#You were born to feed the worms

[tang3r1n]

ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ʙᴀʙʏ

cw; 18+, heavy topics ngl, refrences to poverty and starvation, angst, GAY LESBIAN SEX, slight cannibalism symbolism if you squint rly hard, refrences to sex work and/or sexual assault

A/N: abt 900 words and literally cranked this bitch out in lile half an hour. jesus fuck how in the hell did Sevika bring me out of my fucking writing dry spell. what the actual fuck. i haven’t written in a year and ofc when i do it’s fucked up analogies and lesbian sex.

To be born of the cursed flesh is a cruel fate worse than death.

To be born as a tainted babe, cast out from the womb with vile stares and scornful words, is the most unlucky a child could be.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t just. She’d lived her life good, honest, she deserved the fruits of her labor, a young life filled with pain and struggle. But she was that of the unfavored, not the blessed ones of Piltover, not the nobles with their mansions or the Council with their riches. She was impoverished, born starved, raised hungry, grown into a ravenous woman who begged for the moresles of candied love the scum around her shoved down her throat or inside her.

She lived to survive, didn’t have time for anything outside of the coins thrown her way and the scraps she fed from. Ironic how she never looked the part; plump and soft, malleable and pliable, her hunger hidden beneath that syrupy, sugary smile that oh-so softly graced her cherub cheeks. She pranced around in fine silks and soft feathers, smoke and shimmer stinging her nose and eyes, ears never without the soft whines and moans that fluttered through the halls of the brothel.

Men were somehow more starved than she, their oafish bodies sweaty and fetid as they grabbed her with rough hands, uncaring of the bruises and marks that grew, staining her already tainted body. She loathed them, pushing her brain to the clouds of smoke circling overhead as she rode out whatever sick ride they put her on. The rides were never long, thankfully, mercifully, their essence all that remained once they stepped off with little more than a sideways glance and those same scornful words she learned years ago. Her bed was a sanctuary, a soft, pillowy escape where she could let her mind drift and fly away, she dreamed of soft touches and sweeter kisses, honeyed words and gentle smiles against her plush skin.

This woman above her, her tan skin and dark lips, soft breasts and firm muscles, rough hands caressing her like she was made of porcelain, felt like heaven. Her touch was better than shimmer, a rush incomparable to any human emotion, a religious awakening, it was invigorating. Men were hurtful, slapping and choking all while they shared the same blood and flesh that she had— but this woman, with her metal arm and scars, was slow and sybaritic, gluttonous how she sucked and kissed at her skin.

Long fingers pumped inside her, working choked gasps and impossibly soft moans from the cursed one’s mouth, curling inside her cunt to almost lazily press against that spot that made her dizzy, stomach twisting as her eyes fluttered shut. The woman’s voice was low and deep, chiding her for looking away, for her hips trying to worm away from this pleasure, “look at me,” the woman whispered, licking a stripe up her neck littered in hickeys. The other keened, hazy eyes half lidded as she looked up to her savior, the older woman grinned, wolfish and possessed, yet she didn’t feel fear. Not like she had before, the woman was all-consuming, dominating her very soul and suffocating her under that strong body built by the gods, yet she could only cry and cling to her skin, begging for more and more.

She was starved, and this woman, bringing her to climax, the sinfully delicious sounds of her own cunt squelching clashing with her pitiful cries, was feeding her. Feeding that bottomless pit she had been build with, feeding her with lips sloppily meshed together in a fucked up display of power and perversion. Feeding her with those dangerous fingers circling her pearl and filling her up. Feeding her with praise and love like a false prayer, flooding her mind with devotion and compassion she so desperately craved.

With the burst of her orgasm, she wailed, tugging on her savior’s messy hair as her body shook in pleasure. White blinded her as her glassy eyes rolled back, devilish smile fading away with a dark chuckle. The woman gently slipped her fingers from her cunt, a dull ‘pop!’ making her ears burn as she watched the woman suck on the soaked fingers. The woman’s eyes rolled back, a delicious moan rumbling from her chest and in that moment she wondered if this woman was starving too. If her savior craved just like she did, if this woman watched her with the same kind of hungry eyes as she did.

She was pulled into another sultry kiss, lips smooshed and smacking as they stole each other’s breath, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The woman pulled away first, keeping her close with a firm hand around her thick neck, string fingers ever so gently cutting off her oxygen, “such a pretty girl,” the woman whispered, a secret for just the two of them, “my new favorite treat.”

Born damned, she scavenged for love and life, but staring into those dark eyes, she saw the same hunger, the same damned flesh tangled up in her’s in a macabre display.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Chondrichthyes - Orectolobiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Orectolobiformes are an order of sharks sometimes known as “Carpet Sharks.” They include the families Brachaelurus (“blind sharks”), Ginglymostomatidae (“nurse sharks”), Hemiscylliidae (“bamboo sharks”), Orectolobidae (“wobbegongs”), Parascylliidae (“collared carpet sharks”), Rhincodontidae (“Whale Shark”), and Stegostomatidae (“Zebra Shark”).

Orectolobiformes have five gill slits, two spineless dorsal fins, and a small mouth that does not extend past the eyes. Many species have barbels: tactile whiskerlike sensory appendages near their mouths. Grooves known as nasoral grooves connect the nostrils to the mouth. A spiracle occurs beneath each eye which is used in respiration. Orectolobiformes are commonly called “carpet sharks” due to their flattened appearance and often ornate patterning, with many species spending most of their time resting on the ocean floor. However, this order also contains the Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus) (image 2), the largest chondrichthyan, whose record holder had a length of 18.8 m (61.7 ft). The smallest of the order, at up to about 30 cm (12 in) long, is the Barbelthroat Carpet Shark, (Cirrhoscyllium expolitum). Orectolobiformes are a diverse order of sharks with differing sizes, appearances, diets, and habits. Most are nocturnal. Most carpet sharks feed on the seabed in shallow to medium-depth waters, detecting and picking up molluscs, crustaceans, and other small creatures. Wobbegongs (image 1) are ambush predators, camouflaging on the seafloor and swallowing prey that swims too close. Whale Sharks are filter feeders.

Reproduction methods among carpet sharks also vary. Some species lay eggs directly into the water column or enclose them in horny egg cases. Some will push their egg cases into crevices for protection. Other species are ovoviviparous and give live birth. Pups are born relatively advanced and independent.

Orectolobiformes first appeared in the Early Jurassic. The oldest known orectolobiform genera are Folipistrix and Annea.

Propaganda under the cut:

Nurse Sharks are nocturnal and largely solitary at night, but they spend the day resting in groups, often piled on top of each other for safety.

The largest confirmed individual Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus) had a length of 18.8 m (61.7 ft), though 14 m (46 ft) is a more likely upper limit. Their lifespans are estimated to be between 80 and 130 years. Along with the Basking Shark and Megamouth Shark, they are the only other filter-feeding shark.

Blind Sharks have fully functioning eyes, but were named so because they would close them when caught by anglers

The Zebra Shark (Stegostoma tigrinum) was named for the black and white stripes of juveniles. As adults, their zebra stripes fade and are exchanged for cheetah print. Early taxonomists thought that juvenile zebra sharks were a different species due to how different their patterning looked!

In Madagascar, Whale Sharks are called Marokintana in Malagasy, meaning "many stars", after the appearance of the markings on the shark's back.

The Epaulette Shark:

As an adaptation to living in tidal pools and shallow coral reefs, the Epaulette Shark (Hemiscyllium ocellatum) moves by seemingly walking, bending its body from side-to-side in a salamander-like gait, pushing off of the substrate with its paddle-shaped pectoral and pelvic fins. The shark is capable of swimming, but often prefers to walk along the sandy or coral bottom even when the water is deep enough to allow it to swim freely. This mode of locomotion even enables the shark to crawl out of the water to access isolated tidal pools as it hunts for worms, crustaceans, and small bony fish, and it can cope with oxygen depletion in these conditions for over three hours.

[apas-95]

What do you think is the best/most efficient/least environmentally damaging way to feed the entire population of the world if we had global communism or whatever

Heavy industry.

Currently, the issue is this -- there is a limited amount of land and water available at any given time. Our food production all, ultimately, depends on plants. Either we eat plants directly, or we grow plants to feed to animals we then eat.

With this in mind, it is clear that industrial animal agriculture has inherent inefficiencies. A cow that eats soybeans and cornfeed is using over 90% of its energy to heat its body, and of the remaining portion, much goes to locomotion, thinking, etc. It is genuinely, within our agricultural system, a massive waste that a battery chicken is born with legs and a brain. In the wild, these would pay for themselves -- a chicken uses its legs and brain to hunt for worms and seeds, the cow stays warm to forage for grass.

Clearly, here, plants are more efficient: you can either grow one acre of soybeans and process them into a dozen impossible whoppers; or you can grow a hundred acres of soybeans, feed them to a cow, and then process that cow into a dozen possible whoppers. This was not always possible -- historically, there were nutrients and structures that could not be found other than from animal tissue, because animals are very complex machines, and this was a good source -- but through modern technology, it is now feasible.

The next step after this, in a hypothetical global communism, is to jump over the inefficiencies of plants themselves, and begin producing food directly. We are already able to synthesise basic starch directly from CO2, in a process several-fold more efficient than that carried out by plants. Our technological level is not there yet, but if it arrives there, we would have achieved the smallest possible footprint for our food production, one that wouldn't even neccesarily have to pollute and occupy Earth itself.

Thanks for writing in!

[greensimp]

Gyutaro x Reader:

He nearly kills you. Regrets it immediately.

______________________________________________________________

Canon!Gyutaro x gn!Reader

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, angst, threats of violence, vulgar language

______________________________________________________________

You scoff and glare up at your partner with annoyance.

“Gyutaro, it’s not a big deal!”

The demon you’re arguing with stands above you, a frustrated scowl painting his features. Bringing a hand up to the side of his face, he growled and began scratching at himself.

“Yes it is, damnit! Do you realize how fucking dangerous that was?! What if I wasn’t around to get you away from there?!”

You balled your fists and stomped your foot childishly, indignation evident in your stance.

“I didn’t need your help! I was fine on my own! I’ve survived on my own a lot longer that I’ve had you around!”

Anger bubbled up in Gyutaro’s chest at your infuriating naivety. This wasn’t some stroll you took a little way outside of Yoshiwara. The little stunt you pulled tonight could have ended your life.

What did you do?

You left his territory entirely. The only reason he knew about it was because he spotted you speaking to an unfamiliar man from the shadows hours before. It wasn’t unlike you to socialize with strangers, but Gyutaro knew from the start that something about him wasn’t “genuine.”

So he stalked you. He stalked you until that man led you so far away from the Kyogoku house that only the quiet noises of the forest could be heard.

What the hell were you thinking?

If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. This lowly demon was luring you to his feeding grounds. Gyutaro could read the overzealous and smug confidence all over the worm’s face. Despite smelling him and Daki’s scent, he thought he could pick off a couple humans for himself.

Unfortunately for this little bug, he couldn’t have chosen a worse human to prey upon.

When it was apparent that the demon was about to make its move, it turned around and froze, practically pissing himself as the kanji-filled eyes of Upper Moon Six bored down upon him from behind the human he lured. You were confused at first before turning around to see what he was so scared of.

Oh.

“Goin’ somewhere? Y’know, its rude to be taking off with other people’s things, cretin.”

The pathetic demon tried to shake his hands in front of him and scurry away.

“I-I’m so s-sorry sir, I d-didn’t know this one w-was y-“

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before a hand wrapped itself around his mouth and jaw, crushing it in painfully.

“I don’t recall asking for your pathetic apology, whelp.”

Neither you or the demon saw Gyutaro move. It was like he was behind you one moment, then crushing the demon’s face the next.

He was pissed. Blindingly so.

You winced as a disgusting cracking sound reverberated through the forest. Gyutaro had drove the demon’s head so far into the ground that it made a crater. It wouldn’t be regenerating from that by sunrise.

Your legs felt weak as you stared at the blood. Then, Gyutaro rose to his feet and turned to you, his normal scowl now clearly on edge and splattered with blood.

“We’re going home. Now.”

…

You may have survived all this time, but you also had your beauty and luck on your side. Gyutaro had neither. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t born yesterday. You’re too comfortable with the knowledge of demons existing. You’re not cautious enough.

The room became deadly silent.

His scratching and growling ceased, with the only sounds being the ever-hastening blood rushing through your ears.

Your nerves were on edge, Gyutaro’s sudden silence freaking you out more than his display of anger earlier.

“Gyutaro…?”

He didn’t reply right away, only slowly and deliberately lowering his arm to his side.

You furrowed your brows and huffed.

“Oh, so now I’m getting the silent treatment?”

You were about to continue provoking him until you saw the veins and flesh under the skin of his forearms begin to writhe and pulse. You took a step back, now suddenly nervous.

“H-hey, what’re you doing?”

“I don’t think you understand how much danger you’re in right now.”

Two growths began emerging from Gyutaro’s hands.

“W-what do you mean?!”

Another step back, but this time, Gyutaro mirrored you with a step forward.

“You think this a world where you can just walk around and trust anyone you meet? There are things out there. Things much scarier than me. And you think you can just throw yourself out there for them to take you from me?”

The writhing flesh in his hands now took the distinct shape of... sickles?

The weight of the situation now dawned on you. Your eyes slowly widened in raw fear as he took another firm step your way. Your breath faltered, your fight or flight response automatically causing you to freeze, despite wanting to run.

His vision was blurred with rage, he didn’t care that you were terrified of him in that moment. The only thing going through his mind was that he needed to instill the fear of demons in you that you needed. You needed to know that things like him are hiding a side of themselves that only doomed humans ever get to see.

He loves you too much to let you die.

You finally gained control of your legs (barely). Of course, the second you tried to stumble backwards, you slipped and fell straight on your ass. Still, you desperately scoot yourself back, whimpering and breathing heavily as he menacingly stepped closer to you.

“I-I’m sorry Gyu! P-please don��t hurt me!”

Your pleas didn’t get though to him. He was in fight mode. His only instinct being to protect the people he loves. It just so happened that his instincts were being a bit counterproductive.

You squeaked when your back hit the wall.

Your pupils dilated and tears fell from your eyes. You barely recognized the monster in front of you. It was like the gentle giant you fell in love with traded bodies with a pure evil.

Whatever point he wanted to get across to you, it worked.

Oh. It worked.

A razor sharp point prodded at you under your chin tauntingly. A sickening, wretched giggle came from his throat.

You felt your heart jump in your throat as you stared death in the eyes.

“Do you understand, now? Do you fear, death? I bet you do, love.”

Laughter followed his taunts as he pressed the blade deeper.

“BROTHER! WHAT’RE YOU DOING?!”

A feminine voice practically screeched from the doorway.

As if someone flipped a switch, Gyutaro’s tunnel vision cleared. The fog of anger and spite dissipated into painful clarity.

His sickening grin fell instantly, confusion flooding his mind as to why you were looking at him like a cornered animal.

Then, his stomach practically dropped to the floor when he realized what he was holding to your throat.

He jerked his sickle back and trembled, his eyes widening in horror at what he’d done to you.

If he had broken your skin… it would have certainly cut your life short. The poison that laces his blades is thousands of times more potent than the deadliest snakes of the world.

You brought a hand to your throat and sobbed, falling to your side.

He just stared at his sickle and shook, stepping away from you.

He didn’t even notice Daki darting past him to get to you.

“Why did you do that, brother?!”

His eyes snapped to his sister’s scathing glare.

“I-I-“

Another step back.

He almost killed you.

He’s pathetic.

He’s worthless.

He doesn’t deserve you.

You’re scared of him now.

You got what you wanted, Gyutaro. Now they’re scared of you.

Now they hate you.

Before Daki could yell at him again, he darted out of the room.

…

Even Daki couldn’t find Gyutaro for hours. She’s never seen her brother shaken up this bad and she had no idea what to do. When you told what happened, she sort of flipped at your stupidity, too. Although not as… murder-y. She understood why Gyutaro would be cross with you, but she was still surprised that he’s go so far as to traumatize you. She knew better than anyone that he’d never even dream of killing you.

She brought you some food and water before setting out into the night to find Gyutaro again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Now that you’d calmed down, the hurt finally sunk in. Why would he do this? Did he really love you? If Daki hadn’t interrupted… would he have truly done it.

His maniacal laughter played in your mind like a broken record, causing you to cringe and shiver. The mouth that had uttered such sweet words to you… used to taunt you. To make you feel like prey.

A small creak in the doorway caused you to jump in your skin. You were still very on edge.

And the figure in it did not help to calm you.

Gyutaro’s face was shrouded in shadow, his mouth in a pursed frown.

The air grew thick with tension as he just stood there.

Then, he took a small step in, which had you involuntarily jump backwards in fear.

Your reaction to his presence made his chest feel tight. Guilt practically strangled him by the neck. He wanted you to be afraid of demons… not him.

But he is a demon.

A pathetic, filthy demon.

When he took another step into the room, something caught your eye that made your breath hitch.

In the light of the oil lamps in your room, a faint sheen of wetness trailed down Gyutaro’s cheek.

Was…

Was he crying?

You’d never seen him so much as sniffle, let alone cry.

You finally feel the guilt oozing from him, your stomach sinking.

Before you could speak, he collapsed to his knees and stared at you through misty eyes. You noticed a slight tremble in them.

“I- I’m so sorry-“

He’s pathetic.

He took a deep, shaky breath and let out the most sorrowful wail you’ve ever heard from a creature. He hunched over, bringing his hands to the sides of face and digging his nails into the skin.

“FORGIVE ME”

Pathetic. Worthless.

You just stared in complete awe at the heaving man in front of you. The display of vulnerability had your heart in a vice grip, whatever apprehension you held for Gyutaro fleeing your conscious like a gust of wind.

He was a broken man.

He was at your mercy.

He was groveling to you.

A pair of arms squeezing his head paused his crying. The warmth of your embrace came as an utter shock.

“I understand, Gyutaro. And… I do fear death.”

You echoed his words from earlier in a wobbly tone.

You fluttered your eyes shut and squeezed him to your chest.

“I’m scared of demons. That much is true.”

A single tear fell from your eye and you hiccuped.

“But…”

Memories of Gyutaro holding you in his arms during a firework display, memories him lovingly petting your hair as you snuggle into him, memories of him making love to you, all flowed through your head.

What you saw earlier wasn’t your Gyutaro.

“I could never stay afraid of you.”

Gyutaro’s breath hitched as your words pierced his heart.

He really didn’t deserve you.

Here you are, just forgiving him after he tried to kill you only hours before.

He sobbed and squeezed his eyes shut before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his head into your stomach.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve you.

But somehow…

He still has you.

And he’s never letting go.

[acoraxia]

I may have just found your art (is so freaking pretttttyyyyy) and your cotl AU but I now desperately need to know everything about the AU because it looks so. cool.

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME INDULGE IN TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE AU AHEM AHEM

I’m going to ramble now if that’s ok-

WARNING:: long and messy ramblings about AU ideas, headcanons and body horror/gore mentions up ahead

My Lamb’s story is actually pretty simple: they were born as Aluhé (ahl-weh) to a family filled with traveling performers. They traveled throughout the land of the Old Faith, worshipping the gods (especially Shamura) and performed to earn money to maintain themselves. Life was good up until rumors of the prophecy foretold by the Bishops spread towards the little hers; when Aluhé came of age they learned of said prophecy and that that was the reason why their family “settled down” in a (supposedly) hidden village.

Eventually, heretics arrive and they kill the herd safe for Aluhé and they escape, meet a flock of goats and Jahel (goat co-op character) and then run away due to guilt only to be captured by heretics and be introduced to the bishops.

After meeting Narinder and obtaining the crown, Aluhé refused to do anything in his name — refused to start a cult or touch the crown or anything… for months

they met Koi when they were planning to simply kill the Bishops bare handed and instead save her from being sacrificed (haha me too!). They don’t run the cult per say — mostly due to the fact they don’t want to get attached to anyone but they feel a strong sense of… protectiveness when it comes to the flock, going as far as appointing disciples to ensure the cult is safe and beating the life out of heretics that get a little too close for comfort to the cult grounds.

THE CROWN TAKES SUCH A MASSIVE TOLL ON ALUHÉ HOWEVER — apart from the fact that Aluhé is “easily corrupted” being fueled by a blind sense of justice towards the culling of their species over a family’s spat and a selfish fucker’s decisions, the crown latches on to their body and often does so when Aluhé has their guard down. This allows for certain changes to occur — the lack of hunger, exhaustion and ability to “morph” their body being a few of them.

It doesn’t help that Aluhé refuses to use the crown to fight unless absolutely necessary (because they hate dying because it means hearing Narinder talk and because they’ll end up angry all over again—) and often wears the crown around their neck.

This causes certain personality changes as well: Aluhé is typically quiet and docile when engaging with the flock if only a bit intimidating. They don’t talk to the followers unless necessary and only exchange actual conversation with their disciples. Since no follower is allowed to go on crusades with Aluhé they’re omitted from the fact their benevolent leader is in fact very, very, very, violent

They’d often consume heretics during their final moments or force feed their remains to the few that tried to get away (and failed) so they’d choke and die — a brutality that spread towards the bishops and their own disciples (Narinder still remembers how vile it was to see a meek little lamb get up and tear Barbatos to shreds, only to then use one of the worms’ teeth to sink it into Leshy’s flesh. Charming, really). This only strengthens when they kill Narinder and are eventually crowned the new god of death… among other things… and their body eventually adapts to the changes but it takes a toll on their mental health (

Their behavior, however, can be traced back to Shamura…

Since the two had a very interesting conversation before Aluhé was sent to be sacrificed:

Smh Aluhé you should be grateful to be blessed with the presence of the War Bishop tssk tsk

When the Bishops are killed and, eventually, brought back to life per the Mystic Seller’s request, Aluhé refuses to heal them or allow for their bodies to heal until they repent or make a pact with them to ensure obedience as they join their flock. Goes about as well as you can imagine

A big little change I made was that I made the Bishops Embodiments of their titles rather than just gods worshipped for it.

So Narinder is the Embodiment of Death, Leshy is the Embodiment of Chaos, etc. despite having somewhat mortal bodies they are still connected to their godhood and this will not change due to the fact that the world still needs gods in order to maintain balance — it also means that Aluhé is not just the god of death but the god of other things; it also means they have.. a union with Narinder, so to speak

The Gods have vessels for the sole purpose of their finding their replacements (because the gods will exist, even if they are not the same person they once were years ago) or to gain more worship and strengthen their power. When the Old Faith started getting greedy (coughs, Narinder) it was harder to find willing vessels or the right type of vessels to take on the task of bringing the Siblings more worship. It took years to find the proper candidates for Leshy or Kallamar (because the fucker was so PICKY /j) and it also caused a bit of horror to the siblings to see Aluhé reject the Red Crown as though it were simple

Aside from the Siblings being somewhat “dormant” and Narinder not being within the cult and Shamura traveling with Jahel… there’s a lot of silly little lore I managed to put into the four of them because I thought it’d be fun to explore the capability of Vessels and Gods and “War/Death Incarnate” as a whole — there’s a lot of story lore I don’t want to spoil but you can have these as a treat:

And thats it for now

[hummingbee-lievable]

Song of the Day #24:

'Mile Magnificent' by Molly OfGeography (released 2019).

An apartment when it's empty echoes lovely, bright and clean

Sing odes to green-blue water that we stole so it comes free

All things end, it's part of living; forest fires feed the trees

Lift your glasses full of sunshine, sing a toast to gasoline

Track #4 on 'Myths'.

Fun fact: Molly refers to this song as 'The Song My Producer Said I Was Not Allowed To Name “CHICAGO IS BETTER THAN NEW YORK”'.* Honestly, her descriptions for some of the songs on this album are hilarious:

'1) The Song That Made My Producer Go, “Wait, What Was That Bit About Worms?”

2) The Song My Producer Said I Had To Append A Parenthetical To So That People Would Be Able To Find It Because The Lyrics Never Mention The Title Once But I Was Raised On Fanfiction So Joke’s On You, Pal! I Love A Long Title With A Parenthetical In It!!!

3) The Song That Is Sad'

Pretty dang accurate, honestly. Also, I think she has a Tumblr!!! *Gasp.* What if I...tag her???

@ofgeography Hiiii and thank you, your music is amazing.

I did it bees and knees (yes, this is my hip modern way of including every kind of person, fight me or provide more hilarious options; I'm content with either option).

I have had a fun time perusing this flavourful dose of humanity's wild website and I think my fun fact today should be her story where she becomes a donut god:

You're welcome, singular entity that reads this blog (that entity being my sister and/or the rogue bots, doesn't matter, we're all friends here).

Personal blurb: Alright, full disclosure time: I discovered this artist because of the 'Good Omens' fandom. Someone said we were missing out on feelings and shared this song, and when I tell you I felt those feelings, I certainly don't mean that I danced to this on repeat for several months (and her 'Hanahaki (Bloom)'), often at 3 in the morning in the bathroom. Of course not.

Pro tip: dancing with your toothbrush in your mouth is a choking hazard, but in the spirit of Alanis Morissette, I recommend doing it anyway:

One of my favourite books in the world is 'The Overstory' by Richard Powers. In it, one of the themes that arises often is the concept of pyrophitic serotinous plants (it's okay, I won't remember it either). They are plants that need fire to open. (There are actually different types of pyrophitic plants, from passive to fire-activated but I probably shouldn't start talking about that because you'll need to pull out the duct tape.)

(Technically, 'serotinous' plants are a category in which plants release seeds over a longer period of time, and it doesn't matter how they are released, but the seeds that open by fire fit into this category.) The eucalyptus tree, the lodgehole pine, and other pyrophitic serotinous trees encase their seeds in resin that can only be melted by fire (thereby releasing the seeds).

The thing that I love about this concept is this: we need to burn to grow. I recently read this book called 'Life in Oil' about the Cofàn tribe in Ecuador who were drastically impacted by oil companies. And the thing was: Yes. They were impacted horribly (physically, psychologically, environmentally, the works). They also survived. They figured out, through tumult and trial and falling apart, how to keep going. And for every hard moment and loss, there was laughter and love to accompany it. The book was wonderful in that it confronted the concept of trauma on a large group of people. We are never just our trauma, but the balance of everything else as well. I think that gets lost, sometimes. Makes us seem less human.

This song screams to me of that same instinct. I mean, look at us. This is what we do, isn't it? We fight, we fall, we continue. We're just like every other aspect of nature in that we are born, and in our fight to continue, we impact everything around us. We're just a part of the cycle and eventually we will decay back to where we belong and serve as soil for our children. And all we'll be? A story. And after a while, not even that. Just a whisper of what was.

In a way? I find that freeing. We might as well live the life we want to live; how little it will matter. (This isn't absolution, please don't go murdering people.) I just mean that I don't have to put so much weight into every little thing. Not everything has to be joyful or depressing (and if we really think about it, everything is always a balance of both). It can just be what it is.

We are as we are. And we don't have to love ourselves for it, but we don't have to hate ourselves either.

I love the lyrics to this song. For a long time, I misheard 'We're animals of love/ the city never makes us beg' as 'the city never makes us pay' and I don't know why? But I kind of like that image.

We are animals of love. And that's okay.

We are the cogs in a continuous cycle and we always will be.

I think often of this monologue (content warning for the video, it's gory, but you don't need to watch it, you can just listen) from 'Midnight Mass', in regards to this:

(It sort of lives in my brain on a regular basis now; hope it takes up good residence in your brain, too.)

We just are. Everything just is.

[houserautha]

Feyd keeping his wife company when she gives birth.

What if the baby is breech?

I’m trying to imagine Feyd holding a tiny infant for the first time lmao 🤣

And they work together to stop the Baron from taking the child away.

“The baby is breech.”

The physician, who had been taking great lengths not to interact with the na-Baron, regards him with poorly disguised terror.

Feyd, who has been standing at your side, snarls at him, “What does that mean?”

“It means the baby isn’t head first,” you tell him. Exhaustion wears at you. And now panic worms its way through your mind.

“Then fix it,” Feyd snaps.

“I-I can try. But it’s going to cause some discomfort.” The physician looks as if he would sooner rather swallow his own tongue.

Feyd glares. The physician takes this as an invitation to start, and you clamp down on Feyd’s hand. Applying firm pressure, the physician starts to coax the baby to turn external. You inhale sharply — the sensation is strange, painful, and you do your best to mask your discomfort for the sake of the physician but Feyd knows you too well.

“That’s not helping. There must be another way,” he rasps. Something akin to fear tinges his voice.

The physician wrings his hands. “The only other option is a cesarean delivery.”

“You’re not harming her,” Feyd says.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s the only way. Otherwise there might be complications that could kill us both.” A contraction seizes you then and you cry out. Feyd mumbles praise to you as you endure it, then turns sharply to the physician as if he did this to you, not himself.

“Fine. You’ve done this before?”

The physician nods and offers a smile. “Many times, na-Baron.”

Feyd has seen many things in his life, has been the catalyst that puts more men and women in their graves than he could count. Most of their deaths had ended in a bloody mess.

But never before did he think that life could be born from such gruesome measures.

The physician is quick to suck up the blood from the incision on your abdomen, giving Feyd just enough time to watch his daughter be pulled from you, bloodied and purple. His breath catches. He’s given the chance to sever the umbilical cord, to see the organ that you had grown only to feed his child. Awe spirals through him during the whole process, carrying him through the next moments of stroking your hair and murmuring his adoration as the physician closes the incision.

One second he is by your side, the next, a nurse is handing him a swaddled white blanket.

Feyd blinks stupidly at the nurse. In his disbelief of your body and admiration of your strength, he had completely forgotten about his daughter.

“No, I —”

The nurse beams at him. “She is beautiful.”

Feyd is given no choice but to take his daughter in his arms, the nurse instructing him where to cradle her head. “My husband was nervous about our first, too,” the nurse says fondly.

“I’m not,” he snaps.

You can’t help but smirk as you observe the interaction. It amuses you, to see him like this. Normally fiercely confident and self assured, reduced now to a bumbling fool when handed a tiny newborn. His posture is stiff, expression uncertain as he meets your eyes, and the tiniest of smiles graces his lips.

The next few days pass in a blur of bliss and sleepless nights. You have just settled your daughter down and risked a quick wobble to the bathroom when you hear raised voices in the other room. Figuring it’s Feyd — probably arguing with some servant — you quickly relieve yourself. You were right, it is Feyd, but not a servant that he’s vehemently arguing with.

It’s the Baron.

Your molars grind together at the sight of him. Feyd stands between his uncle and your daughter, who slumbers on, unaware. His hands are fists at his sides.

“Absolutely not,” Feyd growls.

“I did not come here to give you a choice,” the Baron retorts. “You knew since the beginning that your child did not belong to you.”

Red flares in your vision. “If it was a son. We had a daughter,” you remind him, gesturing to the cot.

The Baron regards you with disinterest. You were never more to him than a vessel in which to host Feyd’s seed. “While unforeseen, the Bene Gesserits insist upon raising the child. Truly you did not believe it would stay here.”

It.

“She will go nowhere with you,” Feyd says.

“Very well.” The Baron glides towards the door on his suspenders. “Then the Reverend Mother will be here in a day’s time to collect the child.”

It’s not an easy decision — but you make it in the quiet of the night, blanketed by fear and grief. The nurse from before agrees to steal away your child and pass it off as her own, at least long enough for the conflict with the Bene Gesserits to pass. Tears stream down your face as you watch the nurse’s retreating form. Feyd stands silently beside you, stoic and emotionless. Finally he presses a breathy kiss to your temple.

“It’s better this way,” he whispers to you.

You lay eyes on your daughter again when she is two years of age, face round and eyes curious as she regards the two strangers in her doorway — the tall, broad man with the severe mouth and the woman next to him.

Your smile wavers. “Hello.”

[salparadiselost]

The New Gods AU looks quite interesting. So is Dick the god of spectacle and Tim the god of deduction?

Thank you!

The New Gods AU is dear to my heart <3

SO

Dick and Tim (and Jason) are all godlings, meaning they are directly formed from a human emotion attaching to something. Strong enough emotion with enough time can turn a more nebulous thing into an actual child-shaped godling, which can then be either raised by a god or grown up by itself.

As a godling develops, they will need to find something that feeds them and sustains their life. That is what they are 'the god of' though it isn't really like they control the thing, they more relish in it and can develop powers associated with it. They need a thing however, or else they will fade. The stronger and more prevalent that thing is, generally the stronger the god though there's usually competition over resources. Concepts do go extinct too. The things that could once support gods can fade into obscurity, so often gods must adapt their godhood to survive. It's kinda like starting from square one in terms of power, but hey you don't fade out.

Dick was a godling born in the Roman Coliseum and among all the blood and spectacle that came with it. He loves the vicious sport of competition and a crowd screaming the players on. He doesn't so much mind how much pain comes from it; it often makes a better show. Bruce caught him when he was young and though he would have been in his rights to letting Diana snuff out Dick's life in fear he was attaching to concepts that were too violent and vicious, Bruce took him in. Bruce has worked towards getting Dick attached to less... bloody spectacles. He's been a god of many types of shows and events, though circuses both Roman and modern are his favourite. He searches for anything with showboating and performance of impressive feats. Today, he mainly gleans power from in-person events such as concerts or sports shows (like WWE) though he isn't picky. He's also recently been exploring the power associated with TikTok stunts.

Tim is a godling that was born around the same time that the printing press was developed. Lots of godlings spawned during the advent of mass communication and Tim started attaching himself to rumours, lies and mysteries hidden in between letters. He loved watching how lies could destroy someone, destroy a life, or completely hide truth from another. Now, Bruce's job as a god deals with lots of mysteries (which is a whole 'nother can of worms) so Tim kinda... just started following him along until Bruce adopted him. Tim was attracted to the mysteries built into Bruce's 'job' and he also doesn't mind recreating the death (Bruce does not like this or ask for Tim to do this). Today, Tim has adapted to focusing on cold cases and true crime. He absolutely adores the true crime podcast boom and has probably shown up on your favourite 'make-up and murder' get ready with me without you even knowing.

[cheesycatz]

THE WORMTON FILES PT 3

Included: In-depth look at the malworm life cycle, some biology, information on their nests, their hunting process, and a bargain bin of random facts that were too short to be their own sections. Also some art where I thought it was necessary.

Content Warning: This is entirely about spamton deltarune themed parasitic worms I don’t know what to tell you man

BIGSHOT Malworm Infection and Life Cycle

All malworm species are parasites, meaning that their young live inside of a host and, once developed enough, kill their host and live independently from it as adults. All malworms feed on the souls and bodies of darkners, and prefer hunting sapient people over animals. The BIGSHOT malworm is a type of email worm, a genus capable of perfectly mimicking any sound or voice. This particular species is known to favor mimicking the advertisements and scams that one would expect to find in a spam email in order to lure its victims.

Stage 0: Choosing a Host (0 days)

An adult malworm begins to search for a suitable host. It looks for a victim whose body is warm enough to incubate its eggs and large enough to support a full brood. It also prefers to hunt those that appear vulnerable and gullible, as that is who its stolen words are most likely to work on. Once the new host is chosen, the malworm will follow them, typically sticking to walls and roofs where it is difficult to spot, and use its vocal mimicry to isolate its victim. It may reuse the screams of previous victims or purposefully play into the potential host's insecurities in order to lure them away from others. Once the victim is alone, the malworm lunges and wraps its body around the victim, preventing them from resisting. The malworm stabs its needle-like proboscis into the victim's abdomen and injects a single egg followed by a high dosage of its venom. The unconscious victim, now a host, is left to wake alone.

Stage 1: Incubation (1 day)

The host remains unaware of their infection as they wake up and continue their normal routine, as the venom initially messes with their memory. The only remnant of their encounter is a small puncture mark and slight discomfort. Malworms often aim for the host's back and avoid piercing through clothes, making the injection site difficult to find. It tends to heal by the next day. After about 24 hours, the egg hatches, and the 6-16 malworm larvae spread out and attach themselves to their host. The larvae are born transparent white and completely featureless aside from a slight taper to the body. The body itself is only around 0.5 cm long, but their long string-shaped proboscis extends their total length to about 7.6 cm or 3 inches. They respirate through their epidermis and use their proboscis to eat. As soon as they hatch and start to feed, the larvae rapidly grow. In the rare event that the host is too small to support an entire brood, the larvae will attempt to eat each other until they no longer have to compete for resources.

Stage 2: Gestation (2-23 days)

By now, the adult malworm's venom has spread evenly throughout the host's entire body. The portion of it not being used to affect the host’s brain remains dormant until it comes into contact with a malworm's saliva. When activated, the cytotoxins in the venom turn the host's tissue into a liquid that a larva can easily slurp up through its proboscis. The easy-to-digest liquid tissue fuels the larvaes’ rapid growth, while the rest of the venom remains inactive in order to keep the host alive for longer. The host continues to remain unaware, unable to feel their organs being eaten. As the larvae continue to feed on the host's internal structures, they develop more organs, limbs, and features. At this point, most of the malworm's energy is devoted to developing its brain and body structures rather than simply growing larger, as they are far more complex than a typical parasite. The brain and the ears are some of the first organs to start developing, allowing the larvae to listen to their host and start learning words. As they gain senses, they may start to kick or writhe in response to outside stimuli, excited to respond to their hosts even if they don't have a mouth or vocal chords yet. However, it is uncommon for a host to actually feel them until the last few days due to the effects of the venom. The only symptoms of the infection the host may experience at this point are increased hunger, light sensitivity, cold sensitivity, fatigue, and sometimes uncharacteristic aggression towards those showing them concern. These symptoms start nearly undetectable and become worse as emergence approaches.

Stage 3: Emergence (day 24)

In the late stages of gestation, the host's symptoms become more extreme. The host will become drawn to darkness and warmth, and become extremely aggressive if disturbed. Their brain has been rewired to find or create a safe, isolated spot for the larvae to emerge, but the host can’t tell that anything is wrong. The last thing the larvae grow is their new respiratory system. Once they lose their ability to breathe through their skin, They instinctively start biting and clawing their way out of the host to avoid suffocation. If everything has gone well, the host's brain has been deluded into building a nest in a warm, dark, secluded place to the best of their abilities. The host may feel or see the larvae squirming underneath their hollowed skin just before they die of mass organ failure, internal bleeding, organ loss, etc. As intelligent but very young creatures, the larvae spend some time just adjusting to their new lungs and unfamiliar world. They clean the blood off of each other and learn to use their legs, continuing to eat the dead host in the process. Freshly emerged larvae are around 10 in (23 cm) if you include their nose, and are pure white aside from a tiny speck of black fur on the top of their heads.

Stage 4: Growth (day 25 - 90)

The larvae stay with their host for at least a day while they devour the rest of the body. They grow at an average of 1 in (2.5 cm) a day, though they tend to grow faster while eating the rest of the host, and slower when they start eating new prey. If their parent malworm is able to, it will keep track of the selected host and take its hatchlings back to its nest once they emerge. However, more often than not, the larvae spend their first few weeks of life alone until an adult can find them. They are self-sufficient, but have a much higher survival rate when cared for by adult malworms. Larvae have softer shells than adults, which allows them to grow much faster at the cost of defense. The larvae stay with their hatchmates, and can usually fend off threats, such as tasques, together. They eat computer bugs, maice, and other small Cyber World fauna. The larvae smartly avoid confronting humanoid darkners at their young age, but still like to hide and listen for new words to mimic. As they grow, the small black spot of hair on the top of their heads gradually spreads across the body.

Stage 5: Sexual Maturity (91 days)

The young malworms reach 10 ft (305 cm) in length, finally developing their ovary and venom glands and marking them as adults. Using the audio clips they learned as a hatchling, the now adult malworms start hunting humanoid prey. They either stay in the nest of the malworms that possibly raised them or create their own nest. Once settled, the malworms are ready to infect new hosts, beginning the cycle again. Malworms often don't live for more than six months due to external factors, since exterminating the malworms is usually top priority when they get into a city. So, they tend to reproduce the second they can, and as much as possible. Despite the fact that many larvae die before reaching adulthood, a malworm population can explode from one to thousands in just a year if left unchecked. While malworms continue to grow in size after reaching sexual maturity, the hardening of the exoskeleton drastically slows the process, and the vast majority of malworms die before they can gain more than a few inches.

Stage 6: Fully Grown (10+ years)

If an adult malworm survives long enough, it will gradually reach a maximum length of 16 ft (~488 cm), although the odds of one living that long outside of captivity are astronomically low. Young malworms are physically and mentally clones of each other aside from their memories, but older malworms can start to develop more distinct personalities, as their brain has had a much longer time to develop. Older malworms are more dangerous both because of their greater strength and far greater intelligence derived from their years of amassed voice clips and experience. As darkners based on digital files, malworms cannot technically die of old age. However, as malware, they don’t receive patches and updates like software-based darkners do, and can become plagued with more and more glitches as their code becomes obsolete. Depending on how a malworm’s venom works, some older species can’t even infect newer darkners, while others remain a genuine threat. It is currently unknown whether the BIGSHOT malworm’s venom could still function today. As one of the first ever computer worms, attempts were not made to catalogue its existence and no known eggs or specimens are alive today. Most information on them is based on their successors.

All About Malworm Setae (Fur)

The fur found all along a malworm's body is actually specialized setae, or hair-like structures. Each strand consists of a long stalk with tiny soft hairs branching off of it, resembling something like a fern leaf or a feather. Their hair gives them their sense of touch and allows them to sense some vibrations. These hairs naturally curl downwards, but flex out when the malworm wants to better feel its environment or make itself look bigger. The fact that their fur can hold its shape so well is how they can have such long yet perfectly curled manes. The main purpose of their manes might be an intimidation tactic to make their thin necks look less vulnerable, but they have also been observed using it to carry and hide their hatchlings. The prominent tufts at the end of their tails don't have a known purpose other than flaring out when the malworm is agitated. Malworm hair in general serves to keep them warm and dry. The notable lack of fur on their feet and forelimbs and the very short fur on the head is thought to be an adaptation to make blood easier to clean. Malworms plunge their claws deep into their prey to hold onto it, and blood will inevitably run down their legs in the struggle. Despite typically having to live in dirty, rundown areas of the cities they invade, malworms keep themselves very clean, removing any dirt from their hair and licking any grime off. The lighter colored fur on their chest and face seems to be purely decorational. Because they don't glow, even the lighter parts of a malworm can be difficult to spot under the glare of city lights. Most Cyber World darkners are biofluorescent, meaning they glow in various colors under the blacklights common in the city as a way to grab attention. This trait is quite obvious with addisons, whose entire bodies glow in bright colors. In contrast, no part of a malworm is biofluorescent, indirectly camouflaging them. Malworms also have a few more types of setae. The shorter hair on their long nose is designed specifically for smelling, with the whole structure acting like an insect's antenna. The proboscis is covered in translucent hairs that the malworm uses to sense souls. Specialized setae around their ear holes help make sounds louder so that they can actually hear them. Finally, dense pads of hair on the bottom of their feet, known as scopula pads, allow malworms to stick to walls. The BIGSHOT malworm has black and white fur, though shining a light at their fur reveals subtle iridescent coloration in a variety of blues, purples, and pinks.

Soul Sensing:

Because malworms rely on the souls of darkners as part of their diet, they have developed an ability to sense the location, strength, and position of souls using sensitive hairs on their proboscis. Malworms can be observed flicking their proboscis outward, a bit like a snake's tongue, and brushing it against the roof of their mouth, where their taste buds are. They process the chemical signatures of souls as a source of heat and light where the soul is, which grows stronger based on the soul's proximity and strength. Generally, soul strength can correlate with brain complexity, physical size, or mental strength. So, an insect would be barely detectable, a humanoid darkner would be easy to find, and a human soul would be completely intoxicating, like a moth to the sun. Malworms can usually find an average darkner soul within 30 feet of them, even through a 5 ft thick lead wall. However, they exponentially struggle past that range, especially with weaker souls. When a soul is very close to a malworm, they can sense more about it, like the pace of the heart attached to the soul and what condition it's in.

Medicine:

Because malworms are classified as a disease, most medicine either doesn't affect them or is outright harmful. Dewormers can be lethal to hatchlings if they accidentally ingest it, though the host drinking it isn't usually dangerous for them, as they live outside of the stomach. As adults, specialized medicine designed for worms or malware in general can make them very sick, but isn't usually enough to kill. As malware themselves, malworms aren't at risk of getting infected with anything, and their jacked up immune system means that they can't transfer anything, either. After all, they wouldn't want to help the competition by spreading a virus, and they especially want their hosts to be as healthy as possible for their hatchlings. Healing magic does work on malworms, though there is no conceivable reason why someone would want to heal one.

Internal Mouth and External Mouth

Malworms actually have two mouths; the proboscis and the mandibles. The mandibles only resemble a jaw full of teeth, an example of convergent evolution. Their teeth are similar to a spider's fangs, as each tooth-like structure is attached to muscles and can move independently of one another, allowing malworms to easily grip onto prey. Malworms have 36 teeth in total, 32 canines with knife-like edges designed to slice, and four molar-like teeth in the back designed to grind. The front four teeth on the top and bottom jaw are significantly shorter, allowing the proboscis to extend past even when the teeth are interlocked into a curved smile. The external mouth connects to the malworm's respiratory system and digestive system. The internal mouth is a proboscis that can extend up to 6 ft in length. It consists mainly of muscle, is completely covered in nearly invisible hairs, is partially translucent, and has a needle sharp tip. It sits inside of the mandibles right where a tongue would be. Malworms are born without their mandibles, so their proboscis is also connected to the digestive system, though it can only be used to consume fluids. Adult malworms like to use the proboscis to drink the souls of their prey rather than just swallowing the heart whole, seemingly for their own enjoyment. The main purpose of the proboscis in adulthood is for reproduction. It is connected to the venom glands and ovary, allowing it to transfer venom and eggs to a host. The proboscis is very sensitive and much weaker than the mandibles, so malworms will only use it on very small prey or as a last option for self defense.

Magic and Venom

As darkners, malworms have a natural capacity for magic. However, unlike most darkners, their magic is not used to summon attacks. Instead, it's concentrated in their absurd healing abilities and powerful venom. Once activated by the malworm’s saliva, malworm venom primarily has the effect of liquifying the victim's flesh, allowing their larvae to feed and grow quickly. The liquid tissue requires less energy to digest, meaning that the larvae can dedicate much more energy to growing than they'd be able to without the venom. With the malworm's magic, the venom can dig into the infected host's brain and force them to conform to the larvae’s needs. Essentially, the venom mimics the host's code and executes lines almost the exact same, influencing the host's brain without triggering the immune system. It makes the host forget the moment they were infected, tricking them into thinking nothing is wrong until they finally die. As the infection progresses, the host becomes extremely sensitive to light and cold. They become overwhelmingly hungry, and their corrupted brain rewards them when they conform to these artificial urges. The host is forced to isolate themselves and act aggressive towards anyone that shows concern for their health. By the last day of infection, they are completely incoherent, running away if they live with other people and forming a strange nest of pillows and blankets. At this point, the host can barely speak and may try to bite and scratch anyone that approaches them. They usually die of mass organ failure before they can even see the larvae squirming inside of their hollowed out body. Overall, malworms use their magic to enhance their venom and ensure their hatchlings have the best rate of survival. The rest of their magic is dedicated to their healing abilities. Despite having many complex organs, malworms can lose somewhere around 80% of their entire body and survive as long as the heart, maybe one lung, some portion of the digestive tract, a little bit of the nervous system, and some flesh to hold it together is left. With extremely intensive care, a malworm could make a full recovery, regenerating the entirety of its body as if nothing ever happened. If most of the body is still intact, they can also recover from damage to their five “hearts,” or aortic arches. A small portion of their healing magic is tied to their saliva, which is why malworms are frequently observed licking their wounds. This minor healing effect can actually work on other darkners. Though, since it's tied to the malworm's magic, the malworm unfortunately has to be alive for it to work, so it has no practical use. Malworms are physically incapable of summoning spells.

Pipis (vine boom sound effect)

Malworm eggs, also referred to as pipis, are about the size and shape of a grain of rice. The protective shell is squishy and wet in appearance, colored the same cerulean blue as the rest of a malworm's internal structures. Each pipis contains up to 16 larvae each, and only one pipis is injected into a host. Malworms reproduce asexually, creating genetic clones of themselves, so all they have is something that vaguely resembles an ovary. They can produce hundreds of eggs at a time, though this is a small amount compared to the millions of eggs that other parasitic worms can produce. Their internal body temperature is too low to keep their own eggs alive for very long, so old eggs continuously dissolve to make room for new ones. Malworms don’t have any sort of reproductive cycle and can infect a host at any time as long as they have enough venom in their venom glands.

Nests

Malworm nests are built from a material commonly referred to as “rotten glass.” It is composed of polyethylene plastic and malworm saliva, getting its name from its blue semi-transparent coloration and stringy shape. It resembles something between hot glue and a thick tarantula web, starting out sticky and gooey and solidifying quickly. Rotten glass is somewhat flexible while keeping its shape. It is difficult to break, but can easily be melted by fire due to the polyethylene in its composition. Nests are normally built above the ground, attached to the walls or ceiling by strands of rotten glass. Malworm nests contain multiple layers. The outside is typically round, but may take on an abnormal shape depending on the environment around it. In their natural environment, malworms cover the outside with plant debris in order to camouflage the nest. As an invasive species in cities, they tend to use various garbage to try and hide the nest, though it's not usually that effective. The next layer is the insulation layer, which takes up a majority of the nest’s volume. It contains massive holes between the inner and outer layers, keeping the temperature inside the nest warmer. Nests only ever have one entrance, typically hidden by vines or something else. Through the entrance is a tunnel that travels through the tunnel and usually into the main den. Larger festers (malworm groups) may build multiple round “rooms” separated by tunnels, a bit like an ant colony, though most festers are small enough that they only have a single “room;” the den. The den is the literal nest, being where the malworms sleep. They use anything they can find and deem soft enough as bedding, from regular pillows and blankets to loose electrical wire. Malworms often build little nooks in the wall where they can hide the treasure they collect from victims. Malworms spend a majority of their life inside of their nest, so they work to keep it as clean as possible. They are highly protective of the nest and the territory around it, and will kill (and eat) anything that gets too close. There's often no birdsong or insect chirps around a nest, just complete silence. Only adult malworms are capable of producing rotten glass, so malworm larvae that don’t have an adult taking care of them usually sleep in whatever nook they can find, whether it’s an abandoned building, dumpster, or inside of your walls.

Sleeping Process

Malworms aren’t capable of true sleep; instead, they essentially turn portions of the brain off while still being aware of their surroundings. This may just be a byproduct of their rather insectoid biology, but, regardless, it serves to keep them vigilant for threats even while asleep. Malworms only enter this resting state if they are already relaxed. During it, their metabolic rate slows, but their eyes remain open as they continue to hear, feel, smell, and see their environment. Malworms usually stay relaxed or curled up or around each other while in this state, but are still capable of moving or reacting to stimuli without actually waking up. They rely on instincts in this state, and don’t do much more than adjust their position while resting. They usually enter an awake state almost immediately if they detect a threat. However, extreme stress breaks this system. Malworms normally need to feel safe before they can enter a resting state, but can be forced to if they are so exhausted they can’t stay awake anymore. The images from the stressed mind translate into the closest thing malworms experience to dreams, though “nightmares” would probably be a more accurate term. Since they only rely on basic instincts while resting and can’t wake up, they perceive whatever they see as real, no matter how abstract it may be, and can violently lash out in response. Malworms can be taken out of this state by physical touch, as physically embracing and hearing their nestmates helps the mind relax and return to a normal resting state. Malworms are most often nocturnal, though they will adjust to whatever the schedule of their prey is.

Hunting

Malworms actually hunt in groups. They're typically most active at night, but will adjust to whatever time yields the greatest hunting results. When active, they walk across the rooftops, searching for victims. When a malworm finds a victim, it will stay behind to stalk its prey. Some will continue searching while others will stay behind in case assistance is needed. Malworms use their vocal mimicry to lure a victim close enough to ambush. They try to get the victim away from any other nearby darkners, and will also try to back them into a corner if possible. They like to drag out this phase in the hopes that they might get useful voice clips from the victim. Once the victim has been manipulated into the right spot, the malworm strikes. It jumps from its hiding spot and uses its long, curved claws to hook into its prey and not let go. They bite the neck, killing their prey, and start to feed. Assuming nothing went wrong and they didn't have to prematurely assist, the other malworms will hop down and start to eat as well. The humanoid prey that malworms hunt is too large for one malworm to eat, so they always share their meal. They eat everything, including teeth, hair, and even the inorganic metal or plastic components of their darkner victims. Malworms enjoy stealing their prey’s belongings, as they don’t like to leave any evidence of a struggle. They collect clothing to line their nests, collect shiny jewelry to look at, and are strangely protective of the money, debit cards, and other wallet items they hoard. Depending on the size of the group, malworms may kill multiple victims or just one. They normally only eat one meal a day, retreating to the safety of their nests for the rest of the night and day.

How to Not be Hunted

The best way to survive a malworm attack is to avoid encountering one in the first place. A fully grown malworm is strong enough to move a car, bend metal with its teeth, jump several feet, and sprint up to 35 mph in short bursts. Whatever you’re doing isn’t worth it. Avoid going outside late at night, especially around 8 PM - 4 AM. Malworms are most active during the night hours, but that does not mean they won't ever hunt during the day. Stay in groups and/or populated areas. Malworms like to isolate their prey, and will stay away from densely populated areas. Despite their strength, they avoid hunting even small groups and prefer alleys and backroads. Stay indoors. Malworms are smart enough to open doors and strong enough to break locks, but their cautious nature means that they rarely try to break into buildings. They're more likely to try and lure prey outside than trap it inside. If you must be outside, try to stay in open, flat areas. Malworms like to climb on walls, and dislike not being able to easily escape up onto a rooftop. Additionally, they hate the rain and are significantly less likely to attack when it's raining, though waiting for it to rain is quite unreliable. Never, under any circumstances, follow a disembodied voice, not even cries for help. Malworms often use the voices of dead victims to lure new ones, and, even if someone actually was crying for help, they wouldn't last much longer. Share information about malworm safety with everyone you know. Malworms manipulate the vulnerable who don't know anything about them and who are easily tricked by their stolen voices. Between preventing deaths and controlling infection, information is the key to surviving a malworm infestation.

Good Luck o7

If you do find yourself in the presence of a malworm, the best option is to run. They can sense souls; it is impossible to hide. Malworms are not invincible, but killing one, let alone the entire fester, is out of the question for a normal citizen. Running is the only option. Malworms don't like to attack until their prey is isolated, so the best thing to do is run to the nearest public area or group of people if you hear a disembodied voice calling to you. Once the malworms attack, there's little to be done. They can sprint faster than even trained human athletes, though they can only maintain top speed for less than a minute before completely exhausting themselves. As ambush predators, they have extremely poor endurance, and outrunning them is easily possible past the initial sprint, though unlikely. Even less can be done once a malworm has come into contact with the victim. Their clawed legs are designed to hook into flesh and never let go. Unless the malworm dies on the spot, escape is impossible. The only way for a normal civilian to realistically survive a malworm attack, albeit temporarily, is if it decides to use you as a host.

Bargain Bin of Assorted Facts

- Animals are often given special group names, such as a murder of crows or a cauldron of bats. A group of malworms is known as a fester, though they are often referred to as a colony or nest of malworms as well.

- The lung-like structures malworms have and their surprisingly average hearing capabilities likely evolved so that they can more accurately mimic the sounds of their humanoid prey.

- The main pheromones malworms produce to mark their territory and belongings somehow smells faintly of cheap cologne (the scent of the specil fun pak air freshener).

- Malworms like to share mimicked phrases with each other, increasing their “vocabulary” and increasing their odds of a successful hunt. They share phrases with their children, who then share those phrases to their own children, and so on. Email worm species are often named after the most popular phrases they were known to use when luring victims.

- Malworms have face blindness, as they don't have a need to recognize faces like humans do and never developed the ability to do so (although humans can also have face blindness. He just like me fr fr). As literal clones of each other, the only way they can tell each other apart is by scent, like a pheromone-based serial number.

- A malworm's eyelids are actually nictitating membranes used mainly to protect their eyes from bright light, though they often use them for expressive purposes. Half closed or fully closed eyes are a sign that they feel relaxed enough to let their guard down. Sometimes they “squint” to narrow their wide field of vision and focus on one target.

- Aside from protecting from light, a malworm’s eyelids prevent their very noticeable eye shine from showing up should someone shine a light at them, increasing the chances of the malworm going unnoticed while they are hunting prey.

- Malworms are known for their high defense. Their exoskeleton is incredibly resistant to both physical and magical attacks. The best way to injure one is to get lucky enough to stab it through the gaps in its exoskeleton, or stab it through the mouth. Killing them usually involves more extreme methods, such as fire, explosions, perhaps a very large and heavy object, or the highly corrosive alkaline “vaccine” the antivirus forces use.

- Malworms come from a world where the only ones they can trust are themselves, and they are fiercely protective of their nestmates as a result. They will kill a darkner just for looking at them wrong or getting too close to the nest location. They are even more protective of members of the nest that are deemed too weak to defend themselves, which generally applies to their larvae. (Or an addison…)

- Malworms can't taste sour foods. This is possibly because the ability to taste sourness may have evolved as a way to prevent us from eating rotting food, but malworms can eat pretty much anything that was once alive, rotting or not, hence their inability to taste sourness. They still vastly prefer fresh meat, though.

- Malworms have an extreme reaction to bitterness, possibly because of how dangerous medicine can be to them. Because of this, bitter foods are the one thing they might not eat. Maybe.

- Malworms love the taste of sugar just as much as they love the taste of raw meat, despite sugar not being a necessary part of their diet whatsoever. They can safely consume large amounts of it.

- Malworms can taste the burn of spicy foods, but don’t physically react nor actively seek out spicy foods like humans do.

- Producing venom demands a lot of the malworm's body. It slowly pools in the venom glands, filling up faster the more the malworm eats. Unless they use it on a host, malworms essentially need to milk their own venom glands by using it on regular prey, as a buildup of venom can cause irritation and pain if they don't drain the glands.

- The bright coloration and glow of a malworm’s eyes is caused by bioluminescence. Malworms can control the brightness of their eyes, usually turning it off while hunting. Their eyes appear gray when not lit. When malworms are physically weakened, in pain, or in a depressed state, their eyes become desaturated or completely gray depending on the severity, and they can’t light back up until the malworm recovers.

- Malworms are even more social than humans. They do absolutely everything together; feeding, hunting, grooming, sleeping, giving each other gifts, taking care of each other while molting, teaching each other mimicked phrases, even just physically being together. They literally share an egg, united before they’re even capable of thought. They function as a family unit, a single minded colony, a hivemind. A singular, lone malworm would never exist. (loud incorrect buzzer sound effect)

That’s all I have for now! There was a lot of stuff I came up with as I was writing Wormton himself, such as his sleeping issues (hey, what Spamton fic doesn’t give him nightmares?), his eyes going gray (static) when he’s in pain, and the fact that he can’t summon any magic attacks. I figured it was about time I wrote down all the stuff floating around in my head. I also wanted to better clarify how their lifecycle works in general. I find it fascinating how parasites like cordyceps fungus and horsehair worms can control the brain and body of their host, and it felt like the perfect thing to add to malworms. Parasites are simultaneously really interesting and something I want nothing to do with!

[astraioskosmos]

I've been thinking about Worms recently, specifically the implied fact that before being Worms they were part of the Carapace Cross. If that is truly the case then it raises some thoughts from me.

The Worms are born in Nowhere, devouring and breeding in the corpses of dead Hours like maggots- insatiable little things writhing in the crooks and corners of the Wake, always seeking more like a moth to a flame or a hedonist to pleasure. But, did they really have a choice to not become Worms? The Carapace Cross passed within or fled, but what of those that could not?

Nowhere is where the dead eventually fall to if they do not find their way through the Woods, and we see that goes for all the dead, mortal or not. I assume then that any Cross that died, before the Lithomachy and after, would go there as well. It's also said in the book "How They Endured" that they fled "into the bounds" and that could mean a number of things; like places that exist yet do not at the bounds of the world, but what if that also meant through the "bounds" of reality, in the thinnest parts of the Wake? They could not go to the Mansus, therefor what other choice does that leave them but Nowhere? What if those were the start of the Relict-Kind?

Now, if they did cross the bound to Nowhere as they fled, imagine yourself in their situation. The new gods have eaten the new and you are in exile, forced to forever flee and hide from those new masters but the only place you found to flee in is a place of darkness and death where the corpses of all that was living now lay at your feet-- including your dead Gods. How would you survive? The dead are dead, but you are living and your body still has its needs and hunger is a cruel thing. A cruel, painful thing that in the worst circumstances could force your hand and drive you mad from the ache in your stomach and your primal need for survival.

And so, you start to eat the corpses of various now-dead things with despair and mild disgust. You and your kin use your savor secrets to adapt to your new environment, but never do you touch the corpses of your old Gods. Yet.

Yet, because what when all other options are exhausted? Hunger is a tricky thing, but so is faith. They might be dead but they are as dead as any immortal being could be, and we all know of winter and hushery, of dead things not quite dead. Besides, do the gods from stone still not influence our world still? Is the sun not prophetized to come back despite its corpse rotting away? What does death mean to a God? And so for a long time in this dreary place, you feel hope. Perhaps, perhaps there is a way to still commune with your Gods. Perhaps there is still a way for them to live, within you.

You climb into their body and cautiously start to eat, you use your knowledge of savor secrets as you chew and you tell yourself "they will live on as we did, they will pass on within us as some of us did, they will endure." and you tell yourself "what is death to a God? Is the old not meant to feed the new? They cannot refuse, and we are so hungry." but therein lies a problem the Cross hadn't expected, for they hyberdized with the savor secrets but what they were consuming was something that was never meant to be consumed at all.

The hunger then did not fade, it only increased. It is said that one of the reasons for the Crime of the Sky to be forbidden was because of the hypothetical of what could happen if something as powerful as an Hour would become so insatiable? Only other Hours would be able to stop them, but even then, could they? Hunger does not care about the semantics, it only wants to be fed. The same goes for this new kind of Cross, forever growing hungrier, now forever changed by a savor they would find nowhere else. Yes, one big powerful and starving menace sounds terrifying, but what of dozens of thousands of starving ones? They might not have power, but they have numbers.

So, so many numbers that only worsened with the Intercalate. And now, a new God to feast upon. A new hunger to be revealed. A new corpse to breed in.

We do not know if Worms still possess sentience, something above the base primal instincts of a beast, and if they do not then where did it stop? At the devouring of the Stones? Did the hunger strip them of the ability of conscious thought, forced to now roam and writhe in never ending starvation? Would they regain all of their mental faculties if something in this universe were to satiate them? The Worms are mentioned hundreds of year before the Intercalate, so it couldn't have happened after. But what if they still possess sentience? What if, then, forced to live in Nowhere they slither in parts where the Wake is the thinnest not only to feed but in anger? In revenge? In jealousy?

The Cross may have passed within, but that does not make a human a Cross unless they awaken it. The Cross may have passed within, but that does not stop humans from worshipping the Hours that have killed the Stones-- that have killed the Cross-turned-Worms former masters, that forced them into this situation in the first place. Would anger not be understandable? Would the urge to devour them not be justified, hunger put aside? In the one history where the Worms won the War and took over Vienna some remaining humans started worshipping them, some started being controlled by them, some both. What better revenge than for the kind worshipping those cruel Hours and that caused them to ascend in the first place to worship Worms instead? How much more satisfying this victory as the Stones live on in the savor secrets and the hybridization of generations? Surely they must be pleased, right? Why wouldn't they?

(they do not know, cannot even fathom, that if the Stones were brought back to life or power in any way, it would be at the hands of a human and mortal librarian. They could not understand that if that were to be, the Stones would favor the humans and the Cross within but never the Worms for they are now a writhing menace of hunger unable to be reasoned with, unable to worship, unable of higher thought and speech. What ironic tragedy it is that even in the best of the world, in the best of circumstances, they will forever remain a pest to be extinguished?

They are now forever doomed to hunger, doomed to destruction, doomed to be hunted to extermination by every living thing aside from them, mortal and immortal, human and God, old and new. Such is the life of a Worm, such is the legacy of the Relict-Kind.)

[kimnowls]

(this one has been sitting in the drafts for a while. It's a bit of a crack theory, but since tomorrow is the new Cassette Beast announcement and it looks like Sunny is gonna be involved, I wanted to put this out there. Juuuuuust on the off chance I'm on to something.)

(spoilers: Eugene's quest, Kayleigh's quest, Felix's quest, postgame stuff, Pier of the Unknown DLC)

The ingame bio for Mammon states, "Its Landkeepers are hollow vessels, shells given autonomy from its vast well of power." But where did those vessels come from? And we know they aren't completely hollow, given that Sunny was able to find a new life outside of her Archangel overlord. Consider one of the three possibilities:

1: Mammon created the Landkeepers. Mammon is the archangel of capitalism, and if (IF) he had the ability to create an army of mindlessly devoted followers, he would. However, in Pier of the Unknown, Gwen seems to imply that Archangels are incapable of true creation like humans are. Maybe she was just talking about herself, (Archangel of Illusion, unable to make anything that lasts), but that revelation ties into her fascination with humans. The other "creations" we've seen of archangels are either temporary entities as well (like the Nowhere Peasants), or are stated to be converted matter (Poppetox's effigies). But making tangible, independent beings is probably outside of the wheelhouse of most Archangels. I know Morgante and Aleph may have "created" Mordread, but that's a whole other can of worms I'm not getting into that here. Let's just leave it at "Archangels might be capable of creation but I have other ideas."

2: The Landkeepers were ordinary humans who got corrupted by Mammon. Through Gwen, we've seen the extent to which humans can be corrupted by Archangels. Not pretty. One could say the Landkeepers got off easy by comparison. It is a bit weird though when you compare Mammon's actions to Mourningstar's. Mourningstar is supposedly the Archangel of devotion. If anyone was going to corrupt humans to the point that they can hardly function without their leader's influence, you'd think it'd be the Serpent God. However, we see Mourningtown swing back pretty quickly from the loss of their god. None of them become listless zombies like Sunny. While Vin remains loyal to Mourningstar long after he's gone, he snaps out of it pretty seamlessly once things are cleared up. The mechanics of corruption are pretty unclear, and perhaps a matter of personal preference to each individual Archangel. (It's possible that Mourningstar sees more value in freely given worship, while Mammon is all about results).

The other thing is, Mammon is not the Archangel of the Landkeepers: he's the Archangel of capitalism, which could take many forms. Medical insurance, mass production, environmental exploitation… why the focus on property acquisition?

3: The New Wirral Landkeepers were born from Eugene's imagination, and Mammon adopted them. Eugene has a lot of hatred towards the Landkeepers of his own world, but I think it unlikely that he's ever actually met one. Those Landkeepers Eugene knew from history books, and accounts of revolutionaries who survived the mid-century upheaval. When your only perspective of a person is through the heartless organization they served, you're going to have a flat image of them. A caricature, one could say.

Oh hey, isn't New Wirral a place where one can meet fictional characters? Like Kuneko, Viola, and Robin Goodfellow?

This, to me, is Eugene's monkey paw wish come true. He grew up after all or most of the action was over. He dreams of being a big hero, but a hero needs villains to fight. So when he goes to New Wirral and just so happens to meet the very boogeymen that he so badly wants to punch? Yeah, I don't think that's a coincidence.

Plus, imagine how much of a slap in the face that would be, finding out that your greatest enemies exist only because you made them? Imagine finding out that YOU were born just to feed some guys ego? Fucking ouch, I love it!

[waywardangel-wilds]

[look at this silly exchange I wrote for no reason].

“In a minute! Just—” her phone buzzes in her pocket. “Give me a sec.”

“Yeah?” She presses the phone against her ear with her shoulder as she walks into the bathroom, making sure to close the door well behind her. Prim is too nosey for her own good.

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

“Are you drunk?” Katniss can’t help but smile. “What’s Finnick doing to you?”

“I didn’t do anything!” A voice shouts from somewhere in the background but Peeta seems to shrug them off.

“Answer the question, woman.”

Katniss rolls her eyes, “sure. Whatever. I’ll keep you in a little glass box and feed you lettuce.”

“I like that answer,” Peeta’s voice is so serious she bursts out laughing, he ignores her mirth. “Next question: would you still love me if I just woke up tomorrow as a woman.”

“Do I know this person? Is this a freaky Friday situation?” Katniss asks.

“Nah, just me but female. Like my body morphed into a woman’s body.” Peeta’s voice remains neutral somehow.

“Are you still the same height? Do you keep the muscles and shoulders or do you just become a regular looking woman?”

“Regular woman. I guess I’m the same height? Imagine what I would look like if I had been born female.”

“So what, you look like your mom but younger?” Katniss makes a face. “I don’t know…”

“Our love doesn’t transcend gender?” Peeta’s voice turns wobbly. “I knew it.”

“This is ridiculous!” Katniss laughs.

“But you only love me ‘cause I’m a dude.” Peeta whines while whoever is with him laughs at his expense.

“Peeta, I’m sure I’d still love you if you were freaky Friday’d or Frankensteined into womanhood or whatever. Can I go now?”

“You’re lying,” Peeta hiccups.

“Goodbye” she emphasizes before hanging up.

[ditzyblues]

YOU HAVE COOL ASF OCS TELL US MORE THE WORMS NEED TO EAT

WOW... THANK YOU MY WORMS!!!

couldve sworn u guys were parasites just last week... I DIGRESS! i will tell you more about my OCs!!!!!!!!!

if you are Tejano, you know that our communities are few and far between in media coverage. which is why i wanted to set my OCs in South Texas, a primarily Mexican-American area, no matter what. my OCs also predate the Elon Musk-ification of South Texas, set in 2003 for the majority of my depictions for them.

if you are not Tejano, fret not. My OCs are here to clue you into some culture. (first valerie art by droppincofdrops)

Valerie, born Valeria Isabel Velázquez in 1974, is a 1st generation Mexican-American woman. Her parents, like millions before and after them, came to America for a better life. However, the American Dream dies a horrible death in the borderlands of the RGV. This was no different for the Velázquez family. Living paycheck to paycheck in a terrible STX neighborhood, Valerie learned very quickly how to survive. These circumstances would not bring her down.

Her fortitude is something that has taken every beating imaginable. As her home life fell apart, due to her parent’s incompatibility, so did her social life. Valerie immediately didn’t fit into any categories her peers formed at any stage in her schooling. She was too “ghetto,” or spoke too much Spanish. (Her teachers, in an attempt to “ease” her up and whitewash her, opted for calling her Valerie instead of Valeria-Isabel.) And like most cultures, Valerie learned to be ashamed of her female body, and any assertiveness she showed.

To get ahead of the curve, Valerie hung out with older kids on her street and on campus. There was less of a need to control her in each of these circles, which she held dear to her. Valerie figured out to control everything she could. This is her core. If she is not in control, she is in danger.

Valerie turned to odd jobs, here and there. This evolved into sex work. Valerie dropped out of her senior year to pursue a club job. She lied about her age, claiming she was 20 at 17. But Valerie found her first community in this club job. These were pros, and they all looked like her, talked like her, and had stories like her. Despite the occasional drama, all of these girls looked after each other, and respected each other’s independence. This is what Valerie needed.

For the subsequent 12 years, Valerie’s fortitude and willpower carried her to the “top” of this circle. She looks for girls like herself, and doesn’t hesitate to take them under her wing, because the world is too damn horrible for her to let anyone fall. She encourages people, in her own tough way, to take control of their lives any way they can.

Some things Valerie never developed are patience, tact, or grace. She cannot, for the life of her, talk to people one-on-one. You’ll never get anything out of her. She’ll clothe you, feed you, lend you money, kill for you, but never give you her shoulder to cry on. Find somebody else for your emotions, because throwing them at Valerie is like throwing them at a brick wall. She doesn’t have time for interpersonal bullshit, and she certainly doesn’t have the patience to deal with it.

(It was difficult to find characters like her in media I've personally consumed. If anyone has recommendations, let me know. I watch too many cartoons.)

(soz i have no official drawings for rocío </3 yet.)

Rocío Celeste Estrada, born in 1979, is a 2nd generation Mexican-American. The youngest of 4 children, but only daughter, Rocío found herself taking after the trio of Tejano older brothers. Her mother was excited to have a daughter she could share her more feminine interests with, but she quickly gave up on that dream when Rocío followed in her brothers’ footsteps in terms of tastes and hobbies.

Rocío had a good childhood, compared to her peers. She grew up in the “okay” neighborhoods, where there were enough tax dollars for paved roads and working street lamps, but not enough for clean water and good air conditioning. This meant Rocío spent a lot of time in the streets, near the resaca, or playing in the desert land.

However, as quintessential “Tejano” the Estrada kids’ childhoods were, something that differentiated them from their peers was their race. In an area with 95% “brown” (non-white) Latinos, the Estrada’s were black. Their mother, a Haitian-American from Houston, met and married their Valley tejano father, a non-white Latino. This resulted in a complicated identity for each Estrada child. While they were just as Tejano as their peers, no one could make that assumption in this homogenous society. And like most cultures, antiblackness was sewn in. This othering presented itself in adultification, microaggressions, and assumptions/accusations.

Later in Rocío’s adolescence, the siblings discovered their father’s sancha, and other family. A whiter family, notably. This tore the Estrada household apart, and Rocío ended up moving in with her oldest brother, who’d had his own place. They all learned they couldn’t be without each other, let alone leave their Chio behind, so when Rocío was 11, she was set to be raised by her brothers. (short short story here)

Rocío was never fond of the social dynamic. Everyone seemed to dislike her for one reason: they just couldn’t tell if she was a girl or a boy. The girls were put off by her masculine clothing and hobbies and mannerisms, and the guys were put off by her “sensitiveness” and emotional maturity. And everyone was ill-equipped to even begin to acknowledge her race in any well-meaning way. The only times she could exist free of these pressures was in sports. She was tall (she's 6 ft flat as an adult!!!), and good at everything, it seemed. The boys AND girls asked for her in basketball. It was cool. Until high school.

Suddenly, everyone cared more about romance and grades and REALLY intense sports. Rocío, perpetually avoidant of conflict (short short story here), backed away from everyone, save a few friends she made along the way who actually liked her. But people were getting weird. Girls started to look prettier than ever, and Rocío had to reassess her status. She was not only the tall, mixed, weird girl who hardly talked. She was also a lesbian. A very masculine one at that. She’d already accepted her place as a passive wallflower, and couldn’t bring herself to escape it.

Throughout high school, Rocío learned her way around cars and anything with an engine and wheels. Her oldest brother had inherited the garage when their father gave it up, and so the Estrada’s spent a lot of time working shop. This was how they kept their home running, away from their parents. Rocío graduated, and didn’t bother with college despite her brothers’ advice. The garage was her second home, and she’d be amiss to leave it. From 18 to 24, Rocío lived in this cycle of waking up, hitting the garage, and going back home to her own apartment she moved into the second she made enough at the garage. Because brothers get tiring to live with after a while.

Rocío sees the world as an unchanging, continuous force. The social dynamic had never been kind to her, so she always put it on the back burner. However, Rocío found that she had a knack for the interpersonal stuff. She had always been the mediator for her brothers’ conflicts, and her friends at school drifted towards her after fights to figure out how to resolve things. As passive and conflict-avoidant Chio can be, she can be equally as assertive of boundaries (although this doesn’t come naturally/often. It will be nurtured in the future.)

(Rocío also has an underdeveloped, yet passionate sense of right/wrong. This is something she often represses, but it’s present enough for the acute to notice. This is something Valerie is drawn to.)

This is the first time I introduced Valerie and Rocío to each other. It was an Intro to Creative Writing assignment. But outside of this and a few drawings, there's not much out there with the two of em. They're very much a work in progress. Here's a moodboard along with an extended document. I doubt anyone has read this far LOL but thanks for letting me ramble about my chiquititas.

[meraki-sunset]

so uh how valid do you think the lusae of the twelve trolls were as parental figures [spidermom is a straight up zero, but given what karkat was, the way crabdad acted towards him was pretty valid]

1- Ram lusus: they died before the game so there's no info. Probably a good guardian seeing how happy and friendly aradia was. 9/10

2- Tinkerbull: Lovely guardian towards tavros, but unable to aid him due to his size. if i only rated how good they were he would have a 10, but for how helpfull he actually was he gets a 8/10

3- Bicyclops: is chained on the roof of Sollux's apartment complex and feed mind honey to not be stupid, doesn't sound like a very capable guardian if sollux has to take care of them, but doesn't seem like he was mean at all, 7/10

4- Crabdad: Grumpy but that matched Karkat's personality, good at hiding his child's mutation and keeping him alive. 9/10

5- Pounce de Leon: According to Nepeta "pawssibly the cutest and purrhaps the bestest kitty you have ever s33n!" and they saved nepeta when her hive was destroyed and took her to the cave that later became her home, good on all aspects 10/10

6- Virgin mother grub: Born to be the best loving mother and died for not only her child but all the future children of the new world, 100/10

7- Dragon lusus: EGG. 6/10 (okay she taught terezi how to smell color but still egg)

8- Spider mom: Fuck you -100/10

9- Arthur: A gentleman and a trooper ready to raise lovingly the strongest little worm in the planet. 10/10

10- Goat lusus: Neglecfull. 0/10

11- Seahorse dad: His kid is a brat but he is suportive and heps him in his job as orphaner. 8/10

12- Gl'bgolyb: Protects Feferi from being culled by the condesce, which no one else can do, and doesn't seem to cause any harm, exept of course, when she killed the entire troll race. 8/10

[damallarky]

"Truce" Snippet

This fic is fighting me guys. But here are two snippets so I can share something and get the fic worms out into the ether. Enjoy.

-

"If there was one truth Neria Lavellan knew above all else, it was that she hated Solas with every fiber of her twelve-year-old being. It was her opinion that the man who abandoned her and her family before she was even born did not have any right to any of their time. Yet in the days following his release from the Fade, Neria noticed her family’s carefully constructed unit begin to shift and change to make room for him anyway.

It started fairly innocuously, with Mamae checking in on him when she could. It seemed Solas was apparently left weakened by his stint in the Fade and needed the bedrest. This was fine to Neria; it meant she wouldn’t have to see the man, and it gave Mamae a chance to do what she loved most: fret over people.

Yet, as Solas regained his strength and could leave his bed, he continued to weasel into her family’s lives, starting with Neria’s mother. Unless Solas was needed for Veilguard stuff, he was stuck to Mamae like a tick.

A stupid, bald tick.

Wherever Aisling Lavellan was, Solas was not far behind. If Mamae was cooking, Solas would be there to “help.” If Mamae was holding Neria’s new baby sister, Enasali, and she began to fuss, Solas would sweep in out of nowhere and offer to hold her. If Mamae was doing embroidery work in the library, Solas was close by, reading a book.

What was worse was that Mamae seemed to enjoy having Solas around. It did not escape Neria’s notice how Mamae would leave Veilguard meetings with her hand (always her real hand) entwined with Solas’s own. Nor did Neria miss the look on Mamae’s face whenever she would feed him a bite of whatever it was she was cooking… By hand.

It made Neria want to hurl..." -

"...The leather was old and worn, covered in a thick layer of dust like it had been forgotten for years. Upon opening it, she saw that the writing was tiny, impeccably neat, and seemed to alternate between common and Elven. Along with what looked like regular journal entries, there were also diagrams, formulas, and countless sketches.

Neria had a sneaking suspicion as to who this journal belonged to. So, with a vindictiveness she didn’t even know she possessed, she turned to a random page.

It was a journal entry written in common and, according to the date, was written on what would have been her fourth name day. It read:

‘I have a near mountain of work, yet I have accomplished nothing. Today is Neria’s name day, and is the case every year, I am finding it hard to concentrate.

She is turning four years old this year. Four years old! I am still unused to the flow of time in this new world, and I fear that when I next see her, Neria will be a woman grown…’

The next passage had what looked like water droplets smearing the ink and making the text nearly illegible. Neria thought she saw the word ‘heart’ and perhaps ‘mother,’ but she couldn’t be sure. Frustrated, she skipped to the next few lines.

‘I had one of my agents deliver the gift I had picked out. I found it while I was working with my contact in Kirkwall.

It was a toy stuffed wolf, and it was quite the odd-looking thing with its misshapen body and mismatched buttons for eyes. Yet I found it endearing (and incredibly soft), so I couldn’t help but purchase it.

I can only hope that Neria enjoys it as well...’"

@buttsonthebeach @beardedladyqueen and all the others, thank you for cheering me on. It helps a lot. :D

[a-lilacsong]

More Queen Lorelei sketches!

Adding more to my headcanons about her: She and Roland met when they were both going to Royal Prep. She was a Princess of a Kingdom but not the first born so ultimately her older sister became Queen, but Lorelei still wanted to learn about ruling and had an interest in economics. She and Roland became friends and would often do assignments together and both went to EverRealm Academy, eventually falling in love and getting married. When ruling together they could cover for each others’ weaknesses, she had a good sense of numbers and was able to cover financial problems and policies best, while Roland was better at diplomacy.

To the public she came across as more regal and serious in comparison to Roland's joviality, but she still had plenty of quirks. Ever since she was young, Lorelei always kept pet giant silk moths around, she raises them from worms to adults making sure to feed them enough mulberry leaves every day or schedule the servants to feed them if she is unavailable. She finds it quite humorous whenever someone mistakes a moth for a more usual pet only to be shocked when it's a giant bug, but if you actually insult them she will not be happy. Fun Fact: the scientific name for the domestic silk moth is Bombyx mori.