#picked off and that there are absolutely Not enough people to manage how severe the situation is

[arolesbianism]

I have such a love hate relationship with Ellie. On the one hand I have my petty grudge against her, but on the other hand shes so sillyyyyy being Jackie's lil lackey did her so many favors in my mind she's not only a lil shit but also a lil teachers pet I love her

[wizard-email]

I don't want to add god's longest addition to the would you survive an apocalypse?' poll, but I do actually have an absolutely fallproof plan for the zombie apocalypse. It doesn’t matter what kind of zombies there are & it has exactly (2) steps:

1. Drive to the nearest National Trust proparty

2. win

This is the result of a very lengthy (and completely serious) discussion with my sister so let me break it down for you.

Benefit 1: EVERYTHING'S THERE

For those of you who don't live in the UK (or don't have parents with exactly 1 idea for a family trip ever), all National Trust proparties are broadly speaking exactly the same.

There's a big rich person's house & the courtyard is always converted into a little picnic area containing a combination gift shop/booking desk; a cafe and a secondhand bookshop. The gift shop has like a 60% chances to contain basic gardening tools and a little section for seeds & bulbs.

I won't list their standardised cafe menu (that I do in fact have memorised), but it's pretty good & more importantly most of it is made or at least finished on site. If they rationed, a small group could live off National Trust cornish pasties, scones & gift shop fudge for a month or two I think <3

Here's a list of things that are might be there but aren't 100% guaranteed:

- Kitchen garden

- Fish pond

- Livestock (usually chickens, sometimes pigs or bees)

- Medieval armour (fuck ya'll with guns but I would take a pike over having to worry about ammunition any day)

- Horses and functioning stable

- Forests cultivated for the purpose of deer hunting

John McRichman's gun/archery collection

- Lake

Benefit 2: FUCKING!! CASTLE!!

??? Where do I start???

1. These things are so easy to defend it's laughable.

I'm sure we all know about spiral staircases being designed to maximise cover for a right handed person during sieges but it's more than that ??? 18th century rich people loved to make their estates look as big, impressive & isolated as possible & they did this by surrounded their houses on all sides with several hundred metres of flat, open grass with thick trees on the edges to block out the horizon.

- Nothing can see you

- No loud noises will be within earshot of anything close to civilisation

- Any zombies that DO somehow show up can be picked off at a distance whether they know how to run or not

- Litterally there are so many little towers & secret rooms & shit how do you even manage to fuck up enough to die here like I would actually be impressed

- ALSO the edge of the estate is usually also walled off and/or fenced & gated, so there's no chance of anything wandering in by accident

2. All the older infrastructure is designed pre-electricity so you'll still be able to have a shower when the power grid inevitably explodes or something

3. You get to sleep in one of those huge 4-poster beds with all the fun embroidery and silk pillows

4. Idk the massive lawn can be converted into a farm if the apocalypse goes on long enough

Genuinely I think my quality of life would actually improve?? and that's just with what's already there - if there was time to pick up some supplies beforehand me & my buddies would just be hanging out. literally what apocalypse im eating scones xoxo

[inoreuct]

i actually desperately need 40y/o zoro with reading glasses. thin wire frames with teensy rectangular lenses perched on his nose as he peers down at one of sanji’s french romance novels to see what all the fuss is about— after so many years with his husband he’s picked up a bit of the language and sanji has a stack of them on the nightstand and he’s bored, alright? sanji has something to wrap up at the restaurant and he might as well. he’s farsighted and squints at everything near him and it makes him look even grouchier than usual and the fact that he’s graying at the temples doesn’t help. he looks terrifyingly severe with all his scars and his frowning, until he smiles— he’s been doing that a lot more lately, and then people realise that’s why he has crow’s feet around his eyes. i need him to have a collection of bottles that he’s fiercely protective over; they’re all empty and the labels are faded to hell, but point to any one and he can tell you where it had been drunk. there’s a beer bottle from the first night he’d sailed with luffy. a sweet rum they’d popped to celebrate usopp’s return. the champagne from when he and sanji had gotten married.

i need 40y/o sanji with long, long hair that he ties and pins and styles differently every day. sometimes he makes decorative sourdough and he matches his braids to the patterns. i need him taking on protégés in his restaurant, guiding a new generation of culinary genius even though teenagers are fucking terrifying and annoying and argumentative, because he remembers being exactly like them and at the end of it they’re good kids. they listen to him (…to an extent). they’re sweet and talented and they do absolutely crazy shit in the process of trying to push their boundaries; sometimes they trip and fall, but it’s fine. that’s how they learn. that’s what sanji’s for, as their safety net and their mentor— he’ll give them shit for it and pick them up anyway, nag them while brusquely brushing off their knees. but sometimes, sometimes, they come up with something extraordinary, and sanji gets so proud he could cry. zeff drops by and nags at him for everything under the damn roof. sanji doesn’t mind it.

i need them in their kitchen, in the morning, when sanji’s far too chipper and zoro’s not awake enough, nursing a cup of coffee and half-asleep again at the table as sanji fries their eggs. i need zoro to have one of those old man rocking chairs that he settles into to watch the sunset and drink tea, because sanji’s managed to get him into tea of all things. he’d have never imagined liking matcha a decade ago. i need that rocking chair to be big enough for two so that sanji can curl into his side and thumb through yet another of his novels. i need zoro braiding his hair and falling asleep halfway. i need sanji pulling his glasses off when they slip down his nose and dragging his husband to bed so that he doesn’t bitch about his back hurting the next day. i need them at sanji’s restaurant, teaching the kids about food and liquor pairings— they’re a little terrified of zoro until he squints and pulls his specs out to read the labels, after which they’re running around calling him old man and grandpa roronoa. zoro fumes because for fuck’s sake, he’s forty, not ninety. he’s not old. he brings a bottle of wine three inches away from his face and sanji does nothing to stop the kids at all.

just— zoro with reading glasses. sanji with long hair. doing mundane, boring things that make them happy because they never expected to live this long anyway. zoro’s down to two earrings and sanji has one. their rings are woven straw pulled from luffy’s hat. they have a little motored dinghy out back that franky made for the times they need to go haul their captain’s ass out of trouble (as usual), but none of the crew are ever very far from each other. they stay at sanji’s restaurant in the all blue and occasionally fend off people from their past looking for revenge. or money. or to eat them out of the house and home, in luffy’s case, which then leads to zoro den den-ing the rest of the lot and sighing that they might as well come over for a cookout.

they’ve all gotten older; a little banged up and scruffed around the edges, but alive and well. nami’s making bank as a mapmaker who caters to the wealthy/insurance agent/financial advisor— zoro scoffs and calls her a swindling witch, to which she smiles at him all sweet before stomping solidly on his foot with her red-bottom heel. out of their conjoining workshops, franky and usopp have started a wildly successful demo-smithing company that specialises in custom explosives and bespoke carpentry. robin owns and maintains the most extensive archive of books any of them have ever heard of, and it’s pretty much lauded as one of the greatest libraries of all time; brook does gigs in jazz lounges and bistro bars, jinbei’s a diplomat who’s well-respected for campaigning for equal rights, and chopper runs his own medical practice. luffy, as usual, is doing whatever he wants, which is a little bit of everything. y’know, taking down corrupt governments and all that.

sanji feeds them like he’s always done and zoro brings out the good alcohol to pass around.

life’s good.

[evilminji]

You know how in Naruto, Sealing is a Finicky Art?

It's like computer coding, calligraphy, and symbolism had a super-powered/reality bending baby. You gotta think in VERY ADHD twirls and swirls too be any good at it. Which is why the Uzumaki rocked it so hard. But I digress.

Is Complexe AF.

Bends Reality and is EASY to fuck up.

Wanna bet? The BEST way to learn/use it? Is to copy already functioning examples? But Oh! How do you KNOW they are functioning? Safe? Well OBVIOUSLY, your Skilled At Seals teacher looks at it first! THEN gives it too you!

Using random seals you find in the dirt is how you get splattered across three different countryside in peices, after all. Possibly take out a nearly Town or two while your at it. No One Is THAT Dumb... RIGHT?

Enter Stage Right o/~☆ Humanity, Everybody! *polite, if strained, golf clapping*

They ABSOLUTELY Are!

Especially Ninja!

Ninja who, after fuckin MURDERING A WHOLE ASS VILLAGE OF SEALING MASTERS, decided to pick through the rubble! Because THAT is gonna work out GREAT! After all... it's not like you just KILLED the fuckers who could tell you what IS and IS NOT functional!

Was that once the "hazardous advanced class' sealing failures" bin? Or was it the "super awesome candy and rainbows" stash!? You don't know. NO ONE DOES NOW. You fuckin KILLED THE PEOPLE WHO DID.

They had their own REGIONAL Sealing Script.

You know, the one they taught to THEIR STUDENTS. Not outsiders. The students you KILLED, you absolute fuck nuggets. But hey! The threat of the Super Scary Sealing Masters is no more! Good job. You've successfully burned down the library. It can't hurt you ever again.

But NOW? You have piles upon piles of GIBBERISH.

You can only VAGUELY tell the novice seals from the master's. And even then? Do you have any idea what most of them DO? Nope. And after a certain point in training? The shaky, uncertain hand writing becomes smooth enough, that it all blends together in "Seals".

Now... what is the SMART thing to do?

Curse your hubris and the atrocities your fear allowed you to commit, obviously. But BEYOND that, Don't Touch Them. But we're Ninja. So WE are all suicidal idiots. The less smart but still Reasonably Precautionary thing to do? Study the amateur Seals. Learn Sealing from other masters.

Crack the Regional Script and slowly, painstakingly, work through each seal as we sort out what is and isn't safe. What can be salvaged. What can be used and how.

A process that will likely take years if not decades.

But of course, that's not GOOD ENOUGH for certain grabby handed, power hungry, short sighted, fuck weasels! No, no. It much EASIER to just throw human life into the blender until profit pops out! Completely IGNORING, of course, that SOME of these?

Could very well be the "Too Dangerous To Ever Use/Will Destroy Us All/Take Them All With Us" type of Seals that Kage usually LOCK UP. The kind you CAN'T destroy once you've made them, because the fall out would be WORSE. And?

Even if you are a murderous, middle management, go nowhere in your life, BASTARD of a ninja? Sometimes you can look down at the massive, intricately detailed, killer off nation's before you. Something that was WRAPPED in locks upon locks upon chains upon seals. And KNOW in your selfish, survival at all costs little heart... You DO NOT want anyone to fuck with this.

You CAN NOT let anyone fuck with this.

NO ONE can be allowed to touch it.

Not for ANYTHING.

You may fear S Class Kage and Missing Nin and what all else they may do to you. But THIS? Your eyes can't even properly FOCUS on it. It's like a tunnel that's lined with poetry, stretching all the way to the Earth's core. It's perfectly flat. It moves, a gentle rotation. But is that just your eyes, tricking you?

So much ink, it swallows the scroll, and this is when it's COMPRESSED.

How many nations?

How many NATIONS must this monstrosity span, when free?

It must have taken a Master decades, if not their entire life, to complete. Possibly a family, several generations. But... but gods it is a work of MADNESS. No wonder it was sealed. It speak, you... you THINK... of Death...

Of it's KING.

Something BEYOND the Shinigami. BEYOND Death and the Purelands.

Who the FUCK would try to summon something beyond GODS? Did they think they could control it? Chain it like the bijuu? You're so cold inside. Because you KNOW. You fucking KNOW, the ambitions and arrogance of those above you.

They'll think they can.

They won't listen.

You... you have to take this and RUN. You stand no chance. But no chance is better then oblivion. Anything is better then standing by and watching it happen.

You obviously don't make it. You never expected too. But at least... at least you won't have to watch whatever THAT is... arrive... fuck...

At least you TRIED.

And? Because leaf Ninja, specifically certain teams, have the MOST Shit luck imaginable? They arrive, having crossed paths with several other teams, on the way back home (yay! Warm food and real beds!) Just in time to see a desperate looking ninja from one of the small villages get fuckin pincushioned. Drop what is VERY clearly an Uzushio Scroll of considerable size and SEVERE SSS+ DO Not EVER Touch Grade Type Markings, and then some joining from that same village go to grab it.

Notice them.

You know... the multiple LEAF NINJA. Who TOO THIS DAY, wear the UZU swirl on their uniforms as a mourning tribute to the DEAR AND PRECIOUS ALLIES they could not save. The Uzushio Allies. Those ones. The ones that were, in fact, from Uzushio.

LIKE THE SCROLL YOU ARE HOLDING.

By the WAY! How DID you get that Scroll? Doesn't seem like something our dear friends would just HAND over, now does it? You didn't happen to LOOT THEIR FUCKIN GRAVES did you? Cause we sure would be MAD about that!

:)

Real Mad.

Dude obviously panics. Because that? That is a VERY pissed off bunch of Ninja, many in the bingo book, one of whom is Very Clearly throwing off BIJUU CHAKRA. And just said "my family's" Ha ha... Oh Shit that's an Uzumaki.

So he decides to USE THE SEAL.

What does it do?

He doesn't know! But it's probably SOMETHING big and impressive, right?

Yes. :) Yes it Does.

*Crack*

The SKY cracks. Like a pane of glass, struck by a hammer. Spiderwebbing as far as the eye can see above them, all from one central point, directly above the seal. The cracks there are concentrated. A point of impact. And through the cracks... something GREEN shines.

Brighter then the daylight around it, yet darker in color then the blue of the sky. Lazily whisping out like escaping mist. Time seems slow as their eyes all whip up wards. Even with senses beyond the normal human base, it is... inconceivable. SOMETHING winds back. They can not see it.

But they can feel it.

Like changing pressure as a storm rolls in.

*Crack!*

Green overtakes the blue. The sky a Kaleidescape of shards, held together by stubbornness alone. Reflecting a calm day that seems IMPOSSIBLE in the face of what's occurring. There should be wind. Great pressure changes in the face of so much FORCE, but the trees are eerily still.. utterly silent..

Nothing dares bring attention to itself.

Some distant part of their minds try to gather the thought that... that it could be an illusion. They... they should check. But they can FEEL it. Like a weight draped gently but without mercy upon their shoulders. It did not slam. But... but they can not move. Can barely breathe. It is beyond killing intent.

It is simply...

DEATH.

*CRASH!*

At last, the sky gives way. A fist, the size of towers punching through. It... it is almost elegant. A ring, almost in the shinigami's visage, wraps itself in a howling and snarled menace, around a great shining finger. A glove protects almost delicate looking, claw tipped fingers. The fist pulls back. Shard of sky falling, Floating, suspended in their moment of destruction, a glittering frame for the gapping wound that has overtaken everything.

Death...

Death has Green Eyes.

A crown of ice and starlight, pulled straight from the coldest north, hair that drifts like the drowned. His skin is that of a corpse. His breath a coldness that seems to suck all warmth from the world. There is no rage, no great irritation, his face merely twisted in slight annoyance. Mild displeasure.

And yet it feels like their greatest sin.

It BURNS.

They are ants. Less then ants. He... He LOOMS so TALL. The Green BURNS into their eyes, into their veins, chokes their lungs. The silence stretches. Those great eyes, the eyes of a GOD, move from them. To the man with the Seal.

He dies instantly.

Shit.

They... they need to... to...

Naruto wanders over and picks up the scroll, completely ignore the Giant Sky God Of Death and how all his friends are frozen in primordial fear. He roughly shakes the dirt off the delicate old relic, then squint at it. Figures he's holding it upside-down. Flipping it, he squints harder. Tilts his head and hums.

"Oh!"

He holds his hand up, turning to look at the terrifying Deity From Beyond Comprehension.

"It's me! I'm the Uzumaki! But, uh, I didn't actually summon you? Our stuff got stolen. Which really sucks!" He looks down again, brings the paper nearly to his nose trying to make out some thing. "Uuuuuh, huh. Got it! Can you get smaller? I don't got any BBQ or anything ON me right now, but Choji's Family makes REALLY good food! We can go out to eat? Ooh ooh! Maybe RAMEN! You like Ramen, right?!"

"Yep, Definitely one of Shouta's."

Rumbles The Actual Fucking King Of Death, shaking the trees and ground under your feet. As you probably stare at your fellow Leaf Nin like WTF.

"Sure, man. Give me a second."

And suddenly? He's leaning forward. Shrinking and twisting in ways that are painful to look at. The sky is... is not healing, so much as UNcracking. Rewinding itself to a pristine state. Until only a large, floating, armored God in black and white floats above you. Glowing.

One that... that is apparently FRIENDS with the Uzumaki Clan.

Because of course he is.

Naruto's introducing his Toads. And teammates. You almost feel bad for Hatake. But like? Better you then me, buddy. THEN? Death? Decides? For some inconceivable reason. "You know what? Im'ma just turn into a human WITH NO CHAKRA NETWORK. Reeeeeally freak out the locals."

And now Leaf is INCHARGE of entertaining A GOD until he decides to leave.

Or (presumably) Else.

And!! Because life loves to kick ninjas IN THE BALLS (for their stupid, STUPID life choices, YOU FUCKERS) it just HAD to be the One God? That can SEE DEAD PEOPLE. Because it's not like ninjas have Death Related Traumas or anything!

*internal ninja screaming*

Feed the guy some BBQ! Stat! Please Akimichi! Save us!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[toruvi]

It's 3:04 in the afternoon when you're buried nose-deep in writing your research paper. And though you've been trying to focus on it for the last half hour, the only thing on your mind is literally all of the other things you need to get done. Clean your room, do the dishes, finish that late assignment (it's been almost a week now!) Shit. Too many things to do, and there's never enough hours in the day to feel like you can finish them.

You may or may not have been tipping over the edge of a breaking point for a while now.

But you've been convinced that it was hidden fairly well, at least from your friends. They don't press more than a simple "good luck with your paper" or "talk to you soon" when you tell them how busy you are.

However, your boyfriend definitely notices.

Levi isn't one to not speak his mind when something bothers him. In fact, he's pointed out several times in the last week that you shouldn't be overworking yourself. Out of anyone you know, Levi knows your limits the most. And he must see it where you don't, considering he's walked into your apartment with his copy of the key and is now standing over you, a paper bag in his hand as he glares down his nose.

"Hey," you mumble, turning back to your laptop screen in front of you. But the laptop is forced shut by a veiny hand, replaced with the plop of that same paper bag Levi was just holding. "Whats that?"

You pout when he slides the laptop down the dining table.

"Lunch. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know you are, don't fight me on this. Please just eat with me. Forget about your work for a minute."

He pulls out the boxes in the bag, revealing a couple of sandwiches. Fine, maybe you're a little hungry.

"You didn't answer my calls so I had to guess what you would've liked," Levi murmurs as he slides the boxes toward you. You mutter an apology, but he's not mad. He waves it off, simply telling you to eat and "stop worrying about shit for one damn second."

With anyone else, it might've pissed you off.

When you're absorbed in your work, it's hard to gather energy to talk to other people, let alone even take care of yourself. And yet, somehow, Levi is the one person who manages to read you like a book. For some reason, he's able to pick up on your bouts of silence and understand what you need. You always wondered how he can do that.

And though he's yet to say "I love you", you wonder if gestures like this are close enough to that.

He doesn't ask about work, merely sits with you and eats in silence. The brief moment of quiet feels good, comforting even. Especially in Levis presence. Despite his coarse language and tendency to maintain a glare most if not all times, you've always found him to be so... Stable. A steady wall to lean on when the world makes your stance tremble.

You really love that about him.

When you two have finished, Levi promptly cleans up the table. You assume it's okay to go back to work, but his hand lands on yours when you try to pull it back.

"You're done for the day," he says with a firm stare. The usual one he gives when he absolutely refuses to listen to any counterargument you might come up with. "We're gonna go for a walk, take you outside. Just get out of this shit and breathe some real fresh air."

"I'm not a dog," you grumble as he holds out his hand to you now to help you stand.

"Mhm," is all he says.

You two walk around the neighborhood, Levi having taken away your phone in an effort to keep you from too much more screen time. He'd return it if you really asked, but you're thankful for the restriction in all honesty.

Usually, Levi isn't the one to initiate an exorbitant amount of physical contact. It's you who tends to absentmindedly cling to his arm while you're talking. And it's generally you who comes up behind him to cover his eyes and make him guess who, despite the fact that he already knew just from the sound of your footsteps.

Most often, Levi does attend to little touches here and there. The back of your neck, the edge of your hip, the top of your thigh, along the line of your jaw. And now in this moment, it's when Levi steps up a little and takes your hand completely in his. It isn't anything new for you to hold hands, but it's rare for him to be initiator.

You appreciate that. Those moments where he's willing to be more brave about touching. It's calming, feeling his fingers between yours as your arms sway with every step.

"I'm sorry for being so short with you lately," you sigh, staring at the cracks in the sidewalk you step on. Levi always seems to make a subconscious effort not to step on them, even now.

"It's nothing. I'm always short with you, anyways..." He trails off quietly.

Your sudden snort startles him, obvious with the incredulous look on his face as you burst into a tiny fit of laughter. His brow raises in confusion.

"That wasn't even close to being a funny joke and you're still laughing?"

"It was funny to me! You're always funny."

"You're the only person in the whole world who thinks that."

"Must be why you're dating me, right?"

His hold tightens around your hand. "I'm dating you because I l-"

Levi cuts himself off and inhales through his nose, pushing his sunglasses up to hide his eyes as he recomposes himself. "I'm dating you for a multitude of reasons."

"You could be more specific."

"If you keep talking I'm gonna have fewer reasons," he clears his throat, hovering his free hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sun, leaving remnants of the summer's heat on his skin.

You smile, for the first time in a few days, actually. "I thought you were trying to make me feel better."

"Hmph." Clearly, Levi has nothing else to say.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I broke up with my girlfriend for not taking her meds?

My (24M) girlfriend (28F) has bipolar and BPD. We've been together coming up on 3 years now. For the last half a year we were together it was pretty rough and turbulent, she was unmedicated and was having suicidal breakdowns almost every day, ended up in hospital several times, threatened and got into physical altercations with other girls who spoke to me or she thought were flirting with me, and I was spending almost every single day of my life having to take hours to talk her down from suicide or self-harm. It was emotionally exhausting and as someone who's also had suicide attempts in the past it was also incredibly triggering and damaging to my own mental health.

For additional context as to why I feel the way I do, my last girlfriend also had diagnosed BPD and NPD and when she stopped taking her medication she became fully abusive both physically and verbally and it took me a year of being absolutely beaten down to finally snap and leave her.

(Obvious note: I'm not saying everyone with bipolar, BPD, or NPD is abusive or that these illnesses inherently make you abusive. They were an abuser who just happened to have those things, and that played into how they acted and thought/felt.)

Current girlfriend eventually got medication and has been doing much better for most of the time since then. When she's on her meds she's a wonderful and generally pretty healthy partner - she's supportive, understanding of my boundaries, checks in with me, she's a year clean from self-harm, hasn't displayed any kind of self-destructive behaviour. She's gotten a job and managed to hold it down (got fired from several jobs in the past because of her daily meltdowns meaning she wasn't attending work), she's started exercising and going to the gym, she's picked up new hobbies, made new friends, she's just been doing great in general.

For about the past month though, she started going days without taking her medication and when I reminded her she would say she didn't want to, that she hated taking it, that she doesn't like the way it makes her feel etc. This is something my last girlfriend said too, and I know it's really common for people with BPD (and maybe bipolar too?) to stop taking their medication because they feel emotionally flat in comparison to how they feel off of the meds. I pretty much said that I couldn't handle going back to how she acts when she's off of the medication again and that if she was going to stop taking them then I didn't think our relationship would last through that kind of period again because last time it completely destroyed my mental health, my sleep, my life and several of my relationships due to how much energy and time I was having to put into her vs. myself and everything else. I suggested asking her doctor/psychiatrist/etc. for another dosage change or meds switch again to see if that would work better (though up until recently they have seemed to be working great so I'm not sure how good of an idea switching it up again would be).

She agreed at the time but I was kind of concerned about whether she'd been keeping up with it or not because over the last few weeks I've already noticed things devolving again - her screaming at me out of nowhere and having mood swings, intense jealousy and possessiveness, impulsive behaviour, even a couple of breakdowns again and having to talk her out of self-harm for the first time in over a year. True enough, today I found out she's been pretending to take her medication and throwing them out. When I confronted her about it she admitted she hasn't taken her medication for weeks.

I pretty much withdrew after that and didn't say anything at that moment but after a while she asked me why I was being so quiet and I basically repeated what I'd said to her in the last conversation, that I was honestly rethinking whether or not the relationship would work because I can't handle that kind of emotional exhaustion and constant sacrifice all over again. I don't mind some emotional support and some labour of love in a relationship because of course I'm going to need to look out for her mental health and reassure and comfort sometimes, that's the reality of loving someone who struggles, but I can't do it 24/7 again. I can't once again put talking her down for hours every day and weathering screaming and violent lashing out all the time at the expense of even my own basic needs and my own mental health struggles (for example my c-PTSD from my last relationship).

When I said that she got very very upset and basically said I was forcing her to choose between me and freedom or being able to live a normal/unmedicated life (which I mean, I guess I can't argue with because in a way I am making her choose between me and stopping her meds), and that I couldn't control her like that. I told her I wasn't doing it to control her and that if she's really determined to go off of them she could, but that I would have to make my own personal choice to walk away as a result of it for my own sake.

She said she'd think about it but ever since that conversation I've been going back and forth in my head on how much of a dick move it would be to flat out just do a black-and-white "Either you stay on your meds and regulate your behaviour or I leave"

TL;DR Girlfriend wants to go off of her medication, but when she's off her meds she has almost daily suicidal breakdowns and lashes out at me physically and verbally. WIBTA if I broke up with her if she goes ahead with stopping?

What are these acronyms?

[markscherz]

Hi Dr Scherz, not a frog question but did you also interact with leeches in Madagascar? I heard they suck blood and live with frogs? 🧛

It's spoopy season, friends. Strap in.

Here's a teaser:

Look how cute it is. How much panic could it really cause?

Read the tags before continuing. You have been warned.

So terrestrial leeches are very common at moderate elevations in Malagasy rainforests. The worst I have ever encountered was around 1200 m above sea level on Montagne d'Ambre in the north of Madagascar. I had been warned, but I was not prepared.

On our first night at this elevation, we went out in search of reptiles and frogs and were absolutely besieged by leeches. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. Panic broke out, because you couldn't stop to flick them off onto the ground without having more make it onto you, and the people at the back of the line were picking up those that the leaders had flicked off. We ran back to camp.

In camp, the situation was not much better. Every now and then you would feel an itch and find a leech attached here or there. Small, but annoying, and itchy!

Porters bringing supplies to camp arrived in their sport shorts with their legs completely coated in blood. Even the reptiles were beset by the leeches.

Over the next few days, we managed to adjust, and to find solutions that helped reduce the leech burden. But our clothes were stained in blood, especially around the waist, where the leeches attach when they reach the top of your trousers. I preferred this to the alternative…

You can stop reading here if you are squeamish. Really. You might not want to know.

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…

…

One night, working in a tiny forest fragment in northeastern Madagascar, my colleague Marius ran over to me and said 'I have something in my eye, can you check what it is?'. I turned my headtorch on his eye, and there was the black, glistening shape of a leech that had decided that today's meal of choice was sclera.

I had heard and read about this before. Colleagues working in southeastern Madagascar had told me horror stories. I had watched youtube videos about people getting leeches in their eyes. I was prepared with the bad news.

'You're going to have to leave it in,' I explained to Marius, trying to keep the panic from my voice. 'It will drop off by itself. You could really hurt your eye if you try to get it off.'

This did not have the desired effect. Marius and one of our guides exchanged a quick stream of Malagasy that I did not follow. Marius started pouring water into his eye, with no effect. Slowly, the guide began rolling up his zipper in the cloth of his coat, as I watched on, equal parts fascinated and horrified, emitting feeble protests of 'but I read on the internet…' and 'I really think you should leave it in…' (knowing in my heart that I would be doing exactly the same thing as Marius, were I in his situation).

I understood what was planned, and elected to help as best I could. While Marius knelt, I shone my headtorch into his eye. The guide crouched over him, and in one swift but firm movement, wiped the cloth-wrapped zipper over the leech. It came free, and out, and Marius blinked, dousing the eye in still more water.

Over the next days, I had several close encounters, catching leeches at my cheek or on my chin, almost as though they were targeting the eyes. Sometimes when I would go to check a random itch on my face, I would find a leech on my hand on the way up.

Since then, when I walk through a rainforest where I know there are leeches, my body is on a constant subconscious rhythm: check the sleeves, check the hands, use the hands to check the face, check the sleeves, check the hands, use the hands to check the face…

So far, I haven't had the misfortune to experience this myself, but having gotten to experience it second hand, that is quite enough for me, thank you very much.

I also realised that by having a tight seal between rain jacket and rain trousers, the face is the first target a leech might come to. This is why I no longer make this a tight connection, and welcome leech bites at the waistline. They are better than the alternative.

[queercoshon]

A Kept Play Thing Pt. 2

(You can read the whole story at once on my deviantart, feedtheboi)

Now the tray contains 6 breakfast sandwiches on vanilla glazed doughnuts instead of english muffins, enough hashbrowns to feed 4 people with no other sides, a container of strawberries with yogurt dip, and 2 milkshakes that you don't know are spiked. The pineapple coconut has 3 shots of rum and a shot of coconut liqueur, and the chocolate one is infused with THC.

You get to work right away. You suck down half the pineapple milkshake and 3 of the sandwiches in the blink of an eye, completely overwhelmed by the need to consume. You throw back more beer and use the carbonation to dislodge a string of heavy burps.

Now you are so drunk things sway a little. You giggle as you reach for the bong and miss it the first time before lighting up and taking a long draw. Olivia was so good at keeping it clean and freshly packed for you. You manage to grab the tin tray of hashbrowns and load them with ketchup and cheese curds. Then you turn what little attention you had to the TV that was constantly on, putting your eating on autopilot.

You mindlessly shovel loaded potato after potato into your mouth, sometimes taking a good drink of either milkshake, and of course more beer. Your head is sooo fuzzy and your body so warm. You feel like you were watching your body expand with every bite. You couldn't stop yourself from eating when in a trance like this.

You hit your first wall with maybe a fifth of the tray left. Your gut gurgles testily, absolutely stretched out and burbling with fatty foods and booze. Your upper belly juts out further than the bottom of your belly hang and is as hard as a rock under the inches of flab. Your breath hitches and your pray you didn't get hiccups. Those were painful at this stage.

You sit back and moan, rubbing your gut as gingerly as possible. In your state, it is not very gingerly. And this far gone, you can't help give it a few jostles to bounce it on your crotch. You gasp and automatically reach for a milkshake, finishing off the chocolate flavour entirely.

Now you're so inebriated you feel like you phase in and out of existence. The weight of your stomach pins you down, and all you can do is stare at the ceiling, glassy-eyed and drooling a little. Your hands keep working at your flabby gut, releasing belches that just fall from your mouth.

Some amount of time passes, you have no idea how much, and you start to come back to earth a little. You look back at your tray and light another hit of your bong. Your mouth should never be idle.

You look at another beer, but the thought of it makes your belly flip, so you suck back almost all of the last milkshake. A new round of drunk washes over you, and you start working through those sandwiches and strawberries.

Now you're much sloppier. You have to really focus on getting the next bites into your mouth. Some yogurt dip ends up on your face, but it's impressive you can even you can coordinate picking up the strawberry, dipping it, and bringing your hand to your mouth at all.

You get through all of the strawberries, the last of the milkshake, the rest of the potatoes, and 2 of the sandwiches. One sandwich left.

You feel like you can hear your stomach creaking now. Every breath is a struggle. Every burp and drunken hiccup makes you fear vomiting everything back up. Sweat drips down your forehead, and you find you can't lean forward to get the last sickly sweet sandwich. Once again, you are pinned to your spot.

Your eyes feel swollen they're so dry, and cottonmouth is taking over with the milkshakes gone. You only have beer left, but you're so drunk your chin has started falling to your fat chest if you stop focusing on keeping your head up. Your overburdened body feels so light and so heavy at the same time. You try several times to reach for the beer, but you can't lift your arm much higher than the crest of your belly before you lose control and it falls back down. You are truly gone. Stoned out of your mind, too drunk to form a coherent thought, and so stuffed one wrong move could make you burst. Completely helpless.

It can't have been more than five minutes of suffering in your semi-catatonic state when you somehow register the click of the front door. Like a summoned angel, Olivia has arrived in your time of need.

You can't look up without the world spinning, but you know she's entered the room by the sound of her chuckle.

"Oh, piggy. You were so close. A little bit too full?"

You let out a rumbling burp in response.

She starts dragging her nails over your taut flesh, and it's like sparks dance across your skin. You try to hold back a high-pitched gasp, but it's jostled out of you along with several burps as Olivia adds pressure to your gut. You devolve into pained and desperate moans burps and hiccups, making all of your fat jiggle constantly.

"So tell me, baby, why is there food left?" She plants kisses on your belly, and the feeling lingers on your skin, making every nerve jolt awake. You can barely think as it is, and now she expects a verbal answer.

"I -hic- couldnn reachit -hicURP-" your chin lulls back down, and your hiccups start in earnest. Your gut moves as one giant orb now, bouncing on your crotch. Had you tried, you would have realised this was the first time you couldn't reach around your belly to get off.

Her eyes glint as she kisses up your many necks and flicks a nipple, making you gasp and throb.

"Oh? Did piggy get beached? Did I put it too far away?"

You try to nod, but you get one head motion before it falls back down. Fuck you are so drunk your body won't follow any direction at all.

"I'll put it closer to you next time. Now, let's get the rest of this in you." Olivia shoves the last sandwich in your mouth as you once again fire off a burp. You're taken completely by surprise, and while your body won't obey you, it will certainly obey her, so you take a massive bite and swallow. Your moans and grumbles of weak protest are silenced by another bite.

It takes about ten minutes, but she gets the rest of the sandwich in your mouth. You pant, hiccup, and burp, a cacophony of hedonistic indulgence.

Olivia straddles one of your meaty thighs and begins to rub your belly in earnest, but letting her hands wander to whatever fold of fat she felt like fondling.

"You've been such a good piggy today. Look at you. Completely stuck. You could burst." She lifts your chin up to meet her gaze, and her eyes are dark. "How do you feel, pig?"

She wants you to answer verbally. Your slurring and struggling is enough to make her start dripping. Right now you don't know if you can form even a full word.

Her nails dig into your stomach and you wince.

"Answer me."

You moan and try. "I'm sho -hic- full, Liv. It -burrp Hic- hurts to -hic- breave." You belch and she drops your chins. As your head falls to the side, she becomes ravenous, and suddenly her rubs, grabs, and kisses get desperate.

"You're such a desperate hog. Always gorging. You haven't been sober since the day you moved in."

Her tongue traces along your purple hued stretch marks, and she grabs your love handles and shakes, making your entire body wobble. Your gut slaps your thighs and crotch, and you see stars.

"Liv, -UUrapp- pleash -hic-"

She rubs your fat chest, her eyes glinting. "What do you want, pet?"

"I want...-hic- mae me huuge. Just a -hUrrp- ball... urr plaything."

Olivia moans and grinds down on your meaty leg, pressing her lithe body into your pillowy excess. Every movement is shaking burps out of you. Heat pulses from your crotch, to your finger tips and toes, to the tip of your head and back of your eyes, to the center of your beyond aching gut.

"Fuuu...me"

She breathes in your ear and her hands work down your flab. "What was that, pig?"

"Mmmm, fuck -urrrp- fuck me!"

Finally, she obliges.

[wayfayrr]

hiiiiiiiii

can I have some mulled wine and a bit of Bailey's with Red Velvet to eat in please!

Thank you!!!

Order up! I hope you'll find this to your tastes <3

The first written piece of the event then!! starting off strong with one of my favourite links, wars! this was fun to write and a lovely first request to work on <3

[Event masterlist]

How much has he drank?

We were only supposed to have a couple of drinks here before heading to the room we rented upstairs. I mean Twilight did warn me beforehand that he noticed humans have a much higher tolerance than hylians do, but his can't be this much lower… can it? 

“[name]... [name] I can’t believe you’re still single you’re so - so…”

“I’m in a relationship wars, you already know that, you drunken dork.”

“You- you’re taken?”

He’s on the verge of tears, he looks so worked up that he’s driving himself to cry over this. He really is in love with me that much, I really did get lucky with him. Falling into another world really doesn’t feel as scary when you find yourself a lover even if they can get a bit clingy at times. 

“Well yeah of course I am, I’m taken by you link. We’ve been dating for a month.”

“We have..? OH, we - we-  yeah we have been!”

“Come on wars how much of a lightweight are you to forget that after just one or two drinks? It’s like you don’t even want to be with me like that.”

I - I shouldn’t have said that, even as a clear joke it looks like it’s hurt him way more than I ever wanted it to. The tears are still there but now both his lip is quivering and his fists are clenched so tight they’re bleached white which really isn't a good look when you add in the fact that he's swaying on his feet. There couldn’t be a clearer sign to get him out of here to sleep and sober up. 

“I didn’t mean that link, I was just trying to make a dumb joke without thinking, I’m sorry.”

“..!”

“I know, I know link. Come on let's get out of here.”

Hylians are so much lighter than they have any reason to be, even with him clinging to me like an absolute dead weight he weighs nothing. So while it might be a little awkward at times when he tries to pick me up, I'm more than thankful seeing as it means I can easily rest his head on my shoulder to carry him out. 

Leaving was strange though, seeing as several people started to point and get riled up. Even through his own drunkenness link managed to tilt his head just enough to look up. 

and start grinning?

He might even be blushing too, but there's no way to tell that with how flushed he is anyway. He's so smug about something, I can't help but look at him with a bit of confusion.

“We -hic- we're under the mistletoe honey, does your world not… not have mistletoe?”

“No we have mistletoe, it's got a tradition arou- oh.”

That’s why he’s cuddling up to and laughing at me, we’re standing under the mistletoe. Is it bad I’m almost nervous about kissing him like this? With all these people watching me, watching us, I just feel so unsettled. With the joke I made earlier though, it would be downright cruel to turn him down. “I’m guessing that it’s similar here then? The tradition that is… would you like me to kiss you here link?”

“Is th-that even something you need to ask? I want everyone - everyone here to know that you’re mine.”

Yes, he does. His body language is just as blatantly obvious about it too. Come on [name], you’ve kissed him before, this isn’t something new. He’s so excited too. Could you dare turn him down? Not that I needed to answer that. He decided for the both of us while I was still coming to terms with the idea, seems I was just taking too long in his eyes. 

It’s a nice kiss, not as gentle as when he’s sober but it’s still so tender. Even with the alcohol on his breath, the way he’s acting is nothing short of a clumsy display of worship. One that he seems so reluctant to end, but comes to one anyway as he’s exhausted himself not enough to pass out but enough that he’s let his head fall onto my shoulder yet again. It’s almost inconsiderate of him to expect me to carry him after a kiss like that, he knows how weak I get for him, how much I melt when he’s so tender and demanding of my focus. 

“Is that enou-enough to prove that I care?”

“Wars you didn’t need to prove that to me, I already knew that you do.”

“Wanted to prove it t’ eve’yone else too.”

It’s like he’s considering doing it again, which I wouldn’t mind, but if he does I know I’ll drop him so it’s really for the best that he at least waits till he’s sitting down, in our room preferably. He’s gotten the hint for now, but that might only be because he’s to drunk to move again. Either way I can carry him away from the crowd. 

“Why’ve you gotta do that love? There’s no chance of me ever leaving you for any of them.”

“That’s not how they saw y’... I wouldv’ killed him for how he was talkin bout you… didn’ wanna cause a sce- scene though honeybeeee…”

Link would kill someone for me? I would like to think he wouldn’t ever have a nightmare of doing that, but if he’s saying it so confidently when he’s drunk…. He wouldn’t, would he?

“You don’t need to ever kill someone for something like that, don’t stress yourself out link.”

“Already have… don’ like when they’re rude about you love…”

That made me freeze up, right when I was about to open the door. It has to be the alcohol talking. Yeah it has to be. It has to be.

@sketchyspook seeing as you asked so nicely to be tagged in every post from now on (is this an unofficial start to a taglist? I guess it is one.)

[thelastwalkingsoul]

Birthday post for my beloved B @stevesbipanic Eddie will never forget the day he found out Steve could sing.

He'd gone over to Steve's house to surprise him, using the key his boyfriend had given him not long after they officially started dating. Eddie had opened the door to music, loud and so very Steve. He'd walked into the kitchen to find Steve in the middle of cooking dinner, hips swaying. It wasn't an unusual sight. What caught Eddie off guard was the voice he could only describe as angelic. Something about it sounded so unlike Steve and it caused Eddie to stand still in the doorway, watching his boyfriend.

When Steve finally turned around, he jumped, face turning that pretty pink Eddie liked so much. He'd laughed awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. Eddie had simply walked over and pulled Steve in, complementing his voice between kisses. Steve later admitted that he never sang in front of anyone, too self-conscious of his voice. Eddie had stumbled across the magic of Steve's singing, meant for no one, but a gift he had all to himself.

Years later, he and Steve are happily living together in their cozy little house. Steve's a teacher at a local middle school and Eddie is riding the success Corroded Coffin has made for themselves. Their both content with where they are in life and sometimes Eddie can't believe he made it this far.

Steve is still just as gorgeous as the day Eddie fell for him. Robin constantly teases them for how grossly in love they are. And ever since Eddie found out Steve could sing he has treasured every little musical sound his boyfriend has made. Steve has a frankly adorable habit of subconsciously humming or singing whatever song Eddie's been working on recently and it makes Eddie positively melt. He tries his best to memorise the lyrics to all of Corroded Coffin's music and listens to every demo Eddie produces.

Eventually, Eddie manages to convince Steve to come and record himself singing in their at-home studio. Steve's still apprehensive about it, but Eddie promises it's for fun and drags him inside. They fuck around for hours, losing track of time as Steve sings through his favourite songs, then parts of Eddie's favourite songs, and then some of Corroded Coffin's songs. Eddie listens with a grin on his face the whole time, reassuring Steve when he needs it. Right at the end, Steve starts singing Eddie's newest work in progress. It's quiet and slightly slower than the original but it's sweet and Eddie eats it up. He sits, pretending to fiddle as he listens. It's his favourite sound in the world.

A month later, with an idea that's been brewing in his mind for several weeks, Eddie nonchalantly asks Steve how he'd feel if he could share his musical talent with the world, without anyone knowing it was him. Steve seems suspicious but answers anyway. It's all Eddie needs.

He secretly adds the small audio clips of Steve singing his newest work in progress, due to come out in the next few months. His bandmates pick it out, knowing it doesn't sound like Eddie or any of them but, despite knowing Steve well, can't pick that it's him. It's perfect and Eddie publishes the song like that. Steve's vocals are there, soft and airy in the background. Not too noticeable but loud enough that they add a little something extra to the song.

Now, Eddie knows Corroded Coffin fans are a little rabid. They're scarily observant, especially when it comes to picking hidden shit out of their songs. But Eddie didn't expect the insane reaction Steve's vocals have on the fanbase. People lose their shit. They love it. Love the tone and airy quality of it. They demand more. The best part is the mystery it creates around who it is. The fans argue over whether or not it's Eddie or the other band members. Some believe it's none of them, a secret 5th person left uncredited. Eddie stays silent on the discourse, absolutely loving the chaos it's creating amongst their fans.

Steve himself is confused. A small group of his students who he knows are fans of Corroded Coffin have been debating for days. He can't help but listen in, always interested in the little gossip he can gleam about Eddie's band. They turn to him one day as he's listening in and ask for his opinion, getting him to listen to the new song for the first time. He's sure he gasps when he hears his own goddamn voice singing back at him. It's quiet, sure, but Steve's surprised his students haven't figured out it's him yet. They seem to like it though, and while Steve's a little mad that Eddie put them in there without asking, he feels more than a little warm when he realises how much care Eddie put into including Steve in something he loved whilst making sure it wasn't too obvious. Still, though, Steve feels like he wants to simultaneously punch Eddie and kiss him till they’re both gasping for air.

Nobody can blame him if he goes home later that day and does both.

[gardenofdreams]

Yandere Pantalone/Regrator Headcanons

Tags: Pantalone/Regrator x Reader, Yandere, Dark Themes

Words: 547

A/N: I wrote this as soon as the trailer dropped. Might not be accurate to canon when that gets revealed but have fun!

He’s a busy man but will try his best to make time for you. Though being a Fatui Harbinger as well as being in charge of the country’s economics meant that your meetings were few and between. However, that never stopped him from sending you letter after letter, gift after gift. You’d receive sweet concise words alongside the most expensive gifts money could buy. If he could, the Regrator always found a way to express his love to you. 

He’s extremely protective of you, keeping you like a bird in a crystal cage within his elegant snowy mansion. Every need of yours is met and more. 

You never knew that you needed your own private hot springs let alone attendants and personal chef. 

Due to all of this love bombing you would have never picked up on his much darker side that he keeps hidden away. Not when your lovely boyfriend/husband would treat you like a princess. Who wouldn’t be grateful for all the gifts and attention that you received. He even managed to win the hearts of your friends and family and scare away your enemies. 

Whenever there is a big social event whether for making deals with his business partners or just a social gathering for the Snezhnaya he loves to take you out to show you off. There was never a ball where you wore the same dress, he would never allow that. Only the best for his snowdrop. There was a part of him that loved the way people couldn’t get enough of your appearance. Many were curious about the elusive woman that had captured the heart of this Fatui Harbinger which only added to the admiration whenever you would be seen in public. 

You cannot convince me that this man wouldn’t become a yandere. Whether from being protective because the Harbinger has a lot of enemies or because he likes to own and keep things. Eventually perhaps he would simply view you as a beautiful item rather than a person. A delicate sculpture added to his collection except you were utterly priceless within his eyes. 

If by chance you decide to fight against him, he’ll have no issues locking you away beneath the mansion until you learn to behave and be grateful for all the luxuries he’s bestowed upon you. Especially if you came from a poorer background. After all if he had someone like that when he was crawling around in the streets he certainly wouldn’t be so ungrateful. 

The Regrator would pamper you and treat you like a princess. You were his beloved and he would not let you go through any hardship. Although that doesn’t stop him from punishing you should you misbehave. Depending on the severity of what you’ve done changes the punishments but he would never do anything that he couldn’t reasonably justify.

He’s an extremely hard to read yandere. His flawless smile always hides away his true thoughts and feelings. You couldn’t tell a lie from a truth with him and honestly who could blame you. This man was a ruthless businessman, manipulating his darling was simply child’s play. There’s absolutely no hope of escaping. How could you when he has his contacts across the entirety of Teyvat? But also why would you want to escape?

What happens when you tease him too much (18+)

Masterlist

[checkoutmybookshelf]

From Criminial Mastermind to Fairy Tale Hero: The End of Artemis Fowl

Here we are, everyone: The final Artemis Fowl book. It has been a journey revisiting the first series I was old enough to follow and fandom, and it's wild to me that we're finally at the end. Especially since I picked up the first Artemis Fowl book in late elementary school (I'm genuinely not sure when though, because the first book came out in April of 2001, when I was in fifth grade and it's very possible I didn't pick the book up until sixth grade, which would have put me at 11, same age as Artemis in that first book) and the final book came out in 2012, when I was in my junior year of undergrad. So at that point, Artemis, Holly, and Butler had been part of my life for a long time. And now here we are, to say goodbye to them again after this leisurely re-listen/read. Let's talk Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian.

Artemis grew and changed so much across eight books, which makes sense because holy cow do kids change a LOT between 11 and 15. We get so busy living life in those years that we don't really think about how much we truly learn and grown between prepubescence and full-on teenagerhood, but that is a time of massive change, and I think that more than anything else really justifies how Artemis goes from a chillingly vampiric child to a teenager with enough compassion and empathy to understand that sometimes the right choice is a heroic self-sacrifice for the people that your people (both humans and the people, in this case) love. Artemis also did a really interesting version of that thing so many teenagers do where they hit a point where they can't just phone in their abilities anymore and have to actually put effort in, but for Artemis it was emotional rather than intelligence. And yet even when making said heroic sacrifice, we have the absolutely beautiful callback to the end of book one, where Artemis drugs his mother, Butler, and Juliet to keep them from being harmed by the bio-bomb. To stop Holly from preventing him from stopping Opal, Artemis sedates her. The more things change, the more they stay the same...

Except where best villain ever Opal Koboi is concerned. By this book, Opal is so disconnected from reality that she is willing to risk literally going nuclear to escape captivity, and then just...casually sparks off the apocalypse because if there is one thing our girl wants, it's to be Empress of the World, and if that means using spirit zombies and an ancient fairy doomsday device, then I guess it's a good thing she's already versed in black magic. Or something. Opal is fully and completely off the rails at this point, and if you catch yourself referring to yourself as "Mommy" in reference to the spirits of several scores of ancient elven berserkers who would--barring a geas--murder you for it, you might want to stop and take a long, hard look at your life choices. And maybe don't forget that you've cloned yourself, because that's the kind of little detail that can completely ruin your chances of being Empress of the World.

Holly quite possibly deserves every medal that exists for managing to drag Artemis's extremely out-of-shape butt through increasingly dangerous and high-stakes missions while navigating fairy politics and *checks notes* breaking up with her commanding officer after a disastrous date where they both got kicked out of a crunchball match. (And once again...HOW DARE Colfer leave this in exposition and not show us this amazing disaster of a date!?!?) Holly has also just been through the emotional wringer with Artemis and every time he decided to double-cross or lie by omission to bring off a plan and every time he does something infuriatingly human that drives up her blood pressure and yet makes the mission succeed. And then she has to sit there and watch him die to save humans and fairies. Seriously, the fact that Holly Short is a functional being rather than a hot mess is nothing short of a miracle.

And then we come to Butler. Long-suffering, super fucking over it, broken-hearted Domovoi Butler. Artemis got DAMN lucky that the whole "put my spirit in a clone of me" plan panned out, because if it hadn't, Holly was entirely correct: Butler would never have recovered. Butler and Opal might be my two favorite characters in the entire series at this point. That's not where I started--for a very long time, Holly was my favorite character, and Commander Root still gets an honorable mention--but as a grown-ass adult (I'm not doing that math for you, if you want to know that I'm old, you do the math), I cannot escape how dedicated, competent, kind, and just AWESOME Butler is. I feel like the vibe here is very similar to the thing that happens when you watch Sound of Music as a kid and either Maria or one of the kids is your favorite character, but when you come back to it as an adult, Captain Von Trapp is EVERYTHING (RIP Christopher Plummer, we loved you). Butler has a similar vibe but in a different genre.

So, I was an adult and had enough experience of watching fandoms to see the mixed reactions to this book being released. People were sad the series was ending, people were disappointed because the series had seemingly drifted, and people loved it. My reaction was pretty mixed, because I had a lot going on, I knew there were good things here but I was also kind of missing the heisty, criminal mastermind vibes, but also OPAL KOBOI. So I was pretty unsure how to feel about this book when it came out, and then I didn't reread it for literal years because I went to grad school.

Returning to this book now, I have suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch respect for how Colfer tied up the series and how he pulled off a new Irish mythological cycle, but updated for the twenty-first century. I have enough life on me to appreciate the changes Artemis goes through, and enough literature degrees to have a new and deeply fulfilling perspective on the series structure. Last Guardian is not my favorite book of the series--it's not even in the top three--but I think that what it does is genuinely impressive and I love how you can finish this book and go instantly back into the OG Artemis Fowl. The story does not, strictly speaking, have to end. And that is a vibe I can 100% get behind.

I deeply love the Artemis Fowl books, and I cannot recommend the series enough. They have so many strengths, are incredibly well-written, and they live rent-free in my head even now as an adult.

[prismatic-bell]

I'm so interested by the implications of the phrase "the American and European shift from having meat as a side to a main dish." like what? meat hasn't always been a dietary main?

It has not!

For much of history worldwide, the “staple grain” of an area (usually wheat, rice, or corn, although there are others) has been the main component of food in that area, with vegetables for flavor and filling and meat on the side or as a small component of the dish. And this actually makes a lot of sense if you consider that Gertrude the peasant in 1362 couldn’t just walk down to Ye Olde Wallmarte and pick up a nice sirloin—even if there was a butcher shop in town, she probably couldn’t afford it. The meat in her diet would’ve been stuff like squirrels or crows she managed to catch and kill in her vegetable garden. Maybe, MAYBE once or twice a year she could afford to get a leg of mutton or a goose. Gertrude the Peasant would look at a modern-day American barbecue and assume its hosts were royalty. All that meat? Spices? SALT? (Salt was actually stupidly rare in the Middle Ages because of how difficult it was to mine. The table shaker in your cabinet is more salt than a Middle Ages peasant would likely consume in their entire life.)

Vegetables, meanwhile, are relatively easy to store when you don’t have refrigeration. Beans, peas, and corn can all be dried. Gourds, potatoes, and turnips can last for MONTHS in a cold cellar. Starting in 1809, you could can your fruit and veggies in glass jars. But meat? Either you had to eat it fresh, or you had to go to some serious labor to preserve it—smoking, drying, packing in salt, that kind of thing. It just wasn’t feasible for most people.

On top of that, raising meat properly is expensive. Let’s take a chicken, which is actually relatively economical. You need a coop, which you’ll have to keep clean—every once in awhile you have to literally clean the shit out of it. (Makes good fertilizer, though.) The coop needs to be built securely enough to keep out foxes, raccoons, wild dogs, and snakes. You need an outdoor pen of some kind, because chickens are dumb and absolutely will run off if allowed to do so. The chickens will happily forage here for bugs, but you’re probably going to want to supplement their bugs with feed. You’ll also need straw for bedding, which means either threshing and drying grass or wheat yourself or purchasing it from someone else (don’t forget, you have to do all of this by hand because the only automated machine to really have been invented yet is the water mill). And you need the SPACE for all this, and all of this is before your hens have laid a single egg.

Your hens provide the eggs you use for bread, filler in soup, maybe just poached or boiled as a meal. And they do so in perpetuity for several years. You’re not going to kill one for a meal on a whim—you’re only going to do it if they become a danger to your other chickens or if they stop laying, because otherwise you’re giving up years’ worth of food security for one meal. Same with goats and cows—they’re worth more to you alive and making milk (and babies you can sell at market) than they are dead.

So for a very long time, meat was prohibitively expensive and difficult to get. It was eaten in small quantities, and not for most meals, either. The places this wouldn’t have been true—Arctic and subarctic indigenous tribes, for example—would have been the exception, not the rule. Meat-heavy diets in most of the world came about as a result of industrialization and refrigeration.

[blondiest]

The year is 2009. The month? August. The day...? I'm so glad you asked. It's the 24th. Birthday of the specialest boy in the whole world (Near. Obviously.)

Near HIMSELF doesn't actually do anything for it, sadly. He's on that grind working with the SPK. No time. Although maybe he makes Rester go pick up a fancy lego set he's had his eyes on for a while. Still, he doesn't actually celebrate — no one there knows it's his birthday, and that's how he would prefer it. He doesn't want anyone to fuss.

HOWEVER. Across the country. In the state of California. In the city of Los Angeles. Sitting on a zebra-print couch inside a highly secret mafia base. Mello is acutely aware that it's Near's birthday. And he's annoyed as all fuck that he's acutely aware of it. Near probably doesn't remember when it's HIS birthday, and he doesn't WANT to remember that it's Near's birthday, but here he is, remembering that it's Near's goddamn birthday.

Still, he's busy, too. All his mafia shit. Collecting evidence (and stealing it from Near through Ratt). Et cetera et cetera. So he manages to keep his mind off of it. For the most part, anyway. But then eventually it gets kinda late, and he's done the things that he can do for the day, so he's about to head back to his apartment. But one of the mafia guys invites him to drink with them.

Normally he says no. Mostly because he doesn't really want to be intoxicated / compromised in front of people that he doesn't really want to have info on him. However. Going back to his apartment alone sounds kind of wretched. So this time he joins them. Except Mello has an absolutely terrible understanding of his own limits / tolerance level so he gets completely blackout drunk :/

I'm imagining he has, like, a place he sleeps in the mafia base sometimes when he doesn't feel like driving back to his apartment (like if he stays late enough that there's not a point). So he wakes up. Horrible hangover. Wretched. He tries to remember the events of the night before; nothing past his third drink (<- a lightweight). He checks his cell phone; he made three calls to Ratt, two of which lasted less than ten seconds and the third of which lasted two minutes. This immediately sets off alarm bells in his head. He's panicking.

So Mello gets dressed and drags himself out of his shitty little makeshift bedroom and starts subtly asking around for what happened the night before. Several of the men are super evasive about it, but after a few well-placed threats, someone finally reveals that he disappeared for thirty minutes and came back with a box that he INSISTED needed to go to the post office first thing in the morning.

Huge wave of cold dread. He asks if the box has already been mailed. The guy is like. Well. Yeah. It's one in the afternoon. You told us to ship it first thing. So it's gone.

Mello is in shambles over this. He starts frantically searching his little makeshift bedroom for clues of what the hell he might have sent Near. In the garbage can he finds a crumpled-up and half-legible lovehate letter. He can't read all of it— some of the handwriting is atrociously messy, other parts a bit smeared— but what he can make out is damning. There are, like, three full sentences about Near's eyes. One of the sentences describes them as "bug-like," which isn't so embarrassing for him, but the other two use words like "captivating" and "enigmatic" and, bafflingly, "celestial."

((a bit ns // fw [not explicit, just suggestive] under the cut))

In addition to waxing poetic about Near's appearance, there's an entire paragraph of him speculating on what Near would be like in bed (the words "clumsy" and "squeaky" and "lousy" all make appearances). That's not great— he doesn't really want to sexually harass / insult his lifelong rival via snail mail, regardless of how celestial his eyes are— but the next paragraph is worse.

Paragraph is a generous description— it's just one very long run on sentence. Don't worry though it's okay you're a weird awkward virgin who would give really bad head I still love you think you're cute and youcould probably learn because I could teach you stuff and as long as you listen to me you'll be fine <- only HALF of the sentence from hell.

Anyways. For a second he's like well, it's here in the trash, so I guess I didn't send it, but it pretty much immediately occurs to him that the one in the trash was a draft, because notably something still did get sent to Near. It's weird that he used a box, but then, he was pretty fucking drunk, and he probably just used whatever was lying around. He goes through the five stages of grief plus three secret additional stages (which are all just him screaming into a pillow, but with varying degrees of anguish / rage / mortification) and then just. Hopes that the letter gets lost in the mail. Tries to forget about the whole thing. Moves on with his life.

A week later, in New York City, Rester brings a package to Near. They don't get packages— anything they receive from the US Government is hand-delivered by someone with clearance, and they always have a heads-up that someone's coming. The box has already been opened— Rester had someone screen it first, had it scanned via x-ray and then opened by someone dressed in head-to-toe biohazard gear in case there was anthrax inside. There wasn't. Rester tells him there's no return address and no name of the sender. Inside the box is a single disposable camera.

Near immediately knows that there is no one it could be from but Mello— no one else who could have figured out where he was. It looks like Mello's handwriting on the box, too, though it's honestly pretty messy, even for him. He doesn't know what could be on the camera, but he presumes it's got to be sensitive information.

He tells Rester he needs the film developed. Emphasizes how important the contents of the camera are to him. It's essential that not a single photo is lost. Rester nods, disappears. Comes back like five hours later with an expression of subdued bemusement. Hands Near an envelope with the photos in it. Looks like he's going to say something, but doesn't. Leaves.

Near opens the envelope. Inside are 30 separate photos of Mello. Most of them don't show any of his face. All of them were taken with flash on. All in front of a mirror.

All shirtless.

He puts the photos back in the envelope and tucks the envelope into his shirt and goes back to work. His face feels hot for a long time after. Distantly he feels disappointed that he can't ask Mello why he went to all the trouble of tracking Near down just to send something like that, but he can't ask his employees to spend their time trying to track Mello down in return for such a trivial personal matter.

Things proceed more or less as they do in canon. Mello kidnaps the NPA director, then Sayu, gets the notebook, kills Ratt and several more members of the SPK, loses the notebook, blows up the mafia base, drags his burnt-to-a-crisp ass to New York, finds Halle. He wants to ask her if Near got a letter a few months back, but he decides against it, because he doesn't want to show his hand. After all, there's a chance it got lost in the mail, or a chance he didn't sign it (though Near would undoubtedly recognize the sender as Mello just by the contents of the letter, and the fact that the letter reached him at all). He's trying to hold onto the possibility that he did not, in fact, send a deranged, multi-page, sexually explicit and obsessive letter to Near. He has to hold onto that hope.

Except when he goes to get the photo he left at the orphanage from Near, there's a weird vibe. A vibe that he can't help but feel is unrelated to him holding Halle at gunpoint and also pointing his gun at Near. The blonde guy that works for Near is giving him an especially judgmental look. Mello gets his photo and gives Near a bit of info and gets the fuck out, but he's haunted for the rest of the day by the knowledge that yes, Near totally got that fucking letter.

So he writes another letter. Makes it EXTREMELY clear that all of the things he said about Near's eyes being captivating and celestial were JOKES, and that he DOESN'T want to fuck Near and is not in love with him. Gives the letter to Halle to give to Near with express instructions not to open it herself. She agrees, takes it to Near.

Near opens the letter from Mello. Right off the bat, he's confused, because this letter mentions a previous letter, and Near never got a previous letter. The box only had the disposable camera in it. That was it. As he continues reading, the bafflement only increases.

By the end of the letter, Near's mind is scrambled, but he has little doubt what he needs to do.

He asks Halle to call Mello and ask him to come back to headquarters. They have some things to talk about.

sorry this is left open ended i simply don't feel like finishing it. please just assume they work things out and fuck nasty. thanks 🥰

[biteforblood]

[ SKINCARE HCS #1 ] the shaw pack.

✶ notes : gn!reader, domestic silly fluff, 1.0k

angel + david

i feel like people expect david to not have a skincare routine outside of like splashing water on his face and calling it good. and, like…yeah, he’s done that, but! i think those people are respectfully wong

one, that’s more asher than david. and two, though his routine isn’t as…extensive as milo’s is, david still has somewhat of a process, short and simple as it may be

he’s got face wash that angel helped pick out specifically for his skin; one that won’t irritate or dry his face out, isn’t an uncomfortable texture or feeling, and isn’t too pricey. they also helped him find a light lotion to put on afterwards on the off chance his skin still does kind of dry out because i feel like he has kinda sensitive skin

sometimes, when he’s too tired, he’ll let them apply both the face wash and lotion for him and only grumble a little bit ( if not doze off because his day was so long and their touch is so nice and gentle and— hm? no, he’s awake )

with a bit of pleading and wearing down, angel can convince him some nights to do a nose strip or face mask with them. now, getting him to take pictures with the strip or face mask on is a whole different and much harder story

whenever they can manage to, angel does cute poses while david mostly furrows his brows and pouts frowns, then they’ll add cute and stickers over top. they don’t really posts or share any of the photos — partially because he’s prefer they don’t, but also because they like to have it as something for just their eyes only

and before you ask, no, he will not be putting on a fluffy animal headband, there is no budging him. angel would have to physically fight this literal wolf of a man; it’s either a black hair tie, plain headband, or his hair is down and in the way, but absolutely no fluffy animal headband……unless they pout hard enough, then maybe

baaabe + asher

like i said above, asher is the one who splashes his face a few times with tap water, pats dry with a hand towel, then calls it good. and baaabe is lowkey appalled cause…sir??? no???

what’s kind of funny about it is his skin is relatively clear despite doing absolutely nothing to keep it clean and moisturized ( hand over your non-existent routine and secrets, pet ‘em in the bag, right now )

another hc of mine that makes it even funnier is i also like to hc that asher had really bad cystic acme when he was younger, which you can see scars from if ya look close enough. he still does get some acne on his face — along with his back and shoulders — but it’s not nearly as severe

despite his complete lack of any skincare at all, he will gladly plop down on top of the countertop or toilet and watch baaabe do theirs. he’ll hand them whatever it is they need — wash, cream or lotion, towel, wipe, face mask, pore strip, it is in their hand without even having to ask or reach for it, asher is on it

he’s talking the whole time about anything and everything under the sun. it could be about either of their work or coworkers, it could be his all time favorite topic of gossip, it could be plans for tomorrow or the upcoming week, doesn’t matter what, he’s talking

unlike david who has to be lovingly forced to wear a fluffy animal headband, asher is the one who not only puts it on willingly, but bought both himself and baaabe ones to wear, you can decide what color and animal it is, he would literally wear any of them :)

sweetheart + milo ( + aggro )

milo is the one who has the twenty step skincare routine /hj

and, honestly, not just hum, but sweetheart too. like angel did for david, milo was with sweetheart through every step of the process : what to buy, what products to use, what steps to do in what order, literally every. single. step

despite how complex it is for them to do, this is sweetheart and his way to relax after a long day, this is how they wind down before bed. it’s not just because it’s cleaning off the dirt and sweat and exhaustion, it’s also the tender and domesticity of it ( same goes for showers, but that’s not our focus )

yet another couple who loves to do each other routines for…well…each other. similarly, on the days that are especially draining, they’ll shorten it down to the arguably most important steps — quick wash, pat dry with a soft towel, some lotion. and if on the rare occasion that is too much, then they’ll do a face mask and call it good for the night

now, when it comes to the fluffy animal headband, i feel like milo is 50 / 50 on it. he’s got tons pf headbands and hair ties and whatnot to keep his hair back, and, yes, one of them is a fluffy animal headband, but unless sweetheart wears theirs, he likely won’t choose it out of all the other options

i can’t decide if they have all the bottles and jars and rollers and whatnot spread out on the countertop or stored equally as nicely away in a medicine cabinet

because the first allows the funny thought of someone going to use the master bathroom ( cause you know these two have a master + guest bathroom ) and seeing all of it and being like :O

that, and aggro hopping onto the countertop of which he knows he should not be on and pawing at everything, only for one of them to fix it, only for aggro to then again mess with it

speaking of aggro, that little stinker loves to sit in the bathroom with milo and sweetheart to watch them do their routines before bed. when he’s particularly impatient or tired, he’ll rub against their legs, meowing and crying for them to hurry it up already

© biteforblood. please do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.

[theexaltedbride]

Dead Island 2 Slayers x Reader Headcanons (Part Three!)

(Still having a fun time, and people wanted more, so here you go! Have fun and happy Slaying!)

Amy:

-Amy has a competitive streak to her that tends to leave her very huffy whenever she loses at anything. But all it takes is a couple of kisses from you on her neck, cheek, or lips to brighten her back up. To the point the others joke about deploying you as a secret weapon whenever Amy gets actually angry about something.

-Sometimes she just likes to be held by you in the shower when you are both easing down and soothing your muscles from a long day of slaying monsters.

-It took some doing, but you managed to get Amy talking more about her personal life, and focusing on things besides winning the Paralympics, she actually works as a part time as a teacher for children with special needs, and has several fun stories, including how she met the actress for Space Fox 2250, and only really knew her because one of the kids in her 6th Grade class had an SF:2250 lunchbox with the actress on it. She misses her kids, and hopes they are okay. But you reassure her that they are, and to just keep thinking about the good times, because when you all make it through this, they are going to want to see their favorite teacher.

-Amy has mentioned offhandedly that she enjoys going shopping from time to time, not so much because she likes to buy things, but because she loves the experience of not knowing what you might find at a brick and mortar store. It just feels good getting to move around and see other people going about their day. So one time you cleared out a section of a mall of some zombies, and told Amy it was going to be a shopping day, just you and her. While you can’t bring in other people to walk around, you can at least give her part of that experience again.

-Hates having to clean zombie splatter out of her hair buns, but refuses to wear a hat or hairnet to stop it from happening, no matter how many times you suggest it to her. If you didn’t know any better you’d think that she was doing it so you would always be on hand to help her wash her hair.

Bruno:

-His old life as a hustler helps him to sometimes haggle other survivor groups out of some goods and services, but he also uses it to get things he knows you would like and plays it off as just being part of the deal.

-Bruno hated corruption back in the day, and some of his hustles were meant to expose that. If you offer to help him get some dirt on shitty politicians and other rich people who abandoned all the civilians to die in Hell-A, then he will never forget it.

-He might have ‘borrowed’ some leftover filming equipment from Monarch studios to start recording the best moments between you and him in high definition. He wants to be able to remember your smile in perfect clarity and better quality than just his phone.

-He gets all fussy when he loses his beanie and you can see that his hair is actually a total mess. He wears the beanie to cover up a ruined patch of hair that he had to shave off early in the outbreak when a zombie grabbed some of his dreadlocks and pulled hard enough to rip some hair out. But you assure him he would look good regardless of how he has his hair, or even no hair at all. He’s the one making the style look good, not the other way around.

-Bruno isn’t always the best about sharing his emotions and feelings, but you’ve started to pick up a general vibe that he gets a smart mouth when he’s upset, angry, or annoyed. He’s constantly in this mode when dealing with Rikky, and you tend to tag in when Bruno gets like this so that the group doesn’t start anything with other survivors.

Carla:

-She absolutely hates anything creepy or crawly, be it regular insects or infected who are covered in bugs. So she hung close to you when the group had to clear out the Monarch Studios set for the Rise of the God Spider, since tons of actual spiders were crawling across the floor and spreading real web everywhere. 

-Loves when you bring her any nice looking bikes scavenged from the city, even if she needs to fix them. She was a mechanic before and so is always working on something to stave off boredom. You bringing her things to fix (especially if they go fast) really puts a smile on her face. 

-Carla is as tough as they come. She’s made her peace with the idea of dying at the hands of the infected, but she can’t stand the idea of losing you. The thought of living in a world without you, after having finally found you haunts her nightmares. You know she’s had one of those nightmares when the following day she seems to constantly be checking up on you and making sure she knows you’re there and not hurt.

-She tends to lose her earrings in the middle of more intense fights, especially when forced to fist fight with Crushers, so she really appreciates it when you pick up her earrings again or find new ones to replace them.

-If you ask very nicely, Carla might decide to bench press you in the gym, lifting you up like you weigh nothing.

Dani:

-Always wants to hear about your family and what they were like, especially any happy and fun memories you have, because she does not have a good relationship with her own family. Maybe she will tell you the full story someday. 

-If you let her, she can absolutely cut and style your hair. Though be prepared for her to experiment with it to see what works best for you, results may vary wildly. 

-At first you might have found Dani’s constant swearing off putting, but after a while it grew on you and you’ve started to swear casually just like her. She finds it cute but states you will never be able to swear to the same level as her.

-Sometimes she can get very sassy with you, but as time goes on you’ve learned to differentiate her playful sassiness with her being actually angry, annoyed, or teasing.

-Dani won’t admit it, but she loved that you brought her a whole pack of her favorite lipstick. It took some work to find it, but it was worth it, and Dani makes sure to test it out on you frequently by leaving lipstick imprint on your mouth for all to see.

Jacob:

-His time as a Stuntman has helped him survive getting hit by tougher infected as he just relaxes his body and takes the hit, the first time you saw this it shocked you and you thought Jacob had been seriously injured, you only calmed down after seeing him get back up, but that reaction told Jacob you had genuine feelings for him.

-Jacob invited you to a late night party with Rikky and Roxanne. You honestly can’t remember what happened, you partied way too hard and woke up with Jacob on several pink flamingo floaties all taped together, on the roof of Rikky and Roxanne’s place. 

-When Jacob found out that there were still chefs surviving at the Blue Crab over on Venice Beach, he went the extra mile to help secure it and bring them supplies so that they could prepare something nice for you and the others (but mostly so you and Jacob could have a date night together and pretend things were back to normal). 

-If you are open to smoking with Jacob, he will start you off small and get you used to it (and only the best brands he can scavenge) before you two will be smoking like pros. Given the state of things you might not even live long enough to get lung cancer, or might be immune to it thanks to being a Numen. Either way, Jacob wants you to live it up with him.

-You might have gotten a contact high from Trent’s special blend, but to Jacob its weaksauce, though he does keep some of it handy in case you would like to smoke some, and will keep an eye on you so that you don’t get into any trouble or get hurt with your initial high.

Ryan:

-Ryan absolutely has his Himbo moments, but he’s not as dumb as others might think. He’s better at coming up with quick plans on the fly rather than long projects, so you pick up the slack for him in that regard.

-When you sleep together, Ryan tends to roll over on top of you protectively and you’ve come to appreciate the feeling of him on top of you, almost like a big warm, weighted blanket.

-Ryan actually hates needles and tends to flinch each time he needs to use an autoinjector, needs stitches from an injury, or has to help Dr. Reed with his vaccine stuff. But if you can distract him by holding his hand or keeping his attention things will go much easier.

-Ryan loved seeing the giant spider animatronic over at Monarch Studios because he’s actually a big fan of giant monster movies. So if you happen to surprise him with some while out scavenging its gonna be a fun night of seeing your man geeking out over his hyperfixation.

-Ryan is actually very particular about how he has his coffee made and would rather go to the nearest coffee shop and fix it himself than let someone else do it wrong. The only exception to that rule is when you are the one making the coffee for him. When you do it its always perfect, because its made with love.

All Purpose Headcanons:

-When your lover was thrown into that pit in the sewers by the Eschaton group, full of infected which forced them to go berserk, you jumped in after them without a moment’s hesitation. Your Slayer Lover was rabid, wild, tearing apart infected with their bare hands. For a moment it looked like they might do the same to you, but when their eyes stared into your own, they recognized you, and it started to calm them down, bringing them back to normality.

-Luciana set up some scavenged videogame consoles down in the game room. Your Slayer lover always likes to have you as their player 2 and sits right next to you as you play. 

-Curtis likes to hang out there too and while he doesn’t play any games (hands have far too much arthritis and games move too fast for him) he’s grown to enjoy watching the others play them and watching the stories sometimes or even talking about them. During Tabletop RPG nights in the gameroom, he also likes to sit nearby and watch, while commenting on how to properly roll dice like he did back in his younger days as a star when he went to Vegas, or adding random bits of commentary.

-Amanda has been trying to set up a better internet connection in the living room so that she can upload her videos. She’s had no luck so far, but she’s also shown her softer side by asking everyone to write an email to someone they care for on the outside, and saving it on her tablet, so that if she does get a signal, she can send it out as soon as possible before they lose the signal again.

-Everytime you have to go into the sewers you end up needing like a three hour bath to scrub yourself clean, but your lover is always there to help you out, even if they too smell bad from being in the sewers with you.

-Emma doesn’t like it, but you all love using her jacuzzi in the back of the mansion. You all just sit back, take in the sun, relax in the water, and ignore the sound of the Zeds outside. Nothing like taking a break with some good friends.