#dairy survivors

[the-blind-assassin-12]

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

Hi Lia!! Hope you’re doing well and having a great day! Thank you for sending this my way. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to it!

3 random facts? Okay:

I’m the oldest of four siblings, and I have really good relationships with all of them ☺️

I have completed exactly one marathon (26.2 miles) and I will never run another one 😅

I can’t eat gluten or dairy, but it’s made me into a pretty decent home baker 👩🏻‍🍳

[sovaharbor]

i made falafel for dinner tonight and it was perhaps an awful decision. im so sad abt it bc now i cant eat the leftovers for lunch tmrw... kms.

[mariacallous]

Goldie Finkelstein was just 13 when she was sent to Wiener Graben, a work camp that later became a concentration camp. The youngster lost her entire family in the war, and among the things she never learned from them was how to cook. She had no family recipes and, according to her son, when she married Sol Finkelstein, also a Holocaust survivor, she didn’t know how to boil water or cook an egg.

Eventually, other survivors taught Goldie the necessary skills, and she was a quick learner. She soon became known for the copious amounts of baked goods she would provide for any occasion. Her recipes, some of which are included in the “Honey Cake and Latkes: Recipes from the Old World by the Auschwitz-Birkenau Survivors” cookbook, include cake mixes and other ingredients that wouldn’t have been used in pre-Holocaust Eastern Europe. Her whiskey cake, for example, calls for both yellow cake mix and vanilla pudding mix.

Goldie’s experience illustrates the ways in which recipes, including those we think of as quintessentially Ashkenazi Jewish, have changed over the years. Survivors lost the ancestors who passed along oral recipes. Families’ personal artifacts, such as handwritten recipes, were abandoned when Jews were forced to flee. 

Most significantly, perhaps, after the war, survivors had access to different ingredients in their new homes. Sometimes that was due to seasonality, such as was the case for those who moved from Eastern Europe to Israel and had access to more fruits and vegetables year-round, including dates and pomegranates. Other times, it reflected changing tastes or newfound wealth  — liver soup, pates with liver and offal were classic Eastern European dishes in the early 1900s, when there was an intention to use every part of the animal, but became increasingly uncommon. In other cases, like Goldie’s, packaged goods replaced homemade. Another survivor whose recipes appear in “Honey Cake and Latkes,”Lea Roth, detailed making noodles for Passover from the starch leftover at the bottom of a bowl after grating potatoes before the war. After the war, most people added “noodles” to the grocery list.

“Some of these recipes changed because of New World versus Old World,” explains Jeffrey Yoskowitz, author of “The Gefilte Manifesto: New Recipes for Old World Jewish Foods.” Yoskowitz and his co-author Liz Alpern work not to replicate pre-war Ashkenazi Jewish recipes, but to reclaim and modernize them. To do that, they’ve had to examine the ways in which recipes have changed.

In the Old World, for instance, almost every recipe called for breadcrumbs. At Passover, the leftover crumbs from the matzah were used to make matzah balls, leaving nothing to waste. But when immigrants in the U.S. could use Manischewitz pre-made matzah meal, then recipes started calling for it to make matzah balls.Today’s recipes for kugels with cream cheese, cottage cheese and sour cream would not have been made in the Old World, where dairy products were expensive. Again, ubiquitous cows in the New World made that “celebration of dairy” possible, Yoskowitz says.

At first, recipes may not seem like the most essential thing to recover from Holocaust survivors, but they paint a picture of what life was like before the war. It is essential to see the Jewish experience as one that is not solely as victims, and learning what people ate and cooked is part of that.

“Bringing back recipes can help bring people back to life,” says Edna Friedberg, a historian and senior curator with the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. “In particular, it was women who were in the kitchen in this period, and so this is a way to make the lives of women very vivid and real for people.”

The idea is not to romanticize Eastern Europe, says Maria Zalewska, executive director of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial Foundation, which published “Honey Cake and Latkes,” but to see the memories connected to togetherness, like picking fruit toward the end of the summer and using that fruit in a recipe, such as cold cherry soup with egg-white dumplings. 

In addition, examining recipes gives us a sense of what role cooking and food played in trauma processing, Zalewska says. “Remembering the foods and the food traditions of their lives before imprisonment were some of the ways that survivors coped with starvation,” Zalewska adds. These are things that survivors say they are not often asked about, but when asked they report remembering dreaming about food during incarceration. 

“We have quite a number of testimonies, where survivors talk about being in situations of starvation, and food deprivation and ghettos and camps and in hiding, and that dreaming about and remembering food from before gave them emotional sustenance,” explains Friedberg.

Exploring such memories have been meaningful for those survivors who were young when they lost their families.

New Orleans’ Chef Alon Shaya has been working for several years to recreate recipes from a book belonging to the family of Steven Fenves, a survivor and a volunteer for the museum. The book was rescued by the family cook, Maris, when the family was forced to flee their home on the Yugoslavia-Hungary border in 1944. The recipes are largely written without measurements, times or temperatures, and many of the ingredients are different from those used today. (Like the Fenves family, Goldie’s son, Joseph Finkelstein, says his mother wasn’t big on using measurements as we think of them in recipes today. She knew the quantity of an ingredient, for example, if it would fit in her palm.) Unlike Yoskowitz, who is looking to update recipes, Shaya has been working to replicate them as closely as possible  — and has come across a few surprises.

Many of the desserts use a lot of walnuts, for example, which, of course, are also used in contemporary baking. But Shaya is using what he says are “copious amounts of walnuts” in various ways, such as grilled walnuts and toasted walnuts. The Fenves family walnut cream cake, which includes both walnuts ground in the batter and in a cream in-between the cake layers, has featured on the menu at one of Shaya’s restaurants, Safta, in Denver.

For all the recreation, and Shaya’s goal to bring the tastes of his youth back to Fenves, he says “it is impossible that a recipe in New Orleans would be the same as one in Bulgaria. The seasons are different, what animals are butchered are different, and the spices taste different.”

Indeed, place matters, Yoskowitz says. Ashkenazi food has a reputation of being terrible, he says. Take mushroom soup, for example. “There is no good mushroom soup in a deli. It is made with mushrooms that don’t have much flavor. But if you have it somewhere made with mushrooms grown in the forest, then that is going to be good soup.”

Many Holocaust survivors settled in new lands with new ingredients, and little memory of how things were made before the war. They knew they used to eat mushroom soup but didn’t specifically remember the forest-grown and harvested fungi. So, dishes morphed depending on what survivors had in their new home. In Eastern Europe, veal was plentiful, but in the U.S. and Israel, schnitzel began being made with chicken instead (a process Yoskowitz calls the “chickentization” of cuisine). And the beloved Jewish pastrami on rye? The pastrami would have traditionally been made with kosher goose or lamb. It wasn’t until Jews came to the U.S. that beef was easily accessible. 

The same is true of what is likely the most iconic Jewish American dish. “Bagel and lox are what we think of as the most Jewish food. But the only thing that came over was the cured and smoked fish,” Yoskowitz says. “Cream cheese was a New York state invention. Capers were Italians. It was a completely new creation, and it became a taste associated with Jewish people.”

One of the most poignant recipes in the “Honey Cake and Latkes” book is a chocolate sandwich, a basic concoction of black bread, butter and shaved dark chocolate. Survivor Eugene Ginter remembers his mother making it for him in Germany after the war, to fatten him up after years of starvation.

Adds Shaya: “We have to continue to adapt, and I think that that is part of the beauty of it.”

[squadmuse]

COUPLES HEADCANONS

THE SPENCER REID EDITION

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Spencer does! He prefers kissing you on the lips but doesn’t pass up giving you kisses anywhere else.

Gets jealous the most

You do, and Spencer does too. It’s not that either of you are disloyal it is more that you know how great the other is and wonder how they picked you out of everyone else

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk

Spencer does, and he’s got a tried and tested hangover cure ready in the morning for you. He makes sure you text or call him, there have been too many unsubs taking advantage of drunk people over the span of his career in the FBI.

Takes care of on sick days

You both do. Spencer might be a known germaphobe but he is a fountain of knowledge and that includes medical care, home remedies and more. You enjoy taking care of Spencer and make sure he’s rested, fed & medicated.

Drags the other person into the water on a beach day

You do, Spencer hates the beach. But he goes because he loves how you love it and he won’t pass up the sight of you in a bikini and seeing you wet from the waves

Gives unprompted massages

Spencer, he’s read a lot of books on traditional Chinese and Thai massage therapy among others and seeing your stressful career, he makes sure to take care you of however he can.

Who drives? Who rides shotgun?

You both switch. Spencer drives and so do you, but whenever you’re pregnant, an overprotective Spencer has you ride shotgun as you’re carrying very precious cargo.

Brings the other lunch at work

You do. Spencer will live off of extremely sugary coffee if he can, and end up eating antacids due to a ton of dairy products. So if he’s at Quantico, you bring him some vegan or dairy free lunch and catch up with him.

Has the better parental relationship

Spencer has a strained yet loving relationship with his mother and has no contact with his father. You have a loving relationship with your own parents but as you live and work in the D.C metro area, you are long distance.

Tries to start roleplaying in the bedroom

Spencer, kinky little genius! You take a while to come around to it, and refuse to roleplay Doctor Who in the bedroom.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

You and Spencer are great drunk dancers whenever you are drunk.

Still cries watching Titanic

You do, and Spencer tries to cheer you up with random facts about the survivors of the actual accident.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Spencer. He has you tag along with him and Penelope to ComicCon and while he dressed as the Fourth Doctor & Sarah Jane or as Jon Snow & Ygritte, or as Jack Skellington & Sally.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

You do. It is very hard to find a good gift for Spencer and you usually get him a collector’s edition of something or first edition of a book or something signed by his favourite author or scientist.

Makes the other eat breakfast

You do. Spencer again skips breakfast or just eats a piece of toast or bowl of cereal. You make sure he eats something more heartier and healthier.

Remembers anniversaries

Spencer does, he never ever forgets it and always surprises you with the best he can.

Brings up having kids

Actually Spencer does, and it is a big thing for him to do so after his worries about the genetic changes of schizophrenia and/or Alzheimer’s Disease being passed on… but he realises how much he loves you, sees how much you love his godsons and realises he wants to be the father of your babies.

[bratzforchris]

Can you make some headcanons about tummy issues Matt please you've got me thinking 😭

-🎀

⭐︎ literally the walking definition of "tummy ache survivor"

⭐︎ this man is stocked up on pepto, tums, mint tea, ginger chews, peppermint gum, and liquid iv

⭐︎ definitely has some food intolerances (i'm thinking gluten/dairy and vegetarian because he's our animal lover boy [i'm projecting]) and it can be hard to find food that fits those needs with their busy schedule, so he always ends up with a tummy ache

⭐︎ "my tummy hurts" "my stomach really hurts" "i have a tummy ache"

⭐︎ has the FANCIEST heating pad with all kinds of different settings

⭐︎ is a sucker for belly rubs. doesn't matter where or when, he loves cuddling up to his girl and being the little spoon and getting his tummy rubbed, even on the rare occasions he doesn't have a tummy ache <3

⭐︎ his stomach makes the most insane noises to the point you can hear it across the room (i'm projecting again), which makes him blush and hide his face in his blankets

⭐︎ "is that...your stomach?"

"...no..."

⭐︎ definitely the type to be like "i'm lactose intolerant" *proceeds to eat a tub of ben and jerry's ice cream*

⭐︎ definitely sends you the cat meme pictured above with "can you come cuddle me"

[ivystoryweaver]

hi ivy, congrats on 1k! 💕🎉 i was wondering if u have any hc's on how the mk system would take care of u when ur sick? currently dealing w strep myself & it sucks. hope this is okay if ur still doing these & that u have good day! 🩷

You're Not Alone

@suresnips Once upon a time you were sick and I left you there, with no Moon Boys to comfort you... Jake is gonna have words with me. Thank you so much for the congratulations, you are so sweet! Long overdue, but I never leave an ask unanswered

Word Count: 700 Content: sick you, mentions of food, domestic life, slight mentions of Marc's past, not beta'd

Marc has been on his own for years, and even when he was young, he had to fend for himself.

He knows how to take care of himself, having shivered through fevers in the roughest neighborhoods and parts of the world - sometimes on the run.

Believe it or not, Marc is the one who really doesn't want you to feel alone when you're sick. He doesn't always know what to say or do (he does, actually, but that's his self-loathing talking), but he'll sit with you.

Marc doesn't like the doctor - he was raised hiding things from professionals and he's conditioned to think they don't actually care, but since he doesn't want you to feel alone, he will always make sure he's there to wait with you.

He's traveled all over. He's a survivor and he's picked up all kinds of useful knowledge from his journeys.

Marc knows lots of little tricks, like how peppermint or lavender oil can be diluted and rubbed on your feet to bring down fever. He also knows oils and tinctures for all kinds of symptoms, such tightness or spasms from coughing, or simply to help you rest.

Since Marc doesn't know what to say sometimes, he will want to touch you. But occasionally, having a fever means you do not want to be touched - or at least not held.

This is why both of you find it so soothing when he rubs a balm into your chest or oils onto your feet. His dark eyes lock onto yours and you can see straight to his soul

Marc is steady and calm when you're sick. He doesn't want you to feel that what is wrong with you is your fault - you really feel loved and supported, even when you have "just a cold."

Steven is a caring, observant person: cordial to those who dismiss him, professional to rude bosses, sympathetic to friends and mindful and proud of the places he occupies

He even talks to Gus and makes sure he has everything he needs.

So he is going to notice the second you're feeling off.

"Getting sick, aren't you, love?"

"What? No, I'm just tired."

By that evening, you're burning with a fever.

Steven ushers you to bed, letting you know he stopped by the store on the way home. He is prepared.

Steven knows which tea will soothe your throat or settle your stomach. He understands just the right amount of honey or lemon you need, and how long to steep the tea leaves.

Even if you don't prefer tea, he knows how to make it taste good enough to warm you up or settle you.

Steven is vegan so he knows how to substitute ingredients or some interesting places to order takeaway. He'll encourage you to steer away from foods that will only exacerbate your symptoms, like fried foods or too much dairy.

He loves to take care of you, dote on you, bring you trays of things, prop up your head with an extra pillow.

He'll place a washcloth over your forehead and cover you with an extra blanket while you suffer.

He'll read you to sleep if you like, but he will miss you so much while you're down and out.

He's an exuberant puppy when you're better.

Jake helps you get things done.

You're out of it for a few days or a week? All good - bills are paid (if you share them), laundry is done.

Don't feel like calling out of work or making doctor's appointments? Jake takes care of it. You're not to be bothered.

He's going to help you zone out.

He'll make you smile, play your favorite record, watch movies with you on the couch.

He's gonna sneak you junk food, tbh. Steven's teas and soups are so wonderful, but after a few days, there's just that one food you want because you're kinda feeling sorry for yourself?

That's Jake. Snacks and movies and lightening the mood.

And - it's Jake Lockley. He's definitely going to try to feel you up during a movie. Once your fever breaks anyway.

“But I look awful,” you halfheartedly protest.

"Never, mi amor. Just relax."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[n0t0lucky]

¤ Goatman / Jeffrey Bonavita ¤

~~General Headcanons~~

my first time doing something like that._. /im thirsty for past month in case of his content, art is not enough!!

¡enjoy!

》he loved working at Hawthorne Exotic Zoo from the stars, eaven before that for sure found stray dog and/or cat as his friends.

》At the beginning of that 'job' had issues with bigger animals during feeding time. Being cornered with a bucket of fish by few bears or tiped over by lions to take steaks just to fight for it among themselves.

》Huge, maybe not super tall, but he's visibly hunged, due to his problem with knook-knee and added weight of big horns, and space in the cage.

》 strong enough to lift a bear or two, did so in the past for sure.

》always wanted to go see the circus, but was threatened by Mr.G that they'll hurt him.

》when he was a bit older, would sneek out at night when Mr.Gardener was asleep, to see the performance at the Hullabaloo Circus.

》he has a dairy with each animal that was in the zoo, theyr own names, preferences, dislikes, specific way of acting and markings to ease recognision, probably gave it few times to his boss, who didn't had much use for it in the end ,and gave role of Beast Tamer to Jeffrey.

》i belive he likes to draw animals, so the notebook had to include some tiny sketchof of them.

》with time, as he helped around the zoo, he grew closer to animals than his caretaker, with resulted in seeing them as his real family and he was the one who needs to take care of them, He was just giveing them a place to be.

》 didn't had much experience with humans, observation was all he did, untill the "meet and great" era, where he lead guests to interact with animals under his guide, teaching mostly younger kids, how to imitate sounds and comunicate with sayd species.

》taught monkey capuchins and lemurs to fetch stuff for him, at the start it would be something simple like a pen, dairy, bag of snack; that would be handet half empty for some reason and keys.

》personally striked Mr.Gardener to dust, for everything he did to him and his 'family'

》Jeffrey is.. people say he's horrendous. But he wasnt always this way. was treated as one of the animals after longer period if being against Mr.Gardener's plans for the Zoo

》He loses control over himself at violet moon (werewolf stye would say). It is rare situation, once in two years, with could be reason of him being chained in the cage durning blue moons phases.

》durning that time, most shows woud be canceled, due too incressed agresion of all animals, including him. Zoned out, acting agresive toward his boss, resulting in being caged together with bigger critters.

》schackles on his wrist, head and ankle are a reminder of what happened, he lost his only family, yet it was a prison. Now, everyone from there is free.. expect him stuck at the mannor now.

》Jeffrey has PTSD, due to everything that happened, he's scared of closed off spaces. pretty ironic looking at his skills, but it triggers "fight or flight" in him. He once again trapped in a cage, having that boiling felling inside.. he needs to strike harder to get freed

》feeds local critters together with Bane at daily basics.

》definitely bff with Morro, both being keept in closure in the past, and haveing animal friends.

》befrends anyone in the manor who likes animals, no matter if they are hunter or survivor. He enjoys sharing his hobby with others.

》for sure has some Cat Lovers club activities on hunters side with Ann and Alva.

》never saw sooo huge Lizard, woud mistake Luchino at first for a comodo dragon in human clothes, will get stared at in disgust. but later happily will listen about all kinds of reptiles from both Professors and Reptilian and would share some of his experiences with haired animals at the zoo, to them.

》when he sees cat's scattered around the map during a match, Jeffrey's sure to give every single one a scratch if he sees one. Durnign chase, after downing survs, woud turn back to spot he saw one and pet it, then later chair his pray.

》Man plays on pan's flute, surely likes to do so in mannors garden, if noticed may apologize for disturbing who found him and move to different spot, he was main performer in Hawthorne Zoo, it is not stage fright.

》 if it's Antonio who noticed him, he will complement the melody and tr to recreate it on his violin. Ifit'ss Frederick.. he's definitely going to call out how bad the notes sound, and he would do it better, making Jeff simply stare at him coldly and walk away without a word. Until the next match..

》if you ask him to stay, he'll asks you if ther are any requests for him to play on the instrument.

_________________________________________

~Jeffrey simps ¤ Including Reader~

》 sometimes when you call him, instead of 'what is it?' or 'yes?' You get 'baah' or 'rawr' in responce. Embarrassed about it a bit, not letting you notice, but his ears turn slightly red and start to twitch.

》 not used to physical tough from a human.. but after some time he would not let you go. Could say he's a big cat, with horns ofcorse! you are traped in his grip, until he says so.

》 he has horns as we know, so prepare for some headbutts. Rare but not non-existing urge to smack something with his horns, may be reason he's hiting them with his hand so offten.

》seeing him without the uniform? Oh boy, hes covered in scars on his back. He doesn't like them, but you say they are beautiful and show how much he went through. Bonus: if you try to trace them, he shiverss slightly.

》 instead of kisses would simply rub noses together or his face against yours.

》loves going on night walks with you watching stars, listening to nature surrounding you both, that's what he always wished for; freedom.

If no one got my people, i got them! can we get an amen?

[bettyfrommars]

The blurb game is so fun! I love a twist of fate 🤩

I’m gonna go for E2, &, 💚

big money no whammies!

(big money is gargoyle eddie 😏)

SARAH no gargoyle for you BUT you did get a very special one and I really hope you enjoy darling

your Person is nightmare!Eddie

your Place is Dealer's Choice, so I'm giving you Abandoned Building

your Thing is a Blanket

word count: 1.2k

18+ONLY, smut, unprotected piv, oral, afab!Reader, allusions to gore and violence, zombies, terror, being on the run, a bit of hurt no comfort but you know these two always find each other. As always, this was written fast and posted without obsessing too much, so let's hope it's not too much of a mess.

pick your poison

Careful footsteps made their way along the aisles of what was once a thriving supermarket, eager hands pawing through the leftover wreckage. The shelves had been mostly emptied by scavengers months ago, yet you'd been able to find a couple cans of ravioli and one coveted can of spaghettiO's. Spotting a tin of spray cheese and a liter of warm soda put a smile on Eddie's face so bright it rivaled the sun. He was giddy, his heart was bursting, and even though the world was being overrun by flesh eating zombies, he had you and processed dairy, and that was bliss.

Weapons out, you had to make sure the area was clear and secure before you could indulge in any feasting. Paying extra caution to the backrooms and every dark corner where something worse than zombies could be hiding---other survivors who might try to slit your throats for a little Chef Boyardee.

In a small room with office supplies strewn everywhere, and a door with a lock, you hunkered down, unrolling the blankets from your knapsacks to curl up together on the carpeted floor. A nap was necessary, but you had to keep moving, to make it further south and find shelter before the winter freeze.

Eddie was between your legs then, sweaty foreheads pinned together while he sank his length in, shivering with pleasure.

"Nothing has ever felt this good," he whispered.

You sealed his mouth with yours, whimpering when he eased it deeper. You were dripping wet from the way his tongue had pulled an orgasm out of you only moments before, his chin still coated in your release.

"You make me feel real," he sat up to look down at where you were joined, wishing he could see more than what the light from two votive candles and a flashlight afforded.

You weren't paying attention to the sound of footsteps shuffling outside, you were too caught up in the emotions that welled up in his eyes. He found your hand and intertwined his fingers, lowering his chest to yours while he snapped his hips. The soft mews in his throat told you that he was already close, and you urged him on with your heels digging into his thighs.

He paused when he was as deep as he could get and kissed down your throat, breathless with desire.

"Why did you stop?" You throbbed around him, yearning for the same feverish pace.

"I don't want it to end," he hung his head in a way that felt like defeat. "I don't want to lose you."

You'd been on the road for god knows how long at that point, hot wiring cars to get you as far the gas tank would, and then finding another. The two days before the supermarket had been on foot, bathing down at the river, hiding from a horde as it stumbled gracelessly through the forest.

With your free hand, you brushed the loose hair under his bandana away from his face. "Hey, look at me. I'm not going anywhere without you, it's you and me, forever."

"Or until you decided to go all Praying Mantis on me."

"Yes, forever will end on that day."

You thought you knew the town and the state you were in, but just then it escaped you. Indiana, maybe? Kansas?

For a second, in the flickering candlelight, you swore Eddie had horns and glowing red eyes, but then he was making love to you again and you forgot to care. He babbled your name as he came, shuddering until he collapsed.

Outside, something knocked against the door, making you jump, eyes darting over his shoulder. It wasn't the knock of someone wanting in, it was more of a scratching noise, like something being dragged across it.

Reluctantly, Eddie rolled off of you, pulling his jeans up to button them as he went. "Fuck, I knew this was too good to be true," he mumbled. "I found a place that was off the grid where they wouldn't think to look, and it worked for a little while."

He kept talking, making familiar sounds, but the words made no sense, as if spoken in a foreign language. You adjusted your own clothing and reached for the handle of your machete, horrified at the sight of the doorknob twisting back and forth. Someone or something wanted in.

"Just give us a minute, okay? Jesus." Eddie got to his feet, clearly annoyed.

"Eddie, shhhh!" You backed up against the wall, heart racing. "Maybe they don't know we're in here."

The doorknob stopped moving.

You were in the middle of a long-held breath when the unplugged rotary dial phone in the middle of the room rang. Eddie swooped to pick it up before it could make the shrill noise again.

He had his back to you when he smacked the receiver to his head.

You could hear someone shouting at the other end, loud enough to blow his eardrum out, but couldn't decipher what they were saying.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered to whoever it was. "What can I tell you? I got lost. Terry's directions are shit."

Weapon in hand, you slowly got to your feet. His words maintained the form of a curious jumble while your attention locked unwavering at the door.

He bent down to click the receiver onto the cradle when he was done. "I'm sorry about this, sweetheart," he said earnestly, taking a deep breath. "I'll find you again, I promise."

That time, you understood him, but you also did not understand. Not at all.

"What are you sorry for?" Your voice wavered at the way the shadows seemed to form shapes and slink along the walls. The air was suddenly thick and stale, as if the walls were closing in.

"For this."

When he turned, he was a nightmare. Rotten flesh dripping from his bones, lips pulled back in a skeleton sneer, eyes a dead, milk white. A hungry growl escaped from deep in his chest, and he reached both hands out, gnarled fingers clawing at nothing, only a few steps away from grabbing you.

You let out a terrified scream, and Eddie hated to hear it, but it was only for a moment before the invisible hatch in the floor opened and you tumbled through the infinity hole to your bed.

Once you were gone, his shoulders slumped, and that lonely vice gripped his heart once again. He stood in the same spot for a while, staring at the nest of blankets where you had once been. "I'd choose to live in a zombie apocalypse if I knew it meant we could be together" you'd said that to him once.

He was tired of this life; he was tired of losing you. What type of fucked up universe would let the two of you find each other only to make it so that you could never really be together?

"It's so fucked up," he whispered, agreeing with himself.

From the other side of the door, a woman's voice proceeded with caution. "You alright in there, Eddie?"

"Yeah," he lied. "Tell Kevin I'm taking a vacation day tomorrow."

[wendytestabrat]

another obvious reason why kyle rips on cartman for being fat all the time

ok so like the past couple days i've been trying to read more and learn more about judaism (bc i'm a nerd). even tho i'm an ashkenazi jew i've never known that much about judaism the religion outside of being jewish by race/ethnicity FHDJSJSK. and yes for the ignorant people out there who don't know there's a HUGE difference between between practicing judaism and just being jewish bc yeah i hate it when people assume bc of my jewish background that i'm super religious like bitch i was raised by ATHEISTS. even my gma the holocaust survivor didn't believe in god which goes to show the holocaust was abt targeting jews as a race not a religion but i don't need to get into all of that rn. ok let's move on to shitting on kyle, the part ya'll RLLY care about. so i think a BIG reason why kyle shits on cartman for being fat sm is bc HE HAS TO EAT KOSHER DUH (which was confirmed in the episode "ginger kids" when kyle said his mom packed him a kosher lunch) which i can't believe i never realized before lol. some other things i've theorized on in the past is how kyle is just taking out his anger abt his fat obnoxious mom onto cartman for being fat and obnoxious. bc yeah obviously kyle can't backsass his mom but he can backsass cartman all he wants bc he's an easier target LOL. i've also theorized that kyle has an eating disorder so he's just projecting all of his negative views about his body and food onto cartman. but the problem may not be abt kyle not wanting to eat.....it could be the complete opposite in that he WISHES he can eat whatever he wants. and after looking into what exactly kosher is....yeah it's understandable why kyle is so miserable LOL. i'm not trying to shit on you if you're jewish and you eat kosher like i'm all about trying different diets i think that's rlly cool, but it's understandable that it would be hard for a kid to do that bc kids loveeee eating junk food and whatever they want all the time. and it's ESPECIALLY hard for a jewish kid if he/she is the only one eating like that while all of his/her peers get to eat whatever. but yeah if u rlly look into the nitty gritty of it, kosher eating jews are NOT ALLOWED TO EAT PORK. so this means kyle has prob never been allowed to eat shit like bacon or hot dogs in his entire life TSHDHSKS. they're also not allowed to have any other meats UNLESS it was prepared and butchered a certain way. so i can imagine kyle wouldn't be allowed to eat a lot of the foods with meat they serve at school. AND ALSO they're not allowed to eat milk and meat together at the same time and this goes for anything with milk in it such as butter or cheese which means kyle isn't even allowed to eat cheeseburgers LOL. so in kosher u would either have to eat a meal that is mostly just milk/dairy products or one that's mostly meat. so yeah when you put all of that into context it makes A LOT of sense why kyle gets so grumpy over cartman being fat and why he's soooooo critical over his eating choices. he's prob just jealous that cartman gets to enjoy food and eat whatever the fuck he wants all the time and he doesn't.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

‘You are killing us’: Mariana survivors face ill health, lost culture and a long wait for justice

When a dam burst eight years ago in a Brazilian mining town, the toxic mud swept downriver, crushing all before it. Affected communities are still fighting in the courts – and mourning a way of life that has disappeared for ever

Marino D’Ângelo Júnior regularly takes antidepressants and medication to help him sleep. A former resident of Paracatu, a district of the city of Mariana in the Brazilian state of Minas Gerais, the 54-year-old says he has lost his sense of self since 60m cubic metres of mining waste flattened his town, forcing him to live in a rented property near the centre of an environmental disaster that shocked the world eight years ago.

D’Ângelo is one of the survivors of the collapse of the Fundão tailings dam near Mariana. Almost a decade on, the people affected by Brazil’s worst environmental tragedy still await justice as they live under the shadow of the toxic mud that swept away life as they knew it.

“The collapse of a dam isn’t what you see on TV – the river of mud destroying things,” says D’Ângelo. “A dam failure entails an infinity of invisible ruptures. The rupture of connections, family links, communities, histories, dreams.”

D’Ângelo used to own a herd of 60 dairy cows before the incident but he began to sell them off as he found himself unable to work properly, which led to him being “forced into poverty”. A member of the Commission for People Affected by the Fundão Dam, D’Ângelo holds the mining companies responsible for the disaster and the subsequent neglect of the affected populations who still struggle with losing their livelihoods and way of life.

The dam – which was managed by Samarco, a joint venture between the Brazilian mining company Vale and the Anglo-Australian company BHP – collapsed on 5 November 2015, and caused mining waste to flow nearly 700km (430 miles) down the Rio Doce into the Atlantic Ocean, devastating everything in its path.

The torrent of toxic sludge buried villages, killed 19 people and left thousands more homeless. Nearly a decade later, hundreds of thousands of people continue to suffer the effects daily, in the contaminated soil unfit for agriculture, the diseased fish they catch in the polluted river, and the breakdown of their communities and cultural traditions.

No one has yet been held accountable for the socio-environmental disaster. BHP, Vale, Samarco and eight other defendants stand accused of environmental crimes in a Brazilian court case that has been dragging on for seven years. They are due to face a judge for questioning this month.

Separately, about 700,000 people are suing BHP in a UK court, seeking £36bn in reparations in English legal history’s most significant group claim. BHP denies liability.

Continue reading.

[hlficlibrary]

hello, do you know a few fics that you would say are absolutely must reads?

Hi, anon! Everyone's favorites are different based on preferences, so this list would likely be different if I knew what your own preferences were. However, here are five fics that really blew me away when I read them:

💜 Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse (E, 168k)

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

💜 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere (E, 149k)

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe. //an X-Men AU.

💜 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule (T, 93k)

“Thank you,” Geoff says, taking a sip of his tea. “What did you tell him?”

Louis has a sip as well, lets the tea burn down his throat too quickly, too hot, and he feels it all the way down to his stomach. “The truth. Essentially,” he replies after a moment, licking his lips, relishing the slightly bitter taste of the brew that’s never quite strong enough for Louis’ liking. At least it’s not decaf. “That my dog scented it. That I didn’t touch the body. That I came here first thing.”

Geoff nods pensively. “Did he believe you?”

“Probably not. There’s only so many people who can drown on dry land before it gets fishy.”

or: Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

💜 The Second Hand Unwinds by @kingsofeverything (E, 51k)

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA's top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he's sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep.

💜 That's What I'm Here For by @taggiecb (E, 43k)

Louis Tomlinson is a dairy farmer on a tiny farm in eastern Canada. His wife of nearly thirty years has left him and his children are all grown up and out of the house. Louis needs help running his business but has no idea where to even start looking. Luckily for him his children know just the man for the job.

[ofthehands]

Final Girls Just Want to Have Fun

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

Disability Fan Week, Day 5: Victims

A medium, ~12k word fic about Stretch and Sally finding solace with each other after their similar horrific experiences. Also some Sally/Stretch. Warnings for mentions/ discussions of death, a little bit of post-partum depression, and fairly graphic violence, a little above usual for canon.

The fall out of that one night from hell was devastating. Stretch escaped, and took herself to the hospital quick, where of course, police arrived. She told them the whole story, and they acted like she was hopped up on drugs and talking nonsense until they got calls from folks who had seen smoke from that old amusement park. Then the investigation was on. She got snippets of news from the staff of the hospital, and her friends who came by to check on her. They explained someone had fired off a grenade in the belly of that old minecart ride and the whole thing- closed years ago for safety concerns- came tumbling down. She heard there was another survivor. She prayed to God it was Lefty, mad as she was at that man, though she would have sobbed with unmatched joy if somehow it was LG. But it was neither of them. It was the bastard she slashed in the stomach with the chainsaw- the one who cut her to ribbons as she tried to escape. 

Robert Sawyer was his name, apparently. They were the Sawyer family. Three brothers and their Grandpa. She hated that Robert got to live, but at least had the solace of knowing all the rest of his twisted family died. Their crimes were unveiled- a blood trail over two decades long starting back in their hometown of Newt, Texas. Where they had killed Lefty’s nephew and viciously attacked his niece. Just like they did to her and LG.  But now it was over. The most notorious serial killers in Texas killed off or put behind bars. She hoped, wherever he was now, Lefty was happy. Or at least at peace, in some way. She hoped she would find peace too. 

Years passed. She quit her job at the radio station, and went off to find something else, something real. Her experiences propelled her career in journalism, which should have made her happy. But it felt hollow. LG had always talked about when she finally made it- about how he’d go and get her one of those big ice cream cakes from Dairy Queen to celebrate, and she would joke that he’d have to take up as the DJ, and he’d laugh and try to mimic the way she answered calls, pitching up his voice. She’d tell him it didn’t sound like her, and toss something soft at him, and he’d yelp and they’d laugh. 

But she finally made it. And there was no ice cream cake, no lighthearted jabs, no laughter. There was just no more LG. That devastated her more than she realized at first. Of course it hurt, of course it twisted her heart- he was her best friend. But she found herself struggling to get out of bed, struggling to go into public, all twisted up and hurt. 

She needed to get past it. She desperately wanted to get past it. It had been two damn years. But she had no idea how to live like this- how to deal with the crushing weight of what she had seen, and the guilt she made for making it out when LG and Lefty were lying dead at the bottom of that cave. She had to find some way out of it. Some way through it. Some way to survive. 

Which is why she went to Sally. 

She shouldn’t have done it, she really probably shouldn’t have done it and she knew that. But there was no one else in the world who understood the pain in her heart the way that Sally did. Stretch needed that. Closure. Understanding. The guiding hand of someone who’d lived through it all before. She just hoped Sally would be willing to help her with it. She sort of knew she wouldn’t be welcome. Reporters had bothered her before, bothered the whole Enright family, which was how Stretch knew where she lived in the first place. They asked her all sorts of invasive questions, knocked on her door, harassed her daddy about his brother and her momma about her son. She had even seen pictures of Lefty and Franklin’s graves in a news article once. Which was why she was apprehensive. She didn’t want Sally to think she was like that- that she was one of them. But she had become decently well known as a reporter. So there was a chance that was how it would be perceived. 

Which was why Stretch was sitting in her car, clenching the steering wheel, looking out at Sally’s house like some kind of creep. She was scared. Scared of being turned away. And scared of what might happen if she wasn’t. 

“Oh… Fuck it. Brazos,” she said, slapping her hands against the steering wheel. She got out of the car quickly, and headed up to the door while she still had some bullheaded bravery in her. Then she actually got to the door and felt that bravery cower behind her. Oh God. she thought. C’mon. C’mon. I’ve stood toe to toe with actual serial killers, I can knock on this lady’s door. And she did. She didn’t hear anything immediately, and tried to convince herself Sally wasn’t home- got ready to leave right away. Then she heard movement. She froze, unsure of whether to stay or go or what the hell she might say. 

Then Sally opened the door. 

“Hello?” Sally asked. Stretch froze up. Sally was a pretty woman- older than she was sure, and she looked it- but she had a nice face, and pretty blonde hair, and kind, beautiful eyes and Stretch felt like absolute shit turning up on her doorstep with all this. “Who are you?” 

“I’m- I’m Vanita Brock, or Stretch- you probably heard of me as Stretch, it was my old DJ name when I was a DJ- I’m a reporter now and-” 

“Oh, Lord-” Sally started shutting the door. “Please- I don’t want to-”

“Wait! Please- This isn’t about all that- Well I mean- It sort of is but-”

“Would you give it a rest? Please? I’m so sick to death of being asked about Franklin, and my friends, and my uncle and-”

“Please- I- I knew Lefty-” Stretch said. Sally paused. 

“What?”

“Your uncle he- I- he used me. Me and my friend, LG. As bait for the Sawyers, and they came, and LG died and I… I didn’t. That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. Not as a reporter just- just as another person who understands.” Sally paused for a moment, holding the door. Stretch held her breath. 

“Come in,” she said, finally. “I’ll fix you somethin’ to drink.” 

Sally brought her in, and they settled in a cozy set of plush chairs. Sally brought her a glass of sweet tea. Sally had a nice little house. It was cute, and fairly bright, despite having little natural lighting. It smelled nice, like she had lit a candle recently, and there were lots of little sitting places throughout, though no proper dining room table. That was a relief for Stretch, honestly, dining room tables made her too nauseous to eat after her encounter with the Sawyers. She never really considered that she could just choose not to have one. Sally got situated, sitting where she could see all the entrances to the room. Stretch was comforted by that, in an odd way. Comforted in knowing she wasn’t alone at least. 

“I’m…” Sally began. “I’m sorry he did that to you. My uncle he- he was a good man, all his life but… What happened to me and my brother just drove him crazy. He just… He just couldn’t live with the guilt,” Sally said, her voice wavering. Stretch didn’t know what to say to that. 

“I… The guilt?” she asked. 

“He… He convinced me. To invite my brother along, on our fatal trip. Franklin had been upset about us growin’ apart and talked with him about it and Uncle Lefty told me and… That was that. I never blamed him but… He blamed himself. It took us another day to find an old travel wheelchair for Franklin and… And Uncle Lefty couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t said anything. Couldn’t get it out of his head that if the timing was just a little different we would’ve never bumped into that hitchhiker and… and Franklin and Jerry and Kirk and Pam would all just… be alive,” Sally said. “I’m… I’m sorry for what he did- I- I don’t know how I can make it up to you-”

“No- I- I don’t want that,” Stretch interrupted. “I… I just don’t know how to… How to move on.”

“Move on?”

“After all that happened I… I can’t stop thinking about it. What I’ve seen and… and who I’ve lost and I just… I just miss LG and my old life and my old job and- and I miss Lefty and I miss myself. I- that probably sounds crazy but I just-”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” Sally said, softly. “Not to me.” They let that sit there, for a moment. “I.. I miss the old Sally too, sometimes,” she said. “But… I can’t get her back. You know? I… I’ve seen too much. Felt too much. I’m just… different.” Stretch looked down at her sweet tea. 

“Do you think… Do you really think there’s no going back to the old Sally?”

“No,” she said firmly. “But… that’s alright.”

“How?” Stretch asked. She didn’t mean it so bluntly- didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t fathom how Sally could just move on after that. 

“I like who I am now. You… You can’t go back. You can’t change what’s happened. But the way I see it, you can waste a whole lot of time tryin’ to, or you can put all that effort into making a future you’re happy with.” Stretch sat on that for a moment. 

“I’d… I’d like to. I want to do that but I… I don’t know how the hell to move on. To… Get through all this I just- it’s so much.” 

“Yeah,” Sally said. “You can say that again.”  Stretch paused, trying to take it in, trying to find some easy solution or hard but simple truth. “You want an easy way out,” she said, with a bluntness to her statement and steely gaze that reminded Stretch so much of Sally’s uncle she thought she might drop the nice cup Sally gave her. 

“I… I guess so.” 

“Well,” Sally’s expression softened, in a way his never did. She took Stretch’s hand, gently. “I’m sorry, honey, but there’s no way around all this… You’ve just… You’ve got to go through it.” 

Sally and Stretch kept in touch, after that. Stretch kept coming over, and they talked. Not about that. Almost never about that. But about their lives, and what they were up to, and the hundreds of methods of healing Sally had tried. 

Sally liked yoga, and meditation, and running. She tried to gently desensitize herself to the things that she had to in order to get around- hearing men’s voices when she didn’t expect them, gas stations, roadkill. But otherwise, she just avoided the things that tipped her over the edge. She didn’t have a dining room table, she didn’t wear bracelets, or necklaces, she wouldn’t go to a farm house or watch any movie with a pig in it, and she didn’t eat meat. She also avoided alcohol, as Stretch found out from inviting her for margaritas one too many times, though Stretch didn’t think that was exactly because of the Sawyers. 

Stretch often felt like she wasn’t dealing with all of it as well as Sally did. She wasn’t active like Sally. The healthiest thing she did was join Sally for meditation, though she wiggled a fair bit during that, and journaling. Well, if the journaling was helping, like she thought it was, instead of making things harder. She was never really sure. She thought it was helping. Wanted it to be helping. But she didn’t know if it was really just dragging all her pain back up. Her pain still felt raw, just about every day, even three years after the Sawyers were dead and gone. She never felt safe, anymore, kept checking behind her in the reflections on windows, always sitting with her back to the wall, scanning every new person who came into wherever she was. Still panicking when she saw blue trucks. Smelled any kind of fuel. Met somebody with buck teeth. Of course Sally had her things too- even sixteen years after the Sawyers were out of her life. But she had far less of them than Stretch, and handled it all with grace. There was just something graceful about her. And strong too. Admirable. Stretch wished she was more like her. Less scared of every shadow, ever corner, every loud voice. Wished she dealt with her pain- at the loss of a best friend only- more like Sally managed to deal with losing her boyfriend, and her best friends, and her brother, and her uncle, years later. Wished that the day the two of them went to the state fair, feeling a little more comfortable knowing they had each other’s backs, she hadn’t broken down sobbing when she saw a pair of kids making a fry house. 

Sally took her aside, helping her find a bench and a corner to hide in, where they were back away from the crowd, where they didn’t feel like they had to keep scanning the faces for someone horribly familiar. 

“Stretch? Are you okay?” Sally asked. “Just breathe, honey,” Sally said. “Just breathe.” Stretch hiccuped and coughed, snot running down her face. “What happened, honey?” Sally asked, in that soft voice of hers. “Are you okay, Nita?” Stretch tried to control her breathing again. 

“I- I just- I saw- there were some kids- makin’ a- a little house out of french fries,” she said. “It wasn’t- that wasn’t- my friend LG did that. He did that and- and I’ve never seen somebody else do it- and I just- I thought of him- and when I think of him I can’t think of him happy anymore I just- I just hear his voice after they got him, and see his peeled off face- I can feel it- I can feel it on me, Sally-” Sally put a hand to her face. 

“You’re okay, Nita,” she said softly. “You’re here with me right now. There’s nothin’ on your face. See?” She rubbed a gentle circle on her cheek with her soft hand. “You’re here with me.” Stretch nodded. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m here with you.”

“Where are we?” 

“We’re- we’re-” Stretch had done that one before. “We’re in Dallas, Texas, at the big state fair. It’s 1989- September the 14th, 1989. And… And we’re okay. We’re safe. And.. and everything’s under control.” Stretch’s breathing was calming down, but there were still tears in her eyes. Sally nodded. Then she gave Stretch her hand to hold. 

“From the top, Nita. You can squeeze my hand.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you-”

“You’re not gonna.” She squeezed her hand.

“My… My name is Vanita ‘Stretch’ Brock. It’s September the 14th, 1989. And.. I am… I am thirty-two years old. I’m at the big state fair in Dallas, Texas. And I’m.. I’m safe.” Sally nodded. Stretch didn’t feel good by a long shot- she felt like she had roadrash on her soul, and some kind of emotional grime she could just never let go of. But she was oriented, again, in that moment there, could smell the popcorn and funnel cake instead of blood and rot and burning flesh. Sally was watching her face, trying to read her expression, no doubt. She sighed, heavily. “God. Sorry to fuck up such a good day-”

“It’s alright-”

“I’m sure you’re gettin’ tired of me-” 

“No,” Sally said, sharply. “Never.” Stretch couldn’t help but to believe her. 

In another year, Sally was married. Stretch didn’t really know the guy all that well, but he seemed fine- just generic. Stretch had no interest in any of that. She was focused firmly on her career. Though, unfortunately, her career was exactly what got her into trouble. 

She wasn’t even told about it. Just heard through the grapevine that the issues had been resolved with land rights or whatever, and the police department had finally started to excavate Texas Battleland. 

She stayed away from it for the first few days. She heard stories about it, about how the men on the job couldn’t believe how many bodies they were digging up, that the county had to bring in a bunch of new coroners to work just on that case, to keep the official county coroner from getting too backed up. 

Then she heard, from Mrs. McPeters, his mother, that they finally found LG. She was invited to his funeral. It was going to be a small service, just family, done all very quietly so the press wouldn’t show. Mrs. McPeters told her over the phone she was invited because she was as good as family. LG told his Mama all about her, and she always thought she would be her daughter-in-law someday. Stretch was just glad Mrs. McPeters couldn’t see her sobbing through the phone. She agreed to come. Of course she agreed to come. She asked if she could bring her best friend along, just for support, and sweet old Mrs. McPeters said yes. She called Sally up about it, sobbing, and she promised to take the day off of work and come with her. 

The day of LG’s funeral was a hard one. Stretch had gotten better at keeping those thorny memories from catching her and driving her crazy with fear, but it wasn’t the fear that worried her. It was the sadness. At least, at a funeral, it was okay to cry. 

She managed, for most of the funeral- it was a quick service, the McPeters didn’t have much money. The funeral was just the basics, a casket and a headstone paid for by the state, as a quick apology for the deaths their ineptitude caused, and an attempt not to get sued for even more. But when the ceremony leader asked if she was his widow, she broke down and sobbed. She stayed strong, as long as she could, making it through the rest of the funeral through tears, breaking down properly in the bathroom of the funeral home after the service. She felt like she would never stop crying, and as soon as her sobs died down she thought of something else to cry about. She thought about why it was a closed casket. She thought about how likely it was she would’ve died in his stead if he hadn’t come by, just trying to bring her coffees. She thought about how his face over hers, his hat on her head. She thought about how he used his last moments to save her. How he might not have even heard her tell him she loved him. And she cried until finally she just couldn’t cry anymore. 

Sally was there, patient and put together, when Stretch was finally able to leave. She had tissues in her purse, and a little makeup wipe. She drove Stretch home as she whipped her face and cleaned the smudged, wet mascara from her cheeks. Stretch didn’t say much, didn’t have the energy to, but Sally didn’t press her. She just turned on the radio, to a soft jazz station she liked, that didn’t remind Stretch too much of her old radio job, and drove. 

Stretch wondered, for a minute, if she should’ve married LG. If she would’ve married him eventually, like everybody thought. She did love him. And he loved her. Though she wasn’t sure they really loved each other the same way. And she could never imagine being all wifey, or having a bunch of kids. She didn’t hate the idea of kids all together, she just wasn’t so sure about the pregnancy part, or having kids of her own. She was happy just having kids in the family. But maybe LG would’ve been happy with that too. She didn’t know. She just really didn’t know. 

They settled in, in Stretch’s little apartment for a moment. Just trying to decompress, both checking in on each other. Stretch really thought she would be the only one breaking down- thought of herself as the weaker one between the two of them. But when she came back into the living room, after getting up to get herself and Sally some sweet tea, she saw something that surprised her. Sally was quietly drying her tears with one of those tissues. Polite, and somewhat under control, but still it was clear she was crying. Stretch sat close on the loveseat with her. 

“Sal?” she said, softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine I just…” She paused a moment. “We… We never got anything to burry, you know?” 

“Huh?”

“Their graves. My brother’s and my uncle’s they’re just… empty. Headstones is all it is. Their bodies are just gone. God only knows where Franklin is and… Uncle Lefty’s down there in that chasm of lost souls somewhere. I just… I… I hope they’re at peace, you know? Just… Wrapped up in God’s heavenly love instead of stuck somewhere down in that hole…” Her lip wobbled, and the tears started to build up heavy in her pretty green eyes. “I just… Don’t know.” Stretch comforted her, hugging her tight, and stayed with her till she was ready to leave. But after that conversation, she had made up her mind. Even if she may have made it up foolishly. 

People were allowed to try and identify loved ones at the excavation site. Every time a new body was drug up with some part of its face intact, dozens of grief stricken people surrounded the body as the crew tried to wheel it away to take it to the coroner, to determine cause of death and to try to confirm the identity. About fifty people had been identified by their loved ones- bodies kept in disturbingly decent shape sometimes, and noting but worm food in other cases. 

For the next three weeks, after work, Stretch joined them. She brought with her a news article- the headline of a cowboy chasing chainsaws she kept all those years. And she fought her way through the crowd, to get a look at those mangled bodies, to see if maybe she could find him there, and give Sally her peace. 

It was gruesome, awful work. She felt bad for the crew who had to dig them up, and worse for the people who didn’t even know if their loved ones were actually among the bodies down in there- who were just praying to finally have closure in a missing person case. 

Stretch worried, all the time, that she wouldn’t be there when they found him. Or that the grenade would have rendered him unrecognizable, to the point even the coroner would never know who he was. But she kept looking, when she could anyways. 

On the fifth day, she thought she saw him. Half a body was drug up- from deep in the ground they said. The corpse was mangled to the point that facial features didn’t help much, but the way it was torn looked like damage from a grenade to Stretch. And etched into her mind forever were the corpse’s bright blue eyes, wide and fearful, and somehow preserved. Most of the bodies didn’t have eyes. She took that as a sign- it had to mean something- it had to be him. But, at the coroner’s office, it was determined to have been a woman, and the eyes were taxidermy marbles. Seems the Sawyers had used her body as some kind of grisly decoration. Stretch wasn’t sure she would ever unsee that woman’s corpse, or overcome her fear of ending up just like her. But regardless, she pressed on. 

The next false positive was in the middle of the second week. When they took up a body from one of the lower levels- the dining room of death, as the excavation crew called it- and the word ‘shrapnel’ echoed through the crowd of mourners like a ripple. Everybody knew the killers died to a grenade- quite likely to shrapnel. But Stretch knew Lefty had too. Or at least, she hoped he had. Nobody jumped forward to see that one as much as Stretch did, as it was carted past. She got a really good look at it. It was a man’s body, that she was fairly certain of- she was getting good at telling bodies apart. The size wasn’t too far off, he was a bit thin, but decomposition could’ve done that. His spine was severed- his torso and hips still attached by some kind of mummified tissue but nothing more. He looked like he was crushed. His skull and ribcage were flattened. It probably would’ve been quick. Maybe even painless. His body still wore the tattered remains of a suit- though it was covered in dirty and rot to the point she couldn’t tell what color it had been. The thing that finally clicked in her head, however, the damndest thing- was the pair of somehow almost perfectly preserved shoes. She stepped back into the crowd, away from her would-be killer, once again disgusted by the visage of Grandpa Sawyer. 

There was nothing of note on the third week. No bodies that seemed more or less Lefty than any of the others. He should’ve been there- he should’ve died somewhere near the dining room, if his death happened how she thought of it. But she hadn’t been there. And she didn’t know. 

Stretch always assumed he went down fighting. That one of the Sawyers pulled the pin on the grenade because of him- and he died to that. Maybe painful, but definitely quick. He didn’t suffer. It was a blaze of glory. 

But she didn’t actually know that. 

She saw a corpse dragged out, a body people sobbed as they tried to compare it to their loved ones, that sent a chill down her spine. It was the naked body of a man, face hard to recognize but contorted in pain nonetheless. His legs were mangled- broken. And there were chunks torn out of his neck, and his torso. Stretch wanted, desperately, to believe it was from decay. But she couldn’t shake the idea in her head that they were bites. 

She started to wonder what really happened. If they overwhelmed him. If the grenade didn’t kill him, if the cave in didn’t kill him, and he died of thirst, trapped down there with his body broken for days. Waiting for help. Thinking, maybe, that help might come. Maybe the blast didn’t kill all the Sawyers immediately either. Maybe it trapped them all together. Maybe they tortured him, while waiting to die. Maybe they ate him. Stretch worried herself so much over it all that she had to run to one of the trash cans around the site and vomit. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone put their hand on her back. She whipped around, nearly slapping the other woman in the face, before realizing it was Sally. 

“Stretch?” she said, softly. 

“Sally? I- I’m sorry- I almost-”

“What are you doin’ out here?” Sally asked. Stretch felt almost guilty. Definitely caught. 

“I was… I’m just…” She bit the bullet and told the truth. “Lookin’ for Lefty.” Sally looked like she was about to cry. “I wanted to bring him home for you- didn’t want him lost-”

“You’re sweet, Nita, but you don’t have to do this-”

“I don’t want him left behind, and I don’t want you to have to do this- You’ve been through so much-”

“So have you!” Sally said. “You went through so much because of that crazy man-” 

“I know but-”

“Stretch- there’s- you don’t-” Sally paused. “I don’t want this makin’ things worse for you. I don’t want you comin’ back here. Promise me you won’t.”

“I-” Stretch paused. “If you promise me you won’t either, then I will.” 

“I promise,” Sally said. Stretch took a deep breath. 

“I promise too, then.” She paused. “I just… How do you know you’ll get him back? Is it just… faith?” Sally smiled, sort of, then. 

“A little bit of faith,” she said. “And a little bit of luck. He blew out his knee real bad when I was a kid, had to have surgery… They’ll know it’s him. He’s got three metal pins in his right knee. I’m sure they’ll know it’s him.” 

Another two years went by. They didn’t find Lefty. But Sally and Stretch both avoided the hunt around the pit. By that point, all the bodies had been excavated. It was just a matter of identifying them. Sally divorced her first, forgettable husband, and remarried, some other man Stretch cared very little about. Though this one, at least, she remembered the name of, if only because Greg gave Sally her very first child. Sally and Stretch and Greg were all over the moon excited. Stretch and Greg were there at her every beck and call, one of them always around to make sure Sally was alright and had rides to doctor’s appointments and whatever food she happened to be craving. Sally was worried she would get fat, from all their attention, but Stretch kept reminding her she was eating for two, and told her if she got fat, nobody had any right to judge her, after everything she had been through. She was older, to be pregnant, so the doctors were diligent, checking in on the new little one constantly, especially with her family history of birth defects. But everything was right as rain. Until they found out the sex of the baby she was having. 

Stretch wasn’t at that appointment with her, it was Greg, but she found out soon afterwards when Greg called her up about Sally, saying she had locked herself in the bathroom, and wouldn’t stop crying. Stretch came over quick, a little pissed at Greg for not helping his own pregnant wife before she got there. She parked like an asshole and ran to the door. 

“Oh! Vanita, I’m so glad to see you-” 

“Where is she?” 

“Guest bathroom,” said Greg. “I just- I tried to help her but she won’t let me in. I think… I think it’s got to have somethin’ to do with the chainsaw killin’s, I just don’t know what.” Oh. That’s why he called me. 

“I’ll talk to her.” Stretch came to the door. She could still hear Sally crying inside. She knocked, softly. “Sal?” she called. “It’s me. It’s Nita.” She heard the sobbing subside, for just a moment. “Are you alright? Can I come in?” She heard the door lock click. She came inside, and closed and locked the door back again. Sally was sitting on the toilet lid, snot and tears running down her face. Stretch got some toilet paper for her to wipe her nose on, which she did, as Stretch sat down across from her on the rim of the tub. “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?” Sally tried to calm herself down. 

“I’m- I’m- the doctors told me I’m havin’ a boy.” Stretch tried to think of why that would be a problem- what about that could catch on those thorny memories of the Sawyers. She supposed they were all brothers. 

“That’s gonna be alright. He’ll be a sweet boy. A kind boy, I’m sure. Like.. Like Uncle Franklin-” That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, as Sally broke down crying harder then. 

“That’s the problem! That’s the problem!” Stretch was confused. 

“Are- are you worried he’ll be sick like Franklin was?” Stretch asked. She had no idea what spinal issue Franklin had exactly, or if it was common in Hardesty men- she also wasn’t sure if whatever made Lefty so unstable was an actual condition, and if it was, if that was genetic too.

“I don’t know what to name him.” Stretch was just getting more questions. 

“You don’t… You don’t know what to name him?” 

“If I was having a little girl, that would be easy- her name would be Pamela, but- but I’ve lost so many men I just- there’s my friend Kirk, and my old boyfriend Jerry, and there’s my own brother, Franklin, who died instead of me, and my uncle, Boude, who died to avenge me and I- I just- I just don’t know-” Stretch felt a sudden flare of genuine, intense anger. 

“Sally Ann, you listen to me,” she said. Sally looked up, a little bit surprised. “Your life is not a mausoleum! You don’t have to name that baby after any of them! Not even your brother, or your uncle.”

“It’s- it’s important- for the family-”

“Do you think Lefty would want you doin’ all this, and cryin’ about this? Do you think Franklin would? I knew Lefty, at least for a little while, and I don’t think he would. And from what you’ve told me of Franklin, I don’t think he would either! I think they would be overjoyed to hold their little nephew, or great-nephew, no matter what you called him. You… You don’t have to do all that. You’re drivin’ yourself crazy over absolutely nothin’,” Stretch said. “You name that baby whatever you want and I’m sure your friends and family will smile down on him just the same.” She didn’t quite smile, but peace returned to Sally’s face, and that was enough. “And if any of your living relatives have somethin’ rude to say about it, tell ‘em they can take it up with me.” 

“And me,” Greg said from the other side of the door. 

“And Greg.” Sally laughed a little then. She stood up, and she and Stretch hugged tight, Sally just holding on to her for a moment, comfortable there in her arms. 

“Thank you, Nita. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

His name was Andrew. Stretch loved him like he was her own son, and he loved his Auntie Nita too. There was a certain undeniable resemblance, and the boy was left-handed too, so his grandparents often called him by his great-uncle’s nickname, but Stretch just called him Andy. She wasn’t sure she would ever stop looking over her shoulders, or jumping at loud sudden noises, but as he was born she kicked some of the bad habits she had picked up, like drinking to deal with the emotional overwhelm, and her avoidance of places with big crowds and a lot of noises, like grocery stores. When it came to taking care of little Andy, she felt a lot more fearless. And, of course, she found, with repeated exposure to some of those details that triggered her fight or flight response and sent her spiraling, eventually they lost the bite they had- some of them fading out altogether. It was nice, when he was four, or so, to be able to drive little Andy around and play for him the songs that she and LG used to love. It was nice to find the Sawyers hadn’t taken everything away from her. 

Little Andy was four when he found out he was going to be a big brother. He seemed pretty alright with that. Stretch didn’t have any siblings of her own, so she didn’t quite know the feeling, but Andy seemed to just regard the bump in his Momma’s belly as a potential new playmate. Though he was rather impatient, wanting his new little sibling to come out and play right away. 

Sally had some unusual cravings that time around- cravings that made her scared, made her worried about the way that baby in her belly would turn out. After being vegan for over twenty years, Sally had a hankering for red meat. For the first few months, she fought it like hell- refusing to eat even something easier, like chicken, or fish. But eventually Greg convinced her it was alright to give the baby what it wanted- and she agreed to eat one, single steak. She refused to let somebody at a restaurant cook it, but couldn’t stand to cook it herself, so she had Greg make it at home, with Stretch there for moral support. Then, finally, Sally took a bite. And tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Sal? Sally? Are you alright?”

“What’s wrong, Momma?” 

“Honey?” 

“I- I- I just-” Sally began, shaking a little. “I don’t know why my baby wants this. I just… I just don’t know-”

“It’s alright, honey,” Stretch said. “It’s probably just the protein, or the calories.”

“Besides, you know we all eat meat,” Greg said. “And we’re all alright.” Sally nodded, slowly. 

“Maybe it wants meat ‘cause it’s gonna be a velociraptor,” Andy said, softly. 

“Andy, hun, I don’t think that’s it.” 

Sally got excited again when she found out it was the little girl she always wanted. Of course, everybody loved Andy, and Stretch didn’t doubt for a second that her dear friend would still love him just as much as she always had. But there was a different set of expectations and hopes with a girl, and in Stretch’s mind at least, seeing that baby girl and her big brother grow up happy, without a care in the world or a cannibal in the house across the field was kind of like a do over, for Sally. Ever since she found out she was having a girl, Sally was walking on air. 

Until came the day that little Julia was born. 

Stretch was in the waiting room, with little Andy, waiting on some news, when she heard Sally start to wail. And she knew, immediately, something was really wrong. She took little Andy’s hand and barged into that room before anybody could stop her. 

“Sally? Honey? She’s okay- look- she’s okay-” Greg said, holding their newborn daughter. 

“It just don’t end- it just never ends-” Stretch came quick to her side. 

“Sally?”

“I don’t know why this happened- I- I don’t know-” Stretch went quick, to the baby, expecting something wrong with her- expecting, maybe, something wrong with her spine, or maybe something unusual about her face- but little Julia looked absolutely average to Stretch. As much as she would never admit it to Sally, newborns always sort of looked like wet hairless squirrels in her mind, and Julia was much the same. She was born with a little tuft of hair, dark and curly, that would probably be similar to Greg’s, or her Uncle Franklin’s. She had a short button nose. Big green eyes, like Momma, when she opened them. And bright red- healthy cheeks. 

Or at least one of ‘em. 

She turned her little head and Stretch abruptly realized the problem. Sally’s little girl had dark hair, and green eyes, and a big red birthmark right on her little cheek. Which, though Stretch had never even seen pictures of him, sounded a hell of a lot like that goddamn hitchhiker as Sally described him. Stretch looked up at the sky, mad as hell at whoever up there had such a bent sense of humor. She let Greg hold the baby, and went to Sally’s side, pulling up a hospital chair. 

“Sally? Sal?”

“This ain’t fair. This just ain’t fair,” she said softly, shaking her head so slow it was barely perceivable. “He… My uncle died to make sure this was over but.. But it just… It just don’t ever end.” Stretch swallowed, heavily. 

“Sally…” she began. She thought of what she knew of her friend, of how she help her see what she saw- a healthy, cute little baby girl. “I’m sorry this has to be so hard for you,” she said softly. “I… I wish right now you could just be happy, and excited like.. Like before. But… Though it’s a hard one I think… I think this might be a blessin’ in disguise.” Sally paused, looking up at her, with a pained expression, covered in sweat. 

“How?” she asked, softly. “Just… How?” 

“It’s one more little way they’re just… gettin’ removed, you know? Taken right off this Earth. From… From here on out- even somethin’ like that- even somethin’ so… unusual. Ain’t gonna be theirs anymore. There’ll come a day when you look at that mark and don’t even think of him. It’s just gonna be part of somebody that you love… It.. It ain’t easy, but I think… I think this is God’s way of gettin’ rid of him.” Sally relaxed, just enough, still in pain, still teary-eyed, but so much more at peace. 

“I.. I would hug you right now but- I- I don’t wanna get my sweat and snot and who knows what else on you and-” Stretch hugged her then. 

“I don’t care, honey. I promise you I don’t care.” Sally snuggled close to her, getting the crook of her neck wet with tears. Stretch stroked her hair, gently, and just held her close. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Eventually, after a long time, Sally sat up. “Greg, can I… Can I hold her?”

“Of course, darlin’,” he said, sitting on her other side, and gently passing her the baby. Sally held her, grimacing just a little as she looked up at her, curiously, with those big eyes. “She’s got such pretty eyes.” 

“Yeah,” Sally said, softly, but not happily. 

“Like yours,” Stretch said, hoping to help Greg get his point across. Sally’s expression softened, just a little. 

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah… Like mine.” Sally gently rubbed her thumb against the baby’s cheek. 

“She’s so little,” Andy whispered to his father. 

“Yeah, she was just born,” he said. “You used to be that little.” The boy seemed quite surprised by that. Stretch almost laughed. Then, softly, for the first time, little Julia giggled, reaching out to hold her Momma’s finger. Sally broke down then, smiling at her. 

“Hello, Julia,” she said softly. Julia started to fuss then, and Sally fed her new little girl for the first time, and Stretch felt like everything was going to be alright. 

It was. For a time. The kids grew fast. Andy was nine years old, and Julia was five. Sally and Greg’s marriage had gone on a nosedive. But in an odd way. A way that somehow, despite her constant presence, Stretch didn’t quite understand. There was something inbetween them- something stopping them from being all that close to each other. But they were kind, and friendly nonetheless. Stretch was glad for that, of course, too many people she knew had had terrible, rocky divorces. But Sally and Greg just seemed to drift apart. 

Stretch never married. Never even dated. She just didn’t have any interest, and she worked hard all day as a TV reporter. Romance just wasn’t something she looked for in her life. Besides, she already had a family, with Sally, and the kids. And Greg. 

Her life was good. She was really, really happy. 

Until the day that Robert Lambert Sawyer somehow, someway, broke out of prison. Having to report about it on the news, with a straight, calm face, was nerve wracking enough, but she was a professional, and she managed to get by. 

But seeing that letter. That goddamn bloody piece of paper right there at her front door made her feel fit to die. She hoped beyond hope for just a second it wasn’t what she thought it was. But she picked it up. And opened it. And read. 

Hey Radio Girl! 

She closed it again. Looked around, frantically. But saw no signs. She thought about going inside to read it, but then considered he could be in there. So she went to her car. She drove, quickly, to the first place she could think of- the police station- and sat in their parking lot to read it, only feet from what should be help if something happened, if somehow she was there. 

Though, after her run in with the Sawyers, and with Lefty, the presence of cops hardly made her feel better. She opened the letter, slowly, and three little metal rods fell out- in her lap. They were stained with old dry blood, and she flinched, immediately, and threw them across her car, into the passenger’s seat. She shook it out, in case anything else awful was contained down in there, before sighing, heavily, and opening up the letter, slowly starting to read. 

Hey Radio Girl!

Long time no see. It’s me- Chop Top- in case you didn’t know. I saw you became a big shot reporter- saw you on the news! So I thought I would give you a big big story! And It’s one I’m sure you’ve been wunderin’ about. I’m gonna tell you how I survived the big cave in. 

You killed my Great Grandma in front of me, then cut open my belly with her saw. I’m sure you rimember that. Then I fell down that long pipe, and the whole ceiling came down, like Atlas droppin’ the world. Then I had to crawl around in those pipes a minute- ‘cause they were so strong and didn’t get crushed. 

I dug around and found my family. You killed my Grandpa with that cave in. Your little piggy friend killed my baby brother with that saw he brought. Big brother was in so many pieces I couldn’t tell which of you bastards killed him. But that’s okay!! My twin brother lived okay. He’s still livin’ down there, unless y’all brot him up and locked him up in jail too. The two of us found your little piggy friend with his saws all busted up. And his back too. I think when you sabotogued our house, you got him crushed too! But lucky for me he weren’t too bad to eat. 

Stretch closed her eyes tight a moment, and tried to control her breathing. She had wondered, years ago, what happened to Lefty, but she hadn’t thought about it in a long time. They officially determined they had found Franklin a couple years ago, pieces of his skeleton woven into his wheelchair by the cave in, and the flashlight he brought with them still nearby. But they never found Lefty. She tried not to let her mind be overcome by the images of the bodies she saw them dig up. 

He didn’t react much, but when we found him he was still wigglin’. 

Stretch paused again, focusing all her energy on not picturing it, and losing slowly. 

He didn’t squeal like a good little piggy, but I stripped his legs of meat, and then took a few big healthy bites out of him- ripped open his neck and his chest all up. I think I made him cry. Got a few good pictures of him too. Gonna send those to your little friend. Also found these weird things in his knee when I made my snacks out of him. Figured they might help somebody find him. And we can’t have that!! If my family don’t get to be happy, neither does his, and neither does yours!! See you soon :) 

XOXO 

Chop Top 

Stretch processed, for a moment, what was laying in her lap. The horrible truth, there in front of her, the knowledge she never wanted to keep- the pins from Lefty’s knee, undeniable proof that Robert did find him- did tear him apart. Stretch hadn’t realized she was crying until the tears hit the letter. She was tempted to bring it in, walk right into that police station and show them what she had- get those bastards off their asses and shooting holes in that son of a bitch before sundown. But then a little more of that horrible letter processed in her mind. 

Gonna send those to your little friend. 

Sally. 

It’s about Sally. 

He’s gonna go to Sally. 

Stretch whipped out of that parking lot like a bat out of hell, flying down the road to Sally’s house faster than the law would allow. She was lucky no cops tried to stop her, because she wouldn’t’ve stopped, and whatever the result of that was would just have to happen. 

She parked like an asshole and outright ran to the door, slamming on it hard. She didn’t hear anything inside. She slammed on it again. She looked down to her feet, and saw a drop of blood on their doormat. She slammed so hard she could’ve broken a storm door. 

“Sally! Sally! Please-” The door flew open, and she found herself face to face with a gun. 

“Oh- Stretch-” Sally lowered it, tears still in her eyes. “Get in here! Get in here, now-” Stretch did as she was told. 

“Where’s Greg? Where’s the babies-”

“He- he’s got the babies-”

“Robert?”

“Greg- Greg’s got the babies he- they’re- they’re he’s gettin’ ‘em ready to go to his parent’s house-”

“I got a letter-” Stretch began. 

“Oh, God, he sent somethin’ to you too-”

“What did he send you?” Stretch asked. “What-”

“These pictures-” Sally said, tears streaming wildly down her face. “He sent me these awful pictures and- and I just-” She started to sob, harder, never letting go of the gun. “I- I wanted to just get rid of ‘em but- but the police might need ‘em as evidence. They’re just- they’re just so awful- I don’t want my babies to see it- I don’t want my babies to see him, Nita-” Stretch glanced at Sally’s kitchen counter, at the small group of slightly bloody polaroids. 

“I think there’s a fingerprint,” she said, walking towards them- “Or at least a partial- here- He left-” She looked up, just a little too far, and saw what Sally had seen. She felt nauseous, and she started to shake, overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of Texas Battleland- hearing that goddamn dinner bell the cook had rung when they called Grandpa to kill her and the roar of saws and Bringin’ in the Sheaves- smelling gas and cooked up bodies and LG’s cologne, and the whiskey on Lefty’s breath- all of it, just at once, overwhelming her every sense. 

Then, suddenly, she remembered the last body she ever witnessed the excavation crew dig up. The man with the bites along his neck, and his chest. The battered broken legs. The final expression of pain. Stretch couldn’t explain why she did what she did next. She should’ve looked away- God knows she should’ve just looked away. But she didn’t. She picked up those pictures, determined to face the truth, even if it hurt her. 

It was Lefty. The same as he looked the last time she saw him. The last time anybody saw him alive. Though, fairly clearly, he was dead. His clothes were in pieces, framing his bloodied, broken body, the same way they had done to LG. He was cut up, clearly, and had a mess of bruises along his face- maybe from the cave in. Hopefully from the cave in.  And bites- big fleshy chunks, taken out of his throat, and his chest. Toothy imprints on his shoulder. His face was blank- thank God, that of a dead man. Though his eyes were forever wide with surprise. And at least a spark of pain. Stretch had a horrible, horrible feeling he truly had been alive when that started. She put down the pictures. 

“You didn’t have to look at that-” Sally began. 

“I know,” she said. “I just… We should hold onto these, but put them somewhere them babies won’t see. It’s got his fingerprints on it, and… And I think… Seein’... Seein’ the wounds that… That took him. Could help. Could help with the investigation-”

“What do you mean?”

“I think-” Stretch took a breath and calmed herself. “If the coroners can see those pictures they’ll be able to identify his body. I… I think I saw him-” 

“If they were gonna find him those pins in his knee-”

“The same son of a bitch who sent you those photos sent me a letter,” Stretch said. “And he had those pins in it. He took ‘em out, on purpose, said as much in the letter- he didn’t want us to identify Lefty- he wanted Lefty’s family to suffer.” With each word her voice became more strained, until the last word was a hoarse bark- almost a yell. Sally paused, then, struggling to find any response to that. 

“Stretch… Me, Greg, and the kids are goin’ to his parents’ house. ‘Cause while he knows about me, and mine, I.. We don’t think he knows about Greg’s.” Stretch nodded. 

“That’s a good plan. I want y’all safe.”

“And I want you safe,” Sally said. “Come with us.” 

“Is- is Greg okay with that?” 

“Yes-” Greg said, coming into the room with the kids, holding their little suitcases. “He is.” 

They went to Greg’s parents’ house, all together. The kids were confused, and little Andy was old enough to be scared too. They just kept asking questions, all the way, which the adults tried to answer vaguely enough no to scare them, the whole car ride there. Fortunately, the kids loved their grandparents, and when they saw their Nana and Papaw, questions about their sudden departure faded away. 

“Oh, uh, Ma, this is Stretch- Sally’s friend. She.. She got somethin’ in the mail from that guy too.” 

Just like that, Greg’s parents were fine, welcoming Stretch in without another word. Sally asked if she could use their phone, and they agreed. She quickly called her parents, the Hubermans, the Willards, and the Waisains as well- warning them that Robert was at large. Stretch asked if she could do the same, suddenly fearful that the bastard might go after Mrs. McPeters. She called her, quick and desperate, trying to keep her voice steady and her eyes free of tears as she explained the situation. Mrs. McPeters promised to stay safe, and made Stretch promise the same. She hung up the phone and started to shake, uncontrollably. She felt Sally’s hands on her shoulders. 

“Nita?” she asked softly. “Vanita? Are you alright?” She tried to keep herself steady, and images of LG and Lefty clear from her mind. 

“If he does anything to that sweet little old lady I swear to God I’ll kill him,” she said, jaw starting to hurt from how hard she had clenched it. 

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Sally said, softly. 

They had dinner with Greg and his parents. Despite knowing that Sally and Greg were breaking down their marriage on good terms, somehow, she didn’t expect dinner to be so… amiable. There just wasn’t any anger between Sally and Greg- and his parents either didn’t care or didn’t know. There was a little awkwardness, due to the circumstances of their visit, but it was nothing that seemed too severe. The kids, in the very least, didn’t seem to notice. There was a tension, in all the adults, a fear of what may come, the urge to check every window, the slight flinch at every odd noise from outside. But everything seemed alright. 

For a time. 

Eventually, Sally and Greg were doing the dishes, while Stretch looked after the kids, trying to keep their minds off it all. She hoped she was doing a good job and not making them too nervous, as she glanced up at the windows and looked behind her in every reflective surface. Though, generally, they seemed alright. Andy was just a little more reserved than usual. There seemed to be something on his mind. It became more prominent, as the minutes dragged on, and he went from playing with his little cars unusually slowly, to just sitting there, holding them. 

“Hey, you alright?” she asked, lifting his little chin up. 

“Auntie Nita…” He started. “Were… Were those pictures real?” Stretch thought she was going to drop dead right then and there. 

“Pictures? What pictures?” 

“Today, in the mail, Momma got… Momma got some weird pictures.” No. No, God, please no. “She… She went to get Daddy, and Julie, and… And she put them up kind of high but I’m pretty tall so I… I looked at ‘em. A little.” Stretch still had hope, somehow, someway, that he hadn’t seen what she thought he saw. 

“What… What was in the pictures?” she asked. He paused. She figured he knew he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. “It’s okay. Just… I just want to know what was in the pictures.” 

“There….” Andy started to whisper. “There was a man. And he didn’t have any shirt on, and he was all torn up. And bloody.” Stretch closed her eyes tight, and felt a tear roll down her cheek. She hoped to God she never saw Robert Sawyer in person, because if she did she would end up in jail in a heartbeat. “Was it real?” Stretch had no idea what to tell him. What would help him, and what would fill his little head with nightmares, forever. She didn’t think it was her decision to make- she wasn’t his parent- she was just his Momma’s best friend. She held him tight, it was the only thing she could think to do. 

“Thank you for tellin’ me, baby.”

“Was it real?” he asked again. Then, barely a whisper. “Is the guy who took those pictures gonna do that to us?” 

“No, baby,” Stretch said, firmly. “No he’s not.”

“How do you know?” he asked, clearly scared. 

“Because if that guy ever came around you, or your sister I would-” Rip his fucking head off. “Take care of it. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you.” He nodded, and burrowed his little head against her chest. She held him, tight, till she heard Sally and Greg turn off the sink. “I’ll be right back, honey, I- I’ve gotta talk to your Momma a second-”

“Am I in trouble?”

“No- No, baby. You’re not in trouble.” She maneuvered the little boy off her lap, then stood up slowly, trying to keep herself calm. She went into the kitchen, where Sally and Greg were talking. They looked stressed. She was shaking, and it was hard to get a single sound to come out of her throat. 

“Sal?” she said, softly. “Greg- I- there’s somethin’-” she didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to cry right then and it made her mad at herself, but the tears dripped down anyways. “Somethin’... There’s somethin’ I need to tell you about.”

“What happened?” Sally asked. 

“Are the kids okay?” Stretch took a deep breath. 

“Andy saw the pictures.” 

“What?” Greg asked. 

“No-” Sally began. 

“Which pictures? What-”

“The pictures of Lefty.” Sally looked on the verge of sobbing too, and Greg’s eyes went wide. “He- He seems to be taking it okay he just.. He kept askin’ if they were real and… and if the person who took ‘em was gonna hurt us. I told him he was safe but I- I don’t know what to tell him about those pictures.” It hung heavy, over the three of them, for a moment. 

“I…” Sally began. “I’ve… I’ve read up on this and… and things like this… Kids are… Kids are resilient,” she said. “So long as you support ‘em and… and don’t make ‘em feel scared, or ashamed.” Stretch was so glad, as she had been for years, that Sally was there and knew what to do. “I…” She took a deep breath. “I can talk to him. I’ll… I’ll take ‘em both aside and talk to ‘em for a minute.” 

“I can go with you,” Stretch offered. 

“Me too-” Greg added. 

“That’s alright,” Sally said. “I.. I’ve got this handled.” 

Stretch and Greg sat in the living room, alone. Greg’s parents had gone to sleep, and Sally was busy with the babies, trying to take care of all that mess. It was tense, at first, then Greg got up, and got himself a beer. 

“Do you want one?” he asked, softly. Stretch thought she might should stay sober, in case Sally needed anything, or in case Robert did come and she had to kill him properly this time, but she was also so on edge she could hardly think. 

“Yeah I’ll… I’ll just have one.” 

One became three. Though she still had her wits about her mostly. Greg drank about the same, and the two of them started to feel a little less distant from each other, and got to talking. 

“If I ever see that little pencil-neck son of a bitch I’ll kill him myself,” Greg hissed, waving the bottle around and talking quiet- not wanting the kids to hear. “Sally didn’t do a damn thing to him- I wish they’d just given that bastard the chair.” Stretch nodded, slowly. 

“Yeah I… I almost killed him,” she said, softly. “I wish I had… Wish I’d done it properly.” 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Greg said. “You… You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. You cut his stomach open with a chainsaw and kicked him off a cliff- The fact that he didn’t die that’s just… The devil’s work.” His moment of religious fervor, a bit uncharacteristic for Greg, had Stretch clench the bottle just a little bit harder. 

“Yeah,” she said softly, letting those horrible images pass through her mind without much attention. “By all means he… He should’ve died.” She couldn’t help but think about the letter. The way he survived. Stretch wished that was something she could’ve avoided, something that didn’t have to happen, but she had no other real options in that moment, and no way of knowing what would happen. She thought about Lefty, really thought about him, for the first time in a long time. It was his own damn fault he died like that. And he pulled her and LG down into it. But… No matter how mad she was at him then- how much she wanted to kick his ass too when she first got to the hospital and thought he might have made it- she couldn’t say he deserved the end he got. She couldn’t think of anybody who deserved all that. Well, maybe a few people. A few brothers, to be more precise. But not Lefty. 

Over the years of knowing Sally, and her family, her views on Lefty had become more complicated. The first year, after he died, she was furious with him, blamed him just as much for LG’s death as the Sawyers- was outright glad, sometimes, he was dead. But knowing Sally, and her parents- her father especially- had dimmed that anger some. They had loved that crazy, stubborn man. And she loved them. And a little of that love rubbed off on her. She wished she could’ve known him, really, when he was alive, maybe before he lost his mind completely. He sounded like a good man. 

Stretch realized, then she lost track of what Greg was saying. She looked over, at him, and her confusion sparked up again. He was a plenty nice guy. And he and Sally didn’t seem to have any real problem between them. They seemed happy. But somewhere, somehow, something was wrong. She had never seen anything like it. Well, almost never. 

She had gone on little dates with LG that were like that, she supposed. It was fun- goin’ out with him, to bars to go dancin’ or on late night coffee runs, or out to go hiking. She really enjoyed spending time with him, and she loved that man, she really did. But there was always something not quite right, about their little dates, about the idea of LG being her man. She wondered if that was what it was like for Sally. And she wondered if she had married LG if they would’ve ended up like Sally and Greg. 

Stretch looked over to Greg. He wasn’t unattractive, he looked fine- average. He wasn’t mean, or a drunk, or wrapped up in something bad. He was good with the kids. Had a fine job. Listened to Sally when she wanted to talk. Stretch wasn’t exactly attracted to him herself, but he seemed like a fine man for Sally. Greg seemed to be at the end of whatever tangent he had been going on. 

“I uh-” Stretch began, interrupting him just a little- “I… I wanted to say thank you.”

“Huh?”

“For bringin’ me along. For bringin’ me here. You didn’t have to-”

“Nah,” he said. “It’s nothin’. Sally loves you, and I love Sally. Simple as.” Stretch paused, for just a moment. Then, spurned on by alcohol and unconcerned by the consequences she asked. 

“It’s not my place at all but… I just… What happened with y’all?” she asked. “You just- you’ve always seemed happy, you know and…” Stretch started to think again she shouldn’t have brought it up. “I just don’t understand why you’d wanna split up when.. You love her so much.” Greg laughed, a little, and Stretch found herself rather surprised. 

“That’s why I wanna split up,” Greg said. “Because I love her.” 

“What?” 

“Look I just… I love Sally. I love that woman with all my heart, and I love our kids, and her parents and.. And all of it. But Sally… She don’t love me. She’s just not capable of it.”

“What?” Stretch went quickly to Sally’s defense. “Sally’s capable of love-” 

“Oh, I know that,” Greg said. “That ain’t what I’m sayin’. She loves our kids to death, and… I think she loves me like you love a good friend, but I… I know she don’t love me the way I love her.” Stretch tried to catch up. 

“Do you… Do you think there’s somebody else?” she asked. 

“Oh, I know there is. I’m surprised you don’t.” 

“She’s never told me anything like that-”

“Stretch, it’s you,” he said. 

“What?”

“It’s you, Stretch. It’s… Sally and I have been as happy as we could be, for a long time. But… I don’t think… She’s never… Stretch, I don’t think she’s ever had any real interest in men. At least none she’s mentioned to me. But… Every time you walk in the room she just lights up. You know? When things are goin’ wrong she goes to you- she wanted you around every important moment in our lives- you were there for the birth of both our children I just… I thought you two might already be together.” Stretch was beyond shocked. It was one hell of a day for all that to come out too. 

“And you- you were okay with that?” Stretch asked, in a hushed tone. 

“I already told you, Stretch,” he said. “I love Sally. And I want her to be loved. Even if it ain’t by me.” 

Stretch had a hell of a lot on her mind that night. So, as she tucked in the guest room of Greg’s parents’ house, she expected to have some kind of dream. For years after her run in with the Sawyers she had nightmares. They had lessened over the years, but occasionally, suddenly they got stirred up again. As she laid down, and tried to sleep that night, that was what she feared. 

She was at the radio station again. In her old DJ booth. It was nighttime. And nobody else was there. She was tense. Deathly tense. She thought she knew what would happened next. Was fairly confident she remembered exactly what happened next. She heard chattering, through the walls. Someone was talking in the lobby. She knew someone was talking in the lobby. She didn’t want it to go on longer than it had to. So she stood up, with all the confidence she could muster and walked that way. 

What she saw there still surprised her. 

There was a massive dinner table- laid out there instead of the couch, and around it were about a dozen people she recognized immediately. The Sawyers were there- of course- all of them- even her brain’s best conjuration of that damn hitchhiker- but among them were the Hardestys- Sally and Andy and Julie and Franklin and Lefty- and though Stretch wasn’t sure of the accuracy of their faces, her mind told her the other three at the table were Jerry, and Kirk, and Pam. They were eating, together, talking like nothing was wrong, joking with each other, passing around what looked like normal meat like some kind of macabre Thanksgiving. The old man Sawyer- the cook- Drayton- was the first to notice her. 

“Oh. Well. Look who decided to come out of her room,” he said, in that annoying, jokey way her uncle used to say the same damn line, completely unconcerned by the way his jaw was hanging half off his face or the shrapnel in his chest. 

“What?” she asked, unable to drag her eyes away from it. 

“We were wonderin’ when you were gonna come join us,” Lefty spoke up. “There’s still plenty to go around, of course. I didn’t let the boys finish off the dinner rolls without you.” He looked happy. Sounded happy. But his clothes were wet with blood and his face was bruised to hell. She could see a bite mark peeking out from his shirt collar. 

“This ain’t right. None of this is right,” she said, taking a step towards it all anyways- against her right mind and her will. 

“We saved a seat for you, girl!” said Robert. The son of a bitch was smiling, sitting in the chair next to Sally- like he had any right to be anywhere close to her. 

“You…” She began. “You-” She felt a hand on her shoulder- a big, wet hand. Then she heard a harsh whisper in her ear. 

“Darlin’, I think you need to wake up.” 

Stretch bolted right up, sitting up like she was awake. Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw a man standing by the window of the bedroom she was in. And she screamed. In a heartbeat, everybody else was there, Greg’s father weiling a double barrel shotgun wildly. The man ran- of course- when she screamed. 

“What happened? What was that?”

“There was somebody- I woke up all of a sudden and there was somebody-”

“Do you think you just had a nightmare, dear?” asked Greg’s mother. 

“No-” Stretch said. “I don’t- I-”

“Let’s go look,” Greg said, firmly. Greg and his dad ran outside, while Sally and Stretch stayed in with the kids, and Greg’s mom. Stretch was pretty confident she was the most prepared to beat the shit out of Robert if he ever came back, but she also refused to leave those babies alone for even a minute. She had seen what the Sawyers did to a trained man who brought three damn chainsaws. She wasn’t confident Greg and his father would be able to stop him either. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Andy asked, softly. Stretch wasn’t sure what to say. 

“We’ve gotta stay down right now, and be quiet,” Sally said, softly. 

“Is it him?” Andy asked. “Is it the man who sent the pictures?” Sally held her little boy a little tighter. 

“We don’t know. We’ve just got to be careful right now. Your Daddy, and Papaw are checkin’ it out right now, just to be sure.” 

Suddenly, they heard a scream. Stretch wrapped her arms around Sally and those kids tight, ready for a fight. She heard the blast of the shotgun. Once. Then everything was deathly quiet. There was shuffling, at the front door, someone coming in. She tensed up, and slipped away from them, grabbing Andy’s little aluminum baseball bat and holding it tight in her hands, standing at the door, ready to bash the fucker’s head in if he came through. 

“Sally-” Greg said, opening the door and almost getting hit in his already bleeding face for it. “We- we got him!” 

Stretch found out what happened that night in pieces, as the cops finally showed up. 

It was him. Robert Sawyer. Chop Top. He had broken out of prison, left behind the letters, and the pictures, and gone on a killing spree. They weren’t his first targets. His first kills were completely random, strangers he met along the way whose things he wanted, or someone he just thought might taste good. Then, he went after a couple of cops, and their families. Determined to have himself a ‘pig roast’ it seemed. And finally, he came knocking at the wrong door. He had cased the house, with few problems. Sneaky as he was capable of being. But then, for some reason, Stretch woke up. 

She was never as spiritual as some people- not even close to as spiritual as Sally had become, as she aged. But it was hard to find any other explanation for what happened that night. And besides, it wasn’t the first time LG had saved her. She thanked him, for watching out for her again, and hoped wherever he was up there he could hear it. 

Then, of course, Greg and his father went out looking. Just to check. Chop Top slashed Greg across the face, and Greg’s father shot him with a double barrel shotgun. It didn’t kill him, though it should’ve- that fucker was like a roach. But he couldn’t come after them when he couldn’t walk from the pain, and he was stuck in the yard until the cops finally arrived. 

He went back to prison, and they went back to their lives. Things were different. But in many ways, things were the same. 

It was the summer of 1999. Thirteen years after Stretch’s run in with the Sawyers. Twice that for Sally. Things were looking up. Sally and Greg did divorce. Stretch thought about what Greg told her, a few days after that night, and for years proceeding that. But nothing came of it. Stretch stayed single. She had a career to focus on, of course. And, admittedly, she was utterly uninterested in men. 

She was around throughout the kids’ childhood. They called her Auntie Nita, or Auntie Stretch. She was there for Sally throughout the divorce. And she was there when the Hardestys had a small, informal funeral for Lefty when his body was finally, actually laid to rest- identified by those nasty photos left on Sally’s doorstep. And she was there when Sally’s father was laid to rest with his brother and his son. She was just always there. That was where she wanted to be. 

Sally and Stretch sat outside, watching the kids kick a ball around, drinking sweet tea on the porch. Sally paused, thoughtfully. 

“Did you ever want kids of your own, Nita?” she asked. 

“Huh?” Stretch nearly spat out her tea. “What’s got you askin’ that?” 

“You just… You’ve always been so good with Andy and Julie. But… You never had kids of your own. Or a husband, either. I mean, you’ve still got time, you’re only, what, forty-two?” 

“Well, I guess-”

“And you’re very beautiful,” Sally said. Stretch felt her cheeks warm up, just a little. “Anybody’d be lucky to have you.” 

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Of course,” Sally said. “You’re… I’ve… I’ve always admired you. You’re strong, and clever, and… Gorgeous.” Sally glanced just a split second at her lips- Stretch knew damn well she did. “Sorry- I- uh, I don’t mean it like that, of course,” Sally said, looking away. 

“That’s too bad,” Stretch said softly. 

“Huh?” 

“I wish you did,” she said. Sally was looking at her like she was seeing her for the first time. “Mean it.. Like that.” They leaned towards each other, almost subconsciously, almost like magnets. And briefly, but warmly, they kissed. 

In that moment it felt like everything just clicked right into place. It was a good feeling. A really, truly good feeling. They both smiled, enjoying just a moment of being in each other’s warmth. Then, leaning against one another, they looked back to their kids. 

The day she met the Sawyers had changed her life forever. In a lot of ways, for the worse. But as she sat there on that porch, sipping her sweet tea, subtly holding’ Sally’s hand, she found she could breath easy, knowing she had finally made a life that she was happy with.

[golden444manifest]

90s/00s CD Haul Top Picks 🎧🎶

Janet - Janet Jackson

That’s The Way Love Goes

Again

All For You - Janet Jackson

All For You

Someone to Call My Lover

Doesn’t Really Matter

Daydream - Mariah Carey

Always Be My Baby

Fantasy

The Very Best of Destiny’s Child

So Good

Jumpin, Jumpin

Lose My Breath

Say My Name

Survivor - DC3

Nasty Girl

Brown Eyes

Dangerously in Love

Destiny’s Child - DC4

No, No, No Part 1

No, No, No Part 2

The Dairy of Alicia Keys

You Dont Know My Name

Diary

If I Aint Got You

As I Am - Alicia Keys

Teenage Love Affair

Never Say Never - Brandy

Top Of The World

Have You Ever?

More - Tamia

Into you ft. Fabolous

Officially Missing You

Questions

[terrak0]

Random What If idea: the motel group is already well aware of the St. John’s and what they do when Andy and Danny approach them for a deal for gas in exchange for food.

They had recently run into Jolene after she snuck too close to the motel while trying to spy on them and steal Clementines hat. In the midst of her crazy ramblings, they get the gist of the situation from her— there’s bandits and dairy farmers living in the woods nearby, and the dairy farmers are cannibals who pick off survivors to trade as meat... and both groups have been aware of the motor inn for a while now.

[aikoiya]

LoZ - Hyrulean Cultural Aesthetics

Important to note, Hylians, Sheikah, Gerudo, & Lupáns are all considered human.

Those with pointed ears are referred to as Cuspan & those without are called Ovelian.

Overall Cultural Influences:

Central Hyrule & Hylians specifically = Medieval Germanic & Arthurian English with some variation depending on location. All Hylian towns will likely have a little bit of this in them.

Ovelians = Rural, small town, down home, farmer, tough as nails, survivor, rough around the edges, traditional, conservative, but still rebellious, & generally very good-hearted. That means they are the rednecks, the cowboys, the military men, the American Southerners, the Vikings, & the Celts kind of characters. You're salt of the earth types. At least in feel, though not necessarily in culture. It's because of this that humans generally get along well with Gorons. Either way, humans stick mostly to the agricultural & ranching settlements for the most part.

Zora = Hard to tell as they generally don't wear clothing, but they do wear a lot of jewelry. If I had to give them clothes, I'd definitely say they'd be something flowy. Possibly Roman or Greek in fashion to go with the water theme? As for sensibilities, maybe a bit of French Rococo. I also get the impression that the Zora's Domain is actually divided into 2 levels: the Upper Domain & the Lower Domain. The Upper Domain is what we see in the games & consists of the commercial district & palace. The Lower Domain is entirely underwater & is where the Zora actually live. The reason we don't see it is because Link can't dive.

Rito = Northern Native American. Aldean specifically. Maybe a bit of Latin American.

Goron = A mix of Maori (Polynesian), African, Dwarven, & maybe a bit of Old West mining town, though it's hard to tell for certain as they generally don't wear clothing. At the same time, their general architecture seems to have a Town of Bedrock-type feel to it. Definitely something with a decent source of friendly machismo (not what is considered "toxic masculinity;" actual machismo). Something masculine & tribal, but also community oriented & friendly.

Gerudo = Egyptian/Middle Eastern Amazons with some Orc influence. Possibly with some hints of Hindu too. At least as far as fashion goes.

Korok/Kokiri = If Peter Pan & the Lost Boys were Hobbits.

Twili = Possibly Scandanavian? Also Chinese with some Japanese influences.

Mogma = They seem to be Brooklyn-ish. Maybe even a bit of an Italian-American Mob feel, but more so in the "friendly gangster" way. So, I'm seeing some Bensonhurst influences, which is a specifically Italian-American borough within Brooklyn, I believe. Maybe even a bit of New York Jewish? Like, they come across as being Italian mafia adjacent, but only in so much as the accent, the attitude, & family-oriented organization. Sort of an "it takes a village" & "we take care of our own" type of mentality. Not in any way actually mafia though & certainly not in the romanticized view of gangsters as I don't actually see the Mogmas being the types to actually commit crimes on the reg. And despite being avid treasure-hunters, they seem to have a general culture of altruistic generosity. By that, I mean that their love language is gift-giving.

Yeti = Norse Viking.

Minish = Borrowers.

Anouki = Inuit.

Lokomo = Possibly Greek?

Zonai = Mesoamerican.

*Búralupán = Gaelic, Celtic, & Nordic. (This is a race I made up, if you wanna know more, go to Wolf Link & the Lupán Race.)

Smaller Settlements:

Hateno = I'm getting Gaelic Scottish farming town. Also maybe a bit of Spain, Italy, & Greece. Mostly inhabited by humans, both Cuspan & Ovelian.

Kakariko = Japanese with maybe a touch of American Old West. While primarily Japanese, there's also some definite South Korean influences. Especially in their cooking.

Mabe = Rustic dairy ranching town vibes because I'm putting Lon Lon Ranch there. Based on how AoC & LA's Mabe was designed, their roofing is colorful terracotta tile & generally has ivy & such growing on their homes, so maybe Colonial Spanish. Mostly inhabited by humans.

Goponga = I'm getting rural Luisiana Bayou vibes, most likely due to it being located in a swamp. So, primarily Cajun, French, & Colonial Spanish with some Zora inspiration maybe. Mostly inhabited by humans & Zora.

Deya = Not sure yet, but I'm giving them a vineyard, peach orchard, & making them use them to make moscato, so maybe an old Tuscany winery & fishing village? Mostly inhabited by humans. From what we see in the games, it was actually the biggest settlement in Hyrule besides Castle Town, so it could've been a full-on town or city.

Ordon = Has a rural ranching feel & might be inspired by a southern agricultural town in Italy called Ordona. So, maybe rural Italy with American South mannerisms & sensibilities. Culturally, though, I get Gaelic Irish vibes. It might be the smials… Also, maybe a little bit of Welsh too. Either way, it's mostly inhabited by Ovelians & Lupáns (more Ovelian than Lupáns) with the occasional Hylian, Sheikah, & 1 or 2 Gerudo. (For more of their overall culture, go to Ordonian Culture & Ordon Cooking Culture.)

Lurelin = Rural Hawaiian fishing village. Maybe a little bit of Caribbean & Okinawan? With a little bit of Mesoamerican mixed in due to Zonai influence from the nearby ruins.

Ealiyah = Tibetan-flavored Gerudo farming & brewing town. Maybe a little bit of Russian & hints of Norse too? Also, interior decoration is eclectic & cluttered but cozy & colorful in a vibrant, rustic Bohemian sort of way. There are also some influences from humans, including Ovelians, Hylians, Lupàns, & even Sheikah to a degree as several of each race lives there too (all men), but overall, the culture remains mostly that Tibetan-Gerudo sort of style. They do a lot of weaving & sewing as well as dying. (This is a town I made up, for more on its culture & history, go to Ealiyah Town & the Highlands Gerudo.)

- Hànmalàn Hamlet = A small majority Upper Middle Eastern/Southeast Asian-flavored Gerudo settlement in the Faron Jungle with some Lurelinites & a number of Sheikah living there as well. Located in Damel Forest.

Tabantha Village = Norse with Rito, Yeti, & Lupán inspiration. So, old Norse Viking, Aldean, Celtic, & Gaelic with a Russian & Welsh accent. They use a lot of furs in their clothing. Mostly inhabited by Ovelians, Hylians, Rito, Yeti, & Lupán.

Shadow Hamlet = Dwarven possibly, with Goron inspiration. So, very masculine. Maybe a bit of Old Western Mining Town. A mix of Gorons, Hylians, & Ovelians tend to live here.

Koholint Domain = This is on the Koholina Archipelago, which Eventide Island is the smallest island of & will eventually become a fishing & port town. In-world, it has influence from Zora, Rito, & Lurelin. But, from a real world perspective, it's mostly Polynesian, coastal Native American, & coastal Hindu with some ancient coastal Greco-Roman (even Atlantis-like) influence for the underwater sections of the settlement. As well as in their formal fashion. There would likely be a tiny bit of Carribean & Okinawan influence in there too. The population is made up of Euryhaline Zora (able to survive in both salt & fresh water), Coastal Rito, & Lurelin humans. And, much like with how I think the Zora's Domain is built, the settlement's commercial district is on land, while the Zora residential area is underwater. The Rito & human residences, as well as the Cheiftain's home, are also on land. (For more on the specifics of this, go to Euryhaline Zora & Coastal Rito Port Town.)

Gatepost, Outpost, & East Post = These are all a package deal. These are mostly military towns, so that'll definitely factor in. They are positioned in such a way as to protect Oldcastle. Mostly inhabited by Hyrulean Humans, but with smatterings of the other races too.

Oldcastle = The site of OoT's Castle Town, a.k.a. the Great Plateau, so there'll be some DEEP historical significance going on. As such, it's mostly Medieval Germanic & Arthurian English. Mostly inhabited by Hyrulean Humans.

LoZ Cultural Masterlist

[nationalvyvanseshortage]

I love when the reward on survivor is like coffee or cakes. Anything super high in suger or caffeine or dairy. These people have been eating raw fish and drinking coconut juice for weeks your "reward" is gastro terrorism.