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bugs1nmybrain · 10 months

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Fruity Drinks: L x Reader - Drunk Sex (Minors Don't Interact)

Writer's Notes: Can you tell that I'm running out of ideas? First Shigaraki's stoned smut and now L's drunk smut. I don't encourage substance use!! It's just funny to write about with my favorite characters.

Warnings: VERY ooc L, silly L, fem reader, alcohol use, drunk sex (L and reader are both drunk), the reader is described as a young adult, oral sex (m and f receiving), 69, no penetrative sex, comedy smut sorta, lame and cheesy but kind of fluff ending

How L ended up agreeing to this little arrangement was beyond him. It wasn't that he had never consumed alcohol before. There were a few times when he'd buy a sweet drink from a nice restaurant when he went out. Drinking enough to get drunk, though? L couldn't recall ever doing that. He hated the idea of his judgement and self-control being impaired.

However, he had recently solved a very internationally significant case. You insisted that he and you should celebrate. L didn't really understand the point, he solved cases left and right all the time. He had so many under his belt that it didn't necessarily add to his notoriety anymore. In actuality, though, you simply wanted a night where you and L felt like two typical young adults, wanting to have some fun and loosen up. His solving his latest case was merely an excuse, a poor one in L's opinion.

So you and him sat in one of his more cozy rooms at his house. The room was big and decorated nicely. You questioned if L had chosen the interior design or if it was how the room was before he purchased the house. Or maybe a product of Watari's doing? Themes of white and gold rained prominent throughout the room, which added to the novelty. In front of you and L were many drinks, accompanied by juices and soda that you thought would make the drinks more tolerable. L expressed to you that he could hardly bear the taste of alcohol, so you made sure to accommodate him with some easier options.

"So, it must feel nice to have gotten that case out of the way," you comment.

A part of L was agitated by that question, perceiving it as petty small talk. "Yes, it is. Admittedly, every time I solve a case, I feel disappointed knowing there's no more to uncover from said case; that the war has been won. The satisfaction from my victory is more to compensate for it, though. I'll just have to go searching for another, now."

"Mhm. Did you have any ideas on what drinks you were interested in?" you asked.

"Hard to say. Something sweet, for sure."

"No need to over-explain yourself. I'm sure it'll be perfectly fine."

You chuckle at his very obvious statement, "I could've guessed that. I heard that vodka cranberries were sweet, so I chose stuff for that, if it's alright. I will warn you that I am not someone who mixes drinks often. I kind of don't even know what I am doing, but I tried coming prepared."

So you continued to pour L a drink, mixing vodka and cranberry juice like an amateur bartender. You also made yourself one, hoping that the matching drinks would provide some nice bonding between the two of you. When you were done, you handed your lover his drink and he held the glass with his pointer and thumb, eyeballing it for a moment.

"This would have been nice with some cherries," he comments.

"I'll remember that for next time," you chuckle, taking a sip from your drink.

L began drinking his beverage as well, furrowing his brows at the sting of the alcohol in his throat. You eyeball him, finding his face of discomfort adorable.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

"Yes, love. It's not as bad as I thought. I think the cranberry juice dilutes the taste of the alcohol, but there's still a burning sensation."

"Makes sense."

"Why exactly are we doing this again?"

"To have fun. Loosen up a little."

"Ah, I see. You know that I'm not one to do this sort of thing. Especially not anything that would impair my reasoning abilities."

"I know. Is it okay? We can stop if you'd like."

"I didn't mean that, exactly. Honestly, I'm a little curious to what you are like while intoxicated. Is that strange of me to say?" he questions, giving you an engaged expression.

"That's true, though. Perhaps I should indulge your curiosity. You deserve the privilege for being such an outstanding girlfriend, " he eyes you with a neutral expression.

You blush and laugh a bit, "No. I don't mind that."

Honestly, L being nosy was something that was a surprising turn on often.

"I actually wanted to see how you'd be, honestly. I've never seen you drunk or high or anything like that and I was curious on how your behavior would shift."

"You're the perfect psychologist."

You chuckle abruptly in response.

You laugh at his compliments, feeling a sense of comfort in knowing his admiration for you. L continues to drink his vodka cran, watching you as you drink yours as well.

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About an hour rolls by and you and L are absolutely hammered. This was a surprise for sure. L had never submitted to this kind of lack of cognitive control, and you had surely never seen this side of him.

The two of you hadn't simply sat there and drank. You had turned on some crime documentary and sat side by side, with your form leaning onto his shoulder. L seemed to really be enjoying his drinks, as he downed one after the other. It was actually very concerning. In truth, he just really liked the taste of them and you two hadn't gotten snacks.

It seemed that L could hold his liquor quite well, and he did when he was simply watching TV. Until now. You sat as the documentary began to give the viewers options as to who they thought the suspect was in the series of murders. L went from dead quiet to deeply and prominently vocal, so much so that it startled you.

"It's him. How..? A seven year old could guess who the murderer is...that one-uh-guy."

Your eyes shot wide open and you tried your hardest to hold in a laugh.

"I'm shutting this off," L announces, clumsily reaching for the remote. He grips it sluggishly and flicks the tv off, slouching back onto the couch. He still sat in his typical position but with his head titled to the side, looking as though he was about to fall over.

You hadn't exactly processed your own intoxication up to this point. It was terribly difficult not to hold back your laughter, and ultimately, you failed. You let out the most uncensored laugh, and L shot his face your way with his finger pressed to his lip.

"What's funny?"

"You. You're cute."

"Oooooh. Yes, you tell me that very often."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh no need..my love. You're, quite "cute" yourself. Did you know that?"

Your flustered face beams a glow, both from the alcohol and your embarrassment. You continue to chuckle for way too many seconds. You sat rigidly in response, thighs pressed together and hands on top of them.

"You..."L begins. You could tell that him never being drunk before contributed to his very apparent intoxication.

"You're so pretty. Your hair,,, and your eyes...you're..how did I manage to end up with such a beautiful lady?? You're so gorgeous, Y/N."

He was plastered. This was hilarious. You thought he was lying but when you looked at him and saw his cheeks flushed and eyes heavy, along with his finger teasing his lips, you could tell he was genuine. He was cute, so much so that you couldn't control more flustered laughter escaping your lips.

"Am I funny?" L asked. You couldn't tell if he was insulted or not. You hoped that it wasn't the case, as your laughter was far from out of a malicious nature.

"Yeah. I think you're the funniest person I know. You make me laugh without even meaning to, like all the time."

"Hmm...you like me that much? Do I have really have that affect on you?"

Even though you were very drunk, you could hear the tone of his voice become rather flirtatious, though uncoordinated.

"I've noticed, Y/N. You're rather addicted to my attention. And when you look at me, your face lights up. Your body tenses. Your speech becomes stammered. I'm not referring to the alcohol, nuh uh. You love me."

"Yes, of course, I love you. Why wouldn't I?"

You felt hurt a little, so you held your head down. It made you upset, because yes, he was a rather sneaky and occasionally manipulative partner. He wasn't harsh or anything, or trying to corrupt you, at least you thought. But he would try and pry out information and reactions from you, and get you to say things that would help him understand your tricks and own manipulation tactics.

"Because I am a treacherous, inhumane liar. Who's to say..I'm not lying right now? About how pretty you are, hm?"

L is always a thousand steps ahead of you, easily picking up on your suspicions of the genuineness in his compliments.

"Lovee...don't frown. I didn't meaan that. I actually, have proof. That you're pretty."

"Huh?"

"Yes. Do you want to see the evidence?????"

The drunkenness of yourself and his slurred speech confused you and so you cocked an eyebrow and let out another, "Huh?"

"Come here..Sit right here, next to me."

So you complied. You scooched directly next to L. He reaches to cup your shoulder and presses you close to him. He takes your hand carefully and sets it down over his crotch. Your heart jumps at the touch of his stabbing bulge, straining against his jeans.

"You see, do you see my point?"

You could feel his point, for sure. An unexpected moan escapes your lips, and you can feel yourself become wet instantly from the knowledge of his attraction to you. It didn't help that you loved his cock, either. You feel incredibly embarrassed at the noise you made uncontrollably, and bury your face into your hands.

"No, don't do that, my love." He takes your hand and sets it on his bulge again. "I want you. Would you be willing to indulge me? In your beauty?"

"Mmmmm...yea. Yea, I'd..like that a lot," Your verbal communication has gone out the window and you are unable to manage your composure at all. "Y-yes..yes please..."

"You're so cute," without much warning, L crawls on top of you, fumbling as he does so. He hovers over you and looks you in the eyes for a moment as his hair falls downward. With lustful, lidded eyes he makes his way to kiss the nape of your neck. Even intoxicated, he manages to maintain his romantic and calculated movements, even if they are a little sloppy.

"Mmm!"

"That's it..."

L's desperate need for stimulation encourages him to grind his clothed cock on your thigh for relief. He groans as he kisses your neck, lightly nipping at it. Your gasps cause him to twitch in his pants and he yearns out in painful arousal.

"Mmm, you're soooo pretty. Can I see your breasts? They're so nice. I want to see them."

It was a little humorous when L would talk about your body. He hardly used slang terms, such as tits. His use of clinical language was cute, though awkward. You nod with an eager, "mhm."

It took him a bit to remove your shirt and unhook your bra. Surprising for him, L is usually so good at coordinated actions. Once you were exposed for him, he merely stared at you for many seconds, cock pulsing at the sight of you.

"Oh my goodness," he comments, making you embarrassed.

You can feel your face flush and grow hotter and hotter, as well as your cunt. You couldn't help it when you began squirming your thighs together in arousal, and L let out a sigh at the impact of your movements against his erection. His penis was painfully sensitive, perhaps caused by blood flow from the alcohol.

You gripped his pants, pulling the hem to release his member so you could touch him. You tuck your hand under his waistband and wrap your fingers gently around him. He sighed heavily as you stroked him clumsily. His hips rocked himself into your hand, basking in how good it felt.

"Are you,, do you feel good?" you ask with a slurred tone.

"You have no idea."

He continues nipping at your neck. His hands were relentless, searching for any part of your body to squish or tease.

"Are you turned on?" L asks with a tone of voice that makes him almost sound guilty. He knew full well he was losing control of his gravitation toward you and perhaps wasn't being the most romantic or courteous.

"How about you look for evidence?"

"Hmm.."

L did just that, hand slipped into your pants to feel your pussy. When he discovered you had a hot, wet secretion that drenched you, he slowly plunged two fingers inside out you. You whimper in tension, but once he began rubbing your special spot, your body relaxed to his touch.

His fingers pulled out, making sure to rub your clitoris a bit. The lubricant from your pussy made his motions much more fluid. Fuck, even while he was hammered he was so precise. Sloppier than usual, but still knew exactly what they were doing.

"I...i want to taste you so badly right now," he yearns as he stops fingering you. He begins moving his way down to your crotch but you grip his hair before he can make it.

"I want to..to make you feel good, too. Let me do it to you."

"What? No. I want to bury my face in you, like right now. I don't have time for your mouth."

wow.

"I think people do like, 69? Right?"

"I'm not extremely educated in that department. But...that could be nice.."

You and L exchange a few more lusty kisses until he pushes you to lie on top of him. "You should turn the other way, right?"

Without a response you turned your body so that your ass was facing him. Your cunt hovered above him, to which he glanced at for a few moments. He cupped his hands around your ass and pulled you down so that your heat was pressed against his mouth.

You yelp quietly at the contact. You hadn't ever tried 69 and the position was rather vulnerable. However, the way L was devouring your cunt made it clear he wasn't bothered in the slightest.

He lied down with his legs crunched so that his knees were bent. You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few tender strokes and finally stuffing it in your mouth. L moaned against your pussy, enhancing the stimulation. He sucked on your clit vigorously while holding you in place.

L was interesting in that he adored eating you out. You felt bad as if you were a burden for wanting that kind of pleasure. He never objected, though. He had a pretty significant oral fixation, and running his tongue along your cunt was strangely soothing. Plus, the added bonus of the pride he felt when he made you cum was incredibly rewarding.

Blowing him was kind of difficult right now. Your mouth had a hard time coordinating, but you managed to bob your head along him. He must've been enjoying it by the muffles he made against your cunt. L's cock was a bit long, which made taking his whole length tricky. His hips jolted forward on impulse, gagging you a little.

"Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's..okay," you said in between kisses along his cock. L wanted to chuckle at how you were treating his length, but he was far too concentrated on making you cum. You were taking a little longer than usual, but it was alright. L simply thrust his fingers inside of you for a bit and rubbed your G-spot.

He could feel himself building slowly, and he wondered if he could make the two of you orgasm at the same time.

"Mmfm...you taste incredible," he comments. "You're so pretty down here, too."

L's praise always made your heart jolt a little. Sometimes you questioned his sincerity, but he seemed to want you to feel good about yourself for whatever reason. It still made you feel validated nonetheless.

You hummed on his dick in a pleasant response. L kept running his tongue along your clit in consistent motions, and you can start feeling your cunt quiver. L knows, recognizing the way your pussy twitched in his mouth. A smirk grazes his face as your cunt spasms in convulsions and you have to pop your head up for air as you mewl uncontrollably. L allows himself to let go as well as his cum spurts out onto your face while you gave him a mess as well.

You and L both were panting, absolutely overwhelmed by your sensations. An instant exhaustion washed over and you collapsed on top of him.

"Come here," L requests. You pull yourself to face him and L kisses you deeply, not caring about the swapping of genital fluids. "Tonight has been very pleasant, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hehe...I suppose. That felt very, very good."

"I thought so, perhaps we should do that more often."

"What about the drinking, should we do that more often?

"Honestly, I'm not the biggest fan. I feel very out of control of my inhibitions," he admits. Tonight was surely fun, though.

"That makes sense."

"I liked tonight though. And I'm happy I got to spend time with you."

"Me too," you fall on L's chest, and if he wasn't so drunk, he'd probably leave once you fell asleep. But he let himself drift along with you this time, enjoying your warmth. You were already sleeping, but he planted a kiss on your temple and allowed himself comfort in your love for him.

#l lawliet smut #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet

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xxswagcorexx · 18 days

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Swagcore comes back from the war and gives Swagdoons fic recs....Please

hi! i'm going to be real i haven't been reading a lot of swagdoons fics as of late,,, (aventurine from hsr grabbed me by the throat and now i'm stuck in gatcha game hell) but! here's some i enjoyed for far :)

(and if you haven't seen it, here's a bunch of links to other swagdoons fic recs i've done 1 / 2 / 3 / 4)

On the open road by di_fairy

“Anyways,” he says, tugging slightly at the length of rope, “where are we goin’?” Because if Ash has decided to technically kidnap him to take him on a post graduation road trip, he at least deserves to know where they’re going. “No idea yet. Just go until we get lost.”

unwritten letters to a dead man by Fey_wilde

day 2: promises/betrayal

It’s like we’re married, Ash had joked, far more than once, shoving aside the stacks of notices with their printed red block letters screaming out their contents to the world, to instead fill the cups with diluted juice that tasted like the memory of summer fruit. To spread cheap jam onto bread that breaks their teeth when they bite into it, but it was sweet, and that’s what mattered. Now the cups are empty.

poorly written guide on how to fold an origami star by oneirogen

it's probably par for the course for you to dedicate yourself to this ultimately meaningless task instead of actually talking with your partner, but it's not like you've ever claimed to be good at this.

you're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames // hanging upside down by orioncataclysmic

Because Ash is the God of Nothing Good, of glitches and scams and trickery; things that show up quite frequently in the business world. It’s a good arrangement they have, especially on mornings like this, when Redd gets to wake up with a slightly-less-divine body next to him. They cut the whole holy appearance shtick short when Redd got tired of eye and ear and nose and mouth blood, and Ash got tired of healing him up.

MCYT aro week day two - loveless

TUSSLE! by starbamnk

“AUGH, RED-” “How d’you like that, bitch!” Red cheered as he struggled to find his voice again, fighting against Red's grip. “Red,” Ash managed, halfway between laughing and coughing, his face flushed from his lack of air. “Fuckin’ a- OW- asshole, you're choking me-!” “WHATTTTT-” - Spep misinterprets a situation, and Ash thinks it might just be the end of the world.

something stupid by starbamnk

'I love you.' Ash had to stop himself from choking. That's not how they were here. It ached, but that wasn't how things were.

"We should probably get up" by Anonymous

posters by draiin (orphan_account)

red forgets to take down some posters.

faith is not enough by swagin (reddoons)

Ash’s form of worship is one of sedentary and nothingness, a macabre monster of self-pity and self-loathing, all contained within his room. It is no place for God. Ash indulges anyway, the hope for something new in a day that blends in with all the others, monotonous and empty. It is the cold caress of a skeleton, nothing there in those eyesockets, staring back.

(yes i am aware that the prev. fic is most likely yours. also the next fic is casino quartet but you know. swagdoons is in it regardless)

four suits, one house by orioncataclysmic

“Yeah?” Ash asks, seemingly having learnt his lesson about looking anywhere other than forward. “How many people did you kill today, Clownpierce?” “A gentleman never asks about another gentleman’s body count, you rascal."

MCYT aro week day six - found family

and that's pretty much all of the fics i have to recommend :) now i will say that i make it a personal rule of mine not to recommend my own fics and, uh, considering:

maybe, if you want, i can make a separate post on my favorite fics that i've personally written because it feels a little disingenuous to include my own fics into a list of general fic recommendations, you know? (also the reason i post on anon is so people can judge the fics on their own merit and not because my name is attached to it LOL--but i've written a lot of these fics 1+ year ago so i think they've more than stood the test of time already)

#mcyt #no id #mailbox.core #swagdoons #reddoons #ashswag

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jcs-singular-slut-strand · 6 months

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@sandumilfshou

Okay, I didn't really explain myself when answering my previous anon, so I'm gonna do that now as well as the new editions (warning: i am a hater)

Chengxian:

Chenxian compels me so much, childhood romance, what could've been, body mutilation on two linked occasions. What more do you want? I understand why people despise it, however I am a JC stan and honestly just want at least one person from his teen years to still be with him and love him. I think that he deserves it.

Xicheng:

I am not a xicheng enjoyer. I feel like every fanfic I read of them is just Lan Xichen taming and flattening Jiang Cheng's "bad" emotions. They dull down his character until he's nothing more than a plain digestive biscuit, and all for a man. There's also something of a running theme in Jiang Cheng ships where a lot of them are centred around WWX, and I fully believe that Xicheng is one of them. "Oh, my brother has a Lan? Well then so am I!" Guys pls let him have his own things 🙏

Zhanchengxian:

I don't really have any opinions on this other than good luck trying to write the Jiang Cheng x Lan Wangji dynamic in character whilst also making it romantic and not ooc, I feel for you. I think that this is 100% just WWX trying to tie all the people he loves to himself and never let them go again, which isnt exactly healthy but where's the fun in the ship if it is. Imo, it's 50/50 on whether or not we get diluting juice Jiang Cheng or not, which can be a bit tricky. I do however understand it for the porn. Which is nice ig.

Wangningxian:

You are a WWX enjoyer and like it when he is happy. Fair enough. I think the relationship regarding Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian (platonic and otherwise) is really under explored in this fandom along with Wen Ning's lack of agency and autonomy, which would be really interesting if worked into this trio. I'm always a bit worried about Lan Wangji and throuples, just in case Lan Xichen's curse is biological.

#i dont wanna tag it as the ships i don't like incase ppl come for mw #chengxian #the untamed #mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wen ning

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valeriianz · 1 year

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so, i HAVE an idea for something 00's romcommy (thanks to @carnelianmeluha and @wordsinhaled) but as i was writing it, i thought to myself, "but they need backstory!" and what was going to be just a few paragraphs of introspection turned into a 3.3k high school AU set in the 90s. so, have this for now. part 2 will be up whenever i feel like it :)

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“Dream!”

Hob found him in a corner, blending into the shadows and had to laugh as he looked up at the sound of his name. He was wearing black, as usual, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tight jeans.

“So glad to see you here.” Hob said as he approached, looking upon his friend with a little less restraint than he typically allowed. The vodka-spiked punch was hitting him hard.

Dream relaxed a modicum, his shoulders visibly drooping as his chin tilted up.

“I am only here because you invited me.”

Hob’s smile only widened as he leaned forward.

“Then I’m flattered. Do you want a drink?”

Dream shrugged and Hob laughed again, turning halfway and inclining his head for Dream to follow him.

Hob, despite being in with the more popular kids in his grade, wasn’t the biggest fan of house parties. He knew Dream wasn’t either; moreso, in fact. Dream was more likely to be found spending his Friday nights cooped up in the library, nose stuck in a book.

But tomorrow they were graduating from high school, and Hob’s parents weren’t coming back from their anniversary trip until the morning. Which meant this was Hob’s last chance to throw an epic rager.

Though Derek Gallagher, the star athlete of their high school’s football team, was also throwing a party tonight, so it was less of a rager going on here, and more of a casual hang sesh. Hob couldn’t complain though. At least he liked the dozen or so people in his parent’s house, and at least cleaning up the next day wouldn’t be impossible. And no one had messed with the volume control for the music yet; 90s hip hop and r&b dripping through the entertainment system.

Hob nabbed a red solo cup and ladled out the sweet drink into it, passing it along to Dream, who took it with a suspicious look before taking a sip.

Dream immediately blanched.

“Oh. That’s awful.”

Hob laughed again before biting his bottom lip. Dream didn’t seem to mind though, his own little smile peeking through.

“You can dilute it with more juice in the fridge, if you want.”

Throughout the evening, Hob tried to keep his attention on more than just Dream at his side, chatting with his fellow classmates and laughing along to stories and jokes, one last go at clearing up the rumor mill.

And though Dream mostly kept quiet, he did acknowledge those who greeted him, congratulated him on getting into a university in England, how fun it was going to be moving overseas, to which Dream hummed and nodded politely.

Hob was the only one who knew the truth: that Dream’s parents were sending him away. That while Dream had been accepted on an academic scholarship, it was only because his family had set it up for him. Had forced him to apply, had paid for his application and was having him shipped off next month, when Dream would turn 18 and they didn’t have to keep him in their house any longer.

What looked like a privileged situation was actually cruel and heartbreaking. Yes, Dream was going to Oxford. That was insane. Yes, his stupidly wealthy parents were paying for his room and board and what tuition the scholarship didn’t cover. But it was only a drop in the bucket for them. They saw Dream’s future more as a promising investment for when they grew old and needed Dream’s career to take care of them. Not as if they had plenty of money stowed away to keep them afloat during retirement and then some. Or plenty of children, for that matter.

And of course to say they had yet another child in some prestigious university didn’t hurt their reputation either.

Hob managed to derail the subject every time it came up, of where everyone else was going to college. It was inevitable, discussing the future with his classmates, given the timing. But Hob could see Dream sinking more and more into himself as the night went on, holding onto his drink more for his hands to be occupied than anything else.

“I know,’ Johanna announced suddenly, hours bleeding into the late evening. “Let’s liven things up a bit.”

She had several hands help clear a large area in the living room as she procured the empty vodka bottle, shaking it with a drunken twinkle in her eyes.

“Truth or dare, motherfuckers.”

The party, which had been dying down, suddenly turned up again. Everyone refilled their drinks and formed a large circle on the floor.

Dream plopped down next to Hob, folding his legs and throwing a lazy, tipsy smile at Hob. Who had to take another sip of his drink to keep himself from doing something drastic. Like tell Dream how cute he was right now.

His coal black hair was a mess, sticking up and curling around his ears from the excessive amount of times Dream had run his hand through it. His boots were off, his sock-clad toes wiggling in anticipation. And his blue eyes seemed to shine, reflecting off the Christmas lights Hob had hung around the house for the party.

The game started and everyone played along, turning up the stakes and performing various wacky scenarios that only teenagers were capable of escalating. Cori licked Alex’s eyeball on a dare, erupting a chorus of screams and gags and Alex furiously rubbing his eyes afterward. On a demand for truth, Rachel confirmed the rumor that she’d fingered Johanna under the bleachers freshman year to an absolute assault of jeers and hooting and hollering, causing the extremely rare sight of Johanna flushing scarlet from her ears down to her neck.

Naturally the game turned racy after that. Dares to kiss and show off hidden tattoos. Truths to admit who fucked whom and what would you do for such-and-such.

Hob feels himself getting warmer. And not to mention Dream, who remained seated next to him during this entire debauchery, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as the game wore on. Hob could sense him slowly slipping out of the circle, until his knee lightly touched Hob’s hip, instead of where it had been for the better part of half an hour, resting against his thigh.

Hob turned, finding Dream staring down into his empty cup, turning it around and around in his grasp, and had just opened his mouth to comfort him, when Johanna piped up across from him.

“Hob, truth or dare.”

Hob’s head swung forward, eyes falling on the bottle top pointing directly at him. He sniggered softly, taking another peek over at Dream and finding his eyes now on him. Hob gently laid his hand over Dream’s foot, giving it what he hoped was a comforting squeeze before facing Jo again.

Truth be told, Hob was feeling much too invigorated from the alcohol, and he’d been waiting for his time to shine. Hob loved making a spectacle and so let his smile turn into a smirk, meeting Jo’s challenging stare head on.

“Dare.”

A collection of “ooh”s and delighted giggles spread around the circle.

“Good choice, Hobsie.” Her own brown eyes sparkled with mirth. Hob wasn’t sure when Rachel had crawled into her lap, but didn’t let it distract him from her next words.

“I dare you to…” Jo tilted her chin, tapping it in mock consideration. “Kiss the person the bottle next lands on.”

Oh, easy, Hob thought. About to open his mouth to say so, when Jo spoke up again.

“With tongue.”

“Pfft,” Hob sat up, pushing his chest out. “You’re on.”

He reached forward, licking his lips teasingly as his eyes roamed around the circle of his peers, getting a hand around the bottle and giving it a powerful twirl.

The room went quiet save for a few hushed exchanges and some girls giggling that only made Hob grin flirtatiously. He felt the alcohol in his blood rushing with enough speed to make him dizzy, and the spinning bottle honestly wasn’t helping. But Hob had been patiently waiting his turn all night so watch it he would.

Soon, all eyes followed the bottle as it began to slow, a hush of anticipation that Hob’s peers had been accustomed to all night falling over the circle once more.

Until the bottle finally stopped, and Hob’s heart along with it.

Because the mouth of the bottle pointed squarely at Dream, sitting right next to him.

Scattered hollering and clapping filled Hob’s ears as his gaze flicked sideways to his friend, who was staring at the bottle, his posture ramrod straight, his hands no longer fiddling.

Hob swallowed and ignored the jeering and playful jab at his side from Cori, eyes fixated on his friend, his best friend. Who didn’t like going to parties, who only smiled when he meant it, who only complained about his parents stupid and strict rules only if Hob asked, never wanting to appear annoying, or too much, preferring to keep to the shadows.

Dream, who would fold if only Hob gave him his best pout, allowing himself to be tugged along to a concert or arcade with a well timed joke and friendly pestering. Who seemed like such a stick-up-the-ass to everyone except Hob, who only had eyes for him. Hob’s best friend, shy and awkward and a little mean, and so devastatingly handsome it was a wonder Hob hadn’t had the balls to do something about it yet.

It would take something as juvenile as a dare to finally give Hob the excuse to act upon his helpless crush. Though Dream…

Dream hadn’t looked away from the bottle. Bringing his lips in to form a line and. Hob felt his nerves begin to escape from out his ears.

“Hey…” Hob spoke gently, moving his hand to carefully rest on Dream’s knee.

Dream’s gaze snapped to Hob at once, and the look in his eyes made Hob’s stomach drop.

He looked terrified.

Hob’s breath caught in his throat, the air around them suddenly thick with an unidentified tension.

Cori’s voice popping up over Hob’s shoulder made them both jump.

“C’mon, Morpheus. Hob won’t bite, unless you ask him to!”

Hob sighed loudly, rolling his eyes for the group’s benefit, who eased up with a roll of snickering around them. One time, that happened!

“I–” Dream started, swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob harshly. “I’d rather–”

“Just one kiss, Dream,” Hob heard himself say, a little desperate. A little too drunk. “It’ll be really quick…” He felt himself already leaning in and Dream’s lips parted, sucking in an audible breath.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Jo and Cori started the chant, and everyone around them followed suit, egging Hob and Dream on.

The realistic, rational part of Hob’s brain, which was still muddled by cheap vodka, tried to remind Hob that this was just a game, and Dream didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. He’d even opened his mouth to say so, amongst the drunken, teenage laughter and clapping in time to the chant.

But what he spoke, instead of insisting they didn’t have to kiss, that they could potentially even revisit this, and Hob’s ego wouldn’t be bruised, thank you very much, was a quiet,

“Please?”

Dream’s brows pinched together, he looked truly torn and Hob couldn’t figure out what that meant, especially as the seconds ticked away. Driving Hob crazy, waiting for permission; verbally or even a single head nod. Hob wet his lips and his stomach did an acrobatic leap as he caught Dream’s gaze flick down to catch the motion, his shoulders visibly rising as he took a breath.

“No.”

Hob blinked and Dream was untangling himself from the floor, standing up so fast he wobbled, and stomped out of the room.

The chanting died down at once. Hob felt himself frozen to the carpet in the surrounding silence.

Somebody politely coughed. Hob’s gaze found Johanna, who only looked back at him in sympathy, her eyebrows tilted up.

Humiliation and rejection burned in Hob’s chest, crawling up his neck and making his ears hot.

Cori clicked his tongue and Hob whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Tough luck, buddy.”

“Shut up,” Hob hissed, feeling all the more embarrassed for it. He splayed his hands flat on the floor, pushing himself up without another look at his classmates, and walked towards where Dream had vanished to with shaking limbs.

—------------------------------------

Hob found him quickly enough, going through the laundry room and out the door that led to the back yard.

“Dream?”

Blue eyes, barely visible in the darkness, rose to find Hob as he made his way down the steps, sitting across from Dream, against the railing, putting distance between them.

Dream looked forward again, his eyes set, face unreadable. Hob hated that he was drunk at the moment because he’d otherwise never chuckle sarcastically like he’s doing now. Hiding the pain, perhaps, hoping Dream can’t see how ashamed he’s feeling, how rejection boils in his blood and even looking at Dream right now, twists Hob’s insides.

“What the hell?”

Dream takes a long breath through his nose, pushing his shoulders back. And says nothing.

“It would have just been a stupid kiss,” Hob goes on, unprompted. Words tumbling out of his mouth like vomit. “You’re my friend. Is the thought of kissing me so disgusting you need to run away?”

Hob feels his eyes begin to sting and throws his head back, smiling derisively. He was about to start crying. Great.

Once he’s gotten himself under control, Hob tilts his head down and finds Dream watching him, his own gaze softened, if only minutely.

His lips part, voice low and quiet. “You misunderstand me.”

“Then I’d love it if you’d explain,” Hob sighs roughly. “Because you just made me look like an asshole in there.”

Dream shakes his head, unfolding his arms over his lap and getting long, pale fingers around his knobbly knees instead.

“The world is ending tonight.” Dream starts cryptically, staring at how his fingers pick at the tears in his jeans. “Tomorrow we graduate. I’m going to England and we’ll never see each other again.” He looks sideways at Hob, who’s holding his breath.

“And you’re still worried about how people perceive you?” He takes a breath. “You choose to spend your last hours getting drunk and playing juvenile games? Instead of…” Dream gaze flits back toward the house, swallowing.

Hob scoots over, closer to Dream. Summer is right around the corner but the night air is cool still, clean and pleasantly quiet. And Dream blends into the darkness like he belongs there, the stars in the cloudless sky, how they light up the darkness along with the moon, giving just enough illumination to see by, to marvel at Dream sitting on Hob’s back porch steps.

Taking in the wonder that is Hob’s closest friend, beautiful, shy, wicked smart Dream. Hob feels calm fall over him like a blanket. Mulling on Dream’s words, and settling on a response.

“What would you rather be doing?”

Dream finds Hob’s gaze again, and Hob lifts his shoulders, prompting Dream further, but he remains silent. Hob takes a breath, speaking again when Dream doesn’t respond.

“If the world is ending anyway…” Hob starts, licking his bottom lip. “Then just say it.”

Agonizing seconds slip by, where Dream stares at Hob, lips slightly parted, eyes widening.

“I want to kiss you.”

Hob’s heart lurches in his chest and he feels the air leave his lungs. Dream’s voice is so quiet, so fragile, it makes Hob ache.

“But not–” Dream inclines his head slightly, toward the house. “Not like that.”

“Oh…” Hob says eloquently, finding himself petrified once again.

There’s a new tension in the silence that falls between them. Waiting, anticipating. Hob takes a steadying breath and feels like he’s jumping off a cliff.

He gets on hand on the floor between them and leans over, his other hand hovering towards Dream.

“Can I–?”

“Yes.”

Dream meets him halfway, pressing warm, chapped lips to Hob’s, and holding still.

It’s sweet, and careful, and when Dream exhales from his nose, the warm air hitting Hob, his lips part to take a breath and Hob lunges forward, getting a hand around the side of Dream’s face and pulling him in. Hob sweeps his tongue along the seam of Dream’s lips once before diving past, pulling a surprised gasp from Dream that turns into a soft groan.

Hob’s fingers caress into the soft strands of Dream’s hair as they kiss, elation popping off like fireworks under Hob’s skin as he finally is able to touch his friend like this. Move his lips along Dream’s with drunken coordination and vigor, putting as much affection and want into the kiss as Hob could, hoping Dream could understand. Could feel how long Hob has wanted to do this. And as they move together, bodies naturally closing the distance between them and Dream’s hands finsting into Hob’s shirt before weaving up and around his shoulders, Hob understands why Dream would rather share this privately, without an audience of their peers gawking.

Because this was real. Years of repressed yearning and feelings bubbling up to the surface and tumbling forth in exchanged breaths and needy whines, Hob’s fingers digging a little harder into Dream’s scalp, Dream’s hands, in response, clawing at Hob’s back, pulling him impossibly closer as his body arched like a bow so their chests bumped and Hob could feel the heat of his friend’s body against his own.

Hob tore his mouth away, taking a ragged breath, stealing it from Dream, before going back in, again and again, little lips-only kisses that elicited the prettiest noises from Dream. Especially as Hob’s lips wanders down his chin and up his jaw, causing his friend to cling tighter to Hob, tilting his head to give Hob better access, breathing through his mouth, the hot air hitting Hob’s ear and driving him wild.

“Dream…” Hob finally spoke, his low voice painted in arousal and causing Dream to shake in his arms. He nipped Dream’s ear before licking it. “Why is this all coming out now?”

One of Dream’s hands went up into Hob’s hair, fingers tangling in the brown locks as he huffed his response.

“I could ask the same of you.”

Hob smiles, but it’s sad. He’s slowed down now, gently nudging his nose underneath Dream’s ear before pulling back, facing him once more.

Dream’s eyes flutter open and Hob feels struck down. He’s never seen Dream’s eyes so dark, his blue iris’ nearly all encompassed by the black of his pupils. Hob, unable to resist now, taps his nose to Dreams, taking a breath.

“I was scared.”

He can hear how Dream swallows.

“Me too.”

They sit like that for a long moment, holding on to one another, breathing each other’s air, savoring the revelation that had just transpired. And knowing it wouldn’t last.

—-------------

They of course saw each other again at graduation, and throughout the days that followed. Hob prepared to move across the state to his chosen college and Dream prepped to leave the country all together.

Hob offered to drive Dream to the airport on moving day, but Dream shook his head, saying it was already too painful that he was leaving, he didn’t want any lingering looks. Instead Dream’s father took a quick detour to Hob’s house, where Dream stood in Hob’s doorway to say goodbye, and in full view of both their families, all they could do was hug. And Hob put his entire body into it, crushing Dream, who had always been so damn thin and gangly, in his arms and nosing his way into Dream’s hair to take one final, deep inhale.

“We’ll see each other again.” Hob promised, in that hopeful way young people did.

Dream only smiled ruefully, his eyes shining and causing a lump to form in Hob’s throat.

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” Hob nodded, getting his hands around Dream’s face and caressing his thumbs under his eyes and across sharp cheekbones. “You think you can get rid of me that easily?”

Dream huffed out a quiet laugh, the blue of his eyes sparkling.

#dreamling #hob x dream #my need for long buildups will be the death of me #i was gonna end it on a cliffy #just a hint to the flashforward i'll get into next #but ran out of steam #if anyone is curious what happened after this #message me #everything will be explained in part two #but i might wanna drop some teasers first #my writing #dreamling romcom au

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simping-on-the-daily · 1 year

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Widowmaker: No offence, Reaper, but I heard Moira likes studying me better then you.

Reaper: That's why she's up all night diluting my saliva? Check and mate.

Widowmaker: Well, I'm getting moved to a separate chamber tonight so she can keep an eye on me. What about that?

Reaper: Please, she hasn’t even probed your mind yet. Besides, yesterday she told me that my blood diagnostics were, “abnormal” and “potentially hazardous”. How could you possibly compete with that?

Widowmaker: throws a soda can at Reaper's head

Reaper: How dare you!? Moira! Moira, she's resorting to violence! I do not feel very enriched right now! I need a bandage and an IV of juice!

Widowmaker: This is exactly the behavior i’m talking about. You still need juice rewards and screens. I have evolved past these childish activities. I am a model experiment.

Moira: hurriedly taking notes

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #reaper #overwatch reaper #gabriel reyes #gabriel reaper reyes #widowmaker #overwatch widowmaker #amelie lacroix #moira o'deorain #overwatch moira #overwatch incorrect quotes #source: tumblr #simper says stuff

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fisheito · 5 months

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how would you eat/cook each nukani character

oh noooooooooo (holds my face in great contemplative agony) u can't do this to me

Eiden: oh mein gotTtTtt getting my hands on eiden would be like receiving an entire cart of summer fresh-from-farm produce. or an entire cow carcass . i would have SO MANY PARTS and SO MANY WAYS to prepare him and every part of him would taste delicious in its own way. there's no way i can ONLY cook eiden one way. i'd have to put him thru every process possible (true to his versatility). i thought about spitroasting him (for the joke) but that's too much eiden for one method. i need to covet him like the king tuna at the fish market as i take him apart piece by piece look. i am frying him like egg for a fast breakfast. i am meticulously grinding him to a paste in a traditional mortar and pestle. i am using him as pesto AND as dipping sauce. i will dehydrate him and drink him as tea. he will be roasted . braised. devoured raw in ceviche. i'll infuse him with vinegars! syrups! oils!! is there a way to make a sourdough starter but it's eidough starter so i can just keep him on my shelf and feed him every day and pass him down for generations? i want eiden for every meal of the day prepared 1000 ways

Aster: would aster taste like blood or the absence of it? hmmmm..... i guess it depends on when he feeds! maybe if i bite into him after a feeding session, he'll burst like a cherry tomato. but otherwise i feel like giving aster the sashimi treatment. put him all fancy on the plate with some garnishes after i treat him with a light citrus wash or smth. a fresh cool flavour!! i'm tempted to make some sort of beverage out of him. dilute him into a fancy mocktail of strange spirits and woody spices. aster juice?!?! looks like pink wine???! i have to treat this one like i'm spoiling him with gifts. he'll probably end up on the artisanal charcuterie board with the fusion jams and marmalades...

Morvay: i feel like he would have a very...particular aroma. he eats a very specialised diet so of everyone in the clan, he has to follow "you are what you eat", right?? my first instinct for some reason is to cure him. like, turn him into prosciutto. if he's gonna have a funky smell, might as well turn up the salt and cure him. tie him up and lock him in the carefully controlled environment of the curing basement. dark... surrounded by other meatbags... slap him around every now and then. slice him up thin and put him on that fancy cheese board with a bunch of other strong smelling foods. slurp him down him with a glass of astringent aster juice to balance out the richness of the morv

Yakumo: soup. he's getting souped. it's only right. might split him half and half into one soup and one stew. maybe the soup will just be a concentrated essence of snek-style broth. like a clear, warming bowl of pho that is DISTILLED YAKUMO and doesn't need much else besides some fave spices to accompany the flavour. as for the stew? i just straight up like stew and it can be so nutritionally complete. so he's going in the classic comfort stew. chunks of yakumo and seasonal vegetables simmered to make a thick hearty pot of glorp. maybe add some alcohol to it if i want to live dangerously. he will sustain me for days to come. anything that i do not turn into soup? i'm going to steam him. a mild little parcel of wrapped yakumo, gently steamed for a hot minute. yakumo tastes best to me when a little wet.

Edmond: to honour his thick sugary ass, i have to turn edmond into some sorta dessert. turn the defrosted ice queen into ice cream? now i could just put edmond in a pot and reduce him until he turns into a syrup but then i would waste all the extra good bits that make up edomon. u need the tsun with the dere and reducing him to pure dere is NOT balanced. he can withstand quite a bit of punishment so maybe i'll whip him up like a custard (by hand FIRST. if that's not strong enough, i'll use an electric hand mixer). turn him into an earl grey creme brulee where u can set him on fire then smack that caramelised crust before spooning out the goopy insides.

Olivine: i feel like i'd wanna enjoy olivine in his least processed form. just enjoy the pure marbled goodness of well-exercised, tender oli. so why not a steak? medium rare to rare? just a little pan-sear and we can chew on him all we want. (i considered searing on a grill, but it's easier around here to get a pan instead of a grill. and oli is all about being accessible to the greatest number of people.) on the other hand, that might not honour oli's nature. he, too, can stand up to a lot of punishment. he might even like it. so part of him can be the relatively unprocessed slab and the other can be a cutlet. that way i can beat him with a hammer, dredge and bread him, then toss him into the deep fryer. to be served with a variety of heavy or creamy sauces.

Quincy: this man is OLD and TOUGH and he probably tastes like every bit of wildlife in the forest combined. then again, he's also always sleeping so does that mean his meat is quite relaxed and i don't have to tenderise forever to be able to chew it? quincy probably eats the simplest diet (no processed microwave preservative type cocktails in here) so he'd be best appreciated in an equally simple dish?? i'd like to skewer him. make him bite-size and cook him over a campfire. alternating with simple salt vs. intricate dry rubs bc i'm not sure which i'd prefer. if he ends up being tough, i'll let him hang out in a savoury marinade for however many days he needs (do NOT make me put a pineapple in there, mister).

Kuya: i lied. **THIS** man is OLD and TOUGH and SINEWY and A BITCHASS to deal with and i bet if i cut him at *just slightly near the wrong spot* then some mystery sac of foul gunk will explode all over me like a punk'd prank. i will take any excuse during the cooking process to abuse this one. grate his rind to infuse in the sauce. mince him for the physical satisfaction then throw him into the blender anyway. toss him violently into a fiery wok and start saute-ing him with every other ingredient ever. i hope you get stabbed by a bunch of pointy carrots. i'll broil him as if he's not already crispy. and I BET at the end of all this work, i'll have somehow have messed up and made him inedible. skill issue. at this point i give up, toss the entire kuya into the pressure cooker, and turn him into stew.

G/Karu: i wanna toss them like a salad (i think they'll have fun with that). i could go the traditional way and make wolf jerky. bring it on the road for a durable snack! if i could somehow chop these two up and turn them into furikake, they could become my convenient, reliable flavour injector for a quick bowl of rice. it's tricky because there are two distinct flavours and they gotta be treated differently to bring out their full potential. but they're also inseparable. what do i do??? i might just put them into my party-type foods where flavours are supposed to mix and it's the wildness of the combos that make it all fun. he's going on the 12-topping pizza!! he's being melted onto the giant tray of nachos!!!

Blade: CAN I EAT THIS? WILL I DIE? WILL MY TEETH BREAK OFF? i have to debone him. i bet there are pointy bits hiding everywhere. get my special tools out and pluck at him for over an hour (i must be thorough). might just put him in the microwave (he'd probably enjoy that). i feel like essence of Blade would also do well as a bubbly drink. mix a simple edroid syrup with some club soda and some edible flowers to look pretty (low calories too!). if the legends are true and blade can adapt to any flavour, i might just turn him into a condiment or special spice mix. grind him to dust and put him in a nice glass container near my stove so i can add him to various foods (the weirder the combo, the better). keep the spirit of experimentation alive with Blade popcorn seasoning!!

Dante: i am gonna make him fragrant as hell. gonna smoke him over intricate spice combos or tea leaves and impart him with the most alluring lung-punchiest sniffs. i don't wanna be too harsh with him but i trust that he'll at least stand up to heat well. he'd probably complain about wasting time, but i'm not rushing the process. u will sit in the smoker and steadily break down over time. maybe after the smoke, i can tuck the odds and ends into a savoury saucy pie. bake him for an hour surrounded by a flaky buttery crust? i might also experiment with some fermentation, like a dante kimchi. i'm curious as to how he'd change flavours given time to age (and just relax for a bit, really).

Rei: i am pickling him. he's gonna become that sour salty lil accompaniment to every meal i have. he'll last forever and somehow never mould and no matter how long i leave him chillin in the fridge, when the time comes to put him on a bun, i know i can rely on him to not suddenly go limp. i still gotta be careful with him tho. can't just stick my fingers in the jar and introduce contaminants all the day because it IS possible to Spoil the Goods idk i just feel like i'd have to let him sit in SOME sort of marinade or brine. if i try to eat him raw i might turn 14 shades of purple before dissolving into radioactive bile

#this is something i never thought about until u brought it up #it felt like zizz pointing to this big button on my head like WHAT'S THIS?#and i respond: uhhm. i don't know. maybe you shouldnt-#zizz: presses the button #[a door on my skull swings open and my brain leaps out. landing on the floor with a wet florpch]#dude legit i was thinking about this for days #if you're wondering whether i was imagining real gore or just fun silly metaphorical cooking #it was oscillating between both. i can't tell where the mind theatre is right now. probably jumping between genres #last night i was tempted to erase my entire blurb for yakumo #and just go I WILL CONSUME HIM. ALIVE. RAW. I WILL VORE HIM STARTING FROM HIS FINGERs #then i slept on it and woke up with inhibition renewed so i left the blurb alone #the clan's all here!#feesh answer

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perplexingluciddreams · 9 months

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I think I am reconnecting with my love for blackcurrant flavoured things (through purple big skittles).

I also have apple & blackcurrant diluting juice, it is the only thing I drink. But now because of purple skittles (they are blackcurrant flavour in the UK) I want purple fruit shoot again! And many other sweets with blackcurrant flavour!!

I forgot how much I like it for a while, I think. It was always always what I choose when I was a kid.

#words from my head #skittles #sweets #diluting juice

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shwoo · 1 year

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I am going to be so annoyed if even these electrolyte tablets stop hydrating me. Maybe I'm just diluting them too much?

On the positive side, I think I can drink it now without the tooth pain piling up! I started flossing after every time I brushed my teeth, which I didn't need to do before, and it's made a huge difference. I don't normally drink carbonated drinks, and I've stopped even drinking juice now, since it's one of the many things that hurt my stomach, so I wonder how much of a link there is between tooth decay and sugary drinks, compared to sugary foods. I always thought I just won the tooth-gene-lottery, because it couldn't just be from brushing twice a day.

Hope the gastro I'm seeing at the start of next month will take my problems seriously! I've had them for a while and I'm not dead yet, but that doesn't make them not serious.

#My wonderful health problems #The dentist suggested sugar-free gum for my teeth last time I saw him #But it hurt my stomach

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adelle-ein · 11 months

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my blood results show medically significant dehydration AGAIN and i'm realizing how out of control my not-drinking issues have gotten. i'm having just enough water to function, basically. i'm a little bit thirsty most of the time and i just. won't. drink. i am thirsty right now there is a cup of water within reach and i am NOT DRINKING IT and i don't know whyyyy. the very act of drinking has become unpleasant and something to avoid. and like, i can't just drink other things. i loathe juice and energy drinks, i choke on carbonation, i can't have dairy and i don't like drinking oat/nut milks straight. i only like heavily diluted lemonade. and now water tastes bad and drinking in general just FEELS bad, the thought of it makes me feel ill. i can only tolerate drinking at meals basically and i can't just eat all day in order to drink! i know one factor was that they did mandatory apartment renovations and replaced my fridge with a worse one that has no dispenser or filter for ice/water, so it's a hassle to get ice and the water is unfiltered and tastes lousy. but i got a brita pitcher and....it's hard to lift and doesn't help. the problem predates the fridge though it just accelerated it. (also it's a fridge you have to bend down to get into and with fibro and vertigo it's just hell to use but that's a rant for another day)

i'm not a picky eater, beyond not being able to have dairy i eat most things, i'm a picky drinker.....i worked really hard to not be a picky eater but i never. worked on drinks. bc i thought water was enough. but now water is Bad

the kicker is that kidney stones run in my family and my dad has severe ones and i absolutely cannot let this continue or i am risking severe health problems and i'm STILL NOT DOING IT and i don't know why. it's horrible. i feel like a child lmao

anyway all of this to say that i think getting a really good water bottle that meets all my incredibly demanding specifics would be helpful. but the specifics are insane. straw style, no "bad" textures (there are many bad textures), dishwasher safe, not too big or too small, not heavy (i can't lift shit bc fibro), ideally "cute" to help motivate me to use it, leakproof, easy and fast to assemble......i'm in shopping hell rn trying to find something. why are all the straws SILICONE. i am not putting squishy in my mouth! gross!!!!

basically my sensory issues may be slightly out of control. i genuinely don't know what they are, if it's an ocd thing or i have something else undiagnosed, but they've pretty much gone ignored. i've had them my whole life but the last few years have gotten crazy. had to revamp my wardrobe, cut off my hair, the whole nine yards just to function. i only wear a mask in crowded or otherwise super-important situations because i can't tolerate it anymore when it used to be unpleasant but fine....i had to throw out all my pants.....i need noise canceling headphones all the time but they also hurt my ears and i can't tolerate earplugs at all........it SUCKS. sucks. i'm 26. this was not a problem when i was 6. i feel like i'm just going backwards and i'm sad about it.

#txt #lacevent

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for-a-free-iran · 2 years

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reports say that people being released from prison are given injections (or tablets? in food?...) of drugs that cause an overdose and death at home. paracetamol is the one i saw mentioned. so clearly a fast as possible liver flush is key. there is suppposed to be a medical antidote, but i have no word on that. but what if They cannot get medical care???

i am sure medical people in Iran are adressing this now- but to be safe PLEASE FORWARD THIS TO ANY PERSONNE IN IRAN. OR WHO CAN FORWARD IT TO THEM. THE GOAL IS TO GET THIS TO ALL NEIGHBORHOOD LEADERS.

here is a few things i found. bananas, beet greens and spinach. cabbage, cauliflower or brussel sprout juice. COFFEE ENEMAS. MILK THISTLE, AND DANDELION ROOT. orange carrot and ginger juice was also mentioned.

Liver Cleanse Recipe

In addition to the healthy foods and supplements mentioned above, you can give your liver a boost by starting with a quick, 24-hour liver cleanse. In the seven days prior to this short cleanse, eat the following foods:

kale

cabbage

lettuce

cauliflower

broccoli

Brussels sprouts

citrus fruits

asparagus

beets

celery

Avoid any processed foods, and eat free-range organic meats, refined carbohydrates and gluten sparingly. This preparation will help facilitate the cleanse.

During the week you are preparing your body, also try my Secret Detox Drink. It boosts your energy and helps you to detox and cleanse the liver. This recipe calls for apple cider vinegar, lemon juice, cayenne pepper, cinnamon and water.

Then, during the week of your cleanse try this liver detox drink. This recipe will help support your body while cleansing:

Liver Detox Drink

Dilute cranberry juice with a ratio of 3 parts water to 1 part cranberry juice.

Add 1/4 teaspoon each of nutmeg and ginger and a 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon into a tea infuser and let steep in simmering water for 20 minutes.

Allow to cool to room temperature.

Add the juice of 3 oranges and 3 lemons and stir. If the mixture is too tart, sweeten with your favorite all-natural sweetener.

Sip throughout the day.

You should consume a minimum of 72 ounces of this mixture and 72 ounces of water. After one day of the cranberry juice blend, reintroduce the foods you ate in preparation for the liver cleanse.

COFFEE ENEMAS ARE VERY GOOD. and not hard to do.

i have to go back to sleep- PLEASE SPPREAD THIS LIKE CRAZY TO IRANIANS IN IRAN, OR TO WHO CAN!

thank You!

God bless You!

#urgent information for iranians #forward to any person who may be in iran #urgent medical information for Iran #for iranians #for neighborhood leaders in Iran #signal boost #boost #iran #iran revolution 2022 #iran revolution #medical #jina mahsa amini #mahsa amini

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foodglobe · 2 years

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SWEDEN

To start this blog of I will cook the national dish of Sweden. As a Swede, I am pretty confident that our national dish is meatballs. Some people think it might be something else but to me it's pretty clear that meatballs with some mashed potatoes, pickled cucumber and lingonberry is the national dish of Sweden. Cooking Swedish meatballs is actually very easy and you don't have to be a experienced cook to make this dish. First of all, this is what you need:

4 portions:

Meatballs

500 grams of minced meat

4 tablespoons of breadcrumbs

1.5 dl milk

half an yellow onion

salt

pepper

Raw stir-fried lingonberries

250 grams of lingonberry

0.5 dl sugar

Pickled cucumber

1 cucumber

2 tablespoons of vinegar essence

2 tablespoons of sugar

1 dl of water

Mashed potatoes

600 grams of potatoes

butter

salt

pepper

Swedish gravy:

2 tablespoons of flour

2 tablespoons of butter

2 dl cream

2 dl water

1 meat bouillon cube

1-2 teaspoons of soy sauce

salt

pepper

This is how you do it:

First, start boiling water with sugar vinegar essence. Then when the water starts to boil and the sugar has dissolved, add into a jar with thinly sliced cucumbers and put in the refrigerator.

Mix the lingonberries and sugar and let stand at room temperature until the sugar dissolves. Stir every now and then.

Mix breadcrumbs and milk and leave to swell for 5 minutes. Then mix with minced meat, egg, onion, salt and pepper.

Then roll the meatballs and fry in butter/rapeseed oil.

In a saucepan, melt butter and stir down the flour. Then carefully add the water while you stir followed by add , the bouillon cube, soy sauce, salt and pepper. (You can also add the juice from the pan you used to cook meatballs)

Boil potatoes in salted water. Drain and let steam off a little.

Mash the potatoes and mix with butter. Dilute if necessary with a little milk.

Season with salt and pepper. Serve with the meatballs, gravy, pickled cucumber and lingonberry.

I love Swedish meatballs and as I said it isn't that hard to cook. It just takes some time, but if you have the time and opportunity I would definitely recommend trying this. Also, if you can't get a hold of lingonberries, you can buy lingonberry jam at IKEA or you can switch it with something else.

See you next time!

#swedish meatballs #national dishes #food

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lonita · 22 years

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First snowfall

Outside my window the world is blanketed in silent white. It always looks so pristine, so fresh and undisturbed right after a snowfall; so clean and perfect. I am tempted to run out and indulge in snow-angels and licking the falling flakes out of the sky, to write my name on the window of a parked car, and to make some footprints in the freshness. The arc sodium light casts its soft orange glow, like diluted fruit juice, side by side with the soft yellow leaking from the windows of those still awake or just rising. It may all end in melting, dingy greyness, but right now it's crisp and new.

#journal

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katseducblog · 10 months

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Me (or one sixth)

I am from my childhood bedroom’s peeling blue wallpaper,

from making the first snow out of asbestos.

I am from diluted orange juice and the sting of Tiger Balm on wounds that still haven’t quite healed.

I am from three generations — three sets of hands and one heart, all crammed into the kitchen corner folding dumpling skin, dog-earing them, as if creasing a page in our collective memories.

I am from my sister’s overgrown green onions, willowy jade stalks that shot up from the abandoned bath tub in the yard, towering over her. Sometimes I wonder if she could have been that tall, too, if given the space.

I am from dozens of torrented DVDs being tossed around like frisbees, the reflection of the sun on the silver disc casting tiny rainbows on scribbled-on walls — a light that has since been lost.

I am from my mother’s mouth, the manifestation of her wanting a girl and then getting three — one after another, like the mangoes that she said used to fall from the trees back in rural Laos.

I am from the rocky waves of the East Sea, from the rotting wood of the fishing boat that my father stowed away on, the salt of the ocean below almost as coarse as the demeanour of the border guards that stopped him.

I am from silent sacrifices and loud scrapes of my mother’s favourite fruit-cutting knife on the worn exterior of her wooden chopping board, each notch keeping tally of all the times we received a plate of fruit in lieu of an apology.

I am from days of absentmindedly gnawing on these fruits, the nectar both sweet and bitter on my tongue.

___

For this reflection, I chose to write an I-Am-From poem, as it served several purposes: it allowed me to heal my inner child by reengaging with an activity that I have not done since grade school, as did it prompt me to reflect on how much has changed since then — both in terms of my own personal development, as well as how I claim my identity and history.

Growing up, I had teachers that wove parts of their culture and identity into the classroom, and now that I am looking at myself through the objective lens of a future educator, I now find myself trying to synthesize and pick apart what facets of me should be presented when I am teaching and relating to my students. Jo Chrona describes our connection to identity as being “inextricably linked to learning […] it’s what connects us to the world around us, to the land that we are on” (4). She points out that our self-definition is integral to separating information into knowledge/content/skill bases, thus aiding us in streamlining and outlining what values and what learning should be happening under our watch.

Diving back into the idea of us being connected to the land, the process of penning this poem had me musing on my status as a child of the diaspora, with refugee parents. Land to me, ironically, ebbs and flows; Canada is both home and not. Land itself does not move, but the concept of it and how much I find myself in one place or another does. I do think that the “melting pot” of diversity that Canada prides itself on is to be lauded, however. It is in keeping these individual, non-homogenous experiences that allows a rich depth of learning. The Meininger article outlines that “only in a direct social environment in which people are not anonymous to one another [can] they can separate themselves from the disciplining, assimilating and annexing forces that dominate society” (35). Thus, by knowing who I am and what shapes my identity, I can be a better educator by including all sorts of backgrounds and experiences.

As I move forward, I will continue to ask myself: how much of myself will I show and how much will I conceal? How do I peel back biases that may have come with my cultural upbringing in order to better listen and support those around me?

Chrona, J. (n.d.). First Peoples Principles of Learning. Open School BC. Retrieved November 7, 2023, from https://www.openschool.bc.ca/indigenoused/pdf/Module2VideoTranscript.pdf

Meininger, Herman. (2013). Inclusion as heterotopia: Spaces of encounter between people with and without intellectual disability. Journal of Social Inclusion. 25-44.

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