#to feed a bottle-fed 1 year old

[fingertipsmp3]

Me realising I forgot my best friend’s birthday and don’t have a gift for her

Me remembering that she never remembers my birthday OR her own OR her daughter’s so it’s literally fine

[astraysimp]

Hi besties! I’m back with more dad!skz Hannie edition! I hope y’all are ready, because Han and his twins are a handful and a half! I’ve really been enjoying writing dad!skz, maybe I’m having slight baby fever idk 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Summary: Yours and Han’s twins ( fraternal boy and girl) are a handful…..yet somehow Han may be the most to deal with. 

⌦ .｡.:*♡ Warnings: Dad!Han, your twins are 1 year old, both twins have Han’s cheekies and boba eyes( it would be a crime if they didn’t), super fluffy, pouty Hannie, pet names, boy boy is a mumma’s boy and baby girl is a daddy’s girl, fem!reader

⌦ .｡.:*♡ Ji-Yeong is your energetic daddy’s girl, who is TOTALLY wrapped around her little finger 

⌦ .｡.:*♡Ji-Seok is your more calm baby. He is definitely a mommy’s boy but does get in trouble with his sister. The older twin–even if it’s only by 2 minutes 

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

You had just gotten home from work, feeling tired and ready to settle down for the night with your babies and husband, Jisung. Parking your car in the driveway and locking the doors, you toed your shoes off, letting out a sigh. Expecting to hear laughing and giggles, you were met with silence. Confused, you made your way into the kitchen, seeing your husband asleep on the couch, two sleeping babies next to him. 

But…..it  was dinner time. Smiling to yourself, you leaned down placing kisses on their heads. “Sungie? Honey? Wake up, my love. It’s dinner time, we got two hungry babies to feed.” You whispered, seeing him shuffle, as your baby boy started waking up. Jisung, then, opened his eyes, looked around, still groggy. “Huh? What? Oh, hi my love. You’re home.” He sleepily smiled, pecking your lips. You smiled and carefully took Ji-Seok into your arms, feeling him nuzzle into your hold. “Hi my baby boy, did you miss mommy, hm?” You smiled, as he put his chubby hands on your cheeks, smushing his lips to yours. “Mommy gets a kiss,too? Waaaahh, my baby is too sweet.” You smiled, seeing Jisung get up, with Ji-Yeong in his arms. Turning to them, you smiled, kissing Ji-Yeong on her cheeks. “Oh my goodness! Is that my precious flower?!” You smiled, pressing more kisses to her and her brother’s faces as they giggled. Pouting, Jisung looked at you, his lower lip jetted out. “W-what about me? I was your baby first. Where’s dada’s kiss?” He whined, cheeks puffing up just like the twins’. Laughing, you kissed  him all over his face, pressing multiple kisses to his lips. “Is that better,hm? My big baby.” You giggled, pinching his cheek, as he nodded.”Okay okay, I have three hungry babies to feed,” You smiled.

Once you and Jisung made it to the kitchen, you each sat the twins in their high chairs and fastened bibs around their necks. “Hmmm, are my babies hungry? Do my babies want to eat?” You smiled, as the twins smacked their hands against the trays of their highchairs and Jisung nodded. So, you grabbed each of their bottles, food and spoons, before sitting in front of them. Taking a spoonful of mashed sweet potatoes, you hold it out to Ji-Yeong, then repeating the same to Ji-Seok. “Aaahhhh, say ahhh. Mmmmm yummy.” You smiled, as they ate, their cheeks puffing up just like Jisung’s did. But, then you turned your head , where Jisung sat pouting. “Yah, Yeobo-ah. What’s wrong?why are you pouting and sulking and not helping me feed them?” He whined, crossing his arms, “I want to be fed too!” Jisung whined and your jaw dropped. “Yah! Aigoo! Sungie, they’re babies , you’re an adult. Why do I need to feed you too?” You groaned, resuming feeding the twins. “Because I was your baby first, yeobo! What about me?!” Rolling your eyes, you flicked his forehead, and grabbed his chopsticks. “Say ahhhh, my babies,” You smiled, feeding them sweet potatoes, before turning to feed Jisung a bite of his Japchae. Watching his cheeks puff up, you smiled as he chewed his food. “Mmm, thank you, darling.” he muttered, through a mouthful of food. You just rolled your eyes.

45 minutes of feeding three babies–yeah Jisung that includes you– you put the empty dishes in the dishwasher and picked up Ji-Seok. “Aigooo, my precious prince is getting so big. But, now it’s bath time, so you get all clean for bedtime.” You smiled, tickling his tummy. Jisung had Ji-Yeong in his arms, bouncing her as he kissed her cheeks. “Bath time for my babies. Sungie, that doesn’t include you.” You pointed at him, before kissing Ji-Yeong’s nose. “Wah! Why not?!” “Yah, what do you mean why not?! You’re an adult. I’m not bathing you!” You three back, walking to your upstairs bathroom. Following you up, Jisung  whined,”But wwwwhhhyyyyyy? I want you to bathe meeeee,” He pouted. You sighed, running a bath for the babies, you undressed Ji-Seok and set him in as Jisung did the same with JI-Yeon. Bath time went as smoothly as it could with twins and a whiny Jisung. “Baby, I will do your skincare routine for you, that’s it. No bath, take it or leave it.” Yo untold him, as you washed the baby shampoo out of Ji-Seok’s hair. Nodding his head, Jisung smiled and giggled to the twins. “Wahhh, isn’t mommy so nice babies? Should we give her kissies?” He smiled, carefully picking both babies up (with a small groan) before they all pressed their lips on your face. Laughing, you returned their kisses, as you took Ji-Seok into your arms, drying with a towel and dressing him into pajamas.”Ooooh, thank you so much my babies. My sweet babies.” 

You and Jisung made your way into the twins’ nursery, both babies in pajamas and ready for bed. Smiling, you carefully laid Ji-Seok in his crib, a stuffed quokka next to him–we know you did that, Jisung. Kissing his forehead you smiled, walking over to where Jisung has laying an already asleep Ji-yeong in her crib. You and Jisung kissed her forehead.”Sweet dreams, my angels.” You smiled, holding Jisung’s hand, as you made your way back to the bathroom; after you shut the nursery light off and closed the door. “Time to get my third baby ready for bed too huh?” You smiled, gently pushing him to sit on the closed toilet seat. He smiled and nodded,sliding his hands around your waist. “Yes, please, baby.Thank you,” he smiled, pecking your lips. Kissing him back, you smiled and slid a hairband on him. “Wah, so cute. My precious Sungie.” You pinched his cheeks as he laughed, his heart shaped smile appearing. “Ssttoopppp. You’re making me blush.” He pouted, cheeks turning red as you giggled. Washing his face off with facewash, you wiped his face with a toner pad. “ Why should I stop? My hubby is so cute and he gave me the cutest little munchkins.” You smiled, squishing his cheeks. Pulling you against him, he whined, “Jagiyaaaaaa, stopppp. I’m all blushy.” He smiled and rested his chin on your stomach to look up at you. “But, you’re so cute. Sooooooo cute, those big eyes and that cute nose and puffy cheeks. Gaahhh I just want to bite those cheeks!” You giggled, kissing his nose and cheeks, multiple times. Pouting, he stood up and pulled you into his chest. “Let’s go to bed, can’t handle your cuteness, anymore.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. So, you finished your night routines and brushed your teeth, ready to cuddle in bed. 

Reaching your bedroom, Jisung flicked the lights on and made his way to his side of the bed. “Tuck me in, please?” He pouted at you, making grabby hands. Giggling, you nodded and walked over to his side, holding the blankets up.”Sure, jagi. Get in.” You smiled, as he climbed in and settled himself against the headboard. “Mmm, so warm. Thank you, darling. “ Nodding, you climbed into your  side of the bed and slid into his side. Suddenly feeling sentimental, Jisung placed a kiss to the top of your head and squeezed you tighter to his side. “Hey, honey love?” He asked, looking down at you. You looked ar him , and soothingly rubbed a hand against his chest. “Yes, my dear?” You softly smiled, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Thank you.” He said, softly. “For what, Sungie?” You asked, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair before grabbing your hand and fiddling with your wedding ring. “Everything. For choosing me, loving me, saying yes to me, marrying me, giving me the twins. Just….thank you. I love you so much, and the twins. You three are my world, my everything.” He whispered, still messing with your ring. Smiling softly, you pulled him into a soft love filled kiss. “Oh Jisungie, my sweet hubby. I will always choose you, always have and always will. It’s always been you, for me. Thank you,too, for choosing  and loving me. And for showing me what love is, whether it’s the love you show me or the love you show our angels.” You smiled, eyes welling up with tears. He,too, teared up and pulled you in for a tight, warm cuddle. “Yeobo…….my little honey bear…..we were meant to be together in every life in every universe.” He whispered, wiping your tears. “You’re my Sungie. I love you,” you whispered in his chest,a day of taking care of your babies(including Jisung) catching up to you and fell asleep. He smiled and turned the lights off, patting your hair. “And you’re my ynnie, forever and always.” Those were the last words he whispered, falling asleep,himself.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀Please don’t steal,repost or plagiarize my works. ASraySimp 2023˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

Tags| @jinnie-ret @binsito @channiesbakery

[theogclownboy]

Hi Again can you do uhhhhhhh sleepy regressor cerys being fed a bottle of warm milk by GC carlos (Cerys is very much a sleep regressor so they regress to 1 year old headspace & plus cerys can't open their eyes because they are very sleepy bean & Being fed makes them even more sleepy)

(i feel like cerys is wearing a footed sleeper cuz make them feel like a baby)

(Carlos & plus i feel is siting on cerys's bed while he feeds cerys their bottle & Plus i feel carlos would be cooing to them while they drink their bottle & it will be like this) ("we had a long day today didn't we?")

thx & and you have a great day ^0^

[bunnyreaper]

This is Tater Tot! He is 2 1/2 years old and my BABY

Tater likes to cuddle close when its bedtime (if I'm gaming or working on something,he will lay on my lap or paw at me until I get my butt in bed) and loves to give and receive kisses on his face and head. When he isnt cuddling and giving lots of affection,he likes to zoom around the house,get into things,knock my vases over,and taunt the stray cats outside. He knows how to open doors and is a big glutton. He will scream at you if you don't feed him as quickly as he likes (heavan forbid I'm late with his snack). If you are drinking sweet tea and set your cup down and then walk away,he WILL drink your tea.(even when his water bowl is full or hes been fed wet food) he will also steal food from your plate and if hes being really naughty,he has stolen food right from my mouth.

He has a sensetive tummy so we have to feed him special food,and he gets sick easily. He was a good boy when he got his shots though,he didnt yowl,bite,scratch,or hiss, he just mean mugged the vet. (I made sure he knew he was a good boy and took him to the dollar general to pick out a new toy and special dinner.

He is my baby,I got him at 4weeks old and on deaths door. A mean tom cat tried to kill him after his momma abandoned him but I put a stop to that. He was the runt of his litter and very frail, but I bottle fed him and gave him my whole heart. Every day he got stronger and stronger and now hes a big boy!

Anyway I thought id share a picture of my kitty with you and tell you a bit about him because simply seeing him makes me feel happy when I am sad,and I hope his sweet face can do the same for you!

every single detail of this has me ready to throw myself to my knees while i weep <3

so much love for you and tater tot, im so happy he has you in his life to keep him a big strong boy <3

[3xm-draconic]

Strigoi (a werebat Cyris & Astarion short story)

Iam starting to write for astarion now.

Strigoi.  

Summary: Astarion finds out Cyris is a werebat…and some interesting side effects to drinking his blood.

Part 1 blood so sweet.

Surprisingly everyone was kind of chill with Astarion being a vampire…he was not expecting this…nor what followed…

It happened while fighting goblins in the old church, while rescuing Halsin.

One moment astarion was pinned against a group of them with no way out and…then…he just…poofed

Turned into mist for a brief moment and slipped behind one of them.

He…never could do that before…NO SPAWN SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THAT WHAT THE HELLS?!

Then there was the thing with the wolf…Astarion somehow managed to summon a wolf out of thin air in the middle of combat. It was friendly towards him…but it did try to bite Wyll. He kept it and named it Leggy, he’s playmates with Cyris’s adopted stray, Scratch.

But just what the fuck was going on?

Was it the tadpole? Did it somehow unlock vampire powers? 

In camp Astarion sauntered over to Cyris, he was getting peckish and waned just a little taste before bed, “Darling~” he murmured seductively “Iam famished, mind if I?”, Cyris stopped playing his violin and looked up at him with his big doe-brown eyes.

“Sure thing SugarFangs” he grinned and bared his neck, Astarion had to admit he did find the nickname cute…and…he was finding it hard to…to manipulate him…like this.

Astarion knew he wasn’t safe out here, Cazador would be looking for him, he needed…security. He at first tried to seduce Karlach but she was more interested in Wyll, He then tried Gale but…he and Shadowheart had already started seeing each other.

The gith would probably rip this throat out, Allegra would literally eat him alive and Roger was not interested in men.

Cyris was his only option left…and he also was the one who let him drink from him, he…he was different.

He is very different from the others, not just in his odd personality, the way he just blankly cares little of the world, of others…but in just how he treats him.

When they started…“dating”...Cyris would ask him whenever he was hungry, he would “check up on him”, and when he wasn't feeding off of him he even started bottling little vials of animal blood so he could drink on the go. Astarion first thought it was…annoying… having someone worry about you all the time…but…because Cyris…Cyris…

Well…

Astarion chalked it up to just being well fed all the time, Who could blame him? After 200 years of near starvation, of feeling the hunger ravaging his body EVERY. WAKING. MOMENT…now being…sated…of finally having warmth and life return to him?

That’s what it felt like…

It wasn't just sustenance he obtained from feeding on Cyris…it was life energy…warmth.

His body was warm again.

“Hey Starry Darlin” Cyris hummed, Astarion chuckled at they way Cyris said Darling, “this may be a…Morbid question but…what do I taste like?”, Astarion thought for a moment.

“You taste…” Astarion pondered, Cyris tasted like many things, sweet but not too sweet just enough to Astarion’s likeing, warm…and full…hearty…even spicy but not burning spicey more like…flavorful.

“Hmm…good question…I’d have to say you are like a shot of honeyed bourbon dropped in a mug of warm spiced cider served with a side of strawberry pie…certainly a mix of tastes” he laughed. Cyris chuckled “I sound delicious”, “oh you are darling~” Astarion hummed as he scooted over to Cyris and got on top of him, he looked at all of his tattoos. 

The shimmering chains that glistened like silver, the 8 little bats on his left wrist with names and dates on them, a sleeve tattoo on his right arm of bats, lavender and strawberries and on his chest, where his heart was, was a strange tattoo. It was a bountiful cornucopia within a shield with black bat wings that held crescent moons and 4 pointed stars within them, Astarion wondered what all the tattoos ment.

Astarion kissed him…and…it…it felt…different, Astarion didn’t know if it was Cyris’s blood in his belly or…or something else making him feel this..feeling inside.

“Roger it is to be a FULL MOON tonight, perhaps we should GET OUT a blanket and watch it rise? Maybe even STAY AWAY from the campfire to see the stars better?” Allegra called out.

Roger, who turned out to be a seahag-hexblood, looked at her weirdly…then at Cyris and freaked out “OH YEAH RIGHT, eh-hem, Um hey Cyris, big favor pal, could you go into the woods and get more…uh..uh…”, “we are in need of more mushrooms” Allegra butted in, “YHEA MUSHROOMS” Roger nodded.

Cyris looked at them like they were on drugs…but then his face…his face had a look of…realization?

“oh…OH…ye-yeah I’ll get more, more mushrooms”, he gently pulled away from Astarion, “sorry Starlight, I…I gotta go, I probably won't be back for a while, don’t worry about me though” he grinned and sauntered into the forest.

Astarion knew something was wrong “what are you up to?”   

Part 2: Beast.

Cyris walked a good distance away from camp, deep enough into the woods to where if Halsin or Astarion whent out hunting they would not find him.

…hungry… 

The changes started slow, they did not overwhelm him anymore like they had at the den, he was more in control again.

…turn…let my armor fall again…

He entered a clearing, a grove of hemlock and wild sweetpeas, he fell to his knees and stripped off his clothes, not wanting to rip them.

…change…become the beast….   

He looked up into the shining light of the moon, its silvery rays casting down on him, their cool light soothing his skin as his mortal coil burned away and his sanguinethropic side took form. 

…finally…hunt…

He sniffed the air, the scent of sweetpeas…and…

Cyris sniffed again, there was another scent, a familiar one.

…moss…cologne…sweet wine?…

A twig snapped.

Cyris whipped his head around in the direction of the sound, he at first could not see anything, nothing but the blacks and blues of his heat-sensing vision…but then he saw it…or rather…him.

He was low, hiding in a group of blackberry bushes, his form almost matched the blacks and blues around him…being cold and undead…however the little spot in his belly where still warm blood pooled and…digested?...Cyris could see that, bright and pink.

…starlight?…

Cyris could hear him frantically panicking to himself.

“OH FUCK, OH SHIT, OH GODS!” he hushly whimpered under his breath.

…I won't hurt you…

Cyris crawled over, his massive form crashing through the brush, he came over to the bushes and picked up his little vampiric loverboy.

“STOP, PLEASE, DON’T EAT ME CYRIS” he wailed in fear and struggled in his grasp.

Cyris cocked his head in confusion. 

…eat?...no…silly little star…

Cyris embraced him in a hug, Astarion was…gently…enveloped by his wings and snuggled into his thick dark fur.

…cuddle…

Astarion stopped wailing, he seemed to be caressing the soft fur around him, “oh gods you are so soft!” he said, now sounding more calm “you are like a giant warm velvetine teddy bear~” he hummed.

He breathed in a sigh of relief “...oh?!...and you smell like lavender and strawberries?!” he gasped.

Astarion looked up into Cyris’s eyes, he could plainly see that they held no ill intent, no desire to rip and tear, they glowed with sweet loving tenderness, he laughed “your a werebat…well now a lot of things about you make sense”.

Cyris chittered happily and nuzzled him.

“Ha…here I was thinking you were going to eat me, look at you, you're nothing but a great big plush toy, a ball of fluff and love are you darling~?”

 Cyris chirped and nuzzled him again, “although…you still are a werecreature…and thus you need to feed, don’t you?” he said as he looked into Cyris’s eyes.

“I guess I should leave you to that” he said as he started to walk away.

…no…wait…

Cyris stopped Astarion.

…hunt…with me…together…my sweet little star… 

“Cyris, what are you doing?” Astarion pondered as he watched his werebat lover crouch down in front of him, he motioned with his head for him to…hop on his back? “You…you want me to ride you?” Astarion gawked “oh…well it wouldn't be the first bad idea I’ve had tonight…” he mumbled “but then again when’s the last time I’ve gotten to go flying?” he smirked.

They flew through the forest silent as whispers, Cyris was careful with Astarion on his back, the vampire was…a little frightened at first…but as Cyris gently glide and road  the wind through the trees Astarion’s eyes widened in excitement at it all, “Cyris go, go higher!” he giddily beamed.

They cleared the canopy and flew above the trees “holy…shit…” he marveled at the sight before him, the entirety of the forest below them the mountains in the distance, the river beyond “lucky bastard, you get to do this every night” he playfully mumbled to Cyris.

Soon however Cyris found what he was looking for, a herd of deer.

He carefully landed and let Astarion off, he then crept through the foliage being very stealthy despite his size and snatched up a young buck.

He brought his catch back to Astarion and presented it to him, “oh?...you, you want me to feed? You want me to dine with you tonight darling~?” Astarion cood, Cyris nodded and held down the panicking deer.

“Such a gentleman” Astarion chuckled as he then sank his fangs into the deer, he drank just a little, he still had quite a bit of Cyris’s blood still left in his stomach.

“There darling, Iam done, you can go ahead now and feed my sweet~” he grinned. He watched Cyris wrench the head off the poor delirious deer and engulf its neck-stump in his maw, he then lifted it into the air so gravity could help him extract every last drop of blood.

“Fuck…” Astarion gawked “that…damn you are brutal Cyris…I love it~”.

Part 3: the strigoi. 

“Hmmm… AH HA…I got it!” Gale grinned as he closed the book he was reading “and it makes perfect sense”, “...um…what does?” Wyll pondered as he washed dishes, “I had previously hypothesized that Astarion was a vampire and I was proven correct, then I was again proven correct with Roger being a hexblood” Gale proudly smirked “I have another hypothesis, one that makes sense as to why our vampiric friend has new powers and why Cyris is so…it in lack of better terms…savage”.

“Ok…go on” Wyll curiously awaited the wizard, “Cyris is a lycanthrope which makes Astarion now a Strigoi”, “...ok..hang on, how is Cyris a lycanthrope and what the hells is a Strig-roy?” Wyll pondered, “Strig-goy not roy, and I’ll explain.” Gale opened his book to show Wyll.

“Cyris shows all the characteristics of a lycanthrope, not just physical with his immense body size, hair growth, sharp teeth and claw-like nails but also in his personality and body language. He is aloof, apathetic, knows a great deal about hunting, the wilderness and…” Gale paused “he’s just left camp on a full moon night”.

Wyll nodded “ok…that makes a lot of sense…but the hells is a strigoi?”, “Ah, yes a Strigoi is a vampire who feeds off therianthrope blood, normally vampires would not do this as vampire lords and masters are powerful and have no need to nor desire to feed off werecreatures. BUT, there do arise some occasions where spawn feed off werecreatures to gain temporary access to higher vampiric power”, “temporary?”, “The spawn needs to keep feeding from the werecreature inorder to remain powerful otherwise the remain powerless spawn” Gale remarked. 

“That…seems dangerous” Wyll said as he read more of the book, “it is, but it seems most lords and masters do this as an alternative to freeing their spawn, give them only a little more power than they have but not enough to other throw them”, “Oh…makes sense”, “this is also why most vampires work with or keep werewolves or any kind of werecreature as servants and slaves…this might also be why werecreatures and vampires have a subtle feud between them, given they are used as basically a power source” Gale muttered. 

Astarion could be heard talking to someone…

“Ah, here we are now” Gale excitedly approached the vampire…strigoi… with Wyll, Astarion was talking to something or rather a certain someone in the bushes.

“Cyris they are fine with me and Roger, I’am sure they will be fine with you and besides, your fed and basically a living fluff ball just come out of the bushes”, a chattering noise could be heard, “he’s right my lycanthropic fellow, you have no need to worry about us turning on you, I’am actually quite excited to study a werecreature if you’d allow me” Gale said as he approached the bushes.

Wyll shrugged “as long as you don’t hurt any innocent people I have nothing against you”, “yhea Cyris, c’mon out we don’t bite…well Astarion does but you know that” Karlach laughed, “a werecreature is a most useful alley if you can control your inner beast” Lae’zel mumbled “I’d quite like to see it”, Shadowheart shrugged “I’am fine with you, just don’t eat me in my sleep”.

Cyris walked out of the bushes standing at his full height, he dwarfed even the biggest Goliath “God-GODS DAMN!” Wyll yelped “you are one big bat!”, “Ah…I see, I was right on the werecreature just wrong on the animal” Gale mumbled, “HOLY SHIT…you are fluffy!” Karlach beamed as she patted Cyris’s head, much to the disapproving glare of Astarion.

“A werebat? I did not know those existed, I knew of your werewolves…but not bats” Lae’zel curiously mumbled, “hu…I didn’t either…he does look kind of cute though” Shadowheart chuckled.

As the camp tucked in for the night, Gale informed Astarion about his new status as a Strigoi, “so…by drinking from Cyris…I’am more powerful? THAT'S AMAZING!” Astarion beamed, “yes but it comes at a price”, “there’s always a damn catch isn't there?” Astarion mumbled, “you’ll have to regularly keep drinking from him, if you miss a day or two you’ll suffer a painful crash back down to being a powerless spawn”, “ok, so? Cyris lets me drink all the time?”, “but if you drink too much there is a chance of you…well becoming…addicted..and possibly falling into a blood-fueled-crazed-rage where you never return” Gale added.

“Oh…” Astarion pondered “well we’ll…we’ll be careful” he said as he sauntered into his tent.

Astarion now had access to power he had never had before…but at the cost of possibly his very sanity…it was worth the risk…besides.

ANYTHING was worth having the upperhand over Cazador.

Anything…

[wolfgang1097]

My own headcanons regarding Spy vs. Spy (Backstory and early years) (Part 2)

Good evening folks, this is Ari. Tonight I am picking up where I left off in part 1, but first I do want to make some specific details and some odds and ends regarding my headcanon for the spies in part 1 first:

-White is older than Black by about three or four minutes. Since I mentioned that one twin (particularly White) was born a couple minutes before midnight, and the other twin (Black) was born one or two minutes after midnight, that would mean that even though Black's birthday would technically be the day after White's, they're still actually a few minutes apart.

-The twins, Black and White, spent the first two and half weeks in the hospital's Intensive Care Nursery and then spent another week in the Progressive Care Nursery due to being about a month and a half premature. They were eventually moved into the Well Baby Nursery by the time they were about a little over a month old and stayed there until they were adopted by their respective parents (which I will get to when I build up to that).

-Black was more colicky than White, even when he was still in the incubator during their stay in the Intensive Care Nursery.

-Black and White's biological parents are deceased. Their biological father was brutally killed in the Soviet Union right before they were born. Their biological mother suffered from a fatal stroke post delivery. This resulted in the twins being orphaned for the first four or five (at the most) months of their lives.

-My more human-looking OC, Phil Dengler, was born only a few days after the twins and spent pretty much the same amount of time in the ICN (Intensive Care Nursery), PCN (Progressive Care Nursery), and Well Baby Nursery as the twins did.

OK, odds and ends over. Let's get down to business shall we?

The twins, Black and White, were taken care of by the hospital's Well Baby Nursery staff until they were about four or five months old instead of being sent to an orphanage on account of how much gentler, caring, empathetic, and tender the nursery and the entire Maternity staff were compared to the local orphanages. Since Phil was also orphaned, the hospital's nursery staff had to take care of him as well. On top of taking care of several other newborn babies in the nursery, the nurses, including the head nurse, all went out of their way to use their spare time (breaks included) to take care of Phil and the twins. Such as bottle feeding them around the clock (due to being orphaned, Black, White, and Phil all had to be formula fed, obviously), changing them, bathing them whenever necessary, and soothing them whenever they got fussy after their needs had been met. This was especially in Black's case as he was the most prone to colicky spells. After every last one of his needs were met, one of the nurses taking care of him whenever he was colicky would gently rub his belly, which kind of worked, yet he'd still let out a distressed whimper. If nothing else really worked, a nurse who was on break or had some down time would let him cry it out in her arms. The assistant head nurse, Kathy (I will get to her at some point in the future), felt particularly close with the twins as well as Phil. One day, she brought in several gowns in three different colors: Red for Phil as well as Black and White for the twins, which made it easier to tell the twins apart besides their ankle bands.

About a month or so after the twins and Phil had all outgrown the "colic stage," there were THREE potential couples all awaiting to adopt them, all of them being fairly different in several ways. This was when the twins, Black and White, were separated from each other.

White was adopted by an elderly, conservative couple in their mid to late 60s, especially the female spouse (White's adoptive mother). White's adoptive mother may have been nurturing, but she was rather uptight, judgmental, orderly, and a bit of a neat-freak, albeit was still open-minded when it came to raising her adopted baby boy. She may have been where White got his pompous, sassy demeanor from. White's adoptive father was also very nurturing and, apparently, more open-minded to parental advice on infant care than his (White's) adoptive mother was, and was very aware that his adoptive infant son is his own person. However, he was a tad senile due to age, thus resulting in him being rather forgetful.

Black was adopted by a liberal older couple, who were in their late 50s or early 60s, at the most. They were both also very open-minded with how to take care of their adoptive infant son and treat him like he's his own person. Black's adoptive father was nurturing, kind, gentle, easy-going, yet goofy, somewhat clueless, forgetful, and a tad clumsy (indicating that he may be on the verge of senility). Black's adoptive mother was very resourceful, cleanliness obsessed (but not to the insane extent of White's adoptive mother), gentle, detail-oriented, sharp, and very intelligent.

The one main thing that both of these couples had in common was that they were never able to conceive a child at all and due to age, adoption was basically their only chance of even having their own children to raise at all while they still can.

As for Phil, he was adopted by a young hippie couple who already had a young daughter named Candace (I'll get to her at some point in the future, as well), who was about three and half years old at the time. This young couple had looked into adopting a second child and Phil pretty much fit in perfectly. Just like Black's adoptive parents, Phil's adoptive parents and older sister were all nurturing, gentle, easy-going, and very open-minded to parenting advice as a refresher as it had been three and a half years since they had last adopted a baby. They were more than willing to treat their newly adopted infant son like he's his own person, just like they did with their daughter.

Anyhow, that's all I have for this part for tonight. Stay tuned for Part 3 sometime in the future. Goodnight everybody. Peace.

I do not claim ownership of any copyrighted content. Spy vs. Spy belongs to the defunct MAD Magazine and the late, great Antonio Prohias. Phillip "Phil" Dengler belongs to me.

[thatpunnyperson]

I dont talk about it much, but I have 3 pet snakes--one (1) ball python and two (2) california king snakes--and I love them very much. But this is going to be a long post and I dont know how to do a "read more" on mobile

This love I have for them managed to make me forget just how long it takes to clean their tanks. I try to replace their tank substrate every 2-3 months because I use orchid bark (fir wood chips traditionally used for growing orchids, but also excellent reptile bedding) because I spot clean the substrate once a week when I feed my snakes. So the substrate stays fairly clean despite the length of time it sits in the tank becsuse I'm removing the poops and urate deposits shortly after the snake poops, but I am adamant about replacing all the substrate in each of the 3 tanks at least every 3 months, preferably every 2 months.

But oh my god my ball python lives in a 55 gallon 18" by 18" by 36" tank and the substrate is about 1"-2" on the bottom, which ends up being absolutely heinous to scoop out. The king snakes are in ~20 gallon 12" by 18" by 24" tanks that also have 1"-2" of substrate on the bottom, but the math works out that I can buy two big bags of substrate from the pet store, put one in the ball python tank, and split the second between the two king snake tanks, which gives them all a good amount of bedding to dig in and push around (not sure why they all like digging but I love it).

So the tank cleaning always involves going from one tank to the next, removing the tank furniture and spraying it down with an enzymatic cleaner and disinfectant, then removing the old substrate, using a small dustpan and brush to clean out all the dust from the substrate, then spraying the tank down with the cleaner/disinfectant, then washing the furniture off in the sink and letting it air dry a bit, wiping out the inside of the tank and then spraying it down with water and then wiping it out Again and letting it air dry a bit, then adding the new substrate in, spraying it with water to help bolster the humidity, putting the now-clean water dish into the tank and filling it with clean bottled water, putting the rest of the clean tank furniture back into the tank, and then spritzing it all down again with water to really boost the humidity.

And THEN, closing the tank doors (cause these tanks have little front doors) so the humidity can have some time to really seep into the substrate and the tank furniture. I have a bunch of stuff piled on top of each tank to both keep my cats from climbing onto them and to keep the humidity and heat in as much as possible (the tanks have a mesh top that makes it hard to keep the humidity and heat in, and ball pythons like fairly humid environments)

This all takes me about 30 minutes per tank, so I obviously do it when my snakes are scheduled to be fed, because I like to feed my snakes in little dedicated feeding tubs that I then cover with a thick blanket so it's dark and quiet for them. And THAT is because, when I first got my ball python 13 years ago, the guy at the pet store was like, "ball pythons are shy so you should feed them in a low-traffic part of your home so they dont get disturbed and spit up their food," to which my family was like, "okay, so we have a ton of decorative tea towels and we're going to put them on the snake tub because we're gonna feed her in the kitchen in case she bites someone and we need to clean up the blood." She has only bitten me 3 times in the 13 years I've had her and all times were my fault for confusing her.

Anyway, I love my snakes and the painstaking process of cleaning their tanks is a small price to pay for their health and happiness, but my god the substrate is the worst. I get splinters every time because I refuse to wear gloves despite literally using my hands to push the wood chips around.

[afrustratedmom]

His morning versus mine

What my day looked like versus my male partner's morning. Mind you, I did all of this on 2 hours of sleep. 5:30 AM - 6:15 AM Me: - Attempted to wake my partner up with my own alarm since his hasn't been working for days now. - Cleaned my baby's bottle up while heating up water. - Made a bottle for said baby and fed it to her. - Changed the baby's very full diaper. - Attempted to wake my partner up again since he went back to sleep and he was annoyed that I did so. - Washed all of the bottles and other pump parts for breastfeeding. - Got my partner's son up/my stepson and got his clothes ready. - Got my stepson changed and taught him (again) where to place his dirty clothes. - Washed my stepson's feet because they had a ton of dirt in between his toes and I have no clue why (welcome to the life of a 4 year old). - Got my stepson set up with his vitamin gummies, some water, and 2 snacks. - Helped my stepson brush his teeth. - Picked the dirty clothes my partner left on the bathroom floor for the upteenth time because he doesn't care to help me clean up. - Took out the trash. - Did a load of laundry. My partner: - Used the bathroom. - Took a shower. - Got dressed. The shower took at least 1 hour out of that hour and 15 minutes. After 6:15 AM: I asked him to please speed it up because I still had to get myself, my middle child, and get the baby ready to head out for a late morning's doctor's appointment. I told him he would be late getting to work and he said he would not be. While he took his son to daycare before circling back to get me and the other 2 kids, I was able to: - Brush my teeth, take a lightening fast shower, and get dressed. - Get my middle child dressed, fed breakfast, give her medicine, and teeth brushed, and change her diaper. - Get my baby dressed and change her diaper one more time. - Pump so I have enough milk to feed the baby when I get home. By the time he circles back to get us, he FINALLY asks if I need any help. We still have to drop him off to work where he is...you guessed it...late. Through this entire morning, I begged and pleaded with him to hurry up, to stop dragging his feet, to please move it along because I really needed his help. He was annoyed with me, questioned why I was being this way, caught an attitude, and then wondered why I was stone cold and quiet the entire way to his job. Even AFTER I explained that I was sleep deprived, and once again was expected to get these kids ready all by myself while he got to make himself pretty and ready for work even though I too had to go to work later on in the day. I too had things to do and ended up having to take 2 kids to a doctor's appointment that was meant for one (because I have no babysitter for the infant) where I ended up changing yet ANOTHER shitty diaper for my toddler in a hot, dirty bathroom at the doctor's office, with my baby strapped to my chest. I am so fucking depleted y'all. And somehow, he saw and got none of that. Signed, A Fucking Frustrated Mom

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

"What even are you doing Mingi?"

Hongjoong questioned when the taller boy randomly picked up his son from the carrier and proceeded to take him inside the recording booth.

"I'm bored and we got writer's block. So I'm trying to have a little fun."

Lifting the boy up so his tiny mouth could reach the microphone, Mingi looked back at Hongjoong.

"Try recording his little babbles and let's make it into your alarm ringtone since obviously his cries are the only way to get you to wake up." He teased the leader.

Hongjoong was about to retaliate, but ultimately opted not to. Obliging instead to the request, he put on his headphones and pressed the live button. Mingi gently bounced the baby in his arms, making him emit tiny giggles and squeals.

"Ok that is pretty adorable." Hongjoong smiled fondly.

Mingi began making faces at the boy and raised his voice in a higher pitch.

"Can you say a few words? Like Uncle Mingi is the best? Or I love Uncle Mingi more than his Dada?"

The boy looked at Mingi in puzzlement.

"Yeah. You love me more than Dada." He repeated, puffing his cheeks out and pointing to Hongjoong who was just rolling his eyes by now.

The baby looked over at Hongjoong before blurting out the softest "Da..Da."

Hongjoong fell out of his chair and scrambled to get up to run inside the booth. Taking the baby away from Mingi, he held his face close.

"Can you say that again? Just one more time. I need to get that recorded right now."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa let out a series of noises as he carefully fed his daughter in front of him.

"Babe, you're doing that again." You told him as you continued whisking the pancake mix.

"Doing what?" He hardly payed attention to your question though as he continued to play around with the spoon in his hand, making it swirl around in the air while mimicking airplane sounds.

"Acting more like a baby than our actual baby." You snorted.

"No one's more babier than our little baby. She just likes playing around during eating time."

Seonghwa held the spoon close to her mouth, allowing her to take it into her mouth, some of it spilling on her chin as she munched it down at an alarmingly fast pace.

"Ok hold on there. Eat a little more slowly babygirl. Geez for a tiny thing, you sure have a big appetite."

When he pulled away the spoon, she started whining, upset at having her meal taken away from her. Her tiny eyebrows furrowed and her puree covered lips pouted in discontent.

"Oh look. She turned into an angry bird." You chuckled at her frowning face.

"It's not her fault she loves food."

When he held up the spoon again, her eyes widened and she began squirming around.

"You want more? Want more Num Num?" Seonghwa used the term that always seemed to get a reaction from her.

"Num num!" She squealed out of nowhere.

Seonghwa dropped the puree filled spoon on the table, not caring that he made a mess as he began freaking out over her first words.

"OH MY GOD Y/N! DID YOU HEAR HER?! SHE SAID HER FIRST WORDS! NUM NUM!"

Right away, she repeated after him when she heard the word again, making him lose it even more.

"Seonghwa.......num num isn't an actual word though....it's more like an onomatopoeia.."

But he was not listening to you.

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You held your daughter on your lap as the boys in front of you continued to practice their choreography ardently, her tiny figure loving it whenever you began bouncing her on your knee.

"Mingi!" Wooyoung screeched for the thousandth time.

"What?!" Mingi exclaimed, tired of being called out every 16 seconds.

"You're doing it wrong...again!" San joined in.

The other guys began groaning, some of them just dropping to the floor as they knew it would turn into another argument on who's right and who's wrong. Yunho looked over at you, shooting you an apologetic look as he had promised just one more run through and then you could both leave, but clearly that wasn't happening. You just smiled and grabbing your daughter's tiny hands, you waved them around, mimicking a show of support.

"Ok ok guys stop. Fighting will get us nowhere, so let's just go through it one more time so we can go home. Deal?" Hongjoong stepped in to put everyone in their place.

"Don't mess this up anymore Mingi. I got a scheduled cuddle session with Shiber that I can't be late for." San glared at him.

"I won't! Geez!" Mingi scoffed dramatically.

"Guys? Should we huddle up and shout 'hwaiting'?" Jongho suggested.

All of them immediately got together and placed one hand in the center.

"8 makes 1 team! Hwaiting!" They all shouted loudly.

Before they could press play on the music again, a tiny and excited 'hwaiting' made them all turn their heads towards you and the baby.

"Y/N......was that you or..?" Yunho looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You immediately shook your head and pointed at the tiny baby in your hands, who repeated what she said, a little jumbled, but still coherent.

Not just Yunho, but all of them started hollering and going insane over the baby's first words. Yunho rushed over and tried to get her to say more things.

"Ok now can you try and say daddy for me?"

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang poked a piece of chicken off the drumstick. Looking over at his son, he began to hold it towards his face, luckily you got there just in time to stop him.

"Yeosang!" You scolded him.

At your sharp tone, his fork slipped off his grip.

"I did nothing!" He held his hands up.

"Were you seriously about to feed our 1 year old chicken?" You exclaimed in disbelief.

"But honey! Look at him! He's hungry. What kind of father lets his child starve?" He pouted at you.

"Well here's an idea: why not get up and make him a bottle?" You suggested.

Yeosang looked at the baby and then back at you.

"Why not just pull your nipple out of your shirt and give him your milk?"

Seeing your widening eyes and wandering hands that were reaching for the nearest thing to throw at him, Yeosang immediately got up and went to the cabinets to start making a bottle.

"Geez! It was only a joke. No need to take it seriously. Besides...."

He snorted to himself before glancing back at you.

"It was pretty funny. Hehet."

You were going to say something back to him, but when your son repeated his father's 'hehet', you both stopped and stared at him before staring back at each other, silently asking each other if they heard right.

"Hehet." The boy answered your question when he said it again.

Yeosang came over, a smug smile on his face as he shook the baby bottle before lifting his son up in his arms. He kissed the top of his head and chuckled.

"Hehet. I knew you'd inherit my sense of humor."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San waved the plushie in front of the boy's face.

"Shiiiiberrr." He spoke out once again, but the boy stayed unfazed.

"Ok ok, I get it. I'll go slower this time."

Clearing his throat, he shook the plush rather violently.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiibbbbbbbbbeerrrr."

You cringed at San, inwardly regretting telling him about the fact that supposedly your son should have started talking by now, or at least babbling some words.

"San just give up. Maybe he's not ready yet."

But he wasn't going to be persuaded.

"No! I will get him to talk. Trust me on this, our son will soon say mommy or daddy or Shiber. Whichever comes first."

As San continued his attempts to get his son to mutter even a single word, your furry feline friend decided it would be a good idea to watch and proceeded to perch herself on the dresser right in front of your baby and San. Your son caught glimpse of his favorite bedtime buddy and began squealing, arms outstretched wanting to cuddle her.

"I'll give you the plushie once you say his name. Shiber." San offered.

You rolled your eyes.

"He doesn't want Shiber, he wants Byeol." You pointed out.

Having had his back turned, San whipped his head and saw Byeol staring him down.

"What? Byeol! Out I say! I'm still mad at you for getting your litter all over my clothes. Stop distracting my baby and get out!"

When the cat hissed at him when he tried to pick her up, San retreated.

"Byeol!" He warned her.

"B.....Bo....Byeol!" Your son finally spoke up.

You were so overjoyed at his words you immediately crouched in front of him, making sure to bring the cat with you.

"Yes! Yes! This is Byeol! Can you say her name again?"

The cat purred softly as the baby petted her ears before repeating her name, this time more clearly. San stood there looking shocked. Huffing softly, he crossed his arms.

"This doesn't mean you're off the hook Byeol."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Shifting the camera around, Mingi held it up towards you as you were currently playing around with your daughter who was in her little bouncer.

"And here we have the most beautiful creature to bless this earth."

You were about to let out an 'aww' at Mingi's words until he spoke up again.

"Honey could you please move aside so we can see the baby more clearly?"

Glaring at your husband, you picked up one of the tiny plushies surrounding your daughter and threw it at him, causing the baby to start laughing at her dad.

"Agression caught on camera!" He exclaimed as he faked being severely hurt by your actions.

You ignored him and turned your attention back to your daughter.

"Don't pay any attention to daddy. He's mean and bad." You cooed softly at her.

Mingi gasped dramatically, holding a hand over his mouth.

"Me? Bad?" He asked.

You nodded your head, not even bothering to look at him as you repeated yourself.

"Yes. Very very bad daddy." You tickled your daughter's feet.

"Bewy bad."

Both of you were surprised that your daughter said not 1, but 2 words, and it was even more surprising because it wasn't even time for her to start babbling just yet. Mingi sat down next to you, focusing the camera on her tiny face.

"Did you guys hear that?! She actually said 'bewy bad!" Mingi began squealing from excitement.

Not taking her eyes off Mingi, the baby began repeating herself.

"Bad.......bad...bad."

Mingi chuckled.

"Ok sweetheart, I get it. You can say bad, but maybe now try saying 'Dada'. Similar right?" He urged her to continue.

The baby simply picked up another toy and threw it at the camera.

"Bad!" She piped out.

Mingi now turned the camera to you.

"Look what you've done! Now she'll forever refer to me as 'bad'!" He huffed out.

"Ok but where's the lie though?" You teased him.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

After the initial shock died down of hearing your daughter's first words, Wooyoung and you began screaming.

"She said her first words!" You cheered.

"I know! Wait! Was it a one time thing or...?"

Pressing his face in her view, Wooyoung intently stared at his baby.

"Repeat what you said. Mama." He told her.

Although it took her a while the second time, ultimately she said the word again, making you both applaud at her efforts. You were on the verge of crying at hearing your daughter call out for you for the very first time.

"Ok ok. Now.....say 'dada.' You know? As in your favorite parent? Dada." Wooyoung giggled at her.

"Mama." The girl said again.

"Yes yes, we get it. You can say mama, but now I want you to say dada ok?"

Wooyoung kept repeating the word over and over again, but each time the baby would instead say the one word she had learned so far. It was honestly hilarious watching Wooyoung get frustrated as his daughter refused to budge and instead continued to annoy him by saying mama instead of dada.

"Ok.....one last time. Da...da." Wooyoung went slower this time.

The baby took a tiny breath and Wooyoung actually got his hopes up but ultimately being let down.

"Mama." The baby squeaked.

Wooyoung began yelling in anger.

"Ya! The whole reason I wanted a girl was so that you could be daddy's little princess, not mommy's little pet! You're supposed to love me more! I'm the fun parent, your mom is supposed to be the one grounding you and forbidden you from doing fun things, how could you betray me like this?!"

Wooyoung wheezed violently after he got his rant out. The 10 month old just blinked at him, not understanding what caused him to be so agitated, but responded the only way she could.

"Mama."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho looked over at you every once in a while, chuckling at your seemingly futile attempts to get your son to say his first words, particularly, you wanted him to say "mommy" or "mama."

"Mommy." You repeated once again.

But the baby seemed more interested in his dad, watching him peel some apples and put them in a bowl. Normally he'd be splitting them in half, but since you were going to be baking an apple pie, you just needed them peeled at the moment.

"Baby. Please pay attention." You waved the rattle in his face to get him to look at you.

"Honey don't force him. There's still time. Besides you can't really trust everything google tells you." Jongho tried to comfort you.

But you weren't about to give up. You were hell bent on getting your son to call for you.

"Mama. Mama."

You pouted when the boy adamantly ignored you and just continued cooing softly at his father's movements.

"What? Do you prefer daddy over me?" You asked him, not really expecting him to answer.

"Da........deeee."

Jongho dropped the apple he was holding, eyes shooting up as he heard the baby's babble.

"Did....did he just say daddy?" He looked at you, but your son confirmed it once again for him.

"Daddeeee."

Jongho got up and went over to stand in front of your son, smiling proudly at him.

"Yes my little buddy. I'm your daddy and you just made me so happy."

He picked him up and kissed his cheek before stealing him away from you to spend more time with him.

"Ummm....we were having mother- son bonding time?" You told him.

"Well it's obvious he prefers my company."

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Taken & Found - 1

Request 1: Hey there! I'd really like to see a comforting Gibbs after the reader was kidnapped?

Request 2: Could ya do something with the reader being kidnapped and tortured in captivity for a long time and after she was rescued and came back Gibbs tries to get her to talk about what happened to her so he can figure out how to help/comfort her?

Request 3: May I request something with Gibbs and scared reader? Maybe they’re like trapped somewhere or she’s going under for a surgery? You can decide reader’s fate!

This is a two-part fic. This part is basically full angst, focused on Gibbs and the comforting, healing focus on Reader will come in the second part. I wanted to separate both.

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

TW: angst, kidnapping, mention of suicide, depression, slight alcoholism

Words count: 3k

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra @ncisfan @zetasaturno99

She was supposed to be thirty-five years old today.

And it was one of those very rare days Gibbs didn’t want to get out of bed.

He spent the night working on his boat in the basement, thinking about what his life would be if anything had happened. But he would never know, would he? No matter how bad he wished Shannon and Kelly weren’t dead, how bad he wished you were here with him… all of this happened. And he found himself alone in his basement.

Well, not entirely alone. He had a bottle of bourbon to keep him company, and Fraser, an old black labrador. Your old black lab. Your furry baby, as you used to say.

You rescued it when it was just a puppy, a couple of years before you joined NCIS. So, Gibbs has always known you with this loving thing. At some point, you would even take him to the office and Fraser’s favorite spot was under Gibbs’s desk.

Gibbs never wanted to get attached to the dog. Fraser wasn’t his, it was yours and he respected that. But somehow, you both made your way to his heart.

But only Fraser was still here.

Taking a sip of bourbon directly out of the bottle, his eyes landed on your pet, curled up in the armchair Gibbs put here years ago after you made a remark. “You know, you should put something down here. An armchair or something for people who visit.” You said, while caressing the wood with your fingertips. God did he wish he was the boat at this very moment.

“People who visit never stick around.” He answered, sternly.

“I stick around,” you grinned.

Indeed, you did stick around. A lot. Probably too much.

Would’ve saved him the heartbreak if you didn’t.

A week later, an armchair was down his basement.

With the bottle still in his hand, Gibbs sat next to Fraser and started to toy the blankie. Well, technically, it was not a blankie. It was a tee-shirt. One of yours. The one you left at his house, two years ago.

The top, representing one of your favorite bands, was destroyed now. Fraser chewed it, curled against it nonstop for two years, it was now just some cotton with dog’s hair on it. It didn’t have your smell anymore, it had Fraser’s, but Gibbs never had the strength to take it away from the dog to wash it.

He never had the strength to do much after you disappeared.

When it was clear to the team that you had been taken, kidnapped, abducted or whatever, Gibbs searched for you for weeks, probably mouths. He still does, to be honest, just not 24/7 anymore.

The first weeks, he asked - or actually, ordered - Abby to take care of Fraser. Gibbs was spending all of his time away, looking for you, he couldn’t take care of someone - well, a living thing. The lab tech happily obliged, but Fraser’s health quickly deteriorated. The dog wasn’t eating, or drinking. All he did was lay on the floor, waiting for his mum to come back.

“What, Abby? I don’t—“ not a welcoming way to answer the phone but she didn’t hold it against him.

“I know you’re busy, Gibbs, but I’m taking Fraser to the vet. He’s not okay at all.”

Abby heard her boss taking a deep breath. “Which vet? I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

The dog was clearly letting himself die. Without you, he didn’t see the point of living and Gibbs understood that. If he told anyone what he did after he got Fraser from the vet, they would think he was crazy. Maybe he was, but he didn’t care at this point. He didn’t care about anything, anymore.

Fraser was depressed and there was nothing the vet could do about it. So, they let Gibbs take him home.

And he took him home. His real home; your apartment. Fraser immediately lay on your bed and cried. “You’re reading my mind, Fra.” Gibbs muttered to himself, while preparing a bowl for the pet.

Gibbs had been in your room a few times, but he never paid attention to your stuff. All his attention was on you and your body when it happened. But as he was sitting on the floor, his back against your bed, he allowed himself to take a look around. It was very much you. Minimalist with your touch. He saw your guitar, your messy wardrobe, candles and some Polaroid pictures of people you love. Gibbs never paid attention to those pictures until this moment and one grabbed his attention.

A picture of him. You could see him from afar, aiming to throw a ball. He remembered that night but he never knew you took a picture.

Ziva had invited him to throw a few balls on a baseball field. It was a nice summer night and they had just saved many people from getting blown up. It was also the first night you kissed him. In his basement, you teased him like you always did and ended up with your lips on his. He wasn’t ready for it at that moment, and when he realised what had happened, you were already gone.

Gibbs held the picture in his hand and before sitting back exactly where he was, he went to the kitchen, grabbed what he had prepared and came back.

Fraser was still laying on your bed, his face on your pillow. Gibbs carried him in his arms, the labrador didn’t even fight back or anything. He put him in front of the bowl and Gibbs sat across. “You wanna die, Fra, huh?” The dog looked at him with horrifying sadness in his eyes. “You and me both, buddy. So let’s do this.”

Gibbs put the picture next to the bowl and grabbed his gun and the bottle of whiskey. “I know you know that salmon. Eat it, choke, and when you take your last breath, I’ll pull the trigger.” He said, pressing the gun against his temple.

Fraser is deadly allergic to salmon. When he was a few months old, you fed him some and the reaction was almost instantaneous. Luckily, you took him to the vet right on time for them to save him. “Salmon is banned from the house.” you said on the ride home.

The dog didn’t move one bit. With his face still resting on the floor, he kept looking at the man. Gibbs swore he saw tears in the damn dog’s eyes. “So? Whatcha waiting for? Eat it. It’s good salmon, trust me.” He said, drinking the brown liquor.

If Fraser could talk, he would’ve told him; ‘I may let myself die, but you’re damn crazy.’ Which would’ve been fair.

Gibbs was going crazy. It was the last straw. The last punch in the guts he could take. He had reached his limit.

He was finally letting himself love again and get loved in return. And someone took that away from him. All over again.

He got it, the universe hates him for some reasons. Why would he keep pushing it then?

Gibbs stayed up all night, drinking and waiting for Fraser to eat the fish and die. So he could pull the trigger and end this once and for all.

But Fra never did. Instead, around 5am, the dog went to grab something from the bathroom and put it on Gibbs’ lap. It was one of his hoodies. A hoodie you stole from him. Gibbs buried his nose in it and he could smell you. For the first time in many years, he let himself cry. He cried like a fucking baby, under the watch of your fucking dog.

At some point, he felt that Fraser was trying to nudge his nose in the hoodie too. “We’ll find her, Fra. We have to.”

If Gibbs had killed himself, along with Fraser, it would’ve meant you were gone forever. Because eventually, people would’ve stopped looking for you. They would’ve stopped thinking about you and just pretended you’re dead.

But Gibbs knew you weren’t dead. He knew it deep inside him. Because if you were dead, Fraser would’ve eaten the salmon and he would’ve pulled the trigger.

Laying in his bed, Gibbs turned on his side and found himself face to face with Fraser. The dog was sleeping and snoring. That’s what he does most of his time. Fra was still depressed, but he didn’t let himself die anymore. He eats and drinks the bare minimum. He doesn’t play anymore though. He used to be a happy, playful and loving dog. Now he’s just laying around, waiting for you to come back.

Just like Gibbs.

They both lost weight. Gibbs didn’t even bother to look at himself in the mirror anymore. He hadn’t been to the hairdresser in a while. His hair was longer than it has never been, and his beard was prominent now. You would probably freak out if you saw him like this. You would order him to shave and get his marine haircut back. You would feed him - and Fraser - until they are full. He just wished you were here.

He reached for Fraser’s head and pet him for a moment. “The boat is done and I can’t even offer it to her.” He sadly whispered. It’s been his plan a long time before you were gone. Building a boat after and for you. Now it was your thirty-fifth birthday, the boat was fucking done but he coudn’t teach you how to operate it like he promised.

For the next two weeks, Gibbs would stay in the basement, and stare at the finished product. There was nothing left to do on it, so he just sat behind the wheel, files on his lap and bourdon in one hand. His use of alcohol has never been higher than it is now. You’d scold him if you knew.

Maybe he’s self-destructing, hoping you’d show up and make everything right again. It was stupid, since you didn’t leave on your own. You were taken. Someone took you, and god knows what they were doing to you. This awoke a rage he never knew he had. He’d kill that - or those - person with his bare hands if he ever has a chance.

A month after your birthday, Gibbs was basically falling asleep in his boat, relatively drunk. Fraser was on his lap - he doesn’t realise he’s not a puppy anymore - when the dog shot his head up. “Easy, that’s just Fornell.” Gibbs mumbled, recognizing his friend’s footsteps.

“My two favorite depressed boys.” Tobias greeted them. He gently patted Fraser’s head and looked at his friend. “I need you to sober up, Gibbs. We need to talk about something important.”

“Just say whatever you have to say. I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah, right.” Tobias grabbed the bottle from Gibbs’s hand and checked how empty it was. But Tobias knew only one thing would make him react, so he went straight to the point. “It’s about Y/N, Gibbs. Get your ass—“

Before the FBI agent could finish his sentence, Gibbs had practically thrown Fraser away. The poor dog looked at him with hurt in his eyes. It was only then that Gibbs saw the file his friend was holding against his chest. He didn’t think twice and tore it out of his grip. Tobias let him.

There wasn’t much in the file, just a picture.

A picture of you.

You looked different, thinner, your hair was shorter and in a completely different color. You looked like a homeless woman.

Gibbs’s jaw dropped. His head was spinning so fast, he needed to sit again. He touched the picture with his fingertips so softly, hoping it was like touching you. A lot of things were going through his mind at this moment, he actually drew a blank. “It was taken two days ago. In Wyoming.”

Gibbs didn’t need more.

Tobias had everything planned before he showed up at Gibbs’s place. One of the FBI private planes was waiting for them, in order to take them off to Wyoming. He had asked Emily if she could dogsit Fraser for a few days, and he even called Vance to let him know he was taking Gibbs with him.

In the plane, he told Gibbs how he came across this picture and all of the info he had, which wasn’t much to be honest. As far as they knew, you were in one city of Wyoming two days ago. Maybe you were gone by now.

But all Gibbs could focus on was that picture. He didn’t take his eyes off it since he opened the file. This was you. You were alive. Whatever happened, whatever the reasons you found yourself here, you were fucking alive.

Tobias looked at his friend. He’ll spend the rest of his life pretending he didn’t see the tear rolling down his cheek. “How you feeling?” He tentatively asked.

“I—I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

“She’s alive. We know it. We’ll find her.”

“I’ve always known she was alive.”

No doubt he did.

It was hard for Tobias to tame Gibbs after they landed. The agent was already barking orders at everybody and anybody, he was ready to organize a fucking manhunt to find you. But the first place they went was where the picture was taken. Gibbs spent hours in the area, while Tobias went to see the local cops. When he tried to check on Gibbs, the man never answered.

In the picture, you were looking at the surveillance camera. You knew you were being watched. You did it on purpose, Gibbs was sure of it. You must have left a clue somewhere around.

You looked scared, someone must have been following you. But he knew from what Tobias said; there wasn’t much more on the video. You were briefly seen and then disappeared, again. “Talk to me, Y/N.” Gibbs thought to himself while looking around.

It was only around noon that it hit him. He finally saw it.

Right there on the graffiti wall.

“Born to lose, live to win.”

Your handwriting. This sentence. Your tattoo.

You must have written this to let him know he should look at this wall. So he did. He studied those graffitis for a long moment, until he saw what he needed to see.

Numbers. GPS coordinates.

He called McGee, not paying attention to the missed calls he had. He gave him the coordinates and Tim gave him an address.

Was that it? The nightmare was finally over? He would go to this address, find you and take you home. Finally.

Fucking finally.

He felt dizzy while running to the address. It wasn’t that far away, and there was no way he’d wait for Fornell or a cab. So, he jogged to this fucking house. When he was standing in front of it, his heart was beating so fast, he thought it would stop.

But he couldn’t die now. He would die after he found you but not now.

He didn’t care about procedures or anything. He grabbed his gun, and let himself in the house by knocking out the door. A man was sitting there, on the couch.

The house was pure filth. The man seemed to be a bit younger than him, and he looked like a psychopath. Which he is, considering he took you.

The man was standing in his living room, his hands up as Gibbs pointed the gun at him. In a flash, Gibbs was standing right in front of the man, the gun pressed against his throat. The man looked scared, he didn’t even try to fight. “What the hell, man? Who are you? What do—“

“Shut your mouth. Where is she?” Gibbs asked, suppressing the urge to beat the man to death right now. That would come later. He needed to find you first.

“Who? There’s no—“

Gibbs’s knee hit him right in his crotch and that bastard fell on the floor. “You’re living the final hour of your life, you better tell me where the hell is Y/N, before I watch life leaving your fucking eyes.”

“I—I—“

Seeing his hesitation, Gibbs punched him. “Where?!” He yelled, but the man stayed silent. “Fine.”

Gibbs grabbed the guy by his collar to put him back up. He was physically impressive, but the adrenaline running through Gibbs’s veins gave him incredible strength. He threw him on the first chair he saw and immediately cuffed him to it. He punched him once more, harder this time.

His nose and lips were bloody, but of course it wasn’t enough. Gibbs fought a lot in his life. To defend himself or to arrest someone, but never, had he been filled with that much rage and anger. He didn’t think twice before his boot hit the man directly in his face, knocking him unconscious. He stared as the man fell on the floor along with the chair he was cuffed to.

He needed to find you. Right now.

No need to be a federal agent to know a psychopath would hold you captive somewhere private.

So he immediately looked for a basement, which he quickly found and he saw the door.

A reinforced door with quite a few locks. Keys. He needed keys that he found in the man’s pocket. Although he was still laying on the floor, fighting to regain consciousness, Gibbs kicked him again, in the stomach this time. He wasn’t holding back his strength one bit. He will kill him anyway.

As he was unlocking the door, his hands were shaking like they never did before. His heart was still pounding in his chest. He still felt dizzy.

He was sure his heart actually stopped when he spotted you on the one-person bed. You were holding your knees against your chest. It was dark, but it was you. You were there, a few feet in front of him. He didn’t even know what to do.

But you did.

When you realised who was standing in front of you, you weakly jumped off the bed and rushed into his arms.

The only thing that kept you alive all this time; knowing that he would find you.

You felt even smaller than you already were. With your arms wrapped around his waist, your face buried in his chest, Gibbs felt you crying.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, afraid it wasn’t real. Afraid he may hurt you. Afraid you would disappear again. “You found me.” he heard you whispering.

That he did.

[okay-victoria]

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun

*birthday special* (m)

a/n: Today is my birthday so I thought I write a special were Y/N has her birthday too. Some requested this a long time ago but idk if you still read my story haha This scenario doesn’t fit now in the story so it’s just a random chapter. I just want to thank you all on this way either because this blog is almost 1 year old (I think i started the daddy!jaehyun series in September). Thank you all for reading it, writing me in the ask or private (even if i’m in stressful times the worst responser lol) but I’m always happy to come to the blog and that we are all such a lovely and small community. Thank you so much for everything ❤️

"Happy Birthday, Y/N!" Jihe raised her glass and everyone else followed. "Actually, it's not my birthday yet." You smile uncertainly to the group and lower your arm with your non-alcoholic champagne. "But in two hours it's midnight and then it's your birthday. So we'll let that go." Johanna smiled and then took a sip of her champagne. Besides Jihe and Johanna, two other mothers from the neighborhood, with whom you also became friends last year, were with you together at a late dinner and celebrating your upcoming birthday. "Does the non-alcoholic champagne taste good at all?" Asked Jinsoo, one of the neighborhood mothers. You liked her, she was always a bit funky, had two sons and was a lot alone because her husband was an important CEO. "Well, real champagne is better, but I'm still breastfeeding the twins," you explain with a shrug. You really didn't mind not drinking alcohol. "A few sips are not that bad. In the two months that I breastfed my son Insoo, I also drank a sip of champagne every now and then." Haejin was the other neighborhood mom that you became friends with. In the beginning you never thought you would become friends. She was a classic Gangnam woman who had a tons of plastic surgery. Her husband was also an important CEO. She was the oldest in the group, but she still looked incredibly young from her surgeries. Her oldest daughter is the same age as Miga and you met in kindergarten. Her son is a year older than Sunoh, but they really like each other. "I'm glad I no longer have to breastfeed. It was just exhausting for me," said Johanna with a sigh. "But I miss those breasts." Jihe pointed to your neckline and laughed. You wore a tight dress today that mainly emphasized your breasts. But because you are still breastfeeding two children, it was clear that they were still plump. "Honey, a doctor can do that for you too," Haejin said with a wink. "I only make them when I'm sure that I don't want to have any more children," Jihe said, which surprised you. "Do you and Minhyuk want another baby?" You ask very excitedly. "Take it easy Y/N." Jihe laughed because she knew you loved the subject. "Minhyuk and I are just wondering whether this question is still in the room. But my company is doing very well right now and I think it's not so beneficial if I'm gone for a while because I’m." Jihe sighed because it is a difficult subject for her. "Would you like to have another child?" Jinsoo asked her then. "Sangjun is enough for me. But Minhyuk thinks it would be cute if he has a little brother or sister." "Don't let the men persuade you. One child is enough," said Johanna then and took another long sip of her champagne. "Nevertheless, Minhyuk is allowed to express his opinion. But we still talk and think about it." Jihe then smiled and then looked back at you. "But whatever, what has Jaehyun planned for your birthday?", She asked and the looks were on you again. "We'll decide spontaneously. I just want Jaehyun and the kids with me." "Oh, let somebody take care of your children and let your husband take care of you properly. With children you get far too little of the big O anyway." Haejin raised her eyebrows and looked at you. "Oh, I get orgasm often enough." You wink and take another sip, but you get surprising looks. "You have four children? How?" Jinsoo then asked. "Well, Miga goes to school, the twins sleep a lot and Jaehyun is back at the house a lot too. But if he works more, we don't have that much time for it. And we still have my sister who helps too. We get so our time." You smile and look around. "My husband and I hardly have sex after giving birth," Jinsoo admits. "To be honest, I don't really feel like it," said Johanna then. Then Haejin turned to you and looked at you. "So Y/N, what's your secret?" You had to laugh. There was no secret there, it was just love.

When you get home everything was very quiet. First, you look for Miga in her room. She lies in her bad, was turned to one side, and slept with her plush bunny. Then you look for Sunoh, who was lying on his back and snoring softly. You giggled, cover him up a little more, and then go into the bedroom. The TV was still on, but Jaehyun and the twins were asleep in bed. There was a baby on each side and next to them were the empty bottles. After Jaehyun fed them, the two must have fallen into their feeding coma immediately. You put down your handbag and pick up Geon. He woke up briefly and looked at you. "Hey baby, it's just Mummy," you say gently and Geon started to smile briefly and closed his eyes again. You then put him in his place and then pick up Kiwoo. He woke up too but looked back and forth desperately. At first, he got restless, but when you put him back to his brother, he closed his eyes again. "Hey, are you home yet?" Jaehyun was awake now and sat up. "It's already 2 am." You lean over to him and then kiss him. "Was it nice?" Jaehyun then asked. "Yeah totally. They gave me a girls-spa-weekend as a present. So you have to be alone with the kids for a weekend soon." You smile and clear away the empty milk bottles and take off your dress and put on a long shirt from Jaehyun. "I can do it. All the children are still alive." He grinned and pulled you to bed. "Yes, you are right. You did a really good job." You smile and see Jaehyun's face approaching you. He looked deep into your eyes and pushed the strands of your hair behind your ear. "Happy birthday to the love of my life," he said quietly and was still very close to you. You look deep into his eyes until you suddenly feel his lips on yours. His hands wandered over your breasts, but this time he didn't stay there, only his fingers stopped at the hem of your shirt. "Aren't you tired anymore?" You ask him, but Jaehyun shook his head. "Not anymore. Besides, today is your day." He smiled and then sat up. "Okay ..." you whisper and then just let him do it. Jaehyun spread your legs very carefully and sat in front of your middle. He pushed your panties down and threw them next to the bed. You push your shirt up to under your breast. Jaehyun placed his hands on the inside of your thighs. You love this feeling when his face is so close to your hot middle. Your whole body vibrated. It's like some kind of drug is flowing through your blood. You inhale deeply and when you exhale his tongue was already on your intimate lips. His pressure increased quickly and the tip of his tongue played with your clit. "Jaehyun ... ahhh ..." you moan softly and your fingers clung to the sheets. But your positive reaction caused Jaehyun to increase the pressure. You hear him smacking and it almost seemed like he was enjoying it too. He put his arms under your legs and clutched them around your hips so he can bring your body closer to him. With the increasing pressure, it became more and more difficult to stay still in bed. With every moan, your hips rise. Jaehyun had to keep pushing you down so he could continue. But he also liked that you liked it so much because that was his goal too. "Ahh ... I'm coming ..." You bend up slightly, start moaning louder and your fingers were firmly in the sheets. At some point, your whole body shook and Jaehyun knew that you had reached your climax and now his only job was to hold you tight. After a few seconds your body calmed down, but your pulse was still high. "Happy Birthday," said Jaehyun with a wink and sat up. He cleaned his face with a handkerchief and then lay down next to you to kiss you gently. "Thank you," you say quietly and smile with satisfaction. "It's your birthday." He then took you in his arms and you two slowly fall asleep.

You decide to sleep late. Jaehyun helped you and took the twins and bottle-fed them. You only hear briefly how Miga and Sunoh came into the bedroom, but Jaehyun said that they should let you sleep. It has been the first day for a long time where you could sleep as long as you wanted. Nobody bothered you, nobody wanted your breasts. But at some point, it was too quiet for you. You wanted to see your children and Jaehyun. That's why you get up at, pull something over you, and go down the stairs. And when you got into the kitchen, a surprise awaited you. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUMMY!" Shouted Sunoh and Miga. The whole table was decorated with flowers and a large breakfast. The babies lay peaceful in their cradle while Jaehyun made the coffee. "Ohhh that looks so nice." You kneel down and your two oldest children ran into your arms. "Just for you Mummy," said Miga and giggled. "Thank you, sweetheart." You kiss her, but Sunoh wanted a kiss right away too. So you kiss him also and hug the two tightly again. "We have presents for you too," said Miga and started jumping up and down. "Let Mummy have her coffee in peace and then she can open her presents." Jaehyun put your cup on the table and came up to you. He kissed you and smiled. "Happy birthday again." He grinned and took your hand. "I am very surprised. You prepared everything on your own and took care of Miga, Sunoh, Kiwoo, and Geon at the same time?" You were really surprised that it all worked out so well. "Well, Miga did most of it." He winked and stroked his daughter's hair. "I put everything on the plate and decorated it." Miga proudly showed what she did. "And you, Sunoh?" You then ask your son. "Sunoh was the taster." Jaehyun laughed and sat Sunoh on his chair. Sunoh giggled and put his fingers to his mouth. "So everyone had their job." It was really cute how everyone put so much effort into it. And when you sit at the breakfast table with the people you love most, you see again that you have everything you ever wanted. Nothing can be worth more than this little family.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[litttlesilkworm]

Chicken and Beets 

Dear Comrades,

Here is another entry for the Chernobyl New Year Challenge 2021: a recipe + a bit of a story to go with it. The story turned out more than a bit sad, I must confess 💚💛💜

This project shares a common ingredient with our delightful collaboration with @alyeen1 on Valoris-themed cocktail recipes - beets! Check out our cocktail post if you haven’t gotten a chance yet!

As @alyeen1​ has pointed out in the cocktail post, the idea with using beets comes from the fact that there is an untouched plate of boiled chicken and beets on Valery’s desk as mentioned in the Ep. 3 script:

We can, indeed, see the plate in the foreground in the frame below:

I wanted to imagine a little riff on this detail in a form of a scene that would take place later - in Moscow, not long after Boris and Valery come back from Chernobyl for good. It is New Year’s Eve, and Boris is having Valery over at his apartment to celebrate the arrival of 1987 together, just the two of them.

For the story and the recipe (and a picture of food), please click below!

Content warning: food/appetite, canon-consistent sad themes (”5 years”).

@shark-from-the-park @elenatria @drunkardonjunkyard @green-ann @johnlockismyreligion @borislegasov @owlboxes @seaweednpeanuts @attachedtofictionalpeople​ @gwinny3k @kylos-scarf​ @scarlettestar​ @the-jewish-marxist​ @cinemaocd​ @natasharedfox​ @ignalina-c0re​ @potter012​ @stellan-pip-69​ @art-is-a-malady @antonellachan4567 @hereliesnils​ @sunset-and-periwinkle​ @thegreenmeridian​ and everyone else!

“Something smells amazing, Borya,” Valery exclaims as he steps into Boris’ palatial apartment. He carefully sets two large white cardboard boxes, both tied with a string, and a canvas bag with bottles of champagne on the floor of Boris’ spacious hallway, and takes off his fur hat. 

Boris is wearing a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, black trousers and a red checkered apron. The heat of the kitchen has given his face a very appealing kind of sheen, a few errant strands of gray hair have fallen on his forehead, and his smooth cheeks look flushed. He seems excited about something, as if he has a secret that he is itching to reveal - but has to hold off on it for some only known to him dramatic timing.

He looks so attractive that the sight of him quite literally takes Valery’s breath away.

In the very next moment, Boris dives for his lips with a precision and determination of a hunting hawk. The tone and pitch of Boris’ contented hum, the way he holds Valery, the way he runs his fingers through his ginger hair as it crackles with static electricity, the way his thumbs rub circles on Valery’s cheeks, rosy from the biting wind outside, all tell the same story. It is a happy story, Valery knows. The one about how much he missed Valery, and how grateful he is to have Valery’s love, and how pleased he is to greet him here in his warm home, on this New Year’s Eve, and how he has prepared a surprise, and how much he’d enjoyed the process of preparation, and how excited he is to reveal it.

They part eventually, smiling, breathing “happy-new-years” into each others’ mouths. 

Boris’ gaze falls on the packages Valery carefully carried from Yeliseevsky market down the iced-over sidewalks. 

“You’ve brought champagne, wonderful! And dessert-” 

“I couldn’t decide between eclairs and the Napoleon, so I got both,” Valery says shyly, feeling his face getting warm. In reality, he got both because both looked so tempting to him. He is the one with a sweet tooth.

“Remember the box of frozen eclairs I found in the freezer at the restaurant at Polissya?” smiles Boris.

Valery nods enthusiastically. A good memory.

“It was the first thing I’ve seen you eat at Chernobyl like you actually had an appetite! It was a relief to see you excited about food. Do you remember what they used to feed us from the mobile kitchen?” Boris asks as he helps Valery out of his coat, shaking the snow off it. 

“Yes,” Valery says with a bit of dramatic shudder. They are like two soldiers reminiscing about the shared misery of a foxhole, Boris and him. “Pikalov’s unit has the best chemists and engineers in the Soviet Union - but not exactly the best cooks.”

Boris laughs heartily in agreement. “Remember what they used to serve most often?”

“Hmmm?” Valery cocks his head to the side and looks at Boris quizzically. “Boiled chicken and beets?”

“Right!” exclaims Boris. “Chicken that tasted like cotton balls.”

“And the beets! They must’ve boiled them all afternoon - they hardly had any color left in them,” adds Valery.

“You barely touched that food anyway. I was worried you will start wasting away. You would have a few bites if me or Nikolai were eating with you but if you were left alone with your calculations - forget it...” Boris waves his hand. 

“That’s not true!” Valery exclaims, indignant. “I ate what everyone else was eating!”

“You know, after you told me that isotopes don’t go into butter, I’ve taken to buying slabs of butter from the few villagers who had stayed behind. I would put buttered bread on your plate as you worked late into the night in your corner of the suite. You would finish your piece without noticing it and then I would slip you another one. After I fed you five or six of those I could be content and go read my Pravda.”

The revelation catches Valery completely off guard - he recalls the buttered bread, yes, but he truly, honestly never realized that Boris had been slipping him an entire daily calories’ worth at nighttime. All he remembers is his papers, his calculator, his logarithmic ruler, his aching neck and a constant crushing sense of dread that he might be completely, irredeemably wrong with his projections.

“I know you’ve never noticed,” Boris tilts his head and looks at him softly, crinkles gathering around his laughing eyes. He reaches to squeeze somewhat disoriented Valery’s shoulder, shaking the younger man back and forth gently. “But I knew that I got you fed, and that was good enough for me.”

Something beautiful and sad rises inside Valery and spills into a mist of tears in his eyes. It’s not what he wanted or expected of himself this evening, but he can’t help it.

A tinny voice deep inside him, like a small radio hidden under a thick pillow, scrapes at him in its metallic, nagging cadence - this won’t last, you fool. This - all of this - won’t last. You’ve seen his radiospectrogram, you’ve seen yours. Your bones are chock-full of strontium, both of you. Your leukocyte count is starting to look bad. He’s got that new cough whenever he lies down, and it doesn’t seem to go away. 

Every time Valery hears that cough is like a razor to his heart. 

“Please don’t take him,” he thinks now as he lies awake during oh-so-common for him sleepless nights, with his face pressed to Boris’ broad back, listening to the soft sound of his breath - the amazing sound of life that is dearer to him than his own. 

“Please don’t take him,” he says to someone he doesn’t know how to talk to, to something he isn’t sure exists beyond the electrons orbiting the clumps of protons and neutrons. Beyond the quantum uncertainty. Beyond the cosmic void. 

After he knew the cough was here to stay, he seemed to have adjusted his nighttime bargain. “Please don’t take him first.” 

The vision of Boris in his red apron blurs and trembles in Valery’s eyes, sliding slightly sideways and downwards. He blinks the veil of tears away, wiping his eyes with his small hand so he could see his love clearly again.

“You look so handsome tonight, Borya. And I love you so much,” Valery says softly, a wet sound escaping his throat. “So much.”

“Valera,” Boris wraps his arms around him in an attempt to quiet whichever emotion is roiling his lover, grumbling softly near his ear, “do you know what it meant for me to take care of you in the midst of all that... madness? It kept me together, too, you know - loving you. And you look amazing in blue.” 

Boris’ hands slide down to stroke Valery’s plump sides clad in a soft blue sweater vest as he says that.

"Thank you,” Valery closes his eyes and breathes, soaking in the comfort of Boris’ touch.

“I want to dance with you later tonight,” he mumbles into Boris’ shirt. 

“Yeah,” Boris answers softly into his hair. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Boris’ arm is around Valery as he leads him into the living room, where a holiday table is set next to an enormous New Year’s tree adorned with a red star and coated generously with silver tinsel.

Valery has been saving space in his belly all day and is now finding himself, in fact, very, very hungry.

As Boris shuttles back and forth between the living room and the kitchen with bowls and serving platters, Valery fusses with the wires of the champagne bottle, looking worriedly at the chandelier. 

“I’ve got Olivier salad, red caviar sandwiches, oh! - pickled mushrooms, so good,” Boris recites proudly. “And for the main course... you wouldn’t mind if we had chicken and beets tonight, would you? Like in the old times?” 

He pauses for a proper dramatic effect. The look of momentary dismay on Valery’s face must be so comical that it makes the older man laugh out loud. 

“Don’t worry, love - it’s the good kind. This one you wouldn’t want to pass up,” says Boris, beaming, and proceeds to fill Valery’s plate. “Eat, Valera, eat.” 

The winter winds are wailing hard outside, but here in the warm living room the air is filled with the clinking of cutlery and Valery’s delighted humming as he devours Boris’ creation. Even the nagging metallic voice in Valery’s head seems to have quieted down to an indecipherable murmur, as if tucked away behind a thick wall somewhere. Really, he can barely hear it at all.

                                                          * * *

Recipe: Chicken Delmonico + Warm Beet Salad with Pears, Gorgonzola Cheese and Walnuts

For the chicken, I followed Emeril Lagasse’s excellent Chicken Delmonico recipe exactly (just the chicken, not the mushroom part), except that I didn’t make my own spice mix the way he suggests, but instead combined store-bought cajun spice mix with salt in a 5:1 ratio.

The key to this recipe is to be generous with the seasoning!

For the beet salad, I did the following:

Ingredients:

6 medium-sized beets

2 large ripe pears

⅔ of a cup of walnut halves and pieces 

⅔ of a cup of Gorgonzola cheese crumbs

Extra-virgin olive oil

Lemon juice

Salt and pepper

1. Scrub the beets with a brush, rub with olive oil and wrap in foil. Roast in a 350 F (175 C) oven for 40 min, then let them cool until you can comfortably handle them. Peel the beets and chop them into ½ inch-thick slices, set aside.

2. Toast walnuts in a 350 F oven for 6-7 minutes, chop, set aside.

3. Peel and chop the pears into slices similar in size to your beet slices.

4. In a large mixing bowl, combine beet and pear slices, toasted walnuts and Gorgonzola. Add olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste, and mix well. Enjoy!

[leavesofolive]

🌞🧹🌻Hearth Witch Tips!🌻🧹🌞

04: Your kitchen eats with you!

Just like with the rest of the house, what you put into the kitchen also heavily affects its energy. When you treat the hearth in certain ways, it reacts in certain ways. Your relationship with any room in the house is give-and-take. That means that if you don’t give back occasionally, the room will grow cold and stop appreciating your presence. But there are plenty of ways to mend your relationship! And the first step is to identify the problem!

From my experience, there are three main reasons why the kitchen stops being a warm and inviting place: 1) You are filling the cupboards with too much toxic, processed foods; 2) You aren’t spending enough time in that room; 3) Or you aren’t keeping the room clean enough.

When there’s a problem in the hearth, it’s always either one of these things or some combination of them. We’ll start with number three since it’s the easiest to explain. The kitchen should be anyone’s top priority to keep clean. It’s where all of your food, the nutrition and fuel of your physical and spiritual bodies, comes from! What you eat is your first defense against illness, injury, and your mental health. If the kitchen is filthy, then the food you take into your body will also begin to develop the same properties.

To keep the kitchen clean, I always start my day by washing last night’s dishes and give the counters a quick wipe. Once a month, I take stock of what’s in the fridge and freezer and scrub them out to prevent bacteria build-up. Sweeping the kitchen floors happens once a week and takes me all of three minutes to complete, tops. Once per season, normally at the beginning, I scrub the floors with soap and water, descale the coffee maker, wipe down the other appliances, and clean out the cupboards. So the only true “cleaning days” for the kitchen is four days out of the entire year. The rest of the time, the chores only take me about 30 minutes. As a quick tip, rinsing your dishes before setting them in the sink speeds up the dish washing process a ton! I’ve personally never trusted dishwashers since they don’t clean stuff well enough and it’s easier, faster, and far more cost effective to do it by hand.

The next problem the kitchen’s energy might be suffering from is how much time you’re spending there. First, spending a lot of time in the kitchen is a great thing! It absorbs the energy you feed to it, so when you don’t go in the kitchen very often or just don’t spend much time in there to begin with, the kitchen grows darker and colder. It loses the warmth and emotion and love that would’ve been sinking into it when you aren’t there.

The way to fix this problem is actually really easy! Cooking your own meals ensures that you are in there for a good amount of time each day because of the prep work and meal planning, etc. Plus, you get healthier, tastier food that way too! If you can’t cook all that well yet, don’t worry! Just like any skill, there’s no talent involved in learning something. It just depends on how much effort you apply to it. Another way to boost the hearth’s energy is to just hang out in that room. Invite some friends over, set out a snack tray, and just chill in the kitchen. Of course, since it’s pandemic right now, it’s best to wait until that’s over with to try this approach. But you, yourself, can still hang out in the kitchen!

The last problem, and a very, very common one in this day and age, is the influence of toxic food. Just like how your house absorbs energy from the land its on and what its built with, the kitchen also absorbs energy from the ingredients you keep within it. Toxic foods include anything processed or with a bunch of added sugars, and even GMO ingredients to some extent due to the trace chemicals that are still on the crops. These kinds of foods, if that’s the only thing in your house, will rot the energy. Not to mention, easy to grab snacks also end up causing you to spend a lot less time in the kitchen if that’s all you eat. Needless to say, no one eats healthy all the time. I don’t either! But having only toxic food in your kitchen isn’t great for you or the hearth.

Once again, cooking comes to the rescue! Even if you’re bad at it, it’s the thought that counts and little by little, as your skills grow and improve, the kitchen will learn to help guide you. There have been many times where I’d be stuck on how to fix something and a bottle of spice would fall of the shelf right next to me. If you listen to the kitchen, it will listen to you, too! Even if you don’t have time to cook, snacks like apples, berries, seeds, nuts, and dried meats are all healthy alternatives! I usually keep kale chips in the house for some yummy, salty crunchiness!

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

If you are worried about cost with this approach (believe me, due to my own situation it’s been a struggle at times), I’ve found out several tips and tricks to significantly lower the grocery bill. Anymore, my bill would actually be bigger if I bought crap food instead! Here’s my advice:

☀  Plan your week ahead! I always plan four meals a week that I’ll cook, and three days that I’ll scavenge for snacks and leftovers. I also stick to the rule of “one simple, one chicken, one meatless, one freebie” to remain more cost effective! The “simple” meal is just something I can make quickly if I know I’ll be short on time. The reason for have one of the meals be chicken is because it’s a much less expensive meat than beef or pork, and it’s a little better for the environment. The meatless meal is for the same reasoning. Meat is expensive and commercial brands are horrible for both the environment and the animals themselves. When I do buy meat, I make sure to buy local, grass-fed, organic meat as often as I can afford to. Keep in mind that every time you purchase anything, you are casting your vote for what is acceptable for society to continue. The “freebie” meal is just whatever I’ve been craving. If I want some kind of beef, I wait until this day.

☀  Learn to bake your own bread! For those of us with the time, this is a great way to save money and to stay healthy! Basic, white bread is actually pretty easy to make and only uses a couple ingredients. Those ingredients also go a long way. It costs me about 24¢ to make one loaf of bread because things like flour, sugar, salt, butter, honey, and yeast are all things that you buy once and can use for several loaves before you have to buy them again! It’s also not as time consuming as you’d think. Yes, it takes about 2 hours, but most of that time is proofing so you can easily be running around doing other things in between.

☀  Grow a garden! Even if it’s just a small, window herb garden, it can take the edge off of your overall food cost. Portobello mushrooms are also super easy to grow inside with minimal effort and equipment. If you have outdoor space, planting a small garden with the ingredients you use the most can help immensely!

☀  Only buy what you need! I know those sales look crazy tempting, but most of them are actually bogus and don’t actually save you any money. Think about what you are actually going to use before it goes bad and stick to your list. The bottom shelves at the store, aka the ones not in your direct line of sight, are usually where the grocery stores hide the better priced goods. At the back of most stores that have bakeries, there’s also usually a spot to get baked goods left over from the previous day for a slightly cheaper price. Day-old baked novelties like bread, cookies, and cakes are still perfectly good, and much easier to enjoy where you don’t have to spend as much!

☀  Check what’s already in your fridge before making your list! This is a huge one, since it prevents food waste, which in turn prevents money waste! What can you make during this week that can use up some of the ingredients leftover from last week? You’ll be impressed how quickly your food cost drops when you aren’t throwing things away. Waste not, want not! This trick also applies in another way, as well. When making your weekly meal plans, what types of foods use similar ingredients? If one meal calls for a slightly pricier ingredient, what other food can you cook with that ingredient to make the cost worth it? This also ensures that you get full use of things without wasting them. For example, this week I bought some fresh mozzarella cheese. Because this item is a little more expensive, I’m using it to make both the tomato mozzarella sandwiches and the beef wellingtons I’m making this week!

☀  Buy mostly produce! One of the best ways to lower your bill while still eating healthy is to simply add more fruits and veggies into your diet! There are so many tasty recipes that call for these babies that you’ll never run out of options, and there’s several things out there for everyone! Because I deal with sensory issues, I had to experiment a lot with what textures and tastes I could handle, especially on the bad days, but even still I found an over-abundance of things I love to eat. Fresh produce is way less expensive than meat, and much less expensive than many of the more mainstream snacks like chips or other processed foods.

                                     ------------------------------ All in all, taking care of your kitchen will also end up taking care of you, as well! Spending time there, actually using the kitchen the way it’s supposed to be, and just keeping it clean can work wonders in opening up your home and making it ten times warmer and more inviting! Trust me, your health and home will thank you for it!

[lies-and-crooked-sims]

Our breastfeeding journey

29 MARCH 2021

“Wow. It’s been a minute hasn’t it? I’m not going to lie, I’ve been depressed. It’s a long story, but today is my last day nursing my second daughter Paige. So in celebration, I want to write a handy list of things I’ve learnt about breast feeding, for the new mum, the mum learning to breast feed again or even just the nosiest of followers to hopefully help in some way. Just noting though, firstly I a not a doctor or a lactation consultant, and secondly, every woman has a different journey, what worked for me might not for you. 

Here we go:

1. Cluster feeding. and supply issues

I’ve fed both my daughters on demand, if they made a noise and it had been a while since the last time I nursed? I whipped it out. I’ve always followed ‘When in doubt, whip it out’ and honestly its never done me wrong. With that said the only real cluster feed i can define with age was six weeks old and again at four and then eight months. Maybe its just my kids but I noticed they grew a size the week after the cluster feeding. I remember with Evie (My first) that I thought it had meant my supply was going so I upped and called it quits. Little did I know it wasn’t my milk it was her trying to help me make more now that she needed more. Its a known fact that the more you feed baby, the more you will make. With this information the second time around I just sat with Paige on me for about four days non stop. It was hard definitely, it was one of the hardest times in my life because it coincided with a few other life problems. That aside, we survived the cluster feeds and you can too!

2. Water and Oats

I might get crucified for saying this, but I’m not big on water intake. I’m actually really bad. In every single ‘how to increase your supply’ article I’ve ever read, its always mentioned to drink more water, and I don’t believe it. My supply was fine, my baby is fine, I don’t know what else to say. Which brings me to another thing. Oats. I HATE oats. Wasn’t worth the effort to force myself to eat it.

3. Diet and reflux

By now you know I stopped feeding Evie at six weeks old. This was due to her constant spitting up, not just a little spill, it was waterfalls of vomit. No one really bothered to help me figure out why. Deimon, the girls father, is lactose intolerant so we all just assumed that and called my breast feeding journey with her done. Now, I can tell you almost three years later that is not the case. Evie was intolerant to the stupendous amount of coffee I was consuming, I couldn’t stand coffee when I was pregnant and when I could stand it I had the bare minimum. So once she was out I was free to drink all the coffee in the world. Before having Paige I joined a lot more mum groups and learned that certain foods effect baby, and after a few weeks trial and error it was the coffee and the milk (not lactose intolerant, its a common baby thing) an once I lowered my intake, we were golden. Over the months as Paige had started solids I slowly increased my amount and it was smooth sailing.

4. Pressure from Family

I know my family peeks at my blog sometimes, but I don’t care it needs to be said. With Evie I feel like I was forced to stop breastfeeding her so the rest of my family could feed her too. I was told I was stopping my husband from bonding with her, I was told that her grandparents wouldn’t ever get to babysit her as a baby and so on. And you know what? To this day it is one of my biggest regrets falling for that. Sure once Evie was formula fed someone else would feed her once a week. ONCE! In the end, it was still me who got up in the night to feed her, me who kept her feeding schedule and me who looked after her day in and day out. Yeah I’m bitter. Because now that I’ve been able to just roll over and feed Paige its made life so much easier. When they said the same thing to me this time around, I’ve replied with ‘You're more than welcome to come give her a bottle at 2am’. Usually shuts them up.

5. The Hormones

Oh the hormones. Not sure if its the fact that i’ve found being a parent so much easier second time around, or if its something else, but I’ve noticed I got some sort of hormonal shift during breast feeding. Like when Page would latch I’d just feel, blissful. As my supply died over the last month I noticed it more and more. I’d get so happy when she wanted her mummy to feed from, and then once it was over (and more so now that its over for good) I’d get down that the end was nearing. 

For eleven months I fed Paige. I know she is my last baby, and that this is the end forever. This path I will never walk again I’m so emotional about it. I’m teary now if I be honest with you. I was warned about the hormones but I didn’t believe them, stupidly.

Thanks for reading my rambles, I’m forever a hot mess mum, don’t expect anything more of me”

[theveryworstthing]

More Spooky.

Mixing the spooky prompts of  'gay vampires' and 'all dressed up for a spooky soriee'  again.

This is Salt. She's pretty good a putting people back together, is full of leeches, has a dark sense of humor, and is very short. She's also as gay as a hermaphroditic leech person who mostly uses she/her for convenience but has no strong feelings about gender can be.  

She grew up around pit fighters and eventually became a medic when her own career didn't work out (her eyes were always wonky but then she had to grow a few back after That Fight and yeesh). When the pits got shut down one of the older medics decided to put an actual practice together and hit the road, taking Salt and a few other favorites with. Eventually they got pretty successful and opened a lot of non-human friendly hospitals.  She's currently attending a 'children of the night' themed benefit sponsored by Cashmere's company as a representative since her boss couldn't make it.

Here's a bunch of lore about the kind of vampire she is because of course I wrote some:

Hirudo Vampires

What are they: A race of Mermaids. Mermaids that are essentially a sack full of leeches, but yeah. Mermaids.

How they’re made: They’re born like any other mermaid. Weird humanoid monotreme lays an egg and after a bit you get a Child. Infants look like regular baby mermaids with kind of sluggy tails and can be confused with nudibranch juveniles if they’re gifted with brighter colors. They’re initially fed milk and invertebrates like worms and slugs by their parents but quickly move on to blood once their cravings start and they begin releasing leeches.

Turning: They can’t turn people. They can turn leeches but they rarely do because usually more than enough leeches naturally sprout from their innards and outside leeches that aren’t from another hirudo are a quick fix that will eventually be rejected by their bodies and need to be replaced.

Feeding: Their favorite method is anchoring their tails to something in a body of water, releasing their leeches, and just floating there until they return. When the leeches come back they swim into the hirudo’s body and plug themselves back into the digestive tract where they empty themselves over time. When the last leech runs out it’s time to go hunting again.

When not feeding they fill the inner cavity of their body with water for the leeches. Chemicals in this inner cavity thicken the water into a loose slime and when feeding all that Leech Slime gets released so that they take on more of a flesh suit aesthetic. A view of this feeding form is rare however, as hirudo hide while feeding and only have to feed this way once every few months if most of their leeches are successful hunters.  If they’re not so successful or they can’t send them out for whatever reason they supplement their diet with invertebrates, soft organ meats, and ingesting small quantities of iron whenever they can. Mostly by nibbling on rusted objects or sucking on found bits of metal like jawbreakers.

Besides blind hunting they’ll also enthusiastically feed on willing subjects. Hirudo are renowned healers and their bites can ease certain ailments just like regular leeches. They can can greatly increase their healing powers through training and even imbue their leeches with specific healing spells by lightly carving said spells into their flesh. If you come across an aquatic apothecary or river-side hospital outside of human territories, they’re likely to be owned or staffed by hirudo. When healing others, singular leeches are selected and expelled for each patient. Dedicated healers tend to be larger than regular hirudo since their constant food source helps them produce more leeches.

Powers: Calming aura (to be fair the leeches have this power, not the hirudo), two or three times the strength of an average human (that’s normal for any mermaid though, they’re pretty much all pure muscle), durability (very hard to kill if they can get water and a blood source), and accelerated healing. They can direct their leeches to specific targets and use them as kind of detachable limbs, even speaking through them if they need to. Mostly they just point them in a general direction and see what they can get. The leeches have their own simple brains and can figure it out.

Fun Facts:

Bites don’t hurt and rarely become infected unless you’re just rolling around in garbage all day. You don’t bleed more or less than you would after a regular leech bite and if the creature doesn’t see the leech they probably won’t know they’ve been fed on until after it’s gone.

They can hang out on land just fine due to being their own personal swimming pools but they still dry out after a day or so and need to return to the water. While on land they develop a thin layer of mucus on their skin that isn’t sticky or wet but you can feel it creepily shift under your hands if you grab them too roughly and it gives them a shimmery glow. This layer flakes off if they become dehydrated and some harvest it as well as any spare Leech Slime for use in beauty products and skin ointments.

They can ‘walk’ on land but it’s draining after a bit and they all use canes and/or wheelchairs to get around.

Just like regular leeches, hirudo are hermaphrodites. What we think of as feminine or masculine appearances are just the product of different family genetics interacting with environmental stimuli and are the same as tribe markings to them. Come from a southern river system where your egg was kept in warm water? Guess you’ll grow up to look more femme and you get cool orange stripes. This situation isn’t unheard of in mermaids but land creatures can be taken aback. It’s whatever. Biology does what it wants.

Many name their leeches and get real mad if one is killed. Partially because anyone would be mad if you murdered one of their organs, but also because they like those little buddies. Luckily, they’re pretty hard to kill if they’re in water and they can get back to the main body.

Most physical fighting is done with leeches. All hirudo have at least one leech that’s bigger, tougher, and honestly creepier than the others just for combat situations. They vary a little from person to person but a consistent trait is that they have just. Too many teeth. Too many teeth that are sometimes not in the right places and sometimes look too human. Just a lot of Wrong Teeth on a big fat blood slug. If this ‘attack leech’ dies or doesn’t return to the body in a certain period of time then they start growing a new one immediately and oh boy is the new one always worse that the last one. There are hirudo out there housing some real abominations.

Combat Leech is their secondary defense mechanism. The first is expelling slime at predators and slipping out of their grip by furiously stretching and wriggling.

The leeches aren’t like wild leeches. They don’t digest the blood they take or make more leeches. They’re also strangely warm, like little hot water bottles. It’s hard to even call them leeches since they’re really detachable organs that act like leeches but like. What else can they be called? Idk, but there’s strong evidence that wild leeches find them creepy and will avoid them.

They’re very amused at the human perception of boobs because to them bigger titty is like a sign that says “I have fat to spare because I eat very well and that means I could probably rip you to shreds”.

They can produce children with other humanoids in theory but it’s a toss of the coin for the egg’s viability and it’s suspected that this is how vampire genes get thrown into non-mer family lines so like. Not a great idea if you don’t want to chance giving birth to some draculas!!!

They can fit through any space their head can fit into. They kind of navigate the world with octopus/cat vibes. Their arms are even more tentacle-y that classically arm shaped.

Eight to ten eyes with position and number differing by tribe.

On average they’re about 5-5.5ft long but powerful hirudo with lots of leeches can get 8ft+.

They’re actually known as some of the prettiest mermaids by humans.

Humans are some of their favorite prey.

Most biologist feel like this isn’t an evolutionary accident.

Immortality?: Hirudo can live for around three hundred years in perfect conditions but they’re not immortal, they grow old and die like anything else. Immortality in not out of reach for those able to push a few morals aside however, and can be accomplished two ways:

1. Feed exclusively on other hirudo. This is an asshole move for obvious reasons and can be done by consuming their leeches or going old school vampire and drinking right from the source. Can be killed if they’re dehydrated through aggressive salting or imprisoning on land for months.

2. Necromancy is just very advanced healing magic really. Carve enough arcane magic into your tummy buddies and you got yourself a real Leech Lich situation brewing. These hirudo can only be killed by thoroughly destroying all of their leeches.