#it will dehydrate you more

[kasumingo]

On the note of what's actually good for hydration - if you don't like the taste of water, there are other options than sweet drinks

Some of the options could include unsweetened teas (black, green, herbal, fruit), beer (in moderation, the less alcohol content the better), yoghurt-based drinks like Ayran, buttermilk or kefir (and even milk)

If none of that works, you can always check if it's the brand or carbonation of water that doesn't fit your tastes - or even vessel you drink it from. Your food and drinks will taste different based on if you're drinking them from a plastic bottle, a jug, a thin glass or a mug.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

real talk having the 2nd worst new years eve yet 🤢🤢🤢 (throat infection, twisted neck, banged-about-foot, ego AND the rest o' me all bruised like misjuggled peaches 🍑🍑🍑)

im bent outa shape and suspectin the universe owes me 8 buck if anyone wannsa chip in

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I love how you draw Xie Lian fucking jacked lmao

He's built like a trucker. To Me.

[chococakeo]

TEAM FREEDOM EHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

Trickster belongs to @yourloveaton of course AND THE COOKIES: Nems belong to @bloobluee Dust belongs to @ask-dusttale Barely visible Horror belongs to @sour-apple-studios

[faunandfloraas]

nothing has made me realize how little i care about abs like getting into kpop has

[deesi-academia]

"I'm so tired ugh why" <- probably dehydrated and running on 3 hours of sleep per day

[luthorao3]

i’m in the mood to read/write the most self indulgent sci-fi swarla au. underworld as a ship, part of a greater human flotilla, carla at its helm. lisa with her own tiny cruiser, which she spends more nights in than she does back at her apartment on the greater populated ship (too many memories). perfect mental image in my head of betsy tearing up and customising her fleet-issued standard citizen uniform so that her belly’s showing. plot? unrealised, just let me enjoy the aesthetic. 🥹

[feverflushed]

As someone with pretty severe POTS, let me tell you: give POTS to your characters if you want to whump them real good.

It kills their stamina. Makes them perpetually fatigued, so they need to rest regularly. Fainting is frequent, and your whumpee must keep up with the hydration in order to keep the symptoms in check.

It would really be a pity if your whumpee got stuck somewhere with no access to water... or if they got a stomach bug that makes it impossible for them to drink...or if a high fever dehydrated them real good. Or if the weather is simply really hot, or if they're overexerting themselves.

Looks like there's a really close encounter with the floor in your poor whumpee's future!

[tj-crochets]

Went to the doctor just for a check up and he basically just told me "your body just processes sugar very well! :) :) :) It's a good thing! :) :) :) It can't possibly be the source of your symptoms even though eating fixes it :) :) :)" But there was also a moment when talking about my iron deficiency that is possibly one of the funniest things a doctor has ever said to me, up with the cardiologist who said "you're a medical mystery": He was going over my blood test results, and said "Your iron levels haven't gone up at all, they are still extremely low, but you're not anemic anymore" And I was like how am I not anemic anymore??? And he said "Your hemoglobin levels have gone up...somehow..." while frowning at the blood test results on his computer. It was very "somehow, palpatine has returned" lol

[rawr-mortgage]

i need Roger to tell me that i'm grown and need to get over the taste of my iron tablets becuz being pissed off at myself for chronic fatigue is counterintuitive when i'm pretending i'm not anemic.

[bees-and-stuff-to-buzz-about]

While I'm in a rental and I know it can't be guaranteed to stay, I'm going to plant Richmond Birdwing Vine (pararistolochia praevenosa), Purple Violet (viola betonicifolia), and Native Violet (viola hederacea).

They're the host plants for the Richmond Birdwing and Australian Fritillary butterflies, and I keep seeing that post about a man in America who helped out significantly I think with the California pipevine swallowtail.

There's so much I can't do to help with the environment, but planting a vine I'll need to trim in my own yard alongside a handful of other native plants and having a bit of a veggie garden helps myself, my family, and some animals in the area.

[raintemper]

na it wont actually, where i live, it never rains, literally

Funny you say this when it is heavily pouring where I’m at. Have a five pebbles :]

[themysticaldrumstick]

Please remember to hydrate 🥰

You guys are gonna kill me with your kindness one day, istg. Bless you.

[triptychofvoids]

Hello, maybe you were asked this before, but how can I stop forgetting to drink water? I definitely don't drink enough, but I usually don't feel thirsty either so I simply don't remember about having to drink more often than ≈4 times a day??

hm! this does seem to be a somewhat common issue from what i have seen.. well, you may have heard this advice before, but i know it helps some people to set alarms or reminders on their phones or computers that will remind them to drink water every once in a while. it may also help to have a cup of water or water bottle on standby wherever you spend the most time. for example, if you spend a lot of time at your desk, having a water bottle there on your desk in your line of sight may help you remember or at least be there conveniently for you! if you are not already drinking water with your meals then that may be helpul as well. if you forget or simply dont feel thirsty for most other times of the day, then at least having water with each meal will be much better than nothing if you are not doing that already. finally i am thinking if you dont feel thirsty but you do feel hungry then it may be helpful to eat foods with more water already in them like certain types of fruit and so on....

[dangraccoon]

I Don't Know Anymore

Day 29 ~ "who said you could rest?" ~

Wrecker

Word Count: 1399 Content: DARK CONTENT: 18+ Minors DNI, Slavery (Zygerrians), Abuse, Starvation, Dehydration, Electrocution, Hopelessness, Giving Up/In, Resentment, TBB's Chips Activate, Implied Completion of the mission to Onderon in s01e01

“Good work on Onderon, sergeant,” Tarkin hummed with a smirk. “I must admit, given the extensive documentation of your unit’s deviance, I am somewhat surprised by your loyalty to the Empire.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hunter said. “I hope it’s a… pleasant surprise?”

“Indeed. Your unique squad will be quite an asset. Your next orders should arrive soon.”

The door slid shut behind the Admiral, the squad falling out of their rigid formation.

Tarkin was right; their orders arrived only a few hours later. 

“‘CT-9903 is to report to Hangar 21-D at 1800. All other members of Clone Force 99 are to report to Conference Room K-02 at 0600 tomorrow,’” Tech read out.

“Awh,” Wrecker grumbled. “Why am I different?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair rolled his eyes, flicking his toothpick toward him.  

“You’ll probably just get to miss the briefing,” Hunter assured him. “You’ve always hated those anyway.”

The few short hours passed uneventfully until Wrecker stood at the doors, ready to head to the hangar. “See you later?”

Hunter only nodded. 

As he walked into the seemingly empty hangar, something deep in the back of Wrecker’s mind whispered that something wasn’t right.

That same voice practically screamed as the door shut behind him, boxing him into the room.

“Someone there?” he called. “I think I’m supposed to be here.”

“Yes, you are,” Admiral Tarkin said, stepping out of the shadows. “Place your armor and gear in this crate; the associate we’re meeting should be arriving soon.”

The outer doors began to open as Wrecker deposited the last of his armor plates.

Wrecker narrowed his eyes at the incoming ship. “An Aurore-class freighter?”

Tarkin ignored him, moving to greet the Zygerian that stepped down from the lowering ramp.

“Prime Minister Molec,” he said.

“Admiral,” Molec purred. His eyes fell on Wrecker. “Is this the… specimen of which you spoke?”

“Yes,” Tarkin nodded. “As I previously mentioned, his unit will be used for stealth missions, and he is the… weakest link in that circumstance.”

Wrecker frowned but remained silent as the Zygerian prime minister circled him.

“Yes, I think he will do well,” he hummed.

Tarkin nodded. “I assume you have the sum of credits we discussed?”

“I do.”

—

He coughed harshly, the dryness in his throat stinging. He glanced over his shoulder at the guard glaring at one of his crewmates as she swung her pick at the wall. 

The sharp groan of metal breaking rang out and he could hear the young nautolan woman’s tremors.

“P-please, it- it was an accident,” she pleaded, her voice rough from disuse as the guard approached her, his electro-whip crackling in his hand.

He turned his face as the whip cracked and the woman cried out. Over the 11 months he’d been chained to the walls of these mines, he’d earned his share of new scars and felt the all-encompassing despair that racked his body as the electricity surged through. 

Most of his so-called “transgressions” were in defense of his crewmates, but it always ended the same way: both he and the original victim were beaten until they could barely stand. He’d stopped standing up against the guards for others about a week in, realizing it to be hopeless. His crew would be punished if they didn’t reach the minimum weight, and if he wasn’t taken down, they stood a greater chance. Passing the minimum weight meant their rations wouldn’t be reduced.

He’d tried to escape once. He waited until the guards changed shifts, easily breaking the chains and shock collar that trapped him, and he made a run for it.

He didn’t even reach the door before being caught, subdued, and punished.

He tried to tune out the woman’s cries, but he knew he’d hear them echoing in his mind. He lowered his pick to the ground, his ribs still sore and burning from his last beating.

“Who said you could rest?” another guard snarled, having appeared behind him.

His body fought to speak, to raise his fists against the slaver, but instead, he simply turned away, lowering himself to his knees to accept the inevitable punishment.

It hurt, of course. It hurt every time. Idly, he wondered if he was here long enough– if he endured enough cracks of those damned whips– if he willed his heart to just stop caring, would it stop the pain? Would all the nerves that screamed out for help finally die away, leaving him blessedly numb? 

The volume-sensitive shock collars had stolen that strong-willed, boisterous personality from him and left him with more time to think than he’d ever allowed before.

He had heard the prayers sent on hushed breaths to gods he couldn’t comprehend believing in. He’d never held an interest in religion or belief but found that as he looked around at the chained souls around him–hurt, starving, forsaken–he couldn’t bring himself to believe in the idea of any benevolent, loving maker. If one were real, how could they let their believers suffer like this? Where was the divine retribution for their torturers? No, he didn’t believe in their gods but he found more and more that it was just that he was here. 

The thought of his brothers with each lashing he received. He remembered their fierce, defiant natures and the way each one of them would stand up for what they thought was right. Because of this, he found himself thinking more and more of Onderon. 

Every sleepless night, every scrap of food confiscated, every drop of water denied–it was for them; for the souls he and his brothers deprived of the rest of their lives by some senseless order. They’d defied orders for less, but that one? They followed that order to the letter. 

So yes, he thought of his brothers. He thought of their final mission together. He wondered if they still lived, untethered and free beneath the millions of stars that dotted the sky. He wondered if the Empire sold their souls like they’d sold him. He wondered if they were paying for their sins or committing more. He wondered if they knew what happened to him. He wondered if they even cared.

Bitter resentment had long been brewing in his gut. He no longer wished for the flashes of comforting armor. He couldn’t picture the twirl of Hunter’s blade as it flew through the air into a guard's neck. He couldn’t imagine the careful dance through the enemy forces Tech would conduct as he set up a chain reaction. He couldn’t hear the even, steady beat of Crosshair’s rifle as his captors were picked off one by one. He couldn’t dream of Echo helping him to his feet, steadying his breaking body. 

He couldn’t feel the thrill of imagining his squad–his brothers–coming to save him from the relentless oppression he’d been sold into. 

He wasn’t an idiot; he knew that curiosity would have gotten the better of Tech. He knew his brother would look for him, and that between Tech and Echo, they could’ve found him if they cared to. 

But he knew they didn’t. 

He groaned as he lifted himself back up from the ground, back still stinging. 

An alarm sounded, indicating a shift change. He looked toward the woman whose pick had broken. She was out cold on the ground, the meager, so-called “clothing” they’d dressed them all in was all but disintegrated where it had laid across her back. The remnants of his heart ached for her. 

He turned her over, gently nudging her shoulder. When she didn’t wake, he snaked his arms around her back and beneath her legs, lifting her to rest against his chest. 

Her large, dark eyes opened slightly. Her lips moved, words softly carrying across her breath so only he could pick up through such careful practice. Any volume higher and the collar would activate. “What is your name?”

He hesitated with a scowl. It had been so long since he’d had any name, let alone the one he and his brothers had chosen. The very, very few times he had been referred to by anything beyond the harsh insults hurled at him by the guards and masters, it had been by his birth number or the number they’d branded to the back of his neck. Which would he give her? One slave number or the other?

His jaw shook as he mouthed his response. “I don’t know anymore.”

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Thanks for reading! - River

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Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @padawancat97 @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[auraboo]

Some character doodles, mainly of Ren'i and Hawk. I've been trying to demonstrate the differences in their body types and have some better references for myself moving along.

Also: something of a height/body type chart of the two main families! If you haven't grasped just how stupidly tall Hawk is yet, well, he's stupidly tall. He's the tallest akheri in Hatam-Ile - their average height is between 160-170 cm - so he kind of stands out. (growing up wasn't fun for him, he was already pretty tall as a kid)

I wanted to keep the style more cartoony, which def. helped me focus on the body types and shapes without sweating the details too much.

(and in case anyone's wondering, yes, Chuja, Nahere, Mitae, Nightsong and Ared are all trans)