#the toothbrush is still £150

[definitly-maybe-a-bisexual]

prime day has me convinced i need a standing desk, an electric toothbrush and an air fryer

[moles-hideout]

Norton Campbell x Male! S/o college au!

Tw: Hints of NSFW, fighting (not really but still)

Tags: College au, Established Roommates, Established relationship, Fluff, Crack

A/N: This just very self indulgent tee hee :3

You and Norton have been best friends since Junior high. You two had been together through thick and thin, no matter what life threw at you. You two were inseparable, having each other's back at any time. (Even bailing Norton out of jail once but shhh)

To be clear, Norton is not someone who can be easily approached due to his infamous extreme mood swings but no one would have ever imagined that Norton would have a lover up until now. It felt almost natural for the both of you though. No matter what challenges you two face, you both always find a way support and uplift each other. You've celebrate many achievements together and provide a shoulder to lean on during tough times. The loyalty and care you two have for each other can never be replicated so easily.

Currently, you both graduated with a bang, got into your dream college and are now living in the dorms as roommates. Both of you having shared countless adventures and secrets through out your lives and ever since living together, it made the two of you even closer, to see each other's quirks and flaws. The other students really question if you two are just roommates or an old married couple.

Inside the dorm room, it's covered in a colorful mess of post-it notes with sweet messages, silly doodles, and inside jokes. It's their way of communicating and brightening each other's days. And in random occasions, you two leave love notes that are hidden in the most unexpected and odd places, like inside shoes or inside the cereal, keeping the romance alive in your everyday lives.

One of your favorite things about living together is the silly and weird traditions you two created. From weekend movie marathons to impromptu Mario kart competitions in the living room. Not to mention the endless prank war you two have, from putting plastic bugs in the shower to scaring each other during a scary movie, these traditions and antics have led to countless fond moments of laughter and bonding.

You two created a ridiculous number of nicknames for each other, some of which make no sense to anyone else but for you two, it's filled with love and whacky inside jokes.

Although, there are some downsides with living together. Mornings are a whirlwind of chaos as you two rush around trying to get ready for work or to class, often accidentally grabbing each other's clothes or toothbrushes in the rush.

One time, you accidentally took Norton's jacket to class and your professor (definitely not Luchino) teased you about it teehee.

We all know that Norton is frugal and thrifty, from extreme couponing to bargaining for half a prize. He wants to take you out for a dinner date in a very expensive restaurant? It now costs a fraction of what it was originally priced. Planning to go to that one very expensive amusement park? You bet your sweet ass he'll be surfing on the internet to find online discounts. "NonNon doesn't this [insert item here] cost $150?" "Oh yeah, I got a discount. I got it for $59." "I beg your pardon?-" "Then beg."

One time Norton got a call from one of your friends at the party you were attending, they've called to tell him to go pick your drunk ass up. Once he arrives, he sees you biting someone's ankle like an animal. (He had to tie you up to stop your reign of chaos.)

But your favorite part of the day, is where nighttime comes. Where the stress of the day leaves you both as a sense of peace and comfort replaces it.

There are times when words aren't necessary – just being around each other brings a sense of calm and happiness, you two find solace in each other's presence even in silence. You two can spend hours together simply reading working on their hobbies or just cuddling on the couch without needing to fill the silence with words. Sometimes, you both share vulnerable moments confess secrets and offer each other support. There's no need for words in such, for you both already know what the other is feeling after all. And it's already enough.

Hihihiiii thanks for reading my first hcs, I'm still trying to juggle school work and making hcs so please be a bit patient with me darlings! (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

[kar01an3-13wizz]

Just forgot to show that silly gal. YESS THERE'S ALL OF HER APPEARENCES HEHE IF YOU WANNA DO FANART FEEL FREE TO DO FANART. <3

Karolane's biography:

Name: Karolane

Full Name: Karolane June Lewis

Label: The Sweet and Chill Anime Girl

Nationality: French/British

Aliases: Karo, Karo-chan, Tori, Tori-chan

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 16-17

Height: 4'11 (150 cm)

Species: Human

Subspecies: Neko/Demon

Sexuality: Bisexual/Asexual

Appearence: Karolane has brown hair tied to a ponytail with a white ribbon, she has blue eyes, she has freckles on her face with a scar on her left eye, she wears a school uniform, a white sock with pink stripes on her right foot, and a rainbow sock shorter than the left sock, on the left foot. She also has black shoes.

In her demon form, she has the same outfit but she has light purple skin, with small black horns, with big bat wings, she also has a demon tail. She has claws, red glowing eyes and sharp teeths.

In Total Dramarama, Karolane's outfit is inspired by Hello Kitty, due to the small red ribbon.

In Total Drama Reunion, her outfit is inspired by Hatsune Miku. She has two long pigtails tied to blue ribbons, she has a small mic, she wears a sailor shirt with a blue bow, she has blue ribbons on her arms, she wears fishnet tights on her arms, she has a ring on her right middle finger, she also wears a black skirt witha blue belt, sha wears long blue striped socks, with black shoes and blue leggings.

In her swimsuit, she wears a rainbow patterned two-piece swimsuit, with pink and white laces, and with purple hearts on the top and on the bottom. Her swimsuit reveals her black-polished nails, and her three heart-shaped birthmarks on her thigh.

Mental disorders: She has ADHD, PTSD, arachnophobia, depression, athazagoraphobia, social anxiety, school phobia, obsessive love disorder, schizophrenia, autism, insomnia, dissociative syndrome, Peter Pan syndrome, hyperventilation, Balint syndrome and dementia.

Personnality: Karolane is a kind-hearted, sweet, kind of a cat personnality, tsundere, yandere girl. She's also very dumb and her brain never works.

Karolane's interests:

Likes: Animes, cats, drawing, videogames, eating, sleeping, cosplay, baby-doll style, Ezekiel, blood, horror movies, her adoptive dad aka Chef.

Dislikes: Her disorders, being forgotten

Trivia:

◾ Karolane's is Chef's adoptive daughter.

◾ Karolane's BFF is Euphoria (by @jovialeuphoria).

◾ When Karolane starts being insane, she's in her demon form, and red glitchy eyes.

◾ She's friends with everyone in the island, especially Scary Girl, Sadie and Katie.

◾ She doesn't know what's emotions.

◾ She naturally has a cat mouth.

◾ Her love interest is Ezekiel.

◾ The cat is her favorite animal.

◾ She has A LOT of cat plushies.

◾ She's a cosplayer.

◾ She's very popular due to her kindness and her cosplays.

◾ Karolane's bedroom only has Ezekiel images. There's a wall with Ezekiel's face, she has t-shirts of Ezekiel, she even has a BIG shrine of him. She also has his toothbrush, a photo of Ezekiel, an empty can of Ezekiel, and a lot more of him.

◾ Karolane's is 17 years old.

◾ In Total Drama Reunion, she's married to Ezekiel.

◾ She's homeschooled since more than 2 years, due to school phobia.

◾ Her birthday is the 4th of September.

◾ She's 4'11 tall.

◾ She's obssessed with Ezekiel.

◾ She's a tsundere and a yandere.

◾ She won all the TDi seasons.

◾ She has a lot of hallucinations.

◾ She can be really depressed a lot.

◾ When Ezekiel isn't here, she instantly cries.

◾ When Duncan makes jokes about Ezekiel "d3ad" or other jokes about Ezekiel, Karolane cries until and when Ezekiel come in, but sometimes, when Ezekiel is here, she's still crying.

◾ She can have horrible visions about Ezekiel, like seeing Ezekiel with another girl or other things like that.

◾ Her parents abandonned her when she was a baby, and she's now adopted by Chef.

◾ She's afraid of spiders.

◾ She's a sugar addict.

◾ Her favorite drink is bubble tea.

◾ She loves animes.

◾ She's not really human, she's a neko when in love or a demon when psycho or angry.

Powers/Abilities: Immortality, Telepathy, Flying, and more.

[daily-fun-animal-facts]

Hello!! Do you have any fun facts about wild boars? They’re my favorite hehe :)

of course my friend!

The snout of this mammal is elongated and elastic. Wild boar used its snout when digging out roots and bulbs.

In the past, hairs from this animal's neck served as a material for toothbrush production, later being altered with synthetic materials. Although, you can still find some companies that do produce boar hair brushes, not that you would want to.

Wild boars can run at a maximum speed of 40 km/h (25 mph) and jump at a height of 140–150 cm (55–59 in)

Hope these satisfy you! have a wonderful day my friend!

[feline17ff]

I posted 3,859 times in 2022

My comments are in pink

That's 1,670 more posts than 2021!

161 posts created (4%)

3,698 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@creativemercinary

@the-lavender-creator

@managerie76

@broadwaytheanimatedseries

@hydepotions

*tips my hat* m'bloggers 🎩

I tagged 3,784 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#ever after high - 567 posts

#lol - 382 posts

#funny - 342 posts

#made me giggle - 240 posts

#my friends - 220 posts

#eah - 216 posts

#my asks - 169 posts

#writing prompts - 156 posts

#monster high - 149 posts

#incorrect quotes - 148 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and what does the first passage say about maddie? how can she *not* know she's a character in a book? (she can hear the narrator after all)

I wonder if the tags and links are working for me to find this post

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sparrow: Babygirl, I know video game lore you wouldn't even care about

Ramona: Babyboy, I know true crime facts you should be scared about

Source

88 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

#4

Hey, just a heads up, archive.org needs your help!

I mostly use openlibrary.org which is already AWESOME. They're part of archive.org and an actual legal digital library - AND INTERNATIONAL

Right now (till 31st Dec 2022), archive.org has matching campaign that will TRIPLE the impact of each donation

Do donate! And then borrow a book from this library, or watch an old Film Noir movie!

Donate and, if you'd like, let other users know how archive.org has helped you! Or how you've helped it!

Mine's below! 💖

I found out about it during my Hero Academia phase so cleaned up and create pages for the mangas

And then, some time later, there were borrowable books for them! 🤩

I've watched 12 Angry Men — my first, and as of yet only, black and white movie.

I've read Freakonomics in its entirety thanks to it. I was so obsessed with the book I even read it on my phone in a very user unfriendly way because I still don't know what app works with archive.org.

For an assignment, I borrowed What You Must Think of Me: A Firsthand Account of One Teenager's Experience with Social Anxiety Disorder. It's actually not that long or boring. Unlike what books my classmates chose.

150 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

#3

How do you think the "main" crew (Apple, Raven, Cerise, Briar, Ashlynn, etc) would react to being able to hear the Narrators?- Narrator Headcanon Anon

How indeed, lol

Apple: *Very concerned about what this means but trying to remain polite as ever*

Raven:"...WHAT? Huh. Cool."

Cerise: "Wait, they know all our secrets?" *pulls hood closer. But I would love if when she's alone she just talks with someone other than family with her ears out

Briar: "OMG, that's ridonculous!"

Ashlynn: *sweet about it and tells them about the next shoe sale*

Blondie: "You're reporters just like me! Know of any juicy news happening around Ever After?"

Dexter: *existential crisis aka the thinking maths meme* "I'm so confused. I-I-I don't feel so good."

Daring: "The more the merrier, more awesome viewers for awesome Daring Charming" *winks and finger guns at the camera where the narrators are*

Hunter: "Uhhh, cool, cool" *concerned they'll spill the beans about the gift he's working on for Ashlynn*

Lizzie: "Well, of course they exist! Just because you can't hear someone doesn't mean they're not there."

Alistair, Bunny, Chase, even Courtly: *Agree with Lizzie*

Also, everyone who isn't a Wonderlandian, and I mean EVERYONE, would be wondering what other "mad" or Wonderlandian things they were wrong about

167 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

I think this is the post that started my friendship with Narrator Headcanon Anon iirc 🥰🥰🥰

#2

The kind of friendship these 3 would have:

Sparrow: *crying after spilling something on his new Nikes*

Humphrey: get me baking soda, vinegar, and a toothbrush, stat!

Alistair: *with tears in his eyes and consoling a sobbing Sparrow* I'm here bro, we'll get through this together

Based on a post I can't find "whoever thinks only girls are obsessed with shoes has never met a teenage boy"

221 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

I really love this 😂🥰

My #1 post of 2022

Writers be like:

Angst, my beloved

263 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Lol. You writers and your beloved.

[nolanhattrick]

i struggle a lot with the concept of "common sense". there is no such thing as common sense. today it's common sense that you wash your hands after you go to the bathroom, because if you don't you can spread germs and get other people sick - but we didn't accept germs as something that even existed until like 150 years ago.

when i was really little, probably toddler age, my mom would criticize me for not scrubbing behind my ears. "it's just common sense" she would say. i didn't have the words for it but if i could go back i would demand "what common sense? is it not the job of the mother to teach her child, to pass that information down, to continue the line of instruction?" i was never taught how to clean by body properly, how was i expected to know? is it "common sense" if you are handed a washcloth and a full tub of water at three years old and told to wash up?

i was eighteen when my boss made a snide comment about my ears being dirty. she said something like how you can just tell how much someone cares about themselves when you look at the details, and she grabbed my ear and pulled on it.

i am twenty four now, and it usually takes me upward of thirty minutes to shower. i have contamination ocd and have developed eczema because of how often i clean both myself and my surroundings. i scrub the little parts of myself - under my nails, in my ears, the corners of my nose - with alcohol pads so often that they bleed.

is this common sense? is it common sense for me to want to sterilize every inch of my skin so that it is good enough for the people that feel the need to say something? do they know how little they're unaware of? you need to throw your toothbrush out every six weeks, the bacteria colonizing it can kill you if you have any type of open injury in your mouth. you need to keep the toilet closed at all times aside from when it's in use, your stool contains more deadly staph strains than an entire hospital and that bowl is covered in tiny flecks of it. you'll never get it clean enough. you can't keep going to the nail salon, any slip up by the tech could put you in a coma for the rest of your life. have you heard of gulf war syndrome? the chemicals in your nail polish and your dental fillings and your joint replacements and your vape juice and your pill medications can all trigger the civilian version of that. everything you take. everything you touch. everything you breathe in. do you want to risk it? what is worth it to you?

but you still have to look clean to them. do they know how much shit and grime and filth they're covered in? i bet you they don't. but you still have to.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 4

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven't written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. Anyway I finished the first draft (it topped out at 88k words) and will be unlocking the original entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here

day three here

***

35. "So... You touch yourself to the thought of me? I'd like to see that in action."

41. It's the gentle and soft touches which send shivers skittering down their spine.

***

Tim awoke flat on his back, pillow long since displaced, arms and legs starfished out. That much was routine.

What wasn't routine, sadly, was the warmth and muscle beneath his right hand and leg. Tim gave an approving grunt and patted whichever of Damian's body parts had ended up under his fingers.

A soft exhalation that was the closest thing Damian got to a true laugh. "Good morning."

"Mmf." Tim flopped over on his side, eyes still resolutely shut, and wriggled closer until he was adhering to as many points of Damian's body as he could touch. "No morning. Only sleep."

Damian's chest shook under his cheek with another laugh, though he made no sound. "Well, you're right about the 'no morning' part, at least. It's two in the afternoon."

"G'd job," Tim mumbled, giving him another pat. "Nearly eight hours. Wore me out."

Damian shifted onto his side so he could pull Tim closer with both arms. Tim leaned back to make sure he had space to breathe, but otherwise this was pretty comfortable. "That's entirely mutual. I don't think I've slept so deeply in years."

Tim kissed his collarbone. "Two orgasms in less than an hour can do that."

"Oh dear." The intonation was all Alfred. A brief bolt of sadness lodged in Tim’s chest, only to be dispelled by a wave of warmth when Damian stroked his back from the crown of his head to the top of his ass and then kept on petting Tim like one of his cats. The gentle touch sent shivers up his spine, but it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it.

So. Maybe after Damian had initially approached him, Tim had observed how careful and tender Damian was with his pets, and maybe he had, in moments of weakness afterwards, wondered what it would be like to experience that same level of softness aimed toward himself. Weirdly, having his questions on that front answered only inspired more questions, questions that Tim now shoved into a mental lockbox, which he then wrapped a bunch of mental chains around and then threw off a mental pier into a mental ocean. No. He was not going to wonder what it would be like to belong to Damian. That way lay madness.

"Oh dear what?" he remembered to ask.

Damian's breath wafted across his face, toothpaste-minty. "Just that I don't know if those circumstances could be said to be frequent. Which means I stay doomed to poor sleep on most nights."

"That's all of us." Tim gave in to the inevitable and sat up, stretching high before he headed for the bathroom. "Be right back."

Once he'd used the toilet and washed his hands, he eyed his reflection in the mirror. That asshole looked way too well-rested. He picked up his toothbrush and pondered for a second. Skip brushing and thereby force himself to protect his sanity and skip morning sex, or match Damian for freshness and try to jump on his dick again?

Yeah, that wasn't even a real contest. He grabbed the tube of toothpaste.

When he got back under the covers, he glanced down and snorted with laughter.

"What?" Damian snapped, a knee-jerk return to his usual prickliness.

"Hey, I'm not making fun of you," Tim said. "I was just wondering if you were still up for another round before you left and the fact that you're already half-hard answered me before I could ask."

"Oh." Damian shifted uncomfortably. "I see.”

"No big deal. It's weird, right? Waking up with someone else. I'm not really used to it either anymore." Well, sort of. Most of the time he thought the end of his and Bernard's relationship had been inevitable, but every once in a while he'd roll over in the morning saying Bernard's name while he was half-asleep and then have an existential crisis about it. "Anyway, you being hard when you first wake up isn't really the same as you saying you want to—"

"I do!" Damian interrupted, eyes narrowed in indignation. "Want to."

Tim bit the inside of his cheek. If he laughed this time Damian really would run. Or punch him. "Okay," he managed after a second.

"And I didn't just wake up. I've been awake for over an hour. So this isn't that."

His face went scarlet as he spoke, and Tim tilted his head, intrigued. "Why would that embarrass you?"

Damian made one of those one-handed exasperated gestures that were all Talia. "When I woke up I was already—as you see. You were asleep, so I, er, took care of it." He turned his face away slightly. "I woke up from a dream about last night, so it didn't take long. But perhaps that means I won’t disappoint you now."

Tim's heartbeat sped up at that mental image. "Oh, believe me, I am anything but disappointed right now. That's fucking hot. So you touched yourself to the thought of me?" At Damian's tiny nod, he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. "I'd like to see that in action." Damian twitched, nerves plain, and he soothed, "Not at this exact moment, though. For today. . ." He propped himself up on one hand and reached over Damian for the lube. "Let's do things the easier way. Help me prep?"

Damian's eyes went wide, but he took the lube without hesitation. "Last night, you began with two fingers. Would you like me to do the same?"

He'd made a note of that? Tim paused in the act of wriggling out of his boxer briefs to give him a surprised smile. "Yeah, thanks. I'm pretty used to anal so I don't need a lot of time, but I do like to be really careful initially." He flipped onto his stomach and rested his head on his crossed arms. "Use, like, three times as much lube as you think I'll need."

Damian nodded, expression serious, and flipped the cap open. He poured a generous amount on his hand and showed it to Tim, waiting for his nod of approval before lightly tracing his hole, then slowly slipping two fingers in.

"Ooohh, fuck," Tim groaned at the slide.

Damian's voice had quieted to a strained whisper. "Does it feel good, or are you sore from last night?"

"Both," Tim breathed, rocking his hips to press his rapidly growing erection into the mattress. In response, Damian drizzled a little more lube over Tim's entrance and his fingers as he pulled them out just as slowly, then slid back inside. Tim moaned into the crook of his arm. "Yeah. That's—" He sucked a breath in as Damian crooked his fingers and brushed his prostate, sending sparks flying through his gut. "Were you looking for that or was that luck?"

"It's a bit of both," Damian managed.

"Well, don't do it much or I'll end up coming before I even get your dick inside me again. It's like my orgasm kryptonite." And now he really, really wanted to make a pink kryptonite joke but he didn't want to derail Damian from the truly excellent work he was doing.

Damian hummed in wordless acknowledgment and kept moving his fingers in and out, adding one more at Tim's direction after a while.

"Okay, good, go ahead and pull them out," Tim said when he felt ready. "I'm just gonna be lazy and..." He pulled his knees under him. "Is this okay?"

"Yes, of course." Damian scrambled to his own knees and got behind him, a little too eagerly to be entirely graceful. Tim had to hide another smile. "Do I just...?"

"Yeah, put more lube on it then hold it with one hand so it doesn't slide away when you push in." Tim took a deep breath when the head started to press inside. "Just like that. Slow and steady." Damian's free hand rested on the small of his back, a slight tremble the only sign of his nerves as he slid in. Tim bore down and then twitched as the glide turned liquid and easy, all the way till his ass fit to Damian's hips. His muscles went weak with pleasure, with being so full. Damian was hot as a furnace behind and inside him—Tim was on fire. "Oh. Oh my God. Fuck."

Damian grasped his sides. His whole body was shuddering everywhere it touched Tim's, and tiny moans kept escaping his throat. He clearly wasn't going to last long.

Tim caressed one big hand as it gripped his waist. "Listen, Dami, don't move, okay? Just stay like that. All the way inside me. You feel so, so good." Damian whimpered something that sounded affirmative. "Good. I'm just gonna—" He raised up enough to fit his hand around his dick and start fucking into his fist. At the first rock of his hips, Damian whined, high-pitched and helpless, but he stayed as unmoving as he could, letting Tim take what he wanted while he shook and shook. The power he was surrendering turned Tim on almost as much as getting fucked. Tension pooled at the base of his spine while the heat in his stomach grew.

Keeping his hips still, Damian hunched over and kissed the back of his shoulder, and something about the soft pressure of his lips pushed Tim over the edge. He came so hard he could barely hear his own shout, and felt Damian throbbing inside him, coming without ever moving, still as Tim had told him to stay.

day five here

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

Hello!! Can I request for Buddha from ROR with reader whose really menacing and scary (basically a mommy with muscles💪😩) but inside is really just shy and too scared to interact with people.

Anon.... Has anyone told you you're perfect today? Brilliant even? Amazing? I hope someone kisses you. Or buys you your favorite food.

I'm assuming you want a female reader by the use of mommy.

Female!Reader x Buddha || SFW || No warnings, other than some cursing

When Buddha first saw you, he knew exactly what your deal was.

The rumors hadn't evaded him; a human who walked around heaven with the attitude of a god. Some thought you to be stuck up, drunk on power because you were stronger than the average human.

Others thought you'd gone and placed yourself level with the gods, which made for some rather distasteful whispering wherever you went.

And still more thought you were copying certain other god's mannerisms to make yourself seem bigger in a place where a mere finger could end you.

Oh yeah, he's heard it all. But in his adventures in the human world, he's seen more than enough to know the answer in all its simplicity:

You were awkward. As hell, apparently.

You froze up when he first approached you, and while on the inside you were panicking, your expression was downright murderous. Any other god would've ended you where you stand, but luckily, Buddha was above their senseless need for violence. He kept talking, and watching you visibly relax as he continued spurred him on.

Occasionally popping up soon turned to him following you around. You would listen silently while he talked, occasionally giving him a "yeah" or a hum, just to let him know you were listening. Unknowingly letting him know he was right.

Then, one special day, he hit the gold mine. The two of you were having a picnic- if you could call a blanket in Zeus's private gardens covered with candy and two sandwiches a picnic. Buddha's talking away as usual, when he crossed a topic you were passionate about. You exploded at the seams, word-vomiting long held knowledge on the topic. He knew his fair share as well, leading to your first conversation where you sounded like you actually wanted to be there. You're animatedly describing your reaction to a certain event when you go quiet, a blush darkening your face as you pause your movements.

"What's wrong? Did I say something-"

"No!" You shout, then in a quieter voice, "Sorry, no. It's, I just, I haven't- It's been a while since I last talked this much. I'm... embarrassed." You laugh awkwardly, your embarrassment increasing tenfold at the sight of his cheeky smile.

"I can tell, even if others can't. You've been waiting to share all that, huh?"

"That, and so many other things. I don't want to overwhelm you though..."

"Overwhelm me?! You wish. I've been waiting on this for weeks! I want you to spill every thought you've been dying to say since you got here." He lays back on the grass, arms behind his head as he closes his eyes and crosses his legs. "We've got all the time in the world." He pops a candy in his mouth, sitting up to slip another into yours.

"Congratulations candy. Keep it up, and there'll be more where that came from."

You can't help a muffled giggle as you bite into the hard candy. Your eyes widen in surprise as the oozy insides coat your mouth. "It's soft on the inside!"

"Right? Reminds me of someone I know." He winks, and you roll your eyes at him.

Later that night, you choke on your toothbrush as you realize what he meant.

You. You were the hard candy with a sweet inside. Blushing wildly as you cough up toothpaste, for the first time in a while, you feel your heart flutter.

--------

A/N: Finally doing requests because I wanna do a 150 followers event and because I'm about to get busy again. Not sure what to do for the event though, so drop some ideas of what you wanna see! Also, wifi's out, so I'll be even SLOWER than usual(≧▽≦) isn't that amazing?!

But seriously, I love this trope, and with Buddha in it? TOO easy. He'd be all over that. Once again, thank you anon for requesting this! One more request to go and then I'll be free.

[prisonhannibal]

hi, im so sorry if im stepping the line here but i need i little guidance, sorry if its to personal and of course you dont have to answer but what does bipolar feels like? i know is a personal and different experience for everyone but could you give an example, im really trying to understand the different ways it could present

again im sorry if im being an asshole asking this

it’s okay, I’m comfortable talking about it. I think it’s important to talk about how it can actually feel for someone who deals with it, and not just the diagnostic criteria, since bipolar disorder is a very misunderstood disorder, so I don’t mind.

A lot of people think it means you’re either really happy or really sad, but I think Carrie Fisher described it better when she explained it to a kid as a brain condition that makes you go very fast or very sad.

It’s hard to compare the feeling to anything, but the closest thing I can think of is when I didn’t gradually increase the dose after taking a tolerance break for my adhd medication and got pretty high. I get this feeling of having a motor inside of my chest, it feels like anxiety but in a good way, it’s a very weird feeling. it really is like going fast, and I have an intense energy inside of me that feels like I’m gonna explode unless I pace around or do something. It just makes everything feel so urgent, so all decisions happen fast, I can’t shut up because I need to get every single thought out. I often feel like I’m normal and the rest of the world is too slow, so I get impatient and frustrated. I get very creative, so I’ll sit down and work on something for 12+ hours, go to bed, and then the second I go to bed have another idea, get out of bed, draw, go back to bed, have another idea, etc etc etc all night. and I HAVE to get out of bed, not doing it would make me explode.

Everything feels so urgent and time sensitive. I’ll think of wanting a book at 2am, and decide to stay awake until the bookstore opens and go there immediately instead of just sleep and do it tomorrow. Most impulsive decisions are like…goal focused. So I rarely buy a sweater, but I’ll buy several sweaters because i’m “changing my style” or five textbooks because i’ve decided to learn a new language. or every single supply I can think of for a hobby i’ve never tried before. Or a 150$ electric toothbrush because tooth health is an investment!! I NEED all this yarn because I’m gonna knit three sweaters. It’s either that, or it’s literally just for fun right NOW. so that’s stuff like buying several rounds of shots for all my coworkers etc. I did that recently.

last year I was studying for a very important exam so I pulled an all-nighter and ended up not studying because I was pacing back and forth in my room switching between two different languages (it wasn’t a language exam) on duolingo, reading a self help book while still pacing around, drawing, and ordering five self help books. I never read any of them. I then intentionally failed the exam because if I did I could redo it, so I showed up there on no sleep, and sat there counting to a thousand in my head and restarting while staring straight ahead and imagining songs until I could leave. I then did my second exam without studying because “I’m a genius” and thought I did amazingly and then got the results back as a 2 out of 6.

It kinda fucks with my senses, like everything is turned up to 300% and I can’t stop feeling how my eyes are moving and noticing how everything is made up of angles and seeing how i’d draw the 2 point perspective grid if I was gonna draw the room I’m in. It makes me feel like I’m actually going insane because everything is just slightly twisted and I’m too aware of it and how I and the world aren’t at the same speed.

Like you said, depends on the person, but it can also vary a lot between each episode. Euphoria is a big part of my hypomania, but I wouldn’t describe hypomania or mania as happy, I think “fast” is a better word for it. It doesn’t always feel good either. Sometimes it feels really fucking horrible. one of my episodes was straight up the worst experience i’ve had in my life and had me hospitalized with an “acute anxious breakdown” and diagnosed with a mixed anxiety disorder (generalized anxiety+ocd+panic disorder) and delusions even though I had never had a panic attack before and I haven’t since. it was basically a 2 month long panic attack with psychosis.

TL:DR: It feels like being high on stimulants, myself turned up to 300%, the volume and intensity of the entire world got turned up too high, having a mental breakdown but in a good way, everything is wrong but I’m having fun. It feels like everything is really urgent and it has to be now now now now you have to GO you can’t stop yourself you can never stop moving

[badjokesbyjeff]

My wife and I were watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire while we were in bed.

I turned to her and said, 'Do you want to have Sex?'

'No,' she answered.

I then said, 'Is that your final answer?'

... She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying, 'Yes..'

So I said, "Then I'd like to phone a friend."

And that's when the fight started...

________________________________

I took my wife to a restaurant.

The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.

"I'll have the rump steak, rare, please."

He said, "Aren't you worried about the mad cow?"

"Nah, she can order for herself."

And that's when the fight started.....

_____________________________

My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man

swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table.

I asked her, "Do you know him?"

"Yes", she sighed,

"He's my old boyfriend. I understand he took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he hasn't been sober since."

"My God!" I said, "Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"

And then the fight started...

________________________________

When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed.

But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the shed, the boat, making beer.. Always something more important to me.

Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point.

When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors. I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again.

I handed her a toothbrush. I said, "When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway."

The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.

_____________________________

My wife sat down next to me as I was flipping channels.

She asked, "What's on TV?"

I said, "Dust."

And then the fight started...

________________________________

Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the boat up to the van and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour. The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.

I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. I cuddled up to my wife's back; now with a different anticipation, and whispered, "The weather out there is terrible."

My loving wife of 5 years replied, "And, can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?"

And that's how the fight started...

_______________________________

My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.

She said, "I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds."

I bought her a bathroom scale.

And then the fight started......

______________________________

After retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver's License to verify my age. I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.

The woman said, 'Unbutton your shirt'.

So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair.

She said, 'That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me' and she processed my Social Security application.

When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.

She said, 'You should have dropped

your pants. You might have gotten disability too.'

And then the fight started...

________________________________

My wife was standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror.

She was not happy with what she saw and said to me,

"I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment.'

I replied, "Your eyesight's damn near perfect."

And then the fight started........

________________________________

I rear-ended a car this morning...the start of a REALLY bad day!

The driver got out of the other car, and he was a DWARF!!

He looked up at me and said 'I am NOT Happy!'

So I said, 'Well, which one ARE you then?'

That's how the fight started.

________________________________

One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift...

The next year, I didn't buy her a gift.

When she asked me why, I replied, "Well, you still haven't used the gift I bought you last year!"

And that's how the fight started.

[dicedungeons-and-dragons]

I have a question, and i feel like asking it might be rude but I'm genuinely curious, I understand making a-grade dice around 80-100 depending on complexity but why do some dice maker's sets cost 100+? Is it more related to how much time it costs and price of materials? I'm sorry if this is a rude question

This is a question I see very often and while it may not be intended to be rude it is not polite either. Each maker prices their own work based on a variety of factors that include time, material costs, skill, and risks that go into creating their art. I'm going to try to be very thorough here in explaining why handmade dice cost so much from my perspective because I will not be answering this question again. Please know I don't intend to be rude or belittling in my response, but I feel like an in depth understanding of what goes into making each piece will better the understanding of why handmade dice are priced the way they are.

To begin with materials are expensive. If you decide to make dice professionally it is likely you will be investing in not only the basics (resin, add-ins such as color/glitter/etc., safety equipment) but also in master dice and mold making equipment which can very quickly add up. Most makers also eventually purchase pressure pots (mine with my air compressor cost me a total of $700 on sale) in order to reliably create A-Grade sets with no bubbling.

Next there are safety concerns. I work with epoxy resin. I work with one of the safest resins that is certified fume free and skin contact safe. This is more expensive than most other epoxys and even with those safety labels it is still not advised that it is used without good ventilation and/or a respirator mask rated for fumes and if it does come in contact with skin it should still be immediately washed off. On top of this the dust created from sanding resin, a necessary step in finishing every die, is extremely harmful to breathe in. This means that the workshop has to be in a separate place far away from other residents/children/pets who would not be wearing a respirator.

Then comes actually making the dice which depending on the complexity of the pour can take an hour or multiple days of pours in order to achieve the desired look. I have 8 sets of molds currently and pouring into all of them at once takes 5 hours. This does not take into account the dozens of sets that do not turn out either due to curing errors from under mixing, the temperature being too hot or cold, humidity being too high, and a number of other factors that can be very difficult to control without additional equipment. Once the dice have soft cured and come out of the molds they require another two days to finish curing before anything else can be done to them.

Then they have to be polished and sanded. When I first started making dice this took eight hours for a single set of dice. Now I have invested $150 into a pottery wheel which allows me to sand a set in half an hour, but it still requires a lot of focus to keep the die perfectly level in order to create crisp clean edges and a mirror shine.

Once the sanding is done the dice have to be cleaned, which means standing at a sink scrubbing resin dust from the numbers with a toothbrush for half an hour. (I'm working on getting a new piece of equipment which will hopefully automate this process but that is an additional expense.) Then once they're clean and dry its finally time to paint the numbers. This also takes time, each set about half an hour, and they then need about an hour and a half to fully dry before I can clean any stray paint off the surface of each die. After they've been painted and cleaned and dried again they then finally get their last polish with a soft cloth and plastic polish to recapture their mirror shine.

But the work isn't done. Then each set has to be photographed, named, given a description, listings made on Etsy, listing fees paid on Etsy, packaging supplies procured and then eventually taken to the post office. From start to finish the amount of time, materials, and additional labor that goes into a handmade set requires the sets to be priced as such. And none of this takes into account the difficulty of making certain styles of sets, be it due to a challenging and unpredictable pouring method or due to the difficulty of making or procuring special inclusions (I will find you someday snake skin).

Handmade dice are a luxury product because they are works of functional art and they are priced as such as payment for the artist's time, skill, materials, and effort. I have been advised by other makers that my prices are too low, advice that while well-meant-- like this question-- can come off as rude. Because I am seeking to keep my prices as low as I can in order to allow more accessibility to those who want to have their own handmade dice but cannot afford higher costs. That being said it is absolutely fair for dice sets to be priced at $100+ (I have purchased a $275 set for myself from another maker which was a very special splurge and not one I will be doing again frivolously), that price reflects dozens of hours of work not only on that individual set but also on the hundreds of hours and failures that were required before they could even achieve that final piece. And if that seems outrageous or excessive then perhaps the handmade dice market is just not the place to be procuring dice. That's also alright, not everyone can afford them. But each maker has every right to charge what they believe is a fair price for their work.

Again I hope this response doesn't come off as belittling, I intend no ill-will. But I hope this explanation helps to illuminate why handmade dice can cost upwards of $100.

[longwindedbore]

One problem with talking about ‘Socialism’ is that so many of its US advocates are unwilling to abandon confusing language.

Unfortunately the 19th Century German theorists misappropriated French terms.

Confusing when trying to discuss ‘Socialism in English.

For example “Bourgeois”

ˌbo͝orZHwäˈzē

noun, French

1. “the middle class, typically with reference to its perceived materialistic values or conventional attitudes.”

2. “(in Marxist contexts) the capitalist class who own most of society's wealth and means of production.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

150-160-170-or whatever years later, the US Far Left echos the World Leftist movements.

In English still failing to speak DISTINCTLY of overthrowing the Rich 0.001% who control the natural resources, the means of production, the finances, and the legislatures.

Instead, when advocates use the term “bourgeoise” any US listener who was awake during high school English and forced to read “Madam Bovary” or “Les Miserables” translates the Socialism advocates use of “bourgeoise” as...

“...the Middle Class owns Property! The Middle Class are Exploiters! Death to Everyone in the Middle Class!”

Back when I was young it sounded to me like the Socialists were coming to take my toothbrush.

[aryasbadbenergy]

sugar we’re going down swinging

happy @gendrya-gift-exchange​ to @merrymhysa​ ( @renata-klein​ ) !!! i was so excited to see that you were my recipient because your blog is so pretty! i really really hope you like this because i really enjoyed writing it!! 

prompt: Gendry carries his trusty hammer for smashing in zombie skulls, while riding around on his bike, which Arya has dubbed “The Murder Cycle”. She, on the other hand, prefers a bow and likes to keep a kill count as they travel from town to town.

We're going down, down in an earlier round

And Sugar, we're going down swinging

I'll be your number one with a bullet

A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it

Sugar, We're Goin' Down ~ Fall Out Boy

Arya’s last arrow struck the zombie pinning Gendry down in the throat. The zombie gurgled out a groan and collapsed next to him. Gendry clutched at his own throat and tried to slow down his breathing. “Saved your life. For the one hundredth and forty-third time,” she teases. 

link to ao3 

“Thanks.”

Arya shrugs. “I need more arrows,” she responds before she presses her foot to the dead zombie’s chest and pulls her arrow back out. She wipes the blood off on its grimy pant leg and slides it back into her quiver before moving to the arrow that had struck the bush behind its head. 

143.

Arrow through the eye. 

144.

Gendry’s insists that he killed four of the five, but he hit the fucker after her arrow had already made it into his intestines, so she had two kills. 

146.

Dagger to the throat. She needs more arrows. 

147.

Arrow through the decaying tit into the heart. The fletchings of one of her last two arrows tore off. 

148.

Gendry stops the Murder Cycle in front of the Walmart and Arya swings her leg over the side. She nocks her last arrow from her quiver and starts walking towards the doors. The automatic door had come off of its tracks, so she ducks under the crooked opening. Gendry pulls his sledgehammer out of the seat compartment and follows behind her. Arya bangs a broken cart into the walls a few times to draw out any zombies in the solace of Walmart. Nothing makes a sound except for the cart. She steps further into the store. 

The directional signs hanging from the ceiling were surprisingly still intact across many of the Walmarts that Arya and Gendry had come across, but the electricity wasn’t always stellar. She shines her flashlight at the signs to illuminate them and eventually makes it to the hunting gear section. 

“Hey, how about we start eating this shit,” she teases and throws a pack of dehydrated spaghetti at Gendry. He catches it and laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it will taste just like your mom’s. How about dehydrated pizza? Just add water.”

“No, by far the best meal here is the dehydrated chicken enchiladas,” she grins. 

A groan comes from behind one of the aisles to their left. “Motherfucker,” she grumbles and reaches for the sealed pack of arrows from the bottom of one of the shelves. She props up her flashlight to shine across the aisle which offers a little more light on top of the flickering LEDs above them.

Another groan to their right. And the sound of unbalanced steps from somewhere else in the store and more groans and limb dragging and Arya tugs on the plastic unsuccessfully. 

Gendry raises his sledgehammer and takes out the zombie running towards him. Blood and brain splatters onto the ground. Another zombie gets his face knocked in before two more run into the aisle at once. Arya finally cuts through the plastic with her other arrow before the third zombie running in can get to her or Gendry. The zombie Gendry aimed for was smart enough to duck and grabs for his leg. 

“Fucking hell, some help would be nice!” 

“I’m trying!” Arya shouts back before cutting the one closest to her in the throat with the sharp edge of her bow. She nocks her arrow and kills the zombie limping behind Gendry and draws a new one out of the package, aiming for the zombie now latched onto Gendry’s arm. He tries to grab his hammer with his other arm so he can kill it before its snapping jaws make it too close to his wrist. “Don’t move,” Arya commands.

She releases the arrow, but the zombie yanks on Gendry’s arm. The arrow grazes Gendry’s arm, but still hits the zombie enough that it shocks it, but doesn’t kill it. It lets go of Gendry’s arms and he swings his hammer into its skull. 

Gendry sets his sledgehammer down to inspect his arm. “You shot me.”

“You moved.”

Gendry huffs and shakes his head at her. “You say that like I moved on purpose.”

“Sorry,” Arya says and grimaces at the cut. She picks up her flashlight and motions for Gendry to follow her in her hunt for more antiseptic. 

150.

“Looks like we’ve found somewhere to sleep,” Gendry comments, stopping in front of the smatter of motel rooms. 

He pulls flat head screwdriver out of the storage compartment along with his sledgehammer and steps towards the main building of the complex. Arya follows close behind him to cover him while he picks the lock and raids the office for a room key. He finds one and holds it up. Arya grins and he tosses it to her so she can find the room that it goes to. When it opens the second door she tries she looks back at Gendry who is putting the screwdriver back in the compartment and pulling out his chain. 

He chains his bike to the lamppost next to the door, which makes Arya laugh to herself because they hadn’t seen another living person for at least a week. He locks the chain with the key he kept around his neck and follows Arya into the room.

She tests the faucets with running water, but doesn’t let herself get disappointed when the only water is little drizzle that’s turned brown with rust. 

She washes her hands with water from one of the water bottles instead. Their water supply was limited—like every fucking thing else—but that was because they couldn’t exactly transport 40 bottles of Great Value on Gendry’s Murder Cycle. They would usually just load up their packs with a few bottles and hope they pass another Walmart before they ran out. Arya wasn’t about to die from a fucking bacterial infection during the apocalypse though, so they still washed their hands whenever they could and tried to at least keep their faces clean. Arya would say she would kill for a shower, but now that she’s killed 150 times and still hasn’t had that shower, the proclamation has lost its meaning. But she might bite a zombie for a shower. She digs the first aid kit out of Gendry’s pack while he pulls the gauze off of the cut. 

Arya pours a small amount of the antiseptic into the gash on Gendry’s forearm. Arya pulls the nylon thread out of the first aid kit and cuts off a strand to stitch the cut with. Her mother had tried to teach her how to sew clothes back up so they looked as good as new, but Arya was never very good at sewing prettily. It would get the job done, though. Gendry bites down on his bottom lip while Arya pulls the needle through his arm and sews it up. She tries to do it quickly, but she doesn’t want to mess it up. She finishes the suture and cuts the thread. Gendry hands her a new gauze bad to cover the stitches with. She tapes it in place and throws away the rest of the thread before she holds a flame from her lighter to the needle to sterilize it. 

They pack up the first aid kit and clean up. They had been able to snag some new pants and shirts from Walmart, but they could only take a change or two at a time. 

Arya rubs soap on her hands and Gendry pours some of the bottled water into her cupped hands. She lathers her face up next and Gendry pours water for her again. When her face doesn’t feel like it’s caked with decay she swaps places with Gendry and pours water for him.  She pulls out her toothbrush and the squeezed-to-hell tube of toothpaste that she had been lugging around for a while and brushes her teeth. She peels off the layers that she had been wearing for the past several days and changes into the new clothes. Gendry changes, too, and they eat some of their jerky supply and dehydrated apple slices. 

“Remember when you shot me?” Gendry teases. Arya playfully rolls her eyes at him and bends down to give him a soft kiss. 

“I said I was sorry.” She starts to stand back up, but Gendry grabs onto her hand. He sets his other hand on her hip and Arya leans forward again. Arya cups his face and he hooks his finger through her empty belt loop to tug her closer. 

Arya traces Gendry’s  bull tattoo with her nail. It’s always been her favorite. The bull head covers his heart and takes up most of his chest. “Do you think that if we looked hard enough we could find an operating tattoo shop?” Arya teases. 

Gendry lets out a half huff, half chuckle. “Only you could be in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse and want another tattoo,” he grins and Arya can’t help but grin back. It had been so long since he had truly grinned with his bright eyes and wide smile, and she didn’t know how much she missed seeing a smile on his face. “What do you want a tattoo of?”

Arya’s smile falls a little. She looks down at the three little flowers on her forearm. One for each of the Starks that she’d lost. That had been before though. 

For all she knew, she might be the only one left. Her phone had died three days in, not like there was any manpower to keep the service going. She couldn’t exactly shoot Jon a text like “Hey, for sure at least 3⁄4 of this country has been wiped out, but how are things up in Greenland? Has whatever this is spread to your part of the world, yet?” And Bran had been up in Greywater Watch during the outbreak. Rickon was away at ROTC in God-knows-where this time—she wishes everyday that she would have asked before he left—but she didn’t know if he was safe with the military or not. And Arya didn’t even know where to start looking for Sansa. 

“You want another flower?” Gendry asks. He had been with her when got the first flower, a Virginia Bluebell, for her father. And the sunflower and dandelion for her mother and Robb. “You don’t know that they’re dead, Arya. They’re still out there either waiting for you or looking for you,” he promises, so sure of the thought. 

Arya nods a little. She misses them. Arya misses listening to music and eating food that didn’t come from a can or a vacuum-sealed bag and getting to shower whenever she wants to and being able to ride somewhere in a car even if she used to find Catelyn’s hatred for Gendry’s motorcycle alluring, but above all, she misses Jon and Bran and Rickon and Sansa. And there’s still a chance she can find them. 

If no one is at Winterfell manor, which is where they are headed, Arya is going to keep looking. She won’t rest until she finds them. 

They come across the bright red, bleeding handprint the next morning a few buildings away from the motel. Zombie blood was a dark brown, even if it was fresh. There might be a save-able human in the building. Arya presses her index finger to her lips and Gendry rolls his eyes, but nods. She slips into the building and steps carefully to avoid creaky floorboards. She goes into the first room on the left and Gendry takes the next room to the right. She shines her flashlight through the room quickly and moves onto the next. A clatter and a scream comes from the back room, and Arya’s grip tightens on her bow. She hated splitting up with Gendry. They worked better as a team, even if she had shot him. 

Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. 

She treads towards the sound and grimaces when she hears the horrible sound of a zombie feeding. She walks faster and reaches the still-swaying two-way door. The white paint had chipped over the years, but the bloody handprints were fresh here as well. She catches a glimpse of the room when the door swings in for a moment and counts at least two zombies. She draws her arrow and aims for one of the kneeling zombies. The door swings in again and Arya fires, knocking the zombie down onto its side with an arrow plunged into its back. The other zombie looks up from its meal with a grunt and Arya nocks another arrow. The zombie groans lowly and Arya strikes it in the head. She lets out a small sigh and steps into the small room. She nocks another arrow just in case and inspects the poor girl that had become the zombies’ lunch. 

Arya’s stomach almost overturns. She takes a slow breath and debates in her thoughts for a second. 

It was Bella. She was still alive, her chest barely moving, but she had been bitten, and her heart would stop soon enough. And Arya was going to have to give her mercy. 

Gendry hardly knew Bella, but it would upset him to have to see her after she had had bites taken out of her. But there was no way that Arya was going to try to hide his sister from him. He had a right to know. “Arya,” Bella croaks, and stares past Arya. 

Before Arya has the chance to call for Gendry, a zombie that must have been crouching behind the counter grabs Arya from behind. She flails and tries to get out of its grasp but it pins her arms to her sides. 

“Gendry!” She shouts and kicks behind her. She digs her nails into its fragile flesh and tries to pry its hand off of her, but it doesn’t flinch. She swings her bow behind her and hits it in the legs, but the zombies are hard to injure enough that they let go of their prey, and harder to kill unless their heart stops. Its fucking mouth gets too close to her neck and Arya can only squirm away and kick harder. Gendry runs into the room and helps pry Arya from its grasp before he smashes its head. Arya takes a slow breath and leans against the wall. There was only about an hour between the human being bitten and turning into a zombie. 

“That was close,” Gendry mumbles. “You okay?”

Arya nods. “Gendry,” she starts softly, “it’s Bella.” Gendry clenches his jaw. 

“What?”

She points to the girl. They knew the consequences of not giving the human mercy—more zombies, more victims, more humans dying. Arya doesn’t want to kill Bella, but she has to do it.

Gendry kneels next to Bella and grabs her hand. She smiles a little at him and her eyes are already starting to glaze over. “Gendry.”

“Hey, Bella,” he murmurs. “I had hoped our reunion might have been a little nicer than this,” he admits with a small chuckle. Bella smiles again. Blood comes from her mouth, but Gendry gulps and pretends that he doesn’t notice. “It’s going to be okay,” he promises. “It’s going to be okay.” Bella nods a little and Gendry lays her hand over her stomach and stands. He grabs Arya’s arm and leans down into her ear. “She’s my sister,” his voice breaks. “You have to do it,” he says and steps out of the room. 

“You understand what I have to do?” Arya asks. Tears come from Bella’s eyes, but she nods. “I’m sorry.”

Arya draws her arrow. 

153.

[batteredshoes]

While we are lost...

together, alone in the starless night, consider this my unreleased track, my handmade mask, my dj set. My offering shared here in our digital panic room for these, our dark, dark days of spring...

Starless and Bible-Black

(with apologies to Dylan Thomas)

“You never take me anywhere”, she says. She says things like this. We are a too young married couple and all we know of marriage is what we’ve learned from TV. Specifically, 60’s and 70’s TV, which only adds to the confusion and writes the dialog. It is a shared vow that we wish not to model the behaviors of our parents. “I want to go to Santa Barbara”, she says. “I want to drive up the coast”. She wants and I understand. She wants and I want too. Two months of marriage and it’s already no honeymoon. In fact, we didn’t have a honeymoon. There is no honey on the moon. Tonight, there is no moon. Our unclosed eyes see the black and we are in the red and I think about the money dance in her grandmother’s backyard that netted about $150 dollars and I hear the chapel bells chime and we are going to Santa Barbara.

Clothes are put into paper shopping bags. Toothbrushes, sunglasses, sneakers. We stop at the Mobil station that is next to our apartment building and I fill the tank with unleaded altar wine and dreams of another California. I check the oil, the transmission fluid, the brake fluid and the air in the tires because I am young, and the car is old. She checks the map. It’s 11:30 PM and the hushed town is barely breathing. We are moving in silence on 101 somewhere in the valley when she says, “No, the coast”. It’s late and I think to myself that the coast is a bad idea and that the car is old. But I reason that we are young, and I never take her anywhere and I take the Topanga Canyon off ramp and ask the old car to climb into the sky for her.

When we do reach the ocean, it is black. Black like the road that will snake between the mountains and sand and take us north and away. It begins to rain, and I wish we were still at the Mobil station and I was buying wiper blades for a trip we did not take. But we are going to Santa Barbara where my parents first took me on a tour of the California Missions that we never quite completed. She grew up a Methodist and no longer believes in God. I believe prayer is useful and should be kept close at hand when you are driving after midnight on a winding coastal road on a moonless night in the rain. And it is then that the right rear tire pops like a cork on an old brown bottle of bad omens.

There’s a jack and spare and I’ve been here before and I struggle to open the faulty latch on the trunk. She gets out the car and asks if she can help me. But we have no umbrella or poncho or reason to be out here in the first place. I tell her that while I appreciate the offer, it makes no sense that we should both get wet and suggest she gets back inside the car to monitor the radio for possible reports of lone highway killers that might be loose in the general vicinity of Point Mugu. I say things like this because I can do the right thing but say the wrong thing.

I tighten the lug nuts with a cross of iron, a cross of my fingers and one Hail, Holy Queen and again we go dumbly, blindly, royally winding through the night. I am soaked to the skin now and back inside the car, sitting on the beach towel that lines the front bench seats. We have the old road all to ourselves and she is drifting away to a better world that has been promised her on television and I am trying to stay awake. We drift into a folded town that is slow and sleeping and still until the flickering glow of red neon cuts through the darkness. The vacancy sign on the Tides Motel, cautiously but magnetically slows the car to a stop. I walk up to the night window where a bumper sticker is affixed to the glass that reads, “Oxnard is for Lovers” and I think that this cannot be true. The man at the counter sticks a Q-tip between the pages of his Ross MacDonald paperback and grumbles through the bulletproof glass. $35 dollars passes between us and I have the key to Room 5. It is 3AM.

Back in the car I softly nudge her awake. The headlights shine on the red door to the room. Stepping inside, I feel around in the dark for the light switch. It gives life to a lamp in the corner of the room that must hold a 5-watt bulb, if that. The room is completely mirrored, the ceiling included. Wall-to-wall 12” x 12” mirror tiles surround us and we look our reflections through the gold veins in the glass. She looks at me incredulously and asks in a low voice, “What is this place?”. It is then that I notice there is a pole, padded and wrapped in black leather in the middle of the room. We are still victims of our young naiveté when I step on the remote, that was haphazardly left on the floor. The small TV mounted from the ceiling in the corner of the room comes on blaring and the fuzzy video on the small screen removes all confusion about the décor choices that have been made here. You could say that the TV really pulled the room together. I shut off the TV and writhing bodies fade to black and moaning voices go mute. Behind me, I hear her say, “No…no”. But we have to sleep, I plead and after a brief but tense negotiation, I go to the front desk and ask for towels. Four towels, five towels, as many as he’ll give me. More money is exchanged. When I return, she is standing in the same spot where I left her, frozen, as though she were surrounded by a mote of desperate, hungry creatures, born of unbridled lust and all the bad breaks in life. She greets my return with a stare that borders between relief and contempt. I tell her that we’ll laugh about this one day. I say things like that. “Today is not that day”, she says, and I blanket the bed’s thin red velvet-like cover with the clean towels, creating an island of white terrycloth in a crimson polyester sea. We lie down, fully clothed, for a few bare restless hours in the silent, black bandaged night.

At 7, we are awake with the sun and gather ourselves to leave. The nightstand drawer is slightly open, revealing a pair of handcuffs inside. She glares me as if I had time to put them there like some sort of exclamation point to a bad joke. We walk outside into the light and I look back into Room 5, tossing the key on the bed and closing the door behind me. We drive wordlessly through the rolling hills and eucalyptus trees that will soon connect us back with 101. We find a place for breakfast just off the highway near Ventura and the coffee cuts the chill and makes us closer. “The leather pole?” she questions, shaking her head, as the waitress walks away from our table. We both laugh, and I don’t think we quite understand why. A month before we married, her former hippie now District Attorney Mother bought us a copy of “The Joy of Sex”. Birdsong at Morning and all that business. Maybe joy is just around the corner for us, I think to myself. Maybe we should just keep driving. I never take her anywhere. 

I show her the Mission this day. She’s never been. We go to the zoo in the afternoon and then to down to the beach at dusk and for a moment, I think that I can hear her dreams in the crash of the surf. We eat dinner in town at a place we can’t afford. When evening comes we can hear the invisible starfall. I find a Motel 6, just outside of town and we get a room there for the night. There are two full size beds, just like Lucy and Ricky had. I lie down on the one closest to the door and put a quarter in the Magic Fingers machine. The mattress begins to loudly shutter and shake. She sits down on the other bed and opens the nightstand drawer to reveal a Gideon’s Bible. “Thank God”, she says, closing it shut.

[binsofchaos]

Oven Cleaning Hacks

Method 1: Water + Ammonia

Warm your oven to 150 degrees Fahrenheit and then turn it off.

If you have a gas stove, turn off both the gas and the pilot light (this is crucial for safety).

Put a large pot of boiling water on the bottom rack and a baking dish with a cup of ammonia on the top rack.

Close the door and let it rest overnight.

Open in the morning and remove the racks.

Air out the oven with the door open for 15 minutes or more.

Add a couple of teaspoons of dish soap to your leftover ammonia, plus a quart of warm water; mix.

Using plastic gloves, dip a scrubbing pad into the liquid and use it to wipe the remnants of grease out of your oven.

Method 2: White Vinegar + Baking Soda

Empty your oven and remove racks.

Mix up your own cleaning solution of 1/2 cup of baking soda and some water (a few tablespoons should do the trick). You want to add enough water so that it becomes a paste.

Using gloves, spread the mixture all over the interior of the oven, taking care to avoid the heating elements.

Let it sit overnight or for a minimum of 12 hours.

Using a dampened cloth, wipe the mixture off (it will turn brown from the grease).

Spray white vinegar on any areas where it’s a challenge to remove the paste; the vinegar will react with the baking soda to loosen it up.

Continue to wipe down the appliance with water until the oven is clean.

Method 3: The Self-Clean Function

A few words of warning: some people say that the self-clean function can actually cause your oven to break since it’s reaching such high temperatures (over 900 degrees Fahrenheit). But to be honest, my mom has always used the self-clean “method” on her oven and has never had any issues. It’s not an option on all ovens, but it is worth considering. Here’s how to do it:

Open nearby windows to ventilate.

Press the button and let the oven do its thing (the door will lock itself for safety reasons).

Most ovens will take anywhere from two and a half to four hours to fully clean themselves (do not leave the house until the cycle is done).

Method 4: The Oven Rack Soak

Remove oven racks from the oven.

Spray them with an oven cleaning product.

Seal them in large bags for around 30 minutes.

Rinse them with warm water to get rid of the residue.

Method 5: Quick Glass Cleaner

Slightly dampen a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.

Use it to wipe off any leftover grease for a quick clean for a final sweep after you've already used a few other methods.

Method 6: Spot Treatment

Treat little spots causing you major difficulty with cleaning solution and a toothbrush.

Dip the brush in a cleaning solution and start scrubbing (this method is great for reaching small nooks and crannies).

If stains still refuse to come off, consider investing in a cheap electric toothbrush to help you do some of the work.

Method 7: Dishwasher Detergent Tablets

Use a dishwasher detergent tablet to clean the inside glass on your oven door.

Wet a dishwasher detergent tablet with hot water.

Scrub it against the glass door like a sponge or eraser in order to eliminate built-up grime.

Method 8: Cream of Tartar

It may sound odd, but cream of tartar—typically used as a baking ingredient—acts as a polish when used to clean the oven.

Swipe in on the inside of the oven and let it sit for 10 minutes.

Rinse away the cream of tartar to reveal a polished oven that looks brand new.

Method 9: De-crumb

If your oven is filled with crumbs, you can remove the door to get to those hard-to-reach areas.

Turn to your appliance's instruction manual to learn how best to unhinge the door; many have hinge locks that you can unlock with a screwdriver.

Lift the door up and out to remove it and make room for a deep clean.

Use a handheld vacuum to remove excess crumbs before you start using any cleaning solutions.

Method 10: Water + Lemon

For a natural cleaning method, ditch the chemicals and pick up a few lemons at the store.

Fill a pan with water and add the juice of two lemons.

Place the pan in the oven and turn it on.

When the water comes to a boil, the steam will act as a natural cleaner, breaking down grease and other stains.

Turn off the oven and let it cool before using a damp cloth to wipe down the interior.

[gertieseiler47]

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