#fffffff.

[veliseraptor]

newest struggle in my life: the debate between "recipe i actually want to make" and "recipe that could easily be kosher for pesach"

[happy-hotelier]

Soooo, when are you gonna propose to Angel? It’s obvious enough that you want him in your life forever, why not make it official?

“P-pardon?! I--Is that even allowed??” ...But then they are in Hell still. It shouldn’t really matter all that much. Not in the grand scheme of things... Damn. Now he has to scrounge up enough for an engagement ring. Thanks a lot.

[sugarstarlights]

Fuck, I missed therapy and didn’t realize for two days.

[fogword]

fairy tales.

THE RIVER mended the two halves of the valley like hand-stitched clothes, a long blue thread that ran down the center of the green grass. It turned greyish in the fall. The stones at the bottom of the river, polished smooth by decades of running water, shone a crisp weathered color. Autumn was cold in the great waiting south— cold and full of secrets. The leaves turned amber and ember and rust, fell, landed in the icy washes of the river Thorn and were carried on east— seawards— until eventually it lost them all. They snagged on fallen logs or bridges, speckling the banks like the scales of an unimaginably massive carp. Later, walking along the edge of the water, Alli would find pockets of them brown and rotting, and he would know that winter had come at last. 

For now, though, it was only cold.

Basket in hand, Alli’s long trek took him away from the road, up across ditches and mud. He knew he would ruin his clothes by the end of this, almost without doubt, but the thing he would do more than made up for the cost of a new set. He could only hope it wouldn’t need more than the one trip. It wasn’t good to leave tracks in the soft bank of the Thorn, but neither was it good to walk on the path, and anyway, the path did not lead where he meant to go.

The lake was surrounded on the southern side by a crown of red-orange jewel-toned leaves. Autumn hit the far south first, Alli had always found; like a wolf over water, it took it a time to make the leap over the river line. Fall preferred not to get its feet wet. Well, so did Alli. As he broke the line of bushes on the northern edge, the sun had just begun to set. Liquid light scraped off on the tops of the trees: gold on copper, gold on maroon. The whole wood might’ve been on fire.

He hesitated— later than he’d have liked— but knelt at the edge of the lake to get at his basket. Inside, two loaves his under cloth and a layer of cheese, still warm. Steam wished up from the towel as he unwrapped one, lifted it from its swaddle, threw it full-force into the water.

Alli looked on anxiously as it bobbed there, bouncing gently every few seconds. When the ripples from the impact had reached his toes, it was listing badly, and in another moment it was gone. The still surface had eaten it whole.

“I only have the one other,” said Alli. This was the part he hated. Hearing his voice in the silence, even at the half-murmur he was using— he might as well have screamed.

The water, of course, said nothing. “Will you take it all, then? What will I give my brother?” said Alli. Still nothing.

The sun had dipped below the trees. The sky was just again pink by the time he left the lake. When he thought he’d gotten far enough, far enough that the water couldn’t tell, he stopped walking and broke into a run. Back along the river. Feet crunching in the leaves. Up and onto the path that led to the road that took him back to town.

There was always something there.

Ali had known it since he was little. He’d known, first, when he’d see the little house across the lake on the southern bank. He’d known when he saw the gleam of white in the river and found dog bones there— but then again, too big and mean for a dog. He’d known when he watched fall burst the banks and burn up from the south of the Thorn until winter hunted it back down from the northern border, and he knew when, upon telling her, his best friend had ventured to cross the gap into the southern woods. She had slipped in the rocks upstream of the lake. He remembered the ribbon of red from her curly brown hair, drizzling into the lake water. He remembered how horrible and hungry the lake had been.

When she recovered, she remembered none of it, but Alli knew.

He fed the lake after that. He didn’t want it to stay hungry. But despite throwing it offerings weekly, he worried it wouldn’t be enough. That one day the things in the Thorn and the things in the southern woods might come across the water, searching for the girl whose blood they tasted just a few years ago.

He never told her.

Alli slept badly most nights. In his dreams, the wolf rose up from the river. It walked the bank at dawn, and in the sunrise he heard it at his door, dripping brackish water—

— drip, drip, drip.

It whispered through the walls to him. If he listened close enough, he could hear it; grinning, it let the secrets of the south stumble like smoke from between its long,  sharp teeth.

[veliseraptor]

spent so long this evening setting up my new skyrim layout + mods only that I didn’t get to actually play any :|

tomorrow maybe! between...all the other shit I have to do after work slkdjsldkfjsdf

[kandraws]

rainy day

[scatterstep-blog]

yknow what sucks?? in the game youre like a 10 year old so a combusken, around 2′11″, is almost as tall as you so like in real life torchic would just be teeny itty bitty tiny to me and i.

[whitewolfofrivia-blog]

So my sisters are going to spend the night over here and then we're going to drive to my parents' house in the morning so we can all leave together, and when they came over with their stuff we went out to get last minute stuff + road trip snacks and the whole time my sister was teasing me because I foUND one of the witcher books but came back for it later and it was g o n e.