#but it's nice she cared about my dietary needs

[arctic-hands]

[Image Description: 2 message alerts on a phone from Grandma. The first is from one minute before the screenshot and says "Why are you posting on Facebook about not having nut in November?" The second was sent the moment the screenshot was taken and says "If you developed a nut allergy I need to modify my recipes. Call me back." End I.D]

Found on the Book of Faces

[taxidermycanine]

Hey not sure if this is the right place to ask this but I'm looking for whoever might be able to offer advice. My wife just told me she's therian today (wolf). I'm completely supportive of it of course. As another wolf therian, do you have any suggestions for things I could do to help her feel more comfortable or support her better?

(Anon ask to protect her privacy because she's self conscious about it)

hi! this is absolutely the right place to ask, welcome :o)

this is very sweet of you to do, and i'm sure your wife appreciates you looking more into therianthropy so you can understand her better!

i hope you enjoy this post, and thank you again for this ask! the tips are under the cut

species affirming 101: wolves and other canids

hello there! struggling to figure out ways to affirm your therianthropy because you don't know where to start? or maybe you're someone who knows a critter personally and want to learn how to make them more comfortable around you? then sit down and get comfortable because this is species affirming 101 (with me, the dog).

before we go into it, please note:

not all of these things are for everyone, and that's okay! do what feels right for you.

i will try my best to provide alternatives for any food recommendations for those of you with dietary needs, but apologize in advance if i fail to do so.

that the most important thing to affirm your species is through taking good care of yourself and spending some time outside to ground yourself. sometimes these things take time, they'll come to you eventually.

with that in mind, let's begin with the first tip!

NUMBER ONE: clothing

whether you have shorter or longer fur, this point can help you either way! the human body doesn't grow nearly enough hair to feel comfortable sometimes, which is why i wear clothes that are fuzzy, warm, and the same color as my fur. this is especially helpful in the colder months.

as for the warmer months, i recommend purchasing things such as tail keychains, trimming your nails into claws, drawing paws on your shoes. even meditating in a wooded area can help somewhat (at least in my own experience).

NUMBER TWO: snacks

usually when people think of species affirming snacks their mind immediately goes to something like jerky, and whilst that can help a few folk, in my opinion it's much too gritty for me to enjoy comfortably. i prefer eating slim jims for the saltiness and fall-apart texture. if you can't eat meat for whatever reason, i recommend experimenting with different types of mushrooms. a popular choice for meat imitation is the lions mane mushroom. when cooked a certain way, it's crunchy, filling and has a tender texture.

NUMBER THREE: ambiance

something as simple as putting on a video of nature sounds can make you feel more at home. i recommend mixing this with den making (making your bed feel more like a den by adding lots of blankets, going under them to sleep for coverage, maybe a chair or two to keep the entrance visable. i find having some sort of floor mattress works best for this sort of thing)

NUMBER FOUR: comforts

stuffed animals of your theriotype are always a nice way to feel less lonely, especially if you feel like you're meant to have young. acting like they're your pack, your litter, or simply just your belongings can provide heavy comfort during times of feeling isolated.

if you feel like you shouldn't have stuffed animals because you aren't a domestic breed, you shouldn't worry about that. One, you can do whatever you want forerver. Two, there have been many cases of animals finding things like stuffed animals and playing with them, look at this guy!

NUMBER FIVE: socializing

as canines are social animals, it's important for you to spend time with others, therian or non-therian. if you have human friends, or a human partner, great! if they're comfortable with it, you can have them pet you if you'd like. maybe ask to go on a walk with them for a more discreet option.

i'd also recommend making friends who are also therian so you have others to relate to. it's important to realize that you are not alone in this, and there are so many who feel the way you do right now. if you make some irl, go to the forest together! play in the river! if you're stuck to being online friends for however long, make moodboards! play online games where you can be an animal together! roleplay if that's more your speed! there's plenty to do with loved ones.

for now, that's all i can think of. for the anon though here's a little more just for you, i wish you and your partner the best.

be there for her, tell her that her being a therian doesn't make you love her any less and that you find her therianthropy beautiful. ask her about what she'd like you to do to help with species dysphoria, if she has any. research about her theriotype with her to show her that you care about it. as another wolf therian myself, the thing that helped me the most is having my own partner be there for me. canines are social animals, be social with her.

my love to you both,

bandit

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi! I hope you're having a nice evening today! ♡♡♡♡

May I request for a platonic Yandere Chang'e with a son or daughter reader? either by blood or bond I'm ok with it 👍 she's one of my favorites characters of LMK (☆▽☆) Thank you! And sorry if my english it's kinda bad 😅

Moon Rabbits

(Thank you for the request, and your English is just fine, friend!)

Many things have made their way to your mother’s home over the years, she says to you. Offered from thousands of varying sources and souls, a collection of offerings and letters and antiques.

“But you, my little bunny,” your mother says with a loving smile, “are the greatest of all my treasures.”

With practiced motions, she combs through your tangled mop of hair, humming an ancient lullaby whenever she’s not verbally doting on you. It’s an old ritual for the two of you, your mother happily talking about how she had found you years ago nestled on one of her lunar shrines, wrapped in a bundle of blue silk.

“I have no clue who sent you to me, my sweet lop, and I might never… but they have my eternal gratitude, forever shining softly upon them.”

As always, she’s perfectly gentle with you, her hands careful so as to not damage even a strand of your hair or fur. Chang’e sets down the ivory comb and takes up a sapphire-encrusted hairbrush, lifting it to the tips of your leporine ears. She brushes slowly from the top to the bottom, smoothing the soft fur into place and grooming out tangles. Occasionally she’ll pause to softly pull out a tiny bit of soil or foliage- that you no doubt acquired from playing in her bountiful garden.

Occasionally you’ll receive an instruction to turn your head this way or that, allowing the lunar goddess to more thoroughly arrange the pristine fluff of your ears. Aside from that, her words are spent solely on adoring you.

It’s a routine you’ve long grown used to, spending each evening in front of your mother's mirror as she tends to your appearance. Chang’e finishes each grooming session with a fistful of sparkly hair-clips, the polished metal studded with glittery beads. Some in the form of rabbits, some in crescents, some mimicking constellations. Each one is carefully clipped into your hair, in part to keep your appearance tidy, in part proof of her influence over you.

It’s only when she presses a kiss to your forehead (because she loves the human part of you) and both of your tall, fluffy ears (because she loves the rabbit part of you) that she allows you to stand up and leave.

Both sides of you, flesh and fur alike, are worthy of being loved, she always reminds you.

Her love is conveyed through more than just physical touch, of course.

Your nature as a half-rabbit being provides you with several impediments, in diet and behavior and clothing. Each of these issues Chang’e tirelessly works to resolve.

On account of your strong leporine ancestry, your stomach struggles with meat. You lack all the proteins needed to break it down properly, which means that eating any leads to having it sit around in your stomach until you throw it back up.

Chang’e keeps an incredibly varied kitchen that never seems to run dry of unique dishes- she accommodates for your dietary restrictions with ease. There’s no end to what she serves up, each meal designed to be both tasty and nutritious. Fruit and veggie platters for snacks, usually cut into the shape of rabbits and stars. (She does this no matter how old you get. Cooking is her personal love language, after all. She never wants you to think of eating as something trivial or unfun.)

In terms of clothing, the only real restrictions you have are with your scut and ears- mild, all thing considered. Most of your wardrobe consists of skirts and shorts to prevent any restriction, and your ears are barely an issue. It's not like you need to wear hats- you live on the moon. You're hardly at risk of getting sunburned.

It's your temperament that proves most infuriating. The rabbit aspects of you go far deeper than the skin- they bleed into your brain, even. You find yourself skittish and easily startled, jumping at the smallest of shadows. Even a mild creak has you bolting off to your mother, who's always ready with a warm hug and a mug of something hot and sweet with a hint of bitter that just barely comes through.

And you’re always so sleepy afterwards.

Waking up on your mother’s bed is a common occurrence, frequently awakening to find yourself bundled under a load of cozy blankets. There’s always a snack on the bedside table, usually a sweet variety of fruit cut into hearts, paired with a refreshing drink.

It’s all so very loving.

So much so that it’s hard to know that something’s wrong. You have no frame of reference for a truly healthy relationship, having lived on the moon for all your known life. It’s only you and your mother and her dozens of bunny drones, equipped with cameras to send constant streams of your current activities back to her phone.

Only you and your mother and her cooking show, you standing in the background and helping her chop veggies, sift flour, stir pots, and decorate cakes. It’s enriching enough that you don’t get bored. It’s fulfilling enough to create a sort of satisfaction.

Is it really so bad here that you’d think of leaving? From what you know, Earth is worse- war, famine, disease, poverty- none of that exists in your mother’s domain. There’s no suffering or pain in your life. You drift through peaceful days with good food and a loving mother.

Is it really so bad here?

[cassatellle]

Evan Buckley’s Guide to Not Getting Caught (And Failing Miserably)

for @bucktommyfluffebruary day 7 - love letters/notes | 1317 words | rating: teen and up did i use the event as an excuse to do the hogwarts professors!au? yes, absolutely.

Buck and Tommy were careful. Björk, however, was not. Tommy’s tiny white owl was a menace. She had a habit of nipping Buck’s fingers if he didn’t fetch her a treat fast enough, or failing to read the room and dropping notes at the absolute worst times. He had been sitting with Professor Wilson when Björk swooped in, feathers ruffling, and thwack!—a small roll of parchament landed in his coffee. Professor Wilson had raised an eyebrow. Buck coughed, muttering something about “students these days” before discreetly opening the note under the table. Do you believe in love at first flight, or should I let you take a ride on my broomstick tonight? Buck had immediately choked.

read on ao3 or under the cut

Buck considered himself a professional. He really did.

He arrived at Hogwarts in his best robes, rehearsed his introduction at least a hundred times, and memorized every magical creature’s dietary needs before stepping onto the castle grounds as the new Care of Magical Creatures professor.

But no amount of professionalism could have prepared him for Tommy. The cool flying instructor, Tommy. (Also, apparently, the ex-Quidditch professional athlete Tommy, or so he’d heard from Professor Han—but he was never really a sports guy to witness it firsthand, and Merlin, how he regretted it now.)

It all started on his very first day. 

Buck had stepped out of Headmaster Nash’s office, still processing the sheer responsibility of molding young magical minds. That was when he met him—tall, crinkly-eyed smile that showed off dimples and a cleft chin, all windswept brown hair and easy confidence, wearing only a white Henley and jeans under his teaching robes and still managed to look unfairly attractive. Buck already knew he had a long line of schoolgirls crushing on him.

“Professor Evan Buckley, right?” Tommy greeted, extending a friendly hand.

It took Buck a few seconds—and a couple of blinks—before he realized he should probably shake it. “Y–yeah. I–I’m Evan Buckley.” Nice start, Buck. Very articulate.

“Heard you graduated from Ilvermorny?”

Buck nodded, still trying to reboot his brain.

“Great, welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Tommy. Flying instructor. Quidditch coach. World’s best broomstick master—at least that’s what it says on the coffee mug my students gave me.” He flashed a teasing grin. It was gorgeous. “Also, the guy who’ll be showing you around.”

“Oh.” Buck blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. “Right. Thank you, I–I really appreciate you, uh, taking the time. I mean, I’m sure you’re busy.”

Tommy’s smile grew, leaning in just a little closer. Dangerously close. “Of course. But, just so you know, my fees are competitive.”

Buck laughed, tension melting away. Headmaster Nash mentioned that a staff member would show him around, though Buck had expected the school’s old, grumpy caretaker he met earlier on the gate, not whatever was… this . He’d expected his first day to be intimidating, but instead, he found himself walking through the halls of Hogwarts, completely distracted by the way Tommy talked—witty, charming, and full of little tidbits about the castle, most of which were not in any official guidebook.

“And this,” Tommy said, stopping in front of a random, seemingly ordinary wall, “is where Peeves got me good last week. Right from the shower after finishing my class, and bam! Full bucket of green slime to the head. It took me two hours to get it out of my hair.”

“Oof, that sounds awful. Sorry.”

“Oh, no, I’m just letting you know because I’m fairly certain you’re next.”

Buck immediately stepped three paces away from the wall.

By the end of the tour, Buck wasn’t sure what had left a bigger impression—the castle or the way Tommy’s laugh felt like warm butterbeer on a winter night. Speaking of butterbeer, Tommy had accepted Buck’s offer to buy him one as a thank you on the next Hogsmeade weekend, and he definitely wasn’t counting down the days to their entirely casual, not-a-date outing.

And then, of course, things happened.

Their first totally professional meeting outside of work after they officially got together had been a midnight stroll by the Black Lake, under the guise of Buck “checking on the Grindylows”. Their second had been sneaking off to the Owlery, pretending they needed to, um, evaluate the structural integrity of the owl perches. By the time winter rolled around, they spent most of their free time tangled under a blanket in each other’s chambers, because, well, winter in Scotland was cold, and Tommy was warm.

They just… weren’t telling anyone.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t—but Buck was new, and he wanted his coworkers and students to take him seriously. He didn’t want people thinking he got distracted from wrangling hippogriffs because of the very distracting flying instructor.

So they were careful.

Björk, however, was not.

Tommy’s tiny white owl—yes, named after the singer (“she screams just like her”, Tommy had told him once)—was a menace. She was also their unofficial messenger, which was perfectly fine if she was a little less dramatic. She had a habit of nipping Buck’s fingers if he didn’t fetch her a treat fast enough, or failing to read the room and dropping notes at the absolute worst times.

Buck still remembered one particularly memorable afternoon when he had been sitting in the staffroom across from Professor Wilson, head of Ravenclaw, discussing a new safety protocol for handling Fire Crabs.

Björk swooped in, feathers ruffling, and thwack!—a small roll of parchament landed in his coffee.

Professor Wilson raised an eyebrow.

Buck coughed, muttering something about “students these days” before discreetly opening the note under the table.

Do you believe in love at first flight, or should I let you take a ride on my broomstick tonight?

Buck had immediately choked.

Tommy was equally a menace. 

And Buck definitely rode that broomstick that night.

When not sending flirty notes via owl, Tommy had a habit of folding small enchanted paper cranes that flitted across Buck’s desk when no one was watching.

One day, though, it landed right on Buck’s nose in the middle of his class. Thankfully his students were too busy cooing over the cute creatures to notice.

Saw you almost trip over a Puffskein. Smooth. Very professional. 10/10 would fall for you again.

He glanced around to find his boyfriend hovering above the Quidditch pitch, just visible from the Beast classroom. With a mock-annoyed look, he shot him a glare—one that only made Tommy laugh, shaking slightly on his broom. Despite himself, Buck felt his lips twitch into a smile.

But perhaps the worst—or best —method of their secret communication was their hand notes. It was quick, efficient, and just the right amount of risky—the kind of thing that sent a thrill of adrenaline through his veins. If he was being honest, he found it exhilarating.

During lunch, when passing by in the Great Hall, Tommy would brush by him and slip a folded parchment into his palm.

Once, Buck opened one expecting a joke. Instead, he found:

You look really good today.

He had spent the next fifteen minutes hiding his ridiculous blush behind a goblet of pumpkin juice.

Their correspondence weren’t love letters, per se, but they were something.

Like, the one that he randomly received at 1 a.m.:

U up? (For a night flight, don’t be weird.)

Or, the note Björk delivered after his rant about the second-years:

You handle hippogriffs and literal dragons with ease, yet a bunch of twelve-year-olds is where you draw the line? How tragic. Come to my chamber tonight, you’ll have a warm bath ready. (And maybe a good time if you ask nicely.)

Or, Tommy’s signature pick-up lines:

Are you sure you’re not a Niffler? Because you just stole my heart. (Yes, my heart is gold if you ever wonder.)

Or, Buck’s personal favorite:

Just saw you struggle to get a Bowtruckle out of your hair. It was adorable. Also, it’s still there.

He had never smiled so much while grading essays in his life.

So yes, they were very professional.

Except for the part where Buck still turned pink like a lovesick fourth-year every time Tommy sent him a little note. 

Except for the part where Tommy’s owl had zero chill. 

Except for the part where they kept sneaking glances at each other during staff meetings, thinking no one noticed.

Though, he was sure Professor Wilson noticed. Professor Wilson noticed everything. (And if Buck had to guess, she probably had a betting pool going).

But, hey, at least they hadn’t been caught yet.

[huntingingoodwill]

personal shopping (d.b.)

masterlist

pairing: dieter bravo x personal shopper! reader

desc: your newest client, dieter bravo, braves the outside world to flirt with you at the farmer’s market. though it defeats the point of hiring a personal shopper, you’ll let him, ‘cuz he’s cute. you’ll play hard to get though. (and mention that javi gutierrez is your favourite celeb client, just to make him jealous)

“He said he needs someone to ‘deal with groceries and shit’ so he can ‘meditate on his art’, which is probably a euphemism for doing coke and wearing the same sweatpants for a week. Don’t tell him I said that.” Lia sighed.

She had introduced herself as Dieter’s personal assistant’s assistant, which you thought was slight overkill, but you weren’t in any position to judge. You had now joined her in Dieter’s league of many ‘personals’. He had a personal assistant, a personal chef, a personal trainer, and now you were his personal shopper.

She led you through his mansion in the hills, thrusting you into the nucleus of his ‘meditation’: a cavernous living room cluttered with empty liquor bottles and designer furniture covered in paint splatter.

“Lee-uhhhhhhh.” Dieter lay face down on the plush carpet, which you thought was quite an unconventional meditation position. “What time is it?”

You watched as he nuzzled his head into the crook of his elbow, trying to block out the rays of sun that shot through the windows. His soft, unruly curls caught the light, glowing warm in the sun as the nape of his neck prickled with sweat.

“10:30, Mr. Bravo.” Lia said, her voice artificially chipper.

“In the morning?” He grumbled, rolling onto his back.

You caught sight of his face, the skin dipping between his brow as he furrowed it, rubbing a hand across the stubble peppered across his jaw. Despite looking an absolute mess, he still looked cuter than he did in his shitty movies. You admired the curve of his nose and his disgruntled, sleepy profile as he kept his eyes closed against the sun. The tan skin of his bare torso was visible beneath an oversized teddy jacket, paired with sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Was it really necessary to wake me up at this ungodly hour?“ He blinked sleep from his eyes, the irises dark and honeyed as they glimmered in the light.

He caught sight of you, a sudden glint sparking alight in his eyes. His mouth, set with displeasure only a moment ago, began to break out in a smile. He looked up at you, dishevelled and adoring. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hello, Mr. Bravo.” You smirked, watching him scramble to his feet amongst the clutter of crushed paint tubes. You held out your hand.

“Call me Dieter. All my friends call me Dieter.” He intercepted your hand, fingers lingering appreciatively. “We’re gonna be friends, aren’t we?”

You tried to stifle a laugh. As soon as he looked at you you knew he’d be a relentless flirt. It was cute, in a pathetic way.

“I think I’m gonna be your employee, Mr. Bravo.” You corrected, ever the professional. He was cute, but there was no harm in making him work for it a little. “I was just about to head to the market, so I wanted to ask if you have a budget, or any dietary restrictions-”

“Let Mr. Bravo get back to his painting, I can fill you in on the details-” Lia began.

“I can explain everything.” Dieter interrupted. “I’ll even come along.” He said, shoving off his jacket. You felt heat creep up your cheeks as you eyed the broad expanse of his back, the muscle beneath the skin pulling taut as he searched for a clean shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of hiring a personal shopper?”

“We’ll call it a trial run. Just so you know what I like. Or we could call it something else. ‘First date’ has a nice ring to it.” He grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder, a sensation that felt nicer than you cared to admit.

“You come on strong, don’t you?” You mumbled through a derisive smile, feeling his ego expand as you allowed him to keep his arm around you.

“Always.”

“Don’t you have some artistic meditation to do? Lia said you weren’t interested in ‘groceries and shit’.” You said, sidling through the stalls of the farmer’s market.

The cramped little lanes were filled with people, recognition flashing in their eyes as they caught sight of Dieter, who trailed after you.

“This is artistic meditation. I’m watching my new muse at work.” He said matter-of-factly, swinging your basket, which he had offered to carry for you, in his hand. His rings stood out starkly, flashing against the wicker handle.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin.

“Lia gave me a list of ingredients your personal chef needs, but do you have any other requests? Any ingredients for when your chef has an off day?”

“I don’t cook. When he has an off day, I just deliver.” Dieter adjusted his sunglasses, which you were starting to believe were less of a means to disguise himself from the prying eyes of the public and more because his hangover couldn’t bear the light. “Just buy me whatever, as long as it’s organic, cage free, GMO free, chemical free…” He said, taking a sip of water from his bottle.

You internally groaned. Though you were used to these buzzwords being haphazardly thrown about by your other clients without really knowing what they meant, you were hoping he’d be exempt.

“Water is a chemical compound.” You muttered, stopping in front of a produce stall, fruits and vegetables enticingly overflowing from the crates before you.

You could see his eyes widening behind the dark lenses of his shades from the corner of your eye as he spat the water back into its bottle.

“Water is a chemical?!” He spluttered.

You arched an eyebrow. “And I saw five KitKat wrappers on your carpet this morning.”

“We all make mistakes.” He chuckled, wicking away water from his mouth as he watched you reach for a lemon, its peel a vibrant yellow. “But that’s unimportant. Will you go out with me?”

A smile broke out across your face, unable to hide your amusement at his direct nature. You handed him the lemon, admiring the black ink of his tattoos etched across his skin as he extended his arm to place it in the basket.

“I don’t date men who can’t cook.”

“You’ll have to teach me then. It can be our second date.” He ran his hand through his hair, teeth flashing in a smile. His hair, already tousled, seemed to become even more unruly, and you resisted the urge to run your hand through it to help him fix it.

“Not part of my job description. I just help my clients buy what they need. Groceries, furniture, clothes… but I doubt you’re very interested in the last one.” You smirked, pointedly looking at his feet, clad in crocs and socks.

He looked down at the fashion offence he was adorned with, shrugging. “Fashion is a social construct. I’d wear a different pair of shoes if you’d go out with me, though.”

“I don’t go out with my clients.” You said, voice bubbling with laughter.

“But if you had to go out with any of your clients, it’d be me, right?”

“It’d probably be…” You wracked your mind, going through your list of clients to find a suitable candidate. “Javi Gutierrez.”

“That hack?”

“I don’t think he’s a hack!” You laughed, defensive. “He’s a good actor.”

“I’m a good actor.” He exclaimed, only to be met with your raised eyebrows and a shrug as you turned toward the next stall.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” He mumbled, faking a hurt tone as he followed close behind you.

“If you like him so much, some people say I look like Javi. We could always play pretend.” He smirked.

You put down the jar of honey you were examining, scanning Dieter up and down, as if trying to look for a resemblance.

“Hmm… don’t see it.” You sighed nonchalantly, refocusing your attention on the neatly stacked rows of jars before you.

“Since you think so highly of Javi, what do you think of me?” Dieter said, a crush of people moving through the lane forcing him close to you. You tried to keep your cool as you held his intense gaze, the cologne he spritzed on before he left the house deep and musky, the vivid scent clouding your senses. You swallowed thickly.

“I think you’re pretentious and hedonistic.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He smiled, feigning innocence.

“Are you in denial, or do you just have a small vocabulary?”

“Can’t it be both?” He laughed. He looked around, making sure no one was watching, before dipping toward you, his lips barely ghosting the curve of your ear, his husky voice ringing in your head. “If you think using your big words to insult me will scare me off, you’re wrong. It just makes me more attracted to you.”

“Good.” You said, praying he wouldn’t feel the heat radiating off you, a blush blooming across your jaw. You ignored the playful smile on his face, keeping your hands busy as you aimlessly picked through produce. You bought a ripe apple, wiping it clean on your shirt.

Dieter’s eyes lingered on your lips as you took a bite, the crisp skin breaking beneath your teeth.

“So, you’ll go out with me?” He asked.

He held out his hand, and before you even registered what was happening, you had given him the apple, the red, glossy skin gleaming against his rough palm. He took a bite, the fruit’s flesh crunching as juice dribbled down his forearm, tracing the veins beneath his skin.

“Not happening.”

[bunnyseahorse-blog]

normalize being supportive of your loved ones dietary needs, especially if you cook or eat together.

This is what my family does.

Find out you have Celiac? great, let's clear out a cupboard just for your food. We can get you a toaster that doesn't have crumbs in it, it'll just be for your GF bread. We'll cook the evening meal as entirely gluten free. Done!

You are allergic to a lot of foods, and have reactions? We will take you to an allergist, and if we go out to eat and forget to mention an allergy that might be important, we will gently remind you to say it.

on a diet? Okay. We can try not to bring as many sweets home, and we will ask you before you get you coffee or food that you may not be eating right now.

Heart issues? No problem. We will season without salt, and we'll shop for meats that are less fatty.

My point is, no diet is perfect for everyone, and we all have needs and it's nice to try and help people you regularly eat with feel safe. Educate yourself! Buy cookbooks! Research restaurants before you go!

Oddly enough, the more changes you make, the easier it gets to not be bothered by it. If we can make an entire dinner gluten free, night after night for years, we can make it safer for someone that's had a heart conditions, or safer for a diabetic. No guarantees in life, but it's worth it. I'm not on a low sodium diet, because my levels are fine, and I can eat gluten but you better believe I will still make gluten free, low sodium meals when I cook for all of us. I can go out and eat a big things of chips, and regular bread, but not everyone has that luxury, so it's good to be tactful.

I know it sucks to make changes. I myself very much miss avocados and bananas but that doesn't make them swell my lips up any less.

I am honestly really proud of my families willingness to make culinary changes as our health changes. It makes me feel happy to know that if my sister were to order me a burger without me and for me she'd know what to tell them to please leave off. She would understand the risk of ordering it too, and I know what to ask about for her too.

Love is not just affection. It is actively showing you care about someone's well being, and yes that includes food.

[shinra-makonoid]

I've seen that thread before, with more additions from the OP. They also say that it's pretty much impossible to lose weight beyond 3%, and, well. I gained around 10kg couple of times throughout my life, once during COVID (because of limited movement), the second time - after I had to urgently move and then I had even less movement. My dietary habits didn't change too much, but I went from ~80kg, which was somewhere on the border between Normal and Overweight, to 100kg, which is Obese already. I managed to lower it to 95 something, which is just above the Overweight, but these words about how it's impossible for me to go back to how I used to be... It's just soul-crushing and demotivating to do anything, if I'm just gonna keep getting heavier and there's no way to undo it. Not food limitation, not physical activity, nothing. To get to mid-70, which should be good enough, I need to lose 20kg, which is pretty much 20% of my current mass. I don't care too much about the number itself, but by clothes I see that I got too big. I just want to get where I used to be, and maybe slightly lighter. And apparently I have better chances of dying than ever doing it.

There are indications that, as she said, it is difficult to lose a lot of weight, and I don't want to say "it's definitely possible" or "it's definitely impossible" because I don't know you and I don't think you can generalize those things when speaking to people. Those studies show tendencies in regards to how people lose or regain weight, but it doesn't fit any individual person. A bit like BMI, it has statistical correlation to health, but it doesn't mean much for the individual person's health. You are a unique person, not a statistic. Who knows what you can or cannot do, if the odds are generally against all of us, it doesn't mean it's impossible.

I think it's harmful to basically say "all of what you're trying to do is doomed to fail", and is very discouraging in general. If you want to lose weight, no matter the reason, I'd advise you to reach out to a nutritionist, who can manage a bit the food menu that you have to give you tips on the matter, without having you feeling like you're starving yourself. Losing weight should not be about drastically changing your diet or exercising yourself to death (that is what most people do and it's doomed to fail). It's an equilibrium that can be reached by treating your body nicely, in a way that satisfies you and your needs (psychological, physiological, cultural, economical, social etc all of that needs to be taken into account). It's a whole person package, it can't be a generalizing recipe or diet that works for everybody, because not everybody gains weight for the same reasons and won't lose them in the same way. It can change with your life and it can change because of any kind of parameter in your life. It's incredibly complex and this is why it's best to be accompanied by someone who knows about it, like a nutritionist.

I also do think that knowing the basics in biochemistry can help understand how things work, so I would really recommend that too. Knowledge is power.

[gingersnappe-9]

In a Crowd of Thousands: Reality (14)

Din Djarin/Mando X Fem!OC || Star Wars/The Mandalorian Universe

Series List || #star wars anastasia || PREVIOUS || NEXT

2.3K words

Warnings: intense description of grief/personal loss

The wayward star had been discovered at last. Her Royal Highness, Grand Duchess Aurelia Organa was her real name. Luke and Leia were her brother and sister. Her mother and father were Queen Breha and Senator Bail Organa. She had a family. She had a name. Everything was as it should be. So why did she feel so broken? 

As quickly as the course of her life shifted, Ava suddenly felt like she was standing still watching from the distance as people moved around her. Luke’s staff quickly packed up what few belongings she had and ushered her and Leia over to her sister’s estate. The short ride over, Ava couldn’t even comprehend what Leia was saying as she spoke to what looked like a personal assistant, something about logistics and planning an announcement. She didn’t even have the capacity to note how much bigger the house was, or how there were easily a dozen more maids and butlers flitting around asking her nonsense questions. 

What kind of sheets do you prefer, Princess? What dietary needs do you have so that the chef may prepare you a late dinner, my Lady. Would you care for a nightcap – whatever that was – your Highness? Everyone addressed her by a name that wasn’t her own, not even Aurelia. Wasn’t that supposed to be her name? 

Before Ava even realized, her luggage had been brought in with haste and was already being hoisted up the stairs and up to what she could only assume was her new suite. It felt that from the moment of her arrival, everyone around her was tending to a task or chore while she stood there bleary and confused. Yes, she finally knew who she was, but at what cost? Betrayal from the one person in the galaxy she had begun to open herself up to? The tears came fast after that thought, creating hot trails down her cheeks and spotting the neckline of her pristine gown. She wiped away at her eyes, but when she pulled her hand back, it was smeared with the black from her eyelashes. She’d just ruined the beautiful makeup that Luke had so carefully applied for her only a few hours before. Everyone moved too quickly. There were too many bodies around her. It was too loud and too much. Silent tears continued to spill down her face as Ava reached out for comfort, only to find a void in the back of her mind. Right. Little Grogu stayed at Luke’s. Fett would return in a matter of days to collect, then split the bounty for her return and they would be gone. She would never see him again. Mando would be nothing but a memory. 

Tears turned into soft sobs. Leia came into her perception and gently took a hold of Ava’s shoulders, with every ounce of tenderness, and wiped the tears from her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I’m sorry.” She held Ava close and dismissed all unnecessary staff for the evening. The room’s dull roar waned as Leia softly shushed and stroked Ava’s back. “Why don’t we have you take a nice, hot bath and get you into something more comfortable, okay?” 

Ava nodded meekly and let her sister and primary maid, Elvira, guide her upstairs quietly. Even after nearly a decade of being apart, Leia was still as attentive and loving as ever and all Ava could do at that realization was cry a little more. 

The trio walked up the stairs, with either woman at Ava’s side, to a large ensuite bathroom. There was a wall to wall sink and vanity, a beautiful circle window above them detailed with delicate mullions trailing over frosted glass. An impossible large soaking tub sat in the center of the room with clawed feet and brass fixtures to match the rest of the hardware. Leia kept the lights low and walked over to a cabinet lined with a multitude of different products and objects. After Elvira turned on the water, a rushing sound erupted in the room. Leia had selected two vials of scented oils that she dropped into the rushing water. The room filled with steam and the gentle aroma of what Leia called ylang-ylang and sandalwood.

“They’re supposed to be a homeopathic type of remedy. But if anything, they smell nice and I find them relaxing.” Leia finished with a warm smile. Ava could only stand there feeling like a poorly carved statue – useless and unappealing – Her sister once again had to guide her by the shoulders to a corner of the bathroom with a small chaise lounge and a foldable screen for privacy. Ava felt instantly childish and ridiculous and shuffled back in quiet embarrassment at her neediness and insecurities. Ava changed slowly, letting the garment fall from her body in a glittering puddle at her feet. It had felt foolish to wear such nice undergarments now – at the insistence of the stylist, but something else in the deepest, and most salacious parts of Ava’s mind wished there might’ve been another reason for her undressing – She pushed the thought from her mind as Leia passed her a luscious bathrobe from the other side of the changing screen. It was obviously expensive and it did indeed feel quite comfortable, but there was something else Ava wanted to wrap herself in entirely.

“You can reheat the water as much as you’d like, all you have to do is use the control pad I’ve left on the table. I had some cookies next to the tea in your room in case you wanted something to eat afterwards. Just let me or Elvira know if you need anything else.” Leia added softly before shutting the door. 

After a moment to ensure she was completely alone, Ava crept out from behind the screen to look around the room once more. The mirrors had the slightest hint of condensation clinging to the pristine glass. Ava swiped her hand across the surface to reveal a clearer reflection of her face behind the beaded water. She knew by the time she had arrived at Leia’s estate that her eyes were puffy and swollen, her makeup most likely a mess, and her face pink with fury and regret. Before that, Ava felt like the prettiest girl in the room for a whole second. Now whoever was staring back at her with wavering lines trailing down from her tear stained eyes felt just as lost and lonely as the little girl who woke up on a dusty planet all those years ago. The longer she stood gazing and pondering, Ava felt the cool tile beneath her feet sending chills up her legs that crept into her spine. She set a repeating timer for the tub heater, let the thick fabric fall to the floor, and gingerly lifted one foot after the other and sank into the aromatic water. 

Her head fell back onto the pillow just on the edge of the tub and Ava allowed her eyes to shut. The only sounds in the room were those of her heavy sighs and the gentle lapping of water against fine porcelain. The steam swirled around her face, helping to clear out the congestion and lingering pain from crying. Ava hadn’t cried that much in her life before. It hurt to furrow her brow as waves of emotions came and went. A pressure had formed behind her skull. It felt like there were too many emotions happening all at once in her head, so many in fact, she began to feel numb. So, Ava let herself sink further into the warm embrace of the water – a sensation she was sure would never be short of amazing as long as she lived – and allowed her hair to fan out like a deep, dark halo as her eyes closed. She stayed there for however long it took for her fingers and toes to wrinkle. The water reheated itself for however many times it took for her head to stop throbbing, for her thoughts to stop being so loud and feeling to return to her soul. Then, and only then, did Ava open her eyes. 

Ava let the water drained before pulling herself up and out. She took her time gently patting a warm towel against her skin till she was perfectly dry. The robe was pulled over her shoulders and wrapped around her waist tightly. She padded over to the door and walked into her suite to finally admire the sophistication and elegance of Leia’s house. 

It was almost exactly like Luke’s – understated yet comfortable, but with enough presence to command subtle luxury – it was astonishing how alike the two siblings were. All around, there were fixtures on the wall that glowed softly with the warmth of the late evening light of Tatooine’s suns. She quietly walked past the preposterously plush bed with more pillows than Ava could imagine ever necessary. She ran her fingers over the brocade bedding noting the fine needlework and quality of the materials. As she ventured further she finally noticed a sitting area to the far side with a sofa, sitting chairs, and large double doors that led out onto a private balcony. In the center was a low table with a reflective tray holding a teapot, a cup and a small plate of cookies.

Ava paused for a moment and let her head tilt back. She was in awe of her life. This new life. The more she focused, she picked up on the smell of the scented oiled wafting in from the bathroom. She could hear the oh-so-quiet thrum of electricity pulsing through the heating mechanism of the tea saucer. The carpets were so plush, her feet seemed to melt into them even as she stood perfectly still. Ava just continued to stand there, savoring the smells and sensation of her new existence. She would never be wanting for anything ever again. She was a princess after all. And yet, it all felt so strange. Ava complained a great deal but she loved working on old wrecks with Peli. She found it immensely satisfying to scrub away the hydraulic fluid and various mechanical residues from her hands. There was something gratifying about a hard day's work, seeing the outcome for one’s labor. She’d never do that again. She would become the lady she was born to be.  

Ava would attend lavish parties and events like the one from tonight. She would rub elbows and laugh with the rich and famous. She would participate in democracy and diplomacy like her sister. She would hone her skills and put them towards the improvement of the galaxy. But would it be enough? Would she ever be enough? 

In the solace of her room, Ava heard a distant voice. You’re a star too bright to miss… Jate'kara.  

After a moment of pondering, she stared down at the cup, and the little tea bag bobbing up and down. The cookies on the plate were round and thick in texture. They had a warm and appetizing aroma to them that was familiar. Taking a baked good in one hand, and the cup of tea in the other, Ava brought them to her lips one after the other. 

The tea was chamomile with honey and dashes of cinnamon. The cookie was oatmeal and morsel chips. Two of her absolute favorite things in the entire galaxy. Leia remembered after all their time apart, but worst of all, she could only imagine what Mando might’ve thought of the subtle sweetness, how her parents used to say that she looked like a small mouse with her cheeks puffed out mid chew. The combination set her off again. Fat tears began to tumble down her cheeks still chewing the soft cookie. A weak moan escaped her lips, which turned into sobs that echoed off the walls, amplifying her misery. 

Finding her family was not the happy experience she thought it was going to be. It was bittersweetness that clung to her soul like a growth that eventually overtakes its host. 

Leia burst in from the doors. “Aurelia, what’s wrong?” 

All she found was Ava crying while clutching the half eaten cookie, a crumb or two coating her lips, and the teacup close to her chest. “Mama used to love this tea. She never got mad at me when I put too much cinnamon in,” her words were broken with gasps for air and heavy sniffles, “Papa would always sneak me an extra cookie when she wasn’t looking.” It was a rather pathetic sight. But nevertheless, Leia’s face fell to a similar, but far more contained, expression of sadness. She walked the short distance to her sister, put her things back down on the table and brought the younger girl’s head to her shoulder.

It never occurred to Ava that discovering who she was, or finding her family, would mean she would mourn for them. The reality of her and her sister’s situation was a heavy burden. Their parents were gone, Ava had so little time with them, she couldn’t hardly remember their faces. Deep sadness tumbled over her like a rogue wave crashes upon the shore, wiping out whatever lies on the sand, and pulling the remnants out to sea till there was nothing left but a barren wasteland.

“I want Mommy and Daddy.” 

Leia tensed and turned her face further away from Ava’s but held her tighter. The reality of the words cut deep. Ava didn’t mean to say it, it just spilled out. She knew there was nothing her sister could do for either of them. It was the cruelty of life. The finality of death. 

“I know, Aurie, I want them too.” 

It was probably the first time Leia admitted to the pain in her heart since she was a child. But both of them were children no more. 

The two stood there for a few minutes more, crying with one another and the loss of their parents and their world.

If you’d like to remain updated follow #star wars anastasia

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[hoperoiselover]

WOOOO FINALLY A NEW CHAPTER, READ ON AO3 HERE Tw: implied dehumanizing

I ALSO WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG WITH POSTING THIS CHAPTER. I'VE BEEN EXTREAMLY BUSY WITH PERSONAL LIFE. I HOPE YOU ALL UNDERSTAND. ANYWAY ENJOY THE CHAPTER :D

CHAPTER SEVEN WHITE BOX Stanley closed the door behind him, and he looked back at the very angry yet anxious mother.

“Eliana, what’s going on? Is everything alright?..” Stanley crossed his arms on his chest, worried for his client.

“Adam. Something isn't right with him,..” Eliana was tapping her foot rapidly, the sound of high heels on stone could be heard.

“What does that mean…? He hasn’t done anything wrong, nor has he hurt anyone…Eliana what are you talking about? Does he have a disability or dietary problem that I should-” Stanley was cut off by the woman.

“No! It’s just….,” she sighed before continuing, “Adam isn’t my kid, and I think he’s not even a kid at all..”

“Oh! Is he adopted or is he going through a growth spurt or-”

“STANLEY! HE ISN’T ADOPTED, HE’S NOT GOING THROUGH A GROWTH SPURT. HE’S A FUCKING ALTERNATE STANLEY…..and he’s with my son..” Eliana screamed in frustration. She gripped on the smaller man’s shoulders and shook him.

She was desperate to get Adam away from Jonah… She wasn’t going to lose him…He was all that she had left.

“Yikes,- hold on,.. Let’s calm down for a moment…Now, you’re telling me that Adam is an alternate…” Stanley needed to process this information. If Adam was really an alternate then….why hasn’t he hurt anyone yet?

Then again, alternates usually pick loners, or people who are already weak minded.

“Yeah…look. I…I don’t want my son getting hurt. Adam showed up after my son was interacting with a guy on the T.V. , who funny enough, had the same name as you. He said that he could have friends come out of thin air, and wouldn’t you know it, Boom! Adam…” Eliana explained, she let go of Stanley, and crossed her arms on her chest, tapping her foot rapidly.

“Um... What are you suggesting me to do?...” Stanley straightened his shirt and looked at Eliana.

“I don’t know…I just…I could call the cops and have them pick it up… yet… something in me doesn’t want to do that…” Eilana explained.

Adam had caused no major problems, and it was nice to Jonah. Yet Eliana was unsure..

“Do….you think you can take care of Adam… until we figure out what to do with him?...” Eliana asked the shorter man.

“Like…after the daycare closes?...” Stanley hesitantly asked, using his hand to brush his black hair back.

“Y-yeah…Look, I don’t know what to do with him. I know he’s an alternate, but I want him away from my son…I don’t want him getting hurt…” Eliana bit the inside of her cheek; a nervous habit.

“What about me? If he’s truly an alternate, what will I do when he tries to kill me?” Stanley pressed his hands to his chest.

“...I…I don’t know Stan…look… we can just give him up to the police. Let them deal with him-”

“Wait wait…are you a hundred percent sure that he is an alternate?”

“....No…the reason I suspect he is an alternate is because when I went to the police station to find out if his birth parents were looking for him. He was marked as dead from fourteen years ago…He still looks like a little kid…” Eliana looked at Stanley with a worried expression.

“Jesus…but…how? I-it could be someone else?...” Stanley was puzzled. He didn’t know what to do with this kid..? Thing?.... Nah…Adam wasn’t a thing…

“I mean… Maybe..I don’t know,” she sighs,��Look, for now, keep an eye on him, i’ll pick him up when i’m out for work, and we will talk more about this another day.” Eliana sighed, some tension was removed from her shoulders.

“Okay… See you later then Mrs. Marshall-”

“Ms. Cruz actually…” She sighed, letting out a breath of air she didn’t know she was holding.

Stanley nodded.

“Alright, see you Ms. Cruz…”

“Bye Montgomery.” She said her goodbye once more and started to walk back to her car, finally driving off to work.

Stanley sighed and went back in the house. The door creaked as he closed it. He locked it and went back to the living room.

Cesar was sadly pouting, hands crossed on his chest as he sat on the floor. Mark was side hugging him trying to help calm Cesar down. It looked like Cesar had been crying, his eyes red and slightly puffy.

Jonah had somehow managed to look cleaner than he was before. Adam had a pile of baby wipes that were covered in various paints placed next to him….it?... Stanley sighed at the thought. How did Adam even get those baby wipes? He could’ve sworn they were under the table where he had placed his tea down on… His tea was probably cold… damn it…

Sarah and Evelin were no longer painting each other's faces. The two girls were now playing with the dollhouse, giggling to each other as they got paint on the dolls and miniature furniture.

“Evelin, Sarah, go wash your hands, you’re dirtying the dolls. Come here girls.” Stanly sighed, tired from the conversation he had just finished with Eliana.

“Mr. M, they can use these wipes I found…” Adam offered, holding a pack of baby wipes.

“I-...alright, sure thing, thank you Adam…” Stanley stuttered slightly.

Adam stood up from the floor and carried the wipes over to the girls handing it over to them.

“Thank you!” Sarah smiled and took two wipes rubbing them together in her small palms.

Adam nodded and looked at Evelin, bringing the packet closer to her.

“I-I.. um…t-thank you…” Evelin muttered, quickly taking a baby wipe and backing away slightly.

Adam nodded again once more, leaving the girls and sitting next to Jonah, who had gone back to painting.

“Look Adam! I drew us!” He smiled a wide toothy smile and showed his painting to the other boy.

It was two awfully made stick figures standing in a white void that is the canvas. Underneath them was an odd shade of green and yellow mixed together to symbolize grass. The top left corner had a yellow circle with yellow lines spaced around it; the sun. One stick figure had a brown blob on its head, while the other had a bright yellow.

Adam smiled softly at Jonah’s painting.

“It looks amazing,” Adam complemented Jonah's work.

Jonah’s smile had grown, and he giggled. He was so happy that Adam had liked it.

“What did you paint?” Jonah tilted his head slightly and looked over at Adam’s painting.

Adam’s painting was a mess of colors and rough edges. In the center of the chaos was a white square box, left untouched by the splashes of paint. In the box was a small black dot.

Jonah had a confused expression.

“What is it?”

“....I don’t know..” Adam responded dully. END OF CHAPTER SEVEN, WHITE BOX

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3211

after sleeping in and confirming plans, i fell back asleep this morning and woke up finally with my "you should be leaving now" alarm. i got up real fast, showered, died of heat exhaustion, dressed, and left in like twenty minutes. not quite a record but damn close.

i went with a friend and her mom to get lunch at a vietnamese place and cupcakes from my favorite bakery. for lunch i got beef pho and dumplings and it was all really good. i ended up with leftovers, which was surprising, but the dumplings were filling. so i put it in a container, grabbed a spoon and chopsticks, asked for a bag, and packed it all away, and we left.

at the bakery i picked up some cupcakes and a flower cookie, the kind i usually get when i go there, the ones that are my favorite. i picked a blue one today. i'm very excited to eat it.

(i'll die on the hill that klemm's bakery is the best bakery in new hampshire. if someone can prove me wrong i'll still die on that hill.)

after that adventure, i went back to joel's and i took a nap. it had gradually been raining harder and harder over those few hours, so by the time i got back it was pretty loud on my little car. but it was dull out and gray and comforting, and it was definitely sleep-inducing. i was happy to go back to bed for a while.

i woke up a little after 6, having slept about two hours. i picked up my stuff and headed home, leaving my laptop there because i didn't really need to bring it home. i also put the cupcakes in the fridge.

i got home around 7, and i sat and talked with my momma for a bit. it'd been a few days since i was last home, so i wanted to check in on her to see how she was feeling, plus that's the one place left to sit in the house, and i just missed my momma.

i opened my mail, which included a lego set, a thank you card from gramma, and the order i placed from the northeastern bookstore. i was actually able to read gramma's handwriting, which was nice, because that doesn't usually happen. the lego set is one of the four things i ordered from the lego website on star wars day, because they were having a star wars promo if you spent like $75. so i did. the rest are back ordered so i'm waiting on those still.

i grabbed my switch from my room to download a game which crow and cricket sent me money for as a graduation gift. which was super nice! because i got to play with them too! we spent two hours playing mario party together and it was so fun! i'm so happy they're my friends.

once we were done it was past 10pm, and i still hadn't had dinner. i went downstairs, and it turned out mom hadn't had dinner either, not really. that's like the one thing i don't really enjoy about being home, is having the responsibility of coordinating meals between four or five people when one of them works until 9pm, one doesn't really care, one doesn't contribute, another is judgmental and has dietary restrictions, and the last one is me.

it's frustrating, that's all.

anyway, i ate my soup leftovers. i took out onion as i went, reestablishing my distaste for white onions and reinvigorating my detestation for green onions. i also took out the meatball. it had a bad texture.

but it was still good! it's better fresh, but it was still good.

i grabbed some ice cream and munched on it while watching the baseball game before momma went to bed.

i washed out one of my new cups and filled it for the evening with ice water, and i hung out with chels for a little bit before deciding to head to bed. i packed up my cookie so it's still fresh when i have it and so it's protected from being crunched.

i care about little things. i care a lot.

a few other things.

when i was sleeping in this morning, joel came back into the room twice, once when i was sitting up having taken my meds, probably around 9:40, and once around 10:30 or something, when i had covered myself in blankets as well as blooper and the puppy. he said "did you fall back asleep??" and i slowly popped my head up from behind the stack of squish and said "no." he said "did you take your meds??" "i did take my meds, and i'm sleepy." "how are you still sleepy??? i'm WIRED." "my meds quiet everything else so i can sleep." he shook his head before saying "you're silly" and patting me on the head. he grabbed whatever it was he needed and left again.

i didn't open my computer today, but i tried to fix my gmail nonsense that i've got goin on. i set up forwarding a long time ago but it doesn't forward everything, so i need to open it properly so i can see the shit that doesn't go to my other email account. rip.

speaking of emails, i saw, in my inbox, a message as i was cleaning out the new garbage emails. it was from one of the places i applied to this week. they want to schedule a time to talk about the position. i double checked the posting to see if it was the one i thought it was for, and it is - it's the daytime, full-time shift that i was realistically hoping for. so i'm hoping to talk to them on monday or something. that'd be nice.

that's where i am about now. excited, didn't think i'd get this far, tired. hungry. tummy grumbling. time for sleeping.

[mydepressionisjustified]

I have sacrificed and foregone nearly everything that is intrinsic to me. My friends, family, home, pride, peace, confidence, health care, dietary and sexual needs. I was removed from anyone who cared about me. I was admonished when I didn't have the energy to serve his needs and give him support. I was made to feel small and trapped, then if I ever had to ask him to help me, I had to see him huff and puff and talk down to me like was an errant child.

I'm not saying it was 100% terrible, but a pretty face and a few nice holidays isn't enough.

I shouldn't be worried that when I ask him for a hug or a back rub that it'll be the 80% of the time that he rejects me.

I shouldn't be seeing him ignoring me, reading Reddit 90 seconds into me talking to him about a project that's important to me, that I've only just built up the courage to overcome the rejection sensitivity and talk to him about.

He didn't used to be like this.

And a quote from my mother, one of the last things she said to me in our family home before he passed keeps running through my head. After talking about how her partner never cared enough to give her the bare minimum care or affection, didn't make her feel safe;

"He not the man that I feel in love with".

Not just the words, but the tone, the defeat in her voice.

[garak]

judas i saw this sturgeon today at the um the fuckin uhh aquarious, and they told me i could pet it if i put my fingers inside the pool and if the sturgeon came up to me because of um, they value fish consent at the acauarion where the fish are kept against their will but wheatever, sturgeon — to my understanding — are vibe sensitive and sage and wise and what have you so i respect whatever their decision may be. despite knowing the rejection would emotionally destabilize me the sturgeon did not acknowledge me at all. and there were several of them so i know they talked behind my back. the lady with the micolrophone was there i asked her if they had names and she said no which is fucking whatever because why do the FuckAss sea lions which — by the way, terrible, ostentatious vibes coming from them — have names but the sturgeon do not. oh is it because they perform? because they’re well moisturized and have silly mustaches? so does every man in bushwick and i’ll tell you something there is not a single name i have heard in bushwick that i have committed to memory and i will not start now. and i will do the same for sea lions every. fucking. time. they think they’re so greatl like girl whatever no one cares if you use snail mucin or retinol, skincare is the dietary scam of the 20s would do all of youse some good to hop on jstor for once, keep up to date with the current direction of academic discourse maybe. have thought provoking conversations about the culture, listen to NPR for an hour or two…this american life… serial if ya nasty. put a coexist bumper sticker on the back your car, appropriate some eastern medicine of sorts. not everyone can survive on having whiskers and a tote bag, that’s why you always need a phd in your back pocket. well the point was the sea lions have names and oh they let you know they have names. same with dolphins they’re the sociopaths of the sea like genuinely they hooked some dolphins to some fuck ass water biologician machines and they found that they actually share the same vibes as that one girl in middle school that would laugh at you behind your back but was nice to your face. they found that they both — if given the opportunity — will kill for sport. the point is the sturgeon don’t have names and i was like well i oughta… but i just nodded with liberal arts condescension and i know she felt the vibe because she had a strand of purple hair. yeah girl know that i dissent from your corporate compliance to not giving these sturgeon names because why are you just accepting they don’t have names you can just make it up. the sea otters have names too but that’s okay. gibson and mara. the lesson sea otters have for the world is that holding hands is great and hit shit against rocks real hard to open them which is like yeah bring back real intimacy, what do sea lions have to share beyond be slipery clap have Fugly untrimemd mustache, and KILL baby penguins? food for thought. anyway i named the sturgeon whose attention i wanted conan (gender neutral) and i thought it would be a ble to sense the fact i dislike sushi and that it’s okay princess get behind me i will protect yuou but they didn’t and mind you conan was like, doing the rounds. so the fish probably hates me but whatever i bought my mom a magnet for get this, 11 dollars. this whole ordeal made me think of you. what’s up how’s it going

wow youve given me a lot to think about i agree that sea lions that perform are obnoxious i think that sea lions in the wild are fine but they clearly have a penchant for showmanship like why else would they always be hanging out on that pier in frisco if not for tourist attention. i think in another life brendan urie was a sea lion. sturgeon touch pools are cool in concept but i do think they are a little too aloof to be good touch pool animals because their minds are often on other things like rotating 3d objects in their minds and shit. whats up with me is i just got off the plane to seattle. on the way home my dad told me they saw two giant 8+ foot arapaimas at the zoo in madrid that were bigger than the manatees that were supposed to be the main attraction. it really is a bias towards mammals i think that causes discrepancies like this to abound... people think they have more in common with a dolphin or manatee than a fish. but the question we should be asking ourselves is do we really want to be like dolphins? or should we aspire to be like the sturgeon long lived easily contented and peaceful with bone armor under our skin

[sureinsunlight]

I HATH BEEN SUMMONED FOR THE GREAT OC ASK

thank you @entropyking for the call to arms, we've got The Entire List! For my poor fleshcrafted girl Mopsy, previously Elaine Nestor. Ahem:

are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

Silver and a sort of palest lilac, from her fur and her eyes.

This sort.

what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

Oh! She really, really likes film scores, specifically from the late 80s and early 90s. More contemporary stuff is nice, too, but she'll really go for anything without vocals... think Sleeping at Last's astronomy series, she'd like those.

weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

Doesn't need one. Mopsy's body has grown past the little pet it was designed to be, and now her teeth can carve and a kick from one of her overgrown, lapine legs can crumple a car fender. It makes her position in her new-found "family" of killers quite the important one.

how crafty/resourceful are they?

She isn't exactly conniving, but Mopsy's had her back against the wall more than once, and can get out of new situations pretty reliably-- albeit usually by running or obliterating the problem, but still.

how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

Mopsy used to just pick whatever would cover up her bulk, generally very dysmorphic about her appearance post-escape from Cavalry (the Tzimisce that made her into what she is now), especially as her form outgrew the bounds set for it and played a brutal variation on the theme. After meeting a much kinder sort of person in Rainer, the vampire that's more-or-less become a big brother to her, she's had access to prettier dresses and outfits properly tailored to fit her form, and actually enjoys how she looks most days now. Her style tends towards the frilly and slightly froufrou, exploring an aesthetic of femininity she was once forced into and then denied on her own terms.

how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

Mopsy loves her hair, it's one of the few things about her transformation she always enjoyed. It's very long, and silvery-white, and though she keeps the wispy flowings along her arms and legs shaved, she makes sure care is paid to what's on her head. She usually lets it hang free, or done up in a braid-- when the Family sends her out on business, it's tied up first.

favorite animal? why?

Rabbits, wouldn't you know. She's reclaiming them for herself. Mice are a close second, because, I mean, look at them.

do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

Mostly just abbreviations like Mops. Technically her name is a nickname, but she doesn't feel right using her given one these days. Attemps to give her any sort of pet name will usually result in responses ranging anywhere from frustration to violence.

favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

She likes baked sweets a lot, particularly fudgy brownies-- though theyre a devil to get out of her rabbitty teeth. Dislikes sour things and peppermint, as a rule, but generally has no restrictions besides the fact that her body needs to eat quite a lot to keep itself healthy.

if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?

Silver's preferred to gold, generally; she mostly likes to have necklaces over anything else. Her nose is pierced, too, so different rings or piercings could be tried out-- her primary one contains a glamour to help her move through the public eye, though, so that stays in usually.

what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

Not very much I'd say, not immediately. I've definitely gone through a point of intense dysmorphia due to procedures I had to undergo (albeit for me it was lifesaving as opposed to a thorough horror-movie experience), so I borrow from some of that understanding when writing Mops, but that's about it. I do think she and I would get along nicely, though, if we met as simply two people and less as character-and-author (in which case I assume I'd be summarily beaten to a pulp).

how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?

Ever since middle school, although the concept and particulars have changed heavily since then! I don't know her birthday, but she would, and I feel like a quiet celebration with Rainer and her friend crush soulmate (its complicated) Nim!

what languages do they speak? how fluently?

Monolingual, sadly. English is all she knows. Tried picking up some Quebecois French for the sake of some cross-province friends a while back, but... Yeah, she's probably not seeing them again.

are they any good with numbers?

Not incredibly? She can count, and like, math is fine, but Cavalry took her away around middleschool age, so anything after that is more or less a wash. She'd like to get some more education, but the Family really needs her to keep working for them, so...

how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

Before Cavalry showed his true colors, he was a family friend to her parents, who she lived with growing up. Nowadays, she lives with the rest of the so-called "Beatrix Gang"-- Old Brown, Miss Tiggywinkle, and Mr. Todd (and of course, Rainer, who doesn't headline but takes genuinely good care of her).

do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?

No pets here! Never owned one, actually.

how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

She was a big big fan of swimming. She really wants to learn how to swim with her new body, if she can get the time.

their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

Not things people ought to do. The killing, of course... Well, Tiggs has made it very clear it's for an important cause. She tries to stay okay with it.

are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

She can have a temper at times, usually at feeling like she's being babied or coddled, or talked down to-- especially the latter. She's worked a lot on settling that gut reaction, of course, but she's still learning. Going through the sorts of things she did generally doesn't make you an even-keeled person.

if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?

Not got a car, no. She wouldn't know what to do with one even if she had access to one.

their favorite place to be?

At Nim's house, or bounding along the rooftops of Haven at night.

do they sleep well at night?

Oh, way better than she used to, yeah. All thanks to Rainer and Nim.

how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

Her voice is very nice, honestly-- she doesn't talk a lot, partly because one of the changes involved a very severe cleft palate, but she's started getting a little more confident. And she has a good tone control, honestly. High and whispy.

do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)

She doesn't create too often, isn't yet confident enough to make bad art and hasn't got around yet to adaptive tools for her hands, which lack much any dexterity-- having been shaped into pawlike structures. A little thought in the back of her head would like to try painting...

how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?

Having grown far past the bounds of her flesh-shaping, Mopsy's senses are fairly sharp. She's actually a bit near-sighted, but her sense of smell and hearing are incredibly sharp with her skull and ears having been shaped as they are.

how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

She does have mobility aids! She can move incredibly quickly when she needs to, with her legs launching her great distances, but she's not quite capable of walking unaided, so she uses arm braces to support herself with upright steps. For short distances, typically where she feels most comfortable (or where the Gang has convinced her to try and be scary), she tends to lope on all fours, raising her front much as she can.

if applicable, do they have a favorite sport? do they play any sports or prefer to watch?

Never been much of a sports fan, no. Did swimming, as earlier stated, but mostly as a hobby.

how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

Mopsy uses her words as much as is comfortable to voice her care, but beyond that tends to default to staying close, physical touch such as cuddling or resting against someone, or acting generally protective of them as a way to express her care.

are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

Earth feels most right, here. She's a grounded sort, and when she takes to the air it's as a stone's throw, to crash down with power and surety.

do they smell like anything notable?

Very very faintly of grapes. It's her favored conditioner.

do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

She really really likes getting gifts, though she'll tell you that you don't need to give her anything. Her favorite gifts, like the ones that Rainer has given, are things adapted for her-- fitted clothing, accommodations, experiences that she can take part in. That always means a lot.

do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

It's a habit she picked up from when she lived with Cavalry, but she bruxes when she gets excited or nervous. Also she has a habit of smoothing out her hair with her hands half-obsessively now and then.

if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

They'd call her sister, or daughter, or delight. The kinder ones would simply say she's a very quiet, kind, and occasionally bright soul.

how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

She'd say she's just someone who tries to make up for the bad that's been done, to and by her.

do they ever return home?

No. Maybe she can make one, though.

[atangledfate]

It did make her heart flutter to see Poppy smile, and happy again. That warmness was what drew her to her love, and continued to make her feel so treasured. Both of Poppy and Lilly were such a treasure to be around and she did wish for Lilly to think of her as family. But both lilly and poppy had a certain fire in here souls that blaze had never seen in another. She adored them dearly, and was happy that mess in flora was done.

Blaze chuckled at Poppy who spoke of her mother, and behaving herself. She could only hope Scarlett played nice for now, it would likely be a battle in there. She was sure Jean could handle himself, he had done this job for years now, and he was quite talented. Still maybe Poppy was right she hoped they didn't devolve into a fight of some kind.

" Your Mother does have a certain fire about her doesn't she? Still i'm sure she'll keep it civil... after all its just one little meal. But yes let's go fetch Gardon... i imagine he's got his hands full by now "

She kept her arms wrapped about Poppys and clasped her hand in poppys own like letting go and she might vanish. She could be such a clingy woman she knew. But after that episode with her heart she was jst worried about her. Plus she enjoyed her warmth, why would she ever let go?

Blaze and Poppy found Gardon in the garden. Lilly needed to run off that energy so he took her outside to get some fresh air. The old Koala stil had his files with him working away, while lilly seemed to enjoy herself in the garden with all the flowers, and plants of all kinds. Blaze could naturally sense the life force of others so finding them was no issue for her. Though she couldn't do the same for poppy or Lilly for obvious reasons.

" Ah Highness, Poppy, i see you have returned. I hear with quite the procession... our new Guard captain had choice words ... ahah! she'll adjust i'm sure. "

Gardon whistle at Lilly and motioned to Poppy as obviously she likely missed her mother.

" I have the rooms being prepared, though it will take some time. But i trust things went well in Flora? "

Blaze seemed to stop in her tracks giving poppy a look at Gardons question. How did one describe the trip? Fraught with peril? a mess and a half? filled with adversity? Chaos it was an experience that was for sure!

" Flora was... exhausting... im glad to be home..."

=======================================

Meanwhile back in the kitchen...

Jean went stiff seeing her nit picking his staff. He nearly wanted to throw the woman in the nearest dumpster! But he stopped himself as he took a deep breath, his large jelly belly bouncing as he wobbled over to Scarlett! He needed to stop this before it got worse! He would have some choice words for the princess later!

" MA'DAM! i can assure you my staff are the best of the best! trained by myself for the singular duty of serving the royal family! Rest assured we will treat your family with the same loving tender care--- now perhaps you have a dish you'd like us to prepare! "

He tried to remain jolly and non-hostile---it wasn't working! and no matter how hard he tried! this woman was invading his kitchen! judging his staff! THAT WAS HIS JOB!!! how dare she yell at them! that was his job to yell at the staff!

" Perhaps is a traditional florian dish you'd like us to prepare! i'm sure i can easily whip something up! and if there are dietary needs i will make accommodations! "

Scarlett would start to eye all the other's chief as she walked down the line, stopping at one before grabbing their sleeve and raising it up along with their arm. "What is this? Your sleeve is filthy. You need to roll it up more, and keep your arms tucked in. Reduces cuts and burns while keeping your sleeves clean." Seemed like this feline was going to be tough on the staff.

"Guilty as charged, though a little bit of spunk never hurt anyone." Poppy didn't mind the fact Lily could have a bit of attitude at times. Meant that she could handle what life threw at her when she got older. "Though I'm sure she'll warm up to you in no time at all." Blaze had already made a good impression giving her daughter that crown.

"Oh, I imagine she's already found something she couldn't ignore with one of the other chiefs. My mum has a keen eye and doesn't let things slide easily, though I am hoping she keeps herself tame, at least for tonight. Breakfast might be a different story." Poppy would worry about all that tomorrow.

"Though let's go make sure Gardon isn't being pushed to his limit by Lily." Poppy was sure as soon as Lily saw them she'd be asking how it went in Flora. Hopefully Gardon was spared from a majority of her daughter's energy today at the very least as she did leave her with something to distract her for at least a bit.

Lily was starting to have a hard time keeping herself from rushing around and asking questions, though promised her mom to take it easy. Clearly something that was hard for the young opossum was she was walking in a circle at the moment.

[tm95-snarl]

I’ve had my 2 hour nap. And my 5 hour panic attack. Burgh called a Nurse Joy for me. Nurse Joy and Audino helped me calm down. Breathing exercises and Heal Pulse helped. Nurse Joy said she recommended I have some health tests done, and I get some extra vaccines that I need. I can do that. But first, I’m going to list some evidence. To help me think something through.

I can’t take a punch like my family can. Bugs don’t bother my little cousins. Bug type bites hurt me a lot, I had to get specialist treatment when a nest of small durant bit me but my cousins don’t need care for their bug bites. Every therapist that I’ve went to had psychic types as a helper and I ended up quitting therapy because they couldn’t literally read my mind. Which is too high of an expectation now that I think about it, but the ones who specifically advertised it as a service couldn’t ever do it to me.

The “therapy” when I was a kid. It wasn’t just teaching (forcing) me how to mask my autism. It was teaching (forcing) me how to not act like a Zorua. I bet the stupid mirror therapy where I had to practice facial expressions and shit for hours on end after I had to stare at pictures of my dads and moms faces and body language was to get me to get me to look like them. Was the whole “no, you can’t talk to Pokémon, that’s just a silly kid make believe thing” even right?!?

My dietary issues. Onions and garlic hurting my stomach. Every time I go in the fish market I have to hold myself back from just grabbing a raw fish and eating it. My families long history of lactose intolerance.

When I entered college, the blood tests for certain diseases said I tested positive for pokerus. I had to quarantine for a month before they told me it wasn’t an active case.

The sudden change I had around half a year ago. I suddenly could do so much more things. I felt more, more alive and myself. I wasn’t terrified of driving anymore. I didn’t have any more of my small blackouts. I could just do like ‘adult crud’ without screwing up completely. Dang it, I bet I evolved then.

“Why do you want that Zorua? Isn’t it creepy? It’s a dark type. It has illusions. It isn’t safe. Why not a nice pidove? Or a patrat? Or a sewaddle like your aunt Isla? Your uncle Jolt’s galvantula just laid eggs, you can have a joltic! A munna would be great for your nightmares! An Audino would be a perfect Pokémon for your health! A timburr! A minnichino! A lillipup! A venipede! No dark types! Anything but the Zorua, even a Trubbish would be better than that!” That’s why they didn’t like Prince Shade! That’s so messed up.

“We don’t use Pokeballs, they aren’t safe.” That’s why! This is why!

They knew! I bet they knew! This is messed up!

Are they some sort of Pokémon too?!?

My family, on my moms side, have always been extra resistant, or rarely even immune, to usually not malicious ghost types tricks and extra tough at taking punches. They do tend to be hurt a lot by the nastier pranks and dirtier fighting that dark types tend to like. I always chalked that up to the scholarly bent to our families little culture, and the endurance we have to have to survive our families genetic health issues. Our family patriarch preached that we were all born with hate in our hearts, all of us as a species, and that it’s something we have to overcome and be kind. I thought he meant humanity - that’s part of why I didn’t see Team Plasma and Neo Plasma as wrong. Maybe he meant as a species of Pokémon?

I have to call my mom.

But first, some medical tests. I am comfortable with medical tests. I trust Nurses. Crap, the Nurses all probably found out and didn’t say anything cuz they thought I knew and was keeping it a secret. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone in a position of power has done for me other than the doctors who worked so hard to keep me alive when I came into this world an early runt.

[thekatebridgerton]

Can we please not support ai art? It is so harmful to actual artists

Cover your ears sensitive people of the internet, I'm about to say something probematic that nobody likes to hear:

Do you know what kind of people annoy me the most in this site Anon?. Nagging Nancies.

Why? Because I personally believe that nobody in Tumblr is entitled to tell anyone what to do or what to post or how to live their lives.

For good or for bad, I assume that in general people here are in possession of a good head on their shoulders and don't need me to be their moral compass. I don't think it's right to assume people don't have common sense and can't tell right from wrong, If they're not in possession of a good head on their shoulders, why would they listen to me anyway? It's not like I've ever done anything that would make a bad person pay me attention willingly.

If you nag them, they'll only do it in private, that's why I think cancel culture is a sham, people in general don't do what you Want them to do just because you tell them to.

Maybe I'm naive but I generally assume that good people will do good things and bad people will not stop doing bad things just because I post something in their inbox denouncing a post that I think is morally incorrect.

Else I would gleefully be in all of your inboxes pushing my multiple amount of biases in your faces. I've had it done to me, and it's not nice, I'm still recovering from a lifetime of my mother's nagging actually. Sure she's lovely and she made me into a halfway decent person, but I still resent her narrowed eyes whenever I look at my phone too much during brunch. And boy does it feel nice to eat froot loops at 3pm without her judging my dietary choices

In the art of shaming me to get me to act according to her way of thinking? Well...my mother is an expert, you're just a beginner anon

My point is, I've never claimed to be a good person. Although I do think I am, within my own sphere of influence I try not to hurt anyone. (Which is what I think a good person should do). But on Tumblr if you claim to be a good person, Nagging Nancies will tear you to shreds. Nitpick the one post (or 5) out of 2k where you used a crappy Ai art generator and say something along the lines of ' you're such a bad person because you did ______ and you're not really being supportive to _______ group of people ' ( it's not really a creative kind of script, but it does get repetitive after seeing it a few thousand times in different fonts). So yeah, according to the Tumblr shame post definition, I must not be a good person.

But here's the deal with me Anon, back when I worked in Sales, I did and said anything people like you wanted me to do and say in order to seem more likeable....It didn't end well. Sure people did like me, but I was so hyper focused on everyone's opinion that it was blowing up my nerve endings and doing a number on blowing up my blood vessels. The stress of living for others was literally killing me, or at the very least on its way to giving me a nervous collapse.

So I decided it wasn't worth it. And stopped jumping when people told me to jump, I learned that just because it made them feel better to recruit another person to their cause, it didn't mean they actually cared about me, or wanted me to feel better. And I needed to care about me.

You may not think you're doing anything wrong by posting that kind of thing in my or anyone else inbox Anon, I'm sure you're a person who just wants to bring awareness to an issue that's important to you. But I just wanted you to see it from my point of view. Whatever you take away from that, it's on you.

My response probably won't make you like me, but maybe it will make you understand me. And if I stop using Ai art generators or not, it won't be because you put your call to arms in my inbox.

It will be because I come to the decision on my own and it will be because my thoughts and actions are in the end: up to me

And that's the tea