#she eats raw potatoes like apples

[genderqueerdykes]

had the consult for my gallbladder surgery. the doctor told me i need to "lose 10 - 15 pounds" before they'll perform the surgery on me, and that I would need to wait 2 - 3 months before they would schedule it. i told her i have PCOS which makes it difficult to lose weight. she told me that does happen, and offered to refer me to a bariatric surgeon who is used to bigger bodies who could perform the gallbladder removal instead. i asked her for the referral to them instead

i was very angry at her for this, as 10 - 15 pounds do not make any difference when you are 300 lbs. my weight fluctuates between 280 - 340 lbs depending greatly on what i've eaten, how much i exercise, and so on. this will also vary greatly depending on if the stone is blocking my gallbladder completely or partially- if it's fully blocking the neck of my gallbladder, i cannot get enough digestive juices into my stomach to properly digest my food, so i will begin violently vomiting to get the undigested food out, and to get bile flowing into my stomach again. i begin to lose tons of weight when this happens, and i put it back on during the periods where i can get enough bile in my stomach to properly digest my food.

i can't digest my food properly. eating "healthier" will not change this- i can't digest food at all, period. healthy or unhealthy, i can't digest anything, because a good half of my digestive juices are completely missing from my guts. there is a functional issue with the way my guts work, of course i will lose weight drastically and put it back on at times. of course the issues will be episodic.

both her and the student that was working with me kept assuming that i said that my pain got worse after "high fat" meals. both of them put this in my mouth-

the student did it first. she asked when the pain gets worse and i said sporadically, but sometimes after i eat. she literally asked me "so you said it gets worse after fatty meals, right?"

i got frustrated and said "no, it's really random." i didn't get to tell her that raw leafy vegetables and lightly steamed or cooked vegetables make me vomit. broccoli and cauliflower that aren't heavily cooked, salads, raw vegetables, lightly cooked carrots, applesauce and apples in general are all problem foods.

the doctor then came in and said "it gets worse after high fat meals, right? you said that" and i went, again, "no it just kinda happens."

i don't even eat a high fat diet. i cook at home now for every meal now that i have all the tools i need to do so. i make rice, fish, pasta, and certain vegetables that i can digest like potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and so on. i eat bread, seeds, nuts, dried fruits, and drink oatmilk. i don't eat land meats, eggs, or dairy. i don't have any of those things. i do eat french fries and fish sticks, but not for every single meal. i don't eat chips because they're too salty and irritate my stomach. i don't eat candy or sweets unless the food bank delivers them to me. i don't eat much sugar other than pancakes and certain fruits

she wouldn't listen to me and went "well when you eat fatty meals, your gallbladder has to contract more and it can cause you a lot of pain." you would not believe how many times she came back to "you need to eat a lower fat diet." "the pain gets worse after you eat a high fat meal, so eat lower fat meals and your pain will go down." "just eat a lower fat diet and it'll help."

i just kind of sighed. there were tears in my eyes. i felt defeated. they made a bunch of assumptions just because i was sitting there, being fat. i was wearing long sleeves due to it being cold and they didn't get to see that i have a lot of muscle in my body mass. quite a lot. i wanted to tell them that i'm on testosterone and physically active when and where possible, and that i frequently lift heavy objects and move, but i never got a chance. i wanted to tell them my BMI isn't what they think it is, but i just didn't bother to try

i despise that people assume that fat people are fat because they eat "unhealthy" foods. i ate high fat foods for a few months while i was homeless because i didn't have the resources to cook every single meal. it affected my liver, i'm dealing with some fatty liver. but my gallbladder has more important issues in the form of the literal stone inside. she would not stop pushing for me to eat lower fat meals. all because i was sitting there, existing, as a fat person. i wish i would've told her i can only eat fish and plant matter

i don't understand how a patient telling you they're vomiting and can't keep down certain foods does not sound like a more pressing issue than an arbitrary number. weight as a number means nothing, it tells you nothing about that person's actual body composition. i have trauma with vomiting and yet i'm going to have to keep doing it anyway despite the fact that it could kill me via dehydration or if i just. can't stop

either way i'm very unhappy with result as i already waited for a month for this consult. now i have to wait for a referral for another surgeon to go through, and to do the consult with them, too. all while being in pain and having GI issues the entire time. just because a surgeon doesn't want to take the time to learn how to operate on fat bodies. i'm tired. what a joke

[nevermorgue]

Okay but what about modern Amnabel's group food preferences?

cracks knuckles. Alright, let’s get into it.

Annabel Lee - complicated. Annabel likes to have the upper hand in every situation, even in casual afternoon lunch outings. She will adapt to almost anything put in front of her. For example, if she goes to someone’s house and they serve tea and scones, she will claim that they are her favorite. Are they? Who knows. She will play it as if whatever is given is something she enjoys immensely, creating the illusion that the world seems to cater to her- that she got lucky that it was her favorite meal. She does this ALL. THE. TIME. “Oh, they are serving pie. That is one of my favorites.” No it is not. She is just making it seem like it is to create the look that “Wow, how lucky for her. The world seems to love her- they’re serving her favorite food!” You get it? She says it’s her favorite for convenience sake. This is why Prospero brings her so many varied pastries when he can. He’s trying to figure out what she actually likes.

As for what she actually likes: She has a pretty varied palette. She does prefer food that is considered more “common” as it tends to have more flavor, and she absolutely loves American food far more than what she had at home. Is the type of person to eat popcorn one piece at a time, but then resorts to shoving 4-5 pieces in her mouth when she’s invested in whatever she’s doing.

Keeps up appearances by ordering what is expected of her. Teas, light foods with small portions.

- packs snacks throughout her school day like grapes or small cheese cubes. Dainty, barely filling little things.

- She loves spicy foods. Hot curries, salsas, she loooves the burn.

Ada - Also keeps up appearances, but obviously not the same way Annabel does. She will pretend to only like more expensive things, but she honestly thinks such things are too bland. She’s a southern girl used to flavor and savory dishes.

- LOVES cheap frozen dinners. She would rather die than admit this of course. Like think those frozen mac and cheeses you put in the microwave.

- She can and will force herself to eat something she doesn’t like, especially if Annabel/Prospero is eating it.

- Hates squid. Calamari? Yuck.

- She likes to comment on things she eats like she’s doing a shitty food review on Youtube. The only person that listens is Will, but you can’t really tell that he’s even paying attention.

- Loves celery

Prospero - This man has a sweet tooth, but he knows how to keep it tamed. He has a very balanced diet and makes sure to make every lunch or breakfast filling enough to last him through morning classes.

- Salad man. He will put so much shit into a salad. He’ll make days worth of salad and sometimes he and Annabel will just eat the whole thing in between classes.

- His favorite dressing is balsamic vinaigrette.

- Very rarely eats fried foods. Corn dogs are cool and he’s more likely to eat one of those rather than something else fried

- For snacking he always gets the things that are called “thins” or “light”, and he is very strict when it comes to the “no eating three hours before sleeping” rule.

- This man hates cashews

- I HC prospero as a mama’s boy idk i get the vibe. He grew up having homemade pasta and refuses to eat it if the restaurant isn’t like locally Italian.

Montresor - Big on steak. Big on potatoes. Big on veggies when they’re roasted or oven baked or anything where they’re mixed up and peppered and cooked. Dude will eat a raw carrot for fun though

- crunches loudly on chips. he does it on purpose.

- has a surprisingly shitty spice tolerance. It’s not BAD, but his face will get red and he tries to play it off.

- Likes messy finger foods like ribs

- Licorice kind of guy. specifically red.

- Prefers green apples over red ones

- really likes blue cheese, especially for his wings

- cannot STAND marzipan anything

Will - Peaches peaches peaches peaches pea-

- Prefers simpler foods. Basic ham and cheese sandwiches, a bag of chips…normal and boring.

- gets overwhelmed when served anything more complicated than what you’d get at an Applebees. He doesn’t really think he nor his body are suited to eat such things. They’re TOO delicious and he isn’t worth it.

- He loves cheesecake brownies. He’s literally only had them twice in his life but he would go insane if he ever saw any for sale anywhere

- The drinks he gets at coffee shops are considered “girly” to Montresor, so he only buys them when he’s alone. Like fruity refreshers and stuff.

- He would like a lot more food if he actively attempted to try new things, he just has no desire to treat himself.

- eats wheat thins for fun

- Only eats 1 singular fruit for breakfast or just skips it all together.

- would probably start crying if he ate a soup. it’s warm and filling and it makes him feel like a waste of space. the warmth settling in his stomach reminds him that he’s real and he hates it.

[kedreeva]

Every day, Bug gets a bowl of fresh foods, alongside the dry chow and whole grain mixes she has free access to during waking hours. Her bowls contents often include fruits like blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, apples, oranges, bananas, tomatoes, various melons, and pomegranates, and we try new fruits when we can. The bowls also contain veggies like chopped eggplant, sweet potato, pumpkin, squashes, peas, cucumber, chickpeas, frozen or fresh corn, carrots, celery, and occasionally cooked regular potato. There's also other stuff- cooked pasta or rice, raw shrimp or fish, canned tuna, cooked poultry or venison, scrambled or hard boiled eggs, cooked beans, and sometimes leftover "people" food she can have in small quantity, like a veggie straw or a cracker or something. She does get bird treats, too, but they're fatty so that's limited.

She doesn't eat everything every day (sometimes she does sometimes she doesn't), so whatever she doesn't eat goes to the other birds in the evening when I close them up. She sometimes gets a few bites of our dinner if it's bird-safe, and we do a lot of bird safe cooking so we don't waste leftovers much. We'll also, weather permitting, go outside for a little bit and forage for grass and whatever else she wants to eat (leaves, bugs, flowers etc). (Which is where I'm writing this from because I'm bored as hell outside in the cold right now but she's loving it)

With all of that open to her daily, she still chooses to eat mostly her dry chow. My birds have all been on Belstra chow for years now, and they all seem to genuinely enjoy eating it, compared to some of the others I've tried that felt more like they would eat it if they HAD to, but they didn't enjoy the process. I'm glad to see that it compares even when there are other, seemingly more tasty, options. On top of that, my avian vet highly approved of it as well when we were searching around. So if you're keeping fowl and you have the ability to give this brand a try, they've got a bunch of different feeds, and all of them look great. You can usually ask your local mill about ordering, or becoming a retailer if your birds like it. If nothing else, as far as I've been able to tell, it gets you out from under Purina's crappy boot.

[siriusleee]

up to light

a/n: so part 1 and 2 were the only parts of this story that were originally going to be published. i did this to wrap the story up, so it is narratively different because the first 2 parts were a story of like being enamored and panic, and all that. this is about becoming better and healing. i did a lot of research into ptsd in returning soldiers for this. tags: PTSD, arguing, some domestic arguments, breaking shit, fighting, blood, redemption, some religious imagery, did not proofread because I am lazy “Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.” ― John Milton, Paradise Lost part one | part two

He has fits of rage that shock him: chairs broken into pieces, plates smashed in the sink, his hand through the window, a hole in her dashboard. Sodom and Gomorrah beneath his hands. He expects her to react in kind; more than once he begs her to retaliate, to scream at him. 

She refuses, but she doesn't speak to him when she wraps his knuckles, wiping the blood away with a sting. He fixes each broken item the next day, a silent apology that he'll do better the next time he gets angry.

Once he wakes up and expects her to be in the kitchen like every morning, the golden light filtering through - a cup of coffee already made for him on the counter. She's not there. He knocks on her bedroom door, but she doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he paces, carving a trail in the carpet. He sits at the kitchen table and flashes back to seeing her above him. He can't sit there long.

It takes an hour for her to come back, grocery bags in her hand. He barely registers what he's doing when he grabs her by her shoulders in a bruising grip and shakes her. He doesn't yell, but he's close to it.

"Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to be here!"

The bags hit the floor, contents spilling out onto a disarray. She shoves him, harder than he would have expected her to be able to; he stumbles backward, surprised at her strength. 

Scream at me. Please.

She doesn't move, fist clenched at her side - an archangel ready to strike him down. She rubs her hands on the thighs of her jeans, eyes downcast before she speaks to him.

"You can break everything in my house if you want, but the next time you grab me like that, you will regret it."

She is the wrath of God; Simon expects her to strike him down at any moment: his angel showing her true strength. He feels her anger radiate off her in waves. But she leaves it, dropping to her knees to grab the apples that have rolled across the floor. Simon's hands shake when he bends down to help her; the first box he picks up is the brand of tea he mentioned last week. 

***

You teach him how to garden; repenting to the dirt for all the harm you've ever caused. The dirt cakes under his nails and in the evenings he lets you wash them. You trace your fingers over the bruised and raw skin of his knuckles before he pulls away and disappears into the spare bedroom.

He stays up in the long watches of the night; you hear him through the thin walls. He showers quickly - you don't even think five minutes pass before the water shuts off. You wonder if he wears his mask to the shower. 

He's there to watch your cook dinner every night, a shepherd of the potatoes. 

"Here," you say, shoving the vegetables towards him, "cut these up for me please."

You both eat in silence, your eyes downcast so that you don't see his face. He eats everything quickly, finishing his second plate before you can even finish your first.

He leaves you at the dinner table to check the locks, to make sure the windows are latched shut against the outside world. He rotates through each of them twice, reassuring himself that they're impenetrable. He checks the shotgun behind the front door before disappearing into the spare room. Through the door, you hear the sound of a bullet being chambered; you know he puts it underneath his pillow and there's another on the bedside table. 

***

Simon spends more nights at the bar than he'd like to admit. She's always there to unlock the door for him to stumble in, feet catching the edge of the stairs. He leans on her and she helps him to bed. She doesn't complain about his weight. She slides his boots off, fingers catching in the laces. Her hands trail up lightly, pausing at the scar she knows is below his ribs, before pushing down gently on his shoulders. 

Simon lets himself fall heavily back, he pretends not to feel her run her fingers across the top of his mask, nails massaging his scalp through the fabric before she leaves him.

One night he lets himself fall into temptation, his hand snaking out to grab her wrist when she turns. His thumb traces the inside of her wrist, she smells like apple blossoms and spring. Redemption.

"What is it, Ghost?" 

She speaks so softly to him, it makes the room spin around him.

"I'm sorry I'm a disaster." 

In the moonlight, her eyes soften; she pulls her wrist from his hand. For just a moment, their fingertips linger together. 

"Go to sleep, Ghost."

It spills out of him, a prayer he wants her to listen to.

"Simon."

"Go to bed, Simon."

She leaves him in the dark.

***

You go out with Simon when the New Year comes; he promises he won't drink as much as he usually does. It's a tradition - an obligation the two of you can't seem to shake off from all the years before each other. You nurse a rum and coke for hours and watch him disappear into the dark corners with his drinks. When the fireworks go off early outside, it takes you by surprise; you push through the crowd, drink spilling onto your wrist. You find Simon in the back, hands bleeding where he gripped his glass hard enough to shatter it. 

Outside a firework explodes in the sky, bright enough to shine through the dingy windows of the bar. Simon doesn't look at you when you wrap your hands around his wrist, trying to pull his attention to you. Beneath your fingers, his muscles are taunt - ready to run. 

"Simon, come on. Let's go home."

He lets you pull him towards the back door of the bar, and into the dark parking lot, but his muscles don't - can't - relax under your touch. Outside the air crackles around the two of you, the fireworks screaming in the air. You lace your fingers through his and pull him towards your car, blood pooling where your hands connect. Three men watch the two of you, the cherries of their cigarette burn in the darkness.

One of them jeers at you - come on babe, ditch him and come with us. 

Simon rips his fingers from you, his anger exploding in the night.

***

He is Apollyon in the darkness; he comes to when his feet connect to the door of the guy's truck. It crumples beneath his boot, caving in. He hears the guys screaming at him; one tries to grab him and Simon shoves him off. Dents litter the side of the truck the guys were leaning on and one of the men has his hand pressed to his nose, blood running between his fingers.

His lungs burn in the cold air. The guys are still screaming at him, minglings of you fucked up, and call the fucking cops. Shame burns through him when he finds Hazy, her hands hanging limply at her side, illuminated by a street light. Her face is screwed up; Simon knows she's about to cry. His blood stains her jeans - he's slammed back to her begging him for his name, hands trying to stem the flow of his blood- back to her pulling him from the nightmares.

Hazy.

His angel.

He leaves her in the parking lot - the shouts and fireworks behind him. 

The door is unlocked when he gets back to her place - the sun tinging the horizon. His heart stutters - she never leaves the door unlocked, but it stills when he sees her curled up on the couch. She's under the blanket from his bed, hair haloed around her. He lowers himself down to the floor beside her and falls asleep with his head by her knees.

***

You slither from behind Simon, fingers tracing his shoulders as you try not to wake him, but he stirs beneath your touch. You lower down beside him, back pressed against your coffee table. His eyes shine in the early morning glow, the skin below dark from exhaustion. 

You reach forward to grab his hands gently, flipping them over to inspect the clotted blood from the night before. 

"I'm sorry," his voice cracks from the lack of sleep. You trace one of the cuts with your thumb before cradling his hand in your lap.

"I know you are."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," it comes out half a whisper; you grip his wrist tighter. You push yourself up enough to crawl in front of him, resting your knees between his. You hold yourself up by leaning on his thighs, hands pressing into the rough material of his jeans, dirt and blood that wasn't there the night before staining your hands.

"I'm ruining everything." His voice is rough and he looks at the ceiling above you. 

"Simon," your voice draws his eyes down to yours, "you're still learning how to come home. It's not easy - I know."

He reaches down to grab your wrists, pulling your hands up until they're level with his chest. You can see he wants to say something; he struggles to form the words. His eyes stay locked where he holds your wrists.

"I'm - I'm worried I'm going to hurt you."

"I can take care of myself."

Simon squeezes your wrists, hard enough that you know you'll have a thumbprint bruise there tomorrow. 

"I know you can, angel."

***

Johnny shows up a few months later banging on the door. Simon's fingers itch for the pistol beneath his pillow at the sound, but he can't make it across the room before Hazy swings open the door. 

"It's for you Simon," she yells over her shoulder. She lets Johnny in, muttering something about another one showing up.

"What are you doing here Johnny?"

Johnny grins at Simon from his spot on the steps.

"Just wanted to check on you L.T.; make sure you were surviving."

"Fuck off Johnny. You came to eat for free."

***

Simon and Soap - no Johnny is what Simon called him - sit outside and smoke on the front steps while you finish dinner, beating the chicken until it's paper thin. Their cigarette smoke floats through the window - the same window Simon put his hand through after one of the neighbors complained about him cleaning his gun on the front steps - and curls around you. It makes your stomach turn, reminding you of how you and your Boys had sat with your feet dangling outside of the helis and passed a cigarette along when you were finally pulled out, the way you all smoked on the back of a smoking Stryker when it got hit by an EFP - the copper lodging itself just inches from your own sergeant. You hadn't been able to smoke since you came home years ago.

The chicken sizzles in the oil when you drop it into the pan - the sound of Johnny laughing cutting through the air. You hear Simon laugh just slightly beneath him, a sound you hadn't heard since he showed up at your door. 

You call to the boys from the open window, chastising them to wash their hands before they dare touch the dinner you slaved over. 

It's horrifically domestic, you think, watching the two of them eat at the dinner table from your spot in the living room. Simon has his back to you; you can see his balaclava pushed up around his nose, the two of them angle themselves towards each other. Simon's loose, shoulders slumped in comfort at the way Johnny speaks to him. The way Johnny can touch Simon's shoulder without Simon flinching away from him.

All at once it hits you - a wave of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You leave the two of them in the house, your feet pulling you towards the rain-soaked pavement outside; the smell of ichor overwhelming you.

***

Simon hears the door shut behind Hazy - Johnny stares intently at the door, eyebrows knitted together. 

"I think your girl is upset."

"She's not my girl Johnny."

"Oh?" Johnny's eyebrows go up, disappearing into the hair he's growing out. "So you just live here and nothing? You don't fuck?"

Simon's hand hits the top of the dining room table, hard enough to knock over Johnny's glass of water. 

"Shut your fuckin' mouth; don't speak about her like that."

Simon can see a dangerous glint in Johnny's eye, in the way Johnny leans closer to him. It makes Simon's skin prickle.

"So she's open for business? I might stay awhile; I was hoping to share her like-"

Simon slams into Johnny, the chair beneath shattering like matchsticks. They land heavily on the ground, Simon's hands fisted in the front of Johnny's shirt. Johnny doesn't fight back - his hands out to the side of him, ever forgiving on the cross, as he grins up at Simon. Simon lifts him up once before slamming him back into the ground, but Johnny never winces. 

The anger rolls and bubbles inside of Simon, hellfire ready to overflow. The stupid fucking grin on Johnny's face makes it worse. Johnny's hand wraps around Simon's wrist, limply, but enough to remind Simon that Johnny can still kick his ass. 

"Be honest with me L.T.."

Simon's fingers falter in the slick fabric of Johnny's shirt.

"I'm going to hurt her Johnny."

"L.T.-"

"I get so fucking angry at everything. I grabbed her once. I'm worried I'm going to do it again."

It scared the fuck out of me.

***

You notice one less chair when you get home, hair stuck to your neck from the humidity. Johnny is gone, a thank you for dinner note scrawled in chicken scratch handwriting on the counter. The sink is empty, dishes washed and dried, and put away. 

You can see in the small backyard, Simon sitting on the back steps. His mask is off; his hair, brown and cut short, makes your fingers itch to run through it. He's cradling his head in his hands - you want to go out to him, to rub your hands across his back, but you don't. 

The shower water runs hot, burning your skin red. You let it wash over you, a Lazarus pit trying to pull you back into the mortal realm. The backdoor slams shut, hard enough to shake the walls around you. Outside of the shower, your hair drips onto the carpet of your bedroom as you dress, drenching the back of the t-shirt you pull on. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Simon's, hanging to your knees; it must have gotten mixed up in the wash. 

Simon's on the couch, balaclava pulled back on. You drop down heavily on the other end of the couch, the distance a chasm between the two of you. Unceremoniously Simon holds out a wrinkled pamphlet towards you; you take it, wet fingertips indenting the paper. PTSD for Veterans.

"It's a group; Johnny goes to it."

You trace your fingers over the words without reading them.

"I went to one like this when I got out," you tell him, handing the pamphlet back to him. "It helped a lot."

Simon doesn't speak, but he tucks the pamphlet back into his jeans. 

Next Tuesday, he comes home sober. 

***

Simon sits in the back of the group for weeks, his usual balaclava switched out for a plain black surgical mask to keep everyone from staring at him. They talk about ways to reduce anger, to get your mind back here and not there. 

The next time he curls his fist, he remembers what the group leader said about pausing and being in the moment. His hand unfurls slowly. He sets the glass he thinks about shattering back in the sink. Beside him, Hazy hums, slicing mushrooms into precise slices. He reaches around her to grab the dish soap; his hand lingers at the small of her back for a moment too long; he sees how Hazy stops cutting the mushrooms, how the next cut is uneven.

They don't speak at dinner; the sound of their forks on the plates punctuates the silence. Hazy goes to wash the dishes, but Simon beats her to it. He can feel her eyes on him, piercing him from behind as he slops the dishwater onto his shirt. 

Hazy leans across the counter, watching as Simon meticulously dries each plate, each fork tine until they shine the way he wants them to. 

"Do you want to go on a walk?" She asks as he finishes. Simon wipes his wet hands on his jeans as he looks at her.

"Sure."

They pace beside each other, the hot pavement cooling beneath their feet. They're crossing the street when Hazy reaches out and takes Simon's hand; the first time since New Year's. Simon remembers his dreams of her, golden haloed and tracing the scars on his body. 

They walk in silence, a quarter-mile trek until they circle back home, Simon's heart in his throat the entire time. He knows something is different when the door clicks behind them; in the dark, he can see Hazy fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Simon pushes the bottom of his mask up enough to hook over his nose; when she turns back around, she doesn't speak, her hand lifts up to trace Simon's jawline, but pulls back before she can actually touch him. She starts to pull away, but Simon catches her and pulls her hand to his face.

She's so soft and warm, the way he dreamt she would be. She traces a scar on the underside of his chin and Simon feels his knees buckle, just a bit.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is soft, so quiet he can hardly hear himself. Hazy's breath catches in her throat, fingers teasing the edge of his mask. She nods; Simon wraps the piece of hair that hangs down in front of her face around his finger before resting his hand on her shoulder. He can feel her pulse quicken beneath her skin.

"Are you scared of me?"

Hazy's hand trails down past his chin to rest on his chest, nails lightly digging into his skin.

"Are you?"

His thumb rests on her clavicle; his hand tights against her skin.

"Absolutely. I wake up every day worried I'm going to hurt you."

Hazy presses herself closer, Simon's hand reaches up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. Her hands slide under his shirt, tracing the scars below and Simon sees his angel again, she pulls him back from the darkness.

"You're not going to hurt me, Simon."

"How do you know?"

Her answer is to kiss him, pulling him down to her height. Her tongue traces the edges of his lips, pushing through until Simon can taste her. Simon's grip on the back of her neck tightens, and he pulls her closer until Simon can feel the heat of her through his clothes. 

She guides him to her room, fingers soft and pleading against his belt buckle. When Simon freezes at her touch, she doesn't push him farther, she stills until Simon can move again. Later, when the sheet is tangled beneath them, and she's straddled over him, fingers splayed out across his chest, tracing the scars that crisscross at random, Simon brushes her hair out of her face.

"I thought you were an angel when you were above me on that table. I dreamt about you - a golden halo."

And this.

The corner of Hazy's mouth twitches up, and she presses a kiss to the middle of his chest. 

"I thought you were going to die there; I begged god to keep you alive."

Simon's hands grip her hips, stilling her. 

"Why didn't you ever come back and see me?"

Hazy traces her fingers in circles slowly around Simon's skin, and he waits for her answer.

"You called me an angel that day when you woke up. It scared me, someone so enamored with me like that just all at once. I didn't know what to do. I thought I would disappoint you when you got your senses about you."

Simon flips the both of them, hovering over her, studying the way the light glitters in her eyes. He wants to tell her how his angel could never disappoint him - how she keeps him alive every day, but he can't make the words come out of his mouth. Instead, he presses a kiss to the base of her neck, fingers dipping below her shirt. 

taglist:

@lieblinqs, @random-thot-generator, @nervousloverkitten, @thychuvaluswife, @stillinracooncity, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @fog-sama, @wordsfromshona, @soundsfunbutno

[boomboxboi]

gangs fave food and drinks 😃

Going with non-canon things here (because what’s the fun in spouting the canon stuff over and over again?)

Bruno Bucciarati

We already know Bruno can’t cook.

His tastebuds are… questionable at best.

Because he thinks he CAN cook.

He really enjoys anything with clams, however.

No one will ever let him handle clams.

All clam sellers?

Wow… they’re suddenly all out of clams for the day.

Bruno can never ever buy clams.

But this man loves them.

Especially with pasta and a white wine sauce.

Favorite drink is water, in all honesty.

Leone Abbacchio

Heavy meals.

A real meat and potatoes man.

Specifically red meat (beef) with a red wine.

Slow roasts are a delight.

But he does not have the mental fortitude to make this.

He eats raw potatoes, instead, to cope.

Bruno has offered to make him a roast.

He politely declines by saying he’s not hungry enough for it.

But if Bruno does make it, he stomachs through it.

Wine drinker confirmed.

Dry reds.

Pannacotta Fugo

A fan of greasy foods or light and fresh foods.

No in-between.

Fritta all the way.

Or a salad.

Fried vegetables are a personal favorite.

But if they’re fresh vegetables, he also will never complain.

Likes to go to the markets early to get fresh vegetables.

Also recruits Narancia in going shopping early in the morning for these vegetable shopping trips.

Tea and coffee drinker.

Likes darker blends.

Narancia Ghirga

Absolute veggie and fruit lover.

He is far from being a picky eater and will eat anything in front of him.

He’s also a soup fiend.

This man loves soup.

Will easily down five bowls of soup in one sitting.

He can stomach Bruno’s cooking but Mista always insists on cooking for him.

Big snacker, too.

Loves orange juice.

But also vibes with cola and apple juice.

Has a restriction on how much cola he’s allowed to drink (per Abbacchio’s rules to make sure he has a healthy enough diet because Narancia WILL suck down an entire carton of soda if he can).

Guido Mista

Seafood dishes.

Fresh tilapia with some parsley, garlic, and lemon.

It’s just a simple delight.

The side is steamed broccoli and linguini in some light olive oil.

Also the worlds pickiest eater.

Not in the sense that he won’t try things.

But if he’s in the mood for something specific, he will only want that specific thing.

Can make himself any dish he wants.

Beverage of choice is white wines, sprite, and occasionally a coke and rum.

Giorno Giovanna

Rice and curry.

It’s his go to because it’s easy and packed full of flavor.

Big root vegetable fan.

Used to only be against red meat but now he doesn’t eat any meat.

However, he does love blackened tofu.

He just wants food that’s packed with flavor and intense.

Also is blind to how bad Bruno’s food is.

He is a tea fan.

Herbal teas in specific.

Trish Una

French cuisine is a favorite.

But if Trish can’t have that, she settles for most pasta dishes.

A very picky eater.

She doesn’t want to eat things she considers to be gross.

Also the food has to be aesthetic.

She enjoys eating soup with Narancia.

Chicken is the only meat she will eat.

And it cannot be too dry.

Her favorite drink would have to be mineral water and fresh squeezed lemons with ice.

[slocumjoe]

could i get your take on what the companions (or just my favorite boy X6's) top 10 fave candies/foods would be in a modern AU?

anon you are in luck, because I am constantly thinking about the diets and eating habits of my blorbos

The numbered list isn't in any particular order, it's just so I don't have to manually count each point

so

What the companions would eat if not in a post apocalypse

Cait; Wouldn't have a taste for fancier cuisine. Eats more...hick-ish. I can say that because I was a hick with this kind of diet, growing up. Has a taste for filling, cheap, low-effort food...think lots of fast food, but "healthier" fast food. Like Chipotle, Panera, etc. Can cook, doesn't often, but will if she has a craving. Savory or tart tastes. She tends to eat lighter than you'd expect.

Blueberry brownie anything, favors dark chocolate in general

Submarine sandwiches, anything with pickles

Key lime pie

Salt and vinegar chips and thinks critics of such chips are cowards

Peach Redbull, any energy drinks though

Storebought hummus and Doritos, has been seen eating hummus with just a spoon though

Blueberry bread pudding. Simple to make, fun to eat, very comforting. Buys her bread already stale from a local bakery, has a guy to hook her up with the old shit

Seafood chowder

Sausages in any capacity. Jerky sticks, breakfast sausage, etc. Loves chorizo.

Honey buns from the gas station

Curie; Health nut, she eats like every influencer claims they eat like. Only, Curie actually eats like that. Lots of fresh foods and whole grains, little red meat. However, Curie makes a point to have foods that other health nuts would condemn, thinks its really important to not label any food as "bad." So, she balances between health nut and normal person. Her taste leans toward bright and/or sweet. Dislikes red meat.

Salmon breakfast wraps

Tropical fruit smoothies, eats so much pineapple

Iced tea, favors raspberry. Never seen without an iced tea of some kind

Halibut tacos, likes red cabbage and a fuck ton of lemon on it. Soft shells all the way

Bananas foster

Whipped brie dip, eats it with anything but loves it on apples, basically dessert

Lemon pepper grilled chicken and rice

So many salads, loves that you can just throw shit in a bowl and call it a recipe. Likes strawberries and almonds

Lemon poppyseed muffins

Shrimp and bitter melon stir fry

Danse; mixed bag. One on hand, small town diner tastes. Simple, cheap, good ol' American food. On the other, he's doomed to be a soldier in every universe he's in, so...maybe he picks up some tastes and dishes from places he's toured. Gets a weird pallate that shoots in all directions and makes you wonder what it's like in that thick skull. One day he's a good American boy with pancakes and steak, the next he's eating cake mix dry and drinking tahini from a flask.

Anything BBQ, but a pulled pork devotee

Hot coffee so heavily creamed and sugars it looks like milk. He likes the twix combo of chocolate, shortbread, and caramel flavors

Prepackaged baked goods a la Hostess, fucks up little Debbie oatmeal cookies

Apple and pecan pie

Menemen—Turkish dish, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, bell peppers, spices to taste, and (controversially) onions. Adds sausage and cheese, eats it with a fork or spoon (its meant to be eaten with bread)

Khachapuri—Georgian cheesy bread with egg. Eats with a knife and fork. (its meant to be eaten with the bread crust)

Smores pop tarts

Beef and potato stew

Rice bowl with fried egg and avocado, bonus points if it has bacon

Straight cookie dough/brownie/cake batter, usually when he's black out drunk and cannot shame himself out of eating raw egg products.

Deacon; Very childhood comfort food. Y'know, things you had as a kid, but probably grew out of a bit? Eats out of gas stations/takeout frequently. Very open flavor pallete, has tried everything he's had the chance to. Likes one-handed food, stuff you can have the other hand free for. Doesn’t really have a 'theme', has broad horizons for his diet. Likes lighter, mild flavors, though. He eats lightly and on the go a lot.

Hot/corn dogs, taste in hot dog toppings varies

Egg salad sandwiches

French fries and vanilla ice cream, classic combo

Mango sticky rice

Cornbread with any accompaniments. Likes honey or chili, thinks if you have a drink with cornbread, you ain't a real cornhead

Penne alla vodka

Cucumber salad. This could mean a salad with cucumbers, that trending Asian recipe where you cut the cumber so its springy, or eating a cucumber like a hotdog.

Fried mushrooms

Usually just drinks water but will have gator/powerade when he's working. Likes purple flavor

Captain crunch cereal, loves all cereal though. Prefers the kibble stuff to the berries. Starts philosophical debates about the morality of Trix commercials vs Lucky Charms commercials

Gage; His favorite foods reflect his upbringing. Coastal swamp cuisine, cheap and made in bulk. Take Danse's pallate and hyperlocalize it, and then lower the budget by a good amount. Things he grew up eating. Would gradually replace his favorites with pricier, 'less embarrassing' dishes, distances himself from his origins. However, takes care to not looked too loaded. Smokey and savory flavors are his thing, likes more spice than people expect.

Doberge cake, which is layered with pudding, often half-chocolate and half-lemon

Red beans and rice, with stewed pork if they could afford it

Blackened fish of any kind, liked it with cilantro-lime rice

Steak with potatoes and/or eggs

Chronic iced tea drinker like Curie, though he prefers the bitter kinds

Scallops

Brussels sprouts defender and will fight for their honor

Peaches

Was introduced to curry during a business meeting/outing. Could drink that shit from a glass, has it with potatoes and porkchops.

Lobster anything. This is one of those 'less embarresing' things, but he genuinely enjoys a good lobster roll. Even if he prefers a freshly-caught lobster bisque. Again, something he had growing up, something he pushes away.

Hancock; Similar to Deacon, but favors fatty, greasy food. No, it's not the drugs, that's just his metabolism. He's a skinny twink, always starving, can never put on weight. Eats as much as Danse, who is a big guy and needs more calories than most. He's really into street food and foreign dishes, won't eat at a restaurant if they speak fluent English or have good customer service. IYKYK. Very comfort food heavy, lots of "this would slap with Netflix at 2 am"

A classic oxtail, mac and cheese, and collard green take out combo

Any and all American-chinese take out, usually gets eggplant tofu with chow mein and cream cheese rangoons

"Walking tacos", those things where you open a small bag of chips and dump White People taco makings in. Probably just tips the whole thing into his mouth

Yakitori, Japanese chicken skewers, popular bar food

Bloody Mary cocktails

Pizza, will fight for the honor of pineapple. Would really be into how Brazil does pizza

Frozen yogurt and ice cream, piles with toppings

Breakfast sandwiches or wraps. Egg, meat, cheese, doesn't matter the time nor specifics.

Jam donuts, loves cherry fillings

Puppy chow/muddy buddies, chex cereal covered in chocolate and powdered sugar. Eats his weight in them if not careful

MacCready; forces himself to learn how to cook for Duncan's sake, but for himself...good God. It's horrible. Eats like garbage. Would never drink water if not to set an example. Take out, frozen food, so much candy and soda. After Duncan, broadens his horizons. Finds he really likes soups. Just throw shit in a pot and it works. Eats on a budget, so that's a life-saver. Doesn't have a preferred flavor pallete, aside from his love of candy.

Meat lover's pizza. Thinks pineapple has no place on pizza

Used to drink Mountain Dew and diet coke, replaced it with iced teas and more organic fruit juices for the sake of his teeth

Chicken soup, either from a can, or homemade. Either way, slaps. If homemade, blends veggies for a hidden veggie stock. For him, Duncan is a lot better at eating veggies, MacCready needs to trick himself.

Sour rainbow ropes

Cookie crisp cereal, thinks whoever came up with it deserved the sloppiest head. Incredible design, no notes

Cheese and sour cream chips

Famous Amos cookies

Eggo waffles

Gnocchi is God to him. Its superior to all noodles and makes your Shit In The Fridge soup 1000 times better.

Rice pudding is cheap, easy, and a surprisingly efficient sweet-tooth satisfier. Makes it with pumpkin spice mix or chocolate.

Nick; Home-cooked meals all the way. Could kill himself with cheese and die happy. Lots of easy meals and snacking so he can keep working, but will treat himself to a nice, hard-earned dinner when he has the time and energy. Likes himself the smokey, the fresh, or the sour. Probably knows all the best sub shops in the city, probably in a turf war with regulars of rival shops. Jewish delicatessens are like church to him.

Lasanga. Most of his freezer space is lasagna. Eats so much of it. He's lactose intolerant. It hurts but it hurts so good

Latkes. Fried potato things, kind of like hashbrowns, except the potato is mashed/ground instead of grated. And yes. Also pastrami. But those little potato bitches...mmmph.

Red velvet muffins with cream cheese frosting.

Fried cheese in any capacity

A prosciutto, arugula, brie, and fig sandwich

Pickled pearl onions

Cobb salad

Black coffee. Temp doesn't matter, because he's going to forget it until its room temp.

Has been known to enter fugue states and consume an absurd amount of Chicago style hot dogs

Scones or just plain bread with butter and jams

Piper; Broke college student trying to make it as a reporter. Her tastebuds are fucked, they salivate not for flavor, or texture, but for those good, good low prices. Piper's diet is almost entirely snackfood or takeout. If she ever cooks, it's for Nat. But when taking care of just herself, Piper eats from a box or bag. When she does cook, it's very simple meals. Loves her carbs and her fruit flavors

Chicken Ramen with canned chicken and frozen broccoli chucked in. Also makes this for Nat

Hot cheetos, eats with chopsticks

Spaghetti and meatballs

Fruit smoothies/smoothie bowls, blends in veggies as well for the nutrition

Coka cola and anything from Fanta, loves fruit sodas

Anything carbs and I mean that. Eats a lot of bread, pasta, cakes, potatoes...they're the sweetheart of anyone on a budget.

Buffalo cauliflower, likes it more than Buffalo chicken

Chewing gum. Fruit flavors only, hates mint gum. Likes mint elsewhere, just not in gum.

Nickle-nips and other "jelly/juice in a wax package" candies. Likes the charm of it, also, free chewing wax

Suckers/lollipops, big on hard candy in general but the stick satisfies her smoking habit.

Preston; A mix of easy depression/bulk meals and dishes from his childhood. Lots of spices, cooks with a lot of straight peppers. Tends to eat his food 'raw', not made into a dish. Again, easy and quick to eat. Also tends to buy pre-prepared stuff for the same reason, buys more fruits and veggies and just eats them straight. Doesn't care about eating healthy, he just lacks energy to cook most days.

I have no choice to explain this as it has no name. Casserole dish, layer of mashed potatoes, layer of shredded or chunked chicken, layer of white breakfast gravy or brown poultry gravy, top with drop biscuits. It's buttery, its savory, it is white as snow. Easy, cheap, one ladlefull is dinner. You'll get a few meals out of it, and it's so filling you have like, five minutes before you're stuffed. I call it gut-glue.

Dirty rice

Eggs scrambled with spinach

Jollof/jambalaya

Veggies and hummus or ranch

Various fruits and berries such as grapes, cherries, blackberries, and oranges

Shakshouka, eggs poached in spicy tomato sauce and eaten with bread

Chicken biscuits, crackers dusted with, like, chicken bouillon? They taste like a chicken Ramen packet sneezed on a ritz

Slurpees/Icees/those syruped gas station ice drinks

Straight peppers, eats bell peppers like apples. Eats pickled jalapeños and scotch bonnets to feel something. Drinks the liquid in pickle jars instead of alcohol, or mixes it with gelatin and makes pickle jello.

X6-88; Pretensious rich asshole who eats like it. He rarely cooks for himself, probably has a personal chef or something. Maybe his work has their own restaurants, like Google. Eats mostly vegetables, but his favorite foods skew from "Dubai Influencer" to "12 year old who earned too much lawn mowing money and was let loose in a convenience store." So much sugar. Willy Wonka's factory is his idea of heaven and until it exists, he's an atheist.

Raw meats. Steak and tuna tartar, sashimi, and sushi

Braised duck with cherries

Nduja, a spicy pork sausage spread, has it with flatbreads

Oysters. Eats them all fancy in public, eats them from a tin with doritos at home

Anything from Hostess, Little Debbie, those brands. Fucking anything. However, would kill a man for any kind of Swiss roll

Chocolate milk

Gummies, very picky with brands, hates the harder kinds like Haribo. Wants his gummies soft as a marshmellow

Cadbury eggs

Milano dark chocolate cookies

Gushers

[illarian-rambling]

🍲 – What's your OCs comfort food?

Izjik’s comfort food is raw salmon. Her enclave would always travel upriver in a big festival to hunt the fish, so it reminds her of her childhood.

Sepo’s comfort food is crab. It's a common, low effort siren meal and was a delicacy in the Trench. Some part of his brain always feels relief when he gets to eat it.

Twenari’s comfort food is breaded and fried shrimp. She grew up on the sea and this was what she got to eat when she wasn't attending one of her mother’s dinners.

Djek’s comfort food is cinnamon bread. There was this nice street vendor who'd give him any bread she didn't sell when he was a kid on the streets, and the cinnamon stuff was always his favorite.

Astra's comfort food is potato stew. It was her family's special occasion food when she was young, but now that she sends them money, they can make it more regularly.

Mashal can't eat and has no memories, so he has no idea what his comfort food is. Aestheticly though, he likes apples.

Ivander’s comfort food is not, in fact, some fancy dish with gold leaf on top. Ceyrel took him out for hobgoblin food once and he got this cheesy rice dish that was just about the both greasiest and best thing he'd ever eaten. He orders it every time he's feeling under the weather.

Elsind's comfort food is mashed snow root with sour cream - so basically a slightly more carrot-like baked potato. It's a staple for all Skysheerian peasants.

Avymere's comfort food is lavender scones. Their mother always served them at more intimate parties and after her death, the palace chefs would always make some when they noticed Avymere was down.

Thanks for the ask, this was a lot of fun!

[hotmenheadcanons]

Kizuna and their relationship with food

I made this whole blog for this one post so take it minor tw for implied ed

Yusei

While not actively starving himself anymore, he still forgets to eat regularly.

He has the advantage of getting distracted by his tinkering easily, so he always took that to forget his hunger and leave more food for the others.

He probably would've been taller if he didn't do that

He also has a very small appetite. More accurately described as "this is the maximum amount that would logically be attributed to me considering my situation and getting more will make me ✨uncomfortable✨ about starving the others".

He's working on increasing that maximum.

Jack

The oddball. Except not really.

He always has been a big eater, whether he liked it or not. If he didn't eat enough he'd feel weird and depressed.

He felt plenty depressed in Satellite

Food was the first luxury he indulged in when he went to the City. Power needs Energy.

Having a nice warm meal filling his stomach has always been his selfish craving, so after leaving his friends he fell into a bit of a bulimia.

It wasn't very clear, but it was like he was eating instead of them. The guilt made him eat more.

Another side of him also thought he deserved it. Yet another thought it was the continuation of his selfishness.

Jack doesn't like food all that much after that.

Which is why he reverts back to cup ramen once he rejoins his friends. He'd never had any as a King, as it was too cheap and reminded him of the past, leaving it untarnished.

As snob as he might be, he cannot stand fancy food anymore, even if he has to cook himself.

Crow

Crow always thought he was short because he wasn't eating enough, and blamed Jack for it.

In hindsight, and after taking care of children, he regrets it immensely.

which is why he indulged in him buying whole boxes of cup ramen despite being on a tight budget

Despite being very protective of his food when he was younger, he learned how to share and years later, much like Yusei, started giving his portion to the others.

He's still more practical about it than the other two, if a bit instinctual, as if he finds himself with food and no one to give it to, he'll inhale it in record time.

He's also mastered the art of scavenging and cooking food in all manners possible. Even more efficient than Martha who called him for help sometimes.

He might have a problem recognizing what food is actually good for consumption though.

Common

None of them ever ever keep leftovers willingly. What Yusei doesn't finish after being pushed ends up in Crow's stomach.

They also have weird tastebuds, as the rest of the group came to realize; they're not that receptive to sweet things, for them it just feels sticky and inconsistent, like cotton candy.

Jack never ate desserts back when he was a King.

(They wouldn't say no to a good Martha pie though.

Since the Daedalus Bridge completed she's been discovering the joys of pâtisserie and they're all getting dragged into it.)

None of them can handle spice all that well, not if it's anything else than spicy cup ramen.

All of them can (and would, if necessary) bite into a raw potato without flinching.

Fruits were also that weird sort of luxury that has them swooning at a single apple.

They'd share the apple equally, then fight over it for good measure, and then part like it hasn't been the highlight of their day.

[fallenangelofsalt]

Purple Gold 4 (major TW for drowning and fear of death, plus some wild murder-related imagination)

Masterpost

@styck-figure @whirld-of-color I think I went a bit overboard on the metaphors here.

It's been two weeks since your fall.

You wake up with tear stains in your pillow and corndogs in your mouth, like you've done for fourteen days now.

You get up with a wince and aching legs, and bite into a carrot to chase away the taste in your mouth. Your mom liked to slip them in your meals when she wanted you to feel better, the crunchyness of the raw slices pleasant in your teeth even if the taste got funny sometimes, but now it always tastes like bone.

(It tastes like eating pork ribs and scraping your teeth on the bone to chew on the last scraps of meat still clinging to it, the rock salt caught around the edges of your mouth keeping the picked clean leftovers deliciously salty on your tongue. Dad made it with love, and you can tell with every bite. You really miss him.)

You walk outside to check on your small farm, aches fading into mild numbness after a few steps in the sun. Your carrots grew well, the wheat, beetroot, watermelons and potatoes just a few steps behind. You reap the full grown crops and plant new seeds calmly before dumping the fruits of your labor inside the small chest already filled with seeds, hastily harvested mushrooms, apples, bones, bowls and some fish.

(You wonder at the other, bigger chests in your base, filled almost to the brim with enchanted books and bows and fishing rods, iron and gold, music disks and name tags, saddles and horse armor, redstone and gunpowder. You wonder if it was really meant to be that easy to find those moss-filled rooms, if the stuff you fished up was really that easy to get. You swear you feel the sunshine wrap itself around you, a gentle but impossible hug, just like the laugh you hear in the wind.)

Your weapons and tools never left your inventory, but you to take a couple minutes to stock up on food and put on your armor, iron leggings, chainmail chestplate from a zombie that dropped in oddly perfect condition and leather boots from five days ago where the only thing you managed to get in six hours of fishing was four chests worth of heavily damaged leather boots before you gave up and went to sleep, but not before combining all of them into two less damaged ones.

You head out towards the jungle biome you found a while ago. Before the fall. You remember seeing cocoa beans and cookies on gameplays during your past visits to the outernet, and wonder if you could make hot chocolate in this world. Maybe it would help with the nightmares of hugs and love and laughter and happiness and dad you've been having lately.

(You avoid the pumpkin patch that wasn't there before, every carved out gaze aimed towards your base, your bed, you. You avert your eyes, pretend you don't hear the squirming, and hope they'll go away while you're gone.)

~

You reach the jungle by sunset.

You know better than to stay outside at night, so you take out your shovel and make a quick dirt hut to wait for dawn. You made a clock a while ago so there is no need for doors or windows for mobs to spot you.

The wait is long and boring, but you have plenty of food on you, and at no point do you hear the telltale noise of creepers.

The next morning you exit the hut, iron axe slung over your shoulder as you search for cocoa. You catch glimpses of ocelots darting out of sight and collect plenty of melon slices and jungle saplings between cutting down trees and harvesting cocoa beans.

You even find some sugar canes at the edge of a river, and make a mental note to get some cows and chickens later, you've been itching to try some cake.

After a while of chopping wood and a near-full inventory, you look up at the towering two by two trees that nearly block out the sun entirely, and wonder if you could climb far enough to reach the leaves at the very top.

(A childish goal, but you can't help but think it sounds fun, and maybe, on the back of your mind, something childish and small and fragile like glass whispers that he will catch you if you fall. You don't know who he is, but maybe you want to believe in the glass dust inside your bones, even as it scrapes you raw from the inside out.)

You approach the tallest tree in view, covered almost entirely by vines swaying to the gentle breeze. You place your hands on the vines, and pause, taking off your heavy armor before you take a deep breath, grab the plants once more, and start climbing.

Your hands hold on to vines and uneven bark, ignoring the slight scrapes left on your fingers and the way the wood seems to shift beneath your grasp, the vines tangling just under your feet every time your grip slips even slightly.

You reach the lowest branch, taking a break to rest your limbs and taking a look at the jungle from your new vantage point. You see ocelots peeking out of the foliage, gazing curiously at you. You munch on a carrot before returning to your goal.

As you get closer, the jungle seems to cheer you on. The meowing of ocelots growing louder the further you go, the wind almost deafening as it ruffles the leaves and vines like a playful challenge.

Finally, you reach the upper canopy, leaves getting stuck in your braid as you squeeze yourself between them, until your hand breaks free above it all and you finally stand at the very top of the jungle.

Drunk in childish triumph, you look up at the sky in unrestrained joy, a shout of delight tangling with the laughing wind, and as you gaze at the flourishing biome from the top of the platform of leaves you swear the sky smiles at you.

(The sun squints with fondness and the clouds mimic your excitement, but the teeth you pretend aren't there shift into a shape of spirals and fractals that could only be described as mischief.

There is no malice there, but maybe that should scare you more.)

Suddently, the leaves vanish, your feet sinking into air like they were never there, and you fall.

Your fall only takes a couple seconds, and maybe you'd be grateful for landing on water, but the river where you found the sugarcane had been left behind hours ago and a panicked glance around before you hit the water revealed no nearby land.

You fight to keep your head above the surface, but your father never bothered teaching you how to swim, and your mom had been too sick to do it herself. In barely any time, you sink.

Holding your breath and flailing your limbs frantically, you look around in panic for something, anything to keep you from drowning, and yet there is nothing.

(He can't save you here. He won't.)

Clawing desperately in the direction of the light, you barely notice yourself opening your mouth, begging for him to save you-

You notice your mistake-

You end up inhaling anyways, water flooding your lungs, salt burning on the cuts inside your bones and leaving you full of tears that won't go away no matter how much you claw at your throat. Your screams and sobs go unheard, silenced by the blue caging you on all sides.

The darkness is almost gentle when it closes in, but you know what comes after.

You wake up once more, in that not-quite-space, with something formless holding you tight in its unphysical grasp.

This time, it doesn't rip you open right away, and yet maybe it does, something sharp and soft cracking your head open like taffy and ripping your stitching anew until your waterlogged lungs and bleeding ribs are exposed in the bright darkness of the unlife. Glass dust lands on your heart and spine, burrowing into your flesh and causing beads of your namesake to well up and float off to rest between sky-spiral teeth.

You want to squirm, to cry, to beg. Yet you are terrified of moving, of making a single sound, of the thought of the fingers caging you in starting to squeeze and crush until you pop into leftover nonexistence, of the sharpness you feel around your heart biting down on it like a bitter, sour apple, purple-coded blood driping down the sharp nothingness of its mouth to pool inside your small pocket of unreality.

None of it happens. The sky bares its teeth with love instead.

It stitches you back together once more, and your skin feels tight and loose and off-color for a moment before you fall back into existence.

You wake up in bed, a sharp ache in your body and pineapple slushie on your tongue.

When you finally muster up the strenght to get up, you note more gold in your hair and a pair of strange eggs in your inventory.

(The pumpkins are still there when you go outside.)

[ril-sillyart1st]

What's everyone in your BATMM AU's favorite food?

Great question! (Finally someone ask me about their favorite stuff) I also included my OCs and put the gang's least favorite food as well.

(note: some are based on what I like and dislike)

Flarelyn Family AU:

★ Blaze just loves chocolate truffles but only gets to eat it once because it's such an special treat for him to eat as she may not self control themselves and hates spicy food (man can eat it whatever he wants but he's not a fan of it for some reason.)

★ Crusher really fw seafood especially that has soup on it (specifically sushi). Also Crusher also fw with spicy noodles.

Crusher doesn't like other spicy food in general and pickles.

★ Fiar loves the Mac-And-Cheese and Strawberry Lemonade combo. She made this combo by herself when she was making herself strawberry lemonade while Crusher was making Mac And Cheese for her.

Fiar hates spicy food, banana and avocado. She will only eat the banana if it is a banana split or covered in chocolate and sprinkles.

(don't ask me why the FF hates spicy food, they're an sweet tooth family)

★ Pickle is very much obviously enough, usually doesn't have a least favorite other than non-edible food.

★ Watts fw Ube Grilled Cheese! (Watts just loves ube flavored food) and she also likes Siopao (especially the toasted one! That sh🫧t is really good. /Gen)

Watts doesn't like spaghetti that much anymore (specifically the Filipino one) because of how many times she ate at events her parents go to. (Me moment)

★ Starla likes spaghetti and meatballs but she doesn't like bacon and other beefy stuff.

★ Darington likes waffles for breakfast with blueberries and whip cream on top of it. They for some reason don't like pancakes. They also love star shaped chicken nuggets.

★ Stripes likes spicy chicken with sliced tomatoes and potatoes on it. (Btw it's cooked! He doesn't like the taste of raw chicken) Also Stripes doesn't like sweet food especially cake.

★ Zeg has an very old memory when his mother used to baked him Apple raspberry pie every Christmas. Good memories, he still makes his own Apple raspberry pie every Christmas and shared it to his friends. (Btw Zeg can't cook but he can bake for some reason.)

Zeg doesn't like bananas because it tastes kinda plain to him.

★ Onyx both liked Jello Cake and Crabs but Crabs would be their no. 1 favorite food. They like the classic version of Jello Cake the most, classic version is would describe as "salty yet sweet".

Onyx hates Shrimp because she's allergic to it (me moment.)

★ Mia also likes Jello Cake but specifically vanilla flavor, very creamy and sweet. Seaweed spaghetti would be her no. 1 favorite food. Mia doesn't have any least favorite food as for now.

★ Kizzie and Veronica likes strawberry smoothie!

Veronica doesn't like vanilla ice cream. While Kizzie doesn't like chocolate ice cream.

★ Fuchsia likes mint chocolate chip ice cream and hates pumpkin pie.

★ Scarlett doesn't have any favorite or least favorite for now.

Blaze And The Rusty Machines AU:

★ Blaze likes to eat flowers (yes this man is so f🌊ck🫧d up) after he's at stage 3 with his sanity getting worse. He only likes it when it was bought from the flower shop instead of the garden because of the dirt.

★ Crusher in the other hand hates eating flowers. He likes chocolate cherry ice cream.

[papaziggy-devblog]

Harper eats sour cream by the spoonful and eats plain sawdust parm

Dante dips his oreos in orange juice

Are there any other weird food things the LIs do?

Hmmmm...

Gavin eats bell peppers raw like apples and likes drinking straight pickle juice

With Sophie if bread is included with the meal she'll make a sandwich out of whatever it is... spaghetti? Meatloaf? Chicken tenders and potatoes? She also has a habit of mixing her foods together in general and eating really fast

Jazz will peel the breading off any sort of breaded/fried food (Nuggets, corndogs, etc.) and eat that first before eating the actual food itself

Cammi likes eating chocolate chip cookies with ketchup or mustard

[thessalian]

Thess vs the Holiday Festivities

Christmas dinner with the parentals went pretty well this year, all things considered. Bad pain day, unfortunately, but good food, good company, and a new family tradition is born.

That last ... well, see, I figured that it'd be nice for all concerned if I made dessert this year. Saves the parentals having to come up with something I can actually eat, not to mention make it on top of all the other stuff they're cooking. So I asked if I could do that and they said they were very happy for me to do so. I dug out a recipe for gluten-free gingerbread cake, and found a separate recipe for maple cream cheese icing, and decided I'd do that. I decided to bake the actual cake last night just in case something went wrong.

Which I was very glad to have done because the recipe was for 8" square baking tray and mine was only 7", as it turned out. I only figured that out when the first attempt at the cake collapsed in the middle and was half-raw inside. I looked up why a cake would sink in the middle and when I saw "too small a pan" as one of the reasons, I did some measurements, at which point I just went, "Well, fuck". But they were counting on me to bring dessert, which meant I had to improvise. So I made another batch, only used most of the batter, and came out with a very lovely gingerbread cake. The icing was a bit more of a struggle, honestly, mostly because I kind of forgot to sift some of the icing sugar and really struggled to get rid of the lumps, even with my trusty hand mixer. In the end, I added a bit of warm water, which dissolved the lumps, and a bit more sugar (sifted this time) to thicken it out a bit.

It was a success, at least. It can be hard to measure success when people are trying to be polite, but there are cues that go beyond, "This is nice!" Like my mother, for instance - my mother always leaves stuff behind on her plate because bird-like appetite, so I know she really likes something when she cleans the plate entirely. She did it with my meatloaf, and she did it again with this cake, and that was after a goodly amount of turkey thigh and roast potato and carrot and Brussels sprout and roast parsnip. As for my stepfather ... well, when he was finished his first piece, he immediately went for a second piece - larger than the first one, even. And that was after he'd cleared his entire dinner plate. Also he'd been at the icing the moment I brought it into their house. And they kept half of it, for snacks later. I think it was a success.

I'm thinking maybe apple crumble next year. My stepfather really likes apple crumble.

Gifts were an equal success. I wasn't expecting anything this year, because joint Christmas and birthday present was my trip to MCM Comic Con and most of the Critical Role cast autographs, but Mum insisted that I had to have something to unwrap so they got me a thing anyway. So I got one of those big oversized fleece-lined nightshirt-hoodie things - it's so much nicer than the cheap-ass one I bought at Morrisons last year when I didn't have a lot in the way of heating. Also matched up with my birthday gift to Mum - I got her aset of the same fleecy slipper-socks I got at around that same time, and she wore them most of the evening. Her feet thank me, apparently. Also lucked out on her Christmas gift - I got her the first two seasons of PIcard on DVD because I know how much she likes Star Trek and didn't know if she had Prime Video or not. Turns out she does have Prime Video and had in fact seen it, but is more than happy to have them on DVD. Especially when I flagged up that it means she can still have it even when Amazon takes it off their streaming service. As for my stepfather, I got him a multitool, and while it turned out Mum had also got him one, she admitted that hers was "kind of flimsy" compared to mine, which is a big ol' chunk of tools complete with allan key and screwdriver attachments. I mostly got him that because every time he's been here looking into fixing things, he's ended up saying, "I'll have to come back with X tool" and hauling around a giant toolbox, and he has back issues so I wanted him to have something more portable. This one even has a pouch with a clip on it so he can wear it on his belt.

I do put thought into these things. I just want everyone to enjoy their presents, y'know? It's a good day if I can make someone happy. And I definitely did that today. Especially my aunts - I don't speak to them often because they're both not all that great on technology like email or Zoom calls, and long distance calls are expensive, but Mum rang them after dinner and put us on speaker, and I think just me saying hi made their year.

So, bad pain day aside, it's been a pretty good day. And now I have coffee and leftover gingerbread cake and a whole week off. Happy holidays, and I hope your holidays were good. You know, if not perfect, then at least satisfying.

[bluiex]

( pt 4 of Adoption AU)

(Context Grian and Scar live in the country side, and own up to 10-12 acres of land)

The three headed in the backyard, (they snuck in threw the front yard) It was huge, there was a pool, a hot tub, and a pool house, as well as and outside bar and grill stand, behind it was what looked to estimated 522,720 ft of an orchard. (yes I did the math)

There were apple trees, orange trees, cherry trees, mango trees, banana trees, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, black berries, carrots, greens, potatoes, turnips, and radishes, all with their own sections. In very middle of all of it, there was looked to be a green house, a chick coop, with all sorts of breeds of chickens, and six bee farms.

“How rich are these guys” Tubbo commented.

“Very, they must sale as this in the market of every harvesting” Ranboo replied.

“So this where they get their eggs” Tomm said, heading towards the chicken coop.

(The chick coop contains two doors, a door get in a fence in outside area, and another door where the chickens are kept)

Tommy tries to open the first door, only to be disappointed that it had a lock.

“Guess they really care for their animals, so that people like Tommy can’t get in” Tubbo whispered to Ranboo.

Ranboo chuckled

Three then went over to the cherry trees section. Ranboo picked a couple of fresh cherries, and shared them with Tommy and Tubbo.

“These are delicious, they’re so juicy. They must really take good care of there crops too” Tubbo said, as he munched on the cherries.

The three went back to house, to see Grian and Scar making lunch. They seem to be making fried fish, smashed potatoes and gravy, and salad.

“How was everything” Scar asked.

“It was awesome” Tommy replied.

“Yeah and it was fun” Ranboo followed.

“Well go wash up, lunch will be ready soon” Grian said.

The three did has they were told and went to their bathroom in the guest bedroom to clean up.

When went back, their food plates were already sitting on the table. They all say next to and beside each other, as they began to eat.

“I caught these fish at the lake near by” Scar said, trying to start up a conversation.

“Well they are delicious” Ranboo responded.

“Thank you” Scar replied.

“So tell me, how did you enjoy everything, which was your favorite part of all of it” Grian asked.

“I liked the bees” Tubbo replied excitedly.

“I take it you like bees” Scar chuckled.

“I LOVE them” Tubbo responded.

“Well I liked Jellie’s cat room, Grian wasn’t kidding, when he said that you love spoil her” Ranboo said.

“GRIAN” Scar shouted out of embarrassment.

“What it’s true, you treat her like a queen. You literally got her, her own personal groomer and an animal spa ID card, not to mention that she’s on a raw meat diet and you take her to a cat cafe every Saturday, sometimes I think you bring her there more then you bring me, led alone spend more on her then on me” Grian argued jokingly.

“Well anyways, mine were the chickens, but couldn’t go in because it was locked” Tommy said.

“Oh yeah, we have all sorts of wild animals, including coyotes, that have learned to open the doors, so we had to put locks on them” Scar explained.

“I see” Tommy responded.

The rest of the lunch went on without much more conversation. But needless to say, Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo, all felt at home.

Ofc Tommy would like the chickens- aaah I love them all so much Scar treating Jellie like an aboslute queen as he should

[radley-writes]

How would your characters eat their potatoes?

Riley: baked and loaded with melty cheese...mmmmmm....

Lyssa: what she claims she likes: fries what she truly desires: waffles, preferably with smiley faces on, served with tomato ketchup

Hernando: Tortitas de papa from street stalls! Or cubed and fried with chili at home

Sherman: mashed because she is A FUCKING WEIRDO (I love her so much)

Javira: cut into wedges and roasted with rosemary and thyme~ she always arranges them to look real pretty, too!

Captain: legend says he once ate a potato raw like an apple. He will neither confirm nor deny.

#

Hey you! Random Tumblr scroller! Yeah, you! Do you like the sound of these dorks? Yah-huh? Well, y'know what you should do? You should...

:BUY MY BOOK HERE!:

UK version here!

[godtears]

Honestly if I tell my doctor about my morning constipation she's not gonna believe that I already eat a high fiber diet. Like my favorite vegetable is an artichoke. I also eat a lot of avocados, I love coconut, I love raspberries, I love edamame, I like beets, I'm picky about almonds I don't really like them plain but I like them when they're mixed with like yogurt and stuff, I like oats, I love popcorn, I'm allergic to chocolate but less so to dark so I have that every so often, I like strawberries, I love black beans, I LOVE sweet potatoes and actually which I had one right now, I like apples, I love okra, I like broccoli raw but not cooked unless it's made a certain way or mixed with other things, I like lima beans sometimes but I'm picky, I like carrots but in certain ways, I'm okay with chia seeds, I love kale, and I LOVE chickpeas. These things are all high in fiber afaik.

Also, like, I am notorious for casually enjoying probiotic drinks for no reason other than they taste good. I call them my poop waters because it's funny to me. They don't actually make me poop all that much more.

Plus I've had a colonoscopy and an upper gi endoscopy and like... Nothing wrong. Despite the diseases I was naturally born with, I'm actually really healthy as far as I'm aware. I might have a vitamin d deficiency right now unfortunately, but that's out of my control due to an inadequate housing situation. I'm suspecting I have IBS but I think it's due to stress and anxiety.

I think I'm just built different lmao

[wrens-garden]

Outsiders, Krowfangs POV, episode 5

A cake has appeared in Krows house, despite it having told no one where it lives.

Reddoons is drunk. Silvia is colour-blind, They're having a feast. Silvia has been asleep for a week.

It's Oecamas. Krow received wooden throwing knives, although apparently shouldn't have opened it yet. Soup has given Krow a key to their hideout.

Krow is trying to figure out who left the cake.

Another door has opened. Enter stage right Acho and Kyle. Krow seems to think the doors are failing, Ayngel thinks they're all gonna die.

Krow and Oeca started fighting/ bullying each other (Honestly their relationship is so amusing, great fanfic material if you ask me, especially in this situation. Just imagine you're confused and in a whole new area, everyone is trying to talk to you then there's just two teenagers scrapping in the corner and bullying each other, vaguely gesturing with knives. Comedy gold right there)

Krow is also getting overwhelmed. It's already wondering if the doors don't close. It's checking that the doors have closed, they have. It's wondering why no one else is concerned about the second door opening, Ayngel is also concerned.

Krow just took the beer from the barrel that Red put in. Mohwee and Krow agree that it's stupid that they're having a feast instead of an emergency meeting. Krow is helping Mohwee set up the table. Oh, Krow and Mohwee are so similar, they have such a sweet bond, like siblings, it's so cute.

Krow has nearly run into the maze after Kyle. Owen thinks Krow sounds like him.

It's come up with the mercy and death maze theory. Krows gone to check out the second maze. Ayngel apparently was the one who put the cake's everywhere. Krow would go into the second maze, preferably with someone else.

Krow sure makes a lot of noises when frustrated.

Feast time! Magic is choking, she's been poisoned. Krow thought Gracie poisoned Magic. It really doesn't trust her. Krow is talking with Guts, Krow says that it would have an issue if Guts tried to poison Magic, but doesn't really care if Guts tried to poison Red. Krow has told Guts that Magic will be fine. Guts says imps can eat nether wart and didn't know humans couldn't, Krow says imps would eat scraps.

Silvia is having a breakdown over statues that are outside their house. Krow is panicking, it is very much not equipped to deal with this. Now Red is trying to help, neither of them are being useful. Krow is cleaning up the statues, Red has given Silvia beer. Jesus Christ, they are so good at this. Silvia has burned all the statues they've taken down, Krow has kept some, though.

Krow finds fish gross, but likes raw beef and stuffed potatoes. Krow seems to be getting along with Squidney and Rasbi, it has so many friendly acquaintances. Krow wonders if eating the apple is foreshadowing to it eating Apo. Krow has polished some rose quartz. Krow wants to eat the rose quartz. It did not succeed. Rasbi is also trying to bite it.

Magic wants to talk to people. Magic is telling everyone to not be mad at Guts. Krow is so suspicious of Gracie, perfect angst material, if I say so.

Kyle, Oeca and Gracie have gone into maze 1. Krow is going in after them. Krow is so protective of everyone in the clearing, even if it doesn't trust them. They're back and Krow sounds so pissed.

Gracie is speaking for Magic. She says that they can't keep fighting, that clearing 2 people can't be mad, that it's okay and that they have to work together, and they need to respect each other.

Krow is bringing up the mercy and death maze with the rest of the group. Krow asks if there is a chance the mazes connect now, like a new section opening up. Ori thanks it for thinking new possibilities with the maze and asks it to keep doing so.

Kyle has made a song about their experiences. Krow and Rasbi are talking, it's telling her about Ori's trust fall. Krow makes so many noises when frustrated, it's so endearing. Krow is full demon, Rasbi isn't sure on her percentage. Krow doesn't blame Rasbi for the lever. Krow thinks Rasbi is too quiet, it feels bad for her.

Krow doesn't care about Silvia, but doesn't like people freaking out like that. Krow thinks Ori talks too much. Krow is passing out beer, it doesn't like the beer. Krow is going to punch Ori. It feels so much better upon doing that. Krow really hates him, it thinks Ori is smart but wastes it on stupidity.

Krow is going to get a boomerang to throw at Ori. Krow is going up the tree to throw it at Ori. Krow has made it to the top of the tree, Ori has jumped off the tree and fucking died. Magic is mad at Krow, Krow can't stop laughing. It's told Mohwee and Rasbi, they are all laughing, Ori ended stream after it happened. That's so fucking funny.

Oh, Krow's bond with people hurts my heart. Rasbi, Mohwee, Squidney. Their bond. Magic has asked Krow if it's okay, Krow insists it's fine, Magic disagrees. Krow is telling Magic about its grief with Ori. Krow really doesn't like or trust Gracie or Ori. It says that Ori is nice to it to make it play his game. Krow is telling Magic that it doesn't trust Gracie. Magic says she trusts them, Krow says that that means nothing to it, and it doesn't trust people simply because other people do. Magic says it doesn't have to trust them, but it doesn't have to be mean to them. Krow says it's acting differently from in clearing B because they aren't in clearing B any more. Magic says she's helping Gracie lead, Krow says she better fix the clearing up, and it knows she will, because they need her. Magic says she can't lose anyone else from clearing B, Krow says if they lose anyone it'll be Bek.

Krow wonders if it can eat the stuffed pumpkin and be fine, Magic won't let it test that. Ayngel also wants to try some of them pumpkin. Magic thinks Krow will get itself killed, Krow insists otherwise and says if it gets killed that is its own fault and to thank their murderer. Krow thinks Magic is paranoid, Magic thinks Krow is giving up. Krow says all Magic does is doubt it and try to change it.