#astrangertomykin

[chara-beara]

The master post! :) @theleafcuter @thateruditestranger-thatfucker @astrangertomykin go follow em all!

[flannelizard]

Zimbits repainting their living room together!

(You changed your request in a pm so I’m writing that one because sobs)

Seasonal Affective Disorder. SAD, if you’re feeling cheeky, is the bane of Eric Richard Bittle’s existence. As much as he loves the social climate of the north, for a few months each year, the actual climate sucks the life out of him. He gets tired, stressed, apathetic, and has to keep special lamps around just to make him feel human.

When he wakes up (later than he should), Jack has already opened up the blackout shades so he can at least have the hazy gray sunlight pouring into the room, which is better than nothing at all. Bitty sits up and groans, his limbs already feeling heavy. If he didn’t know that Jack would drag him out, he’d spend the whole day in bed. Damn Jack and his insistence that they do everything in their power to feel healthier.

Bitty slips out of bed and pads over to the master bath to wash his face, brush his teeth, and take his daily Lexapro. Once that has all been handled, he stretches his arms above his head and heads out to eat breakfast.

The first thing he notices when he steps into the hall separating the bedroom from the rest of the house is the smell. Floral and heady and bringing a grin to Bitty’s face immediately. Jack does have a habit of buying him flowers, especially in the winter months, to bring a little sunshine. From the smell of it, he’s done just that today. A small smile tugs on Bitty’s lips while he walks down the hallway.

The second thing he notices is the sound of birdsong. It draws a wistful sigh from him, knowing that it can’t be actual birds at this time of year. Jack must be attempting meditation again.

The third thing he notices is the feeling of grass under his feet when he rounds the corner into the living room. Shocked, he looks down to find that, yes, that is grass under his feet, separated from the hardwood by what looks to be a carefully placed tarp, with planters of flowers placed here and there. The pictures on the walls have been taken down and replaced with hanging baskets of ivy tacked to the wall with removable hangers, and the big screen tv has a video of trees swaying in the wind playing.

Right in the middle of it is Jack. Looking soft in a pair of khaki shorts and a Samwell t shirt, with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders high, and a look on his face like he’s asking Bitty if all of this is okay.

“Oh honey, what is all this?” Bitty asks with a hand clapped over his mouth and tears welling up in his eyes.

“I know winter is hard for you, I wanted to bring you a little sunlight,” Jack says like it’s obvious and easy and like he didn’t obviously wake up obscenely early to set this up. “Come on, let’s have breakfast.”

He pulls Bitty over to the spread he’s set up with their picnic blanket, a bowl of fruit salad, and paper thin crepes with a selection of all of Bitty’s favorite toppings. Bitty has to keep himself from knocking it all over to tackle this ridiculous man into the ground. “Oh it’s so beautiful, how did you-”

“Lardo knows some people,” Jack says with a wink. He holds up a strawberry for Bitty to bite into, which he does and groans when it’s perfectly sweet. “And I got your parents to film their back yard for an hour so I could do the TV.”

Bitty turns back to the video of the trees and realizes Jack is exactly right. That is the forest that their house backs up to, complete with the birdhouse he and coach built for his twelfth birthday. “Oh honey this is…it’s too much.”

Jack chuckles, takes Bitty’s chin in his hand, and brushes their lips together and the sun shines.

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

He connects eating with worth and deserving to be okay. So on days and weeks where he feels like he has particularly failed as a captain or a friend he doesn't eat. He doesn't deserve to be full. He can't help them, he can't save them. He couldn't save them then and he can't save them now. He's still that scared little boy passing on his food because why did they not pick him instead of sweet little Morgan who shared her candy or kind Mr Hkd'eh? They were better than him. They're always better.

Oh god... IT HURTS. 

[drugstoreperfumemp3]

I hope you don't mind I'm joining your Jaime clown club 🤡

not at all, welcome, my friend. grab a nose and some shoes and start working on your ‘jaime is alive’ banner

[eelxum]

So the NHL has like a regular season and then the playoffs. Right now we are in regular season so all the teams in both the Western and Eastern Conference are playing like 80 something games each. Then we hit playoffs where only 16 teams, three from each of the four divisions and two wild card teams, qualify to make a bid for the Stanley Cup by process of elimination!

thank you for the information! it’s kinda like MLB after all, though not as confusing and less games (that is good news!!)

regular season ends in april, right? just in time for figure skating season to end and the MLB season to start. stanley cup final is around june, which is fantastic!

[omgjustinoluransi]

It's 9:18 am over here right now and I'm wondering why the heck my dogs are all licking my knees. Like all three at the same time. Oh also your colour palette is totally Without A Heart. Your nickname is totally Aestas in my head. (You did a few of these and I wasn't going to miss one out)

ur doggos love u but r also super weird and so i love them 

!!! i love without a heart,, its so soft and good

also i did a quick google and that nickname is so cute omg ily

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

Jim definitely has anxiety around food and organisation. With food he has to have a perfect akount, he can't leave food behind withiut his skin itching but sometimes the food just sinks in his stomach. With organisation everything has to be in its place, he needs to take control of his life and his studies. Make sure everything is going perfectly.

I agree. Cannot leave leftovers at all. He either cleans his plate or doesn’t eat. Sometimes he can tell when food is going to sit heavily in his stomach, but more often than not he forces through and eats anyway purely because of the anxiety that sets in when he remembers how quickly food can be taken away. 

He has stashes of ration bars all over the place. In his boots, in his quarters, eventually in weird places around the ship. The ones around the ship aren’t a secret, and they’re fair game, but if someone takes one they always make sure to replenish the stock so that the supply is always there. 

Only a few people know why the captain has this strange quirk, but no one questions it. It makes the darkness in his eyes fade a little, and the tension of his shoulders release just slightly, and that’s good enough for them. 

[nuttysaladtree]

Thank you very much for adding a link to the punchline of the "page not found" post!

[A version of] the post in question: https://www.tumblr.com/endlessflotsam/787827739443003392/nuttysaladtree-astrangertomykin

You're welcome!