#Resident Care & Activities of Daily Living

[sensualnoiree]

1st House: The Helm This is where your spiritual energy and identity take the spotlight. The 1st House governs your appearance, personality, and vitality—the essence of how you project yourself to the world. It’s your steez, your approach to life, and the first impression you make on others. The 1st House is all about beginnings, the mask you may unknowingly wear, and how you come to know yourself on a deep authentic level. The captain of this ship is the ruling planet of the zodiac sign residing there.

2nd House: Gate of Hades Your values, self-esteem, and ability to attract wealth are all tied to the 2nd House. This is where your personal resources, possessions, and financial matters come into play. The foods you eat, your saving and spending habits, and your sense of self-worth are all part of this house. It’s where your style and material wealth are rooted, reflecting how you value yourself and what you own. This house represents how you sustain for yourself, how you support all that the first house needs of you to be who you are.

3rd House: Goddess The 3rd House is the domain of communication, early education, and the mind. It governs how you gather and process information, your intellect, and your interactions within your community. This house also encompasses your relationships with siblings, short travels, and technical skills. It’s the space where your to-do list and daily mental activities take shape.

4th House: Subterranean Deeply connected to your roots, the 4th House represents your home, heritage, and ancestry. It’s where your inner life and sense of security are nurtured, influenced by your upbringing and relationship with your parents—especially the mother. This house also relates to land, generational gifts, and knowledge passed down through the family. It’s a space of femininity and the feminine energies in your life. This is the lowest point of the birth chart and can be fairly private and personal-as opposed to the 10th house. It holds up the rest of the chart and is incredibly important in terms of learning about our sense of security/stability emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

5th House: Good Fortune Joy, creativity, and self-expression flourish in the 5th House. This is where you experience the pleasures of life—love affairs, children, art, and entertainment. It’s the house of flirtation, play, and drama, where your passions come to life. The 5th House also governs leisure activities, fertility, and the pursuit of happiness through creative endeavors. A sense of nostalgia lives here too.

6th House: Bad Fortune The 6th House deals with work, health, and daily routines. It’s the space of labor, servitude, and the duties that never seem to end. This house also governs how you care for your body, deal with illness and injury, and interact with employees or pets. It’s where the unexpected challenges in life arise, requiring your attention and resilience. Look here for understanding on what great works you may find yourself committing to.

7th House: Setting Place Relationships take center stage in the 7th House. This is where you finally begin to truly engage with others, forming long-term commitments, whether in marriage, partnerships, or friendships. It’s the house of open enemies, where you face the other in life. The 7th House also governs relaxation, romance, and the deep bonds that define your connections with others.

8th House: The Idle Place Death, transformation, and shared resources are key themes in the 8th House. It’s where you confront karma, contracts, and generational lessons. This house also deals with loans, debts, and the deep psyche—the mysteries and fears that lie beneath the surface. The 8th House is a place of soul material, where you explore the unseen and the unknown. Here, you face all consequences-positive & negative- of the 7th house and the relationships, contracts, and potential enemies made there. This is the house of others esteem of you, opposite of the 2nd.

9th House: House of God The 9th House is your portal to higher knowledge, philosophy, and spiritual exploration. It governs your worldview, ethics, and the pursuit of truth through study, travel, and discovery. This house is where you connect with religion, spirituality, and the higher mind, expanding your understanding of the world and your place in it.

10th House: House of Praxis Your public life, reputation, and career are shaped by the 10th House. It’s where you strive for honor, recognition, and achievements that define your legacy. This house also relates to your relationships with authority figures, particularly the father, and how you navigate the public sphere. The 10th House is where your goals, fame, and business acumen are realized. Sitting at the very top of the chart, like the sun at noon high in the sky, all can see you here.

11th House: Good Spirits In the 11th House, your hopes, dreams, and social networks come to life. This house governs your friendships, group affiliations, and the communities you belong to. It’s where you connect with humanity, receive sudden blessings, and find support in your aspirations. The 11th House is also associated with gifts, riches, and the imagination needed to dream big.

12th House: Bad Spirits The 12th House is a place of retreat, isolation, and self-undoing. It’s where you confront your inner shadows, secrets, and hidden enemies. This house governs institutions, mental health, and the need for solitude or seclusion. It’s also a space of psychological development, where you deal with endings, sickness, and the unseen forces that shape your life journey. This house is in a blind spot to the first house of Self and that is why we can be blind to the very things that reside here. Its not so much that these things seek out to destroy you but any area of your life your are deeply unaware of can come back and disorientate you from who you believe yourself to be.

follow for more astro insights like this and head on over to @quenysefields or my etsy --> sensualnoiree to grab my new astrology guidebook on reading your own natal chart :)

[sakuravalelp]

Ellie(Dani) didn't realize how dangerous Danny's home was for him until he was more worried about her when she got her own home. - Prompt I think(?)

Ellie wasn't sure how to feel when Danny excitedly animated her to accept Arthur's invitation to live in Atlantis.

"Just if you want of course, but you'll get a stable home, and Frostbite said living underwater might be good for your water cores stability."

She had already been planning to accept the offer. Once she gave the guy an opportunity to have some sort of conversation, the guy was pretty chill, and the castle was pretty cool. So yeah, she was going to accept the offer.

But for some reason Danny's eagerness for her to go with Arthur hurt. It felt like he was trying to get rid of her.

She knew that was ridiculous, she didn't even live with Danny. He looked out for her, and was always a call away but, as much as Danny parents her, he was just a child like her. It made sense he was happy to give away the responsibility of taking care of her.

So when Ellie moved into Atlantis, she was expecting to hear less from Danny. After all, she had settle down, and he didn't need to worry about her adventures anymore. That was Arthur's and Mera's job now.

Weirdly enough, it was the complete opposite.

Now that Ellie was living with adults, Danny seemed MORE worried for her. They went from a call once a week or so, to almost daily calls in the afternoons. He would be more insistent about her telling him if anything was wrong.

He would ask specifics about the food she was eating, and her activities of the day, and her room, and the castles security...

Sam had told her that it was because he used to be able to monitor if she was eating well through the transactions of the debit card they had given her. Tuck had told her that he used to evaluate how safe she was through the phones location, and the hotels receipts.

And well, maybe she underestimated how much attention Danny put on her before, but the way the calls went made it seem like he thought she might be in more danger now that she had a stable home.

Which made no sense, because unlike him, she didn't even need to hide her ghostlines. Anything that was out of normal for Atlanteans was excused with meta-abilities, she didn't need to worry about being classified as a non-sentient species.

That was when it caught up to her. Danny was worried now that she was in a stable home because his stable home had always been dangerous for him. It isn't even a think of it being dangerous now that his a ghost, it has been dangerous ever since he was a child. She remembers all of Jazz's rants about how unreliable their parents have always been.

The food has always been contaminated. The security now attacked him directly, but there had always been a possibility of it malfunctioning and hurting the residents. Him and Jazz had always had the responsibilities of not only keeping the house clean, but the lab as well. If she tops it with the house security system attacking him, and his parents been ghost hunters...

Ellie hadn't found it too dangerous back then, Danny mocked Jazz rants with her, and Jack and Maddie were kind when they interacted with her in her human form. The Fentons neglect seemed liberating in comparison to Vlad overly controlling nature. But thinking about it now, after two months living in Atlantis, she doesn't like the picture.

She doesn't like the idea of Danny being somewhere so unsafe, but where would he go? He doesn't have a water core like her, and even if he had gotten sorta used to shapeshifting, he isn't good enough to live in a second form, which isn't recommendable either way. So he wouldn't be able to move underwater with her.

More so, she doubts that Danny would like to leave his Amity, he had taken the sole responsibilities of dealing with the whole humans - ghost conflicts. With the anti-ecto acts, there's no way he would leave the portal unsupervised.

What should she do now? Should she talk with Arthur about it? He said he was part of the heros friend group, what if they already know about the anti-ecto acts and are okay with it? What if they change hoe they act with her when she tells them she isn't actually an atlatean meta?

[starleska]

The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader

You're a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it's the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn't seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?

content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and you’re both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! 😉 you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!! 

The day you learn how to love Wally Darling begins like any other.

It is a balmy day, the air soft and thick and dizzy with butterflies. The sun shines with relentless cheer, and nary a cloud can be seen in the sky. Such a day in the Neighbourhood cannot be spent languishing inside, and all your new neighbours think the same way. So, which lovely activity did they decide upon? Why, a picnic on the grass, of course!

The organisation of the event is efficient and cheerful. In no time, the lush meadow surrounding the outskirts of the Neighbourhood is replete with cosy blankets to lie on, fun games to play, and a plethora of delicious foods contributed by each neighbour. Luckily, you’d baked a whole tray of cupcakes the previous day, with the intent of handing them out when bumping into your neighbours going about their daily business. The cupcakes were a huge success; even the ever-curmudgeonly Frank, who always has something to complain about, graces you with a begrudging, “It’s good, I suppose,” when you hand him a vanilla cupcake topped with a green-icing butterfly.

'I needed this,’ you think as you look around at your new friends. You’ve only been a resident of the Neighbourhood for a few months, but in that time you’ve grown so close to its colourful cast of neighbours as if you’d known each other your whole lives. Right now, they’re dotted across the meadow, smiling and laughing without a care in the world: Howdy’s busy putting together an impossibly long string of daisy chains; Eddie and Sally peer into an origami fortune-teller and giggle at the results; Frank leans over a bush, studying a caterpillar, and Julie and Poppy clap and cheer whilst Barnaby entertains them with a juggling act.

It’s a gorgeous scene. Today, your heart is warm.

A small flash of yellow catches your eye. Of course, it’s an incomplete picture. You take in Wally, who sits cross-legged under the shade of a verdant apple tree. He’s holding an apple between both hands and staring at it intently, as if willing the fruit to communicate with him. It’s an odd expression - you aren’t used to seeing Wally in a state of concentration.

“Hey, Wally!” you call.

Wally looks up at you and smiles. He beckons you over.

“Hello,” says Wally, in his simple way. “I’m happy to see you.”

Oh, what a beautiful voice. Every time you hear Wally speak, it’s like the gentle lapping of his syllables sweep away your worries in a single wave.

As you get closer to Wally, you notice a few strands of his deep blue hair turning flyaway and giving in to the heat, curling away from the otherwise-immaculate pompadour and escaping the death-grip of his hairspray. He’s a little dishevelled elsewhere, too; Wally’s neckerchief is coming loose, and though he’s long since abandoned his cardigan, a stray button on his shirt remains stubbornly popped. You find yourself grinning. Wally takes such pride in his appearance that you never get to see him a little less than perfect.

“Same to you!” you say. “Aren’t you hungry? All the food’s down with the others.”

That unusually pensive look on Wally’s face deepens. He turns his eyes back to his apple. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” You rummage in your backpack and pull out a chocolate bar. “You’ve got to eat, bud. You not feeling so good?”

Wally takes the treat from you and examines it for a moment, as if the bar is a scientific curiosity. “That’s very nice of you…but this doesn’t work for me. You should keep it.”

When Wally hands the bar back, your fingers touch for the briefest moment, and a shiver works its way up your spine.

You don’t know when this… thing you have for Wally Darling began. Despite the countless nights you’ve spent desperately trying to focus on something, anything else, your thoughts inevitably return to the little yellow puppet-man and his catlike smile. There’s a strange magnetism to Wally which befits his profession as a television host; everything from the delicate way he handles his paintbrush, to his ridiculous affinity for apples, leaves you with a little more fondness than before. Wally has so much affection stored in one small body, and when you first met, you wondered how any person could love so much all at once.

But now, when you look at Wally, you understand.

“If you’re sure.” You pop the bar back into your bag and sit on the ground in front of Wally, mirroring his cross-legged pose. “The offer’s still there.”

“It’s tempting,” says Wally, now turning his apple over and over in his hands. “I’d like to know what would happen, if I tried. But Barnaby told me it isn’t worth the risk. I trust him to know.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but the look on Wally’s face is so uncharacteristically brooding that you don’t feel it’s polite to pry. Wally’s always been the drifting sort: those large, dewy eyes of his are perpetually lidded, and always seem to be gazing at something no one else can see. But Wally’s inattentiveness is usually matched with an infectious, excited kind of energy, bursting with nonsense and love.

Today, he almost looks sad. The idea makes you feel sick.

It occurs to you that this may be a personal issue, and Wally doesn’t know you well enough to discuss it. So you ask, “Do you want me to look away?”

Wally’s fingers still. To your surprise, the apple actually drops from his hands and rolls into the grass. You’ve never seen Wally mistreat an apple before - there must be something seriously wrong.

“Actually,” says Wally, now looking at you properly, “I’d like to try something.”

He gestures for you to shuffle closer. When you do, Wally reaches forward and takes hold of your forearms. You make a surprised noise, but Wally squeezes you, and fixes you with a smile full of reassurance and warmth. A rush of heat leaps into your cheeks, and you’re suddenly reminded of an interaction you had with another neighbour not too long ago.

It was only a week after you arrived in the Neighbourhood, and you were finally moving the last of your belongings into your home. All of your new neighbours had graciously donated their time to help you in some fashion, and you were overcome with gratitude. On that final day you were more than capable of doing the rest of the moving yourself, but your closest neighbour - the excitable Julie Joyful - volunteered to help with the last handful of delicate items. At first, you were unsure - Julie is a lovely girl and incredibly fun to be around, but so spirited that you feared for the safety of your items. But a good twenty minutes of allowing her to help with the least fragile of your boxes allayed all your fears: Julie moves with the grace of a ballerina, and the two of you soon had all your boxes stacked in your living room.

Burnt orange sunlight poured through the window, streaming soon-to-be-dusk and casting the wooden floorboards with a vibrant glow. You take a moment from the heavy lifting to look out the window. Across the lawn, you can make out a couple of your neighbours engaging in some game. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s Wally and Barnaby, the former laughing and tossing a series of colourful balls for Barnaby to catch.

You watched as Wally swung his arm and threw a few of the balls a surprising distance, letting the large, spotted dog race off to retrieve them. Wally put his hands on his hips, as if exhausted by the exertion. He turned - and locked eyes with you. Wally’s face broke out into a huge grin, and he gave you a hearty wave. Feeling horribly embarrassed, you waved back, trying to ignore the painful squeezing of your heart. You’ve only known Wally a week, and yet you’re utterly charmed by everything he does.

A tug on your arm brought you back to the present: it’s Julie. She bats her long eyelashes at you, a knowing smile on her face.

“You like hiiiiim, ” she teased, her voice all sing-song.

“What?!”

You grabbed Julie by the shoulders and yanked her away from the window, as if Wally could somehow hear you both through sight. “No! I don’t know where you got an idea like that-”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t need to pretend.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d always been the careful type, ensuring your innermost thoughts and feelings stayed stuffed as far down as possible to keep you safe. But the Neighbourhood bred a kind of emotional honesty with which you were totally unfamiliar. Everyone is so exuberant, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves - some of them even literally, as plenty of your new neighbours wore outfits stitched with cute little hearts! Keeping a secret in the Neighbourhood felt wrong…even a secret crush on the silly little artist whose smile lit up your insides.

So, you give in. “How did you know?”

Julie giggles. She fishes in the pocket of her dress, and pulls out a daisy.

“I know a lot about flowers,” she explained, as she twirled the stem between her fingers. “What kinds grow in different meadows. How much sun and water and love they need to grow. They show it in their petals, and how they lean. People are a lot like that too.

“When you arrived, you looked…wilted. Like you’d been kept out of the sun for too long. I could see it, but didn’t want to ask why. I think everyone else could, too…and we all wanted to help a new friend who lost their colour.”

“You’ve all been so lovely to me,” you said, by way of thanks.

Julie nodded. “Sure we have! And it worked, for a little bit. But for a flower at the end of its days, even fresh soil, plenty of sun and lots of water can only do so much. Your petals seemed faded for good. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy - whatever that looks like for you.”

You swallowed. “You see a lot, for a gardener.”

Julie smiled. “When you care for flowers, you learn to listen to their needs. Sometimes, you’ll have a flower who has everything in the world…but they’re still curling up, and shying away from the light.”

She pressed the daisy into your palm.

“Wally brings the colour back to your petals,” said Julie. “Do yourself a favour. Don’t hide from your sun.”

Another squeeze from Wally brings you out of your recollection. You suck in a deep breath, facing this new reality of Wally holding you, his fingers pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

“Close your eyes,” says Wally gently.

For anyone else, you would’ve paused - but for Wally, you comply immediately.

Slowly, you feel Wally’s hands slide down your arms to your hands. He threads his fingers through yours and holds them firm, so tight that you start to feel your blood thrumming from the pressure. Your hearing, sensitive now your sight is compromised, picks up the distant chatter of your neighbours, as well as the friendly sounds of nature at play. Your skin tingles, sweat-slicked from the heat and the nerves.

“I have a question,” says Wally, his voice wonderfully calm and soft.

“Yes?”

“Why do you eat?”

“Uh…” What kind of question was that? Wally is admittedly prone to posing questions that only a truly strange mind would think up, but this one is so baffling, you’re thrown entirely for a loop. “...So I don’t die, I guess?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Wally’s unique, halting laugh almost startles you into opening your eyes. “You’re so funny. Okay. Do you know why I eat?”

This time, it takes you a little longer to answer. A simple enough question, surely with the exact same answer? But Wally’s voice has taken on a teasing, knowing edge - a sound you recognise from when he’s setting up a punchline. The question must be a trick. So you rack your brains, trying to think of all the times you’d seen Wally eat: where he was, what he was eating.

With your eyes still closed, you reach a strange realisation.

“I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat.”

A soft chuckle from Wally. “That’s right. You haven’t.”

Wally’s grip on your hand tightens. Strangely, a weak, static noise buzzes to life, seemingly from inside your skull. You shift, trying to locate the source, but Wally holds you in place. As the noise grows, the sounds of your friends fizzle out and die. It’s as if you’ve been placed on an invisible train and are moving steadily down the track, away from all the familiar sounds of your Neighbourhood - but you can’t feel the rumbling of the track, or hear the whistle of the wind.

“But…maybe you should.”

With Wally’s words the temperature noticeably drops, and gooseflesh breaks out on your arms. You shudder, wanting to open your eyes but finding that you can’t: your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. You’re stuck in place, pinioned to the grass (which you can no longer feel) as that buzzing sound inches up by the decibel, a nasty, steady crawl which leaves your brain awash in a sea of noise.

“Open your eyes.”

You do so.

And you can’t make sense of what you see.

The sky is gone. The tree is gone. The meadow is gone. Every detail from the Neighbourhood’s comforting landscape has evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a grayscale emptiness which fuzzes in and out like television static. Even the awful buzzing sound abruptly falls away, leaving your ears with nothing but the distant sound of an unseen tide.

Wally still sits in front of you, his hands grasping yours, but it’s like he’s sitting on nothing at all: somehow supported by a cushion of emptiness. It’s like the texture of the world has fallen out of reality.

Seized by vertigo, you tighten your grip on Wally’s hands. “What’s happening?!”

“Don’t worry,” says Wally. “You’re safe.”

“There’s nothing here,” you whisper. “Where is everyone?”

“Back Home,” says Wally. “They can’t see us right now. They’re not ready.” His smile turns coy. “But I think you are. Watch this.”

Wally reaches over and rustles in your backpack. Your heart crawls into your mouth; although you can see Wally’s hands in front of you, you can somehow still feel his hands holding both of yours, keeping you locked in place. You try to look down and make sense of this impossibility, but your eyes are stuck, glued to Wally’s face. You can only watch, terrified, as he takes out your chocolate bar and locks in his gaze.

Without warning, Wally’s eyes flare open, heavy lids drawing back and revealing the full size of his large, black pupils. Wally’s stare travels steadily down the chocolate bar, a focused intensity searing from his eyes like a laser. Somehow as he stares, bite marks are chunked out of the chocolate, as if some great invisible person is taking enormous chomps out of both the bar and wrapper. In seconds, the chocolate is gone.

Panic grips your chest, and you start to hyperventilate. The world tilts, and you’re scared you might actually puke. Wally blinks, his eyelids half-blanketing those pupils once more, and he looks at you with concern. When his eyes connect, your chest convulses with panic: a type of terror you’ve never experienced before threatening to claw its way out of your body and devour you whole.

“What happened?!”

“Oh, don’t be scared,” says Wally, his voice floating and cloudlike. “This is just how I eat.”

“How - did you - do - that?” you gasp.

“I’m not sure. I’ve always eaten this way.” Wally inclines his head in sympathy. “I am sorry if I’ve made you afraid. I usually only eat when others are blinking. That way, I don’t interrupt them. I don’t want to be rude."

You suck in a huge gulp of breath. “Wally, this is…impossible,” you manage. “I want to leave - I want to go Home-”

“You can’t.”

Wally shakes his head mildly from side to side, but his eyes seem to stay still, locked into the centre of his face. No matter how much you strain to move, those incredible eyes remain right in front of you, always at the same distance, never looking away - and never blinking. In your peripheral vision, you see Wally’s hand reach up towards your face. He cups your cheek. The sensation of feeling three arms belonging to a two-armed person on your body sends a rush of nausea through your throat. Wally strokes your skin with his thumb.

“You understand me so well,” says Wally. “You see me, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.” Another wave of dizziness rises up, pushing behind your eyeballs. The sensation is the same as the pressure of allergies arising on a high pollen day - yet you can no longer smell the flowers of the meadow. You try again in vain to rip your gaze away from Wally’s, but you can’t - and you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Wally’s thumb stops, resting in the dip of your cheek. “I love my friends, but they only see one part of me. The part they want to see. But you…”

His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.

“...you see all of me.”

You’re split in two. Your brain, the logical part of your thinking, is screaming at you to do anything - to move, to scream, to run as fast as you can into the nightmare emptiness and beg for help. But the other part of you - your traitorous, emotional heart - douses the runaway fire of your fear with the intoxication of Wally’s touch. You find yourself leaning into his hand, savouring how perfectly his cheek cups your palm, and the slight fuzz of his thumb teasing your lip.

“I do,” you whisper. Suddenly, your body relaxes, and you slump forward. You feel very tired. The panic which gripped your body only moments ago is now quashed, flattened into a fine layer of dust by the weight of Wally’s impossibly black eyes. Now your nervous system is nothing but the aftermath: the feeling of fight-or-flight chemicals settling into your bloodstream, leaving you weak and sluggish.

Now, Wally’s eyes are not a source of terror. They’re a blanket you wish to curl up beneath, and never wake up.

“I think you’re special, you know,” says Wally. “The way I feel when I’m around you is…different, than with the others. You’re the absolute most.”

Wally’s words settle over your brain like a dream. You watch, your eyes heavy and drained, as Wally brings his hands up to his chest and forms the shape of his heart with his fingers. You’re no longer scared of the physical contradictions of Wally holding your hands whilst signing his affection. It seems in this reality, Wally can have as many hands as he wants.

This is why Wally’s next question confuses you so:

“Do you think if our friends saw me like this…they’d run away?”

Wally’s words are becoming harder to process. The world around him tunnels. Even though you’re sure that you’re fixed in place, sitting on some immovable, textureless cushion, Wally’s eyes grow larger, encroaching evermore on your limiting field of vision. The longer you look, the more of Wally’s scleras are swallowed by his expanding pupils. Those blown, void-black pools seem to come with their own gravity, and you’re slipping into their inconceivable pull, ready to be strewn and stretched and ripped apart by their physics.

“Oh, Wally,” you try to say, but your tongue slackens, and his name comes out as, ‘Waaalllllyyyy.’ “We love you so much. You can’t make us run away.”

Wally smiles, and you think it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“How I wish that were true.”

Suddenly, Wally’s eyes shift just the slightest bit to the left. The effect is like unsealing a pressure chamber. For a moment you are released from his eyes, and your brain and body scramble as one, free-falling and bracing to break against the ground with a hypnic jerk. However, Wally realises his mistake and grabs you by the shoulder - another impossible arm - and forces you to look back into his eyes.

“Shh. Don’t strain yourself. The more you resist, the worse you’ll feel.”

You blink rapidly, trying to reorient yourself in space. Wally’s touch grounds you again, holding you steady in this non-existent space. You try to reply, but your mouth now hangs open, jaw useless. Saliva collects in a pool under your tongue, but Wally still keeps his thumb at the edge of your lip, now rubbing soothing circles against your flesh.

“We don’t have much time,” says Wally. “But…thank you for this. You can’t know how much I appreciate you.”

The warm flush of his approval works its way through your unresponsive body. Your muscles contract, dopamine and serotonin coating your insides and bringing your fingers - still interlocked with Wally’s - into a sudden contraction. You force your mouth into a speech-ready shape, fuelled by his words and his touch and the sheer paradox of his being, and you try so desperately to say, ‘Wally, I love you- ’

But then he looks away.

The spell is broken. Like flipping to another television channel, the world around you snaps back into place in one vivid bound. All the colour, sounds and scents of the Neighbourhood re-enter your senses in one huge burst, and the force of it almost knocks you over. Wally - who is still holding your hands, just like before - keeps you steady, crushing your hands together like he would rather die than let go.

“Hey, you two!”

Looking away from Wally feels like ripping off a plaster. Your eyes alight on Julie trotting up the meadow’s slight incline, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a cooler in the other.

“Eddie wanted me to tell you we’re packing up,” Julie chirps. “Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.” She looks down at your hands, still intertwined with Wally’s, and grins. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just some good old-fashioned fun,” says Wally, his voice impassive and gentle.

The ability for words has deserted you. You stare back at Wally, searching desperately for something supernatural in the darks of his eyes. Wally looks normal - as normal as a small, yellow puppet can - and his eyes are back to their half-lidded, sleepy-looking state. It takes a couple of nudges with his foot for Wally to bring you back to earth.

Wally lets go of your hands, and you can feel the blood pumping in the spaces between your fingers. You try standing up, but your legs are weak and wobbly, as if you’d just run a marathon while sitting in one spot. They would’ve collapsed beneath you, but Wally catches you before you slip. He hauls you up and loops his arm around yours.

“Just hungry,” Wally says with a smile. “Let’s get you Home."

Julie leads the way down the small embankment, with Wally supporting your timid, uneasy steps. You soon reach your neighbours, now busying themselves in tidying up the remnants of your picnic. Upon seeing you, they all crowd around, asking if you’re okay. Barnaby remarks that you look terribly pale, and Sally offers to bring you a drink. However, Wally shoos them off, admonishing them in a familial sort of way. He reassures them that you’ve just had a small fainting spell, and need to get some rest.

Now free of the others, Julie, Wally and yourself make the way home - and you’re thankful it’s only a short distance. When you finally reach your porch you want to fall over onto the steps, but Wally keeps you held upright: a firm, reassuring presence at your side.

“You need to tell us if you get this again, okay?” says Julie, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

“Okay,” you say, giving a weak nod.

“Thank you. Feel better soon, okay?”

Julie gives you and Wally a final glance over. Having determined you’ll be more than fine in Wally’s care, she bids her goodbyes and skips off to help the rest of your neighbours.

“Ha ha ha,” laughs Wally. “Julie is a good friend. I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

You look sideways at Wally. He catches your eye, and dips his head in a nod. “I feel the same way about you,” he says.

The question is implied in his voice - a little waver at the edge of his words.

“Wally…I don’t really understand what happened today,” you say. “But…I know it doesn’t change how much I like you."

The beam that dawns on Wally’s face is so wide, it almost cracks in two. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You can’t help but return the grin. “Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

Wally lets go of your arm, and turns to face you properly. He reaches up one hand, and then hesitates, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours as if pondering a question.

Finally, Wally leans in and gives you a small, gentle kiss on the cheek. You inhale sharply, your arms hanging limply by your side and your fingers curling into questioning shapes. His mouth is plush and downy, and the impression of his lips sends a toasty-sweet feeling rocketing through your body.

When Wally pulls back, his yellow skin is dusted pink about his cheeks.

“Always know,” he says softly, “that I love you very much.”

Then, he’s leaving. You watch in stunned silence as Wally’s back retreats into the distance, making his way to join the throng of your neighbours. A slight rumble in the distance makes you look up: a cluster of thunderclouds gather at the edge of the Neighbourhood, fat with the promise of rain.

You touch your lips gently, and smile. Then, you retreat inside the safety of your home…with the warm memory of Wally’s kiss playing in your mind, and static still buzzing in your fingers.

[astrogurujimayanksblog]

Understanding the Depth of Venus in the Houses: A Comprehensive Guide

Venus, the planet of love, beauty, harmony, and attraction, exerts a powerful influence across each of the 12 astrological houses. In astrology, each placement of Venus reflects unique qualities in love, relationships, and attraction styles. Analyzing Venus’s house position can help uncover the essential traits of an individual’s romantic and social expressions. Below is a detailed analysis of Venus’s impact when positioned in each of the 12 houses. This guide will help you understand how Venus shapes beauty ideals, financial outlooks, and relationship dynamics based on its astrological placement.

Venus in the 1st House: A Natural Charmer

Individuals with Venus in the 1st House often radiate an irresistible charm that draws people in. They may be told they should be models and frequently receive compliments on their appearance. Their direct approach in romance and noticeable enthusiasm for love makes them captivating to others. Those with Venus in the 1st House usually develop a strong independent streak and may prefer solo activities, though their desire for love and beauty remains strong.

Venus in the 2nd House: Valuing Security and Luxury

When Venus resides in the 2nd House, it emphasizes financial security, material desires, and high self-worth. These individuals may feel a strong pull toward partners who can provide financial stability or share their luxurious tastes. They also value art, beauty, and are often musically inclined. A strong sense of determination accompanies their goals, especially in romantic matters, making them formidable and persistent in love.

Venus in the 3rd House: The Communicator

People with Venus in the 3rd House excel in charming communication. They are often described as flirtatious and have a gift for engaging with others on social media or through writing. Many find beauty in intellectual pursuits, poetry, and literature. For these individuals, their relationships might often start online or through casual acquaintances, reflecting Venus’s influence in their sphere of daily interactions and local community.

Venus in the 4th House: Deeply Attached to Family

With Venus in the 4th House, an individual’s emotional and romantic needs are deeply tied to their home life. Family and home are of utmost importance, and their mood may hinge on their environment's harmony. They tend to establish long-lasting, emotionally connected relationships. They may also experience situations where people admire their family or envy their home’s warmth and beauty.

Venus in the 5th House: Romantic and Adventurous

Venus in the 5th House is an incredibly creative placement, drawing individuals toward artistic expressions, hobbies, and romance. Known for having beautiful children, they may also enjoy thrilling experiences and engaging in flings that can lead to long-term relationships. People often perceive them as life’s celebrators, bringing a vibrant energy wherever they go. Romance and creativity are inseparable parts of their lives, making them charismatic partners.

Venus in the 6th House: Discerning and Health-Conscious

Individuals with Venus in the 6th House are notably selective in their love life, often because they seek perfection in both themselves and others. Acts of service tend to be their love language, and they care deeply for animals, even more so than for people at times. A stable daily routine and good hygiene are often non-negotiable for these individuals. Relationships often blossom in professional settings, reflecting Venus’s influence on their work environment.

Venus in the 7th House: The Diplomat

Venus in the 7th House embodies partnership-focused traits, often attracting conventionally attractive individuals and charming people. They place a high value on fairness and are known for having beautiful hair and an engaging aura. These individuals might attract partners with a hint of jealousy, and they are likely to experience complex relationships, often involving their closest friends or romantic partners.

Venus in the 8th House: The Enigmatic Lover

Those with Venus in the 8th House are drawn to mystery and depth in relationships. They often prefer partners who are intense or carry a magnetic aura. This placement can lead to life experiences involving stalkers or deeply passionate encounters. Money is an underlying theme, as they might find themselves in relationships with wealthier individuals. They are often misunderstood, with others misinterpreting their reserved nature as shyness.

Venus in the 9th House: The Adventurer in Love

In the 9th House, Venus expresses itself through an attraction to foreign cultures, new ideas, and spirituality. Long-distance relationships are common, and these individuals often find themselves admiring people with different cultural backgrounds. They enjoy exploring new philosophies and may find that their beliefs are influenced by the people they love, drawing them toward learning, travel, and spiritual exploration.

Venus in the 10th House: The Public Icon

Individuals with Venus in the 10th House are known for their attractiveness and public appeal. Their romantic interests often intersect with their professional ambitions, as they may fall for successful individuals. This placement often implies a need for status, and many with Venus here might be drawn to fame or wish to leave a lasting legacy. The public perceives them as beautiful, which enhances their ability to attract influential people.

Venus in the 11th House: The Friend to All

With Venus in the 11th House, there’s a clear inclination toward friendships and social connections. These individuals often find themselves attracted to friends or acquaintances, forming romantic bonds through mutual interests or social circles. Many are adept at networking and may have friendships with people who are admired for their looks. They are drawn to diverse perspectives and might marry someone who comes from a unique or non-traditional background.

Venus in the 12th House: The Mysterious Romantic

For those with Venus in the 12th House, love is often cloaked in secrecy or involves hidden feelings. They are adept at hiding crushes or romantic interests and may experience unrequited love. This placement can also draw them toward spirituality and finding beauty in mysticism. Relationships for them may have a karmic quality, and they may be drawn to individuals who appreciate solitude and introspection.

Understanding Venus’s placement within each house offers a fascinating look into how love and relationships unfold based on astrological influence. Whether it’s the charm of Venus in the 1st House or the mystique of Venus in the 12th, each position highlights unique qualities that shape a person’s approach to love, beauty, and harmony. The position of Venus in one’s chart can offer insights into not only romantic tendencies but also aspects of beauty, social connections, and material desires.

[hyperlexichypatia]

can you elaborate on why you don't think nursing homes should exist? I'm genuinely curious, not trying to engage in bad faith, but i do feel like many elders do need a level of medical care that can't be provided well in a home environment, and benefit socially from being surrounded by their peers. is it more a matter of eliminating the huge staff-"client"(-billpayer, generally a younger relative) power differentials and potential for abuse that exists there, the way nursing homes tend to be relatively isolated from the surrounding community & many restrict certain freedoms, or is there something else more inherent to the structure (i.e., incapable of being reformed or mitigated) that I'm missing? i guess i'm wondering how different a more just model for elder care would look from nursing homes

Yeah, it's everything you said -- nursing homes inherently restrict their residents' freedoms (how many would pass the burrito test?), don't see the residents as the decision-making clients, infantilize and segregate their residents, etc.

As for socializing with their peers, if older disabled people lived among the general population, they could still socialize with other older disabled people if they wanted to, and also with younger people, abled people, and others. "This population that has been systemically excluded from society should live among themselves in a congregate setting so they can socialize" isn't a particularly good argument for nursing homes; it's an argument against the ageist/ableist segregation that exists in the rest of society.

Could nursing homes be reformed/mitigated? I mean, I'm a strong harm reductionist; I believe every harmful institution should be reformed and mitigated as much as possible. That might mean more freedom for residents, more privacy for residents, more transportation to and from other places in the community. But if a nursing home were "reformed" to the point that it was no longer harmful -- if it no longer exerted coercive control over its residents, if its residents had the same freedom and privacy and autonomy and freedom of movement as anyone in the outside world -- it would functionally cease to be a "nursing home" and would just be... well, an apartment building. Or, if it's an apartment building specifically for older disabled people, without the coercive control, a "retirement community" (although sometimes coercive-control nursing homes are also called "retirement communities" so who knows?).

Home and community based services for disabled people, if properly funded, can replicate most of the assistance a nursing home provides -- now, I do say most, but people who need multiple-times-a-day medical care from a medical provider might choose a living situation that involves specific proximity to medical care. That doesn't mean a nursing home; it might mean, for example, an apartment building near a hospital that caters to people undergoing regular treatment. But it's important that many nursing home residents don't need daily medical care from medical providers. They they need accessible assistance with activities of daily living, which can easily be made accessible outside a medicalized setting, and, in particular, without the coercive control of a nursing home.

Or, short version (sorry, I have a fever) -- the problem with nursing homes is the coercive control. Fund home and community based services. Hire CNAs and install accessible features in the homes of disabled people who need them with the money governments and families can save by abolishing nursing homes. Not everyone in a nursing home is there because they need medical treatment, but even for those who do, there are ways to situate housing and medical needs in proximity to each other that don't involve residents being forcibly drugged or given a bedtime or needing permission to have sex. Let Grandpa fuck (if he wants to).

[featherwurm]

At some point between Moonrise and Baulder's Gate - the crew stops to clean up a bit, and I have an excessive amount of thoughts about social bathing as it applies to the tadfools:

Baulder’s Gate features several bathhouses (including the landmark location Hissing Stones) and they seem geared to a wide variety of clientele; pragmatic (bathing), personal (social and solicitous), and political (a place of meeting) – it can be assumed that group bathing is a norm in the city at all social strata, although wealthier private residences also undoubtedly feature private bathing arrangements. Gender divides do not seem common in Baulder’s Gate on a whole*, and co-ed bathing could likely be a norm as well.

Individual headcanons below the cut - your mileage may vary, this is pulled roughly out of D&D lore, a few character interactions, thoughts about Roman baths, and my ass;

Tav – From the lower middle class of Baulder’s Gate, she grew up with normal family outings to the bathhouse to clean and socialize. In the monastery, cohabiting with a variety of people, group bathing was also a norm (also just… hanging out on a hot day with your buddies or whatever.) Her order views the body kindly, though not worshipfully, and does not view it as a vehicle of shame. It should be cared for with attention and thought to best use it, and while pleasure is inherent (and unshameful) to human nature it is not fundamentally a part of just being naked. She finds nothing out of the ordinary to toss off your clothes and jump in the river with your buddies.

Karlach – Also from Baulder’s Gate’s lower social strata, she too grew up using bathhouses as a place to get clean, have some fun, and be extremely bored while your parents caught up on the gossip. Similarly, working for Gortash meant the occasional political meeting at the Hissing Stones or other locations (a place you CERTAINLY want to take your bodyguard – although she wouldn’t get to enjoy the bathhouse while working). Living in Avernus for a decade in a militaristic setting has also thrown off her sense of normalcy – if you ever get a chance to clean up there (extremely rarely) you take it whatever the circumstance may be. She’s happy to get naked, get in the water, and get clean whoever the company is. (As little children, both Tav and Karlach had to be actively removed from fountains, the river, and suitably large puddles when they presented the opportunity to be in the water – which both of them love.)

Shadowheart – Sharans and the enclave she is from seem to have some issues with pleasures of the flesh and see them as negative and to be shunned. Life is misery and pain and you better get used to it through daily practice. Given her lack of memory of any childhood normalcy, any time spent around other people in a casual way is long gone. She does not seem to have come out of it with bodily shame herself, but undoubtedly finds the idea of just being comfortable with nudity in a platonic way to be alien. Given that she can’t swim, it adds another layer of discomfort being in the water. It takes her some time to warm up to jumping in the river with the others, but she does come round, although she sticks to the shallows until she learns to swim.

Lae’zel – Githyanki don’t seem to have any shame about bodies, at least given their various styling of armor and clothing. Given their almost eusocial social structure and militaristic culture, it’s unlikely there’s much stigma over the body or that of others. She’s certainly with a peculiar group here, but whatever, you need to get the blood out of your hair eventually – the others are sort of strange-looking to her eye for a while though (Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion seeming like the frail offspring of some small animal with their soft pinkness, Karlach, Tav, and Wyll resembling more of carapaced insects with their ridges and horns.)

Gale – While Waterdeep has it’s spas, these seem more places of relaxation and retreat rather than practical bathing establishments (he does like a nice relaxing treatment – in a robe of course.) Gale has spent so long cooped up in his tower having a weird relationship with the goddess of magic that the idea of just… casually being naked with other mortal people is probably completely off his radar. It is not culturally or personally familiar to him, and feels a little uncouth. He’s going to find a reason to go cook and then clean up by himself later.

Astarion – Speaking of any sense of normalcy having been long gone, his only real use of Baulder’s Gate’s bathhouses has been picking up victims for the last couple centuries (almost always in a sexual context.) Approaching casual bathing with others as any kind of normal is something that will take a reserved approach and a lot of patience as with most things with him. He’s snarky and weird about the whole thing, but it’s to be expected. He later more politely refuses as he works on boundaries and sorts himself out – there’s not enough time in game to sort this shit out. Plus he smells a bit of death no matter what he does – apart from physically getting stuff off his body he’s more reliant on perfume than bathing to feel clean.

Wyll – From Baulder’s Gate and used to playing around wherever he feels like it, it’s not foreign to him to enjoy a bathhouse or river romp (especially in light of various political bargaining happening in the baths) but being from the upper class of Baulder’s Gate he’s not the most casual about it. In his time away from Baulder’s Gate, and being as young as he was, he’s become a little sensitive about it, given his gentlemanly approach developed through his time in the wilds. Still though, it wouldn’t put him off, prior to Mizora’s transformation of him, at which point he’s got body image issues to work through before he’s comfortable again. The tieflings (Karlach and Tav) try to be re-assuring but they come on a little strong about it (hard not to – what he’s viewing as demonic punishment they view as normal for their own bodies – horns and ridges and all.)

Halsin – Look we all know the man likes to be naked and “one with nature”. Bodies are normal and being naked is natural. He’s not caught up on anything, although he might be literally a bear about it if he’s comfortable.

Jahira – Another Baulder’s Gate native who’s used to the city’s amenities. She is much too old and much too traveled to be fussed about who’s around at the evening wash up. She might pretend to be offended or ruffled (or too casual) if she thinks it’s funny – otherwise she’s too busy soaking her joints to care.

Minsc – Minsc is just happy to be here. Are we bonding by bathing together? Ok! But be careful of Boo – he is a delicate creature and gets very angry if he gets soap in his eyes.

Minthara… wasn’t in my playthough, sorry. But I’m certain she’d have the opinion that it’s normal for the ladies to socialize and such while washing but involving the men is bizarre and tasteless.

*Given the normalcy of non-binary, trans, and intersex bodies and identities in BG3, which I personally love.

[koji-haru]

In Heaven or Hell

[Happy holidays @twost3ps!! Super duper late present, and I'm pretty sure it's not what you asked for, AND I might have butchered your characters, but I hope you'll still enjoy it 🥲]

Bright sparkling lights of green and red, a gigantic tree adorned with red and gold baubles topped with a golden apple, a wreath with mistletoes and pine cones hanging by the hotel main entrance, they even had fake snow decorating parts of the lobby with some oddly designed snowmen here and there. Yup, it was December 25th, or Christmas for those of earthly origins. 

While the rest of Hell’s ring celebrated ‘Sinsmas’, the hellish counterpart to Christmas, where they indulged in the sin of the ring they were born into, the citizens of pride, sinners, celebrated Christmas. Or at least some did. A teeny tiny portion of the sinner population. It made sense, Adam supposed, for sinners not to celebrate such a holy event, they were, after all, in Hell which was exactly the opposite of holy. The streets of Pride remained mostly the same, blood stained with guts of all kinds thrown all about like garbage, maybe a christmas decoration every tenth street, though most of them ended up being desecrated anyway. Needless to say, Charlie’s hotel stuck out like a sore thumb in Pride with its happy-go-lucky, exaggerated Christmas decorations, of which covered not only the entire building, but also the small area around it. 

Something about embracing and learning about heavenly traditions, and assimilating into Heaven once they do get redeemed, and now Adam and the rest of the hotel’s residents were decorating their own baubles to hang onto the, quite frankly, overly large and tall Christmas tree in the hotel lobby. 

Almost as if a certain prideful shorty was overcompensating for something. Adam subtly eyed Lucifer, who was happily making duck shaped baubles, each resembling someone in the hotel. And while Adam didn’t need to take part in this activity, having been in Heaven for most of his afterlife, he did want to celebrate Christmas, no matter how synthetic this one felt. Though, if anything, it just made him wish they were also here to celebrate with him. He understood if they couldn’t make it though, Christmas was a big thing in Heaven, something one shouldn’t ever miss. 

“Hey duckie, you okay?” asked Lucifer as he walked over towards Adam, an Adam looking duck bauble in hand. 

If there was a present that Adam was very much grateful for this year, it was the fact that he and Lucifer had reconciled and even rekindled the affections they once had for each other back in Eden. And an even greater gift was the fact that, despite the months of turmoil and distrust, Adam had also managed to reconnect Lucifer with his brothers and the archangels. The fact that they all relatively got along now was a miracle in itself, but even more baffling was how, in the end, they all agreed to having to share Adam with Lucifer. Adam supposed they all really loved him, huh? But perhaps not enough to skip Christmas in Heaven to celebrate with him instead. 

Adam’s shoulders sagged, a gloomy sigh leaving his lips, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…a little tired.”

Yes, Charlie had requested for the residents to limit the lying, but Adam wasn’t lying, not fully anyway. It was true, he now understood precisely why he had been revived as a sinner and he had been dutifully bettering himself, well as much as one could improve perfection anyway, but he was getting sick of it; tired of all the red and all the chaos and all the filth and sin that Pride was drowning under. Really, he missed Heaven. Or at least the daily life he lived there with the people who cared for him. Yes, they all visited him frequently, but it wasn’t the same. The time they spent together was now somewhat limited.

“Here,” Lucifer handed Adam the duck bauble, the yellow glass shining so prettily in his clawed hands. “I wish they were here too.”

Of course Lucifer would see through his, admittedly half-assed, lie what with being the ��King of Lies’. Regardless, Adam accepted the duck bauble, its cutesy, albeit intricate, design and appearance lightening up the heavy gloom that was forming in his chest. At the very least, he had Lucifer with him this Christmas. He would see the others soon anyway, there was no need for him to sour everyone’s mood. 

“Hey, look at me, I’m being considerate and not being whiny,” Adam chuckled to himself. Maybe Charlie was starting to rub off on him a little. 

“Okay!” With the bauble duckie in one hand, slapping his knee with the other, Adam pushed himself up brighter than ever. Today was Christmas, and he was going to enjoy the day no matter how shitty Hell was! “Let’s decorate this fucking tree so we can finally get to the presents!”

And just like that, as if summoned by Adam’s voice, the door’s to the hotel slammed open with a black boot connected to bright red pants sticking out of it. 

“Did someone say presents?!”

Emerging from the door, wearing a complete Santa costume including the fake white beard and the large sack of presumably gifts, was undoubtedly, one hundred percent Gabriel. There he stood loud and proud, almost shining in his Santa costume, the hinges of the door barely hanging on the sides. 

For a brief moment there, the hotel was in pure silence, too shocked to react to what had just happened and far too confused about their guest’s sudden appearance. 

“Gabriel?!” exclaimed both Adam and Lucifer once they finally got their bearings. 

“W-what are you doing here?” asked Adam as he made his way towards the angel, the happiness of Gabriel’s visit evident in the inflection of his voice, in the small smile that crept on his lips. 

“It’s not just him, you know.”

And from behind Gabriel emerged Michael, followed by Raphael and then by Uriel. However, as soon as Adam finally got a good look at all of them, a snort escaped from him followed by full on uncontrollable laughter. In front of him was Michael, Raphael and Uriel dressed in a brown furry onesie, a golden bell around their necks and antler headbands with fluffy ears on their heads. 

Lucifer followed behind Adam, curious what all the laughter was about. Sure, Gabriel looked a little silly in his Santa costume, but it couldn’t be that funny, right? Well, for once he could admit he was wrong. The sight in front of him wasn’t just funny, it was absolutely hilarious! And just like Adam, Lucifer bursted out laughing at the ridiculousness in front of him.

“Oh, what’s Santa and his reindeers doing here?” asked Lucifer in between laughter with tears in his eyes. 

If looks could kill, Lucifer was sure both him and Gabriel would’ve turned to ashes by now from Uriel’s silent but heated glare. Though thankfully, Uriel’s bubbling fury seemed to have been calmed down by Raphael’s swift thinking and action; where with a snap of his fingers, Lucifer suddenly found himself wearing the very same costume as the archangels, furry onesie and all. 

“Wha–”

“There, now the set is complete,” announced Raphael as he crouched under the door frame to enter the hotel and gave Adam, who was still in chuckles, a gentle pat on the head. “Hey little one, didn’t think we’d miss Christmas with you, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have forgiven any of you if you did!” Adam huffed in mock anger, a happy grin plastered on his face. “But, uh, what about the celebrations in Heaven?”

“It gets stale after a while,” answered Uriel, who soon followed after Raphael. “At least Hell might provide some new perspectives. You being here is just an added bonus.”

Gabriel pulled Adam closer, one hand cupping towards Adam’s ears as he whispered without much subtlety, “He was totally all mopey before we decided to come here, you know.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” intervened Michael as he placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, trying to gently pull him away from Adam. 

As he was being pulled away, however, Gabriel whisper-shouted at Adam, “Oh! And Mike was totally crying cuz he thought he would miss Christmas with you. It was just hard to tell because, well, he’s got no eyes– Ow!”

The gentle grip on Gabriel’s shoulder suddenly turned a little more firm, more stern as Michael decidedly dragged him further into the lobby, with the others following suit with amusement on their faces. As he was being dragged into the lobby, Gabriel waved by the hotel’s residents, who remained quietly flabbergasted by the Christmas tree. Suddenly, his sights zoned in on a particular sinner. Someone who was very much a Christmas red all over, with furry ears seemingly attached to his odd hairdo and small dark antlers atop his head. The sharp yellowed smile seemed rather sinister, but this was Hell so that was probably in theme. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys already had a reindeer,” Gabriel said loud enough for said ‘reindeer’ to hear and react with a tight smile at the perceived affront directed at him. “Maybe you guys should change into my helper elves instead?”

“Nope! No more costume changes!” Uriel immediately cut in, unwilling to indulge any more of Gabriel’s silly ideas. 

“More costume changes?” queried Adam, his curiosity piqued by the implication of Uriel’s words. 

“We had to try out a couple, just to see which one was the best,” answered Michael, who now had one hand over Gabriel’s mouth in an attempt to stop the blabbermouth from saying anything possibly more offensive. Though, seeing such happy curiosity shine in the golds of Adam’s eyes, he couldn’t help but humour and indulge his love. With a whisper that was actually quite discreet, unlike Gabriel’s, Michael told Adam, “I can share the pictures with you later, if you’d like.”

However, observant as ever, Uriel didn’t miss the ‘shady’ exchange between Michael and Adam, though he kept his thoughts to himself this time. Involvement with the three brothers and Adam had only ever led him down into an unpredictable rabbit hole of discomfort and headaches, with the occasionally, admittedly, pleasant fluttering warmth in his chest. He would never admit to that of course, at least not so openly. It was also thanks to that pleasant feeling that he was even willing to be dragged into Hell wearing a reindeer costume, as well looking the other way from Adam and Michael’s exchange. Something he was sure he would regret in the foreseeable future. For now, however, he was just going to enjoy Christmas with Adam.

—-

Needless to say, the addition of four more unexpected guests turned the somewhat homely and peaceful Christmas celebration at the hotel into a much more rowdy and chaotic one. Gabriel’s loudly obnoxious and excitable nature alone was enough to considerably liven up the place, but then he, of course, had to also taunt Lucifer into joining him in his shenanigans. From which colours and decorations looked better on the Christmas tree, to which foods were best accompanied by certain drinks, though both Alastor and Uriel had them beaten in that debate. 

Currently, everyone was participating in, or more precisely dragged into, a singing competition. What started as a simple, cute idea suggested by Charlie to bring everyone together by singing a song together, had become a serious competition amongst everyone. Well, everyone that hadn’t passed out drunk yet like Husk, who was draped over the couch. They even had a mini stage complete with dry ice and colourful spotlights for everyone to perform on. From soft soothing ballads that wrung the tears out of everyone’s hearts, to raw energetic beats that rekindled that rebellious spirit that everyone once had, everyone, from sinners to archangels, sang their hearts out, though it probably wasn’t in the spirit of Christmas. 

Their merry-making lasted way past midnight, leaving most of them exhausted but content with the day’s celebrations. After some gift exchanges, and a quick clean up of the place, everyone eventually returned to their respective rooms, with the archangels being given rooms to stay the night by Charlie. 

“Why are you guys here?” asked Lucifer the group of angels, or reindeers plus Santa, huddled all around Adam on the bed, in the room he shared with the first man. 

“Uh, to spend some quality time with our boyfriend? What else?” Gabriel responded, one hand digging into the bag of crisps on his lap. 

“Besides, you have plenty of space,” shrugged Raphael as he idly switched between movies, unsure of which movie to start. 

“Oh, I heard that movie is good,” Uriel pointed out, completely ignoring Lucifer’s bewildered presence at the door. 

“You all have your own rooms, and it’s already late,” Lucifer argued, mild irritation starting to take root within him. “Plus, this is MY room? I’d like to sleep, like, right now.”

“Since when did we ever need sleep anyway?” Michael asked Lucifer before turning to Gabriel to ask for some of the snacks as Raphael finally settled on a movie for everyone to watch.

“That’s not a good outlook, Michael,” Raphael gently reminded Michael. “Rest is good for the mind, though I’m sure no one is particularly tired right now.”

“I’M TIRED!!” shouted Lucifer, frustrated at their nonchalant disrespect towards him, and even worse was the fact he couldn’t do anything about it. 

“There’s plenty of rooms, Lucifer,” Uriel added, “You can rest in one of them.”

Without much to do, Lucifer simply stomped his foot on the carpeted floor, his dark tail swishing rapidly from side to side in agitation, though it looked far from intimidating especially with the reindeer costume he was still wearing. 

“Or you can join movie night with us?” offered Adam with a small smile, one hand patting the space beside him. “We’ve got space.”

Without a second of hesitation, Lucifer swiftly made his way towards Adam’s side, his small form ensuring that he could weasel his way closer to Adam despite the hurdles in front of him. Though he did have to shove and struggle against Michael for the most comfortable spot on Adam’s lap, of which he had to begrudgingly yield. 

“So, what are we watching?”

The last remnants of Christmas were spent in comfortable peace watching movies and eating snacks, with the occasional need to shush Gabriel here and there. What Adam thought was going to be a more quiet and slightly downcast Christmas, where he would miss those he had spent them with for over a millennia, turned out to be one of the more memorable Christmases he ever had in his extremely long life. Adam may be stuck in Hell for the time being, but his angels and the Devil, funnily enough, ensured that his heart remained in paradise, forever and always.

[gloomy0x0phantom]

Dracule Mihawk - Five Headcanons

『 01 』 S C A R

Mihawk's back is marked by a unique deep scar. In his youth, before becoming the strongest swordsman, Mihawk made a fatal mistake that brought him his biggest shame. He underestimated an enemy, miscalculated a move and ended up with a scar. It starts on his left shoulder blade and ends at the top of his right thigh. Fortunately for him, the blow wasn't fatal, but his ego was gravely affected.

Like all swordsmen, Mihawk considers an unmarked back to be a sign of strength. He intended to protect this part of his body until his death, but ultimately failed. When he felt the blade slice through his skin, but his heart continued to beat, a feeling of failure stronger than death set in. He didn't cry, he didn't scream, he just let the blood fall.

This scar is his biggest secret and, to this day, no one has discovered it. Cautious and calculating by nature, Mihawk is even more so towards his back. When he leaves his home, he always wears his usual coat and never takes it off. When he stays at his castle, Mihawk opts for light sweaters, but never see-through. He takes great care with the fabric of his tops, testing them in the sun and water before considering adding them to his wardrobe. Before the arrival of Perona and Zoro, Mihawk used to allow himself to sleep shirtless, but when the ghost princess came into his life, he had to change this habit.

Mihawk is the best swordsman in the world, and tons of people want to challenge him and take his title, but not a single one is aware that the man lives with a swordsman's greatest shame on himself. Sometimes nightmares invade his sleep to show him what his life would be like if the whole planet learned his secret. The nights he wakes up in a sweat are the worst, and he feels even more pathetic for dreaming such a reality.

『 02 』 S E W I N G

It's a hidden talent that's not really a secret: Mihawk can sew. It's something he learned as a child and came in very handy when he started training with real swords. Little Mihawk mended his own clothes and never asked anyone for help. Unfortunately, the older he got, the more skilled he became with his sword, so there was no longer any reason to patch up damaged garments. So he learned to embroider. Mihawk has always had a keen eye for fashion, especially elegant, high-quality clothing. He didn't always have the money to afford beautiful embroidered capes and shirts, so he learned to make them himself.

Sewing is an activity that allows him to relax after a long day's work. He sits in his living room by the fire, a glass of wine at hand and a sewing project on his lap. This knowledge has allowed him to develop a special bond with Perona, who loves designing her own clothes but isn't particularly handy with needles. He spent many hours training Zoro in sword fighting and Perona in sewing. Mihawk even bought a sewing machine for the Ghost Princess's birthday.

Mihawk will never say it out loud, but he loves the evenings when the trio are together in the living room. Only the crackling of the fire and Zoro's snoring are heard, Perona is concentrating on reading or pursuing a project, while Mihawk sips wine and mends his apprentice's clothes.

『 03 』 M I R R O R S

Imagine living alone in a huge castle on an abandoned island. There are strange noises, huge monkeys fighting in the forest and the days feel like nights. You're so used to being alone, you can't help but jump when you pass a mirror. And that's exactly Mihawk's daily routine. He's lost count of the number of times his reflection has caused him a minor panic attack.

Mihawk is used to being the only resident of Kuraigana Island, so when he walks and suddenly sees a silhouette in his line of vision, his body reacts as if an enemy is approaching. He's broken so many mirrors since arriving on the island that he's convinced he's surpassed 100 years of misfortune. It's a trivial anecdote for most, but for the swordsman, it's no laughing matter.

Following the arrival of Perona and Zoro, Mihawk has calmed down a little, but the ghost princess manages to cause him a few scares, especially when she decides to go through a mirror. Zoro is constantly getting lost, so Mihawk often finds him in particular places, purely by surprise. The two helped him get rid of his silly fear of mirrors.

『 04 』 R O M A N I A N

Mihawk have no patience for stubborn individuals with sensitive egos, and unfortunately, this world is full of them. In his younger days, the swordsman didn't hesitate to throw insults and respond to pointless fights, but the older he got, the more he found a much more effective method of winning those battles: speaking in his native tongue.

As soon as someone bothers him, Mihawk will start speaking in Romanian to piss them off in return. This method is very effective with Shanks and Buggy. He takes great pleasure in answering them in a language they don't understand. Insults, criticism, mockery... the swordsman has no trouble finding words to torment them. Sometimes, he chooses to say sentences that have nothing to do with the conversation, such as: "The sky is beautiful today", "I ate an apple this morning", "That sweater looks great on you, but since you don't understand me, you'll never know". It's very amusing and works every time. Buggy loses his head completely when Mihawk speaks in Romanian, because one, it's very charming, and two, it royally pisses him off! Shanks is much more used to it and has taken the time to learn a few phrases to better understand his arch-enemy.

Mihawk tried once to answer Perona in Romanian when she was annoying him, and it ended very badly when Perona also answered in Romanian and very angrily.

『 05 』 F A C I A L H A I R

When Mihawk decided to grow a beard and mustache, he strategically disappeared for several months, simply because he refused to be seen during the awkward phase. Being seen with a beard full of patches and a mustache reminiscent of a teenager was out of the question. Shanks would never forget that. He'd rather die than be seen in an unattractive state.

His absence gave rise to several rumors, with the most widespread being: Mihawk is dead. The swordsman surprised many when he returned even stronger and looked more elegant and mature. When Shanks encountered him again, he was flabbergasted by the change. He immediately pointed a finger at his rival's face and shouted, "Since when do you have a beard and a mustache!?" To mess with the redhead, Mihawk replied that he didn't know what he was talking about. He was secretly pleased when the Red Hair Pirates started gaslighting their captain, telling him that Mihawk always looked like that. Shanks dropped the subject because every time he talks about it, he sounds like a madman. “I SWEAR HE DIDN'T HAVE A BEARD!”

[shepandem]

hey hope this isn't uncomfy to ask but I was just wondering if you could share more about the host family thing? basically like how did you get that set up and who would benefit from this etc

Yeah! So most/all US state Medicaid programs have an additional system in place for those who qualify, called Long-Term Care Medicaid Home and Community-Based Services (HCBS).

Qualification requirements are generally the same as most other government programs; you have to have a low enough monthly income; be above age 65 OR blind, OR disabled; and have a "functional need" for program services. In this context, "functional need" is defined as needing supports with at least some activities of daily living (bathing, dressing, feeding, transferring, etc.)

There are different waivers that offer different types of supports. Before I got on the DD waiver, I was on the supported living services (SLS) waiver. SLS offers things like support with being in the community, a caregiver to visit your home a few times a week to help with ADLs, access to day programs, etc. It doesn't offer supported residential programs though; those are only accessible through the DD waiver.

Types of residential programs can look like group homes, where several disabled adults live in a large home together and have either live-in or drop-in caregivers that support everyone in the home.

It can also look like nursing homes or similar state-run hospital facilities.

The type of residential support I'm receiving is called host home. Community members can apply to be host home providers, and are employed by a residential services agency to be full-time caregivers to disabled waiver-holders who will move into the providers' home.

The majority of HH providers are family members of a disabled adult who are paid by the program to provide care. This means they can continue supporting their disabled family member who may need 24/7 support, meaning the caregivers cannot hold another job.

There are strict rules that a HH provider must follow, to ensure that the person in care is not being abused, neglected, or exploited. Even family carers must follow these rules. They are things like not being allowed to manage the resident's money (this can be done by a third party called a representative payee, if the resident needs financial support); they are not allowed to use medicines in a manner that is not prescribed, which prevents the risk of unethical chemical restraint; the resident must have their own room or space within the home, and a lot more rules besides.

In terms of the kinds of people who would benefit, essentially it's a good choice if you can't or don't want to live with family, and need more support than a drop-in caregiver can provide.

I'll get help with transport to my therapy, skills, and social group appointments; reminders to take my meds and help refilling them on time; a rep payee to manage my money so my bills get paid and I don't accidentally over-spend; support at my medical appointments; help keeping track of my weekly appointments so I don't forget or miss them; in-home help with cooking, cleaning and laundry; reminders for bathing; safety care when I have meltdowns; and overnight support for anything that might come up.

That was a lot of information at once; feel free to ask any other questions!

[androgynousblackbox]

What A Punny Life 1 (Appleradio, Radioapple)

When the body parts started appearing on his doorsteps, Lucifer didn't mind much. The flowers were nice at least. It was the cards, though, those cards that had him giggling like a little kid the entire problem. And what was up with the radio demon lately? First prompt: Secret Admirer/Love Notes

Lucifer knew that coming out of his palace was going to be a challenge. One that he was willing to take on as long there was ahcance to reform his relationship with his darling daughter. For her, he would interact with the other residents of the hotel on a daily basis even if his social battery quickly depleted. For her, he would join in on their activities when asked for, even if he didn't see the point for any of them. It was only the two of them now in Hell, they were the only thing left of their family, so why shouldn't he do everything he could and more to try to be there for her, to at least show his support? Tolerating annoying radio hosts who had more mouth than spirit of conciliation was even doable. Sometimes he even got small wins here and there when he managed to irritate the man so much that he would be the one to storm off. Sometimes he did. But all in all, it was a manageable existence that he could continue on with.

That was, at least, until the body parts started appearing on his doorstep. That alone could be just fine. After living in Hell for as long as he did, to be shocked by a little bit of blood and gore would be absurd. Someone playing a stupid joke on him by leaving those wrapped up in heart shapped boxed or between some flowers, nothing else. The flowers he was going to keep anyway because he loved a touch of color. Someone's stupid idea of trying to get a rise out of him.

No, the issue were the notes left with them.

The cheesy, corny, full of puns, devastatingly stupid, but oh so simple little cards written by hand, with little doodles accompanied them to give them more meaning.

Words cannot express hummus I care for you.

You're a gouda one!

You've stolen a pizza my heart.

We make a great pear.

So glad I pricked you.

Oh, they were awful. Disgusting. Absolutely wretched. And yet. And yet.

They made him laugh more than anything had managed to do in years. The flowers, when they weren't trying to bite him or were eating the body parts, were not so bad. Now that was a problem, see, becase having someone acting that way and just never give him an indication of who they were the rest of the day was, to say the least, absolutely nerve wrecking.

After the whole unexpectently condeming humanity because of one single idea, Lucifer did not do well with things he couldn't predict. Too much space for his mind to conjure up the worst results possible. If there was some action that he could take, he could just do it and be done with it, but only receiving those gifts that demanded no response from him was his own kind of Hell. What if it was a joke? A really mean one someone wanted to pull because of his separation with Lilith? What if it was real? What if it was a mistake? What if all those gestures were meant to be entirely platonic? What if all of them were like just sending a letter to a celebrity, without any intention of taking things further than that? Honestly, he felt like he could handle all of that, even the prank. It was the not knowing what it was that was slowly eating at him.

He couldn't even trust that it was someone from the hotel itself. Anyone whose magic allowed them to move things through the space could leave those. Through a portal, making them float through a window, by sending a minion that vanished the second Lucifer opened up his door after the knock. It could be quite literally anyone, which also meant they could have literally any intention possible and he had no idea what were those. They could be very bad. They could be good, which was also still bad because, if there was one thing he knew about himself, it was that he was not good for relationships. Especially with someone he didn't know. The question that if he was even ready for one was too heavy to even consider.

Inevitably, despite his own logic, his eyes wondered through the other residents. Niffty was the most obvious suspect. She constantly calling him "scary pretty boy" instead of any of his titles could be an indication of something else going on. If that were the case, then the letters to a celebrity theory could hold up even better and Niffty didn't want anything else but show her admiration. That would be even cute, if anything. Completely innocent, even if the gifts were still bleeding when he receive them, like the rest of the body could still be nearby.

The size issue didn't matter much. After seeing what Niffty could do with a weapon on Adam, he trusted her to be able to rip other people appart if she wanted to. In more than one occasion Lucifer had seen her tending at the flowers of the Hotel. If she did secretly liked them, then who is to say she wouldn't love to combine that with the spoils of her last prey to send out?

If it were her, what a relief that would be. Just a little weirdo with weirdo habits. Nothing else.

"If you keep staring at our little maid like that, your Majesty, she might start forming ideas of her own. You won't have anyone to blame but yourself for what she decides to do next" warned a voice suddenly too close to him and he jolted on the couch as he turned around.

The moment his eyes made contact with that familiar, full of smug smile, his soured, making all the years he had been alive suddenly self evident. When the fuck did that asshole ever came close to him. Not minding at all the scowl of the king, because why would be, Alastor supported an arm on the back of the couch and bended slightly as he grin growed, like an infection quickly spreading.

"I wasn't staring, I was just bored and she happened to be moving around" said Lucifer, rolling his eyes. "Don't you have some toilet to unclog or anything better to do, Bambi?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't." Alastor's eyes twinkled with amumsement. "When someone manages to do their job well, rather than letting it to rot and for others to pick up the pieces, they usually gain the benefit of enjoying a little break. Is that a new concept for you, your Majesty?"

Lucifer looked around the lobby, but the only other ones, besides Niffty cleaning up, was a Husk taking his afternoon nap at the bar before Angel Dust arrived for his usual drink. No traces of Charlie around, nor Vaggie. At least when those two were around, Alastor tried to be tolerable, but the moment they were not… well, he was on his own, quite literally.

Right now, he had two glaring options. Point out that he, as a mere busboy, did not have and could never have a single clue of what royal duties entailed; o ignore him entirely, see him seeth in frustration because he wasn't getting the reaction he was clearly looking for. But Lucifer was always looking for a new angle and he tried it out.

He had better things to do than to indulge a sinner. Finding out who send those gift was a priority. Once he had that confirmation, he could leave the whole issue alone and not have to think about it anymore.

"Am I correct to assume you and the maid are close?" inquired casually, examining his claws.

Alastor's head tilted to a side, his ear flickering slightly in surprise.

"She is one of my contracts."

"That is not what I asked."

"That is, however, the answer. I know her as well as you can expect to know someone whose soul you have owned for some time now." That said literally nothing to Lucifer. Someone could be a complete and total stranger and still trick them into selling their soul. He didn't know enough about the man, nor cared to, to find out what was his style of dealing yet. "Why the question?"

"Forget it."

It was obvious he wasn't going to get anything useful from him. Tell him point blank about what he was thinking was off the table too. Somehow Alastor would mock him for it, teasing him about how he couldn't know something so stupid and, worse, let it affect him at all. How pathetic of a king, bla bla bla. He just wasn't in the mood for his bullshit.

As he stand up and started walking where Niffty was obssesively cleaning up the carpet, he had no idea what was he expecting. He could feel the eyes of the radio demon screwing themselves up to his back as he came closer. Niffty only noticed him at all when his black booth came to her field of vision. A long wicked smile greeted him.

"Scary pretty boy is here" commented as if for herself, giggling.

Just for that reaction, Lucifer felt more confident that she had to be it. Just for that, she was already a more endearing figure for him.

"Hey, uh… I am floored to see you today! I see that carpet has a knot of personality to unravel! Working hard, huh? One fiber at a time, right?" said, making some finger guns to really sell in that he appreciated all the punny cards and they were on the same frequency.

The face of Niffty instantly scrunched up, like she had been forced to lick a particularly evil lemon.

"Argh, I hate puns" she groaned. She returned to her emphatic brushing, done with their conversation already. "Just make an actual joke instead of mixing up words. So lame."

"Ah-ah, yeaaah, so lame. Totally! Glad we both know that! Well, it was nice chatting with you!" As he made his way back to the couch to grab his coat, Alastor's laughter could barely be contained behind his hand.

"What was that, your Majesty?" asked, eyes lighting up as Lucifer glared at him as if this was somehow all his fault.

"Zip it, Bambi" said, folding his coat on his arm. "I just remembered that I do have better things to do than waste time with you, in fact."

He dissapeared through a portal, ignoring the guffaw of Alastor that followed him until he closed it again. After taking a shower to wash away the embarassment, he had managed to clear up his head once again.

Well, that was one less suspect at least. Back to the worrying and infinite possibilities that could end in literally any number of ways. Great.

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

FOUND YOU IN A WORLD OF CHAOS: EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Pairing: Eric (AQPDO) x Mary (OFC)

Summary: Eric met Mary on the ferry that was taking them away from New York. What would the future holds when you are living the end of the world?

Warnings: None, this will have a happy ending.

A/N: English is not my first language so any mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Remember reblogs do more than likes. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

Word count: 423                              

GIF'S NOT MINE, YOU CAN FIND THE CREDITS UNDER IT.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

It’s been months since the attacks in New York happened. Lucy had moved out of their cabin with a woman she had met in the island. Mary was so happy Lucy had found someone to spend the rest of her life with. Both of them worked as nurses in the island and took care of the health of all the residents.

Eric had become the official main cook of the island. Everyone praised and loved his food.

All the people in the island continued with their lives. They had celebrated Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and birthdays. A month ago Eric and Mary had a small ceremony where Henri married them. All the residents were creating new memories and routines.

Mary and Eric sat under a tree after a long day on the fields, watching other people passing by. They were sat one in front of the other.

“What do you miss from the city?” Eric asked as he played with Mary’s fingers.

“Ammm movies, and popcorn… ice cream.” Eric hummed. “Oh! My mom’s cooking.”

“That’s fair.”

“What do you miss?”

“The snow.” Eric said looking at the clear sky.

“I miss my period too, but I guess it’s alright. It’ll go back in 6 months.”

“Of course.” Eric said nonchalantly until the words sunk in. He opened his big brown eyes. “You’re kidding?”

“Lucy said I might be 12 weeks along.”

“We’re having a baby?”

“Yes, we are!”

Eric pounced towards her making fall on her back.

“Eric!” She giggled when she felt his stubble against her skin while he place kisses all over her face. “Stop!”

“No, I won’t stop” He kissed her even more, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me happy.” He placed his large hand on her tummy, “Does anyone else knows?”

Mary shook her head, “Just Lucy.”

Eric laid next to her, “That explains why you are always tired.” She nodded, putting her head on his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They shared a sweet kiss and continued watching the residents making their daily activities.

Perhaps having a baby in this new world was reckless and irresponsible. But since the first attacked happened so many days ago now, Mary and Eric knew that the future didn’t matter because it can change in a second. What was important was here and now, this was their life now, and they planned to enjoy it to their fullest.

“You want a boy or a girl?” Mary asked.

“I’ll be happy with either.”

“So a girl?”

“Yes, a girl.”

[witchie-writings]

Alright bestie last one I SWEAR THIS TIME. I’m curious, what is Megatron’s human pet’s day to day life like? How do they get their food, water, do they bathe, do they have other clothes or do they just stay in the same ones? Where do they sleep, etc?

Took me a little bit to think about this one, but please, keep sending in more asks if you have any ideas for them! I enjoy writing about Transformers, even if I’m not too terribly active in the fandom at this moment (plus, Bayverse!Megatron deserves more attention, imo). Not proof-read.

When I think about the daily life of Bayverse!Megatron’s human pet, it isn't… awful, merely tolerable. When it comes to their living quarters, they take residency in Megatron's habsuite; perched upon a narrow bar of oxidized steel is their "room", haphazardly cobbled together using the remains of destroyed weaponry or deceased corpses of fallen cybertronian warriors; for comparison's sake, their resting chambers bare resemblance to a bird cage. Bed wise, it's likely whoever designed the prison didn't have a care for whatever stuffing the human!reader laid upon, so it's a combination of all sorts of shredded fabric or discarded wool. It isn't pristine either, it would have a noticeable odor that is quite putrid, but its softness was preferable over the unsanitary jagged edges of the floor. For where their "humble" abode is, the human!reader would reside in Megatron's habsuite. Far enough away to where the warlord has his own space, but close enough to his berth to where he could crush their feeble body should they attempt an escape.

The human!reader's food and water is, thankfully, covered, though I can't speak for the edibility of such nutrition. The food that would be fed to them would likely be whatever Megatron or the other Decepticons would deem "consumable without risk of immediate death", probably food scraps from the store that's about to turn rotten or maybe some other unorthodox stuff… I can't think of much here, so use your imagination. If the human!reader was particularly good, they'll maybe be rewarded with some "treats", think of fresh fruit or possibly even ice cream, but it isn't something they should grow accustomed to. For now, they'll be scraping off the bottom of the barrel. Water is okay, I guess. They'll just get a scrap bucket, fill it with whatever water is nearby, boil it to get rid of the nauseating parasites, then give it to the human. Easy!

This leads into the bathing situation. The human!reader gets a bath through one of two ways: their wounds are pretty severe and need to be cleaned or Megatron wants them to be presentable for their circus act. It's essentially the same way to get the water, as stated in the last bullet point, just the human would be picked up by their frail body and dunked into the bowl without a second thought. Better hope they can swim! Sadly, the human won't get any sense of privacy, as there will always be a Decepticon to monitor them to make sure they don't try to perform an escape attempt or to take their own life via drowning. 

Now, Megatron isn't one for dress up or looking "nice". Being a tyrannical dictator that's locked into a cataclysmic war doesn't allow such novelties, nor does having a barbaric mindset help either. But that doesn't mean he wants his pet to look absolutely appalling during their shows and acts - it takes the fun out of their humiliation. Likely he'll have a more fashionista Decepticon (cough) go out to hunt for a suitable attire for the human!reader's showing; pick a few that have hints of spice yet undeniable lure, bring them back to slap them onto the pet and bam. Perfect for the occasion! I can't say the outfit will come out unscathed however. More than likely it'll be another pile of scrap for the bed pile. Ah well. Besides that event, there is a high chance the human will be stuck in their same clothes, even if they're in dire need of cleaning. Maybe they could convince a Decepticon to go shopping for them… after all, there are a few who pity the poor doll.

And since you asked about the daily life of Megatron's pet… well, I imagine that there are a special few amongst the Decepticon cause that would be open, or at least semi-open, to having a discussion with the human. Megatron isn't always present, obviously, so despite having assigned a "pet sitter" to the human!reader, other Cons might have their curiosity peaked and take the opportunity to interact with the fleshling (much to the guardian's dismay… it's probably Barricade and he's sick of the sudden attention Megatron's pet is accumulating). Some aren't as cruel as others, offering some form of conversation, for their own benefit or out of good faith, who knows. Sometimes conversations could develop into hour-long talks about whatever bubbles within the mind, and it can be quite enjoyable for both the Con and the human - quite possibly a friendship blossoms. Which would always be cut short due to Megatron's arrival. Such a shame.

Being brought into this chaotic hellscape with nothing more than the clothes upon their skin, the human!reader, outside of their entertainment value and talks with a few of the Decepticons, would have to find a way to develop their own entertainment in order to not go insane. Sure, if Megatron was particularly generous one day, he'd throw the human!reader a bone and get them something as "idiotic and pointless" as a card or board game, but usually it's a mangled mess to where it was barely visible as a game anymore, so the human would have to put their noggin to work. Doesn't always want to function, but something is better than going out with a small whisper because of boredom.

[littjara-mirrorlake]

Daily Life in the Phyrexian Spheres (Facade to Furnace)

Because we've heard about praetor politics and planeswalker battles, but tragically little about life for the average Phyrexian. What does that look like? Fantasy worldbuilding thrives on the mundane, and this series hopes to expand on that starting from the outermost three layers.

The Facade is largely uninhabited by humanoid Phyrexians, though creatures like Zenith Chroniclers benefit from consistent exposure to the suns and thrive plentifully. Phyrexian civilians or even praetors' agents may use it as a neutral ground for traveling, though Mirrans tend to avoid it for the unpredictable landscape and hidden pitfalls with deep oil pools. Occasionally, religiously inclined Phyrexians will embark on pilgrimages to monuments of spiritual significance before they crumble again, and researchers may chart the movements of the suns.

Mirrex, too, is sparsely populated save for wanderers, outcasts, and the occasional Mirran Resistance holdout. Phyrexians seeking to escape their roles without open rebellion often flee here. Some secondary bases of the Phyrexian rebellion are located here for their proximity to the Furnace. Occasionally praetors will send their enforcers here to sniff out rebel strongholds, but efficacy is generally low and it's rarely considered worth it. Mirrex, after all, is viewed by most Phyrexian authorities as an inconsequential wasteland, all but drained dry of its resources. The few who hide in Mirrex are more than happy to encourage that assumption.

The Autonomous Furnace is the outermost population center and the main home of the Phyrexian rebellion. Misfit Phyrexians from all spheres are drawn here as a result. Mirran refugees also cluster here, taking advantage of red Phyrexians' avoidance of or even sympathy to their cause. The rampant policing and surveillance of the other spheres only rarely reaches here, and when it does, it is swiftly thwarted.

The culture and attitude of the Furnace varies wildly by sector, as furnace bosses control large areas and go largely unchecked by Urabrask or other superiors. Working conditions range from surprisingly decent with a good amount of self-directed time to back-breakingly brutal with constant oversight. Commoners live in rickety habitations at or near their work areas.

Many sectors are openly rebellious, and a few remain vehemently loyalist, but the vast majority of Phyrexians here aim only to do their own work and stay out of any and all drama. (The work done, and who receives its final products, depends on the local boss's allegiances.) "None of my business" is the presiding mantra here, and residents are reluctant to either snitch on passing Mirrans or aid them too directly. Some, though, are driven by forbidden curiosity about humanoid ways of life and may furtively peek at Mirrans while working.

Generally, a red Phyrexian civilian's circle of concern is small; they care primarily about the quality of their own work, their creative pursuits, and their immediate social relations. Politics is often shunned, save for that which immediately threatens their livelihoods and homes--which increasingly translates to anti-praetor, anti-authoritarian, or even anti-Phyrexia stances (though the latter is rarely voiced even among dissidents).

As the Furnace steps further and further out of line with Phyrexian dogma, underground, creative subcultures have begun to form amongst artisans and rebels. Primarily working with metal and sculpture, such artists create statements about Phyrexian life, political commentaries, and calls to revolution. The population as a whole often appears too busy or apathetic to pay these artisans much regard, but their influence runs deeper than it seems at first glance, with increasing numbers of people choosing to redefine what being Phyrexian means to them. Self-modification serves as a tantalizing promise of a future Phyrexia without enforced hierarchies or roles. Urabrask actively encourages and supplies the artists of the Furnace, particularly appreciating displays of destruction that spawn new beginnings.

[themeasureofasim]

Israel's blockade and continued obstruction of aid have made it close to impossible for people in Gaza to access food, water, and medicines.

◾At least 1.9 million people (about 90% of the population) across the Gaza Strip are internally displaced. Many have been displaced repeatedly; some, 10 times or more.

◾Israeli forces is preventing humanitarian aid (including food, water, and medical supplies) from entering the Gaza Strip. A daily average of 500 humanitarian trucks entered Gaza before October 2023; this number has fallen to 37 trucks a day.

◾People are suffering from war wounds and chronic diseases, made worse by the lack of access to health care and medicines. Forced displacement has pushed people into unbearable unhygienic living conditions, where diseases spread rapidly.

Nearly a year ago, on 26 January, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ordered Israel to take “immediate and effective measures to enable the provision of urgently needed basic services and humanitarian assistance to address the adverse conditions of life faced by Palestinians in the Gaza Strip”. Israel has taken no meaningful action to comply with the court order. Instead, Israeli authorities continue to actively block MSF and other humanitarian organisations from providing lifesaving assistance to people trapped under siege and bombardment.

Below are some fundraisers that are very low on funds. Please, share or consider donating if you can ❤️🖤🤍💚

Layan Ramy / @layanramy: Layan, who is only 12, is immuno-compromised and prone to lung infections. She has to undergo periodical operations due to several skeletal problems, and needs to be evacuated from Gaza to get treatment. Vetted by @/gazavetters (#108) and @/gaza-evacuation-funds (#7). €725/€17,000.

Mostafa Ayman / @mostafaayman3: Family of 6, including 4 children still in education, a mother with diabetes and a father that cannot walk. #340 in the vetted fundraisers list by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi. €1,210/€50,000.

Aya Ayman / @ayah-1: Aya's home was bombed a year ago with her, her husband, and their 2-year old son Yazan inside. Aya's family moved to a relative's house, which was also targeted. During this month, they have also lost their tent in another attack. Reblogged by @/90-ghost and vetted by association [1, 2, 3]. €1,270/€50,000.

Wajih Madi / @mohammedmadi20: Family of 6; Mohammed is Wajih’s son. Mohammed’s mother (Wajih’s wife) is chronically ill. Several family members need to get medical treatment. Vetted by association. Last donation was 10 days ago! €1,271/€30,000.

◾ If you can’t decide which struggling fundrairser to donate to, GazaFunds will choose one for you.

◾You can also donate to the Municipality of Gaza to help them ensuring water access for the residents of their city.