#and the answer is..........kraft macaroni & cheese!

[sternbilder]

guess what flavor of macarons I made: friends I've known for 8 years vs. new person from Hinge I've been talking to for like a week edition

[blood-and-pizza]

Notable Details from the original "Into The Pit" story (PART 1)

Upon the mill's closure, Oswald's dad works part-time at the deli counter in a store called the Snack Space (a 7-11 equivalent, basically), which requires a red vest as their uniform. Oswald is embarrassed by the fact his dad is wearing the vest as he drops him off at school. Just a neat bit of world-building.

Oswald has a best friend named Ben who moved into the next town over.

Oswald's bullies, including Dylan Cooper, call him "Oswald the Ocelot" after a cartoon character they saw as pre-schoolers, a big pink ocelot named Oswald. Again, more world-building.

Oswald is described as having freckles and a cowlick in the original story.

Oswald has no modern electronics in his home, save for one laptop he shares with his family. His phone is an outdated model he's embarrassed by.

Oswald's teacher, Mrs. Meecham, puts on a movie for her class on the last day of school, which is described as "about a farm with talking animals", "too babyish for a roomful of fifth graders". I'm guessing they might have been watching the animated adaptation of Charlotte's Web... or it could be wishful thinking on my part, since I love that movie.

Oswald has been drawing mechanical animals ("bears, bunnies, and birds") for reasons even he doesn't know, other than lack of anything better to do when he's bored.

Oswald's mom works at the hospital from 12PM to 12AM... yikes.

Oswald's dad can't cook to save his life. If it can't be boiled in water or heated in a microwave, he has to buy his meals... how relatable.

Blue-box macaroni and cheese exists in FNAF, meaning Kraft and its products likely exist, too. Just thought that was funny for some reason.

Oswald's dad squirts ketchup into his mac and cheese. I just think knowing he's the kind of dad who does that is really funny... kinda reminds me of my stepdad's love of ketchup, to be honest.

Other pizzerias that once existed in Oswald's town were Gino's Pizza and Marco's Pizza, both of which closed not long after the mill closed. Both Gino's and Marco's are described as good restaurants, while the food at Jeff's Pizza is described as "decent".

Oswald is into B-grade Japanese horror films, including kaiju movies like Zendrelix vs. Mechazendrelix. Zendrelix is apparently FNAF's answer to Godzilla, making Mechazendrelix an equivalent to Mechagodzilla. They're described like this: "... Zendrelix just looked like a giant dragon thing, but Mechazendrelix reminded him [Oswald] of the mechanical animals he drew when he stripped them of their fur." Zendrelix is also described as being portrayed by "a guy in a rubber suit", solidifying the connection between him and Godzilla.

Oswald and his dad both really love bacon. I just thought that was cute.

When Oswald visits the library, a place he finds "actually kinda fun", he shows interest in a science fiction book from a series, as well as a manga he liked. Based, IMHO.

The library Oswald visits frequently allows homeless people to use their computers and other resources. WE NEED LIBRARIES AND THIS IS EXACTLY ONE REASON WHY!

Oswald's mom, being a nurse, is a bit of a germaphobe and won't let Oswald play in places she considers dirty. A ball pit would be considered one such place.

The pizza Jeff serves comes in huge slices too big for the paper plates they're served on, and very greasy. As someone who was born in NYC and used to eat greasy New York pizza... I think I would have liked eating at Jeff's. Maybe.

Oswald reads a library book while visiting Jeff's Pizza, about "a world where kids with secret powers went to a special school to learn how to fight evil". I wonder how many books that describes...

Oswald plays an online fantasy game at the library that's free to play, but Oswald gets to a point where he can't progress without money. I wonder what game it could have been...

Oswald's dad and mom used to date in high school, often frequenting a roller rink, and are great skaters as a result. Oswald himself can't skate and needs his parents to hold him up.

Oswald's dad only ever buys vanilla ice cream.

There's a video rental service Oswald's family uses called Red Box, but I don't know if it's meant to be the same as the actual existing Redbox. Maybe it is?

Oswald's mom is very good at playing Clue... oh, and Clue exists in the FNAF universe.

Oswald's dad prefers practical effects over CGI in movies. Oswald is the exact opposite.

Oswald's dad is a fan of country music. Oswald... is not.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9, Part 1 of 2 (Sneak Peek)

a/n: a little teaser for what's to come (hopefully!) tomorrow! This little snippet might make your heart feel warm and fuzzy, but you know with these two that you can't get used to that for too long. 😭

- 🌼🌼🌼-

Initially, you weren’t sure what it was that brought you back from such a deep slumber. But, once you heard him, you knew. The deep, raspy laugh that was slightly muffled through you gaining consciousness. 

Why was he in the living room? Was he? Was this your imagination? A taunting dream?

You cracked an eye open the slightest bit to allow some adjustment to the light you’d shut your eyes to. But. . . There was no overhead light. It was off. The room would’ve been pitch black, save for your standing lamp’s yellow glow and the blue light from your TV. 

More importantly, the warning feeling of a crick in your neck was suddenly catching your attention. So, without worrying about your company, you quickly sat up to attempt getting more comfortable. You didn’t want to feel awkward around him, but you also didn’t want to deal with a hitch in your neck or a migraine in the morning. 

The loud yawn that escaped you once you’d sat up couldn’t be helped. You were slightly embarrassed at the obnoxiously loud noise that emitted from your mouth as you stretched. Blushing, you glanced over at your fellow living room occupant to see if he’d even noticed. 

And, of course, he had. He was staring at you—but not judgmentally. Not at all. In fact, his eyes held the natural, reassuring lightness that occupied your sweetest recent memories. And the small grin on his face. . . was shocking, to say the least. 

Why was he acting so okay with you? He’d been so distant recently. . .

You knit your eyebrows together, hyper aware of his presence and needing answers as to why he had decided to sit next to you. 

“What are you doing here?” You clipped, tone sharp. You brought your blanket all the way up to your chin and around your shoulders, as a way to protect yourself from the (obviously) harmless man. 

Although, you instantly regretted it as his expression became apprehensive rather than open like seconds before. 

Why do you have to go and ruin everything, y/n? 

He leaned back, his eyebrows furrowed as he balanced a bowl of (. . . macaroni and cheese? Fuck, that looked good.) on his knee, holding onto it with one hand. “I live here, y/n.”

And yet another memory was flashing back to you from the night you got high. . . his breath, hot on your neck, your skin erupting in goosebumps as he said the words then– your skin flaming now, too. Just the sound of his voice could elicit the most from you. Fuck your pregnant feelings.

Or were they just feelings? The fear came rushing back the moment you thought yourself pregnant. . . was there a baby in there? God, fuck. . . you really didn’t want to sit in this train of thought again. 

You figured you might as well use your company to distract you. . . .You missed talking to him anyways–missed it so damn bad. 

But your tummy interrupted you. The growl that emitted from it was fucking humiliating, honestly, but it had happened. And after eyeing you curiously for a minute, Jake’s lips turned up with a one breathy laugh, his beautiful pearly whites on full display. God, he was handsome.

“You hungry?” He questioned, lifting his mac and cheese. “I made more of this. It’s just the shit Kraft, but it still hits the spot.”

Nodding, you went to hesitantly get up to get some. You really didn’t want to move from under the security of your warm, cozy blanket. 

“No, just wait here,” he insisted, standing. His pajama pants were your favorites (the ones he didn’t normally wear underwear with). But you did not watch his crotch for movement. Your eyes were just staring at the wrong place at the wrong time. Really. “I have to wash my bowl anyway. I’ll put the rest in a bowl for you while I’m up.” 

Again, why was he being so fucking nice? But you weren’t about to disagree. You were comfy and hungry and he was offering. It felt like old times and you felt like being momentarily delusional.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed, your eyes shifted, unsure to his face. But he was moving before you could look at him. Back to the kitchen. After a few moments, he was back, handing you a little white bowl with a spoon. The scrumptious, cheesy noodles made your eyes light up. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, responding as though elsewhere. This was weird and you hated how it all felt. But he kept talking, filling the air as he sat a beer on the end table beside him, before sitting back down in the chair. “I had to get a beer anyway. Long day with the guys and May–,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shutting briefly as he shook his head.

Fuck. Thanks, Jake, you thought, your eyes on the verge of welling with tears. The moments of silence, hanging in the air, closing in around you. Not fucking now, hormones.

All you wanted to do was ask why it had been a long day. Get more information that might hurt you. Why did you do that to yourself? 

Though, before you could say anything, he continued. Awkwardly, his eyes flashing momentarily to the TV to reset as he spoke. “Long day. I should’ve asked if you wanted one.”

Your cheeks heated. . . little did he know. “I’m good,” you mumbled, looking down at your bowl. Stomach sinking with your thoughts from earlier, you decided to eat before you lost your appetite again. Not the time to be sad. “Thanks though.”

The next few minutes went by in a silence you wanted to stab with a fucking knife. It was seriously unpleasant and sucked ass. After you both laughed at a certain thing Joey said, you figured you might as well try to keep some sort of conversation going. Because, god, you missed him. 

“I meant in here, by the way,” you motioned with your head to the space around you, mouth full. (Ladylike.) 

His brow raised as he looked from the screen to you, setting his gaze on you. “What are you–?”

“My question. Why you were here,” you embarrassingly restated, hearing how it must’ve sounded. “In the living room. With me. Why you were in here, in the living room, with me, of all places.”

He sat further back, but this time going to sit in the armchair comfortably. His feet propped up on the ottoman across from him. “Well,” he covered his mouth, coughing briefly into his fist. “To be fair– you were sleeping when I came to sit down in here.” 

Rather than being unnecessarily hurt over him only wanting to be in the same room as a sleeping version of you, you let yourself give in to the temptation and take advantage of him being distracted by his next task. You missed everything about him. . . even such a simple thing as watching him move.

Pathetic. And, because your mind hated you, it felt like you were watching him move in slow motion.

You watched in a daze as he leaned over to the tall lamp’s attached table, his self-cut gray t-shirt rising up at his hips to show his firm abdomen flex with the stretch. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot to watch someone reach for a fucking beer bottle. But, the sight that greeted you next was worse than seeing his side peeking from his shirt. What you saw next were his full, pink lips, wrapping just right around the glass top of his beer bottle as he took a generous sip of his Miller Lite. You admired, mouth open as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each gulp of the beer. 

But when he went to repeat his action of leaning over the chair to set the bottle back, you decided to look away so as to save yourself from the torture (or, from the possibility of being caught). You took a bite of the mac and cheese, growing cold in your bowl.

Your heart was already hammering much too erratically from glimpsing these ridiculously mundane motions. . . fuck it all. The heat from being so near to him and watching him settled from your head all the way to the pit of your tummy. You swallowed down your bite thickly.

Your tummy.

“Yeah,” you muttered, awkwardly – you just wanted to have a conversation to get your mind off things. Problem was, you didn’t know where to necessarily start with him these days. . . Work? The band? Maya? God, no. . . gag.

Lucky for you, he took the initiative before you had much longer to overthink it. “I’m glad you woke up, though.” He pulled at his plaid pajama bottoms as he scooted up again, going back to get comfortable on the ottoman. Sitting with his legs spread (dammit), he balanced his elbows on his knees as he reached for his phone in his pocket. “I actually wanted to run something past you.”

God, please don’t say you found a place and you’re moving out. . . you thought, suddenly downcast and dreading what he was about to say. Or that you’re moving out to live with her.

You swallowed the thickness in your throat, trying to alleviate the unwarranted nerves before responding. Dispelling them with food, you took one more bite before swallowing it to talk. “And what’s that?” 

So what if he wanted to move out? He damn well could. He surely had the money and you two weren’t involved. 

He scrolled for a few more moments, your heart thump-thump-thumping without relenting. . . And finally, he found what he was looking for and before you had time to prepare, his eyes were sinking into yours earnestly. 

God. . . what is he about to sa–?

“I found a place for you to get therapy,” he stated, tone soft and careful. 

- 🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmm...... on the right track for some much needed healing perhaps?

[noturlondonboy]

No More Excuses//Katelena

Chapter 2: Déjà Vu is a Funny Thing, Funny Thing

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Chapter summary: Yelena makes Kate mac-n-cheese and tells her to go to bed.

A/N: enjoy :))

Chapter warnings: medications

“You still haven’t answered my question, Yelena. Why the hell are you in my house?”

Yelena Belova just waved a hand in Kate’s direction as she stirred a boiling pot of Kraft mac-n-cheese on the stove, humming a tune under her breath and tapping the toes of her Doc Martens. “Oh, Kate Bishop. You really must learn to relax now and again.”

Kate could only continue to stare, her poor brain doing everything in its power to get a grasp on the current situation. She had only slept a whopping total of three hours before this whole thing began, and now that her body seemed to realize she wasn’t in any immediate danger, the exhaustion had punched her in the face and left her unable to properly respond by going back to bed.

And now, suddenly, there was another person in her apartment with her- and it wasn’t just anybody, it was Yelena. Yelena who was Natasha Romanoff’s little sister, Yelena who could kill Kate at the flick of her wrist, Yelena who liked mac-n-cheese and giggled at small things and had an accent like a cool blanket of snow.

“You’re staring, Kate Bishop.”

“Hard not to when I’m sleep deprived and someone broke into my house.”

Yelena sighs so deeply Kate’s sure she’s about to pass out, but the woman just shakes her head and continues to monitor her noodles. “Once again, Kate Bishop, you’re being so hostile. Also, again, I still didn’t break anything. Lighten up, hm?”

“I’m not being hostile!” Kate sputtered, feeling oddly riled up.

A cutting glance from the blonde had her almost pouting, a headache forming behind her eyes as she scowled.

“Kate Bishop. Please. Stooop talking. I am making macaroni and it is going to be very tasty, but you will eat and not talk, and then you will go back to sleep with your doggy. Yes?”

Kate thinks the dumbfounded expression is going to get stuck on her face with how much she’s used it in the past 15 minutes, but she can’t seem to wipe it off as she tries to process Yelena’s words.

“Wait, I’m sorry- what? You just show up in the middle of the night completely unannounced and with no explanation, and I’m supposed to brush it off and go to sleep?”

“Pretty much,” Yelena replies simply, rolling her shoulders out as she drains the noodles and begins to add the rest of the ingredients. “We could have a conversation right now, but you are cranky. I would rather experience you rested and fed.”

Kate did not respond to the ‘cranky’ quip, opting to just tap her fingers and rub at her face until Yelena placed a bowl of macaroni in front of her, along with a fork, a glass of water, and one of Kate’s sleeping pills.

“How did you-?” Kate startled, blinking at both the cutlery and the medication once she noticed that Yelena also had a fork of her own.

“In the morning, Kate Bishop, we will talk. Eat. I made it special just for you.”

Feeling dizzy and perhaps a bit too content to obey, Kate scooped up a bite of the noodles. She hadn’t realized how hungry she truly was until the melted cheese hit her tongue, but once her stomach woke up at that, she scarfed the bowl down like it was oxygen.

Yelena laughed deeply, watching Kate as she turned ravenous over boxed macaroni. To be fair, it was delicious.

Once they had both finished eating, Yelena took the dishes (and the suspiciously new fork) to Kate’s sink before turning to lean against the counter and level a stare at her.

“What?”

“Sleepy time.”

“You promise you’ll explain all of this in the morning?” Kate asks wearily, a little too calm with the situation at hand.

“Yes, Kate Bishop, I promise.” Yelena watched her intently, and Kate felt chills go down her spine as she slowly stood and walked towards the couch to get Lucky. He blinked up at her, sprawled out over the cushions.

“Some guard dog you are,” Kate grumbled, patting his head until he got up and followed her to her bed. Lucky just flopped back down on the blankets, giving a sigh of contentment, and ignored her.

Kate stared at him, vision going blank and head swirling dizzily as the exhaustion caught up to her. She sat on the edge of her bed, feeling the sleeping meds drip down her spine and swirl deeply in her lungs.

She eventually laid down on her back, the ceiling melting away.

Yelena. Huh.

Translations: none

Kate Bishop counter: 6

This chapter's meme:

Comments/reblogs/notes make my day :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

In my area of the US it's a common thing for a comfort meal especially for children is grilled cheese/cheese toastys and tomatoe soup. Is it similar where you live or is there not really a country wide (I think) idea of a comfort food for kids? If there is do you like to eat it?

I actually like grilled cheese and tomatoe soup, I like dipping my sandwich in the soup like it's an edible spoon.

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Hi Lovely!

Me too!! Grilled cheese is one of my faves!

Not really sure if we have a SPECIFIC comfort food, but I remember like Campbell's soup ads quite vividly, but in OUR house the Go-To meal was "KD"... aka "Kraft Dinner" aka Macaroni and Cheese, LOL. I distinctly remember my dad and I always split a box, and he used to put ketchup on his.

Not sure if it's a world wide thing, but in Canada, Mac and Cheese is usually shorthanded as "KD" I think because of the catchy catch-phrase their commercials had ("It's gotta be, KD!") so like everyone kinda called mac and cheese "KD" where I grew up. Maybe it's just a Northwestern Ontario thing, 'cause where I live now it's just "mac and cheese" and it's pretty popular.

AND OF COURSE, the good old Poutine, though I never had them as often until I got older, and now with health issues I can't really eat too many starches so fries are limited in my diet nowadays, LOL.

OH and I just had a memory... yes, grilled cheese was also a comfort, BUT it was made with cheez whiz on each slice of bread and toasted in the toaster-oven. That was how we made them in my house LOL.

Blasphemous, I know. But my dad was a silly man, LOL/

Thank you for this one, it was fun!

[electrificata]

you can now teleport, but the destination is randomly selected - save for the fact that you always show up next to an item of food. what food do you choose as your teleportation guide

i feel like the intelligent gamers answer to this is smth like "well id choose a food that only appears in my home region so i never get too far away" but in my heart i want a food item that will take me to people of similar verve and whimsicality as myself. perhaps "kraft macaroni and cheese but theyre getting pretty funky with the add ins and modifications"

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {9}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

“Shit, bud. Calm down.”

Nyx is flailing around recklessly in his booster seat, his seatbelt stuck. As soon as the words leave my mouth, he gasps.

“That’s naughty, uncle Cass,” he says, as I lean over him and rattle the seatbelt for a second, getting it unstuck and breaking him free. He hops out of the truck and I grab his backpack.

“What’s naughty?”

“Bad words.” He leads us into the kitchen from the garage and Greg instantly greets him. Nyx is the only human that Greg truly likes. “Hi, Greggy.”

“They’re only naughty if you say them,” I assure him, dropping his backpack onto the kitchen table.

“Aunt Nesta!” Nyx’s little voice rings through the house.

“She’s not home, buddy,” I say, throwing him over my shoulder and carrying him into the living room.

He repeatedly hits me in the back as he giggles. “Where is she?”

“Yoga,” I say, and Nyx repeats the word with confusion. “Exercising,” I simplify. “Aunt Elain dragged her to a yoga class to help her with her body aches from carrying your new cousin.”

“Does having a baby hurt, uncle Cass?”

“I don’t think it feels too good, bud.”

“How did Aunt Lainy get a baby in her belly?”

I drop Nyx on the couch and cross my arms, trying not to laugh at his curiosity. Answering that question is beyond my pay grade. “Ask your dad.”

“But—”

“Ask your dad.” 

He sighs. “Fine. I’m hungry.”

Of course he is. He’s always hungry. “Chicken nuggets or mac and cheese?” 

He frowns. “Why can’t I have both?”

Both it is. 

I may be a critically acclaimed chef, but even I can’t help but heed the call of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

“Uncle Cass?” Nyx asks, while I’m walking toward the kitchen.

“Hmm?”

“Why is your pillow on the couch?” His question makes me stop to look back at him. Sure enough, he has my pillow on his lap and is beating the shit out of it. “That’s a bed pillow. It goes on your bed.”

It should be on my bed.

For the last few nights, since our date, I’ve debated on going up to bed. Every night, I’m tempted, and every night I think that it’s the night I’m finally going to take that step, but Nesta has never mentioned it and she’s the one that said one of us should be sleeping on the couch once I came back home.

Things have been going so well between us that I’m scared I’m going to do something to ruin it, like climb into bed with her in the middle of the night when she doesn’t want me there. 

“I slept on the couch last night,” I say, slowly, “because aunt Nesta was snoring too loud.”

Nyx giggles and starts fake snoring loudly and obnoxiously. “Like that?”

“Exactly. She was keeping me awake.”

As I walk into the kitchen and get a pot out the cupboard, Nyx says, “Is sleeping on the couch comfy? You’re too big to sleep on the couch.”

I snort and the pain in my lower back seems to be agreeing with my nephew. I remember being twenty and able to sleep in whatever position, wherever, and not feeling a damn thing. Now, after sleeping on the narrow as fuck couch, I wake up every morning with aches and pains I didn’t think were possible after an eight hour sleep. 

Half an hour later, Nesta walks through the door as me and Nyx are downing chicken nuggets and macaroni, and she barely says hi before Nyx says, “Uncle Cass is too old and big to be sleeping on the couch, Aunt Nesta, so you need to stop snoring.”

Her eyes go wide and she looks from him to me and I hope she can still read my face as well as she used to. 

She turns back to our nephew, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and asks, “Is that why he said he was sleeping on the couch?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding animatedly. I’m fairly sure that the last bite he had was more ketchup than it was nugget, based on the amount on his face. “He said it was cause you were snoring like this.”

He then replicates his fake snore from earlier, embellishing his snorts just as well as he had before.

Her eyebrows raise and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Her jaw clenches and I think every bit of progress we’ve made is about to be gone in an instant.

But then her lips twitch.

I exhale, the relieved breath I’ve been holding whooshing out quietly as Nesta hums. “That’s funny, because I recall making him sleep on the couch because he was the one snoring.”

With the most dramatic of gasps, Nyx turns to face me. “You were the one snoring, Uncle Cass?”

My wince is fake, but he can’t tell that. “Only a little bit. Hers were louder.”

Scooping up a bite of macaroni, he says, “Mama snores, but daddy said I’m not allowed to say anything about it.”

I watch in wonderment as Nesta throws her head back and laughs. “Your mama does snore, and your daddy is very smart for keeping that to himself.”

Nyx grins as if he had just said the world’s best joke.

Nesta catches me watching her and her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. 

“How was yoga?”

“Good,” she says, setting her back down next to the island. “I haven’t done it in so long, but I feel amazing.” 

I’m about to say good, that I’m glad she had such a nice time, but then she reaches down to my plate and grabs a chicken nugget before popping it into her mouth. I gasp and turn to the toddler stuffing his face beside me. “Did she just steal one of my nuggets?”

Nyx shakes his head and says, “You better get her, Uncle Cass.” He shoves a spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “She needs to go to timeout.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at Nesta, who is smiling as she chews, looking ridiculously gorgeous and humored. “You. Time out. Now. Nose in the corner for five minutes.” 

That brow lifts, once more. “Is that a demand?”

Her voice has a sultry quality I haven’t heard in months.

“Hell yeah it is,” I murmur, and Nesta’s eyes brighten. Nyx is too busy stuffing his face to call me out for my curse or notice what’s happening. At least until I say my next words. “Unless you want to take us for ice cream instead.” 

Nyx’s spoon clatters onto his plate as he drops it to clap. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” 

Nesta pretends to think on it for a minute. “Finish everything on your plate, then I guess we can get ice cream.” 

Nyx jumps up in his chair with a celebratory screech before sitting back down to finish his dinner in record time. 

True to her word, after going to change out of her yoga clothes, Nesta returns a few minutes later, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a cardigan, with her hair pulled back off of her face. She grabs her purse off the counter and asks, “Ready to go?”

Nyx is up and heading for the garage before I can react, but even so, I’m glued in place.

She is so, so beautiful.

Turning for the back door, Nesta notices I haven’t moved. She glances back at me. “What?”

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I approach her, pausing in front of her. “Nothing, just…” I reach out and run my hand down the length of her sleek ponytail, tugging lightly when I reach the end. I don’t let myself notice the slight catch in her breath as I do so. “Appreciating how gorgeous you are.”

Her eyes, so often full of storms, are calm today and they soften, as she looks at me.

“Can I kiss you?” I whisper, still not wanting to push her past her comfort zone yet.

She nods, rising up on her toes and closes the distance between us before I even have the chance.

My hands cup her face, tilting her head just right so I can slant my mouth over hers. Her fingers are clinging to my shirt and I break the kiss before it can become anything our nephew shouldn’t see.

“Come on,” I say, lacing her fingers in mine and heading for the back door. “You promised ice cream and you’re going to have to deliver.”

One of my favorite things about having a nephew is having the ability to load him up on sugar and then give him back to my brother.

By the time we’re pulling into Rhys and Feyre’s driveway, Nyx is bouncing in his carseat, singing the national anthem of Velaris at the top of his lungs for the fifth time. Apparently he’s been practicing it at school, and I’m impressed considering he only messes up about half the words.

Nesta finds it hilarious.

I keep sneaking glances over at her as she laughs in the passenger seat. 

Rhys opens the door when I ring the doorbell and Nyx runs past him, into the house, giggling as he continues singing. He doesn’t even move, my brother, as his toddler runs through the house. He just sighs and looks at me. “Ice cream?”

“Blame Nesta.”

I think he’s about to scold me, but then he cocks his head. “You seem happy. Doing good?”

I nod, slowly. “Yeah. I am. We are, I think.”

Even through his exhaustion, he smiles. “Good.” From somewhere in the distance, there’s a crash. 

Then, Nyx yelling, “Daddy? Uh… I tried to get juice.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I have to mop up some juice,” Rhys says, clapping me on the shoulder before telling me he’ll call me later. 

When I make it back to the truck, Nesta’s watching me. “That’s going to be fun putting to bed.”

“Considering it’s already ten minutes past bedtime? Yeah, Rhys is going to be thanking us.”

She chuckles and gets comfortable as I back out of the driveway. The ride is quiet for a moment, nothing uncomfortable, but as I stop at a redlight I can feel her watching me. I turn to meet her gaze as the truck comes to a stop. “You alright?” She nods, but she’s sucking on her bottom lip. I frown. “Nes, we have to be honest with each other, if you’re not alright—”

“I’m fine,” she says, quietly. The light turns green. “I’ve just been thinking.”

The words leave her slowly and an uneasy feeling creeps into the pit of my stomach. “Okay. About what?”

“You,” she says, quietly. “Sleeping on the couch.” 

I shrug, doing my best not get my hopes up. “Not a big deal.”

“I disagree,” she says, turning in her seat to face me.

This is something I’ve noticed her doing for the past few weeks. She’s giving me her full attention, letting me know that I’m her priority right now.

“Nyx won’t say anything to Rhys and Feyre,” I promise her, assuming she’s worried about what her sister will say. “And even if he does, I’m sure they could guess I’ve been sleeping on the couch—”

“I don’t care what Rhys and Feyre think.” She cuts me off and I let her, snapping my mouth shut. “I don’t care what anyone else, save for Gwyn, thinks about what takes place in our marriage. I… I’ve been thinking you should come back to bed.”

“Tonight?” I ask, turning onto our street, glancing  over at her. I want to make sure she’s serious, that she’s not just saying this because she thinks it’s what she should do since Nyx found out.

“Tonight,” she agrees, then adds, “and tomorrow night, and the night after that, depending how things go.”

I pull into our driveway and into the garage, parking next to her car, but neither of us make a move to get out. My next question could damn me, but I can’t stop myself from asking.  “And how do you want things to go?” Immediately, Nesta’s back goes rigid and I reach out, taking her hand and smoothing my thumb over the back of it. “I’m not asking to have sex, Nes, I just want to know what exactly you’re expecting.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m… I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not yet.” Opening her eyes, she gives me a soft smile. “But I miss having you sleeping next to me. I miss falling asleep in your arms and waking up with you curled around me. I even miss your snoring.”

I feign being appalled. “My snoring?”

“Yeah, contrary to what you told our nephew, you’re the only one that snores in this relationship,” she says, laughing quietly. 

“What can I say?” I ask, quietly, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between us and kiss her. “I’m not perfect.”

She rolls her eyes and tells me to get out of the truck. We go inside and I grab my pillow off the couch after I lock up and make my way upstairs. 

When I enter, Nesta’s standing in her bra, pulling an old t-shirt out of her drawer. It takes me a second to realize I’m staring, then I look away, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry.”

She laughs, quietly. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before, Cass.”

Taking that as permission, I look back up, but she’s pulled the t-shirt on. It’s one of mine, one I haven’t worn in years, one that she had claimed long ago. It’s long enough on her that when she starts shimmying out of her jeans, I don’t see anything, it’s all hidden. 

“True,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say. To confess that it’s different now, that everything is different now, probably wouldn’t help the situation. I don’t want to start a fight right when I’m about to climb into my own damn bed for the first time in over a month. 

Her smile doesn’t fade as she goes into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. I pull off my shirt and search through my drawers for a clean pair of sweatpants, which I kick off my jeans to pull on. 

Greg hops onto the bed, the bell on his collar jingling merrily as he makes himself comfortable on Nesta’s pillow. As much as I love our cat, I’m not interested in having him squeezed between us like the furry toddler he is the first night I’m allowed back in my own bed.

Without a word, I round to her side of the bed, picking Greg up. He gives me an inquisitive trill as I carry him towards the bedroom door, which turns into a noise of outrage as I chuck him out into the hall and pull the door shut as he lands on his feet.

Nesta comes out of the bathroom, chuckling. “What was that?”

I turn around to make a snarky remark about Greg’s sass, but I come up short. 

In nothing but that damn old shirt, Nesta’s pulling her hair back into a ponytail. With her arms raised, the hem of the shirt slides up her thighs. I can’t help my eyes as they graze her body, can’t help how slowly they trail from her bare legs, to the curves of her breasts that I can make out through the thin fabric now that her bra has been long forgotten, up to her cleansed face, which I admire in all her natural beauty. 

Needing to get under a blanket before she sees just how much the sight of her is affecting me, I round to my side of the bed, my arm brushing hers as I pass her, and get beneath the comforter.

I watch her still as she goes to turn off the light, then she makes her way to her side of the bed and gets in.

There.

We’ve done it.

Hurdle crossed. 

Except now I want to throw my body on top of hers and rip off that t-shirt. But I don’t, because she told me she wasn’t ready, and I respect that. 

But she did say that she wants to be held.

When I turn to her, she’s already facing me, already watching me.

“This is nice,” she whispers.

“I feel like you’re too far away,” I whisper back.

She huffs a laugh as she comes closer to me, until her forehead is against my chest and her arm is sliding around my waist.

“Better?”

I pull her on top of me, and she melts right into me as she always had, her body knowing exactly where to go to get comfortable. Her cheek is against my shoulder and my arms stay around her, tightly, protectively. Her knee is just above my cock, which is too hard for me to be thinking straight, but I like that her leg is slung over me, so I close my eyes and think of sick puppies and death.

“Better now,” I say, quietly, and her hand, which is lying on my bare chest, starts moving, her fingers moving in lazy circles across my skin, tracing the ink there. 

“Better now,” she agrees, and kisses the base of my neck.

The simple touch has my skin feeling like it’s on fire, and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. 

This feels good.

Right.

Torturous.

But right.

My arm is wrapped around her, tucking her against me, my hand pressed against her lower back. I can feel the heat of her skin through the thin t-shirt and I let my fingers move as indolently as hers do.

I don’t mean to, but before I know it, my fingers are skimming over the bare skin of her back, the thin fabric of the shirt bunched up.

“Sorry,” I mutter into the darkness, trying to smooth her shirt back down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, Cass,” she whispers, breath skating over my skin. “Gwyn said physical touch was good.”

Yeah, she did, but my dick is so hard and I’m wound so tight that if Nesta all but touches it, I’m going to blow.

Dead puppies. Well done steak. Naked grandmothers.

I repeat the mantra in my head until all the blood in my body isn’t being redirected south and I can breathe without feeling like my skin is stretched too tight.

When I glance down at Nesta, I find that she’s already looking at me, a smirk on her beautiful face. “You good?”

That smirk makes me want to roll on top of her, claim that wicked mouth in a kiss that I’d trail down her body until I reached the hem of my old shirt, tugging it up to reveal—

Closing my eyes, I drag my free hand down my face. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Her soft laughter ruffles my hair and she presses another kiss to my skin, just above my collarbone. “Go to sleep.”

With another deep breath, I pull her closer against me and settle into the pillows, listening as her breathing evens out.

When I’m sure she’s well and truly asleep, I press my lips to her forehead, breathing in her honey and lilac scent, and whisper, “Goodnight, Nesta. I love you.”

I swear her body relaxes further in my arms.

[triscribe]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog!

Thanks!! A'ight, let's see here, what's the most random stuff I can think of...

Eight year old Tri's favorite snack to put together at summer theater camp was a flour tortilla smeared with Trix Yogurt and rolled up into a very leaky burrito. Half the enjoyment came from the looks of awe and/or horror on the faces of other kids

I do not like cheese. I will happily consume plain cheese pizza with no toppings, Kraft macaroni and cheese with peas and sausage/tuna/hamburger mixed in, and grilled cheese sandwiches made by a single individual (The Primary Parent) but all other forms of cheese more often than not trigger my gag reflex. No I don't understand it either

I can off the top of my head list names/ages/primary details for dozens and dozens and dozens of characters across all my various original projects, along with summarized or expanded outlines of the plots and relationships and woldbuilding details (see: Stories of Sarant, the Understudy Project, Birds of Legend, Solar Knights, Hard Facts Simple Truths, Ellery Elements, the Ancestrals, Matrix Mage, Tales of the Bloodfeather, so on and so forth) all without consulting my vast horde of notebooks or digital documents, which is a feat my Parent will call amazing before she immediately asks if I've finished writing my second book yet -_-

[moosefrog]

In my area of the US it's a common thing for a comfort meal especially for children is grilled cheese/cheese toastys and tomatoe soup. Is it similar where you live or is there not really a country wide (I think) idea of a comfort food for kids? If there is do you like to eat it?

I actually like grilled cheese and tomatoe soup, I like dipping my sandwich in the soup like it's an edible spoon.

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Grilled cheese and tomato soup is a classic here, too! I wonder tho if a bowl of Kraft Dinner (aka KD aka boxed macaroni and cheese) could be considered a more popular comfort food here in Canada given that Canadians consume 24% of global production of the stuff? (https://usvscanada.com/canadian-kd-vs-american-kraft-macaroni-and-cheese/) Given our relatively low population, that's an impressive number.

[alrightbuckaroo]

come and take a walk on the wild side (13/?)

Play the part, live the lie; this is how we survive. Carlos Reyes is a college student who's trying to pay his New York rent, get his cybersecurity degree and make his dad understand he doesn't need to worry about his son's future. That said, Carlos isn't too sure he's not worried about his own future. It feels like each day begets a question that can't be answered. After meeting TK Strand during a night out; he thinks he might just be the answer he's been looking for. What they didn't plan for, was Carlos being the answer TK wasn't looking for.

summer slipped us underneath her tongue (3/3)

TK Strand is a freshly heartbroken art history student who's been given the opportunity of a lifetime; studying art in the heart of it all, Paris, France. However, he thinks it's a cruel taunt from the universe. He's studying what he loves so much in the city of love but is stuck thinking there's no one out there who loves him. Carlos Reyes is a career driven culinary student studying at Le Cordon Bleu. He has hard time maintaining relationships, an even harder time of detaching himself from his work and and has an awful habit of doubting everything about himself. After a night out that they end up sharing with each other; they agree to keep any and all things casual. Well, like most things, that's easier said than done.

love can pull you out of yesterday (5/5)

The day TK falls through the ice is a day that Carlos doesn't want to remember, but it's one he can't forget. It's a day he's currently stuck living over, and over again. or The Time Loop AU

tender eyes that shine

Carlos is eight years old. His favorite food is pizza flavored Kraft macaroni and cheese, his favorite movie is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron , his best friend is a stuffed koala named Kique, and at this very moment, he’s heartbroken over the passing of his abuela. “No llores, nieto,” Carlos’ abuelo tells him during the wake of her funeral. Gray clouds are scattered across the sky and coating the somber event in an even more somber tone. His abuelo crouches down, his joints cracking and popping as he stoops to Carlos’ eye level. He raises a calloused thumb and wipes away the tears that are still falling from Carlos’ wide brown eyes. “Men like us,” His abuelo continues, his words casting a wide net. ‘Men like us’ is synonymous with anyone that looks like Carlos, has his skin tone, or shares his namesake. “We don’t let the world pity us, we can’t let them see us as soft.” Carlos nods, wiping away any new tears that are starting to fall. The right sleeve of his charcoal gray suit now comes away colored a staunch black where Carlos’ tears have dampened it. For some reason, the way his abuelo says ‘soft’ ricochets off of Carlos, as if it were stone and Carlos is a thin sheet of glass nestled into a window pane. It’s left a dent, an imprint, an impression, but hasn’t done enough damage to cause a crack. Carlos’ bloodshot eyes shine with hesitation as he asks, voice small and insecure, “Reyes men don’t cry? “Reyes men don’t cry,” His abuelo confirms.

29 Going on 30 (1/1)

During a trip to New York City to celebrate TK turning 30, TK and Carlos stumble upon a list of things TK always wanted to do before he turned 30, all of them being references to romantic comedies he loved so much growing up. While TK is fine with leaving the past in the past, Carlos thinks there's no better time than the present. He thinks that TK deserves to feel the same type of love he loved watching on the silver screen, so he devotes the rest of their trip to just that. Told through a tale filled with everlasting love, a never-ending trek across New York City and the occasional painful reminder of the past, Carlos learns a little more about the city TK once called home and TK learns a little more about himself.

collections:

my honey in the summer - a 911 lone star college au.

all things end, but we begin again - stories inspired by season three.

a dream to call my own - stories inspired by wedding bell what-ifs.

with you, always - stories inspired by season four.

how to be a human being - character studies, often told through the lens of love.

this is what falling in love feels like - prompt fills born out of this list

[blairsanne]

In my area of the US it's a common thing for a comfort meal especially for children is grilled cheese/cheese toastys and tomatoe soup. Is it similar where you live or is there not really a country wide (I think) idea of a comfort food for kids? If there is do you like to eat it?

I actually like grilled cheese and tomatoe soup, I like dipping my sandwich in the soup like it's an edible spoon.

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

I think grilled cheese is definitely a common food where I live (western Canada), and both my husband and I eat them multiple times a year! I try to stick to lactose free cheese if I can for my guts. I like to make them a bit fancier by adding garlic powder and rosemary inside before I grill it. (He likes tomato soup, too, but me and tomatoes are not always friends.)

As far as comfort food for kids goes, I may not be the most well-informed as I'm child-free. I think things like chicken nuggets, and KD/Kraft Dinner (a certain boxed macaroni and cheese) with ketchup are probably what I'd think of for kids, at least for something you'd make at home. Maybe peanut butter and jam for boxed lunch. I think spaghetti is maybe something kids like but my mom never liked it so I didn't eat it very often growing up.

When you're sick, it's chicken noodle soup for sure. And blue Powerade and cheese buns, if you're me. An old roommate of mine used to make broccoli cheddar soup whenever one of us was sick (because her mom used to make it for her).

A family I was friends with/that shared childcare duties with my parents at times used to always have toast with margarine and cinnamon sugar as a snack or breakfast.

I'm not a super picky eater, so I'd eat any of the things mentioned here, even the soup if I didn't have another option or if me not eating it would inconvenience someone.

I think Kraft Dinner with ketchup may be the most widespread regional comfort food of what I thought of.

[facks-stories]

What's mimu's Opinion on Kraft macaroni and cheese? I hate it personally

[I swore I already answered like 10 minutes ago but alright]

Also plants don’t eat much processed food because it has a chance to make them sick

I haven’t eaten mac and cheese in a while but from what I remember it was bad [kraft]

[heliacalxrising]

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS જ⁀➴

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

Oh I always tend to gravitate towards clearly neurospicy men with simping tendencies.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

There is very little I wouldn't write, but that's because dark content has helped me process my own trauma and anger issues, all with the blessings of a psychiatrist I was seeing at the time when I turned to fiction as catharsis.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

Oh I'm just a slut for angst/whump. But I also love fluff and romance.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

Much like Athena popping out of Zeus' head fully formed, some of my headcanons spring forward the same way. Other times, I'm inspired by fanfics or other shows I've watched. Sometimes they come to me when I'm plotting stuff with mutuals.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

Oh fuck, I need noise. I'm such an ADHD case, if there's silence, I can't focus.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

I mostly wing them, but there's nothing wrong with plotting, especially if the thread is one of those "spanning weeks/months" kind of storylines. Sometimes it's just nice to know what the end goal is. Sometimes it's fun seeing what I can come up with off the top of my head.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

I am the captain of a full armada. The joys of multishipping mean I don't get involved in ship wars, I just hoard them, like a dragon hoards their riches.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

Hardy! I also go by Bambi, courtesy of my boyfriend hehe

ᴀɢᴇ?

Late twenties

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

May 3rd

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Black, rose red, pink, dark foresty greens

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

You can't expect me to choose, I have so many songs in my Amazon library. Kind of obsessed with Noah Kahan tho...

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Poor Things. I swear to fuck, I thought I was having a fever dream. I couldn't even turn it off, I was too bamboozled.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Ghost Adventures. I see you judging me. Stop it.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

Labour (The Cacophony) by Paris Paloma

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Kraft Spirals Macaroni and Cheese. Yes, it has to be spirals.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Fall! I love when it gets chilly. Perfect hoodie weather.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

Does my boyfriend count? @minxchester

Swiped from: @taleswritten Tagging: Whoever wants to!

[thetragicallynerdy]

got another important question lads

Bonus: put in the tags your answer and where you're from because I'm curious if it's just a regional thing

[ch0kehold-ch3rry-pyth0n]

The Spirit ask blog

So, I have made one of these before. However, it is old and I am unsatisfied with it. So I am rewriting it by myself without an annoying tiny pink ghost nagging me and talking over me.

With that said, let's try this again.

Introduction section - Get to know Spirit and her world

Hello, Tumblr. My name is Spirit Auraveil. I am a second year Ramshackle student at Night Raven College as of writing this. I don't really know what else I can say about myself. But I am a gorgon with albinism and I am very normal about the color red, as you can see from the text color I set it to. I go by she/her and I'm omni and poly.

I share a dorm with a couple other idiots. Apparently a cat possum thing is considered a student for whatever reason? But we have a Housewarden named Comet. She was the first one to be put in this dorm (along with the possum) and she nearly broke her back trying to renovate it from looking like a total dump. Ramshackle would not be the dorm it is today without her. And then there's people like Alice, Jude, Heaven, that one guy that Floyd and Jade hate for whatever reason, and whatever the fuck Andro has got going on.

We're a smaller population of students in comparison to the other 7 dorms. It's not that bad when you don't have a ghost breathing down your neck at 3AM while you're trying to make kraft Macaroni and Cheese. But we're who makes Ramshackle a home.

Except for Andro. He kinda just locks himself in his room all day. To a point where he's more of a cryptid than the actual cryptids that live here.

Anyway, what else do I put down? Oh, right. The rules. Cue the next section.

The rules - What is and isn't okay to say or do when interacting with Spirit

[Red = Spirit's text]

[Default = ooc/the creator's text]

Don't be rude unprompted. I am aware of how I come off. But that is no excuse to give me distasteful asks. I will not respond to those types of asks.

No nsfw. I may be over 18+, but I still don't look forward to publicly answering asks that are inherently sexual. That just feels weird and uncomfortable. So if you could avoid doing that, that'd be great.

Don't feel bad if I don't respond. I get burnt out pretty quickly. So I may not get to your ask right away. But I will try to get to it as soon as I can so long as it doesn't break any rules or boundaries.

Don't question my tags. I let my acquaintance, Alice, tag my posts because I usually just don't feel like doing it myself. If there's anything strange or goofy in there, chances are that is all Alice's doing.

No derogatory language! Swearing is okay, as this is an account for audiences that are teenagers and older. But we do not condone the usage of slurs of any kind. Nor do we condone any type of homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, or anything of the sort. If this rule offends you, then you're more of a snowflake than I am and I kindly ask you get off this page.

Don't spam. I am not online all the time and neither is Spirit. I may occasionally go into long hiatuses, mainly due to me forgetting that I have this account at all. But still, please don't spam. That is honestly just a hassle for me more than anything.

No god modding. As in do not attempt to control my character, force things that I did not agree on, try to majorly hurt or kill my character without consulting in me first, or anything of the sort. It ruins the fun when things are forced!

Other character and oc interactions are welcome! I am happy to roleplay and interact with other rp blogs and accounts. I aim to build some kind of storyline with this ask blog. And I appreciate when others add onto that!

Try to remember that this is all lighthearted. I deeply apologize if I come off as uninterested or cold. It's just how my neutral expression and voice is. And I mean you no ill will. Although I appreciate honesty in terms of confronting me when I make you upset. Gives me more room to try and fix the problem at hand.

Conclusion - final statement from Spirit

Anyway, that is just about it. I hope that we can get along nicely. Do take care of yourself.

I'll see you all in my next post. Later.

(Check out my other accounts: @aetherphobia @enigmacitrus-rp)

[flsalazar]

Got tagged by @midnightsingvogel ❤️ such an honor, thank you! I can answer these now that I finally have time to go on my PC!

Rules: Tag 10 (or less) people you want to get to know better

relationship status: Starting off with the real personal stuff here, huh? I guess tumblr is as good a place as any to come out and say this. So I’ve been with my partner for about 9 amazing years, and we recently introduced polyamory into the mix. It’s had it’s ups and downs here and there, but I can definitely say that it’s made our love for one another grow stronger.

favorite color: I like darker, more muddled shades. Like... oh god, I’ve literally just blanked out on the name of every color I’ve ever known. My favorite is a nice mossy green though.

song stuck in my head: Toxicity - System Of A Down

three favorite foods: Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, Hot Dogs, Doritos. Those were my struggle foods growing up and I’m very fond of them. You ever make a hot dog sandwich? Or macaroni & hot dogs? Good shit.

last song I listened to: Lately I’ve honestly just been relistening to @roguespodcast while at work because I’ve lost control of my life and it helps me level out. But going through my Spotify history, the last things I listened to willingly were the Destiny OST (cuz I’m writing a Variks fic but we’re not going to talk about that), and Mrs. Hollywood - Go-Jo , because honestly it’s a bop and is giving summer time vibes.

dream trip: This is going to sound weird, but I’ve never really had a desire to travel. If I can’t be nice and comfy in my bed by the end of the night then I’m not interested. That being said, someday I would love to see the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul.

last thing(s) I googled: "Ravnica Guilds” because I just got some new MTG cards and was trying to organize the dual colored cards in alphabetical order by guild name and can never remember all of them.

Feel free to steal that post if I haven’t tagged you.

Alright, I’m going to attempt to tag people I haven’t seen tagged in this yet. And if you have been, sorry!

@bootshivers @jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear @ahostandaghost @thisaccountisshit621 @hugsforvillains @sonofapunk @lizard-hair @trellanyx @riflemikey @birooksun @smokedcapybara