Because the bedsheet ask was so random, I have another random ask…
When you wash cups, do you let them air dry or dry them with a towel…
How did 2024 get me to this point?
Now, listen up, maggots. Picture this:
There you are, posed in front of the sink (no dishwashers please, I'm too broke to know how dishwashers work, I've only read about them in Drarry fanfics). You stand there, and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.
Your cup, that you drank tea from but it was actually spiked with alcohol because your third cousin gossiped about your sister's husband to her mother-in-law and you're the go-between, is in your hand. You have just washed it.
The drops of water glisten in the noon sun. You wonder, briefly, why adulthood has you drinking before 1 pm. Then you brush that thought away like you did your sweat. Some things are best ignored.
What is important is the cup. You look at it, so wet and glistening and ready for you, and you wonder how to do it justice. Should you take the towel and gently rub it until it's dry and clean? Surely you should! You look around for the towel.
There hangs the towel, on the hook by the sink. It is coarse, and off-white, like eggified precome. Have you been reading too much fanfiction? No. Anyway, you reach for the towel, but pause midway.
The towel has been hanging there, moist from the last rubbing, fermented with bacteria and protozoans that yearn to feel its wetness and consume it. The fungi have not arrived yet, you take care to wash the towel enough for that. Or do you?
You hesitate, you do not remember the last time you washed the towel. Aftercare is a lost art, fading away like handweaving and ironworking and the knowledge that crumbled in Alexandria.
You look down at your darling cup, cradling so trustingly in the palm of your hand, still wet but not so much anymore, warming in the sunlight.
No, you decide. You will not sully your cup. You lay it aside to airdry, and cast one lingering glance at it before walking away.
The towel still remains on the hook, hanged for its crimes, left to its fate. Always to clean, never to be cleaned.
You have made the right choice. The cup will be pristine. The towel wilts in the noon sun, before hardening like plaster. A statue, a work of permanence, the mortification of the filth in flesh that the first ascetic Christians who settled in Ancient Rome preached.
All is well.
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When told to wash the dishes never complain or you will be “punished”.
Do not call “Child Protection Services” or you will be “punished” again.
Don’t think what you are thinking. I know what you are thinking.
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OOOOHHHHH UR WRITING IS PERFECT🎀 can u do domestic flirty kissy stuff with Seongjoon😭🙏viral hit chokehold has me😭
Thank you so much, sweet anon! My god, you guys are really liking Seongjun huh? I desperately need to reread about him because this well is running dry 😭
Baek Seongjun x Reader: Washing dishes
The sight of Seongjun as he cleans the dishes always sends you a little wild.
You told him that once, and his eyes softened even as he laughed.
Maybe it's the way his hands are occupied. He's defenseless as you pinch his butt on your way past.
Or how sometimes he finds himself lost in the chore, music playing from his phone, and he hums and sings to pass the time.
(You secretly filmed a snippet of this for his livestream, and his fans went wild.)
It could just be the way his sleeves are pushed up to his elbows - revealing his muscular, tattooed forearms.
And then the reminder of his strong hands and long fingers moving through the water, carefully scrubbing and rubbing away, evoking steamy memories. Heavens above, this man is sexy.
Perhaps it's how you sometimes hover in the kitchen too, cooking or cleaning or whatever else. Then he turns around and flicks you with water as you flinch and yelp.
On second thoughts, you're sure it's how natural it is to press yourself against his back and wind your arms around his waist. Seongjun leans into you, smiling as he carries on.
Then you tiptoe, nudging aside his hair with your nose, and plant kisses along his neck and upper back.
But, very simply - it might just be because it's a sign of your shared home, your shared life. How far you have both come.
The sweet comfort of domesticity.
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Togawa helping Nozue wash dishes - Old Fashion Cupcake
Akira helping Shin wash dishes - Minato Shouji Coin Laundry
Pat helping Pran wash dishes - Bad Buddy
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(Art: Painting by Anna Ancher)
* * * * *
If while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not “washing the dishes to wash the dishes.” What’s more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can’t wash the dishes, the chances are we won’t be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future—and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.
~Thich Nhat Hanh
(Book: The Miracle of Mindfulness)
[Philo Thoughts]
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