#everyone is calling white people crackers?

[protaetia]

🐞

[the-one-and-only-aroace]

Anyways, white people suck, I give full permission to bully me for being a cracker

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Gotch-yer Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Violence, Walker death, other TWD character death (Amy), Daryl being a bit of a jerk and then fixing it, let me know if there's anything else! Basically what seems to be regular TWD fanfic warnings. Also I believe this is only Fem!Reader because he calls Reader "girl."

Summary: A retelling of the night walkers attack at the quarry and how you and Daryl help each other deal with the aftermath.

You tried to remember the last time you’d eaten fish. It had been a while, a few weeks maybe? A few long weeks forcing yourself to eat squirrel or a rabbit if you were lucky. Or if you were unlucky, even snake. You’d eat whatever was caught if you were hungry enough, or simply to stay alive another day.

Fish was a delicacy these days. The girls- Amy and Andrea had caught a load of them in the quarry. It was white fish which had always been your favorite. It was easy to cook and fell apart in yummy flakes. Hell, you didn’t even need a fork.

It was hot in your mouth and the heat of the meal radiated in your belly. The group chewed and chattered while you were lost in your own thoughts. Your mother used to make a great dish when you lived with her. Cod with a breading on top that was made with Ritz crackers. You missed her. You missed her cooking. You wondered where she was now-

Everyone laughed suddenly and the sound made you jump.

“William Faukner,” Dale said, smiling.

Lori reached over Carl and rested a comforting hand on your arm. Understanding glowed in her eyes in the firelight. Loud noises always made you nervous these days.

By the time you saw the pan of fish that had been passed around, the last filet was being pulled out of it by a stabbing fork.

“Shouldn’t we save some?” you asked Lori. “The guys’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll catch some more tomorrow,” Andrea said to you, catching your attention from a few seats down.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “We’re pros.” 

Despite the light conversation, Lori looked grim. You and her seemed to be the only people worried about the men who’d gone off to find Merle and the bag of guns that was left in the street in Atlanta. She had her arm around Carl as he munched and grinned at Dale. You couldn’t imagine how she was feeling about her husband’s return, nevermind his volunteering to lead the charge back into one of the most dangerous places in this new age. He’d just gotten back. It was written all over her face as she gazed into the flames of the fire.

You weren’t a fan of Merle. In fact, you disliked him thoroughly. The pit in your gut surrounding his abandonment had nothing to do with his safety, or his life, but with Daryl’s. You weren’t even sure if you liked the younger Dixon either. He seemed to follow too closely in his brother’s footsteps to be safe or dependable. Or even nice. But you did respect him. After all, he’d helped to keep you safe and almost single handedly kept the group fed with his hunting and tracking skills. 

Still, no. He wasn’t very nice.

You had a feeling, however, that you had his respect in return. It only took a few crude remarks from Merle for you to fire back at him with enough force to keep him off your back for a few days. Daryl apparently hadn’t been too far away that day and had heard your reply to Merle’s degrading comments. 

“Impressive,” he’d said. “For a quiet girl.”

The next time Merle got colorful with his words towards you, Daryl was the one to take the heat for you. Told his brother to quit it. Since then, your relationship with the older Dixon was extremely minimal and even when it was forced, he left you alone.

Though you wouldn’t have missed Merle one bit, you watched Daryl take the news of his desertion when the cop- Rick- told him what had happened on the supply run. While you of course expected fury from Daryl, you hadn’t expected such emotion to fly out of him. He was a wrecking ball of threats and fists with tears running down his dirty cheeks. It was sad.

He must have seen the pity in your face then. When you called to him, tried to calm him down and move him away from Shane, he’d shoved you. “Get lost, girl.”

Needless to say, the men in this group were difficult. But at least the others were in the group. Daryl was on the outskirts of it and without his brother, it would be too easy for him to get thrust out. While you didn’t want that, you knew it was also vital for the survival of the group for him to stay. You had a feeling he wasn’t as impenetrable as the armor he wore.

You were worried about Daryl. You were also worried about Glenn and T-Dog, and Rick- Lori and Carl included. And as you sat there before the fire, you wondered what the hell would happen if Merle returned.

That was when you heard Amy scream. You didn’t recognize the sound at first, it was so sudden and so loud. It was a cry of anguish and fear. One that begged for help.

After that, it was chaos.

You turned over your shoulder, watching Amy and her assailant, even pondering for a split second who had snuck into the camp. What stranger would go after a girl just trying to go to the bathroom. But of course, it wasn’t a who. It was a what.

“Get behind me!” Shane roared. 

You knew there wasn’t time. Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed the unfamiliar hunting knife you had with you and unsheathed it. You stepped over the log you’d been sitting on, away from the fire, but also further away from Shane and the safety of his gun, towards one of the geeks. It wasn’t just ugly and rank and dead, it was terrifying. The look of it, the smell of it made your stomach sink so far, it felt like it’d fell out of your body.

It snarled and gnashed its mouth at you while its thin, wiry fingers reached for you, but all the while, you focused on its hair. It was the same in death as it was in life- long locks of protein that couldn’t hurt you. Harmless. So you aimed your knife there.

In the brain, in the brain, it has to be in the brain, don’t you know anything-

The thing stopped once your knife sunk into its skull. Its arms dropped to its hollow sides and its lifeless eyes looked at you, long enough to send a shudder through you before it dropped to the ground, taking your one and only weapon with it. 

“Get up here! Come to the RV!” you heard.

There were more screams, the thunk of childhood baseball bats slamming into hard skulls, the echoing sound of gunshots. Closer to you, though, and more urgently, there was deep guttural snarling, groaning and gurgling- the sound of the dead coming for you.

Shane had brought the children to the RV, safe, their backs leaning against the cold metal. Lori and Carol were there, Jim was at the treeline with his bat, Andrea on the ground with- with Amy. Amy’s body. You were alone. In the middle of the chaos, too far from any other living humans to take any aid.

“(Y/N)! Get up here! Jim!” Shane’s voice was hoarse.

You dove for your knife, yanking it out of the walker’s head with a squelch. You could only manage three or four steps up the hill before another undead was upon you. It was too close, its long nails a hair’s breadth away from your bare skin and its decaying teeth lunging closer with every stride. Again, you had to gather all your strength, grip your knife tight and focus- be calm enough to aim for the enemy’s brain. You had one chance, or you’d turn into one of them.

Carl would have to see it, Sophia, Lori. Daryl.

You grunted with the effort and the tip of the knife hit home and sunk into the geek’s head. This time you were able to free your knife before the thing fell to the ground. You scanned the land in front of you, looking for more threats. There were so many bodies on the ground. Bodies of people from your group, people that you’d gotten to know. They were lying still now. Leaking onto the dirt.

Then an arm wrapped around your middle and dragged you uphill. You screamed and thrashed, but whatever had you was strong.

“It’s me,” his voice rasped in your ear. 

It immediately calmed you. You held onto Daryl’s arm as if it were a buoy saving you from drowning in gray, storming waves of a murderous ocean. He led you to the others near the van and deposited you there before letting go of you.

He was back. You saw Rick, T-Dog and Glenn, all in various states of emotional disrepair, but Daryl just looked around, calmly taking in the carnage. 

“Daryl,” you said to him, “you okay?”

“Whaddah you think?” he snarled. “Ya see mah brother anywhere? Huh?”

So the moment was short lived. You ignored whatever he said next, running your hand along the outside of the RV, using it as a crutch as you moved to check on Carol and Sophia, then on Lori. You didn’t have it in you to survey much more than that. You trembled from the inside out and watched Rick hug his little boy as tears streamed down his face. 

At least they were back. 

It was somewhat painstakingly decided that you would all save the cleanup for tomorrow morning. The survivors had vans or tents to escape into. To leave the dead outside. Except for Andrea. One look at her- that was all you could handle- and you knew she wasn’t going to leave her sister any time soon.

You fell to your knees, jeans sinking into the soft dirt and stared into the flames of the campfire that was still burning strong. It was only then you found the hunting knife still in your tight grip, crusted over with brown, lumpy goo. At that point in the night, you couldn’t understand exactly what the remains were and for that, you were grateful. The bit of blade still showing reflected in the light coming from the pit, shades of orange and red glowing between your fingers. 

Shane crouched beside you and though his landing was silent and agile, you jumped.

“S’alright,” he said, taking the weapon out of your scrunched hand. “Lemme clean it.”

“I can clean it,” Daryl grumbled from above, snatching the knife from Shane. “S’mine anyway.”

Shane let it happen, concentrating on you. He carefully set a hand on your shoulder. “Ya did good,” he said.

“You too,” you answered, like a little league pitcher on the losing team. 

He stood and put his hands on his hips. “Try ta get some rest,” he said from the air.

You nodded.

Only when Shane was gone, did Daryl move closer to you. He sat on the ground and leaned back against the log the group had been using as dinner seats less than an hour ago. He sat back for a while, leaving you to watch the flames die down as he worked one of his rags into the crevices of the hunting knife. Slowly, you heard the others of the group- those living- say goodnight to each other and slide into their respective dwellings for what was left of the evening.

Distantly, though he sat just beside you, you heard Daryl speak. “S’right bout one thing.”

��Hm?”

“Ya did good. I saw ya when we were runnin’ up the hill. Doin’ what I told ya to do.”

You turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. Your feet stung under you, asleep after kneeling on them for so long, as you moved to sit on your bottom next to Daryl. He turned the cleaned knife in his hand before passing it you, handle out.

You shook your head. “It’s yours.”

He plopped it on your lap. “S’yours now. I gave it to ya. You’ll need it.”

You didn’t want to need it. He knew that too. All the same, it was a good thing he’d left it with you when he went to Atlanta. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting next to him right now. Speaking to him. Feeling the heat that didn’t just emit from the fire, but from him by your side as well. 

“Thank you,” you said, sliding the knife back into its sheath and into your pocket, where you hoped it would stay, unneeded for a long time. Or at least for the rest of the night.

You turned to him, but again, he wasn’t looking at you. He rarely did. But you knew he was still there, still with you by the way his head tilted towards you. Like he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. As if you were a deer in the forest, ready to bolt away from him at any moment.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find Merle.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah right. You hate Merle.”

“Hate is a strong word,” you said.

He chuckled- a grim, gruff sound deep in his chest. 

You watched him, feeling free to do so since he so rarely looked you in the eye. He was biting the inside of his lip over and over and picking at his fingernails. 

You waited.

He peeked at you, inhaling deep. “Didn’ mean ta snap atcha. Earlier.”

When he yelled, you thought. By the RV, after he’d pulled you to safety. 

You nodded. “S’alright. It’s been a tough day all around.”

Humming in agreement, he turned back to the fire. You two were square now. But you also hoped he knew that if he snapped at you like that again, you wouldn’t be so quick to forgive. 

There was a flapping from above that shook the leaves in the trees. It was a soft, peaceful sound of nature, but after this night, in this new world, it startled you to your core.

“Just a bird,” Daryl said.

You sucked in a breath that made your lungs quake in your chest. “I’m sick of being so scared all the damn time,” you mumbled, tipping your head forward, holding your face in your hands. Things had only been like this for two months? Three? And you were already exhausted, tired of it all. How much longer could you take? Or, how much longer would it take for you to just-

Daryl stood. “Come on,” he said. He waved toward his tent. “Gotta getcha away from this damn bloodbath ‘er you’ll never calm down.”

You violently shook your head. “I can’t- I don’t wanna be alone-”

He was already walking toward the tent he shared with Merle. “Yer stayin’ with me. So I know where ya are.”

Your system went from fight or flight to frozen. He- Daryl- wanted you- where? After every shove and snap and swear towards you, now he wanted you to come with him? To be in his space? Overnight?

You stared at him. He tossed his crossbow into his tent, lifting the flap and heading inside when he turned back and saw you still on the ground in front of the fire.

“Or do ya wanna stay out here alone?”

“No.”

“Then get off yer ass.”

You scrambled to your feet and scurried to the tent’s flap. You felt like a scolded child, like your dignity had been left in the dirt, but you didn’t care. After the walker attack, you couldn’t be alone and you had been trusting Daryl with your life for weeks now, not that you’d ever tell anyone that. You felt the safest when you were with him. Tonight you needed that. Especially tonight. 

“Ya can take that side,” Daryl mumbled, pointing. 

The tent was small. Big enough to stand up in, but not very wide. There were two sleeping bags strewn out close to each other with a lumpy pillow on each. He tossed an extra blanket onto the side he told you to take. It was the one with the crossbow at its foot. And you recognized his cut off flannel shoved into the duffle beside it.

“I can’t take your bed.”

“Ain’t a bed,” he said, spreading the other sleeping bag open flat and sitting on it.

“Well, I can’t take your bag.”

“Would you rather stick your face in Merle’s pillow all night?”

You grimaced, thinking of the monster of a man and what he’d probably done to that innocent pillow.

“Thought not,” Daryl said. He grumbled it, but you heard the smirk in his voice.

“The definition of ‘pick your poison’,” you said, crouching to sit on the soft sleeping bag. 

“Girl-” Daryl said, swatting at you as he rolled over, putting his back to you.

You swung back, smacking his shoulder. “I was kidding.”

In answer, he gave another blind swat, making you giggle. 

You laid back into the double layer of sleeping bag, enjoying the way it was cool to the touch underneath you. The pillow, though thin, felt nice when you situated it under your head the way you liked it. Everything around you smelled like him- gas, grease, cigarettes- yes, but something else too. It wasn’t a bad smell, just a natural one. Just Daryl.

You were laying on your side, facing him. You watched him sink into the darkness as you spun the dial on the lantern until it turned off. Dark, though it was, you could still see his form clearly. Not sleeping yet. 

“Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

He grunted, flopping to lay on his back and folding one of his arms under his head. “Get some sleep.”

It was then you realized how small the tent really was. When he laid on his back, his leg could almost touch your knee as you curled up on your side. He was an enigma, alright, you thought. Couldn’t bear to look you in the eye, saved your life, snapped at you in front of everyone and now slept beside you like it was nothing.

You sighed, following suit and laying on your back too. “Don’t think I’m gonna be able to catch much of that,” you said.

His pillow rustled as he looked toward you. “What the hell happened there?” He took your hand from where it rested over your forehead and studied the angry red scrapes and purple bruising on your knuckles. “This happen tonight?”

“No,” you said, taking your hand from his grasp and tucking it under you, embarrassed. “Happened earlier.”

“How’d you bust it up like that?”

“I, um… I just hurt it. Against Ed’s face.”

Daryl gave a laughing hiss. “I saw his face. You did that?”

“Some of it. Shane did the rest.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“He had it comin’,” you said, barely finishing the last word and regretting saying anything at all. Ed may have deserved a few punches, hell, he deserved jail time. But what happened to him tonight- eaten alive, alone- you weren’t sure anyone deserved that. It made your stomach roll in your gut and you stung with shame.

“Fucking badass, girl,” Daryl said.

It was quiet in the dark for a long moment. 

“M’not, Daryl. I’m just fucking scared.”

There was more rustling beside you as Daryl shimmied around on his sleeping bag. 

“Turn over. That way,” he said.

You did as he told you, laying on your side with your back to him. His body moved up against yours, his heat blooming on your shoulders, bum, and the backs of your legs. A little too forcefully, he lifted your head to slide his arm underneath and cradle you close.

“Ain’t nothin’ gettin’ in this tent tonight. I gotch’yer back. You can handle your front.”

You nodded, feeling tears gather in your eyes. Your cheeks were hot, as though they were on fire as you cried, finally letting out the emotion of the evening. The death, the kills, the fear, and the relief all ran down your face and into your shirt or onto Daryl’s pillow or his arm supporting your head. As your breath caught, he reached around you with his free arm, hugging you close and rubbing his thumb on the skin of your injured hand. You grasped him hard. You needed to.

Before this night, you weren’t sure what you thought of the younger Dixon brother. He was rough and nasty and you wondered just how much he took after Merle. Before this moment, you thought he’d run for the hills if you ever touched him with one single finger, nevermind your whole body- your whole being like you were now. But he was there, still with you and unbothered. Safe.

“Sleep,” he mumbled.

You nodded, squeezing his hand again before letting it go and allowing your body to relax against his. And eventually, in his arms, listening to his steady breath, you slept.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Rubato

Chapter Fifteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee/Pam, Sam/Madison, Benny, Charlie, Elizabeth

Word Count: 3340

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, mentions of Bela's childhood sexual abuse, lots of drunken shenanigans, Benny's not flirting, just being his own charming self, jealousy, Dean is slipping, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

The week between Christmas and New Years is always a week of stasis, celebratory and lazy, just holding its breath for changes to come. In a word, it’s possibility. You still did some work, but not many requests were coming in and social media was bombarded with gratitude and self reflection. Not many people noticed the band’s lack of posts and you were grateful for not having to make excuses for some family time, for anyone.

Your flight home had been arduous, delays and a layover that just left you a zombie for a solid 36 hours afterwards. You woke up on the morning of New Year’s Eve with a sense of dread. You checked your phone just to be safe and all seemed well, or quiet at least. Annoyed with your brain, you decided to punish your body instead, or practice self-care, depending on who you asked. Your stationary bike had gotten a little dusty while you were out of town, but after a couple miles everything else fell out of focus. The rolling hills made you feel invincible.

It had started as physical therapy after your car accident back in college, but biking had turned into one of your go to hobbies. And as boring and non-creative it sounded, it did you a lot of good when your thoughts got too loud. It was like running away from your problems, but it still benefited you both physically and mentally.

Win win.

By three, you were just waiting to get ready. The outfit you picked out with Bela hung on the back of your closet door still wrapped in the Sister Jo’s bag. You slumped in your robe and scrolled through the news as you waited to switch the wash around. 

Different broadcasts covered the various local NYE specials and reminded everyone to drive sober, take the bus or get a ride. You thought Dean said he had gotten rides covered the last you talked, but you weren’t sure who was getting you or when, really. If you needed to meet somewhere to go as a group, you needed to order your ride now or everyone would be waiting on you.

Biting your lip, you called him instead of texting, because your worry was immediate not eventual. He picked up on the third ring, slightly out of breath.

“Hey, Trouble, what’s up?” “What’s the plan for tonight? Are we leaving from your place or are you picking me up? I don’t know where Elizabeth’s Nightowl Cafe actually is, Dean.”

Naturally, he laughed. “Hey, look, it’s not a great time. I’m in wardrobe right now. But I’ll make sure you get home safe. Maybe just head over to Bela’s and we’ll pick you both up on the way?”

“The photoshoot is today?! I could have sworn you already had it.”

“Yeah, well, Christmas took longer than I thought and they wedged me in.”

“Dean—”

“Look, I figured it out. And you didn’t have to hold my hand or anything. Now, look, I gotta drop trough, so if you need to continue this conversation with my dick out, by all means. They’re putting me in white pants, so bye-bye Batman boxers.”

You almost swallowed your tongue.

“Yeah, I’m good. You— you have fun with that.”

“See you tonight.”

“Right, bye.”

You slammed your eyes shut, but the damn visuals still flooded your mind. Gorgeous fucking bastard. You exhaled and called Bela, which was far less of a rollercoaster of a conversation and you agreed to be at her place after five to get ready together.

“You still haven’t said anything about your trip home,” you reminded Bela as she handed you another flute of champagne. 

You were both dressed and ready, nibbling on an assortment of cheese and crackers on her oversized kitchen island. From what Dean said about Benny’s cousin’s cooking, dinner was on the agenda, but you had started pregaming and didn’t want to get sloppy too early.

“I’m trying to black it out, honestly. It was such pretentious bullshit. And don’t get me started on my mother’s latest project involving the southern gardens at the summer home,” Bela rolled her eyes and shoved another slice of cheese into her mouth.

“Topiaries?”

“Close, a walking maze. Because apparently Queen Victoria is alive and well,” Bela dusted her hands and raised them in surrender. “At least she didn’t try to force me to bring Dean, that would have ended poorly.”

“Dean is actually really good with moms— but I’m pretty sure he’d get arrested if he had to sit down and have a meal with your dad like he isn’t evil incarnate.”

Bela hummed, sipping her drinking.

You took another bit of cheese and made a sandwich, sensing she was holding something back. “You actually told him about it?”

Bela swallowed and chewed on her words. “Let’s just say Dean and I bonded over our less than stellar fathers, but yeah, I agree with you. In fact he said as much, something about knowing how to hide a body and having a big trunk to drag it away.”

You laughed darkly. “That would be Dean. Prepared, but with violence at the ready.”

“Anyway, setting up another fundraiser for Prevent Together for the new year. Please keep both of your calendars free because I need all my people there, alright?”

“Of course,” you promised, reaching across the butcher block countertop and squeezing her hand. Bela never ceased to amaze you with her strength. You switched gears to grant her some space, “is this the first time you’re meeting the rest of the band?”

“Well, I’ve met Sam. But I’m guessing he’s in on the plan. They’re a bit attached-at-the-hip types?”

You smirked. “Basically a package deal, but I think he’s more protective lately. His girlfriend Madison is fun and I hope they work out, he’s a good guy.”

“So who else do I need to charm?”

“Pamela.”

“Pamela?”

“The drummer, possibly psychic and honestly a little frightening at times. But she’s got a big heart to go with her bluntness. If you can’t convince her, we’re all in for it, because she’s gonna dig. So we’ll make sure you and Dean are on all night. I am definitely snagging some midnight shots, so pucker up, darling.” You teased, but honestly, kissing Dean couldn’t be anything but a treat, even just for a camera.

Maybe you were biased.

“Naturally. Alright, and how does Dean know the owner of the cafe?”

“She’s Benny’s cousin. A good friend and head of tour security, sometimes a personal bodyguard.”

Bela nodded, “I think he’s mentioned him as being on standby if one of our nights out got to be too much.”

You were grateful Bela had paid attention, if she was actually dating Dean, she would know all of this already. The less you had to explain on the spot, the less chance of a slip up.

“Big Cajun guy, total teddy bear. He’ll love you,” you added.

“Nice.”

A mechanical crank sounded somewhere behind you. “Is that—?”

“The garage, they must be here,” Bela gathered the tray and unceremoniously set it inside the fridge.

“How did they get into the garage? I didn’t see you get a text.”

“Dean has the code. Finish your drink,” Bela rushed you.

You slammed the rest of your champagne and added your glass in the sink with Bela’s. Something felt weird that Dean knew Bela’s security override code, but then again you didn’t drive, must be why you didn’t have it.

“Hey— whoa!” Dean’s voice snapped you out of your sleuthing spiral. “Lookin’ good, ladies.”

You turned and took him in, burgundy suit without a tie, a dark undershirt with the collar popped. Fucker. 

“Thank you, likewise.” Bela leaned in and pecked his cheek.

Dean turned to you. “All set?”

You looked around for your phone and grabbed it and the charger off of the ledge towards the sidedoor. “Yeap. You?” you asked Bela.

“Do I need a touch up?” she asked, tilting her head side to side for your honest inspection. 

“Nope, lipstick did its job. You’re glorious,” you affirmed.

“Right, well, shall we?” Bela gestured toward the door which Dean pushed open for you and Bela to go first. Past Bela’s MG the big door was still open, showing a pair of black SUVs waiting on the curb. As you stepped out onto the short drive, Lee screamed out a backwindow from the first vehicle, “ladies, ladies, ladies, are we ready to have a good time?!”

You laughed, dancing a little up the incline and pumping your fist to an imaginary beat. 

“Trouble’s ready! What about you? You gonna give this one a run for his money?” Lee teased and then took a swig off of his own bottle of champagne.

“You can count on it,” Bela said darkly, eyes only on Dean. Everyone cheered as Dean put his hand on the small of her back and kissed her temple.

From the second SUV Sam emerged smirking and opened the door, waving you all inside. It was time to get the show on the road.

You had met Elizabeth a handful of times and everytime you were floored by her natural hospitality. The cafe was closed for the event, where barely thirty of you were gathered in the vintage-diner- themed all night cafe. She had tables set up with appetizers and a bartender working the soda fountain so you could get dessert with your booze if you wanted.

You wondered if Dean had requested the pie, because there were three cut and displayed on a stand with plastic domes to keep them from drying out.

Oldies played from the antique jukebox and everyone mingled as others arrived. You snapped pictures of the guests and the hand painted mural on the wall showcasing blues artists and faces from classic Hollywood. Everything was gorgeous and it was a little overwhelming seeing everyone dressed to the nines, but you remembered how smashing you looked in your outfit and tucked your shoulders back and held your head high. 

Eventually, Benny found you and pulled you in for one of his signature bear hugs. 

“It’s been too long, doll. Stickin’ to your namesake or have you been behavin’ ?”

 You chuckled, pulling back to look up at his handsome face. “Oh you know, I do what I can. You?”

Benny’s bright eyes searched for something and eased you back onto your heels. “Uh, yeah, good. Itchin’ to get back on the road. Working the movie lots is a real pain, glad it’s only temporary.”

The song changed and Benny hummed along, you caught a glimpse of Sam and Madison talking with Bela while Dean and Lee waited in line for drinks.

“I can’t wait for the tour either, I think we all could stand to get back to basics.”

“Boys causing a ruckus for ya?” Benny asked knowingly.

“Nah, just a feeling. They’ve been working too hard more than anything. So a little balance will probably do the trick.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. Time to play hard. Wanna dance?” You looked around and sure enough, Lee and Pamela had started swinging to Johnny B. Goode, while some of the other roadies were shuffling along with their partners in a less flamboyant way.

You flexed your knee and decided you were tipsy enough to risk it and your pride for such an earnest proposal. “Lead the way.”

Benny was surprisingly light on his feet for such a sturdy guy and he helped you get in a good groove, just for the song to switch into Patsy Cline. Benny slowed it down into a stroll to fit the song and you giggled as he told you about what his ex Andrea had done now, after getting out of prison for trying to stab him, of all things.

“You are so better off without her,” you told him, patting his chest as the song came to a close.

Dinner was phenomenal: medallion sized steaks that were still juicy inside with spiral cut fried potatoes, green bean almondine and Waldorf salad. There were four tables set for eight set up in the space that would usually hold a dozen two or four seaters. Elizabeth finally took a seat as you were half way through a plate, but you made sure to let her know how amazing everything was.

“Oh, it’s nothing, now make sure you save room for pie. Got Strawberry Rhubarb, Dutch Apple and Blackberry waitin’,” she insisted like a favorite grandmother and not somebody you could have gone to school with.

Dean groaned deeper as she mentioned each variety, making everyone around your table share a knowing look. 

“Easy there, Dean might need to claim a pie as his own, you know how he gets. And I am not one for sloppy seconds,” Benny teased.

The table erupted and Dean didn’t even look like he cared. “If she ends up sending me home with a whole pie, it’s my business what happens to it.”

Tears were burning in your eyes from laughter and the lecherous look Dean shot Benny. He was ridiculous.

You turned to Bela, “good thing Sam isn’t at our table or he’d need to excuse himself.”

“It is getting a bit indecent isn’t it?” Bela said out of the side of her mouth.

“Are you raggin’ on me now, too?!” Dean asked aghast.

“Of course not! Just don’t want your girlfriend to get jealous of a pastry,” you quipped.

A low rumble of an accepted burn answered from around the table.

“Hey now, my girl knows what tickles my taste buds, if you know what I’m saying,” Dean shot back, earning him a fist bump from Lee.

Bela rolled her eyes and shrugged, which only made the laughter louder. The humor dissipated until every noise was roaring like the ocean in your ears. This wasn’t even the worst thing you’d heard out of Dean’s mouth, after years of groupies and life on tour, you thought you’d heard and seen it all. But Bela not denying Dean’s prowess in pussy eating suddenly made you feel impossibly lost.

You literally set up the joke and now you wished for anything to take it back.

“Gentleman, please!” Elizabeth broke into the cacophony. “Or no dessert.”

Which promptly set them all off once again, but they got their act together enough to be gracious when the pie did arrive. You had blackberry and it was thick and rich enough to keep you from opening your big mouth again. Also the vodka cranberry you had switched to was a perfect chaser for the sweetness of the filling.

Two more drinks and three hours later, you were in better spirits and a sequined top hat. The noise makers were harder to come by, Madison and Benny fighting over the last one like toddlers over the last Hot Wheel. Sam had to break it up, which meant Madison won anyway, naturally. But at least Benny could still whistle. The countdown was getting close and everyone was crammed together on the makeshift dance floor under the dimmed lights, talking and swaying in circles. Dancing would have been too much with all the anticipation in the air.

You had your camera at the ready, taking small videos of the crowd and snapping selfies with anyone within reach. The lone television behind the counter hopped between coverage of celebrations in Vegas, Seattle and LA. You did a quick scan of your immediate vicinity for Bela and Dean. Finally, you found them next to Pam and Lee, who were sharing a bottle of bourbon between them, while Bela and Dean were whispering and readying their noisemakers and confetti respectively.

“Oooo, two couples one shot! I want you guys to make it count okay, this is for posterity’s sake!” you ordered, framing the shot just as the countdown began.

10…9…8…

Dean pulled Bela close by the waist. Lee tipped back another swig before almost losing his hat to the movement.

7…6…5…

Bela gazed up at Dean’s face and said something you couldn’t hear over the numbers shouting out of every corner of the party.

4…3…2…

Dean leaned in and started kissing Bela before she could get to one, tipping her back until she almost knocked into Lee, who was hauling Pam up by her haunches before starting to tongue fuck right there in front of your camera. You snapped countless shots, screaming and jumping in place as you worked your magic. Hot people doing hot things who were also clearly into it, was marketing gold. 

Eat that Crowley.

Sam swooped you up in a hug and wished you happy new year, then came Charlie, who had arrived after dinner with some girls from her LARPing group. After a few elbows to the side, Dean broke from Bela’s mouth and welcomed you and Charlie into a group hug. The speakers blasted Auld Lang Syne and everyone joined in, arms linked and swaying to the stilted beat. 

Elizabeth ensured the party was still going, so she had her people put out fresh appetizers and turned the jukebox back on. There was a run for the bathroom and then for refills and before you knew it it was after one. You had a fresh drink in your hand and a circle had formed around you of women grooving to Mustang Sally.

“Ride Sally, RIDE!” you all bellowed. 

Bela had taken off her shoes and was holding them over her head as she swayed her hips. You whipped your head and shoulders back and forth feeling loose and timeless. Charlie was snapping and getting soulful as she sang along, knowing every line of the verses even.

Sam Cooke followed Wilson Pickett on the jukebox, slowing it down and sending your little circle off towards their partners. You didn’t care, you just kept swaying and taking turns singing “yeah— yeah!” and sipping your cocktail.

The crowd was thinning and you knew either brother would be corralling the group for the after party at their place shortly. Thank the label for drivers and security all on the craziest night of the year. 

“Hey, you good?” Dean’s voice came out of nowhere and you turned towards his warmth, eyes closed and humming. 

“Yeah, is it time–?”

“Let’s get off the dancefloor, I can barely hear you,” Dean took your elbow and brought you over to the edge of the counter where the bartender was wiping glasses dry.

“How are you? Need to puke and rally before we get in the car?” Dean asked firmly, testing your sobriety by your answer and the focus of your eyes.

“I’m fine, why? Is Bela puking?” you looked around for your bestie amongst the remaining partygoers.

“No, look, I just, here,” Dean brushed his knuckles against your cheek to get you to look back at him. Once he had your full attention, he leaned in and licked his lips, watching you as you waited for him to finish his thought. And then he was kissing you, hand on the back of your head and impossible lips massaging yours into complete submission.

You shuttered around a breath and opened your mouth for his tongue. That delicious sensation was enough to reset your brain and you pulled back, gasping.

You couldn’t form words and Dean’s face went from sleepy to wary to disappointed all in the blink of an eye. 

“Look— you deserve a midnight kiss, too, you know. I just—- thought you should have one,” Dean said in the space between maybe and almost.

You cleared your throat. “Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then. Thanks?”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, you were too shellshocked, too exposed.

“I’ll start getting everybody towards the exit. See you at the cars,” Dean said lowly, fingertips brushing your hip as he moved through your space.

You finished your drink and got a road beer from the blissfully unaware bartender. It was time to slow down, especially if you were going to be in Dean’s space the rest of the night. 

Damn it.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Sixteen: Schleppen

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

GUYS GUYS OMG EVERYONE IS SO RACIST AGAINST WHITE PEOPLE!!! WAAAAH SOMEONE SAID I DONT SEASON MY CHICKEN!! WAAAAAH!!!! SOMEONE CALLED ME MAYO!!! WAAAAH!! CRACKER IS A SLUR!!! WAAAAHHH!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

GUYS GUYS EVERYONE IS SO RACIST AGAINST BLACK PEOPLE!!! WAAAAH SOMEONE ACCURATELY QUOTED CRIME STATS!!! WAAAAH!!! SOMEONE DIDN'T HIRE ME BECAUSE I'M HORRIBLY UNDERQUALIFIED!!! WAAAH!!! HIKING IS WHITE SUPREMACY!!! WAAAAHHHHH!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[eretzyisrael]

How Passover customs differ from one community to another

Passover begins on the night of 22 April, when Jews around the world sit down to the Seder, the ceremonial telling of the Exodus from Egypt. Communities follow remarkably similar customs at Passover, but there are differences, as Chabad explains. (With thanks: Leon)

Egyptian Haggadah in Hebrew and Arabic1. Avoiding Beans and Rice: While it is well known that Ashkenazim universally avoid eating beans, legumes, corn and rice on Passover (this class of food is called kitniyot), not everyone knows that many Sephardic communities keep (some or all of) this custom as well. For example, Moroccans do not eat rice but do eat beans. Conversely, some Bukharian Jews do eat rice but do not eat beans or peas.Read: Why So Many Jews Don’t Eat Beans and Rice on Passover2. Eating Soft, Chewy Matzah:It’s fascinating to note that some Sephardic communities still bake soft matzah, which is significantly thicker than the cracker-like variety that has become virtually universal in recent centuries.3. Dipping in Lemon Juice: The most common custom these days is to dip the vegetable (karpas) in saltwater. However, some Jews, such as those from Kurdistan, traditionally dip it into sour lemon juice instead!4. Passing the Afikomen: Among the Jews of the Holy Land, there is a custom to take the afikomen and wrap it in a white cloth. This is placed on the right shoulder and transferred to the left shoulder. It is thus passed around the table from one to the next, with the last one to receive it reciting the verse: “Their kneading trays were bound in cloths on their shoulders.”That person then takes four paces and is asked: “Where have you come from?” to which they respond: “From Egypt.” “And where are you going?” “To Jerusalem.”Then all raise their voices and declare together: “Next year in Jerusalem!”Read: Why Do Some People Hide the Afikomen?5. Asking the Four Questions in Arabic: There’s no getting around the fact that the Seder is essentially a conversation, with the children asking questions and the Seder leader providing the answers—which is why many people say (parts of) the Seder in Arabic, Ladino, Farsi, or even English. So if you’d been a Jewish child in Yemen or Syria a generation or two ago, in all likelihood you would have learned to say the Four Questions in Judeo-Arabic.Read: The Four Questions in Nine Languages6. Waving the Seder Plate: Those using the Haggadah as recorded by Maimonides begin with the words, Bibhilu yatzanu miMitzayim, “We left Egypt in a great hurry.” Many Moroccans have the custom of saying these words again and again, each time waving the Seder plate over the head of another person at the Seder. Only after everyone has had the Seder plate waved over their heads, do they continue with Hay lachma anya, “This is the bread of suffering … ”Read: The Passover Seder Plate7. Having the Kids Symbolically Leave Egypt: Many have the custom to give each child a bundle of matzah to drape over their shoulders and then take part in the following exchange (in Arabic):

Where are you from? From Egypt

Where are you going?

What do you carry?

Read: 14 Facts About Syrian Jews8. Watch Out for Those Scallions!

Among many Persian Jews, a favorite part of the Seder is playfully whipping each other with scallions. Why? To remember how the Jews were beaten by their Egyptian masters. Plus, it’s a great way to keep the kids awake and involved!

Read: 10 Facts About Persian Jews9. Smearing the Charoset on the Doorpost: Among some Moroccan Jews, it is customary to take some of the charoset left over after the Seder and smear it on the doorpost. It has been postulated that this is to recall the smearing of the blood on the Jewish doorposts back on the night of the Exodus (the very first Seder), as well as in anticipation of the Messianic era when, (according to the Book of Ezekiel,) sacrificial blood will be smeared on the doorway of the Holy Temple.1Read: 19 Facts About Moroccan Jews10. Announcing Moshiach to the Neighbors: If you were from Djerba, you may be accustomed to having one of your neighbors walk through the neighborhood with the afikomen tied up on his back, calling out, “Moshiach, son of David, is on his way!”May it happen soon!Read: 15 Moshiach Facts11. Gathering for Mimouna After Passover:

Moufleta pancakes and sweets at a Mimouna

After Passover concludes, Moroccan Jews hold a special celebration called mimouna. People visit each other’s homes to enjoy elaborately set tables, especially a crepe called moufleta.

The word mimouna means “luck.” On Passover, many people do not eat at each other’s homes since not everyone has the same standards. The post-Passover socialization demonstrates that there are no hard feelings.

Read article in full

[pumpkinsy0]

When tim or curly (sometimes angela) call white people 'chalky' or 'crackers' THEY ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THE CURTIS' They are more than invited to the cookout and can bring more than just plates and forks and cups. Tim loves Darry's potato salad and Curly goes fucking ape shit when Soda and Ponyboy bring the strawberry pretzel cheesecake.

2 things

1) this is literally just this image😭😭

2) bro u kinda read my mind lowkey, this is an INSANE post to talk about this under but like actually on my 2 hour walk today (very important fact everyone must know about me) i was thinking that the shepards arent rlly like

too comfortable around most white ppl😭 mostly bc it comes from a place of fear cause, hello theyre black in the 60s, but also bc of anger bc of whats been forced onto em if that makes sense

and this isnt me saying “the curtis’ r white saviors” or that “theyre so special” cause the feelings the shepards have for white ppl r still there, just not towards the curtis’ and dally

BASICALLY the shepards r just very hesitant to ever open up to white ppl

[therealdeathoracle]

Since people seemed to like my incorrect bsd quotes from my coworkers I decided to do another one with quotes from my friends

Atsushi: “Been ignored so much bitches call me terms and conditions.”

Akutagawa: “At least you get accepted no matter what.”

——————————————————————————

Kunikida: “Bitchboys! Wait what are they called? Dazai! Yes!”

Ranpo: “I'm going to start calling him that.”

Dazai: “You want to see the real bitch come out?”

——————————————————————————

Chuuya: “Ok I think I have a solution.”

*Explosion in the distance*

Chuuya: “Don’t worry about that.”

——————————————————————————

Atsushi: “That was before I realized he was my dad.”

——————————————————————————

Chuuya: “Fan-fucking-tastic just trying to enjoy my meal and god decides to show up!”

——————————————————————————

Ranpo to Fukuzawa: “Hey look! An old gay white man! That's better than an old white straight man!”

——————————————————————————

Kyouka: “Murder is fun, cool, and hip!”

——————————————————————————

Jouno: "I am going... to hurt something."

——————————————————————————

Akutagawa: "Don't tell me how to breathe!"

——————————————————————————

Dazai: "Want to know what they called me in college? Application Denied!"

——————————————————————————

Kenji: "Mom says its my turn with the brain cell"

——————————————————————————

Sigma: “Fyodor! Nikolai is grave robbing again!”

Nikolai: “Well it’s not like they need this stuff anymore!”

Fyodor: “He has a solid point, do you need help?”

——————————————————————————

Kenji: "This thanksgiving I’m thankful for Fukuzawa, Ranpo, Kunikida, Yosano, Atsushi, and uh... Kyouka. Yeah that’s everyone."

Dazai: "I really appreciate how I’m not on that list."

——————————————————————————

Chuuya: *Attacks someone for picking a flower off a bush*

Chuuya handing the flower to Dazai: “Here’s your flower back, freaking freeloaders.”

——————————————————————————

Jouno: “Hold that thought, it’s time for me to beat up Tecchou.”

——————————————————————————

Jouno: “Well time for me to fight Tecchou and kill some bad guys, and I’m all out of bad guys.”

Tecchou: “Oh shit!”

——————————————————————————

*During the ADA’s DnD game night* 

Kunikida: “Dazai, you can’t play a bard. We all know you’re just gonna fuck everything.”

Dazai: "THAT’S A LIE! I just want to hit someone over the head with a lute! Then I’ll fuck someone!"

——————————————————————————

Akutagawa: “Dazai is my personal favorite swear word.”

——————————————————————————

Akutagawa: “I’m like a battery, I’m never included in anything.”

——————————————————————————

Fukuzawa talking to himself when Ranpo is refusing to do work and Dazai hasn’t shown up yet: “Am I surprised? No of course I’m not I bet on it!”

——————————————————————————

Yosano: “Oh you don’t feel so good? I have a fix for that!”

Yosano: *Pulls out a gun*

——————————————————————————

Jouno: "I am very angry- *notices Tecchou nearby* HEY HE’S THE ONE WHO STOLE MY PANTS!"

——————————————————————————

Atsushi: *Panicking running through the ADA with a trash can that he accidentally set on fire* “NO ONE SAW THIS!”

Kunikida, Dazai, Yosano: “WE SAW THAT!”

——————————————————————————

Yosano: *Listing off what she ate today* “I’ve had cheese, crackers, vodka, and egg salad.”

——————————————————————————

Kenji: “I’m gonna do this all on my own!” *turns to Ranpo* “Help me.”

——————————————————————————

Yosano: “You son of a bitch!”

Ranpo: “HEY! DON’T CALL FUKUZAWA A BITCH!”

Yosano: “No I’m calling you a son of a bitch! YOU ARE ADOPTED!”

——————————————————————————

Kenji: *Angrily muttering affirmations to himself*

Yosano: “Is this toxic positivity?”

——————————————————————————

Dazai seeing Chuuya using corruption: “This is what gay panic is mothers and fuckers.”

——————————————————————————

Dazai: *Hands Akutagawa 4 cents he found on the ground*

Akutagawa: “I get to eat tonight!”

Dazai: *Takes back 1 cent* “No you don’t.”

——————————————————————————

Chuuya: *Sees Dazai flirt with some girl*

(What he tried to say) “Great now I’m sad and lonely.”

(What he said) Chuuya: “Great now I’m gay.”

——————————————————————————

Chuuya: “That’s kinda gay, not gonna lie.”

Dazai: “You sound kinda gay, not gonna lie.”

Akutagawa: “I have cheese, not gonna lie.”

——————————————————————————

Dazai: “This is not gonna go well.”

*2 minutes later*

Dazai sprinting down the street: “OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!”

*2 minutes later*

Dazai: “I LOST MY KNIFE!”

——————————————————————————

Dazai: “What gender am I today?”

Atsushi: “12.”

Akutagawa: “32.”

——————————————————————————

Chuuya to Akutagawa: “What’s your opinion on the plan?”

Akutagawa: “Cheese is good.”

Chuuya: “That wasn’t the question.”

Gin: “But it’s the answer.”

——————————————————————————

Akutagawa trying to flirt with Atsushi after getting advice from Kenji on what he likes: “ONION! I HAVE AN ONION FOR YOU! TAKE THE ONION!”

——————————————————————————

Akutagawa: *Trying to show Dazai the new nice outfit Chuuya bought him*

Dazai: *Not even looking at him* “Nice.”

Chuuya: *Angrily* “It’s ok, we all know you hate poor Aku.”

Dazai: *Starts fake crying*

Chuuya: *Sarcastically* “Awww you gonna cry?” *Seriously* “GOOD!” *Leads Akutagawa away while telling him he looks great*

——————————————————————————

Chuuya: “Nothing says pride like dick.”

——————————————————————————

Akutagawa after someone was mean to Atsushi: “You don’t think you’ll end up in hell for what you’ve done, but sweetheart I’ll be seeing you there soon.”

——————————————————————————

Dazai: “I don’t care if you have a cunt or a dick, either way I’m gonna fuck both your mom and dad.”

——————————————————————————

Ranpo giving directions to Kunikida after he got Fukuzawa and himself lost: “Look for someone dressed like it’s Halloween and someone dressed like a single dad.”

——————————————————————————

Kunikida: *Referring to Chuuya being drunk* “I think he’s in denial.”

Dazai: *Also drunk* “Nah he’s in da Amazon!”

Chuuya: *Absolutely wasted using his ability* “I am in da air!”

——————————————————————————

Akutagawa about Atsushi: “I love his heterophobia.”

Akutagawa: “I meant to say heterochromia.”

@stinkyme

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Rating Disney Villains based on how relatable they are and why they are evil (part 1)

Ursula: 5/10

Despite being banished she isn’t starving to death and still gets plenty of visitors. Clearly she’s capping.

Jafar: 7/10

Considering the Sultan is an idiot, I too would probably want to take over the kingdom just so the kingdom doesn’t fall into ruin

Cruella de Vil: (original not that dumb live action prequel) 3/10

The dogs would have made great coats but she could have waited until they needed to be put down or the cops find out a place has over 100 dogs without a license

Maleficent: 9/10

I too would curse a baby if I was not invited to a party and no one was sorry about it

Gaston: 2/10

Just because one girl doesn’t want to marry you when you could have Litterally ANYONE ELSE, granted I think Bell is hot, but not worth starting a mob hot. Incel behavior do not approve

Scar: 7/10

Mufasa was elitist as f*** and everyone called him Scar, plus fighting to Attain dominance is a normal animal thing

Captain Hook: 7/10

I too would be annoyed if anytime I did anything a demigod in green tights and animal costume wearing children got in the way

Lady Tremaine: 1/10

You Literally have no reason to be this vile. If anything, being nice probably would have set you up for life.

Hades: 7/10

If I was stuck being life guard for the most depressing adult swim in history I would probably stage a coup too.

Evil Queen: 3/10

Considering she made a potion to look ugly to trick Snow White, why not just make a potion for Snow White to look slightly uglier so you can be the fairest.

Mother Gothel: 4/10

Considering Rapunzel’s hair helped make her nigh immortal, I kind of get why she went through such lengths to keep her isolated, but if she just took Rapunzel out 1 time. She could have stayed immortal for much longer.

Claude Frollo: 2/10

Using a bad interpretation of your religion to justify genocide is a dick move. But I get why he was into Esmeralda.

Shere Khan: 8/10

Humans are dicks, and fire burns. Very realistic animal reaction

Professor Ratigan: 8/10

Considering how people constantly called him a triggering name, I too probably would conquer England and write an entire diss track to play right at my nemesis’s death.

Yzma 10/10

Kuzco was 100% that guy people would not be sad seeing die in the start of the movie. Yzma Litterally took over within like a day after he was gone. I’m shocked it didn’t happen sooner.

Shan Yu: 7/10

It’s war, and historically speaking the Huns would have decimated China. Also considering how easily him and 5 guys managed to get into the capital and nearly kill the emperor, China needs to reconsider its military practices.

Dr.Facilier 2/10

Dude got himself in debt for his own powers then got shocked when his evil voodoo/hoodoo turned on him. Rip to him but I’m different.

The Horned King 4/10

While blander than an unsalted cracker, I don’t think a face like his could get into any other profession, so undead army

Madame Medusa: 4/10

That was a big ass Diamond, but probably wouldn’t have been a problem if she wasn’t a dick to children

Prince John: 0/10

He just taxed people for no reason, so basically like most governments.

Chernabog: 1/10

If he is basically satan than yea, pretty lame motivation

[followmetoyourdoom]

Cute story time

So Christmas is my favourite holiday, I get to see my extended family when we do present drop offs, and my mum cooks an amazing pick your own spread with enough desserts to feed a family of 16. We are often only 3 or 4 at Christmas dinner. We usually have either an animated film or an old film on in the background and have no social pressures to maintain. We have dumb crackers with dumb jokes and we all like to wear the little hats and play with the toys. My mum insists on getting me more than I've asked for, even as an adult, so gifts are always fun, especially when I can one up her and make her giggle like a schoolgirl with the present/s my dad and I pick out for her. We got her a Steiff Pomeranian one year, and my mum called it Channel, and insisted on having it on the sofa next to her throughout the holiday season and kept cooing and petting it, it was delightful. My dad and I tend to play video games in the evening, like we did when I was a kid. There's a dog running around wanting lil scraps of meat, playing with new toys that she's been lavished with. It's all very wholesome and cute and silly.

Now, my nesting partner on the other hand, grew up in a rather uptight middle class society, missing 3 family Christmases entirely as he was singing in the Queen's Westminster youth choir. The one they show live on TV on Christmas day. When he was at home for Christmas, there was a lot of social pressure to be Well Behaved and to be Polite. There was also a lot of judgement as he got older, a lot of backhanded compliments and a lot of dreams crushed. A lot of yelling and a lot of slammed doors. Needless to say, he kind of hates Christmas.

This year however, the first year we've had a Christmas together, he insisted we decorate the entire house and get a wreath for the door and Santa hats for us to wear here and there in the build up to Christmas. Every evening, he would turn the fairy lights on so I got home to a warm and Christmas-y house. He wrote a Christmas card from our dog for me. He pushed himself to get into the Christmas spirit for me, without me pressuring him to, just bc he wanted to make this special for me, bc he knows how much this holiday means to me. We had Christmas dinner at my parents, and he introduced my parents to a tradition of his - whiskey tasting - which they hated and we all laughed at the face my dad pulled. We dropped off presents at my cousin's place, they had all been practising how to say his name and insisted on being corrected so they would get it right, my partner chatted to my nephew about Pokémon the entire time. My aunt said we looked perfect together. My mum got us board games to play together, and slipper socks for my partner who had been wanting some for months - he mentioned it offhandedly in July - but couldn't settle on a design. She got him plain black with a white geometric pattern, subtle enough that it could be Christmas-y, or it could just be a pattern. He loves them. We watched the Italian job, and my partner fell asleep on the sofa while my dad and I played a game from 2002 on his old PS2, and my mum nudged me and, with a smile on her face, quietly pointed to my partner fast asleep and snoring with his mouth open and said 'bless him'.

And yeah, bless him indeed. I know not everyone has fond memories of Christmas, I know it brings some people a lot of pain and a lot of sadness, I've seen it first hand. But there is something beautiful about being able to pull yourself out of that, of your own accord, for someone, and I'm honoured I get to be that someone for my partner, and I appreciate him so much for doing that for me. I'm so lucky.

[sivavakkiyar]

It’s funny because I used the word ‘cracker’ in a post awhile ago and got a bunch of anons handwringing over slurs for white people and how white people are definitionally not understood as being able to have slurs against them and it’s anti white racism etc etc and I think that’s funny. Cracker as a common word is so far removed from most white people’s daily experience that if I say it out loud everyone gets that it’s a comedic escalation, it doesn’t matter.

But there are other terms that approach slur status that are specifically about ‘white people’. Two of my oldest friends identify with ‘white trash’, which is a phrase I was raised to never say and don’t like and only put in quotations. I’m pretty confident if we were all drinking together together and I just said that term casually they’d be on edge; I’m pretty sure if someone seriously called them that and I said after ‘oh, c’mon he was just joking, can’t you take a joke?’ they’d trust me considerably less, our relationship would be forever changed; and if someone called their mom that and I didn’t square up—-well they’d probably just call me a pussy or something, but we definitely wouldn’t be like friends later

[baobhanlore-art]

*Across The Spiderverse Spoilers*

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I'm just gonna rant a bit about whitewashing Miguel O'hara and how people don't know the difference between race and ethnicity.

Disclaimer: I am not poc. I'm white passing (Jewish whiteness is complicated) and if you are poc then I'd love to hear your perspective. I'm just repeating the views and teachings of poc figures and their analyses of media and representation.

So there's been a lot of crackering towards Miggy. It's happened to most of the poc characters, don't get me wrong, but I feel like Miguel's has fallen under the radar for the most part. But Miguel is often drawn with very light skin even though the movie has portrayed him as having light brown tan-ish skin.

This is a screenshot from the train scene. As you can see he is still very much a light skinned person, not pale but a light skinned poc. And yet somehow people still make his skin way lighter than this. Practically the same colour as me and I'm Scottish and have ridiculously sensitive skin that makes me avoid harsh sunlight. Like it's not even that dark. And the train scene is bright as hell anyways, harsh sunlight and the white train exterior reflecting onto the characters, everyone's skin was lighter so I'd say his skin tone may even be a bit darker than this.

And often the excuse is that he's half Irish. But like, do you realise how terrible of a justification that is? Zendaya is half white. Barrack Obama is half white. Halle Bailey is half white. Are they perceived as white? No. Lukas Arnold is half black. Halsey is half black. Are they perceived as white? Yes. I'm not arguing Miguel doesn't have white heritage, but Miguel, at least in ATSV, is Latino passing. Just like I'm half Jewish and half British White but look more like my white mother, with the exception of my warm undertones and dark hair, meanwhile my Dad, Aunt, Grandad and Uncles are very explicitly Jewish/Middle Eastern passing. Nobody is arguing I don't have non white genes in me and according to eugenics I'll never technically be white, but I'm white passing. Similarly, Miguel has white genes in him and his Irish heritage could very well be part of his identity (I haven't read the comics so idk) but he's Mexican passing. He has Mexican phenotypes and you are erasing them by lightening his skin.

In short, if you want to know if a character or person is white or not, ask yourself how cops or airport security would profile them. That will give you your answer.

This is something Harriyanna Hook touches on in some of her videos, she's a queen, but I think the main reason why whitewashing Miguel isn't as openly critiqued as whitewashing other ethnicities, including light skinned ones, is that light skinned and white passing Latine people are overrepresented in Hollywood and the media to the point where people who aren't even Latine can be cast as Latine characters. Case in point: Ronni Hawk. It's incredibly rare to see anyone in mainstream Hollywood who doesn't pass the paper bag test unless they're a black man, which has its own history of fetishism and abuse (Watch F.D. Signifier, he talks about this in his colourism video.) Race and ethnicity are not the same thing but they influence how you're perceived.

(This is not me saying that they don't deserve to be represented, every culture deserves attention and representation, but dark skinned Hispanic and Afro-Latine people often get erased. Miles Morales is the exception, not the rule.)

So people don't tend to pick up on the erasure of Latine features and skin colours because it's so normalised.

I don't want to call out any artists in particular, that's not cool, but if you do see an artist who lightened the skin, I think it's important you let them know that it's an issue. They're more likely ignorant than intentionally harmful, but I feel like education around this issue is still very important.

Also idk if this is an ethnic thing but please stop giving him a K-popish soft boy face. This isn't an ethnic issue, it's an artist's having same face syndrome issue, but Miggy is hot enough without you erasing his sharp facial features. Istg if it weren't for his suit half of his fanart would be unrecognisable.

[faithfromanewperspective]

(re: tags on rb'ed post) It's genuinely so wild to me that people don't know how to cook??? Obviously I don't fault anyone for it, you've got to learn and there's no shame to it, I just really thought everyone had some degree of culinary knowledge until I was like twelve.

Anyway, what are your favorite vegetables to cook with? Favorite summer recipes? Favorite pasta recipes if you've got them? I need new recipes to try :)

exactly, I don't want to fault anyone on it either!! we have to acknowledge the diverse backgrounds we have, levels of privilege etc--and i do also think with that comes, what do we assume as normal just bc it's our experience? and so it's so important to hear from other people. i find a lot of asians and women such as myself learn how to cook from a very young age just like you did, and then assume everyone else does too (i didn't realise most of my friends didn't do their own laundry either all through high school).

anyway in response to your question: I love cooking with eggplant, capsicum, sweet potato, potatoes in general, sweet potato leaves, basically every kind of legume and all the products people make from them, tomatoes, all kinds of herbs (but the italian mix is my favourite) as well as an assortment of asian vegetables and melons that someone in my family always procures and has too much of!! i also love to add ginger to any recipe i feel like is missing its meatiness, green/spring onions go really well with a lot of things and so do raw red onions or cooked brown onions!!

pasta wise i love everything pasta. a pasta bake is a go to one for me as i make a good white sauce and my sisters and i all love it!! lasagna is cool but a bit more time consuming so it's been ages. otherwise anything spaghetti bog/with meatballs (specifically the ones i make from Beyond Meat, water crackers, carrot, onion and spices) is good and i eat it with green beans! it's also super quick bc pasta sauce is like $1 for a big bottle where i live and you just pour it on your spaghetti or pasta. i also love all things ramen (both the curly type and the more expensive straight organic japanese one, they also have other noodles called udon and soba that you literally just boil for 5mins and have with sprouts or smth and olive oil and it's delicious). i do love mac and cheese when i get a good vegan cheese but it's pretty hit and miss on that.

and as for summer recipes i'm a big smoothie gal!! pack it with protein powder and chia seeds and coconut water for electrolytes and ice cream for fun but i love mango/banana, pineapple/papaya, mint/spinach/coconut, mixed berry, sometimes i'll shake it up and do orange/papaya or smth!! i love all the bright colours and how creamy they are if you have a good banana or mango or papaya or just really creamy soy milk. also love anything with watermelon+mint (my sister makes a really good salad with it and cos lettuce, olives, cucumber and baby tomatoes i believe). also my beyond meat meatballs go well on a skewer dipped in guacamole for the summer nights where it's light right up til bedtime!

[flurrys-creativity]

Ateez Jongho Masterlist

banner made by @daemour

Smiley Catalogue:

🥰 = Fluff 😁 = Slice of life 🤪 = Humour 🧜‍♀️ = Fantasy

❤ = Romance ⚡ = Angst 💣 = Sensitive themes (death, etc.)

🦄 = Hybrid 🥵 = Smut 😏 = Suggestive

Last update: October 2024

Series:

nothing so far

One shots:

Pick an apple!  😁🥰🤪

Part of the unbeleafable bingo. Jongho always impressed the people around him by splitting apples with his bare hands. Having enough of his boisterous antics you force him to go apple-picking with you.

Burnt marshmallows  🧜‍♀️🥰❤

Part of the Winter Hearts event. You called Jongho lovingly your little fire cracker, since he often underestimated his own power and set things aflame. Trying to help him get used to them, you searched for every chance you could get to let him use these powers. This time roasting marshmallows.

Ephemeral pt.2 🥵🤪😁

Part of the Blow your Mind Collab. With the New Year approaching San wanted to know what it might bring. That's how he found himself in front of a fortune teller caravan. He told about his reading of a life time, which spread like a wildfire until Jongho told him it was probably all a hoax.

Cursed hunter 🧜‍♀️⚡🥰❤ WIP

Jongho used to be a hunter - one of the best actually - but due to a unfortunate situation he found himself cursed. Now he roamed the woods as the very being he used to hunt: a deer. He had to find a cure somehow and he hoped you’d be able to help him.

Miscellaneous:

Mornings (Headcanon) 🥰😁

Requested. How would mornings with Jongho and his s.o. look like?

Pink (drabble) 🧜‍♀️🥰

He stood in front of the wall of fog as the protector of the village, keeping everyone save during the nightly hours. But who would protect him when he heard you calling his name from within the fog?

White (drabble) 🦄🥵❤

You were the honey Jongho desired, especially after he saw you in your newly bought white lingerie.

Kiss (drabble) 😁🥰❤

The first kiss was more than just the literal first kiss you ever had.

Moanday Night Version (drabble) 🧜‍♀️🥵

Part of the lemon week. You were warned about the oni living in the forest. Still, you found yourself on top of one.

[davekat-sucks]

ive also always interpreted meenah as like a female version of dave or dirk, making fun of upper class white girls acting "gangsta" as a form of rebellion against their rich upbringing; plus betty crocker was conceptualized as a white woman, and mituna even calls her what seems to be the troll equivalent to either cracker or wigger.

which is why i was weirded out when i learned how people vehemently insist she's black due to, apparently, her hostile personality and her... braids? wouldn't she be wearing box braids, cornrows or senegalese twists instead? she has twin basic braids, she braids vriska's hair in the same style too (why does nobody says vriska is culturally appropiating then?) and in any case, that is such an americentric take, hair braiding has been a part of various cultures all around the world for ages (vikings, mongols, thai, etc) and also done regardless of race or ethnicity. hell, to give fictional examples too, meenah has exactly the same hairstyle as haruka hashida from blue period or suzuha amane from steins gate.

i dont have a problem if people hc her as black or african american, it's just when they justify it with what seem to be very racist reasons, they are literally behaving opposite of the morality they claim to have and actually being harmful by propagating negative stereotypes.

Some people do headcanon Vriska as a black person sometimes. Remember, Vriska can't do anything wrong. So even if she made two people disabled (one on the legs and one on the eyes), acting like a bitch and claiming to be a hero, and created Bec Noir that made everyone trapped in the meteor in the first place, she can't do no wrong. So it is okay to headcanon her black. Why else people are afraid to make Eridan black despite both of them are the same first class assholes? All trolls, according to the nu-fandom, are black except for Eridan. Cause he is a racist asshole. True Vriska reveled in her blood color and top class, but girls like her can't be racist. But yeah. It's stupid that those who claim diversity, subconsciously apply stereotypes on certain things like believing braided hairs are only exclusive to black people. The same people had said this to Gamzee because his hair is like an afro. Only black people can have curly hair. No other race can have it, according to them. And then there's this bullshit about Insane Clown Posse pretending to be black because they rap, black's music art form, ignoring Eminem and other Asian rap artists out there. But then again, people were upset about Asians rapping and think they are taking away black culture. It's all around stupid in this world.

[pretensesoup]

Queer books, day 12/30

I've been trying to mentally reconstruct my history with this play. Back in 2001 or 2002, Jesse (my Ask a Medievalist co-host) told me I should read it. Why? I don't remember. But I did everything Jesse told me to do back in those days, so I dutifully went out to a bookstore (it might actually have been Canterbury Books, which still existed back in those days, but it might also have been Paul's?). I was only able to find one part, so I bought it and read it and decided it was brilliant. Then in 2003, the TV version was announced (that's why there is a photo of Emma Thompson on the cover of this version) and I was able to buy them both combined.

Back in let's call it 2002, I was 19, knew some LGBT people and thought they were fine and cool, but that was about where my thinking began and ended. This play...I mean, as a work of art, it blows my mind to this day. As a record of a particular historical time period, it's amazing. It's magical realism, it's Jewish in a way that I understand Judaism (not just in opposition to other people's religions, but in contrast to more orthodox elements within Judaism), it's gay, it's about death, it's about life... I don't know, it's brilliant. And of course, a few years later I got to see Mr. Kushner interviewed on stage and enjoy this conversation between the hapless student who had been selected to interview him and the man himself:

Student: So Belize has this speech where he says... "Big ideas are all you love. "America" is what Louis loves. Well I hate America, Louis. I hate this country. It's just big ideas, and stories, and people dying, and people like you. The white cracker who wrote the National Anthem knew what he was doing. He set the word "free" to a note so high nobody can reach it. That was deliberate. Nothing on earth sounds less like freedom to me." So why do you hate America?

Tony Kushner: (with the patience of a goddamn saint) I think everyone who has taken an entry-level English class can identify that the characters are not the author.

SO.

The play centers on Prior, who is dying of AIDS and his ex-boyfriend Louis, who is having a really hard time with Prior dying. Prior is not exactly thrilled about it either. Then there's Roy Cohn (the evil, evil lawyer who was a historical figure and also died of AIDS) and his clerk, Joe, a repressed gay Mormon. And then Joe's drugged-out wife Harper, his mother Hannah, and an angel.

Look, I don't know how to describe the plot very well. Prior is ill, and Louis abandons him, and then sleeps with Joe. Roy Cohn is in the AZT clinical trial (the first generation of HIV/AIDS drugs) and is trying to blackmail someone (unnamed) into making sure he doesn't get the placebo. Harper suspects something is up with her marriage. Prior is visited by the angel, called a prophet, and asked to help fix things in heaven. Then Hannah, Joe's mother shows up and meets Prior.

The thing about this play is that all of the characters are really, really human. Louis does something terrible in running out on Prior, and he KNOWS it's terrible, and he can't not do it. And at the end, Prior forgives him. Joe walks out on Harper, who is sick and needs him, and in the end she realizes that maybe she needs him less than she thought, and she lets him go. And everyone does terrible things, really, and they feel bad and they get forgiven. Excluding Roy Cohn, who is evil. But in the end, the ghost of Ethel Rosenberg says kaddish for him. So maybe the message is that you, too, can be forgiven. A little bit, anyway.

One time I went running in Central Park and I went to the Bethesda fountain, which is referenced in here, and it was awesome.

Key quote:

I've lived through such terrible times and there are people who live through much worse. But you see them living anyway. When they're more spirit than body, more sores than skin, when they're burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children - they live. Death usually has to take life away. I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die, but I recognize the habit; the addiction to being alive. So we live past hope. If I can find hope anywhere, that's it, that's the best I can do. It's so much not enough. It's so inadequate. But still bless me anyway. I want more life.

Now I haven't even gotten to how much I learned from this about how characters have give and take in dialog, and this and that, but I've written a very long post already, so I'll stop here. 50/10, go read it.