#Typical dutch Food

[micheltaanman-blog]

Typical Dutch fast food - de Kapsalon

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 1/10 | Paige Bueckers]

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

summary: very angsty friends to enemies to lovers told through flashbacks & current day

a/n: this is my very first fic + i’m still pretty unfamiliar with how to use tumblr so pls forgive me in advance 😭 but lmk what you think!

warnings: drinking, angst, paige as a player

word count: 1.9k

masterlist w/ all parts

FLASHBACK: 1 YEAR & 1 MONTH AGO

It was the night of the Big East championship game, and the entire UConn women’s basketball team was piled into Paige and Azzi’s apartment to celebrate with drinks. At first, you’d been hesitant to come, as you would be the only non-player there. Which usually wouldn’t be a problem, but since it was a celebration for something as special as a tournament win, you wanted to let the team have their moment. But Paige insisted, saying that you were basically one of them at this point, and that everyone loved you and would want you there.

So here you were, sandwiched between Paige and KK on the sofa. There were so many people squeezed onto the sofa, though, that you were basically half in Paige’s lap. She didn’t seem to mind though - one hand was holding a red solo cup filled with dirty Shirley while the other was firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place next to her. Not a typical look for best friends, but both of you attributed this intimate position to physical touch being both of your main love languages.

Paige’s fingers were absentmindedly brushing up and down your hip, alternating between playing with the fray at the end of your shirt and scratching your hip. You tried not to think too much of it. Paige was constantly moving, and she always needed something to play with or else she’d get bored and distracted. She definitely wasn’t touching you because she had feelings for you. Paige made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anyone romantically, with how quickly she moved from woman to woman. But that was how she chose to live her love life, and you respected that! And didn’t care….at all.

KK suddenly lurched up from next to you. “Ayoooo, we should play spin the bottle,” she crowed, as if this was the best idea she’d ever come across.

“Nah, girl, I’m good,” Nika teased, shaking her head at KK’s antics. “Geno said he wants us to be close, but I don’t think he meant that close.”

The rest of the team hooted in laughter. KK pouted. “Well, Azzi just texted the guys’ team to come, and they’ll be here soon. That way I don’t have to kiss any of y’all’s nasty lips.”

At that, Paige sat up a little bit straighter, her grip around my waist tightening. “Ain’t no one playing spin the bottle with the guys. Especially Y/N.”

“Why, Paige? Jealous?” Ice teased. Ice always gave you a hard time about Paige, wiggling her eyebrows at you every time you walked Paige to practice or dropped off food for her during their recovery sessions. You suspected that she was onto you, but you always shrugged off her teasing in order to seem nonchalant.

Paige rolled her eyes, although her grip on you didn’t loosen. “Nah, bro. They’re just weird. They don’t know Y/N like that. She’d be uncomfy.”

You tugged on one of her Dutch braids. You loved whenever she put her hair into two full braids. She looked so cute. Although you’d never tell her that. “What if I wanna play, hmm?” You were testing Paige’s limits, and you knew it. And as much as you wanted to chalk it up to her being jealous, you knew she was probably just being a protective friend.

Paige shook her head. “It’s such a middle school game, Y/N. You don’t wanna do that.” With those words, you felt a surge of drunken defiance rise in your chest. Paige was bossing you around, as if she knew what was best for you. But you refused to be seen as the innocent and meek type. And now you wanted to play. Because if you couldn’t have Paige, you weren’t gonna let her limit you from having someone else.

You raised your chin. “No, I think I’m gonna,” you declared.

Paige’s eyes flashed. There was a hint of surprise in the way she leaned back and studied you. “Okay,” she responded coolly. “Whatever. Do what you want - Imma top up.” She briskly slid the part of me on her thigh off, and got up, disappearing into the kitchen.

Soon, the guys piled in, along with some of their buddies that weren’t on the basketball team. You all agreed to do a mix of spin the bottle or truth or dare. It was either answer the question, or kiss. Except those who were players insisted that teammates were off limit. To be honest, you didn’t wanna play. You, like Paige, thought the game was childish. And more importantly, the only person in the room, or frankly anywhere in the world, whose lips you wanted to kiss was Paige. But Paige didn’t want you, and you had to move on.

Paige returned with a full cup, this time of beer, just in time for the game to start. A couple of the girls had gotten up to sit with the guys on the floor, so there was more room on the sofa now, meaning that Paige and you were no longer touching. Instead, there was a sizable gap between the two of you. The lack of her warmth was upsetting to you, and another reminder that Paige was only touching you because of how crowded the sofa was. Not because she craved your touch the same way you craved hers.

Just your luck, the bottle landed on you the first spin. You vaguely recognized the guy who spun it as one of the players on the basketball team. He had dirty blonde hair and a cocky smile. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and he had a rumpled look about him that would be messily attractive if it weren’t for the fact that you had almost zero interest in guys.

“Which guy on my team looks like he’d be the best in bed?” The guy’s wildly inappropriate question barely registered before Paige leaned forward, sliding her hand protectively over your knee.

“That’s a fucked up question,” she snapped. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that way that happens when she’s really angry, and her cheeks were flushed, likely from the alcohol. Tipsy Paige meant a Paige with much more intense emotions, and you knew now that she would be even more unashamed now than she is sober, which says a lot considering how she’s already pretty free willed sober. “Don’t be an ass. Give her a decent question so she’s not forced to kiss you.” Paige snarled.

The guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Chill out, P. It’s just a game,” he laughed arrogantly.

“Yeah, P.” The words, laced with malice, were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and you wanted to die as soon as they came out. Paige looked like a puppy who was just kicked, confusion and embarrassment in her eyes. Shame rose in your throat like bile - Paige was just trying to protect you from a creepy guy, a guy who you didn’t even want to kiss, and you were taking this random stranger’s side. In front of all these people.

But words kept piling out of your mouth, even though you didn’t mean it. “Stop babying me,” you hissed. This time only Pauge could hear, but you internally kicked myself again for the harshness of your words. It was the alcohol in you, running hot through your veins, exacerbating all the bitterness and jealousy you’ve been feeling towards Paige for so long. You wanted to get back at her…but for what? It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love you back.

You were thrusted back to reality when you realized everyone was staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. It was an almost out of body experience, in the most terrible and awful way possible, watching yourself move like a robot to where the guy was sitting. You kneeled down, planted a kiss on his lips to the cheering of all the people around you, then got back and returned to your seat on the sofa.

And for the rest of the night, Paige didn’t speak to you.

—————————-

“I can’t find them.” You were digging through your purse, trying to find your keys. Paige was standing next to you, her face stone hard.

You were so drunk. After the whole kiss incident, you’d started going wild with the drinks, putting back shots as if your life depended on it. The alcohol made you feel numb, softening the ache you felt whenever you thought back to earlier that night when you had hurt Paige, embarrased her in front of all those people. You felt like the worst person in the world, and the more you drank, the more that guilt disappeared.

And now you were drunk out of your mind. You’d expected Paige to ignore you completely after, and she had, until the celebrations died down and you had to go home. You had walked to the apartment because your dorm was only 10 minutes away, and now with how you couldn’t even walk without staggering, someone needed to escort you back.

You hated how good Paige was. How she immediately got up without hesitation when Nika requested for someone more sober to walk you home. You knew she was angry and hurt, yet like always, she looked out for you first.

“Paige, I can’t find them,” you pouted. Paige exhaled through her nose and grabbed the purse from you, sifting through it before she found your keys, tucked into one of the side pockets. Opening the door, she rested her hand on the small of your back to guide you inside.

Once inside, you grabbed Paige’s hand, tugging her into your room and flopping on the bed. She stood there, still and silently watching you. She was unamused, and rightly so.

“Are you mad?” You giggled, sitting up to poke her in the stomach. When she stared back at you, still in silence, you stopped laughing. Sobering up a bit, you grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. “I’m really sorry,” you said quietly. “I don’t know why I did that earlier.” She was between your legs now. You weren’t thinking straight, your mind a muddled mess, and so you wrapped your calves around her, pulling her in until there was no space between you two. She looked down at you, bringing her hand to lightly touch your jaw.

You both stayed there for a moment, the tip of her finger running back and forth along your jaw. Your eyelids fluttered closed. Paige’s touch was so gentle, and you wanted to lean into it and stay in it forever. You didn’t understand why she was being so kind to you when you had been so cruel to her earlier, especially on a night as important as this.

“I’m sorry. For ruining tonight,” you told her, shifting to lean your forehead against her toned stomach.

“You didn’t ruin anything. But I was trying to look out for you,” she said quietly from above you. Paige. A golden heart, and a reminder of why you didn’t deserve her.

“But you kiss a lot of people. Why do you have an issue when I do it?”

Paige’s hand stuttered. “You should really get some rest,” she said gently instead of answering your question. She backed up, looking at you closely before shutting the light off. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”

[yorshie]

Hello, fellow raccoon here 🦝 If it’s not too much trouble, could you write about sharing a bed for the first time with the Bay!verse turtles?

Ah! Another raccoon! Thank you for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this one! I went with head canon style.

Bayverse x reader, SFW other than bedshare, set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

Tags: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou

MICHELANGELO

This sweet turtle got his nest all ready when he heard you were finally spending the night. Brought in your favorite snacks, hunted down all his extra pillows from around the Lair, and restocked his mini fridge in case you got thirsty.

So when the time finally came and you go drop your bag off in his room, there is not a free spot to be found. His bed is a mountain of pillows and blankets, the small coffee table shoved in front of his tv has everything from pizza, microwavable food, and what looks like three different flavors of cookies piled on top of it.

Not gonna lie, its a bit intimidating. You might even have faltered, if sunshine boi wasn't right behind you with your toiletry bags, happy go lucky energy rubbing off until it felt like the spotlight wasn't directly on you.

the rest of the night is spent in typical Mikey fashion, a.k.a. a game and movie marathon. His brothers occasionally wander past his open door to say hello and to see what the two of you are up to. They might have a bet running on how much Mikey smothers you and how long you'll allow it. Even Splinter is in on it, thought the old rat refrains from making an appearance so his youngest doesn't feel like he's doing something wrong. He wants to marry his sons off eventually, after all.

When you eventually get tired and it's time to delve into the towering abyss of pillows that have taken over his bed, Mikey's territorial side makes an appearance. The door gets shut and locked to avoid anyone that might think it's a good idea to pull a prank (none of his brothers would but Mikey is paranoid because he is the prankster), and he wastes no time diving in after you for some cuddles.

oh. ok, maybe there's too many pillows, because now he can't find you! He's lost his significant other! Cue a mini chase where most of his bounty ends up in the floor in his search. You are not getting out of cuddles. No amount of wiggling or hiding will save you.

the actual cuddling is quite nice. Mikey's warm and his bicep makes for an excellent pillow. He likes to lay face to face, with your head tucked under his chin, limbs entangled and churring up a storm that you knew would have his brothers wincing in second hand embarrassment if they ever heard all the turtley noises he made when it was just the two of you.

He definitely snores, though. And farts in his sleep. Fact of life, don't get mad, because we all do it sometimes, most of us just aren't a mutated turtle man with a noxious gut fueled by pizza and sour patch kids. Dutch oven him with his own farts as payback.

in the morning you'll definitely wake up first, though as soon as you start to move Mikey will be alert. Call it sixth sense, but all the turtles are hyper aware of their own personal spaces and who's in them. I hope you weren't planning on getting an early start that morning, because now that Mikey's awake he's ready to continue the movie that you getting sleepy paused the night before. While getting more cuddles and eating breakfast in bed, of course.

LEONARDO

he internally started creating lists as soon as you accepted his sleepover proposal. Panics a little and moved the date once to make sure his sheets are washed the day before. Everything in his space has to be perfectly so. If someone interupts his cleaning and prepping, they better expect to have their head bitten off. Will have a literal panic attack if you arrived early.

You, of course, notice nothing out of place when he presents his room for your inspection. Yes, you read that right. This turtle will practically sweat as he waits for your verdict on whether the nest is good enough. No, he doesn't realize what he's doing. If you pick up on it don't tell him or else he might start panicking again.

The two of you will actually not spend too much time besides sleeping in his room, most of your time will be hanging out in the main living area. This serves two purposes: as the eldest Leo wants you to get along with all his brothers, and two, the thought of his bothers coming by his room to say hi to you absolutely drives is reptile brain crazy. So you'll eat and hangout with everyone else, and try not to laugh at the subtle teasing you know your turtle is going through with the whispered jokes and laughter that seem to stop every time you turn around.

When it gets late enough and everyone starts peeling off to do their own thing, you'll have to let Leo know you are ready to go lay down. Hilarious if you think He's going to suggest it's time to head to bed to you, he's trying his hardest not to think of the words "you" and "nest - BED! he meant bed!" in the same sentence.

when you finish your nighttime routine and make your way back to Leo's room, don't be surprised to find him on a makeshift pallet on the floor. There is no way you couldn't have seen this coming, but don't worry, there's an easy fix. Simply get in his bed, close to the wall, and start shivering. Loudly. Ham it up. In no time flat you'll have a turtle sneaking up next to you to keep you warm, though at first he will be hesitant. Cuddling you in the privacy of his own room with the expectation of sleep is very different from just chilling with you.

despite Leo trying to be a gentleman during the beginning, leaving you a bit of space and trying his hardest not to crowd you, by an hour in he will be wrapped around you. As he slowly gets tipped closer and closer to the edge of sleep, the more loose he will become. And once he gives in and gets used to the cuddles, he will never want to stop.

He clicks and chirps in his sleep sometimes. You woke up thinking there was a baby bird or something in the room, only to discover the high pitched noises were coming from him, before he transitions into deeper churrs from his chest right in front of your eyes. If you keep very still and quiet he might not wake up, but he will be traumatized if he does and discovers he makes these noises

There is very little chance of you waking in the morning before Leo. This turtle gets up early, but maybe just for today he can slip back next to you, after morning training, just to feel close to you for a bit longer. When you wake up you could just spend the morning talking, he won't mind being lazy as long as it's with you

You'll most likely be the one making breakfast if the other brothers aren't up yet, as Leo is banned from making anything other than tea or using the strict guidelines Mikey placed next to the microwave. But, he is an excellent sous chef, and after you're both fed he will be quick to suggest an activity so the two of you can hang out longer. Just know he's already weighing his chances of getting you to spend the next night as well.

DONATELLO

Dee had about 50 reminders set in the days leading up to your first sleepover, and a mental list he was practically grappling with in between projects. Anytime he'd focus on what was coming up too much, the butterflies would start going haywire in his stomach and he was likely to drop whatever it is he's holding at the time

Needless to say, he was in a bit of a panic by the time you showed up. Technically speaking, logically speaking, he knew his bed and room where both clean. And he knew you liked spending time with him, so why the anxiety? Why the nerves? He's so nervous, he doesn't even realize you've arrived, moved around his habitual pacing to set your bag on his bed, and now you're simply watching him with fond curiosity.

He shrieks when he finally notices you. Practically has a heart attack and knocks over at least four stacks of meticulously arranged cds and various technological components. Eventually joins in your laughter after he's calmed down enough to see the humor in the situation.

Just this once, Donnie has cleared his timetable of various projects to focus soley on you. That isn't to say that before he's blown you off or ignored you, but by now you are well aware how hard he has to work to contain his wandering mind, al lthe little tips and tricks he uses to keep his focus on the here and now and not bouncing from idea to idea.

The two of you will not be spending too much time out in the main area. The time it takes the two of you to procure dinner is more than enough brotherly interaction for the tall turtle. Not to mention, it turns almost awkward as the other's try desperately to not make prolonged eye contact with anyone else. They learned a long time ago not to tease the brother that controls all their devices and the access to the wifi.

Once Donnie and you are comfortable back in his room, the true hang out will begin. You'll play rock-paper-scissors to pick a movie, Donnie always lets you win, but he gets to pick the music that plays in the background. If you want, he'll access his computer and set up the program to make the lights in his room dance to the beat. Curled up in his arms, it is the easiest place to fall asleep, surrounded by fluttering lights that mimic being underwater.

Donnie may not actually sleep, but he stays with you the entire night. If you wake at all it might be to the idle scratching of pen on paper as he writes, his hand moving in your hair or along your back, or to his soft breaths caught in a light doze, a soft churr rumbling in his chest. If you're also the type to burn the midnight oil, you both might stay up talking long enough that the morning slowly creeps up on you before you both pass out.

Splinter often stops by the Lab in the morning on his way to meditate, if only to wrap a blanket over his son's shoulders and move his glasses to a safe spot. It's an ingrained habit, so much so that it doesn't even register that you spent the night until he quietly opens the door. He takes on look at the two of you holding each other close, and turns away with a smile.

Dee can cook, but most likely he'll order from the diner one block above their preferred manhole cover, and the two of you will sneak out for eggs, bacon and pancakes before secreting it away in his room so you don't have to share.

RAPHAEL

If the two of you are close enough for a sleepover, Raph is going to be the calmest of his brothers about you being in his personal space. Sure, he'll clean up, make sure all his dirty clothes are in his hamper and all the drawers actually shut on his dresser, but don't expect much in the way of fanfare.

He doesn't care where you wanna hang out in the evening, as long as you're comfortable. If you're out in the Lair proper however, get ready for some brotherly jockeying. Mikey almost can't help teasing Raph about having a guest over for the night, but the bigger brother will take it in stride as long as its only Mikey. Donnie tends to stay out of the limelight when it comes to teasing, but you better hope Leo doesn't so much as raise an eye ridge in Raph's direction. To be fair, the blue turtle is likely only drawing attention to how soft for you Raph is, but the two of them earning a trip to the Ha'shi might put a bit of a damper on the sleepover.

Leo's right though, Raph is completely soft for you. You want something to eat? He'll go get it for you without even a huff. You want popcorn for the movie? He'll bring back soda as well. You ask how much he can bench? He'll toe the line between showing off and making sure he can actually handle the weight. You neck hurts from having to crane around him to watch the movie? He'll lay on the ground and let you splay across his shell. You blink at him and sleepily ask to be carried? You're already up in his arms before you can even finish the sentence.

When it comes time to sleep, Raph will insist you take the inside of the bed, close to the wall, but he's thought ahead and gotten you your own pillow so you don't have to share with him. Yes, technically its from Mikey's room, but don't worry he disinfected it with a shit-ton of Lysol and Frebreze and washed the cover. This doesn't mean he doesn't want to cuddle, but of all the things Raph understands in his life, the very first few are the difference in size between the two of you, just how much he weighs, and how strong he is. So he'll tuck you against the wall and lay out on his stomach in one of the few positions that makes it hard for him to tip over. There's just enough room between the lip of his shell and the mattress for you to slot yourself against him, and he'll take the opportunity to slide his arm around your waist and bury his snout in your hair.

He'll hold you there throughout the night, breath slow and even. If you wake, be prepared that any movement will rouse him. He can't exactly help it, and he tries not to make you feel guilty over it, but you can always make out the green shine of his eyes peering down to make sure you are ok before he drifts back off again.

This turtle churrs sometimes in his sleep, but it's not the cute or soothing churr of contentment. No, someone parked a diesel engine in his man and is revving it like he's driving up an inclined gravel mountain road. The only way to get him to stop is to poke the thin strip of skin along his side, repeatedly, until he snorts and shifts. 50/50 chance the shifting will stop the churring. If not, you'll have to repeat the process.

In the morning, he'll dip before you wake, and come back to the room with warm pastries and whatever he's seen you drink in the morning. If you want your breakfast right away however, you might have to bribe him with turtle smooches as he tries to steal back his spot and catch up on the cuddles he's missed being a good boyfriend. Yes, he's holding you hostage, unless you want to try climbing over him. You might succeed if you make him laugh.

At some point in the day, after breakfast and whatever morning routine you keep, Raph will ask you what you want to do. If you want to go home, decompress, he'll take you home, but if you want to stay again and hang out some more you'll get to see the sweetest, softest smile break across his face.

[itstheghostofmypast]

☆22.59☆

(College AU) Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: Of course, they loved each other. He was obsessed with her. She, with him to some extent, but to recognise each other outside the four walls of their comfort was a 'no-no'. Perhaps because as much as they loved each other, who knew being academic rivals would be so problematic.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: nc-17

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9K

Est. Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

Epilogue: His Little Cowboy

"I'm so glad we're done with exams." He sighed, sitting down and rolling his shoudlers, before rubbing his neck and eying the food, then deciding to order another round.

"Mhmm... I was so glad to close all the tabs today. My laptop practically thanked me." Smiling, she leaned forward on her elbows, "Is this why we're having an expensive meal?"

Her words held no real malice, but an air of unease, she never liked how he'd casually spend like this, especially on her, she had done nothing to deserve this, and the constant reminder of how he'd always pay whenever it was pricey would nip at her self pride.

He paused to look at her before pouting, "No, I just wanted to treat my girl." Mumbling he moved the tray towards her, gesturing for her to start first, trying to ignore her lingering gaze, the eerie nostalgia setting in, he knew what she'd get like during exam season, extremely cynical and skeptical, to be honest he was no different- but they were finally free and perhaps he just wanted to enjoy a nice meal with her, no hidden intentions or ulterior motives, nothing to think about but each other.

"Then let's go dutch-"

"Not a chance." His abrupt words cut her off, for a split second his tone reverted back to the one she was used to, the tone he'd use back in the day, to snub her or out do her while answering, this tone was often accompanied by a scoff, the only gesture that would mildly indicate that this was but a fun little game, though she knew when the tone was all that would surface, he'd be serious, in no mood for negotiation. Fortunately,  he had barely ever used it with her, often in times of forcing her to do something good for herself, like to rest or to eat, but she'd seen him use the same tone with a few people, who were once her friends, he didn't know she was there, standing behind the wall, listening to him call out her so called friends, people who'd just use her for her work, leeching off her academics, knowing she'd be too tired to even argue or say no, or even too guilty when one of them would bring up how smart she was and that made her arrogant- she heard him that day, the crisp morning air wasn't as cold as his words,

"Your incompetence is a curse you should bear on your own. Don't drag others down in that pitiful hole of yours, especially her."

That day she had lost an entire circle of friends, at a point she wondered if it was even worth it, wondered why he even said that when a class ago he had called her 'a silly little girl' for arguing about what a Freudian slip was when she was clearly wrong, now here he was defending her honour? On the same day he had come to her, sitting next to her in the library and slipping her a coupon, initially she had thought he was insulting her- a typical bourgeoisie move, only to realise it was a coupon for a couple's meal, noticing him side eying her to read her expressions. She had turned to him, pointing at the coupon, herself and then him, and as wordlessly as she had spoken, he too nodded, pointing at himself, her and then the coupon. Something had begun to blossom between the two that day, a relationship both were too afraid to talk about, perhaps because of their on going rivalry since the beginning of their academic year, or the way they'd ignore each other until one would bother the other, or perhaps the fear of being questioned by the lingering gazes around the hallways,  the whispers the wind carried around the campus- wanting not to be part of the gust of wind, choosing to keep whatever this was hidden, a secret shared by just the two.

"I mean...I'd prefer you don't, I wanted to treat you," his argument coming out softer, as he nodded to the waiter who had entered the private section after knocking, to place another tray in front of them, "Just us and a nice meal...I haven't spent enough time with you....that's why." Clearing his throat , he avoided the way she studied him, eyes scanning each feature, every gesture, every breath he'd take, to be able to study his next more, to prepare herself. Truth be told he hated it when she'd do that, this was the first thing that irked him about her, and although he had always been gentle natured, this trait of hers would always have his ulterior ego surface, ready to claw her. It took him some time to realise that was just the face she'd make while thinking, not only at him but everyone, including her exam sheet. That did not mean that being together made it any easy for him, in fact, now he'd feel small when she'd look at him like that, he'd feel as if his sincerity was being questioned, it made him dislike himself, was he not clear enough? Was the choice of words not point to point? Maybe his tone was ooff-

"Oh...well you're right, I guess I am to blame for that, I kind of mentally blocked you out." Mumbling sheepishly she reached across the table to hold his hand, her the tips of her fingers caressing the back of his hand, noting how he visibly relaxed, "In my defense there's this annoying guy in class who thinks he's so smart-"

"Thinks?" With a scoff he laced their fingers together, leaning closer to the table to eye her, his frown morphing into his signature dimpled smile at the sound of her laughter, before he continued, adding onto the playful banter, "Last time I checked this guy beat you in the Moral Philosophy 101 quiz and assignment."

Shrugging in response she grabbed the chopsticks with her free hand, "Beginners luck. Also consequentialism sucks, you're just a utilitarian at heart, that's why you got lucky." With that verdict she began eating, earning a cackle in return, the atmosphere around them calming down once more, allowing her to relax, much to his pleasure. He had begged her to go out with him last week too, claiming that they were left with just one exam so they could relax a bit, though she had threatened to block him if he kept pestering her, which is why he had stopped spam texting her.

However, finally tonight, now that they were free he had earned the right to become her Sannie again, to roll around on her bed, messing with the sheets while she would be scrolling on her phone trying to ignore how his antics were toppling off her plushies to the floor. He'd be able to whine and complain when she'd wake him up early because the 'cafeteria is serving Yaki Udon',

"Go, they let you sneak some to your dorm, sneak some here"

"It's...6 am...let's just eat something else."

"If I had the rich boy privellage,  I'd go myself, but alas-"

"Are you really guilt tripping me for being rich?"

"No, my sweet nepo-baby I'm stating a mere fact."

"A nepo-baby would be a business major like his father, not a communication major-"

"And that's why you're my favourite boy, Sannie."

That day he got her four bowls of udon, even sneaking in the dessert Wooyoung had gotten for himself, and when asked he told Wooyoung he had eaten it, never mentioning her.

That was another issue, he had to keep his relationship a secret from his friends too, initially it was fun, the thrill and excitement would have him shivering with glee, but recently, after most of his friends now had a significant other whom they would publicly walk around with or show affection to, he had begun to wonder if she'd ever want that with him. Or were they just college sweethearts, soon to be forgotten, a bitter sweet memory plastered at the back of their minds, one to return to when times would get rough.

"What's wrong?"

Her question cutting off his thought process only for him to realise how he had just been staring at his food, while she was half way done. Clearing his throat he gave her a gentle smile, shaking his head before reaching for the soda, pouring both of them a glass. Maybe some other time, he'd ask her some other time, right now he could see how she was enjoying herself, he could see how comfortable she was with him, he had no real intentions of ruining the moment.

"Are you sure? You're making the same face you did, when you had to present last semester." Just like that he had lost all the love he had for her, no, he was dating a monster, a demon in the skin of an angel, the human embodiment of Godzilla. Eyes narrowing at her direction he scoffed, leaning back to take off his jacket, before responding with a taunt, "Says the person who forgot the meaning of utility while presenting".

With a gasp she placed her hand on her heart,  staring at him in faux shock, "You fiend, that's because I'm a Kant girlie at heart."

"So...you don't think the ends justify the means?" He asked cautiously, though not of her feelings, but of the risk of his own fragile heart, too afraid to let it slip out of her grasp and shatter.

"The ends, never justify the means, Sannie."  She smiled, staring at him only for it to drop when she noticed him frown at his plate, slowly nodding as he looked up at her, "Yeah...I guess..."

"What's...wrong, something has been bothering you since we came here." She sighed pushing her plate aside, watching him take out his buzzing phone, choosing to stare at the phone rather than him.

"Nothing."

His blunt response nipping at her insecurities, what did she do? Should she not have said that? Did she offend him? Was he going to leave her now? They were in their final year anyway, the time spent together was supposed to come to an end and as much as she wanted to cling onto the false hope of him somehow spending the rest of his life together with her, she knew that was but a wish, reality was far too bitter, far too grim, leaving the two to wonder when they'd become a distant memory.

"Okay."

There it was, his eyes flickered up to scan her face, that defeated look she'd hold when she'd give up, why would she never fight for him? Why didn't she pester him to finish his statement, why didn't she cling onto him, pulling him closer even though he knew he'd run to her at any given moment, he was only waiting for the signal, waiting for her to say the word. Maybe Wooyoung was right, this was just a fun arrangement for the two, a temporary one, which is why Hongjoong had asked him to confront her, but he didn't want to, yet, here he was by choosing to not confront her he had somehow made it worse.

Visibly flinching under his glare she averted her gaze, clearing her throat, playing with her fingers as she stared at her lap aimlessly, so what now?

"What about us?" His words a gentle whisper as he put his phone on the table beside his plate, hunching forward to get a better look at her face, "Does our end justify our means?"

Her head snapped up in his direction, the burning sensation of the flood of tears at the brink of falling, she could feel the fat droplets clinging to her lower lashes, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to compose herself, "Which end...Sannie, the one where we say goodbye?"

His frown only deepened at her question, taking in her shaking form, pinching himself as he tried ro remain rooted to his spot. Seonghwa had told him to listen to her, to comfort and console her because women need time to process and cope, especially someone like her, but then Hongjoong's persistent 'What if she really is with you for the ride',  kept bothering him, what if he were right, but at the back of his mind, this little voice was yelling at him, telling him how that was not true, how he'd seen her take care of him, how he'd felt her love for him; from when she'd slip in her extra notes in his bag for him to study to when she'd slip in a few packets of mint oreo in his bag as a treat. He knew they were more than just a fling, or at least he would like to believe that.

"Do you ... want us to?" His words as soft as the first time he had confessed to her, making her feel even more nauseous than before, though with a gulp she held it back before shaking her head and mumbling a, "No...do you?"

Shaking his head, much like her he sighed before staring aimlessly at her, "Then...why won't you fight for me?" This was less of a question, but more of a whine, a plea, one that had her finally snap.

Her sniff having him focus on her, watching her bring up her hands to cover her face, as she hunched over, making sure he couldn't see her cry, a trait that bothered him, he'd barely ever see her breakdown, even during the stressful exam season, she'd lock herself in the washroom and let it out, while he'd either wait outside the washroom (if he was lucky enough for her to let him into her dormroom) or like most exam seasons he'd be at his own dorm, trying to call her or text her.

"Why can't our end be happy?" He mumbled, finally choosing to get up and  walk around the table and to her, glad he had reserved a closed off private section. Sighing he reached for her, gently gripping her wrists as he pulled her hands off her face, ignoring her whines and protest, "Tell me, why do you think we can't have a happy end?" Pulling her up to wrap his arms around her, letting her fist his shirt, soaking it with her tears, sobbing out a, "Because our means of doing so aren't good."

Pulling her back he stared at her, gripping her shoulders, "What do you mean? Do you not want to keep it a secret anymore?"

"I never wanted to keep it a secret, at least I dont want to anymore." She mumbled trying to hide in his embrace once more but he pulled her back again, much to her disappointment as he tried to read her, "I just thought...your image and...I...maybe you didn't want to tell anyone."

By now he had sat her back down leaning against the table as he looked at her, holding onto her hand, his thumbs caressing the back of her hand, listening to her, raising his eyebrows, "No..." he sighed before gently smiling at her, "I've been dropping hints for a while now. My last hint was what led the guys to pick up on the fact that we are together."

So his friends knew?

"Do they think I'm weird?" She whispered, trying to pull away her hand but he held onto her tighter, shaking his head and letting out a laugh, "If anything they thought I tricked you into dating me...Wooyoung didn't even believe me until he saw our pictures." He smiled at her, the memory of his friends accusing him for lying, making it even funnier, "Yeosang said he could tell you're into dumb guys."

"Well, you are dumb. There's no doubt about that." She mumbled, standing up and moving closer, so she was standing between his legs. Cupping his face, she smiled when he glared at her. The eerie sensation that was once slithering in her veins long gone, "I don't remember a single hint, though."

"How?" He whined, pouting at her, leaning into her touch, closing his eyes as he basked in the attention,  the same attention he knew he would recieve publically from now on, there would be nothing holding them back, not her toxic friends, those who stared or whispered, in fact his friends would just support them, perhaps she needed such a support system too, would be good for her, "Yesterday after the exam I called you out, I said see you tomorrow babe."

"Thought that was a Freudian slip."

"Oh, so now you know what a Freudian slip is?" His eyes snapped open, brows furrowing at her smug expression, hissing when she squeezed his cheeks together, only to pull back when he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight until she was wheezing out apologies. Giving him a proper hug once he eased down on her, she sighed, pressing her forehead against his,"I really do like you, Sannie."

"I like you too." He smiled, feeling her brush her lips against his, whispering against her lips, only his next statement had him feeling her stiffen and possibly struggle against him but he held her tight, not wanting to be smacked, "They updated the marksheet, I scored higher than you in Moral Philosophy....again...sorry babe." Followed by his boisterous laughter and her whining to let him go, greatly ruining the moment.

A/N: I had to get this out of my system okay- my exams just finished. The next update ya'll will see will be of Meow Chapter 4

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt

[miller-n-morgan-2]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you’ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll

[literaryvein-reblogs]

a few more food-related words

for your cooking- or other food-related scenes

Béarnaise - a sauce of egg yolks and butter flavored with shallots, wine, vinegar, and seasonings. Béarnaise is based on Béarn, a region and former province of southwestern France, where it was originally prepared.

Fondue (or Fondu) - a dish that people prepare for themselves at the table by putting small pieces of food (such as bread, meat, or fruit) in a hot liquid (such as melted and flavored cheese or melted chocolate). Originally, fondue named a dish that is similar to the egg-based soufflé and that is usually made with cheese and bread crumbs; however, it is most familiar as the name for a preparation of melted cheese usually flavored with white wine and kirsch (a type of brandy), or a dish that consists of small pieces of food that is cooked in or dipped into a hot liquid. The name is a French derivative of the verb fondre, meaning "to melt or cast."

Hollandaise - a rich sauce made basically of butter, egg yolks, and lemon juice or vinegar. In French, sauce hollandaise means "Dutch sauce." Its name is from Hollande, the French designation for Holland.

Macédoine - a confused mixture; a mixture of fruits or vegetables served as a salad or cocktail or in a jellied dessert or used in a sauce or as a garnish. Macédoine is the French name for Macedonia, a region on the Balkan Peninsula that is now part of Greece, the Republic of North Macedonia, and Bulgaria. Historically, this area has been home to a richly varied population encompassing many ethnic groups. Etymologists believe that the cultural heterogeneity of the region may have inspired people to use its name as a generic term for any kind of wildly jumbled mixture, including that of the foods used in some sauces.

Marinade - a savory usually acidic sauce in which meat, fish, or a vegetable is soaked to enrich its flavor or to tenderize it. The main ingredient of marinade is French mariner, meaning "to pickle" or "to marinate." The verb marinate refers to steeping foods in a marinade or to coating or covering food with tasty herbs, spices, etc., before cooking.

Mignonette - a type of herb; a sauce made typically with vinegar, pepper, and herbs and served especially with oysters. Its name stems from French words meaning "dainty" and "darling." Those adjectives perfectly describe the small, delicate flowers of the plant, and dainty is fitting for the dollops of the piquant sauce placed on oysters. However, in French cooking, mignonette is used for a mix of ground peppercorn, dainty berries of the black pepper plant, and this is the likely source for the sauce's name.

Mousseline - a sauce (such as hollandaise) to which whipped cream or beaten egg whites have been added. Mousseline is the name for a soft, light sauce as well as a fine, sheer fabric that resembles muslin. It is also a synonym of mousse in its sense referring to a light, spongy food. In French, mousse can mean "froth" or "moss."

Puree (or Purée) - a paste or thick liquid suspension usually made from cooked food ground finely. Puree was processed from Middle French purer, meaning "to cleanse" or "to strain vegetables," which itself was made from Latin purare, meaning "to purify." Besides a pasty food, puree is a thick soup of smooth texture.

Rouille - a peppery garlic sauce. In French, rouille means, literally, "rust." The reddish-brown Mediterranean sauce is usually served with fish soups and stews.

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Word Lists

[transform4u]

Transform me from a Southeast Asian Urban Design student/nerd into a typical Dutch Jock. Tired of caring about those folks, might as well join their ranks

You know, manners are everything. This reads less like an ask, and more like a demand. Can't say the powers will take too kindly to that.

You’re hit with a visceral shockwave, a loud snaaaaaapppp that reverberates through your brain like a thunderclap. In the echoing corridors of your mind, memories cascade with a feverish intensity—football games where you were the star, grueling training sessions where you pushed yourself to the limit, and the electrifying thrill of flirting with girls. Each recollection fuels a transformation, muscles bulging and hardening with every echo of a cheering crowd and the thrill of victory.

But amidst the roaring triumph, a sharp, jarring craaaaaaacccck cuts through, like the splintering of a fragile shell. This new sound ushers in a wave of memories that hit harder and heavier. You're suddenly transported back to that fateful game during your sophomore year of college, the sharp pain of your knee snapping, the sensation of your future slipping away. The memory is vivid, almost visceral—the fracture, the tumble into uncertainty. It’s intertwined with another crushing realization: flunking out of college, feeling like you could never quite put two and two together, stumbling through academic challenges that seemed insurmountable.

As the past plays out in your mind, there’s an unsettling slow-motion effect. Your brain feels as though it's dragging through thick fog. Thoughts become clunky and fragmented, with memories replaying the most trivial and embarrassing jokes, their humor flat and forced. You find yourself living in a cramped, crowded apartment in Dallas, Texas—a far cry from the potential you once had.

There’s a growing bitterness in your thoughts, an anger directed at those who seem different or who espouse values that clash with your own. This simmering resentment becomes a part of your identity, mingling with the changes that are happening to your body. The muscles you once proudly built up start to soften and expand, slowly transforming into layers of fat. Your physique, once a symbol of strength, now feels like a burden, a constant reminder of lost opportunities.

Your once-defined arms, capable of throwing a perfect spiral or lifting heavy weights, lose their firmness. They grow flabby and cumbersome, the skin sagging where taut muscle used to be. The biceps that were once admired now bulge inelegantly, their shape obscured by a growing layer of fat. Your chest, once proud and sculpted, expands into a thick, sagging mass that hangs heavily, each breath feeling labored under its weight.

Your waistline follows suit, widening noticeably. Where there were once ridges of abdominal muscles, a soft, unyielding bulge now protrudes, pressing uncomfortably against your waistband. The once-flat stomach now forms a pronounced roll, spilling over your belt and leaving you perpetually uncomfortable in your own clothes.

Now, you see a person whose body is a constant reminder of missed opportunities and a life marred by regret. The formerly muscular physique has become a burden, a physical manifestation of your inner turmoil and bitterness. The muscles that were once your pride are now hidden beneath layers of flesh, a visible sign of how far you’ve fallen from the person you once aspired to be.

You slouch into your routine, drinking cheap beer, scarfing down greasy junk food, and reminiscing about the so-called glory days that seem more distant and unattainable with each passing moment. The weight of your body feels oppressive as you struggle to turn on the TV. The glow of the screen is filled with reruns of shows like Family Guy, their humor dull and repetitive.

A pervasive odor lingers around you, a mix of sweat and neglect, as if you haven’t showered in days. It’s a reminder of how far you’ve fallen from the person you once hoped to be, a stark contrast to the vibrant, ambitious individual you used to be.

"Unf fuckkk…" You let out a groan as you feel your cock stirring beneath the couch cushion, desperately hoping to sink back into some tight young cunt from your glory days. Memories flash through your increasingly mushy brain - lashing a sloppy make-out session in the school hall closet with a bubbly senior named Tiffany. Unbuttoning her skirt with a lustful grin and slipping a hand up to feel those smooth virgin panties.

Suddenly, your newfound self-hatred smashes down like a jackhammer blow. What an idiot you were! Laying claim to her back then and blowing her, sure. But you'll need a lot more than one lame piece of tail. Your fingers reach out of instinct and open the lid of your phone from where it lies scattered around on the coffee table, illuminating a stack of gaudy advertisements - "Get hard! Find hookups near you!", "Gay and In Bisexual Men: Download Now Free!" Shaking your head, you fire up Tinder and begin scrolling with uncharacteristic discretion… Swipe, swipe. Right, right. But no one was going to match with a fat slob like you.

[theoutcastrogue]

Makiri, the Ainu knife

[by Peter Dekker at Mandarin Mansion, licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License]

Description

Makiri is the Ainu word for knife. The word first appears in a 1643 Dutch handwritten journal by chief helmsman Cornelis Janszoon Coen, sailing on the ship Castricum. The term re-appears in 19th-century dictionaries and reports by ethnographers, indicating its continued unchanged use.

They typically have curved, single-edged blades with a sharp point. The edge has a single bevel, on the right side. The hilt follows the same curve as the blade.

The hilt and scabbards are made of wood, usually carved with decorative motifs. Scabbards can be made of a single piece, or two pieces and with strips of cherry bark to reinforce them. 

Use

The Ainu men used their makiri for woodcarving and for preparing food. Women carried a slightly smaller version called menoko-makiri which they used for food, and for the gathering of fruits and bark.

Ainu hunters. The one on the right carrying his makiri. 19th century painting. Anonymous. Brooklyn Museum

In the literature

Knives are the weapons on which a modern Ainu most relies. Some of these knives are of such length that they might pass for swords. The blade is single-edged, and is protected by a wooden sheath. Nearly every man possesses one, which he carries in his girdle when dressed; when naked, he carries it in his hand. 

The illustration shows knives of different sizes, and with different patterns worked on them. From an artistic point of view the sheaths of knives are the most carefully wrought over, and ornamented to a greater extent than any other article of Ainu manufacture.

— Arnold Henry Savage Landor, Alone with the Hairy Ainu, 1893

Notable examples

The Museum Volkenkunde in Leiden has two makiri that were collected by Philipp Franz Balthasar von Siebold, who must have acquired them before 1826, which makes them the earliest provenanced makiri known to me. Both were purchased by the museum in 1837. Accession numbers RV-1-4108 and RV-1-3695:

A drawing of the latter appears in Siebold's Nippon, Leiden, C.C. van der Hork. 1832:

The British Museum has an Ainu knife that was brought back by Dr. John Andersen and donated to the museum in 1885. Accession number As1885,1219.3.a-b:

Glossary of terms

English Ainu 1 - Knife blade makiri-ibe / ibehe 2 - Knife handle makiri-nip 3 - Knife sheath makiri-saya 4 - Back of knife mekkashike 5 - Edge notak 6 - Point of knife kanetuhu / etuhu

Examples

19th century, Hokkaido or Saklhalin, Japan, knife length 20.2 cm - 28.8 cm

[source] [licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License]

[rogerdeakinsdp]

so i've fallen down a rabbit hole of watching videos of foreigners travelling and/or moving to russia, and i need to rant bc even my mom is tired of me talking about, every time we're in the kitchen together she's like "have you found another one?" and i'm like "yeah 😔" ........ anyway

i'm not saying there's something inherently wrong with the people who choose to come to russia, especially after february 2022, but i'm not not saying it. i definitely don't trust them, and i assume they're right wing until proven otherwise. most of the people who come stay in moscow/st petersburg, none of them travel outside of the european part and GEEE I WONDER WHY. none of them are poor and most of them have questionable politics to begin with

there's this one american guy who tours TYPICAL/LUXURY supermarkets in russia and out of all of them he's the most popular right now. and even if he understands the concept of currency and how the exchange rate actually works, most of the commenters don't. "a liter of milk is only 80 cents" first of all, that's 950ml AT BEST, could be 800 or 750, and that's not cheap. "coffee is only 5 dollars" 450 for instant coffee is a lot. "look at these shelves in the middle of all those sanctions. does it look like the people are starving????" if you don't understand the details of sourcing produce don't draw stupid conclusions. like sure there's bread and milk and local meat because it's local, there's less variety and everything is more expensive, but there's still some stuff. you have to look at cosmetics, cleaning supplies, fruits and veggies, oils, cookies, drinks, alcohol. the first wave of sanctions that really hit the stores was in 2014 and you weren't there my guy. and even now like the pads are so expensive, and you get chinese brands that aren't as nice, and i can't get my favorite oral b dental floss anymore

there's another american guy who went to the grocery store to buy some pastry, 2 fruity drinks and 3 bottles of water. "omg just 11 dollars" 1100 is expensive!!! you can get like 25 different kinds of pasta that will last you months! "had lunch. only 30 dollars" 3k for a lunch that's just some vareniki and pirozhki?????? are you insane???? "just 30 dollars" fuck off. and the people he meets.... there was one girl from krasnoyarsk, and he asked "is that in the asian part of russia?" and she was like "that's in the middle of russia, asia is far way" GIRL WHAT THE FUCK???? you should know better. nobody thinks of western siberia when they say "the middle of russia" they mean central russia and you know it. krasnoyarsk is in the asian part of russia

there's another american guy who moved to russia to raise his family because russia is more like what the god intended, and they respect family values here and all that right wing bullshit. he sold his what looks like a $400,000 house in the states SO OF COURSE EVERYTHING IS CHEAP HERE YOU STUPID FUCKING SHIT!!!! "they have organic food here, no gmo, even the milk here isn't pasteurized" all milk in stores is pasteurized you dipshit!! "there's no racism here, they treat immigrants really well" because you're american!!!! they don't treat people from central asia, or indigenous peoples, or people from the caucasus the way they treat you!

there's a dutch guy who was surprised that russian people wash their hands when they come home and i don't know what to say????? you don't wash your hands???? gross

there's a japanese guy who also doesn't understand currency. "everything here is cheaper than in japan or finland" yeah i wonder why russia is cheaper than those first world countries, is don't even know why....... and he went to crimea in the last two years.....

there's a korean girl who mostly just vlogs about going to museums, and going to cafes and making food, and it's pretty boring, and she even acknowledged that her experience of russia is different from someone who lives here and it all depends on your economic situation, age, social status, your circumstances, and i just watch her videos looking for something inflammatory which is ?????? but there will be something 👁👁 why did you come girl???

there's another korean girl who went to the red square in a fur coat and no hat in december, which is suspicious........

there's a number of pretty unmemorable foreigners who are like "all my family told me not to come to russia, yet i'm here anyway, i'm gonna try to survive here because i like a challenge" go solve climate change if you like a challenge! knowing that living like me, better than me, with more money than me, is a challenge to someone is truly something..... GO HOME!

many of these people say "there's no restrictions on freedom on speech or freedom of expression, the media lied to us, i'm just a normal guy who wants to live my life with my family, i don't care what the government is doing" you're so stupid. you're so privileged. the commenters on these videos are full of right wingers, people are openly racists in them. it's just a cesspool of awful people.

"people are so nice and welcoming" because you are from the west!!!!!!!

JUST GO HOME!!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE????

[ghostboneswrites2]

Barriers

A long awaited request from my mutual who asked to remain anon.

Summary: Turkish polyglot!reader is on a run with Daryl and three new arrivals to find a warehouse rumored to be stocked with food. When the destination is overrun with the dead, it's up to you to communicate with those who do not speak english to get you all home alive.

Warnings: TWD typical stuff. Potential TW for those of you with religious trauma as there is a Catholic prayer.

All dialogue is translated in (red).

Turkish, Romanian, and Spanish is translated by my mutual and their friends.

Romanian is translated using Google translate, as neither of us are very fluent in romanian but we wanted to include a balkan country.

Please forgive any inaccuracies! This was a labor of love and it was much harder than I anticipated, but I'm so glad this mutual asked for this. It was fun to exercise my brain!

Characters and their languages:

Derya: Turkish Maria: Spanish (originally french with the name Marie, but we couldn't get anyone to translate the french lol) Andrei: Romanian Rolf: Dutch

        Tensions were high. The newcomers knew where a large stash of food was and Daryl was sent to help them retrieve it. The only setback was the communication barrier, which was where you came in.

        "Sunt încă la șase străzi distanță. (It's still six blocks away.)" Andrei told you.

        "Six blocks." You repeated to Daryl.

        "We won't make it that far with all them walkers." Daryl whispered, peeking through the boarded windows of the little shop you all holed up in. The herd came out of nowhere. 

        "Trebuie să cunoașteți un traseu mai sigur. (You must know a safer route.)" You pleaded with Andrei. He just shook his head. You sighed and turned to Derya. "Depoya gitmenin başka bir yolu var mı? Mücadele edemiyeceğimiz kadar fazla  kişiyiz. Burda kapana kısıldık. (Is there another way to get to the warehouse? There are too many for us to fight our way through. We're trapped.)"

        "Galiba burdan çatıya çıkmanın bir yolu var. (I think there's a way onto the roof here.)" She suggested. "Binalar karşıdan atlanabilecek kadar yakın. (The buildings are close enough that we could jump across.)"

        "Daryl, do you think we could jump roof to roof?" You asked.

        "Maybe. Buildings are pretty tight knit." He shrugged.

        "Okay, Derya, çatıya çıkan yolu biliyor musun? (do you know the way to the roof?)" You asked her. She thought for a moment.

        "Binaların arkası çitle çevrili orada bir merdiven olabilir. (Behind these buildings is all fenced off. I think there's a ladder out there.)"

        "Okay. Good thinking, Derya." You patted her shoulder and rushed over to the back exit, peering through the cracks in the wood. "She's right.." You whispered. "Daryl, this way! Andrei, Derya, Maria!" You waved them all over as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sunlight poured in as you all piled outside and rushed up the ladder. On top of the building, you could see just how far up shit's creek you all really were. The herd wasn't a herd at all -- it was a massive horde. It filled up the streets of the small town  like a sea of death and decay. 

        "Querido San Judas Tadeo.. Patrono de las causas desesperadas, escucha nuestra oración. (Dear Saint Jude Thaddeus.. Patron of desperate causes, hear our prayer..)" Maria gasped, clutching the crucifix she wore around her neck. "En tiempos de desesperación y desesperanza, guíanos a la luz del amor de Dios... (In times of despair and hopelessness, guide us to the light of God's love..)"

        Daryl looked to you questioningly. 

        "It's a prayer." You mouthed. He nodded. 

        "Y'all ready?" He asked. You nodded and ushered the other three toward the edge of one of the building that lined another. There was maybe a two foot gap between the two. It was doable. 

        "Andrei, tu primul. (you first.)" You nodded to the man, who lept courageously and landed smoothly. "Now, Maria." You looked to the girl. She was young, maybe nineteen, and clearly devoted to her faith.

        She tucked her crucifix into her shirt and took a breath, whispering the rest of her prayer as she geared up for the jump. "Ayúdanos a encontrar fortaleza en nuestras pruebas y a confiar en el plan del Señor. (Help us find strength in our trials and trust the Lord's plan..)" She took a running start and flailed her arms as she flew from one building to the next. She rolled as she landed but she was otherwise fine.

        "Derya, sıra sende. (your turn.)" You smiled to her reassuringly. Out of everyone, you'd grown the most friendly with her, as you were both Turkish. She told you about the warehouse to begin with. 

        She nodded and jumped across, smiling triumphantly back at you after she made it safely. You and Daryl crossed over next. The process continued over three more buildings, all the while Maria still prayed desperately under her breath. "Quédate a nuestro lado en nuestra hora más oscura y llévanos por un camino de esperanza. En tu pasión, intercede por nosotros y lleva nuestras súplicas a Dios. (Stand by us in our darkest hour and lead us to a hopeful path... In your passion, intercede for us and bring our pleas to God..)"

        At the end of the block, you were all drawn to a halt. The next building was at least six feet away. None of you hard faith you could jump that far. The sea of walkers was still raging below, waves of bodies crashing into buildings and obstacles as they swarmed. 

        "Qué vamos a hacer?! (What are we going to do?!)" Maria's panic was becoming more evident.

        "Sólo tenemos que pensar en un plan. (We just need to think of a plan.)" You assured her. You turned to Andrei. "Știi o cale? (Do you know a way?)"

        "Nu.. Mai avem cinci blocuri (No.. We still have five blocks.)" He said solemnly. 

        "Okay." You took a breath. "Do you have a plan?" You asked Daryl. He scanned the walkers on the ground below, his silence answering your question. 

        "şurdaki kütüphane, (That library over there,)" Derya spoke up, one finger extended to point out the building she was talking about. "Arkadaşımız rolf orada. o sadece flemenkçe konuşuyor ama daha önce bize yardım etti belki de tekrar yardım edebilir. (Our friend Rolf is there. He only speaks Dutch, but he has helped us before. He may be willing to help again.)"

        "Do you think we can make it to that library across the street?" You asked Daryl. 

        "Why?" He asked.

        "They have a friend that lives there. He might help us if he's still there."

        "He lives in a library?" Daryl tilted his head. You shrugged.

        "That's what she said."

        "Mm... Maybe." He nodded. "We need to distract 'em, though." 

        "How?" 

        "Dunno.." He looked around. "Ya still got that toy ya picked up for Judith?"

        A lightbulb went off. Of course! The loud toy! You dug in your bag and quickly found it. You turned it on and pressed a button, a loud song ringing through the speaker. You handed to him and he threw it as far from the library as he could. To your pleasure, the toy didn't break on impact. The mindless corpses below slowly turned their attention to the sound, the tune of Old McDonald drawing them in. When enough of them were distracted, the five of you crept down the side of the building and hurried over to the library.

        "Rolf!" Derya hissed, lightly tapping at the glass. 

        " Rolf we hebben hulp nodig! (Rolf, we need help!)" You added quickly. Moments later the doors swing open and you piled inside, Rolf shutting and barricading the door behind you.

        "Wat doe jij hier?! Zie je niet hoeveel van hen er zijn? (What are you doing here?! You don't see how many of them are out there?)" Rolf scolded. You could tell he preferred his solitude.

        "We hebben hulp nodig om naar het magazijn te gaan. Dat is 5 blokken verderop. (We need help getting to the warehouse. It's five blocks away)" You panted, out of breath.

        "Het magazijn? (The warehouse?)" He scoffed. "Jullie zijn gek! (You people are insane!)"

        "Nee, maar we zijn wanhopig. (No, but we are desperate.)" You pleaded.

        "Je komt vast naar mij denkende dat ik weet hoe ik jullie door al deze dingen heen kan krijgen? (You must be to be coming to me thinking I know how to get you through all those things!)" He waved his hands around.

        "Ona kamyonetini sor (Ask him about his truck.)" Derya urged.

        "Wat dacht je van de truck? (What about your truck?)" You asked Rolf. He glared at you.

        "Nee. Absoluut niet! Enkel voor noodgevallen. (No. Absolutely not! Emergencies only.)" He declined.

        "Dit is een noodgeval. (This is an emergency.)"

        "Oh, oké laat me het verduidelijken. Enkel mijn noodgevallen. (Oh, okay, allow me to clarify. My emergencies only.)" He crossed his arms.

        "Is dit niet jouw noodgeval? (This isn't your emergency?)" You raised your eyebrows, motioning your hand to the door. "De hele stad is overspoeld met hen. Je zal het hier niet lang volhouden. (The entire town is flooded with them. You wont last here long.)"

        "Ik red me prima in mijn eentje, dankje. (I do just fine on my own, thank you.)" He insisted.

        "Oh? Ik zie nochtans geen eten of water hier. Hoe lang kan je zonder? Want die dingen gaan daarbuiten zijn voor dagen, misschien zelfs weken voordat iets anders ze weg lokt. (Oh? I don't see any food or water here. How long can you go without? Because those things will be out there for days, or maybe even weeks before something else draws them away.)" You pushed. He thought for a moment.

        "Oké goed. I breng jullie naar het magazijn en dan zijn jullie op jullie zelf. (Okay, fine. I take you to the warehouse and then you're on your own.)"

        A collective sigh of release aired out into the room as he rushed to find his keys. You all followed him to the back exit. He glanced back at the group. You and Daryl nodded at each other and stepped ahead of the others.

        "Jij opend de deur, en wij zullen je beschermen. Sluit de deur achter je. Wanneer je de teuck start, zullen wij de deur voor alle andere en beschermen ze. Vertrek niet tot iedereen in het voertuig zit. Begrepen? (You open the door, and we will cover you. Shut the door behind you. When you get the truck started, we'll open the door for everyone else and cover them. Don't leave until everyone's in the vehicle. Got it?)" You instructed. He nodded, reluctantly.

        You quickly relayed the plan to Daryl and everyone else in their respective languages, then counted down. "Drie… twee… een! (Three... Two.. One!)"

        On your word, Rolf threw the door open as planned, and you and Daryl rushed out, stabbing and beating down walkers left and right. You heard the door slam shut. You peeked behind your to see a nervous Rolf looking overstimulated and overwhelmed at the chaos around him. "Komaan! We hebben je gedekt! (Come on! We have you covered!)" You urged him.

        He stepped between you and Daryl as you strategically kept him safe. Once he was to the truck, he shut himself inside and you and Daryl bade way back to the back exit. The engine revved and sputtered a few times before the truck was up and running, but it didn't take too long. At the sound of the fully started vehicle, you threw the door open and the rest of your crew worked their way through the walkers. Maria, a particularly nonviolent young woman who made herself more useful as the sneaky one, cowered in the center as you all surrounded her and defended yourselves from the threat of the undead. Once everyone had piled inside, you and Daryl jumped in last. Rolf wasted no time putting the pedal to the metal, so to speak, and before long he was pulling up in front of the warehouse.

        "Okay." You sighed. "Worst part's over, right?" 

        "Ik zal op je wachten. Wees snel. (I'll wait for you. Be fast.)" Rolf announced. You tilted your head. "Mijn bibliotheek is omsingeld. Er is niet voor mij om naar terug te keren, als ik zelfs leven binnen geraak. (My library is surrounded. There is nothing for me to go back to, if I could even make it inside alive.)" He elaborated. "Ik help jou een thuis te krijgen, jij geeft mij een thuis. (I help you get home, you give me a home.)" 

        "Okay." You nodded. "Wij kunnen dit. Laat ons gewoon niet achter. (We can do that. Just don't leave us.)" You placed a hand on his shoulder and thanked him with your eyes.

        "Alright, we need to get in there, grab as much food as we can, and get the hell on somewhere before it gets any worse. 's a damn miracle we made it this far." Daryl said. 

        "Okay. María, eres rápida. Si vienes con nosotros, te cubrimos. (Maria, you're fast. You come with us, we'll cover you.) Andrei, vino și tu. Știi ce căutăm. (Andrei, you come too. You know what we're looking for.)" You turned to them. They nodded nervously. "We get in, grab as much as we can, and get out." You continued, once in spanish and once in romanian. 

----

        Back at Alexandria, people were surprised to meet a new member of the community, but mostly just grateful everyone made it back alive and in one piece. The food was just a bonus at that point. You had all been gone way longer than planned.

        After introducing Rolf to everyone and making sure those who didn't speak english had everything they needed for the evening, you and Daryl finally retired to your shared home. Relief and gratitude set the mood, but after you had both showered and found something comfortable to wear, you couldn't help but to pick up on a subtle sense of disappointment written all over his face.

        "We did good." You assured him as you plopped beside him on the sofa. "The food we brought will feed everyone for a week, and we can probably go back in a few days and that herd will have moved on." 

        "Ain't that." He shrugged.

        "Then what?" You asked, brushing his stringy damp hair out of his eyes.

        "'s just..." He chewed at his lip. "Just felt so clueless out there, ya know? Useless. If you hadn't been there, all them people woulda died 'cause I wouldn't know how to talk to 'em." 

        "Well, I was there." You assured. "And they wouldn't have died anyways because you're a badass."

        He huffed a dry laugh. "I dunno. Just wish I had more skills than huntin' and trackin'." He admitted.

        "What?" You scoffed. "You've taught me more survival skills since we met than anyone has taught me in my entire life. You did teach me tracking and trapping, but you also taught me how to be quiet, sneaky, and observant of my surroundings. You taught me how to read people, and how to kill them effectively if needed. You are so much more than a hunter or a tracker." You rambled. His eyes scanned over your features as you went on, silently admiring how you always managed to find yourself on a tangent, no matter the subject.

        "Mm." He grunted. " Still wish I could just... talk to everyone, ya know?"

        "Then I'll teach you." You offered. "Starting tomorrow, with the language of my people. Turkish." You grinned. “Lesson one: Seni seviyorum sen benim kahramanımsın.”

        "Wha's that mean?" He pushed his eyebrows together in confusion.

        "It means I love you, you're my hero."

Join the Taglist || Masterlist

Tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

[micheltaanman-blog]

Amsterdam cycle route along typical Dutch food and drinks

[verdemoun]

I think about your timewarp Dutch au every day since you posted it can I pretty please get more detail on Hosea seeing Dutch again for the first time *holding my hands out like a Victorian boy begging for food*

hosea tries to ignore it for so long. dutch is back and that doesn't need to affect him. he can carry on with his life knowing dutch is tucked away somewhere they did ensure was nice and he'll be fine. dutch being back doesn't mean they didn't go seperate ways years ago, and should have years before that again. hell, he spends most of his days thinking about how little he needs to be thinking about dutch

bessie only asking how dutch is going because she knows her husband is listening. she knows him too well, she's always known he loves dutch and almost has to inexplicitly tell him it's okay. she fell in love with him knowing he was always going to love dutch too (frankly all they'd needed was a label on what was happening between them and she would've been undeniably a homewrecker)

annabelle having to pause, and think about it. how do you explain he's dutch? he's just… dutch - again. he speaks with the same obnoxious conviction of someone who always thinks he's right. he's almost calm, constant calm, that self-assuredness that things will turn out his way is back. not quick to anger like the stories she'd heard after blackwater. she's fully aware of all the awful things he's done but he seems so much more like the dutch she knew than that monster. no one's explained the timewarp to him, he just knows annabelle is there in whatever strange new world he's in but he still talks about the gang, the old days of the gang, fondly.

hosea knew he was going to have to see him eventually. probably wouldn't have been able to physically stop himself from seeing him, eventually.

it isn't a hotel he can't just walk in. he's having to listen to staff echo things he knew. things he'd doubted he knew. dutch is smart, so many of his criticisms of society are valid just too grand for a single action to challenge. there are absolutely moments where he's only pretending to care about something better than a shakespearean actor but he also has so much genuine empathy for the people he does cares about. dutch is forming meaningful relationships with people and hosea still being in denial. there's no way not after how much he changed not after everything he's done.

but there's dutch. hair growing out again, not the hacked short mess of his 1911 mugshot, long streaks of silver slicked back all the same in what now seems like a horrendously outdated style. when he sees hosea, looks at him, that sparkle is still in his eyes but it's tired. he's tired, it's all over dutch's face how tiresome the last 12 years have been. but dutch knows it's him, instantaneously, grin spreading over his face with the same confident strides of his younger years gone.

pulls him into a hug so tight still with typical bloke slaps on the back as he laughs in sheer joy

you haven't changed a bit, old girl

how dreadful of you to suggest i've always looked like this

nonsense. though i suspect my days of looking good are long over, too

hug doesn't release. hosea hears the single, shaky breath in his ear and knows all those arguments he's imagined screaming at dutch for what happened back in canon aren't going to happen. at least not today, not when he's finally just getting to hug dutch again and hear the almost broken tone in his voice as he says 'i missed you, hosea.'

it's almost frustrating how quickly they can fall back into that comfort with one another, old men older than they ever got to be bickering like a married couple. offering to go for a drive just to get out for a bit and dutch making some tasteless joke about it not ending so well last time he was in a car. least not for the driver. hosea trying so hard not to laugh because you really shouldn't joke about murdering people for christ's sake but dutch knows damn well he was going to.

catching dutch up on how the gang are doing because dutch always did care about them, he just lost himself somewhere and hearing dutch acknowledge that he went too far. hosea knowing that so much of the gang are still holding onto and processing that grief, and might not ever be ready or willing to see him. dutch accepting that too, acknowledging aloud how grateful he is hosea even gave him a chance.

still getting annoyed at him in that almost endearing way. he has always gotten annoyed with dutch sometimes. the correct response to young jack marston grew up to kill edgar ross was not 'good for him!'

[coffeebrownn]

i might recompile my winterfield headcanons that i've written in twitter but here's a new one (food edition(??)):

ethan is pescatarian, before re7 he eats chicken but never other types of meat, chris manages to reintroduce him to eat chicken again for his military training but ethan became sick.

because of ethan's new diet, ethan went in and tried different types of fish for variety, but at the end he sticks to his favorite week night fish meat is the typical salmon or tilapia, for him grouper fish is the best for soup meals

ethan does't eat raw sashimi or any raw meat due to re7 incident.

ethan doesn't like shellfish too much due to the texture, some are okay like abalone.

chris prefer seasoning that punch your taste buds, something very strong like Garam Masala, Cajun, Shacha sauce (Chinese BBQ), while ethan preferences is pretty mild, so around the circle of Herbes de Provence.

i'm not saying that ethan can't handle the spices or the heat, he just prefer simpler taste and the natural taste of the main ingredient (salmon, etc).

acidity for food, like lemon and vinegar are exceptions, ethan describes it "brings the whole dish back alive!"

from my previous headcanon, i've mentioned how chris is very big into safety (guns, cars, etc), this includes him being cautious with picking meat suppliers and checking labels on where they got their meat from ((again, it's because of the RPD incident, even though he is not there to experience it singlehandedly, he saw his close ones living in that situation, same thing with his parents dying due to a car incident)) it's more so long term over short term, sure he'll try an exotic meat like squirrel/snake from a trusted restaurant/supplier but he's not going to eat that meat everyday

chris' priority isn't about enviromental sustainability (sadly), really just for health wise for him and his close ones (IF they ask, ethan and rebecca agreed, claire doesn't care, jill and leon is indifferent with these sets of informations)

as for chris, he eats whatever meat, he prefers lean meat due to his training, so chicken is very important for him. other meat such as beef and pork is more so a treat for chris. he WILL try exotic meat.

but again, I think both are okay eating the same meal over and over again, and genuinely not picky, Chris doesn't pay too much attention if the meal that he'd ate is the same with the previous meal, he only cares of it's healthy or not (claire and him grew up eating leftovers after leftovers, claire sometimes complained about it). Ethan has a different reason, i think of him to have phases cater around his interest and that phases last in 6-8 month or so.

most of the main dish were picked by ethan, most of the time it's made using dutch oven, so something along the lines of cassrole or stews were often dinner meals for them. with a side of light salad or carbs like stale bread.

Chris isn't the "health police", he's really just a very cautious man. OHH the irony since he smokes the most in the group.

He still sneaks in some chocolate and sweet treats too.. ethan finds it adorable to see that chris is a sweet tooth like him 😭 soemtimes ethan will ask chris if they can get ice cream and you can see the man struggling to say no 🥺

chris sometimes substitue his cigarette with licorice lozenges. he doesn't like patches, but he will take one if he's in a very long flight.

chris HAS to sleep in plane flights, if not he'll grew restless due to him not smoking. he'll wake up to eat or take a piss and that's it.

[pinkboxess]

very long essay about ted lasso (the show) jesus fuck

sometimes I think Ted Lasso wanted really badly to subvert expectations and tell a "different type of story" and in many ways it worked fantastically and we got a truly incredible story, but other times it fell flat, because instead of the unexpected feeling refreshing, it just felt flabbergasting.

One of my absolute favourite things about the series is the way it handles forgiveness. The scene when Rebecca confesses to Ted about her scheme, Ted responds in a way that is just not what you would think would happen on any other television show. Typically in a situation like that there would be drama with Ted being angry and hurt and the writers would create a whole plot point about whether they can come back together again. But in Ted Lasso, Ted forgives her immediately, and we get this stunning representation of what it can look like to show someone grace. This surprised me, but it landed as a good surprise. It made me really happy and teary-eyed to see the scene progress the way it did.

But then there are the bits that fall flat because they feel entirely out of left field in a bad way. I'm thinking of Rebecca's Dutch Boat Man encounter-- which, for any real woman who has been alive a day on planet earth, would be utterly terrifying instead of romantic. She's literally with a stranger in his home with no phone or way of contacting anyone and she's dependent on him for dry clothes and food and things, and then he gets her drunk. The show wanted us to interpret that scene as a romcom moment, but I was just really confused the whole time, especially with the "did we..." "no" "but we did" line at the end. I knew that something like a random off-screen sexual assault didn't fit in with the tone of the show, but that's the first thing my brain thought of when he said that line, so it was just confusing to be like "no but that would be so insane to throw in like that and I don't think this show would do that based on what I know about it from prior episodes." I did eventually conclude that that is not what they meant to imply, but it's just an example of how off-kilter the whole thing made me feel.

Dutch Man just feels so random and last-minute. The storyline is incredibly underdeveloped for the person they want to be Rebecca's endgame. Rebecca deserved to end up with someone she knows and trusts and has had more than one interaction with, even if that person isn't Ted. Parachuting in a random guy just to serve a narrative purpose didn't do it for me.

And then, of course, Ted leaving. The scene in the bleachers is so devastating. It's out of character for the version of Ted who has gone through the events of season 2. And I feel pretty confident that the reason the writers did it that way is because they were so committed to wanting Ted Lasso to be a show where the couple doesn't get together and it's not as neat as that. And I do see and understand the reasoning behind that thinking-- it's always good to try to push the needle and make a different kind of art. It's always good to show the messy sides of humanity.

For me, it just landed awfully, because the show provided so much overwhelming textual evidence previously that they are deeply connected soulmates. For Ted to so cruelly dismiss Rebecca, to emotionally stonewall her like that-- it just hurt to see. It felt like it ignored everything that had previously been written about the two of them. And if the message of the show is that Ted has worked through his emotional problems, it sure didn't seem like that in 3x12. The stonewalling and guilt about his role as a father is exactly what season 1 Ted was like. If the writers wanted to show us a transformed Ted in 3x12, they didn't.

The ending of the show didn't make me think "wow that was complex and deep and that's what human life is like sometimes." It just made me think "what the fuck was everything that happened previously even there for if we are throwing it out the window in a contrived and unnatural way now."

Disclaimer that I love Ted Lasso. I'm criticizing something that I love with about 95% of my being, but there's just that other 5% that really dislikes some of the choices the writers made. Good thing we have fanfiction to fill in the gaps and end the story in more satisfying ways.

[moonlight1237]

RUNES HISTORY AND FACTS

There are many types of rune systems, including Younger Futhark, Anglo-Frisian Futhorc, Medieval runes, and Elder Futhark, which are the ones I’ll be talking about.

The Younger Futhark (long twig) has 16 runes and is typically used in translation with Old Norse. It was used in Scandinavia during the Viking Age, from 800 A.D to 1200 A.D.

Then you have Anglo-Frisian (Frisian being Dutch), which had around 30 runes and was used in Britain. It’s also known as Anglo-Frisian Futhorc.

The latest and closest to us is the Medieval Runes, which fall back into a 24 system (like Elder Futhark) with the Roman/Latin alphabet, which is also used in translation to Old Norse.

Finally, the Rune system we’re talking about is the Elder Futhark used in a 24-rune system and is used to translate proto-European languages (proto-Germanic, high Italic, proto-English, etc, NOT Old Norse!) None of the names of the Elder Futhark have truly been written down; they have come from reconstruction and guesswork from scholars. The names have come from Old English/Gothic sources and the Rune poems that feature names and pieces associated with names.

Norse=Runa English=Rune both meaning “a secret” or “mystery”

Old Norse=Rún Old Irish=Rún Middle Welsh=Rhin “to whisper” “secret” or “mystery”

Scots=Roun “To whisper” or “speak often about one thing”. It’s also associated with the Rowan tree in Scots, which is a very well-known magical tree in many folklores (also known as the “rune tree” or “the whisper tree”).

It was believed the Elder Futhark came from the Rome/Latin alphabet and had ancient Greek relations—due to the closeness of the Germanic tribes there and the mingling of Elder Futhark and High Italic.

The runes were not traditionally used as magical symbols. they were used in divination but were not considered magical themselves until later centuries, far after the Viking Age when they became popular as magical symbols. The furthest back they were found to be used was theorized to be Germania, as typically (but not always) female diviners would “cast lots” which were believed to later influence the Norse people to cast the runes. It was widespread for Norse kings, warlords, and explorers of this time to have a rune caster or diviner with them wherever they traveled. Diviners and Rune Casters at this time were well respected and always welcomed into people's homes.

Then in the myths, we find where Odin discovers the runes and shares them with the other gods. Later the gods share them with humanity. The god Odin stabbed himself with his spear, Gungnir, and hung himself from Yggdrasil for 9 days and nights without food or water sacrificing himself for the runes till they appeared to him in the Well Of Urd. This myth differs depending on the source you found it on. Then in the Havamal 80’ page, 31 of Jackson Crawford's translation of the Poetic Edda (elder edda), it states, “What you ask the runes will prove true; they are gifts of the Aesir, made by the gods and painted by Odin. You’ll learn best with your mouth shut.”

Freyr’s Aett

Fehu Uruz Thurisaz Ansuz Raidho Kenuz Gebo Wunjo

Hagal’s Aett

Halagaz Nauthiz Isa Jera Eihwaz Perthro Algiz Sowulo

Tyr’s Aett

Tiwaz Berkana Ehwaz Mannaz Lagaz Ingwaz Dagaz Othala

24 runes in total for the Elder Futhark

Freyr’s Aett

Everything for your basic human existence, talking with the divine, human social life, and the earth and its bounty, and how to live our lives happily or at least contently.

Hagal’s Aett

shows us how to navigate the difficult parts of life when things take a rough turn and you don’t know what to do. This Aett shows us how to move forward in life and cause change and unexpected luck for ourselves.

Tyr’s Aett

This Aett shows us how to connect with life around us like. We learn to connect with and communicate with Humanity, deities, and nature around us, as well as how to connect our physical worlds to the unseen spiritual worlds we work in.

Getting into the runes themselves and the meanings and associations

Fehu

Letter-F

God/Goddess-Freyja, Freyr

Meaning-Wealth or cattle

Association-Wealth, Livestock/cattle, prosperity, abundance, fulfillment, stability, success, new beginnings, things earned and won, reward, good health, unexpected good luck

Runic poems- Old English, “Wealth provides comfort, but you must share it who hopes to cast lots for judgment before the gods.”

Norwegian, “Money causes strife among kin; the wolf grows up in the woods.” Icelandic, “Money causes strife among kin, and the fire of the flood tide and the path of the serpent.”

Uruz

Letter-U

god/goddess-Ullr, Audhumla (the creation cow), Thor

Meaning-Ox or bull sometimes bison

Association- challenges, endurance, courage, strength, untamed potential, good health, good luck, moving forward after being stuck in stagnation, sudden breakthroughs, overcoming challenges, trials, power, creative forces

Rune poems- Old Norse, “The wild ox has great high horns with which it gores; a fierce fighter who boldly stamps the moors.”

Norwegian, “Slag is cast from bad iron; reindeer cross the hard snow.”

Icelandic, “Drizzle is the weeping of clouds, and blights the harvest and is hated by the herdsmen.”

Thurisaz

Letter-Th

god/goddess-Thor

Meaning-Giant or Thorn

Association-Strength, breaking down barriers, Thor's hammer, defense, reaction, temptations, resisting temptations, disruption, passion, protection, conflict, power

Rune poems- Old Norse, “Thorn is wickedly sharp and causes pain to those who grasp it, hurt to you who rest among them.”

Norwegian, “Giant causes the sickness of women; bad luck pleases nobody.”

Icelandic, “Giant is the torment of women, and the dweller of rocky vales and husband of Varthrun the giantess.”

Ansuz

Letter-A

God/goddess-The aesir, Odin

Meaning-Aesir, the ancestor god

Association-communication with the gods, wisdom, divine power, knowledge, creativity, understanding, passing tests, understanding, communication

Rune Poems- Old Norse, “Mouth is the source of the word, bringing wisdom and counsel to the wise, hope, inspiration, and a blessing to all.”

Norwegian, “Rivermouth opens most journeys; but the sword belongs in it’s sheath.” Icelandic, “Odin is the ancient creator, and Asgards king and lord of Valhalla.”

Raidho

Letter-R

God/goddess-Sol

Meaning-Wagon or chariot

Association-Rythme, journey, travel, personal development, change, evolution, decisions, taking the opportunity, movement

Rune poems- Old Norse, “Riding is easy for heroes inside a hall; it’s much harder astride a strong horse pounding against the great mile.”

Norwegian, “Riding is said to be the worst for horses; reginn forged the best sword.”

Icelandic, “Riding is a sweet sitting and a swift journey and the toil of the horse.”

Kenaz

Letter-K and C

God/goddess-Loki

Meaning- the torch

Association-Knowledge, Light, warm, illumination, visions, enlightenment, intuition, learning, Improvement, creativity, Inner voices, Breakthroughs

Rune poems-Old Norse, “The torch we know by its flame, which brings illumination, and light wherever noble souls encourage.”

Norwegian, “Ulcer is the curse of children; grief turns us pale.”

Icelandic, “Ulcer is the bane of children and a grievous blight and the house of rotting flesh."

Gebo

Letter-G

God/goddess-Odin

Meaning-gift

Association-Love, partnership, giving and receiving gifts, generosity, sacrifice, balance, joy in relationships, talents, abilities

Rune Poem-Old English, “A gift returns to adorn the giver with greatness and honor; it helps and heartens those who have nothing.”

Wunjo

Letter-W

god/goddess-Baldr

Meaning-Joy

Association-happiness, light, perfection, comfort, harmony, recognition of worth, reward, success, good health, prosperity, flourishing, bliss

Rune poem-Old English, “Joy comes to you who know no sorrow, blessed with grain and plenty, content in a strong community.”

Halagaz

Letter-H

God/Goddess-Hel

Meaning-Hail

Association-interference, disruption, corrections, changes for long-term good, change, being tested, nature, overcoming obstacles, wrath, chaos, misfortune, transformation

Rune poem-Old English, “Hail, whitest of grains, whirls down from heaven, is tossed by the wind, and turns water.”

Norwegian, “Hail is the coldest of grains; All-Father shaped the world in ancient times.”

Icelandic, “Hail is cold grain and a shower of sleet, and the bane of snakes.”

Nauthiz

Letter-N

gods/goddess-Skuld

Meaning-Need

Association-resistance, demand, desire, personal development, constraint, willpower, endurance, self-reliance, patience, necessity, kindling passion, recognizing your needs

Rune poems-Old English, “Need constricts the heart but can bring help and healing if heeded in time.”

Norwegian, “Need leaves one little choice; the naked freeze in the frost.”

Icelandic, “Need is the bondmaid’s grief, and a hard condition to suffer, and toilsome work.”

Isa

Letter-I

God/Goddess-Skadi

Meaning-Ice

Association-cold, lack of change, stagnation, challenge, self-control, harsh reality, concentrated self, clarity, watching and waiting, delay, obstacles, danger

Rune poems-Old English, “Ice is cold and slippery; jewel-like and glistening, fair to behold, the frozen field.”

Norwegian, “Ice we call the board bridge; the blind need to be led across.”

Icelandic, “Ice is the rind of the river and roof of the waves, and a mortal danger.”

Jera

Letter-J

God/goddess-Freyr, Idunn

Meaning-Year, Harvest

Association-cycles, harvest, efforts rewarded, plenty, good spirits, change, completion, fertility, growth

Rune poems-Old English, “Harvesttime brings joy when the goddess Earth gifts us with her bright fruits.”

Norwegian, “Harvesttime brings bounty; I say that Frothi is generous.”

Icelandic, “Harevsttime brings profit, and a high summer and a ripened field.”

Eihwaz

Letter-Ei, Y

God/goddess-Ullr, sometimes Skadi

Meaning-Yew tree

Association- strength, endurance, protection, movement, balance, death and life, Yggdrasil, change, magic, rebirth, friendships

Rune poems-Old English, “Yew has rough bark without but holds the flame within; deeply rooted, it graces the land.”

Norwegian, “Yew is winter’s greenest wood; it splutters when it burns.”

Icelandic, “Yew is a taut bow, and brittle iron and the arrow of Farbauti.”

Perthro

Letter-P

God/Goddess-The Norns, Frigga

Meaning-Lot cup/casting cup

Association-fate, gambles, hidden things, unknown outcomes, chance, destiny, pregnancy/birth, luck, common sense, revelation,

Rune poems-Old English, “Gaming means to play and laughter among the high-spirited who sit merry together in the mead hall.”

Algiz (Elhaz)

Letter-Z

God/goddess-All the Aesir, Heimdall

Meaning-Elk, the white elk

Association-Protection, awakening, teachings of the divine, ward off evil, defense, guardianship, opportunity to grow, fulfilling dreams, employment, shelter

Rune poems-Old English, “Elk sedge grows in the fen, waxing in the water, grimly wounding; it burns the blood of those who would lay hands upon it.”

Sowilo

Letter-S

God/Goddess-Sol, Baldr

Meaning-The Sun

Association-motivation, action, the sun, guidance, health, victory, cleansing, life purpose, enlightenment, spiritual will, goals, light, energy, self-confidence

Rune poems-Old English, “The sun guides seafarers who ferry across the fish’s bath until the seahorse brings them to land.”

Norwegian, “Sun is the light of the world; I bow to its holiness.”

Icelandic, “Sun is the sky shield, and a shining radiance, and the nemesis of ice.”

Tiwaz

Letter-T

God/Goddess-Tyr

Meaning-The god Tyr

Association-Courage, victory, peacekeeping, faith, loyalty, leadership, logic, sound judgment, compassion, honor, passion, masculine energy, truth revealed

Rune poems-Old English, “Tiw is a sign that spells confidence to the noble; unfailing, it holds true though the night clouds.”

Norwegian, “Tyr is the one-handed of the aesir; often has the smith to blow.” Icelandic, “Tyr is the one-handed god, and the leavings of the wolf and ruler of the temple.”

Berkano

Letter-B

God/Goddess-Nerthus, Freyja, Frau Holle

Meaning-birch tree

Association-New life, life changes, growth, healing, new beginnings, femininity, birth, regeneration, renewal

Rune poem- Old English, “The birch thought fruitless sends out countless shoots; leafy branches, high crowned, reach to the sky.”

Norwegian, “Birch has the greenest-leafed branches; Loki brought the luck of deceit,”

Icelandic, “Birch is a leafy limb and a little tree and a youthful wood.”

Ehwaz

Letter- E

God/Goddess-Freyja, Gullveig, sleipnir, loki

Meaning-horses

Association-momentum, trust, harmony, change, healthy relationships, progress, transportation, loyalty

Rune poem- Old English, “The horse brings Joy; proud on its hooves, by heroes praised, it is a solace to the restless.”

Mannaz

Letter-M

God/Goddess-Odin, Thor, Heimdall

Meaning-Mankind

Association-Humanity, soul, divine influence, social order, society, friendship, teamwork, self, family, support

Rune poems-Old English, “We are each other’s mirth yet must one day take leave, for the gods will allot our frail bodies to the earth.”

Norwegian, “Man is the waxing of dust; mighty is the hawk’s talon span”

Icelandic, “Man is the joy of man and the increase of dust and the adorner of ships.”

Lagaz

Letter-L

God/Goddess-Loki, Freyja, Hel

Meaning-Water, Lake

Association- Emotion, cleansing, intuition, dreams, flow, guidance, love, memory, feminine, physic abilities, renewal

Rune poems-Old English, “Water to land folk seems never-ending when they set sail on a heaving ship; the huge waves overwhelm them and the seahorse won’t head the bridle.”

Norwegian, “Waterfalls free from the mountain; gold trinkets are so highly prized.” Icelandic. “Water wells from the spring and the great geyser and the land of fish.”

Inguz (Ingwaz)

Letter-Ng

God/Goddess-Freyr, Ing

Meaning-The ancient god

Association-love, peace, internal growth, harmony, approval, agreement, completion, Masculinity, time of rest, goals, common sense, home, channeling force

Rune poem-Old English, “Ing, first seen by the East Danes, later rode his wagon away eastward over the waves; thus was the great god named.”

Dagaz

Letter-D

God/Goddess-Dagr, Baldr, Sol

Meaning-Day, dawn

Association-Dawn, daylight, change of direction, prosperity, clarity, awakening, breakthrough, hope, completion, balance, transformation

Rune poems-Old English, “Day is the gods’ messenger; the light of the gods grants ecstasy, good hope, and a boom to all.”

Othala

Letter-O

God/Goddess-Odin, Hel

Meaning-Home, Ancestors

Association-Family, inheritance, Home, Knowledge from the past, heritage, experience, value, group prosperity, positive mental state, good health, good financials

Rune poem-Old English, “Home is loved by all who prosper there in peace and enjoy a frequent harvest.”

Bind runes

Bind runes are 2 or more runes combined to make one bigger Bindrune. Used historically as a way to shorten up writing or just as a fun way to write, we now use them as stronger versions of runes, or as a way to have many runes together without having to write them all out.

Famous ones, Vegvisir and Aegishjalmaur (Helm of Awe) aren’t runes or bind runes, but instead Sigils that came around centuries after the Viking Age, and were found to be from the 1800s. Vegvisir is a path finder, not a compass. The Helm of Awe is used as a warding symbol but historically wasn’t actually used for anything as far as our sources note.

Resources

https://oreamnosoddities.com/blogs/news/how-to-make-a-bindrune-Bindrune explaining

https://oreamnosoddities.com/blogs/news/rune-meanings-the-elder-futhark-elder futhark source

http://www.shieldmaidenssanctum.com/blog/2019/3/12/the-elder-futhark-runes-and-their-meanings- elder futhark sources

https://youtu.be/nK51UmwJxRU-bindrune source from witches view with a little misinfo on Helm of Awe and Vegvisir

https://youtu.be/wG9d95vJibk-Bindrune source from Jackson Crawford

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLATNGYBQ-TjrPCf9YGy0qzqca1ypcGs50-Jackson Crawfords videos on runes through historical source

https://youtu.be/IROvre0w6hc-Vegvisir info

https://youtu.be/kW9KbtjyHN4-intro to runes

https://youtu.be/Gjmxu7z04kk-explaining the connection between the runic writing and languages

“Runes For Beginners” Lisa Chamberlain

“A Little Bit Of Runes” Cassandra Eason

“Nordic Runes” Paul Rhys Mountfort

“The Poetic Edda” Translated by Jackson Crawford

“Tales Of Norse Mythology” Helen A. Guerber

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1F5INHBpAeUZ8Ux632760FbNQ0SUHDUGX/view?usp=drivesdk-Reading Past Runes book

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1p5L1BFpUFRte-BVq7XgBdXLjAqqZKKkI/view?usp=drivesdk-Nine Doors Of Midgard book

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1EGtRedzunDGtUYkAbtdDrOQS0ppBBH9t/view?usp=drivesdk-The Big Book Of Runes book

[theangriestboyintown-ua]

Name: Misha Bachynskyi

Gender: Cis male

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 18

Sexuality: Polyamorous bisexual

Appearance: He is tall and somewhat athletic, with curly brown hair, slightly shorter than shoulder-length. His eyes are deep brown with thick eyelashes. He often wears a backwards red cap and basic school uniform, featuring a white shirt (which he often doesn’t fully button up) with a red vest (which he often disregards). His skin is tan from growing up near the sea, but since it has gone slightly paler from spending too much time indoors in a basement. He also wears grey pants and black dress shoes, but much prefers casual shorts and whatever awful choice of footwear he can afford.

Personality: He is often rude and outspoken. He has a heavy Slavic accent, likes to drink and in general fits the descriptionof a “typical man from Eastern Europe”, though he hides a very vulnerable soul behind his persona. His anger was not a default setting, but something he developed after coming to Uranium. He is actually open-minded and very affectionate to those who he cares about. His love language is words of affirmation, physical touch and basically everything he can provide. Another love language of his is Ukrainian. He also speaks Russian, English and a little bit of Dutch. He is a mama’s boy. He misses his mother, homeland and Talia a lot. He also can cook well and is street smart.

Backstory: Misha was conceived in a little town outside Odesa in Ukraine by a factory worker named Tamara. His mother, after being part of the clean up crew in Chornobyl, was dying of prolonged exposure to uranium. Wanting her son to be safe, she decided to put him up for adoption — forging his birth certificate, she claimed he was two years old, and was recently potty trained. When Misha came to Canada, his adoptive parents were surprised to see their toddler had five o’clock shadow, and a slight trace of alcohol on his breath. They put him in the basement, and his adoptive mother would prepare food and leave it for him on the top of the stairs. On the rare occasion he would run into his new parents— the mother would weep, and the father would shoo him away like a horsefly. So began an inexhaustible rage. He turned to the last bastion of pure strength and masculinity in society: self-aggrandizing commercialized hip-hop. This is how Misha became the angriest boy in town.

The angriest boy in town

@lore-gore