#that wasn’t even my GROCERIES

[lygma-nygma]

Being a batfam fan is funny because people will make a post like “here’s my headcanon-“ and it’s just something that’s directly canon to the story then post about major canon events and get everything wrong.

[giddlygoat]

today i bit into an apple that exploded into juicy nectar in my mouth it was so sweet and so rich and refreshing and genuinely soul healing. i remember looking up at the sky and saying a prayer to mother nature that’s how good it was

[wickjump]

falls to the floor and saves myself from the awkwardness of losing followers for having opinions they did not like (which is valid of them btw curate ur own online experience) by blocking everyone in a ten mile radius and by everyone i mean two people to spare myself

[luna-the-cretar]

I just got recommended a Food Theory video about Gen Z not drinking that much alcohol compared to older generations, and my immediate thought was “because some of us know what it does to people?” (Some of my family members are alcoholics, and one of them scares me when she’s drunk, and another is…unpleasant to be around when drunk)

And literally EVERY. SINGLE. COMMENT. Was saying the exact same thing. It’s too expensive, we know what it does to people, and there’s a lot more accessible cheaper alternatives (like caffeine—which I know is also it’s own kind of drug)

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

OH MY GOD

[tbartss]

Seeing someone you know (of) in the notes of a random post is such an Experience on this website. It’s like buying groceries at the supermarket and seeing your teacher down the aisle

[bpdamn]

so y‘all are telling me that i went from not being able to leave my apartment without having a panic attack to working as a barista and content creator (for the café) - i‘d kms just thinking about putting myself out there a year ago what the fuckidyfuck happened

[beestly]

My husband showing my family our grocery list which says fake bugs on it and all of them commenting on that as if they haven’t ever needed fake bugs smh

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

my mum and sibling just got back from their trip. i knew once i got a selfie of them maskless on the plane that they’d probably get covid, and my suspicions were confirmed when i started getting texts going “all the rich food is giving me stomach problems” and “the jet lag is hitting really hard”. i didn’t think their positive test text would be 2 hours after they got home, though. my mum is currently pissed at me trying to give advice about resting and hydrating and is avoiding me asking for a grocery list so i can drop things off. i’m exhausted. i don’t know what to do anymore. i just keep crying.

[storybounded]

This is your daily Amber reminder to ask someone before you throw away their expensive drink 😔

[passiveagreeable]

I can confirm, the ham in the Twitter post is in fact $100-$120. Depending on where you are in the country when you purchase it.

[threnodians]

woke up with a horrid tummyache 🥺

[obsesssedblerd]

“Wahhh!” 

“Nooooo!” 

“Bwahhhhhh!” 

“I don’t care, she was mine first!!!” 

“WAHHH!” 

“AHHHHHHH-” 

“Satoru Gojo,” you snap and glare at your husband, who’s burying his face in the pillow to muffle his laughter. Your seven month-old son also begins laughing. It’s so cute that you almost forget that the two were screaming at each other just seconds ago. 

Satoru lifts his head up to grin handsomely at you, feigning innocence. “Yes, wifey?” 

“Why on earth are you screaming with your son at eight o’clock in the morning?” You ask. 

“Because,” he whines, pointing an accusing finger at your baby boy, who had begun cooing adorably for your attention. “He won’t let me kiss you! Watch what happens.” To demonstrate, Satoru gently leans in, only to be stopped when the baby uses his tiny hands to push against his face with a loud whine. You stifle a laugh when he pouts, squinting his eyes at your son. “Listen, just because you’re laying here, doesn’t mean that you can just keep me from giving my wife a little smooch.” 

Your son doesn’t budge. “Bwah!” 

“Okay, and?!” Satoru exclaims with a tilt of his head.

You roll your eyes. “I cannot believe you’re actually arguing with him.” 

“Kid’s got a mouth on him.” 

“How do you even know what he said– You know what? Don’t answer that. Anyway, he’s your kid. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t sassy.” 

Satoru gasps dramatically. “I am not sassy.” Next to him, your son matches his pout with a hmph, and since he was born with Satoru’s hair and eye color, he basically looked like a tiny version of him. “See?” He asks, gesturing to his mini. “Even he agrees with me!” 

“Sure he does,” you say, then turn your attention back to your phone, scrolling through a grocery delivery app so you can start ordering things for the week 

“And back to you,” you hear Satoru continue with your son, “I just want to kiss her cheek, and you’re just– hey, no sticking out your tongue at me.” The baby babbles, and Satoru scoffs. “No, I’m not cryin’. What’re you talking about?” 

You laugh quietly. If this was how it was now, you couldn’t wait to see what it’s going to be like in the future.

[humanjarvis]

the world when you're with me

synopsis: you seek out sylus for comfort after realizing you were wrong about him.

tags: comfort, fluff, implied avoidant!reader learns to trust sylus, implied avoidant!reader clings to sylus, sylus takes care of reader from afar, sylus has mephisto and the twins follow reader but wbk pairing: sylus x reader, reader is mostly mc word count: 802

a/n: is this the peak of literature? no. did i need to write it after the day i had? yes. did i need to post it today? no, because i’m trying to stagger my posts more, but here we are. anyway 4k caleb pwp coming tomorrow 

For the first few weeks after you’d infiltrated the N109 Zone, you’d avoided Sylus Qin like the plague. 

After being scared out of your wits by the first version of him you'd met—the cold, unavailable criminal mastermind who’d forced you to shoot him within 5 minutes of knowing one other—you were unashamedly wary of working with him again. 

But Sylus’s intel was unrivaled. More and more often, you found yourself visiting the N109 Zone to meet with him, eventually not even bothering to book a place to stay. There was always a guest room at the Onychinus base prepped for your arrival.

As you spent more time with Sylus, he’d noticeably changed his approach to interacting with you. Rather than forcing you to resonate with him, he’d explained to you how his Evol worked, letting you aim his hands at some training dummies to test it out yourself. Instead of unceremoniously shutting you out when he was tired, he’d drag his robe-and-slippers-clad self to sit beside you on the sofa, answering your cautious questions by practically giving away all his secrets. 

His shift in attitude hadn't stopped there. Sylus had clearly been using that endearingly incorrigible crow to keep tabs on you, but for the strangest reasons. 

Whenever you had a bad day at work, some building-wide maintenance emergency would magically appear, forcing your team to cease operations for the rest of the day. He’d text you a couple hours after your early dismissal, saying he was in the city and inviting you on an evening joyride to clear your head.  

The day after you’d lugged a case of water up the stairs to your apartment, having to pause a couple times to catch your breath, you came home to see your fridge mysteriously stocked with groceries. The only traces left behind were the masked twin figures you spotted scurrying away from your window. 

When a new phone showed up at your doorstep one day—you never even told him you’d shattered your screen, you thought—you’d decided that Sylus wasn’t as bad as you’d once assumed. Not anywhere near as bad, in fact. He was thoughtful, generous, and helped you without taking credit or forcing you to ask for it. You’d never had that before.

Which is why, somehow, you find yourself standing in the doorway of his armory, studying him silently as he polishes an antique-looking gun.

When he notices you, Sylus looks up, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. “Something wrong, kitten?” he drawls, subtly checking your body for injuries. 

Mind numb from your absolutely dreadful day, you stay silent while Sylus looks at you expectantly, his hands forgetting their earlier task. 

But for the next minute, you remain hovering in the doorway. You expect him to get annoyed—you almost want him to, so you have an excuse to go back to relying only on yourself—but all you see on Sylus’s face is patience.

When you start shuffling toward him, that patience mixes with a glimmer of anticipation that he visibly tries to suppress. You need him to be calm right now—an anchor, he thinks. If he loses his composure, if he startles you with his excitement at your approach, you might bolt at any moment. 

Sometime during his inner struggle, you reach him. Meekly, you stand before his chair, briefly opening your mouth before closing it. 

“What is it, sweetie?” he asks softly. “Tell me, and we can figure it out together. I’ll personally track down whoever seems to have stolen your words from you.”

At his offer, you break, collapsing into his lap. His large, warm hands immediately encircle your waist, and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his leather and spice cologne. 

“Aw,” he coos in his baritone voice, rocking you slowly in his embrace. When he lifts your head an inch, you resist, letting out a soft whine. Gently, he guides your head back to his chest, his quickening heartbeat thumping in your ears and grounding you in the the moment. 

After several moments of silence, your deep, shuddering breaths the only interruptions, Sylus murmurs into your ear. “When I noticed you never ask for help, I was worried the world may not be treating as well as it should. You must be very tired, hmm?” he asks, rubbing his chin against your hair. 

Tightening your arms around him, you sit there for a while, his steady breaths seeming to mend a decades-long rift in your heart.

The next time Sylus tries to lift your head, you let him. He pulls your face from his neck so he can look into your eyes, hoping his gaze conveys his sincerity, before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

“You don’t need the world when you’re with me,” he promises. “I’ll treat you better than it ever could.”

[mockiatoh]

My biggest frustration with the left has always been the inability/unwillingness to work on making progress inside of the system while advocating for greater change.

I remember the first time I came to this realization.

I was nineteen, pregnant. We couldn’t afford to heat the house because we couldn’t afford the deposit to turn the gas on. It was miserably cold. The duplex we were renting was old and rickety and drafty. The window frames were messed up and there were cracks you could stick your finger through that were open to the elements.

Just, like, to give you an idea where we were financially. And this was better than we’d been doing before!

Anyway, I had recently started going to DSA meetings. And that month, they were talking about how a moderate democrat had successfully gotten a small increase in WIC benefits monthly. It came out to, like, $10 a month.

The members talking—mostly male, almost all doing decent—were scornful. The democrat should have pushed harder and gotten more, refused to accept anything until everyone else caved to their demands. I remember sitting there, quietly drinking the latte in the smallest size they had that I had bought with scrounged quarters, listening. Wishing it wasn’t held in an indie coffee shop because it was a luxury I really couldn’t afford, but it would be rude not to. Enjoying the coffee anyway.

I was one of the lucky ones who was getting that additional $10 a month through WIC. Even more exciting, we were now getting a voucher for the farmers’ market. I casually mentioned that WIC recipients would now be getting farmers’ market vouchers, too.

The guy who organized the meetings was a hard worker, passionate guy. Did something in tech.

He was like, “That’s the thing! These people don’t want farmers market vouchers. They want—��� and he went on to describe a bunch of pie in the sky desires. That, yeah, sounded good.

But one. I was one of those people! A lot if the tamiles were super excited about it, myself included.

I had never been to a farmers’ market before. I tried arugula for the first time, a piece pulled from a bunch by the grower as he explained the flavor difference. I hadn’t known before then that different lettuce greens had different flavors, that it was more than just the texture and shape. I tried pesto, which delighted me. Goat cheese. I got three full pounds of strawberries for two dollars, since they were closing soon and the old man selling the berries got a kick out of me.

Anyway. It was like, you have a decent life. Not great but decent! The things that are life changing for me, for us… you already have.

The ten dollars at the grocery store made the difference between a meal of broken-noodles-with-some-half-horrible-pantry-scraps and a meal. It kept me full and healthy! And the additional farmers’ market voucher was world changing for me.

The democrat who worked for those things barely got them through. And it was means tested to hell and back. They weren’t able to get everything they wanted. But what they got made such a huge difference for me, for people like me.

[gwyoi]

Holy shjt. Welp. I don’t know why I thought I was immune but I ate chicken wild rice soup I made a while ago (I froze it) and I ate really stale bread (had been in my fridge for months) and what was I thinking you dumbass of course this would poison you.