#they should be used to me being sour but it's a different flavor now that I'm an adult I guess

[sachermorte]

sometimes I wonder why my family asks me if I'm depressed when I post selfies where they can see them and then I remember that I look like this in every photo

[borderline-sanity]

GRWM as I ✨Wake Up with a Panic Attack✨

** None of this is medical advice, and is just a system I’ve worked on for myself. Everybody is different, everyone is in different circumstances.**

When it comes to the fight or flight instinct during panic attacks, I’m 100% a flight person.

I’ve dealt with panic attacks since high school and have been diagnosed with panic disorder. In high school I lived in constant fear of having an attack, which caused the attacks. It was all very cyclical. I have them less often now, but they still happen from time to time.

My go to method is to mix comforting and uncomfortable sensations and to overstimulate myself. I’ve tried deep breathing and relaxing music and the things that should logically help. But they always made me feel worse because I’m acknowledging the panic in such a head on fashion. I try to ground and overstimulate as many senses as I can, so I don’t have the energy or space to feel the panic anymore.

The initial terror, it’s going to happen. How fast you can pivot depends on the severity of the panic.

I tell myself I’m an expert in panic attack management. I have over 12 years of experience in the field and have worked tirelessly to perfect my methods. I have to convince myself I’m a pro at this, and have a 100% success rate of not imploding from anxiety. I narrate what I’m going to do and why it helps me specifically, basically what I’m doing here.

—-

My first stop is consistently my bathroom. I go through my bin of old lotions and pick a scent I have specially set aside for panic attacks. I use something that’s way too overpowering, but having something that smells bad to you is also an option. Sometimes I’ll use two different smells. The goal is to have a scent to ground you.

When I have a panic attack, my body fails at temperature regulation. Typically my feet are cold and clammy. So, I like to run some hot water in the tub and just stand in it for awhile. As I’m standing there, I apply whatever lotion or perfume I grabbed. Once my feet are warmed up, I get out of the tub and only sorta dry my feet. Then I put socks on my damp feet. Why? Because I hate the way it feels. And that harmless discomfort is going to distract me as I make my way to the next room.

I pick up a hoodie from the closet. Since I don’t know which way my temperature is going to flux, it’s nice to have on hand. I also have a big comfy shawl I use only during panic attacks.

I have to go down stairs to get to my kitchen. I take them really slow, especially with the damp sock situation. If I’m feeling too weak, I’ll just sit down and scoot down them. My instinct is flight, so staying in one room too long is no good. I usually feel safer being on the ground floor.

—-

Things might get messy in the kitchen, but that’s for future you to deal with. I used to keep a fresh lemon in the house at all times, but have moved away from that, opting for lemon juice. You can either bite into a lemon, or swish some lemon juice in your mouth and spit it out. A benefit of a fresh lemon is that it’s more messy. You’ll have lemon juice on your face and hands and that stickiness, at least for me, is an awful sensation.

You’re going to chase the lemon down with something else. I like to grab sour candy, like Warheads. But something like Pop Rocks also works. Picking an opposite flavor, like pudding or beef jerky is an option. You’re just trying to overload your tastebuds by making another harmless, but powerful distraction.

Alternatively, this step can be done when you’re in the bathroom. Swishing mouth wash and following it up with something sour is miserable. The face I make in the mirror is ridiculous and sometimes that’s enough to help soothe me.

—-

Like I said, I’m a flight person. So the next steps I either do pacing the house or on a treadmill. It just depends how steady my legs are feeling.

I grab my headphones, connected to my phone, and my tablet. I put the headphones on one ear and play music. The music is going to change every time. Sometimes you want something soothing, sometimes you want something loud. Sometimes you want music you love, sometimes you want music you hate. Having different playlists prepped helps you figure out what you’re in the mood for. I think one hit wonders are also a great option. There’s a familiarity and nostalgia that just hits the spot sometimes.

There are a few options for the tablet. You can put on a movie or tv show, and listen with your un-headphoned ear. I also like doing crossword puzzles or logic puzzles. It usually goes poorly, but I get so wrapped up in it. I’ve also found ‘Simon Says’ videos and follow those. Anything challenging and low stakes works here.

And this is where things usually begin to ease up. If my legs are too wobbly, I’ll just lie on the floor. Sometimes I go back to the lemon juice / sour candy. But eventually, my body is just exhausted and overstimulated. And there’s no more room for panic.

Once I feel myself winding down, I’ll get an electrolyte heavy drink. My go to is Pedialyte Zero Sugar packets but it doesn’t really matter what you use. I’ll have something light to eat if I feel up to it, usually just crackers.

When the panic has finally eases up and I feel safe again, I’m usually left exhausted. I fall asleep wherever I land, usually on the floor because it just feels nice and sturdy. When I wake up, I take care of any messes I left behind. And I drink more water.

—-

Important Notes and Additional Tactics:

Drink lots of water. Just have water dead drops everywhere.

Make it a point to keep yourself stocked up on supplies. Future you needs to restock supplies and put things back for next time.

Fidget toys are great and should also be in every room if possible. I like to use different ones depending on which room I’m in, just to keep up variety.

Ice cubes under the armpits or on the back of the neck are great. I guess anywhere works, I just find the cold distracting. As they melt, I’m left with water on my clothes. Similar to the damp socks, I hate this feeling.

My plant misting bottle stays in the kitchen and I’ll use it to spray my face or arms. Having glasses makes this more annoying, which is the goal.

I personally like to turn on as many lights as I can, but I understand this isn’t always possible.

Stepping outside can be helpful, just be mindful about it.

Reach out to people if that’s an option and you’re comfortable with it.

Walk through your routine when you aren’t in the middle of a panic attack. Developing this type of muscle memory helps you to be familiar and prepared. Remember, you’re the expert in panic attacks.

Take time to reflect on things. The day after a panic attack, I find a quiet place. I think back to everything I was feeling and who I was during the panic attack. And I talk to that past version of me and comfort her. Sometimes I find it easier to write it all out.

—-

I typed this while experiencing a panic attack. Usually I just narrate these things to myself. Recently, my older brother has started having attacks similar to mine. My hope is that sharing what I do to get myself through a panic attack will help at least one person. It is truly one of the most defeating and vulnerable experiences. I feel like I’ve lost so much time to my anxiety, I’d like to think I can help someone avoid the same struggles my younger self dealt with.

**None of this is medical advice, and is just a system I’ve worked on for myself. Everybody is different, everyone is in different circumstances.

[the-ultimate-puppeteer]

Hi! Saw you mentioning me and wanted to say thank you and request (maybe to increase the fami x reader stuff on her) so how about fami with a reader who has a disorder that causes him to be unable to taste food, so he can't really get pleasure from eating but gets very sad when someone mentions how good something tastes because he wants to eat like a normal person but can't. Sorry if it's too complicated and thanks!

Fami with a boyfriend who can't taste food

•Ageusia a disorder that reduces one's own ability to taste

•honestly it never really bothered you for a big part of your life that you weren't able to taste food

•Food was food to you it didn't much matter if it tasted good or not, literally

•That was until you started getting older and making friends and noticing how happy everyone got when it came to food

•How it seemed to bring everyone such joy and how they'd talk about things like flavor how sweet something was, or how sour a food is

•You couldn't help but feel like you were missing out on something everyone else around was able to experience with such ease.

•Maybe it was that very fact that attracted you to your current girlfriend Fami

•Fami absolutely loved food, you could easily tell it was her favorite thing in the entire world, she even said as much with only you being a match for her love of food

•Fami initially didn't know that you weren't able to taste food until she found out vua rumor and asked you straight up which you of course confessed that you weren't able to taste

•Thankfully this didn't seem to bother Fami, that was on the surface it didn't, she hated that the person she loved couldn't experience something so wonderful as tasting food

•She had the power to change that of course but she didn't know if she should are the risk of revealing herself to you, at least not yet

•Though that reveal ended happening a lot sooner then she had anticipated, especially after she started noticing things she didn't before

•She use to notice that you try upset or sad about something, with the added conext if your taste disorder it occurred to her that you weren't fine with not being able to taste, it was something that actively bothered you and from what she saw it was on a daily basis

•It was then and there that she decided that you were worth the risk.

•When she finally told about who she was you were definitely shocked, I mean yeah you knew Fami was a bit odd but a Devil and not only that she was famine

•Then she told you she wanted to make a contract with you, she wanted for you to be able to taste like everyone else. You'd thought you'd hidden you anguish over that pretty well but apparently not

•That's when you really processed what she just told you, she can give you the ability to taste, something so basic that everyone but you had and she could give it to you

•Needless to say you agreed pretty much instantly, the terms of the contract not even mattering to you, after all being with Fami forever the person who had given you this wonderful gift, that was definitely a fair trade

•The first thing you did after the contract was complete was kiss Fami deeply and passionately, you had immediately noticed the difference and understood even more why people did this so much since apparently even people had flavors and Fami tasted like a rainbow of colors and beautiful emotion

•You couldn't wait to go out eating after this, but for now, you wanted to stay here and enjoy the taste of your wonderful girlfriend and now eternal soulmate.

[invinciblerodent]

Baldur's Gate 3's Potato Chowder - RECIPE

So a few days ago, I found this recipe around the start of act 3, near the kitchen of the Temple of the Open Hand in Rivington:

[Screenshot of recipe as it appears in-game. Exact steps will be transcribed below, within the recipe.]

It looked... honestly very simple and not dissimilar from a Hungarian potato főzelék/stew (which is a very cheap and homely peasant dish I love), so I just made it for lunch today, and guys....

this soup is uh. really fucking good. I tried following it as close to the letter as possible, but since it's quite vague, I did have to improvise a fair bit- but it's very cheap and easy to make, it's warm and comforting while still quite light (there are like. NO spices in there, it's a very European-feeling dish), and I'd say it's surprisingly filling, but it's. It's potatoes, so there's nothing exactly surprising about that.

I tried to write out the recipe in a very beginner-friendly way, so even if you're not super confident in the kitchen, it should be easy to follow! ❤️

Make yourself some video game soup, it's awesome.

INGREDIENTS:

(For about 6 servings)

A roughly egg-sized lump of lard (This can be subtituted with a different cooking fat if you'd like, but I recommend sticking with lard, as it adds a nice flavor, and it's kind of the staple fat for these peasant stews.)

Potatoes (I used just under two pounds)

Half of a medium leek

Small yellow onion (or half of a larger one)

2 cloves garlic

Roughly 1/2 to 1 cup white cooking wine (optional, substitute given in recipe)

Vegetable stock (or chicken- or beef stock, or water)

2-3 tbsp all purpose flour

Salt to taste

1/2 cup of sour cream/créme fraiche (optional)

Shredded cheese and/or croutons to serve (optional)

(Recipe with transcriptions and exact steps under the cut!)

(This is basically all there is in this. Honestly.)

STEPS:

"1. Put your lard in a pot- a chunky one, mind. When it stops being lard and starts being hot lard, add any good-smelling veggies (leeks, garlics, onions) that you've chopped all thin. Please salt this so it doesn't taste of nothing."

This first step is pretty self-explanatory. I sliced the white part of he leek thinly, cubed my onion, and minced my two large cloves of garlic. In the lard melted in as chunky a pot as I've got (make sure it's not non-stick!!!), I sauteed first the leek and the onion with a big pinch of salt, and once the onion was translucent, the leek soft, and they've released some liquid (around 3-5 minutes on medium-low heat), I added the garlic, and cooked it until fragrant.

"2. When it's soft and good-smelling, chuck in any flour you've got and stir the mixture so it don't burn (note for me - it's very important not to burn it, emphasize)"

"2.5. PLEASE DO NOT LET IT BURN THAT'D BE RUBBISH"

Now we make a roux by adding just enough flour to the mixture that it starts sticking together, and looks fairly dry, but no part of the flour remains powdery. (This was about 3 tbsp for me, but since this process goes quick, I did eyeball it).

It's important to keep stirring, as this can and does stick to the bottom of a pot, but it will determine the thickness of the final soup, deepen its flavor, and give it a nice, creamy consistency. I made mine fairly blonde (light tan in color, cooked just past long enough to dissipate any raw flour smell), but it can go to a fairly dark, caramel color before burning if you'd like the flavor to be a bit deeper. (This should only take a couple minutes.)

Please do be careful- it the roux burns, that flavor will be impossible to get rid of, so.... yeah, it would be rubbish.

"3. If you're fancy and have wine (or have a generously stocked temple wine cellar nearby) add a bit of it now and cook it off. When it's done, add some wedged potatoes and a lot more liquid (not wine this time or you'll have a headache in the morning)."

We now deglaze the bottom of the pot with the wine: after pouring it in, with the wooden spoon, we scrape up any stuck pieces of flour or aromatics that there might be on the bottom.

(Note: If you don't have wine, or would prefer not to use alcohol for any reason, a neat trick is to mix about 1 tbsp of white wine vinegar and 1 tsp of granulted sugar into a cup of water, and use this mixture as a substitute for 1 cup of white wine. In most recipes, the wine's main purpose is to add acidity as well as sweetness to the dish- this trick aims to replicate those qualities, and tastes very similar in the end result. I use it often in almost anything that calls for white wine if I happen to not have any at hand. But do make sure to taste beforehand, it's very easy to go too heavy on the vinegar! It should taste sour, but not so much that it's unpalatable.)

Then, I rinsed my cubed potatoes (though the text calls for wedges, those often don't cook quite evenly!) with water to get rid of the excess starch, added them to the pot, and then covered them in vegetable stock. You can use chicken- or beef stock (which would make the soup a bit richer, heavier) or water (if you want it lighter) as well- in this last case you might need to add more salt than you'd think. (Make sure to taste- it should be flavorful, but not salty! Bouillon cubes and premade stocks often have a very high salt content, so if using that, you might find you don't need to add any.)

(It sohuld look something like this.)

"4. Cook for half an hour or so til the potatoes are nice and tender, and mash some of 'em up in the liquid. If you've got any cow products - cheese, milk and the like - add them now for extra delicious results."

From when the mixture starts to boil, it should take about 25-35 minutes of simmering on low heat, covered, for the potatoes to soften- you can test doneness by sticking a fork in one of the pieces, or gently pushing one against the edge of the pot with your wooden spoon. It should give easily at light pressure with both methods.

I then put the sour cream/créme fraiche in a heat-safe container (a mug will do perfectly), and ladled a bit of the hot cooking liquid on top of it, mixing it thoroughly- both to thin it out, and bring the temperatures closer to each other, which should help avoid any curdling. Stirring constantly, I then add the cream mixture to the soup in a thin, slow stream. (Any mildly acidic, creamy dairy product should work here- though I do think yogurt might be a bit too sour, if using that I would probably omit the wine.)

Then, as everything is done cooking and the cream is distributed evenly with no curds, I turn the heat off for safety, and using a very traditional, very fantasy, not at all anachronistic immersion blender, I blitz the entire thing for roughly 30 seconds. You can of course blend it less for more chunks (or remove some cooked potato bits before blending to add them back later), or even longer for a smoother consistency, but I did like that about that much blending left only a few, small chunks of nicely cooked potato in the otherwise smooth and creamy result.

I served with shredded Port Salut cheese and croutons on top- but this is of course optional, and I think just some nice, crusty bread would also work wonderfully!

Go make yourself a video game soup!!!!!!! It's so easy and good!!!!!!!

[oftenwantedafton]

Pas de Deux - William Afton x Female Ballerina Reader ~ A Ballora Origin Story

Chapter 6

Rating - Explicit

Warning for sexual content

Also available on AO3

Taglist - @dxstopiaa

It feels so different, being at the ballet studio so late at night, when the building is vacant and the city streets are quiet.

William flicks a switch as he reaches the top of the stairs, the strip of lights illuminating the hallway housing the changing rooms in the rear of the studio providing a soft glowing backdrop. The large room is still heavily shrouded in shadows, affording you some privacy. He sets down the blanket and basket he’s carrying on the hardwood floor.

“What do you think?”

“I think…” You pause, chewing your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “…I think you should dance with me,” you invite, tugging on his hand.

He barks a short laugh, surprised. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Dance with me anyway.”

William slides an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him, your other hand clasped in his, drawn up so the pairing hovers to the side of your faces in a ballroom pose. You take a step with him, turning easily in his arms.

“If I step on your feet, I apologize. You’ve been warned.”

You giggle, the sound dying when his lips graze your throat before he turns you again and you sweep further across the room.

“You know, there are a bunch of cassette tapes if you want music…”

“Sing something for me instead.”

He chuckles softly. “That I definitely cannot do. I’ll hum for you, though.”

“That’s a deal.”

His cheek presses against yours, his vibrating breath tickling your ear. You think you recognize the melody though you can’t discern what its origins are. In spite of his teasing and protests, William is light on his feet, moving in perfect synchronicity with you. The room spins around you in soft swathes of light and shadow.

You halt by the row of windows overlooking the city streets below, clasping the barre, feeling the older man’s arms brace on either side of you, resting his scarred hands on the wooden beam.

“My favorite place to watch you. Right over there.” He lifts one of your hands and gestures with it, nuzzling your throat. You feel giddy, drunk off the feeling of being in the studio alone with him, so close to the outside world but so far above it, pinned by his warmth, poised before the chilled window panes.

“Come here.” He guides you back into the recesses of the room, spreading out the blanket to cushion you somewhat from the hard surface and begin your improvised indoor mid-winter picnic.

You settle down, legs stretched out, weight braced on your wrists and ankles crossed, watching the other man kneel, sitting on his heels to begin unpacking.

“Ever have wine before?” He asks, pulling a bottle and a pair of glasses from the basket.

“I actually haven’t. But I did try a wine cooler once at a birthday party.”

“Naughty girl.” He smirks, working on the cork. “Well, wine, like a lot of alcohol, often doesn’t taste that great, but people like to pretend that it does, and keep drinking it until they become accustomed to it and the taste doesn’t bother them anymore because their judgment is too clouded by the inebriation. I personally prefer a Pinot Grigio.” He fills both glasses and then offers you one. “Cheers.”

You grin, taking a tentative sip of the pale golden liquid. It’s sour, the bursts of tart flavor sharp on your tongue.

He laughs when he sees the expression on your face. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, taking a healthy swallow from his own glass.

“It’s not terrible.” You try another sip, finding it slightly less offensive.

He shifts positions, sliding back to sit on his buttocks. “You don’t have to drink it for my sake if you really dislike it.”

“I know.” You empty the glass in one go, wincing a bit with the effort but proudly handing the glass back to your companion for a refill. “What are you like when you’re drunk?”

“Horny. Bitchy. Pretty much the way I am now anyway, only elevated.”

You stare at him, mouth agape and he laughs, handing you back a full glass. “That was a joke. Kind of.”

“You’re so different lately.” You take a sip and nibble on some of the cheese and grapes he’s laid out.

“How so?”

“You look…healthier. Not as tired. Happier.”

“That is entirely your doing, I’m afraid. I told you that you would be the ruin of me.” He smiles softly around the rim of his glass and your heart aches.

You’ve already made such an impact on him in such a short amount of time. But what kind of future could you possibly have with him?

He munches on a cracker, studying your pensive features. “What are you thinking about?”

You reach the end of your glass, already feeling the effects of the drink. “I’m good for you.”

He grins. “I don’t disagree.”

“I’m better for you,” you challenge impulsively. “I never say anything against your wife—”

“Then don’t start now,” he cautions, the smile slipping from his mouth.

“She ignores you; you’ve said it yourself. She has no interest in anything you’re doing—”

“To be fair, I’m much the same way with her. I told you we both share equal blame.”

“She has nothing to offer you. I would do anything to make you happy. I don’t understand why you’re with her. I never have.”

“Things were different in the beginning. And I made a vow.”

“Which you’ve already broken!” You exclaim in exasperation. “You’re already cheating. So why pretend?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is! You might still love her, but you’re not in love with her.”

William stares at you silently.

“You love me.” You reach for his hand, fingers curling over the battered edges.

His eyes slide from yours. “I think maybe you imbibing alcohol isn’t such a good idea after all.”

“I’m not drunk!” You protest. “Not so much that I don’t know what I’m saying,” you add softly.

“You’re only making this more difficult for yourself.”

“I can’t help how I feel.”

His lips press in a thin line. “It’s better if you don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have feelings?”

“Yes.”

You lean back, your shoulders tightening, bracing your growing ire. “Oh, really? How do you do that? How do you shut off your feelings?”

William remains silent, still avoiding your gaze.

You’re so angry you want to slap him, the burning knot of anger building within you flaring. “No, fuck that. You look me in the eyes and you tell me you don’t have any feelings for me.”

“I can’t do that.” His voice is infuriatingly placid.

“Why not?”

“Because it would be a lie. And I’ve never lied to you,” he says, his head lifting so he can see you, his eyes brimming with words unsaid.

“Why not?” You repeat again, noting the sudden rapid rise and fall of his chest and shoulders.

“You know why.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

He shakes his head. You see his Adam’s apple straining against the collar of his shirt when he swallows, attempting to shove the emotions back down his throat.

“What did you mean the other day, when you said you wanted things you had no right to ask for?”

The older man hesitates. “I don’t want you to go away for college. I don’t want you to leave me behind. My wife can’t give me children. I can’t stop thinking about having them with you; what it would be like to have you as my wife instead. I want…I want you to be mine, forever,” his voice rasps harshly as the confession spills from his lips.

“I want those things too. I am yours. I was made for you.”

“God damn you’re so perfect,” he curses, leaning forward, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck, crushing your mouth against his. “I love you,” he whispers against your ear, and you shiver, surrendering to his touch.

***

You close your eyes and think of embers waiting for you in the darkness, temporarily blotting out your surroundings.

The recital has gone smoothly — better than that, even. The excitement from the other girls in your class is palpable. You open your eyes and look out among the sea of faces in the audience, waving to your mother, sliding past the haughty profile of Mrs. Afton to find her husband, his weighted gaze speaking to you better than words ever could.

You change into the dress you’d chosen for this occasion, the red fabric draping across your frame as if was tailor made just for you. You’d taken time getting your hair and nails done earlier, wanting to look your absolute best for him. Beneath the dress you’re wearing a new set of lingerie, lace in a shade that’s nearly an exact match for the garment that enshrouds it.

Your next destination is the dinner booked at a hotel being held to celebrate the completion of the studio’s school year. You won’t be driving with the Aftons this time, but you know he won’t be able to stay away from you for long.

You manage to sneak outside while everyone is still busy exchanging congratulations and preparing to depart, finding the older man tucked into the shadows outside the auditorium.

“You look stunning,” he greets you as you reach his side.

“You too. You look great in a tux.”

“The performance was exquisite. As expected.” He exhales a cloud of smoke then holds the cigarette out to you.

You shake your head. “My mom would be upset,” you explain.

“Fair enough. I’ll be scolded as well, but what else is new,” he muses bitterly, tossing the remainder to the ground and grinding it with his heel, the soft orange light extinguished. “I’ll see you soon, love.” He touches your wrist briefly, pressing along the pulse point, and then he’s gone.

***

The dining hall hums with energy and excitement.

You barely touch your meal although the food is good. You find you have no appetite for anything other than William Afton.

He’s seated on the opposite side of the table from you a few seats down, the perfect vantage point to admire you from.

Every time you glance at him, muttering something noncommittal to whatever the other girls near you are saying, you find his heated gaze on you.

Once dishes for the main course are cleared the guests begin to mingle, breaking off into small groups. Your mother currently occupies Mrs. Afton’s attention, affording her spouse the opportunity to tuck against your side, speaking in a low tone.

“I have something for you. Meet me in five minutes.”

His hand stealthily slides a small rectangle of plastic into yours.

You nod, fingers tightening over the gift, glancing at it surreptitiously after he’s left your side.

It’s a keycard for one of the rooms.

You make your way to the restroom, making sure your hair and makeup are still in place, smoothing out the material of your dress. Your heart pounds as you find the elevator, darting one last anxious glance over your shoulder, but no one is paying any attention.

The doors slide apart and you walk briskly down the corridor, scanning the room numbers until you reach your destination. The keycard slots in place, the device reads the magnetic strip and the green light flashes, indicating the door is unlocked.

William’s right there waiting for you, pulling you into the room and slamming the door closed.

His mouth crushes against you, hands running over the curves of your body. You’re already working on his belt, hear the soft jingle of the buckle striking the carpet when his pants slide and collapse to the floor. You shove the jacket off his shoulders and he pushes you up against the foot of the bed, pressing until your knees fold and you collapse on top of the white down filled comforter, your wrists pinned near your head.

His teeth scrape your skin gently, so that he doesn’t mark you, at odds with how much you wish he could. He releases his grip on one wrist long enough to slide a hand inside the slit of your dress, stroking across your thigh and caressing the lace panties before he grabs them and pulls, tearing the delicate material.

“Fuck me,” you beg, not that he needs permission or instruction, already positioning himself at your entrance while you spread your legs. You’ve both been waiting for this moment for so long, dancing so close to it so many times, stalled by his insistance that your first time needs to be special. You can’t imagine it being anything but that with him, shutting your eyes and holding your breath, bracing for the first feel of him inside of you.

The stretch and burn has you gasping, releasing the air you’ve just trapped. He hooks a hand under one knee and drives forward, pushing, and your nails dig into his shoulder, harder and harder as he thrusts in deeper and deeper.

“Christ, you’re so tight,” he gasps beside your ear, filling you to the hilt. You relax your grip on his shoulder and bury your fingers in his hair as he withdraws and slides back inside your canal. You think he’s still holding back and you lift your hips to meet his, shoving yourself onto his cock. He groans, murmurs something incomprehensible and returns the gesture with more vigor, increasing the pace. You’re gradually growing accustomed to the feel of him, the initial pain dissipating beneath an ache starting within your core.

His face and neck are smudged with your lipstick, your own reddened from every sucking kiss he gifts you. He clutches your hip and rolls, bringing you on top of him. Straddled above him, this angle creates new sensations. You’re in control now, raising and lowering yourself on him, so slick you sometimes miss and have to readjust. His hands tuck beneath your shoulder straps and tug down, exposing your breasts. He kneads one, rolling and pinching the nipple, his other hand sliding down your abdomen to drag across your clit. You bend forward, your hair falling in a curtain around his face as you kiss him, wet and sloppy just like the cunt you’re soaking him with.

“You’re so beautiful.” He sucks your ear lobe and presses a trail of kisses along your jaw, pelvis rising to meet you. The hand that’s been mashing against your pussy finds its way to your mouth and you suck the juices off of his thumb before lapping at the scars, mapping the injuries in various stages of healing. He thrusts harder against you, shoving you back down beneath him, your flexible legs lifted and pushed back to the limit so he can enter you as deeply as possible. His face hovers above yours, watching your reactions as he fucks you.

His eyes are nearly black when he cums, pupils completely blown. You can feel it inside of you, that hot spill of liquid buried deep, your pussy spasming and tightening around him, muscles contracting, squeezing and wringing out everything he has to give.

He collapses beside you and you shift so you can rest your head on his chest, listening to his pounding heart, lacing your fingers through his.

He’s quiet while you both do your best to straighten your appearances, solemnly scrubbing away the stain of your mouth on him while he slides back into the tuxedo jacket and refolds the lapels. You toss the remains of your torn panties in the bathroom wastebin and wet your hands, attempting to smooth your hair back into place before adjusting the shoulder straps and pinching the sides of the dress so that the fabric drapes correctly.

Your eyes meet in the mirror and your hands falter, stuttering over the material.

“I want to pick you up tomorrow.”

“My mom’s giving me a ride. She switched shifts,” you murmur apologetically.

The excuse to travel to and from the studio no longer exists and you’re already feeling the loss of it keenly. Soon the one for your school will be absent as well.

“Make something up.”

“William—”

“Please.” The single word that sounds torn from his depths makes your heart ache.

You can’t refuse him.

***

It takes you a few moments to find the Afton’s sedan the next afternoon, the car parked in a completely different area than it normally is.

Your footsteps slow when you realize it’s not William behind the steering wheel, but his wife.

You settle into the passenger seat cautiously, dumping your bag on the floor between your feet when the older woman makes no move to offer to you to stow it away in the rear of the vehicle.

“Where’s Mr. Afton?”

She doesn’t bother to look at you, instead shifting the car into reverse, aiming the nose of the vehicle towards the street. “Busy. I’m giving you a ride home today.”

You swallow, shifting nervously in your seat.

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the pair of you, lasting until you reach your destination.

Mrs. Afton doesn’t switch off the engine, instead drumming her painted nails against the steering wheel. Her eyes meet yours, her stinging gaze sharp as a slap.

“I know about you and my husband. Do me the courtesy of not denying it.”

Any protest you might have made dies on your lips instantly.

“How…how long have you known?”

She shrugs. “Weeks. I don’t know. I didn’t mark it on my calendar.” Her restless fingers still. “He’s always like this. That’s how it was for us in the beginning, too. He gets excited over some new idea, fixates on it and obsesses over it. He has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person that exists, doesn’t he?” She muses, continuing without waiting for a response. “And he’s so good at getting what he wants. He managed to talk someone into giving him a loan for the restaurant right out of college when we had nothing but debt. Just charms his way right through life. Seems so quiet and innocent; he’s anything but.” She glances over at you. “He’s using you. When you’re not shiny and brand new anymore he’s going to discard you. That’s what he does. It’s why I never wanted to have children with him.”

You feel nauseous. “He…he said you couldn’t have any…”

“Yes, I let him think that.”

“If you think he’s so awful, why are you still with him?”

Her painted lips twist in a bitter smile. “Probably for the same reason you are. But I’m not going to let this continue any further. I’ve wasted enough of my life on this. I’m leaving him. If I was you, I’d get out now while you still can. You have your entire life ahead of you. Treat this as a life lesson, the most valuable one you’ll ever learn.”

The tears that have been threatening to spill finally make their escape, trailing down your cheeks. You’ve always feared the moment of this confrontation, imagining Afton’s wife raging at you, bitter and haughty. This quiet, dignified surrender is somehow much worse.

“I love him,” you whisper, choking over the words.

The other woman’s expression softens. “I know you do. I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner. I just didn’t know how.”

You swipe angrily at your damp cheeks, reaching for the straps of your bag with one hand, the other tugging roughly on the door handle, shoving it open. You cannot bear to be in the car with the older woman anymore with her terrible, terrible words. You slam the door shut and struggle to fit the key in the lock on the front door as you hear the sound of the car engine receding behind you, a sound that you had once enjoyed, making you think of your lover, now forever tainted by this new memory.

***

The phone rings four times before you finally lift the receiver. Your eyelids are swollen and reddened from crying all afternoon, the orbs between them burning as you blink and sit up, digging the heel of your hand against one while you answer.

“Hello?”

“Whatever she said to you, it’s not true.”

William’s rough voice chafes you, making you ache.

“I don’t really want to talk right now.”

“She wanted to hurt you in the worst way possible.”

You choke back a sob. “Why weren’t you there today?”

“Something happened at work, I had to—”

“It doesn’t matter.” You cut him off.

“I love you.”

You shake your head as the tears begin anew, unable to respond.

“I still want us to be together.”

Your head rocks back. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Please—”

You hang up the phone, unable to listen to his voice any longer. You draw your knees up and bury your face there.

The phone does not ring again.

[mirikitakato]

[Translation] July 2024 Shylock SR Card Story: Shopkeeper Casts His Spell

Shylock teaches Shino to not go against his desire lol.

Event: Obbligato of Soot-Coated Bravery (July 2024) Character: Shylock, Shino

Card story: The taste I’m satisfied with

Episode 1

Shino: Shylock.

Shylock: Oh, Shino. Is there anything you need?

Shino: I want something refreshing. I've been eating a lot of meat so my stomach feels heavy.

Shylock: In that case, how about a refreshing sangria? I'm making some right now.

Shino: Hmm...I'm more in the mood for food than a drink. That thing you're cutting, is that fruit for soaking in alcohol? Give me a piece.

Shylock: I'm sorry, but I can't. This is for infusing in wine, and it won't taste good eaten raw.

Shino: I don’t care, just give me that.

Shylock: No, it's not good. I don't want you to eat something I'm not satisfied with.

Shino: ......... ......So, you're telling me to just drink the sangria obediently?

Shylock: Hehe, don't pout so cutely. Invibelle.

Shino: Is this... a wine bottle?

Shylock: Please take a good look. What's floating inside?

Episode 2

Shino: Ah...looking closely, there are elderflowers and lemon floating. Is it syrup?

Shylock: You’re correct. The people from the Eastern Country gave us elderflowers as a souvenir the other day, didn't they? So I decided to make it into a syrup. How about I make you an elderflower soda with this syrup? Would you like that?

Shino: ...Fine, I guess. But what I really want is something to eat, not a drink.

Shylock: I know. Open your mouth.

Shino: ? Ah----- -----! What is---? Munch, munch...Lemon...?

Shylock: Yes, it's from the syrup I made. How does it taste?

Shino: ......Delicious. It's sweet and sour, with a hint of floral scent.

Shylock: I'm glad you like it. I have a few more slices, I'll put them on a small plate for you. Shino. This is the taste I can confidently serve you. Can you remember it?

Shino: I can. ...Sorry, I said something stupid earlier.

Shylock: Hehe. To reward you for being such a good boy, I'll feed you one more piece myself. It's perfect for a tired body. Here, once more——. Ahh………………

Card Episode: Which taste do you prefer?

Shylock: Sage, you've worked hard today. Please have this drink.

Akira: Thank you! I'll have some. ...It has a refreshing sweet aroma and is delicious! Are you perhaps using elderflower syrup?

Shylock: Oh my, you figured it out.

Akira: I knew it. I remember Faust gave me something similar before. But this’s a bit more spicy than the one I had then...

Shylock: Perhaps it's the taste of the spices. I use various spices to make mine, but Faust might have a different recipe.

Akira: I see! Even with the same syrup, the flavor and recipe can vary from person to person. In my world, things were cheap and safe, but they were mass-produced... It's kind of nice to have this individuality.

Shylock: Indeed. Because it's different from other people's syrup, I can truly love the taste that I create myself. By the way, Sage, which taste do you prefer, Faust's or mine?

Akira: Eh!? Well... uhh, what should I do, they're both delicious... I mean...

Shylock: I'm kidding. Which one you like best depends on your mood at the time, am I right?

Akira: (I was teased...)

Shylock: But if you had told me that mine was the best, I would give you a super sweet and sour reward. Hehe, guess I'll have to keep you waiting.

----Home-screen Voiceline----

“Let's open this wine bottle when Lennox comes. It's a flavor he likes, so I'm sure he'll enjoy it. Also, please try a sample of these snacks I make...It's a little sweet, but I think you two will enjoy the pairing.”

[clatterbane]

The first step of some pizza dough using that Nerd Cider Yeast Starter is underway! This is basically a quick sponge with the starter and some of the flours. That starter hasn't gone very sour yet, but it should hopefully be a good flavor.

Being the person I am, I'm not following that recipe very closely. But, I thought I would share it because I do really like their flexible approach to ingredients--which is not far off what I ended up working out myself from experience. (I definitely do not claim to be any kind of super baker, but I've had 15+ years to figure out what seems to work.) Only, they describe and explain better.

The different categories of flours/starches commonly used in gluten free baking are a very useful thing, focusing on their main function in a recipe. That would be roughly why I do tend to balance wholegrain flours with ones that they're putting into the "binding" and "starchy" categories here. The commercial GF blends I've been getting tend to consist entirely (or almost) of binding/starch ingredients, plus usually some psyllium powder and/or gums. You could use that on its own for certain applications like cakes and cookies, but it would most likely not make a very appealing bread used alone. No matter what they show on the package. 😒

For this pizza crust, I'm using a combo of oat flour and this Laila's nearly all starch white blend in with the mix of sorghum, buckwheat, and psyllium that are already working with the yeast starter.

Haven't had anything like that in ages, so I decided to make this as a pan pizza in my trusty smallish cast iron skillet. It's also extra easy that way. The common Swedish style pizza crust is pretty good, but all I've had in a couple of years is one basic style of thin crust. Time to mix it up some!

(Though, unlike that person's wheat flour pan pizza through the link, I am planning to play it safe and prebake this some before topping it. Is that a good idea? We'll find out.)

The well-oiled other half of the dough went into an also oiled Ziploc, to save in the fridge for later. This is definitely a two individual pizza recipe, or one really big pizza. Tempting as it may be, with just me here tonight? One skillet load of thick crust pizza should be plenty plus some.

Why all the emphasis on oil, btw? A lot of GF bread doughs tend to be sticky as hell from the psyllium/gums standing in for gluten, and also softer/wetter than wheat doughs. You WILL want plenty of some type of grease on the outside of the dough itself and your hands before trying to work with the stuff.

Unless you want this kind of situation in your kitchen--except it's bread dough, your hands, and anything else it or they touch.

Anyway, that crust is now proofing in the oven. ⏰😩 Maybe the mixing pot bowl has soaked long enough now to clean it out in the meantime.

[survivalpreps]

This recipe was taken from homesteadsurvivalsite.com

Why is it that so many survival foods come from a time long forgotten? Some of the most well-known survival foods are so old, it’s hard to even peg their origin. They are often so effective that people of different nations figured out similar foods along their way.

The reason for this is simple. Every good survival food must have five certain features…

1. Minimal Ingredients

Survival foods should have very few ingredients. The fewer things that go into it, the fewer things that can spoil (and usually, the easier it is to make). Also, you can replicate these foods more easily if there are fewer ingredients.

2. Long Shelf Life

Probably the most important part of all of these features is the shelf life. What good is a “survival food” if you only have a week to eat it? We are looking for things that can stand the test of time, outside of refrigeration.

3. Non-Perishable

Since we are so concerned with shelf life, it’s important that survival foods be nonperishable food items. In other words, things like fresh fruits, vegetables, or meats are not great options because of how quick they spoil. These foods would be called perishable. Survival foods should be foods that have a great shelf life, and these are called nonperishable.

4. Calorie and/or Nutrient Dense

While survival foods don’t always have to be the most healthful foods in our pantry, we do want them to be dense. Some are nutrient dense, like pemmican, which packs the punch of meat and healthy fats. Others, like bannock, are going to pack a serious calorie punch. Our recipe will add other things like cherries and rosemary.

5. Edible

We have to be able to stomach the survival food, otherwise, what’s the point? If we cannot bring ourselves to eat it, there is really no point in having it on hand. Some foods, like hardtack, can be questionable when it comes to being edible. For those of you who have tried it, you know what I mean.

Bannock Recipe

Bannock was created both in Europe and North America. A similar version was made by the Native Americans using corn. We are going to focus on traditional bannock, which has Scottish roots.

This survival food has always reminded me of hardtack. It’s certainly more of a bread than the unleavened tiles of hardtack, but they can be similar in some sense. I love this food because it’s very easy to make and takes very few ingredients. It can also be produced on the go, but we will discuss that later.

In the recipe that follows, we are going to add fresh rosemary and dried cherries to make it healthier and more nutritious. These will also add flavor to an otherwise boring survival bread. The sugar-laced cherries have great staying power and add calories. The rosemary will merely dry further over time. These ingredients will not affect shelf life.

Ingredients:

4 Cups All-Purpose Flour

1/2 Teaspoon Salt

1/2 Teaspoon Baking Soda

1 Tablespoon Sugar

1 3/4 Cup Dried Fruits (cherries)

1 Teaspoon Chopped Rosemary

1 1/2 Cups Buttermilk or Sour Milk

Instructions:

1. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees.

2. In a medium-sized bowl, combine all of your dry ingredients except for the cherries and rosemary. Thoroughly mix them together before moving to the next step.

3. Now that you have a bowl full of dry ingredients make a well in the center. This will be for your buttermilk. You may not need all of the flour to create the bread, and this method will allow you to control your dough better.

4. Chop your cherries and rosemary into very fine pieces.

5. Add the buttermilk to the well and begin to slowly incorporate flour from the sides. Do not collapse the sides of the well. This allows you to keep control of the dough consistency. This technique is used in any type of dough making and is great to practice. You will have leftover flour to coat the table and to use while you knead the dough.

6. Once the mix becomes stodgy and pasty, you can add your rosemary and dried cherries. At this point, you are going to dump the dough out onto a floured surface.

7. Work the dough and add flour until it becomes less sticky and the cherries and rosemary are fully incorporated. You will know when you have worked it enough and added enough flour because it will stop sticking to the surface.

8. At this point, you are ready to begin baking the bannock. I keep the bottom of a planter in my oven for making pizza and bread. This stone works well with the bannock as well. Bake the bannock for 20 minutes until it has started to brown a bit.

9. Remove the bannock and allow it to rest and cool.

Storage and Eating

After the bannock has completely cooled, it can be sliced and served or sliced and stored. The best storage method is to keep it whole until you need it. If you leave it uncovered, it will get very hard in a couple days. It will likely last in this state best. Of course, freezing it would be the very best way to keep it for a really long time. But if you don’t have that option, keep it hard and dry.

Dip it into some coffee-like biscotti or just crunch on it. It’s bannock. It’s not a scone, but it will keep you alive, and the herbs and cherries will add all sorts of interesting nutrients and flavor to it.

Most importantly, this is the type of mix that can be made on the go. If you store your dry ingredients in a Ziploc bag and your buttermilk in another, the two can be combined to create bannock while you’re on the move. You can cook this food by wrapping the dough on sticks and holding it over a campfire.

You can cook the bannock directly on a hot rock, also. Leave it for about 3-4 minutes on one side, then flip and finish for another 3 minutes on the other side. Because of its versatility and ability to meet all of the above-mentioned criteria for survival food, bannock is definitely something you should learn to make.

[more-than-a-princess]

Continued from here for @electricea due to new blog + beta editor!

She didn't doubt it, as she listened to Ryuji with a strained, sympathetic smile. Until she moved abroad for school, Sonia's idea of owning a shop had been nothing short of an idyllic romance. A pleasantly simple life of stocking shelves and helping customers who were always polite and thankful to do business there. The reality, she'd learned after beginning her time at Hope's Peak Academy, had been something rather different. And by the time she and Ryuji met that fateful night a few months ago, she hadn't even been surprised by the rude customer behind her, demanding she speed up her transaction. Her lack of expedience and perchance for manners, particularly as the clock neared midnight, had turned her into a blonde, foreign annoyance for the other customers behind her as she'd chatted amiably with Ryuji behind the counter.

It was far less aggravating, she supposed, for everyone that she spend time with him like this instead. Surrounded by various prepackaged offerings and waiting for him to bring a selection of sodas, she found she rather preferred it too. He didn't have the same tone he utilized behind the counter: it was the sort new members of staff used when working for the Royal Family, before they came to know the family they worked for, and they with them in turn. "When I was younger, I loved reading anything I could get my hands on, really!" She admitted, smiling fondly at the memory. "I think I mentioned that I was tutored at home until middle school and my parents chose my friends for me, so much of my way of learning about the world was through books or television. I still must read quite a bit for work, but it's usually news reports or various proposals. For fun, I like novels, particularly gothic romance and horror, and manga as well. They are very soothing for me."

If he was imagining something akin to a library in an animated enchanted castle, Sonia would have to admit that it wasn't far off. Except instead of being full of fairy tales and love stories, it was full of texts on history, language, philosophy, mathematics, science, and more. Though she'd taken care in finding all the fiction she could, including books that her parents would've been horrified to know she found, and read, as a young girl. They should've stored the naughty books somewhere a bit more discreet, she thought as he returned with the drinks. Or at least somewhere a young child wouldn't be compelled to climb up a ladder to reach.

"When you aren't here, where do you like to go to have fun?" she asked, now torn between her inquiry and the vibrant, colorful sodas and their labels he set before them. "I'm afraid I'm not terribly familiar with energy drinks! Do they simply contain a lot of caffeine?"

Her version had always been tea or, if absolutely necessary, coffee with enough sweetened syrup to take away the bitterness of roasted beans. Hopefully energy drinks weren't as sour or bitter as plain coffee or espresso was: she wouldn't enjoy it if that were the case. Unlike the strawberry soda he now held out to her, eliciting a bright smile and a nod from the princess.

"Oh yes, I agree, everyone loves strawberry. That is an excellent choice, thank you," She agreed, accepting the bottle. It wasn't the most unique flavor, but it was reliably enjoyed. Ryuji would know, Sonia thought as she uncapped the bottle: he was the one selling them.

Still, her eyes widened at his description of the seasonal noodles. Not only seasonal, but autumn and Halloween appropriate. Precisely the sort of thing that sparked her interest, causing her to set her soda aside for the moment. "Oh, pumpkin noodles!" She exclaimed, "I should like to try those. But you are right: I like to try new flavors, as long as they aren't terribly sour, bitter, or plum. I often am introduced to new foods when I travel for work, so I take those opportunities as they come. They aren't quite like this though, convenience shop food and such. I'd imagine you like to try everything the shop gets in stock!"

[dberecipes]

The Dragon's Hot Chicky Sando

Over the last several years I've been following the 'hot' fried chicken sandwich explosion and have tried several different versions. I've got some observations I feel compelled to share with you. I hasten to say that these are personal opinions, the perfect hot fried chicken sandwich may still be out there somewhere. Like regional BBQ preferences, fried chicken aficionados can be quite fierce in defending their favorites, so I'm being careful about being too partisan. The herbs and spices came through nicely in all the 'no heat' versions. The herbs and spices were much less apparent in the 'medium hot' versions and were absolutely eclipsed by the dried peppers in the hottest versions. This insistence on 'heat for the sake of heat' is troubling to me; it's so one dimensional, a lip blistering approach that leads me to ask 'where's the flavor'? Textures varied from juicy to dry and stringy and I said to myself that there must be a way to incorporate the full flavors of my hot sauces into a fried chicken sandwich...did you see that coming?  Katie and I got to work in the kitchen in search of the best hot chicken sandwich recipe. We set up a frying station and did some method and flavor testing using various coatings, sauces and rolls. Sliders turned out to be the best presentation method. We had a brief squabble about the necessity of pickles (I'm an advocate of half sour on the side, Katie insisted that the pickle crunch was essential in the sandwich). Brioche rolls are susceptible to sogginess: beware. Small ciabattas were a great choice.

Now, without making a 'best fried chicken' pronouncement, I'll outline one of the most flavorful and juicy methods we came up with:

Cut a boneless roasting chicken breast into 1/2 inch slices (should give you a nice oval slice)

Dust with your favorite dry rub/spice blend. We're partial to Misfits Spices, one of our farmers market buddies, their Sweet Heat is killer and look for their new reaper blend if you find them in person and pain is your game

Coat with your favorite Dragon's Blood Elixir and spread a couple of tablespoons of plain Greek yogurt over the top, turn several times to coat and refrigerate for a couple of hours (the yogurt will act like buttermilk and give you a tender texture- very tandoor-ish)

Take the refrigerated cutlet and dredge in seasoned flour or seasoned cornmeal (or a combination)

Fry at 350 degrees until brown and crispy (we did a shallow fry in peanut oil- about 3 minutes on a side)

Drain on paper towels and serve quickly to keep the crunch, slather on more hot sauce!

Voila! Flavor, heat and a savory crunch. The experiment was very satisfying, but I think my cholesterol level has risen a bit.

[posts-for-when-im-high]

Personal life post but ya girl was recently diagnosed with Covid for the first time and boy howdy it's an experience. My partner had bronchitis right before I started feeling sick so Naturally I assumed I was also getting bronchitis (what I wouldn't GIVE for bronchitis now, ough). The only thing that clued me in was when I started losing the ability to smell. As a person with very autistic tendencies (sensory-seeking!!! Specifically through smell and taste), this was incredibly depressing for me. On top of this, it is the WEIRDEST GODDAMN THING I'VE EVER EXPERIENCED.

I've seen a ton of posts about how Covid obviously sucks and is incredibly dangerous (really praying I don't end up having long-Covid from this) but no one I've read has ever tried to detail what it's like to be completely lacking two of your basic senses when you are used to having all of them. I hope this isn't ableist of me to try and document parts of my experience; obviously my temporary lacking sense of smell or taste is DRASTICALLY different and non-comparable to someone permanently lacking vision or hearing. It's so hard to even begin to put this experience into words. And I'm not getting all science-y here; I've looked into a few articles about why and how this happens during Covid and I'm not educated enough to describe it accurately here. But it really feels like my brain has completely forgot how to taste or smell.

I know what things taste like. I have very distinct foods and scents I'm drawn to. Very picky eater since birth, so having to eat food while only experiencing Texture™️ is super not fun. But NOTHING TASTES. OR SMELLS. I know what it SHOULD taste like!!! I know what it SHOULD smell like!! But my brain is simply not making the connection between these memories and my senses in the present moment! I've been lighting candles this whole quarantine because small fires bring me joy but I can't smell anything from them. Doesn't matter how strong the scent is or how long it's been burning for. I've been drinking lots of Gat*r*de to try and get plenty of fluids in my system. Which color? Doesn't matter!! Who cares?? I can't taste it anyway!! It's kind of like those weird m-berry pills that people take to flip sour and sweet flavors around in their mouths, but instead of creating the opposite of a flavor, it erases it entirely.

There are still sensations to eating though. Obviously food is still crunchy or soft, loud or quiet. But I still get sort of tingly feelings from mint (mouthwash, toothpaste, peppermint...) and some afterburn and heat sensations from spicy foods (ramen, hot sauce, salsa...) But there is just no FLAVOR from these foods. I dipped a tortilla chip in Goblin Sauce (thank u Nekrogoblikon) like it was a queso dip and didn't even flinch. I've been more experimental with foods these past few days than I've been in my entire life. No regard for flavor whatsoever. But this also makes it so SOUL-CRUSHING when I have foods that I know I enjoy. I'm at the very end of my Girl Scout Cookies for this year. Those aren't around all the time!!! You're telling me I'm not allowed to enjoy my goddamn Tagalongs in the VERY short time I have them for??? There is only ever the vaguest hint of a broad flavor, like Sweet or Salty, and nothing past that.

Not being able to smell perfume is also really strange. I have quite a decent perfume collection with some distinct notes I very much enjoy. Like the candles, regardless of how strong or noteworthy a perfume is to me, I get absolutely no smell from it. I could douse myself in an absolute cacophony of scent and never tell the difference if I was wearing no perfume at all. My lovely partner has realized that this means he can go outside to smoke without me and I won't complain to him that he reeks of weed!!! It's weird!! I can't even smell my cats! One of the best pleasures in life is being able to bury my entire face into my cats fur and inhale!!!! I'm mcfreakin losin it!!!!

[mika-shion]

Messy, Midnight Thoughts

Ah midnight... A wonderfully terrible time for a mind to wander amongst its own thoughts, whether they be good or bad, right or wrong, profound or basic, whatever. Midnight is the time for us overthinkers to either delve into the best or worst parts of ourselves.

Any number of things could be keeping me up tonight. My past friendships/relationships, the mountain of mistakes, cringy or embarrassing memories, or being terrified about the future and its uncertainty.

But no, tonight I am kept awake by a horribly sour stomach.

That being said though, it does give me more time to sit and think.

Every day that goes by it gets harder and harder to not acknowledge the numerous situations that I was ill-prepared for because of my questionably subpar schooling, amongst other things...

Most everyone's story is different, right? Well... While mine isn't packed to the brim with heartache nearly as much as others I know, each one has felt like one truckload after another. Each one being heavier than the last.

As I sit and dwell on some of these thoughts, I find myself realizing just how much weight I give to each of my thoughts and some of them have been made heavier, seemingly by choice.

What I'm saying is that, just like everyone else, I decide what ideas or concepts or whatever are important to me specifically and, at first glance, it seems like I've taken on unnecessary baggage that I probably shouldn't have.

However, upon closer inspection, I have also realized that I'm not entirely sure who I would be without some of these. Which worries me, not as much because of the uncertainty, but it's more so because these particular ideals/thoughts/feelings or whatever they are are a huge part of what's causing me the most grief at the moment, and it's caused me to consider letting them go.

"Well what are these thoughts or feelings" you might be asking, that's easy - some of it is my guilt, my conscience. Some of them are ideals or promises to myself that I've held on to for about as long as I can remember.

Y'see that's part of the trouble with my mind - Even with things that most would consider to be simple decisions, they become a thousand times harder when I begin to wonder why I stop to think about them at all. But see if I didn't do that, I know for a fact that I would come across as a much more heartless person than I actually am or want to be.

I feel like ever since I started seeing therapists at a young age, the concept of metacognition somehow ingrained itself into my mind. I instantly became obsessed with it without even realizing.

I trained myself to think about thinking before stopping to think because it helped me avoid conflict. (Yes that was a sentence I just wrote and you read)

Every new thought comes prepackaged with its own special flavor of anxiety just for me.

And you know what's worse? I experimented to see what it would be like if I didn't do this as much... Maybe about 4 or 5 years ago now.

It didn't end well and I somehow lost the ability to do it for a period of time. I've started trying it again recently and... It helps, I've gotten faster with it, and on top of spiking my anxiety it's also now extremely draining mentally and physically.

I normally save it for periods when I'm meditating, reflecting on what it is I want, what I've done recently to achieve these things, the conversations or interactions I've had, and why I did or said any of what I did.

See this feels so fucking weird to talk about... Because it feels like a thing that should more or less happen automatically, or at least it seems to with other people. Or maybe it's just another case of others being able to process information faster than I can. Which is fine, sort of. I've been trying to come to terms with that for a little while now, but it's a lot harder when I know there are things I can do to improve my ability to focus.

And the worst part is that every time a problem like this comes up, I'm always left to wonder if this is even something that anyone else struggles with, or if this is just another instance of me having missed out on some important class or whatever in school that would have explained even a fraction of this issue.

Either way, leaving me to feel inadequate.

I suppose there isn't much of a point to this anymore, I'm kind of just jotting down whatever comes to my mind in an attempt to lessen the load and maybe get some sleep.

All I can say is if by some chance I'm not alone in this particular issue, then please let me know. But if I am, then... Idk I just hope no one else has to deal with this at any point... Cuz good God does it suck lol

Anyway, love y'all and I hope you have a good week!~

[mikeshardreviews]

To All A Good Night: A Last Word Variation

1 oz. Irish Whiskey

1 oz. Genepy (A Green Chartreuse Alternative)

1 oz Lemon Juice

1 1/2 oz. Medovina Dark Forest Mead

1 Dash Orange Bitters

1 bar-spoon simple syrup

Iridescent Luster Dust

~~~

Instructions:

Combine ingredients into a cocktail shaker. Add two large ice cubes, one whole and one cracked into small pieces using the back of a spoon. Shake the cocktail for 12 (twelve) to 15 (fifteen) seconds to chill and dilute. Double strain into a coupe style cocktail glass and garnish with a lemon peel flag, in the style of your choosing, placed on the rim of the glass.

~~~

The “To All A Good Night” is a variation on a Last Word that I developed for a series of videos called “25 Drinks of Christmas.”

Though it was the first drink i concocted in developing a list of 25 unique drinks, it appears at the end of the series as a sort of thematic parallel to its namesake.

Much like the last phrase of that famous Christmas story, the “To All A Good Night” puts a night cap on the video series with bright and exciting, yet gentle and balanced, flavors.

On the palette, the cocktail is pleasantly tart, with enough sweetness being provided by the liqueurs and syrup to balance the sourness of the lemon juice. This tartness is further contextualized by a gentle dancing of herbs from the Genepy.

Behind this light dancing of citrus brightness and herbs is a robust wine-like honey character that’s been reinforced by the vanilla and oak flavors of the irish whiskey.

~~~

Recipe Alternatives:

Genepy is an alternative to green chartreuse that a local spirits store associate turned me onto during the pandemic, as stockpiles of green chartreuse had been depleted at that time. It is now available on the market again and can be used in place of this alternative.

Green chartreuse is one of two liqueurs featured in a Last Word, and I maintained that for the sake of keeping this cocktail true to its inspiration. That said, yellow chartreuse has a similar, yet distinct flavor that would also be effective in this context without effecting the color.

The dark forest mead in this cocktail was chosen specifically because it carries the flavor of honey more than it does the wine-like character of lighter meads. Should you be unable to find this particular mead, or a different one heavy on the honey flavors, it can be substituted for a honey liqueur like Barenjäger. If you choose this route, remove the bar-spoon of simple syrup entirely.

An Irish whiskey is best here, though a lightly smoky scotch or gin are also effective, though will shift the balance of the cocktail significantly.

~~~

The video I made this cocktail in can be found here, along with many others from the aforementioned series.

Please drink responsibly.

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jisung another late birthday au for the february neos ;__; find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei | doyoung | jaehyun | jungwoo | ten

a sour taste makes its way down jisung's throat

he pulls the candy out of his mouth and scrunches his face up

"did this shit expire?"

renjun's lips thin, "since when have you started cursing?"

chenle harks on the grass beside the other two

"ever since he got dumped."

jisung doesn't disagree.

out of everyone to pick up on his change of habits, it'd be his best friend.

he doesn't like to admit it, but the breakup that launched the beginning of his summer has made him feel different

bitter, angry, empty

he's sure if he told someone older like his parents or a professor they'd explain that it's normal.

it's part of growing up to have to process these horrible emotions and learn to feel them less extremely.

that somehow doesn't comfort jisung at all, why is it his fault that being young makes everything feel more vivid? the shatter of the heart in his chest and all the little pieces wedged up in his veins hurt so bad.

"jisung, you'll find someone better."

renjun ties his shoelaces and gets up, he's still chewing on the taffy they brought from the corner store.

jisung follows and he's never been so awkward about his budding height more than he is now

"i doubt that, i don't think i could find anyone better than my first love."

chenle gives a depressed sounding laugh and renjun starts a spiel about how he's being dramatic and silly

the sounds gloss over in jisung's ears, he tosses the candy he'd spit out and the wrapper over his shoulder

"you shouldn't litter."

three sets of eyes turn to the voice, you stand there with your gym bag over your shoulder on a path a little way down from the grassy hill the boys are on

you look at jisung with an unwavering gaze that drops to where he assumes the candy wrapper landed

you bend down and pick it up, shake your head and walk away

jisung follows your figure through the park as renjun and chenle mutter about how you're kind of right but kind of rude

"do you know them?"

jisung asks and renjun taps the bottom of his chin

"i think ive seen them at the tennis courts."

jisung doesn't know what it is about you.

he mistakenly thinks it is dislike that breeds curiosity when he shows up at the public tennis court the next day

you're out on the court with a group of middle schoolers, showing them the right way to swing a racket

jisung leans against the shade of a tree as you go through each step slowly and then have the kids copy you one by one

when you make a sudden movement to turn in the direction he's standing, he slinks behind the trunk

this is so fucking weird, im being a creep

he doesn't have anything to do for the rest of the day, or the rest of the summer, but still he cringes at himself

i should find something better than staring at a goddamn stranger. chenle was right, im cursing way too much.

so he leaves and he doesn't come back

but he visits the park for the next week with the slight hope that your path will cross with him on accident

not that he entertains that as actual hope - just that curiosity that nips at his heel like a cat asking to be feed

on day seven it happens

jisung is staring up at the expanse of the warm blue sky and you're walking from the direction of the tennis courts, you pause to check your phone and jisung springs to his feet

he's in front of you before he really knows what to even say

you don't look as freaked out as he was scared you might, you actually just blink and then point your finger at him

looks like they've got bad habits just like me

"you're the boy who litters!"

"i don't usually litter, i was just in a bad mood that day."

"doesn't excuse throwing your garbage around."

"is that why you remembered me?"

you slip your phone into the pocket of your duffel bag and shake your head

"no, there's another reason."

jisung itches to ask why but he realizes now that this conversation is going exponentially better than it could have

you could have said something like get the hell away from me....or who are you?

"do you want to walk with me for a little bit?"

fuck, i should have just asked why - asking them to walk is weirder

"why not."

you and jisung do loops around the park - it's pretty big so by the time you're on the third loop the night lamps are coming on and the sun is slowly disappearing

you two have talked about everything and nothing at the same time

jisung asks you if you're going to be at the park tomorrow

"i teach a summer tennis course for the park three times a week, but tomorrow is my off day."

"have any plans?"

he puts his hands in his pockets because they're sweating - i should have asked if they wanted me to carry their bag while we were walking. god did getting broken up with make me so stupid too?

"are you asking me out?"

jisungs palms stick to the fabric of his pants

"i got broken up with before summer started."

he blurts out before he can take it back, you poke your tongue into your cheek

"me too."

the genuine surprise makes jisung look younger than he is and you cross your hands over your chest as if you regret sharing the information

"sorry, i have to go."

you edge around him and jisung has one million thoughts run through his brain, how he should apologize or ask for your number or suggest something that could heal you both in the snap of this one summer minute

but instead he watches you walk ahead for a whole two minutes before you turn on your heel and uncross your arms

"can you meet me here at noon?"

"tomorrow?"

jisung feels the sweat on the nape of his neck now too, matching the moistness on his palms

"no, in twenty years. yes - tomorrow."

he nods and you don't give him anything else to work with as you disappear and jisung catches the last little slither of sunlight wave goodbye with you

"are you rebounding already?"

chenle's voice comes through the headphones as jisung clicks on a zombie with his mouse and shoots it

"it's not a rebound - we both got dumped so i thought we could like...FUCK! i died dude."

chenle groans

"maybe they can help you fix this cursing problem, but uhhh it totally sounds like a rebound to me."

jisung thinks about that as he waits for you at the park

rebounding has actually never even occurred to him as a possibility.

then again falling head over heels and getting tossed aside by the person he thought was his soulmate also never occurred to him as a possibility either - especially not before he's even managed to graduate university

but using someone to feel better about himself - that just isn't him.

"oh you actually came?"

he stops staring at the grass and meets the half smile you're wearing. he matches it with a shy one of his own.

you take jisung's hand easily - as if you weren't strangers a week ago - and tug him toward the park gates

"where-"

you look over your shoulder

"we have to eat ice-cream on a date."

jisung and you have the same taste, getting the same flavor of ice cream with a hard no to sprinkles. you tell jisung about this kid you teach privately for tennis and how he's a little rich brat but his parents always tip you nicely. jisung tells you that his best friend is chenle and they met when he nearly broke an elbow on the first day of middle school.

jisung pays for your bus ticket into the busier part of the city, you beat him at a couple of arcade games, and then he absolutely crushes you at mini-basketball. you pile all your tickets together and jisung tells you to pick the prize you want.

he watches you as you scan the cheap toys and then turn to your left where a younger girl is trying to see if she has enough for a sad looking stuffed panda

you dump the tickets into her hand and grin when her whole face lights up, jisung walks out behind you and goes

"you're actually nice aren't you?"

"oh - you didn't think i was nice when we first met?"

"i-"

jisung stutters when you look directly at him

"i just mean you- it was nice what you did in the arcade."

"why did your ex break up with you?"

jisung's world sort of stops for a moment. you still haven't looked away and he gets lightheaded by the sudden question.

"i don't know."

you nod, as if the answer is what you expected, and you take his hand again and make way toward the bus

he curls his larger fingers around yours and is silently thankful you don't ask for any more details

actually you both don't say anything the ride back, even though you rest your head on his shoulder the entire time

your hands are still clasped together and jisung finds himself not wanting to let go even when you stop in front of the park again

"thanks for the date."

you unwind your fingers first and jisung swallows

"do you want to go on another one?"

you shake your head

"sorry, i don't think i can do this more than once."

genuine shock sets in on jisung's face

"w-what do you mean?"

"i know being heartbroken makes you lonely, it makes me lonely too, but i can't just be someone's summer fling and get abandoned again. plus jisung -"

you tilt your head with a small laugh

"i think you're really cute and if we do this again i will start liking you seriously."

what the fuck do i say?

jisung thinks the summer heat in the air constricts around him - especially when he can't open his mouth to answer and you give a solemn wave as you turn and start to disappear down the sidewalk

fuck fuck fuck fuck

the curses start to hurt his brain and jisung breaks into a sprint to catch you before you make it to the end of the block

slipping his hand back into yours and spinning you to face him

"im not going to abandon you. and i - i already like you so please let me take you on another date."

the words fall out like letters into alphabet soup and you stare wide-eyed at him for about a second before you lean in and kiss him

and jisung forgets the entire language he's spoken since he was a child, curses and vulgarity gone with it

the second date comes and goes, then the third, and then the fourth, fifth, and sixth.

jisung watches you give tennis lessons and you even tug him onto the court one day to help with picking up the scattered balls off the court

the younger kids you teach really adore him, tall and smiley, they cling to him more than they do to you

and there really isn't any way you can stop them because soon enough you feel that urgency to be near him always too

it might be because jisung is so different from your ex, and you are so different from his

the reality is that when you finally tell each other what happened before your respective summers started

it turns out - it's almost exactly the same

jisung looks up at you as you lay across him in the tall grass of an empty corner of the parks sprawling fields, your tennis equipment abandoned and his shoes sitting beside yours in a lazy heap

"they just told me one day i wasn't enough."

you bury your face in his chest and sigh

"maybe im not, maybe something about me is still missing."

the tenor of his voice is sad and you put both hands on the grass to lift yourself up above him, you stare down into the prettiest eyes you've ever seen on a boy in your life

"shuttup park jisung. nothing is missing from you. you're enough."

he gives you a goofy smile and you want so badly to smile back and kiss him but you take the moment seriously and add

"remember when you asked me if i only remembered you because i caught you littering like weeks ago?"

the furrow of his eyebrow is enough of an answer

"i said there was another reason."

he sits up and you fall gently back against his knees and lap, jisung opens his mouth as if to ask what it was but you put your hands on both his cheeks before he can

"that reason was because i could see all of you - people tend to be shrouded in something, but it was all on your face the moment you made eye contact with me. jisung - you're the farthest person i know from being incomplete. you're you and no one else."

the weight of your words comes crashing down on you a second later and you get up off of jisung in a fit of embarrassment

even though you meant what you said it felt like something of a wedding vow than something you say someone you've been dating for only a month

but jisung just breaks into a bigger smile - he pulls you back down into a hug that gets you both covered in grass stains

"im so happy"

you smell the fabric softener on his t-shirt and suddenly wish you could slip it off of him and put it on yourself

his hands tighten around you

"i always thought the other reason was because i was ugly or something."

you scrunch up your nose and tell him to be quiet, but jisung just laughs and buries his nose in your hair

the rest of the summer is smooth and the happiest one you've had so far - and jisung, who had thought it would be hell, agrees

renjun points out that he hasn't heard jisung even utter the word 'damn' since he started dating you

and chenle cuts in that it's true - now whenever they game jisung just groans into the mic (or abandoned the game completely to fool around you with - as it is in chenle's imagination)

you notice it too, and you notice how everyday jisung grows further from the heartbreak that he had festered on for so long

and just becomes more open with you

on your last day at your summer job and what feels like the last day of summer in general, jisung picks you up with balloons

you both hand them out to the kids you worked with and keep one shaped like a big red heart tied around your wrist as you two walk through the dimming evening of the park

fall is coming, your shoulders shake and jisung pulls you closer into him, and when he stops suddenly

you see that you're in the place where you first met - when jisung had let that candy wrapper tumble down a grassy hill and you had picked it up with disdain

"is untying the balloon and letting it float off considered littering?"

he asks and you think for a second

"probably, it'll get stuck in a tree somewhere and we don't want that."

he looks down and leans in to kiss you gently, letting your lower lip sit between his teeth for a moment before he pulls away

"can we do it anyway to make the moment special?"

you look at him, eyes clear as day, and answer

"every moment is special with you."

jisung manages to get ten of those red balloons through the door of your shared apartment on your tenth anniversary

you fret about how balloons are bad for the environment, but still launch yourself at him in a big hug when he gets them all settled into your living room

he catches you, laughing as you both muse that you can't believe it has been ten years since you met

"and i haven't cursed once since then - can you believe it?"

you roll your eyes and say yeah sure, like he didn't curse when he stubbed his toe on your bed this morning

he pouts his lip and asks, "play along ok - just say i haven't cursed once."

"you haven't cursed once in the ten years we have been dating."

something twinkles in jisung's eye and you bite back your lip

"exactly - so is it ok if i curse this one time and say-"

he fishes something out of his pocket that looks like a small box, you think your breath catches in your throat

"i fuc-freaking love you - will you marry me?"

[miraculouscontent]

I know that you said that it was an one shot, but I really love the idea of marinette stay in Paris with Luka and kagami and avoid all the NY drama! If you can, can you share more of it? Even if just a few little ideas it would be great! (I love your ideas!)

(the one-shot this anon is referring to)

Aw, thank you so much!

And sure, after some thought, I did really want to write a little more with them!

—————

While throwing away their now juice-less cups, Marinette made the realization of how different things seemed with Luka and Kagami. She had already experienced hanging out with both of them separately, but she'd never imagined having both of them with her at once. It wasn't as if she'd always dismissed or despised the idea, but the only time they'd interacted as a group had been with Adrien around, which had probably soured the whole thing and thus involuntarily caused her to never think about it.

With her friends, everything was typically high-energy. Juleka and Mylene weren't very involved in creating such an atmosphere, but Marinette herself, Rose, Alya, and kept things energized. It wasn't a bad thing in general, but it made Marinette wonder if maybe surrounding herself with people who only encouraged her excitable habits wasn't a good thing.

Meanwhile, Luka and Kagami were completely different, both from her and her friends. Neither were particularly loud - though both could be when they wanted to - and they weren't really the kind to tease or mess with her either. Luka wasn't quiet in the way Juleka was, just seeming to absorb the world around him, whereas Kagami only spoke when she felt that there was something of value to say. Marinette had worried briefly that she might've been too different from the both of them, or that she'd overwhelm them due to speaking up the most, but instead, there was a sense of balance. Luka smiled or chuckled reassuringly whenever she caught herself rambling, whereas Kagami would cut in with her own views that were often direct but nevertheless good in their intentions. Perhaps her personality rubbed off on them in a way she couldn't fully understand?

Still, it was nice.

As the three were deciding what to do next, Marinette's phone suddenly went off. Marinette looked at her purse and pulled out her phone, half-expecting a text from one of her classmates about her missing the bus, but it was actually a notification about where Andre the ice cream man was.

Kagami glanced over after noticing the look on Marinette's face. "You want to get ice cream?"

Marinette frowned, Kagami's voice reminding her of the day the two of them had gone for ice cream with Adrien. She still remembered talking to Andre, hoping beyond hope that maybe the man wouldn't make them pick between the three different flavors. His words still stung a little, not because of Adrien, but because of what the words meant.

"Too many flavors mixed together may throw off the delicate balance."

It implied that one of them would always be the third wheel if they were together, no matter what, and it was a hollow feeling that she'd only recently started to accept.

"Marinette?"

Feeling a comforting hand on her shoulder, she looked over and noted Luka offering her a concerned expression. It grounded her, serving as a reminders that things were different now and that Adrien wasn't there which, in a strange way, brought her an immense sense of comfort.

"I'm fine," she assured. Turning her attention back to her phone, she deleted the notification and then made sure that she wouldn't be getting another one. "Ice cream sounds good, if you want it too, but... I think I've got a better idea than Andre's."

Luka and Kagami exchanged curious glances.

—————

"Here's to Neapolitan ice cream!" Marinette declared dramatically, raising her spoon up with flair before shoving it and the ice cream on it right into her mouth.

Luka snorted in amusement while Kagami gave an acknowledging nod, probably remembering the exact phrase from Andre that Marinette had recalled earlier.

They'd picked up the carton of ice cream on the way to Marinette's place, with Marinette insisting on paying in order to spoil them, and while they seemed confused on the specifics of her insistence, they gave in soon enough. Marinette could understand why she'd be the expected person to be comforted, but giving to others made her happy on its own and she felt they deserved it. After all, Luka had tried his hardest to catch up to the bus and Kagami was still dealing with Adrien wanting to leave for New York despite her being in Paris.

They'd ultimately decided on splitting the entire carton between the three of them, with each of them getting a majority of the one of the flavors and then the rest of that flavor going to the other two. Marinette had gone with chocolate, Kagami had gone with vanilla, and Luka had gone with strawberry. It might've seemed like a weird choice to go with since they'd just had orange juice, but it hadn't been much and it wasn't exactly a "treat."

Marinette may have considered suggesting ice skating instead if her first thought of it wasn't her slipping and bringing Luka and Kagami down to the ice with her. Ice cream was the safer alternative to "cold fun."

"Luka," she called thoughtfully, taking another bite before asking, "you're not feeling sore or anything, are you?"

He met her gaze, smiling at the concern but waving his hand dismissively. "I'm alright, Marinette. I'm used to biking around for hours because of my job, so it wasn't a big deal."

Kagami halted, spoon halfway in her mouth while her brows rose noticeably. She finished the scoop, then turned to look at Luka. "You have a job?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I deliver pizza." He grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. "Are you surprised?"

Kagami's expression didn't shift, but Marinette had known her long enough to see that she was embarrassed. "Oh, no. It's... I don't have one."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Luka shrugged. "I just have the time to do it."

"Mm." Kagami looked back at her ice cream, poking at the surface with her spoon. "I suppose it would be too difficult with my fencing lessons."

Marinette giggled sheepishly, happy to join in on the conversation. "I probably wouldn't be able to either. There's all my fashion work with my website, and then there's the unexpected babysitting, the bakery, and I'm also the class representative." She hurriedly added an, "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm bad at planning," when she felt that it seemed like such little things. She was Ladybug and the new guardian too, of course, but she couldn't be blurting that out, so she could only hope that it didn't seem like she was whining over nothing.

She averted her gaze, scooping up a self-conscious bite of her ice cream and shoving it into her mouth. She was partway through savoring it when she realized that neither Luka nor Kagami had responded to her. Daring a look back, she saw them staring at her with varying gazes.

Kagami seemed stunned, commenting, "That is... well, much, actually," referring to what Marinette had just tried to brush off.

Was it? Marinette had never really thought about it. In fact, she distinctly remembered back in the day where people might've thought she was just scatterbrained and didn't really do anything. Back when she was hesitant to be class representative and claimed that she was busy, Alya had asked her with a hint of snark what she was busy with, like she expected her to have a free schedule.

Even beyond her role of Ladybug at the time, she still had random babysitting to do and still frequently worked on her fashion projects. Thinking back, it stung just a little.

As Marinette glanced at Luka, she at first felt that the amount of sympathy he was directing at her was excessive, but then she remembered how she had cried in front of him to the point where he'd dropped his bike and guitar in order to comfort her. She blushed, both in shame and from the memory of him holding her so closely.

"Ah—well—it's okay!" she said hurriedly, "Anyway, forget about me! This day is about... um, this ice cream, and ice cream doesn't have problems that you should worry about!"

She nearly gave herself brainfreeze from how quickly she scooped up and ate the next bite, but figured it'd be worth it if they dropped the subject.

It wasn't worth it.

"You should be more careful," Kagami commented critically, an edge to her voice that Marinette knew wasn't meant to be anger at her. "You're my friend, so don't overwork yourself."

Marinette grinned nervously, still trying to lighten the mood. "A-are you saying it'd be alright to overwork myself if I wasn't your friend?"

Kagami's gaze didn't waver, and Marinette slowly tried to sink into her seat.

Luka set his spoon down on the bowl, then chimed in, "I don't know anything about fashion, Marinette, but if you ever need any help with anything—"

Kagami clicked her own spoon against her bowl to interrupt him, as if she felt personally slighted that he'd gotten to say it first. "We're here for you."

Luka nodded to confirm.

"Oh." Marinette blushed deeper, touched by the gesture from both of them. She thought about trying to reassure them again, but their gazes were firm and showed no room for argument, so she settled for a soft, "Thanks."

They resumed eating their ice cream from there, the topic officially concluded. Though the atmosphere felt noticeably different, Marinette was surprised to realize that it wasn't exactly in a bad way. She feared that she'd ruined the mood, but instead felt like she was supported, with Kagami and Luka looking satisfied with their choice in offering help to her.

It was like she was Ladybug, and they were the partners standing at her side, each with their own form of support. It made her smile, allowing her to happily eat away at her ice cream without thinking about anything stressful.

The idea of going to New York was suddenly very unappetizing in comparison to having ice cream with Luka and Kagami.

—————

All things considered, Ladybug wasn't concerned about telling Chat Noir that her plans had changed and she wasn't going anywhere after all. She imagined that Chat would be overjoyed and wouldn't even ask questions about it, just happy to have her back. She found his affection eyeroll-worthy, but he was still her teammate, so she just steeled herself up for whatever ramble he was about to give her.

However, as she waited near the top of the Eiffel Tower, sitting on the guardrail and looking around for Chat Noir, she realized that she couldn't even see him. Checking the time on her yoyo, she confirmed that it was indeed time for their usual patrol, but Chat Noir was completely absent. Even though it was nighttime, which made the black cat's suit blend in with the sky, he still had the blond hair and light skin that should've made him noticeable.

Ladybug got up and paced around the area a few times, constantly peeking down at the city as she wondered if maybe she just wasn't looking in the right spot. When she still saw nothing, she concluded that Chat Noir must just be running late and she'd simply have to wait a little longer. Things happened, after all, she knew that better than anyone, so she began idling on her yoyo, searching for something to keep her occupied while she waited.

They were a team. While their identities had to remain a secret, Chat Noir had always hated it and prioritized openness in their relationship, so he would've told her if something had come up. He was also active in going on patrols, always seeming eager to join her for their runs across the rooftops, and given that he didn't even know that she'd still be in Paris, patrols were even more crucial.

He never showed up.

[nebulousfishgills]

Our Reality

("In Reality," Part 2)

Request by @cuddleluv : can you PLSSSSSS make a part 2 to the “in reality” ff 😩 I’ve got idea for it too! so y/n moves on and yk gets a new lover (you could choose who lol) and Wanda realizes what she lost after she sees y/n with her new lover and tries to get her back but y/n rejects her because her new lover respects and loves her

Ahhhh I'm so glad part one was so well received! Apologies for not getting this out sooner, I've been just so busy and, being honest, was seriously debating whether or not to actually create a second part. But I've gotten a few requests for it, a new experience for me. So here you go! ❤

I chose your new partner to be Natasha because why not?

Warnings: Angst, feels, swearing, Natasha x Reader (just in case you don't vibe with that) fluff (from Natasha), like, one very brief mention of sexual ideas

ฯฯฯ

"Tasha, did something burn in here?" You asked, entering the kitchen with a wrinkled nose. Natasha's face poked out from the faint smoke coming from the oven, her hand fanning it away.

"Well, it was supposed to be cookies for your birthday, but I guess that's not happening." She said, her cheeks turning a little pink. You felt heat bloom in your chest at the sweet gesture. Your face broke out into a grin.

"Aww, Tasha, you didn't have to do that!" You said.

"I almost wish I hadn't; it smells awful in here." Nat replied sheepishly.

"Well, at least you tried. That's more than enough."

Your mind wandered back to the events of a few months ago and your nasty breakup with Wanda at your word choice. She hadn't even tried to make an effort with you. You were just some disposable girlfriend to her. Something to distract her.

For weeks you had wallowed in self pity before deciding to get yourself back out there again. Slowly, sure. And you certainly weren't going to prey on a down on their luck possible partner for food and fucks. You were bigger than Wanda in that sense, at least.

After yet another failed date, you were walking home with your heels in your hands and dirt on your feet. You could keep your head held high and look around more.

Someone grabbed for your bag and started running off with it. You screamed after them, calling for someone to help. You were running out of breath not long after, ready to say goodbye to your possessions when the thief was suddenly knocked down. A woman with bright red hair had punched him in the face and sent him to the ground with a roundhouse kick. You approached her as she picked up the bag.

"Is this yours?" She queried.

"Y-yes. Thank you." You replied.

"No problem. But..."

"But?"

"Well, I saved your purse. So it's only fair we get coffee later." The redhead smirked at you. "Unless you would rather not."

"No, of course. It's the least I can do...?"

"Natasha."

"Natasha." You repeated. "The coffee place around the corner from here? Tomorrow at 9?"

"Sounds like a date."

And that's how you had met Natasha. Part of you had been worried remembering how you had first met Wanda after a bad morning. Well, having a bad evening could mean something different, you had figured. Sure enough, you and Nat had met for coffee and hit it off almost immediately. Now you both had a quaint little apartment together and you honestly hadn't ever felt happier.

Well, maybe you had been when you were still with Wanda, but those memories had soured knowing what she had really thought of you.

"Well, the cookies are a bust. How about we go to the cupcake place down the street and grab a few?" Nat suggested.

"That's the best alternative you could have suggested, Tasha. I'll grab my things."

"Okay, but I'm buying. It's still your birthday."

"If you insist."

***

"How about six lemon and six (your favorite cupcake flavor)?" You said.

"Sure thing. The order should be ready in a few minutes." The cashier said, jotting down the order and delivering the ticket to the back as Nat handed over the cash for the dozen cakes.

"I'm gonna go use the restroom, (Y/N). You can wait outside and I'll grab the cakes when I finish." Nat said, kissing your forehead.

"Okay."

The little bell dinged a few times as you exited the store, taking in the fresh air. The thought of the cupcakes made your stomach rumble the more moments passed. You pulled out your phone to distract yourself while you waited.

"(Y/N)?" A voice said from your left. You looked up at the direction of the voice and your breath immediately hitched.

Wanda.

"Oh. Hello, Wanda." You said curtly, returning your gaze to your screen.

"How... are you doing?" Wanda asked you.

"Like you care." You mumbled. Wanda didn't hear the comment, standing in silence for a moment.

"Okay, (Y/N), I have the cupcakes." Nat said, coming out of the store with a lavender box in her hand.

"Thanks, Tasha." You said, pecking her lips. Maybe this was petty; Nat wasn't big on PDA, but Wanda was standing right there and... it was too good to pass up.

"You're... Dating Nat?" Wanda asked.

"Yes. And?"

"...nothing, I guess."

"Exactly."

Wanda seemed to notice the box in Nat's hand (the redhead analyzing the conversation carefully so she could pull you away if need be), reading the label on the lid.

"Oh? What's the occasion?" Wanda asked, testing the waters. You inhaled sharply, turning on your heel to face Wanda.

"I would have been more surprised if you had actually remembered my birthday, all things considered. It's not like you cared anyways.

"(Y/N), wait--"

"February 16th, Wanda. That's the day you were born. That's right, I actually put in an effort to remember." You snapped.

"I... I... Y/N, listen, I--"

"Oh, here it comes. Wanda's Pity Party. Well, go ahead. Say what you have to." You folded your arms and stared at Wanda like a mad bull. The brunette bit her lip and rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

"I... look, I realize that I was being wildly insensitive and I should never have strung you along like that. I understand that and I deeply apologize. I was hoping that we might be able to move past this and... maybe be friends?" She said quietly. At this, you had to laugh.

"Friends? It's gonna take a lot more than that to even get close to friends, Wanda." You said haugtily. Then, you finally sighed. "I appreciate at least a small apology, though. But I don't ever see myself forgiving you."

"Y/N--" Wanda reached her hand out, but you batted it away.

"If you ever try to touch me again, I swear to God I'll--"

"Y/N, sweetheart, I think we should go." Natasha intervened before things could get worse. You glared at Wanda before walking back over to Nat and allowing her to place an arm around your shoulders. You glanced back at Wanda when you both started walking away. She looked crestfallen standing in the middle of the sidewalk. As much as you wanted to feel bad for her, you couldn't. Choosing to put on a brave face while you wiped your tears, you pulled out one of the cupcakes from the box in Nat's hand.

It was still your birthday after all. You would at least try to make it a good one.

ฯฯฯ

Hope you enjoyed this, cuddleluv (and everyone else who had been asking about it)!

As always, requests are open, so send them in!