#which is a big chunk of the meat of the show

[zjofierose]

we have been rewatching the mid-2000’s Battlestar Galactica, which i have seen before, and i was realizing last night that part of why i was feeling very meh about it is that, as a bisexual, it is very unusual for me to find basically no one in the cast attractive, but in BSG i really… don’t? like, character or actor, either one. which is wild! there’s a lot of characters! i don’t really find… any of them? compelling? and same with the actors of all genders? there are some that are like… ok. jamie bamber is reasonably hot, but he’s got a bad dye job and apollo is the sort of hotheaded dick i don’t generally go for. dualla is pretty, but a completely uninteresting character. i find starbuck and the chief and callie and boomer and helo and gaius and gaeta and six all actively off putting.

it’s just weird!! as someone who is attracted to all genders, it’s just really unusual for there to be no one in a cast of this size that piques my interest.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey, are you a broke motherfucker trying to save money on groceries and attempting to plan for having food in the house at the end of the month? Do you have a good system for storing frozen meat? If you don't, here's how I do it:

Large Bastard called me when I was at the plasma center (we're broke motherfuckers!) to tell me that Aldi had nearly expired pork chops (use or freeze by tomorrow) for 50% off, so I told him to get 4 packs.

I keep my freezer pretty full with homemade stock, frozen meat, frozen veggies, frozen fruit, and g-free bread, so I can't just stick the big packages of pork chops directly in the freezer, and besides if I do, the pork chops will freeze to each other and then I'll have to thaw the whole mass of them if i want to cook them, which will increase thawing time.

So what I do instead is make an accordion of waxed paper and fill it with pork chops.

This ends up saving a ton of space, and means I can choose to thaw 8 pieces or 1 piece or however much I need at a time.

3 packs stored this way are smaller than 1 pack from the store.

The final accordion of meat gets wrapped in a layer of waxed paper, then put into a freezer bag with the air pressed out, and now if I don't have cash for groceries I've still got something to eat.

This is also the way that I save meat that is close to its spoilage date that I won't be able to cook before it goes bad. If you stick a family pack of chicken breasts in the freezer, you have a family pack of chicken breasts to thaw. If you put them into little waxed paper envelopes, you've got single serving packets that you can easily toss into a soup or bake from frozen.

This is ALSO pretty much the technique I use to freeze banana slices when my bananas are going brown and I'm not in the mood to bake, only I freeze them on a cutting board before breaking them off and sticking them in a bag when they're frozen.

Freeze wet stuff in individual pieces, not big chunks, so you don't have to break up big chunks to use your frozen food.

I know this probably seems pretty obvious to a lot of people, but it wasn't obvious to me until a couple years ago because nobody ever showed me how to do it and I didn't grow up in a family that cooked a lot.

[bighungrywolf]

Dan looked at himself in the gym locker room mirror somewhat disappointed with the progress he was making. He had been training his pecs today, and even with the pump he had received from his workout his chest didn't look as big as he wanted it to. It was then that he saw out of the corner of his eye a guy admiring how he was strapping his pecs in front of the mirror, while trying without much success to conceal a clear erection. At the sight of that boy, so weak compared to his great body, an internal fire was lit inside him, a flame that needed embers to ignite even more.

When their gazes met, the boy looked away, pretending he was on to something else. This excited Dan even more. "Oooog, I love it when they play coy, it makes them look like a helpless little lamb."

Without missing a beat, Dan walked up to the boy and said:

-Do you like my pecs? They feel better than they look, wouldn't you like to caress them a little?

The boy, completely losing his shyness and seeing himself engrossed by those mountains that were Dan's pecs, got up from the bench, and started rubbing every inch of Dan's pecs, from his erect nipples to his cleavage all sweaty from the friction of those two pairs of pectorals.

-I see you like them, do you want me to show you a trick? I can make them grow," Dan said, still smiling and not taking his eyes off the boy who was working his tits thoroughly. As he said this, he led the boy's hands to his cleavage, pressing them between his two big man boobs. The boy understood as Dan wanted him to admire that part of his pecs, but however, when he went to pull his hands out to touch his nipples again, he realized that his hands were stuck, and not only that, he could feel how a force was pulling him, inserting part of his arms between Dan's two chunks of pec meat, which were starting to look bigger and bigger. -Oooog, I love to see the surprised face of my prey, they never expect this final trick. Wait, now comes the good part- just as he finished saying this, Dan grabbed the boy's head tightly from behind, pushing him on his chest and making him sink deeper into it, after which he let out a deep moan of pleasure- Hmmmmm, yes, now be a good boy, and worship my pecs from the inside, ok?

Soon there would be nothing left of that boy, except a tremendous pec pump in Dan, who at last looking in the mirror was satisfied with the size of his pectorals, though perhaps adding another incautious guy to the equation wouldn't hurt.

[ryanmarshallryan]

The Foodie Genie

Vincent had purchased a vintage cookie jar from an odd little antique booth at a local county fair. He thought it would be a perfect thing to put his homemade cookies in, which he always kept a batch of dough ready to make on hand, as they were his favorite, and perfect to bring out when hosting guests.

He did not expect it, though, when it began to smoke as he tried to clean it at home. Sparks flew out of it as he dropped it into his sink. Somehow unshattered, but still spewing sparks and purple colored smoke, he heard it make a squelching sound as if someone was prying their hand out of the cookie jar but it was suctioned in.

A great big figure of semi-transparent man jolted up out of the cookie jar and smacked its head into the ceiling.

“Years of hitting my head in my tiny little jar, to finally being released to hit my head again. Go figure,” said the being.

Vincent surveyed its impressive height, its massive belly, its bald head and goatee, and the way its legs seemed to swirl away into almost smoke.

“All right then, let’s get to it, I am Xavier, Genie for the Foodies, great to meet you,” Xavier held out a comically large hand, Vincent stared at it in surprise, “And your name is?”

“Vincent,” he blurted out, “Vincent’s my name, but you - what are you?”

“A genie. You got ears right?” Xavier said as it leaned back in the air, crossed its arms which accentuated its belly forward a bit.

“Of a cookie jar? I’m confused.”

“I could do the whole song and dance introduction, but I don’t want to overwhelm the already overwhelmed.” Xavier stated, magicking a large cushioned chair, and motioning Vincent into it. “You see, I’m a special kind of genie. A previous wish-giver was a foodie if I ever saw one, and made it so I can only grant wishes of a specific nature. For example, any food you could desire I could produce.”

Just then a whole feast of roast duck, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and more appeared with a pop in front of Vincent. Then in another moment all vanished, and was replaced with a buffet style platter filled with noodles and meats and rolls and veggies, and again vanished and was replaced with a vat of ice cream, steaming in the hot room.

“You get the picture, I can help you experience the rarest of delicacies too… and every once in a while I get someone who wants to become a rare delicacy themself, if you know what I mean.” Xavier raised his eyebrows, and watched as Vincent looked intrigued. “The one who wished I could only grant food related wishes, used his last wish to have me even swallow him whole! He wanted to experience first hand what it would be like to be food,” Xavier, floated upside down and let his large belly hang down and show how massive it is. It seemed to grow and inflate until it was pushing up against Vincent’s face.

In a flash of smoke Vincent suddenly had a gut the size of a yoga ball, and the genie was back to normal.

“Or I can give you more room, so that any meal you desire you’ll be able to finish, and have room for seconds…” Xavier snapped and Vincent’s belly swelled to the size of a compact car, “Thirds… fourths… you get the picture.”

In another puff of smoke the room filled with jello and Vincent felt himself floating in the giant mass and heard a muffled shouting from Xavier say “Or if you’d like to play with your food, I’m sure we could have a fun swim.” Another puff of smoke and Vincent was as small as a soup spoon, looking up at a dollhouse sized castle made of graham crackers and gingerbread. The candy door of it swung open and Xavier popped out, “Come on in, and consider a wish. You get three. No more. No less.”

Vincent entered the graham cracker castle, grabbed a chunk of chocolate that was by the door and nibbled on it. Xavier let him up a staircase made of cake, into a hall with a long table. They sat down and Xavier asked again what wish Vincent would begin with.

Vincent thought for a while. He supposed his wishes didn’t matter as much as a normal genie’s might. He didn’t think the world would collapse if he wished for a fridge with unlimited eclairs or something.

“I wish I had a fridge that could summon any food I desire when I opened it.”

“I can work with that,” said Xavier. A flash of smoke and they were normal sized, sitting on the kitchen floor. The genie gestured behind Vincent who turned to see a purple fridge replacing his old one. He opened it to find his favorite smoothie sitting on the center rack.

“Cool!” Vincent exclaimed, picking up the smoothie, closing the door and opening it again to find a plate of kebab waiting for him as well, “I didn’t even realize I wanted that. Thanks!”

Vincent drank and ate as he considered another wish. How could a wish regarding food be helpful for both himself and others? Maybe he could wish to change the taste of anything he ate to something he loved. That’d make shoving down the burnt stuff his friend made more bearable, even enjoyable. Or perhaps he could wish to not have any allergy to food or poison: to digest anything. But what if he wanted to heat something but not digest it?  “I wish I could change the shape of my gut at will, so if I want to eat a whole roast pig I could do it in one sitting, but then be able to change my gut’s size back to another size to fit my clothes.”

“Hmm that’s an interesting one. Many ways that one could be used without relation to food so it’d be tricky to see if my powers would allow. I think I can grant it, but only if the primary body part you are changing shape is that of your gut and digestive system.”

Vincent felt a surge of energy through him like an electric charge. He looked down at his gut and imagined it ballooning to the size of a watermelon. It did so. He opened the fridge and found a cantaloupe waiting for him, and he stretched open his mouth to an impossible size and fit the melon in easily, swallowing it down if it were a small round candy. He felt his gut with his hands, feeling the soft flesh and the hard melon underneath layers of it. He imagined that his gut would be packed with thick fat to pad the melon inside. He watched as his layers of fat grew thicker and thicker until his gut could easily fit a human inside and have enough fat padding no one would notice a difference in shape. 

“Wow, genie, you outdid yourself with this one. I think my friend Henry is gonna get a kick out of this,” Vincent said, turning back to the fridge. This time, when he opened it, the racks were gone and in their place was a full size human being, looking utterly bewildered at their being in a refrigerator. 

“Hello? Vincent? How on earth - I was just in the library. How did I get here?” said the man in the fridge, stepping out of it into the kitchen, “And who’s this? Or what is this?” he said, gesturing to the genie.

“I know you’ve got a million questions but I’d like to try something if you’re still interested,” Vincent said, “Remember when you told me about those funny fantasies you like to muse about when you’re - well you know what I mean?”

Henry looked between the genie and Vincent, and began to notice their large bellies, “What - ?”

“Wanna make it a reality for a bit? I can let you out later. Like this,” Vincent’s stomach changed shape and the melon popped out of his mouth, good as new. 

Henry looked surprised, but interested. “Wow, you swallowed that whole?”

“And you’re next, Henry,” Vincent said, with a gleam of devilishness in his smile. He glanced down on Henry and saw he wasn’t the only one changing shape. With one quick swoop, Vincent grabbed Henry by the shoulders, and threw him head first into his rapidly stretching mouth, sending him down into his belly, which was swelling to the size of a large couch again. Henry seemed to be quite content with this experience, not even struggling to slide down into his friend's belly.

The genie started clapping, “Oh my, what a show! You’ve got the hang of it quite quickly! But I must warn you, you must make three wishes by the time the clock strikes the hour mark, or all of your wishes will be revoked! And if that happens, your friend might be stuck in there for good with no magical stretching maw to let him back out.”

“The hour mark? Isn’t that like Cinderella and stuff? Why’s there a time limit?” Vincent asked, rubbing his gut and mildly distracted by the lump of Henry inside.

“Someone tried to wait to give me a final wish for 30 years and I got fed up and got special permission to start setting time limits.”

“Oh, I suppose that makes sense,” Vincent said absent mindedly, turning to the clock which read 3:59pm. Sudden panic filled him and he jostled his belly, sending Henry bouncing around. “One minute!”

“30 seconds actually,” said Xavier, not stressed about it.

Vincent’s mind went blank with shock as he tried to think of something good. He gave up and went with something that intrigued him earlier, “You said you ate one of the previous wisher people? That could be interesting I suppose to know what it’s like for Henry. I wish you would swallow me whole for a bit, then let me out before I get digested!”

Xavier looked excited and coy, “Really? Me eat you? I haven’t eaten in years,” the genie said, blushing. He clapped his hands and the room filled with smoke, and suddenly the two of them were steaming in a warm vat of hot fudge together. Xavier leaned in close, “I like a little flavor. But what would suit you best? Hmm…” The genie snapped its fingers and the vat of hot fudge turned to chicken soup… then to a birthday cake… then to a pool filled with chicken parm and pasta… then suddenly Vincent found himself sandwiched between two human sized slices of seeded bread, with an assortment of stuffing, cranberry sauce, turkey and lettuce and tomato. “Just want to say thank you for being a great wish-giver,” said the genie.

Vincent’s eyes grew wide as Xavier’s mouth stretched to the size of a door. Vincent felt air rush past his face as the genie’s throat seemed to start vacuuming the air around them down inside it. The sandwich lurched forward and Vincent watched as the giant mouth came closer and closer and he began falling into it, feeling the wet, mushy expanse of the back of the genie’s throat, and the tight squeeze down its esophagus. He fell what felt like ten feet down a tight, slimy tunnel of saliva, and landed in an opening chamber of stomach juices that tingled his skin. He felt around the giant stomach and felt it shrinking. He began with space to move around, but by the time it stopped shrinking he could barely move his chest to breathe. He hoped Henry was doing alright in his own belly, though his empathy was not deep when he felt Henry’s elbows and knees jabbing directly into his bladder and lungs. He felt the stomach walls around him knead his body, squeezing and contracting, as acid trickled down his sweaty face. He felt like he was dissolving into soup, felt like he could no longer tell where his fat belly ended and the one he was in began.

He began to fade into unconsciousness when, in a puff of purple smoke, he felt all stress upon his body relinquish as if he had been let go of from the tightest, sweatiest hug ever. He landed softly, seated on the ground of his kitchen. He looked around but did not see the genie anywhere. Xavier had gone. He felt a bit groggy. Perhaps he had passed out on the kitchen floor. Had it all been a dream? 

His answer came at once.

“Hey, bud, I’m having a great time… but you might wanna swallow some antacids, or let me out soon… unless you're hoping to make me permanently belly fat, of course, but this stomach acid is getting stronger.”

Vincent turned to the fridge. It was still purple. “Cool,” he whispered to himself. He looked up where the genie had been floating a while before and mouthed a silent “thank you.”

“Vincent? You there? I’m kinda digesting in here.” Henry called with a forced-casual tone showing signs of mild panic.

“Oh, right!” Vincent said, opening the fridge to find antacids and threw the whole unopened bottle in his mouth and right down into his belly.

A while later, after stretching his throat and mouth to let Henry out, the pair of them sat at the table, sharing some cookies. They sat in silence for awhile, enjoying each other’s company and processing what had happened.

“So I’m thinking, maybe I can come over for dinner again next week?” Henry said.

“To be dinner? Or share dinner?” Vincent joked.

“Why not both?” They shared a smile.

[gladiatorcunt]

- DIRT IN CHAINS | X.

i can’t wait for the nights with you, i imagine the things we’ll do

cw: kinktober prompt (feet), semi crack treated seriously (he just comes back and says footjob. now.), pseudo incest (step brother & step sister), no shelly or chris 💀, set in the 90’s with brandon lee’s eric, small-ish age gap (reader’s in her early 20’s), fem ballerina!reader, random kurt cobain crush mention, implied inappropriate behavior when reader was 18 and after (nothing explicit but it could be seen as done with certain intent), attempted non con mention (not involving eric or reader)

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

Body of my body, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

If you serve a chunk of still bleeding meat to a gruesome stray dog, then that is love. If you toss a coin to a crow with a glint in its beady eyes, that too is love. Even when you scoff and grumble at the perceived inconvenience and continue your jaunt down the muddy alleyway. You are assuring an animal that you believe it deserves to have its hunger sated and tended to like a toothache. don’t be surprised when gangrene sets in around your ankles and wrists, bracelets made of red jade. They bite for the same reason that you sharpen their teeth and beaks with roadkill and gemstones. It is life’s greatest gift to ever be well fed, such neglect can open a void from which there is no escape. If only your heart could plug up the hole.

The most painful sentences in existence are hypotheticals that start with if. That's why this will be nothing of the sort, hunting season will be successful.

Your step brother Eric was shot about a month ago the night before halloween, and you’re coping by robotically moving through life as if it couldn’t happen to you too. It’s all too easy to succumb to the panic and the grief but you’ve never been wired that way, it’s safer for you to retreat into a cocoon of numbness.

You don’t want to think about where the woman he saved from being raped is, as happy as you are that she’s okay. Knowing any of that would only remind you of the knife Eric got thrown into his back before he was thrown from her apartment window. He lived in the same building and like the good guy your step brother was at heart, burst in the room with the best intentions.

His good deed got him killed, and all you’ve done is play his music on repeat as you rot in your bed. He’d want you to continue your ballet career, hell, he showed up to your recitals and performances more than your own mother. You always ignored how his presence made you feel simultaneously relaxed and confident but also so stressed you’d be worried about pissing yourself on the stage.

Wide smiles and long dark hair that glistened in the theater’s warm lightning, he would always be the one to stand up and whistle first.

Eric’s favorite ballet was your ballet company’s Swan Lake. He kept a picture of you as Odette in one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your parents had only been married 4 years, but you’ve changed a lot from the starry eyed 18 year old that mooned over your older step brother and tripped over your pointe shoes.

Your dad started teaching you how to play guitar before he left, when you were 5 and your chubby hands plucked at the wrong strings. Eric wouldn’t leave you alone when you told him the story, and spent an entire weekend getting you caught up on your missed lessons until you both had a swarm of blisters on your fingers.

Now you’ll never see him again, never get caught in the rain when you’ve begged him to drive you home and wish you could tuck a strand of his wet hair behind ear, never hump your pillow and muffle your sounds into your balled up fists because he’s staying in the next room and you have to be quiet.

You’ll never see him with his band again, caught in that weird space between a groupie and a supportive family member. He liked to embarrass you, make big shows out of looking directly at you and coming to the edge of the stage to poke your cheek. He’d ruffle your hair and your cheeks would be so hot, one wrong burst of electricity from the wires attached to their instruments and you’d go up in flames.

You never told your mom but you always wanted a brother, you should’ve known you weren’t gonna have him for very long.

Hangman’s Joke. God, you wish.

“Hey, peach, ya miss me?”

Hand on your heart you think you’re dreaming at first, but you’ve never really had any dreams where Eric was front and center. He haunts all your other ones, regular strange ones where you’re running around department stores and fucking Kurt Cobain but someintes he turns into your step brother, sometimes you fuck them both.

You shoot up in bed, the straps of your lavender silk nightie slip down your shoulders so you pull them back. It’s the middle of the night, and your vision is blurry, but when your eyes focus properly you see him standing in front of your bed.

It’s Eric, your brother, you don’t even care if there was a gas leak overnight that’s got you fucked up or if this reslly is a dream. You can’t pretend to be fine anymore if he’s right here in front of you, suddenly there’s an umbrella over your head in the pouring rain again.

“Eric, oh my god, what the fuck! How are you even- I mean- How the fuck are you alive?”

He sighs, tonguing his cheek and shaking his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise, ‘m tired, peach. Missed my girl, didn’t she miss me?”

It’s a little cruel because of course you have, but the dulcet tones lull you into nodding. You don’t want to cry, and you’re scared to reach out to touch him because of the chance that he might disappear. Eric’s haunted eyes soften, and he intertwines his bizarrely muddy fingers with yours. There’s warmth, and maybe it’s just your hummingbird heart but you feel a soft rhythmic thumping under his skin.

It’s different, slow as molasses, more like the chiming of a grandfather clock. But Jesus fucking Christ he’s real.

Your sham of a facade shatters as you bring your joined hands down to your breasts, forcing his knuckles to press into your sternum.

Eric pushes you back down on the bed, his knees dig into the mattress on either side of your hips. His stare is intense, dark and enticing as he reaches down to curl his hand around your calves.

“I used to be obsessed with uh, vampires, ain’t that a bitch?” He chuckles, massaging your ankles and staring off into space. “All that mysticism and unimaginable power and all I could focus on was the way they talked about their cravings. How they get hunger pangs like a normal fuckin’ and it’s bearable until it’s not, it consumes them like they’re boilin’ from the inside out.”

You suck in a breath, Eric’s eyes flick over to you immediately.

“Then I look at you and i’m right back in rehab, toes curlin’ at the thought of getting high again. I think I know how those bloodsuckers feel.”

“Eric- Don’t say that.” Your heart seizes up, but you keep yourself from falling off the ledge.

He kisses your ankle, his black lipstick leaving a stain as he leaves a trail of carnage up to your toes. His lips split wide on a fox’s smile, slipping his tongue in the crease between your toes and sucking each one clean, almost like he’s trying to eat your flesh off the bone. He nuzzles his nose into the sole and inhales deeply, taking in the dirt you didn’t wash off in the shower, the plastic hospital smell from your bath mat, your cherry almond scented body wash.

“Yes, all i fuckin’ need, right here.” He whispers, staring at you dead in your eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to taste the high arch of your foot as his hand caresses your still bruised toes. But they’re faded, you quit ballet a long time ago.

“You have pretty feet, y’know that? Always liked helping you lace up your slippers.” Eric laughs “You’d get so fussy about me doin’ them properly but you’d kiss my cheek after, all sweet on me.”

He lavishes every inch of both your feet with his tongue in broad strokes, making out with your toes because he can’t resist sucking them into his mouth one more time.

You moan, fisting your hands in your nightie, your step brother’s back from the afterlife apparently and the first thing he wants to do is get a footjob from his step sister.

Eric tucks his hair behind his ears so he doesn’t have to bother with it for right now, you can tell that this is like one of those moments on stage, he wants your full attention.

He’ll always have it.

You’re the one that pulls your feet out of his grip to slide them down to his crotch. You keep eye contact as you massage his clothed bulge with your toes, rubbing your heel into his balls and applying light pressure here and there.

You blink up at him, too innocent and too worn down by life already all at the same time, “Like that, big brother? Does that feel good?”

Eric grunts, wrapping his hands back around your ankles and pushing your feet further onto his cock.

“Yeah, peach, feels so fuckin’ good, holy shit. Just like that, keep doin’ me like that, baby.”

You bite your lip, nearly tearing through the skin in your efforts to make your newly risen step brother jizz in his ripped jeans. You wish you had psychic powers and had the foresight to know he was coming over, you would’ve put on those socks with the frilly edges and a red rose stitched on the white fabric.

But he’s so worked up from this already, he’s breathing heavily and rocking his hips forward to hump your feet. He’s grinding his teeth together, already so close to unraveling from how much of a little tease you’re being.

You hum and turn your right foot to ghost the edge of your toenail around the tip of his cock. He groans as he twitches and a bead of pre seeps through his clothes, you can trace the outline of his length so clearly you know he’s not wearing any underwear.

The look in his crazed eyes reminds you of all the times he’d take you to the attic of his loft, making up scary stories and playing guitar with you. When you turned 21 he surprised you with a cheesy golden heart shaped locket, with a picture of you two at your parent’s wedding, joking about how awkward you look with each other there. Eric’s penguin style suit and your agitated face that’s partially covered by gaudy turquoise puffy cap sleeves.

He chuckled and said that every time you look at it, you’ll feel nothing but happiness for what those two losers are about to experience.

Part of that experience is you curling your feet around his clothed cock while giving him just enough of a view of your hairy pussy, you forgot to put a pad on so there’s some blood trickling out of you that Eric is just so utterly enraptured by.

His groans are death rattles now, long and pain stricken, at some point he stops humping your feet and lets you worship him like this. Eric kneeling above you, drooling deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his baby sister caressing his painfully hard dick with her cute dancer’s feet.

Your mind is filled with all the pretty shoes you can put on and do this again, you just got a new camera as an early birthday present too.

“You can come if you promise not to leave again, Eric, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself this time.” You promise, digging the ball of your feet into his perineum.

“I crawled out of the earth back to you, didn’t I? Couldn’t let my sweet peach perform alone, she gets stage fright.”

He comes in his pants and you continue to gingerly move your feet along his length, soaking up the cum that wets your toes like a sunflower does sunlight at golden hour.

[loveinhawkins]

The Reid family live in the trailer opposite Eddie and Wayne’s. They’re a pleasant bunch, sure, but more importantly, they always give Eddie a freshly cooked burger on the Fourth of July, which he readily accepts—why would he waste his time on overpriced fair food when he could get it on his own doorstep for free?

Tonight’s burger is more than a little on the charred side.

It’s no big deal to Eddie (that’s how he prefers it, really), and he gets that you really have to keep an eye on some of those portable grills—otherwise you’ll end up with incinerated chunks of meat in the blink of an eye. But even so, it’s not like Matthew Reid to be so distracted.

“Wayne got the night off?” Matthew asks.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder towards his home, almost misses Eddie nodding. He puts another singed burger on a bun, then places it on Eddie’s plate.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Uh, I’ve got some sparklers kicking around, y’know, if the kid wants to…”

He makes it sound more of a happenstance than it had been: yes, he’s had a decent run of orders from seniors and recent graduates, all wanting to let off some steam at the county fair; money is a damn sight better than it had been.

But the truth is that Eddie had been saving up anyway, would’ve bought the sparklers even if funds were tight.

It’s become a little tradition at this point: making his own annual ‘firework show’ with the Reid’s son.

Eddie’s known Daniel since the kid was six years old—he’s fourteen now, still has a bright-eyed naivety that Eddie hopes Hawkins High doesn’t completely stamp out.

He’s got a shock of blonde curls and a gap tooth, loves swimming so much there’s a running joke in the town that he’s part dolphin, what with the amount of time he spends at the community pool.

When his parents had heard that Eddie was repeating senior year yet again, instead of going for the usual commiserations or ‘helpful advice’ angle, they just quipped that it would be good for their son to see a familiar face at high school.

To be honest, Eddie can’t see Daniel needing a familiar face all that much; he imagines that after the typical first year nerves have come and gone, the kid will settle in quite comfortably, that he’ll be on the swim team by October.

At the mention of sparklers, Matthew’s face falls. He looks back to his trailer again and says, “Ah, m’sorry Eddie, couldn’t get him outta bed. Maybe later?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Eddie leaves him to it—if they were closer, perhaps he could’ve encouraged Daniel outside, made a difference somehow. But he just knows the family with a distant kind of friendliness—a shouted, “Morning!” when he’s running late, or a wave at the end of a long school day, their lives only overlapping briefly.

He goes inside to give Wayne his burger, so when it happens, he almost misses it.

He’s pouring himself a glass of water when he hears Louise Reid shouting indistinctly. She’s not usually one to argue, although Eddie’s noticed that she’s seemed tetchy lately—only yesterday, he’d been woken up by the sound of an almighty row that, as far as he could tell, was just about misplacing a bottle of bleach.

By the time he’s out on his porch, he’s just in time to see the back of Daniel as he heads out of the trailer park. It doesn’t exactly look like he’ll stop for anyone.

Louise is watching him go, her lips a thin line.

“Just let him cool off, darlin’,” Matthew says.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with him. That’s—that’s not normal, I don’t know what the hell’s going on in his head—”

”He’s a kid, Lou, he’s just acting up, that’s all. He’ll grow out of it.”

Louise sighs exasperatedly. When she shuts the front door, she does it with such force that it just bounces back open again. Neither she nor her husband fix it.

Eddie reckons that he’ll time it: fifteen minutes, give or take, and Daniel will be back. Ten minutes more, and he’ll have made up with his mom, before sheepishly asking Eddie for a sparkler.

Eddie’s left counting for much longer than fifteen minutes.

Matthew walks down the road leading up to the park’s entrance, over and over again. Comes back and shouts into his trailer, maybe a little frantically, that he can’t find Daniel, that maybe he’s gone to one of his friend’s places.

Eddie hears Louise start up a round of phone calls. A knot forms in his stomach as each one ends the same way. Call me if you hear anything.

It gets darker. Wayne heads out to the woods with Matthew, flashlights in hand, and it reminds Eddie of when they’d done the same not all that long ago, when Will Byers went missing.

The knot in his stomach grows. Tightens.

Wayne returns with a shake of the head. Eddie makes coffee just for something to do.

“They reckon he hitched a ride somewhere.”

Eddie scoffs. “Where the hell’s he gonna go, Wayne? Chicago?”

They drink their coffee on the porch. The Reid’s door is still left open, so when the phone rings again, it sounds as loud as a gunshot.

Someone picks up.

A scream.

“Wayne,” Eddie whispers. He feels suddenly desperate.

Wayne’s face is white. “Stay here, Ed.”

And then he’s running over to the Reid’s.

Eddie shouldn’t get closer. Shouldn’t look. But he does.

He tiptoes across the grass, just close enough so he can see…

Louise is on the floor. She’s clinging onto the wall phone, the cord stretched to breaking point, and Wayne’s talking to her, too softly for Eddie to make out; he gets down on his knees and puts an arm around her.

Her scream turns into wailing, then guttural sobs.

Eddie staggers backwards.

A flashlight being dropped on concrete. Matthew running inside.

“Lou? Lou! Jesus, what’s—”

Eddie looks away.

He goes back home, tries to shut out the noise. No matter how loudly he plays music, he can still hear them.

Eventually Wayne returns; he doesn’t say anything, just switches Eddie’s music off and puts on the radio.

There’s names being read out. Daniel is one of them.

Eddie sits out on the roof that night. He lights a sparkler, thinks about writing Daniel’s name in the sky, and then is immediately furious at himself for the thought. The kid should be here to do it himself.

When he eventually falls asleep, it’s to the memory of a sparkler burning the back of his eyelids.

A few days pass in what feels like one slow blink.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. He ends up just wandering down town—it’s ghostly quiet here, has been so ever since the mall opened.

It’s overcast, as if the tragedy has made summer die quicker. That doesn’t stop Eddie’s skin from itching.

There’s a small diner near where Radio Shack once existed; it’s a hole in the wall, still somehow in business.

Eddie doesn’t know why he goes in. He hasn’t even brought his wallet.

All he knows is that he’s suddenly inside, and the place is absolutely dead, and the only person sat at a booth is—

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes. “What happened to your face?”

Steve Harrington stares back at him, looks decidedly unimpressed. There’s a basket of fries in front of him, and he’s presumably going for the ‘stoic silence’ route, because he picks up a fry, goes to eat it, and immediately winces. No fucking wonder, too; it’s a miracle he can even try and eat anything through that busted lip.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, doubt something hot with salt was the best choice, Harrington, considering uh,” he waves a hand in front of his face, “everything.”

Steve frowns. “I just wanted them,” he says, on the edge of petulant, and Eddie wonders if he also ended up here by chance; if his skin is itching, too.

“Hang on,” Eddie says.

At least he has something to do now.

He asks for a cup of ice at the counter, wraps up some cubes inside a bunch of paper towels. He brings it back to Steve, who’s watching him in faint surprise.

“Uh. Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie shrugs.

Steve takes the bundle of towels, pressing them to his lips with a small hiss. He nods for Eddie to sit opposite him.

It’s a whole lot, up close: one of Steve’s eyes is heavily swollen, and along with the busted lip, his face is a mess of fresh bruises that must ache something fierce.

“You can ask,” Steve says, mumbled from talking behind the ice. He sounds resigned, like he’s one step away from adding everyone else does.

“All right.” Eddie crosses his arms. “What happened?”

“I worked at the mall. Broken down elevator.” Steve slams his hand down on the table. “It dropped.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters.

But his mind is already elsewhere.

Steve’s unaffected eye narrows. Shit. He’s on to him.

“What’s eating you, Munson?”

“It’s just…” Eddie sighs, leans forward. “So a fire broke out. Like, after closing? But people were still inside.”

Steve doesn’t blink. “You ever worked in retail? People just hang around for no reason.”

“Sure, but—but—” Eddie feels a sudden urge to tug on his hair in frustration. “But he wouldn’t do that, he’d…”

Steve sets down the paper towels. “Who wouldn’t?” he says quietly.

Eddie tells him.

Steve listens in silence. He shifts in his seat when Eddie’s done and says, almost gently, “It sounds like he went to—”

“No, he hated the mall,” Eddie says vehemently. “Dragged his feet when his folks took him to the opening. He wouldn’t—he’d—I don’t know! All of it, it’s—”

“Crazy,” Steve finishes. He looks down. “Yeah. I know.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, man. And, like, that family never fought, but the day before it—his mom was biting his head off over, like, losing some bleach or something stupid like—woah, Jesus, you okay?”

Because Steve suddenly looks like he might be sick. He swallows, breathes in and out cautiously.

“I’m fine.”

Eddie pauses. “Okay,” he says, uncertain. When Steve looks a little less pale, he goes on; he can’t stop himself. “I just—what if—did you, um. Did you see him?”

“No,” Steve says slowly. “But Eddie,” he says, and for some reason, he almost sounds like he’s pleading, “he was there.”

“How do you know? How does anyone—you know, like Will Byers, everyone thought… And then he…”

“It’s not always like that,” Steve says, sounds both sad and bitter. “Some people just stay dead.”

It’s a lousy rebuttal, in Eddie’s opinion, but for some reason it hits him anyway, leaves him abruptly exhausted. He runs a hand over his face.

“Yeah.” He steps out of the booth. “See you around, Harrington.”

“Wait.” Steve gets up too, with slow ginger movements. His fries remain untouched. “If I brought my car, I’d have given you a ride home, but…”

“Don’t think you’re in any condition to be driving,” Eddie says.

Steve gives a tiny shrug with one shoulder. “You wanna get the bus?”

“I didn’t bring any money.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get your ticket. I’m just gonna ride all the stops anyway.”

And it’s an unexpectedly comforting thought, that Steve is also at a loss for what to do.

They go to the back of the bus, sit in silence for the first couple of stops. Steve turns from where he’s been looking out the window and says, “Are you still, y’know, doing your thing?”

Eddie’s used to that being a euphemism for “Are you still selling?” But then he sees that Steve is miming a dice being thrown, and he’s momentarily surprised into a half-smile.

“Yeah. Will be, when school starts up again.”

He’d typically be using the summer as time to work on a new campaign, but that had gone out of his head with… everything.

They’re nearly at Forest Hills when Steve speaks again.

“I… I knew him. Not like you did, but I—I used to be a lifeguard, and his butterfly was phenomenal, I’d get the stopwatch out sometimes. There was a group of us, we worked on rotation, we’d call him part—”

“Dolphin,” Eddie says. “Yeah. That’s right.”

He feels his bottom lip threaten to go. Stupid. He rubs the feeling out with the tips of his fingers, digging in harshly.

It’ll be his stop soon. He stands up to make his way to the front, doesn’t expect Steve to rise with him, but he does. His breathing is suspiciously light; Eddie suspects he’s got some broken ribs to go with the pummelled face.

“Eddie,” he says, and even though he’s keeping his balance perfectly well, his hand brushes Eddie’s wrist anyway.

It’s not enough to chase away the itch in Eddie’s skin. But for a fleeting second, it helps. It helps.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “It sucks to lose someone.”

It’s a platitude, but there’s feeling behind it. Weight.

Eddie wants to say that he didn’t lose anyone, that the thought would be a disservice to Daniel’s parents, but…

It’s like Steve’s words give him permission to feel it. Just for now.

“Thanks,” he says tightly. On the last step before he exits, he turns and says, “Rest up, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. “I’ll be here for hours.”

It’s said like it’s a joke, but Eddie thinks he means it.

Steve’s halfway back to his seat when the bus turns back onto the road, but he manages to wave just before he disappears from view.

Eddie starts the short walk home.

The Reid’s trailer is dark, a For Sale sign placed in front of it. Eddie hadn’t even known they were leaving, must have missed it in the haze of the last few days.

He gets it; if he were in their shoes, he doesn’t know if he could have stayed either. Everything would be a reminder of their son—the places he’d go, where he should be.

But he almost wishes that they were still here, so he could try and stumble his way through telling them Steve Harrington knew your son. He’ll remember him, too.

He doesn’t know if that would’ve been a comfort or not. He doesn’t know.

People come and go. Steve won’t be on that bus forever—he’ll go home eventually. July will become August will become…

Eddie lets himself in and collapses onto his bed. There’s still a prickle of wrongness in his skin, but he can’t untangle it. There’s nothing to make sense of.

He finds one of his journals. There’s some notes he made for a future campaign only last month. Feels like a lifetime ago.

He ignores the remaining unlit sparklers left in a corner of his room. Starts to write.

He can control this world, at least.

[monayen]

how about something sfw for a change? can you do a ranking of who’s best at cooking?

Cooking Headcannons

➷ Paring - Multi x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - very light mention of consuming blood and cannibalism. that’s about it !!

a/n - i feel like im a bit rusty at pure sfw stuff… but i will try for NNN ~_~ this isn’t a ranking, since a good chunk are either just bad or barely cook. mostly just hcs about food they like, what’d they’d make you, and habits etc. ratmen are excluded cus you know those boys scavenge rather than cook !!! also ignore any mistakes i wrote this really fast

Sebastian

While Sebastian did work at a pizza place for a bit before becoming Randal’s pet, it was just as a delivery boy

I like to think he was in the training process of learning how to make the food, but he got lost before he learned anything skillful. He does have half the recipe for garlic knots memorized though 

A personal hc is that his parents were semi-absent with him (which probably helped lead him to being in the adoption center in the first place), so he survived a lot on sandwiches and microwave meals since they were easy and available

He wasn’t a big fan of it then, but now he craves them a lot. His favorite were the microwaveable kraft dinner mac & cheese cups. Foods like that are a comfort for him, and he’ll love you forever if you manage to get some for him to eat

Luther doesn’t trust him in the kitchen, so even if Sebastian wanted to cook, he wouldn’t be allowed. Deep down, he doubts his cooking skills anyways

Randal

A terrible cook. He has no idea how to properly prepare a meal and his attempts often end in disaster

Randal doesn't understand the concept of recipes or following instructions. He just throws random ingredients together and hopes for the best. “How to Basic” levels of culinary skills

Despite his terrible cooking skills, Randal still insists on trying to make meals for people (or you) to try. Truly believes he's good and everyone else just can’t handle his exquisite tastes

Once, Randal tried to make surprise pancakes for breakfast. He used baking powder instead of baking soda and the pancakes turned out hard as rocks. He still ate them anyway, breaking a couple of his teeth in the process. Don’t worry, they grew back by supper

He used to try to cook at least a couple times a week, but Luther banned him after he 

somehow managed to set water on fire on the stove. Now he’s restricted to just the microwave. Which is alright, just remind him to add the water in his instant noodles before they explode

Randal will also eat almost anything if it's covered in enough sauce or condiments. He's been known to put ketchup on his cereal and maple syrup on his pizza. Swears by it, will probably make you try all his weird food combinations

Satoru

This little show off!

Cooks and bakes purely to give it away to you or Randal. He doesn’t even eat them himself, always insisting you try his new recipe

The reality is that he steals most of his ideas from cookbooks. While he has the skill to execute them, coming up with his own dishes and perfecting them is a bit beyond him—but that’s a secret he keeps to himself!

He’ll sit there, watching closely as you eat his carefully prepared food, studying your reactions and asking if it’s good, like a chef waiting for feedback

But he’s memorized what you like already, and he makes sure to tailor his dishes just for you, hoping to earn your praise when the flavors hit your tongue

Exceptional at chopping, so fast at it you worry he’ll cut a finger off or something if he’s not careful enough. A part of him doesn’t mind if you taste something that has a little bit of his blood in it…

Doesn’t exactly have a favorite meal or food, he likes whatever you like :) is a bit partial to Japanese cuisine though, especially sashimi

Nyon

Nyon's cooking skills are quite limited. As a catman, his preferences lean more towards raw meats and simple  foods. Or whatever Luther gives him

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like a good home cooked meal, but if you put him in a kitchen with every ingredient and tool that could potentially make something avant-garde or delicious… he’d probably just end up making hard boiled eggs

He does have an odd skill of picking though. Pickled cucumbers, onions, beets, all in unlabeled, merky, mason jars. Has a goal to pickle everything that can be pickled, just to try

Keeps a stash of it in the pantry and munches on them when he gets high. Will share if you ask (he kinda wants you to, pickling takes practice!) 

Nyon has the stance that he’d much rather wash the dishes and put away the ingredients than actually prepare the food, as it’s a lot of effort and stress on his part that’d he’d rather avoid

Nyen

Really only ever cooks for himself. Not a fan of sharing and to be honest… you probably wouldn’t like what he makes anyways

Lots of slabs of undercooked chicken and beef, barely seasoned because “it doesn’t need that.” Protein buff, but not keen on eating beans… or eggs… or fish… Okay, usually just eats chicken to maintain his muscles

Unironically picky, doesn’t eat a lot of what isn’t what he usually eats. If you give him a plate of pasta or something, he’ll just stare at it like you handed him a severed cow head. Even Luther knows this, making sure he keeps the fridge stocked with Nyen favorite foods so he’s in the best condition to get through the day!

Does have a small sweet tooth, so you can coax him into baking if he’s in a good mood. His favorite are raspberry muffins :)

You still might have to do most of the work, but he’ll mix shit and keep track of the dessert in the oven for you. Don’t ask him for anything else—just hand him a muffin and clean up the mess, okay?

Luther

Quite the chef! 

He’s domestic, and even though Randal always begs him to get fast food to eat, he always prefers to make something at home

Uses “passed down” recipes. Passed down from who? Who knows. He keeps them all in a little old notebook, pages yellowed and worn out. The last ingredient in all the recipes is always “love ♡”

He’s also a big fan of those southern mom baking shows, especially during the holiday season, he’ll bake like a madman!

Likes nature, so he does have a small garden in the backyard of the house he’ll tend to when he has the time. Specializes in exotic vegetables you probably aren’t used to eating. Ask him how his kohlrabi harvest is going, he’s quite proud!

The type of humanoid to surprise you with your favorite meal after a long day. Makes enough for everyone, of course, but Luther puts in effort to see the smile on your face when he presents you with it at the dinner table

He does expect compliments after you eat any of his food, even if it’s something as simple as scrambled eggs. It means a lot to him, so don’t forget to do so. He might take it the wrong way if you don’t 

Luther swears up and down that he’d never eat a human. Cannibalism is wrong! But he did get very close to once… just to “expand his pallet”

[a-book-of-creatures]

It’s been nagging at me for a while, so I’m going to try to put together my thoughts on the Quetzalcoatlus sequence in Prehistoric Planet 2. In the grand scheme of things it’s tiny, insignificant, and I loved Prehistoric Planet, but I’m not going to turn down the opportunity to talk at length about scavenging birds.

(Spoilers (?) for Prehistoric Planet 2 ahead. Go watch it!)

I’m talking about the part where a Tyrannosaurus is driven off from an Alamosaurus carcass (presumably carrion and not killed by the tyrannosaur). The tyrannosaur is expressly stated to be concerned about losing an eye to those Whopping Big Beaks. The pterosaurs aggressively fly over it a few times and honk angrily until the tyrannosaur walks away in Shameful Defeat, leaving the carcass to the pterosaurian pterrors.

And that confused me.

Before I go on, I want to point out that this is not a Who Would Win discussion, I’m not going to argue for or against one or another. Not going to discuss if Tyrannosaurus should really have won because of the massive weight advantage and lack of fragile bones/wings, or if the big landlubber had it coming and the numbers and aerial advantage was too much. I’m not arguing about Quetzalcoatlus being scary or not either (it’s scary as all hell).

No, the issue I had was with the beaks.

This is the Quetzalcoatlus as it appears in the show.

Impressive beak, isn’t it?

But it’s not the beak of a flesh tearer.

Let’s back up a bit. Birds that eat meat by tearing it into manageable chunks typically evolve sharp, hooked beaks to make up for the lack of teeth. Like this eagle for instance.

Majestic. They make the cutest sounds too. Look up golden eagle sounds, don’t believe the red-tailed hawk propaganda.

Raptor bills look intimidating, but they’re not there for killing. They’re cutlery. The talons do all the work, and then the beak tears up the meat into delicious gobbets of protein.

Even shrikes get in on the act. They don’t have killer feet, so they use their ripping bills to impale prey and tear at it.

Aw, look at it, it thinks it’s accipitrids.

The Quetzalcoatlus’ bill, though, doesn’t have that hook. It doesn’t look like the bill of a bird that dismembers its food. The closest thing I could think of to compare it with was stork bills. Specifically the marabou.

Ol’ pickaxe-for-a-face. This is the beak of an animal that stabs smaller prey and swallows them whole with minimum processing.

But a bill this long and pointed, turns out, is good for stabbing but not for tearing meat. Marabous are scavengers, but they won’t tear apart a carcass on their own. The “[b]ill [is] not well designed for dismembering carcasses, so [it] normally steals scraps from vultures or snatches up morsels that are dropped” (del Hoyo, Elliott, and Sargatal, 1992).

As you can see, vultures retained the hallmark accipitrid steak knife face, and are much better at Ripping and Tearing. This one (the lappet-faced vulture) generally goes first, being big and strong enough to Rip and Tear tough hide and get to the fleshy interior.

In fact, “[d]espite its huge bill, the [marabou] stork can rarely dominate a carcass and normally stands by the much more numerous vultures and nips in from time to time to snatch morsels which are dropped by others, though Tawny Eagles (Aquila rapax) in turn often steal food from the stork. The bill is not apparently very effective for cutting up meat and dismemberment is normally carried out quite simply by pulling” (del Hoyo, Elliott, and Sargatal, 1992). And if marabous have trouble with the average carcass, I wouldn’t imagine Quetzalcoatlus would fare much better with a titanosaur, which presumably has rather thick skin too.

One big happy family. That’s a much smaller carcass being shared (with the obligatory squabbling) by a whole bunch of dinosaurs. Neither vultures nor marabou are trying to monopolize it.

So... I don’t see why the big stork pterosaurs would chase away a perfectly good meat processor. I know everyone wants to see Big Prehistoric Animals Fighting With Lethal Intent, and everyone wants to see Tyrannosaurus Getting Knocked Down A Peg By The New Hotness, but I think it would have been a more interesting and believable scene - not to mention more in keeping with Prehistoric Planet’s attempt to be as scientifically believable as possible - if the pterosaurs acted like marabous the size of giraffes, both them and the tyrannosaur keeping a respectful distance of each other, and snapping up bits of meat left behind. And maybe the pterosaurs pulling the dinosaur’s tail for good measure, the way ravens bully eagles.

But it would make for a much less exciting scene. Who wants to watch a bunch of scavengers milling around a carcass and honking at each other as they jockey for the best morsels and settling their differences in ways that involve as little risk as possible? I mean, I do, but I don’t assume the average viewer does.

And that concludes my altogether far too long opinion on a single scene from a great series. Of course, I’m not a paleontologist and never will be, I’m only approaching this with what I know about birds, so please feel free to let me know if there’s any details of Quetzalcoatlus anatomy that do in fact suggest it could rip and tear!

References

del Hoyo, J.; Elliott, A.; and Sargatal, J. eds. (1992) Handbook of the Birds of the World, Vol. 1. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

[simplydnp]

personally i cannot get on the marriage hill because i feel like they have already crossed that hill without us knowing, or if they havent already they may just not be planning to. obv i dont know anything about their personal life so maybe im way off base here lol but i just feel like they've already committed to each other for the rest of their lives, thats been done! they did it 15 years ago and they've done it a hundred times since then! buying a house together is the big one where i feel like they either already got married before that and never told us, or they consider that theyre already committed enough that they don't feel the need to get married, since at this point marriage for them would just be a piece of paper. not to mention during the devan wedding video they talked about how uncomfortable a wedding would be so i feel like they've decided that they dont need to make it "official"

i think not being on it is fair. love it, hate it, whatever, but we would Know if they had done so in secret. at least, from a legal standpoint. who knows if they did a little thing for just themselves at some point--but to me, that's different than Marriage-marraige, if that makes sense.

they have been committed for a very, very long time. i hesitate to say right from the start because we just have the benefit of hindsight to know that it ended up there, but it's been there for a while.

maybe it's the romantic in me, but i want them to have that Moment. to celebrate them. where, truly, nothing else matters except them and what they mean to each other. for them to get to bring the important people in their life together and enjoy it. for them to finally breathe. and not have to worry, or think, or hesitate in living their life. obviously there will still be walls and boundaries and i don't expect to see them making out in a video, but to just exist without fear. or stress. or anxiety. to be able to show the things they really Do want to; to be able to go do the things they really want to do. that's what i want for them.

it's less about 'marraige is the final step!' and more like it's the first one into the rest of their lives.

one of the biggest themes throughout this fandom's existence, and particularly since the hiatus began, is that we just want them to be happy. to be free of expectations and pressure and speculation and erasure. and i think that's what marraige hill means to a lot of people.

to speak for myself for a moment: i've got very haggard relationships and depictions of love in my life. it feels hollow in many ways. it's described as vibrant and overwhelming and terrifying and beautiful--but for me it's... empty. i read about how it sweeps people off their feet, or it slowly builds over time, or maybe it's always been there--and i can't help but want that. even just being around it is filling for the soul. i think witnessing joy and happiness is critical to our existence. to physically see love in the world. and maybe it's cheesy and maybe it's parasocial, but i want dnp to have their happy ending. cause the twisted, chunk of meat in my head thinks that's how it's supposed to go. how it should be. is people should get to be happy, and for many of them, that includes being in love. maybe it's outdated maybe it's old-fashioned, maybe it's the ex-catholic in me, but that's what marraige should be. and maybe it's the idea that people do get there and it is possible. and it really is this beautiful thing.

in terms of their stances on it, you offer that you think they're committed enough and they may not want it--which, is a fine opinion to have. it's been a very long time since either of them have really truly talked about marraige and weddings, and add the fact that they're both private people and don't even talk relationship stuff candidly, so anything presented, i take with a grain of salt. and i don't think disliking aspects of a wedding and then also wanting one are mutually exclusive. i think there's plenty of ways to eliminate aspects and still do it. their agreement on it, to me, signals they've talked about it.

and especially with how things have been lately--with how much has changed in the last few months for them even--i don't think the option is off the table for them.

they well and truly killed the joint branding in 2018 and buried it. there were glimpses of their togetherness during the hiatus, but WAD especially pushed back on things. and yet, just a few months after it ended, they agreed to a why not--knowing it would mean inviting us back into it again. inviting in people to see. and instead of hard lines and rigid restrictions, they keep loosening the reins. and i genuinely think them being back, and us being here too, has completely changed the trajectory of their life. i don't think either of them expected to tour together again. for them to truly enjoy this. phil may have hoped, but he wasn't gonna push it if dan wasn't willing. so now that they're here, so many possibilities have opened up. and, to me, it feels like they're building momentum. and while some of that was likely for the tour, it still feels like we're heading somewhere. i've got that same gut feeling i did during ii.

take it or leave it, those are my thoughts. i doubt we'll truly know until they either do it or don't.

[localsunnet]

monn rach lore pt 3

hi chat I’m back

if you recall, there were two endings for Monn after Leipzig, he gets infected or survives.

canonically, he survives. :) so pt 3 will dive into the events after Leipzig (ft. Kaub)

any historical inaccuracies are NOT intentional and im sorry if there are any grammatical errors

any interpretations and scenarios are also VERY VERY VERY allowed

After surviving and escaping Leipzig, Monn stays with the remaining group of survivors (including Father Silvio) as they travel in search of a place free from the cannibals.

The events of Leipzig really effected him a lot, and it’s really starting to show after a few weeks as his cannibalistic thoughts spiralled into actual tendencies.

It started off as an occasional bite of flesh here and there, but he started packing cannibals’ limbs into his bag as ‘extra food’. Father Silvio has definitely noticed it but is willing to occasionally consult him about it to see why and how he got these tendencies in the first place. His teammates were very wary of him but they didn’t question him, and just left him alone with his tendency unchecked as they didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

(Monn during this time has also decided to be semi-verbal, mostly quiet but occasionally letting out a word or a short sentence.)

One day, Monn finally snapped and gave into thr temptation of fresh human meat, which ended up with him murdering the only surgeon of the group and a musician in cold blood, chopping up and eating their limbs.

His teammates were NOT HAPPY and in fact is scared, quickly suggesting that Monn should be executed to avoid any incidents like this from happening. But Father Silvio defended Monn, accusing them of causing this in the first place by leaving him alone and with his thoughts unchecked.

Saying their argument was chaotic would be an understatement, but in the end, Father Silvio left the group by his own terms with Monn, with the goal to somehow reach Kaub.

Their journey to Kaub was less than smooth, Silvio was constantly looking out for Monn and making sure he is not visibly insane, while Monn was trying his absolute best to protect Silvio with his Carbine and Heavy Sabre. (He does lose his heavy sabre later because it broke while he was dealing with a small group of shamblers.)

Monn does eventually run out of limbs to snack on and complains to Silvio. So out of irritation, Silvio offered one of his arms to chop off and eat. He was of course hesitant at first, but temptation took over and he chopped off the arm, which kind of started a thing where if Monn runs out of flesh to eat, Silvio just offers a part of his flesh for him to eat,,,

Their journey went on for a while, stopping at towns or villages to get supplies as they slowly reached Kaub.

Silvio has gave Monn a huge chunk of his flesh at this point, covered by bandages and is pretty much in constant pain. But he cares about Monn a lot, even before the Blight happened, so he was willing to give up his life if it meant helping Monn.

but he can’t last forever, Silvio finally told Monn that he might not survive anymore when they encountered a hoard, and motioned him to run and hide as he sacrifices his life to save Monn, only making him promise to reach Kaub.

This, obviously, also took a big toll on poor Monn, watching a trusted ally sacrifice himself for HIM, and he didn’t believe he deserved such ‘herotic’ acts. Along the way to Kaub alone, he picked up a stray black cat whom he named “Missy” and grew very attached to.

He does eventually reach Kaub, fulfilling Father Silvio’s last wish and found fellow survivors in the church and here commencing the events of Kaub.

What happens in Kaub? Well he survives with a mild infection. But for the sillyboard people out there, Monn joins the backups to the castle and insert fanfic stuff here (its 12am forgive me)

And yes, Missy the cat does survive.

And also yes, he very much misses his brothers, which he hoped is still surviving and is looking for him.

AND THATS MONN’S (CURRENT) LORE!!!

If anything doesn’t make sense UHM IM SO SORRY VRO 😭😭🙏🙏

have fun, i would know, Monn Rach rots my brain!!!

any questions are so welcomed, ask thru strawpage or ask feature here and ill be so happy to respond!!!! /gen

[docholligay]

I know GoT only by reputation, and what little I've seen of it on tumblr, but... sometimes, I feel like fantasy, as a genre, has been absolutely ruined by the success of GoT. Everything these days seems to be about making settings and characters as nasty, brutish, and dirty as possible. It's incredibly tiring, and really frustrating, to the point of feeling like these sorts of tropes are being repeated for their own sake rather than because they actually do anything for the story or characters.

(Also, being the sort of person who easily becomes queasy at the sight or thought of blood, and has issues with everything being so darned loud, this tends to be a particular pet peeve in television, but even books aren't completely immune to this effect either, which makes it doubly frustrating.)

I mean this in the nicest possible way, please imagine me saying this with a big smile on my face and laughing as I take a swig from my beer, but you and I are SO diametrically opposed on this!

I mean, anything can be written BADLY, of course, but I fell out of reading fantasy as i got older not because it all became A Song of Ice and Fire but because it all seemed to be "a brave young woman!! IS the chosen one!! And she will prevail over SUPER DARKNESS. And only the parental figure will die, to motivate her, and everyone's intentions and clear and good, and also there are dragons I guess." There's so much narrative safety. There's so many last-minute asspulls to save someone. I would LOVE some well written political machination but there are dragons though. That's why I liked Locke Lamora!

I think we have a tendency to notice the things we hate. So for me, Fantasty now is fucking lousy with ~queer retellings~ that are all very life affirming and nice and all that but all the eating each other out in the world isn't going to get me over the hump of wishing there were actual, painful consequences for being an idiot, or even just unlucky.

Part of why people named Doc, who are me, really like Song of ice and Fire (please note I actually DON'T like Game of Thrones) is that anyone COULD die. The books would not CHEAT TO HELP THE GOOD GUY WIN. And for me, that was everything. As a young teen who had read so so so much fantasy but was starting to feel really resentful of the way it never seemed to mirror the moments of difficulty and pain in life, it meant so much (I think the show edged too hard toward Cheating To Help The bad Guy Win, but that's another matter)

But obviously you and I are totally different people. You admit to being squeamish, so of course you don't care for things that involve violence. I, on the other hand, am an excellent person to have in any given bloody crisis, as I have Done Time in Ag. I am, to give a real life example, the person you calmly call into the kitchen to help when you've nearly taken your finger off with a meat slicer. I have a smile and a "We can handle this!" to give. I, on the third hand, have had life experiences that make, "the magical salvation of being nice and believing really hard" feel like an actual-ass insult. I never met a war that didn't take its chunk, and you don't get to pick where they come from.

These are just differences of personality. Fucking magical princess witches in the forest running from the bad guys but overcoming it all with sass and gay love because we're twelve I guess exists for you, and grimdark machinations toward a lead crown of thorns where evil brings profit and virtue none at all because fuck happiness everyone should be a German concrete salesman is for me. I think there's probably more of what both of us like than either of us are actually admitting.

However, everything is too loud for me all the time also, I really recommend eargasm earplugs, which come with a very small container and are nearly invisible and discreet when in. They block some of the sound but not all of it. Many people in my life casually don't even know I have them or sometimes put them in for louder places.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Warning ahead of time for talking about aquatic animal death (non-mammal), trying not to talk about food preparation (I think I did good not mentioning specific things), and non-aquatic animal death.

I like watching food videos, which is great and all until it's seafood. It's either going to be palatable to watch or activate discomfort and rage.

The only way I can watch them is if the meat is already prepared, as they should be. Except shellfish (I feel so dumb asking, but that's shrimp as well, yeah? I think yeah).

But, like, there are! So many! Videos! Preparing the seafood Too Much! One was even taking a fish straight from a river and preparing it for eating! You get what I mean? I don't want to say too much.

And because of your efforts in spreading the truth of fish (and other aquatic non-mammals) having feelings and personalities and such, I start thinking... Would there be casual videos of food preparation like this for chickens? Cows? No, no there wouldn't. Because we respect them to some kind of degree, their full preparation would be greatly distressing to watch, wouldn't it? Why is it okay with seafood? You get me?

Not to worry anon, I will tag this appropriately with animal death trigger warning tags. Though I will also have to warn anyone still reading, I will also talk about the killing of animals. A bit of an essay about fish mistreatment and the possible reasons why incoming ^^''

I feel you! I have noticed this worrying trend in society myself, so have many other much wiser fish enthusiasts and activists before me. Publicly showing the preparing of fish from the live animal to the finished dish is... creepily normalised. Especially when this would never be done to mammals! Like that pufferfish meme that was popular some years back, the one where the pufferfish eats a carrot and then moans? That clip is a part of a fuller video where said pufferfish is prepared, fully on screen, into a dish. Even the actual meme, the pufferfish biting into the carrot and moaning is saddening and disturbing to me; the pufferfish is gasping for oxygen and the chef sticks a carrot in its mouth just to show how sharp its beak is, prolonging its fear and suffering.

Something that I think explains this phenomenon, and what I've heard activists talk about, is that what most dictates how we view an animal is how we first come into contact with said animal. We tend to see animals like mammals, birds, beautiful pollinators in everyday life in contexts that tend to value them just for existing as they are, like dogs and cats being pets, songbirds singing and butterflies and bees flying from flower to flower looking pretty. (As a big arthropod fan I acknowledge that invertebrates are often overlooked and underestimated as well! And I also acknowledge that not all mammals and birds are loved equally as they should. But that's a whole other story.)

But fish? Besides aquariums, I don't think people have very many experiences with fish just existing. Many people's first real memory of seeing and interacting with fish might just be going fishing with a relative or a friend. Your first meaningful encounter with a fish and it's said fish being caught with a hook in the lip, out of the water, possibly suffocating or promptly killed to be prepared into a dish? That kind of interaction immediately normalises that fish are more of a service than a group of animals that can be appreciated just as they are. It also normalises catching and preparing of fish unlike any other animal! I'm not saying fishing is inherently horrible, but see how most people don't ever get to see a cow or a chicken being slaughtered? Yet a good chunk of people must have gone fishing at some point or another. This immediately and subconsciously tells us that it's fine to see fish being killed in front of us, because it's normal.

I think what also helps us disregard the emotions and experiences of fish when we see them be killed in front of our eyes is the fact that, as humans, we can have a hard time relating to animals that don't look or emote like we do. Of course fish feel emotions, they feel joy, sadness, anger, love, and they definitely feel terrified to be out of the water and in the hands of a predator! But they don't emote it through facial expressions, they can't scream or wail, they can't wave their limbs like a terrestrial animal in distress would, they can only squirm. The emotions they feel are real, we just don't read them as strongly as we do on other animals. (And even then humans are mighty good at anthropomorphising animals when they shouldn't. Did you know that to other primates smiling is often a threat display, but some humans have gotten hurt by primates for assuming that it's a happy smile and smiling back?) So, once again we can ignore the feelings of fish much easier when they aren't screaming in fear, or crying, or clawing to get out — out of sight, out of mind. This is most likely why some folk think of fish as living decorations, also. It's easy to overlook their personalities when you don't see them displaying their emotions loud and clear.

These two reasons are why I think it's extraordinarily important to teach people about the lives of fish! Sure, fishing will always be a thing and our tendency to look for humanlike expressions is in our DNA. But how easy will it be to disregard fish once you know that cichlids form complex social circles where everyone knows who's who and their exact relationships? How manta rays and cleaner wrasse recognise their own self in a mirror and even in pictures? How catfish talk to each other with drumming sounds? How bettas have unique personalities and enjoy playing? How some sharks like to be pet? I don't think it'll come just as naturally as before. Even one visit to an aquarium or a near body of water can be a lifechanging experience. :)

Thank you anon for presenting such an interesting ask, look how it got me talking! This is all food for thought, for me and to anyone who has gotten this far. I don't think I can ever express how much I love fish. I love their little personalities so much and they all deserve to live their lives to the fullest. I hope that perhaps some people who didn't see it before will be able to see what I see, because life is so much more fun and meaningful when you appreciate all the living things around you! Not just the meowing and barking ones.

[reviewcycle]

the sparrow (sajin komamura x reader) part 2

words: 3.3k posted on ao3 first

previous part, next part

jin was fretting, it seems, over you, which was embarrassing enough but his large warm hands were poking and prodding at you. you could barely fight him off, and fight is very generous of a word when all you did with half-heartedly groan and squirm the latter of which hurt you even more.

he feels your head, your neck, your fever had finally broken. he offhandedly notices the necklace again, unknowing it was the maker of your male facade. the fact your spiritual pressure was astonishingly low was possibly why you had asked to accompany him. you had barely enough to defend yourself- which made sense looking at your seemingly unused sword.

by the time you awoke fully, you were warm again, and your eyes focused- as much as they could without the glasses you wore- on jin’s wide expanse of back. he was huddled over the pot, that looked surprisingly normal sized next to him, and the smell of cooking meat- actual meat was fully in the air.

you sit up with a groan, but you can kind of tell he knew you were awake before you even started moving. halfway through the movement, you realize that your tunic was replaced, the one covering you is way too big and heavy for you. instantly, you stop moving. taking a mental check on your faculties. nothing seemed out of place but your clothing, and that makes you relax a bit until he speaks up, not bothering to move. or perhaps, not wanting to startle you.

“i secured some deer, they were milling about, so i got us one.”

your heart flips. us. whatever this fixation you were developing was getting out of hand.

“oh… that’s nice.” he was the only other person around for miles, of course he was the one who watched over you. how pitiful had you been for him to feel the need to nurse you to relative health?

slowly walking over, you sit on his other side. your eyes indulgently sweeping across his form, he wore a close fitting shirt- a surprising upgrade from shirtless. still, the sleeves were short enough both his arms were exposed. you secretly wished you had a mask to cover your face as well- at least you could hide your embarrassment and shame.

on your third glance, you realize he had been looking at you already. you adjust your glasses nervously, the air between you two was heavy, thick. tension weighed down upon your shoulders like the many lies you’ve told; that you must continue to tell. he speaks first, and you resist showing the tingle it sends up your spine by poking the hot embers with the fire poker.

“forgive me for undressing you, but you had sweat through your clothes..” his voice gives away no judgment, and since you couldn’t see his face, you weren’t necessarily sure if what he was saying were what he truly thought, or if he was simply biding his time to trespass against you. he speaks again, his voice rumbling deep in his chest with a mirthless chuckle, “i have no reason to judge you, especially with this helmet.”

your eyes drop from his, unfortunately dragging your gaze from his head, down his wide shoulders and broad chest, past his sculpted- beefy would be more apt- arms and his thick thighs, you snap out of your reverie, poking the fire harder- it makes an ember flop out and you hurriedly toss it back in, feeling jittery.

“thank you,” you say, the added ‘for saving my life’ hung invisibly in the air. you clear your throat again. he offers you one of your (small to him) cups, filled with water. taking it, you chug the cool liquid down.

“also, i understand if you don’t want to travel with me-”

“i will travel with you. we’re going the same way, it would be a waste otherwise.”

he interrupts you, his focus on the deer, flipping a few large chunks in an even larger pan with a pair of chopsticks.

you freeze, that seemed to happen a lot around this man, it was becoming a steadily growing issue.

“are you sure? i mean, i was asleep- sick- for how long..? i couldn’t ask you to protect me just because i’m cooking for you.” it was ridiculous, this guy, whoever he was, had to be absolutely crazy! what was his motivation for doing this?

“those things don’t matter to me, i have seen much worse.” he pauses, but decides to say nothing else this time.

your face feels hot. what the hell was he talking about? and here he was still rambling, you really were a poor conversationalist. here he was, offering you exactly what you asked for free of charge, and yet you refused him. in your despair you notice he was still talking.

“i would have agreed to your terms even if the events of last week hadn’t occurred.”

trying to hide the dumbfounded look on your face, you busy yourself with preparing the food bowls and the thankfully large plates. he’d even managed to find some vegetables, potatoes at that. you needed to change the subject from your ineptitude, so you blurt something out.

“how did you hunt if your sword is sealed shut?”

at that he stiffens a bit more, and there’s more silence than comfortable.

“traps, bare strength, the usual.”

you pause as well, just how strong was he to kill a whole deer (of this size!) with no real weapon? you can’t resist a shudder of palpable fear, and play it off by outstretching your hands toward the fire. he takes notice, obviously. you two sat too close for him not to.

“if you’re cold, you could sit closer to me during dinner.”

what the hell was he talking about?

“don’t think you can just coddle me, i'm a prideful man." but still... you were cold almost always, and sitting close to his wondrous body would be a dream, but you absolutely could not get distracted and falter.

he chuckles, clearly not phased by your posturing. the food is quickly distributed and he turns his back to eat. you do similarly, sneakily leaning your back against his side. he really was warm.

you both pack up relatively quickly, you especially considering you didn't have much to begin with. bag on your back and snowshoes on, you both abandoned your previous dwelling with little fanfare.

*

the air was freezing, biting and nipping at your exposed skin, your lungs feeling.. refreshed actually, with the air so cold. jin was largely unaffected. the mountain of a man made sure, steady footprints, his long, loping gait not faltering once.

needing something, anything to take your mind off of how shapely he looked from behind, you speak up from behind your scarf.

"so how important is this job to travel so far?"

he says nothing for a few more moments than what you think is normal.

"very. the stakes are high, and it's time sensitive." he didn't feel the need to say that he was working that very job now, of course not. however, if you had the brains to ask, he might've told you.

unfortunately, you had no such brains- at least not on this issue. so you hum, nodding very solemnly. "i see. i will make sure not to hold you back."

the trek to the forest was more boring than the actual (unseen to you) path through the wilderness. you both walk through the quiet areas with relative silence. jin pointing out what plants grew despite the frost, you sharing vague stories you'd heard from other villages you'd visited.

the forest itself was quiet, sleeping even, at first glance until you slowed down and noticed the small things, the soft beating heart of the woodland creatures surviving despite the weather. you even see a few deer.

"why did you choose so far west to live?" he asks, you'd started walking side by side, he had a larger stride than you, and so he'd elected to slow down for your sake. already the stinging pain of being a burden was palpable.

"needed to get out of my hometown, there was nothing there for me." he helps you (help being the key word), over a fallen tree by grabbing you around the waist and setting you down gently on the other side. he'd allowed you to keep the tunic he leant you on, and it was warmer than half the clothing you were able to pack.

"who gave you that blade?" you ask, eyes focused on your feet so you didn't trip and make a fool out of yourself. it'd been two days of trekking through the dense forest and he'd caught you so many times, you could feel his strong, firm hands on you even still. ever gentle. shaking the thoughts, you forced yourself to listen.

"my former master... he was killed abruptly." the silence that follows descended like a hungry group of vultures. "he'd taken me in, monstrous as i was. taught me his ways and i had never been able to repay his kindness." with a shrug, his helmet faces your direction but you miss it, seeing as how you're looking at your feet.

"so.. now i help other people. revenge had been my first option, and i deeply regret the routes i took while on that journey. but well..." he swallows, "i decided i wouldn't let my anger speak for me." he places a heavy hand on his sword, as if to remind himself of the weight on his shoulders, his own personal path to redemption and answers for something he felt the vague feelings of but couldn't name. not yet.

you nod, so you were a charity case, basically. but it also explains why he was a ronin, it especially explained why he sealed his blade away.

"sorry if you weren't ready to talk about that," you muster, looking up at him again.

his head shakes, "if I didn't want to share, i wouldn't. as travelling partners, we need at least a bit of trust between us."

your stomach twists painfully. trust. you don't give yourself time to stew before you shoot another question. "so the job is west? how far?"

any further than where you were going (an allegedly pretty coastal town called karakura) ended up in a completely new continent. one sparsely travelled. yes of course you wanted to get away from your clan, but a new continent... that was a bit too extreme, for now.

"well, i'm helping a grieving family find a lost member, she'd been kidnapped in the middle of the night and whisked away. it was unlike her, they say." he doesn't share more, possibly because of some confidentiality he had to uphold, but he does pose his own question.

"wait, you said you came from there," he names your town and you gratefully hold back a cringe. "are you familiar with the area?"

not wanting to seem suspicious, you nod, using the creeping despair you felt to mask your terror. there was just no way he was looking for you. a frown on your face you shake your head woefully, glad to hide your eyes from him.

"i know of the more prominent families, but stealing women? what has this world come to, truly."

before he can ask something else- thankfully - he pauses and sniffs the air. you'd noticed it was one of his habits, sniffing things, gruff noises that- if you were trying hard enough felt like growls. his... fixation with securing the perimeter. you had assumed that he was just someone with keen senses, which wasn't uncommon, but the raw power you felt just by being near him belied something else.

"there's a hot spring nearby." he declares, walking off towards the left somewhere.

forced to keep up, you stumble along behind him, he seemed excited for this. you weren't really sure how he knew, but it soon hit you, the smell of sulfur and the gradual heat from the water wafting over you both.

you two had been together nearly a month by now, and through that time you'd become keenly aware he was diligent, and very serious, but not unkind. his humongous size and helmet simply made him more opposing than he seemed.

coming across the decent sized pool of steaming water, he puts his bag down and starts stripping his clothing again.

having no real thing to hide- your necklace had worked seamlessly so far, using spiritual pressure to conceal and hide your true body was the feat that caused you to be near constantly strained- but it was worth it.

hopefully in karakura town, you'd be able to find a famed tool maker, to optimize your necklace so it used less spiritual pressure. until then, you'd have to make do.

stripping down your clothing, you take quick glances at his back. his shapely ass and fat padded back and legs forced a bit of drool to collect in your mouth and you swallow hastily. though, he looks... more hairy than he did in the cabin. how long ago was that? you were asleep for almost a week of it, maybe you were misremembering.

"do you know how many more days we have until we reach the next town?" you'd been talking about maps, having shared with eachother, hell, he didn't even need a compass apparently. he used the stars to navigate.

despite his excitement for having found the hot spring he answers, finally kicking off his pants, leaving himself in his fundoshi. he turns to look at you, helmet still firmly on his head. "... about a week."

maybe it's because dishonesty had become your own moon and stars, or maybe it was because you'd been memorizing more of his tells than you care to admit to anyone but yourself, but you think he's lying.

still, you nod, averting your eyes as you carefully fold up your clothing until you're sure he's submerged in the water. naked (to his eyes) aside from your own fundoshi, you slip into the heated water with a groan.

the silence that permeates the air, for once, is pleasant. though, you'd misjudged the size of the natural pool, because if you moved anymore, you'd be in his lap. still, you try to reason with yourself, humming as you feel his leg brush yours under the water. he really did seem hairier.

"guess i have to string myself into another tree." you joke. since you two have been in the woods, jin had insisted you make camp up a sturdy tree, yet he still slept on the group. at first you'd joked he'd taken your name- sparrow- a bit too seriously, but it seems that was his only request for you.

he ate the food you cooked without question. most of it meat with whatever strange vegetation he scrounged up, most of which unfamiliar to you. just two days ago you both had milled some plant or another to make some meager bread that actually tasted pretty good.

he doesn't seem amused now, his arms spread across the "lip" of the pool, arms wide, you were sitting across from him, in full view of his hefty chest. his nipples were hard, and in the light of the near setting sun, his eyes glinted.

hell, if you looked hard enough- and trust, you tried- you could scarcely see the soft bobbing of his bulge under the bubbling water. besides that, his knee was clearly slotted between your legs, and he didn't apologize once. which, was unlike him completely.

honestly, you aren't sure how long you were in the hot spring, at least until he got out first, insisting it was time for dinner. you weren't completely sure how he knew you were hungry before you yourself did, but you never complained.

dinner was short, clearly something was on his mind. and if you were reading him right? something he didn't want to talk about. which was fine with you. nearly every time you talked, you had to lie to him, especially now you know he was looking for a missing person. most likely a missing you.

after shaking a few trees, jin finally finds one he thinks is suitable for you to take. and you make the climb, up and up until you find a nice steady branch to wrap yourself up, tie yourself down, and try your best to sleep. truthfully, you wanted to be next to him, snuggled into his strong arms, but he insisted it was the safest way for you to sleep. big strong animals resided in these woods.

*

the next three days were... interesting. despite travelling with him as usual, you felt as if you went nowhere. he was more handsy than usual- his usual being the occasional helping you over something big and making sure you didn't hurt yourself. now his hands lingered, on your back, your hip, you even caught him "discreetly" sniffing at you when he helped you up over something. if you were crazy, you'd assume he was taking the more treacherous path on purpose, especially considering he was the only one who really knew where you both were going.

you'd gotten the ill written map back near your hometown, from some sketchy old woman who said "it'll take you where you need to go" which... was unhelpful especially now. the forest wasn't even on the map!

jin had stopped, you'd walked way later than usual, and now he was checking out trees for you to sleep in. fortunately, a particularly gigantic one had a hollow, just big enough for you. it made you shiver, wondering what creature that huge had made the hole, but you put that aside when you realize how cozy it was. you leave your bag inside and head back down. jin was poking at a fresh fire with way too much interest.

he seemed... prickly, and as the sun made its descent, he rushed you along eating so you could go to bed. jin was clearly worried. and sick of being pushed around (but not necessarily of being manhandled), you speak up.

"jin, stop. what is wrong with you?" you say, not really sure how else to word your concerns.

he pauses, his hands clenching at his sides. he needed to cut his nails, you thought- they were sharp looking, absolutely wicked. "i've seen evidence of wolves in the area, so i need you up the tree."

you bristle, "wolves?!" jaw dropped, you look around, as if they'd be waiting in the shadows to be discovered right then.

"why didn't you say something earlier? we.. you..."

truthfully, what could you do? but you were worried about your travelling partner. and not because you were forming a crush because he was protecting you and forging your path to karakura.

"nothing to be done." he was gently- more gently than he had been in the last three days- nudging you toward your tree. "now get into your nest, and don't bring attention to yourself. no matter what."

unsure of what to say, you barely notice him pushing you along while you're talking, "i- well be careful! wild animals are dangerous, jin."

he gives a dark chuckle, and you aren't sure whether to be giddy with excitement at him herding you, or angry that he was treating another (perceived) man as he would a woman. still, you climb up and up into the hollow and get ready for bed. the moon- full in all her splendor, had arisen beautifully.

on your way to sleep, when you decide to call out to jin, mostly to say goodnight, and half to tell him to be careful again- you hear an ear shaking howl.

way too close for comfort.

[best-at-episode]

Round 1 - Side D: Poll 2 of 8

Astral Plane:

Finn has an out-of-body experience that takes him all over Ooo and beyond.

The Light Cloud:

Finn confronts the power behind Founders' Island. In the aftermath, he must choose whether to return to what he knows in Ooo, or remain with the humans he spent so long searching for.

propaganda under the cut

Astral Plane:

every moment is gold of one sort or another until it culminates in “if just being born is the greatest act of creation isn’t everything that comes after kind of a disappointment” followed by an earnest self-sacrifice to protect something someone cares about

one of the episodes that showcases brilliantly the shift towards the more contemplative and somber vibe of s6 all the way to the finale. the way this episode is the first we've seen after breezy but before the visitor is so significant to what finn's answer will be to the comet's question.... he has invested in his meat reality and so are the people all around him, big or small they may be...........also it is so so funny. 'right in my both eyes' is incredible but the fact that bounce house princess, of whom we've seen ONE time before this, has not only a scene that lasts a good chunk of the episode but gets MURDERED at the end of it.we don't see her again after. hilarious. phenomenal. 10/10 episode.

The Light Cloud:

I have not ever once made it through the last minute of this episode (in which Finn dons the VR helmet to say goodbye to Minerva) without ugly-sobbing.

A wonderful and heartfelt culmination of an arc that's been with Finn since the very beginning of the show.

[bihansthot]

Here have some Cold Blooded headcanons no one asked for! Questions come from various ask games. I’m happy to do more or answer any questions you have! You don’t have to ask about them as a couple I’m happy to write about them solo with s/os too! I will do my best to write about Tomas and Hallvard tomorrow!

What’s something one of you eats or drinks that the other can’t stand?

Bi-Han can’t stand it when Syzoth eats raw meat, Bi-Han himself prefers meat on the rarer side but completely raw grosses him out. Syzoth being a big ol’ reptilian however has no problem with it. He’s happy to eat the cooked food that Bi-Han makes for him but he might sneak chunks of meat while he’s preparing it, after all, he’s a hungry boy.

What does your do they smell like? Do they wear perfume/cologne?

Bi-Han smells naturally like a snow-covered pine forest, with a hint of clean cotton undertones from his soap, he usually doesn’t wear cologne if he does he prefers natural scents. Syzoth on the other hand smells like sun-kissed rocks, he does like wearing cologne though. He does it to better assimilate into human life, he enjoys bolder scents and strong fragrances but ones that suit his natural scent. He doesn’t smell like he bathed in a bucket of Axe or anything like that he just smells enticing and alluring. Bi-Han prefers Syzoth’s natural scent but he’s not bothered when Syzoth does wear cologne he’s used to it. He’s just grateful Syzoth doesn’t smell like the Reptile House at a zoo.

Who wakes up early/Who sleeps in late?

Bi-Han is naturally an early riser what with his use to his rigidly structured life. He’s also the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei and as such he has to set an example to his clan. Syzoth on the other hand enjoys sleeping in when he can, which admittedly is not often since he often attends the daily workouts with the other Lin Kuei. Zaterran’s sleep more than people do though so occasionally Syzoth will sneak away from practice and nap in the middle of the day. Bi-Han may occasionally scold Syzoth for his absence but at the same time he understands his boyfriend isn’t human and has different needs so he usually just lets it slide. Syzoth is certainly a capable warrior already and skipping practice here and there won’t do much.

Who initiates affection? Why does the other not initiate affection as much?

Syzoth is extremely affectionate, he often rubs his nose against Bi-Han or buries his face in his back before rubbing his cheeks against him the way crocodiles show affection. He also lays on Bi-Han a lot even if it makes him cold because that’s yet another instinctual behavior for him. Syzoth has gotten better with the cold of Bi-Han ever since he switched to fur-lined clothes and cloaks to keep him nice and warm in the harsh climate of Arctika. Bi-Han isn’t as affection simply because he’s rather touch-starved, he loves when Syzoth initiates things and pays him attention. He’s also a bit worried that normal human acts of intimacy might be weird to the Zaterran so he often lets Syzoth initiate affection. When it comes to sex though, they both initiate, with Bi-Han often being the aggressor. He does love it when Syzoth is in a rut though and becomes a needy, desperate little thing, constantly pawing and begging Bi-Han who loves hearing Syzoth beg.

How do they flirt? Who’s the worse flirt?

Syzoth blows bubbles in drinks around Bi-Han and Bi-Han just laughs at this point because he knows what it means but at first it just confused him. Bi-Han on the other hand is a natural flirt and relies heavily on his charisma and good looks to navigate a situation. Hitting on his boyfriend isn’t hard though, there are lots of nice things to compliment, his pretty face, gorgeous eyes, and smooth, shiny tail.

Syzoth is definitely the worst at human flirting, he’s gradually learning how but he’d still rather blow bubbles at Bi-Han than tell him how nice his biceps are.

[pr1ncesspopstar]

Like Herding a Cat... - FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 1: Steer

(Ao3)

-

“Come on, ya blasted… sausage… roll!”

Halditar was thankful none were around to witness her current battle. The humiliation, she imagined, would have been immense and untended. The great Warrior of Light, struggling against, and bested by… a particularly fat cat.

The unruly beast growled (yes, growled! Halditar didn’t even know cats could growl before this!) as she tugged its ribbon reins forward again in some vain attempt to move it. But this fluffy, chubby monster remained firlmy seated onto terra firma. Its weight flattened any grass as she tugged it over, showing how far its new owner had been dragging for the past few hours. Which, in truth, wasn’t that far. Halditar heaved and panted, wiping sweat from her brow, feeling how her entire body was sticky from the sheer effort it took trying to bid this unruly beast to move. The ehat of the midday sun burned the back of her neck. They were overdue for a break at this point. All but collapsing into the grassy knoll, the soft green grass tickling and cooling her burning skin.

“Mmmrrrph?” A soft trill sounded through the air, followed by the jingling of bells.

The fatter cat, proving that it did indeed have legs capable of supporting its over-proofed loaf shaped form, pushed through the stalks of wild grass. Seeing her new master laying on the ground, she joined the roegadyn. Laying her heavy head onto her chest, purring gently. Halditar could only snort a single laugh at the insult to injury. But couldn’t resist bringing a hand up to pet behind the cat’s ear, amplifying its purrs to where the warrior could feel them reverberating against her bones.

“At least you don’t hold a grudge. I stepped on Moonlight’s tail feathers once by accident and she still throws a fit anytime I walk too close to where she’s nesting…” she said to no one in particular. Clearly not the cat, whose eyes were closed in utter bliss as Halditar’s fingers found that spot that sent the cat’s motor into overdrive, purring up a storm.

A cloud passed overhead, a puff as white and fluffy as a karakul’s fleece. Halditar couldn’t help closing her eyes, letting the wind cool her skin. The sound of grass rustling was a melody she never appreciated until it surrounded her. A song of the gentlest aether that chimed in her ears, constant and sweet. A perfect summer day, a (mostly) friendly pet—this was the stuff of lullabies and stories. Warmth she may know again, but she still should savor.

She had to crack her eyes open as a soft, warm paw poked at her cheek. No longer was the fatter cat content with pets alone, and Halditar knew why. Her own stomach was grumbled with hunger. She sat up and pulled her bag into her lap, having to use the back of her hand to push the curious cat’s face away from the entrance as she dug around for her tools.

“Back off, greedy. You’ll be getting your grub first, no crying.” She chided the cat to little effect, who pawed the ground with impatience. With the proper tools of a culinarian, she set to work.

Some of her colleagues would be aghast she was using her tools to make animal slop, but when one bought a persnickety kitty, or any animal in Halditar’s opinion, one had to treat it right. The best way to ensure that was making their food herself. And after seeing how both Gridanians and Ishgardians raised the best, fiercest, and most versatile birds in Eorzea by adding to their feed, she was inclined to follow their lead.

A couple of different meats, softened with broth. A cooked egg, couple of dried small fish, and a rabbit’s foot as the finishing touch and she had a meal fit for a cat king, she imagined. Her newest mount seemed to think so, drool dripping from her lower jaw as it mewled up at her with big, sparkling eyes. Halditar hadn’t even set the bowl on the ground before she attacked, purring with approval at the first mouthful. The only obstacle to the beast horking down the meal was the need to chew bigger chunks. Some insurance to see that she didn’t choke on her food from eating so quickly.

“What am I going to do with you…?” Halditar wiped her hands clean to pull out her own meal. A simple sandwich on focaccia, cheese, turkey, roasted tomato, olive oil with some fresh and dried spices.

Well, maybe not that simple for some. But this was one of her go-to favorites. It was light to carry in a small cloth wrap. The mix of zesty and mild, bright and acidic was a dance for the senses as she ate next to her ravenous companion, wondering ‘what next?’

She hadn’t even needed another mount. She had plenty under her care already, won from trials, earned from the strangest places and accomplishments, found in the luckiest moments. But when presented with this strange cat by the thaumaturge’s guild, unsure what black magicks had conjured it and unsure what to do other than send it back to the aetherial sea or find an owner… Her heart was just too soft towards animals, nowadays. Especially ones with such darling eyes and chubby cheeks.

But the intention of making a mount was proving less and less an option. It was obedient enough in all ways except moving. Even the behemoths she handled proved more affable to commands than this cat! It would thrive as a pet... but damn it, she wanted to ride it. She even got the most adorable saddle for it. Which it enjoyed wearing, and letting her sit on her back, but she refused to move. It was enough to make the roe feel a vein pop in frustration.

Halditar drowned her growing fury in her waterskin, filled with a strong tea, bordering barley-ish in taste, saved only by the sleeves of lemon she threw in before heading out. She was done with her meal long after the unnamed cat’s, who rolled and wandered around in the grass like a stout coeurl. It mimicked chirps and tried to hunt for small birds. Poorly, if it’s pathetic pounces after the smallest odd movement said anything. A hunter it was not.

“You won’t be much help on the island as a mouser, that’s certain enough.” She told the pudgy thing. With dewy eyes, it stared back at her before jingling towards her. She could feel her eyes staring, but not at her. Something else entranced the cat. Following the gaze, Halditar’s hand landed on her necklace. A long, shiny silver piece on a black leather thread. It glinted from the movement and the cat crouched, butt wiggling, intending to attack. A smile crept onto her lips, reaching back to undo her necklace.

“At least you’ve got plenty of energy, little- er… big one,” she lowered her necklace to the ground, shining in the grass like a little prize. As the cat dashed for it, Halditar pulled it out of the line of fire. The cat trampled more grass, scrambling to chase the bauble again. Only for her master to yank it out of grasp once more. The game of cat and mouse continued for minutes until Halditar relented and slowed her movements.

The cat purred as her paws caught the silver bauble, playing and biting it with eyes full of glee and pride. It seemed if she had a target, her newest pet wouldn’t relent until caught. A trait Halditar quite admired, even if her skills left much to be desired.

An idea popped into Halditar’s mind. A way, perhaps, she could get the stubborn cat to let her ride.

-

“Kitty! Big kitty-kitty!”

One of the few young children of Summerford Farms cooed as Halditar rode in atop the recently christened Kaiser (on account of her roll-like shape). The cat hardly cared for the weight atop her back, chasing the cat toy in front of her with nary an ounce of hesitation. Slowing to a stop only as Halditar pulled the toy from view. Kaiser instantly sat, legs disappearing underneath all that fur and weight. With a target to chase, she was much more open to direction. The warrior hoped with time, the toy wouldn’t even be needed.

As she threw her leg over and off the cat, the child from before ran toward them. Her own feline ears perked up in excitement and tail swishing. “Um, can I pet your cat, please, miss?” the child asked so politely. Halditar couldn’t help but laugh. Kaiser was becoming a big hit wherever she went, getting treats of fish and plenty of pets. Fittingly famous for a feline of her size.

“Of course! She’s friendly and likes it best if you pet behind her ears.” The child squealed and sat on the ground next to the cat, both hands sinking into Kaiser’s fur. The aforementioned cat’s purr rang out to proclaim how she appreciated such eager ear scratching. Letting her newest, most stubborn mount enjoy getting spoiled with attention, Halditar continued on with her delivery of seeds from the Botanist’s guild. Pondering if the spoiling would continue at their next stop.