#food insecurity cw

[wri0thesley]

I love the idea of Pyro users being heaters 😭 It’s so cute! So does that mean that Cryo users are always cold? Do you have any characters that you headcanon as cold or warm? :D (sorry if my English is bad! I’m still learning! I hope I don’t come off as confusing! :D)

i think cryo characters tend to run cool, but how well they deal with that depends on their own constitution! kaeya i think actually prefers being warm; i imagine he had not a lot to eat growing up and so felt the cold very easily, and then when he was with the ragnvindrs their home was always warm and he began to associate warm feelings with belonging and being somewhere he was safe.

i also think hydro characters tend to run pretty cool; ayato, childe, etc.

characters i think run warm: itto, gorou, tighnari (hates it, gets overheated very quickly), thoma, beidou, kazuha, cyno.

characters i think run cold: xiao, venti, heizou, lisa, yae miko, ningguang, rosaria, kaeya.

i think zhongli runs cool, but seeks out heat sources like a lizard would; he prefers being warm, he likes blankets and warm partners. albedo is perfectly room temperature, if a little cool - but he doesn't feel temperature either way so he really doesn't mind. scaramouche runs room temperature for much the same reasons as albedo (non human).

#nat.txt #genshin impact posting #food insecurity cw

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

living with people who Walk Extremely Fast while needing time alone in the shared house spaces to do your basic selfcare/starting-the-day routines + having Trauma around being seen even fucking existing in shared spaces, including a long-ongoing and hefty dose of it from said people themselves, is a living hell actually. especially when they insist on constantly leaving doors wide open that would normally mitigate the house being a fucking panopticon and also give you like two seconds' warning that they're entering the space so you can brace yourself or leave. Hate

#moogletalks #me: starves myself for hours; takes my medication extremely late; and spends 90% of my time trapped in my bed with my health deteriorating #while waiting for people to Fucking Go Somewhere Else and Stay There for Like 20 Fucking Minutes Jesus Christ #me: finally either musters myself to tiptoe out and quietly go about my business because i thought they found somewhere else to be #or just fucking gives up and braces myself for sandpaper to my triggers + probably filling the Flip Out and Abuse Moogle meter a little more #housemates: GOD YOU'RE SO FUCKING LAZY RUDE AND SELFISH YOU JUST WANT TO HOG THE COMMON AREAS AND HAVE EVERY LITTLE THING HOW YOU WANT IT #YOU'RE COLD AND UNFRIENDLY AND ONLY WANT TO LIVE HERE LIKE A LEECH BECAUSE YOU STAY IN YOUR ROOM ALL THE TIME #BUT ALSO I HATE SEEING YOUR FACE AROUND AND YOU DON'T SPEND EVERY MOMENT I CAN SEE YOU ENTERTAINING ME OR BEING ''PRODUCTIVE'' #[MULTI-HOUR SCREAMING MATCH AND THREATENING TO MAKE YOU HOMELESS BECAUSE YOU HAD THE UPPITYBITCH AUDACITY TO ASK ME TO TURN A LIGHT OFF WHEN #I LEAVE A ROOM OR MAKE A LIST OF CHORES OR STOP TURNING THE THERMOSTAT TWO DEGREES PAST WHAT YOU CAN TOLERATE] #it's like fucking clockwork and i'm sick of it and when the people involved walk like they're training for the fucking olympics #and constantly remove or invade every single way for you to avoid them the tiniest fucking bit #it makes things a hundred thousand times more stressful!!!!!!! #and i KNOW most of these people would be doing the exact same thing with my bedroom if it was even slightly more socially acceptable #they would be straight up taking the bathroom door off its hinges so they can repeatedly walk in and out while you're trying to take a shit #it is a hundred thousand fucking percent a control thing and i hate it i hate it go AWAY. GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY #abuse cw #ableism cw #venting cw #food insecurity cw #housing insecurity cw #traumatag #adventures in mental illness

[asinglesock]

I have been eating so much better since I came home. My sister has to have clean cooking surfaces because of her allergies, which means that she makes an effort to keep the kitchen clean. She also organized the cabinets and made my dad limit his food hoard to a containable amount to store separately from the regular food. She regularly throws out the spoiled food in the fridge. It's still crowded but it's so much better.

When I'm working it's much easier to keep my rhythm of one meal before work, one meal at work, and one meal after work as a minimum. I also have more motivation to make food when my sister asks for food than I would if I were just making food for myself.

And I'm realizing that my financial anxiety really hurts my diet. At school I sometimes struggle to let myself eat anything but the very cheapest foods, which gets repetitive quickly. I need to let myself buy plenty of produce and protein-rich foods without feeling guilty about how much I'm spending.

At home there's an overabundance of food. I haven't had to spend out of pocket for any food since I got back. I have such a variety of fresh vegetables and meat that I don't have to plan for in order to have. I can use whatever's available.

I think I've posted about this before but it just feels so good not to be worried about it. Maybe I can use this as a chance to do better when I go back to Georgia.

#a sock speaks #food tag #local construction #disordered eating cw #food insecurity cw

[emmatriarchy]

I feel like a thing that people might not think about, that Remy would know from homelessness and growing up on the streets (beyond "street smarts", stealing, and fending for himself)

is how long after expiration date goods are good for.

Like that's not a skill I learned from my family, it's a skill I learned from being near homeless living out of shelters and getting food from food banks, etc.

Aka, if he sees you throw away that perfectly edible yogurt just because it's the date of expiration, he WILL judge you hard. Food waste is no joke, especially when you've been starving at some points in your life.

#remy l. (muse) #headcanons #homelessness cw #food insecurity cw

[ofspvrta]

K.assandra and table manners.

She has the worst, THE WORST table manners. Chews with her mouth open, downs her drink, and reaches across the table. Don't take her home for family dinner, she will embarrass you. This primarily stems from having to take care of herself for most of her childhood, food was sometimes hard to come by and she needed to eat. She'd take what she could get, and wouldn't bother with manners because who gives a shit? Food is necessary, why are there rules for eating it? She tries to be mindful of it as time goes on, but since she rarely eats with company or has to eat at all, she just falls back into the habit of just terrible, terrible table manners.

#Ψ:|| a tale for the ages | headcanon #food insecurity cw

[ghostlynimbus00]

There's not enough food insecure Billy content imo

#there can never be enough i love that shit #billy hargrove #food insecurity cw #stranger things #ghost.txt

[reasonsforhope]

"If I wanted to convince you of the reality of human progress, of the fact that we as a species have advanced materially, morally, and politically over our time on this planet, I could quote you chapter and verse from a thick stack of development statistics.

I could tell you that a little more than 200 years ago, nearly half of all children born died before they reached their 15th birthday, and that today it’s less than 5 percent globally. I could tell you that in pre-industrial times, starvation was a constant specter and life expectancy was in the 30s at best. [Note: This is average life expectancy, old people did still exist in olden times] I could tell you that at the dawn of the 19th century, barely more than one person in 10 was literate, while today that ratio has been nearly reversed. I could tell you that today is, on average, the best time to be alive in human history.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll be convinced.

In one 2017 Pew poll, a plurality of Americans — people who, perhaps more than anywhere else, are heirs to the benefits of centuries of material and political progress — reported that life was better 50 years ago than it is today. A 2015 survey of thousands of adults in nine rich countries found that 10 percent or fewer believed that the world was getting better. On the internet, a strange nostalgia persists for the supposedly better times before industrialization, when ordinary people supposedly worked less and life was allegedly simpler and healthier. (They didn’t and it wasn’t.)

Looking backward, we imagine a halcyon past that never was; looking forward, it seems to many as if, in the words of young environmental activist Greta Thunberg, “the world is getting more and more grim every day.”

So it’s boom times for doom times. But the apocalyptic mindset that has gripped so many of us not only understates how far we’ve come, but how much further we can still go. The real story of progress today is its remarkable expansion to the rest of the world in recent decades. In 1950, life expectancy in Africa was just 40; today, it’s past 62. Meanwhile more than 1 billion people have moved out of extreme poverty since 1990 alone.

But there’s more to do — much more. That hundreds of millions of people still go without the benefit of electricity or live in states still racked by violence and injustice isn’t so much an indictment of progress as it is an indication that there is still more low-hanging fruit to harvest.

The world hasn’t become a better place for nearly everyone who lives on it because we wished it so. The astounding economic and technological progress made over the past 200 years has been the result of deliberate policies, a drive to invent and innovate, one advance building upon another. And as our material condition improved, so, for the most part, did our morals and politics — not as a side effect, but as a direct consequence. It’s simply easier to be good when the world isn’t zero-sum.

Which isn’t to say that the record of progress is one of unending wins. For every problem it solved — the lack of usable energy in the pre-fossil fuel days, for instance — it often created a new one, like climate change. But just as a primary way climate change is being addressed is through innovation that has drastically reduced the price of clean energy, so progress tends to be the best route to solving the problems that progress itself can create.

The biggest danger we face today, if we care about actually making the future a more perfect place, isn’t that industrial civilization will choke on its own exhaust or that democracy will crumble or that AI will rise up and overthrow us all. It’s that we will cease believing in the one force that raised humanity out of tens of thousands of years of general misery: the very idea of progress.

Changing Humanity's "Normal" Forever

Progress may be about where we’re going, but it’s impossible to understand without returning to where we’ve been. So let’s take a trip back to the foreign country that was the early years of the 19th century.

In 1820, according to data compiled by the historian Michail Moatsos, about three-quarters of the world’s population earned so little that they could not afford even a tiny living space, some heat and, hopefully, enough food to stave off malnutrition.

It was a state that we would now call “extreme poverty,” except that for most people back then, it wasn’t extreme — it was simply life.

What matters here for the story of progress isn’t the fact that the overwhelming majority of humankind lived in destitution. It’s that this was the norm, and had been the norm since essentially… forever. Poverty, illiteracy, premature death — these weren’t problems, as we would come to define them in our time. They were simply the background reality of being human, as largely unchangeable as birth and death itself...

Between 10,000 BCE and 1700, the average global population growth rate was just 0.04 percent per year. And that wasn’t because human beings weren’t having babies. They were simply dying, in great numbers: at birth, giving birth, in childhood from now-preventable diseases, and in young adulthood from now-preventable wars and violence.

It was only with the progress of industrialization that we broke out of [this long cycle], producing enough food to feed the mounting billions, enough scientific breakthroughs to conquer old killers like smallpox and the measles, and enough political advances to dwindle violent death.

Between 1800 and today, our numbers grew from around 1 billion to 8 billion. And that 8 billion aren’t just healthier, richer, and better educated. On average, they can expect to live more than twice as long. The writer Steven Johnson has called this achievement humanity’s “extra life” — but that extra isn’t just the decades that have been added to our lifespans. It’s the extra people that have been added to our numbers. I’m probably one of them, and you probably are too...

The progress we’ve earned has hardly been uninterrupted or perfectly distributed... [But] once we could prove in practice that the lot of humanity didn’t have to be hand-to-mouth existence, we could see that progress could continue to expand.

Current Progress "Flows Overwhelmingly" to the Developing World

The long twentieth century came late to the Global South, but it did get there. Between 1960 and today, India and China, together home to nearly one in every three people alive today, have seen life expectancy rise from 45 to 70 and 33 to 78, respectively. Per-capita GDP over those years rose some 2,600 percent for India and an astounding 13,400 percent for China, with the latter lifting an estimated 800 million people out of extreme poverty.

In the poorer countries of sub-Saharan Africa, progress has been slower and later, but shouldn’t be underestimated. When we see the drastic decline in child mortality — which has fallen since 1990 from 18.1 percent of all children in that region to 7.4 percent in 2021 — or the more than 20 million measles deaths that have been prevented since 2000 in Africa alone, this is progress continuing to happen now, with the benefits overwhelmingly flowing to the poorest among us.

Vanishing Autocracies

In 1800, according to Our World in Data, zero — none, nada, zip — people lived in what we would now classify as a liberal democracy. Just 22 million people — about 2 percent of the global population — lived in what the site classifies as “electoral autocracies,” meaning that what democracy they had was limited, and limited to a subset of the population.

One hundred years later, things weren’t much better — there were actual liberal democracies, but fewer than 1 percent of the world’s population lived in them...

Today just 2 billion people live in countries that are classified as closed autocracies — relatively few legal rights, no real electoral democracy — and most of them are in China...

Expanding Human Rights

All you have to do is roll the clock back a few decades to see the way that rights, on the whole, have been extended wider and wider: to LGBTQ citizens, to people of color, to women. The fundamental fact is that as much as the technological and economic world of 2023 would be unrecognizable to people in 1800, the same is true of the political world.

Nor can you disentangle that political progress from material progress. Take the gradual but definitive emancipation of women. That has been a hard-fought, ongoing battle, chiefly waged by women who saw the inherent unfairness of a male-dominated society.

But it was aided by the invention of labor-saving technologies in the home like washing machines and refrigerators that primarily gave time back to women and made it easier for them to move into the workforce.

These are all examples of the expansion of the circle of moral concern — the enlargement of who and what is considered worthy of respect and rights, from the foundation of the family or tribe all the way to humans around the world (and increasingly non-human animals as well). And it can’t be separated from the hard fact of material progress.

Leaving a Zero-Sum World Behind

The pre-industrial world was a zero-sum one... In a zero-sum world, you advance only at the expense of others, by taking from a set stock, not by adding, which is why wars of conquest between great powers were so common hundreds of years ago, or why homicide between neighbors was so much more frequent in the pre-industrial era.

We have obviously not eradicated violence, including by the state itself. But a society that can produce more of what it needs and wants is one that will be less inclined to fight over what it has, either with its neighbors or with itself. It’s not that the humans of 2023 are necessarily better, more moral, than their ancestors 200 or more years ago. It’s that war and violence cease to make economic sense...

Doomerism, at its heart, may be that exhaustion made manifest.

But just as we need continued advances in clean tech or biosecurity to protect ourselves from some of the existential threats we’ve inadvertently created, so do we need continued progress to address the problems that have been with us always: of want, of freedom, even of mortality. Nothing can dispel the terminal exhaustion that seems endemic in 2023 better than the idea that there is so much more left to do to lift millions out of poverty and misery while protecting the future — which is possible, thanks to the path of the progress we’ve made.

And we’ll know we’re successful if our descendants can one day look back on the present with the same mix of sympathy and relief with which we should look back on our past. How, they’ll wonder, did they ever live like that?"

-via Vox, 3/20/23

Note: I would seriously recommend reading the whole article--because as long as this post is, this is only about half of it! The article contains a lot more information about the hows and whys of human progress, and it also definitely made me cry the first time I read it.

#progress #human rights #humanity #science and technology #premature death #cw infant death #child morality #womens rights #lgbtq rights #bipoc rights #doomerism #climate change #food insecurity #extreme poverty #global south #developing countries #optimism #climate optimism #good news #hope

[steeb-stn]

Nooooo Jackson having a bad harvest or something etc etc and having a really lean winter

and all the adults try to keep it from the kids as much as they can and try to keep from putting them on ration portions as much as possible, even if it means adults get less

(They end up having to put the teenagers on ration portions for supper every other day and it just. Tears the parents up)

#Ellie trying to give food to joel and tommy #(Maria gets full portions bc shes breastfeeding) #Joel just gives her a steel eye and says ‘No. Eat your food’ end of discussion #Tommy makes bad jokes about how he was getting a little chubby anyways and never ever lets ellie give him any #The last of us #miller family tlou #cw food insecurity

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 124

"It's just you and me.", Whumper announced cheerily to the open nothingness for miles, while whumpee listened.

Whumper wasn't lying. Whumper simply had the resources during the apocalypse. They simply happened to be the only other person for weeks of travel that whumpee knew truly existed.

It was risk their life to see no one ever again, with nothing to eat and drink, or stay with whumper. At least then they were fed half of the time.

#apocalypse whump #whump #whumper #whumpee #whump ideas #whump prompts #mini whump prompts #mini whump prompt #whump promt #cw food insecurity #cw apocalypse

[noisyskull]

Some thoughts I have on Fuyuhiko's sweet tooth:

In the game, he clearly loves junk food and sweets (you can even peep a stash he has in his room), and he's secretive about it/finds it embarrassing when Hajime mentions it.

So from this, most likely he was told at some point that it's "not proper" for the heir of a clan to eat sweets, probably directly from his parents. Given the strict upbringing he underwent, there also would've been strong enforcement around the policy.

The Kuzuryuus would've had servants in the household as well, including when it comes to meal prep, so only proper food befitting the head family would be prepared. Fancy, decadent stuff for a refined, adult palette. Not the nuggets and fries a kid truly craved.

So he was shamed away from junk food and prevented from having it, but he hard wanted to indulge on it, as is most children's right to do so. He's seen other kids with treats in their lunches, maybe even had snacks at school. It's a normal thing for everyone but him. Another painful way he stands out.

This leads into him sneaking sweets wherever he can. Incredible over-indulgence due to being denied them in his everyday. It's a guilty pleasure, a pocket of joy that he's not supposed to have because it looks bad on the clan (which already scrutinizes him and Natsumi).

So while him threatening people over basically anything is characteristic, methinks there's a deeper bit to that little trait of his.

#definitely overthinking this sliver of interaction but hey what else is fandom meant to do #I've got more thoughts on how chapter 4 might've also fucked with his food insecurity but I'll leave those for now #and also the post-Programme life would've been harsh to him #but also fully possible he was trained to handle himself in extreme situations idk #i be thinking and chatting #danganronpa #sdr2 #danganronpa spoilers #just to be safe #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #cw food #cw food mention

[wri0thesley]

stars in my eyes… zhongli

I know it doesn’t appeal to everyone (reader being insecure), but I particularly love the thought of zhongli being mystified that you shy away from being pampered or try to turn it aside, embarrassed at the thought; rex lapis doesn’t collect things without value. you are one of his treasures, surely you should be treated as such…? If you’re not aware, he has no choice but to make it as clear as possible!

what I mean is: dragon man insisting on overwhelming his cute chubby partner with delights— food, lovely clothes, everything he believes they deserve and more. because they are his, and he knows how to handle treasures.

oh, i think you're absolutely right. and honestly . . . the geo archon, solid and strong and sure like stone itself? why wouldn't he find something so soft and so warm and so alive the most beautiful of all treasures? why wouldn't he delight in running his hands all over your skin and brushing your hips and squeezing the plush of your thighs and feeling that soft flesh give under his grip, yielding to him?

he's not mean about it; merely raises one eyebrow and says in a perfectly clear, cool tone in a voice low and soft; "don't you think i know what beauty is, after all of this time?". yes. he's definitely the kind who spoils and overwhelms; and though he does never seem to have mora on him, he somehow always finds a way to make sure that you're swimming in all kinds of opulence. whether that be fine silks or pretty treasures for your hair or food, pressed into your mouth in bite sized pieces (that last one, he is especially fond of. there's something intimate about it, yes - but he knows, somehow, that this is what your insecurity is based on, and so when he does it he also lavishes praise on you in that soft, calm voice).

his dragon brain does insist on collecting treasures - and though part of it also insists on hoarding them away, making sure they belong solely to him - a bigger part wants to show you off and make sure you know exactly what your worth it.

#nat.txt #chubby reader posting #genshin impact posting #i think. cute. i think this is cute #food mention for ts #insecure reader /// #body image cw///

[omgpurplefattie]

Snippet!

Just finished the fourth chapter of 'Detoxify', my Mysterious Lotus Casebook modern AU set in 'the City', where all my modern AUs are set.

Here's a little snippet for @busarewski, @bisexual-genderfluid-fan and everybody else who follows that fic.

[PoV Di Feisheng, while browsing the tile section in a building materials store]

Food was a constant bone of contention among the inhabitants of the Lotus Bus. Li Lianhua was infamous among their widely scattered friends for failing to meet his own culinary ambitions; not much needed to be said about it. However, only about twenty percent of his cooking was completely inedible, twenty percent achieved even Xiaobao’s approval, and the rest in the middle vacillated between weird, ugly but tasty, and generally quite nice but somehow open to Fang Duobing’s nitpicking.

Di Feisheng didn’t care if the pup thought there ought to be a bit more ginger, less sesame oil, galangal instead of cumin, or whatever he considered concrit at dinner time. If Li Lianhua were to improve his cooking, their feedback ought to be less picky and more encouraging as to allow him to distinguish between the merely odd and the truly terrible.

Not that Di Feisheng cared; where he was from, food was for sustenance and nourishment, not pleasure. As a little kid in the orphanage, he didn’t get enough and was glad for everything he could lay his little grubby hands on; later, at the sports school, he’d eaten whatever his teachers thought best for building muscle and maximizing output. Taste was irrelevant, looks, even more so -- so Li Lianhua’s ever-failing perfectionism and would-be creativity versus Fang Duobing’s nitpicking just grated on his nerves.

In fact, he preferred it when Xiaobao cooked; he had no ambition of his own but knew how to run the rice cooker to perfection and could reproduce about two dozen conservative recipes of his mum’s and aunt’s. They would taste the same every time, filled Di Feisheng’s stomach nicely, never gave him burps or gas, and allowed him to wake up the next morning in the mood for a decent breakfast.

Di Feisheng himself didn’t cook; he didn’t have enough of a sense of taste to even determine if there was enough salt in the veggies. If both the others were gone and it was just him in the bus, he’d simply nuke a ready meal in the microwave; that was the whole extent of his abilities. The organic salmon and finely fanned avocado today at breakfast was totally wasted on him, but Li Lianhua had very much enjoyed the spread, so the bargain was still worth it.

Di Feisheng had ended up drinking a huge bowl of milk coffee and eating brown bread with butter as well as a bowl of fruit salad; that was all very healthy and would keep him going all day until dinner. And that was the point of breakfast, wasn’t it?

Now, Sui-xiong cooked well enough to constantly please his partner Tang Fan, who was both a gourmet and a glutton, so he did want a kitchen without a leaking roof and moldy walls underneath the hideous stick-on pseudo-tiles from the early eighties which had started coming unstuck on their own from the roof related dampness. Decent roofs, dry walls, and tiles that you could wipe easily after cooking was something Di Feisheng could provide and found worth his attention; the food that would happen in the kitchen, he left to others.

In the Sui-Tang kitchen, all design elements would need to take a step back to both utility and tradition; it would be a shame to gut the old kitchen and add something modern and western. Pale brown oblong tiles, both matte and smooth for easy hygiene, would probably be best for the walls; it was important that they didn’t dominate the look of the kitchen. The old cupboards, chairs and tables needed a bit of a sand-down and a coat of stain and varnish each, and they’d be good to go for another hundred years. The terracotta floor, he’d get deep-cleaned and maybe re-sealed, but wouldn’t otherwise touch; it was sublime as it was.

Sui-xiong would be paying him for the roof and the walls, of course; but the rest would just take elbow grease. Perhaps he could barter the general freshen-up for some basic cooking lessons for Li Lianhua; Sui-xiong seemed the kind of sensible guy to not go overboard on details at first but instead have sensible rules like “Twenty Ways of Not Murdering Your Noodles”.

That would come in handy; Li Lianhua’s attempts at one-pot pasta were among his worst, and the latest batch of a soggy, stodgy mess, even Di Feisheng had voted to consign to the seagulls straight away, without even offering it to the dog. “Half a chicken died in vain for this!” Fang Duobing had wailed; then, even Li Lianhua had laughed again, and they had ordered take-out.

#mysterious lotus casebook #di feisheng #city au #modern au #cw: mention of past food insecurity #i am writing #fanfiction

[clemencetaught]

"Here," it's... it's just bread. It's a bun, sure large enough to still some amount of hunger, but it's just bread. And yet, María holds it in front of Patrick with the face of someone who'd consider it a criminal offense to refuse it. Nevermind that she's stolen it from one of the banquets. "Just making sure you're eating." ((RUH-ROH it's Len again~ and I promise I forgot about the Peeta bread thing until I re-read this IGNORE THAT--!! FDKLGJDLAJSGF Hope you didn't end up getting sick BUT IF YOU DID HOPE YOU'RE RESTING AND FEELING BETTER SOON 🥺)) || okay but panem is also known as the nation of bread & circuses– ( unprompted w/ @mythvoiced )

He doesn’t eat much in the Capitol. 

Which is ironic, seeing how most of his life before the games, Patrick was always hungry. Always trying between schooling and factory shifts to figure out when his next meal was going to come. Why else would he and Hyuk have taken out tesserae all those years ago? It was preferable, playing the odds in the Reaping to starving for the rest of the year.

Nowadays, food is the least of his concerns. Whereas there is still a dearth in District Three, there is surplus in the Capitol. No surplus isn’t the right word; a surplus would mean the Capitol keeps the extra for the future. No, there is an excess of food in the Capitol, an excess that is dumped and left to rot after the pigs have had their share, have had their fun.

When he remembers that, food in the Capitol, no matter how finely it’s been prepared, becomes disgusting. Repulsive when it is combined with the thought of the districts, his people, still starving and fighting one another for the Capitol’s ‘scraps’. One plate is enough for Patrick to feel the bile swish in his stomach and even crawl back up his throat– how is he supposed to enjoy this filth now?

(But of course the Capitol has a way of perverting everything. Who else would have invented a liquid that makes one vomit what was just digested to make room for more food?)

“You didn’t have to,” is the first set of words to come out of his mouth, however. It’s such a childish gesture on her part; as a victor, she and her family should have more than enough riches to cover for food whether she’s in the Capitol or her own district. That and it’s considered normal to take leftovers from these banquets.

And yet, she’s staring him down like they are in covenance– it’s odd…strange how the things the Capitol deem sacred, she’ll approach with the irreverence of a foreigner and yet with the most mundane of objects, like a loaf of bread, most likely one of the hundred baked today and will be replicated tomorrow, like it is worth the weight of gold. He takes a hold of María’s loot. The loaf is still warm, freshly out of the oven, he wants to believe. Like it came from one of the bakeries in say, District 12, rather than a Capitol banquet table. Does she look at the Capitol and its elaborate feasts the same way? District Eight is probably just as bad if not even worse than his own district when it comes to food shortages so maybe her thievery makes sense.

When one has gone without food for long enough, no amount of surplus is enough to satiate the insecurity. He knows that feeling all too well. His stomach growls in anticipation. “…Normally, the Capitol likes to have this with caviar.” A delicacy from District Four along with butter shipped from District Ten. He splits the loaf in two, the inside crackling and breaking into two crisp pieces. “But I think…I think it tastes just as delicious on its own.” He hands María one half while taking a bite out of the other. “Take the other half; I can’t finish it on my own.”

It tastes delicious. 

#vomit cw #not that he actually does but there is mention of it #mythvoiced #mythvoiced ( maría. ) #anger said her real name was grief ( maría. ) #the victor ( verse three. ) #the victor ( answered. ) #AND HERE I AM NOW IN THE DEPRESSO VERSE :'DDDD #not me SOBBING first over the reference to the bread.... :'D pe*eta is my darling nobody does it like him </3 #hahaha not me with this hc that... #probably the victors in the outlier districts have complicated relationships with food #just bc a lot of them probably?? suffered from food insecurity?? #and then you go to the capitol and suddenly there's an abundance..... #at the price of the districts starving... :/// #that's gotta trigger some complicated reactions in the victors especially #so in patrick's case #it's not just that he's not hungry but that seeing the excess is...repulsive to him in most cases #(aka more trauma that since he doesn't actually acknowledge ends up manifesting physically....) #BUT FOR MARÍA!!!! HE WOULD EAT FOR HER :'D HE WOULD SHARE WITH HER TOO BC THAT'S WHAT HE DOES WHEN HE GOT FOOD BACK THEN #he'd share with his loved ones :'D #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK IT WAS VERY STIMULATING TO ANSWER :DDDD (the others are on their way too <3 ) #ALSO THANK FOR UR WELL WISHES....i am feeling much better now <3 #a question of justice ( answered. )

[deepdisireslonging]

Perfect to Me

The Reader isn’t a fan of house galas, no matter their necessity. When one reporter questions too deep into the Wayne couple’s personal life, she questions why and how Bruce picked her. Until he show her those reasons.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader (married)

Warnings/Promises: alcohol/food cw, public toy use, body insecurities, body worship, SMUT, oral (female receiving), window smut

Word Count: 2920

Note: I’m imagining Bruce and the Reader to be older in this fic. Mid to late 40’s or so. There’s not enough older Bruce fics, or ones with an older Reader.

Some women like to wear make-up, some don’t. Some like to don a dress that makes them feel nice, others prefer jeans and a favorite t-shirt. You didn’t mind getting dolled up for galas, press reports, and other such things. Most times you looked forward to them. But when they were in your own home… they lasted an eternity and you would have preferred they were downtown.

Dinners at Wayne Manor always went one of two ways. Option one: everything according to plan. Option two: everything went wrong.

Take a wild guess how this one went.

Dinner as a descriptor was misleading. It was more of a “show off Wayne Manor to the press and to high status citizens to display and establish dominance without being vulgar.” At least this dinner had extra security. Last time, a late-staying guest had made it up to the second floor, widely known to be the private floor, and about got taken out by Damian coming back from an early mission.

“Another glass of wine, Mrs. Wayne?” Alfred offered you the tray with some glasses on it. His eyes gleamed with the knowing look of what your answer would be, and that you needed to vent.

You held up half-full glass to decline. “As much as I want to down this and take another,” you whispered, “that would be the exact second one of those cameras would flash and it would be all over the papers. After you’ve circled the room, perhaps a cup of tea?”

“Rosehip? With a squeeze of lemon?”

“You’re amazing.”

As Alfred walked away, a reporter and a handful of people circled to pepper you with questions about things they already knew. It was drab, mind-numbing, and frustrating. But you held back a small smile.

If they only knew what Bruce had slipped under your dress before you both entered the grand hall… the papers would be ecstatic.

Across the room, Bruce caught your eye. Smoothly, he adjusted to “reflect”, slipping hid hands into his pockets. You inhaled, breathing with the increased vibration of the toy in your panties. He continued to talk, swaying one hand to emphasize a point while the other about swayed you off your feet. When your circle inquired about your health, you gave the usual answer of not being able to handle much alcohol. They tittered on cue, and that should have been the end of it.

“Surely you haven’t recovered from your college reign, have you Mrs. Wayne? I hear you and Bruce used to make quite the team back in the day.”

You angled towards the man who spoke. Ah. The new reporter, if that’s what you could call him. The one with two first names and a popular titillating blog about the private lives of Gotham’s elites. “I like to think we’ve both matured since then. Quality, not quantity, Mr. Jason Jacobs.”

He grinned. “And he certainly found quality in you.” It made you skin crawl with the once-over he gave you. “I hear you’re the one who finally calmed him down, inspired him to start all your charities. Is that true?”

What was he fishing for? “I was hardly his only source. This city is inspiring to so many people. Bruce is one of several who want to give back to the city that built them, the one that takes it’s toll at times, and the city that is always in need.” You shook your head. “I didn’t need to inspire the charities. Gotham’s heart did. And Bruce didn’t need calming down. A thousand photos taken from a thousand angles of one drink does not equate to needing soothing.” Across the room, your husband faced the sound of his name. He saw your angled brow and the tightening grip on your glass. Another reporter pulled him back into the fray, leaving this one with you.

The bastard had you hooked, and you both knew it.

“Alright, so he didn’t need you to… sooth him.” Mr. Jordan’s head cocked to one side, shifting his grin to the other cheek. “Perhaps he drew you into his… wildness, shall we say. His former partners have said he was proficient in bed, and well stocked in… tools.”

“I don’t see how any of this is your business. Nor is it kind of inquiry I usually accept in my house.”

He dipped his head, leaning in a mock bow. “My apologies, Lady Wayne-“

“Mrs. Wayne.”

“Mrs. Wayne.” Jason Jacobs stepped back, once again looking you up and down making you flinch. “But one does have to wonder… how you compare to the women Mr. Wayne had stepped out with. All gorgeous, yourself included. But you���re the one he latched onto. This inquiry is what inspires me.”

Before you could reply, the vibrator ramped up, hollowing your throat. Thrumming with so much anger, you hadn’t remembered it was going. Bruce caught your glass, quickly exchanging it for your favorite teacup. Alfred whisked by to take the glass, nodding in acknowledgment of your thanks.

“That inquiry might inspire the need to show you to the door,” Bruce said, placing his hand on the low of your back after stopping the toy. “Is it necessary?”

“Not at all.” To his neighbor’s shock, he took the glass out of his hand and downed it in a gulp. “I’ll find it myself eventually.” With another pseudo-bow, he wandered off. A glance from Bruce, and the guard against the far wall knew to keep a close eye on him.

Bruce kissed the side of your head. “Might I invite you for some cake?”

You smiled, distracted even though your veins hummed with irritation. “Is it chocolate?”

“Should be. You ordered it.”

An announcement was made for everyone to move into the grand hall. A cake large enough to feed the group, without waste, and enough to flaunt your “woman of the house” ability to party. It was an overly grandiose cake by your standards, but the crowd oohed and ahhed and applauded, so it must have been alright. You two stood on the small stage that pretty much remined constructed. Bruce made the speech for the night’s reason, thanked the right people, and thanked you for good measure. Then, as the crowd murmured and circled round for their treat, he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“Thank you for putting up with all this. I’m sorry it was one of ‘those’ banquets.” He kissed your temple, then ran his nose down your jawline. “And I’m sorry the tease I tried to use wasn’t enough of a distraction.”

You hummed, leaning into him. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.”

He smiled, kissing you deeply. Someone off in the crowd shouted, “get a room!”

“If you guys would hurry up and eat your cake, we would have been there by now!” You laughed, accepting the slice from Alfred, only to dallop a bit of icing on Bruce’s nose. Camera’s flashed, catching the moment of him spreading it along your jawline. Tomorrow, somebody was sure to make parallels to your wedding, but you didn’t care.

Bruce had turned up the toy again. He turned it down so you could focus enough to cut another morsel, then set it high as you took the bite. As you hummed around your fork, Bruce adjusted his stance. He turned so the growing bulge in his pants wasn’t obvious. It took forever to get the last guest out the front door. All the while, he kept increasing and decreasing the vibrations at the worst possible moments, taking delight when you would have to take an extra breath before speaking or would grip his wrist like a vice. Nobody seemed to notice, including Jason Jacobs, who gave you a wide berth while shaking Bruce’s hand. A guards followed him out to make sure he and his ride made it out the front gate.

Once catering had left too, Alfred closed all the doors and locked them. He dusted off his hands for good measure.

Bruce checked in with Dick and Tim, co-patrolling tonight, before coming up to the master bedroom.

You both shed your outer layers of clothing in the closet, a precaution to keep bugs and listening devices out of your room. A necessary and annoying precaution. But Bruce made the best of it by kissing your shoulders, your neck, between your shoulderblades, every chance he took. He brought the toy with him when you were both down to your skivvies and could flop down on the bed. The sigh you released as he turned off the last vibration did not match his intended goal.

“Was tonight too much? We can reschedule next month’s event at the Tower instead of here.”

It was a moment before you replied. First, you rolled over to face him. “Why did you settle on me?”

A gentle smile made his eyes sparkle as he matched your pose. “I didn’t settle.” He pushed a lock of your hair out of your face. “I’ll make sure Mr. Jacobs is not invited to another event. I’m not entirely sure how he got one in the first place.”

“It’s not even that. It’s-“ When words failed, you sat up, looking down at your body and remembering what it used to look like when you first married Bruce and fought by Batman’s side. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice Bruce moving to sit against the headboard until he was pulling you into his lap.

He gently tilted your chin up to look you in the eye. “Tell me what’s swirling around in your head.”

You looked down at your chest. Before you could speak, Bruce reached back and undid the clasp to your bra, tossing it away. It didn’t help your train of thought.

“My breasts aren’t as perky as they used to be.”

“They fit into my hands just fine.” He drew a gasp out of you by kneading them. “Or don’t you agree?”

“Maybe.”

You whimpered as he pinched your nipples. With your mouth open for panting, Bruce took advantage to press his lips to yours, equally opened mouthed as you gripped his biceps. He gripped you back. Canting and tilting together, you were soon breathless. But you moaned when his hands worked back to rest on the love handles that hadn’t been there in years past.

“I haven’t been able to keep up my figure as well as I used to. You could have had any pick of housewife…”

“I didn’t need a housewife. I wanted a partner.” He held you close, skimming his hands down to your ass to grip it. “And as for your figure… it’s still perfect to me. It warms under my touch. Bruises beautifully when I want it to. Heals with my help when someone else did the damage.” Nuzzling his nose across your jawline, Bruce dropped to a whisper, “you are all I ever wanted. And I could spend an entire night reminding you of every little detail I love… if you’ll let me.”

You flushed with the possibilities but, “what about out there? Gotham’s finest criminals don’t take a night off when Mrs. Wayne has some insecurities.”

Bruce made a show of reaching over to the speaker on the end table. “Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Are the boys off doing their thing tonight?”

“They are, as they say, locked-stocked-and-loaded, Sir.”

Bruce grinned. “Thank you. Keep me posted if they need anything.”

“Unlikely, but I will. Goodnight, Master Bruce.”

A second later, you were in his arms again. He held his lips to your forehead, swaying with you side to side in the dance neither of you had been able to catch earlier in the evening. With a sigh, you relished the warmth of his hands sliding around to the small of your back, then down to rest on the globes of your ass. He guided you to rest on one thigh and to rock against it.

“Mind if I share a few worries of my own?”

“Of course.” You buried your head into his chest, placing your ear against his pectoral to hear his heartbeat.

“Does it bother you that I don’t get hard as quickly as I used to?”

You chuckled. “You seemed pretty turned on earlier when you were toying with me.”

“Ah, but I already had an hour or so imagining what I was going to do to you once we kicked everyone out.”

Reaching down, you cupped his groin. “What did you have in mind?”

“This.” He nudged your head to one side with his own so he could latch onto your sweet spot. He nibbled and sucked there gently. “And this,” he murmured against your skin as he reached for your breast, working through well-known motions to bring your nipples to a peak. “And this.” With his other hand, he dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, sliding his fingers through your slick. “Hmm, doesn’t look like there’s much for me to do there.” He moved to suckle to other side of your neck. “What else could I possibly do to you?”

With a jolt of his hips, he rolled you off, laying you on your back so he could hover over you. His fingers continued to work you to gushing. But his lips moved to nip across your collar bone. Down to the valley of your breasts. Up to one peak, then the other. Then down your stomach, uncaring of its rolls and pudge. Down one thigh, making you cry out when he didn’t move where you wanted. Bruce gave you mercy, drawing down your underwear and admiring your sex, making you squirm. He hopped over to kiss the inside of your other thigh before finally joining his fingers at your sex.

By then, you were canting towards anything resembling an increase to your pleasure. When he finally started to lap at your clit, you moaned loudly, degenerating into calling out his name. He chuckled into your sex. Spurred on, he kept up his movements until your walls clamped around his fingers and drenched his tongue. His lips, sticky with your essence, kissed their way back up your body to mouth at the hollow of your throat.

You reached for his cock, hard and still trapped in his boxers. He grunted into your skin. It was obvious what you wanted to do, but Bruce stopped your crawl down towards his bulge. He lifted you up and had you lean against the window, pressing your chest into the cold glass. At first you struggled, afraid of who might see, even if it was the back of the manor. He shushed you and kissed along your spine.

“I had them modified while you were away with the mayor’s wife last week. They’re one sided, so we can look out, but nobody can look in. And heat blocking, so infrared cameras or devices can’t se us moving around in here from the outside. Not a soul can see us. Perhaps that is a shame, I do love showing you off.” Your hips bucked back, making him groan. He worked out of his boxers so he could run his cock through your slick dripping down your thighs. “Not a soul can see what I’m about to do to you.”

A bit at a time, he worked into you. Slowly, but surely, filling you to the brim. Finally sheathed, he placed his hands over yours on the glass, trapping them there. There was nothing you could do when he set a hard pace except to breathe and do your best meeting his thrusts. Your cries increased in pitch, and your walls tightened around his cock. Bruce groaned and grunted, meeting your gaze in the window’s inward reflection. He caught your breasts as they swung, using them to heighten your pleasure.

“You are perfect, Y/N. You take my cock so well, put up with my antics and dangers better than any other woman could. Only you could make me this desperate to fill you as often as I can. I knew the second I held you close for the first time that you were the one. Nothing you could ever do, no change in your body, absolutely nothing could change my mind.”

Against the glass, your nails clawed, anxious to grip anything. “Need you, Bruce. Please. Almost there.”

He moved faster, moaning into your hair. “Always gorgeous. Cum for me. Let me feel you-“

Your body seized, shivering and quaking as your eyes rolled back.

Bruce kept moving. He pressed you further into the glass, holding you around your waist to help pull you onto his cock. You screamed for him as he tipped you into another release before filling you with his own.

Wobbling on jello-legs, you let Bruce guide you to the bed. The sheets were haphazardly pulled down to tuck you under. He flopped on top of you panting into your shoulder from behind. It wasn’t long after his arm curved over your hip that gentle snoring rumbled against your spin. You took his hand an gave his knuckles a kiss.

“And you are perfect to me, too. Always knowing what to say and do when my worst thoughts creep in. Always being there for me, no matter the circumstance, event or mission.” You gave his hand a squeeze in the pattern that said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered in his sleep.

You drifted off soon after. Sated, satisfied, and sure of your place in his heart like never before.

***

Masterlist

DC Masterlist 

***

Other Wayne Galas/Events:

Whispers (S) - Jason Todd

Midnight Vibrations (New Years, S) - Dick Grayson

A Night at the Theater (S) - Bruce Wayne

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x reader #reader insert #DC comics #batfamily #batfamily x reader #cw food #cw alcohol #body insecurities #body worship

[deepestbluesky]

hanwenzhou thought of the day: thinking about relationships to food, so this is more of a character study of the trio post than a real hwz post. also, i tagged this but i want to put it here too:

cw // disordered eating, food insecurity

wkx loves to cook but i don't think he's very good about eating. he eats for practicality ususally, or for social reasons (holiday meals, excuse to stare at a-xu, etc.), but i think also he's very used to going without food, and sometimes, if he's not actively hungry, he just. forgets. absolutely the opposite of someone who snacks while cooking.

zzs i think actually does like to eat. it accompanies drinking. also now that he can taste again, it's... not exactly an indulgence but a reminder for him. this is what he lost and regained, along with a family and a life. he's also not great at remembering to eat tho, it's more when the opportunity presents itself. i think he's also kind of... hm. not a snob, bc he'll eat whatever, but has high standards for things being actually good?

hy is i think the one who never forgets to eat. i think wkx would have had times where there just simply wasn't food and generally not enough, but hy would have been more in a situation where if he didn't plan ahead or look out for any opportunity to eat, he wouldn't, despite there being food. but i think this also means he's even less invested in food being good than wkx, who at least has pride in his cooking. hy will eat anything.

all of this i think means that it's a real development when they're all living at siji and there's a regular meal schedule and young people who everyone wants to feed well, so they eat well too. the slow development of food preferences, of habits of snacking, of coming to take for granted that there will be food to eat.

#cw disordered eating #cw food insecurity #hwz thought of the day #idk i just love. thinking about 'okay what are these characters like in this way' #and also what can be signals of healthand comfort #also i can see a lot of other interpretations and if you asked me tomorrow i'd give you different answers!! #i just liked rotating this option in my head

[thatwritererinoriordan]

It's absolutely reprehensible that some Americans are only getting $23 a month for their supplemental food benefits starting in March. What should people do, eat oatmeal for 3 meals a day every day? No, this is not acceptable. I don't care that "the pandemic is over" (it isn't). This country makes enough food to feed everyone; therefore it has a moral obligation to feed everyone - and not just the bare minimum to keep a person alive. Food that's healthy for growing children. Food that's healthy for pregnant people. Food that's healthy for immunocompromised people so they have a chance to fight off opportunistic infection.

America, we deserve better than this.

#food cw #food insecurity #u.s. politics #snap benefits #food is a right not a privilege