#it tastes like chicken but also not but its bitter and sweet and i fucking love it
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hey. permission to be strange? cool thanks how do u think falin tastes. cause we've seen the fucken bird dragon shit but like. if u cooked her like that and then ate her what do you think she'd taste like.
what a question. especially since I finished watching the show with my pal like an hour ago. god. I mean she'd probably be meaty? Hmmm. I thinnkk. Well we'll probably go off a basis of. The red dragon. maybe a bit of the flavor for like a human. but like def super tough. I think it'd be neat if she's kinda bitter due to being a carnivore and stuff. hmmmm. maybe there's a slight hint of human? gahh. . . I think the feathers would maybe leave her slightly less bitter but like. not by much bethinks. hmmm. do you have any opinions.
oh wait I have more to say hold on. I wanna take out what the dragon would probably taste like maybe. okay so wait hold on wheres the article or whatever where they try to figure out what a trex tastes like hold on
OKAY I'M ON MY 'PUTER. Claps hands together. okay so. Holy shit there's actually a LOT more uhhhh speculation on this than I thought actually! Hold on.
Okay so first off. We have things from the show that obviously try to explain the flavor, but sadly we are in a nonmagical world that does not have these comparisons. They ALSO do not have quite a way to describe it. But they do go in with it being very tough. But! What we do have in real life that I didn't realize so many people wondered. What a Trex tastes like. I don't think it would be a far assumption that T.Rex's and Dragons taste somewhat similar. They have similar anatomy and just and probably don't have very different diets.
"Countless factors determine the flavor of meat, including the composition of an animal’s muscles, its eating habits, and its hormones. Based on the evolutionary tree, we might speculate that T. rex tasted more like poultry than, say, beef or pork. Its flavor would likely have been closer to that of a carnivorous bird—perhaps a hawk—than a chicken. What does a hawk taste like? It’s probably not far off from the dark meat of a turkey but would be more pungent because of its all-meat diet."
"based on comparisons with modern-day predators, we can make an educated guess. The flesh of carnivorous dinosaurs might have had a gamey taste, similar to that of modern-day large predators like alligators or crocodiles."
"The age of the T. rex might have influenced its taste. Younger individuals likely had more tender and milder meat compared to older ones whose meat might have been tougher and more robust in flavor."
so basically we're getting somewhere between funky bird and crocs. I also think it wouldn't be bad to throw lizard in there? Since reptiles are described as somewhere between fish and chicken I'm getting a lot of predatory bird methinks. and she probably would be slightly more tender since she's younger methinks? ohhh wait. we gotta take in the human factor into this brb.
Okay so cannibals mostly describe as sweet. It also would probably depend on who you're asking though, methinks as some seem to describe it as similar to veal and look like beef. a lot of them are saying they taste like pork though.
So what I'm gonna say.
T.Rex - Hawklike and probably slightly fishy
Human - Sweet Pork-ish
These put together would probably make something really fucking weird to say the least. But I don't think maybe. Like a sweet Croc or Gator would be far off? It might be somewhere between Funky chicken with a hint of fish and pork. Somehow.
scott. . . scott your brain. . . you are so smart I'm clutching your face.
#asks#dungeon meshi#guh. . . I might actually research this more there's a lot of different things we could work out. scott I love how your brain works
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Poss Sauce Guide
Here is how I make my hot sauce aka Poss Sauce. The label was drawn and printed by the wonderful @possumancer-co
First thing I do is gather all my peppers and remove the seeds and stems to avoid extra bitterness. I like to ferment my peppers in mason jars for 1-2 weeks (1 week for this recipe), because it adds a slight salty flavor to it without any salt added.
I like to add blueberries to my hot sauce, so I cut the blueberries in half for the fermentation process. These also add thickness to the sauce from the pectin.
Here are the jars filled with peppers and blueberries.
After this I fill the jars up with water, place some plastic wrap on top, then place glass weights over the wrap. I do the wrap stuff so I can avoid gross stuff forming on top from the fermentation. After that I just add the fermenting lids on and away it goes to a dark corner for a week.
I would go for 2 weeks without blueberries, but the sugar speeds up the fermentation.
1 week gone by and oops, it kinda leaked because I filled the water too high. If it looks mildly gross you're in the clear.
Lid, weights, and wrap removed from the top and I've skimmed off any rot or white stuff that has formed. Leaving this in will just make it bitter.
WOW this looks unappetizing. Blend the peppers and blueberries whole, and be sure to add that fermenting juice!
Now the peppers and stuff are blended. Time to cook on medium low heat on the stove. Be sure to have one or two fans on and a window open! The fumes will BURN your eyes and any mucus membranes.
WOWZERS THATS HOT SAUCE! Strain the mush into a new pot and cook some more on the stove.
Now's when you (actually its me) boil the bottles, tops, and caps.
If you actually try to make hot sauce yourself at home, this is when you need a 2nd person. Pouring the sauce into the freshly boiled bottles. Once the tops are done you can choose to pasteurize the bottles. I didn't do it for this batch, but picture this:
Get water high enough to reach the top of the sauce in the bottles, and boil it. Leave the bottles in there for a few minutes with the caps open slightly to let some air come out. After this you should be fine.
I like to add these fancy tops to the bottles so everyone knows if its been opened. You boil them in water and it shrinks!
The tops didn't entirely boil well, but oh well we will endure.
Here are the @possumancer-co labels! if you want your own then go fucking commission @possumancer-co for your own
WOW LOOK AT THOSE CHICKENS POSS SAUCE BOTTLES!
Here is a closer look at the labels. If you're wondering what the Poss Sauce tastes like, its spicy with a little taste of blueberry in it. Its slightly sweet with no added sugar, slightly salty, and goes very well with mexican style carnitas. It also makes you gay
If you want the specific written recipe you'll have to DM me.
I hand these out at fur cons so if you're a furry in the midwest, be sure to keep an eye out for a common opossum!
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I'm taking my stupid ass to find poison ivy so I can ask her what the mushroom my cottagecore friend sent me is cause this shit be bussin I need like a fucking hundred more pounds of these stat
#it tastes like chicken but also not but its bitter and sweet and i fucking love it#i just sauteed it with onions and its fucking scrumptious#i licked my plate then my pan#please#gothamite#only in gotham rp#only in gotham#onlyingotham#dc rp#poison ivy
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Now Playing(Title): Genshin Boys Faves! (Headcanons)
Requested By: Anon!
Song Artists(characters): Kaeya, Diluc, Venti, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, and Zhongli
Lyrics(Summary): I don't know if I did this EXACTLY how Anon wanted me to but basically just a headcanon list of our fave genshin boys' foods, drinks, flowers, etc etc! (Some are canon, though)
Explicit?(warnings): no beta we die like Childe's sanity, lowercase on purpose
A/N: This is my 1st time writing anything (that wasn't from last year or for a school project) so I apologize if it's a little...wonky. But I hope you guys like it regardless! ngl you can tell i started getting a little tired halfway so im sorry </33
Kaeya:
Food: don't know if it's particularly canon or not, but I'd say his fave is the chicken mushroom skewer! Specifically his own specialty, whether it's cooked by him or not!
Drink: we already know it's Death After Noon, but I feel like he'd also like Rose Champagne as well :]
Flower: the Calla Lilly for sure! It's part of his ascension materials, it only makes sense
Activity: honestly? I feel like whenever he finds time (aka not working or wine tasting) he just lays back on the couch (or bed) and listens to music. it's his quiet time!
Animal: DOGGIES!! He likes how loyal, friendly and cuddly most of them are, I feel like he'd especially be a golden retriever lover, and in his rare vulnerable moments will just cuddle his dog while crying to himself or ranting <333
Diluc
Food: Pile Em' Up! he probably thinks it's the best food to ever exist ever, hence why he made his own specialty, so he could enjoy it even more! ^^
Drink: Grape juice, duh, but I feel like he'd also be very fond of Cranberry Juice!
Flower: Lamp Grass!
Activity: not gonna lie? Probably just sleeping if he isnt playing Chess. Poor mans is working almost 24/7 HE NEEDS A BREAK!! Let him rest
Animal: also dogs! i think he'd prefer a dog that isnt super duper hyper though, like just a little more chill but still affectionate regardless ^^ Something like a Saint Bernard maybe
Venti
Food: he has two all time faves; A Buoyant Breeze and Apples! Of course he's grateful for just about anything though as long as it tastes good!
Drink: Dandelion Wine!
Flower: Cecilia's! :]
Activity: he's a bard, of course its gonna be singing and maybe even dancing!
Animal: dogs...again... all of them. every single one ever. he just loves them all so much even the ugly rat looking ones
Albedo
Food: Sunshine Sprat!! Doesn't matter if it's his specialty or not he enjoys it either way
Drink: I feel like he'd be very fond of hot chocolate! its not as strong or bitter as coffee since he likes sweet stuff, but its still really hot which is good since hes in Dragonspine 90% of the time
Flower: Mist Flower Corolla's! hes just absolutely fascinated by them
Activity: super obvious, but reading and drawing! I feel like on occasion though he'll stargaze, its very relaxing to him
Animal: cats! not only are they similar to him, but he always finds himself enamored with their looks and behaviors!
Xiao
Food: almond tofu. period
Drink: probably doesnt drink much, and when he does chances are its just water. but! I feel like one day Zhongli takes him out for some tea! Zhongli gets Xiao a peppermint tea with honey and smiles to himself bc Xiao just absolutely loves it its super soothing for him both in flavor AND feeling!
Flower: qingxin!
Activity: poor man doesnt know what hobbies are, let alone his own. i feel like he'd also enjoy stargazing though!
Animal: cats. they're exactly like him, he just resonates with them so much (omg catboy xiao arc??!?!) he'll just sit there on the roof of the inn petting kitties until he's needed somewhere
Childe
Food: isnt a picky eater so he doesnt really have a favorite or least favorite, but he enjoys Calla Lily Seafood Soup a lot! hes kind of conceited though so he'll probably brag about how his version ( A Prize Catch) is like 10 times better
Drink: once this man tastes orange juice he will NEVER shut the fuck up about it. he just feels like an orange juice guy to me
Flower: doesnt really have one! i feel like he'd either find all flowers equally as pretty or just not really pay much attention to them at all
Activity: fighting! hes a stupid little brawling adrenaline junkie what did we expect honestly
Animal: also a dog lover; he cant help it okay he sees a dog and just starts beaming like a little child(e)
Zhongli
Food: Bamboo Shoot Soup!
Drink: honestly? Dandelion Wine and any sort of tea are equally his favorites. he drinks tea more often of course, but Dandelion Wine is his favorite to have as an "on the occasion" sort of thing!
Flower: surprisingly silk flowers! he feels relaxed by them
Activity: he just wants rest man thats it, but i feel like he enjoys taking strolls around Liyue!
Animal: all animals!! except for maybe frogs but thats just because they're super duper slimy
#kaeya alberich#genshin kaeya#diluc ragnvindr#genshin diluc#venti#genshin venti#albedo#genshin albedo#xiao#genshin xiao#adeptus xiao#archon venti#xinnie writes#Childe#tartaglia#childe tartagalia#ajax#genshin ajax#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#Zhongli#genshin headcanons#headcanons#[☕] requests#[☕] writings
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drunk dialing | writer wednesday
Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!OFC
Summary: Angel's ex-girlfriend gives him a call one night when she has too much to drink.
Tags: Angst, Toxic!Angel, Unresolved Feelings, Alcohol Consumption.
Word Count: 1.5k
1:16.
“She doesn’t need anymore.”
The words barely register over the hustle and bustle of the packed sports bar. Basketball reruns play on the television, old school r&b blaring over the loudspeakers. The bartender takes one look at Summer and the way her frame is slumped over just slightly, the way her dark brown eyes have glazed over, and nods his agreement. From their places on barstools, her friends thank him, not-so-subtly sneaking glances at Summer from the corners of their eyes. She can’t bring herself to care. They don’t understand. She’s drowning in the liquor but also an ocean of misery. The waves steadily pull her down further at each turn.
No one understands, so she takes special care to savor the dark amber liquid as it burns her from the inside out.
2:29.
Last call in the state of California is 1:30 am for any establishment that sells alcohol. Businesses like the bar that so graciously hosts Summer and her friends can stay open later, and they usually do. Most patrons abide by state law, using the time to sober up by stuffing themselves with greasy foods-- pizza, fries, chicken wings. Instead of drinking, they make plans to come back and meet up with the strangers they have become fast friends with or say goodbye to their college buddies in town for the weekend.
If You Think You’re Lonely Now plays as patrons began to shuffle out. Summer hums along.
If you think you’re lonely now, huh
Wait until tonight, girl (If you think you’re lonely now)
I’ll be long gone (You just wait until tonight girl)
And you’ll never find another man that’ll treat ya’ right
And then there are the lonely.
The ones at the bar every evening without fail, using it as home in place of the one they lack. They slide the servers bribes, crisp and crumpled twenty dollar bills across the bar top. She watches with tired eyes as they slide shot glasses back in exchange. Summer thinks she would try her luck if it weren’t for the mother hens watching over her with careful eyes. Her friends-- Aliyah, Jasmine, and Nia already think she’s a ticking time bomb. The last thing she needs to do is give them the ammunition they need to call her an alcoholic.
3:34.
It takes a while for the bar to clear out. Nia has to use the bathroom at the last minute, complaining about it being filthy when she returns. Jasmine mutters an obviously while Summer pitifully sips the last remnants of her drink. The melted ice cubes ruin it, she can’t taste the bourbon at all, but every little drop counts, right?
Summer refuses the hand offered to her by Aliyah as they stumble out into the parking lot. Aliyah hovers with her arms poised to catch her just in case. Nia absentmindedly plays a card game on her phone behind them, and Jasmine heads up the group, her keys noisily jingling as she swings them back and forth. She’s the designated driver and the only one sober enough to drive.
It’s a typical summer night in California, dry but cold and windy, so they quicken their pace. With every step, Bobby Womack’s crooning is stuck on replay in Summer’s mind. The lyrics resonate with her…
When it’s cold outside who are you holding?
...and she’s about to voice her thoughts when she sees it.
“Is that a phone booth?!” The words come out more hysterical than probably they should. Sure, it’s been like ten years since she’s seen one in person, and she didn’t know they still existed, so she’s a little excited and a lot drunk, but it’s just a phone booth. One that’s narrow and brightly lit in the midnight blue of the night. Aliyah, who forgot her glasses at home, squints at the white blob until she can make out its shape.
“I think it is.” She sounds a little mystified herself, and that’s all the encouragement Summer needs in her state. One minute she’s cheesing wide, and the next, she’s sprinting across the street towards the phone booth, giggling and tugging her short dress down the whole way.
The girls yell after her, but she tunes them out, snatching the ice cold phone off the hook. She’s even more enamored when she pulls the heavy metal to her ear and hears the dial tone.
It works!
High heels click loudly behind her. Summer turns just in time to see the girls come to a stop behind her, out of breath and unamused. Jasmine leans over and rests her forearms on her knees. “What the hell?” She hisses, glaring daggers at her friend. Summer ignores her, punching the chunky silver buttons like she’s in a trance. Even inebriated, she knows them by heart. One number after the other, she dials the one person she knows she shouldn’t.
Angel Reyes.
She vaguely registers her friends telling her to put the phone down. She knows that she’s making a mistake, but the armor she wears to protect herself from the world is too heavy. She strips it away, her inhibitions lowered. All she wants is him.
Ring...
“She’s been drinking. We should do something.” Sweet Aliyah is always the voice of reason. Nia sounds bored and over the situation. “This is so dumb.” Jasmine tugs on her arm. “Come on. You’re drunk.”
Ring…
“There’s no harm in a phone call, right?” Aliyah says, but her voice is shaky. She’s wrong, and they all know it.
Ri--
“Hello?” The reception is shitty, and the volume in the earpiece low, but with one word, Summer’s hooked all over again. She doesn’t say anything for several moments, the sound of her harsh breathing the only thing that transmits. There’s a long, tense moment where Summer tries to convince herself to hang up, but then Angel says, “Baby, is this you?” She hates the sob she releases into the phone from the simple words. She draws her bottom lip into her mouth to quiet the sound. Her girlfriends freeze, unsure of what to do.
“Y-yeah, it’s me.”
“You been drinking, mami?”
“Maybe.” Summer sways, and Aliyah is there, using her arm to prop her best friend up. It’s a silent act of support, a reminder that Angel isn’t and shouldn’t be the center of her universe. She has supportive friends, a loving family. She doesn’t need him.
“Where you at? I’ll come get you.” She doesn’t need him, but she’s tempted to tell him to meet her back at Jasmine’s place. It’s only a ten-minute ride from his place, five minutes if he speeds the way she knows he does.
Speeds the way he did when she caught him at Vicki’s with Adelita. He had been acting shady for months, whispering on the phone, keeping odd hours. She had felt like a crazy woman when she put the tracker on his bike, but her intuition was validated when she saw his location. She followed him, expecting to find him with one of Vicki’s girls. Instead, she found him there with Adelita and her protruding belly, rubbing it with his large, ringed hands like a doting father. Like they were some happy fucking family.
Summer had nearly lost her mind, knocking over furniture, breaking bottles from behind the bar. Luckily for them, EZ caught her wrist and restrained her. The sight of Angel shielding that woman, protecting her when he hadn’t protected her feelings, was ingrained in her mind. Realizing that all the men she regarded highly and looked up to as older brothers and uncles had been lying, and helping Angel hide his cheating, was something she would never forget.
Being betrayed like that should have been enough to make her stop loving him, but... it just wasn’t. Summer often found herself wondering what was wrong with her. Why did she pine after a man that hurt her so badly? Sure, Angel’s handsome, and funny, and sweet, and really, really good in bed, but he’s not good. Not for Summer.
She sniffles into the phone, “I don’t want you to. I don’t want you.” She tries to will the words to be true, but the tears gliding down her face tell a different story.
“Why call me then?”
“Too much liquor.”
He snorts out a laugh but then pauses as if considering something. “Yeah, me too.” Summer swears she can make out the sound of Gilly shouting something in the background, but maybe she’s so drunk that she’s imagining things. Maybe she’s making it all up in her head because she longs for their relationship back. She always finds herself back at square one when it comes to Angel, wishing things could go back to how they were, that she could erase all the bad and keep all the good.
You see the night's the time when the needs come out
When your needs come out to breathe
And the jonesing starts and there ain't no way you can sleep, ooh
“You hurt me.” Summer doesn’t bother to hide her bitterness. She knows Angel won’t acknowledge the words because the only pain he can recognize is his own.
“Summer, why are you calling?” His voice has an edge to it this time. He’s daring her to make a decision, pick a side. Either she wants to be with him, or she doesn’t. His gruff tone, the callousness with which he says the words should make her want to turn away from him.
Instead, it makes her heart lurch.
She feels desperate to hold onto him, so she says, “'Cause I-I...I love you.”
Notes: The prompt is from @autumnleaves1991-blog Weekly Writing Challenge. Summer Walker - Drunk Dialing...LODT & Bobby Womack - If You Think You’re Lonely Now inspired this fic. Let's all pretend you don't have to pay to use a pay phone lol. Do you like to see moodboards/covers for fics? Please let me know. Hope you all enjoy!
General Taglist:
@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903
Angel Reyes:
@claytoncardenasbabymama @adaydreamaway08
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Shinso with knife play or medical play?
Now this. This is my shit.
•Under Control•
Summary: Shinsou gets creative with your knife :-)
Pairing: Pro Hero Hitoshi x Villain FemReader (both 18+)
Warnings: Knife play, degradation, blood play, wound play, public sex. (This ain't sanitary my friends, PLEASE knife play responsibly)
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
"Easy there, Kitten. Somebody could get hurt with that." Your enemy sneers as he inches towards you.
You hold your bowie knife tight, backing yourself against a wall as he closes in on you. You could respond, you probably will. Knowing damn well he could use his quirk on you. He won't, though, Hitoshi likes to play with his food.
Hitoshi fucking Shinsou, always ruining your plans, always stepping on your toes. He's truly becoming the bug in your windshield, a pesky little irritation that you just want out of your way.
"That's kinda the point, sweetheart." You reply, making your pet name sound just as bitter as his.
The mission went bad, you fucked up, now you're stuck between a hero and a hard place. The dirty brick of the alley way rubs against your back as you press into it.
You hold the blade up to his throat as he steps into your space, he shows no fear, pays it no mind as the blade kisses his pale skin. You have to admit, he's a little handsome like this. His mask is long gone, skin glittering with sweat, pretty little cuts litter his face. Not to mention his furious, violet eyes. If it weren't for him being such a damn rat, he'd probably be a decent fuck.
"Is that a thing for you?" He teases, eyes lit up with something devious. You curse the heat that settles in your belly, disgusted with yourself for wanting to tempt him.
"Oh, Toshi, didn't they teach you that heroes shouldn't talk like that?" You bite back, not missing his implications.
"They did, they also taught me not to act like this." With that, his hand is wrapped around yours, holding the handle of your knife with you.
He twists your wrist quickly, causing you to cry out in pain as your release your weapon. He's too damn quick, before you can combat him he has you spun around with your face against the brick. He holds your arm in a chicken wing hold and your feel the point of the blade press into your side.
"Are you always this good with the ladies?" You taunt, glancing over your shoulder at his amused expression.
"Are you always this easy?" He fires back, he presses the tip in further, not enough to cut your clothes but enough to bite your skin.
"Why don't you find out?" You whisper.
You press your hips back against his, pressing your backside into his crotch. He damn near snarls when you make content with his obviously hard length, and you can't help but laugh.
"Already, Hitoshi?" You're gonna make me blush." You laugh, spreading your legs just a bit so you can press your clothes sex against his.
He takes a moment to breathe, glaring down at where you connect, feeling the heat build in his chest. He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't, but god does he want to.
"You fucking asked for it." He growls, leaning in so he can bite your neck quickly. His teeth don't feel sensual against your skin, they feel primal.
You open your mouth to retort, but once again, he moves too fast for you to keep track of. He releases you and drops to his knees behind you in one fluent motion.
He grabs the waist of your pants with a rough hand, then he slides through the fabric with your own knife. You gasp and arch as the cold night are nips at your exposed skin, but it all goes straight to your core, inevitably making you more wet than you already are.
"Would you look at that?" He muses, trailing the tip of the blade down the curve of your ass.
"So fucking messy." He spends no time teasing, all he offers is one swipe of his thumb across your slick covered lips before he flips the knife in his hand and shoves the handle into you.
"Shit-" You choke out, filled too suddenly by the girth of the handle.
You look down the alleyway at the street, begging for somebody to walk by, to see their hero on his knees fucking some lowlife with a knife handle. There isn't a soul in sight, just you and Hitoshi alone with your sins.
"Your- fuck- your hand, aren't you c-cutting it?" You question as he picks up speed, cranking your neck so you can drink in the view behind you.
"Yeah, I am. If you cum for me I'll let you lick it up." He tears his eyes away from your dripping pussy so he can glare into your eyes.
You watch him pump his arm up and down as he fucks the weapon in and out of you. The sight is bewildering, the feeling is mind numbing. Its enough to make you cream around the metal, but not enough to make you finish.
"Ask for it, bitch. I know what you need, ask me for it." His free hand plays at the skin above your clit as he angles the handle upwards slightly, the tip of it kisses a sweet spot inside you and you can't help but moan for him.
"P-please, shit, Hitoshi please." How easily you've crumbled for you enemy, utterly undone as he pounds your own knife into your cunt.
"I win." He states lazily before pressing his thumb into your weak spot.
You unravel immediately, with all the adrenaline pulsing through you and the thrill of being caught, you never stood a chance.
You cry out, nails scratching against the brick as you clench around the handle. Your skin feels like it's boiling, your high is rapturous, shocks of pleasure fire up and down your body as you come undone. Hitoshi fucks you through it, whispering slurred praises as he watches you make a mess for him.
He rips the knife from your cunt and throws it to the side, blade painted with blood, handle painted with your creamy mess. He plants one hand in the back of your hair and yanks your head so you spin around to face up.
"Open up." He gives you a wicked smile when you obey immediately, "Stick that tongue out."
Again, you comply without question.
He wipes the cuts on his palm down your tongue, spreading his blood across your chin as he does. You lap it up, thankful for the sharp taste, thankful for the depravity.
"Atta girl." He admires the way your eyes roll back, the way your legs wobble and how you whimper against him.
In an act of defiance, desperate to regain control, you grab the belt loops of his pants and yank. You spin him and press him up against the wall before snaking down his body until you're on your knees before him.
He looks down at you with flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids, his pretty lips part as he gasps when you hand traces over his hard on through his pants.
"My turn." You wink up at him before grabbing your knife.
You show off for him, licking up all of the liquid smeared on the blade and the handle. He shutters and bites his lip when you flick your tongue against the metal.
He groans at the sight, eager hands reaching for his belt, trying to rid himself of anything that could come between your sweet little mouth and his dick.
"Are you always this easy?" You mock him, flipping the knife around before grabbing at the waist of his pants.
He freezes when you lift his shirt up so you can't let the tip of the knife fall against his stomach. You look up at him with a sickly sweet look in your eyes, giving your wrist some slack so the tip can trail down his muscular abdomen.
"I've got a weak spot for pretty girls on their knees." He answers, head falling back against the brick as you dip the knife below his waist band. You flick the tip just slightly, creating a small red line that makes him hiss.
"Oops, I should be careful with this, huh? Don't wanna hurt anybody."
Now it's your turn.
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Touch the Light (I Want To)
Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | 2.9k
Rating: PG/PG-13
Genre: Romance, Slice of Life
Warning: None; It’s purely plot-less, domestic fluff with like a sprinkling of angst. Maybe some language.
Cross posted to ao3. Enjoy!
In hindsight, you’d both felt a change coming.
There wasn’t a single instance, nor any regularity. It was just there, wriggling under the surface; a feeling that something was going to change.
You couldn’t place when it had started. Perhaps enough small changes had begun happening in your and Seokjin’s personal and professional lives that it put you on edge. Perhaps it was nothing more than paranoia. You weren’t conscious of this feeling all the time. It would hit you when your mind wasn’t occupied; during your morning commute or while between clients at work, suddenly you would be wistfully overcome by thoughts of change. Of course, you never shared these feelings with your husband because they were silly. Unverifiable. Definitely paranoia.
Until one day. Morning showers were the worst, but the one this morning had been strangely cathartic. Soothing. The combination of scents, warm water, and your favorite indie playlist put you in a reflective mood. Your thoughts ran wild, and before you knew it you felt the familiar weight settle in your chest. It wasn’t that your thoughts of change were always melancholic, in fact, they rarely were. But change was scary, whether it was good or bad. It often meant losing something, even if something was also gained. But as you dried your hair and brushed your teeth, you realize that marriage had been a monumental change. It had changed just about everything, but now you had Seokjin and he had you. If a change were on the horizon, whether it was bitter or sweet, you felt better knowing that neither of you would go through it alone. You felt your mind relax as you finished up your routine.
Seokjin was already in the kitchen when you finished dressing for work, scooping generous helpings of rice into your bowls. He’d already set the table, the usual spread of banchan and breakfast soup in place. You asked if he wanted coffee, getting down two cups just in case. He hummed his approval and you retrieved two packets of instant coffee, filling each cup with hot water from the fancy hot water maker you got as a wedding gift.
It wasn’t every day that you ate breakfast together. Some mornings you left without eating at all while others Seokjin prepared something for the both of you to eat at your respected offices. But the best mornings were the ones when you both ate together, even if it required both of you to wake up earlier than you liked. On his days off, Seokjin could easily sleep ten hours. You weren’t far behind.
Usually, you ate in easy silence and this morning was no different. Seokjin ate heartily but you picked at your food, oddly nauseous at the taste of seaweed soup. Instead, you drank your coffee and scrolled through Twitter, catching up on stories you’d missed from the night before.
When it came time for you to head out to work, you remembered your shower thoughts. For the first time, your lingering thoughts on change felt accessible, more real in a way, and you felt okay to share them. Paranoia be damned. Before you could stop yourself, you broke the silence by getting your husband's attention.
Seokjin looked up at you while he finished chewing. His brows quirked.
There was no reason to be nervous, but you hesitated. You hadn’t shared these thoughts yet for a reason, as dumb as that reason might be outside of your head. Ah. Whatever. It isn’t like Seokjin and you don’t take turns exasperating each other with some pretty stupid thoughts periodically. When had he ever judged you for anything you’d said? Never. Stupid, serious or otherwise.
“I feel like…like some big change is coming for us. I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately. Does that make sense?”
Seokjin swallowed and chuckled, looking away to add a clump of seasoned bean sprouts to his rice. “Hmm. Honestly, I’ve been feeling like that too. Work’s been harder to deal with than usual, but it’s not just that, you know.”
You perk up. “Right? I can’t put my finger on it either, but it’s a strange sense of- not dread or apprehension but…”
Seokjin chuckles around another mouthful. “I’m sure if you name enough synonyms, you’ll land on the right one.”
“Shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You get what I’m trying to say.”
“I do, jagiya. I’m with you.”
With the conversation more or less at its end, you feel satisfied at having gotten it off your chest. He was feeling it too, so there was no need to think of it anymore. You tried to eat more of your breakfast, but your appetite just wasn’t there. Rather than continue picking at it, you dump out your soup and make a rice ball with some banchan and stick it in your lunch bag. Maybe you’ll want it later.
“You sure you’re okay taking the bus today?” You ask, running your fingers through your husband’s short brown hair. He sighs and leans into your touch, humming in affirmation.
“You need it more today, so it’s decided. I’ll be stuck at my desk all day regardless.”
“Okay,” you coo, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
“You okay? You didn’t eat much.”
You smile into your kiss. “Don’t worry, about me. I’m gonna head out then. I love you, baby. See you tonight.”
Turned his chair around, he wrapped an arm around you middle and pulled you to his side. He smiled up at you and closed his eyes, pursing his lips expectantly. You rolled your eyes again before relenting, meeting his mouth halfway. Your husband was a ham. A handsome, handsome ham of a man.
You were lucky not to work a corporate job that required your absolute devotion for ten plus hours a day. Everyone in your office consistently left work at 6pm unless there was an outing. Because of that you always arrived home at least two hours before Seokjin every night. It used to drive you crazy, but over time, through trial and error, you found a rhythm that worked. It wasn’t perfect. But it worked for you for the most part.
On your way back, you stopped at both of your favorite chicken place and ordered one spicy bone-in meal and one sweet boneless meal to appease both of your tastes. You were thankful you’d taken the car this morning. Your appetite hadn’t returned until way after lunchtime and while you waited at the restaurant for your order, surrounded by the smell of frying chicken, you were ravenous. In the safety of the car, you had the privacy to pick at the chicken wings without attracting attention. Seokjin surely wouldn’t miss one of his sweet chicken bites. Not when his selfless wife had so generously brought it home for him.
Your light feelings quickly became unease, however, when you noticed Seokjin’s shoes by the front door when you got home. You weren’t much later than usual. How could he already be home?
And, where was he? You expected him to be in your living room or kitchen, but he wasn’t in either. You set the chicken down on the counter and heading through the hall to check the bathroom. When you rounded the corner, you noticed the bedroom door open. The lights were off, but the curtains hadn’t been drawn. The lights from the city illuminating the room enough for you to notice the large lump in the bedding.
“Seokjin?”
The lump shifted, turning over to the other side until you caught a glimpse of your husbands’ face, his eyes glistening in the low light. He’d been crying. Your breath hitched at the sight. You felt your throat close up as you eased into the room, apprehension and fear increasing the beat of your heart. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
A pained look crossed Seokjin’s face. He cleared his throat and pulled the comforter down to his chest, crossing his arms. His face looked pale and even though he wasn’t crying you could see the dried paths marking his cheeks. Your heart clinched as you sat down beside him, laying a hand gently on his shoulder.
He sighed wetly. “I was fired today.” He sounded resigned. Matter of fact.
But his words took a second to reach you. And when they did it was like a bombshell. Fired? An anxious unease settled into your stomach.
“Shit.”
He laughs without humor. “I know. They…they didn’t even do it privately either. One moment I’m sitting at my desk working on a project…which, oh shit, I realize I won’t see finished, fuck. And… and the next moment, my supervisor and his supervisor are at my desk. They want me to explain why xyz wasn’t done yet. Like that was my responsibility. Then I’m being chewed out and cursed at for being the reason my team’s performance was so low.” Seokjin’s tone takes an angry turn. “They accused me of insubordination, laziness, fuck, I don’t remember what else, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What the whole damn office was hearing.”
He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. You continued stroking his shoulder, giving him time to continue if there was more. There was. He had a lot to get off his chest. You’d heard much of it before, but some details and the exact words of his bosses were new. New and infuriating.
“Assholes,” you bite out. “You’re better off without them.”
He groans. “I know, I know, but what the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“You’ll find another job, Seokjin. Besides, we’re fine. We’ll be fine for a while.”
He grew quiet again. Not looking at you, his brow puckered like he was deep in thought. He looked troubled and if you were honest, you were kind of freaking out as well. He’d never liked his job, but it paid well. You really enjoyed your job, but the pay alone would never be enough to afford your current lifestyle. And neither of you lived by any definition of extravagant. You bit your lip as your thoughts began to spiral to a place of uncertainty and dread. You couldn’t show any of that right now though, as easily as it would have been to join in on his tears, now wasn’t the time. He needed you to be the rock.
When he continued to be silent, you made to lay down on top of the comforter, and he shifted a bit to make space. You were still in your work clothes, but Seokjin didn’t seem to mind the scratchy material of your blazer, laying his head on your shoulder and throwing an arm around your waist, pulling you close. He let out a weighted sigh and you mirrored it.
“It’s a lot right now,” you whisper after a moment. “But I think you’ll be happier in the long run.”
He let out a noise between a scoff and a laugh. “I’m sure you’re right, but I feel like the last few years of my life have been a waste. And those bastards weren’t totally wrong. I’ve been unhappy there for a while and I let it affect my work.”
“All the better that you no longer work there,” you assure him. “And don’t beat yourself up, jagi. They were still wrong for behaving the way they did.”
He hummed, moving his hand up your side to play with strands of your hair that curled over your shoulder. “I just wish,” he said quietly. “that I had some clue what was next. And I wish I had some idea what I wanted. I never expected to be so unhappy there and I hate the thought that I could run into the same problems somewhere else.”
“Just know you're not alone.”
“Do you know anyone else in their thirties who has no idea where their life is taking them?” he asked, incredulous.
You sighed. “I think everyone feels like that at least once, especially people our age. Not everyone is good at saying it. Not everyone is brave enough to say it.”
He hums in response and you wish there was more you could say. But you kept quiet, giving him space to think and process. You two hadn’t met until after college. You’d told him the story of how you’d changed college majors three times, only to get a job in a totally different industry (he’d also heard your parents’ version of the story, nuanced by their mounting exasperation). But hearing the story years after the fact was very different from living those chaotic few years. You also happened to know people who didn’t find their niche in life until they were in their fifties or sixties and they were perfectly happy. Life had no time limit.
“You’ll figure it out, Seokjin. You definitely will.”
He turns his face up to see you better, his smile soft, without any of the bitterness from before.
“What jobs are those? Hmm? There aren’t exactly a ton of jobs seeking eager, extremely handsome applicants with stunning credentials and a perfectly symmetrical face.”
“I don’t know,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “You listed at least one attribute our appearance-obsessed society uses when considering employees. Twice. I’d say an applicant with those specifications has a pretty good shot.”
“Am I too old to model?” He deadpans suddenly, ignoring your comment.
“Seokjin!” you wheeze.
“What! Answer me, am I?”
“Absolutely, you’re at least ten years too late!”
“Oh damn. You wound me, woman. I was scouted by SM entertainment, you know.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve only heard the story fifty thousand times.”
“I thought they were playing me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I still wonder,” he says, wistful. “If my life would’ve been different. Maybe I can still be an Instagram model?”
You chuckled at the idea. “I think we’re a little behind on the times.”
He laughed brightly into your neck, but his tone was stubborn when he shot back, “You might be, ajumma, but I think of myself as one with youth culture. My best friend is in his early twenties, ya know.”
You smacked his shoulder as he dissolved into infectious laugher, soon joining him as the moment dragged on. Between giggles, you both share humorous pictures of a future where Seokjin is a social media influencer. Each one more ridiculous than the last. Finally, as you both began to calm down, Seokjin moved from your chest, laying back on his pillow and turning on his side.
“I still hate not knowing. I like providing for you. I like the idea that I’m building towards something better in the future. It kept me from quitting more than once.” He sighed in frustration. “I just feel like now is a terrible time to get laid off.”
“Is there ever a good time to get laid off?”
He pursed his lips. “Of course not, but I feel like now was a terrible time for me to get laid off.”
“Maybe not. Remember this morning? We’ve both had the weird feeling that change was coming. Maybe this is it.”
“I can’t speak for you, but I for one had been hoping that this change would’ve come with a pay raise or a surprise vacation. Maybe a pet. Not losing my job.”
You rolled over onto your stomach, bracing yourself on your forearms. You took in Seokjin’s tired appearance; his eyes puffy and a little pink but livelier than earlier. He looked up at you in confusion.
“That would’ve been nice,” you finally said, stroking his jaw with your thumb. “But you don’t know. This temporary setback might be just the beginning of something better. They say a door has to close before another opens.”
“Who? Who says that?”
“I just did, so it must be true. Okay, let’s get up. I just remembered I bought dinner on my way home and it’s probably cold and gross now.”
“It’s alright if it’s cold. We’re a single income household at the moment, of course we’re gonna eat it,” Seokjin winks.
“I’ll go preheat the toaster oven then. Do we have any beer?”
Before you can get up, Seokjin cups your face with his hands and pulls you down for a quick kiss. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but you smile into the kiss and kiss him back.
“Thank you, jagiya,” he says, pulling back. “I’m glad I have you.”
You smile, leaning in for a second kiss. “As you should.”
But not as glad as I am to have you.
Seokjin insists on washing his face before dinner, something about his face feeling itchy, so while he does that you preheat the toaster oven. It takes a while to heat up all of your chicken, having to do it in batches because of how freaking small your oven is (but there was no way your foodie of a husband would’ve accepted microwaved fried chicken and you were with him. Fried chicken had to be crispy, dammit!).
After approximately five minutes of waiting, Seokjin wordlessly walks to your fridge, grabs an armful of banchan and leftover rice, and throws together bibimbap to tide you both over until the chicken is done. Bless him, really. It’s delicious like always and you make an off-handed comment about him starting a cooking channel on YouTube.
When he doesn’t respond, you look up and notice him in thought, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Maybe I will.”
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so, folks, having put a great deal of time into staring at the dining hall menu on Fire Emblem: Three houses, I decided to attempt a fun little exercise: what if I set about putting together a list of what my dislikes, neutrals and likes from the list would be if I were attending Garreg Mach?
and see... due to my presently undiagnosed neurodivergence, I have a hypersensitive palate, as well as a hypersensitivity to textures. I have been described by sufficiently rude people as “difficult to feed”. if y’all have seen and remember that one post where you tally up everything you would eat and get a higher score the less of a picky eater you are, well, I scored like a two or a four on that. so, y’know... this is going to be fun y’all
The Wretched Food Sins (dislikes)
Beast Meat Teppanyaki, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Gronder Meat Skewers, Garreg Mach Meat Pie
see, I’m just going to get this one out of the way immediately: I don’t like red meat. when I tell people that, their first assumption is usually that I’m a vegan or avoiding the shitload of growth hormones or whatever, but no, I still eat some other types of meat and health is obviously not a priority in my diet; I just find that red meat tastes and feels something awful. we clear? we clear.
Onion Gratin Soup
(Onions stewed with white trout and baked with a layer of cheese on top. Will warm you up from the inside out.)
onions I’m also not very fond of. when they’re used for flavor, they’re normally used in small enough amounts to be safely ignored, but here it seems that the idea is to eat whole baked onions off a soup, like... is that a thing that human people do with the single lives that they have??
Country-Style Red Turnip Plate
(A balanced meal including red turnip and verona stew, red turnip salad, and sautéed red turnip with garlic.)
just not sure about this one; I mean, it’s not that I actually recall ever eating a turnip, or that a “verona” is a real vegetable that I can compare to any extant thing... I just don’t think I’ve ever had a good time attempting to eat a plateful of vegetables and I don’t have much faith that the monastery cantina is breaking new ground there
Vegetable Stir-Fry
(A dish of dried tomatoes, cabbage, chickpeas and other vegetables, stir-fried with egg. Nutritious and very filling.)
I might just be mixing up terms, but if I understand correctly, I’ve never heard of stir-frying before. it sounds like a cool thing, though! I do love the the idea of using egg as a base for this, too! it’s a pity that they then proceed to pick nothing but ass ingredients for the entire rest of this particular recipe
Fish and Bean Soup
(A soup made by simmering white trout and chickpeas. A simple yet wholesome dish.)
sorry, head chef, beans are a horrific mouthfeel and you cannot and will not convince me that a dish featuring them is uwu wholesome
Pickled Seafood and Vegetables
(A Dagdan dish of raw fish and turns pickled in a vinegar-based seasoning liquid. Rarely eaten in Fódlan.)
so, I’ve actually had the idea for this post quite a ways ago, and one of the very first things I had in mind was the precise burn I was going to deliver unto the smell of vinegar. right? thing is, it’s been so long since then that the anedocte I was going to use as a delivery vector for that burn has since taken a dark turn. it won’t really be worth the while to unpack it at this point, so I’ll just skip to the punchline: the smell of vinegar is indistinguishable from the smell of dog piss
Cabbage and Herring Stew
(Cabbage and Albinean Herring stewed whole. The fish guts lend this hearty dish a superbly bitter kick.)
ew, what the hell? what sort of florida man recipe is this? “oh, let’s stew some fish, but make sure the entirety of its intestines are stewing in there so that the final product can punch you in the mouth with bitterness”. what? who’s that supposed to appeal to? I can understand this being one of Hubert’s favorite meals but why would absolutely anyone else do this to themselves? and it’s with this demon fodder here that we finish the hell section on an absolutely burning note and proceed to...
The Purgatory of Eh, I Guess, Maybe (neutral)
Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce
(Well-roasted Fódlan pheasant drizzled with a berry reduction sauce.)
we’re getting somewhere; poultry is like, 80% of the protein in my diet, and sweetness is precisely the only flavor I can tolerate in major excess. alas, in gastronomy, one plus one doesn’t always make two; I’m not sure this combination here works or just clashes frontally
Vegetable Pasta Salad
(Pasta with a blend of fresh vegetables from various regions of Fódlan. This popular dish sells out almost instantly.)
we’re out of the hated food list, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe yet from listening to me maw about foods that are supposed to be super common!
you know how I prefer to take my pasta? over water, butter or olive oil with absolutely no sauce. additional seasoning also needs not apply, although salt is welcome. fun fact: my ideal instant noodle is cooked with only a small amount of flavoring powder. so yeah, there you have it, that’s the “hey guys I eat bread with nothing in it and have a good time” moment of the jour
but back to the point -- how does this particular pasta measure up? well, I took a look at the in-game model of it and it appears to pass the most important bar: no sauce -- or, at least, if there was any, it was thick and yellow and it made a fool of me. anyways, I might not particularly dig some of the vegetables thrust into the pasta here, but the beauty of it is that I can probably pick and choose which ones I will actually eat, which makes this a solid ehhh it’s solvable
Fruit and Herring Tart
(A baked tart with stewed herring and Noa fruit mixed into the batter. Popular in Enbarr, the Imperial Capital.)
again, I don’t object to the components but I’m not sure about it all adds together. is that a real thing, like, putting a god damn fish into your fruit pie mix?
Fish Sandwich
(A simple dish. Airmid Cabbage is pickled in vinegar and served with cabbage between two slices of bread.)
a fish sandwich plain and simple, I would happily chow down; fish is the other one of my acceptable meats, after all. thing is, as non-domestic sandwiches usually do, this one comes with a bunch of add-ons that I absolutely do not want and it’s hard to tell how much can be salvaged. like, there’s old man vinegar/piss again, and besides, I swear I’ve eaten leaves off the ground that had better texture than cabbage. so, like, can we go even simpler, head chef? bread, fish, and no wicked ideas?
Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew
(Spicy stew made with Teutates loach and turnips. The monastery’s unique recipe features spices from Dagda.)
come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a stew. if it’s very much like a soup, then it might have as much of an annoying texture as one, but if it’s just a soggy filet, then that might work out. anyway, between that and the non-specification of what those spices from Dagda are intended to do with the recipe, I’d have to taste it to believe it
Super-Spicy Fish Dango
(A light snack, popular in the Empire. Small, spicy balls of fried dough packed with white trout and dried tomato.)
ugh, that was so close. fried dough and fish sounds AMAZING, it really does. but the first strike here is “super-spicy”; I did mention having a hypersensitive palate, yes? now add that to the fact that I’m white. the real crushing sin here, however, is the inclusion of fucking tomato. we were so close to greatness! we were this close! anyways, depending on how exactly the dried tomato is meant to be implemented here, it might be possible to just pull it out with a fork and accept the mouth-hurting substances in a bid to have a good time anyway
Sweet and Salty Whitefish Sauté
(Whitefish is coated in spices and sautéed with dried tomatoes to bring out an addictive salty-sweet flavor.)
tomatoes again! seriously, you creeps keep throwing that in with one of my sole acceptable approaches to meat! although fortunately, I gather that, with this one, the goal is not for the tomatoes to be eaten, just popped on the juice that this fish is jumping around in while it roasts, so maybe there’s salvation for it yet... I do want to find out whatever in the world an “addictive salty-sweet flavor” is supposed to mean, admittedly
Sautéed Pheasant and Eggs
(Thin slices of bird meat and shredded cabbage, mixed with scrambled eggs and sautéed with spices. Invention of a certain noble.)
again, we broke it right at the finish line. I like the idea of a pile of chicken strips and scrambled eggs; would have some fun digging through it and all. alas, Alfred von Certain Noble had to go and throw cabbage into the mix. at least, maybe, if it’s shredded, then the awful texture is eliminated and that makes it straight-up just eating some leaf? it might be sufficiently non-intrusive
Gautier Cheese Gratin
(A gratin of bird meat topped with heaps of Gautier cheese, which is famous for its low fat content. It has a unique flavor.)
I... do I want to know what “unique flavor” this is? because chicken gratined with cheese sounds good, but you could potentially go wrong with the type of cheese, and the fact that this apparently counts as a bitter dish doesn’t leave me particularly hopeful...
Small Fish Skewers
(Made by grilling skewered Airmid gobies. With a muddy flavor and dry texture, this dish is beloved by few.)
okay, yeah, “muddy flavor and dry texture” isn’t exactly the sales pitch of the year, but these sound like reasonably ignorable things in favor of what would just be grilled fish on a skewer with no more of those terrible nonsense ideas like adding some fucking tomato
Fried Crayfish
(Fried and breaded Caledonian crayfish. Looks much tastier than it actually is.)
looks are all we have to go by here, but besides that, intsys, you’ll have a lot of labor to do if you want to convince me that a fried and breaded anything isn’t good if it’s not, like, inherently ass as an ingredient. what keeps this one from reaching the heavens is most likely not the taste or the feel itself, but mostly just the fact that I’m probably allergic to shrimp
The Blessed And Divine (likes)
Saghert and Cream
(A baked confection coated with Noa fruit cream and a currant reduction, often enjoyed as a dessert at family gatherings.)
first, I have to get this much out of the way: does anyone know what the hell a saghert even is? cursory searching has only led me to results about Fire Emblem, so it might be a made-up word altogether...
... that said, the aforementioned cursory searching has also brought me to this blog where I got to see someone’s idea of what the thing would be in real life, and the result is definitely something I’d want in my mouth, stomach, and soul, so there we go!
Sweet Bun Trio
(Traditional pastries from Faerghus, known for their subtle sweetness. The dough is made with eggs and sugar.)
is this supposed to be like sweetbread or like, dumplings, which might actually be made with eggs and sugar...? oh, who am I kidding, I’d scarf the hell out of either one. and hey, no need to be subtle with the sweetness, either!
Peach Sorbet
(A sorbet made with thin slides of magically frozen peach, dusted with bean flour.)
o, ice cream... I have a rather layered relationship with that one. I’m never one to turn down plain desserts, least of all when tradition also permits me to dump six layers of whatever the hell else to (sweetly) spice it up, but the hypersensitivity in my mouth also extends to temperatures, and ice cream is normally and understandably served in very low ones. I usually try eating when it’s, like, nearly melting or already melting... but is that even on the table if we’re talking about pre-refrigeration ice cream made with very strangely applied magic? thoughts to mull over. but I won’t let them get in the way of yum, ice cream
Daphnel Stew
(Minced poultry and onions boiled with salt. The simple recipe lets high-quality ingredients speak for themselves.)
simplicity goes a long way, as usual! again, I have no idea how a stew tastes, but again, poultry is pretty much the backbone of my diet, and I suppose it doesn’t sound objectionable to take it soaked in saltwater. at least, if I’m presuming that the onions are there for flavoring the stock and not once more for the absurd suggestion that I should be eating them whole
Deirdriu-Style Fried Pheasant
(Pheasant meat pounded flat and fried. Can be served as a sort of sandwich, with cheese between two strips of meat.)
holy shit this sounds great. like, I want this in real life, especially the whole pseudo-sandwich arrangement. I’m optimistically assuming that we’re picking a decent type of cheese and not, like, cheddar, but that's really the only possible stumbling block
Grilled Herring
(Herring caught off the coast of Albinea, shredded and grilled in an earthenware pot with sliced turnips.)
I’ve expressed not being familiar with the taste of turnips, but even if I hate those too, it sounds like it’s pretty easy to ignore them here in favor of what’s just some shredded and grilled fish, which hits the spot
Fisherman’s Bounty
(Freshly-caught fish are cut into chunks and stewed together to make this hearty dish.)
right, so I’m not actually 100% sure about this one, if only because the model of the dish appears to contain some unidentifiable bits of disgusting red whatever, but if the description alone covers it, this just seems to be plain and nice
Two-Fish Sauté
(Two types of fish are cut into strips and sautéed in butter. This lavish meal hails from Enbarr, the Imperial Capital.)
and this sounds similarly plain and nice, but also even better, because the sautéeing in butter sounds like a great addition. now we’re finally on the right track with regards to fish meals! keep the red devil testicle fruits away from those!
Bourgeois Pike
(A gourmet dish with Airmid Pike, vegetables, and a sprinkle of expensive spices. Popular among nobles.)
the punchline writes itself, doesn’t it? but don’t get me wrong -- while I haven’t grown up wanting for money, being bourgeoisie is just what my family wishes were the case.
as for the meal itself: the in-game model appears to be just fish filet, served without any gross sauce, so I’ll happily take it, as long as this “sprinkle of expensive spices” isn’t doing anything too janky in there. ... but hey, most expensive things exist primarily for the purpose of being janky, so maybe I’m being too optimistic
Sautéed Jerky
(Jerky aged in the monastery and sautéed for a delightfully salty flavor. A perfect snack to go with your favorite drink.)
my first instinct was to throw this right onto the undesirable meat section because it’s jerky, but apparently, this is poultry jerky? I’ve never heard of such a thing existing, but I need to try it sometime. for now, I’ll just assume it’s as good as it sounds
so, there you have it! it seems that quite a bit more of this menu is edible than I would have expected? or perhaps I’m just being very optimistic, since I’m not face-to-face with whatever offputting smells and textures I could potentially be dealing with here
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Poison In My Mouth
Post-Kidnapping. A time where Bakugou starts cooking to ease up some past stress. Anxiety got the best of him, and his perceived notion of peace got even more shattered than before.
It's my first time trying to write any fic for this fandom, but I guess I should give it a try anyway. Also, English is not my first language, so please mention if I made some mistakes down there.
Word count w/o intro or outro= 2048
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The pan starts sizzling. Oil hissing just loud enough to let Bakugou know it's ready. Dutch onions was the first to go in. Slightly cold cresents descend on hot metal, Bakugou watched closely as he tries to lose himself in the process. After all, as a perfectionist, Bakugou won't let anything stop him from giving his absolute best.
Salt was thrown in just a bit late for the onion to preserve some of its natural sweetness. The batch that he got from the supermarket was pretty decent, and he would feel terrible if he failed to bring out the best of them. Salt draws out the moisture from the onions and makes their original taste a bit more concentrated in the center. A little bit goes a long way in this situation, as he needs to layer in some more seasoning later when other ingredients are piled up in the pan. He throws in a bit of chicken oil that he got from dry frying the skin earlier. Then comes the chopped chicken bits.
Sauteeing just enough to have them on the verge of browning, he had them pushed aside for other ingredients to come in. Mushrooms are generally hard to go wrong with and long beans just for that speck of greens peeking through. The green beans are pre-cooked though, he made sure to drown them a little bit in hot water for a bit so that they are not too crunchy when he's biting through it. He's making fluffy omelet rice, nothing in a fluffy omelet is supposed to be too crunchy.
The green suddenly reminded him of someone, for some reason, it took him back to that night where he sees Izuku rushing over to his side. Bloodied, hands purple and broken, so much that it pains him to just even recall the image. The sharp phantom pain that he felt running his left arm as if a jolt of electric briefly course through it. He instinctively curled in and grab onto his arm to massage it, although secretly knowing that it was just his mind playing tricks again. He shook his head as if it would also shake off his previous thought, and then he focuses on cooking. Remembering that night would bring him no good.
After they are good enough for him, he continued with just a slice of butter. Forget dieting for a bit and let's not be pretentious here, who the hell would say no to butter? His quirk works in his favor to burn off fat anyway, so there's almost no harm to it. He took a bowl of cooked rice into his hands and crumble them into the pan. Making sure he spreads it out evenly so that its more natural for him to mix it. After giving it a quick mix, he poured in a ladle of sauce. Beef demi-glace, his favorite.
Just earlier today, he contemplated using canned stuff but decided against it after reading the ingredients on the labels. He knows how to make his own sauce, albeit it was a tedious and lengthy process. He found that he couldn't really trust canned sauce since most of them are usually laced with food coloring and with too much sodium to boot. Besides, making his own sauce gives Katsuki a reason to stay in the kitchen just a little longer. So he did. Made his roux, add in some tomato paste, and only spent about an hour reducing the stock. In turns out well, and Katsuki was satisfied with its consistency.
He mixed it well this time, making sure that no rice is left uncoated. He makes sure nothing is too dry. The hot and crisp summer weather would usually make cooking a little bit faster but also causes his ingredients to dry out a bit too rapidly. It also makes him just a little bit more sweaty, which makes cooking a little bit tricker. He might just accidentally let a few drops into the fire and boom! There goes all his effort! It's a good thing that the room has air conditioning and proper ventilation that he only had to remember to turn on before cooking. Katsuki generally avoids staying too close to the stove for a long extended period if these resources were not available. He placed the rice in the shaper and set it aside.
Now, onto the main star of the dish. Katsuki oiled the pan just a little bit more to make sure it doesn't stick. Just enough for it line the pan for the size of the omelet. He poured in the egg and was quick to move after noticing it starts to solidify. He goes on shaping the omelet, flicking his wrist to keep it moving and rolling onto itself. This process had to happen quickly, or the egg will be cooked through, but getting it off just too quickly, and he'll end up with a raw middle. That's not something Katsuki wants to see tonight.
He quickly went to lift the shaper with his left hand, revealing its perfect shape. He steadies the egg on top of the right with a pair of chopsticks. He took a knife to cut it open; as expectedly, it opens up to reveal a partially gooey inside. He smiles to himself, he still got it.
He reaches out for the remaining sauce and scoops up just enough to let it run down the sides without drowning it. After garnishing it with some chopped spring onions, he felt quite proud of himself. Yeah, too bad he couldn't show off his skills entirely in front of his classmates. He bet they'll be begging him to cook for them, and Katsuki would definitely need to tell them to scram.
To think back, he didn't get to really taste the curry that he made during the camp. He didn't even get to check if they got the recipe right. All because of the.....
The...
..........
He felt a hand wrapping itself around his neck. Katsuki tried to pry it open, but when he reaches out, he made contact with his own skin. The fear never left him despite knowing nothing was there. It ran through his back as if an apparition slowly run their index finger, tracing his spine, while a malicious smile cracks their pale and ghastly faces.
Katsuki notices he started to sweat. A familiar pop was heard from his closed fist. He didn't realize he was gripping the spoon he had in hand. A small ribbon of smoke emitting from his now open palm, barely visible in the dark-lit- room.
Katsuki had no idea why he was so tense that night. His sleeplessness brought his feet to the kitchen, and he thought it would make him feel better. Tired and worn out, it might help him fall asleep.
He shook his head again.
Now's not the time to think about that. Besides, Katsuki shouldn't waste his perfectly-made food. His mom would've shouted his name loud enough to be heard by his whole neighborhood if he was ever late for dinner.
And now here comes the first bite. Katsuki expected it to taste just as usual since this is a recipe that he made so often, he could do it blindfolded.
He put the spoonful inside of his mouth and closed his eyes to savor it. The flavors swirled in his mouth.
Bitter.
Bitter.
What is this metallic taste in his mouth?
Was it blood?
Was the chicken raw in the middle?
He opened up his eyes to stab through one of the chicken pieces to check the doneness. It looks fine to him, so why does it taste so bad?
He took another one.
Bitter.
Bitter.
Raw.
Raw.
RAW.
Then everything tasted bitter with a hint of metallic taste no matter how much he avoided the chicken pieces. He didn't understand, when did it go wrong? How could he mess things up after making it for so many times? Katsuki didn't think that he could let this haunt him the entire night. Refusing to give up, he lits the stove back up to give it another try.
________________________________________________
Kirishima does not usually wander at night, especially on days when he'll be too tired to even do so after a tough gym workout. His muscles are hurting a bit too much for him to fall asleep. Was the soreness from a strain? It looks like he needs to pay a visit to Recovery Girl in the morning.
Initially, he had only planned to grab some water from the fridge and then go back to his room. But after seeing plate after plate of omelet rice placed on top of the dining room table, he immediately forgot of his purpose for coming there. He recognizes Katsuki from behind, his face dimly illuminated by the stove fire.
"Bakugou? Bro, what are you doing?"
"Can't you see for yourself? I'm cooking! What else would I do in the kitchen?" his voice hiked a little bit. Not that he never screams, Kirishima just didn't expect it.
"Well, you sure made a lot of these..."
"Trying to get it right, Hair for Brains," He grumbled.
Kirishima got curious and took a bite from the nearest plate. It was a little bit cold but otherwise its a perfectly fine plate of omelet rice.
"Hey, what are you saying, man? These are great!"
"Shut up, I'm trying to focus! Something's off."
Kirishima took this liberty to taste every single one of them. Most of them taste the same, only differing slightly from one another. Kirishima settled for the most recently made one since it's still a bit warm. Seeing how Katsuki didn't stop him from eating, he thought that it's okay to eat them. Katsuki doesn't seem like he would eat all 5 plates anyway.
Katsuki gave the sauce another taste. Bitter. Blood. "It's still off."
"I don't know what you were expecting, Bakugou..." he trailed off as he took another bite. "None of them tastes bad."
Katsuki turned around to see Kirishima eating his latest one. "Who the hell said that you could eat those?"
"Well, you certainly didn't say anything about it earlier."
"I was going to compare them!"
"Yeah, but it's sad to let this one get cold like the others. Sides you still have like another half a plate to compare with."
Katsuki sighed, feeling defeated at the sight of the half-empty plate. "You know what? Fuck that plate! Just clean up after yourself, and don't get it my way!"
"Oh, thank you!"
Katsuki continued to re-evaluate what he did as the sauce continues to cook. Looking for weaknesses in his approach or his technique. He even brought down some notebooks to write down his steps. He just couldn't find anything wrong with what he was doing. Was there something else that he misses?
Katsuki heard the tap being turned on and saw Kirishima standing at the sink next to him and was washing the plate from earlier. He then dried the plate off and put it aside.
"Thanks for the meal, man. That sure hits the spot."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Would you invite me over to test some more if you're planning to cook again?"
Katsuki was perplexed. "Hah? I'm not gonna cook for you, damn it!"
"But doesn't food taste better when you are cooking it for someone else?"
"Never heard anything like that before." Katsuki gave him a skeptical look.
Kirishima grinned."I heard that from my mom! She said that food turns out better if you cook for someone else, especially if it was for my siblings and me!"
"Yeah, sure, you're just trying to get me to cook for you."
"And what's wrong with that? Does your food always turn out bad?"
Katsuki fumes."NO WAY ANYTHING I MADE EVER TASTE BAD! I'VE BEEN COOKING SINCE I'M OLD ENOUGH TO HOLD A KNIFE, HAIR FOR BRAINS!!!"
Kirishima giggled. It's so easy to get Katsuki to see everything as a challenge. "I'll look forward to your delicious food then, see ya!"
Kirishima grabbed the bottled water from the fridge and went on his merry way. Katsuki felt a smile creeping up his face as he saw how giddy the redhead was after the meal. He turned back to his stove to taste the newly made sauce. His smile grew wider.
Spicy.
Savory.
Sweet.
________________________________________________
Hey, its me again!
This fic was based upon an experience I once had with food. I noticed that I have a lot of anxiety after entering college, and it basically made every food taste bad. Some of the food did taste like blood, but not as severe as what I described in this fic. I just imagine that it's more heightened since his situation ends up as much more traumatic.
I noticed this after I ate something a few months ago, and the taste change midway after getting a trigger. At first, I thought the food was simply bad or poorly done. I started cooking sometime before at my rented apartment and found out that none of them taste as good as I remember that, and that deters me away from cooking.
At one point, everything tastes like a poison that I have to shove into my mouth to survive. This thing is not a singular incident too.
There's an article that said that mood greatly affects our taste buds, and things get more delicious when we're happy. Stress and anxiety could cause some changes in your perception of your five senses. Make sure your mental health is always in check if you are noticing these changes.
I started cooking again recently, and while some of them didn't turn as good as I thought, my tastebuds are functioning correctly once more.
I had help from a friend that's a regular home cook, and she's very open to answering my kitchen curiosities. I start slowly building back the confidence I lost, and now I can say I am at least not the worst chef ever lived. And hey sometimes you need a second opinion from someone you trust, and that's why I choose Kirishima and Bakugou because both of them play off each other so well that their chemistry is just natural. I also relate a lot to Bakugou on a lot of different aspects, so seeing him recover is also giving me some hope that I'll improve too.
If you are suffering from this condition, I suggest checking it with a doctor. Sometimes it might be other things other than stress or anxiety. If, however, if it was anxiety-induced, you could come back to eating after you calm down. No use of eating if you hate it.
@recoveryzine
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university!au: day6 wonpil
first of all i will definitely do poorly on this because,,, you know,,,,, he’s so precious and i don’t think my words can do it justice ksbdjshs i wanna make the sweetest scenario for him
but i suck at sweet stuffs smh bye
name: kim wonpil
major: modeling (i still cant believe this is an actual major im living under a rock smh)
other activities: member of music club, keyboardist and main singer of the university band
jae calls him “the backbone” of the music club because wonpil participates in all club events, he always takes part in weekly activities, and he actively finds new recruits
jae on the other side pops up once in a blue moon to play guitar, do shit, then disappears
don’t worry ever since jae starts dating the newest member who happens to be wonpil’s bestie he’s more active now
honestly more than half of their club members joined because wonpil made them to
he’s persuasive and convincing okay you would end up eating rocks if he told you it’s good for health
but he’ll never do that ever bc he speaks no lies okay he’s like the sweetest person in the earth
he’ll cry by the sight of cute puppies, do i have to explain further
wonpil was nominated as the club president but the other candidate park sungjin who’s also his roommate beat him by one vote
well he prefers to be just regular member anyway, that way he can still do a lot of things for the club but with less responsibilities
you see he’s really nice, he’s caring, he’s hardworking, he’s confident, he knows how to present himself and he’s hella attractive
he’s taking modeling as his major do i make myself clear
everyone LOVES wonpil
and i mean sometimes it’s just not only a platonic love but like an “i will give you my heart and soul please marry me” love
too bad he’s oblivious af
someone: i,, i like you wonpil,,,, d-do you like me too?
wonpil: of course!!! you’re my friend!!!!!!!!!
someone: ….oh ok
accidental friendzone
but you know he doesnt actually mean to do that, he just doesn’t think anyone likes him like that
moreover he already has someone in mind
aka the coffee shop girl
aka Y O U
yeah hello guys i am: still lame
the first time he met you was on exams week
everyone was busy and stressed af and running on almost no sleep
except maybe wonpil
not because he was fully prepared but more like he forgot exams week was coming until the day before so he just decided to wing it lol whatevs
anyway his roommate aka sungjin asked him if he could go buy him a double shot espresso so wonpil did
he rarely visits coffee shops tbh and when he does he always orders vanilla latte with extra syrup for himself
wonpil seems to be that kinda person who tries to enjoy coffee but can’t handle the bitter taste its so frickin cute and trust me you think so too
so anywayyyy yeah he never saw you, aka the new barista, before
it was ur first work day as well btw and he was ur first customer
he didn’t know why but watching you being nervous made him nervous too
just imagine a stuttering costumer and a stuttering barista
everyone watched you two with anxiety
but even when wonpil was a nervous wreck he didn’t forget to smile and before leaving he said to you, “thanks, have a great day!!!!!!!!!!!”
honest to god it made your whole day better
anyway let’s move on to the second meeting
he comes back and this time he orders a vanilla latte, but being the clumsy ass that you are, you slightly confused his order
he receives his coffee and takes a sip and he freezes
you ask whats wrong and he’s like,, uh nothing,, the coffee is just,,,, kinda bitter today??? ha,,,hahahhaha,,,,
you stand still
wait
he asked for EXTRA SYRUP not EXTRA SHOT you dumbfucc
you offer to make him a new one and he refuses saying it’s fine!!! but you still feel bad so you insist but he’s like no!!! i gotta stay awake anyway i have an important quiz today i have to study! by the way uhhhh i’ve never seen you around until recently???
you introduce yourself and he introduce himself blablabla it’s awkward and your palms keep sweating for some reason
before wonpil left, he didn’t forget to say “have a great day!! i’ll see you around then!!!”
he’s so sweet uwu
seeing him and making him his vanilla latte (extra syrup) is one of the best parts of your job tbh
and he visits every single time you’re working which makes it better
why is his smile so adorable what the fuck
and there’s something about the way he walks that keeps you looking i mean boiiiii does he know how to present himself holy shit
that feeling when you see someone so beautiful you want to cry
the more you see him the more you want to know about him
what major is he in? what is he usually do outside the class? what kind of person is he? does he have a lot of friends? what’s his hobby? stuffs like that
too bad he always comes when it’s busy at the cafe so you can’t talk too much
neither he ever tries to initiate a conversation with you except his usual “hello! how are you today?” and “thank you, you make the best coffee! have a nice day!! see you!!!”
let’s admit it you highkey have a crush on him and EVERYONE knows
wELL it’s because you always wear that expression like "goddammit why must kim wonpil be so cute if he ain’t gonna ask me on a date” whenever you watch his back as he leaves the cafe
and EVERYONE but YOU knows wonpil’s so into you
whenever someone says something like “just ask him for his number he’ll definitely give it to you” you’re like “wtf nO that’s creepy and he won’t!! he doesn’t even know me!!!”
“he literally only comes when it’s your shift and he always makes sure you’re the one taking his order you oblivious dumbass”
“it’s just a coincidence”
“…..yeah whatever”
but they’re right wonpil’s crushing on you hard
at this point sungjin can even draw a portrait of you although he hasn’t actually met you before
that’s how much wonpil talks about you
from your whole adorable appearance to how cute your little cough is, or how he adores your little smile and the sparks in your eyes when he compliments your coffee, or he’ll describe your apron what the fuck and how he thinks your look so good in white and blue
sungjin’s so done with him
“just ask her out you stalker”
“nO I CAN’T!!! SHE’LL THINK IM CREEPY!!! SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW ME”
“well i bet she remembers your face by now since you always drop by when she’s there”
“but she meets a lot of people everyday there’s NO WAY she can remember me”
you see the problem now?
then one day jae decides to play matchmaker
by “playing matchmaker” i mean he follows wonpil to the cafe and straight up tells you, in front of wonpil’s face and everyone there, “yo this friend of mine wants to take you on a date and he wonders if you’re interested”
you are: blushing
wonpil is: dead pale
you: o-oh… i’m–
wonpil: yO HE’S JUST JOKING HAHAHAHA IM SO SORRY oH My gOd jAE LET’S GO
he drags his tall friend aka jae out of the cafe and since then he never visits again :(
im sad now ugh i told you i suck at sweet stuffs like this
fast forward it’s summer and the university wonpil’s attending is holding a summer festival that’s open for public
well,,,,, you decide to go and you ask some of your friends to tag along
you’re not sure what you’re hoping; maybe you just want to see how the place wonpil’s studying at looks like, or maybe you do wish to meet him by accident or something yanno like a drama
whatever
you promised yourself that if you don’t see him today, you’ll get over him
but if you do see him, you will ask. him. out.
well jokes on you babe he’s there performing on the stage with the band
he’s,,, he’s singing,,, and playing keyboard,,,, omg his voice
as you already know im uncreative soooo by impossible coincidence somehow his eyes spot you in the crowd
btw i imagine them singing Pouring but i think you can pick any songs you like
he’s so taken aback that one second he’s singing and the next second he sees you and his eyes widen and he’s like “I’m falling for–hUH? why are you here??” to the microphone
don’t worry the others cover for his mistake while trying not to laugh
everyone laughs too while looking around to find the person whom wonpil sees
you’re embarrassed as fuck you want to curl up and hide forever
but your so-called-friends don’t let you get away that easy okay it’s your only chance
dw dude wonpil feels the same he wants to immediately get off the stage and die
but sungjin will literally kill wonpil in his sleep if he doesn’t do anything it’s now or never
poor boi has had enough of this pining shit
so after the band performance wonpil has no choice but to approach you
“h-hey! so you watched our stage!”
“y-yeah! it was great!! didn’t know you can sing so well”
“h-haha thanks”
“y-you’re welcome”
silence
more silence
wonpil clears his throat and, “so…”
you blink fast, “yeah…?”
“um uhhh do you wanna see around? i can take you”
“oH of course”
What Am I Even Writing Anymore
well remember your promise earlier? about asking him out?? no???
is it too late to chicken out and forget the whole thing now
you barely know each other it’s so awkward and he looks so fine today and you really don’t wanna push him even further now but if you hesitate longer who knows someone else will ask him first and just the thought alone breaks your heart a little bit
so it’s time to grow a pair and take risks cmon dude you can do this
one
two
“anywaysijustwonderifyou'refreenextsaturday?”
wait
it was!! not!!! your voice!!!!
“huh?”
wonpil clears his throat and repeats slower, “i just wonder if you’re uhhhh free next saturday?”
o shit
o fUck YeAH
you cough a bit before answering, “y-y-yeah i guess??”
“ok um i like, have two tickets for movie if you want to come with me”
that’s like the lamest invitation and you yourself gotta admit that lmao
but oh kim wonpil,, dear,,,, there’s no way i would say no
so you two go on a date
or “casual outing” as you two call it
but everyone knows it’s a date okay even though you two didn’t have any skinskip oops
it’s okay it takes a bit of time but you’ll get there
i mean, since then you two go out together almost every weekend so ye it won’t be that long until the awkwardness wears off
wonpil just cherish you so much he’s afraid he’ll scare you or hurt your feeling by accident so he never boldly initiates anything
the first time you two finally holding hands is when you two go skating, and that’s just because you two are so bad at that
gotta hold each other so you won’t keep falling aye romance
you don’t know this but trust me wonpil talks about it for days sungjin almost decides to move out
he’s still insisting it’s not a date tho
“you know what, i can already imagine you two in like 10 years, standing at the altar and be like, do you marry me as a friend or what? unclear”
“do you think we’ll get married?????”
“oh dear god”
but yeah
you two will get there
somehow
just take your sweet time and give wonpil all the love in the world i beg you
that’s it YAY i think imma work on sungjin’s next wish me luck im running out of lame cliche ideas now lol bye
#day6#wonpil#day6 imagines#day6 scenarios#day6 fanfic#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#how to tag smh#three down two more to go!!!!!!!#sungjin and dowoon leggo#this is so lame imma cry snandjsnjdnf
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Micah Bell x F!Reader
Title: A Killer to Die For!
Words: 5.2k
Pairings: Micah Bell x F!Reader
Warnings: (+18) That’s the one with the party and unrealistic scenes, when we rescue Sean and we see things and do some stuff too. And I love making Micah laugh.
Forgive my typos, as always.
Summary: Chapter 5.
[A03]
Yes. He did it.
As you mended a shirt, you thought about why he did it, because certainly wasn't because of new found feelings. If he had actual feelings – which of course he had, he was human, wasn't he? – they were buried deep enough so not even his thoughts could touch it. And his feelings were not kind towards you, anyway.
Oh, you could imagine why he did it.
Territorialism.
In some level, he must have thought about you as some kind of property, and a disrespect to you was, indirectly, a disrespect to him, and he had to assert some kind of dominance.
Not romantic at all, just pure instinct.
That actually made sense to you, and you didn't even flinch. What were you supposed to do? Appear hypocritically offended?
"Oh my, my honor!" – you scorned.
That didn't pass as anything feeling-relatable at all, but gave you a little leverage as well.
But for how long? That couldn't continue, because he would sooner or later ask for something in return and you expected that to be a one-time thing. In fact, probably he might be thinking that you would open your legs to him whenever he pleased.
And your cunt whined about it. But, what if you could continue doing him? What was the problem, really?
Well, you were disappointing Miss Grimshaw, and he was an asshole, that should be pretty serious in your eyes.
"Think about it, you is going against everything you thought was right. Sleeping with a man, and worse, for pleasure! He didn't have any feelings for you, and would never have, merely seeing you like a hole to put his cock in" – you thought to yourself.
Yeah, that was a problem. But you didn't want his feelings.
Did you?
Of course not.
Should you confront him about it? Or maybe, you could just wait until he tried something, so you wouldn't sound like you were expecting him. Anyway, it could not be under the eyes of the gang, or they would have another reason to think that you should go for a walk, for good this time.
-You know, Miss, I've killed girls as betrayed us, and done it happily – said Miss Grimshaw to Mary-Beth, right next to you.
You didn't look, you weren't crazy enough to meddle in that discussion, not when you already had troubles enough. Also, you didn't pity Mary-Beth that much, she was used to reading and writing more than actually doing any workaround, usually, Tilly had to do most of it to cover for her.
-Is reading betrayal in your world, Miss Grimshaw? – said Mary-Beth, and you, for a moment, admired her cold blood.
-Not reading, Miss, idleness. – and Miss Grimshaw paused for a second – Idleness is betrayal, because it means I work so you don't have to! – and Miss Grimshaw was screaming at full lungs – That's not right, is it?
Mary-Beth got up as fast as you ever saw her do before.
-I guess not, Miss – she said, going for the laundry
-You're right not, missy! On!
You kept your eyes low, mending the shirt. You adored that woman, but she could be scary as fuck when she wanted to.
-Y/N, taking long mending those things, ain't you? – Miss Grimshaw said.
-I'll go faster – you said, without lifting your head.
-You better – Miss Grimshaw said, leaving you and Mary-Beth alone.
-Must feel good be the favorite – said Mary-Beth, in her sweet way, but behind it, you could feel her sting.
-I'm not anyone's favorite. – you said, but you wish you were – I just do my work.
-I see you working – Mary-Beth said, and this time her tone was more suggestive than sweet.
You didn't answer that. At first, you were tempted to start a quarrel about it, but, what good would it do? More fights? Better stay quiet and hold your ground, she was just upset about Miss Grimshaw. Although, if the circumstances were different, you would feel inclined to be – just a little bit – devilish with her.
And you smiled.
All people used masks. All of them had flaws and scars, even the kindest one. Mary-Beth, deep down envied Karen and how she was so carefree and strong, and when alone and thinking that no one was hearing, she would touch herself and moan Arthur's name, yet she looked down on you for your marks.
Karen would cry herself to sleep late at night, when everybody was already sleeping, like a baby without its bottle. Also, you could see how she looked at other girls at Valentine, frustration and despise.
Tilly was by far the more emotionally constant one of them, she had an objective, survive, and she was firm on her will to get through everything, although you could see in her eyes that she had experimented, in some level, the same things that you had too.
Molly O'Shea usually cried as Dutch pinned her down and fucked her into oblivion, begged for him as you did to Micah, but still, in her eyes, you were the lowest of the woman.
Even dear Miss Grimshaw had her blue days. Sometimes she would wear her old dresses just to see how she looked on them, she would put old jewelry, and pinch her face, trying to discover where the young girl went, and how this girl - the one in the picture - was replaced by an old crone – but she would never cry, not her. Her tears had dried a long time ago.
They all had scars too. The only difference between yours and theirs, was the fact that yours was showing to everybody see at broad daylight.
Even worse was how people usually thought that woman, in general, should be obedient, calm, motherly inclined, sweet, educated, and most of all weak, so men would feel strong near them, as if being a woman meant to be a boost on man's ego and a hole so he could take his pleasure – but woman should be sacred and pure too, because men didn't want to openly assume something that others had tasted before, it seemed like it diminished them under the eyes of other men, but, ironically, they would pour all their desires and perversions on a woman who didn't fit on that specific profile.
So, a woman could kill herself as an individual, or, let the world kill her piece by piece. That's why you admired Miss Grimshaw too. She escaped that profile and still was respected by all, strong-willed and brave, she conquered her place in the world.
And then, your mind would be filled with thoughts of Micah. He too had a wrong idea of what a woman should be, although you could see that to him, every woman on Earth was not worthy of his attention, just his cum, he made no distinction. It seemed like he didn't have a good relationship with his mother, after all – if he had a relationship at all.
You had known men that were rejected by their mothers, and they ended up having a bitter view of a woman later in life, because they saw their mother's rejection on other women too. Could that be the reason? You didn't know, for you were no expert, just pointed out things that you had experienced yourself.
Days passed, Hosea didn't pressure you to make yourself scarce for a while, so you stayed, quiet and calm, mending and feeding the chickens, attending to your regular affairs. As for Micah, was but a shadow in a distance. Sometimes he would be close to you near the fire, always silent and pretending you were not there, reading a newspaper or smoking.
And you would not talk to him either.
Was he waiting for you to break? Like hell you would.
That was another night like those, where silence filled the space between you. At first, that strange situation had bothered you, even more than when he just couldn't shut up. It took a little while, but now it seemed natural.
-What are you looking at? – he said, suddenly.
You looked around, maybe he was saying that to someone else, but there was no one awake. Uncle, who had been talking nonstop about the time when he stole a herd of cows, now was sleeping, cradling his bottle of whiskey as it was a teddy bear.
-What is it that you want, Micah? – you said.
-Huh, it seemed like you wanted something from me – he said, with that confidence that couldn't fool you – You is looking at me with those doe eyes, what is it that you want?
And he laughed. Was he really trying to convince you that it was you who wanted him? Cheap Trick.
-I'm not even looking at you, you dumb fuck – you said.
-Yeah, sure doll, you can tell whatever lie you want to convince yourself, fuck... – he purred – you can even insult me but I see in your eyes what you want. Come here – he said, giving soft slaps on his thigh.
You looked around again.
-You must be drunk, or stupid in the head – you said – Why would I want anything with you?
-Looks like you forgot about our little stroll – he got up and came in your direction – What a bad memory you have, Y/N, should I remind you what is like to be with a real man?
Micah sighed deeply and held your throat, not tight enough, just a light touch like a reminder of what could be.
-It's a shame your bruises is fading, they was so beautiful – he purred.
A shiver ran down your body again.
-Why don't you keep those cheap words to someone who cares? – you said, slapping his hand away from you – or I will kill you dead.
He laughed more and lifted his hands backing away.
-I'm still waiting for that – he said.
He backed off, but his eyes were like the ones of a hungry animal with nothing to lose. He smirked, victorious, one last time and walked away. Logically, he was a piece of trash, and you knew that dealing with him was going to end badly, but you felt divided between accepting his invitation or denying it.
Your body didn't have any doubts, though.
Could you deal with his rejection? Because he was bound to pull the same shit as before, and leave you alone and stained by him. That's when something crossed your thoughts, something so simple and yet, you would have to be really invested in it to make it work. First of all, life was much like a poker game, tables could turn with a good bluff, and this way you could put him to the test.
How much he desired you? Enough to risk a little gamble?
Your cunt ached for him, but, so you could give in to that desire, you would have to change the terms. You didn't want monogamy nor compromise, even less loyalty.
You just wanted him to admit that he wanted you too.
Your opportunity appeared when they heard about Sean, he was alive and being kept by some lawfolk, Arthur was going to rescue him along with Javier, Charles and your favorite conman, Josiah Trelawny.
Something about Josiah made him almost impossible to be hated, and you guessed that it was his way with words and his manners, you just couldn't help but laugh at him whenever he pulled one of his magic tricks, like a kid around a show. He dazzled people, that was his best trick.
Your plan, though, didn't include him, but the probability of success of the mission and what it could mean. Arthur was a skillful gunslinger, Javier a master with his knives, and Charles by himself was strong as a bull. You doubted that mission could go wrong.
Only if Sean was too stupid for his own good.
You saw when Charles' girl gave him a little trinket before he left the camp.
"A Lucky charm" – you heard she say.
That smart little witch.
Against all magic, what could go wrong?
And when they returned with the big-mouthed leprechaun... There was going to be a party.
A party.
Dutch wouldn't miss the chance to make everyone believe he had everything under control, and to show that we were all under his – merciful – wings, for the man liked his speeches way too much, and that was a moment too perfect to be wasted.
Even if the guy smelled like bullshit a mile away, you wouldn't say anything. You were having a nice life, after all, didn't have to suck cocks that tasted like piss and old cum for a few cents, and you ate regularly, that was a great improvement in your life. You had to be grateful, at least a little.
And, you were focusing on Micah and his pretentious attitude rather than Dutch's. Micah needed to be taught a lesson.
So, the Irish had returned home safe and sound. More or less. His voice echoed, above a crate, holding a beer and his dignity as both were the same.
-... and don't you worry Mr. Pearson, you drunk old shit bag... – he just arrived but was already drunk – It'll be nothing but, uh... the finest game in the pot, now Dead Eye Macguire's back!
You were near Miss Grimshaw, sitting against the table, and looking to the faces around you.
-... and don't worry about nothing Miss Grimshaw, we'll have this camp running like clockwork... I love you bastards... have fun! Have lots of fun!
-We intend to! – said Mary-Beth, laughing.
-Yeah, come on... Let's party! – said Karen, drinking her beer.
And Sean descended from the crate, drinking his beer.
-Even you, you grumpy old bastard, Arthur. – said Sean.
-Uh oh, here comes trouble. – said Karen, but you could tell she wasn't all against his presence. Their sweetness was even more complex than you had foreseen.
They were sweet on each other, but could only admit it when they were drunk, almost like they were ashamed of each other when sober. One more reason for Karen to cry at night?
-I just can't get rid of you, can I? – said Javier, tuning his guitar.
-Mind if I join you fine folks? – Sean said, sitting with them at the round table.
-I suppose – said Karen, looking silly. The way her eyes gleamed looking at him almost made her look younger.
-I owe you one, Arthur Morgan. The drinks are on me! – said Sean.
-They always are, when you ain't buying – said Arthur, walking away to sit by the fire with Hosea and the others.
-You are looking lovely as ever, if I may say so – said Sean, not his first attempt to flirt while drunk.
-Oh stop it – said Karen, smiling shyly
-Imagine riding with him all the way from blackwater to here – said Javier – estúpido.
-So, what now? – said Sean, completely unaware that Javier called him stupid.
-Come on, how about a song? – said Dutch.
The music started. You walked away from that place. Micah wasn't around, almost like happiness made him sick or something.
-You is going to see him, ain't you? – said Miss Grimshaw.
-But not in the way you think I am – you said.
She looked deeply at you.
-You better, girl – she said.
As you walked away from her in the direction of the trees, your whole body trembled slightly, excitement trapped in a bottle too tiny for it. You wanted to do it - play Micah - but, a part of you wanted to flee as you had been doing your whole life – fear weighed in your stomach.
Soon, you found him against a tree, with a bottle of beer. If you didn't know him better, you could say he was peaceful there alone in the woods.
-So, changed your mind? – he said, his smile mocking you.
You scoffed.
-Can’t a girl smoke in peace around here? – you said, using a match to light your cigarette. It was a peaceful night, alright, no wind to even blow a candle.
-Sure, and you came here just to smoke – he said, holding his belt – tryin' to fool me?
-If I'm bothering you, then I will leave you and your nasty personality alone – you said throwing your cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.
-Oh, come on - he purred, all convinced that he called the shots with you - there is room enough for both of us here – he said tapping the tree near him.
You laughed.
-Don't go thinking you is such a big deal Micah, I fucked better with my hands.
-Is that so? – he said.
Micah was patient when he wanted to, he knew how to buy his time and push your buttons, just to strike where it hurts the most. Too experienced to fall easily in any trap. The only way to destabilize him was through his ego.
Lucifer didn't fall for it too?
You gave your back to him and returned to camp. It was more or less like fishing, you threw the bait and now you would wait. Would Micah bite it just by sheer desire to see what you were up to? He was a stubborn man. Would he be stubborn to the point of wait to see you play yourself or stubborn to believe you, and seek to prove you wrong? What would give him more pleasure? Much of your plan was going to carry on based on probability and improvisation. Were you right about Micah Bell, after all?
As you approached the center of the camp, you heard they singing the ring-the-dang-pussy song. You watched in disbelief how grown man liked to sing about cunts like little boys. Uncle had red cheeks and a bottle in hand, making obscene gestures.
Oh, you enjoyed that old man just enough, and that was a whole lot to you.
You had to give it to them, it was funny alright. All seemed fine, the gang was happy again, playing and laughing like nothing was wrong. Even Pearson didn't seem so stupid.
That was a good night. Felt nice to have people around you, sometimes... The only thing that seemed strange to this scene was Dutch's music playing in his phonograph. People were actually drinking and talking about pussy and he was listening to some kind of classical song?
Really?
You sat by the table where people usually polished their guns, and tasted your first beer of the night. You couldn't get wasted so soon, not yet anyway. Soon Micah appeared, looking as flustered as possible, walking in that crooked way that only he does, shoulders up, head down facing you.
Your heart started pacing, but you maintained your face neutral. He sighed deeply, almost like a threat to you.
-So, you fucked better alone alright? I see – he laughed, but was mad enough too.
You shrugged and didn't answer, just took a sip of your bottle.
-I see what you are doing, Y/N, thinking you is smart? I won't fall for that.
-Oh, I'm doing something now? What am I doing Micah?
-Don't pull that on me, thinking you can provoke me. Trying to get me angry?
At this moment, Sean walked by almost falling to the ground but still holding his beer. A true drunken, sure he was. Karen walked behind him too, so drunk that neither one of them seemed to care about you and Micah. They hid behind the girl's wagon.
-Look at that lucky fucker... – Micah said.
-Huh.. – you were indifferent, sipping your beer.
-Hah, don't try to play it cool, Y/N, it doesn't suit you.
-Like you would know that.. – you scoffed him.
Then, you heard Sean laughing, and this time we waited in silence.
-Admit you love me – Sean said in that drunken fool way of his – Admit it and I'll stop annoying you.
-I'll admit nothing – it was Karen who spoke.
-You love me – Sean said.
-I'd rather love a snake!
-Come here – it was Sean's voice, but it faded quickly.
A slap sound, and more laughter. Soon Karen came by running and laughing as Sean stood near the wagon.
-She loves me... – he said, more to him than to us – I'm the happiest man alive.
-That fool wouldn't know what hit him not even if it was a train – Micah said.
-Sure – you said.
-What do you want, Y/N? – he said, at last.
You shrugged again.
-You want to give me something now? – you said.
-You wish. – he said, getting down to your level, his hands over the table. He sighed again – I won't fall for that Y/N. Just letting you know.
-Okay. – you said, as quickly as you could, as if you didn't care for what he did or said.
And he picked a bottle out of the crate over the table, moving his brows - emphasizing what he said - as if he didn't care about you at all. Sean got up and now was standing near the tent, close to us. Drinking his thoughts away, most likely.
-Oh, there she is... the finest lady I know – he said, suddenly.
You looked over your shoulder and saw Karen coming by.
-I hate you, you Irish bastard! – she said. She was all too drunk to care about much at that point.
Micah and you stood there, watching the scene.
-Ah, come here. – he said, going towards her.
You were so tempted to make a bet with Micah, but you feared to ruin the moment.
-You hate me too, I can see 't ‘n your eyesss... – she wasn't talking all the letters, others she pronounced too much.
Sean held her hands in his, caressing them slowly.
-I love you – he said.
-You only love me when we're drunk – she said divided in laughter and tears.
-Well, you're always awfully superior when you're sober... – he said, his words filled with emotion.
She didn't need much time after that.
-Come on, then... – she said, taking him by the hand and guiding him to the nearest tent while he laughed – I hate you, you know that... I hate you.
You couldn't bear any more, you had to look at him and laugh.
-Shush now doll, let's hear them – Micah said, finding it all terrible funny too.
They were laughing at first.
-It's alright John's tent, isn't it? – said Sean – hasn't seen any action like this since nine months before young Jackie popped out!
-Sean! – Karen said, whining.
-Move over, will ya? – Sean said.
-What are you doing? – Karen said.
Sean was trying to get his pants off, with no success.
- Sorry! – Sean said – Ohoho, there they are, look at them. Magnificent.
-Is he talking about his balls? – you asked Micah, making fun of them, for obvious reasons.
Micah laughed, and it was nice to hear him doing so.
-Like the peaks of the Derryveagh! – said Sean.
-Oh, shut up, you idiot! – said Karen, laughing.
Okay, her breasts.
-Nice compliment, you could use that too – you said.
-I have better ones for you, you nasty thing – he said.
-Come here, you – Sean said inside the tent.
They started moaning and whining. You could imagine, but you didn't want to, expecting to preserve some of your sanity for later.
-Hey, what are you doing? – Karen said, kind of annoyed.
-Anal – you said to Micah, putting your hands over your face and pretending to be surprised.
He laughed hard.
-It's an old trick my Da taught me – Sean said.
-Ugh, no! Don't ever do that again! – Karen said, relaxing again.
-Oh, okay, okay, here we go... Miss Jones, meet Macguire Junior – Sean was having fun.
-Creepy – you said.
Before Micah could say something, Karen was talking again.
-Is that it? – she said, not pleased at all.
This time Micah laughed hard and loud. He couldn't help it, and probably would bring that up to Sean until the end of days.
-You wait, he's a fighter... – Sean trying to save his reputation was a terrible thing to hear – Okay...no, that's not... there... no...
Sean didn't seem very comfortable.
-Guide me in here a bit, will ya? – he said.
-Jesus! – Karen said, irritated.
-That's the ugliest thing I have ever heard. And I heard a lot in my life – Micah said – That woman is a true fighter. Brave Karen.
-Oh yes! – Sean said.
-Finally – you said.
-You're a lovely woman – Sean said, gasping – Oh – his voice trembled a little – yes! Oh yes, that's it!
-Stop pulling that face! – said Karen.
-He's a virgin – you said – must be.
-And you would know that, don't you baby doll? – Micah said.
You shrugged again. Sean was gasping, and Karen was not whining of pleasure. You could almost precise his rhythm by his sounds.
-Yes! – Sean said – Ohoohoh Miss Jones!
-Will you shut up? – said Karen.
-Are you close? – Sean asked.
-Nowhere near! – Karen said, uncomfortable and irritated.
-Oh! – Sean screamed.
-That's a record alright – said Micah.
-Ohh – Sean's voice was trembling – There she blows! Phew... it's like all worries have floated away... Hey, where are you going?
-She must have sobered up already – you said.
-We're done, ain't we? – she said, bored and tired.
-We certainly are, darling. – Sean said, his laugh somewhere between nervousness and tiredness, but nowhere near the fact that she was completely unsatisfied.
When she left the tent, she didn't even look around, so you were not sure if she was completely aware that you and Micah were there. Sean, however, spotted Micah first of all. Sean was a messy mixture of shame and confidence, and soon as he found out that Micah had heard the whole thing, he gave him gis back and made his walk of shame towards his bedroll.
-That was disturbing – you said.
-See? You should be grateful for what I give you – Micah said.
-Yeah, what about you be grateful for what I put up with you? – you said.
-I knew it! You are all sour because I didn't say anything.
-You wish – you got up, stretching yourself – What about you pestering me about it? All I see is you trying to convince me that I want anything with you, why don't you admit that you are a pussy that's afraid to like it too much?
-Oh, you want me to admit? – he said, walking around the table, coming in your direction – You coming too sassy for my taste.
-Your loss – you said.
He sighed deeply again, his nostrils opening like the ones of an angry bull.
-Don't you think I could just take you here, now? You can't stop me.
-And that would be rape. You don't scare me. Besides, what rape would prove? That you can't satisfy a woman so you must take her by force? Thought you had some pride.
He was so close that you could feel his breathing against your skin.
-Okay. You want me to say it? I will say it.
-I don't want you to lie to me. Or else, what's the point – you said.
-Cards on the table doll. Who's holding what.
You looked deep in his blue eyes, blue as the summer sky. He held you close, against him, your breasts crushed against his chest.
-I want you – he said - Is that what you wanted to hear?
-I don't know, keep trying...
-Don't test me baby doll, you wouldn't like it
-Wanna bet? – you whispered.
He held your dark hair in his hand, pushing backwards and making you face him. He was almost two heads taller than you, and you enjoyed how big he was near you. Then he kissed you, his lips were rough against yours, but you molded yourself to him, to his strength. His kiss kept getting deeper, more thirsty and demanding.
At some point, you had to fight to back off a little so you could breathe.
-Satisfying you enough?
-Shut up and kiss me, now! – you said, holding his face, bringing his lips closer to yours.
He smiled, but there was nothing funny about it.
-I will just give you a treat tonight, you have been a very bad girl, you don't deserve...
-Shut up Micah – you said, pushing him against the table – We will fuck!
He wasn't all comfortable with that. Seemed confused, yet interested.
-What's now, gonna use me? – he said.
You didn't say, just pressed him, and started opening his shirt, passing your hands against his chest.
-This way they will see it all – he said, mocking you – Let me help you a little – he held you and walked to the other side of the table, putting your back to his chest – now all they is gonna see is my back.
You looked to the wagon, your heart racing, trying to see if someone was awake. He lifted your skirt.
-No undergarments? – he laughed – You was expecting this, wasn't you?
-One may never know – you said.
He put his cock out, rubbing it. You started to rub yourself against him.
-Oh yes, you was waiting for it all day, waiting for me – he said.
You held his thighs, over his pants.
-Just as much as you. – you said.
-Then, you were waiting big time – and he shoved himself in you.
You screeched, but he quickly held your mouth. You could hear Sean singing near the fire.
-No sound, or you want them to notice us? – he whispered – I will release you, but only if you promise to be a good little slut to me.
You shook your head. He released you and started pounding hard inside you, you could feel him hitting deep, and you bit your lips, so you wouldn't scream. You enjoyed how he stretched you, and made your cunt ache, no mercy, only pleasure. He held you by your neck with one hand, the other holding your hip so you wouldn't break apart not even a few inches from him. But even if he didn't hold you, you still would hammer yourself against him, guessing his movements.
-Ain't you an obedient one, huh? You love some good cock fucking you, don't you? – he whispered.
-Yes – you whispered.
-I said don't make a sound – and he scratched your thigh, ugh – You only answer when I say you can.
You shook your head.
-Huh, your cunt is hungry tonight, what is it that you doing? – he asked, really low – You speak now.
-I learned it a long time ago...
-It's like you're giving me a blow with your cunt – and he gasped.
And he pushed your back, making you bend for him, touching the ground with your hands, then he pounded harder, and you couldn't catch your breath – he was touching every inch inside of you, all the right spots, and the way your cunt ached only increased the sensation, it was too quick and too strong... too much... You cried trying to keep it quiet.
-Already? You just can't have enough, can you?
Micah got down in his knees, pushing your head against the ground now, you two hidden behind the table. He kept pushing you further.
-You fucked better alone, was that it? – he said, and thrust himself inside you with anger – better than this?
And he made you close your legs, making you really tight and difficult.
-Tell me, you fucking cum-hole, better than this?
-No... – you moaned really low, barely breath leaving your mouth.
-You bet – he whispered in your ear.
And he fucked you into another orgasm, just to prove a point.
What was the point? That he was good.
He came in your thighs.
Micah got up, closing his pants and looking around, trying to notice if someone had seen you both. Luckily, the ones that were still awake were too drunk to even notice.
#red dead redemption 2#rdr2 rp#micah bell#micah bell x reader#micah bell x f!reader#sean macguire#karen jones#miss grimshaw#mary-beth gaskill#Smut#killer to die for!
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no work tomorrow time to blog
im going to put this in a read more because this is about to get boring folks
i want to learn how to make a few good meal foods because im a grown up now and i should be able to. problem is, when i think of what i want for dinner i think spaghetti plus meat, but i need vegetables to survive. i dont like most vegetables.
recently my friend took me to a vegan sandwich place where it occurred to me that not a single thing on their menu sounded appetizing at all. when people try to make a “good” vegetable dishes they are usually very complicated and jumbled together, altogether too much effort for something that is not at all better than the original. i wanted to like oven roasted veggies but when my vegan sister made them they were just all jumbled together in a bowl and were still wet :/. vegans are supposed to be the ones out there LOVING this stuff and living off veggies only and they cant make one dinner dish that looks remotely appetizing to me.
i also am not fond of any kind of soup or casserole type dish, and ground meat. i love beef but i will not eat a burger. i will double not eat a bean burger. for me to eat a sandwich you gotta have a good meat on there to get me through the door, or else id rather just eat bread and lettuce on separate plates.
i wish i could survive off meat, cheese, and bread but alas i cannot. here are a few rated vegetables.
1. corn. the only good vegetable is corn on the cob. no-cob corn is ok too, but i would only consider eating leftover corn if it was still on the cob.
2. broccoli. base vegetable. is palatable. tastes like the color green. i know how to make it. would not eat leftovers of.
3. potatoes. in fry form? very very good, but no longer healthy i think. same with chips. defeats the purpose of eating vegetables if they arent healthy. i dont like mashed potatoes or chunks. texture is not good. sweet potatoes are the same thing but also too sweet.
4. sweet peas. yea i can fuck with these. would not eat leftovers still though.
5. carrots. are almost good. either too cold and hard to be a regular snack + weirdly sweet, or cooked and mushy and still sweet :/. had them roasted with Parmesan cheese before, which i love, and i wanted to like them but they were still way too sweet! i couldnt even really enjoy the cheese anymore.
6. lettuce. another base vegetable. the crunch is good. is like eating water. most people serve them in salads with dressing on it, which is way too much. preferred method of eating is plain or on a sandwich. but if i dont cook it am i getting any nutrients?? tastes like water, theres no nutrients in water.
7. kale. im enchanted by the idea of kale chips but every time ive had them they are not as good as i had hoped. sometimes they are also still wet instead of dry and crisp and those are worse. would still eat if out on a table in a large bowl.
8. okra. had fried okra once and it was just like.... this is a chicken nugget with no chicken in it.... i would like there to be some meat in here please.
9. peas. ok. kind of mushy but still tolerable.
10. lima beans. worse than peas, not as bad as real beans.
11. tomatoes. bad. bad flavor, too wet. will tolerate in a sandwich. will similarly tolerate on pizza but i prefer as little as possible. do not like the sauce. had a v8 once and it was like tomato soup. gross.
12. green beans. the taste is bad but my mom made it a lot growing up so i will eat it. its still bad tasting though! even after all this time.
13. onions. the crunch is bad on this one. always added to other things in chunk form and i hate biting into them.
14. celery. the crunch is too much and the taste is very bad! plus its rough and stringy and gets caught in my teeth. an all-around chore to eat.
15. all beans. ALL BEANS ARE TERRIBLE. i hate them so. the texture is extremely bad, the taste is never good, they are always added into other things to make them worse or given by themselves covered in sauce, and theres always so much!! i shudder to think of having to eat them as my primary protein source.
there are other vegetables but these are the ones i have savored the most.
what i need is a DRY, CRISP VEGETABLE that is SALTY and NOT BITTER, not mushy at all and not too sweet. i thought i found this in tostones but are they really still healthy if they are fried that much? TT___TT the other way they serve cooked plantains is way to mushy and sweet.
the internet says just smother them with cheese but are they still healthy if i do that...?
#vegetables#rambling#Thoughts#food#recipes#I LITERALLY RATE VEGETABLES IN THIS POST#read at own risk#im bored yall#and tired
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lucky to have you
The lights flash purple-blue, catching in the raven-black of Jenny’s hair. Jenny’s mouth forms the lyrics of the song blaring through the ballroom, and Miss Charlotte is on the verge of falling in love. She lets her forehead bump against Jenny’s, telling herself she can blame it on the alcohol. “You’re a godawful singer,” she shouts over the music.
“Don’t I know it!” Jenny shouts back, beaming at Miss Charlotte as though she’s been paid the compliment of the century.
i started thinking about my potential novel again today, which of course meant that i went through my old notebooks and extended something from last year into an actual little piece. mostly about my beloveds biconic vampire jenny callahan and british fire-witch miss charlotte, with some mentions of various other people.
a brief synopsis: jenny and miss charlotte dance, flirt, and might have kissed if they weren’t both so bad at communicating. miss charlotte is a pining idiot. jenny is probably also a pining idiot.
Miss Charlotte takes a long sip, looking at Jenny over the rim of her glass. “You’re not dancing,” she observes. “Isn’t now a prime time for you to bring out the funky chickens?”
Jenny chokes a little on her drink and wipes her mouth on her sleeve, still grinning. “First of all, Charlie-pie,” she says, “the dance itself is called the funky chicken. And second, I don’t generally dance at these kinds of things without a partner to dance with.”
“How horribly traditional of you,” says Miss Charlotte, and smiles a little so that Jenny can tell she’s joking. “Next you’ll tell me that you always let the gentleman lead.”
“Hardly,” says Jenny, and places her drink down on the bar, taking a sweeping bow. “I let the guy in the suit lead, and that’s pretty much always me.”
“And if it’s black-tie?”
“Then I cut a rug with a girl instead,” says Jenny, extending a hand to Miss Charlotte.
Miss Charlotte bites back a smile. It won’t do to act a besotted fool. “As it happens,” she says, “I’ve all but finished my drink—” and places her nearly-empty glass down on the bar, picking up the drink that Jenny’s abandoned. “Do you waltz?”
“I’m a vampire from the 1890s,” says Jenny, as if this should answer all Miss Charlotte’s questions. “I can waltz, I can shimmy, I can jitterbug—”
“You are making it far too easy for me to make fun of you,” Miss Charlotte informs her.
Jenny winks. “That’s the idea.”
Miss Charlotte takes a sip of Jenny’s drink. A bit too bitter for her taste, she thinks, and a bit too expensive for her to afford at any rate. She often forgets that Jenny, who has the sweetness and excitability of someone much younger, is a cultured, ageless being—perhaps it’s because Jenny is never pretentious, never holds her experience above other people. It’s remarkably endearing. “I suppose,” she says, “that I might be able to spare you one dance,” and takes Jenny’s hand.
“Ooh, your dance card’s all full?” Jenny plucks her drink from Miss Charlotte’s hand, tossing it back in a last graceful sip. She looks extraordinarily dashing in the dimmed lights of the ballroom—completely in her element—and as she sets the glass back down on the bar and leads Miss Charlotte onto the dance floor, Miss Charlotte is struck by the beginning of a feeling that she can’t yet place.
A faster song starts up, one with a pulsing beat. Miss Charlotte feels Jenny’s hands on her waist in a way that sends a thrill through her. Refusing to comply to her fluttering heart, she says dryly, “You’re certain that you can manage a waltz at this tempo?”
“The advantage of having a century or so under your belt,” says Jenny, “is the amount of time you’re given to accrue numerous talents.” She pulls Miss Charlotte close—the way one does when they waltz, no closer than that, but it feels like they’re close enough to kiss—and this close, Miss Charlotte is suddenly aware that Jenny is nearly a head taller than her. Sometimes she forgets—Jenny makes herself so easily accessible—
The lights flash purple-blue, catching in the raven-black of Jenny’s hair. Jenny’s mouth forms the lyrics of the song blaring through the ballroom, and Miss Charlotte is on the verge of falling in love. She lets her forehead bump against Jenny’s, telling herself she can blame it on the alcohol. “You’re a godawful singer,” she shouts over the music.
“Don’t I know it!” Jenny shouts back, beaming at Miss Charlotte as though she’s been paid the compliment of the century. “At least I’m not as bad as Oliver!”
Miss Charlotte laughs, forgetting herself, and Jenny’s answering smile makes her heart sing. Her hair is falling out of its neat bun; she is only slightly paying attention to her state of disarray. “You’re not waltzing,” she persists, “we’re just jumping about while you hold me.”
“Any objections?” says Jenny, giving Miss Charlotte that playful, flirtatious grin that she gives absolutely everyone.
Miss Charlotte is jerked unpleasantly out of the moment. Jenny Callahan is an ageless being, Jenny Callahan flirts with everyone, and the thought that she might someday be something special to this woman is terribly unrealistic. “Yes,” she says, “yes—” Her chest is tight as she pulls herself free from Jenny, missing the brief handful of seconds where she was able to forget.
“Charlotte,” says Jenny, a sudden worry in her voice.
“Call me one of your foolish nicknames, why don’t you?” says Miss Charlotte waspishly, well aware that her tipsy state probably isn’t helping this interaction. “It’ll make this whole thing seem bloody normal again. Excuse me.” She hurries away from Jenny—or tries to. Jenny has caught her arm.
“Charlotte,” says Jenny again, and her hand moves up to undo Miss Charlotte’s bun. Miss Charlotte’s blonde curls tumble loose, bouncing free against her shoulders (left bare by the strapless dress), and Jenny draws in a soft, pained breath. “You’re so beautiful,” she says.
“Are you drunk?” says Miss Charlotte stiffly.
Jenny’s eyes are incredibly clear; she looks the farthest from inebriated that a person can be. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m—I’m drunk. Sure.”
Miss Charlotte nods to herself, heart pounding. “Don’t tell me I’m beautiful like it matters to you,” she says. “Don’t do that to me.” And she jerks her arm out of Jenny’s hand, hurrying across the room and through the crowd, out the door and into the deserted gardens.
Well. Mostly deserted.
Tasha and Natalie are lying sprawled on the grass together, Natalie’s suit rumpled and Tasha’s dress riding up her thighs. Tasha is settled in Natalie’s arms, and Natalie is pointing out various constellations, and they look unapologetically happy, and it is almost too much for Miss Charlotte to bear. What is it like, she thinks, to be in love with someone who can love you back just as easily?
“Hey,” says a voice, and Miss Charlotte turns. Oliver’s girl—Clover—is standing there, surveying her with a thoughtful expression. “Jenny’s hitting the bar pretty hard,” she says. “And when I asked her why, she said she was shooting for attainable goals tonight, and getting drunk seemed more attainable than some of the stuff she really wanted.”
“She wants me, I think, for tonight,” says Miss Charlotte coolly. “I shan’t oblige her.”
“Shan’t,” Clover mimics, and laughs almost affectionately. “Listen, Charlotte—”
“Miss Charlotte, if you please,” says Miss Charlotte all but reflexively.
“—she doesn’t want you just for tonight,” says Clover. “At least, I don’t think she does.”
“Thank you for your input,” says Miss Charlotte, and goes resolutely back to watching Natalie and Tasha cuddle under the stars.
She hears an exasperated huff from Clover, and the sound of retreating footsteps. She doesn’t bother to look back. Clover is a young thing with little experience when it comes to love, and Miss Charlotte is nearing her forties having participated in a healthy number of relationships.
(Granted, she has never been in love before, but this is not something worth mentioning.)
Jenny is spectacularly smashed by the time they all leave the gala, leaning heavily on Miss Charlotte and playing with her curls as they sit together in the back of the limousine. “You’re beautiful,” she says again, still with that odd, helpless note of sincerity to her voice. Miss Charlotte determinedly ignores it, focusing instead on the fact that Jenny has said this to a thousand other women and men before her. “You are so so beautiful and any girl would be lucky to have you.”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” says Miss Charlotte.
“Jesus fucking Christ but they’re idiots,” says Clover to Oliver, who gets the vaguely panicked look on his face that he always does when he might be asked to side with someone.
Jenny hums, settling into Miss Charlotte’s side. “I hope I’m drunk enough not to remember this,” she mumbles to herself. “Made such a fucking idiot of myself—god, I hope you’re drunk enough not to remember this too.”
The statement cuts Miss Charlotte to the bone; she tightly grips the fabric of her dress, part of her wishing it to tear under her hands. She wants some physical representation of what she feels—she wants it not to be bottled up inside, inflicted on no one but herself. “I am drunk,” she agrees, if only for the sake of drunk-Jenny. “Drunk enough not to remember, I’m sure.”
Jenny raises her head, eyes bright. “Can I kiss you, if we won’t remember?” she asks. “I’ve always wanted—”
“WE ARE STILL IN THE LIMO,” says Tasha very loudly, an expression of abject mortification on her face. Miss Charlotte buries her head in her hands, Jenny blinks languidly at the rest of the Do-Gooders, and Oliver sort of whimpers.
“So this is what you guys do when you go out,” Clover observes. “Cool. Remind me to never go out with any of you again.” She considers, then squeezes Oliver’s shoulder. “You’re okay, though. Maybe.”
Miss Charlotte replays that memory; it’s the only one she’ll get. Can I kiss you? Jenny says to her, eyes longing, lips parted as if in anticipation of the kiss she is requesting. Can I kiss you? Jenny says to her, and the note in her voice is still that one of desperate sadness, as though she already knows the answer. Can I kiss you? Jenny says to her, already leaning forward.
Yes, says Miss Charlotte, in a world where they were the only two people in the godforsaken limousine, and she was just a bit more drunk, and both of them were just a bit less afraid. Yes, yes, yes.
Jenny is painfully hungover the next morning. “I am dead,” she complains to the office at large, “I should be exempt from things like this—and how are you not hungover, either, Char-lots-of-curls? I could’ve sworn you were drinking too.”
There is no apprehension in her eyes as she looks at Miss Charlotte.
Miss Charlotte aches.
“Miss Charlotte’s a witch, remember?” Natalie points out. “Probably she’s got some high alcohol tolerance thing going.”
“Yes,” says Miss Charlotte. “That.”
Jenny pulls herself up from the floor and to her feet. “Hey, Charcoal, can we talk?” she says, and sort of jerks her head towards the conference room. “Real quick. It’ll only take a second.”
All of a sudden very nervous, Miss Charlotte follows Jenny, grateful for her years of practice when it comes to remaining calm and composed. Jenny shuts the door behind her, and involuntarily, Miss Charlotte blurts out, “You asked to kiss me last night.”
Jenny winces. For once, she looks her age. “Yeah, I kind of wanted to talk to you about that,” she said. “Most of it was the alcohol, I think.”
“That’s good to know,” says Miss Charlotte miserably.
“What—oh, no, Charlotte, don’t you ever think I don’t want to kiss you,” says Jenny, sounding genuinely horrified by the concept. “I just meant that if I made you uncomfortable with any of my come-ons—”
“You want to kiss everyone,” says Miss Charlotte. “I don’t take it personally. Leave it, Callahan, all right?”
“Charlotte—”
“Leave it,” says Miss Charlotte, and hurries out of the conference room, unable to look back and see the hurt that she knows is on Jenny’s face.
#my writing#oc tag#the do gooders#jenny x miss charlotte#jenny callahan#charlotte novak#not tagging everybody else#i would tag clover but she still doesn't have a last name. so#anyway i will reblog this MANY times probably. so look forward to that
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Haven
A/N: I’m giving you soft Roy, kinda? Also sick, and jealous Danny because why not??? There’s not really much of a plot here, just all of those three things together to keep the goddamn ship alive. I think I might be back this week still with something else, but for now enjoy this one! If you want to read on AO3, click here.
His hand is halfway to the door but it’s open the very next second, beautiful green eyes and a big smile greet Roy from the other side and he smiles back, glad to finally be at home. Danny doesn’t say anything, he just leaps himself forward and wraps his arms around Roy, taking in his scent and everything about him that he missed so much. Roy’s arms are around his waist, just as tight, as he kisses Danny’s shoulder, then neck.
Danny’s lips instantly parted and his breath failed for a second. He missed Roy on his everyday routine, but his kisses and touch were his most deep cravings. He thought this would be gone after two years of living together, Roy would never stop giving him butterflies, but this animalistic urge and desire between them never lessened. Roy could always get him on his knees with a snap of his fingers, and Danny would do that willingly every single time.
They made space between their bodies just enough so that their lips could find each other and touch. Hands tightening around the waist, fingertips digging on the neck, mouths moving in sync and eagerness running through their veins. Danny gripped Roy’s collar and pulled him inside, the luggage falling on the floor behind them was a mindless background noise.
The sofa was the farthest they managed to go, they would have time for anything else later, now they needed this. They craved each other, and they spent the next hours remembering a body they knew like the back of their hands, clothes and world long forgotten.
Roy was caressing Danny’s back, the now naked pale body laying over his was placing kisses on his chest and holding him tight. He closed his eyes to savour the moment and took a deep breath, he loved that boy with all his heart. He opened his eyes again and Danny had his chin resting on his chest, his eyes shining and a smile making its way on his face; he leaned his head forward to kiss Roy again, just because he could, and he loved.
“C’mon babe, let’s wash up.” Roy said, thumbs caressing Danny’s jaw.
“No, don’ wanna move.” Danny laid his head on Roy’s chest again, making his wishes clear.
“As much as I would love to spend the rest of the day here on the couch with you, I’m starving. So let’s take a shower and go out to dinner, okay?” Roy asked but Danny just made a noise of complain. He held him and sat on the couch. “We can see Mariah after, she said she’ll kill me if I don’t go.”
“Noooooo,” Danny whined and wrapped his arms and legs around Roy. “I don’t want to share you.”
“We won’t be home late, I don’t have much energy left on my body.” Roy tried and Danny gave him puppy eyes and a pout, he kissed it and stood up, carrying the boy to their bathroom.
Danny tried to change Roy’s mind in the shower about staying and that just resulted on them leaving later than planned. Roy took them to a quiet place they had been a few times and where the food was amazing. They exchanged sweet kisses, looks and touches during their meals. They got access backstage to greet their friends who were more than happy to see the couple and catch up while they were getting ready. They sat front row with drinks on hands and dollar bills to give to their friends as the performances begun.
Roy laughed, feeling that peaceful feeling of being surrounded by friends in a place he liked, just totally comfortable and relaxed, but not for too long. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was jet lag or the loud music, but he could really go home now. He was happy he went there but the fun was over, for him at least. Just when he needed Danny wasn’t near him and he couldn’t see him in the crowd, so Roy waited, hoping Danny wouldn’t mind calling it a night.
“Looking for me?” A voice said behind him and Roy was grateful he could go home now.
“Oh, thank God, can we-” He stopped once he turned around and saw it wasn’t who he wished it was, whoever this person was he didn’t looked nothing like Danny. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“I can be whoever you want, if you’re into that.” The tall guy suggested, looking Roy up and down.
Roy huffed. “Thank you, I’m good.”
“I bet you are.” The guy stepped closer, and Roy was annoyed he couldn’t take a clue, he was kind of flattered but not really. “I can almost taste it.”
Roy’s jaw dropped, he could not believe this guy. Now he was just annoying, and Roy wished he could give a fuck and snap on him but he just wanted to go home.
“Hey,” Danny joined them, a full beer bottle on his hand. He looked at the guy Roy was talking to and tried to remember if they ever met before.
“Sorry, we’re kind of busy here.” Said the guy without even looking at Danny.
“No, we’re not.” Roy rolled his eyes.
“Excuse me?” Danny asked, perplexed.
“Oh, c’mon, are we playing games now?” The guy placed a hand on Roy’s thigh and squeezed it, smiling.
“Get your fuckin’ hands out of him.” Danny said under his breath, his knuckles turning into white as he gripped the bottle tighter.
“We are not playing shit, please, just leave.” Roy said after he gripped the hand out of him.
But the guy didn’t moved at all. And judging by Danny’s face, if he stayed longer he would not leave the floor soon.
Danny stepped between them, placing himself in front of Roy and getting face to face with the asshole guy. “Get. Off. Do not try me, I’ll break all your teeth.”
He was taller than Danny, but that didn’t intimidated him at all. He was death staring at the guy and his hands were already in fists by his side. It took him almost a second too late but the guy walked away, and Danny exhaled the air he was holding.
“Thanks babe, that was hot.” Roy said, making Danny turn around to face him. “Can we go home now?”
The anger Danny was feeling vanished as he looked to his boyfriend, he didn’t look well, so Danny just nodded and got their things, saying bye to the friends they would meet on the way to the exit. Danny drove them back, and hurried Roy to the bed once they got home.
“Can I get you anything?” He asked but Roy dismissed it with his hand.
“Don’t worry, it’s just post flight sickness.”
Danny checked on the dogs and made sure everything was alright then joined Roy on the bed, they both dozed off not long after.
What woke Danny was the unusual sound he would hear in California, pouring rain. He liked the rain, it just made him feel more lazy and needy than usual, so he moved on the bed until he found a body to nuzzle his face on. But it was sticky, and it made him open his eyes, Roy was sweating and he had the color of the insides of an avocado. Danny sat up, worried, and then ran to grab some medicine for Roy, grabbing a water bottle on his way back.
“Babe, wake up.” Danny sat by Roy’s side and tried to wake him as calm and soft as he could. “Roy, wake up.”
Roy didn’t answer verbally, the frown on his forehead just got deeper, like he was being disturbed and didn’t really wanted to wake up.
“Baby, I need you to sit to take some pills, okay? You look like shit.” Danny held him and tried to lift his body to lean on the headboard.
“’m fine.” Roy mumbled, still not fully aware.
“Open up.” Danny demanded and Roy parted his lips, just enough for Danny to push the pills inside, and he quickly opened the bottle and rested on Roy’s lips, carefully turning it up. Roy swallowed it and coughed, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand and sliding back to his previous spot and position.
Danny couldn’t go back to sleep, worry taking over him. He looked on the kitchen through all their things and what he could make or give Roy to make him feel better. For now he would let him sleep, but he checked on him every half an hour.
When it was lunchtime, Danny had prepared chicken soup and grabbed a few vitamins, he carried it all to the bedroom and did just like before. Roy opened up his eyes this time and refused to eat at first but Danny forced him anyway.
“Are you feeling better? Do you want me to take you to the doctor?” Danny asked as he checked Roy’s body temperature with the back of his hand.
“No, no doctors. I’ll be fine.”
“I swear to God if you die on me I’ll pee on your grave.” Danny said and got a small smile on Roy’s face.
“You know I will.”
“Yeah, but not right now.” Danny protested. “You can’t die yet because I wanna little yous around the house, letting you dress them up and another one to form a punk band with me. We will have the prettiest babies.”
“I guess I’ll have to live then and help the poor child to not get all your traits.”
“Fuck you, you’re sick. You’re not supposed to be this bitter.” Danny pretended he was mad but he couldn’t be, not when Roy gave him a weak smile and he knew he was joking. He grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it and Danny’s heart melted.
Danny fed him and changed his sweaty clothes for new ones, then laid on bed with Roy, who cuddle up to his side and they listened to the rain. Danny wrapped his arm around him, reminding of the other hundred times Roy took care of him just like that, and felt nice to do that for a change, to show how much he cared and loved him.
He kissed his messy hair and little low snores were added to the sound of rain. Danny smiled, Roy was never the one to be on this position, Mr. Always Working, Always Functioning was nothing but a fluff ball that need attention and care, and Danny would give it to him, every single day for the rest of his life, in a heartbeat.
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have your cake (and eat it too) // mingyu
genre: fluff
summary: chan challenges mingyu to a bake-off, and mingyu isn’t going to lose.
it starts, as most things in the dorm do, as a challenge.
and mingyu isn’t usually the competitive one in the group; that’s coups and minghao and soonyoung and sometimes jeonghan, but everyone knows that a) you can’t expect mingyu to save you a share of food and then insult his cooking skills, and b) you can’t insult his cooking skills and then challenge him to a contest to see who can make the tastiest dessert because for one thing, cooking and baking are by no means the same thing, and for another everyone knows the oven in the dorm is fucked.
anyway, that was chan, and that was two days ago, and mingyu is now covered with gelatin powder and cursing darkly under his breath as the pot of water bubbles and boils over, pretending not to notice jun and the concerned glances he keeps throwing in mingyu’s direction. it doesn’t matter that the deadline chan had set them is in six hours; that’s plenty of time to absolutely decimate whatever disgusting concoction chan’s made and rub his smirking face in it, and mingyu is absolutely not bitter about the fact that he’d asked not only minghao but also wonwoo and dokyeom to help him and been told in response that they were already helping chan. dino’s been getting a bit too big for his boots lately, anyway. mingyu isn’t bitter at all. not one bit.
jun casts another concerned glance over at him. mingyu scowls; he knows jun would be more than happy to help him if he asked, and more than capable, but chan had at least three people helping him and mingyu was going to emerge triumphant without help, dammit. also, he’d learnt an english proverb recently: “too many cooks spoil the soup”, and he was looking forward to holding that over chan’s head when mingyu inevitably won.
as mingyu’s muttering incoherently at the custard-like mixture in front of him, he notices jun do a double take at his phone screen before slipping out of the room, speaking rapidly into his phone in mandarin. he frowns, but thinks nothing of it.
his phone pings with a notification suddenly, and mingyu glances over at it. minghao’s name pops up, followed by another text. mingyu ignores it, curious as to why minghao, normally one to condense all the information into a single text, had texted him twice in a row but still feeling miffed enough about the contest thing to be petty about it.
he’d regret it later when minghao inevitably never let him live down his pettiness ever, but he was going to win this thing and rub it in not only chan’s face, but minghao’s, wonwoo’s and dokyeom’s too.
the mixture begins simmering, and mingyu turns the heat down. the recipe says to let it cool for around half an hour while making the frosting, but joshua can’t eat frosting because it’s too sweet and mingyu wants everyone to respect him as the undisputed cooking god. he steps back to wipe his brow, eyes the fridge and the countertop beside it where he’d dumped about half the fridge’s contents onto the counter to make space for the pie he was currently making.
there’s a pack of jun’s jelly snacks lying on the very top of the pile of evicted foods, and jun wouldn’t even notice that they were missing because he keeps literal bags of the stuff hidden around the dorm. mingyu’s got time to spare (he’s just going to make a strawberry jelly topping instead of frosting), and besides, he deserves a treat for all the stress he’s been put through for the last few days. he’ll just eat one or two and put the pack back where he found it, no harm done. right?
mingyu’s on his phone, scrolling through instagram as he waits for the cheesecake batter to set in the pie case. a lazy chuckle escapes him as he watches a video of a puppy chasing its own tail, likes it, saves it to his favourites.
and then jeonghan wanders into the kitchen, and mingyu freezes.
jeonghan freezes too, as though sensing his terror (mingyu read somewhere once that dogs and other animals can smell fear and despite what anyone else might say, mingyu knows jeonghan was a bloodthirsty chihuahua in his previous life), and they stare at each other for a while, wide-eyed, before jeonghan seems to rule out bodily harm or threat, and lets his gaze wander. jeonghan looks mingyu over once, then glances down towards mingyu’s thigh and–
“don’t tell jun!” mingyu shrieks, because he knows jeonghan’s seen the mountain of empty jelly snack cups and he really, really doesn’t like that look on jeonghan’s face.
“hm?” jeonghan hums offhandedly, as if he doesn’t control whether mingyu lives or dies by his own hand. seppuku is preferable to being the source of jun’s disappointment, but mingyu knows exactly what dish to make for jun to abate the storm of his sulking when jeonghan inevitably tells him about mingyu’s betrayal.
“please,” mingyu breathes, hands up in surrender, “don’t tell jun i ate all his jelly.” the silence stretches on as jeonghan pokes a finger into one sculpted cheekbone, pretending to think, the jackass. mingyu battles between wanting to throttle jeonghan and succumbing to the ‘best of mingyu’s life compilation’ that’s currently playing in 0.5 speed in front of his eyes.
“alriiiiight,” jeonghan sing-songs, an all-too-familiar half-grin pulling a corner of his mouth up. mingyu braces himself – “as long as you come with me. i have something i want to show you.”
mingyu’s blood runs cold. “but– but, but i! haven’t, yet, finished making. my pie,” he finishes lamely, knowing full well that none of what he’d just said made any sense.
jeonghan rolls his eyes, a martyred sigh leaving him as he casts his gaze up to the heavens dramatically. “okay,” he says, and mingyu shoots to his feet, darts towards the fridge where his beautiful, beautiful cheesecake has been setting, and the slowly simmering strawberry glaze just waiting for its shining moment.
the cheesecake pie looks heavenly as mingyu stows it smugly in the fridge, grinning to himself as he closes the recipe on his phone before setting a timer for half an hour. the strawberry jelly topping is smooth and bouncy, and constellated artfully with edible flowers. “chan, that twerp,” mingyu mutters to himself, “he’s going to regret challenging me.”
he thinks he hears jeonghan hastily stifle a fit of giggles at that, and aggressively ignores him.
half an hour passes excruciatingly slowly; jeonghan’s typing away furiously on his phone as mingyu tries not to chew at his nails. he really wants to know what minghao sent him.
to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t check his phone, stubbornly glaring at the drawing he’d done of bongbong last week instead. it’s hanging on the fridge, dokyeom’s dumb bird magnet fixing it to the sleek metal. minghao had helped him draw it, giggling in that punch-drunk way of his when mingyu had sneezed and sent his pen skidding across the table. mingyu scowls, turning his glare to his phone, which tells him that there’s thirty-six seconds remaining, and then glancing over at jeonghan, whose fingers have momentarily stopped flying across the keyboard of his phone. they stare at each other for about a minute and a half, mingyu trying very hard not to quail under jeonghan’s knowing smirk before mingyu remembers his cheesecake.
jeonghan prods at mingyu, hard, his bony fingers digging into mingyu’s side as they walk down the abandoned hallways of their company’s building, and it’s only a god-sent miracle that stops him from screeching and throwing the cake in his face. seething, mingyu whirls around to face the older man. “what the heck, hyung!” mingyu whisper-yells, unsure himself why he’s whispering, except maybe that it’s the middle of the night and the members have a bad habit of falling asleep in the practice rooms.
jeonghan grins brightly at him, stopping in front of him by one of the practice rooms, and mingyu kind of wants to kick him just so he can see that smug smile slip off his face. he makes a show of checking his watch then, one finger raised like he’s waiting for something. “what,” mingyu hisses finally, and jeonghan’s grin only widens. waits a beat, then two.
“midnight,” jeonghan whispers back, eyes bright. “happy birthday, mingyu.” and then he swings the door open and pushes him into the practice room.
immediately, he’s assaulted on all sides by shouts and the obnoxious tooting of party horns, the cheesecake snatched from his hands before he has a chance to protest; it’s chaos, absolutely nothing is happening and yet everything is happening, and mingyu’s so confused. then, the chaos assaulting his ears sharpens gradually into “happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to–“
“mingyu–“ “mingyu-hyung–“ “mingoo-yah–“ “you greedy punk–“
“happy birthday to yooooooooouuuuuuuuu!” and then there’s cake being smeared in his face and he panics momentarily before realising with no small amount of relief that the cake is chocolate and not cheesecake, which reminds him–
“chan, you little punk!” he screams, trying despite a grin to fight the cake-covered hands away. “i win, you twerp!”
“no you don’t!” chan screams right back, somehow directly behind him. mingyu yelps and falls over, dragging at least two members with him. “we haven’t even tasted it yet!”
and there’s cake and cake and more cake and chicken and burgers and so much food it seems impossible that they could finish it all but mingyu knows it’ll be gone by daylight, and they chug soda and juice till they’re bloated and gassy and giggly, and at the end of it all, when they’ve all had a slice or three of mingyu’s cheesecake pie, chan concedes a grudging defeat and mingyu screams triumphantly in his face before doing a lap of victory and soda-induced hyperactivity around the practice room, screeching “HA!” like a pterodactyl at minghao, wonwoo, dokyeom and a snickering hansol before spinning off, giggling madly, and continuing to stuff his face and his belly as seungkwan and woozi, cackling loudly, watch the chaos from the safety of a corner.
it’s the best birthday mingyu’s ever had.
#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#admin hui#sebeuntin#seventeen imagines#mingyu#kim mingyu#mingyu fluff#tbh this is a mess but im kind of proud of it??#i had no idea where i was going with it and it sHOWS#happy_MINGYU_day#!!!!#will i ever post anything that isn’t a) a birthday post or b) tooth-rotting fluff#stay tuned
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Interview with the Muse
- What is your Full name? Include any maiden names, aliases, or nicknames.
Rostam Morley. The Third. Esquire.
You can shorten it if you really want, but people usually just call me by my full first name. I prefer my full name. Kerry is the only one to call me “Tammy” and she remains the only one because no one else is allowed to. When I was a kid – sometimes even now – my mom called me “Pancake” as a pet name. They said that was the first English word I spoke during breakfast one day. Not even “hello”.
- When is your birthday? Do you know where you were born and at what time?
14th of May (Ordibehesht 24, Persian calendar). Some village outside of Shiraz, Iran. Don’t know what time.
- What is your star sign? Do you know your Chinese Zodiac too?
Taurus. Explains why I’m so good at bullshitting.
- What is your earliest memory that you can remember?
Fuck if I know.
- Where was your childhood home? Was it more urban or rural?
My adoptive parents’ place was a little outside the city. I’d say it was kinda more semi-urban than suburban. No white picket fences or anything like that, just an old type of house that fit the five of us, somehow. I don’t know what type they’re called. Ranch?
(In other verses his family lived in a semi-detached row home.)
- How was your childhood in general? Did your parents treat you well? Did you have a lot of friends?
It started off weird as fuck. It wasn’t easy to get me from my country and the details are blurry at best. It might be better if I don’t know the whole story. But after I came here to my family, it got better. My parents worked hard for me and when I started talking freely they couldn’t get me to shut up. So I got a lot of friends soon enough. Between the neighborhood kids and school kids, I had no shortage of people to play with.
- How was/is school? What is your favorite and least favorite subjects? What were your grades on average?
School was school. I didn’t get perfect marks and I didn’t want to – just to pass. High school I did the worst. They were being unnecessarily hard to “prepare” us for... what exactly? I found university easier than that. That was bullshit. But, like I said, I passed.
- Did you have a best friend growing up? What was their name? Are you still in touch?
I had some best friends. There were a whole bunch in the neighborhood and I had two at school. A few of them moved away or transferred to other schools and the ones that didn’t weren’t my friends anymore as the years passed. Our interests were no longer the same. That’s fine. Shit happens.
- Were you in any cliques?
No. I talked to everybody.
- Best childhood memory you can recall?
Playing outside, throwing rocks and chasing each other with sticks. It’s not really a memory, it’s a feeling.
- Worst childhood memory you can recall?
I got trapped in an elevator once. I decided to go off exploring on a school trip. Something malfunctioned on the way up. It felt like hours I was in there but it was probably only 30 minutes at most. That wasn’t fun.
- Name an event in your childhood that has shaped you into the person you are today
I sound like a broken record and I usually don’t bring it up, but being adopted tops the list. I don’t know what my life would be like if I stayed in Iran. Thank God I wasn’t born a girl.
- What is the dumbest thing you have ever done to impress someone? Were they impressed or was it all for naught?
I’ve done a lot of dumb shit but it’s rarely to impress anyone.
- Did you ever have any sweethearts or lovers? Do you have a boy/girlfriend?
I’ve had many lovers and a handful of exclusive relationships. I’m not spoken for now. ;)
- Are you a virgin?
Ha. Not since I was 14.
- Do you ever plan on getting married in your life? Do you want kids?
I think it’ll be a long time before either of those things happens.
- Would you rather have your own kids or adopt? How many kids would you want?
Ideally both. Being adopted myself, I was very lucky to get a home that treated me well. If I had any kids at all, maybe 4 total – biologically or otherwise.
- Do you think you'd be a protective parent or a relaxed parent?
Probably a mix of them.
- How would you prefer to pass away? Surrounded by loved ones and at peace, or while doing something heroic?
If anything, I wanna die quickly.
- Generally, how healthy are you? Do you get sick or injured easily or are you fit?
I’m healthy. I don’t get sick very often. My serotonin could probably use a boost.
- Have you ever been badly injured before?
A few times. The worst was from a fight in high school. Me and some other guy were arguing over some stupid shit in retrospect. We weren’t the least bit sober and when you’ve got two angry teens rolling, shit hits the fan quick. I’m only glad fists and knives were involved and not guns.
- What is the worst injury you have ever gotten? What was it and how did it happen? Were you ever close to death?
That fight. I still have a scar on my side from it.
I’ve skirted fate once or twice. I might not be so lucky the next time.
- How many times have you been to the hospital/doctor's?
Maybe 3 times? I don’t know, I don’t count them.
- Have you ever had a concussion or brain injury? Have you ever had amnesia?
I got a mild concussion from a fist fight. I’ve also blacked out at parties once or twice. I like staying conscious so I don’t go as hard as I used to.
- What was the worst illness you ever contacted? Do you know what it was? How long were you sick?
The clap. It’s long gone now. Moral of the story: Wrap it before you tap it.
- Ever had any extended hospital stays? What for?
No.
- Have you ever had to give yourself or someone else emergency first aid? What happened?
No.
- Are you employed? Where do you work and who do you work for? What do you do?
Manta Talent Acquisitions. I’m a consultant.
- Are you happy with your current job?
It’s fine. I’ve never done anything like it so it’s been a learning experience. The pay is good and I get flexibility. There’s better jobs out there I know but so far, I’ll stick it out with this one.
- Did you have any previous jobs? What were they and what did you do?
Lots. Did some short summer work through the years. For full time I was a restaurant host, bartender, construction worker, office aide, bookkeeper for a short stint, and now a talent consultant.
- Most dangerous thing you have ever done?
Drug mixing + alcohol = you might die.
Shower sex is a close second.
- Do you consider yourself a more active person or a more relaxed person?
Active.
- What is your dream come true? How about your worst nightmare?
I’m not letting you use that against me.
- What is the biggest and most important goal you have set for yourself?
Be a little less temperamental.
- How persistent would you say you are? How much does it take to get you to give up on a task?
It takes forever for me to give up on anything because I don’t like to give up.
- Would you surrender yourself to your enemies or fight to the very end?
That depends on the circumstances.
- When do you usually do your shopping? What is currently on your shopping list?
Groceries I get after work or later at night when the rush is gone. I get my clothing and home things whenever I need them.
- Top three things on your wishlist?
I’ve got what I want right now.
- Currently, what is something you want but do not need?
See above.
- Do you like shopping? What is your favorite thing to shop for?
I don’t care either way. I get what I need and go.
- What is the most expensive thing you have purchased? Was it worth it?
My car. Hell yeah it was worth it.
- What would you do if you were suddenly given one billion dollars out of the blue?
What wouldn’t I do? That’s the real question.
- What would you describe your style of clothing as?
Ah... A nicer kind of casual.
- Do you have any hobbies? Name all of them if you can.
My hobbies? Just watching movies or listening to music. Socializing. Running. Whatever I find interesting at the time I guess.
- Do you like and appreciate art? What is your favorite piece of artwork?
I’ve never been a big art fan. Leonid Afremov has great stuff, though.
- Do you like music? What is your favorite style of music?
I like rock music, but I’m also a basic bitch and listen to top 40.
- Have you ever seen any musicals? What is your favorite?
No. I don’t like singing in shows. People get really angry when I say I don’t like different animated movies.
- What are your top three favorite animals? What would you say your "Patronus" or "Spirit Animal" is?
Elephants. That’s really it.
Look. How could you not like them?
- What are your top three favorite colors?
Burgundy/maroon, grey, and... I don’t know. White? Black? Yellow? As long as I look good in it.
- What is your favorite season? Do you prefer hotter or colder weather? Do you like snow at all?
Summer. I’ll take hot weather over cold. Cold’s got its benefits, though. As for snow, it’s great to look at and play in, but I’m paying someone else to clean that up.
- What kind of flavors do you prefer: Sweet, Sour, Bitter, Spicy, Dry, or Umami (savory meat taste)?
Every taste has its place in my heart and stomach.
- Can you cook at all?
Yeah I can cook. But for you? For a price.
- What is your favorite dish? Can you prepare it? Do you have the recipe handy?
Breaded chicken served with oven-roasted allumette-cut potatoes paired with a spiced tomato reduction sauce. I can make it, but I don’t use a recipe so it tastes a little different each time.
- What is your favorite fruit and vegetable?
I love nectarines.
- What is your favorite dessert? What is your favorite type of candy/treat?
Favorite dessert is cookie dough ice cream.
- What is the best thing you have ever had the opportunity to eat? What is the worst?
Pus-- I really love nectarines. The worst was liver.
- Do you like to drink tea or coffee? Any favorite flavors?
I hate coffee, so I’ll always go for tea. I really like hibiscus tea but I’ll go for any kind of tea.
- Describe your sense of humor.
Situational. Bawdy. Dry.
- What is one thing you are justly proud of?
Where I am now financially. My job, where I live, the things I have. It took a long time to get here. Everything else in life is a work in progress.
- Do you have any religious beliefs? If not, have you ever been to a church service?
I don’t care what you do in your free time. I’ve only been to churches for weddings or funerals.
- What would you say is the worst thing someone has done to you? What is the meanest thing someone has ever said to you?
I had an ex-friend who almost blackmailed me into some serious crime. I’m not talking little drug runs, I mean stuff that’ll get you locked up for the rest of your life and then some. I had to get out of that before things got bad. Mean words on the other hand don’t mean anything to me.
As for the absolute worst thing someone’s done to me, I’m not gonna talk about it.
(It’s a very sore subject for him, sorry!)
- What is the worst thing you have done to someone? What is the meanest thing you have said to anyone?
I’d never hurt a fly. Honest.
- Share the latest entry in your diary/journal.
Don’t have one. My old counselor suggested me to have one a long, long time ago but I thought it was stupid. I don’t think that as much now, but I still don’t want one.
- What is the most precious thing you own? Is it valuable at all?
A necklace with a little elephant pendant from my siblings. It has no market value but it’s priceless to me.
- Talk about someone you know. It can be someone you either like or dislike.
[proceeds to talk about himself]
#headcanon#mirror mirror#{{ another long one }}#{{ remember he is an unreliable narrator so don't take all these at face value }}
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