#especially not old crusty alcoholics

[chainsawch]

God damnit I think I'm attracted to Kishibe

But specifically anime kishibe. Not manga kishibe. Why? Who knows, certainly not me 🤷‍♂️

#help what do i do #hes just a dude #this is unusual for me #gay for kishibe?? #csm #csm kishibe #i dont fall for men often #especially not old crusty alcoholics #but idk man... hes hitting different in the anime #second bisexual awakening i guess #edit: not to dog on anyone who likes old crusty alcoholics btw #love who you love #:thumbsup:

[suguruplsr]

4:00 AM

✰ your boyfriend picking you at damn near 4 am leads to you two fucking. not your fault he’s fine..

,, toji x fem reader , fluff + nsfw , some plot , loosely related to this , masturbation (m) , clit rubbing , he cums on your pussy , grinding , you ride his chest , use of “daddy” , body worship ? , light nipple & cum play , dirty talk , pet names (baby , mama , my lady , princess but jokingly , ) , mentioned that toji stole ur panties before (consensual)

“same city, same hoes, can’t move sour”

“at this hour, it’s 4:00 am with you now what?”

“it’s ‘bout to go down”

“yeah, you left your crew, now what?”

“it’s ’bout to go down”

“shorty, what you wanna do?” - Pistashios, Brent Faiyaz

you stood outside of your local bar, light clothes with a puffy bubble coat, worst choice of clothes to wear considering you stayed with your whiskey all night. on the rocks of course.

maybe you’ve overdone it, it was so damn early in the morning, and you got there at 11 pm? maybe even 10. all you remember is your friends deciding to gang up together, who’ve probably left you by now, to make your night better than that trashy 9 to 5 job you work at everyday. well, worked. stupid old crusty men with their favoritism. you let it slide for a few months after he was appointed as your manger at the little boutique down the street. but even with the disgusting and not-so-smooth tone of his voice, you were pretty— no, hella fucking underpaid. and of course men like him switch up the second you question their behaviors.

at least toji wasn’t like that.

toji. oh fuck. you remember telling you’d let him know when you’d get home. which you clearly have no way getting to. especially after he gave you an eye roll, on the phone, when you gave a last second call to just tell him where you were. he swears you called so late because you wouldn’t be able to handle his judgment for you going to go get yourself shit-faced. but really, you did forget the “caring” man had goal of always being able to keep you safe, or at least keep up with your location, in case of emergencies. something that’s a high risk within this dump of a city.

your shaky and cold fingers tap through your phone, cursing yourself when it hits something else than your messages, eager to just get away from the building.

Friday [3:32 am] y/n — cranky: can u come pick me up..

Friday [3:32 am] cranky — pretty loser: you better explain yourself.

damn. same minute, and a period? as much as you love that man, you cannot handle a sassy ass toji, and most definitely not when there’s still fizzes of alcohol in you. you don’t want to end up in the wrong, right, bed because of some stupid shit you may say to fight back his side eyes.

you walk away from the double doors of the bar, heading towards the parking lot. you lean against the brick wall, watching the coldness of your breath drift off into the air. rnb music played softly in your earbuds, few people roaming the streets in the dark night. you could lightly hear a few drunken men exiting the bar doors with slurred words and laughs, all patting each others back.

how can they be so lively at this time of night? must’ve been a celebration.

well you don’t have room to talk. a bit impatient, you checked the time, 3:38. five minutes. now that you think about it, you weren’t sure how far toji’s house was from here.

distracting yourself, you ponder over the, “calculations”, in your head of about how much time it’d take for him to get here. well, until you hear the familiar engine of his ford mustang, you wonder how he was even able to afford the latest model.

but considering his occupation, you lose the thought all together.

it took 12 minutes in total. the second the suspicious black card is parked in front of you, you’re walking towards it with a fast pace. almost opening the door until he’s opening his door and quickly locking the doors. “what the fuck..?” you mutter, glaring at toji as he walks around the car with a huff of annoyance.

oh.

okay maybe he has some gentleman qualities, you think, letting him unlock and open the door for you, suffering the pain of touching the cold ass handle. yet he still hasn’t talked, not when he got in, not when he got back on the road with a hand on the wheel and the other in your hold, and not when he’s sat at a red light, currently giving you judgmental glances that are more painful than the silence.

“i wasn’t checking the time.” “yea no shit.” okay, you can do this.. you hope. “sooo maybe you shouldn’t look at me like that..?” you sing, holding toji’s hand a bit tighter, it’s big and warm, a comforting warmth that you bring up to your lips with a soft peck. “well maybe you shouldn’t have shit friends.” he grumbles, pressing the gas as soon as the light changes, unconsciously nudging his hand closer to feel your soft lips.

“oh c’mon, we were hanging out for hours. they probably had too much to drink and forgot about me or something..” you hum, turning to him and leaning over the arm rest, running a hand along his arm as he brings his fingers up to your chin. “did they ever text you?” he scoffs, squishing your cheeks, yet his eyes don’t leave the road. even if he did want to give you a knowing look from the sound of your silence as your check your phone.

3:51 • [no new messages]

and your mood falls downcast. biting your lip in nervousness as he waits for your response, maybe they’ll tell you their excuse later in the morning.

“you can’t blame them, it’s almost 4 am” you murmur. and he tuts, keeping your head upright as soon as you put down your phone. you know this street, the last light that leads to his creepy stale neighborhood full of rich old folks. wait, his neighborhood?

you don’t even have the energy to question his route. you just hope you don’t see that one old hag who always nags you two about your relationship.

the red beam reflects in your eyes, all doey and flickering him with a tiny pout tugging your lips. “well i don’t like their lack of care for their dear friend. next time you should just go with me.. and weren’t you the reason why you all even went? tsk.” toji’s face scrunch up, disdain clear in his expression while you ponder over his words.

“nothing’s gonna change your mind?” “nada.” and you sit back defeated. he hand moves to your thigh, squeezing it firmly as a light of green flashes. you stay silent, fiddling with his fingers. which are crazily bigger than yours, and could definitely use a trim. maybe you could cut his cuticles too? is that even safe? he could use a spa day in general, plus a massage, you’ve seen the way he’s twisted his body in insane ways just to crack his back.

you’re shaken from your thoughts when the music in the background stops, car parked and off as he steps out his door. after earlier, you were well reminded to not even touch the door handles, how could you ever forget that? he’s always been adamant on that.

he’s opening the door, greeting you with a small grin, “does the princess need to be carried?” toji chuckles lightly, giving you a hand and guiding you out of the car. “very funny.” you roll your eyes, a smile on your face as he locks the car doors and fishes through his keys for the one meant for the front door.

you walk out the shower, exhausted. and before you can even think of getting comfortable on his bed, you’re distracted by the figure on it.

it’s not like you haven’t seen toji’s body before, far from that, but it’s just something about it. his shirt off with a pair of sweats on. he was laying back against the headboard arms spread wide on it for you to slip easily in them. all with his eyes closed and comfortable.

his muscles are defined, probably made by greek gods from how perfectly they’re structured. and he’s so broad, taking up over half of the space with his large shoulders. just the sight of his neck makes you ache, you’re not sure why that is. but the way he tilts his head back, adam’s apple sticking out, makes you want to sit on his lap and kiss all over it, hands traveling along his physique.

“your mind must be in the gutter. y’r eatin’ me up like no tomorrow..”

toji calls you out with a smirk playing in his face, head tilting towards you. and you saunter over to him without hesitation, oblivious to the way his eyes darken in realization to what you’re wearing.

you don’t keep much clothes at his house, so you usually find yourself wearing his shirts with panties. panties, that he steals off you every now and then. but today you opted for wearing a little white spaghetti strap with a pair of cute pair of matching lace panties. the less, the better.

his eyes are stuck on the way your breasts jiggle when you take your spot on his lap, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself closer. “i can’t help it. i just love your body..” you coo with a playful pout, letting your hands swarm along his body. it’s slow, adoring every inch of his skin and sometimes griping his muscles.

“i can say the same baby.” toji mutters, breath hitching when your hands begin to run up and down on his stomach. he’s probably poking your thighs by now from how sensitive he feels when your fingers drag along the outline of his v-line.

“oh yeah?”

“fuck yeah.”

and you giggle, holding his face with one hand as you two enter a kiss. your lips fight against each other hungrily while your other hand reaches down between your thighs, feeling his hard length strain in his pants. toji grunts when you begin to rub your thighs on it, squeezing them together, and the friction makes him pull away from your lips, head thrown back.

“shit. gunna make me cum.” he huffs out, and it makes your pussy throb. it’s so attractive, the long of his neck, the way his muscles visibly tighten and he’s grabbing the headboard to stabilize himself. you move your hands back behind you, holding onto his legs, and keeping your hips up to grind on his hard cock with your legs spread around his body. it's fucking amazing, the way he could see and feel your clothed pussy, the outline of his cock dragging along your folds.

“wanna feel it on my panties daddy..” you give a whine, tucking out your lips and looking up at him so cutely. and how can he say no?

toji wastes no time rolling his pants down a bit, fishing out his cock and holding the base, directing it towards your white panties. you hold back a moan at the feeling of his tip nudging your bud through your panties. he gives a few tight and short jerks of his cock as you push your pussy impossibly closer. “fuckin’ dirty, bet ya want ‘em soaked all over. gonna cum on that pussy n’ rub your panties on it.” his words make you whimper, feeling his fingers push the cloth aside.

toji smirks at the sight of your soaping pussy, wet and sensitive to the cold air. his tip slips through your folds, gathering the slick on his cock. “tojiii, o-ohh..” you can feel your body aching to lay back, tightening your grip on his legs as he teases your entrance. you can’t even pull your eyes away from his cock. it’s so girthy, tip lightly red with veins bulging a bit. you can’t help but want to reach down help him, his pre cum was coming out in slow little blobs.

“do it really slow n’ hard, base up. i-imagine my tongue dragging under your cock, your cock flat on it.” you murmur out, turning into a whine when he follows your command, a deep groan escaping him, “f-fuck you know about this baby? feels fucking gooood.” toji heaves, slowly picking up the pace when your hole sucks his tip in.

“how do you think i suck you off so good?” you give a small grin when he’s letting out a low ‘fuuck’, quickly pulling back to let his dick sit on your folds, spurts and globs of cum spilling onto your pussy. his doesn’t stop his hand, trying to make your pussy as messy as possible, and gripping your thigh tightly with the other. then he snaps your panties back in place, making you squirm from the hot feeling of his cum spreading around your pussy.

“oooh, ya feel that? s’all mushy n’ warm, yea?” toji chuckles, his eyes watching as a patch of wetness slowly forms on the cloth. “mhm! love it so much, but i wanna drag it all over y’r chest toji! been thinkin’ about it..” your whimpers has his dick twitching again, mindlessly pushing your panties against your hole, feeling around it. “fucking spoiled.” he scoffs.

and now here you are, both of you bare and naked with hickies and marks all over each other, sitting on his wide large chest, pussy flush against his muscles. “you can do it yourself right? c’mon mama, you got it.” toji gives a small smile, arms behind his head as you hold onto his shoulders. “y-yea, i got itt.. mm” when your pussy drags along the line of his chest, you fall down to little mewls, feeling every muscle of his chest.

“you see it baby? look at you makin’ a mess on me.” his body vibrates with his chuckle, going straight to your pussy. you drag your cunny on his defined muscles, going all the way down to his six pack. you bite your lip at the sight of his chest covered in the slick of your mixed cum.

it'd make a good wallpaper, you think.

"makes you look pretty." you mutter, not even thinking as you drag your fingers along the stream, before gripping on his sides and pulling yourself up. but before you can admire his nipples, he's flexing his chest, making you hold onto his biceps at the feeling.

"cute n' all but i wanna see her squirt on me." toji grins, moving his arms and holding you body upright with one hand.

his fingers pull a whine out you when he rubs your clit, tilting your body back a bit so he can smack your cunt with the palm of his hand. "toji!" "nah, wanna hear what you said earlier." and your stomach twists, he likes being called daddy? that's a first.

"can you make me cum daddy? wanna make y'r chest drip with my cum." your voice it slurred, giving him a pouty whine and biting that pretty lip of yours in frustration. and he's grinning, holding your body firmly.

"whatever my lady wants~" he teases, pressing your thighs down as much as he can to make sure your pelvis is pressed tightly against his body with no care for the way your knees hurt, because the sounds of your incoherent moans are better. you’re clawing his chest, being dragged so slowly on it and its so antagonizing. he even reaches down with a thumb to play with your bud, making your thigh shake around him.

“cum on me baby..” he whispers, his eyes trained on your gooey folds as the coil in your tummy breaks. “daddy—!” you cry, all teary as he keeps guiding you along his chest, not letting you escape your high and you both watch how the cum and juices leaving your cunny trickles onto his chest. “so cute..drippin’ all on me..” he groans when you smear your juices on one of his nipples, a coy smile playing on your face and asking him what you’ve been desperate for in a sweet tone.

“can i have y’r cock now daddy?”

#jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x fem!reader #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x poc!reader #jujustu toji #jujustsu kaisen smut #smut #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji smut #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen smut

[moroser]

Human AU question:

How did the first meeting between baby Hunter and his aunt Eda go?

I feel like Lilith wouldn't trust her sister to hold the baby. Idk why

Love your art btw <3

okay, cracks knuckles cause im about to type a bunch about this.

for the start of hunter's life (before he's born and while he's little) eda lives out west in oregon, near gwen and dell (but not with) and she lives similarly to how she lives in canon owl house. her house isn't grand, she lives 'paycheck to paycheck' which in most cases is not from real work. lilith even sends her money at times to help her out, especially once she acquires king. the two of them are crusty livin' and scraping by but eda always makes life fun.

eda is a carefree mom. she's a functioning alcoholic and she doesn't have much of her life together from the outside looking in. but, she manages and her and king are happy campers most of the time. eda is a big stress and negativity swallower, keeping it inside and when she does need money, she won't even directly ask lilith most of the time but lilith can tell and she'll send it anyways. and usually, eda won't send it back because she Does need it.

lilith's emotional neglect from gwen and dell, growing up, comes from the fact that eda was a very sick child (from about 8-14) and most of their attention went into eda and her medical journey. while lilith understood that eda was sick, bitterness did grow. resentment to her parents grew. despite, she did not hate eda and usually worried for her but after a point, sealed herself off and essentially isolated herself into her schooling. for college, she applied to college in massachusett's, was accepted, and left. from there, she never went back to oregon and established a life for herself in mass, basically from scratch because lilith is resourceful and capable like that.

while living away, she keeps in touch with eda much more than gwen and dell, really only sending them cards on holidays that matter and visiting once a year, if her schedule permitted.

eda is the first person she tells about hunter. so eda is there for her and helps her through all of her anxiety about things and they face time about it until he's born. eda makes fun of her and lilith has hung up on her before. but, the whole time before he's born, they don't tell gwen and dell cause eda is a good secret keeper. and lilith doesn't even tell her parents about hunter until he's like 3 months old, screams. but lilith flies eda and king out to visit her and see the baby (i should mention king is 3 when hunter's born), and they get to meet him. lilith doesn't like anyone holding him because she worked hard making him and she's protective and in eda's case, the two of them live very differently. but she calms herself enough to let her. she makes her sit down and a certain way and coaches her through it. there are rules.

when eda holds him and all his tinyness she is a little smitten and there's a softness about it and she looks at lilith, who's staring at her with worry about her holding him and that eda is about to tease her, but eda says she can't believe she did this and has a son. then she tells her she thinks she did a good job and it makes lilith blush and really awkward. she's taken aback? the praise and acknowledgement from someone (even if it's eda) feels nice but overwhelming. and she'd tell her, ''thank you, edalyn." then eda would smile and there is their soft moment before she says, '' can't believe you were storked up,'' which kind of shatters it and makes lilith huffy and eda laugh really ugly.

eda would ask lilith if king can hold hunter too and with a lot of hesitancy she'd say okay but only if she could help, so lilith sits with king and helps that small boy hold the even smaller boy. there's a lot of anxiety sharing her life with others in intimate settings. she has a lot of trouble with that and internal hang ups but she would cherish this time, ultimately.

#curious sharks #human au #and thank you!! #before anyone says shit lilith is aroace so dont get it twisted thank u

[roach-works]

hi, you once drew on a car with sharpie! how did that end up going? the progress pictures looked so cool and i would like to try something similar, and would like to know any tips and experiences you have to offer

colored sharpie weathers, and old sharpie doesn't ink smoothly. run your car through a car wash first or just use windex and paper towel or a soft cloth to clean the work surface. if you're decorating your car, i assume it's already old and crusty, so you probably don't have to care about avoiding microabrasions. still, i recommend treating any exposed body rust sooner rather than later, especially if it's near the work surface and you could scratch yourself on it.

plan out what you're going to draw first before you start. do a few thumbnails, sketches, and practice studies. drawing very big, in sharpie, on a vertical curved surface, outside, is a weird and unusual position for most people to be working in, so having a solid plan and some practice going in will yield a much better design. my design for my car was the Wild Hunt, so i looked up a lot of pictures of steeple chases, worked out a good composition, and practiced drawing leaping horses and knights for a bit before i went at it for real. also i used like a blue crayola magic marker for the sketch layer on the car, because it would wear off quickly.

sharpie can be erased with rubbing alcohol, but it's still a pain to be fussing with a design you're trying to make up as you go, especially in a weird new drawing position. also sometimes it leaves faint stains behind, especially on white surfaces.

it will also leave faint scratches, and over time the sharpie chemicals might permanently damage and/or discolor the paint. there isn't enough accessible info to know how badly drawing on your car with sharpie will fuck it up. do it at your own risk, with a car you're not intending to resell for very much.

i can't find the pictures anymore because tumblr is incredibly hard to search lol but i really liked having painted up my own car, and i got compliments on it at the drive through. it died half a year later, and i sold it for a couple hundred dollars of scrap. my successive have been too nice to dare fucking up with paint, but i still miss having a car i drew on myself.

#art

[levmada]

Can we please have more of fem!levi? (smut and fluff headcanons)

yes. male coded reader

//mentions of sexism

– I'm not saying you can't do this with regular Levi... but it's so easy to manhandle fem!Levi, and even if she makes a sour face and pretends she doesn't like it, it flusters her too: scooping her up in your arms when she's all marked up and sleepy after several rounds in bed... the way your fingertips sink into her thighs when you heft her up onto the counter to reach the high shelves. She's so flexible it's easy to bend and spread her into all sorts of positions... and give her piggy back rides if you beg.

– fem!Levi isn't that feminine presenting. She sometimes puts on a little bit of makeup when you're going out somewhere... but her complexion is so pale and her lashes so thick to her it renders eyeliner/mascara and blush unnecessary. If you want to talk about natural beauty, fem!Levi is IT.

Sometimes she wears a simple white summer dress that's all wavy around her lower thighs, maybe a cute ruffled blouse, but most of her closet is practical and in simple muted colors. The most she'll dress up is for you. Garters, kneesocks, pretty lingerie that makes her perky nipples just visible through one of those soft seamless bras... giving you a generous peek at her soft breasts. Her favorite lingerie is silky and white.

– Because it's... Levi, and as a woman, she sometimes gets told to smile more often by crusty old men. Because it would be tiresome to get an assault charge, she either spits out something sarcastic and rude or puts on one of those uncanny creepy smiles. Whenever she tries to make herself smile a little in pictures it turns out creepy (in her opinion... and yours too) anyway, and this method always scares the shit out those men, so it works nicely.

– Her hair isn't styled as an undercut, but it's still short, chopped and neat. She doesn't really care to do anything with it, but if you want to braid it or something, she melts back against you as you touch her hair. One of her favorite things is her hair being played with.

Same thing if you want to paint her nails or give her a cute facial. I just picture her keeping totally still as you grasp her hand and drag the tiny brush around as the stinging scent reminiscent of alcohol rises up from the nail polish bottle. She has short nails, and pretty, dainty hands. Small wrists too... but everything about her is small.

– She will never admit how much she likes being the little spoon. Her chest gets all warm with you cuddled up behind her. But laying on top of her is nice too. Her fingers rub your scalp while you rest your head on her soft breast.

She doesn't sleep well most times, but she's capable of falling asleep right on top of you with her face tucked under your chin when she's comfy around you and particularly exhausted.

– Any version of Levi is sensitive to touch and affection... as well as a bit of a brat. Fem!Levi gets so wet just from playing with her nipples. Flicking your tongue and god suckling gets her pressing her foot down on your lower back as a demand to get between her legs.

She's not hairless, but fem!Levi does like to keep up a feeling of neatness by shaving under her arms and her legs. Between her thighs she has a small bush (which is more healthy than being hairless anyway). Her clit peaks out of her soft folds, and as soon as you press a finger inside her, her pussy clamps down and you hear a tiny sigh. One finger curling inside her while you suck on her clit is enough to make her come. Especially if your nails are digging into her thighs to pin them open.

It's embarrassing for her to be loud, but any version of Levi again means she can't help it. Soft sighs and raspy gasps turn into sweet moans and hitched commands of faster, harder, I'm closeI'mclose shit that's so—

When being female is added to Levi's crazy stamina, you can make her come shaking and gasping so many times before she's too tired/sensitive to go another round. Which culminates in hours of sex if you have the time. Her favorite is laying underneath you pressed down by your full weight on top of her while you move deep and slow inside of her, almost lazily. Where you're not having sex to climax as much as to enjoy the intimacy of it.

– Levi is small. Fem!Levi is small. If she's smaller than you, even though she has never bought things oversized for herself on purpose, she would for you. It doesn't matter if you even mention it; she'd buy a big sweatshirt/sweater or three and conveniently plop it in your lap when you're cold. She likes to see you wearing her clothes.

– If you thought Levi was malewife material, just like the expectation for her to smile, she would be popular among her co-workers/friends because she's wife material. Levi doesn't give a shit about gender/relationship norms, let alone fitting into them: cleaning is simply her favorite thing (and she is very picky about doing it well), she likes to sew after a childhood without many clothes, and same with cooking. You support each other's hobbies. It's perfect.

It's the other people that bother her (mostly because the flirting and jokes bother you whenever you hear about them), even though she easily brushes them off. It's pretty sexist also.

Kuchel owned a lot of jewelry before she passed away when Levi was young, which she inherited. Levi starts to wear a simple silver band around on her left ring finger to work so people will leave her alone—the whole thing makes Levi not want to trouble you with it, but when you hear from a mutual friend that you and Levi apparently got married, you go ahead and surprise her with a real promise ring :')

| levi masterlist | main masterlist |

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi x mc #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi x gender neutral reader #aot fluff #levi imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman drabble #fem levi

[the-heaminator]

The idea that nations hate the idea of getting old physically hits different as they have spent god knows how long in bad situations in which having a crusty knee or back would not be particularly helpful, but they have them anyways dur to their occupation, they’re afraid to slow down to an extent, especially if it’s nations like Japan, England or Prussia who have been doing Stuff ever since they remember, but now that their physical body is aging too it is getting harder for them to do these things at the same level, they need more sleep, more rest, they cant survive on a diet of mostly alcohol and cant do as many illicit drugs (looking at you England)

They expect their bodies to carry them through whatever, but the amount that they’ve abused their bodies when they were at their prime really starts hitting now as aches and pains become impossible to ignore, even if they are the same aches that had come and gone for millenia, but them getting older throws a wrench in this

#the heam speaks #more like rambling incoherently but do you get what im trying to say here #hetalia headcanons

[rextasywrites]

Showers - Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Some super self indulgent stuff because i am sad and want Leon to hug me. please enjoy <3

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Drowning your problems in alcohol was an easier way to deal with your demons than to face...once again. Leon faced his enemies so many times, yet each time he cut one head off, three grew back in its place. He was growing tired of the running and shooting and killing the bad guy of the week, cause there would be another bad guy trying to take over the world in mere days again. For him, it felt like he was running in circles, never coming away from the horrors.

“What are you doing?”, she asked as she found Leon going through his closet, clearly searching for something. Leon jumped at her sudden words, and hadn't heard her approaching. For a special agent, his hearing was incredibly bad. Maybe because of the last explosion he had to trigger to kill Enemy #2344 ?

“Ahm...nothing?”, Leon scratched the back of his head. Man, what a bad liar he was.

“If you are searching for the alcohol you hid in the closet, bad luck right there Kennedy. I threw it away last week.”, she crossed her arms as she sighed, disappointed but not surprised. Especially after heavy missions, his drinking became worse for a short while before falling into ‘bad’ territory again. “Leon, you cannot keep on doing this.”

“Ah? Who are you to tell me what the fuck I am supposed to do and not?”

“I am your loving and worried girlfriend, dumbass.”

“My point still stands.”

“And you reek of alcohol and...fuck, when did you last take a shower? Come on, you need to wash your crusty ass, Kennedy.”

“My ass isn’t crusty…”

“Shut up and come with me.”

A few minutes later, the shower was running and the bathroom was slowly heating up. Leon and her had dropped their clothes, and he was eyeing her from head to toe. “No, we are not gonna have shower sex.”, and a frustrated groan came from his side. He might be a depressed fuck, but he would never turn down her hot ass. “I am gonna wash your hair and you just...chill. Okay?” “Okay.”

One of Leon’s secrets was that he absolutely adored all kinds of shampoos targeted for women. Like shit, he was a hardcore monster slayer who eats assholes like Albert Wesker for breakfast, but a motherfucker should smell good too. Not too long ago, one of his teammates asked him why he smelt like a ‘pussy’, to which Leon replied that he bathes in pussy.

She grabbed his favourite shampoo (strawberry smell with a hint of freshly chopped wood) and after making his hair wet with the shower head, she started to gently massage the shampoo into his hair. His hair was so full and there was so much of it - perks of being a blond. Leon hummed under her touch as if it was the first time he was ever touched in a gentle way, savouring this moment for the lonely nights he would have to deal with soon enough. If he could, he would upload his whole memory to a hard dive just to watch all these moments over and over again. Their first hug, their first kiss, the first time they told each other how much they are in love with one another.

Those moments kept Leon going. His love for her was never ending, he’d fight heaven and hell just to make sure he could make it back home to her. No stone would be left unturned in case something happened to her.

“Leon, you still here with me?”, she suddenly asked, ripping Leon out of his train of thoughts. He replied with a grunt, closing his eyes once more.

“Do you remember the first time we went on a date?”, Leon asked with a chuckle, loved to remember that particular memory. Not because it was cute or wholesome…

“Where we went for a bike ride on your Ducati and got caught by a fucking hail storm? The old lady that let us dry in her living room? How could I ever forget that day?”, she laughed at the memory. It was the truth. Leon showed up at her home, dressed like a rocker boy who just got his motorcycle license and of course had to impress the girl he liked. Too bad he was too busy impressing her that he didn’t care for the weather and before they knew it, it was pouring and they were in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Before the hail started to pound down, they rang at a stranger’s doorbell, asking her if they could wait out the storm there. The old lady let them in and even made them tea.

“It was hilarious.”

“You are dumbass.”

“But so are you cause you decided to date me.”, Leon replied with a smirk, earning a splash of water into his face.

“Come on Leon. Rinse out your hair and join me in the bedroom, will you? Master Detective Pikachu is finally on Netflix and you’ve been dying to watch it, hu?”

“This movie is the only reason why I didn’t leave myself to die in the last mission.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil

[nyancatkuroo]

Smoke Sesh Blues Pt.1

Pt.1 Terushima/Kunimi/Kenma x Reader ll Weed 

Pt.2 Saeko x Reader ll Molly + Alcohol 

INTOXICATED a  Miki Mouse Whorehouse collab.    

A/N: Here is my second collab fic for the whorehouse and I couldn’t be more excited! This is a Dark Content fic, so 18+ please dot not interact or you will be blocked.  (This one doesn’t have any NSFW in it but it doesn’t mean I want a bunch of minors interacting with my content).

TW: mentions of alcohol, weed smoking, mentions of shrooms.

WC: 1.5k

Sitting across the room was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, well, beautiful might not be the best word to describe her.  Ethereal, and transcendent might’ve been the words you’d use to describe a really, really attractive woman, but Tanaka Saeko was not just any attractive woman.  

Where beautiful meets savagely charismatic, ethereal simply wasn’t enough to describe the sheer magnetism that the young blond woman exuded, simply sitting there, grinning from ear to ear.  Her sharp, dark eyes and toothy grin hit you straight in the guts, and that’s when you fell, hard and fast, and painfully.  

Next to the blonde was a young woman equally as attractive as Saeko herself, and if Saeko wasn’t the definition of ethereal, the raven-haired girl sure was.  With a pale and delicate face that screamed of poise and grace, a criminally sexy mole on the left side of her chin, and blue eyes that made a chill of pleasure run down your spine, Shimizu Kiyoko was the epitome of everything you weren’t.  

Saeko had her right arm around the younger girl, hugging her close, as if afraid she’d run off.  “I’d take precautions too, if that was me,” you thought.  Kiyoko was one of the smartest and prettiest girls in campus after all, and despite not knowing her personally, having talked to her only once or twice because of mutual classes, it wasn’t hard to understand why she was one of the most sought after girls. 

Well, that and the very amusing reputation preceding her since she entered university two years ago.  The thing was, the dark-haired girl wasn’t Saeko’s girlfriend, but she was definitely intertwined with a Tanaka. Saeko’s younger brother to be exact, Tanaka Ryuunosuke.  

The two were rumored to have been going out since Kiyoko’s high school graduation.  Despite having let it be known pretty early on in her academic life that she had a boyfriend, with a younger partner still in high school, all the hungry frat boys up for a challenge and every business major in a radius mile who thought she “deserved better”, apparently made it their mission to woo her.  It made for pretty good entertaining drama to watch, but your heart went out for her. 

Based on what Saeko told you, keeping you updated on the family drama, the first year was really rough on the young couple.  With her younger brother finally on campus this year, though, overcoming all the annoying dudes was easier done a job at two.  Especially with a barking protective idiot and Kiyoko’s punching one-liners, which you wouldn’t expect coming from someone so calm and collected.  Perhaps it wasn’t that surprising, apparently, from what you’d heard from Saeko, Kiyoko’s comedic timing was unmatched.

And okay, you obviously knew Saeko, and if Kiyoko wasn’t her girlfriend, what was the big fuss all about?  Jealousy, simple as that. It was 10 pm on a Friday night, which meant parties around campus were raging from one hard to get in-club to home parties and make-shift park dancefloors. Fridays were made for debauchery and every single student who didn’t work a night shift was accounted for, every student except one, Ryu.  

Saeko’s younger brother, a baldy with a lively personality, was running late because of his group of friends.  Something about “Noya wrecking havoc once again” and “the trio trying to fix things, again”.  You didn’t know what the issue was but it was a problem for you because that meant that Saeko had to act as guard dog for the younger girl, which meant less time spent making you feel all sorts of sinful little pleasures.  

Saeko wasn’t your girlfriend either, which is why you didn’t have that close connection to Kiyoko.   You guys were simply friends with benefits, lots and lots of benefits that included midday brunches, and late-night movie and make-out seshs, but still, only friends with the hall pass.  

You were making eyes at the blond, desperately trying to make her notice you, amongst the hordes of horny 20-somethings year old guys trying to get at Kiyoko, but without luck. Tired of waiting and wanting to actually start enjoying yourself, you decided to go explore the rest of the house the party you currently were in was hosted. Leaving the living room, you ventured into a surprisingly big kitchen where you spotted Terushima Yuuji running his little side hustle. With a hum and an easy smile plastered on your face, you made your way towards the young man.  

You knew Terushima from years ago. When you and your friend Issei started venturing into the wondrous world of drugs and alcohol, he mentioned how he knew this guy from a rival volleyball team who was supposedly the best plug in the area, which Terushima was.  The shrooms you bought off of him never disappointed and the weed he provided really was that good fucking kush. Tonight though, you felt needy and wanted to let loose, so molly it was.  

You put your hand on Terushima’s shoulder, making him aware of your presence, and he turned around, a slight frown on his face before he recognized you and greeted you with the sickest bro shoulder-bump-hand combo. You loved this dude so damn much. 

“So, what’s it gonna be this time my little pogchamp?”

With a grimace you pushed the young man’s face with your hand and laughed.

“You’ve got to stop watching your Tiktoks on Instagram, you’re like two months late to that trend my guy.”

“Ain’t no problem, when a king does right by his subjects the peasants don’t have a choice but to laugh along”, he grinned.

At that, you bursted out laughing, holding your belly because of how ridiculously funny that statement was. “Out of pocket, Teru, out of fucking pocket.”

With a whatever, and a roll of his eyes, Terushima asked what you wanted and gave you a few little pills that fit just right inside your jean pocket.  

“You know you’re the best.” Sending finger guns his way, you were about to leave, on a quest to find another interesting adventure, when Terushima called your name.

“Hey if you wait a couple minutes until I’m done here we can go smoke a few. Kunimi just bought this new bong and it’s pretty fucking sick, you’ll love it.”

With nothing better to do, you agreed and after a while, Terushima was done and the both of you left the kitchen and made your way to the second-floor, towards Kunimi’s room. When you arrived, the door to the room was closed but you could see the smoke filtering out of the red lit room, the people around too busy in their own affairs, or simply not caring enough, to notice the very obvious hot-box going on behind the closed room.  

When you got in, Doja Cat’s Kiss Me More was playing on loop, and you unsurprisingly found Kunimi and Kenma sharing the bong. The pair could outsmoke you any day, but you genuinely enjoyed their company.  

There was no one better than those two to have a chill yet feel-good smoke sesh with, cuddles and an infinite supply of munchies present every time. You sat next to Kenma and he immefiatley started nuzzling you, passing you the bong.  On the back, you could hear Kunimi telling Terushima he was being too loud and that he’d kick him out if his voice reached higher levels than Toad’s. Terushima was right, paired with the right weed, this bong was way too powerful and it only took you a couple of hits to start feeling.  

You laid down, Kenma still close to you, and started singing along, while playing with Kenma’s hair.  Yeah, this was definitely your definition of a good time, but despite how good you were feeling, and how warm the little guy you were cuddling with felt, you thought something was missing.  The pills in your pocket started feeling heavier, unease growing  inside of you.  Lost in your worry, you apparently started petting Kenma too roughly, if the kick in the knee he gave you was anything to go by.

“Sorry”, you mumbled, only to receive a small groan for an answer.  

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, cozied up on the floor with your friends, listening to Doja’s newest collab, but the moment was disturbed when a foreign source of light appeared.  Someone had opened the door and when you saw who it was, your heart nearly skipped a beat.  Fucking feelings.

With a gentle smile on her face, Saeko was looking at you with what, for a split second, you thought was fondness, but a moment later her eyes went back to their usual playful glee, and her toothy grin returned.  

“Ryu got here like an hour ago, I’ve been looking for you, but I see you don’t really need me to have a good time, hm?”

By that point, you felt more sleepy than high, but seeing the woman occupying your every thoughts appear out of nowhere, with what looked like heavenly light all around her, which was just some crusty hallway lighting, woke you up faster than you cared to admit. You kissed Kenma on the cheek, patted Kunimi on the head, and slapped Terushima on the shoulder as a goodbye, and before they could complain about the disturbance, you were out of the door.

#this was initially supposed to be a saeko railing you while under the influence of molly and alcohol #... #but #brain decided otherwise #and im late enough to the collab #so this is what yall are gettin #at least until I decide to make part two #aka the intial plan for this fic ;ldzkhgjbvùkùhb #kozume kenma #kenma #kunimi akira #terushima yuuji #tanaka saeko #saeko x reader #y/n #dark content #this one is just abt weed but still #tw weed #I guess

[sxint]

BASIC INFORMATION.

Full name: Saint Matthieu Warden (insp). Nickname: Sainty, Satan Birthdate: 30th of May 1991 Age: 29 Zodiac: Gemini Sun | Gemini Moon | Gemini Rising  Gender: Cis male Pronouns: He/him Romantic orientation: Biromantic Sexual orientation: Bisexual Nationality: British/French Ethnicity: English/French Ranking: Virtue Affiliation: War

BACKGROUND.

Birthplace: Monte Carlo, Monaco Hometown: Worlingham, Suffolk/ London, UK Social Class: Upper Educational achievements: 1st class honours degree in Politics and Economics from Oxford University Father: Warlock Warden Mother: Gabrielle Warden Sibling(s): Remus Warden, Juno Warden

Pets:  Indiana (8 month old doberman) Previous relationships: A handful of fast burning relationships, a year and a half with Kitty Mallick Arrests: 8 official arrests (theft, vandalism, breaking and entering, possession of drugs, affray)   Prison time: Bailed out within hours of each arrest. Apart for the 6th time where Warlock made him stay in a cell over night to think about his actions, it didn’t help.

OCCUPATION & INCOME.

Current occupation: Head of global distribution at Bellum Nova/ Virtue of War Dream occupation: Horseman of War Past job(s): None Spending habits: Sporadic, cautious for the most part but can be easily tempted into spending. Especially when it comes to food In debt?: No

SKILLS & ABILITIES.

Physical strength: above average Speed: average Intelligence: above average Accuracy: average Agility: average Stamina: average Teamwork: He’s gotten better with it over time, although he prefers to work alone should it be an option. He finds it hard to trust others even with simple tasks and has a superiority complex where he thinks he will do said task better himself Talents: Persuasiveness, problem solving, warmongering, impersonations (particularly good at his Remus impersonation that sounds practically identical)  Shortcomings: Emotionally unavailable, competitive, vengeful, relatively fearless and has no impulse control   Languages spoken: French, English and Spanish Drive?: Yes Jump-start a car?: Yes Change a flat tyre?: Yes Ride a bicycle?: Yes   Swim?: Yes Play an instrument?: No Play chess?: No Braid hair?: Yes   Tie a tie?: Yes   Pick a lock?: Yes   Cook?: No

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE AND CHARACTERISTICS.

Faceclaim: Max Irons my beloved Eye colour: Green Hair colour: Dark blonde/light brunette Hair type: Slightly curly texture but kept short enough that it appears straight   Glasses/contacts?: Wears glasses to read and also has deuteranomaly colourblindness (has difficulty differentiating red and green) inherited from Warlock. Dominant hand: Right Height: 6″3 Weight: 86kg or 13.6 stone Build: Tall, muscular but carries slight weight around his middle because he loves carbs and knows how to have a good time Exercise habits: Regular jogging in the morning with Indi, gym throughout the week for weight training Skin tone: Type II Tattoos: Stick and poke tattoo of devil horns on the back of his calf given to him by Mitzi Zhang. The word ‘victorieux’ on his ribs in gothic script (insp). Doberman portrait (insp). Piercings: None Marks/scars: Lightly freckled, small birthmark at the back of his bicep on his left arm, dagger scar near his abdomen Clothing style: Monochromatic and sleek but likes wearing knitted jumpers and slogan tee shirts when he’s being more casual. Also lives in grey sweatpants when he’s at home. (Insp, insp, insp, insp). Jewellery: A 1950s manual wind Rolex with leather straps and a 18k yellow gold watch face. Given to him as a child and it belonged to his grandfather (insp). Allergies: Pollen Diet: Carb heavy, lives off bread and cheese, also has a real sweet tooth due to not being allowed to eat a lot of sugar as a kid.

PSYCHOLOGY.

MBTI type: INTJ, the architect (Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, and Judging) Enneagram type: The Challenger (Resilient, protective, vengeful, insensitive) Moral Alignment: Chaotic evil Temperament: Choleric Element: Air Emotional stability: Changeable and unmanaged. Saint would rather shut down than address his feelings, he gets embarrassed and shy about having them and see’s them as something that gets in the way. Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert Phobias: Atychiphobia - Fear of failure Drug use: Recreational, favours cocaine and MDMA. Not so much since Remus’s issues with addiction   Alcohol use: Drinks a glass of red wine before bed every night Prone to violence?: Yes Prone to crying?: No Believe in love at first sight?: He used to, but not anymore

MANNERISMS.

Accent: Southern British, occasionally has an air of French when relaxed or tired. Also a slight lisp and deep and softly spoken. (insp). Hobbies: Shooting guns, walking/training his dog, depressively eating bread on the kitchen floor whilst listening to radiohead Habits: Smoking cigarettes, drinking wine Nervous ticks: Jaw clenching, fidgeting with his hands, smoking Drives/motivations: To exceed others expectations of himself Fears: Abandonment Sense of humour?: Dark and dad jokes Do they curse often?: Oui

FAVOURITES.

Animal: Dogs Beverage: Cabernet sauvignon Book: Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk Colour: Blue, being red-green colour blind it’s one of the more vibrant colours that he can see Food: Gratin dauphinois served with crusty bread. Marzipan filled croissants or cherry bakewell for dessert (he loves almonds) Flower: Roses Gem: Sapphire Mode of transportation: Aston Martin Vantage   Scent: Black Opium (kitty’s perfume)  Sport: Rugby   Weather: Thunderstorms Vacation destination: South France  

ATTITUDES.

Greatest dream: Becoming Horseman of War Greatest fear: Being eradicated and forgotten at his siblings’ hands   Most at ease when: Alone at home where he can be himself without the pressure of performing for other’s   Least as ease when: In groups with new people that he doesn’t know Biggest achievement: Being Gabrielle’s favourite child   Biggest regret: Falling in love and getting caught

#tasks.

[tbhstudying]

hello!! i'm going to uni next feb and i might have to move into a dorm (depending on the situation ofc), and since you have lived in a dorm for quite some time, i'd like to ask if you have any advice for me? in terms of idk setting boundaries, laundry, kitchen? idk basically adulting in a college dorm? any advice would be great rlly!! thank youu

boundaries

def decide what the ground rules are for alcohol, drugs, pot, cigarettes, sex, etc in the dorms. also figure out what’s going to be communal and what’s not as well as who’s responsible for what (ex: who’s bringing the vacuum, microwave, fridge, hot pot, what food can be shared, etc). my roommates and i also established what the general rules for cleanliness and dorm upkeep were going to be.

laundry

use tide pods or some sort of sachet / strip. after seeing a flooded laundry room and half a gallon of liquid detergent spilled all over the floor, it’s just not worth it. also, it’s heavy to lug around. 

have a hamper for dirty laundry and a hamper/bag for clean laundry. bringing back your clean laundry in a hamper where your dirty laundry has been marinating in for a week is...........not ideal. fold and hang your clothes right away instead of leaving them there to minimize wrinkling. 

kitchen

figure out what your meal/dining plan is and then decide if you’re actually going to cook. if you are, then get basic cooking utensils. i relied on a saucepot, a silicone spatula (not the flipping kind, the stirring kind), measuring cups/spoons, and a mug to hold both food and drinks instead of multiple bowls and plates. also, practice cooking basic meals at home before moving in. 

easy college recipes imo are eggs (fried, boiled, scrambled, in sandwiches, over rice or toast, etc), sandwiches, soups/stews that you can just leave simmering on a pot / rice cooker / instant pot, and salads. these are far more filling and healthy than constantly relying on instant ramen.

i prefer cooking in the kitchenette, but if you need to, you could probably swing a rice cooker or crockpot/instant pot setup in your dorm.

others

get a first aid kit / basic medicine like aspirin, ibuprofen, neosporin + band-aids, etc. also, make sure you have all the prescription medication you need. 

most dorms are old, crusty, and kinda nasty. get some air freshener or room spray + air out the dorm by opening up the windows. get insecticide and spray down the perimeter of the room if necessary. use the vacuum to get the dust out of the vents and radiator if you have them.

use storage containers with sealable lids, especially if you’re going to store food and snacks in your dorm. pests are a real problem. these are also useful for moving out at the end of the year.

don’t overpack. use decorations that are easy to pack up. you don’t need to bring a ton of clothes. just be aware of the area’s climate and pack accordingly. if you’re moving far away, just buy the things you need there rather than hauling all of it with you.

let someone know if you’re going to a party and when you plan on coming back. that way, if you disappear or something happens to you, someone knows where you last were. don’t leave drinks unattended. get some pepper spray or a defense alarm or something for personal safety. 

get a power outlet. most of the time, dorms don’t have a lot of outlets available.

#uni #college #dorms #tips #Anonymous

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Treat Your S(h)elf: I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine, by Roger Scruton (2009)

You could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.

- Sir Roger Scruton, I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine

When I first got talked into investing in the dreams of my two cousins and their French families to continue to manage an old French vineyard I thought of Roger Scruton’s book. I already had this book on my shelf alongside his other works. Re-reading it nudged me to take a risk and go for it.

For one I have always loved wine and have drunk it from a very early age. Secondly what could be more cultured or civilising than to marry body and mind through the palate of philosophy and wine?

And finally, and perhaps more importantly, the opportunity to escape the madness of modernity - as well as make peace from war as a British combat veteran of the Afghan war by not so much as coming home but finding a new one - by getting back into nature with hard honest graft on the land that Mother Nature blesses.  All of this I found especially appealing.

Of all the things we eat or drink, wine is without question the most complex. So it should not be surprising that philosophers from Plato and Socrates onwards to our contemporary times have turned their attention to wine: complex phenomena can lend themselves to philosophical speculation.

Wine is complex not just in the variety of tastes it presents – ‘wine tastes of everything apart from grapes’, I once heard a crusty old French vintner say – but in its meaning. Only the most woodenly literal-minded would deny that wine has a meaning: in its history, its role in human social life, in religious and other ceremonies. Though they drink it copiously over dinner at High Tables in their Oxbridge colleges, academic analytic philosophers do not spend as much time as they might in this kind of investigation of meaning or significance of wine – what we might call a phenomenology or a hermeneutic investigation.

Of course, there are more narrowly phenomenological questions which wine raises.

How do vintners or winemakers manipulate the underlying biochemical material to create the kinds of taste which they intend their wine to have? Does the ‘terroir’ of a wine really make a difference to taste, and if so how? What is the basis of evaluative judgements about the quality of a wine?

Arguably only those who actually make the wine and those who are life long wine connoisseurs can conceivably answer that on some experiential and technical level. But these are not the only philosophical questions in this area: the hermeneutic questions have their place too, in an understanding of the phenomena.

Sir Roger Scruton’s 224 page book is about the hermeneutics of wine rather than its psychology or phenomenology more narrowly conceived. Scruton, the late great conservative philosopher, is that rare breed who comes closer than most to bridging the gap between the grass roots and the High Table in answering such mysteries.  The result is an engaging, insightful, informative and (in parts) a very funny book. It is immensely readable, more in the anecdotal style of Scruton’s England: an Elegy (2000) or On Hunting (1998), than his more heavyweight philosophical works, such as The Aesthetics of Music (1997), Sexual Desire (2004), Beauty (2009), and his writings on Wagner and high culture. He does often come across as curmudgeonly, but his (written) relations with women, music and poetry are very delicate and tender. And so it is with his love affair with wine. It is indeed a very personal book and its is warmly personable, like the man himself, and it contains so much of Scruton’s distinctive wit and intellectual personality, it ought to be of interest not just to wine enthusiasts (whom Scruton likes to call ‘winos’) and philosophers but also anyone curious enough to understand the place of wine in our world civilisation.

The first and obvious thing to say about Scruton’s book is how the title of the book is of course a play on words. It’s a playful wink to Eric Idle’s “Philosophers’ Drinking Song,” in which the Monty Python cast, lightly disguised as a group of Australian philosophers all named Bruce, list the world’s thinkers from a drinking standpoint. This includes the couplet slightly amending Descartes’s proof of his existence: “And René Descartes was a drunken fart / ‘I drink therefore I am.’”

The pun on words is Roger Scruton’s way of taking the Monty Python couplet seriously. After all Descartes was a serious man and though he was born in Touraine, the rich French wine region, did probably not drink much. He treats all this as a paradox that G.K. Chesterton might well have toyed with - that is, as a truth standing on its head to attract attention - and examines the drinking of alcohol as a way in which human beings learn more about each other, fellowship, some of the deeper realities, God, and not least themselves.

In this Scruton is a wise philosopher who teaches us how wine cultivates our moral virtue and our civilisation. He encourages us to recognise that stream of liquid descending from our pursed lips into our throat as the red or golden chord that runs from heaven to earth, and binds everything in-between into a cosmic whole. Wine both reflects and helps constitute our participation in all strata of reality, and points the way to our redemption, divine or otherwise.

In Scruton’s Prelude (a musical term, of course) where he quotes Emerson “who commends the great wino Hafiz [a Persian poet] in the following words: “Hafiz praises wines, roses, maidens, boys, birds, mornings and music, to give vent to his immense hilarity and sympathy with every form of beauty and joy.” This is echoed in Scruton’s terms that “by thinking with wine you can learn not merely to drink in thoughts, but think in draughts. Wine, drunk at the right time, in the right place and the right company, is the path to meditation, and the harbinger of peace.”

The book is divided into two parts, labelled ‘I drink’ and ‘therefore I am’ respectively. The second part of the book is more strictly philosophical - Scruton starts it with the nice conceit that ‘therefore I am’ contain the whole of philosophy, each word standing in turn for reason (therefore), consciousness (I) and being (am). But arguably wine and Scruton enthusiasts will probably get more out of the first part.

The first chapter is a nice description of his own discovery of wine as a young man. Warmly written, the chapter is devoted to his friends who made him “fall” for wine (or is it he who made them fall?) and his acquisition of a 1945 Château Lafite, “the greatest year from the greatest of clarets”. His first memories are happy ones of his mother’s home manufacture of elderberry wine in a post-war England where the French (and Spanish and Portuguese) grape had not yet “conquered the suburbs.”

“For three weeks the kitchen was filled with the yeasty scent of fermentation. Little clouds of fruit-flies hung above the jars and here and there wasps would cluster and shimmer on the spilled pools of juice.” Other Englishmen of Scruton’s generation will recognise and sigh at this description as many fathers - including my own - made his own beer and wine from motives of both fun and economy.

Thus ill-equipped, Scruton goes to university ignorant of the rich variety of wines available even then to an English wino. At Cambridge and, later, in Paris, a succession of tutors, patrons, and friends not only introduce him to a growing list of wines but also teach him how to drink them. Some of the wines he is given are complex and expensive Burgundies, others cheap French supermarket vin ordinaire.

But Scruton discovers that all have certain inherent qualities that an educated palate can discover by drinking them attentively and appreciatively. By learning their provenance and history, he enriches his knowledge of the locality that produced the wine — and he can imagine (I would like to believe this is so) that he can glimpse the character of the local people in the wine itself. He learns finally that certain wines go with certain things, not merely certain foods, but certain occasions, certain friends, certain thoughts, even certain topics of conversation. He becomes a wino.

When in his early middle years, Scruton buys a farm in southern England, he discovers to his delight an array of homemade-wine equipment, identical to that of his mother’s elderberry experiments, on the kitchen floor: “I listened to the bubbles as they danced in the valves, and studied the wasp-edged puddles on the tiles. I had come home.” Yet it is a different person who comes home. Scruton celebrates his good fortune not with elderberry wine but by opening and drinking in quiet happiness a treasured bottle of Château Lafite 1945 that had accompanied him in the long wanderings now ended. For, by this time in his life, Scruton is a confirmed Francophile in his drinking tastes.

The chapter ends on a remark concerned with the “new habit, associated with American wine critics like Robert Parker, of assigning points to each bottle” which should not only be “viewed with nothing but contempt” but also compared to “assigning points to symphonies, as though Beethoven’s 7th, Tchaikovsky’s 6th, Mozart’s 39th, Bruckner’s 8th all hovered between 90 and 95.

Perhaps his second chapter ‘A Tour de France’ is the best one. This is a very personal, but informative and interesting, guide to Scruton’s favourite French wine regions. starting in Burgundy, down to the Rhône Valley, the Pyrenees and ending in Bordeaux with T.S. Eliot’s description of a spiritual journey that applies equally to a journey through wine:

We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring


Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

With much reason, Scruton does not think very highly of blind tasting: “To think that you can judge a wine from its taste and aroma alone is like thinking you can judge a Chinese poem by its sound, without knowing the language.” I let out a whoop of appreciation when I read this. In one clean swoop he casually casts aside the resultant snobbery that comes from the ritualising and self-importance of blind tasting events.

I think blind tasting whilst sincere is also an exercise in showing off. I’m not saying people don’t have a nose for wine or can tell certain elements but blind tasting is not the best way to truly appreciate the full complexity of wine. Indeed in my embryonic wine making experience (by watching my cousins and the managers on our vineyard) I would say terroir is perhaps one of the most overlooked aspects of wine making and it determines the difference between good wine and a bad one.

It’s great to read that Scruton defines himself as a terroiriste. Not the French word for a terrorist! But a believer in the French word, terroir. It is derived from the Latin word terra meaning earth or land. It’s a word coined by the French to express a wine’s sense of place. There is no English equivalent for this word. It was originally used to distinguish the wine making practices of old world wine. In other words terroir is how a particular region’s climate, soils and aspect (terrain) affect the taste of wine alongside the traditions gone into producing the wine. Some regions are said to have more ‘terroir’ than others. Johan Joseph Krug (1800–1866), the famous champagne producer, once suggested that “a good wine comes from a good grape, good vats, a good cellar and a gentleman who is able to coordinate the various ingredients.” No trace of terroir.

But I think Krug is wrong and vintners as well as the wine industry as a whole have come to the same realisation of the importance of terroir. Back in the 1980’s, many of these ‘terroir-driven’ wines were actually affected by wine faults including cork taint and wild yeast growth (brettanomyces). Vines thrive in a range of soil compositions from highly draining granite and schist based soils to limestone and clay and vines, in turn, react to these different soils in different ways. And on top of the differing soils, certain areas of the world have such unique combinations of geology and topography that interact with specific sun exposures that the resulting wines have distinct characteristics that cannot be found anywhere else.

Nowadays terroir is used to describe practically every wine region. Because much of European wine (old world) is steeped in tradition it is easier to get a sense of terroir. It’s a bit harder in a place like Napa or Sonoma (new world) because of the looser laws that govern winemaking but younger winemakers are coming around to the idea of terroir and trying to express the land. But certainly in France today vintners - as they come to increase their geological knowledge and environmental understanding and find ways to marry that to their unique artistry and craft - have realised the unique role terroir plays in the wine making process.

The next chapter looks at wine from “elsewhere:” Here Scruton looks at the Middle-East where wine was born; Greece where Bacchus, Dionysos, and more importantly, Eros used to hover; the United States; Australia, New Zealand and their misspelling of Syrah as Shiraz, the Iranian city of poets, gardens, nightingales and last but not least, wine; a few lines on South Africa, then Italy, Romania and Spain. But “travel narrows the mind, and the further you go the narrower it gets. There is only one way to visit a place with an open mind, and that is in the glass”.

Scruton had already warned the reader in the previous chapter not to read the “elsewhere” chapter: “After punishing body and soul with Australian Shiraz, Argentine Tempranillo, Romanian Cabernet Sauvignon and Greek Retsina, we crawl home like the Prodigal Son and beg forgiveness for our folly. . . [Bordeaux] is the wine that made us and for which we were made, and it often astonishes me to discover that I drink anything else.”  I rather fancy he is being tongue in cheek here.

This is for the “I drink” part of the book. Its author then moves to the “therefore I am” part which often needs much deeper philosophical knowledge than perhaps than even your average educated layman might have some difficulty having if they are not versed in a basic  understanding of aesthetics as philosophical discussion. But here his aim is to rescue wine from the philosophers and the so-called wine experts.

To those who have never been captivated by the complexity of wine and the way it is bound up with western civilisation, a book on the philosophy of wine might be dismissed as the typical product of conservative snobbery and elitism. But this would be a mistake. Scruton is not a snob about wine (nor, for that matter, about anything else). On the contrary, one of the strongest themes in his writing is his deep love of the everyday, of the simple pleasures of society as he imagined it once to be, where people were at one with the land and with the traditions of their culture. According to Scruton, this is something that (although it probably never existed) should be open to all, but which is being destroyed by the march of modernity. (In a nice aside, he asks: ‘Who am I to stand against the tide of history? Come to think of it, I am the only person I know who does stand against the tide of history’.)

In passing, Scruton evokes the great philosopher Avicenna who lived in Isfahan (Persia) during Islam’s Golden Age (980–1037 AD); he was a wine aficionado who recommended drinking at work defying “the Koranic injunction against wine, citing it as an example of sloppy reasoning,” that does not take into account whether it is a small or a large amount. Scruton (p. 133) also points to the fact that “in surah xvi, verse 7 of the Koran wine is unreservedly praised as one of God’s gifts. As the prophet, burdened by the trials of his Medina exile, became more tetchy, so did his attitude to wine begin to sour, as in Surah v verses 91-92. Muslims believe that the later revelations cancel the earlier, whenever there is a conflict between them. I suspect, however, that God moves in a more mysterious way.”

Scruton is very quite skeptical that the vocabulary used by so-called experts to describe wine is of much help: “If I say of a wine that it has a flowery nose, lingers on the palate, with ripe berry flavours and a hint of chocolate and roasted almonds, then what I say conveys real information, from which someone might be able to construct a sensory image of the wine’s taste. But I have described the taste in terms of other tastes, and not attempted to attach a meaning, a content, or any kind of reference to it. The description I gave does not imply that the wine evokes, means, symbolises or presents the idea of chocolate; and somebody who didn’t hit on this word as a description of the wine’s flavour would not show that he had missed the meaning of what he drank or indeed missed anything important at all. Our experience of wine is bound up with its nature as a drink [which] endows wine with a particular inwardness [and] intimacy with the body [that is not] achieved by any smell, since smell makes no contact with the body at all, but merely enchants without touching, like the beautiful girl at the other end of the party. . . Nothing else that we eat or drink comes to us with such a halo of significance, and by refusing to drink it people send an important message —the message that they do not belong on this earth.”

Again, I found myself saying amen to that.

The good part of the second part is Scruton trying to make a case for the cultural uniqueness of wine. In one sense, Scruton is right to do this: it is undeniable in many parts of western culture, wine has played a unique role in religious and social rituals, which no other drink has. But he can push his point beyond plausibility when he attempts to argue that because of the qualities of wine itself – and what it is to drink it properly – nothing else could play this role (more on this later).

The argument starts well, with a very illuminating discussion of the distinction between the various ways in which a substance can intoxicate. There are those that merely stimulate without altering the mind (like tobacco, for example). Then there are those which have mind-altering effects, but whose consumption itself brings no plea- sure (e.g. heroin). The third category contains those things which alter your mind and bring pleasure in their consumption: cannabis and forms of alcohol other than wine are his examples. Wine, Scruton argues, is in a fourth category of its own: here the alteration of the mind is internally related to the experience of consuming it.

These distinctions are very useful, and the distinction between the third and the fourth category is subtle but certainly real. It relates to the question of what non-human animals can and cannot do. Scruton makes the nice observation that an animal cannot savour wine (or any- thing else). In being able to savour or relish the taste of wine, a person no more separates out the effect of the wine from its taste than they can separate the meaning of a piece of music from its sound. Although one would not realise this from reading the thousands of words that are written daily about wine, wine would not be the drink it is if it did not intoxicate.

The last two chapters deal respectively with wine and whine, and being and bingeing. Though Scruton has something to say in favour of Puritanism, he castigates the ease with which “puritan outrage [and in particular, prohibition, but also sexual behaviour] can be displaced from one topic to another, and the equal ease with which the thing formerly disapproved of can be overnight exonerated from all taint of sin.”

He vehemently protests against “the humourless mullahs,” and the misuse of drinking, but also rejects the idea that fermented drinks are just shots of alcohol, and insists on their social functions across civilisations and time: “The burden of my arguments is that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is a culture, and that this culture has a social, outward-going, other-regarding meaning. . . When people sit down together sipping drinks, they rehearse in their souls the original act of settlement, the act that set our species on the path of civilisation, and which endowed us with the order of neighbourhood and the rule of law.” But he has not much against drinking alone, and ends with a few words from the Chinese poet Li Po (700 BC), the same poet whom Mahler used in his Lied von der Erde (though in a very approximate translation):

A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
I drink alone, for no friend is near.


Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,

For he, with my shadow, will make three men.

Scruton points out in several brilliant passages, the prohibitionist, like the modern day Islamists and moral police in the West and the all too familiar binge-drinker are alike in their ignorance of the virtue of “temperance.” They can envisage no stopping place between abstention and alcoholism. Their absolutist logic, he argues, is like objecting to a first kiss on the grounds that it will one day lead to a divorce. And neither can really understand drinking for any reason other than to get drunk. 

Scruton confirms the wider value of temperance in our lives: “Virtue should be cast in human form if it is to be humanly achievable. Saints, monks, and dervishes may practice total abstinence; but to believe that abstinence is the only way to virtue is to condemn the rest of mankind. Better to propose the way of moderation, and live thereby on friendly terms with your species.”

As it happens, the occasional bender may actually have therapeutic qualities in moderation (i.e., if indulged in infrequently). George Orwell, who can hardly be accused of lacking a puritanical streak, thought that people should get drunk every six months or so. The experience, he thought, shook one out of one’s regular complacency and could be compared in this to a weekend abroad. Certainly it very often produces a feeling of greater humility in those who can remember what happened. Yet getting drunk is something that most drinkers do very rarely, if at all.

Changing our mood and outlook is a very different matter. Under the influence of a moderate amount of alcohol, our inhibitions are loosened. Shy people become bold, the tongue-tied talkative, the dull lively, the unimaginative fanciful, and the isolated social. (Even “mean drunks” usually start the evening in festive and forgiving mood.)

That last loss of inhibition is the most important because it promotes the fellowship that is the basis of a decent society. Not all intoxicants perform this vital function. Cannabis and similar drugs tend, if anything, to imprison the taker within his own consciousness (however expanded it may seem to him in his dreams). Except for those who lose themselves in alcoholism (and consequently become asocial in their attempts to deceive others about their condition), however, alcohol is a profoundly social drug. At the same time, not all varieties of alcohol are equally social in their effect. This thought leads Scruton to narrow somewhat the scope of his enthusiasm. Having rejected teetotalism, he continues: “The real question, I suggest, is not whether intoxicants, but which. And - while all intoxicants disguise things - some (wine preeminently) also help us to confront them by presenting them in re-imagined and idealised forms.”

Scruton makes a fascinating and intriguing point related to our historical relationship with the vine to make wine the highest ideal form. He claims that wine derives from a crucial historical transition in our relation to the earth – when human beings settled, put down roots and stopped being mere hunter-gatherers. In a memorable phrase, Scruton claims that in this way wine celebrates ‘the earth itself, as the willing accomplice in our bid to stay put.’ But of course one could say similar things about distilled spirits and beer. Such drinks are not made in such an incredible variety as wine is, but Scruton’s point is not about variety but about the intrinsic and relational qualities of the drink itself.

In the end, one cannot help feeling that he is relying a little too much on the sheer panache of his writing to help his argument bounce along: ‘Wine is not simply a shot of alcohol, or a mixed drink. It is a transformation of the grape. The transformation of the soul under its influence is merely the continuation of another transformation that began maybe fifty years earlier when the grape was first plucked from the vine.’ Wine is a transformation of the grape, to be sure. And the mind or soul is transformed in its consumption. But these two transformations are so very different that it is hard to see what can literally be meant by the one being the continuation of the other.

In fact, Scruton’s view is not just that wine is unique as a stimulant, but that it has to be drunk in a particular way in order for the harmony of taste and intoxication to take hold. It is not hard to agree with Scruton’s argument that there are more or less civilised ways of drinking wine. And this part of his thesis is very plausible: ‘The burden of my argument is ... that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is part of a culture, and that this culture has a social outward-going, other-regarding meaning. The new uses of wine point towards excess and addiction: they are moving away from the old way of drinking, in which wine was relished and savoured, to the form of drinking typified by Marmeladov, who clutches his bottle in a condition of need.’

However I still found all this a tad unconvincing in that he makes a case that only the savouring and relishing of wine can play a central cultural role as opposed to other spirits - think of Scotch whisky for the Scots and beer for much of Northern Europe or even tea(!) for the English. So my apologies to Roger Scruton but I remain sceptical of his argument that of all stimulants, wine is uniquely civilising, however much I want it to be true.

I think Scruton is also wrong to despise cocktails. A well-made cocktail is as complex a set of taste experiences as a good Bordeaux. A good-strength cocktail is the perfect prelude to the theatre, giving one exactly the right lift to help the play to entertain, but not suppressing one’s appetite long enough to spoil a post-theatre dinner. It can be the booster rocket that starts a convivial evening. But the cocktail has its limits. The alcoholic strength of most cocktails reduces their usefulness both as an aid to sustained fruitful conviviality and to the kind of imaginative introspection that Scruton thinks necessary for a happy life.

That aside, Scruton knows that the best (including Li Po’s poetry) should be kept for the very end. The bouquet (of the wine, but in French the word is also used for the finishing of a firework) comes with the Appendix: What to drink with what, though here the second what does not stand for food, but for philosophers. This part of the book I very nearly coughed up my wine as I found it terribly amusing to pair a suitable wine, as one would with food, to a philosopher one might be reading.

St Augustine: Drink a glass of Moroccan Cabernet Sauvignon, though “the City of God requires many sittings, and I regard it as one of the rare occasions when a drinking person might have legitimate recourse to a glass of lager [which I did in Odessa, while reading Scruton], putting the book to one side just as soon as the glass is finished” [which I did not do, since I had three glasses, each of which containing half a liter].

Francis Bacon: “Any discussion of his insights should, I think, proceed by the comparative method. I suggest opening six bottles of a single varietal—say Cabernet Franc- one from the Loire, one from California, one from Moravia, one from Hungary, and if you can find two other places where it is grown successfully you will already have given some proof of the inductive method—and then pretending to compare and contrast, taking notes in winespeak, while downing the lot.”

René Descartes: “As the thinker who came nearest, prior to the Monty Python, to stumbling on the title of [my] book, Descartes deserves a little recognition. . . He has ended up as the most overrated philosopher in history, famous for arguments that begin from nothing and go nowhere. I would suggest a deep dark Rh��ne wine [that] will compensate for the thinness of the Meditations.”

Baruch Spinoza: “The last time that I understood what Spinoza meant by an attribute it was with a glass of red Mercurey, Les Nauges 1999. Unfortunately, I took another glass before writing down my thoughts and have never been able to retrieve them.”

Immanuel Kant: “And when it comes to [his] Critique of the Judgment, I find myself trying out [several wines], without getting any close to Kant’s proof that the judgment is universal but subjective, or his derivation of the ‘antinomy of taste’— surely one of his most profound and troubling paradoxes, and one that must yield to the argument contained in wine if it yields to anything.”

Friedrich Nietzsche: “Although we should drink to the author of The Birth of the Tragedy, therefore, it should be with a thin, hypochondriac potion, maybe a finger of Beaujolais in a glass topped up with soda-water.”

Edmund Husserl: “I recommend three glasses of slivovitz from Husserl’s native Moravia, one to give courage, one to swallow down the jargon, and one to pour over the page.”

Jean-Paul Sartre: “Sartre’s great work of philosophy, L’être et le néant, introduces the Nothingness that haunts all that he wrote and said. . . If ever I were to read Sartre again, I would look for a 1964 Burgundy to wash the poison down. Small chance of finding one, however, so there is one great writer whom I shall never again revisit—and I thank God for it.”

Martin Heidegger: “What potion to complement the philosopher who told us that ‘nothing noths’? To raise an empty glass to one’s lips, and to feel it as it travels down—noth, noth, noth, the whole length of the tube: this surely is an experience to delight the real connoisseur.”

In conclusion I really enjoyed reading this book (again and again).

This is a wonderful book for anyone who loves wine and wants to try identify what, in all its complex connections with so much of what is valuable in civilisation, might be special about drinking it. I think he does a wonderful job in looking at the philosophical and religious questions related to wine, from the Koranic injunction against alcohol to the true nature of temperance. These questions take us far from the vineyard at times, making excursions into terroir as different as Wagnerian music dramas and the philosophical nature of smells. His arguments as well as his beautiful prose are fresh, original, teasingly provocative, but also joyous.

This book is only about 224 pages but fun to read either in one sitting or dipping in and out at pleasurable intervals.

There are pages of useful advice on what wine to buy that are also glimpses into what to look for in the wine. I think his recommendations are good ones even if he leans too heavily into French wines. As someone who co-owns a vineyard I can say with reasonable confidence that I know my French wines but also wine from South Africa but confess my ignorance of wines from the new world such as California or Chilean wines. But I see that as an opportunity to discover rather than stay in my comfort zone. Here Scruton gently prods you along to do just that.

As an aside Scruton, who never shies away from his staunchly conservative Tory beliefs, perhaps forget to mention one juicy vignette in that Karl Marx’s political and philosophical ideas were probably inspired by wine. Indeed Karl Marx’s family were the happy owners of a vineyard in Trier, a small affluent Rhineland city, on the rolling hills of the Mosel River Valley. The family sold it due to hard times. Then as now these vineyards of the Mosel Valley remain mostly small-scale, are still known for their fruity white wines, and especially their lemony Rieslings and agrotourism. It seems the politics of wine (tariffs and import taxes) played a larger role in the history of leftist thought than their quaint appearance might suggest. In the early 1840s, the economic struggles of these very vineyards inspired Marx to criticise the draconian Prussian government - and in the process, some historians argue, begin developing the theory of historical materialism for which he is best known. In fact there is a delightful book I can recommend written by Jens Baumeister called, ‘How Wine Made Karl Marx a Communist’ (2018) if anyone is interested in reading more about that.

Of course it’s always hard to know how seriously one is supposed to take Scruton in some of his more extravagant comments in the book, like many things he says in his other books: ‘you could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.’ His desire to outrage and court controversy rises to the surface, and can result in some of the funniest moments in the book. But as with everything he writes, some of Scruton’s claims must be taken with a pinch of salt or more appropriately, with a glass of claret.

Indeed I prefer to picture his words as if he was one’s old and familiar drinking companion sitting on weather beaten leather chairs and making provocative but teasingly good natured remarks out of a desire to amuse rather than to be boorish or loutish. Indeed this book is best enjoyed with a glass of wine on hand whilst sitting on a comfy old worn out leather chair curled next to log burning fire as the light dims outside.

I would whole heartedly agree with Roger Scruton that wine is a “drink that causes you to smile at the world and the world to smile at you.” Instead of imprisoning you inside a solitary introspection, it takes you out of yourself - and your ideas with you - to mingle with others and their ideas. Wine is therefore a voyage of discovery - and rediscovery - in many senses. And for this I can happily raise my own glass and say amen to that.

But what glass of wine would I raise when reading Scruton’s own book?

Well, one bottle won’t do. So temperance is out of the window then - sorry Roger. You will need a good  French Sauternes or Barsac (preferably 2014) with the nostalgic autobiography, a finely bodied Bordeaux wine (I would go with a more complex wine from Saint Emilion) with the philosophy section of the book, and a champagne (of course) to drink with the philosophical jokes towards the end of the book.

Oh go on then, finish off with a tipple of Cognac before bed time, I am sure Scruton wouldn’t begrudge anyone that pleasure.

#treat your s(h)elf #books #book #review #book review #reading #roger scruton #scruton #wine #drinking #society #culture #civilisation #history #philosophy #ideas #marx #toryism #tory #conservativism

[enasallavellan]

Head canon ask list! 1, 6, 34, 36

These were so much fun! Thanks for the ask!

What does their bedroom look like?

Enasal’s room isn’t dirty, but it’s most certainly messy. She’s a magpie through and through, so there’s a lot of little collections of shiny or pretty stones, shells, and anything else she finds that she likes. There are rugs and throws, and I HC that her clan wraps objects in colored twine for decorations, which is seen here and there. Eventually, she gets her little grabbie hands on paint, throws some plaster on the walls, and paints a nice little outdoor scene. Nights when her room feels less cozy and more claustrophobic, she can open the curtains of her bed and pretend she's back outside.

And once she gets ahold of some paint made with a bit of lyrium to provide a nice little glow?

Bam. Fireflies and stars.

Eating habits and sample daily menu

So, those that have read my fic know that food is generally always on Enasal’s mind. She tends to eat a lot for her size, and is generally happy with anything. But she really loves bread and fruits - especially apples. So any time she could incorporate either of those into a meal, she will. As far as a daily menu she’ll pretty much eat anything, but if she got her dream meals…

Breakfast - generally her lightest meal. She’ll have some sort of bread (the cook sometimes bakes bread with nuts, which is always her favorite) with butter and whatever jams/jelly is available. She’ll usually supplement it with whatever fruit she can get her hands on.

Lunch - heaviest meal. This is when our girl goes all out. If she has her choice, she’ll have some rabbit and root vegetables, a bit of ale, some fruit, and generally something extra sweet. When the cooks make apple mash (baked apples, cheese, breading, cinnamon, and sugar) they know to save some for the Inquisitor.

Dinner is always very basic and middle-of-the-road as far as proportions go. She likes to finish off her day with soup or stew, and crusty bread. She’ll usually have a few cups of ale (I like to base it on the idea that ales and beers of old were much less alcoholic than today, and not quite so odd to drink more than you would think).

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

Okay, so Enasal’s social skills are still a work-in-progress. So she probably gives some TMI here and there to her friends, but I have a pretty good feeling they’re nice about it but let her know about it.

With her and Krem, there is very little what would be considered TMI between those two.

As far as the romantic side of life, Enasal is very private and her friends love nothing more than to tease her about every little thing. Luckily, Cullen is relatively private as well, and Josephine encourages them to watch themselves when nobles are around. Generally they listen.

Like, 82.4% of the time, I’ll say.

What makes them feel guilty?

Hoo-boy.

En is one of those people who feels guilt very easily. She tends to give herself the blame when things go wrong with anything she is remotely involved. So yeah, girl’s got issues.

#enasal lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquisitor #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fic #dai #dai fanfic #dai fic #ask lacy #lacy explains it all #Enasal is a mess and I love her

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ In WAR✘ and LOVE ♥ (Tomura Shigaraki) Everything You Hate

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Slice of Life

Word Count: 3,292

Pairing: Reader x Shigaraki

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: “I love everything you hate about yourself.”

☂ R a i n d r o p from [@kyokosasagawa​] ➧➧ “Opps, sorry, didn’t notice that it had to be an open prompt! In that case can I request Shigaraki/Reader with “I love everything you hate about yourself”?”

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You glanced at Shigaraki as he sat at the bar in his black hoodie, fake hand covering his face. Since you had first met him, he seemed to have retreated farther into his shell, despite your attempts to break through his insecurities. Honestly, you wondered if your efforts only made things worse, but you genuinely cared about him and only wanted to help him love himself.

Somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love with the league’s leader, even though you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t. This only fueled you more, though, but he wasn’t having it. He always waved off your attempts and, as of last week, he now took to avoiding you if possible, speaking to you only when he had to and with a clipped tone.

You wondered if you had stepped over the line, but it felt inappropriate to ask him that, especially since he was never alone. He made sure he was never alone with you and when you asked if you could speak to him in private, he flat out told you no, which only got the other members of the league interested in why you needed to speak to the leader and why you couldn’t say it in front of them.

Today was your chance, though.

All of the members were out of the hideout, some on missions and others just screwing around, and you wanted to use this chance while you had it, but Kurogiri was still there, standing behind the bar and polishing the glasses as he did everyday. All you had to do was find some excuse to get rid of him.

‘Sounds easy enough,’ you smiled as you approached the bar, taking a seat a couple stools down from your leader. “Ne, Kuro-chan. When are you planning to go shopping again? Dabi ate all of my cocoa puffs.”

Kurogiri sighed as he set the glass on the counter, sending you a scolding look. “I told you two to stop fighting over the cereal.”

“He had the option to choose a cereal and he chose not to get one, that’s his fault.” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. “But as soon as you returned home with them, he was more than happy to eat ours! He also ate Toga’s cinnamon toast crunch but she didn’t really care. When they were gone, she just ate Spinner’s lucky charms.”

For a moment, Kurogiri just stared at you as if waiting for you to tell him it was a joke, but your expression did not change. “If you wish, I will go and get some more later this afternoon.”

You chewed on your lip in frustration, glancing at the powder blue-haired male. His head was lowered, fingers resting against the glass of alcohol that he hadn’t even touched. His shoulders were slumped and you could see the deep frown set on his lips. He looked miserable.

Shaking your head, you turned back to the older male. “Would it be possible to go now? If Dabi finds out you got more, I won’t stand a chance. Pretty please~?”

He chuckled, putting his hand on his hip. “If you insist, but you must clean up the kitchen in my absence.”

Your eye twitched as you pictured the kitchen, pretty much destroyed after Toga tried to make pancakes based on a YouTube tutorial and Compress was supposed to be watching her, but he wasn’t and, well… the kitchen reflects that. “Uh… sure thing. It’ll be spotless!” ‘In like five years, maybe…’

Kurogiri opened a warp gate before pausing, his golden eyes shifting to the leader before back to you, lowering his voice. “Leave Shigaraki alone, Y/N.” And then he stepped through the gate, disappearing.

‘Sorry, Kuro-chan, but I just can’t do that.’ Taking a breath, you stood up and headed behind the bar to stand in front of Shigaraki. “Your drink is watery. Do you want me to get you a new one, boss?”

His shoulders visibly tensed at the sound of your voice so close to him, his fingers twitching around the glass. “No.”

You frowned, folding your arms on the bar top as you tried to see his face behind the hand. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Kurogiri gave you an order,” he muttered, turning his head away from you as he bit the inside of his cheek. Why did you keep trying to talk to him even though he clearly didn’t want to talk to you? It made no sense to him and he hated it. He hated how you looked at him, without an ounce of disgust within those beautiful eyes. You talked to him willingly, always kind and respectful to him. Always giving him a beautiful smile.

But that’s what you were to him – beautiful. You were like the sun, lighting up his bleak world whether he wanted you to or not. Always looking after him, making sure he was eating properly and not scratching himself too much. You also looked after the other league members, of course, but you always seemed to pay extra attention to him and his needs. It was like you knew when he was feeling stressed or upset, when he needed to be picked up or left alone.

Was he really such an open book to you? He didn’t like the way you made him feel, how vulnerable he was around you. It would be so much easier if you were just disgusted by his appearance, if you hated him for the monster that he was. And he truly believed that he was a monster in many different ways.

Shigaraki felt ugly, inside and out, his skin broken and cracked, like the dried ground in the desert. When he got overwhelmed, he scratched at his skin until it was raw and bloody. He believed that he was too skinny, his ribs standing out against his pale skin. He knew that he was emotionally inept, unable to offer what a normal human being could. He didn’t know how to act toward you and often found himself snapping at you, only to feel like a total ass afterward.

There wasn’t a single thing he could say that he liked about himself, but the list of things he hated was endless. But you didn’t share these sentiments. When you looked at Shigaraki, you saw his flaws, of course, but you found them to be beautiful. His flaws are what made him who he is, after all. Yes, he was full of flaws, but so were you, even if he didn’t believe so.

“I promise I’m going to get it done to his specifications, but I wanted to check on you first.” You smiled at him, but it was a bit sad. “Say… can I ask you something, boss?”

“What?”

“Am I… bothering you?” You wondered softly, using your nail to scratch at the black spot on the wooden bar top. “I don’t mean to, I just… I worry about you, you know? I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself to the best of your ability but I also don’t want to overstep or upset you.”

His lips parted, a shaky breath escaping him at your words. You worry about him? Why did that make his heart start to race within his chest? Why did he always experience this strange feeling whenever you were around? He hated it. “I don’t need your worry, just go do what you were told to do.”

You winced at his harsh tone, bowing your head. “Yes, sir. I apologize.” And then you scurried into away from him toward the kitchen, heaving a heavy sigh as you went. You had definitely overstepped and upset him, but how in the world would you fix it? Apologizing seemed to be the only thing you were capable of doing.

With your mood already dampened, you were unable to hold back the groan that bubbled up within your throat when you stepped through the door into the kitchen. Batter was slung everywhere, sticking to the walls and the ceiling like discolored slugs. It was burnt over the stove, blueberries mushed on the counter and fuzzy with the beginnings of mold. Glass was broken in the corner under the small round table, reflecting the dull yellow light above.

The sink was overflowing with dirty, crusty dishes and one of the chairs was missing its leg, which you found stuffed in the fridge behind the cartoon of lumpy milk. You didn’t even know where to begin and you were fairly certain that there was a rat lurking somewhere, its little squeaks breaking you from your thoughts at intermittent intervals.

After a small internal debate, you decided to start on the dishes, pulling them from the sink and onto the counter so you’d have room to wash them properly. With the small amount of soap available, you doubted you would be able to get through all of them before the soap ran out, so you sent a quick message to Kurogiri letting him know that you would need more.

As you got to work, you hummed a soft tune that you had learned by watching an anime called My Otome, a beautiful song known by the chosen three. Unbeknownst to you, Shigaraki had followed you to the kitchen, hiding in the shadows beyond the doorway, his red eyes trained on you, following your every movement.

There was so much he wanted to say to you, but he was unable to form the words and even if he were able to, he knew he would be unable to speak them aloud. He could could watch you from the shadows as he had since the day he met you, wishing that you could be his but knowing that someone so dark could never have someone so bright.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You stifled a yawn as you stepped into the bar, your body sore and tired after a week-long mission. You were thankful to be back home and you couldn’t wait to crawl under your blanket and get some much needed sleep.

“It’s about damn time you got back,” Dabi drawled, turning his icy blue eyes to you when you entered. He was lounging on the dirty old sofa, his boots crossed on the coffee table.

You quirked a brow, offering him a smile. “Aw, did you miss me, Dabs?”

“Hell no,” he smirked. “But handy man clearly did.”

“Eh?”

“He locked himself in his room as soon as you left and hasn’t come out since.”

“He’s been in there a week?” You frowned, turning toward Kurogiri, whose golden eyes met yours. “Has he eaten anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” the villain responded with a shake of his head. “He has refused to eat.”

“Will you make him something? I’ll see if I can’t get him to eat it.” Rather than waiting for a response, you headed toward his bedroom with your heart hammering in your chest. There was no light coming from underneath his door and, when you pressed your ear to the door, there was no sound coming from within. Your knuckles rapped on the wood to get his attention. “Boss? I’ve returned from my mission… if you’ll let me in, I can give you my report on what happened.”

Silence.

Your fingers wrapped around the doorknob, attempting to turn it, but it was locked. You rapped your knuckles on the door again, raising your voice. “Boss, please open the door.” You caught movement from the end of the hall and you noticed Kurogiri approaching with a plate of food. “You have to eat something. I have some food for you.”

Without a word, Kurogiri handed you the plate before slipping away silently.

“Boss~ Please?” You rested your forehead against the wood for a moment, hearing shuffling behind the door. Finally, you sighed and pulled away, turning away from the door, but you only made it a few steps before you heard the clicking of the lock, the door creaking as it opened enough for you to see him.

Shigaraki was paler than normal, dark bags beneath his tired eyes. His stomach was growling loudly, making him wince as his eyes fell on the plate of food, the smell wafting to his nose.

You offered him a warm smile, unable to keep the worry from your eyes as you handed him the plate. “Here, Kurogiri just made it. Can I get you anything?”

He said nothing as he took the plate from your hands, turning on his heel to go farther into the dark room, leaving the door open. You hesitated, wondering if it would be okay to follow him inside, but since he hadn’t closed the door, you assumed that he was okay with it. Stepping inside, you squinted against the darkness, closing the door behind you.

He flopped onto the small red couch, the springs squeaking under his weight as he did so. The small TV across from him was casting a soft white light onto him, making it seem like he was glowing in the darkness. He didn’t even look your way as you cautiously approached him, settling down onto the couch.

“Would it… be okay if I give you my report?” You wondered softly, glancing at the TV screen, where the pause screen of a fighting game sat, waiting for him to return to it. He nodded, keeping his eyes on the food, and you proceeded to tell him about your recon mission and the information that you had obtained.

Though he heard you speaking, the words didn’t really register with him. He was just happy that you were back home, safe and sound. He was happy that he could be near you again, hear your voice and feel the heat of your body. He felt so much lighter with you back at his side, as if you were meant to be there.

“…it almost got hairy, but I was able to stop him in the end. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the files that we were looking for, but we did find a new lead. I sent it to Kurogiri and he has Spinner out tracking it down now.”

He realized that you were looking at him expectantly, waiting for his reaction or orders, but he hadn’t heard a word that you had uttered to him, too focused on his own jumbled thoughts and feelings.

You frowned at his silence, reaching your hand out, only to hesitate. You knew he didn’t like being touched, but you needed him to know that you were there for him. With a sense of determination that might see you killed, you rested your hand over his, making his body tense up and freeze in place. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but… I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been locked in this room for a week and not eating,” you scowled. “That’s super unhealthy and -”

“Why?” He repeated, lips tugged downward as his red eyes met yours, clouded with confusion and annoyance and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Why do you care?”

“Because I -” you clamped your lips shut, feeling your cheeks heat up as you realized that you had almost confessed. Not only would he not accept your feelings, you figured he would be pretty upset at the confession, mostly because he wouldn’t know how to properly handle it. “You mean a lot to me, boss. I’d hate for anything to happen to you!”

Despite himself, he felt heat rush to his cheeks and he quickly moved his head so you couldn’t see, not that you could in the low light anyway.

You could feel his hand shaking beneath yours and you tightened your grip, sliding your hand into his but he jerked away, nearly jumping off of the couch. The plate clattered to the ground but didn’t break, thankfully.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” He growled, eyes wide and wild.

You winced at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry, boss.”

“Shut up!” He cried, his body shaking. “Who the hell do you think you are? Coming into my life and making me feel like this. Caring about me, looking after me. Do you pity me? Feel sorry for me? Tell me why!”

“It’s not like that at all!” You jumped up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t pity you, boss, I respect you! After everything you’ve been through, you keep moving forward. You have a goal and you chase that goal without stopping. Sure, you have setbacks and you sure, you get deterred sometimes, but you always get back on track. I care because I… I’m in love with you, Tomura.”

His brow furrowed, eyes shaking with disbelief and pain as he turned his gaze to the ground. “Love me? Don’t play with me! As if anyone could ever love me. As if someone like you could ever love me…” His hands shook as they reached for his neck, nails digging into his skin.

“Stop that,” you scolded, grabbing his hands and forcing them away.

“Don’t touch me, idiot! You know I can’t…” He pictured using his power on you by accident, watching the life leave your eyes as you crumbled before him and that made his heart squeeze tightly, painfully within his chest. If he hurt you, he would never be able to forgive himself.

“I trust you,” you stated calmly, resting your hands over his. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me, but I’m in love with you and I will tell you every single day until you do believe me. It’s okay if you don’t return my feelings, I never expected you to, but I will still be here by your side, taking care of you and watching over you.”

Shigaraki clamped down hard on his bottom lip as tears stung at his eyes, lowering his head so you wouldn’t be able to see. What was this warmth blooming in his chest? He hated it, but… he also didn’t want it to stop.

You smiled warmly, taking his face between your hands, using your thumbs to brush away his tears. “Look at me.”

He shook his head, trying to control the tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn’t seem to make them stop.

“Tomura.”

His eyes widened, snapping to yours. While he couldn’t identify the emotions lingering within your eyes, he could feel the warmth you were radiating and even if he didn’t fully believe them, he knew that you were being honest, genuine. You meant every single word you said to him.

Shigaraki did not deserve you. He wasn’t good enough for you, wasn’t good enough for the light and warmth you provided. That’s what he told himself, tried to convince himself, but…

“Tomura Shigaraki, I love everything you hate about yourself.”

He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he threw himself into your arms, nuzzling his face into your neck, his tears soaking into your shirt. You threaded your fingers through his matted hair, using your other hand to rub circles into his back. Your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered to him, telling him that everything would be okay. His hands clutched at your shirt as he tried to get a hold of his emotions, to understand them.

It would take a while before he could do so, but you would be there, patiently waiting for him to sort out his feelings and you would never stop loving him. And he would never stop craving your warmth and touch. Even if he never figured it out, as long as you were by his side, that’s all he cared about.

Tomura Shigaraki would literally destroy the world for you, and you’d do the same.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

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[bulletballetarchive1]

@tcpimpabutterfly​   said  :    ✩—Travis & Delores 🙈

Okay so this is a novel.

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Travis, specifically if he’s having an episode. Delores usually doesn’t raise her voice unless she’s finally reached the end of her temper. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Travis will go drive his taxi if he’s heated, so it’s him who ‘never really leaves.’ Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Delores -- did it once! They weren’t a couple anymore. 😰 Who trashes the house? Leave Travis alone in his utter anguish and see what happens. Do either of them get physical? Travis has never hit Delores and Delores has never laid a hand on Travis. Thought of it once. But changed her mind. How often do they argue/disagree? When they’re young, it’s not untypical for them to disagree. I mean, we have quite a few threads where Travis is open about his thoughts on people and society and all of that, and Delores is like “I don’t think that’s right at all” and gives her perspective on it which, of course, he doesn’t agree with because he’s rooted in his stubborn, gloomy thoughts. To be honest, Delores never gets angry during these disputes, she’s very calm and willing to hear his perspective. But eventually she comes to realize it’s sad and that it shows no one has ever properly loved Travis before. Their more passionate arguments come from Delores being worried about Travis’s insomnia, paranoia, if he’s taking his meds!! And these are even MORE reoccurring later in their relationship and cause their initial breakup.  Who is the first to apologize? Depending on the sort of argument that was had, it’s both of them. Sometimes it was Travis who got out of line, sometimes it was Delores who got out of line and deep down...they know who started it first.

Sex:

Who is on top? Sometimes Delores rides him. Sometimes Travis is at the bottom because it's a nice view Who is on the bottom? ^^ Who has the strangest desires? I don’t know what Travis be watching in those porn theatres. I also don’t care to know. Any kinks? 😠 like I said Travis be watching porn and I don’t care to know what it is. Who’s dominant in bed? Technically Travis. Is head ever in the equation? Yes. If so, who is better at performing it? Travis is good. Delores gets steadily better over the course of their relationship because she asks him what he likes. She really wanted to please him. Ever had sex in public? Nah, they got a little handsy in a taxi cab but they didn’t get too far. Delores deserved better than a crusty cab. Who moans the most? Delores. Who leaves the most marks? Travis. Who screams the loudest? Delores if it's rough. Who is the more experienced of the two? I feel like they were both a little inexperienced when they got together, Delores had already had sex. She wasn’t a virgin, but they were not good experiences. Later, she and Travis broke up and she got with some upper class dude, then got with Sal...then got a new gangster...so technically Delores. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? 😤 they’re deeply in love so they make love. Or somethin’ like that. Rough or soft? Dependent. How long do they usually last? 30-45 minutes. 😒 Might be less when they have children living in the house, though. Is protection used? It’s incorporated, yes. Even though Delores actually doesn’t like condoms. Does it ever get boring? Early on, Delores eventually thought it was boring because she was trying to be classy and hold back with certain curiosities she was having with like, roleplaying and sex in front of a mirror. There were also things in these cheesy books that she read about and fantasized about, but was too shy to say anything. Eventually she opened up, and everything was okay. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? A motel. 😲😲 Also, Delores found Travis’s original apartment pretty strange lmao. It was a place she did not want to have sex at because she thought it would be ‘regretful’ afterwards.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? while Melissa was unplanned, Cecilia was planned. It was just a whole different experience going on. When they’re young, the idea of having kids with Travis kind of intimidates Delores because he’s so troubled and the old ladies she hangs around don’t help matters any by asking questions like, “would your children be proud of a taxi driver? would he really be able to provide for them?” If so, how many children do your muses want/have? They have two and they think it’s a nice number! Well, that and Delores hated dealing with Melissa’s jealousy when Cecilia was born. She worried about Cece having the same disdain for baby three, so that wasn’t happening. Who is the favorite parent? Delores and Melissa have a VERY strong bond, even when she’s scolded her! And while Cecilia loves her mom, she gravitates towards Travis. This is because Delores was ALWAYS getting on Cece for something and idk, she was just always fascinated with her busy dad. Who is the authoritative parent? Delores. Those girls had chores and responsibilities and most importantly, manners. She never hit them or anything, but her scolding and manner of discipline could be saddening for two children. Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Travis. Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Also Travis, but then again he could be sleeping when Cece decides to raid the kitchen for snacks. Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Delores, all the time! Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Delores, and she gets Travis to dress up for it too. Who changes the diapers? Delores. Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Travis can be working at night, so there’s always the chance it could be Delores who was feeding the baby. With Cecilia things were different, he was feeding her more, but still Delores was the primary caretaker.   Who spends the most time with the children? Delores! Even during the summer she has taken the girls to work with her. They didn’t have to sit in the ballet studio, though. They were free to wander the building and see what other creative/artsy things were going on. Who packs their lunch boxes? Both. Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Travis and Delores did it together, but they were stressed out doing it. 😔 With Melissa, it was difficult but things went according to plan. With Cecilia it was extra uncomfortable because she HATED the atmosphere of sit downs. (and of course, in the aftermath, she asked how did ferrets have babies. then she asked why was the bird and the bees called that? How did birds have babies? How did bees have babies? They were mentally exhausted) Who cleans up after the kids? Delores, though she tries to teach them to clean up after themselves. Who worries the most? They both worry for similar reasons. I mean, Travis knows about how young girls can be coerced into sex work and Delores - well, she becomes a mama bear at the slightest threat. Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? I want to say Travis, but I’m also going to say neither. Cece in particular heard it from her favorite, beloved alcoholic teacher! The woman spilled her coffee and said, “For fuck’s sakes.” Afterwards, Cece said it at home when Slink was misbehaving and Delores gasped.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both! But Delores especially. She likes feeling tended to. Who is the little spoon? Delores likes being the little spoon, but there are many, many moments where its she who has her arms around Travis. Humming something to soothe him. Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? They're not going to fuck in a diner or nothing, so I'm going to say neither. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Delores, sometimes. Travis, usually. How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Hours upon hours until they have something to do. Who gives the most kisses? Delores initiates them. What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Laying side by side, talking and all that. Where is their favorite place to cuddle? Couch or bed. Delores was sure to get Travis a better bed than the one he had in his apartment whenever they’re living together. Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Delores when she's being sly. How often do they get time to themselves? Usually all the time they get to themselves is at the early hours of the morning. Or sometime at night when the kids are sleeping.

Sleeping:

Who snores? Travis, but its pretty soft. If both do, who snores the loudest? I said they're soft. Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share a bed. Even if that motel room had two beds, they would still choose to be side by side. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Cozy up together. Who talks in their sleep? Neither. What do they wear to bed? :/ Delores has so many cute nightwear, or lingere. Travis ain't got nothing special. Are either of your muses insomniacs? Fuckin Travis. Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Yes. For Travis. Delores contemplated taking some while pregnant because her anxiety would surface at night, but he convinced her not to. Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Varies, but usually their limbs intertwine. It's almost subconsciously! Who wakes up with bed hair? Travis. Who wakes up first? Delores. Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? ...Delores because on the real? she just wants to make him so, so happy. What is their favorite sleeping position? Delores likes to be in his arms in some form or fashion. Who hogs the sheets? Delores. Do they set an alarm each night? Delores has one - and she feels bad about it because it can take Travis so long to sleep before it goes off. Can a television be found in their bedroom? When they're older, yes. But it's only local channels. It’s a room where Delores can escape her daughters and watch television in peace, but unfortunately Cecilia enjoys being in there when Melissa is hogging up the living room tv. Who has nightmares? Travis! Delores too when they're on the run! Who has ridiculous dreams? Both. Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Travis. Who makes the bed? Delores. Also she feels that a clean bedroom has a positive psychological effect on others, so she makes sure Travis can come home to a proper bedroom just for him. What time is bed time? So, Delores falls asleep before Travis even comes home which can be at 10 pm. Then ultimately he arrives back at a very late hour and Delores wakes up for awhile. Tries to get him to go to bed. They stay up forever until sleep finally takes hold. When they're older, Delores is trying to sleep by 10/11 pm and doesn't wait up for him as much anymore because she's so worn out. Any routines/rituals before bed? Delores does too much before bed, I'm just going to say that. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Travis, especially if he had just fallen asleep.

Work:

Who is the busiest? They both are, just in different ways! Who rakes in the highest income? Okay so I actually went to google for this question. Annually, ballet instructors can make $32,000 while taxi drivers make  $26,453. So Delores makes more lmao Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope Who takes the most sick days? Delores, I think. Travis can’t stand to be sick and do nothing. Who is more likely to turn up late to work? On default, it’s Delores. But she still aims to be prompt. If it’s anyone keeping her late, it’s Cecilia who had to tag along for whatever reason. Who sucks up to their boss? Neither. What are their jobs? So Travis drives taxis and when they were first together, Delores was a ballerina. She was doing very well for herself until they killed her abusive boyfriend and had to go on the run. Her whole career in New York went down the drain.🤐 Once she and Travis became very settled and felt like they could live a normal life, Delores decided to become a ballet instructor. Had to put that skill to use somewhere.  Who stresses the most? They both equally stress. Travis is out here seeing the worst of the worst of humanity while Delores has to be a second mother to girls of varying ages. Hearing, “I think I’m pregnant, should I have an abortion???” “I’m being abused by my family/boyfriend,” all sorts of stuff she has to help out with! Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? I think that Travis has mixed feelings for his occupation, while Delores believes that the pros of her job outweigh the cons. She gets to see young girls be themselves and be free even at the price of knowing their personal business. 😌 She doesn’t know if she would still be doing this if life played out different though. Are your muses financially stable? They’re doin’ okay.

Home:

Who does the washing? Delores. Who takes out the trash? All of them, at one point or another. Who does the ironing? Delores, but sometimes Travis will have to iron his own attire. Who does the cooking? Delores. Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? That damn Travis. Who is messier? That DAMN Travis. Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Travis. Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Travis -- would, if Delores didn't make him learn from the error of his ways. Who forgets to flush the toilet? Travis, initially in their relationship because he wasn't use to living with someone. Who is the prankster around the house? Slink the Bandit who has nearly killed Delores and was nearly killed by Travis. Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Delores. Who mows the lawn? Travis. Who answers the telephone? Anybody, really. Who does the vacuuming? Both. Who does the groceries? Both, but usually Delores as she remembers to purchase the essential things that are nutritious! Who takes the longest to shower? Delores. Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Delores.....Melissa. and Cecilia.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Admittedly, Delores has never been in a financial situation like the one she is in with Travis (when they're all settled that is) because her family is filled with criminals and they always had cash. But she's so in love with him and happy that they're just alive that she doesn't consider money to be an issue. How many cars do they own? One. Not counting Travis's taxi. Do they own their home or do they rent? Own. Eventually. I can imagine that before Cecilia was born, and they finally got out that motel, Travis and Delores managed to rent a decent house that served its purpose. Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Nope. Do they live in the city or in the country? City! There's people to drive around! Do they enjoy their surroundings? Technically? Delores misses New York a lot, but she also has a lot of hate for New York due to their previous experiences. What’s their song? Vikki Carr's cover of Strangers In The Night, also I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holliday. What do they do when they’re away from each other? Work...Delores handles the children. Gossips with her friends/goes out to lunch with them. Where did they first meet? In his taxi cab. How did they first meet? Delores was leaving a party that she had felt very isolated at. She was also intoxicated. She came into his cab, sat in the backseat...then talked about how lonely she was and spilled her heart out. After that Travis was always present, and she got attached, although she worried about him one day stalking and murdering her. Who spends the most money when out shopping? Delores. God knows she has dug into bill money to get Melissa or Cecilia beautiful dresses for special occasions/holidays. Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Delores technically because she believes you are what you wear and that affects how people see you. Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? This question is trifling. Any mental issues? Travis has a ton of 'em. Who’s terrified of bugs? Delores! Who kills the spiders around the house? Travis. Their favorite place? Together. In their home. Away from people, where they can be themselves. Who pays the bills? Delores handles a lot of that. Do they have any fears for their future? Delores fears Travis engaging in violence. Just as she has worried about him being in so much despair that he kills himself. She just always worries about his wellbeing.  Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? I feel like Travis would, if/when he had the money. While Delores is inclined to do that for him at the house, because she wants him to be happy. Who uses up all of the hot water? Delores. Who’s the tallest? Travis because Delores is only 5'4. Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Delores. “Innocently.” Who wanders around in their underwear? A childless Delores, if she is feeling particularly sly. Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Travis ain't tryna embarrass himself and neither is Delores. What do they tease each other about? Travis has teased Delores about how she is tense during their daughter’s school photos that she paid good money for. she trusts Melissa to look perfect but Cecilia? She doesn't know. She never knows. And the certain reactions (or gasps) Delores has had looking at Cece's awful photos have caused Travis some great memories. Delores has teased Travis about small things, like whether he'll be able to tie a tie or if she needs his help. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Delores when Travis's jacket begins to fall apart and he still wears it. Honestly she's the type of wife/gf who's like, "why aren't you wearing the shirt I bought you?" Do they have mutual friends? Delores always knows June from when they were young girls in ballet class together, but I feel like she would just get on Travis's nerves. But even with that said, June made the vow that she would ensure no harm came to Melissa [or Cecilia] when they came to New York. Who crushed first? I'ma say Travis. Delores thought he was cute in his own, messy way, but she thought nothing of it. Any alcohol or substance related problems? I'm going to say no because Travis should probably be taking his pills more than he is. Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? what's travis doing drinking and driving ON THE JOB?? I'm going to say neither. And even if it happened, they'd be together on like a date night. Who swears the most? Travis on default.

#RE. / DELORES & TRAVIS. #tcpimpabutterfly #boom!

[lovemesomesurveys]

Did 2015 just fly by to you? I probably did feel that way. I usually do when looking back on each year. The only things I really remember about 2015 is graduating UC and hanging out with Ty.

Do you like platform shoes? No. I couldn’t wear them anyway.

How much black is in your wardrobe? Most of my wardrobe is black. 

Are you supposed to be doing something else? Nah, this is what I like doing at this time of night as part of my nighttime routine.

If you were with your favorite person right now, what would you be doing? I’d like finish watching this show my mom and I have been watching and check out the first two episodes of the new season of another show. 

Did you have a good holiday season? I did.

Anything special planned for today? Nope.

Who do you really trust in your life? My family.

What do you think about Justin Bieber? I like some of his music.

Do you wish you could change the past? Not entirely, but there’s a lot I wish I could change.

What is your hot drink of choice? Coffeeee.

Do you own a gun? No.

Have you ever cracked your cell phone screen? Not my current phone, but in the past I have. I haven’t had that happen in years, though.

Have your pants ever fallen down in public? No.

If you had to delete one year of your life, which year would it be? I wouldn’t want to delete an entire year. I’d like to change things that happened in various years, though.

What is your favorite article of clothing you own? All of them, which is why I have them.

How late do you usually stay up? Until like 7 or 8AM. :X

What is your favorite Christmas song? I love all the classics.

What all have you had to eat today? It’s only 4AM and so far I’ve just had ramen. 

If your entire life was a movie, what would it be called? I don’t know.

Blue or green? I like various shades of both.

What's your current least favorite song? *shrug* I haven’t been listening to music lately.

Do you know how to play chess? Nope.

What is something the world needs less and more of in your opinion? We need more unity and less stupidity and hatred.

Do you know someone who is just so breathtakingly attractive? Alexander Skarsgard.

How hard is it for you to open up to others? I have a really hard time with that. Even with people I am close to.

What is something that has really impacted your life? My physical disability for sure as well as health issues.

Quick! Chinese or Mexican? Hm. It honestly depends what food I’m in the mood for. I do have Mexican more often. I enjoyed both a lot more when I could eat spicy stuff, but I can’t anymore. :(

How many significant others have you had in your WHOLE life? I’ve only had one, technically. We had the relationship title, anyway. It didn’t feel like one, though. What I had with Joseph felt closer to one in a lot of ways, but we never officially dated. 

I have to ask: What does the last text you received say? My dad asked me to do something.

How about the last text you sent? I asked my mom if she could grab me something while she was at the store.

Have you shared any kisses today? No.

Did the last person you kissed have soft lips, or were they kind of crusty? They were soft.

Do you think your life will be any different a year from now? For the past few years nothing seems to change each passing year, but that’s largely my own doing. Not in a good way, anyway. There have been bad changes.

What is in your wallet? Credit cards.

Have you ever been in a fist fight? Nope.

When was the last time you went to the doctor? This past Tuesday. 

Are you going out of town anytime soon? Nope.

Do you hate your ex? No.

When are you going to get a haircut? I have no idea.

Can you fit your hand around your wrist? Yes. 

Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose? Yes.

When was the last time you applied chapstick? I don’t remember.

Are you a coffee person or a tea person? Coffee all the way.

Do you have a weird laugh? *shrug*

Do you have videos on YouTube? I do, but they’re all private and will never see the light of day again.

When’s the last time you had a phone conversation for more than ten minutes? I don’t remember. I rarely talk on the phone and when I do they’re very brief conversations.

Do you laugh at inappropriate times? No.

What’s your fast food restaurant of choice? The ones I go to are Chick-fil-A, Carl’s Jr, Jack in the Box, and McDonald’s. I haven’t been eating fast food much lately, though.

All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with? D, G, and J.

Are you in any kind of pain right now? Yes.

Are you the jealous type? I can be, but I haven’t felt that way in years.

What did you and your ex fight about most? Our issue was definitely lack of/poor communication. 

Do you have a foot phobia? I’m not afraid of feet, but I hate them lol. No one should even think about trying to put their feet on me or near me. I hate mine, too.

Well, are you a germaphobe? I don’t share drinks or eat off someone’s food or utensil or anything like that or want them to do that to mine. I’ll gladly cut off a piece and share or pour some out for ya. 

Don’t you love long hugs? From certain people.

And long kisses? Yes.

Have you ever purchased condoms? No.

Do you have a dirty mind? Sometimes.

What’s your favorite soda? I don’t drink soda anymore, but Coke and Dr. Pepper were my favorites.

Do you check the mail everyday, or somebody else? I personally don’t, but someone in my family does.

Did you think braces were cool when you were little? No.

Do you ever go without makeup or doing your hair? I haven’t worn makeup in almost 4 years and I just throw my hair up in a messy bun all the time. I also admittedly don’t brush it everyday.

Put your iTunes on shuffle RIGHT NOW and tell me the first song it plays. I don’t use iTunes and I don’t feel like opening Spotify right now.

What was the last song you added to your iTunes library? I forget the last song I added to my Spotify.

Are you embarrassed by any of the songs in your iTunes? I’m not embarrassed by any of the songs on my Spotify.

When was the last time you were sick? Back in October.

Did you get anybody else sick? No, it wasn’t contagious.

What brand is your camera? I just use my phone, which is an iPhone 12 Pro Max.

Do you like raisins? Yeah. Chocolate covered raisins, especially. ha. Who was your Valentine this year? I won’t have one.

When did you first kiss the last person you kissed? March 2011.

And when did you last kiss the last person you kissed? Sometime in 2013.

Did you borrow that shirt from somebody? Nope, it’s mine.

What was the last thing you put in your mouth? My medicine.

Do you like to swim? No.

How many vacations have you been on in the past year? My last vacay was last February a month before COVID hit and everything shut down. It’s crazy how fast everything changed and everything that has happened since then. We had no idea what was coming. I’m glad we happened to take a nice vacation when we did cause who knows when the next one will be. 

Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend? I’m single, but no I never have in the past.

Are you supposed to be doing homework, young man/lady? Nopeee, I’m done with school.

Do you have to wake up early tomorrow? Nope.

Do you have any prescriptions currently? Yes.

Are you upset about anything? Bleh.

Where was the last place you went that you hadn't been to before? The OC.

Who was the last member of the opposite sex to make you smile? My brother.

Who was the last attractive person you saw? I see Alexander Skarsgard on my dash all the time. 

Do you have a friend whose name begins with "C"?

Is there anything happening in the next week that you're looking forward to? New episodes of some shows I’m watching to come out.

How many people have you kissed whose name starts with "R"? Zero.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? It’s been a few years. 

When was the last time you were invited to go somewhere and you declined? The other day my mom asked me if I wanted to tag along for the ride with her while she ran some errands, but I declined.

The last time you saw your best friend, what were they wearing? She was wearing a black shirt with Maleficent on it that I got her for Christmas.

How did you meet the person you're currently interested in? I’m not interested in anyone romantically right now.

What was the last gift you received and who gave it to you? Various Christmas presents from my family.

When was the last time you drank alcohol and what was the occasion? My birthday back in 2013.

You've got an unread message on Facebook; who do you want it to be from? There isn’t anyone in particular. 

What if the person you miss walked into the room right now? The people I miss have passed away, so...

Are you still with the person you fell the hardest for and if not, do you still speak to them? Nope.

What was the last song that made you cry and what does the song talk about? I don’t remember.

If you're in a relationship, how long have you been together? I’m single.

If you're single, are you looking for a relationship? No.

Look around the room; what's the closest blue object? My back pillow.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? No.

How old were your parents when they met? They were in their early and mid 20s.

Who was the last person you added to your phone's contacts? I don’t recall.

What's a song that reminds you of someone you miss? Everlong (the acoustic version) by Foo Fighters.

What's the most expensive item you've bought recently? It was an accumulation of things when I was doing my Christmas shopping.

Who're the last three people you hugged? My mom, dad, and doggo. 

What's the third song on your iTunes "most played" list?

What exactly is on your mind at this moment? I’m tired.

What is it that makes you awesome? Nothing.

What is today’s date? January 16, 2021.

What time is it? 4:55AM.

At this moment in time, is there anything worrying you, that no one else knows about? Yes.

Have you ever cried in front of the last person you texted? Countless times.

What was the last thing you watched on YouTube? I’m watching an ASMR video.

Have you ever voluntarily read the Bible? Yes. I read and study the Bible. I participate in Bible studies. Have you ever thought that your life was so bad you wanted to give up? I’ve felt that way a lot.

How old are you? 31.

When do you start school? I’m done with school.

Do thunder and storms scare you? I love ‘em. We have had a thunderstorm here in so long it feels like.

How often would you say you take naps? Not that often since I usually sleep in until like 5PM. And not to say I couldn’t still take a nap cause I could (I’m always tired), but I wouldn’t want to so late in the day.

How many times in your life have you held a baby? Many times. I have a younger brother and I also have held several of my cousins when they were babies.

Do you like country music? Yeah.

What were you doing at 7:45 this morning? It’s only 5AM, but I’ll most likely be asleep or attempting to.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought? I haven’t done so yet today, but I’m always like “ew.” I avoid looking in the mirror as much as possible.

Do you look decent when you wake up? No. Or ever.

Do you like to cuddle? I don’t have much cuddling experience to be honest, but sure.

Were you single on your last birthday? Yes.

Do you have any candles in your room? I do. I never light candles, so I’m not really sure why I have one any, but *shrug*

How long does it take you in the shower? Like 30-45 minutes.

Relationship between you and the last person you texted? She’s my mom.

When was the last time you felt unbearably guilty? I feel guilty about a few things.

Are you currently looking forward to anything? Just new episodes of some of the shows I watch like I mentioned before and new shows in general. There’s a lot coming out this year.

What are two foods you think only taste good with whipped cream? Uhh. I can’t think of any that I think only taste good with whipped cream. 

If you eat it, what is your favorite way to eat beef? When it’s in the form of meatballs (mixed with sausage, garlic, onion, and herbs).

What foods go good with radishes? Don’t they commonly go in salads?

Are you insecure about your height? What made you think this way? No. I do wish I was taller, though.

Did your last significant other have a huge temper? No.

Do you usually close the door with your feet or with your hands? My hands.

Are you a fussy eater? I am a picky eater and due to appetite and other issues I’m very particular about what I eat and how it’s prepared and all that. I honestly only eat the same few foods.

Do you enjoy visiting your grandparents? Yes.

Is your hair hard to manage? For me it is. I don’t have the energy or motivation for it.

Have you ever shopped online? I do a lot of online shopping, especially the past few years. Even more so this past year alone due to COVID.

Do you prefer gold or silver? I like both.

What about diamonds or pearls? Both.

Have you ever had surgery? I’ve had several.

Have you ever eaten at Chik-fil-a? Yeah, many times.

Do you spray tan? Nope.

How many hours of sleep would you say you got last night? About 5ish. 

How many aunts and uncles do you have? 3 aunts, 8 uncles. 

Would you say your life is hard? It is for me.

Are your fingernails, and toenails painted, if so, what color? Nope, neither of them are.

Would you ever think about doing porn? No.

What did your last text message you received on your cell say? My dad asked me to do something.

What is something you need to go shopping for? Nothing at the moment.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long survey

[britneyperdue]

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