#just meats alone we have 5 or 6 different ones

[dracanthropic]

Holidays are fun. My fridge and freezer are so full of leftovers. Not gonna have to go grocery shopping for weeks lol

[hidden-snow]

✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈 Ｒｕｎｎｉｎｇ Ｈｏｍｅ ｔｏ Ｙｏｕ 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦

Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.

Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak

Word count // 1,143

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

All the pieces were falling into place according to Eywa’s will, and yet, you were a very unwilling participant in her game of love and fate.

You were constantly running into him, no matter how hard you tried to avoid his path. And while he always greeted you with a friendly smile that lit up his golden-amber eyes, you would dart away like a shy nantang pup, the tips of your ears red with a blush.

You had no idea what had gotten into you, nor why you couldn’t seem to face him. After all, you were the best warrior the Omatikaya had, and here you were, running away from the one person you couldn’t bring yourself to face.

The funniest part of this whole mess was this; you could gladly take on any warrior from another village, no matter how big or experienced they were. But when it came down to interacting with a friend and fellow Omatikayan, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t face him.

Until you couldn’t avoid him anymore.

“Are you sure this is alright?”

He was joining your parents for dinner, which ultimately left you in an awkward situation that was impossible to escape from.

Your mother turned her scolding glare from you, plastering on a sweet little smile for Neteyam to see.

“Of course. Our daughter has been looking forward to this meal. She even caught some yerik specially for our supper.”

“You did?” Neteyam questioned, raising an eyebrow of surprise towards you.

You did?

You returned his surprised gaze with a similar surprised look, confusion stirring up inside.

That was… until you saw the way your mother smirked, bent over the cooking meat, and it all clicked into place.

She was setting you up on a date with your former lover.

“Letwan,” you mutter as you move to sit closer to the cooking food. She only laughed, ignoring your flaring annoyance at the situation she’d cornered you in.

Neteyam sat down beside you, waiting to be handed some of the cooked yerik, the aroma sweet and savory. Your mother always knew how to mix in just the right amount of blended berries and spices to make the meat smell and taste delicious.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was simply a family dinner. Everything was going to be alright.

Your father cleared his throat as he entered your little family alcove, motioning to your mother.

“We are needed by the tsahìk. Continue the dinner without us. We will be back soon,” he explained as he guided your mother out of the space.

Your father was in on it? They were especially sneaky to have managed to pull this plot off successfully, leaving you two alone in awkward silence.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you blurt out, just as Neteyam was lifting some of the meat to his lips.

He looked at you with a strange look of confusion and annoyance, as you obviously expected an answer from him.

“What are you talking about, Y/n?”

“Back when I lost the race,” you respond, playing with the edge of your tewng as the air between you filled with that same heavy awkwardness that seemed to follow you around wherever you went.

“Ah.”

You look back at him, only to find his face inches from your own, his hand reach up to cup your cheek.

“Would you… rather I had gone ahead and kissed you then?”

His voice is soft and smooth, eyes moving from your gaze to your lips before coming back to your eyes.

Why was your heart beating so loud? Why were you holding your breath?

The air around you shifted from awkwardness to an energy full of lightning, as if the world itself was pushing you two closer together.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, pulling back, only to find that he followed, chasing your lips until you were flat on your back with his body above your own.

“Neteyam, please. I don’t want this. Not like this.”

He pulls back, sitting down with his meal, leaving you breathless and even more confused than before.

“Now you understand. I was not going to kiss you, only because you were being pushed to do it. That would not have been real. I want you to kiss me because you want to kiss me. Not because you lost in a game of chance.”

You still didn’t understand, but your heart continued to slam around loudly in your chest, gaze watching him nervously, a blush bright on your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

“Neteyam…”you breathe out, only because you don’t have anything else to say. It was like your mind had stopped functioning, all words erased and replaced with the thoughts of just how close his body had been to yours.

The heat between your bodies was intense with something you couldn’t describe and, as you became more and more in control of your senses, you realized that his scent had clogged up the area. All you could smell was him, a musky, foresty scent with the slightest mixture of salty water, a scent that only belonged to him.

Why were you so fixated on him?

Your gazed traveled from his eyes, following the bridge of his nose to his thin lips, glazed with juice from the meat he’d just popped into his mouth. Continuing down, your eyes trailed the light black tattoos that marked his chin and throat, connected to the broad shoulders and thick chest that his father had handed down to him through birth.

The tattoos wound up around his right shoulder, across his bicep, attracting your attention, before it slipped down to marvel at his perfectly formed abs.

And if you went farther down…

You shook your head. You didn’t want to look any further down. It was too much of a risk to even be looking at him like this. You’d fall for him all over again and then this life of hardening yourself and rejecting love… it’d be pointless.

“You know, it’s weird to have you call me by my first name. I am too used to you calling me yawne,” Neteyam hummed softly and your gaze was drawn back to his lips.

Your tongue poked out, swiping over your own lips, and your nose crinkled as you tore your eyes away from him.

“Yeah,” you respond quietly, meek and nervous. “Yeah, I suppose it is a bit weird, isn’t it?”

He thought you were referring to the way you addressed him, but in your mind, it wasn’t that. You hadn’t even been paying attention to his words.

What was weird was that you were feeling an insanely strong desire to grab his face and kiss him. Just once. Just to see if he still tasted the way he had before he left you behind.

That was weird.

Right?

Taglist // @earthling55 / @cardi-bre91 / @bambithewriter

[lolsonic-idk-man]

Bad sansuary - Romantic

It was almost time for the romantic evening you’ve planned for Horror! The reason for such a decision being your massive teddy bear has done nothing but been the most caring being to ever exist and you need to make up for it!

The list for set up consisted of; 

freshly made Peanut Butter Popcorn,

Figure out where Dust put the ice cream and soda,

Scrounge up as many blankets as possible,

Make sure the movie room is free.

One thing was already checked off. You made sure to tell Dust and Killer your plans for tonight. Now you just have to hope Killer is actually going to leave you and Horror alone… It’ll be fiiiine.

So the next step would be to make sure Horror didn’t lose any trust in you after you begged for the kitchen. Part one of that was done, you're not Killer. The next step is making sure you clean up after you’ve made the popcorn, and the final and most important step is not wasting too much of any ingredient.

You were going to call yourself lucky, there’s only 5 ingredients; Peanut butter, popcorn, sugar, corn syrup, and vanilla. Less room to mess up!

A quick rummage through the pantry yelled everything you needed so you got to work.

Having made sure the recipe was three times the normal size you measured 1 and a ½  cups of unpopped popcorn and put it in the shockingly nice popcorn maker you found. Turning the stove to the medium setting you poured 3 cups of sugar and corn syrup into a saucepan and brought it to a boil for a few minutes as you grabbed 2 large bowls for the popcorn.

After letting the sugar boil for 2 or so minutes you slapped 3 cups of peanut butter and however much vanilla you deemed good, mixed, poured it over the popcorn, and did your best to cover every popped kernel.

Proud of the fact that you didn’t make much of a mess, you clean up what little mess there is, and take your creation to the theater.

Your peppy skip comes to a halt when you hear a movie playing as you opened the door to the theater. Who in the castle would be watching a movie right now? You thought you told Dust and Killer it was your’s tonight.

Taking a peek into the room you immediately lock eyes with Nightmare. Of course. You told everyone but Nightmare. And now you have to tell him. This was a moment where you wished you’d actually talked to him more.

“ Is there something you need Y/N? “ Nightmare started for your awkward ass.

Shuffling into the room you do your best to explain, “ Well, I had planned a date for me and Horror and, um. “ You swallow a lump. “ I was sort of planning to have it here, BUT! We can use a different room since you’re watching something already! And it’s not like I’ve set anything up yet! “

Before you can make your escape, Nightmare continues the conversation, “ My movie is almost over Y/N, and by the sound of it, it seems you have a lot to do. You may work as I watch. “

“ Oh, t-thanks. “ You really needed to give Nightmare a chance.

The seating of the theater had everything anyone could ask for, heated, reclining, soft chairs, a table for every seat, even multiple love seats! Which were the planned seating considering Horror’s size, also if they wanted to cuddle.

Placing the bowls on the tables by the chosen loveseat you run off to find as many blankets as you could. Couch blankets, gone. Your blankets, gone, a few of the guest room’s blankets, gone. All of them in the theater.

Next was the ice cream and sodas. Glad the coolers are kept in the walk-in freezer. You chose one that you think will be big enough for 2, 6-packs of soda and however much Ice cream Dust stole.

It took a few minutes of moving vegetables and meat to find the hidden goods, which happened to be 5 different gallon ice cream flavors. You would need a bigger cooler.

It took a little but you did find one and now you had to find the soda in the fridge. And lucky for you they were in the normal fridge, not the walk-in!

Pulling your final load into the movie room, you give a little celebration. All you need to do now is grab some of the movies you’ve seen around and put them on display for Horror, and Nightmare’s movie had come to an end and he made his leave, giving you and Horror the room.

Unable to contain yourself you dash to the roof garden to find Horror.

Once located you run up to him, �� Horror! Horror!  I wanna show you something! “

Taking a second to register your excited hopping he chuckled, “ Is it what you were making in the kitchen? “

“ Well, yes, but there’s more to it than that! “ You give a slight tug telling him to follow you.

“ We goin’ to the kitchen? “

“ Nope! “

Hoisting you up to one of his shoulders he continues to question as he walks back in side, “ Where we goin’ then “

“ can’t tell you, that would ruin the surprise! “

“ Then give me directions. “ his declaration that he was not going to put you down.

“ Very well, next right. “ You continued to direct him to the theater.

The night didn’t consist of much. You and your teddy bear watch a few movies, laughed at the dumb situations the characters got into, pause the movie so that Horror can go into an in depth critique of the only cooking scene and get completely sidetracked so that you don’t finish the last movie but still finish all of your treats. Minus the ice cream there was still quite a bit of ice cream.

[courtingchaos]

Rent the Space Inside My Mind

1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: This is quite the eventful day your both having, huh? I wonder what winter wonderland delights await you in the evening.

A/N: Ha ha ha this took so long oh my god. I'm still not happy with this, but it is what it is. The format is a little funky but it's because this was written in chunks and also frankensteined together a bit. I do hope everyone has fun though! I'm almost done with the next part, mainly because this was such a struggle and I ended up writing ahead of myself. Thank you my lovelies!

Warnings: Nothing I can think of, just a little self love ;) still 18+ minors g t f o please

The dim blues of the too early morning paint the wall, a small patch of pink sunlight glinting off the tacks holding up the posters there. It’s 6am, a whole hour before you’d normally be up but you’d gone to bed late and it’s bled through with a night of restless sleep. Those first couple of bleary minutes the only time your brain feels quiet and still. 

The chill of the morning lingers, tips of your fingers cold where you groggily try to move your arms and hands to warm them up against your stomach under your shirt. 

It’s when the grogginess is gone but you’re eyes haven’t adjusted to the light that you start the little patterns, dragging your finger tips over your skin and slowly inching the hem of your t-shirt up. Under the blanket is warm and you wiggle in further to tuck your nose below the edge of the comforter. Fingers continue their featherlight dance across your ribs, pulling goosebumps up along their wake and in the quiet alone you have for another hour, you can pretend they’re not your own. 

Heavier, bigger. Thumbs calloused, rough where they drag just under the swell of your breast and the shiver runs right up the back of your neck, over the crown of your head. A little sigh and one hand roams lower, splayed wide and flat against the soft skin of your belly. Traces over your hip and up your thigh where it digs into the supple skin there, pulls it out and down towards the bed. The hand still at your chest pulls up on the shirt to get a handful of your tits, rolls the already hard nipple between thumb and forefinger earning a low gasp from you. 

Haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. 

You’d asked Eddie once, jokingly, just what he was doing to keep these girls around. 

“Need pointers?” He’d laughed when you’d pushed his shoulder. Shrugged all cool and casual, chewing on the straw of his drink for moment.

“Got a talent for eating out.” A smug grin across his face when you’d coughed, choking on the sip you’d just taken. 

“What, too crass? Are you blushing?!”

That had turned into a night of secret spilling and Eddie finding out you’d slept with some ‘real fuckin’ losers’, his opinion.  

“So they just like, never offered?”

“No? Why would they? We were already fucking.” You’d mumbled that into the worn cushion of the couch, face down to hide your embarrassment. 

“Because it’s fun?”

Fun. 

He’d said it was fun. 

Head buried between thighs and mouth searching, hands grabbing. 

Hands that move from the inside of your thigh to your underwear to slide under the band and dip right into the heat of you, running lazy fingers through your folds, dipping lower to tease and gather slick to pull back up and right over your clit. Your head slides to the edge of your pillow and you let it hang over the short edge while a string of curses float out of you. 

You imagine him in a dozen different ways. Hovering over you, laying kisses from your cheek down your neck and finally to your chest. Nipple between teeth while he buries his fingers deep in you. 

Or leaned back on his heels, watching himself spread you open while he lazily jerks off, heavy cock twitching in his palm, whispering all the things your desperate to hear him say. 

Mostly you picture his halo of curls, laying soft across your lap. Thick fingers dug into the meat your thighs pulling you closer to his face, keeping you pinned to the bed. Tongue hot while he runs the point of it through your folds, smiling against you when that sigh escapes you again. 

The slow circles you’ve been working over yourself speed up, hand still kneading your breast and you hone in on the things you are familiar with. 

The heat of him standing close. How his hands feel against you. The smell of clean laundry and smoke and whatever the hell deodorant he wears. That impish grin with his stupid dimples bracketing his pink lips. His mouth that never fucking stops. All the little personal ways he hangs around your life you play on repeat. 

The white noise of quiet in your room turns to ringing in your ears, drowns out the pathetic little whines and moans falling out of you. The heat that’s been building low finally breaks, burns up through your abdomen and licks up your spine. A breathy sigh of “Eddie” and the heat hits your face, the blush creeping in fast enough to make you feel lightheaded. 

There’s a few minutes where you’re locked up, knees pulled in tight together and back arched up off the bed while you come back down to earth. 

Under the covers is still warm. Your limbs are pliant now. Your brain is buzzing and awake. 

The clock is loud when it goes off next to your head, pulling you out of any kind of daze you were lingering in. A sigh puffs the blanket up around your face and you ignore the knot of guilt starting to form under your ribs. 

Cold bites through your open coat while you dig around the inside pockets for your zippo. The two of you are close, leaned up against the front of Eddie’s van to absorb the left over heat. 

“I think I left it at home.” You look up and he flicks his lighter to life in front of you, grinning over the flame. 

“Figured.” 

Cupping your hand around it to shade it from the wind gives you a little kiss of warmth from the fire. The early morning sun warming the back of your neck where it peaks out of the clouds. The van warming your thigh through your jeans. It’s cozy, this little moment. A breath in and a puff of smoke escapes your lips. Eddie pockets his lighter but doesn’t lean away so you stay close too and ask him if he actually did his homework for English. Share the cigarette between the two of you, foggy breath and smoke mingle with your voices while he tells you about his essay. 

“It’s probably fine, I got wordy again, you know how O’Donnell feels about that. Figure I can scrape a C out of it.”

“Just a C?”

“She fuckin’ hates me.” He laughs and you let your eyes wander over his smile, watching the cigarette move in the corner of his mouth. “You wanna see it?” He’s digging through his bag where it’s propped on the small hood. 

“Yeah, lemme see it.” 

His fingers brush yours again when you grab for the smoke and you think about your early morning solo tryst. You cast your face down briefly so he doesn’t catch the stupid little grin on your face. He’s unaware when he fishes out his notebook and flips it open for you to glance at. You scan the page fast, it looks like yours and honestly, he might slide a B out of this. 

Maybe. 

“I think this was just busy work before break, so you might get lucky.” 

“For once in my life.” He scoffs and you let out a sour little laugh. 

Oh, just once?

“What?”

“Aren’t you always getting lucky?” 

“Oh come on.” His grin is shy and he reaches out and snatches the cigarette right out of your mouth, earning him a gasp. 

“Excuse me?” You slap at his chest and mange to push his shoulder away from you but he’s planted firmly in place. He raises his eyebrows at you, still grinning and laughing. Another little push and you hold your hand out, waiting for him to drop the cigarette back between your fingers. 

“It’s not all the time.” 

“Oh only when she sends out the call to arms?” 

Eddie just sighs at you. Shakes his head and takes one last pull before handing the cigarette back. Around a mouthful of smoke he says, “You can kill it.” He gathers up his bag, stuffing the notebook back in and starts to turn around the corner of the van. 

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to upset you.” You’re voice is small behind him and your tug on his bag slung over his shoulder makes him pause to look back at you. “I was just teasin’.”

“I’m not upset, I promise.” His expression is soft. 

“Come on, I don’t want O’Dick bitching at me for being late too.” He flicks his head toward the front of the school, setting off again and you stub out the smoke, hot on his heels. 

Her footsteps are light in the crunch of the gravel walking over the trail that leads out to the picnic table in the woods. Normally she tries to not meet him during school, just sneaking over to his van after the last bell before anyone can see. Today though she’d slipped a note in his locker when the hallways were dead. 

‘Picnic during 3rd?’

She’s not embarrassed to be seen with Eddie. Well, not exactly. He’s just not her type per se, if he’s anyone’s really. She just doesn’t want to be seen with him is all. It’ll cause a fight and everyone will talk and that’s the last thing she needs, especially if Mark is actually trying to ask her to prom.

Look. Eddie is just…Eddie. He’s loud and obnoxious and arrogant and always smells like cigarettes and his hair is too long and and and-

And what. 

He’s a nice guy. He didn’t make fun of her like her teammates when she didn’t even know how to smoke. He’d talked her through how to roll it, how to smoke it, how to hold her breath in till it didn’t hurt. All smiles and small talk and by the end of it they were something like acquaintances. 

So back she went, another $30 in hand, to the picnic table in the woods and he’d been all jokes again. Asked if she needed help again. Made her feel comfortable again. 

And then he had to go and ask her out. 

Not out-out. He knew better than that. This was one of those quiet things that she’d heard some of the other girls talk about. 

Fool around when parents aren’t home kind of thing. 

Date with the back of his van kind of thing. 

A little stoned stargazing and wandering hands at the lake kind of thing. 

Still, she’d said no. She didn’t want secondhand dates, she wanted Mark and his first class ones. 

Mark and Gwen. Gwen and Mark. 

But Mark hadn’t said anything yet, all she had were the cheer teams whispers and her own intuition to go on. 

(Maybe she did want those dates.)

Cornering him at his van, angled so no one could see her, she’d gone back on her own promise. 

“Does that offer still stand?”

Of course it did, and she was sure he could draw a map from memory of her room by now. Eddie was fun because he was nice and because he was different but she could see the pit just in front of her now. How easy it’d be to say fuck it and walk him out in public in front of everyone. Show him off to all her teammates and turn her nose up at anyone who scoffed. Take a swan dive right into the dark depths of that chasm. Eddie was nice and he was good, and he was very nice and very good to her. He could be her little trailer park boyfriend and when she would inevitably ship off to Barnard next year she could drag him with her to New York and then!

And then? What? That pit again. Eddie was good and nice but he was what, a drug dealer? A failing senior? A trailer park kid with a dad in jail and a dead mom? Eddie was a pit. 

Mark’s mom was a librarian downtown and his dad was a property lawyer for Harrington Development. He lived in Loch Nora, two streets from her own home. He didn’t even smoke weed, that’s how committed he was to basketball and making varsity. He was gonna go to Purdue and be a Boilermaker. 

Gwen stops short when the table comes into view and she sees the back of your head, dark locks spilling onto the splintered wood. 

“Oh.” It falls from her mouth before she can really think and you spin around, eyes wide and cigarette hanging from your lips. 

“Hey! Uh are you-“

“Did Eddie send you?” Gwen’s gripping the straps on her backpack in an attempt to stop her stomach from plummeting. Did he send you out here to…to what? Beat her up? She’s heard about your temper and how short your fuse is and-

“What? No, this is my free period I just snuck out to smoke.” You’re up now, holding the cigarette in front of you as evidence. Gwen unwinds a little. “I didn’t know you two were meeting out here, sorry. I’ll make myself scarce.” You shoot her a tight smile and go to grab your stuff, ready to head back the way she just came. 

“Wait, please?” 

You pause, eyebrows raised in question. 

“Can I…ask you something? Or talk?” She doesn’t even know what she wants to say to you. Gwen’s interactions with you have been third party through Eddie and she’s gotten the vibe that she wasn’t quiet popular with you or the rest of the gang. 

“Sure.”

“You and Eddie aren’t like-“ 

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” You hold a hand up to her. You look annoyed and now she’s starting to feel it too. 

“I’m just asking.”

“I know, and I’m telling you. We’re not an item, never have been. Just friends.” You’ve shifted back to sitting, this time facing her, leaned forward on your arms. Gwen keeps watching the cherry on the cigarette your fiddling with between your clasped hands like it’s keeping her focused. “I get what it looks like but he doesn’t-we don’t feel that way about each other.” Her eyes snap up to yours and she swears she can see a hint of panic in the crease of your forehead. 

He doesn’t he doesn’t he doesn’t. 

Gwen nods lightly and makes for the opposite bench. A long sigh escapes when she sits down before looking up at you again. 

“I know you don’t really like me.”

“I never said-“

“Let me finish. I know Eddie’s canceled some plans with you guys because of us and that isn’t going to win me any favors. I also know y’all aren’t stupid. You know what this is. I’m not part of your little group of misfits. He’s your friend first, I get it, and I’m not…I’m not his girlfriend,” another big sigh and she shakes her head to clear it, “and I-I don’t want to be.” 

Oof. 

The silence sticks like the snow clinging to the roots around the trees out here. Gwen is still looking at you, looking for a response. Anger maybe, on behalf of your friend who’s being used. Sadness or jealousy even, over something you’ll never have with him. What she’s not expecting is the loud laugh you bark out. Loud enough to startle a bird out of the tree near you two. You take a long drag and rub a hand over your eyes. 

“Listen, Gwen. I don’t hate you, but you don’t belong here.” You gesture at the space between the two of you. “That little confession isn’t news, did you think Eddie was trying to go steady with you?” There’s no cruelty in your voice and that stuns her more than if there was. 

“I-I mean-“

“Sorry I know how that sounds, but Eddie? This isn’t his first time playing this game with your type. You guys fool around for a while and then you dump him when prom rolls around, or some jock finally notices you and takes you on a real date.” It’s so matter of fact, like you’d read her mind on the walk over. 

Am I that transparent?

“I mean, he’s like king of the nerds around here and still pulling cheerleaders. Do you really think he cares about having to also take you on a date?” Okay that one was a little harsh, Gwen can feel the teeth sinking in to bite. 

“He did ask me out, that first time.” She snaps. 

He did ask me out. 

“I don’t doubt that. He still hasn’t learned his lesson from Francesca. You don’t date cheerleaders if you don’t have a Letter.” 

Fran had been one of the girls who’d told Gwen about Eddie, albeit a little cruelly. 

“I took his virginity, your welcome.” She’d giggled at Gwen over her lunch, swatting playfully at her hand. “He’s a lot of fun, but he gets all googly-eyed if you’re too nice to him. Gets it in his head he has a chance.” The group had laughed and Gwen had felt a little cold. 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him.”

You stub out your cig in front of you and neatly avoid her gaze. 

“I didn’t think you were. It’s…look, you’re breaking it off right?”

She nods. 

“Better offer?”

Gwen wishes you wouldn’t say it like that. There’s no pretense anymore though. 

“Yeah.”

You hum and nod a few times and cast a look over her shoulder, past her into the woods. 

“Is he nice?”

Gwen’s taken aback again. Why would you care?

“I think so. His name’s Mark. I don’t know if you know him, but he plays basketball and he’s….the JV…” She’s trying to keep the quiet at bay but just trails off softly. Feels stupid for talking. 

You pick at the table, face screwed up in thought. You’re quiet for a little too long and it has her looking around, wondering if Eddie even got the note. 

“I don’t hate you Gwen, I’m just…jealous?” That brings her head snapping back around and you wave her off with an air of avoidance. “Don’t read into that. I’m glad you found your basketball prince or whatever just, don’t be mean to Eddie.”

“I won’t.” She means it, she was just going to be truthful. 

There’s a beat before you slap the table and stand up. “Okay, I’m gonna get the fuck out of here because I don’t really need to see that in person. Try not to ruin his whole day, yeah?” You’ve already gathered your bag and started towards the trail back to the baseball field. All Gwen can do is nod, the nerves seeping back in with the cold that’s climbing up her legs. 

Ahead of you there’s the shuffling of dragging feet through gravel and the familiar huff of someone who never runs the mile in gym. Eddie sees you first though, coming to a stop a few feet ahead of you. 

“Hey trouble, what are you doing out here?” His face is screwed up in confusion, wondering if he’s misunderstood who the note was from when he sees your face pull into a tight frown. 

“Ditching the library but I ran into your girl.”

“She’s not my girl.” Too quick to respond and he sees you chuckle. 

“Yeah not for long man.” He wouldn’t say it’s glee written across your face, but there isn’t any regret there that’s for sure. 

“The hell does that mean?” Eddie has an idea, had a feeling in the pit of his stomach this morning when he woke up. He’d planned on telling Gwen it was over by Friday, but it looks like she’s beat him to it. There’s a small sympathetic smile on your lips and you cross the space between the two of you to clap a hand on his shoulder. 

“Just let me know if you need to drink about it later.”

He nods and rolls his eyes, a big sigh working it’s way out of his chest. The knot that’d been sitting heavy loosens a little under the warmth of your fingers. 

He wants to walk back up to the school with you, leave this sphere of guilt out in the woods where he can forget it. He could just slide your hand off his shoulder and link it with his to drag you back up the trail and the two of you don’t even need to go back to class. It’s cold out, but he still has blankets in the back of his van and he can think of a few ways to keep you two warm. 

Another nod, this one final and he steps around you to go find Gwen out in the clearing. 

You don’t see him again until lunch when you rush him. So engrossed with whatever Gareth is telling him he doesn’t hear the squeak of your converse barreling up beside to tackle him into the wall. 

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie’s elbow comes down in the middle of your shoulders and you just laugh. Bent over and smushed up into his ribs you get a face full of leather and clean laundry. Gareth jumps away to avoid his flailing but he’s laughing. Everyone else around you seems unimpressed with the display. You give him a big squeeze before letting go. 

“Oh unclench.” You say to a passing group, all holding on to their lunch trays like your gonna slap them on the floor. 

“You coulda broken my ribs.” Eddie is rubbing his side, mock hurt pulling at his features. 

“You have flipped me clean over your shoulder and I’m fine! You’ll live.” You see Gareth’s eyebrows raising and before he can open his mouth you shove his face away, eliciting another laugh from him. 

“Don’t be a pervert.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet during lunch, both Gareth and you keeping an eye on him. He told you two the gist of it, his little woodland meeting. 

“She told me about Mark.” He sticks his tongue out. “I should have know, prom is right around the corner.” He’s creeping in on himself, shoulders pulling down. “It’s whatever. I was getting bored anyways.”

The way he says it sits weird with you. 

“Bored with sex?” You’re trying to lighten the mood. Gareth laughs into his pudding cup and he’s just full of giggles today it would seem. Eddie kicks him under the table. 

“No, that’s not what I said.” Eddie is blushing now, floundering for his next words. You keep looking at him and it keeps making him stumble and blush more and mission accomplished. 

“What, were you gonna break up with her?” Gareth asks like it’s the dumbest thing in the world. Yeah, why would he break up with the hot cheerleader?

When he doesn’t answer or look up from his chips, Gareth drops the sarcasm. 

“Oh shit you were.” 

Eddie does shoot him a look then, a silent ‘shut up’ if you ever saw one. 

You keep it to yourself, but there’s a warmth that grows up the inside of you with the knowledge that he’d made the decision this time before it was made for him. 

The crumpled up paper all over his floor is a testament to his stupidity. At least he thinks so because why god why is it so hard to write a letter to someone. He’s tried every iteration of ‘I’m obsessed with you, will you please kiss me’. Some of them had turned into half ramblings about some dream he’d had and he’s absolutely not giving you some R rated fantasy to try to win you over. 

(The thought keeps crossing his mind though.)

In desperation he’d even thought about trying to write out some kind of solo player campaign that involved a maze and a riddle. He’d been halfway to writing it, stressed and sleep deprived when he realized how long it’d take and this was supposed to be a love letter for fucks sake.  

He hadn’t given himself a timeline really, had just been thinking in afters. After he called it off with Gwen. After he wrote you an epic poem. After he got his head out of his ass. 

But one of the afters, the most important really, had kind of happened out of step and it left him adrift. 

When would he tell you? He couldn’t let this go on much longer, he’d run out of little trinkets to steal from you. He’d collapse in on himself if he had to suppress any urge around you much longer. He figures two weeks off of school would give him time to clear his head. Get to the new year. Hell, maybe even make his and yours New Years Eve a nice memorable one for once.

With one after out of the way he thinks maybe he doesn’t need the others. 

Maybe…maybe it didn’t need to be a letter. He could just tell you. Just lay himself out, heart on his sleeve. 

(Head would be firmly out of ass too.) 

Even if you said no he knows you wouldn’t be cruel, not to him. 

What if she doesn’t want to be friends anymore?

No. No he won’t let that happen because he’s so good at pretending. Pretending everything is fine and pretending he’s okay and that nothing is going wrong ever for him. Pretending that he’d be over you in an instant. 

She’s gonna see right through that, genius. 

Okay new thought. 

You say yes. Of course you’d say yes, it’s Eddie! You’re already up each others asses enough everyone thinks your dating anyways. You’re comfortable around each other, you share secrets like you share food and drinks (and that lollipop that one time.) There’s no one else he’d rather hang out with normally, except maybe Gareth but he’s never wanted to pin him up against a wall and kiss him till he can’t breathe. 

He’s pacing his room, small little lazy circles in the cramped space, chewing on a hangnail on his thumb. He’s lost in thought enough that he almost misses the phone ringing and he bounds down the hallway to the kitchen. 

“Hello?”

“Took you long enough. What, were you jerkin’ off? Too busy to answer me?” You joke around a mouthful of something. Eddie can hear the clink of a spoon in a bowl from your end. 

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously, what are you up to?” You cut to the chase. It’s Thursday so both Wayne and your mom are working overnight and Eddie’s brain starts working overtime. Could just tell you tonight, force his own hand and spill his guts. Could be a Christmas miracle instead, one thing going his way for once. 

“Nothing special. Wanna come over and waste a perfectly good evening?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

20 minutes later he hears you outside, coming up the steps and before you can knock he swings the door open. 

“Thanks for dressing up.” He smirks, looking you up and down. Ratty jeans under oversized hoodie under secondhand peacoat. You scoff hard, one of his favorite sounds you make. 

“Oh fuck you Munson. I bring you booze and you critique my attire?” You half pull out a bottle from the folds of you coat to show him. “Like you’ve got any room to talk.”

“My apologies, I didn’t know we were partying.” His hand slaps against his chest and you push him out of the way, smiling as you filter into the trailer. The bottle goes on the kitchen counter and you toss your coat over the back of the recliner. 

“I figure we could skip tomorrow. Last day before break, you know we aren’t doing shit. Also I figured you could use a drink or three.” You’re busying yourself in the kitchen, finding glasses and grabbing a soda out of his fridge. Eddie hasn’t said anything because he’s realizing a fatal flaw in his plan, where if he tells you how he feels then you’ll know how he feels. Having you in the same room as his thoughts makes it evident that he needs to figure his shit out. 

“I told you I’m fine.”

“I know, but getting dumped for Mark the Hoop King can’t feel great.”

“I mean, honestly I wasn’t that invested.” He shrugs, coming over to lean on the outside of the counter and watching you crack open the fifth of jack you definitely stole from your mom. You shoot him a doubtful look under the cabinets. He feels like he might start vibrating if he keeps thinking about telling you anything ever. 

“If you say so.” The glass you push towards him is more liquor than soda and Eddie grimaces before even taking a sip. Knows it’ll burn. Knows it’ll loosen his tongue. He downs half before he can talk himself out of it. You cheers the air in front of you and follow suit, sucking your teeth when the glass hits the countertop. 

“What are we watching tonight?” The strain on your voice makes him chuckle, your own drink working against you. 

“I got The Dead Zone if you want to watch something horror, and I also snagged the last copy of Year Without a Santa Claus because I know you can’t get enough of the snow miser.” 

You let out a gasp and clap your hands together, gathering up your glass and shimmying over to the couch. You look at him expectantly where he’s still leaned up against the counter and gesture at the tv set. 

“Well come on! Santa’s not gonna get fat without us.” 

Eddie gives you another smile and heads to his room to grab the cassettes off of his dresser. On his way back into the living room he sees you pulling your feet up onto the cushion, adjusting around until you’re comfortable. 

Down deep he lets himself have a moment. 

He can pretend when he sits down next you he could snake his arm around you and pull you close. Smush his nose into your hair while some claymation character sings about the joy of the season. 

Instead he grabs the bottle from the kitchen after getting the tape set up and drops down on the opposite side of you. Swings his legs up to shove his socked feet under your calf. You laugh through your nose and settle into the couch further and he supposes this is good too. 

When the credits roll the both of you are tipsy, more so you since you’d taken Eddie up on his game. Any time you felt the need to recite along with the movie, he’d pour a little more into your glass, effectively turning it all into whiskey. He took a few swigs in solidarity with you but he was finding your rosy cheeks and giggles a little distracting, loosing count of how many sips behind he was. 

“Laugh at me all you want, I love Rankin and Bass. There’s an Easter one I’m gonna make you watch in April.” You’ve stretched out alongside Eddie, feet wiggling beside his shoulder while you nurse the half full cup clasped between your hands. 

“You’re not gonna make me do shit.” His laugh rumbles quiet in his chest. He sounds a little buzzed, voice deeper from the drinks. His own feet are stuffed behind your back and he moves them around, jostling you lightly. You laugh and tell him to stop, slapping his knee. 

“I’m gonna spill my drink!” 

He does it again and you dip your fingers into your cup and flick the liquid at him. 

“That’s low!” 

“Stop kicking me!”

He sits up and leans forward, hands reaching for your glass and you try to pull it away but he hooks a finger on the rim. 

“Ed-!“ and tips it forward right into his lap. Neither of you jump to move out of the way, accepting the sticky fate right off. The hand you’ve slapped over your mouth is doing nothing to hide the laugh that’s shaking your shoulders. Eddie stares down at this lap and then back up to you which seems to send you into a harder fit of giggles. 

“Here let me-“

“I just need to move my legs-“ It’s a scramble to get off the couch before anything sinks too deep into the cushion. You can see Eddie trying to hold back laughter himself but refusing to break a smile in front of you. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room with his hands out to his side and you just can’t seem to stop laughing at his awkwardness. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go change, try not to make any more messes while I’m gone?”

“Me?!”

He’d shuffled around his room before heading into the bathroom and you’d taken the opportunity to switch the movie out. Standing in front of the tv waiting for the credits to roll you notice a wet patch on your hoodie that’s soaked through to your shirt. “Ah, Eddie what the shit.” Wobbling slightly down the hallway to his room to root around for a t-shirt that would fit, you hear the shower kick on. 

It makes you pause, the haze of liquor whispering at you to lean forward. Press your ear up against the door lightly. There’s shuffling and a small bump followed by Eddie’s quiet cursing. The shower curtain pulling open and closed. The heavy thud of your heartbeat in your ear. You trail a finger down the door, hand hovering near the handle before you startle and pull your hand back. 

What are you doing?

Getting a shirt. Yeah. A head shake to get your brain right, you aren’t even drunk what are you doing?

You shut the bedroom door behind you and strip off your sweatshirt and top, pulling open the bottom drawer of his dresser where all his shirts are shoved in haphazardly. 

“How do you find anything in here.” Mumbling while shuffling through all his shit, you find a faded out ren fair shirt and when you stand up a glint of metal catches your eye. His little secret drawer he was gatekeeping his weed in is ajar and just inside is…your zippo? You’d thought you’d just left it at home this morning but now it’s here. 

You shove the shirt on and open the drawer completely to see, yep, your silver VFW zippo slide fully into view. 

Along with an assortment of things. 

Frowning, you sift through some smaller hair clips that you swore you’d lost at school or in the chaos of your car. There’s two eyeliner pencils that you’ve replaced twice now. A lipstick you’d bitched about misplacing. 

And your tiefling minifig. 

Eddie had been adamant you hadn’t left it at his or Hellfire. Had said he hadn’t seen the little purple figure you’d spent a few hours painting delicately. 

What the fuck. 

You wrench the drawer open all the way and and see a handful of picks and two rings you reallythought you’d lost in the mayhem of the locker room after gym. Some folded up notes you’ve passed him in classes. There’s fabric bunched up at the back that you shake out. It’s the Dead Kennedys shirt you’ve been missing for months. 

What the fuck Eddie. 

You pick up the little wooden box, expecting to find more of your shit in it but it’s what’s underneath that catches your attention. 

You only pause for a moment, an upside down polaroid could be anything, or anyone really, but you don’t care right now because he has a drawer of your shit and-

The edges are worn a little like it’s been handled frequently, a corner of the white tab bent just a little. 

The wooden box is clutched against your chest, knuckles white with the tightness of your fist holding it to you. 

You’ve never seen this photo. You’ve got an idea of when it was taken, you’ve only dressed up like Elvira the one time. 

Your eyes are roaming the photo, looking for…what? Your hand in the bottom of the photo keeps snagging your attention. Dark nails dug into dark denim. 

Is this how he saw you? There’s an itch at the base of your skull that feels like fire and your mind rolls in it. Maybe you weren’t crazy after all, pining after Eddie Munson. Your stomach does a somersault at the notion. 

The trailer is quiet around you, some truck going by outside but otherwise nothing. The creak of the hinges being flexed under your hand where you’re blanking out in the quiet. 

You don’t hear the bathroom door open or Eddie wandering out to living room to see you gone. 

Mind going a mile a minute piecing the puzzle together. 

This was last year, so he’s had this for a whole year and then a drawer full of shit he said he hadn’t seen and my zippo that I just talked about this morning did he take it out of my pocket-

“I see how it is, you snoop while I’m in the shower.” Eddie’s voice is a clear cut through the tornado sirens going off in your mind. The door opens behind you and you see him in the mirror toweling off his hair. 

“I keep telling you you’re gonna find-“ He’s dropped the towel and pushed his hair out of his eyes to see your back to him, watching him in the reflection of his mirror. His eyes flick down to the top of his dresser where the contents of the drawer are sprawled out. Panic blooms over his face when his eyes find yours again and he notices your hands in the mirror, clutching the box and-

Oh my god no. 

He thinks his heart has ceased beating, might even have brain leaking out of his ears. He watches you turn around, sees your eyebrows drawn together. He can’t tell if you’re angry or worried or scared? Maybe all three. Holds his breath till you say something because he hadn’t thought about this outcome. Had thought he’d been good about keeping it hidden, his stupid fucking crush on you. Tucked under boxes of weed or in pages of books. Under a mattress. In a breast pocket. 

Eddie can hear the deep breaths you’re taking and he wonders how you’re finding oxygen in this room. 

Your voice is quiet when your eyes search his, holding up the picture. 

“Ed?”

💕Tag List💕

@edsforehead, @fracturedarkness, @munsonsguitarpick, @bebe0701, @ali-r3n, @cantreadbutcute, @marjoriea13, @demeterlindavis, @eddiethesexy, @fckyeahlames, @tiannamortis, @munsonzzgf, @emma77645, @starrywhitenight, @e0509, @chelebelletx,

[halfetirosie]

☁ I lied. I fucking DESPISE this Rural Town Fuckery™!!! ☁

(Scales 05 - 07 React-os!)

TIME TO RANT!!!

🚨🚨🚨I'M ALSO GONNA DO SOME KUYA-HATING IN HERE, BUT KUYA HATED ME FIRST SO IT'S FINE 🚨🚨🚨

1) What the actual fuckity FUCK???

What "flesh" are they talking about? Are they cutting their hands and bleeding out into the basin or something???

Also---I think I was wrong in thinking that the villagers' attitude towards yokai is different from the Wood Territory tribe. These guys may act like they like the "merfolk," but they're actually terrified of them to a manic degree.

This scene is disturbing as hell...

2) Nooooo!!! Poor Yakumo!!!

I feel so bad for him, for real! He has issues with controlling his yokai powers like ALL the time; poor babykins can't catch a break!!!

...

...His scales do be looking really pretty, tho...

3) Ohhh, yeah, this makes a lot of sense. I feel dumb for not predicting this earlier.

I mean, the whole reason Eiden and Yakumo came to the island was to inquire about the recipe that included merfolk meat as an ingredient.

It makes no sense for the villagers to have a whole-ass ceremony to "honor" the merfolk; unless their true purpose was to appease the merfolks' anger.

I'm guessing that these villagers' ancestors hunted the merfolk in the surrounding waters---like a fucked up version of whaling. When they thought they hunted merfolk to extinction, they then feared that that they'd return and take revenge.

That's why, instead of being happy to see [what they think is] a merfolk, the villagers get scared and angry...

4) We interrupt this depressing event to bring you a Yu-Gi-Oh! reference! :D

---Yes, I know that "Umi" is the word for "ocean" in Japanese. But I'm a pathetic dork that will always associate that word with the Yu-Gi-Oh! card of the same name. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

5) ......Bruh.

Okay, two things!

FIRST:

......Eiden, sweetie? I love you, but how have you not figured out the reason for the villagers' freak-out by now??? I feel like the talk of "revenge" is enough for the average person to put context clues together..🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Am I wrong? Am I just being a jerk??

SECOND:

I'm sorry, but I am getting REAL sick of Kuya's bullshit. These last two events he's been an insufferable DICK.

This bitch always has something mean to say about everyone and everything, without even being provoked first. And he has the audacity to accuse others of hypocrisy when he's the worst offender?!?! Why can't he just shut up and leave people alone?!?!?!

Lately, his character seems to have gotten worse, and every scene he's in makes me feel miserable. It's just too much.

I really hope the devs will dial back his toxicity soon.

6) That's kinda weird...?

I'm confused about the rules of this fish-scale relic.

Why was Yakumo the only one that had strong side effect from touching the relic? It's not like he was the only one touching the relic; all of those human villagers + Eiden touched it an prayed over it, too.

Does the relic only react to all yokai essence?

Why was the relic designed to react to anything other than merfolk essence in the first place??? That seems highly impractical.

7) Ugh.

Look, I get it. I'm not saying he's wrong to point out that Yakumo's a special case---that most yokai would have too much trouble to live alongside humans without issue.

But he really didn't have to word it so rudely, or insult Yakumo by calling him delusional. 🤦‍♀️

---His nasty attitude aside---

Am I crazy, or do I detect a hint of jealousy here? 🤔

I know the intended interpretation of that second sentence, "But not everyone is as lucky as you are," is supposed to be in reference to Umi.

But idk, man; something about it (maybe his expression?) makes me think he could also mean himself? After all, as we see in the Forest Carnival event, over his long life Kuya has gotten acutely aware of the issues of human/yokai relations, and he is super pessimistic about it.

What if, part of the reason he's so pessimistic and disrespectful to humans is not just because he's experienced human cruelty, but because he wanted to get along with humans at one point and failed?

It's just a theory. 🤷‍♀️ If nothing else, that context would make for a good fanfic.

8) OH, FUCK!!!!!!

(⊙ᗣ⊙)

I knew the history was bad, but somehow this is even worse than I thought. Instead of the merfolk living around the island, they lived on the island, and those humans straight up committed genocide and stole their land!!!

It's safe to say, I'm certain of what the social commentary this event is aiming for now...

Step 1: Invade a territory

Step 2: Murder the people native to the land

Step 3: Retroactively mystify the culture of the people that were murdered

Step 4: Make cowardly attempts to "appease" those from the group you murdered, without returning what you stole in the first place

*depresso-s in American*

9) Oh my GOD, they couldn't be more hypocritical if they TRIED!!! 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

(New drinking game that would kill me: take a shot every time this event makes me facepalm or shake my head)

Talk about poetic INjustice---I wasn't even rooting for them, but I still end up indescribably disappointed.

Why do people like this never learn???

I don't care if this island is cut off from the outside world; that isn't an excuse for this bullshit.

This village has had plenty of time to think about what they've done, and how to react if a merfolk showed up in the future.

And the BEST they came up with was to do the SAME THING (attempting to murder the merfolk) THAT MADE THEM SO WORRIED AND SCARED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!?!

THEY ARE SO STUPID AND EVIL!!!!! I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA PASS OUT FROM FRUSTRATION AND ANGER!!!

💢 (╯🔥 ᗣ 🔥)╯︵ ┻━┻

🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

🔥 End of report 🔥

[istra-ish-sucha-geek]

Question:

Do people talking about public transit cities/walkable cities walk regularly?

I was seeing some discourse started by @amtrak-official about walking cities, and then some people talking about 15-minute cities and someone said a FIVE minute access to groceries and work and everything.

I’m disabled; I have chronic pain.

I walk EVERY DAY (for the diabetes.)

After walking EVERY DAY for more than a year; I have a fairly average walking pace.

5 minutes is the end of my driveway and back. It’s like 600 steps.

Even a 15 minute walk (for me, and I’m slow-average) is barely any distance at all.

I can see how 15 minutes could work in an urban setting - especially if you stretch it a bit, since an average mile pace is about 20 minutes (although if the mile is the diameter of a circle from a central point, you’re gonna get a lot more bang for your buck, but you could also end up being 40 minutes from your desired destination if it’s on the wrong side of town).

But it’s all gonna be VERY. CLOSE. TOGETHER.

And 5 minutes is right out. RIGHT out. It’s just not enough area. Even if you’re working from home!

And if everyone is working from home, who is picking up all the garbage, and who is running maintenance on electricity, water, internet and other utilities? Plumbing?! Are manual labor jobs also getting to work 15 minutes walking from home, or do they still commute places? That’s too many people living in too small space.

And where is the PARK? And GARDEN? I can’t live without my garden.

Where is all the infrastructure like SUB stations going? Is that within 5 minutes?

Even in like Jane Austen time, walking to get places was more than 15 minutes.

Maybe I’m taking all this way to literally - I have a tendency to do that - but …

The maths ain’t mathing. Even just thinking of building footprints ALONE - what about religious communities?

And sure you can build UP, but the more people you have in 15 minutes, the more people you NEED in 15 minutes. Like say you got 20 people, maybe one doctor a nurse and an office person can deal with all their daily medical needs, but what that means you actually have 17 peeps + 3 medical professionals. Then you stuff 40 people in, but you really need 3 more medical peeps, so it’s 34+6.

What about religious spaces? What about religious spaces for different religions?

And how are we feeding this many people? Is all the food being commuted in? Or are we saving space for chickens and gardens and things?

(I May be weird for thinking of that, since I know most food in urban places IS commuted in; I just live in the country, we grow some of our own fruit and veg, and if I WANTED, I could buy eggs and milk and even all kinds of meats from farmers within about 5-8 miles.)

Saving space for chickens and gardens is going to cost space for humans and building UP cuz sunlight + fresh air.

My point is:

THERE IS NOT ENOUGH SPACE.

Transit and travel is still NEEDED.

And not everybody can WALK.

Heck some days *I* can’t walk!

Some days it’s not SAFE to walk outside because of FIRE or WEATHER or things.

I just.

Look: I really want BETTER than what we have. WhT we have is garbágê. But it’s not gonna get better unless we sit down and figure out how to DO IT *with* each other.

And I’m just a middle aged, disabled white lady who lives in the country with four cats, a dog, a hobbit, a 20x20 foot garden while their sibling does horse archery on three acres (animals need a lot of room. Do country places and animals just not exist in this walkable utopia?).

[navstuffs]

spring time date with ezio x gn!reader headcanons

Warnings: FLUFF, established romance, alcohol usage, two idiots in love, no physical description of reader, undefined time period ezio, date in nature

Author's notes: heeey, spring is finally coming where i live so ofc time for headcanons! i must warn i have a hugeeee weakness for shy!ezio and his hair. im finally working on my last request and hopefully this week i will post it! (i have more 5 or 6 projects planned, ezio isn't resting with me) i hope you enjoy!

requests are open for ezio.

It was Ezio's idea. The weather is finally getting warm and cool, perfect for outdoor dates. 

Knowing how much you love nature, Ezio decides to take you on a date. He has a basket in his arms when he picks you up but doesn't let you look into it or carry it.

On the way there, Ezio points you look very beautiful. You note that he also looks very handsome: wearing black pants, a white long-sleeve, and boots. He seems so relaxed.

There is that delicious breeze in the air you missed so much, and the sun isn't burning. Just perfect. Ezio interlocks his fingers with yours, announcing you are not far away.

When you arrive at the garden, you are speechless.

It is an explosion of different colors, like spring should be. Green, red, and yellow vibrating with so much life, it gives you chills. The flowers bloom so beautifully. You are scared to investigate and end up stepping inside a paint.

You turn around to Ezio, your eyes glowing, trying to thank him, and he rubs your cheek, whispering that he knows.

Ezio explains that the garden belongs to his uncle Mario outside Monteriggioni. Since he discovered the area last Spring, Ezio had been giving a "helping" hand here and there because he had wanted to surprise you.

Which meant he had been doing all the garden work SECRETLY for a year!

"You tended this garden alone, Ezio?"

"Well, not exactly alone. I had some help, you see."

Also, not entirely a lie. Ezio had Leonardo, Claudia, and even his Mother's help, but he was the one primarily taking care of, making sure everything was perfect for when spring came.

And the look on your face is the result of that.

You want to melt. Instead, you pull Ezio into a passionate kiss, demonstrating all your emotions, gratitude, and love for him. Ezio moans on your lips, kissing you back, and it takes all your strength to break it apart.

"We will have more time for this later."

You can see Ezio is internally arguing about forgetting to show you the rest of the garden and make out with you. Due to your pleading face, he sighs. 

"Fine. We will come back for this later, amore mio."

Ezio guides you to a small creek surrounded by trees, explaining what he has done, like cleaning the area around the creek. Whenever you look, you can see different types of flowers.

The landscape looks straight from an enchanted book; you expect to see gnomes and fairies pop out soon.

Ezio opens a towel on the recently cut grass. You two sit, and he brings some bread, cheese, meat, grapes, and wine out of the basket.

Your boyfriend looks very proud of himself. As he opens the wine bottle, you don't know where to look, if Ezio or the trees. You two have a lovely meal, surrounded by nature sounds.

When you finish, you both get sleepy due to the wine. Ezio groans, wanting to spend the rest of the day buried with his face in your neck and forget about the world. You get up, a little dizzy, despite all his protests.

"My boyfriend prepared all this for me. We better check it, Signore Auditore."

He follows you around, sometimes holding your hand. Sometimes just staring at your astonished face. You looked so captivating, explaining Botanics facts.

Your smile made him happy as if he had a heat in his chest that would spread all over his body. Everything looks so alive because you are happy. You catch Ezio staring at you like the most precious thing he has ever seen.

You grab some small flowers on the way, giving Ezio a playful smirk while walking toward him. He smiles, confused.

"Che, amore?"

You place some flowers on your ear. Then you pull his hair out of the ponytail, letting it roam freely through your fingers. Ezio groans your name softly.

Because the man always has a fascination with you touching his hair. You always loved his hair and wished to see more times free.

"Are you fine with this?"

When Ezio just purrs, you continue passing your hand through his hair and placing some small flowers on it. He doesn't seem to mind.

"I promise I won't let you go home with these."

You finish the afternoon laying in the towel, admiring the sunset while the water comes down the creek. Well, you do. Ezio is sound asleep in your chest, relaxed as you have never seen it before.

You kiss the top of his head, holding him close to your chest. You wish you could stay like this forever.

MASTERLIST | EZIO'S MASTERLIST

[thesandsofelsweyr]

HOLLOWED OUT

《 READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

When Jason saw that photo of Batman and his new Robin, the thin cord of hope holding him together had snapped and he had broken into a million pieces. No one was coming for him. Not one single person on the planet cared whether he lived or died, or how much he suffered, or how loud he screamed. No one except the Clown. He was Joker’s now, and he would say or do anything to get a reprieve from the torment and the pain, even if it meant letting himself be reduced to something less than human.

《RATING》 🔞 Mature 《WORDS》 15,609 《CHAPTERS》 6/6

《CHARACTERS》 Jason Todd/Robin, Joker, Original Male Character(s), Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Dick Grayson (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Catherine Todd (mentioned), Willis Todd (mentioned)

《TROPES》 Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Whump, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

《WARNINGS》 Dehumanization, Bathing/Washing, Master/Pet, Collars, Ownership, Brainwashing, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Touching, Torture, Mindfuck, Scars, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Loathing, Past Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, Forced Nudity, Swearing

《SERIES》 Part 4 of My Arkhamverse, Part 4 of Ruined

《NOTES》

This fic is my pride & joy! It was the first thing I published after a 5+ year hiatus, and the longest story I've ever written by far!

This fic is also dark so be aware of the tags (especially the DD:DNE tag)

My Arkhamverse canon is a mix of game canon and Arkham Knight: Genesis canon. I pick and choose what I like best 😉

If you enjoy the read please consider kudosing, commenting, and reblogging ❤️

《 READ ON AO3 》 (excerpt below the cut)

Jason let his heavy head sag between his shoulders as he was dragged down the long hallway. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. The strain on his upper body reignited dull pain in his shoulders, pain that still lingered from the last time he was strung up like a slab of raw meat. The usual two orderlies, who Joker called “Left” and “Right” to amuse himself and confuse the hell out of everyone else, each grasped a bone-thin arm, showing no more concern for him than they would have for a sack of dirt. He didn’t have the strength to fight the men even if he wanted to, which he did not. Fighting was a punishable offense—he’d learned that long ago—and he would do anything to avoid a punishment. Yeah, the Clown still abused him whenever he felt like it, but punishment was a different experience entirely, the kind that lasted for hours and left him wishing for death. Just the thought of the word alone made him want to curl up and die.

We passed the torture chamber already, he reassured himself, trying not to let the fear take over and start pleading for mercy like the coward he was. They’re taking me somewhere else, someplace new. 

For Jason it was a torture chamber, but really it was another abandoned office in this buried wing of Arkham Asylum where Joker kept all the toys he used to make him squeal. He was almost always punished in that room: tied to a chair, dangling from a meat hook, or, especially when guests paid him a visit, left free to crawl into a corner and contemplate how helpless he was even without any restraints. 

He only punishes me when I’m bad…

He wracked his weary mind for anything he might have done to piss the Clown off lately. Not that the Clown needed to be pissed off to make him regret ever putting on that red suit. Whacking him with a crowbar was probably part of the psycho’s self-care routine. But a punishable offense? He couldn’t think of anything. Joker was usually fair when it came to punishing him. He only hurts me like that when I deserve it, and he had been on his very best behavior. At least he hoped he had. He was so exhausted it was hard to keep track of what he had or hadn’t done.

It seemed as if a lot of time had passed since his last punishment, but he had no real concept of time in this pit. Well, not since the first six months of his imprisonment, back when he thought someone might actually give a damn that he was missing. He’d tried to keep track of the days then, but after Joker showed him that photo he decided there was no point anymore.

In those early days—back when he was nothing but bad—he would fight back. He broke the wrist of one of the guest torturers, bit a guard’s ear off, even knocked a tooth out of the Clown’s stupid grin. He also tried to escape at least once a month. The guards or orderlies or the Clown himself (armed with that goddamned crowbar) would drag him back and beat him within an inch of his life. But as soon as he could stand up again he was running—or limping more likely—toward that salvation that was a concrete staircase leading up to a makeshift trap door leading out to freedom. Even then Joker made sure his ankle stayed broken, but he had way more tolerance for pain when he thought Batman was coming to beat the shit out of the Clown and his goons and take him home. Hope will do that to you.

He was a good boy now though, as docile as a whipped dog—relentless suffering for nearly a year of his life made certain of that. Joker taught him that it was easier to just submit, to obey; that life was better as a broken boy than it was as a bad boy. He no longer wished to escape. Where would he go? He had no home, no one waiting for him. At least here in this dungeon someone actually cared about him, in his sick, twisted, fucked-up sort of way. And then there was the warning of what would happen to him if he ever tried to run again. Oh God… Fear coiled like a snake around his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter as he struggled to push the memory of that terrible threat away, to push back the panic that crept in. I learned my lesson, he reminded himself as he fought for a breath. That will only happen to me if I disobey…

His mind was mercifully wrenched back to the present when the orderlies suddenly turned, pulling his limp body into an unfamiliar room and dropping him to the cold tile floor. His heart started to slow as the pain in his shoulders receded and he took in his new surroundings. The small, musty room looked like it might have been a break room or a kitchen. There was a sink, a fridge, a microwave, an empty water cooler, some cabinets—all blanketed in a thin layer of dust. In the center of the room sat a square table with four metal chairs, and beside it stood the Clown. His heart sank. Joker was grinning at him as ever, his feverish green eyes glittering with excitement for whatever sadistic cruelties he was about to dish out. The sight of the man made him want to puke.

But he couldn’t puke right now, not when Joker expected him in position. With a soft groan he slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, ignoring the protests from cracked bones and torn muscles. His bruised knees ached from crawling on the hard floor for the past weeks (months? years??). Since he’d been stripped of his armor Joker only allowed him to crawl; never walk, never stand. He kept his head bowed low while he waited for a command to obey. 

The uneasy silence was soon filled by the sound of a metal chair scraping against the tile as it was pulled from beneath the table. He shivered as all-too-familiar dread and despair settled over him. It was about to start again.

“Come. Sit,” Joker said in a lilting voice that suggested this was a friendly request, but Jason knew better.

Without hesitation he crawled over to where Joker was standing with his hands resting on the chair back. He gripped the chair and used it as leverage to pull his trembling, broken body off the floor. Gingerly, he slid into the chair, and winced as his ass and thighs—still bruised from the wooden paddle—came in contact with the hard plastic seat. My body still hasn’t recovered from my last punishment, he thought miserably. It was hard for him to believe that this same body was running around Gotham, brawling with its colorful lineup of thugs only months ago. Now he could barely stand on his own, much less run. Even the slightest of movements awakened some awful pain from a previous beating. He was only 16 yet he felt like he was 60.

16… He was only weeks away from getting his license when he fell into this shithole. Two more years and he would’ve had his high school diploma, maybe even sooner. I wanted to go to college. I was gonna try for an Ivy. A ‘fuck you’ to Willis for giving him hell for opening a book more than once in his life. I’ll never read another book. That realization was a particularly brutal gut-punch. Books were always his escape, from his shitty home life when his sperm donor was still breathing, or when he was feeling like he, a corner boy from Crime Alley, had no business living in a billionaire’s mansion. He remembered when he first arrived at that billionaire’s mansion how excited he was when he saw the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves Alfred built for him in his new bedroom, and the hundreds of books that Bruce had already filled them with. He also remembered the pack of Marlboros he had stashed behind his (Bruce’s) first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice. This hell would be more bearable with a paperback and a cigarette. He would never experience either of those things again though. He would never see his bedroom again… or Alfred… or Bruce. He bit back tears. Willis was probably laughing his ass off in hell right now. He always said I was a loser, that I’d never amount to anything. Looks like the fuckhead was right in the end.

Read the rest on AO3→

[clownhonkbonk]

to any interested here are my reactions i remembered to write down for the magnus archives in it's entirety :3 it's not too many bUt this is what you get

the episode numbers are written with them!!

ft me trying to understand the story with a great deal of pain writing on my phone in my notes app mostly at 1 am

REACTIONS 👀

56 sub statment thinf w martin

avtually got tears in my eyes. i love you martin. i love you jon. im so happy he just went " avtually, im rather relieved " or whatever bc hell yes girl u are so unwell.

this show is so addicting.

57

OMG 28 DAYS LATER MENTION!!!! THE END IS EXTREMLY FUCJING NEIGH!!! not the reference but excited

spooky.

WAY too attached to them

58

only just skipped the add and " episode Fifty-Eight. Trail Rations" And immediately went " oh NO !! cannibalism :( " and the read the description like LMAOO everytime there's anything relating to food in this podcast i just go " oh no it's cannibalisim "

holy shit it's a woman cannibal, diversity WIN

WHAT THE FUCK I REALISED WHATS HAPPENING WHEN THEY'RE BOTH DEAD

benjamin wtf homie this is NOT good bedroom foreplay

ouuugg auch good writing.

i understand the possible cannibalisim thing now

YES JON OFC THEY R WORRIED ABT YOU YOU DUNBASS IM CRYING PLS

at lwast he doesn't think it's martin as much anymore ❓❓❓❓

i NEEEED to stop going through s1 animatics but QOW this fanvase is awesome i love all the designs.. i used to think martin and tim were the same person for a few episodes

65

honestly hell yeah tim. shout at jon for being weird. but also sike you can't leave.

66

insane.

81

ok im like halfway through this but like so for the deities / entities that r silly

we got

eyes, spider, diseases / insects ( though they maybe different ) and meat maybe???? maybe there's just three..

83

oh oh the guys r all core fears / most common fears, one extra is THE STRANGER OOOOoooOooooO

84

i love you martin for filling in n trying to take over for jon ur such a cutie

idk how much i believe that elias did it but like all evidence does point to that

86

actually love their lil dynamic. cuties.

103

OUUUGH JON WHAT THE FUCK DID U USE UR BRAIN POWERS ON HIM WTFFFFF

104

martin is getting spaceyyyyy uh oh.... be careful bb..

107

jon have you been DRUGGED?!?! (8:00)

jon bb mayb take a break you seem to be like having iron deficiency LMAOO

111

ok we got 14 whores of the universe

1 end - death

2 eyes

3 vertigo

4 the stranger

5 the spiral - madness

6 isolation - fear of being alone / seperated form ppl

7 burning/fire

8 the desolation

9 the slaughter violence

10 the web - also being manipulated

11 the vast

12 filth disease insexts

13 claustrophobia

14 darkness

the meat ❓❓❓

124

OUUUGH HE LITERALLY DITCHED THE RECORDING JUST TO RUN AFTER MARTIN the gays r getting to me

126

WHAT HTEH FUCKKK !>??!?!?!? !??

bro this is NOT therapy. bro ham lukas peter you dickwad what the fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

ISOLATION??????????????????????? WHY IS THE ISOLATION GOD POKING AT MARTIN ?!?!?!?!?!?!??! DICKWAD??!?!?! ?criyng asobbign why

i actually low key love lukas " dynamic duo " is sO funny sjkdjk

martin i miss u come back it;s not woRTH ITTTTTT

fuck i draw jon like trent crimm if he was a twig and gayer and green

131

i physically recalled at the start they've IMPROOOVED their aUDIO... fucking crazy.

also bitches be bitching ( jon AND melane )

honestly fuck yeah helen girl

133

girl is dealing wth SOOO much trauma poor girl........... jeez.

cannot stop thinkin about martin :(

i miss tim.

134

WOOOO MARTIN

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HE LEFT THE TAPES FOR JON WTF

the buried / cave

the end

the corruption / filth

the dark

the desolation

the eye

the flesh

the hunt

the lonely

the slaughter

the spiral

the stranger

the vast

the web

135

feeks like they're reading together but w a wall in the way which is sad

142

MARTIN PLEASADEEE

also jon what the fuck please don't be a dick this lovely lade lost her job and gained so much trauma.

143

jon stop using ur thing constantly on people it makes me worried for you and insanely pushes you to not being human.

jon i know she tried to hurt you both but ur being so mean, im WORRIED.

hell YES hellen

144

martin im still upset at you for going " why does no one tell me anything !!!! " while literally avoiding them and asking yhem not to talk to you!!! wtf broham.

anyway loving this story

145

gertrude what a girl holy cow<3

146

IM SO WORRIED ABT MARTIN AND JON GUUUUUUH WHAT THE FUCK.

150

jon u r so self destructive...

151

holy ahit simon fairchild..

154

what the fuck im sobbing what is this good omens bullshit i love it but im crying not really but like heartbreaking????

171

i don't know if jons gonna survive if he doesn't stop getting weird and weirder.

also adorable "is he your boyfriend?!"

" yes actually "

jon what the fuck w u n these flesh flowers

ok hi!! thst was the last one.:3

i didn't write down reactions for further episodes but if we can bring our attention to me writing at some point ( in early season 5 ) in my sketch book " 10 bets jon or martin dies at the end "

[thenightlymirror]

I have finally silenced the notes on the bird math post, for a funny reason, so that I would have a normal dopamine feedback response with this app.

Sick shit.

Sofia, I forget if I used some other name before, thinks it’s weird I go to Quaker-church, which I always refer to as Quaker-church so that people know the difference. She made a funny face. It’s one of two funny faces of hers I’ve collected recently.

The other was when the president of the granite company stopped by, and never meeting him before, I jumped out of my chair and hugged him. Bipolar’s gonna happen, one way or the other. I was very excited to meet him, because there are two guys at that company named John, and I had no idea who the hell was who. Those people never introduce themselves. And then people go, Oh, John was here, did you see him? No. No I didn’t. Faces un-engraved. I explained this all to him. He kept asking “Are you in sales?”

She did her best to cringe in such a way that it would contort the empty space between her side of the room and mine, and maybe twist my mouth shut.

I showed her that I finally figured out how to type out this woman’s name in Assyrian.

We sit together at lunch sometimes and she reminisces about when she was a foodie. (She’s a vegetarian now. No processed foods.) I challenged Harper to eat sardines with me my first week back, and that made some kind of impression on her. So we talk about exotic meals as we eat our Soylent of the day.

Harper and I never eat together. I’ve gotten into this strange habit of buying her lunch. I suppose it’s a kind of fawning gesture. There was some humiliating incident where I tried to pawn my Jimmy John’s gift card on her on her birthday, however long ago, and she was catastrophically annoyed. Which says enough, I think. But for some reason, she’s relented, and when I’m throwing on my coat to run out for Culver’s, I ask, “You want anything?” And she says yes. She either gets cheese fries, or when she’s actually hungry, chicken tenders with BBQ sauce. She’ll sit at her desk by the lunchroom door while I eat my sandwich alone.

I justify it to myself a few ways. One, there must be one person you choose to be kind to, out of practice if anything. I’m am afflicted with some kind of ingratitude that I can’t quite explain. Maybe nothing from me could ever really be worth anything. A gift from me is a sort of affliction in itself. That’s not entirely false. Also, she never eats. The women in the office gossip about how skinny she is, and it’s jealousy, mostly. I never watch her eat. She could save every bite for her gf and I wouldn’t know the difference. Not sure it makes a difference.

Sofia planned a potluck for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. She’s trying to make the place less toxic. And despite the poisonous people involved, it was a smashing success. It took me a while to decide what to do, but I made a vegetarian chili, with impossible meat and soyrizo, 5 different kinds of peppers. Spent 6 hours reducing it on the stove. Froze it, thawed it, warmed it in the instapot on the lunchroom counter. It was loved. A genuinely beautiful day, I’d say. I was anxious about it for days, that something must go wrong. I’m just incapable of doing anything nice. But everyone loved it. Even Big Jim had some before he Irish-goodbyed.

I had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, so I stole all Phyllis’s turkey and stuffing for myself. A huge tray of it. Still sitting in my fridge, honestly. That’s how much. And to fair, I never felt without. Despite my constant awareness of how orphaned and pathetic it must look.

Harper was excited and talkative. I try not to write about her too much. I find it indulgent. Writing is a way of reliving, relitigating. If you have a few nice things in your life, you can’t clutch them, you have to let them be what they are.

All that was well over a week ago. Made a potato soup today from a hambone that’s been in my freezer for over a year. I gave myself food poisoning last December and I’ve basically been terrified of cooking outside my comfort zone ever since.

I tried explaining to Sofia, when you’re fat, everyone is always gawking at you imagining you being some kind of pervert for food. So, you repress all enjoyment of it. I hate food. But I don’t. It becomes complicated.

[dxppercxdxver]

tagged by @chiropteracupola!! we will See how many books i can for real remember

rules: list ten books that have stayed with you in some way, don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard - they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you.

1. The Rook - Daniel O’Malley: OUGHHH favorite book of all time and i’m not at All exaggerating. it is the pinnacle of literature to me, with a great balance of humor and drama and mystery and the supernatural and also the main character is sooooooooo. i cannot describe how insane in the head she makes me

2. Feel the Fear - Lauren Child: technically the Entire ruby redfort series lives in my brain rent free but the fourth one in particular ticks Every box to me. vintage cinema. circus performers. poetry. actual Lasting Consequences Of Trauma in a main character. skateboarding? idk it’s so fucking good and i think about it constantly

3. There, There - Tommy Orange: we had to read this for ap lit my senior year and i genuinely think about it So often its prose is so evocative and good to the brain and it Evokes such physicality and the turns of phrase are so cool and also it’s a really well structured story that’s clever and complicated (fun) and makes your heart hurt and i genuinely recommend it all the time

4. A Study in Scarlet - Arthur Conan Doyle: i feel like this one iiiiis self explanatory but also!! the platonic ideal of holmes and watson To Me!!! exuberant and young and jittery and two steps from shaking themselves apart and so full of love and adoration for each other!!!!! AUGH!!!!!

(and here is when i start forgetting books)

5. The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California - Gerard Way, Shaun Simon, & Becky Cloonan: comics of break your brain forever n ever n ever. full of sadness and beautiful art and lesbian robots and a Kitty (big kitty baby kitty evil kitty <3)

6. Animorphs - K. A. Applegate: books that i think about aaaaaall the time in some way because i love Meat in my sci-fi (y’all remember the allergic reaction to crocodile dna? because I DO)

7. The Wolf and the Watchman - Niklas Natt Och Dag: y’know what fuck it cecil winge and mickel cardell got real in my brain earlier this year so they get to join the list. due to there’s MEAT and DETECTIVES and PALPABLE HOMOEROTICISM (my best friends weird detective guys ough augh)

8. It Devours! - Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor: noticing a theme here in that there is also Meat in this one. but also the story of something far bigger than you could ever comprehend Coming For You and the quiet dread of keeping something from your partner and carrying the burden alone and also sometimes relationships Don’t Work and that’s Fine (and also there is a massive worm)

9. Lord of the Flies - William Golding: another school read! me n my friends went Real Weird about this book at the ripe old age of thirteen. don’t remember much of it now other than Jack The Chorus Boy but i do remember having big feelings about it then

10. Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson: for a Wildly different reason than em, because i don’t remember. anything? about it? read it for school when i was eleven or twelve and promptly lost all memory of the entire story BUT. i built a model ship for it for my final project and i think that jumpstarted the current Big Boat Feelings that i have some eight or nine years ago

tagging: @nico-demons, @firstmatedville, @wilhelmina-murray-harker, @natdrinkstea, and @haijinks :)

[cynoceph]

1. Otherkin is probably the best label, since gnolls don’t exist in this world. Otherhearted too :3

2. Gnoll (anthro spotted hyena) kin. Hearttypes are maned wolves, domestic dog, African wild dog, and clouded leopard. (If we want to assume plurality plays a role, then I guess technically angelkin too? Still figuring that one out frankly)

3. My usual shifts are hyena ears swiveling/twitching/flicking, as well as a tail! So, very heavy on phantom limbs. I also heavily have mental shifts, were I’m more in the gnoll mindset - things are more primal/base than conceptual. (And referencing back to potential plural kin reasons, I do get wing shifts too). The most bizarre cameo shift for me was actually a fictionkin shift back when I was in my 20s; for a solid like five minutes, I was 10000% Kakashi from Naruto. It was insanely intense and dizzying, as I could feel not just the sense of being him, but clothing he wears too for some reason? I could feel the headband over my eye despite nothing being there, could feel the weight of the vest he wears… and then of course the mental and emotional shifts. The vague detachment from everyone, the pain of his losses, the weight of responsibility… it didn’t last long, but it stuck with me with how visceral it all was.

4. Being other is so ingrained in me that it kind of blends in with daily life. I feel my ears twitch and flick at sounds often, or flatten when something is unpleasant. I use canine-heavy words and phrases in daily conversation (ie.: “dog brain” when I do something harmlessly stupid, or when I have the desire to eat something inedible). I am dog shaped, and everyone who knows me well knows this, even if they don’t know I’m Other.

5. I like the community overall ^^ it’s got its flaws like any community does, but I’ve met some great people, and I love the feeling of not being alone in these non-human feelings!

6. Wearing a collar feels very at home for me, even if that’s more like my dog hearttype than my kintype. Eating meat, especially red meat and especially as close to raw as is safe, definitely makes me feel more gnoll. Steaks and unusual cuts with bones in them, as well as straight up bone marrow, are my favorites!

7. I do experience species dysphoria, yes. I struggle with looking in mirrors or at photos of myself because it just doesn’t look right. I don’t feel human, yet the image reflecting back at me is clearly human, and that’s uncomfortable. But it is what it is.

8. Take your time to discover yourself, there’s no rush and it’s not a race. Play with labels, it’s okay to realize something didn’t fit and to let it go. It’s okay to be different. At the same time, please understand that the world we live in works in a specific way that is likely drastically different from where you come from or belong. Unfortunately, that does mean playing a part and learning to be functional. It’s not always fun to function, but learning to don a “human enough” persona to make it through school and work is vital to surviving in this world. I know it sucks. You can be as other as you want in safe places, but it’s also important to learn how to pretend to be a human of this world, too, because this is where you are now.

9. I do have gear! I have a tail and ears, plus a collar. I wear them occasionally at home, when I need a little boost of feels.

10. Gnoll is spiritual and related to my gods, which I had confirmed via divination. My main god/goddess has claimed gnolls as Her children, and as I am also Her child, I am gnoll. This is also true of Her, me, and African wild dogs - those are Her children in this world. Clouded leopard is a hearttype due to daemonism, as my daemon is a clouded leopard. I’m unsure about maned wolves, but they’re very friend and family shaped. Dogheartedness is psychological and spiritual; my main god is often depicted as a black dog, so those are close to my heart. But psychologically, the hearttype is also a trauma response. I grew up feeling like I was treated like a dog, and more recent relationships (that are ended now, thankfully) only reaffirmed the feelings of being a dog. It’s also sort of a gender thing, but I’m unsure how to explain it. Other transmasc guys probably get the dog-gender thing though, it seems to be common with us for some reason!

11. Uhhh I don’t like tagging folks cuz I feel pushy doing it but lynx mutual came to mind if you see this and wanna do it

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[cyarskaren52]

thanksgiving Day is next week! If you have some ideas for a good meal plan just don’t bring these items to the table

FOOD

17 Dishes You BET NOT Bring to a Black Thanksgiving

You'll be better off bringing paper plates than potato salad with raisins.

By

Kalyn Womack

Published12 hours ago

There are more than a dozen things that are off the table (or should be kept off the table) when it comes to what to bring to Thanksgiving. Or rather...a Black Thanksgiving.

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I don’t know what the white folks do over there but over here? We eat sweet potato pies, not pumpkin pies. We eat mac n’ cheese without breadcrumbs. We’d also rather you make one item in its classic recipe versus making it into a casserole.

Black folks stick to the same menu every year and it hasn’t budged for decades now. 

If you’re debating on what to bring to Thanksgiving this year, check out this list of 17 things not to bring. And remember: when in doubt, bring the liquor. 

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2 / 19

List slides

Green Bean Casserole

Amongst the several polls I sent out requesting ideas for this list, this abomination was at the top. The only acceptable form of green beans is with smoked turkey neck and potatoes. Why is it a trend to make this a casserole?

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3 / 19

List slides

Mashed Potatoes

This may be debatable, but trust...you’ll never find this in my household. We have other things to hold gravy. Enter: rice, dressing, and of course, turkey.

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4 / 19

List slides

Potato Salad with Raisins

Matter fact, keep anything you got with raisins in it. Keep ya potato salad, ya pasta salad, macaroni salad and the criminal attempt at a pan of macaroni and cheese if it has raisins. You must do time over this.

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5 / 19

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Pumpkin Things

I don’t have anything against pumpkins for the rest of the Fall/Autumn season, but on Thanksgiving? This is strictly a sweet potato household. If I bite into a pie and it’s pumpkin, we might have to fight.

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6 / 19

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Creamed Spinach

Why? You’re better of bringing artichoke dip for us to snack on while we wait for the food. No one is putting this on their plate.

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7 / 19

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Brussels Sprouts

There’s a specific selection of vegetables that are Thanksgiving-friendly and Brussels sprouts ain’t on the list, sweetheart. Now...if you know how to make them Capital Grille style, you can bring me a pan ;)

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8 / 19

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Canned Greens

Since I was a child, I sat in the kitchen snapping green beans and watching my grandmother clean the collards. You think I don’t know the difference between fresh and canned vegetables? Go head...take the risk of being embarrassed by the shady banter of the entire family if you cut corners and bring canned greens.

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9 / 19

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Boxed Gravy 

Again, we can tell the difference. There are too many leftover greases and turkey juices for you to not be able to make a gravy. Leave that flavorless roux home.

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10 / 19

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Fruit Cake

The main desserts include pie, cobblers, banana pudding and maybe a pound cake. If you walk in with a fruit cake, you will also leave with that fruit cake.

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11 / 19

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Sugar- or Gluten-Free Sweets

Speaking of desserts, we like sugar. We embrace gluten. Even if you’re trying to be conscious of the one guest who has a dietary restriction, please let the rest of us enjoy ourselves.

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12 / 19

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Beyond Meats

On any other day, I will embrace vegan alternatives. But please don’t play with my pork chops and turkey wings.

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13 / 19

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Gelatin-Based Oddities

We’re wayyy past that odd 1980s moment when everything edible was put in gelatin. Leave it alone, babes..unless it’s Jell-O shots. Those are always welcome.

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14 / 19

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Ambrosia

I just learned that this unicorn vomit had a name. That being said, don’t you even dare.

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15 / 19

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Soup

Why?

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16 / 19

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Broccoli-Cheddar Whatever

I get it. Tis’ the season to embrace all variations of broccoli-cheddar dishes. But do us a favor and leave your go-to lunch food in the fridge.

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17 / 19

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Spaghetti

Are you crazy? Your kids have been eating spaghetti for the past week and that’s what you bring to the feast of feasts?!

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18 / 19

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Whatever You Know You’re Not In Charge Of...

Every family has the one relative they can count on for a prominent Thanksgiving dish. If Mama makes the mac n’ cheese every year, please don’t consider this your moment to play Hell’s Kitchen. You will lose.

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19 / 19

List slides https://www.theroot.com/17-dishes-you-bet-not-bring-to-a-black-thanksgiving-1851031675/slides/19

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[wronggalaxy]

Foods/drinks I can't consume anymore because I associate them with poverty and even even though I'm still in poverty I'm in slightly less poverty now, so eating or even being near them gives me horrible flashbacks of almost starving to death, or worse:

1) Canned meat(think spam, Vienna sausage, etc)

2) Powder milk(we didn't have it often, but it was the only type of milk we did have)

3) Any vegetable not from a can(this one is different, I'm just used to canned vegetables so everything else tastes wrong and I get paranoid(literally paranoid) it's rotten or something)

4) Hot chocolate made with water(again, didn’t have it often, but just the few times was enough to put me off)

5) Anything greasy(my stomach just can't handle it after so long of not really having anything cooked, let alone fried)

6) Anything with a lot of butter(I used to get so hungry I'd eat full sticks of it because I knew it was the only thing I could eat as much as I wanted of without taking food from my family)

7) American cheese(when I was a toddler me and one of my sisters slept on a mattress on the floor together and whenever our parents could afford American cheese we would hide some under the mattress to eat at night so we weren't weak for school the next day(also we have free lunch and breakfast at school where I live but it's useless to me because I'm allergic to a major ingredient in like 99% of it))

8) Rice(it was in every food box we got from the food bank)

9) Zebra gum(it was the cheapest candy anywhere near me sold, so on the rare occasion we got candy, it was that)

10) Ramen noodles(before it got Bad, but was still worse than it is now, I had plain chicken flavored Ramen noodles EVERY DAY)

There's more than that, but I'm tired so I'm gonna end this here.

[vegietribe]

BEING VEGAN - A DIFFERENT STORY

Veganism is a type of vegetarian diet that excludes meat, eggs, dairy products, and all other ingredients of animal origin. Also, many vegans do not eat foods made with animal products, such as refined white sugar and some wines. Vegan refers to a person who follows this diet. Most vegans expand the definition of veganism and go beyond just eating. Vegans are also likely to avoid the use of, and not purchase all of the personal and household products tested on animals They deprive the use of all animal-derived non-food products such as leather, fur, and wool. The vegan diet has grown in popularity considerably over the last few years. It is being adopted by various people because of its health and environmental benefits.

WHAT DO VEGANS EAT?

A vegan diet includes all of the grains, beans, legumes, vegetables, fruits, and the almost infinite amount of foods that can be obtained by combining them. In addition, there are many vegan versions of well-known foods, so vegans can eat vegan hot dogs, ice cream, cheese, non-dairy yogurt, and vegan mayo in addition to the more famous veggie burgers and other meat substitutes as vegan recipes made from chicken. Many foods have been linked to veganism, including soy milk, non-dairy milk substitutes, nutritional yeast, and hemp tofu, which is made entirely from hemp seeds. Fermented foods are also popular with a vegan diet. Tempeh is a fermented soy product that also comes in a sprouted version that is largely considered whole foods and a good substitute for tofu. Fermented products like miso, kimchi, and sauerkraut are also encouraged in vegan diets.

BENEFITS OF GOING VEGAN

Environmental Benefits:

1. Save Animals

2. Combat World Hunger

3. Saves Water

4. Improves Soil Quality

5. Saves Trees

6. Reduces Energy Consumption

7. Air Purification

8. Eco-Friendly Meat is a Myth

9. Ethical

10. Healthier for Humans

Health Benefits:

1. Rich in the nutrients

2. Reduces risk of suffering from cancer and other diseases

3. Helps prevent Type-2 Diabetes

4. Reduces the Pain of Arthritis

5. Lowers blood sugar levels and improves kidney function

6. Lowers risk of heart disease

7. Helps to loosen excessive weight and unhealthy fats.

HOW VEGANISM IS DIFFERENT AND WHAT DIFFERENCE WOULD IT MAKE?

Many times, when contemplating changing your lifestyle about something, you ask yourself “what difference would it make?” Whether it's about changing your daily routine or making a resolution you ask yourself "What difference would I make?" But, in the case of going vegan, the answer is a huge difference.

We all know the way meat is made isn't pretty, but what many people fail to consider is the extent to which switching to veganism can save these animals. If you only eat vegan for one month, you can save the lives of 30 animals. That's basically one animal a day that can be saved from this cruel fate simply by going vegan. Animal lives aren't the only things that a vegan diet could save. We are all also aware of the massive climate change we are currently experiencing. Animal husbandry is the main cause of climate change. The production of meat and dairy products uses a lot of land and water. Living vegan for a month would not only save 30 animal lives, but also save 620 pounds of harmful carbon emissions, 913 square feet of forest, and 33,481 gallons of water.

Veganism would have a long-term effect on the environment. By opting for a plant-based diet you would also be a part of the large collection of people who are reducing demand for meat, dairy, and eggs. According to some studies, "Veganism has grown by a staggering 360% in the last decade in the UK alone and the demand for vegan products has increased by 92 % in Australia over the last few years."

People often undermine the impact their lifestyle change can have on others. When your family and friends see you going vegan, it will pique their curiosity. They will ask you what motivated you, how difficult it is, and various such questions. The most important lesson from this is that "EVERY INDIVIDUAL PERSON IS IMPORTANT". It can be difficult to see the real effects of something seemingly small like veganism, but the bigger picture is inspiring.

[elsewhereuniversity]

Why You Should Wear Boots after Picking a Major You Didn’t Want

A university is a place where dreams are thrown away.

Such is the case far too often. It remains Real even between the railroad, highway and train tracks. Even there, people interrogate themselves: ‘This is your dream, but is it realistic? How much is the starting salary? Look at your classmates, elegantly breezing over what you clawed through, tooth and nail. Look at your competitors––’

So many choose to drown their dreams themselves… even though, at Elsewhere University, the dead do not rest quietly. The Wild Hunt is proof of that. Yes, that Wild Hunt, which rides across campus when the fog rolls in. We all know the versions in which they hunt for students unlucky (or unbelieving) enough to be outside when the hounds begin baying. Stay inside, stay quiet, and you’ll be all the better for it, if they ignore you.

What about the other versions, though? What about the versions in which it is best to open your windows and howl back? There are tales like that, too––

Sometimes, those brave enough to shout along with the Wild Hunt will be rewarded with a share of prey or gold. Those kind enough to repair a lost hunter’s sled soon discover this to be the right choice, for upon closer inspection, the hounds are not just hounds. Their bones are laden heavy with wrath.

And sometimes, villagers tell tales of a cloaked rider on a white horse. Horseshoes spark against the night breeze. He will ask you to play an impossible game of tug-of-war. If you are wise, you will tie the other end of the rope to a sturdy oak. The leader of the Hunt likes clever little things. He might even drop a reward in your boot.

Perhaps this is why you see students wearing boots for a while after they declare their majors. Even Magenta (who got her name from always wearing high-heeled loafers of that particular shade) and Ma-Boi-Blanche (who has 17 pairs of white sneakers) wore boots back then. Rumor has it, according to a friend of a roommate of a Forbidden Major, that this footwear will help you abandon your misery.

When the Wild Hunt rides as a group, they come to condemn. The RAs are not wrong in telling you to run for safety when the fog descends.

On the other hand, when the leader of the Hunt appears alone, he comes to test. In this more benign (but not safe, never safe) form, 4% meet a bedraggled man, 2% a king of old, 3% a specimen of demon (the Christian subspecies), 6% a harlequin, and 5% a sledder with a thick Mecklenburg accent.

84% of those who have survived the encounter say that the leader of the Hunt wears a cloak and a wide hat that partially hides his eyes (one of which is duller than the other). He gallops in on a splendid white horse.

95% of those who survived the encounter were wearing boots (one of them was wearing spatterdashes over court shoes, but eh, close enough).

100% of the survivors say that you must be ready to be tested. Be kind, clever, daring. If you are all that––and wary, wise, lucky too––the leader of the Hunt will let you go and stuff something in your boot. A post-it, on which is written the major that they chose, yet hated with every fibre of their being.

Now, put the boot back on and walk. It may be a bit awkward to walk around, what with the paper writhing under your feet, but do so anyway. Every student who has tried it reports that when they got back to their dorms, the paper had vanished from beneath their soles. In its place, they had gained a floating sensation, grafted in their bones.

By the end of the year, Ma-Boi-Blanche and Professor Redd were chattering away like old friends. The Professor had to admit that his student wasn’t very good at dissections, but there was an unmistakable passion for anatomy in his eyes, and he would improve soon. (Very soon, especially with Professor Redd’s talent of acquiring practice bodies, his jaunty hat growing redder with every new specimen.)

On the other side of campus, the law majors learned to listen for the click-clack of high-heeled loafers. Woe betide the unlucky people who faced off against Magenta, who suddenly threw herself into mock trials with gusto. Her opponents gained a Pavlovian fear response to seeing any shade of pink.

This did not go ignored. The Involved went up to the two, in order to warn them.

“The Gentry do not offer things for free,” they said. “And intelligence isn’t cheap. What in Morganwode did you pay?”

To which the ones who met the Huntsman merely laughed, because they weren’t any smarter. The only difference was that now, they were interested in the subjects they found so odious before.

In the old tales, a satisfied rider of the Wild Hunt will reward a human with meat. The person will walk back home in the dark, one shoe on and one shoe off, the boot growing heavier with every step. Once home, they will see that the raw, bloody meat has transformed into gold.

There are a few who still receive this, not always in the payment of gold, but in blessings. (Childe House’s oldest RA is one of them, which explains why the once-every-305-days evacuation has a 100% success rate, even when half a dozen residents don’t understand what a “mandatory house meeting” or a “fire drill” is.)

  Which begs the question: why does the leader of the Hunt help so many?

Rewards are meant to be given to the exceptional few. Yet the unhappy are not part of these few. Given the number of students with newfound rapture in their eyes, one does not need to be exceptionally kind, clever, or daring to transfer their passions. Just wary, wise, and lucky are enough.

When asked, the leader of the Wild Hunt proclaimed that such a spell is child’s play. We’ve already provided the ingredients: two subjects and a passion. The price is low because all he needs to do is to sever the interest from one subject, then attach it to another. Simple work, he said. He would never think of charging so much for something he could do before breakfast. It is not befitting a warrior. Think of it as a favour from a father to his children, he said, then laughs as if there is a joke here that no one else understands.

There are more people who understand than he might think, for the more competent members of the Forbidden Major have another theory. Anyone with passing knowledge of folklore would be able to recognize this person at a glance, they say (quietly, and never to the Huntsman’s face). He is the amalgamation of ghost, fae and old god.

The first rider of the Wild Hunt might be, depending on the amount of fertilizer on the campus lawn and the moon phase, the oldest warrior poet. There are less battlefields for him to watch over now, but still he is song and madness. Still, he is overcome with fury when he sees yet another soldier buckle before the fight has begun.

This child would have made a fine skald. That child could have become a brilliant shield-maiden. This one had the makings of a king, yet they chose to push these futures away, he said through clenched teeth. These children began to think there was nothing left. They started to look at the pond and that single eighth-floor window which could open all the way.

This is not a battlefield, but… to give up before the horn sounds, under his watch?

Unforgivable, he said, with an unblinking smile, all teeth and lone glittering eye. To despair is to slander my hundred names.

So the leader of the Hunt casts a few spells here, a little trickery there, and coaxes the bright frenzy back in their eyes, or so the Forbidden Majors whisper. The price is only low because of who and why he is. He helps them so they can die more valiantly, another day.

  Think of it as a favour from a father to his children, he says, then laughs as if there is a joke here that no one else understands. This is despite the fact that half the Forbidden Majors and a fifth of the Literature Majors know who he is.

(Not that they would reveal that, ever. The all-father’s wrath is a terrible thing.)

  Addendum:

Statistics unavailable for those who encountered the Wild Hunt’s leader alone, while not wearing boots. Mythological references, as well as the Sword-House valet’s intuition, imply it is better not to know.

[Author’s Note]

I did not intend “Why You Should Wear Boots after Picking a Major You Didn’t Want” to be so long. Do pardon me.

There is much debate over the identity of the Wild Hunt’s leader. My personal favourite theory is that the leader is Odin, or some variant of him, which this submission is based on. Still, I couldn’t resist hinting at the others:

“Bedraggled man” = multiple stories, in which the Hunt’s leader is any hunter who preferred hunting to going to church, or else slandered a certain god

“King of old” = Arawn

“Harlequin” = in Vitalis’ Ecclesiastical History Vol. 2 (1140), Hellequin/Herlequin is the herald of a Wild- Hunt-esque procession of tortured souls. There is also King Herla.

“Sledder with a thick Mecklenburg accent” = Frau Gauden

-Louis