#snack/life goals

[puhpandas]

Tony and Vanessas relationship through Gregory can be something so personal

[tokyoteddywolf]

Took a trip to Leavenworth, the mountains are pretty :D

But I think I prefer home best.

[addagain]

Love is when you let your partner smash your snack cakes in the bag, because it's a stimming thing

[curlsincriminology]

It’s so hot this week I decided we should sell ice cream sandwiches.

We made the ice cream from scratch and used our cookies (also from scratch and baked fresh daily)

We already sold through half our stock and I needed to make more ice cream 🥹

Also it’s crazy to me that today, a very slow day, is a good day from when we first opened

[lilcottoncandyheart]

Loaf n snacks n zoomies n hop hop hop 💕💕💕💕

[cavettrobert]

Her grandma asked about her future, and this little one’s answer is priceless!

[the-sweet-hibiscus]

I know we love to cast Gaz as Mr. Perfect relationship goals but I genuinely think it's not until he dates you that he learns what a relationship is outside of appearances.

Like you start dating, and he brings you your favorite flowers every two weeks (even though you prefer pictures, bc the smell of them makes you sneeze) because he sees Price do it for his wife.

He gives you back massages (even though what's really bothering you is your feet) because Soap was bragging about how he did that for his bairn at home.

He even eats you out every time he spends the night (this...this you don't have a problem with) because Simon mentioned that's how he keeps his Bird happy, and Gaz knows that happy wife equals happy life.

But he doesn't understand compromise. He doesn't get that you want him to go to the work party and mingle with the ass hats you complain about every day.

He doesn't understand why you want him to stay in with you instead of going out with one of his mates for the fifth weekend in a row.

Because you're still there at the end. He romanticizes the idea that he comes home to you – because that's what the books on your shelves say, right? The bit who's so jaded by life but had a soft spot for you?

It's not til you're halfway out the door, tears streaming down your face, that he realizes how superficial he's been. When you ask him "what do you even like about me? What do you even like about what we do?" And he can't answer.

It takes him weeks actually.

Weeks to figure out how you would actually listen when he'd critique interrogation techniques on TV. Or the way that you agreed to go to the military ball with him – even though you'd rather have cuddled up with a movie and some snacks. But worst is how you'd make his mom's soup whenever he had a particularly hard week, not because he asked, but because you knew he needed it.

Once he does figure it out, though, he's determined. He will be getting you back. And he's going to be the best thing that ever happened to you. Prequel

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[elizabethshawbbw]

New year, VERY new me The past year has been absolutely CRAZY. I decided around Christmas last two years to start gaining and get the curves I've always wanted...and here are the results!!!

I have gained over 115lbs last year, very intentionally, and sharing that with you all has been an absolute joy. I know for a lot of people this is an insane thing to do, but the support I've gotten has been overwhelming on here.

So as we wrap the year up, I'd like to provide you with some numbers!

I started the year at 114lbs, and measurements of 34", 22", 34". I was a 32-D.

I ended it (plus or minus dinner and some late night snacks) at 231lbs with measurements of 44" 34" 46". I am now a 34-J

This has truly been the best year of my life, and I love my new shape and I'm so incredibly happy to have met all of you. As far as gaining MORE I'm going to keep doing customs and sponsored stuffings, but without any kind of goal for right now. I just want to eat like an absolute hog like I've been doing without any real end goal. Just see where it takes me. I've always said i'll keep doing this till it stops being fun, and I definitely don't see that happening anytime soon. For those of you who really want like, a NUMBER, I can basically guarantee that unless something changes I'll be going to AT LEAST 280 from here.

[suguann]

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face. 

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.    

And then Mio kicks the ball into— 

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips— 

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.” 

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.” 

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.) 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

[malusokay]

becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :)

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. I have a bunch of playlists on my Spotify that might help!! <3

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

Babes, The hiatus is OVER, and I'm finally back!! I got a lot of asks on studying, burnout, and school in general, so I thought, why not start off with a little student guide?? I Hope October has been kind to you, and school hasn't been too overwhelming (though I know it, unfortunately, has been for many of you), and I'm glad to finally be back!! <33

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[terraswallows]

I know stereotypes are bad, but let’s be honest—every trans girl has a vibe. So tell me, which one are you?

A cute hacker girl fueled exclusively by energy drinks – You type at lightning speed, have a questionable sleep schedule, and may or may not be a digital cryptid. Bonus points if you can do eyeliner so sharp it doubles as a weapon.

A literal cat/dog (kitten/puppy also valid options) – You either radiate smug feline energy or are the human embodiment of "wagging tail, big eyes, head pats please." No in-between.

Target mom – You have opinions on scented candles, will absolutely offer to buy your friends snacks, and could run a household with military efficiency if you weren’t so busy being cute.

Three communist manifestos in a trench coat trying to add others to their cause – You own at least one tattered copy of The Communist Manifesto, believe transition should be free, and could (and would) unionize a girl’s night out.

Teenage witch – You collect shiny rocks, you’ve considered hexing a TERF, and your idea of self-care involves moon water and aggressively manifesting a hotter body.

OH NO A LITERAL GOBLIN! – You hoard shinies, giggle mischievously, and the concept of “pretty girl” and “chaotic gremlin” are one and the same to you.

A vampire with an addiction to fluffy things – Yes, you are the night. But also, you need a soft blanket, thigh-high socks, and a collection of plushies to survive.

A faerie who steals genders and scrambles eggs – You don’t just crack eggs; you turn them into omelets. Gender is yours to redistribute. Watch out, because if you so much as look at someone, they might start questioning things.

A 1950s housewife but horny and super progressive – You bake, you’re adorable, and you’re absolutely calling someone “darling” while making them question their sexuality.

Goth was never just a phase, it’s a lifestyle – Your wardrobe is mostly black, your eyeliner could kill a man, and you’ve perfected the balance between spooky and sapphic.

Goth but discovering the color brown (steampunk) – You have very strong opinions on corsets, pocket watches, and the intersection of sapphic romance and gears.

Cottagecore is my goal in life – You dream of a cozy cottage in the woods where you and your cute wife bake bread, tend to your garden, and forget what capitalism is.

I choose you, random fetish! – You didn’t mean to be this way, but here you are. Your interests are niche, intense, and probably make people blush when you explain them.

So, which one (or ones) are you? Or are you something even gayer?

[astrolook]

Your Venus & The Type of People You Attract Even When You Don’t Want To

You ever look at your dating history and think, Why is it always this same kind of mess? Yeah, that’s your Venus placement at work. You’re out here trying to manifest a healthy, stable relationship, and the universe is like, Nope! Here’s another emotionally unavailable poet who only texts at 2 AM. Let’s break it down.

Venus in Aries – You attract adrenaline junkies, walking red flags, and people who treat love like a competitive sport. Your exes have probably challenged you to a push-up contest at least once.

Venus in Taurus – You attract couch potatoes, possessive partners, and people who think a relationship means owning you. But hey, at least they bring snacks.

Venus in Gemini – You attract people who text like Shakespeare on Monday and disappear by Wednesday. It’s all fun and games until you realize they’re in love with three other people (and maybe themselves, too).

Venus in Cancer – You attract clingy partners who cry during commercials and want to move in after the second date. Congratulations, you are now their emotional support human.

Venus in Leo – You attract divas, people who steal the spotlight at your own birthday party, and partners who expect a standing ovation just for existing.

Venus in Virgo – You attract people who need fixing, life coaching, and maybe even a legal guardian. But somehow, you end up being the problem.

Venus in Libra – You attract people who love love… until commitment comes up. Also, you’ve definitely dated at least one musician who wrote bad poetry about you.

Venus in Scorpio – You attract the intense ones. The ex who still watches your Instagram stories from a burner account. The “if I can’t have you, no one can” types. Yeah, that’s on you.

Venus in Sagittarius – You attract commitment-phobes, backpackers, and people who think a long-term relationship means a full three months.

Venus in Capricorn – You attract people who are either way too serious or way too emotionally unavailable. Your ex probably talked more about their career goals than their feelings.

Venus in Aquarius – You attract weirdos. The conspiracy theorists, the “let’s move to a commune” types, and people who think texting back is a violation of their personal freedom.

Venus in Pisces – You attract hopeless romantics, musicians, and people who need therapy but decide you are their emotional support animal instead.

If any of this sounds too accurate… don’t blame me, blame your birth chart. Curious about what else it says? DM me for an astrology reading! 😊

[h0neylevi]

I headcanon Levi as not really being the type to see marriage as an end goal. To him, there’s nothing significant about obtaining a piece of paper that ties you together for the rest of your lives. It’s much more about the actions that a person takes and the dedication to living every day devoted to one another and that’s all he cares about.

It comes up a few times during the course of your relationship together, and Levi’s answer is always the same. It isn’t that he’s not interested, it’s clear that he loves you (even though he doesn’t say it), he just doesn’t see much of a point.

That is, until you get sick.

It’s nothing life-threatening, but enough to warrant a hospital stay for a few days. Levi is there by your side the entire time, supplying a steady supply of snacks and making sure that you’re happy and comfortable. He’s always right there when the doctors come in, providing a hand to hold when you get anxious but otherwise remaining silent.

It isn’t a problem until the nurses come by on the first night to announce that visiting hours are over, that only family can stay overnight. He resists a bit—because who are they to not consider him your family—but doesn’t cause a scene, finally giving you a quick kiss goodbye after insisting that you’ll see him first thing in the morning.

Poor guy doesn’t even leave the parking lot. He stays in his car until visiting hours are open again the next day, spending the hours looking up rings and researching venues for the same day you get out of the hospital.

[k-tarotz]

PAC - 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒔

Hello our lovelies we hope you are doing well! Since Christmas is around the corner, this year I will do a pac focused on the good things only! Therefore I thought about doing green flags only, related to your future spouse - and since there are a few people here who aren't into marriage it's completely fine to read this for your next partner / your special person! This is a timeless reading so feel free to read it whenever. Please keep in mind that tarot and intuition isn't anything written in stone though! Now let's get into it.

PAC masterlist Ko-fi Paid readings

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮

First of all what comes through for you pile one is that your future spouse will be someone grounded and they deeply value shared memories with you. Your future spouse will remember a lot things about you, your favorite snacks, the veggies you dislike, and small none important things like the characters you hate or like in a show. They will help you cherish the smaller things in life also. Also even though they have a phone with good camera, they might own a literal camera or camcorder. For some of you that could be a Polaroid camera, for others it could be something like Canon or as mentioned one that's similar like in the picture. Your future spouse is likely artistic in some way! They enjoy self expression and to be creative, always seeking beauty in the world. Will definitely share pictures with you, either of things that remind them of you or of nature pictures that they took. They are very kind, for some of you they might have an innocent touch to themselves.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸

Alright pile two for you what immediately comes through is that your future spouse will be a great listener, they will make you feel heard and understood. This person won't be good at comforting with words, instead they comforting with actions; hugging you, holding you, rubbing your back gently and as already mentioned listening to you without interrupting you or making it about themselves. Their love language is definitely skinship and quality time. Your future spouse is very into music, they are the type to make a whole music Playlist just for you. They value deep conversations and are calm and peace oriented, isn't a drama person. For most of you this person will actually choose personality over looks, for the few others - even of they prioritize other things like looks, they will also only stay for personality, they might have higher standards because of their family or career not naturally in that case. Oh they are also the type of person to listen to songs depending on their mood, unless it's a song they just find catchy. They might be a hopeless romantic or just genuinely a bit cheesy. Your future spouse will give you compliments on multiple different things, not just your outfits, because they are attentive.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Pile three for you, your future spouse is someone who is fond of animals and/or little kids and for most of you they already have/had at least one (like either has/had an animal or for some of you has a child / has a very young family member that they help taking care of at times) that means that your future spouse is someone responsible and dependable. Like you can ask them for something and you know they will actually do it and not just say so. They will make you feel cherished and safe. Might be a bit overprotective of you, although nothing crazy or toxic just actually cares deeply about you. You will be their number 1. This person is very loyal and committed, they will love you with all their heart. For some of you this person has big goals in life, yet is grounded and reasonable. For the others, especially if you are a bit younger in general, this person will be a bit of a goof ball? at times like isn't too future oriented yet and is very playful and a bit awkward at time in a cute way you know, of course still very dependable and reliable! Your future spouse seems like a very empathic person with a gentle loving heart.

Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed my little pac! Please like and repost this to support our blog, thank you ♡ if you would like to support us by buying a reading from us or making a small donation through our ko-fiit would mean the world to us! <3

- Hun