#sesame oil pulling

[vulpiximisa]

watching shiraimu putting all sorts of stuff on his wafers just to switch it up

[morethansalad]

Spicy Pulled Jackfruit Bowl (Vegan)

[katsukikitten]

Retired pro hero Bakugou buying a really old abandoned home in Japan and restoring it while living in it.

It's all he's got, a lot of his friends have wives, families, kids, some of them even expecting a first grandkid and Bakugou in his 40s has nothing of his life to show for aside from the undisputed number one spot on the hero charts for 20 years straight and more scars than he can count.

He feels he relates to the house, old, once adored but now empty.

He wants to change that, wants to be more than an idea or idol, wants to disassociate from Dynamight and just be Bakugou Katsuki but he isn't sure he knows who that is. Dynamight is still parts of him yes but exaggerated, in all his years Katsuki knows he can soften he just doesn't know where.

Although he's ready to find out. Sadly or maybe fortunately, he's the type of man who has to find out through action and hard work. He bought the house site unseen, didn't even Google what the front of the home looked like he didn't care.

Standing in front of his mostly dilapidated home he feels good, crossing his arms over his chest as he lets his mind wander on where to start. Eyes sharp, cutting into the features of the home as he assesses just like he would any villain situation.

"Excuse me Dyna-" You clear your throat before he looks at you, as you remember his retiring announcement of him saying Dynamight can go fuck himself. I'm Bakugou Katsuki now.

"Excuse me Bakugou. I brought you a little welcome gift. I'm your neighbor." You don't flinch when his heavy gaze flicks to you, don't shy away from his snarl and if anything your smile grows as you offer up the bento and plate of cookies.

He doesn't take them and you don't take offense, just gently pull them back to yourself as you look at the home

"I'm so happy you bought the Sato house. They were good neighbors. They lived here when I was younger by both passed suddenly. Old age does that ya know? They didn't have any children but Mrs. Sato taught me her special rice for bentos."

You're rambling but you don't care, you'd just bought your childhood home from your parents a month prior. Fearful your home would suffer the same fate as the Satos. That the love and memories would be washed away by the rain and neglect. That the air around the home would worsen each year it went unaccompanied until it became so stagnant with neglect it became a miasma that not even the toughest soul could stomach.

Yet here stood Bakugou strong and tall outside a broken home.

"I don't think it's anything special by the way. Just a bit more soy sauce or sesame seed oil, I think she was what made it special."

Katsuki looks down at you for a long time, sees your fingers twitch against the fabric of the neatly wrapped bento, watches you swallow thickly and lashes flutter to combat the burn in your eyes as you stare at the home. You turn to face him, give a polite smile and nod of your head in a brief good bye before his voice stops you.

"I'll be the judge of that." You furrow your brows in confusion, looking up at him before his big warm palm comes under the bento to lift from your hands, "If the rice is special or not."

He watches your face light up, a true genuine smile that could compete with the sun and he feels something deep in his chest ache. Feels it yearn to reach out to you but he stands firm in his spot as he watches you disappear down the short overgrown walk way back to your home.

He doesn't even need to try the fucking rice to know the answer.

The rice was going to be special because you made it, Katsuki's sure of it.

[mikrokcsmos]

That That (I Like That)

synopsis; in which your boyfriend’s loud moans and groans wake you up from your sleep at 4 in the morning and you’re about ready to throw hands — and so is he, but for completely different reasons.

pairing; vlive!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

genre; twinge of angst, mainly fluff and humor, Weverse live au

rating; PG-13

warnings; the word damn (x2) and suggestive dialogue/themes, just boyfriend koo in all his glory tbh

w/c; 1,283

a/n; don’t mind the poor excuse of a banner I tried to make on my own. shout out to @sftk0o for the perfect icons 💕

You tried to ignore it, you really did; believing the first loud moan you heard was a part of the not so innocent dream you found yourself in that involved your boyfriend only moments ago. Eyelids closing as you relaxed your body once more, head snuggling back into your pillow to begin the descent back into said racy dreamland — only for it to be interrupted by a loud distanced slam, your body tensing in fear, heart racing.

“DAMN.” He grunted, no �� moaned out loud, you picturing his face instantly – brows pinched in concentration and nose scrunched cutely, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. Can almost hear the low whine in your head that he always does just as he finishes—

Hands immediately searched the bed next to you for a warmth that was non-existent, all that greeted you being the cold fabric of the sheets that have been pulled back for quite some time it seemed. Another loud slam, accompanied by the same noticeable whine following not even a second later has you pushing yourself out of the bed, but this time not in fear, no.

This time it was because of pure and unadulterated anger.

Running on pure adrenaline, head in a fog and mind racing with worst case scenarios to what you’re about to witness has your bare feet bringing you closer and closer to where the noise continues to resonate from — the kitchen.

Just as you’re about to turn the corner, you freeze, hand on wall, a drawn out ‘damn’ piercing your ears that has your eyes welling with bitter tears on the verge of falling. Nails digging into the white of the wall, you push off, utilizing the momentum to push you the rest of the way into the kitchen and in full view of the sight in front of you.

Your voice dies in your throat, before it reaches your mouth, and you remain silent.

Jungkook has his head face down into the edge of the table, fists clenched on either side as his arms flex from the action. Quietly, you edge forward towards his hunched over form, eyes scanning the room around you for any other human other than yourself, and your body sags in relief as you start to piece together the cause of the grunts, moans, and curses.

Food. Fucking food. You should’ve known.

The aroma fills your nostrils, causing your own mouth to salivate and you weren’t even hungry. The smell of freshly sautéd chicken, scallions, and melted cheese wafts in the air along with the nutty flavors of sesame oil from the large skillet that still sits on the burner of the stove built into the table, most of its contents long gone. A bowl of microwaveable white rice sits next to a clenched fist, the other one now raised in the air as if preparing to strike someone, a spoon nestled in the last remnants.

Jungkook, still high off his food induced fever, pushes himself up to immediately unleash the finger guns of a choreo you know all too well at this point, his hips thrusting in time to the tune you have no doubt is engrained in his brain at this point as well as yours.

Despite your best efforts to remain as quiet as possible, you not missing the way his phone is suspiciously propped up against a stack of cookbooks neither of you have bothered opening yet that lets you know he’s currently live on Weverse, a puff of laughter from your lips causes him to pause mid hip thrust, wide doe eyes landing on your amused figure.

“The food was that good, hm?”

A sheepish, guilty grin is all you get in reply, his feet moving him towards you. When he’s close enough, his head dips down to brush a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Did I wake you?” He quietly questions, brows furrowed in worry when he notices the red that is prominent along your eye line. “Did you have a bad dream? Were you crying?”

The questions are in rapid succession, and you have to place the palms of your hands against his lightly stubbled chin, pressing his cheeks together and making his lips pucker at you like a fish to get him to stop talking long enough for you to explain.

“Your wanton moans are what woke me up, made me think that there was—,” you trail off, voice barely a whisper. “—other activities taking place in here that didn’t involve eating food.”

The sharp intake of breath he does let’s you know he understands the hidden meaning behind your words, his hands coming up to pull yours off of his face, and bring your body flush against his. A frown is now prominent on his usually smiling lips.

“Baby, I hope you know I would never cheat on you. Especially not in our house, and in our kitchen. This—,” his large hands trail down your sides, leaving nothing but warmth in their wake. “—is all I’ll ever want or need. You are it for me, jagi.”

A heat makes it’s way up your neck and to your cheeks, his words warming your heart and the inner guilt that festers within you unraveling.

As you stare into his brown eyes, you see nothing but truth and love, nothing but future and promise.

“I know. Im sorry for even allowing the thought to cross my mind. It was stupid of me to think. Besides, I don’t think I have to worry about any person stealing you away from me.” Your fingers interlock behind his neck, arms hanging loosely around his neck. “Food on the other hand? Now that’s what I should be concerned of. That chicken had you making noises I only ever heard you make in the bedroom.”

His head drops into the crook of your neck as he lets out an embarrassed whine, warm breath and lips that brush against your collarbone making goosebumps erupt on your skin and you shiver. His arms circle your waist in a vice grip as his upper body relaxes against your shorter one.

“Sleepy, baby?”

“Mhm. ‘m tired.” He mumbles into your skin sleepily, voice laced with a newfound exhaustion due to his full and satiated belly.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“Yep, just gotta turn the live off first.”

“Jeon Jungkook, you and your random late night lives will literally be the death of you.”

He reluctantly straightens up, arms leaving your body to stretch up into the air above his head as he lets out a loud yawn.

“No, they won’t, baby.”

“Need I remind you of the candle incident?”

Eyes squinting at you, tongue in cheek, he remains silent and you know you’ve won this round.

“I’ll be waiting in bed, don’t take too long, okay?”

You take a step back as he takes a step forward, lips chasing yours for a quick, yet equally as lingering kiss that makes your breath catch in your lungs. Noses touching, he whispers so only you can hear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, and your foodgasms.”

You snicker and turn to make a fast getaway, his fingertips only having enough time to graze the swole of your ass as you skip away from him and disappear around the corner until you’re out of sight.

It only takes five minutes for his sock clad feet to slide into the entrance of your room, and two seconds for his body to land on yours as you erupt into a fit of laughter on your shared bed that turns into soft sighs, grunts and moans that you know is because of you this time.

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he��ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[octoberautumnbox]

A Little Goes a Long Way

fromis_9 Roh Jisun & all the other frommies :DDDD

Categories: fluff, cooking, really light blood but it shouldnt be too big of an issue

Word count: 1.0k

a/n: prompt by @msafterhours!! im actually a dumbass bc i got the prompt completely wrong lmao but here yall go!! oki i hiatus again byeee

It’s something about the manner in which the knife cuts through meat and muscle–something about how things come together in the pot that makes Jisun happy as can be. Home isn’t home, she’d think, when the kitchen hasn’t got windows that rays of sun enter through on warm mornings, or when the cupboards and cabinets aren’t stocked for visiting friends or midnight snacks. There’s a romance, a magic, a unique rightness in a home where one cooks for both body and soul. 

“Good girl,” she muses, finding the beef sitting in a basin of water on the countertop, “can always count on Jiheonnie.” She replaces the now-cool water with a new pool fresh from the tap, before gathering the rest of the ingredients and getting to work. 

Jisun opens door after door of cupboards, taking out each of the rest of the ingredients in turn: green and brown onions, sesame seeds and sesame oil, sugar and salt, garlic and ginger, red and black pepper. Cute, she thought, that each had a partner. 

The sun watches intently from the other side of the window, filling her kitchen with a calming warmth you'd scarcely find anywhere else. The clouds rein in the too-intrusive rays, while specks of pollen merrily dance across the glass pane. With her celestial audience on the edge of their seats, she gets to work. 

“Yeah it's you, yeah it's you,” Jisun hums under her breath. She measures out each portion carefully, transferring them into tiny bowls that matched colors and handles and rims. It must be something in her bones today, how her step is sprightly and her fingers reach and flex with less poignancy than she's used to. 

It isn't long before she thinks back, a green onion steady between the countertop and her left hand while a knife is secure in her right, that she remembers when Jiwon held them wrong and almost cut her finger open. She recalls Hayoung slicing peppers, followed by onions, rubbing her eyes in between every couple of strokes to push away persistent tears that never seemed to run out. She smiles at the memory of Jiheon not knowing solid and liquid measuring cups were different, and the resultant cake falling flatter and growing firmer than their beloved maknae had liked. 

Her lip finds itself between her teeth, thinking “Good thing they have me,” as the once-long stalk of green onion grows shorter and shorter. “What would they do without me?”

And yet, it was nothing compared to the contrary. It waltzes to the front of her mind, amidst draining the thawed beef of its former frost, how Saerom put her arm under her after a particularly rough day of practice. It shone like the sun, as Jisun mixes the paste, how Seoyeon talked her ear off when Jisun had run out of things to say. The rush of fondness fills her chest remembering how Nagyung complained when Jisun saw herself in the mirror and frowned at the reflection, all the while she works the marinade into the meat.

As she places each strip into the smoking wok, Chaeyoung enters her mind, the same way Chaeyoung entered the practice room in the baggiest pants Jisun had ever seen, only to pull out a Melona for them to share with their backs against the CCTVs. The scent and symphony of sizzling meat fills her kitchen with a profound sense of melancholy, remembering walking with Gyuri one morning before the sun rose, just one lap around the building, and yet it so happened that it was enough to share four years’ worth of troubles with each other. 

She tips the wok over a respectfully waiting plate. The meat steams and settles onto the surface, expelling the tensions of the stove and relaxing into a Jisun-like state.  The green onions fall predictably onto the food, meeting nooks and crannies in the meat with attention that welcomes a tongue seeking solace in homemade comfort. A final touch, Jisun thought, to finish the job, to give the palate something to want to come home to the next time it wanders out into the wide, wonderful world: just a drizzling of honey– not too much, certainly not too little. The viscous liquid spreads all over the dish, sending its enticingness to new heights and bringing the delicacy together. 

At last, her meal is nearly complete. Jisun sets it on the dining table, right in the center of the square wooden surface. She admires it for a moment, the hard work of the past half hour lost on the world but not on her, before she clears her throat to finally, fully, completely allow herself to enjoy the fruits of her labor…

“Girls, time to eat!” She then counts silently, one, two, three– frantic footsteps grow louder and louder until Jiwon and Hayoung come crashing into the room. They both shriek, “I want to sit next to Jisun!” It makes her giggle, just as much as seeing Seoyeon and Jiheon holding hands and walking in step towards the table themselves. Nagyung and Chaeyoung follow, still glued to Nagyung's phone as Chaeyoung points to the screen, “That's the guy I was telling you about,” before they take a seat across from her. 

Jisun takes a deep breath, waiting for one more, and it comes in the form of a comforting hand on her shoulder and a pat on her hair. “Thank you, Jisun,” Saerom whispers with nothing but love in her voice. Her leader takes a piece of the meat and makes a show of eating it, and it's almost comical how much she overreacts. “Holy shit, this is delicious–” Saerom mutters, her hand over her mouth. 

Nagyung pipes up, “Thank you, Jisun-unnie,” prompting a slew of variations from each other member at the table, until a cacophony of gratitude fills Jisun's ears. The warmth of their love spreads through her body, filling her with gratitude of her own.

“You're welcome, girls. Eat well,” she says, as she finally takes a piece of meat for her own, giddy in the anticipation of knowing that it'll be one of the most delicious bites of food she'll ever have. 

[biscuitdolly]

oral health ♡

now , obv u wanna be brushing your teeth 3 times a day , flossing , mouth wash etc .. but here are some extra things that can help improve your oral health , breath and teeth!!

oil pulling ♡

you can use coconut oil , sesame seed oil , or sunflower oil. swish a teaspoon of said oil around in your mouth to coat all your teeth , spit , and then repeat. @/ally.renee1 on TikTok recommends adding peppermint oil , this helps it taste better and also acts as a natural mouthwash!!

floss your teeth before brushing ♡

use either waxed or woven flosses! never use glide flosses , they have Teflon (Teflon is a chemical , it's used in stuff like non-stick sprays , flosses with Teflon literally don't do anything but glide between your teeth). try flossing as if you're flossing both teeth instead of the space in between!

water flossing ♡

for this you'll need a water flosser. hold for about 5 seconds in between each tooth (don't water floss after brushing teeth because you want the fluoride in the tooth paste to stay on your teeth!!)

tongue scrap ♡

self explanatory. get a tongue scrap , and scrap from back to front 5 times. it's really gross what kind of stuff comes off , so you wanna make sure its all gone!

mouth wash ♡

i'd recommend a teeth whitening one but any will work!! (obv you can use whitening strips too). swish for 30 seconds then spit.

brush teeth ♡

personally , i use an electric toothbrush bc the rounded brush head gets rid of plaque better , but its okay if you don't have one! manual toothbrushes are fine , just make sure you brush extra good!

i brush my entire mouth once , spit , and then brush it again, just to make sure i get absolutely everything. make sure you're brushing the teeth at the very back , your gums , the roof of your mouth , and your tongue!! brush for a total of 3 minutes.

extra ♡

why do i use mouth wash before brushing? because i don't want to wash away the remaining fluoride from the toothpaste that's still on my teeth. If it's morning , i use mouthwash again around 20 minutes after brushing, just to make sure my breath smells good.

[rerefundslocals]

ADORE YOU [J.JK]

Summary: jungkook just wants to cook for you and love on you as a newly married couple.

>>pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader (she/her)

>>trope: established relationship

>>genre: fluff, fluff and fluff

>>word count: 917

>>warnings/tags: jungkook is just cheesy, mentions of jungkooks past with cooking(that one run bts ep), some tears of LOVE and Joy, short brief kisses, they're just vv cute :( lmk if I missed anything!

a/n - welll, uhm, I liked the live but damn bro at 4am? 😭 anyway, please enjoy this short piece of work, I'll be gone for a while. Please send feedback through reblogs or asks, it helps authors stay very motivated <333 {work is not proofread}

{Listen to 'Adore you' by Harry Styles as this is inspired by the song.}

~★~

"You don't have to say,you love me

You don't have say nothing

You don't have to say ,you're mine

Honey, I'll walk through fire for you

Just let me Adore You."

•★•♥︎•★•♥︎•

"You're gonna cook for me?"

"Of course. who else is gonna cook for my wifey?" Jungkook leans down at your figure sitting on the couch, placing a peck on your lips.

You both had just got back from your honeymoon and this is the first night in your shared home, and after a whole day of grocery shopping, Jungkook had decided to stand up and make a meal for you both.

You simply chuckle at his antics, deep down feeling a wave of worry as the last time Jungkook had cooked for you both, the food had stuck onto the plate.

"McDonald's can cook for us too, Kook and it'll be ready in no more than 30minutes." You suggest, hoping he would catch on.

But he doesn't.

"No, that's very unhealthy, we had nothing but unhealthy food during our honeymoon, so let's have something different. Hmm, Wifey?" He asks, head tilting to the side as he awaits your answer.

Looking at him draped in his White Nike shirt, that you suppose he got from Japan and his Grey Joggers ; you pout at him, hoping to persuade him.

Sighing you let out, "argh, fine. Promise you won't poison me?" As your response.

Fists meeting the air in victory and a funny walk that has him tilting to the side all the way to the kitchen, he let's out a strained response, "Don't worry, Princess! You're in good hands."

"Okay, My Prince Charming!" You shout back.

During the time that you scroll through the smart TV and your phone, it's clear to hear the tunes your Husband sings in the kitchen and it has you smiling from ear to ear.

What a beautiful voice he has. And he can sing to you all day and night, cause he adores you that much.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Jungkook hardly places the pot on the countertop, making you flinch at the sudden hit.

"Come, Princess!" He ushers.

You walk to the kitchen, dressed in something similar as him. Grey sweats and a oversized Prada shirt that belongs to Jungkook, while your hair is styled the way you like.

"Hmm, what's this, baby?" You question, peering at the meal in the pot.

He smiles at you, feeling proud and it had you feeling shy because of how he stares into your eyes when he explains.

"So, Princess. This is my famous Seaweed rice, with fried rice mix along with chicken breasts mixed in with sesame oil, soy sauce and gochujang. And that all for my Wifey." He finishes, lips meeting yours for a loving peck and when he pulls away, you almost want to dive right in for more.

Deciding to tease him, you walk closer to him, hands going around his neck, playing with the hair by his neck. In response his hands wrap around your waist as they rest above your ass.

"Am I the only one you've cooked this for? Just asking since it's so 'famous'."

"Yes, Baby. I used to eat this in college before I met your pretty ass." He responds coyly, Smirking at you, gaze never leaving your figure.

"Mhm okay, l-let's eat." You stutter.

You quickly let go of him, feeling hot all of a sudden as you grab a spoon to eat.

"Wait- let me show you how to eat it." Jungkook stops you, gently taking the spoon out of your hand.

He scoops some rice first and goes over to the pot, scooping his mix into it as well, and when he's done with that, he brings it up your lips, ushering you to open your mouth.

"Open, Princess."

You can't help but ask, "you sure this ain't poisoned, Mr Jeon?"

"Yes, Mrs Jeon. Now eat, you look very hungry, my angel." He chuckles.

You open your mouth to where the spoon can enter and he shoves the food into your mouth.

You chew it up, savoring the flavors, while Jungkook watches with doe desperate eyes waiting for your- preferably praises and compliments to his food.

Lowering the hand covering your mouth as you swallow, you dramatically wipe your hands, head nodding like a food critic.

"Its so good! Give me more." You burst into giggles as you watched Jungkooks eyes relax when you give him a compliment as loud as that.

He questions, "it's good, baby?"

You nod at him as you scoop the mix onto your rice, "soo good! Cook this for us everytime okay?"

Jungkook nods at you, making a cute noise with his mouth as he joins you, eating from the pot.

He feels very happy at this moment with his newlywed wife, in the kitchen eating from their newly purchased pots, in their newly purchased home that they worked very hard for.

"I adore you so much." He whispers in your ear, making you shiver from the baritone in his voice.

You shyly cower as you swallow the last bits of your food, "really?" You look up at the taller figure, staring deep into your eyes.

"Really. I love you so much, Mrs Jeon. Thank you for allowing me to be your husband."

"Aww, Kook. You're gonna make me cry- !I love you more." Tears build up at the corner of your eyes and you hide them by kissing Jungkook senseless.

It's not filled with tongue or the desire for sex, just filled with love and feelings.

Cause in this moment he just wants to adore you and you want to adore him too.

~♥︎~

All rights reserved @rerefundslocals. Do not copy my work, I'll find you.

[patheticlogic]

like you guys understand, right? xiao is the sesame oil, xiao is the kite, zhongli goes around pointing at things and sighing because everything reminds him of his special guy

at the end of the day, no amount of master/servant, father/son interpretation of zhongxiao will ever come close to understand their relationship. lot of people criticize zhongli for "forcing" or even "manipulating" xiao out of his comfort zone¹, and i've always found it so peculiar that with this sentiment comes a certain degree of babying xiao—as if his story isn't about freedom, isn't about change. as if freedom could be attained without radical change.

as if the message isn't that, yes, change is disorienting and often feels like you're losing something (control, people, yourself) but you won't have to face it alone. even if the whole order of the world crumbles. even if those who you once knew change with the world, you can adjust, you can start anew. you will change, too.

in the age of gods and monsters, morax couldn't truly free xiao. as long as there were wars raging across the land, as long as xiao knew that he was needed, he was important, useful, he would never part, never rest.

maybe zhongli understood at some point that as long as morax exists, xiao will feel bounden, even if no debt can be so great that it cannot be paid off in a thousand years.²

and maybe that's why, in the age of humanity, zhongli's so persistent. he wants nothing more than to have xiao as his friend, his equal, but for that to happen without making the same mistakes from the past, xiao needs to come around on his own accord.³

i've seen people mention venti's line to dvalin about what does freedom mean when it is granted to you by a god, and i genuinely think that zhongxiao are the perfect example of this. and that they both suffer because of it.

¹ it's only comforting because it's what he knows. just because something is familiar, doesn't mean that it's good

² pulling this from xiao's 4th character story

�� so far, zhongli has proven to be too impatient. and to truly put my zhongxiao conspiracy hat on, he might be just a little nervous that xiao won't want the same things, won't see things the same way...

[moonshine-dan]

Personal Headcanons:

Sakusa Kiyoomi

This is mostly to provide context for fics I write with him and how I interpret his character. I might add to this at random! NSFW below cut.

He's not an asshole for fun- he's brusque with people because he respects their time and wants them to respect his.

Similar to above- he's not an OCD germaphobe, he's just tidy and dislikes unnecessary mess where it's avoidable. He's got standards. And he doesn't like being sick! Is basic hygiene such a high bar???

It's really just high anxiety but he'd never admit to it

Not a 'dry' texter but he's not writing more than he needs to.

Was told once as a teenager that he was a shitty boyfriend and he took that personally. He spent a month reading magazines and internet articles on how to be a better partner & now has a brain lobe dedicated to Cosmo and Buzzfeed advice that comes in varying degrees of handy at random times

He has hypermobile wrists; I think he does get the associated body and joint pain associated with them. He's not in agony, but he's dealing with low to midgrade pain almost constantly.

Part of why he's got a reputation for being short with people is that he's often kind of tired or in pain and is band at recognizing or expressing it. He wants to go HOME.

He's a goofball but in Strange and Offputting ways, not fun and endearing ways. Has his own sense of humor.

If he's being silly with you, he trusts you. If he's putting your stuff in his bag 'on accident' or pulling 'too slow' high five shit with you, you've fucking made it into his heart.

I don't think he's very experienced in sexual relations! He takes dating seriously & doesn't rush. Not many have stayed with him long enough for him to feel like sex is on the table.

Does not have a very high sex drive and is not super curious about exploring much about himself on his own- but he's more than happy to indulge your sexual fantasies if you ask.

Not huge on PDA but not shy at all about telling people you are together. Arm holder, not hand holder.

He runs warm and is always in shorts and short sleeves if he can help it.

Moles all over. Got a mole next to his dick. Self conscious about it even though it's irrational bc he's very pale and they stick out :(

Addicted to tiger balm and camphor spray. Huffs it like glue when putting them on.

Secretly thinks laundry soap and dishwashing powder smell good. Sniffs them every time he uses them.

While not a fan of PDA, he's on more than one occasion shown up to a date with a gift unprompted. He'd buy you one of those embarrassing and Huge stuffed animals and carry it for you.

He has very strong opinions on the use of sesame oil as a condiment. "It's overused. And it smells so strong. And they always put so much in."

He's not a hard top only dom. He's actually very happy to be the sub- he CAN switch, but he enjoys following the lead and reacting to your wants.

Bro is ALWAYS OUT ON A RUN. Morning? Running before breakfast. Lunch? Has a circuit by the river. At night? On a jog before dinner. He WILL ask you to join him once a week.

He knows how to cook but only the blandest meals known to man. He cannot handle spice at all and gets bright fucking red, it's lame as hell and he hates it

Average sensitivity in general, except for his sides and waist. He gets jumpy if you touch them. it's cute :)

He's also very tenderheaded. poor thang :(

There is nothing in the WORLD more erotic to him than a massage. Work the knots out of his shoulder and he'll fuck you till you pass tf OUT

Does not like used condom smell. at all. He's genuinely considered a vasectomy so he can hit it raw without consequence

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #5] The Bet

warnings: alcohol, clubbing, jaykay is always behind the bar :(, jimin is up to no good, i luv the glitter girlies

soundtrack: playlist for this chapter

wc: 6.6k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

It's ten o'clock in the evening before you finally commit to going out. 

The idea had been floated as soon as you arrived home to varying responses ("Leave me alone to DIE. This hangover is too brutal. Don't ask me again. No." / "Again? Thought you'd never ask! What are we wearing?"), but over a mildly disappointing pasta dinner, and a couple of glasses of white wine, it had taken Hoseok's party playlist less than a minute to get you all saying "fuck it."

He was still complaining - and likely would be until you reached the club - but he was also holding up two different shirts to his bare torso asking for your advice. "Green or black?"

Both satin, they actually belonged to Danbi, but he hadn't wanted to go home, instead opting to just mooch about at your place after work. It was far closer to town than his - why he wasted rent on the expensive suburb of the city was beyond you - and had become his home away from home in recent months, especially following the breakup.

Realistically, you knew he rented in that area because his ex had liked the lake it was near, and that going home just reminded him of her - so you chose not to moan whenever he overstayed his welcome. It didn't happen often, but he was becoming more and more reliant on the pair of you to settle his stomach when he couldn't eat, thanks to his heartbreak seemingly consuming his own stomach.

The disappointing pasta had been his request. Spaghetti aglio e olio, except Danbi had been the one in charge as you were still on your way back from retrieving your phone, and had apparently used sesame oil instead of olive oil. Still, your tummies were full, and there were smiles on your faces. What more could you ask for?

"I'm wearing black tonight," you tell him. "We can twin."

"Okay, so I'm going with green," he quips back, throwing you a quick smile as he tosses the black shirt in your direction. You catch it, bundling it in your hands to hold it close. Danbi laughs. You curse him out.

"Asswipe."

"I'm kidding," he insists. "Gimmie back the black shirt back. We can twin!"

"No," you huff, though it's all in good jest. You hold it tighter, hugging it into your chest and lying back down in the heap of pillows on your bed. "Take your green shirt and fuck off, you little gremlin."

"Do you want me to come out tonight or not?" he haggles, knowing that he's about to get a death glare thanks to the threat he's teasing.

Your eyes narrow, and just like that, he's one glance away from the afterlife. Thinks death wouldn't be so bad as long as he has his best friends with him.

"Say sorry," you scowl.

"I'm sorry," he coos as walks to your bed and collapses ontop of you, squishing you in the process. His bare chest is over your face, his skin hot and clammy against yours - but no matter how much you scramble beneath him to try and push him off, he remains firmly stuck in place - and will do until you tap out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

You wriggle away from him - just enough to tell him to 'get the fuck off' if he wants the shirt back - and he rolls over you until his back is on your legs. The shirt meets his chest as you chuck it in his direction with a small laugh. "You're such a cock."

His arms hug the shirt into his chest, much like yours did a moment previously. He smiles. "You love it."

"I love it when you get off me so I can get ready."

"Oh give over, you've been sat on your arse for the past fifteen minutes doing nothing."

"And now I want to get ready, so just let me," you protest and begin to nudge your legs beneath him. He relents, getting to his feet as he threads his arms through the sleeves, while you pull a dress from your clothing rail.

It's much like his shirt - black satin and far too sexy for its own good. You've a point to prove. You are not a disco ball - but you still find yourself reaching for your glitter liner, because you actually feel a little bit lost without it these days.

See, your ex had always hated it. Hated glitter on his pillows, hated finding glitter on his shirts. Somehow, you'd always hoped he'd be endeared by it. Little reminders of you that would catch in the sunlight. Thought it'd have him thinking about you every time the sun shone just right.

Instead, he'd sigh whenever he saw you doing your makeup - especially on nights out.

You wear it like a suit of armour, now. He didn't want you? Fine. You didn't want his shitty opinions about your glitter-inclined makeup choices.

In a way, it feels like payback.

Realistically, it's not. You know it's not. He's none the wiser. Is probably happy to not be finding small holographic chunks on his blazers. Will most likely rule girls who wear glitter out of his dating pool. His loss. Glitter gals are always the most fun, you think, as you coat your eyes in a layer that is, admittedly, comparable to a disco ball.

Secretly, you don't think you'll mind if Jeongguk mentions it tonight. In fact, if you're being honest, you kind of hope he will.

You try not to dwell on the idea of him, not wanting to centre your night around the chance you might spot him at the bar, but as soon as you're in Dionysus, Hoseok insists on getting a drink.

"I need those Purple motherfuckers, or whatever the fuck they are, in my system ASAP."

"Starfuckers," you correct him with a giggle, clasping onto the back of his shirt as he weaves through the crowd. Danbi's fingers are interlaced with yours, palms clammy from the heat of the bar. It's full tonight - about double the crowd that was in the night before - and you try and pretend like you're not looking for Jeongguk when your elbows are finally perched up on the granite worktop.

It's not really granite. Cheap imitation. Like most things in this place - the faux leather furnishings, the bottom shelf vodka decanted into grey goose bottles, the people - it's fake.

One thing isn't though - and that's the smile on Jeongguk's face when he notices you.

You're not looking in his direction. Your friend - the guy from the night before, who Jeongguk now knows to be Jung Hoseok (thanks to his mild Instagram stalk) - is whispering something in your ear as you look at the alcohol behind the bar. The music is loud, and it's not unusual to have to converse like that, so he thinks nothing of it. Even he has to lean over the bar occasionally to be able to hear people's orders. Just part and parcel of a place like this.

There's sticky residue all over the bar, but you don't care, already a little tipsy and ignorant to how filthy it really is. Your arms are bare, the dress held up by thin straps that hook over your shoulders and criss-cross down your back, tying in a dainty little bow around the back of your waist.

"You get this round, I'll get the next," Hoseok practically shouts into your ear, his hand on your shoulder. You both know that neither of you will keep track. You never do. It's not like it matters - your friendship isn't transactional.

There are a few more people working behind the bar than last night. You don't spot him, but Jeongguk is up at the far end. That's his section; the area that gets the most traffic, so is by default where he is assigned. The rest of the staff are slightly younger - only by a year or so, but it means he has the most bar experience.

Your section - not that you're aware of these invisible parameters - is defined by the Jäger cooler and Coca-Cola fountain. Punters waiting to order between those two points fall into section two, which is manned tonight by Yeonjun. You recognise his hair, bright and blue, almost immediately.

He doesn't recognise you at first. Barely remembers you. He sees hundreds of people come through this god-forsaken place every night. It's not like you were anything special - just another girl in a pretty dress who'd had a few too many.

Yet when you put through your order for six Purple Starfuckers - two each - his lips lift. The way they curve would almost be sinister if it wasn't for the boyish charm he was exuding, so casually flippant in the way he raises his brows. He's a heartbreaker if you ever did see one.

"Oi, Gguk," he bellows over to the end of the bar. "This one's for you."

Jeongguk's eyes quickly glance down to Yeonjun at the sound of his name, barely audible above the sound of the music in the venue. The bass throbs through the atmosphere, and it makes it hard to pay attention to anything.

Yet when he skims over to see you at the other end of the bar, he can't seem to focus on anything else but you, regardless of the noise.

He holds his index finger up, points it to the sky and twirls it around, to indicate his desire to switch poisitons - of which Yeonjun happily obliges with. The position change won't be for long, but Yeonjun doesn't mind the faster pace of Jeongguk's section. If anyone is gonna take Jeongguk's rank after he finally gets a 'real' job, it's Yeonjun.

Patting Yeonjun's shoulder as he walks past, Jeongguk approaches you with a raised brow. You don't hear him, but you can read his lips as he says, "Maybe, eh?"

There are dimples hidden in his cheeks, only noticeable when the club lights hit him just right. Shadows form on his face - the ridges on his forehead and crease between his brows, too. There's an exuberance to a face so intricate with a smile so simple. It says 'Hi. Good to see you again. How have you been?' without even so much as uttering a single word.

"It's the Purple Starfuckers," you beam as you lean a little further over the bar to make sure he can hear you. "That's all I'm here for."

You're on your tippy toes, balancing on the bar with your elbows. Hoseok and Danbi are behind you, singing the words of an old Shinee song - 'noona neomu yeppeooooo' - at each other with far more aggression than is really needed. By the second chorus, they're replacing 'noona' with each other's names, and you know it's gonna be one of those nights.

One of the good ones.

Just a single song in, and the throwback theme isn't disappointing. Perhaps Jeongguk had been right to brag about it. Your hands are folded together, chin resting prettily on them, with as many stars in your eyes are there are pieces of glitter on your eyelids.

"Still look like a disco ball," he tells you, and asks for your order before you have a chance to oppose - only for him to be the one protesting in the end. "SIX?!"

"Six," you say with a smile so cheeky he almost gets flustered. Almost. You don't notice, too busy tipsy-giggling at his shock.

"You'll run the bar dry."

"That's a 'you' problem."

"Will be a 'you' problem when I'm out of amaretto," he tells you, as if he doesn't know there's a case full of it in the barrel room. It's more fun this way. More fun when he can flirt - of which he'd argue he isn't doing. He's just keeping relations with the patrons sweet. Ensures repeat visits. You're case in point.

"I'll just run to the shop and get you some more," you assure him, your teeth cushioned on your bottom lip as you watch him pour the shots with ease.

Purple Starfuckers were the first semi-complex shot he'd mastered, simply because he enjoyed the name - didn't care so much for how sweet they were. You seem to like them though, so maybe he should try them again someday. See if his tastes have changed.

He won't bore you with the fact that Amaretto is an import that's pretty hard to come by in the city, and that he has to have it shipped in specifically - and even then, he's only permitted to buy limited quantities of it. Shit's like gold dust around these parts.

The fact he was giving you it on the house last night? Yeah. He doesn't do that for just anyone. Doesn't know why he did it for you. Didn't really think about it, just like he didn't really think about letting Jimin know you'd left your phone at their place in the early hours of the morning.

You make Jeon Jeongguk - chronic overthinker, mild worrier, intense daydreamer - stop thinking, and that - if he were to be thinking, would say - is very dangerous.

And so he charges you this time. There's no resistance from you, even if they are a little more expensive than you had first realised. If anything, you feel bad for how many you got on the house the night before.

Your body twists as you call your friends to attention, and Jeongguk pretends to not look you up and down.

From his end of the bar, Yeonjun glances over at just the right time and doesn't hold back a small laugh. He'll tease Jeongguk about it later - "She went home with them again, man. Sorry but she's got the best of both worlds. You're shit out of luck." - and continue naively believing that Jeongguk was telling the truth when he said that Hoseok had gone home with both girls last night.

Ten thousand won had been slid across the bar to Yeonjun as he was setting up earlier that evening, green and weathered, creased from Jeongguk's front pocket. Not a word was heard from him as he walked on by, Yeonjun too smug with his win to bother asking questions about the end of the night before.

He was none the wiser that you'd finished your night in Jeongguk's apartment - even if it wasn't with Jeongguk, and even if you didn't actually finish at all.

The club is full capacity by the time two AM hits.

Jeongguk is working flat out, punters left and right after more drinks, all wanting to be served first so they can get back to the dancefloor - which is exactly where you are. Hoseok and Danbi have both been to the bar within the last hour, but not you. They order your drinks for you, never from Jeongguk - they always seem to end up at Yeonjun's section - and carry them back into the crowd.

He's no idea where you are; who you're with. Figures maybe Jimin's already found you tonight. Spends a fair while running through scenarios in his head. Pours vodka cokes while he's thinking about what he'll say if you fell over the sitting room sidetable again tonight. He made sure to leave the lamp on before he left, and knows damn well Jimin won't have turned it off. At least if you do end up back at their place, you won't make the same mistake.

His favourite scenario - the one he keeps going back to - is one where you're at the club till the end of the night. You grab food on your way home - but because it's the end of the night, only one place is open and queues take a little while. By the time he's closed up the club and is on his way home, you'll be in your taxi, too.

Jimin will show you in, but Jeongguk'll already be there. He'll be in the kitchen - hasn't decided yet if he'll be nursing a drink of his own or just making food. In some renditions of the scenario he is, some he isn't. And then you'll get to talking, and Jimin will get impatient. Then, Jimin will do as Jimin does when he's one too many - fall asleep.

He's not really sure why he doesn't want you to fuck Jimin again. He doesn't know you. By that metric, he can't possibly know how well suited you and Jimin may be.

That's exactly the issue, though. Jeongguk doesn't want you. It's the scenarios in his head that he wants; the what ifs. At present, you're a perception. You've potential to be absolutely anything.

You're not the first person he's been like this about. Admittedly, you're the first he's found in his apartment at just gone five in the morning stumbling form Jimin's room, but that's neither here nor there.

"Get a grip," he berates himself beneath his breath as he hooks a plastic Jägerbomb tumbler below the dispenser. The dark liquor fills the centre as he reaches over for the half-used can of red bull, pouring it in without much thought, crumpling the can as it reaches the dregs. He tosses the warped can into the 'discards' tray behind the bar, ready to take out on the next recycling run.

The way Jeongguk serves drinks comes so naturally to him that he almost thinks that this is 'it' for him; that he'll be stuck behind the bar of Dionysus until he's grey. Hopes that isn't the case - but he hopes for a lot. Is never really proactive in turning dreams into realities.

When you finally make your way to the bar a little while later, Jeongguk hasn't thought about you for at least fifteen minutes. A new record - and you're there just in time to ruin it.

There's a sheen to your cheeks, and he notices that you've just as much shimmer there as you have glitter on your eyes. Always sparkling. Always shining. Begging for attention - and those who ask shall recieve.

"Disco Ball," he teases. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He's ignorant to the fact there's other people waiting to be served. He'll get to them eventually.

Narrowing your eyes, you can feel the tightness of the dried glitter on your eyelids, but you pretend as if it's nothing. "I'm not a disco ball."

"Sure you're not," he smirks." What can I get you?"

You intake a sharp breath, debating your choices. Hoseok's on malibu and lemonade, Danbi's on anything she can get her hands on - so you order three of Hoseok's choice.

There's no chatter as he makes your drinks. The club is too loud. There's too many distractions. He's fast as he works, limiting your interaction time - but it's not like he actively wants to prolong it. The longer you actually spend in one another's company, the less of an illusion you become.

Your chin is resting ontop of your hands again, eyes a little bleary from the drinks and god-awful smoke machine, your card suspended between two fingers. He slides the drinks across the counter and pinches the card from you with a small smile, eyes almost as warm as yours. You've an excuse though. You're drunk.

He's just delusional. Has this idea of you. Of what you could be. But it makes him feel all warm, too.

It's funny, cause if you knew this, you'd steer clear. The idea of anyone having expectations of you makes you want to run for the hills. The last man who'd had expectations of you was thoroughly disappointed.

He rings up your total - only charges you for the liquor, doesn't add the lemonade to the bill - and processes your payment.

"You alright with all those?" He asks as he goes to hand back your card, nodding towards the drinks. Your hands are already full, holding the three cups in a triangle formation, fingers outstretched as far as they can possibly go. You nod, but realise there's nowhere for your card - so part you lips and put your head forward a little.

"Card," you say, showing your teeth. He rolls his eyes with a grin and he puts it between them, knowing that it's probably not the most orthodox way to deal with a punter, but who fucking cares? No harm, no foul.

With that, you're back off to the dancefloor. A good amount of your drinks are spilt on the way, your legs a little damp from one particularly bad splash, but nothing you haven't experienced before. Clubs like these are always a little sordid - a little sticky. Sweaty. Sinful.

And as Park Jimin catches your eye in the crowd, you're proven right once more.

They say that hips don't lie, and while this tends to be true, it's not always the case.

Jimin has great hips. Can move them expertly on the dancefloor and beside the desk in his bedroom, or so you've found out - but he also left you a little high and dry, so you're compelled to reciprocate such treatment.

Bodies are crammed together on the dancefloor, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. There's no room to breathe, let alone actually have a conversation of any substance, so Jimin comes in close, and you don't mind. His breath is hot against your ear as he asks, "back again?"

You laugh in such a way that you only do when you're drunk - if sober you ever witnessed it, she'd cringe so hard she'd break a couple vertebrae. One of your wrists anchors itself on his shoulder, his hand coming to your waist to keep you close.

"Couldn't stay away," you flirt, and it's true, even if it's not for the reasons he'll choose to believe.

"You want a drink?" he asks, because that seems to be the only way men know how get a girl to talk to them in places like these. You hold up your malibu and lemonde, which is half empty already and shrug. He gently takes it from you, and swallows it down. Gone within a second. He smiles. Looks incredibly pleased with himself. You're looking at him with a wide jaw, brows furrowed together in surprise. "So, drink?"

And you laugh-nothing else you can do but accept.

"Yeah," you smile, lips against his ear, gloss tickling his lobe. "Drink."

He holds your hand through the crowd, not for any deeper reason than to make sure he doesn't lose you, and heads in Jeongguk's direction - because of course he does. Why would he go elsewhere?

Jeongguk avoids Jimin's curious eyes when the first thing he does is slide a plastic cup of water in your direction.

"She needs it," Jeongguk simply says. He can sense that Jimin is about to question him, so he doesn't let it happen. "Been serving her all night. Trust me. She needs it."

"You don't know what I need," you argue, as if your fingers aren't curling around the ice cold cup of water, head leaning over the counter to sip from it instead of actually bringing to your lips. "I'm fine."

Jeongguk folds his arms and raises his brows, head tilting slightly. His eyes are on Jimin. Told you so.

He just rolls his eyes. Asks what you're drinking. Tells Jeongguk to make two more.

Behind the bar, Jeongguk takes a second to unfold his arms, before he does as he's told. He's served people in far worse states than you. He also knows that Jimin is just as fucked as you. There's no imbalance of power or advantage to be taken, so he simply makes a second water for Jimin, before starting on the actual drinks.

"I'm honestly fine," you insist again when Jeongguk slides the new drink your way without his signature smile.

He looks at Jimin a little sternly, then looks at you. His expression softens, but you're both too drunk to really notice. "Yeah, sure you are. Bet you're gonna be at the gym bright and early tomorrow, aren't you?"

Your smile broadens, a laugh stuttering in your diaphragm. "You don't wanna make bets with me, Jeon. I always win."

It's at this point Jimin gets a little confused. He doesn't even think you remember his name, so has no idea how the fuck you know Jeongguk's family name of all things.

Even Jeongguk is a little surprised. "Jeon? Someone's been stalking my Instagram."

If you weren't absolutely fucked, you'd be embarrassed - but you are fucked, so instead, you give him a taste of his own medicine. "Says the guy who managed to track me down via my best friend's Instagram? And I'm the stalker?"

"I run the club's Instagram," he shrugs, smiling as he talks, a little smug. "You know how many stories Hoseok tagged us in?!"

You don't. Jeongguk doesn't give you a chance to answer, either way.

"38. Thirty-fucking-eight in one night," he says in such a way that you can't help but laugh.

It's so Hoseok that it hurts. You just know that he'll have watched them all in the morning with a groan and look of disgust on his face, checking who watched them, and deleting them all one by one out of sheer embarrassment. They'd already been wiped by the time you got your phone back.

Something that hadn't been wiped, though?

Jeongguk's follow request for your Instagram. You still haven't accepted it, much to his own embarrassment, but now he knows you've looked through his feed, he finds a little pleasure in it.

Jimin doesn't know what the fuck is going on and so Jeongguk explains - "we go to the same gym" - as if it makes a single difference, or as if that's even strictly true. He doesn't understand how that led to a weird battle of who's the biggest Instagram stalker, but he doesn't question it either. Might ask about it later in the night, but will likely forget.

You offer to pay, but Jimin says it's cool, he's got it - but he doesn't get out his card. Jeongguk rings it up on the till, prints the receipt and staples it to a wad of paper by the back wall.

"You get a tab?!"

"Perks of living with the bar manager," Jimin smirks, which has you glancing over to Jeongguk once more with narrow eyes. You're about to be offended, but he doesn't let you be.

"Don't pretend like you've never had anything on the house," he challenges.

What you're unaware of is the fact that you haven't paid full price with Jeongguk, well, ever. Even the Purple Starfuckers earlier were put through with a staff discount. Only 10%, but enough to get him in trouble with the bar owner if they ever found out - which they won't. As long as the bar turns a profit, they don't care to check the books.

"Touché."

Jeongguk shoos you both away - "I have a job to do, yanno." - so he can deal with more punters.

It won't be the last time you're at the bar that evening. You both know it.

Despite Jimin's best efforts, you shake him off after a song or two. You're not interested in hooking up tonight, and Danbi and Hoseok look like they're having far more fun letting loose to an old-school Galantis song than you are, pretending as if it could go anywhere with Jimin.

As much as you'd love to him give him a chance to rectify last night's faux pas, you're also highly aware of a smug Jeongguk saying 'it's never a one-time thing.' You don't want to prove him right.

And so you dance the night away with your best friends instead, without a care in the world.

You're actually trying to pace yourself now. Could feel yourself getting a little too drunk. You've a glass of water in one hand, Danbi's hand in the other. The lights flash above you, reds and greens, in time with whatever club classic is playing, and you vaguely remember Jeongguk promise of being able to make whatever request you like for the music.

You pull Danbi a little closer, practically shout in her ear that you're going to the bathroom and plant a kiss on the side of her head before you depart. You don't need her to go with you - nowhere feels safer to you than the girl's toilets on a night out.

There's a sense of solidarity to be found in there; the pitter patter of heels on damp floors, while other girls fix the zips on strangers' dresses. They wipe away the tears of the poor girlies who had to watch the boys they fancy leave with someone else, and occasionally shout 'wait, wait! toilet paper!' when someone is about to go back into the club with loo roll on their sole. It's heaven in the most hellish of places.

No wonder the ladies' bathroom attracts only angels; but angels can fall. Even the Devil was an angel, once.

You spot her as you're wiping a knuckle beneath your eye in the mirror, clearing your smudged mascara. She's dressed to the nines in a bodycon dress that hugs her in all the right places. You've always hated the style, but she manages to make it look good.

"Oh shit," you blurt out, drunk tongue voicing your thoughts before you have the chance to process them. There's a smile on your face, and a little dizziness in your eyes as you lean against the counter. "Jiyeong, right? From the gym?"

When she turns to look at you, there's surprise on her pretty features. A little confusion. Certainly not happiness, but not disgust, either. She manages to feign friendliness, though, a smile shining through the cloudiness in her eyes. "Oh hey! You're from earlier, right?"

"Right, right," you nod, horrified at the idea you've been classed as the 'girl from the gym' not once but twice tonight. Not the legacy you want, nor the legacy you expect you will carry with you, but one that, for now, seems to be sticking.

"Oh right," she smiles again, a little awkwardly, clearly not wanting to engage.

She's been on vodka and slimline tonic all night, and the lack of sugar has made the alcohol stew in her system in a less than pleasant manner. Or maybe she's just always like this. She's about to leave when she notices your phone screen flash on the counter out of the corner of her eye. There's no subtlety in the way she reads the notification, and even less in the way she addresses it.

"Careful. He's bad news."

You follow her eyes to your screen.

JustJK: Half an hour until final orders, btw.

JustJK: Also means only an hour left to make requests.

JustJK: If I'm not at the bar, tell the dude with blue hair what you want, say I said it's okay.

JustJK: Actually no scrap that, just message me your requests.

It's a friendly warning, granted, but part of you feels as if she's not really warning you about him. More like she's warning you off him.

"Bad news?" you hum, almost as if you believe her - but then you smile and turn to leave. "Just my type."

You're not actively interested in him, but the way she spoke to you at the gym, the way she's trying to get under your skin pisses you off. She's a grown adult. If she wants Jeongguk, she can use her big girl words and tell you herself. You don't know her. You don't owe her jack shit. And so you tell her to 'have a goodnight', and head straight for the bar.

"Disco Ball," he greets you with that shit-eating smile of his. Maybe he is bad news. A bad decision - but you've got a habit of making those. Why stop now?

"Starfucker," you reply, to which he finds himself running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. A smile forms on his pretty lips. A smile forms on yours, too. It's all very vomit-inducing. Sickly sweet. Nauseating - but you're drunk, so you don't care. "You mentioned requests? I have a request."

It's less of a request, more of a solution to your desperate need for a sing-along with your besties, as if the entire night hasn't been that.

"Go for it."

"Love Story."

"Taylor Swift?"

"Uh-huh - but it has to be Taylor's version. If you don't play Taylor's version, I... Well, I don't know what I'll do... But, like, it won't be good."

The bar is a hell of a lot quieter now - only a couple hundred people compared to the easy thousand that had been there during the rush. He takes his time to assess your threat, and nods as if he believes you'll deliver on it.

"Taylor's Version..." he hums, before leaning on the bar to match your energy. "Alright. I'll make you a deal."

"I'm listening."

"I'll play Taylors version but... the bet we made about the gym earlier," he says as if you remember fuck all about earlier conversations. The bet had never really been struck - but you don't entirely remember that. "I'll play Taylor's version as a preemptive reward for you winning the bet."

"So...?" You question. He'd never said that requests came with conditions - but you're intrigued by his need to challenge you.

"So, it means you have to win. There's no choice in the matter. You have to go to the gym tomorrow, nice and early, and prove me wrong."

Your eyes narrow like they so often do in his presence - unimpressed but also a little enthused. There's something about him that you enjoy. Something about him you'd like to keep enjoying.

But you're an argumentative little shit when you want to be.

"I don't know you, but I hate you."

He'd take offence, but you're too alike. He'd likely say something similar in your position. Can't be mad. So instead he just smiles, club lights catching on his dainty silver lip ring as he does so.

"Just you wait until you do know me. Then you'll really hate me."

"Wanna make a bet on that too?"

"I can't refuse a good bet."

"Gambling will get you in trouble," you remind him. He works in the nightlife entertainment industry. He probably knows where to find all the illegal gambling places in the city. Wouldn't be surprised if there was one beneath the bar you're in right now.

"I'm a gambling man," he says and it's not technically a lie - he just doesn't gamble in a way that would get him in any trouble with the law. He doesn't clarify, though. Just lets you draw your own conclusions.

And he probably shouldn't have, because you just conclude that he's stupid.

"You're a fool."

"You're so mean, Disco Ball," he pouts, holding his hand to his heart as if your words actually carry any weight.

"You'd hate it if I wasn't, Starfucker," you beam as you back away from the bar, holding his gaze. "Don't fuck the request up! Taylor's version!"

"I never do!" He shouts after you as you walk away, lost to the club once more.

Part of him knows you'll be back within the next five minutes, Hoseok and Danbi in toe, with an endless slew of requests from your trio. You'll waste so much time thinking of what to ask for that you'll miss them all being played.

It takes just a millisecond for Hoseok to know exactly what's playing.

Danbi realises as soon as Hoseok takes his Taylor Swift stance - one that she does on stage, of which he's adapted into his own lipsyncing repertoire.

"Shut up," she shouts, elongating her words with a squeal, not actually wanting anyone to shut up. She's just happy.

Their faces - yours included - light up like the fourth of July, brandishing everyone within a metre radius of your trio in the most infectious shades of gold. You're enigmatic; the life, the soul, the party.

There's a smile on Danbi's drunken face as you take her hands and begin to dance with her - not that Hoseok lets you enjoy it without him. He inserts himself, like he always does, and the three are you are lost to your own world on the dancefloor.

It's moments like these that make the next day's hangover worth it. Hoseok hasn't thought about his ex all evening, and that's honestly all that you and Danbi had wanted. You needed him to know that life goes on without his ex; and that it can actually be pretty damn good.

No matter how many drinks have been spilt on your shoes and covered your toes, nor drunken cigarettes have been smoked out in the designated area (despite telling yourself you don't actually smoke), nothing can dampen a mood like this.

The DJ mixes the music into a Macklemore song you haven't heard since you were twenty, and it's as if you haven't aged a day. It may have only been a few years, but time has weathered you. Your ex - older, more mature - had aged you. Finally, it was feeling like you were back in your reckless youth.

Flirting with cute boys, hooking up with strangers, spending all your time in a state of not quite sober with your best friends... yeah. You're back.

And it's for that reason why, when Jimin approaches you towards the end of the night, you simply smile and say 'not tonight'. It's not about proving a point anymore, but more so because you don't want find to comfort in anyone - let alone a fuck boy from a bar. They're fine for one night, but once you make a habit, it's so much easier to form an addiction.

He respectfully taps out, tells you to have a good night, and seeks out someone - anyone - who is looking for a mildly disappointing shag.

By the time the bar closes, the three of you trundle home together, walking to the taxi rank with shoes off, makeup smudged, covered in glitter. You've crashed, but there's something beautiful about the wreckage.

And yet come seven minutes past eleven the next morning, there's something incredibly dreadful about the Instagram notification that pings through to your phone.

JustJK: loser.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[najia-cooks]

苦菜 / Kucai (Chinese sowthistle stir-fry)

Common sowthistle (Sonchus oleraceus) is a hardy flowering plant in the family Asteraceae (alongside, for example, daisies, sunflowers, and dandelions). It is native to Europe and West Asia, but appears throughout the Americas, East Asia, Australia, and New Zealand. It is a common weed in recently disturbed soil, and sometimes pops up among and competes with cultivated crops.

Sowthistle is eaten as a bitter green in Chinese cuisine. The word "苦菜" (Mandarin Pinyin: kǔcài), from "苦" "kǔ" "bitter" + "菜" "cài" "vegetable" or "greens," is often used to refer to sowthistle—though it may also designate other bitter greens, including garlic chives.

This recipe prepares sowthistle as Chinese bitter greens are generally prepared: blanched in salted water, then fried with ginger and garlic. The sweetness and pungency of the aromatics round out the earthy bitterness of the sowthistle, making a dish that's excellent as a side with soup or rice. Here, I used it to top a fried tofu sandwich with a soy-sesame-ginger sauce.

Recipe under the cut!

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Identifying common sowthistle

Young plants grow from a rosette of waxy leaves with deep triangular lobes. Leaves growing from the stem are alternate (one leaf per node), simple (not divided into leaflets) and pinnatifid (divided, but the divisions do not go all the way to the midrib). Leaves have hairless midribs and clasp the stem at their base.

Stem is hairless and mostly unbranched, except near the apex. Stems terminate in clusters of flowers which are yellow when in bloom. Mature leaves and stems produce a white, milky latex when broken; not toxic, though quite bitter.

Young leaves, top two; mature plants, last three

If the leaf margins are covered in sharp spikes, you may be looking at spiny sowthistle. This plant is also edible, though it may not be worth the trouble to remove the spines to eat the mature leaves. Younger leaves, which generally form towards the center of the rosette, have softer spines and are edible without processing.

Young prickly sowthistle, left; mature prickly sowthistle, right

Common sowthistle may also be confused with common groundsel. Groundsel exudes a clear, not a milky, sap when broken, and its leaves are more deeply lobed. It is more densely branched and its leaves are waxier. Common groundsel is toxic and should not be consumed in large quantities.

Common groundsel

Ingredients:

Large bunch common sowthistle leaves (Sonchus oleraceus), preferably young

1/2-inch chunk (5g), scrubbed and thinly sliced

2 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced

Neutral oil, to fry

Toasted sesame oil, to top

Salt, to taste

Instructions:

1. Wash leaves thoroughly in a bowl filled with water. Pull leaves out to allow dirt to sink to the bottom. Repeat.

2. Boil leaves in salted water for about 10 minutes, until tender.

3. If desired, soak in cool water for 1-3 hours to remove some of the leaves' bitterness.

4. Heat oil in a wok or frying pan on medium-high. Fry ginger and garlic for 30 seconds, until fragrant. Add leaves and fry a minute or two.

5. Remove from heat and stir in sesame oil. Taste and adjust salt. Add a dash of mirin or rice vinegar to balance the bitterness, if desired.

[cravefoodie]

🌮🍗 Applebee's Chicken Wonton Tacos 🍗🌮

📋 Ingredients:

🐔 Chicken:

2 chicken breasts, finely diced

2 tbsp hoisin sauce

1 tbsp sesame oil

1 tbsp soy sauce

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 tsp minced fresh ginger

🥗 Asian-inspired slaw:

1 bag coleslaw

4 green onions, thinly sliced

1 tbsp sesame oil

1 tbsp rice vinegar

1 tbsp soy sauce

1 tbsp honey

🌮 For tacos + toppings:

16 Wonton wrappers

Sweet chili sauce, to serve

Chopped cilantro, to serve

Sesame seeds, to serve

📝 Instructions:

1️⃣ Preheat oven to 375 F. Spray wonton wrappers with cooking spray or brush with a bit of olive/canola oil, then drape over the side of a 9×13 baking dish. Bake for 7-8 minutes, watching closely so they don't burn. Take wonton shells out of the oven, then gently pull them apart while they are still pliable so that they are more easily filled with toppings. Bake another 7-8 minutes until crispy.

2️⃣ Mix diced raw chicken in a large bowl with hoisin sauce, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, and ginger. Heat a large skillet over high heat and sauté chicken for 7-8 minutes, tossing frequently until cooked through.

3️⃣ Meanwhile, mix ingredients for coleslaw together in a large bowl.

4️⃣ Add chicken mixture to wonton shells, then top with coleslaw, drizzle with sweet chili sauce, and sprinkle with cilantro and sesame seeds. Serve and enjoy!

💡 Notes:

​

◻️ Substitute the chicken breasts for boneless skinless chicken thighs if preferred.

◻️ Make your own sweet chili sauce using a combination of hot sauce and honey for a personalized touch.

◻️ Add in extra toppings like grated carrot or minced mushrooms for more variety.

◻️ For a low-carb option, use lettuce wraps instead of wonton wrappers.

[cnnmairoll]

Could I request Jing Yuan's fem!s/o visiting him at work to bring him lunch?

The General's Lunch

Pairing : Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader Genre : Fluff a/n : Sure thing anon! just a little something short n cute before I go to sleep :thumbsup: Also three Jing Yuan fics in a row, love this guy

You stood at the entrance of the Xianzhou Luofu's military headquarters, a delicate bamboo lunch box in your hand, and a warm smile on your lips. Jing Yuan, the general known for his meticulousness and indolent appearance, was your beloved, and today, you were paying him a surprise visit at work. You had prepared his favorite lunch, carefully wrapped in a silk cloth, and couldn't wait to see the look on his face when you showed up unannounced.

As you stepped inside the bustling headquarters, the soldiers snapped to attention, acknowledging your presence with a nod or a salute. You were a familiar face here, and your relationship with Jing Yuan was no secret.

The headquarters was an organized chaos of scrolls, maps, and officers hurrying about their duties. You navigated the maze of activity with ease, heading straight to the general's office. The door was slightly ajar, and you gently pushed it open to reveal Jing Yuan, perched behind his desk, deep in thought.

Jing Yuan glanced up at the sound of the door, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of surprise and delight as he saw you. "Ah, my dear wife," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

You stepped inside and placed his lunch box on his cluttered desk. "I thought my hardworking general might be in need of some nourishment," you replied with a grin.

Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, a slow, lazy smile playing on his lips. "You, my beloved, are a sight for sore eyes," he said, reaching out to take your hand and pull you closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before opening the lunch box. "And you've brought me lunch. You spoil me."

He carefully unwrapped the meal, revealing a delicious array of dishes - his favorite dumplings, a mound of perfectly steamed, fragrant rice glistened with a hint of sesame oil and scattered sesame seeds, and a selection of pickled vegetables. The aroma wafted up, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at his pleased expression.

"Well, someone has to take care of you, my dear husband," you teased.

Jing Yuan's eyes crinkled with amusement as he continued to enjoy his meal. "I do appreciate your care, my beloved," he said. "It's a chaotic day, and this is a welcome respite."

You reached over and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, your touch gentle and affectionate. "I know you work tirelessly, Jing Yuan," you said softly. "But I also know that you're more than capable of handling anything that comes your way."

He turned to look at you, his gaze warm and filled with gratitude. "You always believe in me," he murmured.

"Of course," you replied. "You're my hero."

Jing Yuan set the empty lunch box aside and stood, pulling you into his arms. His embrace was strong and reassuring, and you melted into it, relishing the closeness. "You're my anchor, my beloved wife," he whispered against your ear.

You held him tighter, the world outside fading away as you focused on the man you loved. Moments like these, stolen in the midst of his busy day, were your secret treasures.

[luckshmi]

Ayurvedic Oils for Planetary Energy: Enhancing Wellness and Balance ✨🌿

In the ancient wisdom of Ayurveda, oils are not just nourishing elixirs for the body but also potent carriers of planetary vibrations, offering a holistic approach to wellness and balance.

1/Sun Energy: Coconut Oil

Benefits: Harness vitality and strength with coconut oil. Its nourishing properties promote healthy skin, hair, and digestion, enhancing overall vitality and radiance.

How to Use: Incorporate coconut oil into daily cooking, skincare, and hair care routines for a boost of energy and vitality.

2/ Moon Energy: Almond Oil

Benefits: Embrace nurturing and soothing energy with almond oil. Its moisturizing qualities calm the mind and nourish the skin, promoting emotional well-being and tranquility.

How to Use: Massage almond oil onto the skin before bed or add a few drops to bathwater for a relaxing and rejuvenating experience.

3/ Mars Energy: Sesame Oil

Benefits: Channel fiery energy with sesame oil. Its warming properties stimulate circulation, boost immunity, and promote courage and strength.

How to Use: Use sesame oil for self-massage (abhyanga) or as a cooking oil to invigorate the body and mind.

4/ Mercury Energy: Jojoba Oil

Benefits: Embody communicative energy with jojoba oil. Its balancing properties support clear thinking, mental agility, and adaptability.

How to Use: Apply jojoba oil to the scalp and hair for hydration and balance, or use it as a carrier oil for essential oil blends to enhance focus and concentration.

5/ Jupiter Energy: Grapeseed Oil

Benefits: Align with expansive energy with grapeseed oil. Its light texture and antioxidant properties support growth, prosperity, and optimism.

How to Use: Use grapeseed oil as a moisturizer or massage oil to promote vitality and well-being, or add it to homemade skincare products for a radiant complexion.

6/ Venus Energy: Rosehip Seed Oil

Benefits: Embrace harmonious energy with rosehip seed oil. Its rejuvenating properties promote beauty, love, and creativity, nurturing inner and outer radiance.

How to Use: Apply rosehip seed oil to the face and body to reduce signs of aging and promote a glowing complexion, or use it as a natural alternative to moisturizers and serums.

7/ Saturn Energy: Castor Oil

Benefits: Embody disciplined energy with castor oil. Its detoxifying properties promote endurance, responsibility, and resilience.

How to Use: Use castor oil for oil pulling or as a massage oil to promote detoxification and grounding, or apply it to the scalp and hair for nourishment and strength.

8/ Rahu Energy: Neem Oil

Benefits: Harness transformative energy with neem oil. Its purifying properties help release toxins and negative patterns, promoting clarity and spiritual growth.

How to Use: Use neem oil as a natural remedy for acne or fungal infections, or incorporate it into skincare products for its antibacterial and antifungal properties.

9/ Ketu Energy: Frankincense Oil

Benefits: Embrace mystical energy with frankincense oil. Its grounding properties support meditation and introspection, promoting spiritual insight and inner peace.

How to Use: Diffuse frankincense oil during meditation or add it to skincare products for its rejuvenating and calming effects, promoting overall well-being and spiritual growth.

Incorporate these Ayurvedic oils into daily life to align with planetary energy, enhance well-being, and promote balance and harmony. 🪔🌿

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

hot DAMN i did a good cook today

Leftover pulled pork, no sauce, pan fried until its full of crispy bits

Sauce with a lotta soy and honey, a lil ginger, a lil sesame oil, a lil cornstarch and water slurry

Add to hot pan with hot pork until pork is covered and sticky

Put it over rice. Sesame seeds on top.