#Packaging and unpackaging

[lokorum]

"even the most benign of them, are like a hurricane off the coast"

if you want to support me - and have a coin to spare! - you can donate here!! it will help me super-duper much!! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

[literupture]

he arrived safely from Japan!!

yes he was an impulse buy. no i don't have a problem

[bielobog-kun]

ludicrously incompetent person who wants my job asked me what my job title is so she can ask to have my job (there are no openings for my job)

[phthalosblues]

I realize posting the fic as a reblog was maybe not the best way for it to be seen. So! Here it is on its own post!

it’s fairly short so… riley/bonesaw shortfic!

Riley sat on a small chair in an empty apartment on Earth Gimel. It was set to be given to some family, one that was still out there in the hoard of people in tents, the grief tainting the air. 

It had been a few weeks since she had left Bonesaw behind. She still wasn't trusted by the others. It didn't bother her very much. 

What did bother Riley, though, was herself. She had expected some big psychological changes after she left her old life. Some great feeling of happiness that she had never felt before, like in the movies, when the music swelled, tears were cried, and the villain was good again. It wasn't that black and white. 

She felt disappointed. Not that she had left it behind, though it was really the only family she had ever known. That she had been in the Slaughterhouse Nine to begin with. That she let all of this happen. Her modifications. Her stupid “art”. Her blind loyalty to Jack as he ripped Riley's past to shreds, as he changed her. Into someone. Something else. Bonesaw. 

It plagued her. How had she kept it up? Her cheery facade. Her love for her gruesome art. How had she seen it as fine? As normal? How had she enjoyed it? All the things she did. Hell. Half of the capes on Gimel despised her. For what she did to them, their families, their friends. Even their cities, some of them. 

Riley stood up and grabbed the opaque white plastic bag from the wooden table next to her, pushing it as she stood. She pushed the chair back into place, to make it seem as if she had never been there. The people who were going to live here didn't need her tainting their space. 

She stepped into the apartment’s bathroom and pulled the contents from the bag, placing each one on the sink’s countertop. As she pulled each one out of the bag, she murmured their names, a habit. 

“Comb, brush, dye, towel, shampoo, conditioner, gloves, bowl.” She placed each one in a specific place on the counter, in an order only she understood. She had been told to stock up the empty apartments, put toiletries and essentials in them for the people who didn’t bring any supplies from Bet. 

After placing all of her items on the counter, she put toilet paper under the sink, extra hair products in the shower, and dental hygiene supplies in the cupboard behind the mirror. As she shut the mirror, she looked at herself. So much of Bonesaw was still left. Her eyes were still two-toned from the time she lost one in Brockton Bay. She hadn’t thought about changing them after. Maybe she would start wearing contacts, or replace the eye entirely. It wasn’t beyond her power. 

Riley’s hair was still blonde. She no longer wore it in ringlets, but it still had a faint wave from all of the years she had. Her dark brown roots were growing out. Why had she never done hair follicle implants? Was it some part of her that wanted to keep the brown? Or was it the want of the routine, dying her hair every Saturday, Jack helping her cover her roots? Riley had told herself that she wanted to dye it, but it was Jack who had said, “Wouldn’t blonde look so good on you? It would really tie your ‘doll’ look together, wouldn’t it?” 

Riley had excitedly complied, responding with an enthusiastic, “What a wonderful idea!” Before taking some dye from a dilapidated convenience store a week later. The first time she had dyed it, she exclaimed, “I look like Goldilocks!” with a wide grin. Jack had smiled, languid and easy in the mirror, before patting her small head and walking away. “He’s Papa Bear, I'm Goldilocks,” She had thought. 

Riley shook away the memory and frowned, unpackaging the hair dye and its components. She had done it a million times, at least, it felt like she had done it a million times. She put the dye into the bowl and mixed it with the small brush that came in the package. 

She combed her hair and separated a small chunk of it. Riley painted the dye into her hair, starting at the roots and pulling the brush down. The darker colour contrasted her blonde hair. After she had coloured the entire chunk of hair, she folded it in the tin foil and separated a new chunk. 

She repeated this process for an hour and a half exactly, and at the end, her head was covered with little tinfoil coffins full of hair. She sat, the dye making her scalp tingle.

 If she had done this right, this would be the last time Riley would dye her hair. Her roots would grow out and the dyed segments would be eventually removed. It was like grafting branches to a tree, to some extent. 

After sitting for eight minutes, she took out each one of the tinfoil squares and placed them into the small trash can next to the counter. 

Riley turned the glass knob on the tub, making sure the temperature was turned to a lukewarm, so the dye would stay, but washing wouldn't be uncomfortable. She lowered her head into the running water, careful not to get her ratty t-shirt wet. The water soothed her scalp, rinsing away the excess dye, the water running brown as she rinsed. 

After rinsing a while, Riley reached for the shampoo and massaged it into her scalp, her short nails scratching the sensitive skin. The soapy water drained off of her hair in streams, still running with dye. 

She kept washing. She was washing it all away. That's what it felt like. Riley was only Riley. Not Bonesaw. She was turning back into what she never was. Giving herself a second chance. 

As soon as the water ran clear, she switched off the faucet and wrapped her hair in a towel to let it dry. She sat on the closed toilet. 

This was it. She was erasing her past. She was changing. A metamorphosis. Erasing the mark of the Nine upon her. Wasn't this what she wanted? Wouldn't it make people like her more? She didn't want to think about the questions she had. She was afraid that she wouldn't like the answers. But this was a step away from the monster she used to be.  —————————————————-

Probably not canon compliant, also not my greatest writing, so just. Be nice 👍

[painsandconfusion]

Kristen

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Thirty-nine

(tw: domestic abuse, gaslighting) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Two years ago…

Anna tripped, cussing, over the curb as she hopped up the sidewalk, almost dropping the boxes of heaven-scented food as she went. She recovered quickly, clutching the fiery warmth of redemption to her chest as she skipped up to the storefront door, manufacturing a bright and charming smile over her teeth as she pulled the door open. 

“Krissy~!” she beamed, all bubbles and bright loveliness as her eyes landed on her fianceé cutting stems to size.

Focusing. Analyzing her response. 

Kristen blinked up in confusion for a moment, then flickered a bewildered but melting smile in return as her eyes skimmed over Anna. “..Annie? Aren’t you working right now?”

Anna shook her head, hopping up to the work counter and setting the food down. Unpackaging it. “Nope, lunch break. You got me forrrr-” she stole a glance at her watch, “Eight minutes.”

Kristen bubbled a confused and brilliant laugh - one that would make a girl’s heart melt at any decibel. And did. “You..spent ninety percent of your lunch break in transit across the city?”

“I spent ninety percent of my lunch break getting to see you, that’s what I did~” Anna sealed the compliment with a kiss, pressed and nuzzled in close against Kristen’s cheek, careful to not disturb the makeup-hidden bruise there.

Kristen melted into it, tilting down so Anna could kiss her properly. “..thank you.”

Anna pressed another soft kiss to her lips. “I missed you. So bad, all day. I missed you.”

Kristen melted further at the words, finally turning to face Anna to wrap her in a soft, warm embrace. “..I missed you too. I’m… I’m sorry about before.”

Anna shook her head, thumb brushing up and down Kristen’s scalp. “..don’t wanna worry about it anymore. It’s done and it’s okay. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

Kristen’s breath shifted tenser - Anna didn’t worry. She knew that was just Kristen trying not to cry. Touched. Moved. Feeling safe in Anna’s arms.

As she should. Anna was the safest place in the world for her.

Pulling back with a small sniff and a wipe of her eyes, Anna turned to the food, opening up Kristen’s lo mein and her own orange chicken. “Okay, maybe closer to five minutes.”

Kristen’s laugh lit up the room. It even seemed to pull the wilting flowers into bloom again in the packed and lush flower shop. “Alright - I’ll race you, then~” Playfully, she snatched her lo mein and fumbled to tear open the packaged utensils - chopsticks for her, plastic fork for Anna.

Anna squeaked in her hurry, pulling her own box open. “You’re on!”

It was a rushed, but perfect lunch with a stunning and perfect girl. Her girl. Her wonderful, bubbling, gorgeous girl.

Anna swore that she’d never hurt Kristen again.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Bonus picrews for the heck of it:

Kristen and Anna, respectively <3

.

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @wormwriting @distinctlywhumpthing @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @nailevislev @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-star @d-cs @pigeonwhumps @suspicious-whumping-egg @snakebites-and-ink @whumpedydump @orphans-parent @whumplr-reader @rainbowsandwhumperflies @starfields08000 @sunnyesunny @crystallizedme @lumpofsand @taterswhump)

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

[samueldays]

Reminiscing about the silliness that was Chungian Paranoia Combat in Exalted 2e, and the context for it. Long story of niche interest.

Dungeons & Dragons, and many RPGs that copied it, have a concept of "level up" once a character accumulates enough experience. Narratively, this is usually an expression of training and skills accumulated over time, and the Dungeon Master may enforce some required downtime and costs involved, but mechanically, the level up happens as a bundle of new character skills and powers packaged together when crossing a threshold. One day your character is level 6 with so-and-so many hitpoints, and the next day your character is level 7 with more hitpoints, a new feat, more skill points, a new spell known, a new class feature, and so on. These are packaged together for player convenience of bookkeeping. Games often have convenient abstractions like this.

Many D&D-like video games veered in a direction of even more convenient abstraction with the level up being a much-mocked "ding!" mid-combat immediately upon accumulating enough kills, sometimes refilling the health bar of a wounded character, raising stats and clearing status conditions. There were strategies designed around exploiting the mechanical abstraction of instant full healing.

The Exalted RPG went in mostly the opposite direction, unpackaging character improvements and skills to be separately bought and paid for in a modular pointbuy system, abolishing the abstraction of a character's "level", and specifying training times for learning new skills and capabilities and powers. It was enforced that characters needed to work at specific skills and spend time to improve themselves in that skill.

Exalted also took the worldbuilding route that character abilities were not simply mechanical abstractions of training, they existed in-universe, as discrete specific powerups. The mechanics are in a sense "true". There were powers to let you read other people's power level. There were powers to hide your power level. Powerups could be taught, you could gain hitpoints faster if someone with more hitpoints was teaching you How To Hitpoints. (One hitpoint improvement took 1-4 days.) On the character sheet, you'd have one or more "Favored Skills" that were faster to train and cost less XP, and in the setting, astrologers could read a child's fortune and determine what Favored Skill a child would grow up to have. This worked by association with one of the 25 in-universe constellations that were a 1:1 match to the 25 skills on the out-of-universe character sheet.

I think this was a bad decision, but it was an intriguingly original decision which led some interesting places at least.

So that's important context item #1: the stance that character powers are not abstractions but exist in-universe and affect the setting. This forfeits a lot of the "it's just a game" and "stop exploiting" defenses when someone exploits certain combinations of powers, more so because this was Exalted Second Edition, and the devs had plenty of opportunity to learn from First and avoid or patch exploits.

Important context item #2: the high lethality of Second Edition before massive errata and overhauls. Sometimes called "rocket tag gameplay", it had significant problems of design and balance.

Starting characters had 7 hitpoints, and gaining more hitpoints took time and xp that was not part of a levelup package, xp spent on hitpoints was xp you couldn't spend on becoming a swordsman or craftsman or whatever.

Starting weapons went up to damage rating 16. (Add wielder's strength, subtract target's armor, etc. Modifiers abound.) Damage was rolled, so a 16 damage hit meant grab 16 dice and each one that shows X or better results in hitpoint loss. This meant instant death by 7 hitpoint loss wasn't entirely guaranteed, but it was very much possible for starting characters to one-shot each other.

In D&D, hitpoints generally grow faster than damage; in Exalted, it was the reverse. Combat superpowers included a dozen kinds of "more direct damage" and another dozen of "more accuracy" (extra accuracy auto-converts to damage!) and "multiattack" and so on. Hitpoints could be bought at most 5 times, adding 1-3 hitpoints each time.

Add in the various Baleful Polymorph style effects that kill a character on contact while bypassing hitpoints, and you get a game with an annoyingly high chance of dying from a single attack in peer combat. It doesn't even require optimization, simply picking a 14L corebook starter weapon against a 7HP character. And Exalted is a setting with no resurrection spells.

The solution: Perfect Defenses, one of the standout gimmicks of the Exalted franchise. Spend 3-4 motes (spell points) on a Perfect Defense power and it completely nullifies a single attack against you.

This means your character's hitpoints are not your real hitpoints, your motes are your real hitpoints. When you run out of motes in peer combat, then you die in the next hit. The same motes are used to power your super attacks, so don't overcommit.

There were more problems, like the fact that you can't use the basic Perfect Defense against a surprise attack, so you need a surprise-negator power too. Skipping over several pages of similar mechanical minutiae, here's the approximate "Paranoia Combo" build described by forum poster Jon Chung (hence "Chungian") and his friends, in mechanics/name format:

Perfect Defense (Seven Shadow Evasion)

Surprise Negator (Reflex Sidestep Technique)

Step 7 Filter (Adamant Skin Technique)

Excellency (Dodge and/or Melee)

Defense Number Keeper (Shadow Over Water)

Multiattack Interruptor (Leaping Dodge Method)

This powers list is for Solars, but similar loadouts exist for other character archetypes. This renders peer combat in Exalted 2e pretty much solved, reducing the fun of the game a bit.

The best approach to character-building is to get this combo ASAP. The best approach to fights is to activate this combo every single turn, or a superset of it. You can switch out individual elements of it, like swapping Heavenly Guardian Defense for Seven Shadow Evasion (any step 2 PD will do), but using this combo reliably wins fights against people not using this combo. People not using this combo can die in one hit. People using this combo can live until they run out of motes to activate their Perfect Defense with.

Now, the game-mechanical reason for this to happen was mostly

#2: the high lethality of Second Edition

but the thing that threatened to become setting-distorting was

#1: the stance that character powers are not abstractions but exist in-universe and affect the setting

because the biggest and strongest default antagonist faction of Exalted (The Realm) has a lot of people with standardized superpowers and also has a long educational tradition of teaching the new generation to use their superpowers competently before sending them out to life-or-death challenges.

Which means that the default antagonists should know about and use Paranoia Combos if the GM is running them as intelligent actors rather than videogame mooks.

Which means that for PCs, buying the Paranoia Combo is near-mandatory. You buy it, or else The Realm kills you easily, because they have Paranoia Combos and you don't and they want to hunt you down and kill you. (Or The Lunars, Sidereals, Rakshasa, Akuma, or other superpowered peers who can get Paranoia Combos of their own.)

Jon Chung was forceful about expressing how "Paranoia Combo or die" flowed from the game's rules and setting assumptions, and a lot of people got mad at him for it, accusing him of twisting the game to his preferences. He said he didn't prefer this, he merely discovered and spelled out the implications. IMO he was correct and someone else would have discovered it eventually.

Part of what aggravated him over time, I think, was the very many dumb responses from people who didn't understand the problem, or who wrongly thought it was trivial to fix. He got vocal about it, people got scornful back at him.

"It's not a problem if you houserule it." - Your need to houserule shows there is, in fact, a problem. "Just ban baleful polymorph touch effects." - Those are not the only, nor even the primary problem here. "It hasn't been a problem in my game." - Followup questioning showed that this person's game was highly narrative and ignored the mechanics when inconvenient. "Double everyone's hitpoints." - 14 hitpoints still risks getting one-shotted by 16 Damage weapons.

[steeplescollapsed]

i went to get some grocery shopping -

all i really wanted was a lemon tart.

i wanted something sweet, but sour.

bittersweet.

i didnt find a lemon tart,

but i saw you.

and my craving cowered from you,

because the only taste i wanted

was yours.

and the new craving clawed at my throat

whilst i lowered my head and pretended i was busy

unpackaging a package i didnt care about anymore.

and you walked past with a pretty girl -

curly hair and glasses and skinny and honey blonde and gorgeous -

and i wanted to rip my insides out.

looking at her made my stomach clench and my eyes burn.

and the fact that you walked past me

and i walked past you

made everything ache all the more.

and it was bitter

and sweet

and sour

and i stared at the dessert section at tescos

with no idea what i had come here for.

- i've never felt so starved before

26.10.23 - ramblings from a break up

part 7

[bomberqueen17]

tired

Worked two back-to-back 12-hour days so i'm tired.

(bitching about work lol)

Tuesday was chicken processing-- 333 chickens, as it wound up, wound up in the ice baths. On slaughter day afternoons, Farmsister and I and a rotating cast of characters will package up all the whole birds, counting them out carefully into the market cooler, the freezer to prep for wholesale orders, the fridge for on-farm sales, and then the remainder stay in the walk-in cooler for further processing.

This season, BIL is doing the parts-cutting-up while we're packaging the whole chickens, and sometimes he can get his buddy the chef (who helps us cut chickens for sausage) to help, and so they get all the chickens cut up for sausage-making on tuesday, and then BIL cuts up the parts birds on wednesday. Yesterday, chef guy's wife had just had some surgery a couple days before, so he'd said he wouldn't be able to make it, but then BIL talked him into coming for just a couple hours in the afternoon, and he agreed because his in-laws had volunteered to come babysit his poor recovering wife.

We had a couple real good solid slaughter crew helpers stick around for packaging, so we flew through it. So before 3pm, Farmsister joined them cutting up birds (she did it over the winter too), and I started labeling bags.

Chef guy had until 6pm, so we kept working until 6pm. We need so many pounds of sausage, it took that long to get all the birds BIL had allocated for it all reduced to meat. I stuck around and did cleanup at the end, and got a small percentage of the bags I need labeled.

Immediately after chicken processing, I help package the hearts and livers, and I've started taking care of the feet then too. Last time I loaded them into the dehydrator and fired it up at noon on Tuesday, so it would be done before the weekend so there'd be time to run a second batch.

Farmsister and BIL ran out of time. The batch finished Friday evening and they didn't have time to take care of it. They wound up throwing them out, both the finished ones (sat too long unpackaged, can't be used) and the second batch I'd saved in the fridge ready to go.

They did put up the white ones i'd sorted out of that batch to freeze, at least.

So this time I loaded the yellow ones into the oven, in carefully-stacked trays. And I put that on as low as it would go.

They were just about finished today. I pulled them out and put them into the dehydrator to finish (they felt dry to me, but were still oily, and I felt like a whirl through the dehydrator would sop that up a bit) and immediately started a second batch. As part of this I sorted the "white" feet into a bin I kept in the fridge the rest of the day.

(When chickens are scalded, they're clipped to the holder by one foot. As they're dunked, the other foot spends most of the time in the scalding water, but the clamped foot rarely gets submerged. So the scalded foot, you can pinch the talons and pull the claw sheaths and outer skin of the foot right off, and be left with a clean white foot with soft inner nails, not claws. Those feet are suitable for human consumption; people who save feet for their own use generally would scald them and peel the skin off like this, as the outer layer is generally uncleanably filthy and not a great idea to consume. But that outer layer is no impediment to a dog's enjoyment. So we save the "white" feet for people to add in when making stock, as there's a lot of collagen in feet; some people also buy them to cook them, as several world cuisines have chicken feet as a dish. Meanwhile, the "yellow" feet go into the dehydrator to become dog treats.)

Then I spent the rest of the morning packaging chicken parts as fast as BIL could cut them. This wasn't just putting them into the packages (we use a vacuum sealer now, a nice chamber unit), but then also getting them into the correct freezers. We had a wholesale order-- 10 each of wings and legs, 30 breasts and 30 thighs. The problem is, the wholesaler expects every package of wings and legs to be 1.5 lbs exactly, and every package of breasts and thighs to be 1 lb exactly, and that's not... easy to get. It's not uncommon for a pack of breasts to be exactly a pound but they're often larger; meanwhile, thighs are almost never that large, and mostly average around three-quarters of a pound for a two-piece package (bone in, skin on). So I dedicated a shelf in the freezer to this order, and kept a running tally on the clipboard on the front of the freezer, and then when the shelf was full I had to load it onto a tray and go put it into a different freezer to stay segregated, and then fill the shelf again.

We also had an order from a chef. 30 thighs, packaged in bulk, not frozen. he did not specify size. So what I kept doing was that I'd put a thigh in a bag, weigh it, and if i could get the pack of two to be about a pound, then I'd put the bag into the sealer, and if I couldn't, I'd dump it out into the big bag for the chef. Which means I was able to give him fairly consistent-sized thighs, and also give the wholesaler packages the size he expects.

And we also had a package to assemble for a local artist collective BIL wanted to give a donation to. Chicken breasts, eight, size unspecified. I gave them the odd-sized ones but I expected they were incorporating them into some kind of dish, so uniformity of portion would not be the issue for them that it would for the chef who was planning to serve the thighs intact.

Anyway I got the wholesale order collected, got all the parts packaged and actually managed to cram them into the freezer which kind of rules, and also briefly worked the fresh chicken sale. During the sale some lady cleaned us out of all the frozen feet we had (there are a few more in a box i couldn't easily reach, so i'll dig them out later, but really not many). ("They don't come with feet," she said, indicating the whole chicken, "so I buy 'em separate," and while I'm sure she intended to make broth with them she didn't say that so I am continuing to contemplate the idea that perhaps she was hoping to do some sort of frankenchicken construction situation. If that's the case she bought the wrong number of feet i think.)

So when I went back to the kitchen (the sale was actually in the middle, I worked the first hour or two of it so BIL could spend that time cutting up the last parts, so I could go back and finish packaging them up), after I finished everything else, I dug out that bin of "white" feet and sat with paring knife to get the ugly foot callus out of the ones that needed that kind of attention, and then set to packaging, and got maybe a dozen, maybe two dozen packs of those into the freezer. Until the bin was empty.

Not too bad. We hadn't been careful about any of it last year, hadn't been too worried about it, I'd sort of been gently mocked for spending as much time on it as I had, but then we sold out of all of the kinds of feet this winter and customers kept asking for them. So the feet are important this year, but the problem is we don't have any more time for dealing with them than we did last year when we kept not bothering to save them.

So anyway. I can't stay this weekend so I am doing my absolute level best to get some saved up before then, because I know damn fine well that anything I leave unpackaged is going to wind up having to be thrown away, no one will be able to deal with it.

but it took me until after 6pm. I could sit for most of it, for the feet I mean, which was good because the day's first eight hours were all on my feet. Both today and yesterday, I worked eight hours on my feet and managed to weasel in four hours of sitting on top of that, which is the only way I could survive a 12-hour day anymore.

anyway i'm. real tired. and oh i took an edible for the pain and it just hit and i'm. uh. well. okay

[chippedtoons]

two years ago, i came home to see a package i had ordered completely unpackaged because the name on it, despite being my name, was unfamiliar.

today, i came home to a package with my name on it, left out on the kitchen table for me to open.

things get better.

[violetsaffron5]

Infinity

| Ao3 | Discord 18+ | Series Masterlist |

16 | Yes

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

forever and always, you'll have each other

words: 2577

cw: light food play, vaginal sex, feelings

an: I'm considering doing an "Infinity 2" - a continuation with this couple, set a few years into the future. Let me know in the comments below if that's something you would be interested in.

Thank you to everyone who has read this story, liked and reblogged - it is all greatly appreciated!

Big thank you to Lemon, Ayyypee, Vice and Dayanim8991 for beta reading at various points during this series!

Meeting Megumi and Tsumiki went well last week and Satoru has been ecstatic ever since. He told everyone at work about how you were able to get Megumi to smile while you sat back and laughed while Shoko blatantly ignored him, and Nanami grumbled about how he didn’t give a shit. 

Now, you’re in Satoru’s kitchen, opening a package of cookies first thing in the morning. He ordered breakfast and just got done unpackaging everything and splitting it out onto separate plates. You’re planning on giving him a few cookies to crumble onto his waffles while he adds an exorbitant amount of whipped cream to his already too sugary morning confection that sits atop his waffles.

Satoru’s elbow is on the island countertop, chin resting in his hand as he watches you pick one of the cookies out and twist it to reveal the creamy inside and lick the icing off.

“I love you.”

You blink several times, tongue out on the chocolate cookie looking absolutely ridiculous as your eyes search his face, unsure if you just heard what you think you heard.

A goofy smile spreads across your face when you realize how you must look in front of him, frozen, partially eating a cookie, so you clear your throat and set it down as your body heats from embarrassment.

“I love you too.” You tell him, a little breathless from his random morning confession. 

He smiles, wide and all teeth as your cheeks flush and you bite your lip trying to hide your face from him. At no point in your life, even up to when you followed him to Japan and met him again at the strip club did you think you would have fallen in love with the overly cocky kid you met back in New York.

But you have, and it was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

You’re not exactly sure of the moment you realized you were in love with him. It could have been in the cave with cultists, or even when you had your heart to heart over the Tokyo skyline. Perhaps it was when he took you out on an impromptu date after the night you saw him at the strip club.

It could have even been the moment you first laid eyes on him.

All you’re really sure of is when you look at him, it makes your heart race, that when you’re not by his side you want to be. That when he’s gone on missions, you miss him. And you want your lives to be entwined in every possible way - the good and the bad.

“I know.” He said simply, watching you pull out several cookies from the package in front of you. “Bring those here.”

You look at him through thick lashes on the other side of the island with a soft smile before walking around to the other side. He grabs you by the waist with one arm, pulling you in close to him as you crush several of the cookies in your hand.

“You know, this looks disgusting, yet oddly beautiful.” You’re watching the dust from the cookies fall gently on top of the mounds and slopes of whipped cream.

Satoru opens his mouth to reply and by now you just know it’s going to be something he means innocently, but is going to come out the wrong way so you shove the remaining cookie in his mouth, making him chuckle.

“You were going to say something cheesy, weren’t you.” He smiles, chewing on the cookie and nodding his head before swallowing.

The next thing you know, you’re on top of the counter, his lips latched to yours as he gives you a dazzling and dizzying kiss that’s leaving you breathless.

“Baby?” He asks, hands roaming the bare skin under his shirt you slept in last night, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties before moving up to span your waist rubbing small circles just below your breasts.

You hum when he moves his kisses to your jaw and down your neck closing your eyes and letting a content sigh leave your lips.

“Wanna give me head?”

You chuckle and shake your head, opening your eyes to meet his, “no, I want to eat.”

“Mm. Me too.” He’s grinning with a mischievous look in his eyes before dipping two fingers in the mountain of whipped cream, using his free hand to pull your hips in closer to him. When you gasp he sticks his cream coated fingers in your mouth where you swirl your tongue around them immediately, watching his reaction as you suck his fingers clean.

His lips part, rocks his hips slowly against you before swallowing thickly at the sight. Satoru’s in his black briefs, the only thing keeping you separated is the two very thin pieces of fabric you currently wear.

You said you want to eat but he also knows you well enough to know you won’t say no, because you want it just as much as him. He lifts his shirt over your head and tosses it behind him where it lands on the dark hardwood floor with a soft thump.

“Gorgeous,” he mutters as his gaze roams over your bare breasts, appreciating every dip and valley of your near naked body. He kisses and nips your clavicle before laying you down on the island, gasping at the cold contact of the marble on your back, arching up into him where you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

Satoru’s large hands massage the skin of your hips and thighs, holding you close to him as he slips a nipple into his mouth, tugging, nipping and swiping his tongue over the hardened bud. Your legs wrap around him in response, holding him as close as he can possibly get with your pussy and his hard cock still clothed.

Your hands find purchase in his hair, tangling your fingers between the silky strands as he kisses between the valley of your tits to the other side, murmuring low “I love yous” in between, and you return the sentiment in conjunction to rutting your hips against his, soaking through both thin fabrics.

Satoru takes the whipped cream from his waffles and spreads it across your chest, tits and stomach, licking a strip up from the fabric of your panties working his way up, licking the sugary whipped topping clean from each spot he piled it on.

He starts low, gliding his wet tongue across your stomach, dipping it into your navel as you watch with half lidded eyes, and he teases with kisses and licks excruciatingly slowly.

When he finally makes it back up to your lips, your hands cup his cheek and your brows furrow in realization that some of the topping made its way onto his neck. You laugh slightly when he pulls away before sitting up and grabbing a strawberry from his plate and using it to wipe off and seductively eat half of the strawberry in front of him.

Satoru watches, eyes blown, full of lust when you hold the other half to his lips. He accepts, chewing the strawberry half slowly, savoring it while you kiss and suck the remnants of the strawberry juice from the smooth column of his throat.

A deep growl erupts from his chest when he swallows, lips finding yours in a passionate, sloppy kiss where your tongues glide against one another in haste.

Satoru easily lifts you from the counter, gripping a handful of your ass, your hands wrapped around his neck and in his hair as he carries you off to his bedroom, dropping your onto his bed before discarding his briefs and ripping off your panties.

The honeyed and haste filled kisses quickly turn into your wrists being bound to his headboard and gripping the sheets below, pillow under your stomach so your ass is raised enough for Satoru to snap his hips at a relentless pace, watching the way your ass jiggles with each thrust.

The bedroom is filled with sounds of his headboard knocking against the wall repeatedly and wet, slick slaps with each pump of his hips. You’re calling out his name, telling him how good he feels with your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Satoru’s losing himself in you, the same way he always has, thrusts becoming more and more sloppy by the second, placing several kisses in the center of your back between your shoulder blades and running his nose along the edge of your shoulder.

The moment your pussy clenches and throbs around his thick cock he moans out your name next to your ear, filling your cunt with his release. 

He releases your wrists, flipping you over to your back before dramatically plopping down on top of you with a grin when you huff at his full weight pinning you against the mattress.

“Satoru,” you laugh, “get off me, you’re so heavy!”

He smiles against your neck, giving several gentle kisses before sitting up on his elbows. You take a deep breath, moving the sweaty strands of hair stuck to his forehead out of his face. Eyes locked together, taking each other in.

You’ve never felt happier, luckier or more cared for in your life than you have in his presence, since the very beginning.

“I love you.” It’s quiet, comes out as a sigh and his lips are on yours again until he’s hard, legs tangled between the sheets of his bed and entwined together for the rest of the morning.

It’s midafternoon now, and Satoru ordered out once again, neither of you having much of a desire to get dressed and go out into the world or to take the time out of your day to attempt to cook something that would likely result in having to order out anyway.

Since you didn’t bother to eat a real breakfast this morning, the two of you are starving, having spent your morning rolling between the sheets. He’s sitting on the couch in his briefs, you in a small silk robe that’s barely tied at the waist in his closet with the T.V. down low as the two of you eat, laugh and joke around.

You find yourself on his lap after you finish eating, back to his chest as the muted show on the television plays in the background. He’s ghosting his hands over your skin, the robe having fallen open when you moved to sit on him.

He glides his hands over your arms, shoulders, chest and stomach with gentle, barely there touches leaving goosebumps and fire in his wake. Your head is leaned back on his shoulder, nose nuzzled into the crook of his neck where you leave several small tender kisses and eventually fall asleep in his arms.

By evening, you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, moaning at the slow deep strokes he’s giving you, your arm’s are around his neck, his around your waist holding each other close, neither wanting to let go.

He’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear: you’re perfect, his everything, how much he loves you.

The day has turned from marathon sex into something else, something sweeter, it’s solely about being present with one another.

Your hips work slowly together, deep strokes that bring pleasure in an entirely different way than either of you have ever experienced before. Rather than racing to your finish, or trying to get each other off as many times as possible, you’re taking it slow, enjoying the time together.

The deep breathy moans on the crook of your neck, the soft tender kisses to your cheeks and lips, the way your bodies move and glide with one another, it’s an expression of love neither of you had ever thought possible.

Neither of you thought of sex as anything more than a physical release, but together it’s a vulnerability you share only with one another.

“Marry me,” he whispers, and your eyes shoot open, searching his. He’s got a gleam in his eye, one you’ve seen several times but could never make sense of before.

“What?” Your eyes flicker across his face for any sign of teasing, you cup his cheek, hips slowly coming to a stop.

He looks a little nervous, a little afraid you might say no, and that maybe you really don’t feel the same way about him, that you didn’t really mean it when you told him you loved him earlier.

Swallowing thickly, he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear, “think about it. Every curse user and organization knows what happened during our last mission by now. They’ll most likely abandon any hope they had in fucking with you in the future. But if you’re my wife, it’ll never cross their minds again.”

“So, this is just to protect me?”

“Yes and no,” he chuckles, “it’s also because I love you.”

You feel your heart literally skip a beat as you look at him, blinking with wide eyes, palms getting sweatier and more clammy by the second. “Satoru, we’ve only been dating for like… a few months, and-”

He places his hand on the back of your head, pulling you in a tender kiss, “stop thinking about it so hard.”

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, already knowing the answer. From the moment you ran into each other in New York, moving halfway across that world because there was a miniscule chance you’d see him again and find answers, through all of the jealousy and anger. It was always going to be him.

“Fuck, okay,” you whisper, opening your eyes to meet his crystal gaze nodding your head, “yes.”

You’re both smiling, giggling into one another, as he rocks his hips back and forth slowly again, talking about how everyone is going to think this is insane until your foreheads are pressed together, legs trembling as your pussy clenches around him and he groans, falling over that edge by your side.

The two of you lay like this for a while, him still inside you; you’re pushing his hair out of his eyes, he’s tucking hair behind your ear with soft sweet kisses in between, laughing, smiling and whispering to one another until he’s hard again.

Eventually, you’re curled next to him, asleep on his chest as he runs his hand up and down the length of your back, watching you sleep.

He never thought things would turn out this way when he felt the presence of that curse, hidden deep within an alley so many years ago. Laying eyes on the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his seventeen years of existence, who’s turned into the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

He grabs the hand on his chest, entwining his fingers with yours as you sigh, content in his presence and he’s happy. Truly happier than he ever thought possible for him.

Two people who thought themselves cursed - one the strongest with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the other never knowing what they are or where they belong. Both cursed to live a life of loneliness.

You’re exactly what the other needs, two odd shaped puzzle pieces that against all odds, fit perfectly next to one another.

He knows, as he lays in bed, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, smiling softly as you unconsciously move closer to him, leaving no space between the two of you, that if he had to do it again; the curiosity, questions, jealousy, anger, heartbreak.

He absolutely would.

taglist: @q-the-rockaholic @greenlovers @naorizenin @a1hina @plants-w0rld @patat-boi @rlvslouis @littledemoness15@thisbicc @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @hecatesflames @arisucat @creolequeen11210 @imperatorkhaleesi @xiaosie@the-loneliest-girl @violetsapplejuice

[fanfaire]

-- THE PACKAGE THAT Furina receives is… slightly strange, to put it one way. Though the paper that covers the box - a simple royal blue paper, thin on its own but achieving thickness through its many layers - is placed there with surgical care, it is littered in creases that suggest it has been folded and unfolded many a time.

And, well, of course Furina knows it is for Furina because the writing scrawled on top says as much, scripted in silver ink that, too, has been written down with precision. ‘To Furina’.

When opened, the package seems to in fact be a bento box, a container found most often in Inazuma. In its various compartments are not food, however- well, alright. There is food in one of them, the largest: a somewhat smushed rollcake, stuffed with cream and slices of amakumo. In efforts to contain said cream, it has been wrapped in a waxy film, though it has not entirely succeeded in preventing some stickiness from oozing out onto the other items in the box.

These other items being, namely, a rather elaborate sensu fan, encrusted with a pearl at its hilt as it is stuffed into the thin compartment where chopsticks would normally be found. When unfolded, it reveals a rather artistic depiction of waves crashing upon the shore, formed in thick and purposeful ink strokes on a pale blue background.

The rest of the compartments seem to be filled with a variety of trinkets, namely fitting into the category of ‘blue’ and ‘Sumeran’ in one way or another. There are pressed bookmarks made from kalpalata lotus blossoms, jewelry from crystalized rukkhashava mushrooms.

When the rollcake has been eaten, as you lick off your fingers, you find a small square note at the bottom of the box. It reads simply: ‘You’d do well to have more practical tastes’.

But if your gift-giver was really so loathe to your requests then, well, why go through all the effort?

first, she had thought — who so ungratefully left their discarded wrapping box littered on her doorstep? the season for gifts and wintry cheer had come, alighting the streets of the court of fontaine in scintillating array, accompanied by the neverending crush of bodies big and small, rushed and joyous alike. but it also meant more and more commotion, more things left about, more carelessness. the gardes — human, meka, and melusine — had all had their hands full since the first snowfall; she certainly didn't envy them.

but if she had never thought to curiously afford the package a second glance, drawn in by its rich blue, she would have left it behind altogether, and never realized it was in fact right where it was intended to be.

' to furina '.

at the careful stencil of her name, her heart leaps. first with surprise; then, more childishly, with delight.

for this must be her gift from the guild! her reward and return for her own painstaking endeavor some days ago, for the scolding she'd endured from chevalmarin in overspending on the month's budget in pursuit of the perfect custom-crafted artisanal piece.

she snatches the box up in her arms ( pleased to find it pleasantly weighty ) and vanishes into her apartment in a flutter of taffeta, eyes alight with hope and expectation.

( for though furina, the hydro archon, regina of waters, kindreds, peoples, and laws had received far too many gifts in her time to be counted, furina, the girl who had recently retired from the stage, had never once. and perhaps some part of her had presumed that one did not receive such gifts anymore once they had stepped down from aweing the crowd. )

unpackaging the beautifully embroidered tin unveils an array of colorful trappings, such that she tucks a girlish gasp audibly in one gloved hand, eyes hardly knowing where to land.

the miniature fan? the elegant jeweled necklace?

the insidiously tempting roll cake? ( —she had already had two slices of plum galette this morning; surely she would be scolded if she had more; and yet this is the season of celebration, isn't it? )

yes, it's true some of it had gotten sticky, no doubt being bumped around on the way here, and she would have liked for the packager to take greater care with its contents in light of this, or perhaps have marked the parcel as fragile. but perhaps such carelessness, to which she would lend more heart in some different circumstance, could be let go this time. after all, a gift was a gift to the young lady seldom so blessed, and that alone is enough.

some hours later, once frosting has been licked from fingertips and the amakumo's vibrant tart has faded from her tongue, she does not forget her etiquette.

to my gracious gifter, rather than my possessing more practical tastes, it could be said that your ability to meet even the most impractical of wishes speaks to your kindness, diligence, and above all your savoir faire. see this then as bounty on both our parts, for your attention has not gone unnoticed nor unrewarded. i have here attached a selection of pâte de fruits of good quality, not merely the kind obtainable from any streetside booth. you will find the bold flavors of your roll cake complemented well by the subtle, gentler sweetness of the pear and black fig. a heartfelt thanks once again, furina de fontaine

[moshintheteagaiwan]

T.Kettle Part 6: The Visit From Upper Management

Now I am no stranger to getting visits from head office reps. I happened all the time during my run at Teavana, just as it does at most retail stores. When I was at Teavana it was usually just the regional manager, who at the time was a real piece of work. He was the type of person that made you nervously sweat just from walking into the store, so you know, not a very good manager.

He was an average sized man with a shiny balled head and I remember he had this ability to make it seem as though he was staring into your soul. He had these big wide bug eyes and when he would speak to you, his stare got deeper and his eyes got wider every second. He was a real putz.

I remember he used to give the female staff members a hard time for "not looking work appropriate" either cause their skirts or shorts were too short or showed too much cleavage or whatever. Again, he was a putz. But I remember the day we were expecting his visit and we saw him walking on up the hallway to the store wearing a collared gold shirt and tiny black tennis shorts that were so short they barely covered his thighs. I looked at him and said to my co-worker, "so she got in trouble for showing to much leg, and here he is with a full on hairy man legs and shorts so tight they outline his package?".

We were glad the day he announced he was leaving the company.

So when I was given the message that the head of operations wanted to come and visit the store, I wasn’t too worried. The store had only been open for a few months now and he likely just wanted to meet me and the team and see how things were going, especially since we were a “special” store. By that I mean, my store was the closest of any of the other stores to head office and the warehouse. Actually we were within a twenty minute driving distance. This meant my store would be able to get supplies or assistance more easily then other stores. I know how that sounds considering how long it took for a proper ice machine and a locksmith.

It also meant that we were the first store to try new ideas and products before being sent off to the other stores. Often times we would just have things dropped off to us by reps from head office since we were so close. But what made this upcoming visit different and more worrisome was that not only would the head of operations be there as well as the rep who had initially trained me, but so would the head of accounting as well as the head of tea development and merchandising. I had a whole pack coming to visit my store. Great!

I had to make sure that the store was perfect as you could imagine. I had to make sure all the shelves were full of stock, which wasn’t easy considering all the issues surrounding getting stock. Luckily about a week before their visit I was informed that a store from another province was closing and that the merchandise stock from their store was going to be sent over to my store. I had no idea what was in it or even how much there would be, so when the boxes arrived it was kind of like opening a present on Christmas morning.

This is what the company did whenever a store closed. Instead of selling the store stock at a reduced price, they had the staff box it up and ship it out to other stores. And as you can imagine when the stock arrived it wasn’t very well packaged or organized. This was no exception. I received around four large boxes full of stock. However, many of the unpackaged, ceramic, display pieces has been wrapped in paper towels and stacked on the bottom of the boxes. This resulted in countless broken mugs, creamer and sugar sets, and other damaged product I wouldn’t be able to use. I boxed all these items up and set them aside to show management when they visited.

But now it was the big day of the big visit. I was really nervous like you would expect anyone to be. Luckily it was a very quiet day so there weren’t any customers to get in the way. This was especially good since I only had enough hours to book only myself in at the time, with no counter coverage since at this time the company only allowed me equal number of hours as the mall was open to book my team. Meaning at the time the mall was open for only 9 hours per day, 63 hours per week, which is all I had to book my team with. And since I needed to book myself in for a minimum of 40 hours per week to keep my salary it left very little to use.

All four reps arrived at the same time. They all walked over to me at the tea counter and gave a quick introduction and shook my hand then they scattered around the store like ants looking for sugar. The rep from accounting walked over to the tea bar and started picking up spoons and checking under towels, and looking through boxes of hot cups? What was he looking for? He looked like Sherlock Holmes trying to find a clue.

The rep from tea development and merchandising nosed around the tea wall and picking through stock on the shelves. He was the least talkative of the bunch and dressed in leather boots, with bleached denim jeans and matching denim, button down shirt. The head of operations was very easy going and easy to talk to. However, he wasn’t happy when I showed him the box full of broken and damaged stock sent over from the closed T.Kettle store. He immediately pointed the finger to the rep who trained me as she at the time was the only one communicating with all the stores on daily operations due to lack of a proper regional manager.

He was pissed but thankfully not at me. I asked him what should be done with all the odd pieces that could no longer be sold due to the other half of sets being broken or missing. I was told to leave them in the backroom and they would send me a communication. They never did. After a few months I ended up throwing out anything broken and letting my staff take home any odd pieces they wanted. Until they day I left, the box of broken product was never discussed again.

After roughly 30 minutes, the group said their goodbyes and left. No comments at all other then “everything looks good”.

Odd considering usually when higher ups visited stores they usually had a list of changes they wanted done, or had some tips or advise to give. Nope, not this time. I never saw most of them again after this, besides the head of operations who would pop in on occasion to say high and grab an iced tea. The one thing that did come out of this meeting was the news that we would soon be carrying and serving T.Kettle brand Matcha. This was exciting and something that customers has been demanding. Soon a communication would going out to each store with more details and tea bar instructions for making Matcha...

to be continued...

[adsmae]

ʜᴀʟʟᴏᴡꜱ ᴇᴠᴇ

ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ: ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴱᵛᵃⁿ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᴴᵃˡˡᵒʷˢ ᵉᵛᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ

If you want me to do more of these please request! I want to write more :)

(a little back story: you and Evan went to high school together and you started dating in junior year when you were 17 and Evan was 18, and now you are 22 and Evan is 23 and both are still together and both live in your shared apartment. You took on journalism for your career and Evan decided to pursue acting. You both loved each other too much and always spent time together whenever he wasn’t working on set. There was all love in this relationship)

It was a cold, foggy, rainy Sunday. It was Hallows Eve and it seemed like the day was wasting away little by little. Evan wasn’t home because he told you that he had a meeting to go to for an upcoming movie he was going to be in. You were stuck in your cooped-up apartment. Evan had been gone for 2 hours now and It had you worried because normally he would text if he was going to be running late. 

‘Maybe I should text him’ you said to yourself. You couldn’t take any more sitting and watching Grey’s anatomy for more than you have. 

--------------

Y/n:

Hey babe. I just wanted to check up on you. Are you out of the meeting yet? 

Lover  ♡ :

Hey. Yeah I’m heading to the apartment now. I’ll see you in 15 ❤️

Y/n:

Alright see ya soon ❤️

----------------

You decided to just chill and relax until he got to the apartment. You almost thought of ordering Chinese food but shook the thought away because you weren’t that hungry. You were occupying yourself with writing and finishing your story on one of the most notorious serial killers for spooky season even though there were a hundred stories and documentaries out there. 

As you finish the last few words you heard keys jangling from outside the front door. You knew it was Evan and got up from your comfy spot on the couch and put your computer on the coffee table before rushing to the door and opening it.

Evan couldn’t even step foot inside because you immediately wrapped your arms around him; practically suffocating him. He chuckled at the way you were clinging to him like a panda. He thought you were adorable. Evan pushed his way inside with you still clinging to him. 

“Uh sweetheart? I can’t breath” Evan mumbled against your neck. You giggle at his cuteness and remove your hands from his shoulders; backing up. You noticed Evan had two fancy bags in his hands.

“Sorry not sorry” You smugly said; earning an eyeroll and a smirk from Evan. 

Evan made his way to the kitchen table and set the two bags down. You were very skeptical of what was in the bags and walked over to where he placed the bags. 

“Ev, what is in these bags?” You questioned with a raised brow. 

“Why don’t you open it and find out” Evan insinuated. 

You quickly grabbed the first bag and pulled out something that was wrapped in plastic; a packaged costume to be exact. You told Evan a week before that you wanted to do couples costumes together if you two were to have plans. You were shocked to see that he went through with it and got the peanut butter jelly costume. It was cheesy, yes but so thoughtful. 

“Ev... you didn’t" You had your hands over your mouth and your eyes were wide while holding up the jelly costume. You were so excited.

“Oh but I did” Evan smirked. He grabbed the other bag and pulled out his peanut butter costume. Evan looked up and saw how happy and excited you were. He loved to see you happy. Even if he thought the costumes were overrated and cheesy. Maybe he also bought the costumes so that if he took you out no one could stare at what was for his eyes only. 

“You’re officially the best boyfriend to walk the earth. Thank you lovey” You teased booping Evan’s nose. 

“And your only boyfriend” Evan stated before pecking you on the lips. 

“So does this mean we have plans?” You asked grinning smugly from ear to ear. 

“I believe so, gorgeous.”

After those words left his mouth you ran into the joined bathroom in the shared bedroom and started to unpackage the costume from the plastic. 

“Where did you go?” Evan called out. 

“I’m getting ready dodo!” You yelled back. You quickly threw your clothes off and pulled the costume on your frame. Evan chuckled and walked in the bathroom. Evan saw you with the jelly costume now on and your hair all messy; probably from struggling when you were trying to get the costume on. He couldn’t help but admire how cute you still looked in a stupid costume. 

“How can you still manage to look hot wearing a stupid costume?” Evan teased pulling you closer to him, with his arms wrapped around the small of your back.

“I don’t know and there's nothing stupid about this costume” You huffed out cutely with you crossing your arms in front playfully. 

You earned a chortle from Evan as he stepped back and walking away

“Hey! where are you going?” You called out in offense. 

“I’m getting ready ‘dodo’.” Evan mocked.

After Evan changed into his costume and you were fully ready; he surprised you by taking you to both of your friends party. You both spent the time socializing with everyone and sharing stories. You both drank and had a blast as usual. You were in your element and you felt very happy and loved by everyone. You saw your friends you haven’t seen in forever and so did Evan. Even though normally you would pick watching scary movies or parties it was still the best time. You were always happy when you were with Evan.

[unhingedselfships]

Answers to this game HERE

1️⃣ What are your F/O’s technical specifications? Name, date of ‘manufacture’, height, weight, etc. Kadokura Kenshi. May 23rd, variable year. 5’7” and 140ish lbs depending on his mental health. 2️⃣ What accessories does your F/O come packaged with? GUN. Ahem. Also a bowie knife, a lighter, possibly a pack of filterless cigarettes (if he didn’t misplace them) and his favorite blue scarf. 3️⃣ What are the product warnings and disclaimers for your F/O? Maybe don't buy this one… 4️⃣ What is best practice when unpackaging your F/O? Mind the gun! And the knife! And the highly effective manipulation tactics! 5️⃣ What different modes of operation does your F/O have? CEO/Businessman Charismatic Gentleman Affable Party Goer Chef Is Baby Slough of Despond Serial Killer 6️⃣ What precautions should you take when operating your F/O? Avoid discussing any of the models of the previous line he was a part of. Be careful allowing him any obsessions. 7️⃣ What’s a troubleshooting tip for your F/O in case of malfunction? When isn't the Kenshi malfunctioning? Give him some alcohol or in dire cases, drugs. Maybe let him kill someone. Only buy a Kimi in the most dire of circumstances, as you will lose a large portion of the Kenshi's functionality. 8️⃣ What kind of cleaning does your F/O require? Kenshi is self maintaining! Except when in a Slough of Despond. Then he requires manual upkeep. But he'll bitch the whole time. 9️⃣ What kind of compatibility or compatibility issues does your F/O have with other units in its line? The Kenshi can get along decently well with almost any unit! He's personable and charismatic! However he can turn on any other unit if pushed, the exception being the Kimi. However the presence of a Kimi unit is highly distracting to the Kenshi. 🔟 What actions will violate your F/O’s extended warranty? Buying a Kimi model.

💜💜💜

1️⃣ What are your F/O’s technical specifications? Name, date of ‘manufacture’, height, weight, etc. Kimberly Wichtel. October 7th, variable year. 4’11” and anywhere between 125lbs and 180lbs depending on the model. The standard model is approx 160lbs 2️⃣ What accessories does your F/O come packaged with? Pencils and notebook, headphones, smartphone, glasses. 3️⃣ What are the product warnings and disclaimers for your F/O? High maintenance! 4️⃣ What is best practice when unpackaging your F/O? Have food on hand! The Kimi is hungry almost immediately upon boot up. 5️⃣ What different modes of operation does your F/O have? Sad Bitch Hours Hyperfixated Stress Cleaning Overstimulated Horny Perpetual Exhaustion Puppies! 6️⃣ What precautions should you take when operating your F/O? Don't overwhelm the Kimi, she's very touchy! 7️⃣ What’s a troubleshooting tip for your F/O in case of malfunction? Give the Kimi space and quiet! She'll otherwise ask or tend her own needs. 8️⃣ What kind of cleaning does your F/O require? Remind her to shower regularly. She usually does it on her own but occasionally forgets and it increases her depression levels. 9️⃣ What kind of compatibility or compatibility issues does your F/O have with other units in its line? Get her a Kenshi for optimal happiness and also max emotional turbulence. And also expect her to lose all interest in you. Get a Phe for a mildly more moderate companion and less erratic mood changes. 🔟 What actions will violate your F/O’s extended warranty? Rejection.

[agp]

hey if youre on turtle island or still tuesday and feel like trying a quick silly browser game you should check out tradle. (i think it updates at midnight based on time zones?) todays is real fun i prommy.

you get five guesses to figure out a country from its export data, and after each guess they tell you how far away you are and what direction the county youre looking for is. i know it sounds like a ridiculous challenge but this one has a bunch of easy hints and giveaways that are accessible to your average westerner

if its wednesday by now or you want to see the data presented differently check out this silly economy under the cut (bolded 'spoilers' ig)

total export value: 371b (usd)

gold: 86.7b (23%}

packaged meds: 48.5b (13%)

vaccines, blood, cultures, etc: 40.3b (11%)

base metal watches: 15.2b (4%)

nitrogen heterocyclic compounds: 14.2b (4%)

jewlery: 9.35b (2.5%)

precious metal watches: 8.97b (2.5%)

orthopedic appliances: 7.02b (2%)

hormones: 3.38b

coffee: 3.36b

electricity: 3.19b

medical instruments: 3.09b

machinery w indv functions: 3.04b

platinum: 2.54b

chemical analysis instruments: 2.27b

nucleic acids: 2.17b

valves: 2.17b

silver: 2.01b

electric motors: 1.78b

scented mixtures: 1.72b

sulfonamides: 1.71b

diamonds: 1.64b

planes, helicopters, and spacecraft: 1.63b

beauty products: 1.58b

other heating machinery: 1.43b

flavored water: 1.43b

gas turbines: 1.38b

low voltage protection eq: 1.34b

gas and liquid flow measuring inst: 1.3b

carboxyamide compounds: 1.26b

other measuring instruments: 1.24b

air pumps: 1.16b

motor vehicles, parts, and acc: 1.14b

petroleum gas: 1.12b

electrical transformers: 1.11b

aluminum plating: 1.07b

other plastic products: 1.01b

metal working machine parts: 988m

vitamins: 965m

polyamides: 963m

washing and bottling machines: 925m

chocolate: 887m

oxygen amino compounds: 885m

integrated circuits: 884m

iron fasteners: 881m

paintings: 873m

transmissions: 855m

special pharmaceuticals: 837m

insulated wire: 828m

electrical power accessories: 826m

plastic lids: 818m

cheese: 800m

antibiotics: 797m

liquid pumps: 797m

cars: 789m

ink: 752m

non mechanical removal machinery: 737m

trunks and cases: 734m

centrifuges: 730m

interchangeable tool parts: 728m

high voltage protection eq: 705m

hand saws: 693m

other edible preparations: 680m

electric heaters: 679m

electrical control boards: 672m

polyacetals: 664m

plastic pipes: 636m

electric soldering equipment: 616m

precious metal compounds: 608m

industrial fatty acids, oils, and alcohols: 608m

hot rolled iron bars: 590m

self propelled rail transport: 582m

refined petroleum: 577m

hydrazine or hydroxylamine derivatives: 565m

precious stones: 563m

rubber working machinery: 561m

unpackaged meds: 557m

other iron products: 553m

precious metal scraps 550m

computers: 545m

surveying equipment: 523m

other plastic sheetings: 519m

metal finishing machines: 516m

scrap copper: 514m

semiconductor devices: 511m

raw plastic sheeting: 494m

documents or title and stamps: 490m

rolled tobacco: 487m

malt extract: 469m

other electrical machinery: 467m

other paper machinery: 450m

oxygen heterocyclic compounds: 441m

non knit mens suits: 441m

synthetic coloring matter: 436m

locomotive parts: 432m

non knit womens suits: 428m

iron structures: 424m

leather footwear: 421m

industrial printers: 415m

lifting machinery: 415m

scrap iron: 412m

therapeutic appliances: 410m

office machine parts: 410m

other clocks and watches: 405m

metal molds: 403m

other furniture: 403m

glaziers putty: 377m

liquid dispersing machines: 376m

knitting machine accessories: 370m

other small iron pipes: 369m

broadcasting equipment: 367m

aircraft parts: 363m

industrial food prep machinery: 362m

glues: 357m

pesticides: 349m

oscilloscopes: 344m

raw aluminum: 344m

knit sweaters: 339m

optical fibers and bundles: 334m

excavation machinery: 332m

non iron/steel slag ash and residue: 319m

carboxylic acids: 315m

xray equipment: 315m

electric motor parts: 315m

watch straps: 313m

tanks and armoured vehicles: 310m

forging machines: 309m

cleaning products: 306m

metalworking transfer machines: 298m

animal food: 294m

combustion engines: 282m

engine parts: 271m

electric generating sets: 254m

scrap aluminum: 249m

laboratory reagents: 249m

perfumes: 244m

other rubber products: 241m

photo lab equipment: 240m

wheat: 236m

lubricating products: 234m

printed circuit boards: 233m

aluminum bars: 230m

explosive ammunition: 230m

brooms: 224m

lcds: 223m

refrigerators: 223m

motorcycles and cycles: 221m

large construction vehicles: 221m

coal briquettes: 221m

corn: 220m

aluminum cans: 219m

textile footwear: 217m

thermostats: 207m

coffee and tea extracts: 206m

other aluminum products: 204m

ball bearings: 203m

knives: 199m

machines for additive mnf: 195m

raw iron bars: 187m

delivery trucks: 185m

milling stones: 176m

aluminum foil: 170m

collectors items: 169m

soybean oil: 169m

wood fiberboard: 166m

other stainless steel bars: 164m

sculptures: 160m

cutting blades: 159m

baked goods: 150m

navigation equipment: 146m

hydrometers: 137m

watch cases and parts: 134m

laboratory ceramic wear: 134m

wood carpentry: 124m

mirrors and lenses: 117m

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Skin & Scale (Part 10)

Azula winces.

They are much smaller than her dragon claws but they are much pointier and there are so many more of them. 

They aren’t exactly painful but the discomfort is almost more maddening. With her tongue, she pushes at her left canine, the latest of her teeth to come loose and the last to fall out. It is a nightmare coming to truth, each of her teeth have come loose, and all at once they fall out. Perhaps not exactly at the same time, it is more like rapidly falling one by one. 

And now she can only eat soft foods, yogurts, ice creams, and oatmeals. After two weeks of eating these meals they have become bland and tasteless no matter what flavor is presented to her. Cherry, strawberry, and vanilla all taste too creamy now. Eating without fully grown teeth is unsurprisingly awful. 

“Have you tried mushed bananas.” Aang had offered on one occasion. Perhaps it was the stress that caused her lapse in judgment but she had taken him up on the offer. She should have known better after the onion and banana juice incident. 

She doesn’t really look at onions or bananas in the same way. She can no longer taste one without tasting the other. Sometimes she wonders if Aang had done this to her because he didn’t want to be alone anymore; alone in having a skewed perception of both onions and bananas. He needed someone else to understand. 

And she does. 

Unfortunately, she does.

She realizes that she has not answered his question. “No I haven’t.” 

“Do you want to?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t like the texture.” And she does not like the hint of onions that she can never seem to un-taste. She won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he ruined an entire fruit for her. 

He looks at her with those big, goofy, adorable eyes. “What about mashed peaches?”

“Avatar, I don’t like mashed fruits. Mashed fruits are for infants. I’m not an infant.”

Sokka quirks a brow. “You sure about that?” 

“Confident.”

“But dragons can live for thousands of years. You’re seventeen.” 

“And?”

“Your a baby dragon!” He declares. “Tiny baby! Tiny, small, baby dwagon.” His tone indicates that he is perhaps an adjective away from giving headpats and getting punched in the gut.

Azula crosses her arms. On a good day she would find his ‘whose a good boy’ talk agitating. Today, as cranky and snappy as her throbbing gums make her, it is downright infuriating.

He lifts his hands, “okay, okay, no more baby dragon voice!” He plucks a stick of jerky from his pocket. She finds that to be absolutely appalling especially when she sees the pocket lint coating the stick. “Geez, I haven’t seen that look since we went on our first mission together. 

Her teeth or lackthereof aren’t the only things bothering her. Her growing claws ache too and with the ache comes a wicked urge to scratch at the table or walls just to alleviate the sensation. What an undignified sight that would be. “What kind of idiot keeps unpackaged jerky in their pocket?”

“A real man. That’s who.” Sokka declares.

“Gross.”

“Sounds like someone is jealous that they can’t eat jerky.”

“I can eat jerky just fine.” She grumbles.

“With all one of your dragon teeth.” He quirks a brow.

Reflexively, Azula’s tongue finds the one tooth that has grown back in. “I only need one tooth to…”

He tosses her a packaged stick of jerky. “Go on then.” He challenges. 

She might have tossed it right back at him and she not earned herself the attention from everyone sitting around the table. “Fine.” She replies flatly, if not entirely then, with a degree of haughtiness. “I will play your silly game, Sokka.” 

She has made many mistakes in her life. She hadn’t realized that this would be one of them. 

She hadn’t realized exactly how it would come to be a mistake.

With her single dragon tooth and a good deal of effort and patience, she manages to bite off a swallowable chunk of jerky. With a method in place it isn’t terribly hard to finish it. More time consuming than need be, perhaps, but a task that she manages. 

A task that is shockingly helpful. The jerky is just tough enough to take the edge off of the throbbing in her gums. “Give me another one, Sokka.” It isn’t a request. She holds her hand out.

“Say the magic word.”

“Now.”

“That is not.” 

She swipes the stick of jerky from his hand.

.oOo.

That had been the start of the end of a good chunk of her dignity. She should have never let him bait her at all. It has been only an hour since she had last eaten a jerky stick and the throbbing is already back. For the fourth time that night she finds herself wandering into Sokka’s room to ask him for another. Really it is amazing how much jerky the man seems to carry on his person. For the time being she is thankful for it. It is the one thing that seems to make this whole teething thing more manageable. 

“Come on, Sokka, I know that you have more.”

“I might have more.” Sokka

“I see them in your snack drawer.” She grumbles. 

“Oh, what? Those?” He feigns shock. “Yeah, those are jerky sticks.” He taps his chin. “I suppose I can give you another one if you do something for me.”

“So we’re making deals now?” She grumbles. 

“I’ve got the supply, you’ve got the demand. Jerky is hard to come by these days…”

“It is not!” 

“It is if you want authentic Water Tribe seal jerky.” He shrugs. “So how about this, you admit that I’m your favorite member of the group and you get jerky.” 

“I don’t like you, peasant.” She hisses. 

He turns to Momo and clicks his tongue. “You hear that, Momo? It sounds like someone doesn’t really want jerky.”

“How about this…?”

“We’ve got a counter offer, Momo!”

“Hand me the jerky and you and your belongings will remain unsinged.” 

Sokka whistles. “That’s not a counter offer, that’s a threat!” He props himself up against the bedpost. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nice.”

Azula holds her hand out. Her gums are screaming out for relief. The very notion of having something to bite down on practically makes them throb more incessantly. 

“Instead of informing everyone that I’m your favorite person you can say, ‘Sokka can I please have another jerky stick?’ That’ll work too.”

Azula frowns. If she wanted to be humiliated she would go chew on a stick in the palace garden or buy herself a teething ring meant for infants. At this point she would almost rather. Perhaps it is petty and immature but for now she doesn’t particularly care. She won’t give him the satisfaction. Spirits, she is desperate for something to take away the throbbing. Anything. 

“Where are you going!?” 

“To go chew on a stick or something.” She grumbles. Hopefully she can find something better, she doesn’t particularly want to chew on something that has been on the ground. Something that has splinters to boot. 

Sokka groans. “Fine, take the jerky.” 

Her eyes light up, thank Agni she had been facing away from him. She swipes the package of jerky from his hands and begins to walk away. She pauses at the door and sighs. “Thank you, Sokka.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He cracks a smile. “I think that you’re overthinking this.” 

“Overthinking it?”

He nods. “Have you tried, I don’t know, biting down on a cloth or something.”

Azula scrunches her brows and purses her lips. It is such a simple and practical solution, she doesn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. “I suppose I could give that a try.” She replies. Not that it will look much more polite than gnawing on sticks. But it wouldn’t feel quite as feral to bite down on cloth. 

Sokka scoops Momo into his arms. “How much does it hurt anyways?”

Azula shrugs. “I guess that it depends. Most of the time it’s just really uncomfortable.” Sometimes it feels like a fork being stabbed into her gums. She exhales. “Frankly I’d just like to fully be a dragon now.” She bites down on the jerky stick.

“Fair enough.” He replies. “What if you want to be a human again?”

Azula cringes to herself. “I don’t really have a choice, now do I?”

“I guess not.” He agrees. “Maybe we should take a trip to the Sun Warriors’ City? Maybe they’ll know more about this whole transformation thing?”

“Or maybe it has never happened before so nobody will know anything about it.” 

“Yeah, maybe. But we should still go over there. We haven’t spoke with the dragons since we agreed to help get them their egg back. We should probably update them before they get restless and in a burn-y, destructive mood.”

“Perhaps you should make sure that this dragon isn’t in a burn-y, destructive mood first.” Azula grumbles to herself.

He shrugs. “You have your jerky and the palace spa, I’m not too worried about it.” He pauses. “You also really don’t strike me as the impulsively-set-things-on-fire type. I’d be worried about that if Zuko was the dragon.” 

“Zuzu as a dragon…” she hums. “Yes, that would be quite troublesome.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Tomorrow. We can go to the Sun Warrior City tomorrow. If I am able.” If things are anything like they were a few days ago then she can’t imagine herself being able to make a longer journey. She supposes that she could if it were absolutely necessary.

���If anything we can send Aang to bring the dragons here.” Sokka suggests. 

“I would much rather go there for myself.”

“I know.” He replies. “But if you can’t, letting Aang go is an option. You have friends now, you can let people do things for you sometimes.”

“I need to make sure that things are done correctly.”

“Or you can try to trust us.” He suggests. 

Azula puts an extra focus on nibbling at the jerky. 

“We’ve all been getting along well enough lately. Right?”

Azula nods. “I suppose.” 

“Okay so let's move away from tolerating each other to trusting each other.”

“I don’t know much about trust, Sokka. But I do know that it doesn’t work like that. You can’t just tell someone to trust you and expect it to happen.”

“Yeah but I can ask you to give it a try. You can learn to trust people if you never start anywhere.” He pauses to ponder. “How about this, I won’t tell anyone that you were begging me for food just a few minutes ago.” 

Her cheeks color. 

“And when you realize that your secret is safe with me we can go from there.” 

“You’re the worst and I hate you.” She mutters.

“Which, if I’m interpreting correctly, is you way of saying that you respect my bold approach and I am a formidable opponent.”

Azula rolls her eyes. 

“Does that sound like a plan?”

“Fine. I’ll…trust you. You and Aang can bring the dragons to me. Just don’t mess things up.”