#I can carry so much compost now

[j4r-of-flies]

Fuck villain arcs I started going to the gym to help my nana carry compost bags to the garden

[luveline]

also if you’re still taking requests for some established relationship criminal minds fics…

could i possibly get spencer and his bombshell when she’s having issues with not getting as hungry as she usually does? like she eats her fill but her fill is less food than she normally eats? this is very self indulgent so feel free to skip 🙏

thank you for requesting <3 bombshell, fem

“Spencer, lovely?” 

Spencer believes that only occasionally do you use your powers of seduction against him. This stringing of words, Spencer, his name, rolling off of your tongue, and lovely, so quaint and said so nicely, how you’ve called out, that’s unintentional. That’s pure niceness. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, getting up to find you. 

The point of you staying at Spencer’s apartment is to see you, why isn’t he seeing you? (Dramatic. He invites you to spend time here because you want to and he wants you, and whatever you do while you’re here is fine by him.) 

You’re in the kitchen peeling fruits. A whole fruit salad, green and red apples cut in small slices like prep for an apple-sugar crumble, peeled tangerine, strawberries, pear, grapes. “Nothing is wrong,” you sing-song. “Wait, why do you think that?” 

“No reason.” He sweeps as much of your mountain of peels and off cuts into his hand as he can and carries it to his mini compost bin. This’ll take some time. “You did call me, though?” 

“Yeah, I want your opinion.” You slice through another strawberry.

Spencer cleans the last of the peels away, rinses his hands, and creeps up on you. “Why are you drawing this out? Is it an important question? Don’t be nervous,” he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Your shoulder is soft where he presses his nose. 

“It’s not important, I just wanna know if you think it’s okay to melt some chocolate and drizzle it over the fruit. Is that greedy? Am I gonna go into a sugar overload?” 

“That’s not greedy.” Spencer laughs softly, kissing your cheek. 

You pull away from him, but only to look at him with your own smile. It’s one he’s starting to know rather well, the I love you smile, fond and indulgent at once. It makes you look like you’re gonna pinch his cheeks. 

“You’re hungry, right?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I am.” It’s a lot of fruit. Spencer doesn’t know exactly why he says it at that very moment, but he suggests, “How about we make a little pot for fondue instead. That way if we don’t eat it all now we can put the fruit back in the fridge.” 

“You just want me to feed you,” you tease. 

Spencer hadn’t thought about it, but the image is a pleasant one. “Fondue was invented purely for dessert purposes at first, no seduction involved.” 

“Let’s involve it anyway.” 

He grins. “Before or after we eat?” he asks lightly. 

You tell him before in a way that reminds him that you aren’t just his best friend but his twin flame, drawing him close to you, your hands fragrant with orange rind and the sweet strawberry juice staining your fingertips. You take his face into your hands as he holds your waist, and when you kiss him, he smiles the entire time. 

“It wasn’t just chocolate,” he says, pulling away. “It was cream and cherry liquor, too.” 

“We should try it one day.” 

Spencer resists the urge to grab your face and squeeze your cheeks. “Yeah, we will.” 

He melts some chocolate and heats a small round dish in the oven. He pours the chocolate into the dish and you, impressed, sing his praises as you make some lemonade slush in the blender. It’s a fresh, cold snack for a warmer day. You take it in the living room with the window wide open and the drapes drawn back, sunshine at your feet. 

Spencer pulls you into his lap as much as you’ll allow him on the couch, the coffee table dragged to be in front of you, the TV remote held hostage under your arm. You dip a slice of apple into chocolate and offer it to him.

Spencer accepts it. He finds, as the bowl empties, the chocolate cools, that you don’t seem to eat very much. He slows his grazing in case he’s being greedy, but after what could only be a handful of fruit you’re done, curling into his side and hugging his leg. Your attention is on the TV but your legs wiggle restlessly.

“Is something on your mind?” he asks. 

“I don’t feel very hungry.” 

“That’s okay. It was a lot of fruit, angel, we can wrap it up.” 

“I feel like my appetite is awful lately,” you lament, sitting up to tip back across his lap, your shoulders to his thighs, looking up at him with a frown. “Do I look like I’ve lost weight to you?” 

Spencer holds your cheek. “I haven’t noticed anything, are you worried?” he asks, rubbing the softest part of your cheek with his thumb. 

“I guess it’s not a bad thing?” You wince. 

“It’s not a bad thing if you don’t feel hungry, but you need to eat. Maybe we can just switch to some dense food for a while. Protein bars and nuts, stuff like that.” Spencer leans down to tap your noses together. You laugh under your breath. “Do you want to lose weight?” he asks, frowning. 

“Not really. I’d prefer not to.” 

“Okay, good. You’re perfect like this,” he says. “We can just make sure you get your intake through whatever means necessary until we figure out what’s changed. Maybe you’re just changing. We can start having smaller meals throughout the day. It’s better for digestion.” 

You reach for a curl, twisting it around your fingers. “I have an appetite for you, at least.” 

“That’s corny,” he says. 

“You love it, though.” 

Spencer pushes the ‘diminishing appetite’ search results from his head. He can worry later, when you’ve been well and thoroughly kissed. 

[thelampisaflashlight]

Cryptid Biology Season 2: Shark Bait

[The previous entry in this series: Here. Rain decides to have a little fun with the abbey's gardener after she dares step into his lake smelling like a certain earth ghoul. Implied MountRain and some RainDrop. Going back to our roots and writing about tentacles.] Below the cut.

Rain is hovering just over the silt in the bottom of the lake, belly just barely touching the muck, when he catches a familiar, heady smell emanating from somewhere closer to the surface.

It's Mountain's musk; That distinct scent of evergreen trees mingled with the stench of sweat, but there's something softer, sweeter, diluting it.

He rises slowly, following the smell like a shark tracking a trail of blood in the water.

The ghoul breaches the surface slowly, making the smallest ripple on top of the water as his eyes adjust to the sunlight, blinking once, twice to retract the clear, secondary eye lids that protect his vision in the depths.

The air is thick with humidity, and the sun is harsh, hot on his head, but as his gaze settles on the shallows, he can't bring himself to care about the heat.

Waist deep in the water, the abbey's groundskeeper, Beatrix Milne -Bea-, is stood holding a mesh net, cleaning up debris and trash from the shoreline.

While the siblings, and the ghouls are careful to remove trash after lakeside parties, part of the greater lake extends towards a shore not on the abbey's property; Marked off by a series of buoys, despite efforts to keep the shared waters clean, careless individuals have left everything on the opposite side of the line a mess... leaving people like Bea to clean it up as the winds carry it across.

It's definitely one of the more frustrating parts of maintaining the land, one he's overheard the groundskeeper venting her frustrations about to Mountain when the two come back to the abbey in the afternoon in spring and summer, the cart attached to the UTV loaded up with debris to be sorted out into the compost or recycled later on.

He tries his best to keep the water clean himself, but there's only so much he can do alone, which is why he understands the pointed look of annoyance on Bea's face as she fills the net with half sunk beer cans and the occasional snack packaging.

Rain eases his way towards the shore, floating along even as the water gets shallower and shallower, and settles himself in the reeds nearby, watching the human work.

Bea and him have never really clicked, despite a shared interest in protecting the natural world, she's often too abrasive for him to want to approach her directly and strike up a conversation, but he can't blame her for being that way; He's seen how Mountain can get after spending all day out in the hot sun, isolated from others, sweaty and uncomfortable, body tense and sore...

However, looking at the groundskeeper now, she doesn't look too terribly bothered, just focused.

She's dressed more casually than he's seen her before -much, much more so-, wearing cut off jeans and a bikini top, her exposed skin shiny with a mix of sweat and sunblock...

Rain sniffs the air curiously.

It's just barely there.

Mountain's scent on her skin, not nearly strong enough for him to have smelled it from that deep in the water.

He hums, sinking down slightly when the groundskeeper looks out over the reeds, waving her hand as if swatting at an insect.

And that's when he notice, as his nose hits the water, he can smell it.

Trailing his gaze down the curves of her body from her face, he eyes the waistband of her shorts, just barely visible over the water, and lowers himself down further to get a better look.

Sure enough, the smell is coming from there.

"Oh, I see..." he thinks, taking in the sight of the rough fabric soaked through, and clinging to her skin.

Despite how often the two argue; Mountain has clearly marked his territory, or, perhaps, Bea had claimed hers.

Maybe both.

But regardless of who struck their flag where, coming into another ghoul's domain smelling so strongly of someone else has Rain feeling... slighted.

If she's going to play around -Clean, she is cleaning the lake- in his lake like this, she should at least ask his permission first, but she hasn't.

And that alone is enough for Rain to want to punish her.

Of course, the type of punishment depends on how she reacts to what he does next.

Cloaking himself slightly with his magic, Rain drops back beneath the waves, and glides himself past her legs, letting the fin of his tail slide against her thigh.

Her can almost her her gasp, feels her jump... but she doesn't flee.

Rain swims by her again, and before HE can react, he feels the tug of fingers in his hair.

He groans, air bubbling from his lungs as he's pulled above the water again.

"You know that doesn't work on me, right?"

He'd forgotten.

"Sister Imperator gave me 'Sight', so I wouldn't get tricked by the other creatures on the grounds like the last caretaker." she says, "Are you going to stop fooling around, or are you going to help me clean up?"

Rain pouts.

"You're one to talk." he murmurs, moving to stand, towering over the gardener, "Seems you and Mountain were 'fooling around' not long ago... You know it's rude, right? Entering my lake smelling like him."

Bea stares up at him, brows furrowed, squinting, both in annoyance and to keep the light out of her eyes.

He steps more into the path of the sun, casting his shadow over her.

"I was under the impression that you liked how Mountain smells." she says, turning away from him, tossing her net onto the shore, but not before tying a loose knot in it to prevent the debris from spilling out.

She's not going to clean it up twice in one day.

"Mountain told me you're always pressing yourself up against him, rubbing his scent all over you... Are you annoyed or just jealous that I smell like him, too?"

Rain grins.

"Jealous? Of you?" he laughs, then sighs, "Perhaps a little... Did you like it?"

He steps closer.

"Him shoving his cock inside of you?" he asks, watching the faintest hint of embarrassment color her cheeks, "I bet you begged and begged and begged for him to give you more."

"Me? Beg?" Bea tilts her head, and quirks her lips, "He was the one begging."

Rain presses forward again, and Bea meets him, skin to skin.

He can feel the soft pudge of her belly against him in the water.

Warm against his naturally cold flesh.

He traces his fingers along her arm, watching her shiver.

"...I could make you beg." he offers, "If you'd like to see what I do to make the 'mountain' shake..."

Bea squirms as he lowers himself into a kneeling position.

"If you want me," he says, poking his thumbs through the belt loops of her shorts, "you'll remove these. I don't much care of the look or taste of denim."

Wordlessly, and with an almost amusing amount of haste, Bea shimmies out of her bottoms allowing Rain access to her crotch.

With a whispered 'yes' from her lips -said far quieter than needed for where they are- Rain dives in, pressing his nose against her mound and inhaling deeply.

He can smell Mountain here; Though wiped clean, but a ghoul's scent is strong, and even if Rain bemoans not being able to lick if from her, he can still taste Mountain's release, perhaps there is some still deeper inside.

He continues to nose at her cunt for a time, separating out her smell from his, trying to appreciate her scent as well.

He giggles and feels her tremble above him.

"You smell like honey... Honey Bea... how cute~" he teases, dragging his tongue along her folds before she can begin to argue.

She reminds him a bit of Dew in that way.

He always shies away from endearments and praise during sex, but if Bea is anything like the feisty fire ghoul, then he knows if he keeps pushing, he'll get what he wants.

Rain kisses her 'lips' before probing deeper with his tongue, it's messy and the sounds it makes, though muted by the water, is obscene.

Having been on both ends of such encounters, Rain is very familiar with what to do to get himself and his partners off this way, but that's not his goal here.

He pulls away just when Bea's body is about to buckle, and pushes her backwards into the water, revealing in the way she yelps as overwarm skin meets the lake.

"You jerk-!" she shouts, but, again, she is cut off by Rain.

"Have you ever been with a water ghoul before?" he asks, fingers tracing the split along his crotch, teasing the scales there, catching her confused glare, "...You haven't, have you?"

The head of his tentacle begins to peek out from between the folds, a light blue, bleeding into purple at the tip as he begins to pet it.

"I think once you have..." he says, leaning forward, cradling her neck to keep her head above water as he lines himself up, watching the surprise flicker across her face as the tentacle begins to prod at her entrance.

"...You'll realize you're not the only one who can make someone beg."

[fountainpenguin]

"O, my queen, to shield thee from danger's deadly call... I will sin, I will kill- I will sacrifice my all..." (x)

---

Final chapter of Criminal Experience today!

Chapter 9 - “Silenced”

❤️ Read on AO3

💙 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Impulse, Skizz, and Mumbo stand their ground - In that order, for better or worse - and our story draws to a close.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Flickers later…

They shimmer into "people form" again with a great rush in the toes. Teleportation wraps the body, strangles the neck, and snaps them to the floor. Oof. Skizz lands on his feet, but slumps against the wall. Mumbo slams belly-first to dirt. The chill of the air and stink of composters leaves no doubt as to where Skizz dropped them. Mumbo braces on his forearms and takes a ragged breath, which turns into coughs and gags.

"Oh, goodness… I might be sick."

Impulse isn't doing much better. He heaves, snuffling mostly, and shakes his head about. His tattered wings flap behind him like something fighting for a scrap of life. Did something get torn out of him in that jump from there to here?

"Impulse-"

"Eugh," Skizz mutters, and makes a disgusting slurping noise. He glitters white and gold from the spectral arrow BigB pinged him with, and his skin's coated in dark blotches that look like dark, fresh burns. His knees bend. He squelches to the ground. A yell lashes overhead. Stomping feet kick up sand in a great scuff-scuff of illager boots. Mumbo presses flat to the dirt. They're under the arena, apparently in the loo… or at least some changing room with composters lined against the wall, separated by banners. BigB is up there right now, and Impulse coughs thickly in his elbow crook. The screwed-up eyes don't hide the sparks leaking from the corners.

"We gotta… run. Not hide… Illusioners can see through blocks."

"Forget that bit- Skizz is glowing. He'll chase us anywhere unless we teleport." Me too. White glitter still dances up and down his arms.

"Yes." Impulse cringes forward, clutching his arm. Did he bang it in the fall? Did Carrie land that on him? His shirt is torn, overall straps hanging loose. Mumbo glimpses just a flash of blue down his back where the mace must have pierced before Impulse drags his attention to the panting enderman. He lurches forward. Mumbo sits too (with a wince), but whatever he's feeling… Well. Impulse has it worse. Mumbo had the shield. It blocked a few arrows, but Impulse took some heavy hits. The shield lies abandoned in the dirt, plugged with arrows. So is Skizz.

"Don't pull," Mumbo warns, staying Impulse's hand as the phantom hybrid reaches for the nearest shaft. Impulse's claw-tipped fingers shake against the air.

"Skizz, we gotta go… We gotta go. You've gotta come to or he's going to find us. He's coming this way, I'm sure."

"Indeed." Mumbo casts his eyes to the blocks above. He can hear sand scuffling. "Impulse, he's digging in. He's breaking blocks. Hang on- Is he allowed to do that?" The bathroom ceiling can't be more than one layer deep. Only those blocks of sand stall the illusioner's descent, and he sounds as though he's on his knees and throwing whole handfuls behind him. That isn't proper mining. He's not grabbing blocks. He'll make himself a little sinkhole, filling it with spilled sand as he goes.

Impulse shifts closer. He grips Skizz's turtleneck collar and rolls it downwards. Skizz's every breath comes out in huffs. Mumbo catches one glimpse of thick blue soul goop at his neck and quickly looks away. Impulse, though, stays steady as. "All right, Skizz," he's saying. "We've gotta go. I can't carry you… Our pixels will blend together. Can you teleport? Can you walk? … Mumbo, start working on a way out."

"Through the door?" It looks open; it's the direction BigB isn't coming from (for the moment). Impulse makes a rolling gesture with his hand.

"Not that way- Just take the blocks from the wall."

"But- the roleplay immersion-"

"MUMBO!"

"Yes, sorry. I'll do it." He does have the pick. Mumbo spins it in his hand and starts hacking at the blocks, throwing strength in every swing. He gets two blocks deep before he cringes up, a spiral of pain flicking up his back. "Oh, wow…"

Swinging my scythe and jumping off roof's really catches up… And BigB's still digging overhead, furiously tearing through clumps of wet sand. The storm rages on above. Ah, yes. That's where Skizz's burns came from.

Skizz smiles feebly, shaky fingers clutching his jumper to his chest. "Hey, Impy… Got you out of there, didn't I?"

"Shh, shh… We're gonna be okay. Just try not to let those wounds seal over too much… We need to get you clean."

"The soul spawners give regen," Mumbo whispers, and Impulse bows his head. Skizz's fingers find the man's cheek, tracing sand and bits of soul goop from the bristles on his chin.

"You got a sword, Impulse?"

Impulse grasps his hand, pinning the palm against his face. "I don't trust that man. He's got a quiver full of arrows, lookalike copies, and Mumbo's scythe. We don't fight anymore. We just run, Skizz… Come on. How's your legs?" And louder, "Mumbo, how's that escape route?"

"… Impulse, it's raining. Skizz won't make it."

"Then we take the wall blocks and build a new ceiling all the way back."

"Uh, with BigB right behind us, dude? And the locals will hate us if we take from their art project and don't give back."

The phantom hybrid shudders, dropping his face to his hands. Mumbo watches his bony tail drag across the dirt floor. He lowers the pick. From this angle, Impulse's injuries look like butterflies on display. Blue soul energy soaks the back of his neck, shirt, and overalls. Some of those blows look to be from Carrie and her mace, though certain gashes mark him as a man who took the local flock captain in a fight. He oozes up and down his body, and more than one arrow's still stuck in his flesh. Even with the regeneration aura pulsing through the hub, that's got to hurt. And those won't seal with the arrows in them.

… Skizz has arrows jabbed up and down his body. They pepper every chink BigB and his clones could land. And every breath's a fight. It drags at him like he's got the hiccups. He flickers between solid color and bright, bold red.

"Impulse?" The word is soft when it leaves Mumbo's lips. For a moment, the loo lapses into silence, because honestly, Mumbo thought Skizz said it. But Impulse turns his head. He's got loose pixels smeared around his eyes, unstable energy leaking down his skin. He's waiting for a question. So Mumbo licks his lips and gives him one. "You're… you're the escort. What do we do? … I'm no good without my scythe. Seriously, that's- I'm just pants without it, honestly. It had Illager's Bane and Ambush on it. Um. Don't worry about the allays, though. I left them with a friend. She'll… she'll come through."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top - Work is now complete!]

[finniestoncrane]

Jealousy

Rogues Headcanons request: rogues who are jealous of their crush with another partner. i'm so sorry anon this post got messed up by tumblr so i had to delete it and i've only now found time to rewrite it ;-; 💜 request info �� prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: threats, posessive/obsessive behaviour, violence, yandere bullshit i guess

penguin

oswald cobblepot isn't the type to wait around for someone

someone who obviously doesn't see a good thing when it's standing in front of them

sure he'll pine for a bit

but anyone who doesn't have the sense to know he's the better choice in any situation is too dumb to be with him

however, for the right person (that person being you...)

he might be known to spend nights in his office, avoiding going home to his empty apartment

because it bothers him that you're not there, sitting beside him

curling up to him in bed, waking up to him in the mornings

all the little things that he's missing out on, that someone else now has

it's enough to drive a respectable businessman to some rather cruel efforts to get what he wants

poison ivy

pam likes to think of herself as "above it all"

she's just green, the hue has nothing to do with jealousy

but the sudden, unprompted, and rather intense development of a mini jungle outside of your apartment?

that has everything to do with jealousy

they can bring you a bouequet of flowers, sure, the decapitated heads of something that was once living trussed up in bows

but only she can build you a botanical garden wherever you please

something that keeps living and growing

just like her intense infatuation with you

and the dead weight your carrying around with you will definitely become handy

since they can be mixed into compost for her gardens

victor zsasz

how dramatic can he get? seems like the answer is "very"

new tallymark system: one scratch for every day he's not with you

although, if he really sat down to think about it

his talents could definitey see him go far here, e.g. his skill in the art of disposal

nothing extravagant or showy, no, this has to be secretive, stealthy, surprising

one quick shot to their forehead from a distance

or a pretend mugging, an oddly precise slash to the neck doing the trick

which method of ridding you of this new love of your life would cause you the least amount of psychological damage?

because he's not keen on the idea of waiting around for you much longer

so you have to get over this current obstacle pretty quickly once they've been dealt with

mr freeze

it's likely been a while since he last latched onto someone emotionally

so there's already a deep connection between you, even if it's one sided, and it's difficult for him to look past it

even knowing that you're with someone else

the thoguht of someone trying to take nora from him when she was there infuriates him

and yet here he is, considering doing the exact same thing

it's different though, because he deserves someone nice to love

he's owed someone to care for and to dote after, and to return the favour to him

he'd definitely opt for a romantic gesture to win you over

something magical, like freezing your idiot partner and scooping you up in his arms

and carrying you off to his lair to keep you isolated for decades in near mint condition

riddler

his proclivity for solving puzzles and knowing the answer to everything has kept him awake every night

why are you with someone else and not with him?

why would you ever choose someone else over him?

absolutely bizarre behaviour BUT you just need someone to show you the error of your ways

someone to teach you, to educate you, so you can make better choices in the future

and of course, he's willing to use force if need be

some of his best lectures have been given with a captive audience

sometimes it really is the only way to get people like you to listen

and perhaps, at the end, he'll offer up a little pop quiz, the kind where if you fail it, your head goes pop

how smart is that new partner of yours anyway, hm?

two face

everything comes down to a choice

you just happened to make the wrong one

now harvey might be willing to respect your choices

he's a reasonable man after all

but two face is not taking this absolutely shocking disregard of his feelings well

it's not even up for the coin to decide

it's rampage time

and no one is safe from his intense violence and rage until he has you in his arms

and if that doesn't work, he can always rely on harvey and his brains

that lawyer talk should come in handy when he's arguing his case for choosing him

harley quinn

ok first of all, rude

she's willing to forget about her true love, mr j, and give you a chance

and you're going to pick someone else

hey! it's not her fault she never got around to asking you out

you should have asked her out! you do the hard work, bub!

anyway, her jealous streak is based in a defense mechanism

you are 100% going to be her worst enemy

it's part of distancing herself from you

and a way to avoid any blame on herself for not being quick enough to snap you up

god forbid she's to blame for her own misfortune

mad hatter

jervis is entirely respectful of your choices

it's not your fault that you didn't see him, or notice his affections

and it's not really his fault that he wasn't brave enough to say anything before it was too late

it's just that the universe has decided that you don't quite get your happy ever after yet

every fairytale story requires a bit of drama

a plot twist, to make the sweet, perfect ending more satisfying

he has absolutely no doubt that you'll find your way to him

without the need for any dubious tea or fashionable hats that might alter your beahviour

and then it'll all be the way it should be, you with him

in wonderland together forever

scarecrow

that's fine.

no really, make your own choices, make the wrong choices

the fear of losing you is fascinating and he's fine to hold onto that

but he will be getting revenge, just for the fun of it

see how well your new flame protects you when you wake up from one of jonathan's nightmares

especially when those nightmares feature your new partner

tormenting you, haunting you, terrifying you

oh, wouldn't you like to find safety in jonathan's arms?

well, perhaps he might find the kindness in him to allow that

but you'll have to beg, and suffer sufficiently, first

bane

ok so let's face it no one is arguing with bane or fighting him for your affections

but he's just such a big soft lug

if he saw you, knowing you were happy

even if that meant you were happier with someone other than him

he absolutely would do nothing to disrupt that

his jealousy would be well contained, never cruel or mean-spirited

he just knows that he would love the opportunity to show you what you're missing

the minute he suspects you're unhappy though, he is back on his simping bullshit with you, not brave enough to just ask you out

and you better hope he never gets the idea that your partner is being anything less than wonderful to you

or he'll crush them with one hand

[copperbadge]

Young Sam was very, VERY smart about compost piles and adults. Have seen those suckers go. 🔥 A lot of “highly strung” consists of being in the unfortunate position of observing the world as it ACTUALLY IS, without the helpful pink brain filters most people carry around. What did Sir Pterry call it? Knurd? One Klatchian coffee too many, as it were.

Knurd is one of the best ways I've seen to describe it, I definitely vibed with the time Vimes got Knurd and just started screaming :D

There have been some studies done that indicate depressed people actually have a more accurate view of the world in general, just not necessarily their place in it. My first thought was "Could be that's why they're depressed." Which is a bit of a dark joke, but every so often I look at other people and wonder.

Truly, a lot of my childhood fears were either baseless or would have gone away with context. Perhaps that's true of some of my adult fears too, but for the most part if I'm genuinely afraid of something I tend to research it, which usually resolves the issue. But also a lot of the concerns I have, which a lot of people dismiss as baseless anxiety, are rooted in looking at the world around me and noticing that shit rarely goes to plan. I know some people who just go through life constantly dealing with the consequences of their own lack of concern, but they seem also like people who...enjoy complaining about problems of their own causing. Which I do not, so.

Hilariously, I am perpetually a little bit knurd, and now I also basically live in involuntary sobriety. If I'm socializing, I need the meds to counteract the social anxiety, and if you have an edible or a couple of drinks they stop working and then you're just wasting the meds. And doing intoxicants alone can be fine, fun even, but isn’t really all that entertaining and in the long run gets problematic. 

So my options are to unwind a bit and enjoy myself at the time but spend the next few days miserable, or stay straight-edge and medicated but enjoy myself without consequences later. For me, the medicated option is much more worth it long-term, but it is kind of a bummer on occasion.  

Anyway, Knurd it is, but on the other hand, my house is clean, I'm usually on time, and work doesn't suck. Plus I go to a lot more parties and events, so there's that. :D

[tumblertown-headcanons]

Minecraft Things

Assistant is a redstone genius but loves going into mods like the Create mod absolutely blind so they can discover everything. They also love messing around with the most stupid texture packs possible

Sage handles everyone’s food supply and makes sure no one leaves on an expedition without two stacks of steak and a half stack of golden carrots. She’s a bit of a hoarder and her chest situation is a little bit egregious but at least it’s organized! She’s got an enormous auto-composter

Vapor and Sylve are the ones working to build the base into something both very functional and aesthetically appealing. Sage set up a logging area to help them out.

When awake, Mel likes to do the most menial tasks possible so if she accidentally falls asleep, it doesn’t have to worry about being a hazard. Like Strip Mining. It’s relaxing after a long day of fighting crooks

Alex comes up with server-wide events like lil festivals and likes to make fireworks. He has blown up multiple times due to creepers, but hey, at least he’s got his parrots.

Chad is the designated Nether Ambassador. If there is literally anything anyone needs from the Nether, he’ll handle it. But he’ll handle it a lot faster if Sir is the one asking

Speaking of Sir, he and Cathy work together to do the more magical stuff like potion making (since it’s not too removed from chemistry) and enchantments. Thankfully, they have a spawner.

Ivan and Misra rule over and protect a village together because Ivan finally has an empire to himself now. The village is absolutely huge and Ivan would never admit it but he needed to trade Sage for all the wheat seeds he needed for the field in exchange for emeralds

Caden was the one to first kill a wither. He set up the proper underground chamber situation and everything. The Belle Kingdom and Alliance of Homos (Alex’s name for the base everyone else stays at) have beacons thanks to him. He probably lives underground, dangerously close to an Ancient City.

Deed sporadically logs on but the first time she did, she somehow was able to single-handily take on a Mansion with almost no armor and the second time she killed the Ender Dragon. Ever since, once she logs on, everyone’s a little on-edge. Last time it happened, she drained an ocean monument and then just left.

Goon loves to go caving but 4/10 times they end up dying from either fall damage or an onslaught of mobs due to running out of torches. On the bright side, they brought back moss, axolotls, and glowberries last time, much to Sage and Vapor’s delight.

Memiri will log on, pick one person that’s on with her, and stick by them doing whatever she can to help. Watch Chad’s six while fighting ghasts? Totally. Carry an entire inventory of torches and light the way for Goon? No problem. Farm with Sage? Sure thing. Help rig up a skelly spawned with Assistant? Can do!

( I had a lot of fun coming up with these :>)

[OH MY GOOOOOD??? BELOVED WHOEVER YOU ARE YOU COOOOOKED!!!! I fucking love this, Assistant being a Redstone wizard is now canon]

Assistant and Alex: @evilassistantbutnotmean

Sage: @sagehyperfixates

Vapor and Sylve: @vaporeon2010317

Mel/Melatonin: @chaotic-neutral-melatonin

Chad: @deadless-corpse

Sir: @sirlordevil

Cathy: @dr-catherine-sherman-owens

Caden, Ivan and Misra: @the-belle-siblings

Deed: @that-knife-lady

Goon: @boredgoon

Memiri: @memiri-belle

[imtryingmybeskar]

Come Home Chapter Sixteen

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 4360

Joel is still not himself, reader decides she'd rather not deal with his moods and infected abound in the woods...

Warnings for swearing and canon typical violence.

Come Home

Chapter Sixteen- Try And Try

Avoiding Joel was easier than you thought it would be, and you suspected that was because he was avoiding you too. You had no idea what excuses he was feeding Ellie about why there had been such a dramatic shift in your interactions, but you ensured that you kept yourself busy enough that they could at least partially be backed up by the fact that you really didn’t have much time to yourself.

Farming was not something that you had ever attempted in earnest before and it was easy to slide into the rhythm of it to forget your other troubles, though the work itself was backbreaking and intense. You learned about calving and farrowing, how to prepare the land for intensive crop farming, helped to fortify the paddocks and fences around the pasture, repaired chicken coops, dug drainage ditches and fetched and carried an endless supply of tools to the blacksmith for repairs and upgrades. On a smaller scale, you also started your own compost heap, began to tend herbs and chilli plants in your own house and garden and every time you went out on patrol you ensured you came home with as much foraged fruit as you could.

Ellie was distinctly disgruntled that you seemed to take to the fields in a way that she could not, but she threw herself into her assigned chores with you, the promise from Maria that she would be allowed to accompany you to hunt outside the walls a powerful incentive. She was running a gamut of emotions of her own about what was going on, spanning quiet confusion to evident exasperation, and it hurt you to see her like this. It had been three weeks since you had returned, and during that time she had made various attempts to wheedle information out of you – asking leading questions, dancing around the subject, but you kept your silence about it all. Joel was her father, you were her friend. It wasn’t your place to tell her the events of the museum trip, and you didn’t want to broach anything around the subject too deeply anyway in case you accidentally let something slip about her birthday surprise.

“Did um…did you and Joel fight?” Her voice breaks into your concentration as you crouch before a particularly fiddly bit of broken chicken wire and you stand straight, stretching your back and wiping the sweat from your brow before answering her now direct line of questioning.

“No. Why?”

“I dunno. Just seems like you’re not coming around as much anymore.”

This was true. The very few times you had gone over to spend an evening with them, you had made yourself scarce after Ellie had made her usual excuses to leave. She seemed to be the only glue holding you and Joel together right now, and you had no real desire to be around him if she wasn’t there. He was beyond taciturn now, he was actively surly. Giving clipped, begrudging, surface level conversation that was usually polite but never warm.

“No, we’re good. We’re just both busy right now. Springtime,” you add by way of weak explanation.

“And he seems a little more…on edge than usual.”

“How do you mean?”

“He just…I dunno…he’s just more irritable than usual. And you haven’t been on patrol together in ages. He’s always with Tommy and you’re always with Vanessa.”

“Well, I think the dam is playing up again,” you answer. “Tommy needs all hands that can be spared to make repairs. You know Joel is good at that stuff.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Oh come on. I’m not stupid you know.”

You sigh deeply and cast around to find a way to explain what has happened while still not quite understanding it yourself.

“I know you’re not. You’re one of the smartest people I know. We haven’t argued, I promise. The dam really does need work and spring is one of the busiest seasons. We just don’t have time to hang out right now.”

“So why’s he so pissy recently?”

You resume crouching in front of the chicken coop and bend to your work again. “That you will have to take up with him. I have no idea what goes on in that head of his.”

If you were honest with yourself, you had noticed the change in him that Ellie had. He stamped around town with an air of grumpy malice these days, though you had been telling the truth when you said that you didn’t understand why. You had been racking your brains, trying to think if you had said anything that might have upset or offended him on that night, but had come up short every time. From what you could tell, he had woken up in a bad mood to relieve you of your watch and never really come out of it. The only conclusion you could draw was that he was pissed off at you, and you could think of only one event that might have precipitated this change in attitude. Well, if he was going to act like a dick about the whole thing, you were going to give him as wide a berth as you could. You even briefly considered moving into a different house, but the thought of starting all over again and getting used to a whole new living space was so exhausting that you dismissed it almost immediately.

There had only been one encounter where you had come into close proximity with him alone in the time you had been back in Jackson and it had been painful in several ways. You had been about to take your horse out to go scouting with Vanessa. The stables were fairly dark at the best of times, so you hadn’t seen him until you had moved right into the building and your eyes had adjusted from the bright spring day outside. He was clearly just on his way out somewhere himself as he was adjusting the straps of the saddle as you approached. You stopped still, freezing as if there was a brick wall ahead of you instead of the man you had once wanted to be so close to.

“Oh. Hi,” was all you could manage in your surprise.

“Hi,” he said shortly, giving you the briefest of glances before turning his attention back to his horse and dismissing you from his gaze.

The silence that fell was, inevitably, awkward. Your brain was screaming at you to fill it, to say something, anything. Ask about Ellie. Ask about the dam. Ask how his latest guitar project was coming along. But your mouth wouldn’t obey the commands of your mind.

“Guess you’re here for Amber,” you ventured. Fucking STUPID thing to say you internally berated yourself.

“Yup.” The brevity, the coldness of his tone hit you in the chest with force. This was far beyond even the aloof Ruggedly Handsome you had known. This was sullenness bordering on being actively rude and the hurt of it flared your anger in your chest. You hadn’t said anything more, merely prepared your own horse, and you hadn’t even spared him a glance as you heard him lead Amber away into the street beyond. You had tried. Poor and pathetic as the attempt had been, you had still tried. He had shut you down entirely. He was now actively ignoring you, or was so distant that he might as well be. And you weren’t willing to keep trying if he was going to behave like that.

On the day that you’re due to take Ellie hunting you’re up bright and early to make your preparations. You’ve ensured that your bows are in top condition, that you have a good supply of arrows for the both of you, and that your back up weapons are also fully loaded and well maintained. You had hopes that you might shoot some rabbits, but just in case larger game was taken down you had sourced a sled from a neighbour, their ten year old happy to loan it now that there was no snow to play on. Just as you’re finishing packing some food for you both, a knock comes at the door.

“Come in,” you yell, assuming Ellie will come bounding in demanding to know why you aren’t ready yet. But instead –

“Hi.”

Joel’s soft voice comes from behind you, startling you so badly that you drop the knife you’re holding to the counter with a clatter.

“Hi,” you reply as you turn around, trying to keep the puzzlement out of your voice and face. Was this the start of what you feel was a well-deserved apology? Would you accept it if it was?

You allow your eyes to linger on his face. He looks more tired than usual, as if he’s not been sleeping well or pushing himself too hard when he’s awake. The fingers on his right hand are drumming against his thumb in a seemingly unconscious gesture as his eyes search your kitchen floor for something – answers to some question you couldn't fathom, or courage perhaps. Your heart softens, just a little at the sight of him so worked up and the fact that he had finally come around to visit you. Would he…maybe want to come out with you both? Recreate for the springtime those heady winter days when the three of you would escape for a few hours at a time to go to skate on the frozen pond?

“I uh…I just wanted to ask…” He trails off looking embarrassed, one hand coming up to scrub at the back of his neck, his eyes still downcast.

“Yeah?” you prompt, softly. You’re willing to forgive his weird behaviour. You realise that you always were. You just want him back in your life. To help fill your hours with laughter and jokes and friendship instead of constant work to block out the swirling eddies of painful emotion.

“I wanted to ask…are you sure about today?”

The question shocks you from your place of wistful yearning to have the old Joel back and deposits you straight into irritation with his current iteration, a development which you are entirely unable to hide in your voice given its abrupt incursion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well goin’ out alone with Ellie. Are you sure it’s such a good idea?”

What the actual fuck? After everything was he seriously still questioning your competency? Your ability to protect Ellie?

“Worried about my panic attacks again?” you ask, not bothering to keep the whip of snark out of your voice.

“Not just that,” he replies smoothly, and the calm tone of his own voice only serves to fan your irritation into anger. “She’s not been outside Jackson much since we got here. I’m just concerned-“

“We’ll be fine, Joel,” you retort in a snappish tone. “And if you really don’t trust me to protect her, then you can be the one to tell her she can’t go.”

“Wait, what?!”

Ellie is standing in your back door. You hadn’t even noticed her arrival, so focused were you on your anger at Joel. He suddenly looks even more weary, and every bit his age as he turns to talk to Ellie.

“I just think-“ he begins.

“No, Joel. Fuck that. She goes out on patrol just as much as you do now. You trusted her enough to go with her for months. And me? Who the fuck took care of you while you were fucking dying in some basement? I did. I hunted for food, I got you fucking medicine, I sewed you the fuck up. I saved your life and I kept us alive. So don’t fucking give me this shit about not being able to deal with stuff out there!”

Ellies shoulders are heaving with angry breath, her eyes spitting furious sparks at Joel. Meanwhile at the mention of their shared past he sets his jaw and you can see him grinding his teeth, biting back whatever it was he truly wanted to say to her in favour of attempting to keep his temper under control.

“And what the fuck happened then?” he asks, his voice more dangerously low than you have ever heard it before. “You nearly got raped and murdered by some goddamn cannibal freaks.”

You can feel how wide your eyes have gone at these revelations flying back and forth between them. They have never talked in depth about anything that had occurred while they had travelled together and to hear it pour out like this all at once was dizzying.

“And I escaped and fucking murdered them first!” she hurls back in a fury. “And why the fuck do you suddenly care anyway? I tried to ask you if you were okay with it and you shut me down and told me to ask Maria. Who said yes. So I’m fucking going.”

She stalks past him without sparing another glance in his direction, grabs a quiver of arrows and stamps through the front door without another word, leaving a ringing silence between you in her wake. Your anger has dissipated in the face of hers, simply unable to stand against such fury it has been swallowed up like a beach under a tsunami.

Joel is still staring at where she stood at the back door, his own shoulders heaving with his effort to keep himself under control, fists balled at his sides.

“I’ll take care of her, Joel,” you say softly. “I promise, nothing will happen to her.”

His eyes dart to you, almost as if he had forgotten you would be here in your own house. You think you see his features soften for the briefest moment before his eyes turn to flint again.

“It better not,” is all he growls before he stamps out of your back door, leaving you feeling like you’ve just been snatched up and thrown down hard by a short lived yet incredibly vicious tornado.

The ride out isn’t exactly the pleasant day you’d hoped for, despite the fact that you do manage to achieve your objective and take down a few rabbits between you as you ride through the glorious spring landscape. Ellie is still angry and alternates between sullen silences and muttering curses that you assume are directed at Joel, but might just as well be aimed at you or the world in general. You allow her time and space to calm down, but her anger seems to draw from a never-ending well and you have no idea what to say to make it better.

Finally, she snaps.

“Okay, I’m fucking sick of this shit. What the fuck happened between you two?”

“Nothing!” comes your automatic response, and you cringe slightly at how defensive the word comes out.

“Yeah? Fuckin’ sounds like it,” she retorts, angrily.

“Really. Nothing,” you insist, your voice now flat and neutral.

“Then why are you both being so goddamn weird? You can’t be busy all day every day. I know you have some evenings free. You just choose not to come over anymore. And as for him…fuck! I’ve not seen him like this since Boston. Since…since Tess…”

She trails off, her voice soft with pain and the inkling of what she thinks is understanding and you decide that you too have had enough. If Joel wants to be moody and silent, fine. You weren’t prepared to risk your friendship with her any longer by following his lead and you decide that bluntness is best at this point, reasoning that some of the truth of the matter might begin to more quickly heal the wounds that have opened up between you.

“When Joel and I went out together,” you begin, noting the way her eyes dart warily to you, “We ended up speaking about Tess. And Jacob. Who was kind of my Tess.” Her eyes have grown wide and sad and true understanding now begins to tinge her gaze.

“I’d never told anyone about Jacob before,” you continue. “And I get the impression that Joel doesn’t speak much about Tess either. I’m sure you know yourself by now that grief does odd things to people. Makes them act in unexpected ways. It was only after we spoke about her that he began to shut me out. Whatever he’s going through, maybe it’s to do with that.”

Her face hardens as she listens. “So…you knew you two weren’t okay. That it was more than just “being busy”. Why’d you lie?”

“Because it’s his business, something he’s going through and if he needs to put some distance between us, then I respect that. I thought that if I just gave him enough time we’d get back to normal again. But it’s getting worse. And as much as you’re my friend, you’re also his daughter and I don’t want to do or say anything to interfere with that relationship. I can’t talk to you about his problems because if he wanted to talk to you about them, he would. It’s not my place to be a go between. Besides, he won’t talk to me about them anyway. Or anything right now.”

Ellie gives a disbelieving snort. “You think he’d talk to me about shit? Maybe you don’t know him. And you know I’m not his actual daughter, right?”

“I think that little display from you both in the kitchen would suggest otherwise,” you smile, and you’re relieved when she gives a slightly embarrassed smile in response.

You ride along in silence for a while until Ellie pipes up again.

“You know he likes you right?”

“Are we doing the fucking high school shit again?” you groan.

“No, I just mean…he’s happier when you’re around. And whatever’s going on with him, I think it’s worse because you two aren’t hanging out anymore.”

“I can’t make him talk to me, Ellie.”

“No. But I can.”

You shake your head. “Don’t. He’ll work it out and come around.”

“He’s the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met!” she exclaims.

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” you sigh. “Look, if it gets too much you know you can always come to mine, right? I know you’ve got your own space, but if you want company that is less grumpy I’d love to have you over. I uh…I miss you.”

Ellie smiles softly at that despite herself, and looks down at her horses mane bobbing in front of her.

“You miss him too?”

Now it’s your turn to look away. “Yeah. I do. I don’t make many friends. It hits hard when there’s one fewer around.”

She makes a noise of irritated disgust.

“You guys are so stupid. Both of you moping around. Why don’t you just talk to him?”

“When I try to talk to him he barely speaks to me,” you reply.

“Not about stupid shit. Ask him what’s going on. Make him tell you. Just fucking…I dunno, hit him till he talks.”

“You want me to punch information out of Joel Miller?” you laugh incredulously. “What, should I tie him to a chair too?”

“Okay, maybe not that,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes. “But you gotta do something. What, are you guys just gonna live next door to each other and never talk again?”

“Depends on him I guess-“ you begin, but quickly fall silent as Ellie waves an arm and then points through the trees.

A magnificent buck is standing amongst them, perfectly placid, perfectly still, and watching you with mild disinterest. Your eyes meet Ellie’s and hers are sparkling with anticipation. The deer decides you are far enough away not to be a threat and begins to root at the earth around the trees with its nose.

“You think we can take it?” you whisper, not daring to turn your head toward Ellie in case the movement spooks it.

“Yeah,” she breathes.

“Those antlers though,” you say dubiously. “We’re going to have to get it good, else we’ll be in trouble.”

“It’ll be fine,” she reassures you. “I’ve taken bucks by myself before.”

You both move slowly and in synchronicity, taking your bows from your backs and nocking arrows to them.

“Aim for its neck,” Ellie instructs, and you follow the wisdom in her suggestion. She counts down softly from three and on the word “Go” you both let loose, your arrows speeding with sure death toward the animal. They fly true, one striking it near its shoulder, the other into its neck. You suspect Ellie’s aim was the better of the two.

The buck bellows its pain and rage and begins to run, hobbled a little by its injuries.

“Come on!” Ellie shouts, and you take off after it through the trees, following the trail of blood that it leaves behind. It was far enough away, still fast enough on its feet and the budding forest is enough of an obstacle to humans on horseback that you ride for longer than you expect. Long enough that you hear a familiar scream echo across the landscape.

Fuck. If the infected reach it first they will render it inedible. If the infected reach you first you will have far bigger problems. How many there are will determine if you run or fight. And while Ellie can take care of herself you are still responsible for her. If it comes down to it, she will need to run while you remain to fight. These thoughts blaze through your mind in seconds and you cast around, looking in the direction that you think the scream came from while also still trying to follow the blood trail. You can’t see any infected, and the sound was far enough away that you have a little time, but you’re still not happy about the pressurised situation.

“We try to outrun them,” you yell to Ellie over the sound of the horses hooves. “Get to the deer. Tie it to the horse. Get out of here. I’ll cover you if they come.”

“Okay,” she says, her face betraying the anxiety that her voice does not.

The horses crest a small hill and the buck is there at the bottom, collapsed to the ground and finally defeated. You draw up sharply beside it and jump down, working together to retrieve the arrows, heave the deer into the sled and secure it with rope. But before you can secure it to the saddle, you catch movement from between the trees. Well, you did want a moving target you think wryly as you take aim with your bow again.

“Ellie, go!” you command her. “I’ll take care of them.”

In your periphery, you see her vault gracefully into the saddle and you breathe out to steady yourself, aiming at the head of the runner as it advances. A few more figures are further behind but gaining quickly as they also sprint full pelt toward you, and you hope to whatever passes for God these days that they don’t choose to follow her.

The runner goes down before you ever loose the arrow, and you realise Ellie is still there, also with her bow and beginning to pick them off from horseback.

“Get out of here!” you cry, before your own arrow hits one in the neck, dropping it as it advances.

“There’s not that many,” she pants, letting fly again and hitting a third in the face.

“I don’t fucking care. Go!” you reiterate.

“I’m not leaving you!” she yells back.

The horses are beginning to panic at the noise and the disruption and you hope that they won’t decide to flee before you have dispatched all enemies. A fourth goes down. A fifth. And then…sudden stillness and peace except for the pounding of blood in your ears and the heavy breathing of you both. You take the opportunity to draw your gun just in case this is merely a lull rather than cessation.

“Fuck,” Ellie says shakily as she dismounts again. “Fucking assholes.”

You’re inclined to agree, but you don’t intend to let her know.

“When I say you go, you go,” you frown.

“I helped!”

“You did, but I could have coped. What the fuck would happen if you got hurt out here?! Apart from anything, Joel would never let me see you again. That’s if I didn’t have to put you down because you got infected, of course.”

“Not gonna happen,” she says sullenly, her face set in a mask of defiant anger. Her resistance to believing that she could get seriously hurt out here sparks your anger, and you begin to question whether Joel was right about letting her out of Jackson. Perhaps she really wasn’t ready for the responsibilities it entailed.

“Of course, because no one ever gets bit out in the world,” you snarl, your fear for her honing your anger even sharper. “This whole time it was all just some collective delusion-“

Your sarcastic tirade is interrupted by another flash of movement behind her and you shove Ellie sideways forcefully. The infected still has your arrow lodged in its neck as it reaches for you, hungrily seeking to make more of itself. You punch it hard in the jaw and it rocks backward, but remains on its feet. As you raise your pistol it sways back toward you, lunging with arms outstretched. You step backward and stumble, and when you fall it feels like the world moves in slow motion. The disgusting, bloody, fungus infested face of the ex-person above you, the landscape moving until you could see too few trees and too much sky. And then pain. A sharp, biting, insistent pain in your shoulder that spreads a numbness across your back and arm. Your vision grows super sharp for just a moment, painfully so, the sun above making the blue of the sky and the fluffy white of the clouds stand stark against one another before blackness crowds the edge of your vision.

The nightmare face above you. A scream of fearful rage. A muffled bang. The sharp copper tang of blood. Cool patters across your face and a spreading warmth below you. And then…darkness.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery @harperdoodle

Next chapter

[giraffeter]

First Drafts and the First Pancake

In a first draft I tend to do a LOT of expository writing. Since my writing style is usually a very tight POV narration, I find myself writing paragraphs and paragraphs of the POV character's thoughts about other characters, their relationships, how they feel about events from canon if that's applicable, etc. I used to then try to go in and polish up that exposition during the editing process, and I still do that, but I also end up deleting a lot of it and trying to find ways to show those thoughts and feelings in other ways. For a while, I was trying NOT to write like this (why spend time writing text I'm just going to delete later?) but I found that even though a lot of that text doesn't make it in the finished draft, it's helpful to me to articulate those thoughts and write them out — it's how I figure out what's going on in the character's head.

So instead of trying not to do it, I now think of this stage of writing as "the first pancake."

If you make pancakes a lot, you know that the first pancake is always wonky. Usually it's because you got excited and the pan wasn't hot enough when you started, but it could also be because your batter needs fine-tuning, or sometimes just the ineffable will of the kitchen gods. Sometimes, the first pancake is so bad that you end up feeding it to the dog or tossing it in the compost. My point is, you'll have a lot easier and more fun time making pancakes if you think of the first pancake as a "sacrificial" pancake. If it doesn't need to get thrown out, great! But if it does, that's okay, because you never planned on keeping it. That's not what it's for. The important thing is, you can't make the second pancake, or the pancakes after that — the good stuff, the stuff you're going to keep and enjoy — until you've made that first pancake. It can't be done. The first pancake has its use, even if that use is to be thrown away.

So now when I get carried away with too much exposition, instead of thinking "ugh this whole story is terrible and clunky, nobody's going to want to read this," I can get those thoughts out knowing that the purpose of that text isn't necessarily to be read — it's to clear the way for the good stuff that will follow.

[thychesters]

#wipwednesday! haven't done one in a minute. the food supplies on the sunny have gone back and sanji et. al are about to have a very bad time.

this is part of a bigger fic i told myself i could try to have a rough draft of done by halloween and lmao. we'll shoot for the end of the year now. maybe. potentially.

text under the cut:

“Something’s off with the water,” he says, “I gotta get Franky up to see if the filtration’s working properly.” He doesn’t admit that Sanji told him to do it—he was going to anyway, of his own volition, because he’s looking after his crew. “The cook doesn’t wanna mess with it if it can contaminate the food.” Nami’s expression clouds, but neither get the chance to touch on the fact it still sounds like Zoro’s doing Sanji a favor—which he will vehemently deny and she will never let go. “Ah, fuck!” Sanji comes tearing out of the pantry, clutching a loaf of bread that’s mostly blue while his face purples, biting an unlit cigarette in half. Zoro eyes the moldy, festering mess that was once a loaf of sourdough, painstakingly crafted and left to rise before filling the gallery with the scent of fresh baked bread. He remembers Sanji slicing it up for breakfast, looking rather pleased with the results but not saying anything about it himself, not outright. (His pride was in the way he carried himself, the way he set out plates and passed dishes, the bend to his spine as he refilled Robin’s mug and only cuffed Luffy upside the head twice.) “Sanji, it’s not so bad,” Nami offers, but even her sweet tone doesn’t do much to smooth the harsh line of his shoulders. She’s sat up more, but even as he leaves the loaf on the counter Zoro can see the tremble in his frame, the way he glares down at the bread and Nami continues to try to soothe him, platitudes falling on deaf ears. In the entire time he’s known him, Zoro has never seen Sanji waste any food—even the egg shells and rinds get repurposed into compost for the grove, and onion and celery scraps get tossed into a pot with chicken and ham bones for stock.

[tedexia]

Chapter 2: The Wolf

The stillness of the night was not broken even by the sporadic snores emitted by Trafford's men. Eli stood up and looked in the direction of where his horse was quietly waiting, it would be best to leave now. He didn't like the idea of leaving and not saying goodbye to Cornelia, but it seemed like the most appropriate idea at the moment.

The creak of the front door of the house roused the sleepy men and made Eli turn in on himself to find Cornelia in a black dress almost similar to the one from the night he rescued her. She seemed relieved to see him and arrived in a few steps to where he was standing waiting.

- I'm sorry, Thomas had so many questions," Cornelia said, gently rubbing her nose and bringing her glassy eyes to Eli who only nodded, "So, where shall we go now?

Eli moved his mouth as if he expected to speak, instead he pointed to an open field and walked in that direction knowing she would follow him. The Trafford men returned to their routine of sleeping and ignoring any sound that wasn't nearby.

Dry and fresh grass rattled against Cornelia's dress, the strong smell of cut tree debris flooded the spot where Eli stopped with her at his back.

- Tonight, maybe Melmont's men believe the lie," Eli mentioned, "but in the morning they'll draw their own conclusions about it. This place seems safe, whether you want to stay here or be escorted home.

- You haven't answered my question, Mr. Whipp," Cornelia dismissed the native's argument.

- I will return to the Loup," Eli said after a few seconds of silence.

- Is that where you want to live," she asked wondering why he looked more evasive than he had the last few days.

- That's where I was headed from the beginning," the native said, turning around and pointing to his horse, "I have to go now.

Cornelia stared at Eli as if surprised that he would forget something as fundamental to his plans as she was.

- In that case, I'll get my horse," Cornelia affirmed and Eli's hand stopped her.

- You must stay here Cornelia, among your own," Eli explained, feeling painfully sorry to say that it was the best thing for her, even if it wasn't for him.

- There is no one of me here, Eli," Cornelia asserted, slipping her hand from his grasp until she laced her fingers with his, "There is only you, and you have me. You won't leave without me.

- It's not safe for you to follow me, I'll have to hide my trail for a while until I can get settled," the native said, trying to get her to reason, but he knew from his experience that she would not reason beyond what her sweet, impulsive heart told her.

- We'll be fine, I know it now," the blue-eyed woman assured and with her free hand she tightened her bruised collar, "Your family and mine will take care of us.... Magic, remember?

Eli could see the fleeting remnants of pain in her glassy eyes, and the logical part in his head told him that even though he needed her as much as he needed water to survive, he had to stay here, and maybe there was only one way to stop her from following him.

- I once asked you if you kept a secret that no one knew about," Eli said, still holding her hand in his.

- I think you know it now.

- The Cheyenne massacre in '75," Eli said, "I was tasked by the Army to track down McClintock, Myers and Flynn. But I decided it wasn't my business, and I went on my way back. Later, I found them carrying Cheyenne blood and scalps. My duty to the army allowed me to end the lives of all four, including David Melmont.

At that part of the story Eli carefully watched the reaction of Cornelia who looked with her eyes more moist and pained. Perhaps now she understood that he was as guilty a man as the rest.

- But then again, I decided it wasn't my business and let them go," Eli didn't feel her grip on him loosen, "If I had taken matters into my own hands, then they would have been compost in the ground long ago. And you, you wouldn't have all this suffering in your heart.

- Why are you telling me this," Cornelia shook her head.

- It wasn't cowardice, I just wanted to go home.

Cornelia let go of the necklace and wiped the tears that ran down her cheeks and then let out a sigh followed by a warm smile, her hand went back to her necklace.

- All roads brought us exactly to this place, Eli," Cornelia assured and shifted her gaze from her son's lock of hair to Eli's, "I'm not looking for blame or favors. I will not stay behind, I will go with you to the Loup or wherever you decide to go.

Eli knew that saying anything or asking any questions didn't make much sense with her, she was as transparent as the clear water in the streams of her native soil.

The native nodded and walked in the direction of his horse knowing she would still take a little time to say goodbye.

Cornelia looked up at the stars and squeezed the lock of her son's hair and vowed that now it was her turn to care for him, for her family.

An hour and a half later the horses trotted away at a gentle trot after Cornelia kissed Thomas Trafford on the cheek and wished him a long life.

- I thought you left most of your money with the boy," Eli said, noticing a new saddlebag among the things she secured on her horse.

- Many years ago, my father invested a portion of his capital for my marriage to Thomas," Cornelia said, "He has simply paid me back with interest...or paid us to get David Melmont out of the way.

Eli was not surprised to hear her make that joke, she could be as beautiful as the moon dispelling the darkness around her.

The native watched the stars and assessed his position, he would have to ride until daybreak and from there he would seek shelter for both of them. It is clear that the scorpion is not capable of desisting in his actions, and the wolf is not going to leave her behind, even if it costs him his life.

>>>Remember, this fanfic is being translated by an app. Sorry for the translation errors.<<<

[nicklloydnow]

“WOULD ANY SANE PERSON think dumpster diving would have stopped Hitler, or that composting would have ended slavery or brought about the eight-hour workday, or that chopping wood and carrying water would have gotten people out of Tsarist prisons, or that dancing naked around a fire would have helped put in place the Voting Rights Act of 1957 or the Civil Rights Act of 1964? Then why now, with all the world at stake, do so many people retreat into these entirely personal “solutions”?

(…)

I want to be clear. I’m not saying we shouldn’t live simply. I live reasonably simply myself, but I don’t pretend that not buying much (or not driving much, or not having kids) is a powerful political act, or that it’s deeply revolutionary. It’s not. Personal change doesn’t equal social change.

So how, then, and especially with all the world at stake, have we come to accept these utterly insufficient responses? I think part of it is that we’re in a double bind. A double bind is where you’re given multiple options, but no matter what option you choose, you lose, and withdrawal is not an option. At this point, it should be pretty easy to recognize that every action involving the industrial economy is destructive (and we shouldn’t pretend that solar photovoltaics, for example, exempt us from this: they still require mining and transportation infrastructures at every point in the production processes; the same can be said for every other so-called green technology). So if we choose option one — if we avidly participate in the industrial economy — we may in the short term think we win because we may accumulate wealth, the marker of “success” in this culture. But we lose, because in doing so we give up our empathy, our animal humanity. And we really lose because industrial civilization is killing the planet, which means everyone loses. If we choose the “alternative” option of living more simply, thus causing less harm, but still not stopping the industrial economy from killing the planet, we may in the short term think we win because we get to feel pure, and we didn’t even have to give up all of our empathy (just enough to justify not stopping the horrors), but once again we really lose because industrial civilization is still killing the planet, which means everyone still loses. The third option, acting decisively to stop the industrial economy, is very scary for a number of reasons, including but not restricted to the fact that we’d lose some of the luxuries (like electricity) to which we’ve grown accustomed, and the fact that those in power might try to kill us if we seriously impede their ability to exploit the world — none of which alters the fact that it’s a better option than a dead planet. Any option is a better option than a dead planet.

Besides being ineffective at causing the sorts of changes necessary to stop this culture from killing the planet, there are at least four other problems with perceiving simple living as a political act (as opposed to living simply because that’s what you want to do). The first is that it’s predicated on the flawed notion that humans inevitably harm their landbase. Simple living as a political act consists solely of harm reduction, ignoring the fact that humans can help the Earth as well as harm it. We can rehabilitate streams, we can get rid of noxious invasives, we can remove dams, we can disrupt a political system tilted toward the rich as well as an extractive economic system, we can destroy the industrial economy that is destroying the real, physical world.

The second problem — and this is another big one — is that it incorrectly assigns blame to the individual (and most especially to individuals who are particularly powerless) instead of to those who actually wield power in this system and to the system itself. Kirkpatrick Sale again: “The whole individualist what-you-can-do-to-save-the-earth guilt trip is a myth. We, as individuals, are not creating the crises, and we can’t solve them.”

The third problem is that it accepts capitalism’s redefinition of us from citizens to consumers. By accepting this redefinition, we reduce our potential forms of resistance to consuming and not consuming. Citizens have a much wider range of available resistance tactics, including voting, not voting, running for office, pamphleting, boycotting, organizing, lobbying, protesting, and, when a government becomes destructive of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, we have the right to alter or abolish it.

The fourth problem is that the endpoint of the logic behind simple living as a political act is suicide. If every act within an industrial economy is destructive, and if we want to stop this destruction, and if we are unwilling (or unable) to question (much less destroy) the intellectual, moral, economic, and physical infrastructures that cause every act within an industrial economy to be destructive, then we can easily come to believe that we will cause the least destruction possible if we are dead.”

[100dayproductivity]

Still more Day 28/100.

I got started on the cupboard above the microwave.

The macaroni in the bag is crap. It came from boxes of Kraft Dinner. I don't know what Kraft has done to their macaroni but it's not like it was 25 years ago. It just turns to mush now. Blech! I was hoping to think of an alternate use for it but all I could come up with was "compost".

The almond butter (yes, it's upside-down) I had once bought because I was trying to eat a healthier alternative to Kraft peanut butter. Alas, I never got far with it and ended up buying Kraft peanut butter anyway. And the almond butter just sat in the cupboard going rancid. I've finally thrown it out now (scooped into the compost, jar will be washed and recycled).

The cherries might still be good. I bought them once because my daughter wanted a Black Forest cake for her birthday. I bought two jars but only ended up using one. I'm not a very experienced cake baker and the local bakery regularly carries black forest cake so it's not likely I will attempt to make it again. Besides, my daughter realized afterward that too much whipped cream makes her feel ill.

The other two cans are pizza sauce and tomato sauce. They're still good.

I forgot about this stuffing mix. It expired in 2014. I threw it out (recycled the box).

The pumpkin puree is dated best before 2020. (I had high hopes for baking during the pandemic lockdown.) But look at this!

"Most shelf-stable foods are safe indefinitely. In fact, canned goods will last for years, as long as the can itself is in good condition (no rust, dents, or swelling). Packaged foods (cereal, pasta, cookies) will be safe past the ‘best by’ date, although they may eventually become stale or develop an off flavor. You’ll know when you open the package if the food has lost quality. Many dates on foods refer to quality, not safety."

So maybe my ex-mother-in-law was right: "The expiry date is just a guideline."

[themovieblogonline]

FROM Season 3 Episode 2 Review: Boyd’s Breaking Point and Major Twists

Yo, FROMily, grab a snack, and buckle up because FROM just hit us with another wild episode! I’m not saying this show thrives on throwing curveballs, but every time you think you've got it figured out, BAM!—you're left dazed, confused, and wondering what the heck is going on. Today, we’re diving into FROM Season 3 Episode 2, and let me tell you, Boyd (Harold Perrineau) is carrying the weight of this twisted little world on his back. This dude’s in the trenches—and I mean, real trenches. https://youtu.be/0KCxDotZPQ8 This episode kicks off with Boyd and Jade, the odd couple we never knew we needed. Jade's finally manning up and facing the aftermath of Tian-Chen’s death. And who’s still standing there, emotionally wrecked? Boyd. Let’s be real, Harold Perrineau is putting on a masterclass in "emotionally tormented sheriff stuck in a nightmare town." Boyd’s still reeling from having to watch the peoplecreaturemonsters torture Tian-Chen, and it’s taking a toll on his sanity. As much as Boyd wants to protect the town, this episode paints a clear picture—he’s running on empty. The way Perrineau delivers those scenes? It’s like watching a slow-motion car crash, but you can’t look away. You just feel for the guy. Someone hand this man a very stiff drink of Sable bourbon. Meanwhile in ‘WTF is Happening’ Land... While Boyd’s spiraling, Jim and Kenny are over here discovering a magical patch of vegetables—because why not? Honestly, at this point, FROM has no rules. Like, who even knows where this random lake came from, but hey, at least the town’s got some fresh veggies now! Meanwhile, Tabatha is out in the real world living her best “I’ve just escaped a nightmare town” life, trying to get Henry to believe her. But instead of “Hey, let’s talk about this spooky-ass town,” Henry's more concerned about his son’s lunchbox like it's some kind of holy relic. Monsters, Manipulation, and Mayhem Let’s not forget the highlight of the episode—Kenny. My dude is DONE playing it safe. He’s got the vodka, he’s got the rage, and he’s ready to burn those peoplecreaturemonsters into the ground. And honestly? Same, Kenny. Same. This is the type of energy we needed after watching his mom suffer. It’s about time someone went full Die Hard on these monsters. But Kenny isn't the only one on edge. Even Boyd’s done pretending there’s a way out—his big plan? Catch one of those creatures. (Boyd, please tell me you’re joking.) There’s a powerful moment when Boyd shares the final words of Tian-Chen, “Take care of him. He’ll be alone now.” Perrineau’s delivery? It hits hard—like a punch straight to the gut. Damn you, FROM, for making us care about these characters only to tear them away. But it’s that kind of pain that keeps us coming back, episode after episode. What the Heck is Fatima Eating!? Now, we have to talk about Fatima, because, honestly, this girl is dealing with some next-level pregnancy cravings. Rotten crops? Really, Fatima? You can see the demon baby’s influence on her, and it's gross. She’s practically shoveling compost down her throat like it’s some kind of delicacy. Yo, Ellis, get your girl to Kristy STAT because something ain’t right with that baby. Julie Has Time Today Oh, and speaking of people who are over it—Julie. She finally rips into Jim for always playing the absentee dad. Jim, buddy, you’ve been coasting on “I’m doing my best,” but Julie’s here to remind you that your best ain't cutting it. It’s about time she let him have it, and it’s low-key satisfying to watch her lay it all out. No more playing mom, no more pretending things are okay—Julie’s done with the bullshit. Final Thoughts on Episode 2: So, FROM Season 3 Episode 2 gave us some answers, but more importantly, it gave us a deeper look into the fragile state of the town—and Boyd. Harold Perrineau really stole the show with his haunting portrayal of a man at the brink. But as always, this show loves to dangle clues in front of us, only to snatch them away before we can grasp what’s really happening. I’m still trying to piece together what’s going on with these monsters, but trust me, I’ll be back next week—more confused, more invested, and, probably, more traumatized. Read the full article

[lit-city-gal]

My Journey to Minimalism and Sustainability, and How You Can Start Yours 

I began my journey towards minimalism and sustainability when I was 13, thanks to my favorite famous twins, Bill and Tom Kaulitz from the German band Tokio Hotel. They had just gone vegetarian, and their lifestyle shift made me rethink my own habits. I’ve always had pets—cats, dogs, hamsters, and even a horse I visited and fed every day (Okay, it wasn't mine, but I wished it was!)—but up until then, I hadn't really considered the wellbeing of wildlife or the broader environment.

Cutting out meat was my first step towards a more eco-friendly lifestyle. Over the years, I’ve made plenty of small swaps and sacrifices to lessen my impact on the planet. But don’t worry—sustainability doesn’t have to be overwhelming! In a world where some eco-warriors are aiming to fit a year’s worth of waste into a single jar, it’s easy to feel like you have to go to extremes. The truth is, you don’t have to make drastic changes to start your sustainability journey.

Below are some simple swaps I’ve made that have helped me live a little greener...

Bamboo Charcoal Menstrual Pads 

Switching from disposable pads to reusable bamboo charcoal pads was one of the easiest changes I made. They’re washable, so still hygienic, plus they cut down on waste and microplastics. After the recent news about there being arsenic in tampons, I’m so glad I made this switch years ago! 

Reusable Water Bottles and Coffee Cups

Instead of buying plastic water bottles or using disposable coffee cups, I now carry my own reusable versions. Not only does this help reduce plastic waste, but it’s also so convenient to always have a water bottle on hand.

Reusable Cotton Makeup Pads

I used to go through countless cotton pads while removing makeup. Now I use reusable ones that I can just toss in the wash. It’s a small change, but it makes a difference in how much waste I create each day.

Eating Less Meat

If you care about animals and want to reduce your carbon footprint, eat less meat. You don’t have to cut it out completely to make a difference. If you want to go the extra mile for our oceans, you can cut down your fish intake too. 

Reusable Shopping Bags

We’ve all heard this one, but it’s such a simple habit to get into! Keeping reusable shopping bags in my car or bag ensures I never have to rely on plastic ones when I’m out.

Recycling

This might sound basic, but committing to recycling properly is one of the simplest ways to contribute to a healthier planet. I make sure to recycle everything I can, from paper and plastics to glass and metals.

Those are a few swaps I’ve made over the past twelve years, but there’s always room to improve, so here are a few things I plan to try next:

Buying Less Clothing

I’m a legit shopping addict and tend to spend more than I make 😅 but I know fast fashion has a huge impact on the environment, so I’m working on being more mindful about what I buy and sticking to timeless, sustainable pieces.

Not Upgrading Tech Every Couple Of Years

It’s tempting to get the latest phone or gadget, but holding onto tech for longer reduces electronic waste.

Avoiding Palm Oil

Palm oil is in so many everyday products, and its production is harmful to the environment. I’m aiming to be more conscious about the products I buy and look for palm oil-free alternatives.

Composting

This is a big one I’ve been meaning to start! Composting food scraps instead of throwing them away can significantly reduce the amount of waste I send to landfills.

Sustainability is a journey, and it’s all about progress, not perfection. You don’t need to change everything at once. Start small, make swaps where you can, and keep growing from there. Every little bit helps!

What are some eco-friendly changes you’ve made? I’d love to hear your tips and ideas in the comments!

[letters2am]

17th December 2022

Dear M

So much should've been said in the past one week but it wasn't. It was quiet, it was work, it was self review that one time I've to judge myself from a corporate point of view, tell people what I've done and where I've lacked. Everything is a haze. I am in constant turmoil.

And there is you, looking at your face every now and then calms me down. I feel these days that you know how I feel, and you smile at me thinking I'll look at your photograph. I do. Your smile is lovely. You being in the photograph, fades everybody away. I do only see you.

I am in Mumbai right now and there is so much thc in my blood. I made hash brownies the other day and I got super high, like I was remembering my past, how it had been for me living in Palwal all those years ago, our family dynamics, my father's protectiveness for me as his first born daughter; two separate interpretations of movie Annihilation, more discussion about Piyush and our relationship.

You know I asked him to read about the article about women these days not having libido for man with man-child characteristics, I must have rattled him or something, I seriously can't tell. But it's true, his lousiness or dumbness about life and not really knowing what to do, puts me off. Makes my vagina go dry. I do masturbate on occasion but when he approaches, my mind is like "c'mon, do your little book reading or sth, and leave these things to me". In bed, he has seldom idea what he is doing. A big turn off. I wish he reads the article and realises what he is supposed to be doing. You can't make people attain common sense.

Anyway, I feel I carry this big ball of sadness and on occasion when I let myself have fun, it's amazing. Talking when high, on this night, was cathartic. Like I was moving from one painting to the other. In the first one, I was a person outside my body, no one cares what I do and do not. Hell! they don't understand even if I explain things, may be they can't hear me, so what's the point of it, you know.

It made me realise, I gotta do a bunch of things in my life and that needs no one's approval. After this realisation, feminist in me also thought how wives keep looking at their husbands/fathers to see them, listen to them and give them permissions to do things that they want - the whole patriarchal shebang.

I can't shake the feeling of being rejected by everyone in some way, you know my grandmother cried the day I was born because she wanted a grandson. I imagine what my father would've said to her - he would've fought with her and called her a fool for not liking his baby daughter. I feel so loved by him at every step of the way. I have a strong imagination but I know his love is pure and real. Fathers and daughters. I did cry a lot today, missed him and wondering what he is doing right now. He is getting old, and yet very cute and full of life.

I felt that I can be my own person. I also thought about becoming a farmer. I was so desperate to get out of that small town and start a life in the city where I wouldn't be inferior in everyone's opinion. I've felt inferior to others quite a few times in my life, all those days when I was not earning. It became a different journey when I started earning. Now I feel farming is a good way to survive and give back to the earth. I'll compost and use solar energy for most of my needs. I need to find a place where I can buy a piece of land and build a house. A place where temperatures are not extreme and it has plenty of water.

I thought about different things after that, like unsafe spaces for women, train journeys specially when Piyush mentioned how much he likes to sleep to train sounds, I told him it was fun until the time I was groped, molested or inappropriately touched on a train. I was always on guard after that and never enjoyed train rides. It was whole of Palwal where I felt unsafe and all of us wanted to get out of there. I told him about this boy who lived in the same colony as me - Aashu. He was autistic, his family treated him like an animal, or a servant whenever they felt like. They didn't send him to a proper school. I felt really bad for him, I wanted to curse his family. I used to say hello to him every time I came across to him. He seemed very kind and always smiled at me. His younger brother was evil, I always wanted to slap him. He evangelised my brother into a nasty teenager. I really hated him.

You must be thinking that I am so full of myself, judging everybody, making my own world and playing a character whenever I feel like. I even write letters to myself, once a year on my birthday. It's a ritual that I started when I turned 21. I read previous year's letter and write a new one to the next year me. I stopped in between, I lost sense of self in between, I am getting all that back now. May be that's why I am talking so much about myself today.

I love writing to you and I love you, I hope you know that even I am talking about myself.

-

S