#pigs makes sense because they eat more vegetables

[duckbunny]

today's weird question: horses eat grass and grain and cows eat grass and grain so why does their muck smell different

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I was reading your tweel analyses posts and came across the little blurb of Floyd and Jade eating octopus in front of Azul and seemingly relishing in it because it might unsettle him and they're little shits. their fave foods having octopus in them makes sense since it's part of a diet of moray eels

here's a question I don't see many asking: does Azul eat octopus dishes? I think everyone is aware that octopus can (and do) cannibalize each other (even self-cannibalize) but he is still an octopus merman. do you think the animal based mers like the octatrio view the animals they share similarities with as a completely separate species from them and therefore not care when eating them? or is it sort of like a human and big ape thing, where it is highly uncomfortable and generally frowned upon?

[Referencing this post!]

I think Azul refrains from eating octopus himself! The reasoning being that… well, it’s really a gut feeling that’s informed by my observations of the Octatrio’s interactions.

If he looked annoyed watching the twins eat octopus, then that indicates he feels a certain way in that scenario—a discomfort or irritation which would then extend to his own dietary habits. If Azul did eat octopus, then why should he take issue with his peers doing the same? If both moray eels and octopus dine on octopus, why would he only be distressed in one scenario and not the other? Why would Jade and Floyd go out of their way to eat tons of octopus in front of Azul and bring up mentions of how delicious his merform is, if not to tease and unnerve him?

I do think that merpeople view non-sentient sea creatures they share traits with as separate beings in the food chain. This is why the twins can eat regular ol’ octopus without an issue. However, I also think that eating a creature that is of the same “type” as you (ie Azul and an octopus) is seen as morally wrong, as they too closely resemble the merpeople in question. This would be similar to how humans are fine with eating cow, pig, and chicken, but are far less willing to consume primates. It’s the “human” part of them—of us—our consciouses calling out to us and letting us know “hey, this is wrong”. The only thing I can really find to support this is how Jade says his least favorite food is a conger eel. (But his dialogue suggests he has tried it before and doesn't like the texture.) He and Floyd are morays, which is a different kind of eel... So does that imply that eating others is okay (ie other kinds of eels) so long as they aren't your exact species (morays for the twins)?

Merpeople may be part man and part fish, but I believe they are mainly human with additional fish traits and attributes; their thinking and behaviors are still very human, so I feel they share some similarities with humans in their moral and ethical codes.

The difficulty with half human/half animal fantasy races is that there will always be the debate of how much their animalistic side plays into their behaviors and how much of that can be overridden by their human side. For example, just because Leona is a lion beastman doesn’t mean he can’t eat vegetables, he just does not like them. This is in spite of lions being carnivores (ie exclusively dining on meat). We also see (or it is implied) many merfolk and beastmen eating food that would harm or kill their non-sentient counterparts (such as candy and chocolates during Halloween; you’d think they would otherwise express repulsion if offered what is basically poison to them). The “beastial” TWST characters in general don’t seem too strict on their food intake (specialized diets for athletes aside), so my guess is that their intakes lean more toward the omnivorous intakes of humans rather than the diet prescribed by the animals that are a part of them. After all… if Azul ate octopus, bro would be nomming on his own arm or something (since auto-cannibalism is a thing among octopus) 😭

Side note: Azul considers eating squid ink pasta in book 3. This is probably the closest we'll get to seeing him "eating octopus". Makes me think that it's acceptable to eat like... body parts and byproducts of other animals but not of the same species as you (ie chicken hearts vs human hearts).

Imagine walking in on that though????? I’d say, “Sorry to disturb you, sir! I’ll see myself out now,” then slowly shut the door and back away…

[nine-of-words]

Out in the Cold (Part Five)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3631

Content Warnings: None

Sorry for such a long gap, I had a crippling bout of writer’s block and then it was suddenly a month later. But I’m pleased to announce I haven’t forgotten how to write :)

You look down warily at the creature scratching at the base of the tree you’re perched in.

This little guy is nothing like that one scary hexopard etched in your memory- the one that supplied the material for your beloved winter cloak. 

You sigh at the sight of the creature’s plush fur. You left that cloak behind when you fled the settlement, despite it being one of your favorite belongings. It just didn't feel right to take it with you after… everything… but the biting cold is really making you wish you had caved and brought it along anyway. 

This smaller hexopard’s scavenging around for food at its leisure, driven to snack on anything it can get its hands on easily to bulk up for the coming hibernation, but it’s not in a hurry. 

Because it’s not currently driven mad by post-hibernation hunger and aggression, you can probably distract it enough that it won’t view you as a tasty morsel to snack on and you’ll be able to slip away. You just need something enticing enough to hold its interest…

Then, looking down at its twitching nose, you realize that its sensitive sense of smell has probably picked up on the dried venison jerky in your pack. Your theory is all but confirmed when you pull out the pouch where your rations are from within, and you swear you can see its eyes light up.

“Alright, buddy. Follow these and not me, okay?” You say, looking for a good place to toss them. Then, you wind up your arm as best you can in your position, and chuck the pouch into the woods in the opposite direction.

The hexopard immediately lets off the tree and lumbers after the pouch, tail swishing behind it as it loudly crashes unbidden through the underbrush.

After a few moments of observation, you slip down the tree gingerly, hoping to not become more interesting than the alluring scent of dried meat. When you get to the bottom, you’re relieved to see the creature so fully engrossed in your ration pouch that you might as well not exist any longer, its snout fully covered as it roots in the opening of the leather. You sneak off quietly while you still have the chance. 

Once you get far enough away, you resume your trek at a faster pace. After another hour or so of traveling, you grin from ear to fluffy ear as the sight of the river comes into view. 

Salvation.

Your pace picks up without you even thinking about it, your morale boosted by something going right for once. Your tail curls behind you in a delight.

You’re not exactly thrilled at having to give up your only food supplies; yet you’re alive and no longer lost, and that seems like a pretty good trade-off.

Now, all that’s left is to follow the river back to town. Then, this whole ordeal will be over. You’ll be back to your old life, though now enjoying the increase in station in the guild pulling off such a momentous task surely will earn you. Who knows, maybe they’ll even splurge on a feast to celebrate! 

Now that does sound good right now.

Think about something else, you urge yourself. You need to force yourself to stop, lest your mouth start watering. Anything else… The grumbling of your stomach is distracting enough already. 

But it’s no use, you’ve fallen down the mental rabbit hole, and now only thinking of all the things you’d like to eat when you get back. You’re swept up in thoughts of whole roasted suckling pig and honeyed chestnut sweetbread… braised venison with cherry glaze and grilled root vegetables… seeded crackers with soft cheese and over-slathered with homemade berry jam… 

Hell, you’ll even take marinated eggs right now…

You wipe your mouth on your sleeve. It takes you a moment for it to sink in, but those are all things that you’ve been eating at the stronghold that you’re craving, not things you miss from home. All of your memories of food you miss from the past are so fuzzy. It’s hard to remember anything of note, past vague, smeared memories of nostalgic meals you ate when you were very young.

And when you get back… you probably won’t eat Orcish food again. At least not for a while.

It’s… fine.

You’ll be home, soon. And you won’t have to think about any of this ever again.

LAST SPRING

“Surely there’s something I can help you with.” Your tail swishes in agitation behind you, a clearly visible indicator of your emotional state. “You’re just being difficult.”

“Urgh- Don’t you have something better to do than bug me?” Torg rumbles, running his good hand down his face in annoyance. "Work to finish? Anything?"

His arm is still in a sling from the hunting incident. And true to his nature, he's being an absolute ass about accepting any help.

"I've already filled my quota today." You say smugly, hands planted on your hips. It's one of the rare days you've finished early and without incident, and you're quite pleased with yourself about it.

"Good, you should be off enjoying the nice weather while it’s here, rather than nagging me in this stuffy office."

"Just let me help you, you stubborn oaf!" You lean over the desk, slapping your hands down on the papers in front of him. Your loosely laced shirt hangs off you a bit with the movement. The new clothes you had made for the warm weather don’t quite fit you as close as you typically wear your shirts- the tailors here still aren’t quite used to your non-orc proportions.

Torg simply stares down at you in perturbed silence. You’ve gotten much more comfortable with the way you communicate with Torg since the hunting trip, but he is your superior. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far..

"...Torg?"

"...Fine." He grumbles, now looking at anything but you.

He really must be prideful if accepting your help makes him this uncomfortable…

"Shop taxes are due, but I don't think I'll have time to visit each one today." He makes a list of names on a sheet of paper. "You can knock out some of the collections for me."

"You're trusting me with handling funds?" You scoff.

"When you put it like that you're really making me second guess it." He chuckles, but slides the paper across to you nonetheless. "But I do trust you, if you can believe it. They'll already have the gold ready in pouches. You just have to collect them and bring them back here."

"Alright. Leave it to me." You take the paper with a grin, filled with a sense of victory at having convinced him to let you help.

He grunts and goes back to what he was doing. 

You can barely refrain from rubbing your hands together in glee on your way out. If the big man of the settlement trusts you with funds of all things, it looks like you're making progress towards your goal. Maybe having a reason to poke around more shops will give you more of an idea of where the item you're looking for is…

The first stop is close enough: a short walk to the tailor's shop, nearby in the middle of the settlement.

"Good afternoon ladies!" You say cheerily as you enter the colorful shop. Granny Ghorza is taking a break from her loom, sweeping the floor instead. She's become one of your favorite orcs here; she’s a funny old bat and makes the best sweets in the whole settlement, to boot. "The good looks must really run in the family."

Her young adult granddaughter manning the counter balks a little at the blatant flirting, but gives you a courteous smile. She's a nice enough woman, though shy and a bit forgettable. Her name eludes you at the moment…

"Mmhm, and how are your new spring shirts fitting dearie? I might have to add some modesty stitches if you're going to wear it unlaced like that, ohohoh!" She cackles, using the broom handle to pull at the front of your partially open, billowy shirt. "Looks a little breezy, you might catch a cold- or worse, someone’s attention, eheheh!”

"Ahah- They fit perfectly fine, thank you!" You act scandalized, pinching the gaping collar closed and pressing the broom handle away, before you turn to approach the counter.

"Um, what brings you here today? I don't think you have any orders waiting to be picked up..." Ghorza's granddaughter says meekly with a polite smile, looking through the ledger book at the counter. "Your items are… hard to forget, since they don't use up much fabric…"

"Ah, I'm here to collect your tax dues." You explain. "Since Boss is still healing."

"Oh. So… He isn't coming today, then…?" The young woman asks, in a curiously forlorn tone.

"Afraid not. Though, I assure you I am perfectly capable of safely transporting a gold pouch." You say and let out a friendly laugh.

"I see, I see. About time the man let someone give him a hand once in a while." Ghorza gives you a toothless smile. "Would you be a dear get him the dues, Murgol? The pouch is ready in the top drawer."

Murgol twists the hem of her shirt in her hands in displeasure, looking like she's about to break into tears at any moment. Then her lip quivers, and she unceremoniously flees the room, sniffling.

There’s an awkward moment of silence that seems to stretch out far too long for your liking before Ghorza speaks again.

"Mmgh, that girl…" Ghorza shakes her head in reproach. 

"Is she… going to be alright?" Clearly something upset her quite badly, but you don't think you said anything that egregious… "I hope I didn't offend her…?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. She's sensitive when things don't go her way, but she'll live." She shuffles behind the counter, hobbling into her granddaughter's previous spot. "Let me get you the gold, dearie."

You leave the tailor shop, eating a slice of candied apricot-studded sweetbread that Ghorza definitely forced on you and you only took because you were guilted into taking. You scratch the tailor’s family name off your list as you reflect on the strange interaction with the seamstresses. 

You like to think you're quite astute when it comes to social intelligence, but you just can't put your finger on what may have been the trigger of her outburst.

Oh well. Perhaps she's just going through something personal?

You put the interaction out of your mind and head to the next place on your list.

You walk into the blacksmith's next. Luckily she doesn't seem to be too busy as the shop is currently devoid of customers, with her hammering out something at the anvil.

You’ve been friendly with her ever since prepping for the hunting trip. Apparently Lurog and her are good friends, and she was kind enough to let you use her shop to create the arrowheads you needed for your trial. You buy them directly from her now, chatting a while every time you come to replenish your supply.

"Hello Burzgob," You speak up so she can hear above the metal clanking. "Amazing job you're doing there."

“Thanks, little guy. I'm guessing you're not here to buy? Don’t think you used up all those arrowheads from the other day already. …At least I hope."

"Nope, I'm here to collect tax dues. I'm helping Boss out since he's still injured. Two hands better than one, or so they say."

She guffaws, setting the hammer down and pulling her gloves off before wiping her hands on her apron.

"Oh, damn. I was expecting him to be the one to drop by." She rubs her cheek with the back of her hand, still managing to smear soot there as well. “Bummer.”

"Spirits, you're not the first to feel that way today!" You say in exasperation. "I'm starting to think no one wants to see me…"

"Hahah! Nothing personal, trust me!" She grins and pats your shoulder, getting soot on your shirt as well. "Had something I needed to ask him."

"Oh, I see." You nod, and without missing a beat, nonchalantly add; "About what?"

"Hah! So nosy! Sorry, little guy. I like you, but it's a secret."

"Drat. Well, I tried…" You let out a performative sigh and shrug.

"Hey, uh… you're pretty close with Boss though, right?"

…Are you…?

You hadn't really considered it before, but over the course of training and especially after the hunting trip, you've definitely gotten used to his presence. You have something akin to a friendship now; or at least, what must look like one from a spectator's point of view. He’s quick to help you with anything, but he seems to be that way with all of the people in his charge. Though, at the very least, he trusts you enough to let you help him with this task, when asking for help with his own tasks seems to be something he does very seldomly..

"I suppose you could say that." You conclude.

"Can you deliver something to him for me, since you're going back there anyway?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"Great! I owe you one, bud." Burzgob's face lights up as she grins, the silver caps on her tusks glinting. She returns and hands you a tied bundle with a letter tucked under the string. It smells like perfume. "Uh, promise you won’t read it, okay?"

You fervently promise you won’t, then bid her goodbye and leave the blacksmith's.

You have a similar experience at the tanner's, then the baker’s… and then the chandler’s…

Somehow, this seemingly easy task has left you feeling like a withered corpse. Luckily for you, however, seeing which family runs the last business on the list fills you with a sense of ease. 

The shop bell jingles as you enter, and you’re immediately awash with the pleasant scent of soap, as well as a heady mix of any sort of cosmetic salve, wax or powder you can think up.

Your self care routine took a little adjustment, being out in the wilds, now. So many of their products were completely foreign to you at first. But despite the slight learning curve, you’ve honestly never felt better. You weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself while hopping from flophouse to flophouse that belonged to your guild; you barely had the resources to keep yourself fed, let alone buying overpriced soaps and perfumes. But here, things aren’t too expensive, despite being handmade and about as locally sourced as something can be.

Lurog is sitting behind the counter of her family's salon, seemingly counting out the till while the shop is closing down for the evening around her.

"Hey." If she's surprised to see you, she doesn't show it. "We're closed. But if you want your hair done I can do it for you when I'm done here."

"Oh, is that Boss?" You hear one of Lurog's several younger sisters call out from farther inside the shop.

"Is he finally here?!" Another one chimes in and peeks her head around the divider.

"No! False alarm." A third one sweeping her station sighs. "Just the little kitty cat."

You quirk an eyebrow at the reception, but everyone but Lurog has gone back to chatting over their tasks.

"I might just take you up on that offer, I'm getting a little scraggly… Not what I'm here for, though. Boss sent me to collect your dues."

Lurog nods in understanding, but your attention is on the loud, spirited gossiping in the shop behind her as the women discuss their displeasure at this development amongst themselves.

"Don't mind them." Lurog shakes her head in admonishment. "They're just mad because they wanted the chance to flirt with Boss."

“Flirt?” You scoff. “Taxes really get their motors running, huh?”

“Hah.” Lurog rolls her eyes. “No, they’re just all desperate to find men to torment.”

"Oh." You say, wheels starting to turn in your head. "Do you think that's what's going on with everywhere else I've stopped today too…?"

"Wouldn't doubt it. Boss would be a catch for a lot of the women in the stronghold." Lurog says simply, retrieving the gold pouch and sliding it to you over the counter. "Midsummer festival's coming up. Big time for romance. But Boss is either real picky or just not into it. Hasn’t taken any of them up on the offer yet… But he also hasn’t explicitly turned anyone down.”

“Ah, but then… Why are they all still asking? Wouldn’t he just ask who he’d like to and be done with it, if he wanted to court anyone?”

“Because with orcs it’s up to the one that’s gonna be taking it-“ She smirks and makes an incredibly crude gesture with her hands. “To ask to start the courtship, or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Really now?” You feel your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Why is that?”

“Unh-uh.” Lurog shrugs. ”Just how we do it, I guess." 

Well, that certainly explains why you haven’t been getting invitations to share anyone’s bed, despite being as gorgeous and alluring as you are. What would a full-fledged orc want from you, with so many massive, hunky orc men around to choose from?

But that means you have the power to try to lure a man in.

Hmm… if you were to ask out one of the right orcs, you might have better access to off limits areas for your search…

Lurog must notice the spark of an idea in your eye of how to use your newfound power, because she quickly adds; "You should wait until the festival to harass any men. Better success rate."

“You know, you’re actually very helpful when you want to be.” You grin at her. “It’s a shame you don’t often want to be.”

“Thanks.” She snorts in a deadpan tone. “I wish I could say the same.”

You finish your friendly ribbing with Lurog, more than ready to haul back the large rucksack of gold and the almost nearly as large, cumbersome pile of offerings for Torg, and be done with this task.

You can't help but get into your own head about what's happened during this excursion while you make your way back. You can feel the irritation growing the more you dwell on it, your tail twitching behind you. 

All of the shop owners on your list were women. Specifically, women that seem to be interested in Torg. It seems far too unlikely to be a coincidence- you doubt that many of the shops in the settlement are run by eligible women fawning over Torg.

More importantly, why does it upset you so much? 

Jealousy…?  Because you’re lonely?

It must be that- because he apparently has a queue of women asking to court him when none of the male orcs in the settlement even look at you twice.

…Right. That must be all it is.

You're still a bit grumpy about it as you return to Torg's office.

"Here you are." You set down the pack with the gold pouches inside and the bundle of gifts on his desk with a heavy sigh. 

"Thanks for the help." He says, then noticing your clearly negative mood, he looks up from his task. "I hope it wasn't too much of a pain."

"No, it was easy enough.” You grumble, and go on to quip as you nonchalantly examine your cuticles; “Though… if you wanted me to host a meeting of your fanclub, you could've just asked."

"That bad?" He looks genuinely sheepish, scratching the edge of his beard.

"It was pretty bad." You put your hands on your hips, deciding that you'll give him a bit more of a hard time. "A lot of disappointed ladies giving me shit for not being you."

"I'm sorry. If I knew it would bother you, I wouldn't have given you that task."

"Apology accepted, but it seems…” You make a noise in disgust. “A tad unkind to lead so many people on like this, doesn’t it? It's not like you at all."

"I'm- Ugh. I'm not leading anyone on. At least I'm not trying to-" He runs a hand through his hair in discomfort. "I am Chieftain, I can't have so many of my people holding a grudge against me for rejecting them romantically. It would be disruptive, so I thought it would be best for me to just ignore any of these crushes some of the younger women have on me."

"It must be difficult being so popular with the ladies…" You say dryly.

"Hey, poke fun all you want, but it can be. Someone will be hurt regardless of what choice I make."

"Why not… Oh, I don’t know… pick one, then, and get it over with? Then the ones you don't pick can accept it and move on, rather than holding onto false hope."

"It's not that simple…"

"It sure seems like it is!" You chuckle. "How is it not the simplest thing?"

"Because I am not interested in any of them."

"You're telling me you have your pick of half of the young, gorgeous Orcish women in this stronghold throwing themselves at your feet," You lean over the desk and gesture to the bag of offerings on his desk. "And not one of them meets your standards?"

"No." He says heavily, clearly weary from the ongoing nature of this conversation. “Are you satisfied? Can you end this interrogation now?”

"...Okay." You relent, incredulous, but still accept his words. You've grilled him enough, you suppose.

A small smile has taken up residence on your face.  Did you really enjoy hassling him that much…?

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[loominggaia]

Do trolls have anything akin to cuisine and traditional dishes? Just because you can eat just about anything doesn't mean it has to be presented with no flair. :D I suppose same question for minotaurs. Are there any foods other races go out of their way to try from either of these groups (besides minotaur milk)?

They certainly do! Trolls are in a unique position where they can eat damn near anything without consequence, even foods that are totally raw, filthy, or rotten. But what's even more unique is the fact that they like the taste of nasty, rotten food!

A troll's sense of smell and taste oppose that of most peoples'. By that I mean, smells and tastes that other peoples find pleasant are usually unpleasant to trolls, and vice versa. Taste is subjective, but we can agree that 99% of humans would retch if they put a rotten egg in their mouth. Meanwhile, the average troll can--and will--happily devour it, and enjoy it much more than a fresh egg.

Because of this, trolls have developed many unique dishes that only their species can safely eat. I will warn you, some of the following text is really disgusting. So if you get grossed out easily, consider skipping the rest of the post.

With that said, let's take a look some of these troll-specific dishes from around the world!

Redge: A rotten egg slathered in bitter herbs.

Plopslop: The manure of a herbivorous animal, boiled down into a soup with half-composted vegetables added.

Grrsi: Fresh meat is inoculated with fly eggs, which hatch and partially digest the meat over time. The meat becomes infested with the fat grubs, which are the main attraction of the dish.

Urizluuk: The urine of a male goat, fermented for months in an alcoholic fruit broth. This is a popular drink dating back to ancient times.

Akwi: Raw fish heads, left to dry in the sun until they smell putrid. Sometimes akwi is made with clams or some other sealife instead.

Dukleka: Garlic is force-fed to rats over the course of many days, then rats are fed to a pig-hawk, which has its rear-end sewn shut. The garlicky rats ferment in its GI tract until the bird dies of bloat, then its stomach and intestines are removed and eaten as a delicacy.

Zlub: This is not a meal in itself, but a sauce made from boiled slug slime and rancid onions. It's added to other foods to give it a slimy, repulsive texture that trolls love.

Volzkriz: Animal blubber (traditionally from a walrus or whale) is boiled down into a liquid and then left to cool, forming a hard block of fat. This can be eaten fresh, but it said to taste better the more rancid it gets.

There are lots more, but I'm sure you get the idea...Even ogres, who can tolerate rancid corpses, will be sickened by some of the things on this list. This gives trolls a serious survival advantage over other species.

As for minotaurs, they are a lot less tolerant of rotten foods. However, they can tolerate tough fibers which are undigestible by most peoples. This includes things like raw grass, bark, and woody vegetation. Even trolls struggle to digest these fibers unless they compost them down to a softer form, but minotaurs can eat them fresh, no preparation needed. This is also quite a big survival advantage.

Minotaurs have quite an affinity for fresh grass, and some of them can get quite snobby about it. There are many debates about which type of grass is best for taste and health, and how best to prepare it. Cooked or raw? Some insist that cooking the grass is culinary heresy, and its subtle flavors should be enjoyed in their purest form as nature intended. There are common grasses which are considered "peasant food" and other, rarer species which are enjoyed by royalty.

Grass is a big meme in Etios Nation. Even the Etiosi make fun of themselves for their apparent cultural obsession with grass, and it certainly hasn't gone unnoticed by foreigners. "Go eat some grass" is a common insult hurled towards minotaurs worldwide.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[noxexistant]

Vanilla, lemon and patchouli for Oscar (fragrance ask game?)

thank you so much for the ask! god i love talking about oscar

vanilla: what is a food or scent that carries a lot of nostalgia for them? how do they feel if they smell it now?

anything relating to the farm is the closest to nostalgia oscar experiences. old wood, fresh mud, cigarette smoke, cheap alcohol. laundry that’s been left for too long and now smells like mildew or stale air, but also smells clean underneath that. he gets hit with a wave of something when he passes horses in the streets and smells them, and would get the same tenfold if he ever passed cows or chickens or anything of the like, but thankfully he hasn’t seen any since they left the farm. he won’t go anywhere near farms anymore, sticks near the city centre, and keeps morris there with him.

in terms of food, it’s fresh vegetables as they’re chopped, then the fouler smell as they’re boiled into stew. the roasting of meat every now and then, cut from a slaughtered pig or cow, that only pa would get to eat. the sweet smell of fresh berries that he and mo would only get to eat if they picked them themselves - or, more accurately, oscar picked them, because morris was always too clumsy to avoid the thorns. plain dough as their ma kneaded it and rolled it out, the soggy parts even after it’d been cooked that oscar’d eat right through and eat morris’ share of too as he picked them out of his own small plateful.

the memories with morris happy attached are the only ones with remotely positive emotions triggered when oscar’s reminded of them. he still picks a few berries for the both of them if he sees any, and tries not to think about how the juice on his hands always looks like blood, instead focusing on the sweet smell and the sour taste. he always makes sure not to leave the stew boiling too long so the smell doesn’t turn all melded and foul, instead ensuring it stays vivid and healthy. he dries the laundry properly, and uses the soap morris likes.

linking in—

lemon: what is something seemingly inconsequential that can put them in a bad mood for the rest of the day?

a smell - or any sense - attached to a bad memory, or just a memory of worse times, is a surefire way to send oscar right into a vicious bad mood. passing someone smoking the same brand that pa used to, smelling ma’s favourite drink on the breath of someone he’s beating to the ground, smelling farm air clinging to a person’s dirty clothes.

oscar is also very easily triggered by morris. he tries to keep it hidden, but little things like morris flinching away from him or slapping his hands away or outright lashing out at him rattles him to his core. having morris separated from him also has him off for the whole day, it takes him hours of having morris back for him to feel levelled again.

being snapped at or shown disapproval by someone with power over him. being unable to get his usual brand of cigarettes. being unable to keep an eye on morris exactly how he needs to.

patchouli: what sort of outdoor activities do they enjoy most? do they get the chance to do that activity often?

oscar likes fighting. fighting outdoors in the filthy streets is his favourite, and he gets the chance to do it near every day of his life. but he also likes playing with dogs, the big strays he’ll occasionally come across - particularly when morris goes off to “talk to the dog” and oscar has no choice but to follow him - that can hold their own in a game of tug of war or near knock him over when he lets their heads and they throw themselves at him for more.

he likes football, but he only got the chance to play a few times in school. he likes finding quiet places outdoors, little alcoves and courtyards, where he can sit and smoke and maybe just spend time with morris. he loves people watching, just standing somewhere with a smoke and his shoulder against a wall while he watches all the people that pass. he likes wandering and exploring, just mindlessly taking in the world for once, but he’s too wired to ever really get the chance.

(he hates climbing up high, even on the fire escapes, but morris loves it and oscar’ll follow him anywhere, especially to keep him safe. he hates swimming, even though he knows how, and always holds onto morris when they’re crossing the brooklyn bridge.)

[harrison-abbott]

All the eyes are whirling and dancing and they slip the calories into their mouths. You could be living on Pluto for all the presence you bring: they do not care that you’re alive; they’re only talking about the neighbourhood gossip from twenty years back – when the streets were still apricot and there were no mobile phones, when the internet hadn’t even started yet [this being the early 1990s, the best time in history: that final time to save the planet; where consumerism overtook the Western world; when the politicians gave their power to the markets]. They eat. Take the piss out of the neighbours. The folks they yack about are living a few hundred yards away, but the walls of the kitchen make it easy to assemble. The sluice of gravy and the roasted vegetables and of course the dead pigs and cows, all in browns and pinks and lain there in fleshy gleam, steaming, ach, those butchered animals taste so glorious, do they not. It’s not your birthday. Of course it isn’t; this is a commune of the elders: and he was a mistake child, with nae social ability, an embarrassment, an arrogant lil nobody – doesn’t matter what age he is. Then somebody offers him some gravy. He doesn’t eat that gravy because he does not eat animals. Somebody notices: “Oh no! He only touches the moral gravy!” And they all laugh – all 12 of them. 10 of the 12 are overweight and follow carcinogenic diets and drink with gusto. The other 2 are vegetarians (who will eventually become failed vegetarians) and they giggle and snort as well. It’s not his birthday. Amongst his presents are a book about a band from the 60s and when the big brother he sees it, he scoffs, rolls his eyes and says, “Oh, God, just move on!” And there’s a wooly jumper and some socks and boxers. The fire is coal fat; these golden orbs of rotten wood. What yomped humanity forward, what triggered the modern age. The boy’s age would probably witness the apocalypse, whereas his elder siblings would be just on the fringe, if not already just plucked off from cancer, or, more likely – just yet surviving on the rich leniency of the West, paow paow paow. When the super-elders are too drunk to do anything he goes into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Yes, that’s his job. Boo hoo. The siblings come in. And they touch him and tell him that they were only joking all night, only jesting, have a sense o humour, wee laddie, learn to get in the vibe of banter, for japes and jibes are how people make it through life. And the soap froths in the sink and the liquid is made up of 50 + chemicals and smells of his old primary school corridors when the cleaners came out and he was sent on errands to go and see whomever … Just as in school, he’s nothing but a high functioning autistic lad, with consciousness screaming all around him, a pressure and antagonism of which he cannot articulate. He accepts the passive aggressive apologies without accepting them. Yes, ha ho, ho ha. There is no murdered mammal in his gullet. On the iPod turret there’s a 90s band playing. And the brothers sing along to the wailed melody, though none of them know the lyrics, and nor does he. There’s a butcher’s knife by the sink, in a long lethal triangle. It could quite easily stab everybody in the room.

[perpetual-fool]

Final problem, I don't think it's plausible that I'm smart.

The final thing (I hope) implying I must be wrong is the idea that other people must be aware of the things I consider to be problems, so their disagreement must mean they know something I don't, at the least.

As an example, my meandering train of thought brought me back to Minetest, the open source Minecraft copy. One problem is the sound effects. For instance, swimming. What apparently happens is that every second the player is in the water, the 'water' sound plays. So if you hop in, swim a bit, then get out, you hear: SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH. When it should be more like: SPLASH, bwoup bwoup bwoup, FWShhh drip-drip-drip. Which is to say, instead of having only a 'thing happening' sound, there should be 'thing starting', 'thing happening', and 'thing stopping' sounds. And it took me maybe a minute at most to go from realizing something is off to figuring out why it sounds wrong.

But can't everybody do that?

They don't, obviously. But there doesn't seem to be any magic line separating that from realizing your food needs more salt. Although, new cooks have to be taught to taste their food to check if it needs salt, despite years of eating experience. So maybe something else is going on?

Maybe related, my brain is reminding me of a story. This guy thought he hated steak because while growing up his father would always cook it to charred shoe leather, and the father would get upset if he added any sort of sauce so he'd have to eat it dry. And then one day his friends dragged him to a steakhouse, the waiter asked how he wanted it cooked, he didn't know what that meant and his friend told him to get it rare. Now he loves steak. Then, the point would have to be that he believed that that's just how steak is. That would entail having no model of what happens when meat is cooked, and probably no model of what happens when things are cooked generally. There's one possibility, maybe people aren't drawing connections to related patterns. Like, if you're familiar with cooking potatoes, then you should have a pretty good idea of how to cook other root vegetables. But in my experience, people don't even learn that. Cooking is like a magic spell to them, they would never be able to understand that you can just stop boiling the spaghetti whenever it's to your liking. There would have to be no model at all.

I guess that doesn't seem plausible. Like, how do people come up with fake explanations if their actual understanding is "that's just how it is"? Like, I've just decided to stop watching this 27 minute video about how it's bad that you don't actually own the things you buy, because that's just how intellectual property works and there's no possible point to be made. But how did this guy spend nearly thirty minutes saying nothing at all? Don't you need a model to talk or act?

The way things are going, I guess the answer has to be 'no'.

So how would someone be taking action if there's nothing going on upstairs? Rote programming? Programmed by who? Mimicry, I suppose. Like, apparently pigs need to be taught what plants they can eat by other pigs. So hypothetically the programming is like: as kids they saw the adults putting salt on their food, so they copied that behavior and put salt on their own food, and discovered that they liked it. That makes sense in an evolutionary way, figuring things out would take a lot more processing power than outsourced trial and error. And it correlates with some things, like how all education actively sabotages one's ability to think. As with every human-made thing seeming to be a bad imitation of itself. It kind of is.

What about social things? Kind of important since the crux of all this is people being upset with me. If the mimicry results in a physical sensation, like a pleasant taste, that's straightforward enough. But faux sympathy for instance doesn't innately mean anything. There must be some basic things, like you'd have to have an instinct for when an animal is displaying aggression. So they'd learn things are 'correct' when they like the response. That's enough to explain people yelling at me for not being happy after they performed the 'politeness' ritual. That framing makes a lot of sense to me. Like, "insult", it's not actually doing anything it's just an arbitrary ritual. Presumably you're supposed to feel bad because the other person is expressing some kind of feeling about you. Except it's extremely rare for the 'insult' to come with any expression, which leads to the next point.

What about complex things? Like, how can I be extremely straightforward and emotionally neutral yet get interpreted as being insulting? Complex things are simple thing stuck together, so it would have to be combined simple mimic-learned patterns. So probably one instance was getting emoted at, another would've been the same pattern without the emote but with consequences. Is that sufficient to decouple the pattern from consequences? Yeah. Fine.

What about genuinely good ideas? Like, the algorithm is showing me this body builder guy who supposedly has a doctorate, and apparently he ascended from toxic gym-bro with "if you don't do X you're a PUSSY" type behavior, to having genuinely helpful advice. How do you mimic your way to that? I presume the naive approach ends up neutralizing itself with the negative consequences. And then they end up mimicking science? That fits well enough.

What about not realizing they're not understanding? Because they're not actually having the conversation. Like how they perform 'politeness' as a ritual, rather than asking what would make someone comfortable and doing that. Or like, I ask for specific information on a subject, but they interpret that as "perform the ritual of giving advice" and end up not remotely answering my question. As far as their actual thinking, I don't think they have a concept of 'being wrong'. The ritual is reality, and if you're not complying then you're just being difficult. So there is no version of people being upset with me which is materially different from my father yelling at me for being autistic.

But I'm stupid for not figuring all this out sooner. And that has to be wrong. The whole point of mimicry would be that you don't have to understand the subject. So there's not actually anything there to be figured out. And just about everything I've been told has been wrong, and not-even-wrong. Even if I was a perfect, immortal machine I still wouldn't be able to compile an accurate understanding from false information.

I'm stupid for assuming people understand what they're saying.(?) I'm still making first-glance judgments of veracity based on confidence. The alternative would be looking for a qualifier, such as "based on personal experience, my guess is…". Akin to shopping for precision parts or tools, only the most precise things list their tolerances (e.g. ±0.005"). But I've never met anyone who does that, so I've had no indication that it exists to be looked for. Second glance, it's almost always the case that what they've said is obviously wrong, yet I still believe I must not be understanding. The alternative, would be what? It can't be any form of accepting the statement first and figuring out what it means after. What remains, it'd have to be the statement type first, then filling in the parts of the statement, and if it doesn't parse then it is not considered any further. So, like working with the command line, where it's like '[command] [argument] [argument]' such as "mv butt.txt ~/Documents" (move file "butt.txt" to 'Documents' folder). And if you make a mistake it spits an error message back into your face. And back to my point, the vocabulary and organization of programming hasn't been sufficiently coherent for me to have learned it, and absolutely no one talks like that. Not even me, yet. I wouldn't have had any indication that there might be a better way, or that what everyone does might not be honest.

If I'm so smart why can't I connect? Equivalent functions may not exist, and formats may not be compatible. I don't know/remember enough to make a good analogy. But for instance, digital images are stored either as pixels (raster) or lines (vector), and some operations only work with one or the other. Like, you can scale a vector image up indefinitely, but a raster image gets blurry if you scale it beyond its original size. And in my own case, for instance, I very commonly transpose a pattern from one context to another. That's incomprehensible if your understanding consists of "things just happen".

Why can't I at least understand them? If my 'format' is so great I should be able to understand anything, even theirs. In principle, yeah. But to know what's going on in their head, there are things I can only know if they tell me. And they will never tell me because they will never understand the questions.

I'm stupid for not already being competent.(?) For instance, for not being able to keep a schedule that means I always brush my teeth at the right time, like last night when I worked into the early morning and was too tired to think. I've been misled with those things. Healthy eating for instance, I've essentially been taught that eating is morally wrong. So just willing myself not to eat as I've been taught wouldn't have worked if there wasn't any confounding factor. And there is, mainly I eat poorly because I'm using food as an antidepressant, and secondarily because I don't have the energy even to just microwave something. Others have kept me far away from the actual underlying problems.

I'm stupid for not already knowing what people want from me.(?) See the above three paragraphs. Understanding isn't possible and they've been misleading me in addition. I'd need to figure out how I need to communicate first, then they'll have to just deal with that.

I'm stupid for not being able to do things.(?) That's depression. And that mainly stems from thinking other people's claims and behavior have to make sense, and from feeling that I'm wrong if others don't approve. I'd be far more capable than average if I wasn't undermined by others' influence.

I'm a piece of shit for not having a satisfactory answer for my behavior.(?) I don't really know what I'm supposed to be answering for, hypothetically. No one's had the courtesy to explain what my offense was. Though an experience with Cat suggests it's probably something about trying to make other people feel a certain way, which is not a thing I am capable of. I don't have any way of knowing what people are feeling unless they tell me, and she kind of just dropped the subject after I explained that. Maybe Cat feels it's not my fault, but nobody else does. Regardless, I can give no answer if I don't know what the question is.

I'm still a piece of shit even if I don't know what I did.(?) (Hard to think of that as a question.) Maybe? Though as I've reasoned before, if I wanted to cause harm then I wouldn't be feeling guilty about it. So this isn't something I innately am. So this is a variant of not knowing what people want from me. And they're not going to tell me what I need to know because they're not going to understand the question. So it is wrong to hurt other by means of them deciding I mean something I'm not saying, and being unable to respond appropriately because they're not saying what they mean? It doesn't really sound like I have anything to do with it. Is it wrong to be a rock if someone else steps on you and hurts their foot? Forgive my arrogance, but I'm sure the answer to that is 'no'.

I'm sad I can't at least be useful, but that's a different problem.

So, am I smart? I am what I am. And short version, my thought processes are mostly assembled from 'functions'. Like, the type you'd know from programming. I don't feel this is anything special, but it's apparent that others don't do this. And my ideas tend to be right. So that's a nominal 'yes'.

Okay, this might be resolved. I'm going to have to try it out, and I'll probably still get a compulsive "you're a fool" until I make a new procedure for communication. But yeah, I don't see any problems left. And it'd be nice if everything suddenly made sense and I had a place in the world, but that just doesn't seem to be the world I live in.

So, yeah.

- Aside, I found that taking a break and coming back to a problem later is more productive than continuing to stress about it. Part of that is definitely that the brain may just need time to work on things. But I think in my case it's mostly that I'm running out of 'brain juice' and need to do something to replenish it. So, I want to focus and push through the problem, maybe taking hours to do so. But I'd actually get it done faster if I stopped and played games or something for awhile.

Also, I'm starting to wonder why I'm doing this, trying to explain my whole thought process. The answer has been because I'm trying to make myself understood, because I need someone to either 'correct' me or to confirm I'm not insane. So maybe I don't need to do that anymore.

[cedarxwing]

Love this analysis! Makes perfect sense in the the context of the show as a stand-alone text.

The Bedelia bath scene takes on a new layer of meaning when you've read the novel, because Hannibal is recreating one of his foundational childhood memories: attending to Mischa as she has her bath in the copper tub in the vegetable garden. Gleaming, sparkling clean, and innocent, Mischa in the copper tub represents everything he hoped to regain with Abigail and Will, and now Bedelia is filling that void in a more literal sense.

Though this memory is a happy one, it unconsciously connects the chubbiness of Mischa's baby flesh to ripening fruit. She's being washed like vegetables in a sink, getting ready to be eaten. Washing Bedelia is the same concept: tender, loving care for your ingredients before you chop them up and throw them in the stew. Same with blowing on the spoon to cool off the soup before force-feeding it to Will and cutting his head open with a bone saw. Same with fattening up your show pigs before slaughtering them. Eating the things you love is one of the major themes in Hannibal.

Bedelia made this unconscious connection before Hannibal did, so when she asks "How did your sister taste?" it startles Hannibal into making that connection too, and suddenly his happy memory of Mischa is tainted. This is part of her strategy to convince Hannibal that he has to eat Will, like OP mentioned here.

(But from a practical show-writing perspective, Bedelia says "How did your sister taste?" and dramatically slides under the water because the show needs to communicate to the audience that Hannibal ate his sister lol. and the audience gasps and goes 😱)

Why was Hannibal still washing Bedelia's hair with what looked like care ? He didn't love her, he was planning to eat her. And suddenly Bedelia asks him how did your sister taste and he goes quiet. Can you throw some light ? I am aware that Bryan doesn't want to focus on the origin story. Here I am asking about Bedelia Hannibal thoughts and Dynamics in that scene.

I think Hannibal and Bedelia have a very interesting dynamic! While many people use the expression “cat and mouse game” to describe Will’s relationship with Hannibal, I mostly disagree with it. I think they remain equals in all senses even when one of them is losing, and both have equal power to win, while the actual mouse can only hope to avoid or delay capture. But I’d describe Hannibal and Bedelia with this phrase. 

Hannibal is toying with her - he enjoys showing her care with both of them knowing he can snap her neck in a second. Bedelia knows he’s planning to kill her and Hannibal knows that she knows. He’s pleased that she allows him to put her in such vulnerable position as the bath, literally baring her neck for him, and he knows that despite her visible calmness, she’s still tense and worried about it, dreading him. He couldn’t forget her break-down in E1, her desperate attempt to run. So he’s amused by watching her playing the game as she’s trying to keep his interest and remain alive. He gives her an illusion of safety and care that he can take back whenever whimsy strikes.

Bedelia is also aware of her situation. She knows that Hannibal plans to savor her - she might not be special on Will’s level, but she’s still special enough to warrant more intimate treatment than Hannibal’s other victims. She uses this knowledge to her advantage and tries to keep herself interesting so that she could buy herself time. She deliberately allows Hannibal so physically close - she shows him she’s a player, too. 

With “How did your sister taste?”, I think Bedelia initially wanted to take Hannibal aback to fuel his interest in her even further. By saying this, she demonstrates that she’s aware of Hannibal’s inner workings and can guess things he doesn’t tell her. But when Hannibal goes quiet, she realizes she might have pushed too far. She’s been flirting with danger to show that she’s not afraid, but now the games ended. So she physically hides from Hannibal by pushing herself under water, likely hoping that the strangeness of this will snap him out of his dangerous state. 

As for Hannibal and Mischa, the show strongly implies that after she was killed, Hannibal ate her willingly to cope with her loss. But there are no details given.   

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Pitiful eyes - We have to admit we human are cruel but which creature is not cruel for living#shorts" on YouTube

This is what people are saying about our son and they're having him watch it so he says to gather up everybody involved in this particular exposé and bring them to this particular place feed them to the machine now and slaughter them and let the pigs eat and we've already done it a little while there's going to be a lot several million and we will utilize it for information. They're saying it's Harris kids and we want this and that and this and they don't know what you're talking about and they are going to get killed and it's not mostly more like it's a mix. And the same that wants to spider has babies it will pass away which is not true it has to feed and the saying that she would feed him Wilbur somehow which doesn't make any sense. And she didn't and she would pass away they say like she did in the cartoon which is not true. They were upset with you people but this for pig felt really bad and I saw the device and the camera and it couldn't stand it and started to cry and the man left and he disappeared and we pulled the pig out I was wondering why they said just an analogy to him and he said that you people do this all the time I said we we don't these people do in their jerks. We took him to a safe place. Several of them no now this place we know where it is and you are not going to get to it in time

Thor Freya

Thank God and the poor pig now there seem to be a little bit more to this than people want to admit and the eyes are not really normal for a pig you think of it when you're approaching these clones and letting them into your home and let him letting them take your daughter out or wife.

Zues

So I went over there and I checked out what he was talking about and I stopped them from slaughtering the pigs and we pulled them all out and found some of our people in there he's sending some kind of code you looked at his eyes and they didn't look like a pig's eyes he's seen them before simple as they don't have colored eyes and said they're blue and they were this is so wonder why they're blue so he's kissing the side and pigs don't really do that kind of thing and I said you did a good job he said I have one complaint I don't want to go through this ever again if they have a chance of grabbing me I don't want it to happen you're famous he says Wilbur we need to find your wife and he said screw it I'm going to help it's a spider probably around there somewhere and he said why are you going to grab her so you can put a sleep with nitrous the brain will sleep before the bug just stand there so he understood that and they went to work trying to find her and they couldn't but they're still doing it and he said he's seen her once no. You find out the analogy and he wanted to go after these clones very hard and researching who else but we do thank you for your help

Thor Freya

Little cork this will be a lot easier if I had a car

Zues

Lol no

Hera

Well that was ridiculous and he seemed to think something he feels bad for the pigs too and so do I he says I'm never eating meat again and there's plenty of vegetarian things at work will and Bill know about it and they probably want to know what happened because they're in that situation and I'm going to talk to them and I thank you and you're welcome soldier.. it feels good about herself though and I do understand so once in a lifetime experience it says he might write a book and it says terrific and call it Wilbur and it is not going to be a good book so there are a lot of people who died there and I do understand something it's an illegal facility and it might be more of them going to try to mix the blood and then see it happen with Ken and others so getting on it now and that was him and I'm proud of him he's a good boy

Bja

Good God

Olympus

We will stop them now

Mac

Together but I hear what you're saying you this out we're not skating we're not trying that hard and we have to go to the island and fight them and we shall

Bja

[bookns]

Introducing: I had the time of my life (fighting dragons with you)

Percy and Annabeth stood anxiously at the door.

"Don'y worry, Wise Girl. It's just my mom and Paul."

"Percy, this is my first time meeting your parents as Annabeth, your girlfriend.

He chuckled. "No matter what Annabeth you are, my mom loves you."

Percy rung the doorbell.

There stood the one and only Sally Jackson.

She smiled brightly before scooping Annabeth in a huge hug.

"Annabeth, I missed you so much. How have you been."

("Glad to see mom missed me too." "You were here just this morning, Perce")

"I missed you too Sally."

"How have you been? How's camp?"

"It's been so exciting. We haven't had this many campers in such a long time."

In the corner of her eye, Sally saw Percy smiling at the both of them.

"Hey Perce, go show Annabeth where she is going to be staying tonight."

"Come on!"

He grabbed Annabeth's hand which did not go unnoticed by Sally.

She wondered how long it would take Percy to tell her that he is finally dating Annabeth.

🌊 🌊 🌊

Sally, Paul, Annabeth and Percy all sat down at the dinner table. All around them the aroma of Sally's cooking filled the air.

"The food smells amazing, Ms. Jackson."

"Thank you dear. And I thought by now, you would know better than to call me Sally. I mean you saved my son enough times as far as I know."

"I- Okay Sally."

Paul started to tell a story about how one of students papers that he had just finished grading. Though, unbeknownst to Sally and Paul, Percy and Annabeth stopped listening.

"Come on Perce, eat your veggies. Don't you want to make guinea pig self proud."

Paul and Sally exchanged looks of pure confusion.

"That was one time, Annabeth. And it was totally not my fault."

"You made a cute guinea pig."

"You made a- That's not fair! Why didn't you get turned into anything."

"Because I was too busy looking for you to be fooled."

Sally decided to interject.

"Percy, honey. Please eat your vegetables and Annabeth, do tell the story of where my son turns into a guinea pig."

As Annabeth finished the story (and as Percy got redder and redder), Sally noticed that the two were still holding hands.

"So you two are holding hands now? What's with this new update? Did you forget to tell your mama something, Perce. Something rather important, it seems."

"Mom!"

"I'm just saying. Paul, you should've seen them. They were so cute. They were always arguing and now look at them, holding hands."

Paul chuckled as Percy and Annabeth shared a blush.

"So, I think it's safe to say you both are dating, hm?"

Annabeth nodded.

"It's completely recent, Sally. I swear."

Sally smiled.

"I figured as much. Tell me what happened."

"Well, after dinner I found Percy was sitting on the Poseidon table alone. Me and Tyson had wanted to surprise him with a birthday cupcake," Annabeth smiled as she said "you don't even want to know how many I had to throw out due to Tyson being clumsy."

Sally chuckled.

"If you think Tyson is bad, you should Percy in the kitchen. I would like to think as my son, he would be a good cook. Unfortunately, he seemed to inherit a sense that I didn't even know was in my family."

"Mom! I just got her to be my girlfriend. Please don't embarrass me now."

Annabeth looked at him.

"Percy, I've seen you with bedhead more than I ever seen your hair combed. Trust me, nothing gets more embarrassing than seeing your face when I had to explain how I was born."

Percy groaned and laid his head on his arms.

"Anyway," Annabeth glanced at Percy who was still moping about the fact that both his girlfriend and mom already started to tag-team on him, "We started talking about the war. He told me how, when he was bathing in the River Styx, I was his anchor to the real world. (Sally cooed at that) He told me that when he was asked to be a god, the reason he said is because he didn't want everything to stay the same. And-

Percy cuts her off.

"My mom doesn't need to hear this part."

Sally raised an eyebrow.

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"We just kissed and the rest of camp found us and threw us in the lake. Literally nothing else happened."

"Aww, you kids are so cute. Trying to hide the fact that you guys are kissing from your mom. Paul, isn't that precious?"

"Mom"

"Honey, you don't have to hide it from me. After everything you kids have gone through, you deserve something normal in your lives. Though, I do have one thing to say."

Everyone looked at Sally.

"Annabeth and I have to bake blue cookies."

🌊 🌊 🌊

"Here, honey. I took out all the indigents out of the fridge."

There, on the counter had a multitude of items. Butter that was sitting in a small bowl, with 2 eggs next to it. Sugar, both brown and white sat next to a large container that was filled with flour. Next to the flour held a large bag filled with chocolate chips which Annabeth had just stared that in shock.

"How many chocolate chips are we going to use?"

Sally smiled at Annabeth as she grabbed the measuring cups out of the kitchen drawer.

"In this family, we measure with our heart."

Annabeth smiled, realizing how special this moment truly is.

"First step, we put in all the wet ingredients in our mixer."

Annabeth helped Sally pour the eggs (after a slight incident where an egg shell got stuck), butter and both the brown and white sugar in.

Sally handed Annabeth the blue food dye.

"Go for it. We don't measure this either. It'll be good, regardless."

Annabeth dabbed a little food coloring inside the mixer, turning the entire thing to a bright blue that almost matches the color of the mixer.

"Here was always Percy's favorite part," Sally said.

She grabbed the giant bag of chocolate chips.

"Like I said, we don't measure anything. The more, the merrier."

Handing Annabeth the oven its, Sally lets her take the lead on putting the cookies in the oven.

"Now's the worst part. The Dishes." Sally said as she took off her apron.

Annabeth chuckled.

Sally started to tell stories about Percy as they did the dishes.

"You know when Percy was little, I was terrified out of my mind that something would happen to him. Now, I'm still terrified but I know you have his back." She glanced at Annabeth. "And I don't mean that just literally."

Annabeth laughed.

"He has my back just as much as I have his. That's the way it's always been."

"It has always been like that, hasn't it. It's funny, you kids thought you were being so subtle with both of your crushes."

"I don't think Percy even realized he had a crush on me until I kissed him a second time."

Sally chuckled at that.

"He most likely didn't. He kept telling me that you were just a friend. I even told him it was okay to like you but he didn't realize. I did tell him that it was not normal to print out your 'just a friend's' picture at the library and keep it with you all semester. He never, and I still don't think he realizes how much he actually likes you. But, as his mama, I can tell you. He likes you dear, and I know it's the same.

Percy poked his head in the kitchen before Annabeth had the chance to reply

"Are you guys talking about me?"

"Speak of the devil," Annabeth says.

'Perce, you came at the right time. The cookies are finally finished.

Sally took the cookies out of the oven.

"Don't mind if I do."

"Seaweed Brain there are not even cooled down yet."

"If I didn't die fighting a war, Wise girl, I don't think I will die eating a hot cookie."

"Don't say I didn't warn-"

OW!

(She got cut off because Percy burnt his tongue).

[thebleedingwoodland]

Reply from post Upcoming The Sims 3 CC Food... Authentic Chinese Food 

Hello @simsoftianxia​ ! 

Finally, there is actual mature adult, polite, and appreciative comment. 👍

Yes, actual authentic Chinese food is really delicious indeed. I am very glad that you enjoy my varieties of my food CC too ^_^ (which is...  zòngzi and Indonesian food). The authentic Chinese food I represented are quite expensive that are usually served in restaurant and the most famous ones.

The Sims is life simulator genre where Sims spend their time 30-40% eating as normal daily lives like real life human lives, therefore, food representation must be make sense and relevant like real life ones.  

From the render picture, clockwise starts from top: 

牛肉炒麵  Niúròu chǎomiàn (Stir-fried noodle beef) 

四川麻辣豬肉拉麵  Sìchuān málà zhūròu lāmiàn (Sichuan hot & spicy noodles, served with pork meat and Pak Choy vegetables) 

四川擔擔麵  Sìchuān dàn dàn miàn (Sichuan hot & spicy noodles) 

紅燒豬蹄  Hóngshāo zhū tí (Braised pork trotters)

紅燒肉  Hóngshāo ròu (Red braised pork belly) 

燕窩湯 Yànwō tāng (Swallow bird’s nest soup) 

蒜蓉炒青菜 Suàn róng chǎo qīngcài (Stir-fried Pak Choy with garlic) 

餛飩湯  Húntún tāng (Wonton soup) 

脆皮燒肉 Cuì pí shāo ròu (Crispy pork belly) 

And on the center is 北京烤鴨  Běijīng kǎoyā (Beijing roasted duck) 

Yep, there are a lot of Chinese food variants other than I created above due too many and there are many different regions/provinces provides each local cuisine. Hot pot, Dim Sum (someone in Sims community already made Dim Sum CC, no need for me to create), fish, crabs, pork sausages, rice porridge, century eggs, 饅頭  mántou bread, 油條  Yóutiáo fried dough similar to churros, and more🤤.

If you interested in Chinese culture, here is additional info written by myself, not copy paste from other sources:

Chinese food is meant for sharing. Chinese & general Asian culture emphasizes on family, unmarried adults still live with our parents. Chinese dining table usually has round shape because round symbolizes “unity”. One big table serves many varieties of meal as options, then put it on one bowl of rice with chopsticks. Chinese chopsticks are the longest compared to Japanese and Korean. 

Food that we ethnic Chinese usually eat is very different than food labeled as “Chinese food” eaten by Americans and Westerners in general. Real Chinese food has pork, seafood, vegetables, noodles (many variants of noodles such as wheat noodles, that has yellow color as the most common noodles known as 麵 miàn and rice noodles known as 米粉  mǐfěn), rice (as staple food, 粽子 zòngzi and  糯米雞 nuòmǐ jī , known famously in Cantonese: Lo Mai Gai have meat filling wrapped in leaves, rice porridge as comfort food), steamed bun, hot pot, incorporates 5 Spices (star anise, fennel seeds, Sichuan pepper, whole cloves,  cinnamon stick), and herbal as health supplement (ginger, red fermented rice (紅麴米)). Meat used are not just chicken, duck, beef, fish, pork, but there are a lot such as frog legs and sea cucumbers (very expensive served in restaurant). Also, meals using pork organs (liver, intestine, ear, nose), pig blood and chicken feet. As typical Asian culture, we are creative about food. One ingredient of food can be cooked in many ways: steam, boil, stir-fry in 10 or more 50 different ways.  

Fried rice is actually home-cooked food from leftover yesterday rice. But nowadays fried rice becomes one of important menus on food stalls and restaurants with a lot of modified 菜 （meat & vegetables) and seasonings. Meat used for the meal must be fresh, not frozen for too long. High-end Chinese food using high grade quality meat, seafood, and soy sauce.  

Definitely much more healthier and more variants than Americanized/Westernized Chinese “greasy - sweet sour something” which is labeled as “cheap fast food” in Western countries. 

--------------------------------- 

Therefore, do not believe “Chinese food” represented in The Sims 2,3,4. All of them are not authentic, Westernized Chinese food in Western countries’ Chinatown, cannot represent real food in China, Taiwan, Hongkong. Because of too many variants, TS3 World Adventures should provide more local food slots for Shang Simla (has 2) rather than Champs Les Sims (has 4). 

[shijiujun]

Lonely Dream | 孤梦

Summary: And when all is done and dusted, sometimes Lao Wen still gets those headaches of his, and the spots where Ah Xu had the nails driven in stil throb in pain on a cold, rainy day.

Some slice of life and domesticity for WenZhou as they enjoy more years than they expected to have initially, together.

Notes: OKAY so there are too many theories going out there for special ep ending, and nah not going there! So the concept of this is SOMEHOW Zhou Zishu saves Wen Kexing at the end of Ep 36, and they need to head into icy mountain cave for a WHILE but not forever. They head back down to Four Seasons Manor once Wen Kexing recovers.

Basically SHL ver. WenZhou, but with TYK ending (where WenZhou fight in the icy mountains for a bit after Wu Xi cures him and then head back down into the world of the living). No immortal lifespan, but hey, they get the rest of their normal lives together! So yeah, they can still eat normally, no snow and ice diet please.

Word Count: 4,500+ 

✨✨ Link on AO3 ✨✨

******

They visit Ah Xiang and Cao Weining’s graves once Wen Kexing’s year-long recovery in the frigid cold of the mountains is complete.

Zhou Zishu says that it is for Lao Wen’s recuperation, but he suspects Wen Kexing, the heartless bastard, knows that he has taken this year too, to finally stop hurting, to stop going through the bone-deep, heart-wrenching terror at the prospect of losing him.

Opening his eyes in the armoury a year ago, his five senses were returned to him, but at what price? Feeling Lao Wen’s cold hands against his, his stark, blinding white hair a horrifying contrast against his beautiful face, and the man almost leaving him.

Leaving him, once again.

Horror turned into anger, the words stuck in his throat, his chest so tight and heart slamming against the bones caging it, Zhou Zishu had regained all that he had lost-

-and then lost the most important thing, person, to him.

Someone he values above his own life, who had lied to him, who had so stupidly, stupidly gave himself up for him.

Zhou Zishu does not want to remember how he survived that day, how he spent minutes, hours, and days after, making sure Lao Wen continued to hang on to his very last breath.

In the past year, the cold he was constantly plagued with had nothing to do with the wintry landscape.

He knows he is pushing it a little — his eyes have rarely left Wen Kexing since they were moved to the mountains at Wu Xi and Senior Ye’s suggestions. Initially, Lao Wen slept and Zhou Zishu had no idea if he would ever wake up.

Before he would even open his eyes, the panic typically set in just like that, gripping him by the throat the moment he woke. Zhou Zishu would have to reach out for Lao Wen across him on the bed, the fear receding only when he heard and felt Lao Wen’s breaths under his fingertips.

For a long time, Zhou Zishu thought that he would be with Lao Wen in this state for the rest of his life. It was not all bad — as long as Lao Wen was alive, who cared if he spent the rest of his years guarding a sleeping Wen Kexing?

Who’s the lazy one now, Lao Wen, he thought plenty of times in the months after, his hands caressing at Wen Kexing’s cheek bones and pale face, which was of the same colour as his white hair.

Fortunately, fortunately… he managed to keep the person he wanted in the end.

They have been so focused on recuperating, stuck in the mountains and in that isolated environment, it was easy to distance themselves from everything that had and was happening outside.

Even though Wen Kexing did not mention a thing, Zhou Zishu knows that he spends some nights awake, looking out into a sky full of stars, quiet and pensive. He knows it, because he does the same.

For Jiu Xiao, for Han Ying, for Qing Luan.

For a young woman who called him Zishu-ge and Sickly Ghost, who threatened to fight him if he left Wen Kexing all alone. A beautiful young woman who should have gotten her happy ending on that tragic afternoon.

For a young man, who had a smile that could light up even the darkest of corners in a place like the Ghost Valley, who would have protected his to-be wife with everything he had.

The pain and grief that comes with losing Ah Xiang and Cao Weining is no easier to bear a year on.

===

Wen Kexing recalls the way she looked that day, all beautiful in her green and red bridal robes, finally able to live a life basking under the sunshine without anything holding her back. That was what he always wanted for her.

What a huge mistake that wedding was.

His whole life, aside from Ah Xu, has been a cycle of repeated mistakes, over and over again. If he had just put his foot down and insisted on not letting Mo Huaiyi in, if he had not just walked away in anger and instead stayed there, they would have stopped Xiao Cao’s death, and Ah Xiang’s after.

Why had he walked off? How did beautiful Ah Xiang, an Ah Xiang he was ready to give away, end up taking her last breath in his arms?

A sting on his right ear pulls him violently out of his depressed reverie, and he yells, “Ow- Ow, ow, ow, Ah Xu!”

“Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Zhou Zishu says, pulling Wen Kexing’s face close to him by the ear. “There is no point dwelling in the past. Life and death… when the time comes, no one can escape from it.”

Wen Kexing’s eyes sober a little, bitterness flashing across his face. Remnants of his hatred and resentment from more than a year ago, before he met Ah Xu.

“If I had just kept her with me-“

“We all make our choices,” Zhou Zishu says, his voice gentling as he lets Wen Kexing go, but the man does not move away.

“If she had to choose again, she would probably have chosen the same.”

In the cold, their hands find their way to each other, clasping warmly under their thick sleeves, the rims lined with fur.

They stare at the graves for a little longer. And while Wen Kexing has never believed in some higher power up there or the heavens-

-this time, with every ounce of his being, he prays and wishes that Ah Xiang and that pig will find their ways back to each other in the next life, no matter what.

Zhou Zishu’s hand squeezes around his, and Wen Kexing turns to see his Ah Xu’s warm smile and gaze.

“Shall we go home?”

Home. The place where they can live out the rest of their natural lives together.

“Let’s go home,” Wen Kexing agrees.

===

“Ah Xu, that is not the way you-“

Hearing Wen Kexing nag for the thousandth time, Zhou Zishu has finally had enough. Slamming the broad vegetable knife onto the wooden chopping board loudly, he turns and looks at the man next to him.

“I’m not the one who begged me to do this,” Zhou Zishu says, turning to walk away, “You make dinner. I told you it was a waste of time-“

Before he can finish his sentence, warmth engulfs his back, and something sharp snuggles into his shoulder bone. A familiar scent — jasmine, from the incense that Wen Kexing likes to use — wraps around him, hands trapping him in between the counter and the limpet attached to him.

Wen Kexing’s palms close over his hands, then guides them to pick up the knife again. Zhou Zishu stiffens, but does not move away. He lets Wen Kexing curl his own fingers properly over the cabbage, and chop at it neatly, over and over.

They have not yet spoken about this between them, despite laying in the same bed right next to each other night after night. The cave was hardly a luxurious abode and to save effort and space, Zhou Zishu fell asleep next to a comatose Wen Kexing for several months, wanting to ascertain that he was alive and breathing at any given moment.

After Wen Kexing woke, Zhou Zishu continued to sleep next to him, and Lao Wen never once brought it up in conversation.

Coming back to Four Seasons Manor, Wen Kexing naturally turned up in his room instead of the one he was staying at before, already asleep when Zhou Zishu returned to turn in.

This man is his soulmate, the person he would give everything up for no matter what it was. His lost shidi, but even before that, this man was someone who was willing to do everything he could for him. Who cared for him like no one else ever would again.

Beyond that? Zhou Zishu knows of his feelings, and is rather certain of Wen Kexing’s. He supposes that after pledging to save each other’s lives at the expense of their own repeatedly, some things just do not have to be articulated.

Zhou Zishu leans into the hold, relaxing entirely.

At this, it is Wen Kexing’s turn to be stunned at the reciprocation where he was expecting none before, but the man recovers quickly. He snuggles in even closer, the side of his face pressed right up against Zhou Zishu’s. 

His Ah Xu remains still, as if unbothered, and Wen Kexing decides to try his luck.

“Ah Xu,” he angles his head slightly, his mouth brushing lightly over Zhou Zishu’s cheek as he murmurs straight into his ear.

Ah, there it is. Zhou Zishu freezes against him, now making to move his ear out of Wen Kexing’s reach.

“What?”

Wen Kexing smiles, amused and so, so fond.

His voice still low and sultry, he continues, “I think you’re right, you should let me cook instead. You’re murdering the cabbage.”

Zhou Zishu pauses for a good two seconds before turning to glare at Wen Kexing. Wen Kexing recognizes that look, and the warmth on Zhou Zishu’s back vanishes instantly just as he starts waving the knife at him.

“Wen Kexing, don’t you think you’re being ridiculous and childish-“

Laughter fills the kitchen, a sound that is incredibly melodious, immediately soothing all the uneasiness Zhou Zishu feels.

Outside, all twenty disciples try not to peek and look at their shifu and shishu being strange again. One of the younger ones, Xiao Man, cannot help but angle his head in the direction of the kitchen, and then says, “Da-shixiong, shifu is going after shishu with a knife! Is he going to be okay?”

Zhang Chengling sighs inwardly, then smiles and pats the boy on the head.

“That’s shifu’s way of showing how much he cares about shishu.”

Back in the kitchen, having heard that tiny quip from their youngest disciple, Wen Kexing finally stops in his tracks, turning around mid-escape to grab Zhou Zishu around the waist with a hand, and the other going to the hand that is holding onto the knife and stopping his Ah Xu from possibly murdering him.

He sets the knife aside, but his other hand does not move.

“What are you doing,” grumbles Zhou Zishu, looking away, his expression a little stern, as if telling Wen Kexing not to be such a nuisance.

This close, however, Wen Kexing can certainly see the light flush on Ah Xu’s cheekbones. 

If Wen Kexing had to rank all the beautiful bones that Ah Xu has, it would probably be scapulas first, followed by his cheekbones.

Wen Kexing’s eyes dip a little lower.

He thinks collarbones may rank third.

“Ah Xu.”

“What?” sighs Zhou Zishu. “Let me go, the disciples need to finish the last set of practice-“

He is cut off when Wen Kexing swoops downwards, and catches his lips in his.

Zhou Zishu’s eyes go wide, but before he can do anything like move away and out of Wen Kexing’s firm hold, the man circles his waist with both arms, effectively trapping him and bringing him closer.

Wen Kexing’s body temperature tends to run on the colder side these days, a side effect of him having been brought back from the brink of death.

Right now, however, Zhou Zishu can feel nothing else but the scalding heat. His hands move up, intending to push Wen Kexing away, but they end up clutching tight around the man’s broad shoulders.

He does not stop the kiss, letting Wen Kexing’s lips roam as they like.

Outside, an unfortunate Chengling who sees this finds his eyes going wide.

“Erm,” he clears his throat quite loudly, gaining all the disciples’ attention. “Let’s head outside to finish our practice.”

He ushers everyone out, while wondering how the hell he hadn’t seen this coming.

Everything makes so much sense now.

===

Four Seasons Manor grows, and Zhang Chengling along with Bi Xingming end up taking over some classes and teaching of their own.

Wen Kexing does not want to admit it, but it seems that when he asked Ah Xu if he was a servant here, the man actually meant it. His little Chengling, who is not so little anymore, still comes to him to ask for tips or begs him to give some pointers to the other disciples, but most of the time, Wen Kexing is cooking.

He makes breakfast, is involved in lunch, and definitely ends up cooking a feast every dinner. Thankfully, Bi Xingming is unlike his da-shixiong and shifu as he actually has some kitchen sense, but Wen Kexing has truly been demoted to servant in this manor.

A servant that ends up in his master’s bed every night, Wen Kexing thinks then, and feels better about it immediately.

“Shishu, let me help you bring these out,” Bi Xingming says, stepping into the kitchen just as he’s done with the last dish.

“Mnn,” Wen Kexing hums in assent without looking up from his soup, tasting it one last time.

At the very least, these days, Zhou Zishu is able to actually, actually taste the food he lovingly cooks.

“Perfect,” he nods. “Is your shifu not up yet? It’s almost lunch time.”

“Ah…” Bi Xingming blinks, “You said not to disturb him until he wakes up, and he hasn’t left the room since morning.”

Wen Kexing frowns slightly. Sure, he worked Ah Xu over thoroughly last night, but not to the extent that he would need to sleep in for this long. Worry niggling at him, he gets Bi Xingming to start lunch with the other disciples first without waiting for them, and heads in the direction of their room.

The last time Zhou Zishu slept in so late, it was the night he confessed his past to Wen Kexing, of how he caused the deaths of everyone in Four Seasons Manor. He was deathly ill then and emotionally wrung out — things that Wen Kexing loathes to see on Zhou Zishu.

“Ah Xu?” Wen Kexing calls, sliding the door open gently.

The lump under the covers is the same as when he left it this morning. Wen Kexing takes quick strides and goes over, sitting down on the bed next to Ah Xu.

“Ah Xu?” he calls again, his voice soft as he reaches out for Zhou Zishu’s face.

His lips are pale, eyebrows furrowed and perspiring at the forehead.

“Ah Xu, are you ill? What’s wrong?”

Zhou Zishu’s skin is of normal temperature, much to Wen Kexing’s relief. His brain runs through a a million scenarios, none of them good and just as he’s about to yell for Chengling, something clicks in his head.

He does yell for their Chengling in the end, but for a hot bath instead with a pack of herbs and medicine from the stash Wu Xi gave them before he headed back home with Jing Beiyuan.

“Is shifu okay?” he asks, worried.

“He will be,” Wen Kexing says, lifting Zhou Zishu out from under the covers and heading for the bath. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch him. You continue training with the other disciples, otherwise when Ah Xu wakes up he’s going to scold all of you again.”

As Zhou Zishu soaks in the steaming medicinal bath, Wen Kexing sits right next to him, pillowing his head on his arms, which are sitting on the rim of the wooden tub and stares at him.

A few years have passed since the days when Wen Kexing despaired at Zhou Zishu dying in a short few years and the peace they have now makes it easy to not think about the past. He forgets sometimes that despite being healed, despite him giving his life force to Ah Xu, the man’s body has been to hell and back with the nails.

And forcing them out of his body forcefully while he mistakenly believed that Wen Kexing was dead, wanting to take revenge for him-

For the rest of their time together, Wen Kexing knows he will forever be guilt-ridden at this. If only he had just told Ah Xu, if only he didn’t make another stupid decision, there would have been no need for the armoury. No need for self-sacrificial plays, no need for lost time.

That Zhou Zishu would love him still and be with him, that is nothing short of a miracle.

On days like these, when the weather turns just the slightest bit wet and cold, his body starts to hurt, especially the points where he kept the nails in. All seven of them, the stupid man.

Wen Kexing inches forward and presses a kiss to the man’s temple.

For this life and every life after this one, Wen Kexing swears he will always be good to Zhou Zishu.

===

He loves and hates Wen Kexing’s hair, even after several years have passed. They are nearing the ten-year mark since leaving the mountains, and Zhou Zishu has slept next to this man every single day after, but whenever Wen Kexing shows up, Zhou Zishu has to admit that his breath is always taken away.

Wen Kexing looks ethereally gorgeous with those white strands, his features standing out even more clearly, not that Zhou Zishu would ever tell him that lest it goes to his head. However, it is a reminder that his silly, stupid shidi and now husband would dare to sacrifice his own life for his without telling him.

It is a constant reminder that he lost him, even if momentarily.

“Ah Xu, why are you are staring at me like that? You’re going to make me shy. Did you miss me? I was only gone for two days,” Wen Kexing says unabashedly during dinner.

At once, coughs and chokes go around the table, and the clanking of dropped chopsticks on the table echo through the dining hall.

Zhou Zishu takes a deep breath to compose himself and resists the urge to fight with the man over dinner. It would be a waste of food, not to mention a futile argument seeing that Wen Kexing has not changed at all since the first time they met. As long as he does not break out into poetry-

“Ah Xu, I missed you too. It is so fortunate that your heart is akin to mine-“

At that, everyone immediately stands from the table and excuses themselves, stumbling over one another as they parrot that they are full and do not want to have anymore.

It is an open secret that they are together — not because they are hiding it, but simply because they find no need to verbalize what they are to others — and if it was another couple that was stuck in this situation, he would possibly find it amusing, but Wen Kexing is incorrigible and has been for years. 

Zhou Zishu finds that while he loves the man and is utterly devoted to him, is willing to die for him, at times like these maybe they should have both just stayed dead.

“Wen Kexing, have you had enough?”

He reaches out, intending to pinch at Wen Kexing as a lesson, but the man catches his hand within his deft fingers and brings it upwards so his hand is cupping one side of his face. Wen Kexing turns his head a little to press his lips to the open palm, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I missed you,” Wen Kexing repeats. “It’s strange how it has only been two days, but I miss you like I’ve never missed anything else before.”

The impending reprimand dies on his lips.

Fine, just this once.

Zhou Zishu sighs and pinches at Wen Kexing’s cheek instead.

“Ow, ow! Ah Xu, Ah Xu, this face is a work of the heavens, how can you trample on it like this?!”

Zhou Zishu’s eyes are once again drawn to Wen Kexing’s white locks, and he unconsciously reaches out.

As if knowing what Zhou Zishu is thinking about, Wen Kexing grabs for the hand again, interlacing their fingers together.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I faked my death, and then not telling you at the end, before I….” Wen Kexing says, swallowing with difficulty. “Ah Xu, if I could change it, I would. But at the end, if I was given the same choice, I would have chosen the same.”

It hurts to think about that morning, seeing Wen Kexing’s hair all white and almost lifeless, his hands dropping from his.

“I know,” Zhou Zishu breathes, hiding his face in Wen Kexing’s shoulder. “I know.”

===

Zhou Zishu hears of the supposed ambush on Four Seasons Manor while he  has half a day’s journey left before he gets home.

The unrest in jianghu truly never ends; their fight with the Scorpions, with Tian Chuang, with Prince Jin and Zhao Jing was rewarded with peace for a few years, but people never say contented for long. Old sects are wiped out and new ones emerge. Most of them know not to mess with Four Seasons Manor as his and Wen Kexing’s reputations indeed precede themselves, but it is unavoidable, perhaps, for some newer and ambitious ones to mistakenly think they can take both of them on.

Well, they must have made sure Zhou Zishu was not in the manor before striking, as if Wen Kexing could not take all of them on himself.

He arrives in the nick of time in the heat of battle, although a quick glance shows that Four Seasons Manor is still holding up pretty well, with Zhang Chengling and Bi Xingming leading the rest of the disciples.

And there he is, Wen Kexing, all regal in his red embroidered robes, and his white hair pinned up neatly. Every movement from his sharp and deadly fan strikes true. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly, his eyes revealing a thirst for blood that Zhou Zishu hasn’t seen in a while.

He shivers at the want that hits him, even though it is not the time and place for it.

Zhou Zishu lands opportunely behind Wen Kexing and parries a blow that was coming straight for Wen Kexing back.

The both of them exchange a glance, and wordlessly, delve right back into the fight.

When the dust settles a few hours later, Zhou Zishu makes sure injured disciples are looked at while others clean up the mess. His attention finally freed up so he can focus solely on Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu turns, only to see his husband a distance away from him, supporting himself against a wall.

He recognizes the signs of Wen Kexing’s brain-splitting headaches immediately, and rushes over.

“Lao Wen!”

“Shishu!”

Zhou Zishu catches Wen Kexing just as he collapses, his legs giving out under him. His fingers immediately search for Wen Kexing’s pulse.

This is an all-too familiar scene, but Zhou Zishu cannot remember when this last happened. His body growing cold at the implications, all the fears are now suddenly dredged up from the trenches of trauma sustained at a point in time long ago.

“Go get Physician Yao,” Zhou Zishu snaps at whichever disciple is standing closest to them, before picking Wen Kexing up.

Zhang Chengling turns up in their room before the physician does, and whatever fear he is experiencing right now abates slightly.

Before the manor started to grow, there was only the three of them. If anyone understands what he is feeling right now, it would be Chengling.

“Shifu…” he says, trailing off as he kneels down next to the bed and looks at Wen Kexing. “Shishu hasn’t had this in years, what happened?”

“Maybe… I don’t know,” Zhou Zishu exhales heavily. “He could be just.. too tired.”

They watch over him until the physician arrives. Zhou Zishu refuses to be chased out, and the tightness in his chest only disappears once she rolls her eyes at him after testing Wen Kexing’s pulse.

“The both of you are not young anymore,” Physician Yao almost scoffs. “And the injuries and illnesses that the both of you share combined can fill up a list a mile long. He hasn’t exerted himself like this in a long while, suddenly letting it all out in a fight like that, of course there are bound to be side effects. Stop looking at him as if he’s about to die.”

Zhou Zishu is about to thank her, when a weak rasp comes from the bed, “… been there, done that.”

Relief floods him at the sound of Wen Kexing’s voice, and immediately after, anger burns hot through him as the man’s words sink in, “Wen Kexing!”

Physician Yao retreats, knowing by now not to give instructions to them both when they get like this. Instead, speaking to any of their disciples would be much more reliable.

===

Later, after all has quietened down for certain, the stench of blood fading somewhat, Wen Kexing blinks languidly, not wanting to move at all, or do anything.

If he was to die in this position right now, he would have zero complaints.

Zhou Zishu pats at the back of his head gently as Wen Kexing lies almost half on him, his ear pressed over Zhou Zishu’s heart, comforted by the strong beat. Years later, the both of them approaching the big five-o, and Wen Kexing is still like a child sometimes.

Well, he’s making up for lost time.

He is greedy for more years with Ah Xu, in this life and every single life after. A hundred, a thousand years and more. Every little bit, he wants to spend with Ah Xu.

“Ah Xu,” he murmurs, and feels the vibration of the man’s response through his chest, “Before, I could not have what I wanted. I could not play when I wanted to, there was no one to teach me martial arts when I wanted to learn and the things I wanted I could not afford.”

“The person I wanted to keep, I was too late.”

This conversation seems so far away now, but is as clear to the both of them as if it happened just yesterday. That rainy, storming night.

A night of despair and hopelessness.

Zhou Zishu huffs in amusement.

“And now?” he asks.

Wen Kexing looks up, and cheekily responds, “Well, the martial arts part aside, Ah Xu, you pay for everything now, so I can afford everything! And in terms of play… you would know best how well I play now with-“

He’s cut off with a warning look from Zhou Zishu, although the man does not attempt to jostle him, still worried about his earlier headache and injuries sustained from the fight.

Wen Kexing loves this man, to the depths of hell and back.

“And… the person I want to keep, is right here with me.”

Zhou Zishu’s answering smile lights up every fibre of being.

They have forever to look forward to.

***

[bigskydreaming]

ANYWAY.

Current mood is contemplating an AU wherein Boone (yes that Boone, its been too long since a Dick and Boone shitpost so off we goooooooo) anyway, so AU wherein he graduates from his League of Shadows training around the same time Dick becomes Nightwing, and since I headcanon Boone having known who Dick really is for years because he’s not a complete dumbass and Dick Grayson is a fairly high profile figure and it doesn’t take a genius to look at a picture of him and recognize him as “aka Freddy Lloyd,” I mean, they did live together for weeks or even months.....

POINT IS, so Boone is all done with his training and sees Nightwing bigwigging it up with the Titans and then sees there’s a new Robin in Gotham, and all these thoughts come together in a perfect storm for Boone to be like LETS PLAY “WHAT IF I GO FUCK WITH FREDDY!”

SO. In this AU Nightwing and Shrike’s confrontation slash reunion happens before he ever moves to Bludhaven to be a solo act and when he’s still based out of New York, and actually takes place in Gotham during a period when Bruce is out of town on an extended mission or something, as this Shrike figure starts stalking Robin and Jason is like UMM HELP GIRL, I mean not that I need it CUZ I DON’T, but like if you want to come help with this weirdo I guess that’d be alright, we could hang, its cool.

So Dick trainsurfs down to Gotham all quick like a bunny and is like waaaaaait a minute, this guy calls himself Shrike? That’s weirdly specific, I knew another Shrike once......and Jason’s like maybe this is the same guy? And Dick’s just all umm no, he’s dead. He like, died and stuff. He made like a corpsicle. Definitely not him, its gotta be someone else....oh fucking hell, its Boone. Of course its Boone. Why did it have to be Boone?

And Jason’s like who the fuck is Boone?

Dick shushes him distractedly. Nobody. There is no Boone, only Zuul. Eat your vegetables.

Jason: You are the weirdest person alive, and that’s saying a lot, I live with Bruce. What is going on right now?

Dick: Nothing? *examines himself in a mirror that is actually just a broken piece of window glass procured from yon surrounding rooftops* Hey how does my hair look? Is it wavy enough? I feel like it could be more wavy.

Jason: Is your hair - what? Dude, is this Boone guy like your ex-boyfriend or something?

Dick: Please. As if. He wishes. Also I knew him when we were like twelve. Or eleven. Maybe ten. I forget. It was definitely pre-pubescent though.

Jason: That’s not a denial.

Dick: Its also not an admission and also stop being smart and insightful, its rude and I did not ask. Besides, its not like I’m trying to look good for Boone, eww, he’s a loser, I would never. I’m just trying to look BETTER than him.

Jason: Ahh. Well. That’s different then.

Dick: See? You get it.

Jason: Not even a little bit. If this is what puberty does to you I want no part in it.

Dick: Too late. Its already begun. I spy hairs on your chinny-chin-chin.

Jason: What kind of bizarre Three Little Pigs segue is.....who ARE you right now?

Dick: Stop victim-blaming me for my discombobulation! I haven’t seen Boone in years and he could be here any second now and he already has the lead, I can not let him confront me in a state less than poised, suave and sophisticated, its just the RULES.

Jason: Well you’re off to a stellar start. Why is it so important you win this whatever this is with whomever Boone is and also are you still going to therapy? I feel like maybe not and maybe that was a mistake.

Dick: You’re a terrible little brother, just the worst. And okay, look. Its complicated, see. I met Boone at a very specific time in my life when both of us were kinda floundering in that verb kinda way, not like the Little Mermaid kinda way.

Jason: Stop using similes. I’m begging you. It hurts.

Dick: THE POINT IS......we were both.....kinda lost, at the time. Aimless. Looking for purpose. And one of the things we both ended up kinda turning to in search of that purpose was like.....our natural competitiveness.

Jason: Wait. You’re competitive? You? OMG THIS IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION.

Dick: I hate you. You are a blight upon the wheatfields of my soul. NOW IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME, I WAS MONOLOGUING. Okay. So. Boone and I, we kinda fell into this cycle of eternal competition, that was intensified by us not really having anything else that was OURS at the time, so it became sorta like....the only thing that mattered? If that makes sense?

Jason: Weirdly, that’s the first thing you’ve said all night that DOES make any sense. Okay. I’m keeping up. Continue.

Dick: So it was like constant one-upmanship. If I snuck in somewhere without a trace, he had to sneak in better. If he was unmoved by being surrounded by dead bodies and gore, I had to be more unmoved. If I escaped from a deathtrap in half the time expected, he had to halve that when it was his turn, and if he made it through an obstacle course while bleeding from a leg I had to beat him while bleeding from both legs, look it was this whole thing.

Jason: Wait, and you knew this guy when you were ten? Where the fuck did you two even MEET? Jason Voorhees’ Little Daycamp of Horrors?

Dick: ANYWAY. The point is everything is about competition with us, it always has been, and like, he’s the only person who was ever able to keep up with me at least at the time and just like I was the same for him, and so we hated each other because we were both mad at the world back then and hated everybody and everything, especially the one and only other guy who kept showing us up, but at the same time, we were closer to each other than anyone else in the world at the time because we were the only ones on each other’s same page and able to stay on that same page so there was like.....weird solidarity in that? Idk. I TOLD YOU IT WAS COMPLICATED.

Jason: No, its okay, I get it. So what happened?

Dick: Oh, our mentor died and Boone thought it was all my fault. His name was Shrike too and given that Boone’s here now and calling himself Shrike, I’m guessing he still does.

Jason: .....uh huh. Was it your fault?

Dick: Only a little bit! It was mostly gravity. That bitch.

Jason: Ooookay, not touching that one. So. In conclusion: he’s.....here to kill you then? Or he’s not here to kill you then.....?

Dick: Oh he’s here to kill me, but ONLY if he can beat me first. If he can’t beat me, then no, he’s not here to kill me, just whine, wangst and moan at me.

Jason: And by beat you, you mean at.....having wavy hair?

Dick: At EVERYTHING. Ugh, were you even paying attention?

Jason: Oh yeah. I’m SO glad we cleared all this up. Next time, just simplify and explain he’s your childhood frenemy turned actual nemesis.

Dick: Huh. Yeah, y’know what, that does pretty much cover it....

Jason: Who you totally want to bone due to unresolved and conflicting feelings stemming from your brief but intense time together in your formative years as well as and compounded by your neurotic obsessive attraction to hyper-competent individuals who challenge you on physical, mental and emotional and even moral levels.

Dick: What the....a) you’re wrong, b) STOP STEALING MY PSYCH TEXTBOOKS and c) you could not BE more wrong.

Jason: Your hair looks flat and lackluster. He’s totally gonna beat you there.

Dick: You’re the actual worst. 

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat (Part Two)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: implied non-con, gore. NSFW in later chapters.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

Dinner that night is stew.

 You help Luda cut the vegetables, but the meat is already simmering in the pot by the time you come down. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and when you ask where he is, as casually as possible, Luda answers with a sly grin.

 “Oh, he’s probably workin’ down in the basement. Often doesn’t eat ‘til later, ‘specially when we have guests. He’s awful shy, you see.”

 You don’t mention the way he’d stared at you upstairs – more domineering and intense than anyone else you’d have described as “shy”.

 “I hope you don’t mind me asking—” you begin to say, but she’s already nodding, clearly anticipating your next words.

 “His face?”

 You nod. Setting down the knife she’s using to slice the carrots, she adjusts her spectacles and glances towards the door you presume leads to the basement.

 “He’s awful sensitive about it. We don’t usually talk about it, but I don’t want you to be makin’ any nasty judgements ‘bout him.”

 “Of course not, I wouldn’t.”

 She pats your arm and continues chopping the carrots. “I found him when he was just born. Some cruel no-goods had left him to die in a trash can. Lord knows what filthy things he was exposed to in there before I took him home. He started gettin’ skin complaints when he was a boy. Real bad. The other kids used to tease him for it, call him ‘diseased’. Got too much for him so he took a knife and . . .” She presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and shakes her head. “Sorry, still gets to me.”

 “I understand,” you say, your heart aching empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 She pats your arm again and sighs, “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

 For some reason, she says this with a note of sadness which makes you uneasy again. You don’t have long to dwell on it, though, before Hoyt enters the room.

 “How’s that stew comin’ on, Momma?” he asks jovially.

 You help set the table and bow your head respectfully while Hoyt says Grace, accepting your bowl of stew with a grateful smile. The meat is tender, with an unusual flavour you can’t quite place. You figure it must be some kind of game animal you’ve not tasted before, or herbs mixed in with the broth. It’s good, whatever it is. You help yourself to the cornbread Luda offers you and try not to be disconcerted by the way Monty is staring at you.

 He’s just a dirty old man, you try and convince yourself. Ignore him.

 Though it’s not that late by the time your plate is cleared, you claim tiredness and go upstairs to your tiny room. Closing the door behind you, you wish there was some kind of furniture you could prop against it; the chest of drawers is far too heavy for you to move inconspicuously. You don’t feel quite comfortable enough to change into the camisole you usually wear for sleeping, so decide to remain in your shorts and T-shirt. One night won’t hurt. You brush your teeth in the tiny sink, making a mental note to rinse your toothbrush with clean water before using it again, and curl up on top of the blanket. The air is thick and humid, and you’re soon wishing you could just sleep naked. Your own scent hangs heavy in the air and you curse your time of the month. Even with the precautions prescribed to you, your heat was always strong, but it never has this much of a toll on you. You remember your first – you were ten, an early bloomer, and it had hit you at summer camp. It was the height of August, and the counsellors had found you whimpering in a corner of the dorm, hugging a pillow and grinding frantically against it.

 That was the last time you went to camp.

 Could it be because of Thomas? Is that why your body is reacting so strongly?

 Growling in frustration, you reach for your bag and grope inside for your pills. The doctors only advise taking three pills in a single day under extreme circumstances, but being under the same roof as an alpha as intimidating as Thomas Hewitt strikes you as pretty damn extreme. It takes you almost three whole minutes to realise the awful truth – the pills aren’t there. You know you put them back in the inside pocket earlier, the same place you always do. They’re definitely gone.

 Your heart starts pounding and you feel that prickling sense of danger creep over you again. It would have been easy for Hoyt, Monty, or even Thomas to come in here and take the pills while you were downstairs helping Luda. Which means they know. Perhaps you were kidding yourself that you could lie to them.

 You decide not to take any chances. Even without your car, there was no way you could stay here. Your parents would understand. Perhaps you could even call the cops when you got to the next town and ask them to fetch it for you. Gathering your belongings as quietly as possible, you open the door just a crack and peer out down the darkened hallway. All is still. You manage to make no sound all the way to the top of the stairs, taking care not to step in the centre of each step as you tiptoe down.

 You’re almost at the door when you hear it – a low, keening moan.

 You turn glacially slowly to look at the basement door. You could kid yourself that it was a dog, but you know in your bones that’s not the case.

 “Please . . .” the voice calls plaintively. A girl. “Help me . . .”

 Fear washes over you like a bucket of ice water. You should go – you know you should go. The door is right in front of you.

 “Pleeeeease . . .” the voice sobs.

 Your parents’ faces swim before your eyes. You think of what they’d suffer were you to never come home. You brother, your sister, your friends . . .

 “Oh God, help me . . .”

 “God damn it,” you whisper through gritted teeth. With a quick glance upstairs, you tread as light as a spider down the corridor towards the basement. The girl’s voice gets louder – it’s definitely coming from down there. The door is unlocked when you twist the handle, pulling it towards you just enough to slip inside and down the rickety steps beyond. A large pool of water is gathered at the foot of the stairs, too large for you to avoid. You wince as the damp soaks through your sneakers and socks.

 Two large hunks of meat are hanging from hooks along the wall. You think they may have once been pigs, though the head and limbs are all hacked away. You find the girl – a petite blonde in a short blue dress – on a filthy mattress, roped to a pipe in one corner of the room. She looks as though she’s been there for days, weeks, even. Her skin is bruised, and you can tell by her frightened scent that she’s a beta. You can also smell Hoyt’s potent musk on her – in her hair, in the smears of congealed fluid between her legs.

 She smells you before she sees you, eyes searching disbelievingly in the half-dark. You quickly stifle her mouth with your hand before she cries out.

 “Keep quiet, okay?” you hiss. You pick at the tightly-knotted rope, breaking a fingernail in your attempt to untie it. “Fuck.”

 “Oh God,” she gasps.

 “Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna—”

 “NO!” she screams, her body falling into a fit of panicked flailing. Her eyes are big and brimming with fear, staring over your shoulder.

 The scent reaches you just before Thomas’s fingers do.

 You duck and back away from the captured girl, who continues screaming like she’s being sliced apart. Every nerve in your body is yelling at you to flee, to fight, to do anything besides what you are doing – which is staring like a deer in headlights up at Thomas approaching you. His scent is almost overpowering, and despite the terror seizing you, you feel a warm stream of slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

 He gives a sharp intake of breath and rumbles deep in his chest. Your knees tremble, and you unconsciously breathe in the heady aroma surrounding the enormous man. Your breath shudders as it leaves you. Your instincts are commanding you to stay, to submit, to give yourself to this alpha; you can already feel your body leaning into him.

 The basement door slams open and Hoyt’s angry voice preceeds his heavy footsteps.

 “Nuff of this dang caterwauling, some of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

 He stops dead at the wall of scent surrounding you, and a sly grin takes over his rugged features. “Well, lookee here.”

 Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small foil strip that you recognise instantly.

 “Guess somebody’s not just a plain ole beta after all, huh?”

 “You asshole,” you spit, your disdain for Hoyt overriding your lust for just a moment.

 “That’s not very polite now, is it?” he says. He moves casually towards the whimpering blonde, who stares in terrified anticipation up at him. He reaches down and strokes her hair, and she cringes away from his touch. “Tommy, why don’t you teach this little bitch a lesson in manners?”

 Thomas takes two short strides towards you, but you dart out from under his grasp and sprint towards the stairs. The girl you’re abandoning screams after you, but all you can think of now is to escape, battling the nagging tug at the back of your mind that’s still desperately reaching out for Thomas.

 You somehow make it up the steps and through the door, your footsteps crashing on the boards as you fly down the hall. You throw your entire weight against the front door, splintering the wood surrounding the lock as you burst out into the night.

 You breathe in lungfuls of air as you sprint across the field, heading for the road. You’ve never been a fast runner, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins has you practically leaping like a gazelle. Your feet catch on stones and loose earth, threatening you with a fall, but you just manage to keep your balance. The sound of pounding footsteps behind you sends a sharp spike of fear into your gut, and if you weren’t running you may have vomited.

 You vaguely recognise another sound – a deep, mechanical roar – but you don’t want to risk glancing over your shoulder to see if it is what you think. He’s getting closer, you can smell him, you can hear his laboured breathing, you can feel his fingers grasping at your hair—

 He overshoots you by a good ten strides when you fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees on hard soil. Turning to face your supine form, he brandishes the growling chainsaw clutched in his massive hands.

 You’re dead. You must be. How can you possibly expect any other outcome from this situation? Scrambling to your knees, you try to rise, but the metal teeth of the chainsaw brush too close; you can almost taste your own blood. Thomas’s eyes, black with rage, focus on you. His chest is heaving, his muscular arms flexing as he prepares to deal the killing blow—

 “Alpha!” you shriek, the word spilling from your tongue before you can recognise its meaning. “Alpha, please!”

 He freezes, arms aloft, staring down at you in surprise and disbelief.

 You crawl forwards, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his booted foot. “Please . . . p-please don’t kill me.”

 He glances up towards the house. You can tell he’s not used to making decisions without approval, but Hoyt isn’t here to spit poison in his ear.

 “I’ll . . . I’ll be yours.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. “Please, alpha . . . you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

 He steps back and shakes his head angrily, but not in refusal – more like he’s trying to rid your honeyed words from his head as a bull might dislodge a persistent fly. Taking your life in your hands, you slowly rise to your feet and proffer your sweating hands towards him; the scent from your wrists glands is strong, unavoidable. The chainsaw powers down, and his arms slowly fall to waist-height. You take careful hold of one wrist and detach his fingers from the chainsaw handle. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you part your dry lips and press the flat of your tongue against his own wrist, licking a long, slow stripe. His skin is salty with sweat, the musk beneath deep and earthy, hitting the back of your throat like spice. You feel a shudder pass through his body and go one step further – baring your teeth just enough to nip the tender, swollen skin. The chainsaw falls heavily to the ground as he grabs you, one hand twisting the skin of your wrist, the other securing the back of your neck, fingers knotted in your hair. You stare up at him, heart dancing, skin tingling, fear and lust seeking dominance in your stomach. His teeth are bared behind the gap in his mask, his brow furrowed in bewildered rage and desire. You lift the hand still free from his grip and, as tenderly as though handling a baby sparrow, touch the gland at the nape of his neck. The skin is raised and warm, and his eyes close almost in reverence at the contact.

 “What in Lord’s name’re you doin’, boy?!” Hoyt’s furious voice startles you both. He’s hurrying up behind you, shotgun under one arm, glaring between you and Thomas.

 In a swift, one-handed movement, Thomas pulls you flush against his body, your nose filling with the metallic scent of blood imbedded in his apron – which, it occurs to you, is undoubtedly human blood.

 Hoyt stops in his tracks, assessing the situation before him. You, pliant and submissive in Thomas’s arms; Thomas, dominant and possessive, ready to protect you from the threat Hoyt poses. The older man sighs, chuckling softly.

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” Swinging the shotgun to rest on his shoulder, he shakes his grizzled head. “Y’sure, Tommy? She’d taste mighty sweet with Mama’s hot biscuits.”

 Thomas’s grip tightens and you whimper – he’s about to break your wrist. His fingers immediately loosen, and you see a flash of what could almost be called concern cross his face. Hoyt rolls his eyes and turns, heading back towards the farmhouse.

 “Come on, then.”

 Before you can protest, Thomas sweeps you up into a bridal embrace, pressing your body against his broad chest. Tears prick your eyes as you’re brought back to the place you fought so hard to escape from. As you’re carried over the threshold, Hoyt shoots you a nasty grin.

 “Welcome to the family, Little Miss Omega.”    

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.               

[couldyouspeakmyname]

How do you feel about cannibal Louis? I’ve read somewhere that deers can and will eat meat. They’re like this opportunistic omnivores that will feed on meat when given the chance. They’re after the nutrients rather than the kind of food they’re eating. And the idea itself is fascinating. Which makes me wonder if cannibal Louis would be a great concept.

I actually really like meat eating Louis?? Beastars tends to divide everyone into herbivores and carnivores, but a lot of animals aren’t actually like that? Deer will eat meat if given the opportunity, there was even a case where a deer was caught eating human remains (don’t worry, it was a scientific study). They probably shouldn’t do it long term or consistently, but in Beastars? I could totally see this working out. 

(Under cut for length -Maeve)

I love the concept of a cannibalistic (or at least meat eating) Louis. I think the problem with Louis eating meat is not because eat makes him sick necessarily, but the problem is it’s not a balanced diet. Being able to eat meat doesn’t mean he should eat meat exclusively, his body isn’t meant to function like that. I would argue had Louis supplemented his diet with mostly vegetables, and a small portion of meat, he may have flourished in the Shishigumi. 

I also have a headcanon that because Beastars doesn’t acknowledge omnivores, that many animals don’t actually know they can eat meat. Gouhin is an exception, but he’s well educated an a doctor. Imagine a character who is meant to be an herbivore (such as PIGS) having cravings and just assuming there’s something wrong with them, when there’s not. 

Another great example is Horses

Horses are another ‘herbivore’ who can eat meat if an opportunity arises (these are usually wild horses and not domestic, but exceptions happen. There was a post on tumblr talking about how someone’s horse would eat their chicks?). It makes Yafya using meat as his fertilizer make a lot more sense. 

Speaking of chicks, chicks are one of the animals that I find silliest to label herbivores. Chickens can and will eat anything. Life is their buffet. I’ve seen chickens go all ham on anything that they may deem as food. My friend once has her chickens eat her bacon. 

I could get into pigs too, but that’s another long rant. 

In short

Hell yeah cannibal Louis. If he just balanced his diet a bit more, I think he could participate in group meals without to much trouble. I would lean more to him eating other meats, since I’m not sure if cannibalism in this case would lead to long term problems like it would in people, but I like the idea of it. Depending on the story, bringing other omnivores in to follow louis could be fun. Imagine just a really buff pig following him around.

[creampuffqueen]

ah...

cw: me dunking on vegans lmao

where do i even start right now??

let me give a bit of backstory: scrolling mindlessly through instagram reels eventually will pull up some vegan influencer or another. they're everywhere, and SUPER popular. i often stop my mindless scrolling to see what new bullshit they're spouting now. because of the way the instagram algorithim works, this means that i get many, many, many more videos than i want. which just leads to me having to watch them because they're just that dumb, which leads to MORE videos. it's a cycle.

anyway

most recent awful take i saw was a vegan influencer posing with their dog, while simultaneously saying "animals are not ours to use"

sweetheart. no

ALL DOMESTICATED ANIMALS HAVE A PURPOSE FOR HUMANS. ALL OF THEM.

dogs? they're companions. that is a PURPOSE. that is a USE. they are also hunters. herders. support. guardians. they have a purpose. so owning a dog is, by your definition, "exploiting animals".

same with cats. they're companions nowadays, but they were originally domesticated to hunt rodents. that's a purpose.

it isn't any different than animals used for consumption. it's really not. cattle, pigs, sheep, chickens, etc, all were domesticated by humans for a purpose. that main purpose is food. but they also provide clothing, fertilizer, and work. and that's just the basics! look up how many products are made from a cow. things you wouldn't BELIEVE have cattle products in them somewhere. and many of those things are necessary for our survival.

dogs and cats are pets, but they were also domesticated for our survival! humans get lonely. dogs give them companionship, and a hunting partner. cats hunt rodents that destroy feed stores, giving people food security. every animal we domesticate has a purpose.

now, let's talk a little about the future. let's imagine some scenarios, okay?

alright. we do it your way. we stop using animals altogether. we never use another animal again.

this means no more pets, remember? that's exploiting them, using them for their intended purpose.

we set all the livestock and pets free! no more humans controlling you!

what do you think is going to happen? the freed cattle are just going to... stop being domesticated? stop depending on humans for survival? they're not going to eat literally all vegetation in the whole world because they're loose? (remember, that vegetation is our food source now!)

yep. that's absolutely going to work. it's not like all the sheep are going to get flystrike from not being sheared. it's not like all the cattle are going to be massacred by other wildlife, but not before they eat everyone out of house and home and destroy the ecosystem. it's not like the dogs and cats and ALL the animals are going to breed and breed and breed. no, that definitely won't happen!

okay. so that's not going to work. i mean, what are you going to do with ONE BILLION head of cattle? they're not just going to disappear. they'll still exist, but free and in the wild :P

alright, let's try something else! let's say we get everyone in the world to go vegan! let's do that! and instead of farming the livestock, we keep them in sanctuaries! which is like... the same thing as a farm, but no killing! instead we keep accumulating livestock and doing NOTHING with them. literally nothing. would you pay to go see an animal sanctuary of just cattle? wait wait wait we can't do that either, that's exploiting them :)

so we've got billions of livestock chilling, doing nothing. every person in the world is vegan now, so we don't eat them or use them for anything at all! but... what about... our pets?

i truly think you're more likely to make everyone in the world go vegan than everyone in the world give up there pets. so in this scenario, we've still got them. (despite the hypocrisy)

what on earth are our pets going to eat??? dogs and cats can't be vegan, you know. they CANNOT. humans can survive, even thrive, on a vegan diet. dogs will survive. cats will not. they WILL die on a vegan diet.

so our pets still have to eat meat. but where do we get it?? do we kill billions of native animals like birds and deer and wildlife to get it? or do we use the livestock for their INTENDED PURPOSE of giving food? huh??

and, what about animals in captivity? huh? what about them? try to feed a tiger a vegan diet. go on. try it. how does it work? tell me!

now, it's another conversation for another day, but zoos are a good thing and we absolutely need them. tigers are endangered. cattle are not.

sure, we could hunt the meat needed for captive animals ourselves. leave the poor, exploited livestock to do their thing. or... here's an idea... we use the livestock for, say it with me now, their INTENDED PURPOSE!

quality control is very important in a zoo setting. what better way to ensure quality and adequate health than when you've raised an animal since birth?

so, in this scenario, all humans stop eating animal products. but guess what. we still need livestock. not for us, but for other animals. it just doesn't make sense.

i was going to segment this into a conversation about artificial insemination and how it's actually a VERY GOOD thing and not 'rape' or 'forced pregnancy at all', but i'm tired so i'll do that another time.

whether you agree or not, or if you just have questions, please feel free to talk to me! i know this comes off as a bit aggressive but i am genuinely open to other points of view. i think it's very important to see other perspectives! have a great night friends <3