#as their primary source of sustenance?

[lalizah]

But also damn woman you just want me to incinerate my mans pls 😭

So interesting tho that out of all the teams and their interactions, this one was slightly.... negative?

[alexlwrites]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

OR  

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I have no idea what actually goes in a carbonara, I only know that I enjoy eating it very much.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(<<< part one)

As a fat person, you’ve always had a complicated relationship with food.

Luckily, it had never evolved into something unhealthy, never leading up to anything like starvation. It always just hovered over your existence, always seemed to weight you (pun intended, but you were allowed to make those!) down with guilty, overbearing self-awareness. Food came with so many unspoken rules, it was hard to truly enjoy it.

You avoided eating in front of people. When forced to go to a restaurant, you let everyone order first to make sure your meal was the smallest of the group and you never ever asked for seconds, much less for dessert. You could only ever be seen with protein bars and green shakes, if that. You were not allowed to enjoy the act of eating and were forced to walk this earth as if that was not your primary source of sustenance. No, you survived out of Chloe Ting videos and photosynthesis, or so was expected of you.

But even so, you loved cooking. 

It was not something you divulged, afterall how stereotypical that would be of you. And truly, it wasn’t even about eating your creations but instead the act of creating itself, the enjoyment of the very exact art leading to a beautiful result that at least others would get to enjoy, even if you wouldn’t sometimes.

But when you shed the shackles of caring and let go of giving fucks about what others had to say (and, Jesus, did they have things to say!), your first act of rebellion was signing up for cooking classes in a pretty bistro downtown. Still shaky and insecure, you arrived at the first class unsure of what to expect. But instead of judgemental looks and the evil critic from Ratatouille, you found yourself amongst other culinary enthusiasts who appreciated the therapeutic properties of a good meal. Instead of Gordon Ramseys and almond moms, you found yourself a community - you found friends.

You were with one of those friends a couple days after the library debacle, updating her of the whole ordeal with your cell phone on mute as Jungkook still tended to blow it up after you made the horrible mistake of unblocking him. Naomi was tall and built like a rugby player and you had quickly bonded over a shared love for bread.

“So he just… Brought you flowers?” she asked, leaning over your counter before the class started.

“Yes and now the whole campus thinks we’re together.” you rolled your eyes, still annoyed by Jungkook's unexpected display of affection “I had people coming up to me all week asking about him! Even professors!”

Naomi laughed “Sounds like  you got yourself a little campus prince.”

“I got myself a headache, that’s what I got.” you sighed, turning towards the teacher who had just arrived. “At least I can get away from all of that here.”

“Hello, class!” the teacher, a middle-aged lady with dark hair named Robin, called “Today, continuing on our italian cuisine section, we’ll be preparing spaghetti carbonara. But before we start, let me introduce our new student!” she gestured towards a tall man standing in the back of the class, all dark hair and large shoulders with a million dollar smile “Mr. Kim will be joining us from now on. You can sit with Y/N for now, dear!”

Mr. Kim didn’t shuffle silently to his seat like people usually did when arriving in a room filled with unknown people - instead, he strutted towards you with the loud confidence of someone who had never once tripped on their own shoes or had something stuck to their teeth. “Hi” he said when sliding onto the stool next to you, still sporting an unnervingly beautiful grin “I’m Jin.”

You smiled politely “Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Jin nodded slightly “You too.”

You thought that was it, silence following your introductions as the teacher called the class to pay attention to her instructions.

You tried to follow the steps quietly, focusing on the ingredients in front of you. Still, curiosity caused you to furtively steal glances sideways to the beautiful stranger next to you maneuvering spices and chopping slices with what seemed to be practiced ease. You stared at his hands almost unblinkingly, hypnotized by his long, pink knuckled fingers and their agility…

“Do you need help?”

You blinked, snapping out of your less than appropriate daydreams “I’m sorry?”

Jin shrugged, picture-perfect casualty with a pinch of arrogance hanging in his smile that had your defenses climbing up “You were kind of staring and I thought you needed help with the recipe or something.”

He was right, you were staring, but you’d be damned if you admitted to that. Instead, you stole a quick look at his pan and said “You should add more garlic into that.”

That had him pausing in confusion, as if no one corrected his cooking before “Excuse me?”

“There’s not enough garlic. You should add more, it will enhance the flavor.”

“No, it won’t.” he snapped back, strangely defensive over his creation.

“What are you, a vampire? Garlic makes everything better.”

“I think I know how to make carbonara with the appropriate amount of garlic, thank you very much.”

“I think you don’t, that’s why you’re a student and not the teacher up there. Mr. Cullen.”

You waited for him to come back with another anti-garlic remark, but he paused once more, lips curling in amusement “You’re funny” he said at last. 

“I’m.. What?” 

“You’re funny” he repeated and you watched in confusion as he added more garlic to his recipe “and in respect to that, I will follow your advice if only to prove you are wrong.”

“Well, then at least add some butter while you’re at it.”

“Now you’re just being sacrilegious”.

You raised your hands in fake surrender. “It’s your carbonara’s funeral, man.”

Jun huffed and turned away from you, seemingly offended with your suggestion, but once you looked back at your station he furtively added a square of butter to his mixture.

The rest of the class passed in relative silence as you made no other attempt to talk to him, focused on your own recipe. When the allotted time ended and the teacher called out the final instructions, you turned back to the handsome man next to you and extended a fork. 

“Well” you said “truth time”.

He scoffed but accepted the cutlery anyway, blowing carefully at the portion he picked before tasting it. You watched with barely concealed satisfaction as his eyes widened and his cheeks puffed in a chipmunk-like manner. 

“Oh my God” he moaned behind the hand covering his full mouth.

“Any good, Nosferato?”

“I bow to thee, this is amazing.” He reached for your plate “Do you mind?” he grabbed a forkful before you could answer “Jesus, this is even better! What’s your secret?”

“A magician never reveals their tricks.”

There were no tricks. You actually just followed the recipe, so you weren’t quite sure what you could’ve done that would invoke that sort of reaction, but  you were not about to admit that.

“That’s fair” he took yet another bit of your carbonara, uncaringly ignoring your funny looks. “This is so good!”

In the end, Jin ate most of your carbonara while you watched him devour your plate with a pleasurable carefree abandon, humming in delight with his cheeks full. 

You hadn’t been able to openly enjoy food like that since you were a kid, so in that moment you allowed yourself to live vicariously through him. There was so much joy in his eyes as he chewed your stolen food that it reminded you that this was what culinary was about: not a number on a package or a trigger, but an intrinsic part of society, of community building and cultural history. Food was made to be savored and shared.

And although you didn’t necessarily share your food with Jin, he seemed to be savoring it enough for the both of you.

As usual, the teacher went around the room trying out bites from each pan, delivering gentle feedback when needed. When she stopped by your table, reaching for the little piece left in your plate after Jin’s attack, she showered you with compliments and was promptly followed by Jin’s hearty applause, leaving you red and embarrassed while Naomi wiggle her eyebrows suggestively.

As soon as Robin dismissed the class, you ran for the door with your things awkwardly gathered in your arms, avoiding the praises of your peers. You still had a hard time dealing with attention and it did not matter if it was positive or not.

“Y/N!” someone called. You turned as Jin caught up with you, his unfairly long legs reaching you in only a couple strides.

“If you’re here to steal anymore of my food, you’re out of luck.” 

Jin had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, but not at all regretful “Sorry about that!” he said, not at all sorry, with sauce still on the corners of his full lips “Let me make it up to you. What are you doing this friday?”

That Friday you had unchangeable plans to rot in bed until 12 and then yell at Jungkook in the afternoon until the phrase “leave me the fuck alone” was finally processed by what seemed to be a very tiny brain inside his head full of hair and stubborness. But Jin didn’t have to know that. 

“Why?” 

“Let me take you out. I swear I’ll let you eat your own food this time.”

You frowned in confusion. “You don’t have to buy me food just because you ate mine. I have food at home, you know.”

“Oh, it’s not because I feel bad. I don’t feel bad at all.” clearly, if his smile was anything to go by “But I like a woman who can cook, especially if she cooks just as well as I do. Let me take you on a date.”

I like a woman who cooks, I like a woman with an appetite…All sorts of bullshit you had heard before. What people meant is that they liked skinny girls who ate McDonalds and boasted about how they never seemed to gain weight, no matter how hard they tried. They meant they liked fast metabolism and fried chicken, not hormonal-based weight gain and complicated Italian cuisine. 

You were not falling for that again.

“Not interested. Thank you.” you answered, before walking off.

Jin blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

“No need to apologize. Have a good day” you replied already from a distance, before turning a corner and leaving a flabbergasted Jin behind. 

***

Jin had never been rejected before.

Technically he did get rejected by the cheer squad in his high school for being as flexible as a ruler, but he looked so good in the uniform that they still asked him to be in the yearbook picture, so he didn’t really count that. 

But rejected by a woman? Nope. Never. Nunca! 

It was oddly unsettling, he thought later that day, haunted by the taste of the carbonara he ate that made every other meal seem bland. He didn’t quite know what to do with the information, other than to contemplate its possible reasons. Why would you reject him? Was it because of the garlic thing? He could think of no other reason! 

Should he learn from it and become a better version of himself? Was there such a thing? He had no answers, only more questions. 

He did really like you as well, not only your cooking. He enjoyed your quick responses and that tiny fire behind your pretty eyes, even if it seemed to be furiously directed at him. Actually, he kind of liked that even better. 

“Jungkook” he called his youngest roomate, who had been playing video games on the living room console while stealing furtive glances at his phone. “You’ve been rejected before, right?”

Jungkook frowned. “No?”

“Aren’t you being rejected right now by that girl from your class?”

“What do you want, hyung?” the younger man growled. 

“Jeez, I can see why that poor woman rejected you if that’s your attitude.” Jungkook seemed ready to throw his control at him “How does one deal with being rejected? I ask this for purely academic reasons. I have, as you know, never been rejected.”

“Right.” Jungkook rolled his eyes “I don’t know, hyung. I guess you just accept it and move on.”

“Did you accept it and move on?”

Another furtive glance at his silent phone. “No.”

“So what are you doing to change this girl’s mind? Besides annoying her, of course.”

This time, Jungkook did throw a pillow at him. “Fuck off, okay? We are meeting on Friday again and then you’ll see. I’ll change her mind. I got a whole thing planned.”

“What constitutes a whole thing?”

“You know… The stuff that girls like.”

Jin blinked.

So did Jungkook.

Silence reigned. 

“You know, gifts.” Jungkook finished smartly.

“Gifts, of course!” Jin snapped his fingers “Maybe flowers! Women love flowers, don’t they?”

Jungkook smiled slightly, thinking of your reaction when receiving the bouquet he almost got hit by a car trying to acquire. “Yes, they do. Red daisies especially.”

 “Yes, yes, red daisies, so creative! Thank you, my friend! I hope you have more luck with your lady and she stops dodging your calls like a collector.”

“Fuck off!” Jungkook said once more, but Jin had already floated out the room with a new plan. 

Jin had never been rejected and he was not about to start now.

And so the next day when you arrived at the bistro, your station was waiting for you with a big bouquet of red daisies and no room to cook, only a new plate of carbonara and a smiling Jin.

°•. ✿ .•°

✿ The next chapter called "Cherries" is already available on my ko-fi to Calcifer Crew, my membership tier, and will be posted here soon! Click here if you want early access to all my updates :)

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[inkytoru]

LUST AT FIRST BITE ── ᵎᵎ ✦ ꒰ sylus ꒱

PAIRING: vampire!sylus x f!reader WORD COUNT: 0.8k A/N: mdni, this work of fiction is 18+. first time writing for this fandom, vampires, and for sylus please be gentle with me 🙏🏼 written for @sugurouge, i hope i did your vision justice!! only content warnings really are just vampirism (biting) and some heavy petting. (edit: i forgor to tag @pixelcafe-network)

“Scared, baby?”

You gulp, throat dry, your blood pumping a bit quicker than usual in your veins.

Sylus’ lips curl up into a smirk as his razor-tipped fangs graze over your pulse point, and his trousers tighten at the way you quiver beneath his gentle yet dangerous touch.

He inhales through his nose; you smelled all like vanilla and everything a sweet girl is while he was leather and something not quite human anymore. Sylus still remembers the night you found out, the tremble in your smaller frame sending blood straight to his cock.

The memory makes him trace hearts into the flesh of your exposed thigh with the tip of his finger.

“No need to be scared. It’s just your boyfriend, Sylus,” he coos, “I’m all yours.”

(You were his obsession just as much as he was yours, and he liked that.)

He remembers how later that same night you, the little lamb that he grew to love, shocked him with how your eyes had hardened with an envy that he wanted to suck out of you. You were the only woman he loved and cherished—not the bags of blood shaped like other women that he’d drink from—he had reassured you.

He even tells you they were all curated, calculated choices by how much they resembled you.

But you want him to prove it; prove his undying love for you and only you by becoming his primary source of sustenance. Hence why you were now flush against the wall caged in by him, wrists now pinned above your head.

With those women, he had said that he’d always make it quick, so as to not trigger the side effect of his saliva. One you were now acquainted with by the way he was lapping at the column of your throat.

It then dawned on you that his saliva acted as an aphrodisiac agent.

You couldn’t help but moan softly at the sudden ebbing and throbbing in your clothed pussy the more he licks at your yielding flesh.

It makes your vampire boyfriend let out an amused chuckle, his breath hot and making you a tad ticklish. But his grip was firm and vice-like.

You weren’t going anywhere, and he tells you so right then and there.

His words do reach you, but a dreamy haze begins to enshroud your mind from the corners, fraying your judgment.

What he didn’t tell you, was that the aphrodisiac properties of his spit also warped the victim’s perception of whoever was feeding upon them— it would typically manifest as the person they held nearest and dearest to their heart, or alternatively, their limerence’s obsession.

Sylus appeared all the same to you, with not a single hair out of place nor a hint of unfamiliarity in those crimson eyes of his that you could swear can penetrate deep into your soul. It was like your soul knew him from somewhere else; it recognized him beyond mortal means.

(You would tell him this after, and he’d only smile at you with a knowing glimmer in his eye.)

“I wonder what is going through that pretty little head of yours right now, hm?” he muses, aforementioned eyes of the reddest pools of lust and smoke flickering upwards to meet your gaze.

Your next words come out as a whine.

“Sylus, j-just bite me already.”

His expression darkens, his smirk teetering onto predation.

“As you wish, darling.”

And with that, his sharpened canines breach past your stratum corneum, and deeper and deeper into your epidermis.

You gasp just as his knee rises up to slot itself perfectly against your cunt, the material of his slacks grinding into the sensitive nerves there. Additionally, his blunt nails dig into your wrists.

He could tell—feel—you were already soaking wet for him. What a whore, he thought, amused.

Then, he begins to siphon your blood in earnest. The act was done in such a ravenous yet composed manner.

Your own composure melts as you mewl out his name, your eyes beginning to roll into the back of your skull.

He groans into your skin, wanton and heady with desire for you and the most mellifluous blood he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting upon his tongue.

Why hasn’t he done this sooner?

His eyelids flutter shut, your ecstasy starting to seep into his own flesh, a mutual euphoria binding you two together; just like how he was pressing himself further into you with not only his teeth but his body.

(It was almost as if he was trying to devour you whole.)

Sylus’ cock was straining horrendously in his pants. He would’ve growled something fiercely guttural and carnal if his mouth wasn’t full of you right now.

You keen as your blood surrenders to him instantly; docile, just like the rest of you. All of you, at his mercy.

This intimacy and vulnerability was something he now craved more of. He had just been scared before—scared of how you’d react to his true nature.

But, you think to yourself: you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Astarion never felt full. Vampires tend not to, unending blood thirst being a well known aspect of their condition, but he wasn't JUST hungry due to his condition

He was starved. Then, through "food", he was tortured.

You cannot die from being starved when you are undead. Starvation cannot kill a corpse. We see this in his year of isolation. We see this in the 7000 Spawn locked in the dungeons without a drop of blood fed to a single one of them since their capture.

What Astarion WAS fed, was putrid rats and bugs. Lets stsrt with the rats. Putrid.

"Putrid" refers to something that is decomposed, rotten, or emitting a foul and unpleasant odor. It is often used to describe decaying organic matter or anything that has undergone significant deterioration.

This would have taken effort to produce on Cazadors part. Rats are easy to come by, with his labyrinthine temple beneath an expansive estate. To gather a rat is an easy thing. He has many servants. To gather a putrid, rotten animal is another. This would require gathering the animals via trap, letting them rot for days, and then providing them to Astarion. They could have been caught in droves, or a few at a time and laid out in the kitchens or pantries or within the closets to be gathered as a treat-meets-torment for the Spawn, but it required FORETHOUGHT and TIME. Animals do not /rot/ in a day.

Then there is bugs. The type of bug you'd expect to find within the kennels of the mansion would be your fairly typical selection of Ants, Spiders, Beetles, Flies, Silverfish, Mosquitoes, Centipedes, Cockroaches.

Each of these has up to a few MICRO LITRES of blood, which would be accessed by biting them and sucking on their entire corpse until you've got what you can get out of them. the amount of blood in these small insects is typically not enough for a human to taste. Vampire Spawn? Hard to say.

The feeding of these creatures to Cazadors Spawn would be for the purpose of torture alone, in my opinion. There is no way that they would provide relief or sustenance in any meaningful way. The rats, depending on their freshness (which I would argue was sometimes more or less fresh depending on when it was caught) would be the primary source of "reward/hunger suppression", and the bugs something eaten due to sheer desperation.

Let's look at rats and decomp now!

The blood of a decomposing rat undergoes changes as part of the decomposition process. Initially, bacterial and enzymatic activity breaks down the blood, and its nutritional content diminishes. The precise timing can vary based on environmental conditions, such as temperature and humidity.

As decomposition progresses, the breakdown of organic matter continues, and any remaining nutrients in the blood become less accessible and less nutritious. It's challenging to pinpoint an exact timeframe, as it depends on various factors influencing the decomposition rate.

This means that if served a particularly rotten rat, Astarion could very well face the reality of its poisoned, rotten blood providing him with NOTHING beyond disgusting flavor. Keeping in mind this is all based on guesswork about how Vampire Spawn can obtain what they need to sustain themselves based on nutrition alone, when there's evidence its also *life force* that they absorb from their victims, which also would not be available in a dead victim/animal

And then suddenly, after 200 years of this, 200 years of having to fuck the food he cannot have, pressing his face against flesh that throbs and POUNDS underneath his touch from him administering pleasure that sets his targets hearts to THUDDING, veins pushing litres of sustenance through them in ways he would be incredibly attuned to but unable to access,

After 200 years of rotten, unsustainable dead blood

He's free. Surrounded by living animals- that boar, which he drained dry in one night, for example. Total blood volume of a swine (couldn't get boar on Google, but it's comparative) is 60 ml/kg or 6.0 % of total body weight. The average weight being from 60kg-100kg depending on sex and size. So let's say he drained a 75kg boar.

That means the night he snuck off, he exanguinated (completely drained) an animal of roughly 9 POUNDS OF BLOOD

Impressive

Let's go to the Bear, now. Cave bears are actually extinct, so I'm gonna go with grizzly bear but feel free to do your own math. He took down between 130kg-270kg of bear depending on its sex. Let's say 200kg for ease. As roughly 6%-8% of any mammal is its blood, I'm gonna use the Boar 6% from before to average the blood Astarion would have drank.

Total in pounds: 26.455

HE DRANK

26 POUNDS OF BLOOD FROM ONE ANIMAL IN ONE NIGHT

All my research on these numbers is from Google and a calculator so forgive me if I'm off. But I'd say this is evidence of binging after starvation, as well as solid evidence that Vampires absorb blood differently than humans drinking fluids, so I'd HAVE to assume it evaporates within him or is consumed in its entirety and converted to energy magically cause there's NO way a body could absorb all of that and just "get drunk"

Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted Talk about vampires, Astarion, starvation, and blood volumes in your average mammal. 🫡

[talonabraxas]

Tonacatecuhtli - Ometeotl Talon Abraxas

In Aztec mythology, Ōmeteōtl was a binary god comprised of the husband and wife duo Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl who was responsible for the creation of the universe. The Aztecs believed that—prior to Ometeotl creating themselves—the universe was unknowable, and for all intents and purposes did not exist. Residing in the thirteenth and highest heaven, Ometeotl existed outside of human influence and rarely interacted with other deities.

There has been debate amongst scholars about the nature of Ometeotl. Some have argued that they represented a dual god, while others contended this was a misinterpretation foisted upon the Aztec by historians reading a deific multiplicity, similar to the Holy Trinity, onto translated texts.

In Nahuatl (the Aztec language), “Ome Teotle” literally meant dual god or “Lord of Duality.”

Because the name “Ometeotl” did not appear in primary documents, some questioned whether Ometeotl truly existed at all. The historian Richard Haly argued that Ometeotl was, in fact, the creation of Miguel Leon-Portilla’s 1956 work La Filosofia Nahuatl. While Ometeotl was not mentioned by name, references to dual creator gods appeared frequently throughout primary source documents. These documents demonstrated that the Toltecs—precursors to the Aztecs—worshipped a supreme binary deity as well. Though the name “Ometeotl” may have been anachronistic, available evidence nevertheless overwhelmingly supported the existence of the binary Aztec creator god.

The gods that made up Ometeotl were Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl (literally: “two lord” and “two lady”).[3] In Aztec sources, the binary gods were referred to as Tonacatecuhtli and Tonacacihuatl. Tonacacihuatl’s name held the same meaning as her husband’s, though the “cihuatl” suffix translated to “Lady of” instead of “Lord of.”

Depending on the translation, Tonacatecuhtli could be interpreted to mean “Lord of Our Food,” “Lord of Our Existence,” “Lord of Our Flesh,” “Lord of Our Sustenance” or “Lord of Abundance.” All of these titles referred to Tonacatecuhtli’s role as the progenitor of the Aztec pantheon, and thus as progenitor of all things.

One alternative translation swapped “dual” (Ome) for “bone” (Omi) rendering Ōmeteōtl as “Bone Lord.” This interpretation of the name rejected the dual god concept in favor of a god who created things from bone.

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Click Beetle Larva - Family: Elateridae | Species unknown 

With spring slowly but surely returning to Toronto, we revisit an inhabitant of backyards everywhere once the weather warms up. I found this healthy Wireworm while digging the garden and placed it on my glove for a closer look. This isn't the first time such an insect has navigated a glove, but the contrasting is certainly much better compared to last time. Although this individual is very wriggly and flexible, this young Beetle has a relatively strong exoskeleton. This is to say that it's not a soft-bodied as it appears. If you feel one for yourself and gently hold it between two fingers, you may be surprised at how rigid it actually is, and yet smooth. Nevertheless, it has a ways to go before arriving at its fully fortified and armored adult form, and that can take years of development depending on the specie. Reports are mixed: some sources say 1 year, some 2 years, leading all the way to 6 years. Observation of a specie's lifespan might be tough outside of controlled, long-term studies, but it's clear that the species of this insect branch are well-adapted to the subterranean world and can easily navigate it. Their thin form allows them to move through soil with ease and they are propelled using their legs and downward-turned rearmost abdomen segment.

After getting a closer look at this Wireworm, it was returned to the soil and mulch where it was found. However, I didn't bury it to reconceal it. Instead, the observation continued, and after a short journey, this young Beetle found an opening and pushed through! It curved and wriggled forth, returning to the depths. Although the underground has its share of predators and dangers, and while they may be at the mercy of digging insectivores such as skunks, at least Wireworms can situate and feed on tree roots and decaying plants without having to worry about birds. That is, unless they come to the surface and make themselves noticed. If they can however, find enough sustenance to get them through their larval stages and then pupation, a Click Beetle adulthood is theirs to enjoy. Like with many insect species, the adult form's primary function is to disperse and reproduce; the bulk of its life is in its larval stage. However, adult Click Beetles are quite active and they easily manage the shift to an above ground lifestyle. Depending on the specie, their diet shifts from root fluids to nectar, pollen and soft-bodied insects. I wish I knew which specie this larvae was so that I could comment further, but many species appear with the exact features shown by today's find.

Pictures were taken on June 3, 2023 with a Google Pixel 4. For other Beetle larvae which burrow and take comfort in the underground's wealth, consider the Zophobas Superworm, a larva of a particular Darkling Beetle, as a comparative example.

[dailydemonspotlight]

I'm so so so in love with the content you make on this blog, thank you so much for all the effort you put into researching each demon!

Is it possibile to ask for some insights on muu shuwuu?

Have a nice day!

Muu Shuwuu - Day 85

Race: Raptor

Arcana: Temperance

Alignment: Dark-Law

August 2nd, 2024

The obscurity of several demons throughout the SMT series isn't often a point of contention- most demons, barring a few (cough, cough, Arahabaki,) have rather open-and-shut cases, and their origins are easily able to be traced, as are their stories. However, sometimes, it's not that easy, and sometimes the source mythology itself is so obscure it's hard to get a grasp on. We've already seen this with poor ol' Porewit, but another case of this lies in the somewhat off-kilter religion of Tengrism, and, more specifically, a rather bizarre spirit from said religion. Today's Demon of the Day is that creature, one created out of a dead woman who never got to experience love, Muu Shuwuu.

Sources and stories relating to this demon are scant, even for this series- as an obscure monster from an already obscure religion, Mu Shuvuu (also referred to as Moh Shuvuu, Maγu Sibaγu, Moshobo, or Muu Shubuu in several different sources) is a tough nut to crack. Almost all sources about this bird are in different languages, whether it be Japanese, German, or Russian, and as such it'll be hard to get direct quotes for a lot of sources. Given the hellish mixture of a lack of primary/secondary sources, Google Translate having to try its damndest to translate the few articles I can track down, but I've managed to get a general idea of what it's going for thanks to the Internet Archive.

Mentioned within the text 'Demonology, Ritual Principles, and Worship Grimoires,' Muu Shuvuu makes an appearance concretely in English. Thank YHVH. In the text, the Tengri demonness appears listed as an example of an evil spirit from another culture. Her name literally meaning 'evil bird,' the spirit is noted as being dangerous to entire groups of people, though especially so to lonesome travelers or those with soft hearts. Appearing as a kind, lonely young girl, she'd always be hiding her mouth out of fear of revealing her beak...

According to the text, Mongolian principles state that a person has two or three types of souls within them, and Moh Shuvuu is made up of that third kind of soul- the type that can form into a spirit after death. A Muu Shuwuu specifically seems to form from a combination of factors, namely being a young girl who either died without ever experiencing love, died and had their father place a flint into her hand posthumously, or experienced a violent death. This would eventually lead to their spirit growing restless and rising from their corpse, forming into, what else, but a Muu Shuwuu itself. The bird would then go around seeking vengeance for its lack of love, proceeding to seduce men who would approach, or pretend to be a lost little girl in order to get the man to let his guard down. Then, after bringing the man to a safe location, she would proceed to kill him and suck his brain out of his head with her sharp beak. Again, a lot of this is hard to prove confidently, given that I'm mostly working off of wikipedia articles and spotty translations- most sources are exclusively either Japanese or use Cyrillic, which I can't translate due to not having a keyboard for either alphabet- but for the most part, I can glean that she sucks out the brain for sustenance.

I think, and this is based mostly off of speculation from the articles referenced above, that Muu Shuwuu actually isn't a mix of a bird and girl like in SMT- no, apparently she is able to shift between the two forms, the young girl's form being a disguise so she can then slaughter the man later on as a bird. This seems to make Muu Shuwuu less of a harpy and more of, well, a bird! That aside, though, I do have to admit that the design in SMT works very well- to an extent, this is what I wish Hua Po actually looked like, given the bird theming throughout her original story, but I might be asking for a bit much here. Still, if any of you can find any further sources on this demon, I'd happily take them, as I'm not quite satisfied with this simple of a rundown. Regardless, though, I have to thank SMT for making a demon from such an obscure concept, even if that would eventually down the line lead me to a strange, bottomless spiral of research.

Tengrism is fucking weird, man.

[yugocar]

"The Future is Now: An Impossible Archive of Queer Advocacy and Resistance. 2024-ongoing", Andrea Geyer

"The Future is Now: An Impossible Archive of Queer Advocacy and Resistance brings together information on more than one thousand LGBTQIA+ historic and contemporary organizations in the United States gathered from online and offline archives, books, research papers, primary sources, and oral histories. These organizations engage(d) in community building and education; social, cultural, and political advocacy; and direct action. Conceived as an urgent and timely response to the current repressive political environment and the renewed violent culture wars waged on the LGBTQIA+ community, The Future is Now projects a resilient landscape of possibility, accomplishments, and community within which we can organize, advocate, and resist today. The archive can only ever be incomplete, holding both that which we can remember or research, and that which lies as intangible sustenance below a queer collective consciousness. It is important to note that this archive is rooted in the incredible labor of uncountable individuals: researchers, collection managers, family members, friends, and activists whose work is shared in archives, collections, research papers, books, podcasts, movies, oral histories and interviews; on websites and social media; at parties; on panels; and more. It brings together content from many archives before it and it pulls descriptions, when available, from the organization’s own websites and from entries accompanying the papers of an organization housed in an archive. This archive is therefore another knot in the web of existing knowledge. It remains also inherently incomplete, imperfect, and impossible due to the complex histories it attempts to hold: of what and how things enter collective or communal memory; what is meant to be remembered; what is continuously repressed; what asks for itself to be fleeting, or to remain in the memory of few. The Future Is Now aims to hold both that which is recorded and that which cannot be. The archive will always be growing, changing, and evolving; committed to remain truly collaborative across the many communities that relate to the histories it holds."  LINK TO ARCHIVE

[tunnelofdusk]

mdzs fic: wangxian, dark lan zhan, stalking, professor x student

wc: 1978

O how he loves you, darling boy. O how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night.

—

An air conditioner sputters incoherently as Wei Ying hunches over his laptop and pecks at the faded keyboard. Besides his laptop, a cracked smartphone lights up with a phone call set to speaker mode.

"Is that your air conditioner?" Jiang Yanli says worriedly.

"Yeah," Wei Ying says, "but it's fine. It does that all the time."

"Oh, A-Ying, I really think you should move back home."

Wei Ying laughs. "Jie, I think Yu-ayi has had enough of me! She even gave me a housewarming gift." It's true; an exorbitant metal contraption of a coffee maker takes up most of his kitchen counterspace. It's the nicest gift Yu-ayi has ever gotten him, considering the fact that she usually opts to just gift him money on special occasions. It's hush money, he had always joked even as his siblings would frown.

"Still, we live so close to your college; I don't see why you had to move out," Jiang Yanli frets. Her voice is sweet and Wei Ying smiles down at his laptop.

"It's part of the college experience!"

"Oh, A-Ying, you don't even have a roommate! I just don't think it's very safe for a young boy like you to be alone."

Wei Ying mouths "young boy" to himself and lets out a huff of laughter. "I'm 19, not 12. And jiejie, you're only 22!"

"Hmmm, I thought A-Ying was only 3…"

"A-Ying is only 3 when he wants jiejie's soup!"

Jiang Yanli giggles. "Even if my A-Ying is 3, 19, or 80, he can always have my soup."

Speaking of soup, Wei Ying flicks a glance at his steadily humming refrigerator where frozen containers on Yanli's soup reside. He's not ashamed to admit that that soup has been his primary source of sustenance as he battles past an ever-growing brigade of deadlines, exams, and presentations. He reassures Yanli when he confesses to as much. She continues to fret over him as he finishes off a paper until she finally concludes with an ominous warning that she's going to wrangle a family friend into checking up on him.

"He's a professor of psychology at your college too," she explains.

Apparently Jiang-shushu had connected with him, a professor named Lan Zhan, at a charity gala. And apparently while Wei Ying has been gone out of the house, this Lan Zhan had been visiting the house often enough with Jiang-shushu to even have Yu-ayi charmed by him. Even Jiang Cheng reluctantly admits that he's okay enough when Wei Ying had texted him with a series of question marks ("?????? Who is Lan Zhan????? 囧 Am I being replaced?????").

After collecting all of that data, Wei Ying had immediately formed a mental image of this Lan Zhan: a man as old as Jiang-shushu but with inexplicably white hair and wireframe glasses on a round, wrinkled face. Maybe he had a little scholarly paunch from a life spent inside among books and artificial lights.

When this storied Lan Zhan finally comes to check up on Wei Ying, it is on the day that Wei Ying's air conditioner gives off its last sputter. No amount of "percussive maintenance" had helped repair it and the temperature in Wei Ying's apartment had steadily begun to rise, matching the muggy atmosphere outside. And so on that day, Wei Ying has long since stripped down to a pair of loose shorts. Sprawled across the floor like a salted fish, Wei Ying stares up at the mildewed ceiling of his apartment with a rare quiet of his mind. He counts the cracks in the ceiling like stars in the sky—endless.

Once, Jiang-shushu had tried to rope the whole family into yoga, meditation, and mindfulness, but Wei Ying had ended up falling asleep during the guided meditation. Jiang Cheng had, worryingly enough, looked like he had lost his soul, as if he had come out on the other side of some internal battle all the worse for it. Jiang Yanli had done her best to meditate. And Yu-ayi had somehow ended up angrier as if she had meditated into a pure state of rage.

A crisp double knock on wood resounds through the apartment and knocks Wei Ying out of his musings. With a grumble, Wei Ying shakes off his lethargy to open the door. The bolt chain clinks merrily as his hands fumble. Finally, he swings the door open and pauses in his own doorway, staring at the man before him. The man, who must be Lan Zhan, has sharp features (with only wrinkles near his golden eyes; he must be an eye smiler!) and broad shoulders with a lightly muscled body outlined in a suit. It's so hot that Wei Ying could cook an egg on his floor, and yet this Lan Zhan looks cool and unruffled in his three-piece suit.

"Jiejie didn't say she was sending a handsome laoshi my way," Wei Ying blurts out.

"Nevertheless, your sister sent me to check up on you," Lan Zhan says blandly. The deepness of his voice sends a thrill through Wei Ying; it must be envy.

Wei Ying laughs, short and quivering. He steps back from the doorway and beckons Lan Zhan inside with a fluttering hand. Lan Zhan's eyes flicker down to that hand and a little scoff escapes him. Wei Ying eyes him in return with some indignance. So stiff!

Wei Ying watches as Lan Zhan unbuttons his blazer and settles into Wei Ying's battered sofa (it came with the apartment!). It's a bit ruder than Wei Ying would have expected from a person who consorts with the Jiangs' ilk. Yet, Lan Zhan somehow transforms the sofa into something regal—something worthy of a man like Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan's posture is stiff and the commanding spread of his thighs makes Wei Ying swallow dryly. He looks away.

"Well," he croaks out, "you checked up on me. I'm still alive, haha…"

Lan Zhan stares directly into Wei Ying's eyes, mouth tugging downward as if to say, "You live like this?"

"Where is your shirt?" is all Lan Zhan says. His gaze is heavy, lingering on Wei Ying's torso and transmitting a chill down his spine.

"It's too hot for a shirt," Wei Ying says.

"Indecent," Lan Zhan intones.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes and he watches the way Lan Zhan's fists slightly crumple his suit pants.

"I will tell your sister that you are clearly better off at home," Lan Zhan says stiffly.

Dramatically, Wei Ying drops to his knees in front of Lan Zhan's spread legs. "C'mon, laoshi, there's no need to be so extreme! I'll even put a shirt on if it makes you more comfortable!" he exclaims. He had already endured Jiang Yanli's glossy eyes when he said he would be moving out with no plans of coming back. ("A-Ying wants to be independent," he had concluded babyishly as Jiang Yanli unwillingly snorted an inelegant laugh.)

A darkness eclipses the gold of Lan Zhan's eyes and Wei Ying leans back as Lan Zhan leans down ever so slightly.

"Pathetic," Lan Zhan intones.

囧 囧 囧 囧 囧 flashes in Wei Ying's mind. "Family friend"—well, Wei Ying supposes that he had never truly been considered part of the family, at least not in Yu-ayi's eyes or in society's eyes…

"Lan-laoshi, aren't you being too harsh?" Wei Ying wheedles. "Jiejie just wanted you to check in on me, not bully this poor undergrad! Aren't you a professor too! Hmph, is this how you treat your students?"

"None of my students would behave like this."

"So cruel to A-Ying!"

"…A-Ying?"

Wei Ying laughs awkwardly. Jiang Cheng would never let him live this down if he ever found out…

"A-Ying?"

"You—you can just ignore that, haha…It's just how me and jiejie joke…"

"I am not your jiejie."

And Wei Ying looks up, suddenly confronted with the bulge in front of him. Jiang Cheng always did say that his playfulness would likely be the end of him..

"Haha…right, you're definitely not my jiejie, Lan-laoshi," Wei Ying says as he scrambles to rise from the floor. The apartment has somehow got even more hotter; the summer heat coaxes a flush to rise from his bare torso and to crawl up his neck.

Abruptly, Lan Zhan stands up and Wei Ying loses his hard-won high ground. The scent of sandalwood engulfs Wei Ying and he cannot help his hitching breath as Lan Zhan draws close.

"Your hospitality and home leave much to be desired," Lan Zhan says archly.

And then he just leaves—shouldering past Wei Ying and swinging open the door with an enviable grace that leaves Wei Ying dry-mouthed. Wei Ying stands shirtless and still in the middle of his living room before he scrambles for his phone, digging into his deep pockets.

He texts Jiang Yanli the following messages in quick succession:

囧 jiejie, ignore whatever lan-laoshi says!!!

he is a liar!!!

he is mean!!! 囧

a-ying is innocent!!!

a-ying was unjustly abused!!! slandered!!! 囧

😭😭😭

After a few harrowing minutes, Jiang Yanli texts back:

???

All he said was that he would look after you.

What's wrong?

"Did he just insult me for no reason then?!" Wei Ying mutters to himself. He sends off a final message:

nvm, a-ying is ok :) <3

-

A week after Wei Ying meets Lan Zhan, Wei Ying's professor for Introduction to Abnormal Psychology abruptly withdraws from the university for a family emergency. Wei Ying had never thought that he would have to see Lan-laoshi outside the confines of his apartment since typically, Lan-laoshi only teaches grad classes. And yet—

"Sit down, A-Ying," Lan Zhan says as Wei Ying gapes at the crisply suited figure behind the podium. Although Lan Zhan's features remain static, there is something about the curve of his eyes that reminds Wei Ying of a falcon before a dive. Lan-laoshi must really like teaching…

"You know him?" Nie Huaisang whispers as paper flutters with opening notebooks around the hall.

"Family friend," Wei Ying says as he scrawls the date across notebook paper, already tearing at the perforated line.

—

“Will you tell your brother? Your sister?” Lan Zhan says in a low voice, eyes intent.

Wei Ying shakes his head in a sharp, jerking movement. His hands are unsteady and his fingers desperately grip the balcony railing.

“They have enough to worry about,” Wei Ying eventually says. His eyes skim the view below them—trees reaching into the air, poking through the fog. High up in the mountains, the air is different. It is crisp. He takes a deep breath in and then a deep breath out, banishing his anxiety.

His hands are still unsteady.

“Will you at least report it?” Lan Zhan says.

The warmth of Lan Zhan’s concern heats Wei Ying up. He thinks, I’m not alone. (He never is but he won’t realize this until the end.)

Wei Ying shakes his head again.

“You know the police never do anything about stalkers,” he says bitterly. He thinks about Xiao Xingchen—a short-lived reconnection of Wei Ying and his uncle. Song Lan still looks for Xiao Xingchen, and grief still deadens his face until he can only smile at his daughter.

“Mn.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying says quietly. His breath mists white in the chill air. “For letting me stay with you…”

Lan Zhan’s mouth curves thinly. “Between you and me, there is no need for 'thank you',” he says. His voice is low and even, and Wei Ying leans into his steadiness.

It is frightening to be the victim of a stalker.

Wei Ying is lucky to have such a good friend.

[ashectecs]

Burnside Family Murders: Cannibalism, Catholicism & Gender Roles

For Catholics, Jesus is “the bread of life,” He is their source of spiritual nourishment. They find sustenance, strength, and fulfilment, when everything else leaves them empty (John 6:48-51).

In traditional families, men are the primary breadwinners while women took on domestic duties such as cooking, cleaning, and childcare. In other words, the household is completely dependent on the man's ability to provide. However, it is told to us early on that the Burnside family operates as a dual-income household, challenging the expectations of a traditional family. The targeting of the father indicates Grotesquerie's desire to mould the family into certain gender roles. By force-feeding the father to his family, he had unwillingly become their "bread of life".

For the reason why the baby was boiled? I do not know. It may have been done just to be grotesque.

【Images are from Grotesquerie S1 E1】

[pokemon-academy-official]

What do you think about Zoruas?

Thanks for the ask! Zorua and its evolved form are quite unique Pokémon, with an even more unique history. We'll be covering Zorua, Zoroark, and their ancient counterparts!

Zorua: Basic Biology

Zoura is a small, black and red, fox-like, Dark type Pokémon. They are often shy and cowardly in nature, and have below-average offensive and defensive capabilities.

Due to their timid disposition, middling battle prowess, and rarity of females, Zorua are often outcompeted and are therefore very rare Pokémon in most regions. To date, they are only found in large numbers in the Isle of Armor in Galar, and Tagtree Thicket and the grasslands surrounding Medali in Paldea.

Zorua: Cunning Disguise

Apparently due to these difficulties, Zorua has developed an entirely unique ability. This is referred to as Zorua's signature Ability, Illusion.

Illusion allows a Zorua to project an image onto itself, with the primary aim of fooling opposing Pokémon into fleeing from a potential threat. To this end, the Illusion is extremely convincing, and almost impossible to see through. If the Zorua is damaged, the illusion falters and loses its effectiveness. Pokémon Trainers use this Ability to fool their opponent into a disadvantageous type matchup.

Zoura are documented as occasionally disguising as a human child. This form is used to search for food without irritating non-territorial Pokémon. It may also attempt to garner sympathy from humans to be given food.

Zorua are capable of using their Illusion ability from birth, but may need to learn to refine it; there's at least one record of a Zorua's disguise featuring its distinct tail!

Zoroark: Form Perfected

Zoroark, the evolved form of Zorua, is a bipedal Pokémon, standing at 1.6 meters. Zoroark is still a fairly cautious creature, but has become quite adept in both physical and special attacks. Zoroark live in groups, sometimes caring for several Zorua at a time. They can use their offensive aptitude to defend themselves and their group with great ferocity, gladly putting their own life on the line if they believe it necessary.

Zoroark has also perfected the Illusion technique. Its disguise is indistinguishable from reality, and it can even extend the effect to its surroundings and project illusory attacks.

Hisuian Form: Ghosts of the Past

There is some evidence that Zorua used to be a more widespread species. Due to their deceptive nature, especially in disguising as children, Zorua were largely driven out of regions by humans. While they found some safe havens in Galar and Paldea, the lands of Hisui (modern-day Sinnoh) were not so kind.

Driven away from more hospitable lands by competitors, Zorua found themselves in the cold north, near the future site of Snowpoint City (referred to by settlers as the Alabaster Icelands). According to legend, these Zorua were unable to survive in this climate and perished, only to return as vengeful spirits.

According to contemporary sources, Hisuian Zorua were highly resentful of humans and Pokémon alike, and were extremely distrusting. They retained the ability to project illusions but did so using their spite and hatred. Now more adapted to their environment, Hisuian Zorua used their abilities to torment others. These Zorua were also apparently able to derive sustenance from the fear it inflicted.

A Hisuian Zorua was able to evolve into a Hisuian Zoroark. This form had a frightening appearance and was even connected to a legend of death. It also had even further mastery over its Illusions, such as being able to mimic human speech while disguised as a human or casting Illusions which could actually cause physical harm to a target. Much like modern Zoroark, they were fiercely protective of their group. They were even more distrusting of outsiders than Hisuian Zorua, but could apparently become an invaluable ally to their Trainer if taken care of properly and with great patience.

To more directly answer your question... I think Zorua are adorable! I feel like we'd be a decent match. Not that I'm looking for one, mind; they're tough to get your hands on where I am, and I'm looking after enough Pokémon already.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from The Revelator:

Saudamini Mohakud, the 65-year-old elder of her village, proudly calls herself the daughter and bride of the Eastern Ghats, the range of mountains that borders the eastern Indian state of Odisha. The mountains’ undulating wooded hills cradle her native village, Punasia, where she was born and wed. Saudamini says she could not have been happier growing up in its lap of lush greenery, which included about 50 acres of the community forests near her village.

“The forests were then a treasure trove of nature’s bounties, providing us with fruits, vegetables, tubers, medicines, and numerous other resources that sustained our households,” says Saudamini, now a grandmother to four children. “Our sacred grove, dedicated to our village deities, also flourished within these community forests.” The village cattle, too, grazed at the edge of the forest and community pastures.

But in the 1980s the forests began to disappear. The hills turned bare. According to villagers, loggers rampantly smuggled timber. Summers became hotter; dusty winds from the nearby hills hit the village. Rainfall became scarce and erratic. Agriculture, their primary means of livelihood, became uncertain. Depleted forest resources also hit their secondary source of income: collecting seeds, mushrooms, flowers, and other wild plants.

By the 1990s Punasia’s economy was as bare as the nearby hills. “This resulted in migration of men and youths from our village to find work outside,” rues Saudamini.

But over the past two decades, Punasia village has turned that around. A dedicated band of women led by Saudamini have nurtured nearly 50 acres of degraded forest patches and restored them to their former glory.

The formerly depleted forests have regrown with native trees such as sal, siali, mahua, tamarind, mango, and bamboo. Natural water bodies have also been revived with regular rainfall and rising water tables.

“It was hard work” that relied upon their traditional knowledge, recalls Mami Mohakud, now 35 and a member of Saudamini’s team. “We reared the reappearing saplings in the forests, created fences around them, and saved them from grazing cattle.”

Saudamini’s 20-year-old granddaughter, Nirupama, says these protected and restored community commons are an intrinsic part of Punasia’s existence, spiritual, cultural, and ecological heritage, as they are for other Indigenous communities. “They are not just forests or grazing land for us, but deeply connected with our feelings, sustenance, and day-to-day life,” she says.

Community commons also provide many ecosystem services that regulate the local climate, a process seen around the world, according to Sharat Kumar Palita, a professor in the department of biodiversity and conservation of natural resources at Central University of Odisha, Koraput.

“Different kinds of commons — including forest patches, water bodies, and grazing lands — play their respective roles in maintaining favorable microclimatic conditions,” says Palita.

[askganon]

I apologize if this is an odd question, but hearing you talk about your culture has sparked my curiosity. Living in the desert, I imagine food and water must be, at times, low. What is the Gerudos main source of food? What sort of dishes do your people eat? How do you deal with water shortage in terms of drinkable water? The desert seems like such a harsh environment, I'd love to know more about how the gerudo adapted to it.

Unless a raid on Hyrule was fruitful, food was always scarce. In those times, our primary source of food was simply whatever we could get our hands on. Farming was a non-option in the desert, so plants were gathered wherever we could find them. Mols contained much meat, but hunting them was deadly, and would often take more lives then they could feed.

Leevers and Guay were our sustenance, and stew was our only dish. The juices and nutrients of the Leevers, though bland, were enough to survive on, and the thin jerky-like meat of the Guay contained plenty of protein for us. It was not pleasant, but it was not death.

[ebitenpura]

Echani Wintertide: "Trul's Tide"

Winter is a vital time in Echani culture, given their connection to the cold and the frost of their home planets. While it is a time of life and celebration much like the rest of the galaxy, it is also one of war and tribulations for the Echani. This period bears witness to some of the most important rites of passage for a people said to be born from the fallen snow, as cold and majestic as the season they revere the most.

To understand the naming convention of such an auspicious event, one must revisit the Echani religion. Trul is a main deity of the Echani pantheon, the mother wolf and the god of the Echa'olm, ancestor to all Echani and Eshan wolves whom the Echani owe their descent to. She is a multi-legged, massive Echa'olm who rules over the night sky, and it is said the light of the largest stars seen from Eshan are her eyes--with the rest of the constellations being that of her many children.

The season of winter is named after her not only because of ancient Echani reverence of the cold, but because legend states that freshly fallen snow is the shed fur of Trul, whose pelt is whiter than bone, softer than feather down and colder than the sea. Every winter, Trul and her pups do battle in the sky with the giant armored nerf-deer named Ne'Yool to kick off the annual hunts, and the ferocity of their battle is said to be the cause of earthquakes and massive snowfall in the region. This is true in part, as Ne'Yool's own species are not actually nerf-deer as the name suggests, but a mammalian semi-aquatic fish who migrate to land every winter in search of warmer climates. The nerf-deer tunnel through Eshan's glaciers, causing earthquakes and such, and bringing with them a dark tide as they ascend the ice beaches. This is why winter is named "Trul'stide".

The nerf-deer are hunted every winter in preparation for the celebratory feasts, as tributes to Trul and the primary source of meat in a time of little sustenance. Due to their natural outer bone formations, nerf-deer are considered formidable foes, and great honor is given to warriors who slay any number of them. Nerf-deer goulash, cooked right within the shell, is a regional specialty that varies from planet to planet, province to province, yet each Echani settlement claims theirs is the original recipe. Such is the importance of Ne'Yool and Trul's bounty; adults partake of the meat, and children are given the bones and tendons to chew and play with. The children of the chief hunter are given the marrow, seasoned with spices, as a reward.

Winter is not just for the hunt; it is a time of reflection, observation, survival...and the extension of the family. Seekers, or single Echani searching for the children of other families to adopt, take this time to adorn themselves with a pup-pouch--an elaborate outer carrying bag lined with decor that speaks of the life they've lived thus far as a warrior, with the inside containing soft blanket material made from their own fur. As explained before, Echani often raise children unrelated to them by blood, and it is common for children to choose different parents to live different life experiences with before moving on to the next, and rarer for them to only stay with the parents of their birth. The pup-pouch is scented with the bearer's pheromones on Trul'stide, and if successful, will attract a new child who will climb into the pouch to signify that they accept their new parent. Seeker meetups often happen at the Trul'stide feasts where most Echani gather, hence marking Winter as a time of family.

Recent adaptations of Life Day from the wider galaxy to Trul'stide have seen the adoption of the cultural precedent of gifts in Eshan, especially those to children, but it is not seen as a requirement. Young adults are more likely to celebrate the modern way, given their fascination with the outer worlds (and partying). While Eshan sees much jubilation in this time like many other cultures, it is not always peaceful: in late winter the government exams are held. It is a time when Echani warriors vye for the highest position on the Seat of Sisters, Eshan's main governing body.

However, the government exams are not written. Rather, mass combative tournaments are held where warriors challenge each other to single combat with a judging panel overseeing the duel, who keep note of the character of the fighter and their methods, as well as the eventual victor. Echani body-language reading abilities allow the panel to judge the fitness of an individual for a particular government seat by measuring their strength in both physicality and mentality, and if the panel is in unanimous favor, they are allowed to move on to the next battle until only one individual remains to be elected for their new position. Warriors seeking to rise politically train all year for the exams, and current seat-holders strengthen their defenses in case of declared war outside of the tourneys. Ancient times saw much bloodshed in wintertime as warriors fought one another for seats and privileges, leading to the creation of the exams.

In more recent times, in an attempt to appeal to tourism and the spirit of the season, Eshan has seen fit to hold the tourneys over holovid, and for the first time in many centuries, allow offworlders to spectate the tournaments in person--resulting in a multi-billion credit sport where fans flock to the stadiums to witness Echani martial arts in this time. Echani Exam tickets are a popular Life Day gift, and signed paraphernalia has become part of the exams itself for those who treat the tourneys as a special occasion. The mascots representing the government games, Echi and Thrys who are white and brown echa'olms, are especially loved by children and given exclusively as Life Day plushies.

Eshan has seen much modernization when it comes to Trul'stide, even adapting to the galaxy-wide cultural phenomenon of Life Day, yet retains its own traditions when it comes to winter. This, and its importance to the culture, will never change.

[manorinthewoods]

Here's a take on the zombie apocalypse.

It just... doesn't happen.

The military successfully fends off the zombies. The protagonists are in the military and government and have to make sure the zombie apocalypse doesn't destroy society, escape the country, etc. Thankfully, zombies follow most of the standard tropes, which means they are stunningly incompetent and therefore the apocalypse is not a big issue. What is the issue is the politics of the situation. Anti-masker equivalents, power-hungry politicians, incompetent generals - all sorts of crap.

But maybe add a bit more creativity. Remove some of the standard zombie flaws; for instance, the zombies will (in an idea I thefted from another post), instead of moaning, try to speak, but only produce garbled syllables, words, and phrases. They lose most of their intelligence but are smarter in a horde, they require very little sustenance, can slowly heal injuries, go into torpor when critically injured and regenerate faster in this state, and they look more-or-less like humans so they tug on the heartstrings.

These zombies would still have a good number of weaknesses (cleared weaknesses crossed out):

Slow speed, can be outpaced with brisk walk (These zombies aren't fast.)

Constant noise alerts any prey (probably they are not constantly rambling)

Main food source is also primary predator and only source of reproduction (Let's say these zombies can consume and zombify wild animals. That will make them an enormous threat, actually! I dunno about clearing this weakness, my zombies are already superpowered.)

Extreme temperatures in summer or winter will clear zombies (The torpor state would clear this risk. This is one of the major issues; if there's nothing done with the zombies to prevent this, the zombie apocalypse probably wouldn't survive a year or something. Also, anywhere up north would probably see all the zombies die.)

Zombies will constantly injure themselves (Regenerating zombies clears this risk. If zombies cannot regenerate, they *definitely* will not survive a year.)

Numerous quantity of natural predators, including flies which will infest their tissues with maggots (If zombies are internally decaying, any old wild animal could probably rip them to shreds. Also, bye-bye eyes.)

Cannot damage armored or airborne vehicles (Short of giving zombies magic spells, this will remain a severe risk. The #1 weapon for dealing with zombies is a tank. No, the guts won't tangle the treads.)

Moans alert all enemies in the area and convey very little information to other zombies (The garbled gibberish will at first not be a sign, but as cities are evacuated it will become more noticeable, especially if efforts to discern what is being said by local survivors reveal that it is garbage noise.)

No problem solving skills; zombies cannot open doors, perform any tasks involving complex dexterity (even simply throwing objects), cannot use any sort of tactics and simply beeline for potential prey (Zombies are dumb. They will remain dumb and thus will be easily manageable. A simple chokepoint will be enough to slaughter a horde. Also, since they're slow, you could probably destroy large quantities of them with artillery - although with torpor added into the mix you'd still need to properly clear the field afterward.)

Zombies are exclusively melee combatants (Again, one chokepoint and the horde's dead. With a steady supply of ammunition - possibly requiring international aid if ammo factories are abandoned - zombies can be pretty easily defeated. They are known for being weak to guns and there is one major thing militaries have a lot of.)

Cannot take shelter from storms (Minor, but after a severe storm there probably wouldn't be as many zombies around.)

Conclusion: Zombies gon' get wrecked by any competence.

[eyeoftheheart]

“At the heart of the Sufi path is the Qur’an and the character of Muhammad. The teachings come alive when we experience them as a means for reaching our true well-being. The practices are not a rigid set of external forms commanded by God but a means for learning how to surrender and be in harmony with the deep law of life. Each of the primary practices—ritual prayer, fasting, charity, pilgrimage, remembrance, service, and adab (spiritual courtesy)—is a way of transforming the ego from tyrant to servant, receiving grace, and connecting with the Infinite.

The ritual prayer teaches us to awaken within the flow of time and pay reverence to our Source. Fasting teaches the body to be patient and listen to a deeper call beyond the urgings of bodily hunger. Pilgrimage teaches us to take account of our life and trust in wayfaring. Charity teaches us to share and trust in Providence for our sustenance. Remembrance teaches the heart-mind to be continually grateful and aware. Service helps us to put aside our preoccupation with ourselves, to be free of the coercions of the ego. Adab teaches us the qualities of humility, gentleness, and respect. All of these teach the body, intellect, emotions, and soul to be in alignment and attunement with a higher truth.

This path is not only rooted in revelation and the example of the Prophet; many great human beings have walked it, too, and left us their accounts and insights. On the path of Sufism, we hope to learn from all the prophets, and from the awliya, the saints, the true friends of God.

Ibn Abbad ar-Ronda offers this advice to spiritual seekers on the path of Sufism:

They endeavor to make Him their companion in all their states, as far as they are able. He is merciful to them by causing them to no longer attend to their own weakness or strength in whatever they undertake or leave aside. Instead He is their safeguard and protection. . . . The difficult becomes easy and the harsh becomes bearable for these servants. God makes their every moment precious and most significant. He establishes them in comfort and in a great kingdom. In Him alone do they move or take their rest; on Him alone do they rely; to Him alone do they raise all their thoughts and aspirations. That is why this community is preeminent among communities.

As I witness this path unfolding, this teaching that keeps changing, deepening, and transforming, I also come to sense the possibility of opening to a source of guidance found within, yet beyond, myself. It is a path of guidance, deeply coherent because it is revealed from the heart of reality. It speaks to my deepest understanding because it is based in the deepest laws of life.”

― Kabir Helminski, The Mysterion: Rumi and the Secret of Becoming Fully Human