A Reference For Craving Without The Binding Runes. He Nakkie!!

a reference for Craving without the binding runes. He nakkie!!

You know I wish fatphobia was less pervasive. Even among people who consider themself as progressive, it's rampant. So quick reminder. No it's actually not easy to stop being fat, and it sucks that we are treated differently for something we really can't control. Shaming a fat person for being fat, and shaming them for not having the "willpower" to become skinny- is bigotry. And if all you talk to fat people about is weight loss and dieting- congratulations! You're being a dick! Stop.

Free serotonin from Honey thr Italian greyhound

uh. wip time

Not a single thought passed through Therion’s head as he took a running start and sprung over Miguel, arms outstretched, tackling Alfyn to the ground hard enough to slide all 200-some pounds of apothecary a full body length away from where he stood. He felt an ethereal spear brush past his leg, a few more past his feet, a couple past his arms. Landing on solid earth felt like a jolt back to reality, his senses pulling back from a plane above and into his body – he laid on Alfyn in an awkward straddle, his face mashed into his (pleasantly soft) chest. No time to think about that. He pushed himself up to survey the damage. Alfyn was uninjured but flustered (no time to think about that, no time to think about that), and Therion himself was fine, though there was a new hole in his pant leg. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed later. He looked behind him to see a densely packed meter of meadowgrass torn apart by a forest of ethereal spears.

“...damn.” Alfyn managed to breathe.

“Yeah.” Therion sighed. “No kidding.” He turned back to the apothecary. “You alright?”

“Um.” Alfyn shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking between Therion and something off to the side, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to maintain eye contact. “I’m okay, I think. Are you – ?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one who almost got hit with a bunch of spears, idiot.”

Alfyn opened his mouth to speak, but came up short for words. This time he maintained eye contact, and Therion suddenly realized just how close they were. He felt Alfyn’s gentle exhale on his face, a warm breeze playing with the strands of his bangs. The gold-flecked hazel of his eyes thinned by dilated pupils, the movement of his sturdy jaw as he chewed his lower lip –

(Cor, what are you, a fuckin’ twist? Get a move on, already.)

Therion’s eyes grew wide before he rolled off of Alfyn and sprung back to his feet, offering the apothecary a hand up.

“C’mon.” Therion didn’t meet his eyes. He could feel gratitude and confusion radiating off of him, but he couldn’t afford to wrestle with that. Not now. “We don’t have time for this.” Instead he looked at Miguel, struggling to his feet, caught in one of H’aanit’s hunting snares. At the very least, his teammates has his back while he and Alfyn had their little…moment.

they might be right in the middle of a very climactic battle but theri and alfyn can have a second to be a little gay. as a treat

love love love theri trying desperately not to focus on how soft alfyn's chest is or how flustered he is. he's trying his best ok.

AND. IM NOT QUITE SURE HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THE INNER MONOLOGUE NEAR THE END SOUNDING A LOT LIKE A CERTAIN OTHER GREEN PARTNER. HM.