you would be training him. he quickly followed you out to the registers.

‘i’ll formally introduce myself, i’m y/n’ you smile as you put your hand out for him to shake. he looked at you with his eye smile and returned your gesture,

‘ah hi i’m jeno’

‘great, now that we got that out of the way...working here isn’t as easy as you may think. everyone has a spillage count, i’m up to ten drinks in my entire time here.’ jeno chuckled softly at your words, making you pause for a bit before leading him to the register.

‘for now i’ll just show you how to take orders and later today we can switch over to the actual drinks, sound good?’ you gave him a friendly look, which made his nerves about this job, die down.

‘yeah that’s fine with me’ he responded as you began explaining the functions of the register as well as what questions to ask for the orders. to your surprise, jeno got the hang of it really quickly. it also helped that he was on the better looking side, as many girls would often stare at him for extended periods of time before collecting their order. you just shook your head in amusement before tapping his shoulder.

‘yes, y/n? how did i do?’ he asked, concerned about his progress.

‘trust me, you’re doing well! now this is the hard part, i’ll give you three chances if you mess up an order, it’s stated in the rules otherwise you can’t get hired. but i’m here to help!’ you assure him as he nervously bit his lip. he didn’t respond to you, which made you kind of upset to see him like this. you placed your hand on his shoulder before reassuring,

‘don’t overthink it, otherwise you’ll be prone to messing up! i’m here with you’ he looked over to you and just smiled and nodded,

‘thank you’ he muttered as you pulled him towards the drink station and started on your first order.

he often got confused along the way but eventually he started picking up the pace, with only having messed up one order, which he made up by apologising sweetly to the girl who just accepted the wrong drink anyway due to his innocent charm.

‘dang jeno, you have to stop charming these ladies otherwise we’ll have to make you work here every single day!’ you decided to joke, pushing his shoulder against yours.

‘my badddd’ he softly whined before your manager approached the both of you.

‘jeno, you’ve done really well today. your communication skills and work ethic has impressed me, you can start working here, i’ll email your roster to you soon’ they smiled as jeno gave you a high five, before thanking your manager.  

‘thanks for helping me today, y/n! i should treat you to something, want some tea?’ jeno offered, eyes bright.

‘jeno, i work at a bubble tea shop, i’ve had enough of tea for one day, let’s go get burgers, and we can get to know eachother since well we’ll be working together alot’ you offered in return, which made his entire face light up.

‘t-that sounds amazing, when should we go?’ he asked, pushing his hair back with his hand as he leans against the counter.

‘how about right now? i mean we are both off our shifts’ you keep smiling as jeno suddenly becomes more shy, he just nods and follows you out of the shop.

the rest of the night was spent with you and jeno talking about the most random things from the mandela effect to the tv show, teen wolf.

‘i’m telling i sobbed when allison died’ jeno explained to you as you were both seated across from eachother.

‘i felt that one, and aww you cried? that’s not very manly of you’ you sarcastically joked. he flashed you another eye smile which frankly just made you melt on the spot.

‘it’s getting late, i should head home. would you like me to walk you back to the shop?’ jeno offered, waiting for you to finish the last bite of the burger.

‘if you don’t mind! i don’t like walking alone when it’s dark’ you shyly admitted watching as he just nodded. you both walked side by side, continuing your conversation on which was the ultimate ship in teen wolf.

‘stydia!! come on! you can’t even deny it’ jeno became rambling making you want to argue back, playfully.

‘excuse me! theo and liam!’ you joked as he just rolled his eyes,

‘they weren’t even a couple’ he shook his head in amusement.

‘yeah yeah’ you muttered, softly judging him. it surprised you how easy it was to get along with him. he felt the same. jeno didn’t want this day to end.

‘i’ll see you tomorrow for your first official shift! glad you joined us, jeno!’ you smiled brightly as you both stopped outside the shop.

‘i’m glad i have you guiding me! get home safely! see you tomorrow!’ jeno waved before crossing the street to catch the next bus.

you made sure he got on the correct one before heading towards your car and driving home.

a few weeks into the job and things were sailing smoothly as usual. yeji’s spill count went up to twelve, making her the contender for the clumsiest employee you’ve had. jeno on the other hand, has had a whopping zero spills, which had you shocked.

‘you’re way too good at this! you probably worked at another store or something, was it the place a few blocks down?’ you playfully grilled him as you both were on your break.

‘let’s face it, i’m good at everything’ he just smirked before continuing to type on his phone.

you and jeno had somewhat gotten close, he didn’t attend your school, so you only crossed paths during work, but it was enough that you would both chatter the day away.

‘can one of you guys head out to the registers now? i’m off’ yeji greets as she hangs up her apron and grabs her bag, before waving to you both and leaving the store.

‘lets just both go’ jeno shrugs, shutting off his phone as you both made your way to the front. you decided you were gonna wipe down some tables whilst jeno serves customers. you were finished your final table when you saw jeno speaking to a girl who by the looks of her face, was becoming annoyed with him.

you slowly crept behind the counter, pretending you were organising the cups while eavesdropping on their conversation.

‘you can’t show up to my workplace’ jeno groans, trying to keep his calm. the girl crossed her arms before huffing in annoyance,

‘we have to talk soon! you can’t keep avoiding me’ she whines back, making you wonder what exactly they had to talk about.

‘what’s there left to say? we aren’t together anymore. you said no hard feelings, so stop following me around’ jeno seems to have fully lost it, unaware that his voice is becoming louder.

‘you can’t stop me, we have to discuss it all eventually’ the girl mutters under her breath in defeat before storming out of the store. jeno rubbed his temples, visibly shaken by the whole confrontation. you debated on whether or not you should comfort him. you looked over at him, he was hunched over behind the register.

‘you alright?’ you softly ask, unsure of his reaction.

‘yeah just fine, uh do you mind covering for me? i’m not feeling well at the moment’ jeno pleads, giving you the most vulnerable look you had ever seen from him. you nodded, ‘no problem, anything for a friend. feel better soon’ you smile softly before watching as he pat your shoulder and rushed out of the store.

whoever that girl was, clearly means or meant a lot to him.

you didn’t see him for a couple of days, mainly because he had called in sick for some of his shifts which made you worry. it wasn’t like you two were super duper close, but you thought he was close enough to atleast give you some explanation as to what went down a few days prior. you shook the thoughts of jeno out of your head, ready to serve the next customer.

‘hello! what would you like today?’ you smiled widely, before your expression almost instantly changed. it was the same girl from before, staring back at you.

‘is jeno working today?’ she got straight to the point, leaving you stunned.

‘oh um no he isn’t working today, i’m sorry’ you reply in the kindest way you could.

‘could you tell him i stopped by? my name is euntae’ she groaned to herself before leaving the store.

she had a lot of nerve to speak to you with disrespect, you were immediately alarmed by her presence, thus leading you to tell jeno all that happened when he had his next shift.

‘god she came again?’ jeno pulled at his hair, visibly frustrated with the presence of euntae.

‘who is she anyway? like your girlfriend or something?’ part of you was wishing he would say no.

‘used to be, not anymore. things ended badly and she’s just been following me at school and now work’ jeno sighed, sitting in the break room. you sat next to him and placed a hand to his shoulder.

‘do you want to talk about it?’ you calmly asked.

‘not really, it’s just, she hurt me bad. and i thought that keeping myself occupied would get my mind off the breakup but look what happened’ he placed his head in his hands. you felt so bad for him, you wished you could just embrace him.

‘well, how about we do something? like go to the park and ride bikes? anything to help you get your mind off her. and if you need, i’ll just give a heads up when she’s coming and you can duck under the counters’ you explained as he chuckled at that last part. his laugh made you feel warm inside.

‘you’d really do that for me? you’re amazing’ he muttered, not helping your nerves one bit. you blushed at his words and nodded,

‘as i said, anything for a friend’ you smiled at him in which he returned. why did that hurt you to say?

as you both expected, later that day, eunjae walked into the store, eyes out for jeno. you quickly signalled to him to duck in which he immediately caught on to.

‘sorry jeno’s not here’ you instantly stated, startling her.

‘did you tell him i came by?’ she crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.

‘he hasn’t been at work, sorry’ you shrug before walked away to complete orders. eunjae glared at you before storming out once again.

‘oh thank god, you are an angel’ jeno gives you a quick hug, instantly pulling away. you still treasured that fraction of intimacy with him, you’d wish he just do it again.

the next week, jeno came into work, greeting you with a quick side hug before beginning to take orders.

you and yeji were making drinks when she started interrogating,

‘what’s up with you and jeno?’ she smirks.

‘nothing, there’s nothing’ you mutter, making it clear you were upset.

‘oh sweetie, do you like him?’ yeji frowned,

‘i’m not sure’ you sigh, looking over at the black haired boy who never stopped smiling it seemed. he had this aura about him that you couldn’t stray away from. maybe it was because you were both stuck at work and forced to communicate but you wanted to hang out with him outside of work, it just never came up.

later that day, you were munching on some fruit you had packed for your break, before jeno came in and took a seat across from you.

‘hey y/n, care to share?’ he smiled, which you couldn’t resist so you shoved the box of fruit towards him, causing him to let out a small chuckle.

‘any plans for the weekend?’ you started,

‘umm actually my school is having its junior prom. i wasn’t gonna go but my friends keep bugging me about it’ jeno shrugged, but the idea of prom to you, was a dream. your school didn’t really hold many dances or events, so this was all very exciting.

‘oh my god! that’s exciting, i missed prom last year because i had to take the late shift here. and my school isn’t having one this year. you’re lucky you get to have one, you should totally go.’ you excitedly blurted, as jeno watched you with such captivating eyes. he couldn’t get enough of your little rambles.

‘i might go, on one condition’ he gives you a grin in which you have him a confused expression.

‘you come to prom with me?’ he asked, figuratively crossing his fingers behind his back. you were startled by his question, you and jeno? going to prom together?  would people ask questions?

‘wow i mean, if you’re okay with it, i would love to go with you to prom! i mean, like a date right?’ you accidentally blurted the last part in which you instantly regretted.

jeno flushed red before responding,

‘if you want it to be then sure, i’m down’ his response made you internally celebrate. jeno had a way with words. as well as his constant facial expressions.

you were going to prom, finally. also with lee jeno. two things you never expected to happen.

friday came along, for once jeno and you decided to hang out, outside of work. he took you to a park, to ride bikes, like you had suggested before.

‘slow down!! i have small and weak legs!’ you yell as jeno laughs hysterically in front of you.

‘oh stop being a baby!’ he comes to a halt in which you followed.

‘let’s go get a drink’ jeno smiled before pulling his bike with him to the nearest cafe. you both ordered a berry smoothie, taking a seat on a bench and chatting away.

‘so, any run ins with euntae lately?’ you teased while sipping on your drink. jeno just chuckled softly before replying,

‘i’ve actually spoken to her at school. i cleared everything up on my end. and for the most part i think she took it well? we aren’t on total bad terms’ you nodded at his words, glad that he was finally able to live freely.

‘that’s great! i’m happy for you’ you smiled as jeno looked over at you. you looked so huggable, like you needed someone to just embrace you forever. jeno wanted to be that person for you. but he would wait until prom for all the events to unfold.

you and jeno arrived at the prom separately, due to jeno’s pre prom plans with his friends, in which you didn’t want to interrupt. jeno’s eyes landed on you, standing at the front of the hall, hands gripped together and looking to the ground. he smiled to himself at how adorable you looked.

‘hey there’ he spoke, giving you a small shock before you slapped his shoulder lightly.

‘don’t sneak up on me please!’ you whine as you fixed your dress.

‘you look really pretty, y/n. i’m so glad you could come and accompany me’ jeno looked into your eyes which made you freeze. he had this glint of sparkle in them, which you couldn’t stop staring into.

‘hello?’ he flashed you an eye smile, which pulled you out of your daze.

‘oh uh sorry, spaced out. you look really good too, its a pleasure to be here’ you smiled back, trying to hide the blush that crept to your cheeks.

‘gosh, you don’t have to be so formal! let’s go inside!’ he chuckled before pulling you, while linking his fingers with yours. your palms were clammy and you hoped he didn’t notice. the prom, for the most part, consisted of you and jeno standing by the food and refreshment tables, eating and talking. there was some dancing, until you were pushed into the dance circle and could only remember the choreo to fancy.

‘you have some killer moves, y/n’ jeno teased whilst sipping on his drink, you rolled your eyes before pushing him till he lost balance.

‘let’s go outside, too many people here’ jeno locked his fingers with ours once again, which couldn’t make you stop blushing.

you both situated yourselves on the staircase outside the hall, the only people there being the security but they were ready to clock off for the night.

jeno didn’t let go of your interlocked fingers, which you didn’t mind at all.

‘can i tell you something?’ jeno blurted, looking into your eyes with an expression you couldn’t comprehend.

‘is it bad or good?’ you questioned, slightly feeling anxious for his response.

‘you can decide. i just wanted to tell you that, the reason i applied for the job at the shop was to uh, be friends with you’ jeno admitted, completely turning red. you were shocked at his words, your hand reaching to cover your mouth.

‘jeno! why would you- how? god you’re so lame!’ you giggled, softly slapping his shoulder while your fingers remained intertwined.

‘hey! i thought you were really pretty and you seemed so nice, i just had to get to know you!’ jeno blurted out even more, which kept making you giggle.

‘you could have just come into the store instead of staring at me like a creeper’ you teased as his eyes widened,

‘wait you saw that?’

‘yes! i thought you were cute too, don’t worry’ you smiled at him in which he returned the gesture.

‘what i’m trying to say with all of this is that, i really like you. like, you make my days worth while. when i was going through a tough time with my ex, you had my back and always helped me through it. i’m so grateful to have met you, i just can’t get you out of my head” you stopped him from speaking,

‘jeno can you just kiss me please?’ you whisper, bringing yourself closer to his face, your noses touching.

‘w-what?’ he stutters, as you reach to grab the sides of his face.

‘let me kiss you, lee jeno!’ you rolled your eyes playfully as he nodded eagerly. you pulled his lips to yours as he reached to grab onto your sides. kissing jeno was like everything you had imagined. he was gentle, and cautious, yet passionate and warm. you both pulled away, only centimetres apart.

‘wanna go get some tea?’ he joked as you pull him in for another short kiss.

‘you’re so lame, but i guess that’s why i like you’ you replied before intertwining your fingers again and walking with him to his car.

lee jeno was non stop adventure. he was unpredictable. yet, you couldn’t get him out of your head even if you tried.

[benevolentbirdgal]

13 Rules for Surviving Buffets

So you're back home after a fabulous vacation filled with safe street food, and have shopped yourself out and want to eat some food. Like, an absurd quantity of food. So you seek out a buffet. It's certainly a choice from a health perspective, but financially they can make a lot of sense. I'm not a dietician or an account, so I'm not going to talk about the mundane health and fiscal risks/benefits, but I am a resident Spooky ExpertTm , so allow me to lay out how to stay safe from the supranatural functions of a buffet. 

Most buffets make you take a new plate every time you go up for cleanliness reasons. The other reason is because if enough "food" matter acclimates on one plate, it can come to life. And it's not a happy one. 

How do buffets come up with so much food? You don't really wanna know, but I will say it's a similar experience to a Walmart stockroom-it's not really of this world. 

Do. Not. Consume. Buffet. Mystery. Meat.  Given how much food is consumed at a buffet, it's an easy way to sneak in something cursed or unsavory. Don't eat it unless you or staff can identify it.

If the buffet's other customers seem inhuman, they probably are. Tread carefully or you might be on the all-you-can-eat menu. 

Buffets work because there's often a sacrifice in the quality or sourcing of the food. Not always, but often. You presumably already accept this, which is fine. If you find ectoplasm in your food, that is not fine. Report it to management immediately, they need to know and likely don't. 

Conversely, if you find discernable parts in your food that shouldn't be there, don't tell management. They already know and you need to leave. 

If it's the kind of joint that has attentive waitstaff for despite being a buffet (like a Golden Corral), you need to tip. You never know who or what the waitresses really is. 

Don't try and leave with a giant to-go bag. Greed can burn, both through the bag and you. 

If you're at a pizza buffet, there's probably a bizarre cacophony of interesting pizza options. I daresay it's why you're there. I simply advise to not eat the glowing pizza or the wiggling brownies. 

If you're at a nice buffet, still treat it like you would a regular nice restaurant. The place still could have guardian spirits, and being boorish will anger them even if it's $23.99 all-you-can-eat. 

I get you're likely at the buffet to save some coin. Be forewarned, however, that shortchanging them can get you cursed. There are two primary forms this takes:  11a. All-you-can't eat: you become repulsed by food and lose hunger. This may sound good for your diet initially, but it doesn't end well.  11b. You are driven by a desire to consume, consume, consume. You will ingest anything and everything, despite it being to your detriment. 

Some buffets have little extras inside. Be aware of their rules.  12a. Some buffets have little arcades attached. Pacman is usually safe. Off-brand games with disturbing case graphics, however, should not be played alone.  12b. Don't play the claw machine with your eyes closed. 

If the buffet has pre-set portions (as opposed to you serving yourself), only take the portion you can definitely eat. This is good etiquette anyways, but it also prevents Beings from becoming enraged at preventable food waste. 

[streets-in-paradise]

Roadside Bet

American Gods and Percy Jackson crossover - Part 1

Word Count: 1767

Characters: Wednesday, Shadow, Eira ( Vanir demigoddess OC) 

Relationships: Platonic. 

Summary: Setted in season 1 of American Gods. Mr Wednesday takes his crew on a trip to New York hoping to recruit a powerful ally. Shadow starts asking questions about him and his curiosity unleashes a silly argument. 

Warnings: Some ageists jokes, the camp half blood concept from Percy Jackson is interpreted in American Gods’s style. 

Disclaimers: This serves as an introduction for my self indulgent attempt of writing fanfic including Sean Bean as Zeus in the American Gods universe. I couldn’t find fiction for Sean Bean’s Zeus and he’s so fine that I can't deal with it so I decided to include him in an idea I had previously in process for an American Gods fanfic. I apologise for any possible mistakes,english is not my native language and this is a translation. 

Tags: @yerevasunclair​. Our conversations about Sean’s Zeus inspired this. I’m tagging you in both parts. Thank you so much for the inspiration. 

I hope you ‘ll enjoy this. Thanks for reading

With the exception of Wednesday's bad mood, the trip was not having any major setbacks. The old man was quite unbearable because he hated New York and its exorbitant modernity, but he knew that this was a trip he was obliged to take. If he closed the deal he set out to make, he would gain a powerful ally, perhaps the most powerful one available. 

With only a few miles to go, he switched places with Shadow because he wanted to drive to relieve stress. Meanwhile, to alleviate the boredom during the break, he started to chat with Eira. The girl was sprawled out in the back seat listening to music on an old MP3 player dating from 2002. Shadow signaled her to take off a headset and pay attention to him. Listening to them, Mr. Wednesday rebuked her

“I told her to get rid of every modern toy before following us but she never listens. Eira!! Turn that rubbish off before I destroy it myself.”

“ Chill out, old man. This is ancient history technologically speaking. It doesn’t have wifi connection, or bluetooth, or anything. Nobody can try to track us through this, even the boy must have forgotten these things existed. It’s as safe as your car’s radio.” she replied in a tone that showed annoyance. 

 Shadow laughed, always amused to see the boss and his new co-worker arguing as a family. Wanting to pry into what she was hearing, he reached out to grab the earpiece she had taken out of her ear and placed it over his.

“ What’s that language?  Greek, I think? “ he commented about the music 

“Yeah, it 's greek. I’m getting ready for our next stop.” she explained. 

 “ Greeks? After what I experienced with the russians some time ago i thought we were going to New York to have a meeting with the japanese mafia or something like that. All your business partners seem to have a thing with extremely violent threats. “ he complained

“Don’t be so harsh with Bogo. Most people think he is scary and disgusting but i think he is great. He may be a bit of a psycho weirdo, he makes meat uncomfortable for everyone and sometimes he throws his cigarette smoke in your face but he is a very fun dude “ 

“ Bogo? Did you nicknamed him? He is a serial murderer who wants my head. “

“ We both live in Chicago, my mom tends to know everyone there and everyone knows her. I know him since i was a child, he is like a grumpy grandpa to me.”

That statement left him a bit shocked. Mainly because he did not imagine Czernobog being friendly to anyone or even being seen as friendly. 

“  Do you know the greeks? “ he asked, taking the opportunity to prepare for what was to come

“ No, I never had the pleasure, that’s why I'm so excited. They do their own stuff by themselves, they don’t tend to be very cooperative with the rest. Need is what pushed everyone else to start cooperating and created the unstable bonds of solidarity you had seen so far. They have their own functional system, they don’t need help from anyone. Even if they were struggling i doubt they would ask for it or accept it.” 

“ Very secretive people. How will we convince them to join Mr Wednesday? “ 

“  Let that to me, dear boy.” the boss interrupted . ”They never pick a side, not with us and not with the News. They are always pretending they are better than everyone else in that fake copy of their Olympus they made to themselves when all they actually have is a bunch of brats. If the big conflict starts they will have to choose one side and that’s where we enter.”

“I’m very curious about them "she added .” Their strategy is fascinating. They have a family business that keeps them standing for a very long time in conditions others would only dream to have. They adapted by being themselves without selling to the News.” 

” So, greek mafia then? ”  Shadow asked,curious and worried in equal amounts. 

 ” Never call them like that ever again. That’s very insulting and they are famous for being very arrogant and easy to irritate. Theo will carbonize you if he hears you calling him a mob boss. ” 

” Theo is their boss? He is the one we are visiting? ” 

 ” That’s how we call him, nobody dares to use his full name in casual conversation so we picked a middle ground epithet between his tradition and ours. Names are powerful, Shadow. You don’t have to use them in vain. ” Eira explained. ” Honestly, I'm very excited to meet someone so powerful. Most of the still strong names out there had given up and sold their brands to the News but Theo and his people are still successful. They are living the lifestyle of the Old Country, or at least the closest copy they can get in America. Wednesday is salty because he was never able to agrupate our kind in a similar project. My work for him is the closest thing he got, I’m one of the very few children of his associates who got invested and that’s only because my mother kept me with her. I’m not precisely the rule, that’s why practically i grew up to be here now. ” 

Shadow started to get severly worried .The repeated comment about the power of the people who were going to see kept him on his toes. He didn't want to get into any more trouble. 

 ” Do you want to give me a list of stuff to avoid when facing this Theo? I’m starting to freak out a bit and I don't understand a shit of what you are saying except for “ he is powerful”.  ” he asked her

 ” Don’t worry i will be there with you the whole time and i have more experience dealing with this sort of thing than you. Wednesday should have brought you to my mother’s home first instead of going straight to the russians when you visited our city. Don’t be scared, if you screw it up i will help you out”. 

Wednesday did not missed the chance to give his own advice as well

 ” The best for both of you is to keep your mouths shut as much as you can. “ he warned. ”Smile, nod in agreement, answer only what it’s being asked of you in the moment. This goes especially for you, young lady. ” he concluded in an imperative tone. 

”  Why the sudden care? You didn’t when we were visiting others. Are you afraid of him? ” she teased. 

”  Never, how could you suggest that? I’m restraining you because I don't want you to shift the focus of our negotiation. Theo has a weakness for youthful maidens like you.” he replied, scolding her again. 

 ” Then I should be the one negotiating with him.Wouldn’t be easier to convince him? ” 

” They don’t make him particularly weak, they are his favourite distraction. He enjoys himself when they get affected by his charm. Our business is the war and nothing more. Less you talk, less chances of distracting him too much.” 

Shadow was getting some entertainment with the discussion and intervened to give his opinion

” He doesn’t want this guy doing to you what he does to other women. ”he stated, mocking Wednesday. ” He wouldn’t admit it but he cares for you. He doesn’t want to see some horny old dude around you, thirsting over you and making you feel uncomfortable.” 

 ” My concern is not her safety, it’s her loyalty what troubles me. She works for me, she represents me. I don’t want her to forget it in front of him.” 

” Wednesday, he is older than you. ” Eira complained, trying to make him understand how ridiculous he sounded. ” Why would i care about him flirting with me? I’ll smile at him, pretend i’m pleased with his commentaries to keep him happy enough for you to close the deal and that’s all. It’s not the first time it happened, i’m used to casual flirting. Mad Sweeney had done it the few times we had seen each other,  some others associates of yours do it sometimes. The people we see tend to get flirty, Shadow has experienced it as well. It’s part of the job. ” 

” Mad Sweeney is a drunk loser, we are talking of real power here. Watch your steps and don’t embarrass me.”  Wednesday insisted. 

Shadow couldn’t stop laughing 

” Is he truly afraid you would be seduced by a man older than him? He has to be kidding, he is one of the oldest men i ever meet so how old is the greek ? 95?” 

 ” I may not be into the Technical Boy despite being closer in age terms to him than to most of the dudes we had dealt with but that doesn’t mean i’m into senior citizens. A middle ground is good, thanks. ” she joked, joining the mockery. 

” You two are too young to understand some very important aspects of how things work here. I’m warning you before it’s too late.”  Wednesday replicated.

 ” Whatever, thanks for the advice. I will have it in mind the next time an irresistable senior citizen shows up.You don’t know anything about my tastes in men and you are projecting your own crap on me. You may have a thing for girls of my age but not all of us get horny for grandpas. Some do and i don’t judge them but i’m not one of them.” 

 ” Wait and see. ” the old man replied in the same mocking tone. ” I would like to bet. I did it when Shadow fought the leprechaun, now it’s your turn. ” 

 ” We don’t have anything of value you may want.He just got out of jail and it’s not like mom would give me her Brisingamen just because i lost a bet to you. ”  

 ” Shadow, are you in? ”  the boss asked 

 ” What would i win? ” 

 ” If Eira feels condescendingly repulsed by the greek i double your weekly pay. If he charms her  i discount a percentage .” 

 ” If she doesn’t feel attracted to an old greek you duplicate my pay? Sure, i’m in. it is a safe bet, right?” he asked her 

” He talks bullshit, i’m not interested. Go ahead.” she assured him 

 ” I had never been happier standing in the middle of your silly fights. ” 

The youngsters spent the rest of the trip making fun of Wednesday's ridiculous bet, sure they were going to win. The old man laughed in their faces, he was playing with them again.  

Note: Theo is a name with two possible etymological origins, one greek and one germanic. A long time ago i read a theory that said the greek form Deos was associated with Zeus. I recently read that wasn’t the case but i still found it fitting for Zeus. 

[dadsbongos]

Hargreeves Kids in Order of Their Problems (and do i have a problem?)

No secret that the Hargreeves children are all fucked up, but as I was re-watching I was like damn - what if we ranked them? So here we go, I’m ranking all the Hargreeves’ spawn by their pain; taking into account their trauma with and without Reginald (mostly for Five/Klaus) and how bad it messed them up. I’ll be sticking mostly to the first season because that’s where a lot of the meat is, but I might include a tiny peek into season two.

Also, I will be directly addressing the frequent question I ask myself “Am I attracted to trauma when it comes to characters?” by looking at my favorites and if they’re all deeply scarred.

S Tier Pain - Five Hargreeves:

Not only was he forced to endure Reginald’s abusive training regime (at least until the haha moment), but he also got stuck in the future after a miscalculated time jump. You’d think that’d be bad enough, what with no longer being able to see your family, but no. Well, technically he did see them when he found their dead bodies but that’s just more to Five’s suffering. He also got jammed into a post-Apocalyptic life where he was the sole survivor and had to live all on his own (though he had Dolores, which is a whole can of sad, loneliness worms we don’t have time for). Then to make matters worse he was taken into the Commission where he was turned into as assassin for years, to which he quit early to save his family from the Apocalypse. After the first one - yes, the first - and arriving in the 60s, Five got to see a glimpse of his siblings dying to the second one. All he ever does is for his family’s survival, even if it means his misery. In season one (and two) he makes a deal with the Handler, who he can’t stand, just to

maybe

 ensure she’ll protect his loved ones from the end of the world. He willingly works with a woman he hates and likely doesn’t trust so his family would be safe. And who could forget that redheaded lady in the bowling alley, like gosh, she really ruined his life by assuming his age like that... poor guy.

A Tier Pain - Klaus Hargreeves:

Unlike Five, he got to stick around for the entirety of Reggie’s cuck ways of abusing his kids physically/emotionally/mentally. From a young age (if that episode two lunch scene is anything), Klaus has been using drugs as a way to cope with his family life and his power. His addiction has led to a rather sad life, as evident from the first episode and some of his own dialogue - he’s not used to staying in one place, if anything his visits to rehab centers are the longest homes he really has. He’s not expected to stay sober long by the counter employee, indicating he’s been there before multiple times. When talking to Five outside of the prosthetic department, he outright admits he hasn’t been with someone for longer than about two weeks. He’s never shown to even hold down a job unless you count supplying local pawn shops - or, you know, the army. He served in war, straight up war, he likely has PTSD and to make things better, note the sarcasm, he lost his boyfriend in that war. Dave, the one person he’s described as loving more than he does himself. Klaus is constantly brushed under the rug as this crazy, attention-seeking junkie for most of season one by his family, but he’s more likely just calling for the help he clearly needs. Speaking of his family, I just wanna throw in that Klaus was kidnapped and tortured and not one person seemed to notice or even care.

B Tier Pain - Vanya Hargreeves:

Neglected by her adoptive father and siblings her entire life, Vanya was left out of the loop of even her own powers until she discovered them fucking decades later. She wrote a book trying to air out her father’s awful deeds and rather than finding solidarity with their shared agony at least a little, her siblings pushed her even further away. Quick mention, during the argument on whether or not to turn off Grace, she was immediately shut down on an opinion until she was shown to agree with Diego. Her vote didn’t matter until she sided with another sibling. Vanya grew up so starved for attention and love that when she got into her first relationship with Leonard (that bitchy murderer) she mistook it for a real love. Stayed with an abusive, gaslighting killer against all her sister’s warnings. She was betrayed by her own brother (fuck Luther, me and the homies hate Luther) after coming home, sobbing and pleading forgiveness, just wanting to help into being locked back in that vault Reginald used to keep her in. Vanya snapped, felt there was no other outlet and truly there possibly wasn’t for her, and ended the world. She was in so much pain, so angry with her life and how it was ruined by her own family that she blew up the moon. And honestly? I’m not even mad at her for it.

C Tier Pain - Diego Hargreeves:

Dude found his ex-girlfriend’s - and probably his potential love interest’s - corpse. He’s aching inside at least a bit. His spot as Number Two fueled a deep need to prove himself, whether he admits it or not, it’s why he’s a vigilante. Diego functions off of stopping crime and it’s only different from his childhood because he does it alone. He feels the need to validate what he went through, as if his suffering needs to be explained in some way. Speaking of childhoods, who gives them to us? Moms. Grace is his robo-Mom with no real sentience (well, before Cha-Cha and Hazel raided the place anyway, reboot Grace has some weird independence complex going on). She read to him, put him to bed, and fed his Mama’s Boy fixation - even going as far as to help Diego with his stutter. He put her down, in the robot sense. Diego was the first person to speak against shutting Grace down and yet he did so himself - knowing it’s what had to happen.

D Tier Pain - Ben Hargreeves:

He’s dead, so I’m not sure what he’s gone through other than having “The Horror” in his stomach and Reginald as a dad. So there’s not much to say about his trauma other than having to sit through watching people die horribly by his power’s hand. But again, he’s dead, and dying is one of the most traumatic things I can think of. That’s why he’s higher than the others but still lower than the previous four Hargreeves’ kids.

E Tier Pain - Allison Hargreeves:

She’s known as a “Daddy’s Girl” how that’s possible with Reginald, I’m not sure, but she is. Not to excuse any of the torment she got as a child or give the abuse a pass, at all. It’s just an inference that as Number Three and someone who easily got what she wanted with her power, she probably didn’t feel out-casted like Vanya. Nor was she left to survive on her own and then kill to live like Five. Allison, in all fairness, was viciously attacked by her sister after revealing she “Rumored” her memory away. Unlike Ben, she survived and went on to be the peaceful one of the family and her power didn’t directly kill, especially in ways that “The Horror” did. So I must rank her pain lower with a sad bob in my throat, nervous that all the Allison lovers will scream at/cancel me for putting her at E.

F Tier Pain - Luther Hargreeves:

Fuck Luther, me and the homies hate Luther. This little fuck found something out of proving himself to his father. So far up his dad’s ass that he was cool with being a monkey space boy for years until he realized Reginald didn’t give a shit about him. And honestly? Same. No but really, he did become a monkey man purely out of Reginald’s need for a hero to do what he said - and Luther couldn’t fill that if he was dead. I do recognize that his life was essentially wasted by his years spent on the moon, blindly following Dad’s orders but to be honest, he’s too in the background. He had nothing other than his father and therefore lost nothing other than his family, it’s hard to feel bad when you know he had no intention of doing anything other than be by Reginald. No plans unlike Klaus who had his life decimated by his drugs dependency or fuck, Five! Five had absolutely no life other than living through the Apocalypse for decades. Overall, I hate Luther but even though I can’t stand his gorilla guts, I do recognize that he has trauma.

~~~Do I Have A Problem?~~~ Considering that Five and Klaus are my favorite characters and they are the most traumatized? Yes, I am unnecessarily in love with characters in pain. I didn’t want to be a mannequin before I knew about Five, and now I crave to morph into Dolores (or at least combine with her like a Power Ranger)

[missnxthingg]

can you do an imagine where the reader has really cool and strong powers and is found by the avengers and is recruted and peter meats her and fall in love with her but she is to badass to be in love.? thank you

A/N: First of all, I’m so so so sorry that it took months to get to your request. It’s just, I didn’t get any ideas for this one and I still think the last one I got is pure trash. It’s the best I can do for now, and I’m really sorry. 

Words: 2.3K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex and swearing.

masterlist | main blog | gif source

As if nothing else mattered, Peter kept staring at (Y/N) flawlessly doing her thing in the middle of the battle field. Every move seemed like it was rehearsed and he got completely mesmerized by it. He blinked slowly so he couldn’t miss one move, and somehow everything seemed like it was in slow motion. She turned her head to him after taking down one enemy, making him smile softly, but her eyes widened and she screamed:

“Peter, watch out!”

Suddenly he came to his senses, and using his spider senses, he noticed a bullet coming from behind him. He successfully dodged it and (Y/N) ran for the enemy that shot him and took him down. Peter webbed him to the floor and helped her take some more enemies down. He was tired, both of them were, and they wait for it to be over. So she took down the last man and Peter ran for the pen drive they were supposed to get back. It had some super confidential files from Stark Industries and it had been stolen from the Los Angeles tower and both Peter and (Y/N) were recruited to get it back, but the Spider Man doesn’t function very well when he was around the new great Avenger, the only younger one like him.

“Happy is already here, he’s waiting in the roof.”

Peter nodded and she jumped on his back and both of them swing outside to meet Happy Hogan waiting for them in the Avengers Private Plane. The man was waiting for them at the door and sighed in relief when he saw both of the kids coming out alive. 

“Why did you take so long?” He asked with a frown on his face.

“I had to save Mrs. Spider’s head, because he was distracted.” She replied running inside, followed by Peter.

“I almost got shot.” Happy arched his brows and (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m gonna test Stark’s new airplane shower, because I’m disgusting.” She said, getting into the bathroom with her bag on her hands.

“Fuck, look what she does to me.” Peter cursed, throwing his tired body on a chair.

“You’ve been so pathetically in love with her for so long it’s getting ugly to look at you staring at her.”

“Wow, thank you Happy, how nice of you.” Peter vomited in a bad mood and buried his face between his hands.

“You should tell her.” Happy suggested, nodding his head

“She knows it, but she’s too good…” Peter started, and Happy finished it with him.

“Too good for relationships.” Both nodded and Peter moaned in pain. “So, I’m gonna drive the plane, take a shower afterwards, you know we’re gonna take a long time to get back to the U.S.”

Peter nodded and was left alone with his own thoughts. (Y/N) didn’t take long in the shower and he entered it right after her, and washed himself in seek of getting all the bad things away. He wore the first comfortable pants and shirt he saw and lied down on a bed, feeling hungry but too tired to get up and look for something to eat. (Y/N) spent a lot of time preparing something to eat, ending up with chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and everything, tea and some fruits for them to eat. She approached Peter and gave him a plate with two chocolate chip pancakes and a cup of tea.

“Thank you.” He smiled softly and she asked for space to sit next to him.

“You look horrible”

“I know, I’m just tired, and feeling a lot of pain too.” 

She nodded and left her plate next to them and sat down next to him, resting one hand on his forehead and another one on his chest, closing her eyes and pronouncing some words he couldn’t understanding, but suddenly he was feeling better, still a bit tired, but much better.

“What did you do?”

“Something…” She bit her bottom lip and glanced down to her pancakes. “Eat up, it will make you feel better.”

He smiled and they ate in silence, nothing to distract them. No TV, no music, no conversation. But it was a nice silence, a good resting one. They finished their food and she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes afterwards. He searched for her hand and brushed his little finger on her hand, and she showed him the palm of her hand, inviting his to crash against hers, which he did, feeling the electricity all over his body.

“What do you wanna do when you get home?” He asked.

“Sleep, cry. I don’t know.” She laughed at her own answer and got cozy under his arms.

“Maybe you should just sleep, crying isn’t good.”

“So why do I get the vibe that you wanna cry so badly right now?”

One of (Y/N)’s cool superpowers was that she was able to know what a person was feeling. It was like a peak of energy and somehow she knew when the person was happy, angry, anxious, or sad.

“Stop reading my feelings.”

“Why do you wanna cry?”

“Because I’m tired and I miss May as well.” She pressed his hand and gave him a forehead kiss.

“It’s okay, you’ll see her soon.”

Peter couldn’t help but fall in love with her. She was nice, pretty, funny, smart and a badass. She could easily be one of the strongest Avengers even though she was one of the youngests. And she did everything to make him feel good, that including late night talks, long hugs and trying to make him laugh all the time. Him being hypnotized by her wasn’t something new, it happened in trainments and it happened today in battle.

It was getting harder and harder to hide his feelings, specially right now, that she involved him in a hug and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes right after. She did everything right and she was lovely, his sweetheart. He let tiredness consume him and fell asleep with her in his arms.

The following week was harder for him to not want to be around her, because after the episode in the airplane, all he wanted to do was spend every minute of his day next to her. Thankfully, training would be harder this week and they needed to work together almost everyday for hours.

“Come on Pete, you need to go harder. It’s a punch on the nose. One good one and the person goes to the ground in seconds.”

“I web things, I don’t throw punches around.” She rolled her eyes and showed him how it should be done, punching the doll in the face. “Wow, perfect.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and ran to get water for both of them. “So, tomorrow I’m throwing a party with a couple of friends, and I was wondering if you would like to join us.” Peter was frozen for a couple of seconds, but he nodded.

“Y-yeah, of course.” She smiled and nodded.

“So I’ll text you the address. See you tomorrow!”

“See you!”

Peter watched her go away already thinking what to wear tomorrow, and soon he was already thinking of a plan to get to her and tell her that he likes her. So the next day came, and he dressed up all nicely and Happy drove him to the party, which was already full. He felt lonely, because he didn’t know anyone there. But (Y/N)’s big and warm smile made him feel better, and she approached him bouncing her flowery dress around.

“Hey Peter! I’m so glad you came.” She hugged him and he smiled.

“Hi (Y/N), you look lovely tonight.” He smiled and she pinched his cheek. 

“Thank you sweetie.” She pulled him by the hand close to a table full of drinks. “So, do you want a beer?”

“Yeah, it would be nice.” 

She served both of them and they talked over that one beer while they walked around and she introduced him to some of her friends. She was being all nice, and even though he was meeting a lot of new cool people, he only had eyes for her and how sweet she was being.

“So, I’ve never seen you outside the compound, and you are a really cool kid Parker.”

“You are cool too.” He smiled shyly and she smiled.

“Come on, let’s dance!”

She pulled him to the dancefloor at some point and they danced together for a very long time. All kinds of songs, slow, funny and sexy ones. It was driving Peter insane, because for the first time, not only he liked her, but he wanted to have her, feeling desire consume his body. At some point, he was holding her by the waist and they were close, foreheads glued and breaths mixing together. He pressed her waist and pulled her closer.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” He asked and she nodded, holding his hand and quickly pulling him into a bathroom. 

“Is this private enough?” She asked and he nodded. 

She leaned him to the sink and gently kissed him in the lips. When she tried to push back, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, with one hand buried on her hair and another one pulling her close by the waist. And as if it wasn’t hot enough, her hands traced down to his pants when he started kissing her neck. But she didn’t do anything, just provoked him. He sucked her jaw and gave his attention back to her lips, until he was too tired to keep kissing.

“I need to tell you something.” He said breathlessly.

“Yes…” She moaned under his touch on the undressed part under her skirt.

“I think I’m falling for you” He said and she nodded.

“I know.” She kissed him again and pulled him to sit on the toilet, so she straddled his lap and rocked her hips back and forth, feeling him hard against her core. “But I don’t do dating.” She started to kiss his neck, still doing movements with her hips.

“Why?”

“I’m too cool for relationships.” She kissed him one more time in the lips before kneeling in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a head. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No.” He stated and she stopped, frowning at him.

“No?” She was confused. “You just said you were falling for me.”

“Yeah, but in a romantic way, not in the sexual way.” She puffed and got herself together before getting up. “I want to take you on a date and make you mine, but not this way, at least not yet.”

“I knew there was something between us, but I only thought you wanted to fuck me. Because that’s what I’ve been wanting for a long time now.”

“What?”

“For you to fuck me! Because you know, I don’t like dating. People only let me down. But sex… It’s great.”

“That’s all you wanted out of me?” She nodded and Peter laughed. “I’m sorry, I gotta go.” He ran for the door and escape that place as quick as possible.

“Peter, wait…” But before she could even reach him, he was gone.

The next week was tense, as he was avoiding her even though she slept right next to him. And even though he didn’t want to, his heart was broken and he was feeling sad, something she could feel hardly in her guts. And one night it was harder, and she was trying to finish her skin care routine when she started feeling it. Peter was crying, hard. Of course she went to check on him, and once she knocked on the door, she found him with red eyes looking at her.

“You’re the last person I wanna talk right now.”

“Please, let me help you.” He hesitated, but nodded, giving her space to come in. “Look, I’m sorry I broke your feelings.”

“It’s just too hard to believe you really thought I only wanted to fuck you.” She glanced down and he laughed. “I really was in love with you, God I still am.”

“Peter, I was in love with you too. But I already told you, I don’t do dating. I’m sorry.”

“Why? I could never hurt you.” She started crying, knowing what she was about to do was going to be hard.

“I don’t wanna be attached to one person only. I’m a girl, and I guess it’s still a taboo to say what I’m about to say. But I like to be free and do whatever the fuck I want to. I like to screw around and have fun, and with a boyfriend, I can’t do that.” They fell in silence, staring at each other, until Peter broke eye contact looking down to his feet.

“It’s just, you’re the most perfect girl I’ve ever met.” He started softly. “And I really wanted you to be mine, in every intensity there is. I want to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make your heart pump faster and always be by your side in the battle field.”

“Pete…”

“But sometimes, yeah, I would like to fuck you. But it’s not only that. I just wish you could see me differently.”

She pulled him for a hug and gave him some small kisses on the temple. When they separate, she entwined their fingers and looked into his eyes, and she could see how much pain he was feeling. And suddenly she was confused, because she didn’t want to be tied up, but he was everything that mattered in that moment. So she left a small kiss on his lips and left. And from that moment on, Peter knew there was no hope left for them to be together.

…………………

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[etherealwaifgoddess]

Adapting

Summary: Bucky tries adapting to the 21st century but finds the challenge too much for him. He loves Steve, but he can’t imagine ever fitting in to the modern world and it leads him to a drastic solution.

Content Warning: A very sad Bucky. Very brief mention of period-typical homophobia. Overall this one is a little angsty but it has a happy ending, promise. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies, it’s been a while! I’ve been trying to get back into the groove of writing over the past few weeks and that posed more challenging than I’d expected. I managed to get this little fic where I wanted it though and figured I’d share it while I try to wrap up all the other stuff I’m working on. Hope you all enjoy :)  XOXO - Ash

Adapting

After a few months of living in the twenty-first century Bucky found he both loved and hated it in turns. When he’d been cleared as completely deprogrammed and sent home to the states he thought he couldn’t have been luckier. He was finally a free man, from both the government and the decades of brainwashing. Bucky was looking forward to living with Steve again in Brooklyn, the two of them on their own and free to do whatever it was super soldiers do in retirement when they’re not even thirty yet. The world was his oyster, he thought to himself as they signed the lease on a cute little condo right in the heart of their old neighborhood. 

The glamour of the twenty-first century faded quickly as Bucky tried to adjust to everyday life. Steve, who had been doing well on his own for four years, was eager to help Bucky acclimate to the new century. Unfortunately, Steve took to that as he did with all things; barreling in head first all at once. Bucky needed time to adapt, he couldn’t just throw himself at something and become good at it like Steve could. As much as he loved Steve, and god did he ever love that man, it was hard keeping up a brave face. Even harder, was that the love he’d felt for Steve back in the 30s hadn’t diminished one bit. 

When they were young being gay was a death sentence. Something so secretive that even back alley whispers could ruin a man’s life. Bucky had known he was gay since he knew what it was to want someone in that way. And like most things in Bucky’s life, it all came down to Steve freaking Rogers. The fine boned little blonde who never knew when to quit, his giant spirit housed in such a delicate frame. Bucky never acted on his feelings, never dared to, but some days he wished he’d had. It had been enough though, the time they’d had together in their tiny apartment over the Miller’s garage. He knew it wasn’t a crime to be gay anymore. He’d caught on to that pretty quickly, thank you HBO, but he still couldn’t bring himself to share that truth with Steve. Maybe someday. Bucky needed time to process and evaluate before proceeding, just like everything else in his life. 

One of the first things Bucky really minded was the food. Steve had warned him that everything tasted a little different nowadays but claimed he’d get used to it. Steve loved all the different types of takeout you could get in the city, willing to try anything and everything. Bucky found he couldn’t get past how fake everything tasted, like he could sense the lingering chemicals. Steve continued to insist they’d find something Bucky liked, even trying to ply him with bags of candy and boxes of mass produced cookies, trying to cater to his sweet tooth. Bucky gave up finally after a week where he’d spent ninety percent of the time hangry. He headed down to the farmers market and loaded up on all organic produce and heritage bred meats. He found an artisanal bakery that used simple organic ingredients too. Bucky took to making his own food from his farmers market shopping trips and was finally able to enjoy a meal. Steve, bless him, continued to try and find things Bucky would like but it never seemed to work out. Bucky felt guilty every time he’d have to pass something back to Steve with a “no thanks, pal” and the light of hope in Steve’s eyes dimmed. 

Steve was quite attached to his iPhone and thought for sure Bucky would love one too. He came home one afternoon with a sleek, shiny, little phone for Bucky, handing it to him like it was something priceless. “It does everything, Buck. You’re gonna love it.” he insisted. Bucky did not love it. The tiny black device only served to piss Bucky off more than anything. He could never quite get the hang of navigating it and his fingers always felt too big when he was trying to type. He’d loved technology when he was younger but the phone was just a bridge too far, and one he was not ready to learn how to cross. “I’m a hundred goddamned years old, Steve. No, I don’t wanna learn how to tweet. I’ll leave that to the fucking birds.” he grumbled, throwing the phone down on the coffee table after yet another one of Steve’s well intentioned attempts at teaching Bucky how to use some annoying app. Steve let up after that, leaving Bucky to poke around on the phone only when he was willing. Bucky knew Steve was upset that his gift wasn’t well received, but he was too frustrated with himself and the whole situation to apologize. 

Socializing was even becoming unenjoyable for Bucky. He used to go out every weekend to the dance halls and, when they were flush, the bars or clubs. Bucky was always the life of the party with a dame or two hanging off his arm, while Steve had shied away, content in the shadows. The times had certainly changed. Steve was now the one urging Bucky to hang out with the team and go out to the movies, but Bucky couldn’t have had less interest. He didn’t want to hold Steve back, and he felt horribly guilty when Steve would give him that damned sympathetic smile and say “It’s okay, Buck. We can just stay in.” when he very clearly wanted to go out. Bucky just couldn’t seem to fit in. He didn’t get the jokes or share the same interests with anyone and it was exhausting trying to make it seem like he did. So he preferred to stay at home in their condo, reading books or watching documentaries on their ridiculously large TV. He did occasionally enjoy when Natasha would drop in. It was seldom, but sometimes the tiny redhead would drop in unexpectedly with some old fashioned, homemade, Russian dish tucked under her arm for him. They would sit in silence watching a documentary, not having to say a word. She would give him a gruff hug and then be on her way. It was perfect and Bucky enjoyed her drop ins more than he’d admit. 

Everything came to a head after Steve’s birthday party. It was a week from hell as far as Bucky was concerned. He’d wanted to get Steve new paints and canvases, the expensive ones he’d seen the blonde fawning over a few weeks prior. Buying the supplies involved either going out in public alone, not ideal, or internet shopping, even worse. He tried to get them online but gave up after an hour, wanting to smash the damned laptop. Forcing himself to go out in public when he was already in a foul mood served to be just as disastrous, but he made it somehow. Then there was the party. Steve deserved the biggest, grandest party a guy could ask for, as far as Bucky was concerned. He wanted the best for Steve, he just didn’t want to be part of it. Steve looked at Bucky like he’d kicked his puppy when Bucky had told him he didn’t think he would be attending. So Bucky had put on his brave face and joined in on the loud, obnoxious party on July 4th to celebrate. Every drunken laugh and cheer grated on his nerves but he was coping and was quick to smile and nod every time Steve would look over. The last straw was the damn fireworks. Bucky hadn’t even stopped to consider how he would be with the fireworks but he quickly learned he was very not okay. Steve was staring up at night sky like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, completely enraptured by the show. Bucky was digging his nails into his palms so hard blood trickled slowly down to his wrist, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. In between blasts, he miraculously managed to excuse himself for a bathroom break, and locked himself in the bathroom where he could fall apart for a few minutes. Maybe the shrink Steve had drug him to was right about the whole PTSD thing. Fuck. 

Bucky was certain when he woke up the morning after Steve’s party that he was ruining the other man’s life. There was no sugar coating it anymore, Bucky was bringing Steve down by being with him. Bucky didn’t think he’d ever adapt to this new world and he was so damned tired of trying. He wished they’d just left him on the ice in Wakanda until they needed him for a mission or something. It had worked out for the past seventy years, it would probably be better knowing it was the good guys pulling the strings now. Sure, Steve would miss him at first but Bucky was convinced it was for the best in the long run. Who needed a socially inept, only slightly stable roommate who couldn’t do anything on their own? And Steve, self sacrificing saint that he was, would never complain about it. Which honestly just made it worse. Even when Bucky had his low spells and would spend days on end curled up in bed, unable to even function, Steve was there to support him however he could. It was just too much to throw on the man, no matter how hard Bucky was trying or how much he loved him. 

“I think I need to go back on the ice.” Bucky said one night over dinner. He was only half way through his roasted chicken and potatoes but he couldn’t wait another minute.

Steve choked on his pad thai. “What?!” he yelped once his coughing fit had stopped.

“I need to go back on the ice.” Bucky was firm in his decision, “I’m not meant for this world, Steve. You know it as well as I do. So let’s save everyone the headache and put me back under. If the team ever needs me you can just bring me back out to help.”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Steve jumped up from his spot on the sofa and started pacing, running his hands roughly through his thick blonde hair. “If we did that to you we would be no better than Hydra. Do you get that?”

Bucky sighed heavily, he should have known Steve wouldn’t get it. “It’s nothing like Hydra. The Avengers are the good guys. I won’t be brainwashed or tortured or anything. I’ll just take a long, chilly nap and you guys can bring me out when you need me.” 

“I need you!” Steve cried, exasperated. 

“Stevie,” Bucky’s tone softened, pleading, “I’m ruining your life, pal. I can’t, I won’t, sit back and watch you give up this amazing life you could have if I wasn’t in it. I want you to be happy.” 

“That’s fucking rich.” Steve barked out a harsh laugh. His pacing stopped and he stood stock-still to stare a Bucky. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I just want you, Buck. How can you not see that? It’s only ever been you. Even when it was just you and me in that shitty little apartment in 1936, when we were so broke we couldn’t turn on the heat. I...” Steve’s voice broke with emotion and he shook his head. 

Bucky’s chest ached, terrified of what Steve was saying. It couldn’t be. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

Tears shone in Steve’s eyes. “I love you. I always have, and I guess I always will. I know you think you’re not adjusting to life now but you’ve only been here for six months. It took me a whole damn year to really get my bearings. I won’t give up on you. Not when I just got you back.” 

“How long?” Bucky cleared his rough voice, “How long have you felt that way?”

Steve shrugged, “Since forever, I guess. I’m sorry, I know you’re not-”

“I’m gay.” Bucky blurted out, cutting Steve off. “And I’ve loved you since the minute I could put a name to the feeling.” 

“Fuck.” Steve cursed, crossing the few feet to pull Bucky into his arms, “Fuck, we’re terrible at communicating.” He crashed his lips down on Bucky’s, frantic and desperate. 

It wasn’t a perfect first kiss but it was everything to Bucky. Steve’s warm palm rested on the back of Bucky’s neck, stabilizing him as he drowned in the other man. It was rough and heated and absolutely perfect. “I love you.” Bucky rasped out in between kisses, “I love so much.”

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me again.” Steve pleaded against Bucky’s lips, holding him closely, “We’ll figure it out, Buck. I promise. Please.” 

Bucky trembled, tears falling with giant sobs. He was so emotionally worn out and he clung to Steve like a lifeline. “Okay. We can try.” 

It took another six months and a few extra therapy sessions, but slowly Bucky began to adapt. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t quick, but that was okay. Change happened slow and gentle, like dawn rising up over the city rooftops bringing warmth and light to everything it touched. They found compromises and Steve did his best to be patient with Bucky, even though sometimes he practically vibrated out of his skin with the effort to slow down. They moved Bucky into Steve’s room and adopted a fluffy white cat they both doted on endlessly. Bucky eventually found common ground with Sam and they even made a weekend trip down to DC to visit him and do some sightseeing. After seventy years of being apart, and twenty years before that hiding their feelings, being able to be openly in love felt like the biggest blessing either man could have asked for. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but they were together and that was all that really mattered.