#mobile dry cleaning

[kylehayness]

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[gscleanmbdetail]

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[cogiita]

licks her in his dragon form.

just stands there. outfit drenched in dragon slobber; her hair frazzled and hat licked off.

“ you are lucky i love you regardless of the form you take.”

[thestrawberrygirly]

150 things to do when you're bored 🧸🍰🍓

make a journal and write down about your dreams.

try baking a cake.

draw sanrio characters.

learn choreo of the song 'war of hormones' by bts.

stream bts songs or your favorite band's songs.

clean your room.

play any cute mobile games like Purrfect Tale, Resonance of Ocean, Resortopia, Sumikkogurashi Farm, Rhythm Hive, HelloKittyWorld2 Sanrio Kawaii and more. (these are available on android)

plant some trees.

watch any ghibli studio movie.

declutter your phone.

watch some aesthetic japan vlogs.

read a book.

do some skincare.

make a playlist on spotify about the songs you would like to play if you owned a cute café.

write a book about your dream world.

do pilates.

try coquette aesthetic makeup.

start crocheting.

go for a bicycle ride.

have picnic with friends or alone.

watch youtube videos.

go stargazing.

try skateboarding.

go for a walk and observe the beautiful nature and then journal about it.

try cooking with your partner or friends

make a youtube channel.

start a side hustle.

start blogging.

read your favorite blogs.

listen a podcast.

write a song about your favorite person.

make music on bandlab.

write down goals you want to achieve.

learn new language.

re-organise your closet.

take a day off from social media.

take a nap.

organise your pinterest boards.

write a poem.

write a letter to yourself.

make a cute diy necklace.

invent a cute game to play with your friends.

learn to count in another language.

look through a cookbook and try something new.

water the plants.

pray.

try meditating for 5 minutes.

read my blogs :) <3

draw cute doodles.

make cute things out of air dry clay.

create cute diy stickers.

bake cookies in cute fun shapes.

build a blanket fort and read a book inside while eating snacks.

create a scrapbook of favorite memories.

paint rocks with colorful cute designs.

make cute bracelets for your bestfriend.

write a cute story about fairies.

make homemade popsicles with fruit juice.

watch the sunset or sunrise and take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature.

go for a nature walk and collect interesting leaves or stones.

have a movie marathon with your favorite films.

have a fashion show with clothes from your closet.

design and decorate your own phone case.

create a memory jar filled with notes of happy moments.

design and paint your own ceramic plant pots.

learn about law of attraction.

do research about the history of something of your interest like 'how it was invented?', 'who started it?'.

create your own font.

play an old online game.

try a coloring app.

work on your wish list.

paint your nails.

take a bubble bath.

start a garden.

make your own short movie with your phone.

complete a puzzle.

write about the most beautiful dream you have ever saw.

organize your house.

make a smoothie.

put an appreciation message on a balloon and let it go.

complete a challenge like 30 day self care challenge, 30 day writing challenge and more.

visit a local art gallery.

watch a lecture or TED talk.

read a self-help book.

read a book on astronomy.

click aesthetic pictures of nature.

make your phone look aesthetic.

give your bedroom a makeover on ghibli studio aesthetic.

create a toothpick tower.

practice writing from your non dominate hand.

write about what a day in your dream life looks like.

take out your pet for a walk.

make something wearable for your pet.

learn about how to beat procrastination.

make a little plushie out of your old socks.

learn a new skill.

make a cute website in carrd.co.

write down 10 things you're grateful for.

sit by a river.

visit a local bakery.

walk around a lake.

scroll on pinterest about nature.

walk in the rain.

watch classic films.

watch fashion shows on youtube.

get a haircut.

drink water, take care of yourself <3

read some beauty tips.

watch ballet videos.

write a quote on moon.

say yes to everything for a day.

read some interesting articles.

watch your comfort movie.

write a fiction story.

make your own calendar.

have an indoor picnic with your partner.

write a list of things you will do with your bestie.

crochet something for your loved one or yourself.

learn graphic designing.

write 10 beautiful things about yourself.

make paper stars.

explore interesting websites.

explore your neighborhood.

make a yummy snack.

make hwachae.

try origami.

write a list of your favorite songs explaining why you love it.

watch run bts.

read some manga.

make strawberry cake.

watch conan gray's old vlogs <3

watch onegai my melody :D

design and launch a cute social media challenge to spread positivity and creativity online.

host a themed dinner party with your friends where everyone dresses up and brings a dish from a different culture.

have a spa day at home complete with homemade facemasks, bath bombs, and soothing music.

design a pretty jewellery.

draw your dream house.

try out guided meditation videos (you will find in youtube).

learn about a new culture.

make homemade jam.

do a random act of kindness.

research and plan a future trip.

try a new type of workout video.

research and practice self-defense techniques.

try a new type of creative writing (screenwriting, playwriting, etc.).

try a new type of DIY beauty product (lip balm, body scrub, etc.).

watch a documentary.

learn about constellations and stargaze.

practice calligraphy.

do a riddle.

[takumiraine]

Once Upon a Time chapter 7

<first> <prev> <next>

Danny is still going thru it. I’m not going to put it on Ao3 until I’m done with it. I have no idea about a master post though.

Some blood and a bit of puke in this chapter.

—

Danny was furious. Furious and terrified and alone.

Jason. His one friend. Red Hood. The man who had sworn he wasn’t a Bat. They were the same person. They worked with Batman. Bruce Wayne funded the Justice League. Bruce Wayne was Jason’s father.

He was going to be sick.

Danny stopped running to throw up in an alley, half bile, half swallowed blood. His nose was still dripping and oozing and throbbing and the force of his heaving set it bleeding in earnest again. He swore, spitting on the ground, before flattening himself into the shadows as the trill of police cars sped by, heading the direction he had just left.

He had to find a way to contact Tucker and Sam. Tucker was monitoring the GIW passively, and it was set up to know if anyone searched for him. If there was suddenly more chatter or a mobilization. But if the Bats were watching him…

Danny checked the street and darted another couple blocks before pressing against another wall and checking. When he got to his building, he scampered up to his apartment and locked himself in. Not that the locks would do anything against anyone that seriously wanted to hurt him but…. He moved his bed up against the door too.

Danny went to sigh out of his nose and spattered half clotted blood everywhere again. “Ancients fucking damn it!” Danny felt tears springing to his eyes at the thought of yet another mess he’d have to clean up before he could pass out. He went to the bathroom and growled at his reflection in the mirror. The break in his nose was obvious and he knew that if he didn’t fix it now, it would slowly fix itself over the next week or two.

If he had a shitton of food and a way into the Zone without drawing suspicion he could heal it in a couple hours but…

A deep breath in and a gritted yell out, and Danny was able to reset it, icing it in place with the little bit of his powers he was able to use without drawing attention. Gotham had a lot of random cold spells from that one supervillain. Danny wasn’t going to argue it.

He changed his shirt, and washed out the blood in cold water, gingerly wiping off his face as he went. Once it was laid in the kitchen sink to dry, Danny took the duct tape he had in his drawer and taped his windows shut.

The point was to make it obvious if they were tampered with and make a lot of noise in the process.

From there, he pulled his blankets into the tub, crawled on top of them and went to sleep, thankful it was the weekend. He would get the blood off the wood in the morning. He didn’t sleep well, waking up with barely muffled shouts and gasps for breath as the memories of broken bones healing while being used, burns so bad he couldn’t feel them regrowing nerves, the concussive blast of the Fenton Bazooka, the shredding feeling of the Fenton Ghost Peeler haunting his unconscious mind.

The irony of his parents handing over their otherwise harmless weapons to the GIW who upgraded them into the most painful versions possible under the guise of protecting him from Phantom was not lost on him.

He did not go to campus Saturday or Sunday, but showed up for his Monday class the slightest bit late, anxiety chewing through him like squirrels liked to gnaw through cables. Jason was in their usual spot, but Danny slid into one nearest the door, frowning when he caught Jason looking at him. He knew he was still all bruised up, he had to ration again, and aside from some bottom of the barrel cheap ass junk food, he hadn’t eaten this weekend at all.

He could feel Jason’s eyes on him most of the lesson, and Danny kept his head down, scrawling his notes the best he could with battered and split knuckles. He felt one of the scabs tear and absently lifted it to his mouth, making sure he didn’t bleed all over his notes. From across the room, Danny felt something from Jason’s core and used his own to push back “no” and “asshole”.

Jason might not be able to tell exactly what Danny meant, or even why, but he should be able to get a vibe. Judging by the small flinch, barely perceptible even when Danny was looking right at Jason, Danny was fairly certain his point was made.

The end of class came and Danny was the first one out the door, pushing his core down to nothing and ducking down another hallway and into a doorway of an empty classroom. He sat against the wall there to do his homework, rather than being predictable and going to the library.

Jason was well aware that he had fucked up. Danny looked half dead, more than the first time, with bruises on his face and hands and up his sleeves. Then Danny’s knuckle split and he sucked it into his mouth. Jason felt a pile of things swirl around the place in his stomach the pit occupied. Guilt tinged with arousal, followed by embarrassment at the arousal in this situation and then…. He felt like a wall slammed into the pit. He didn’t flinch, not anymore, but there was a hard blink in response. Danny’s glare told him all he needed to know. It had come from him. Somehow.

Then class was over and Danny bolted almost immediately. By the time Jason made it out of class after him, he was gone.

The next couple of classes went the same way.

Jason needed to find him, to talk, to explain, to apologize, to ask him how the fuck he knew. He almost got his chance on Wednesday when Jason was in the library with Babs, shelving books silently with her. Danny snuck around the corner and startled so hard he dropped the book he had been planning to check out, probably for their lit class. He looked between Babs and Jason for one tense moment, and Jason watched him go pale(r) in the bright lights. He opened his mouth and reached out a hand, and Danny flinched away, fear slamming into Jason like the force of that bomb. When he could breathe again, Danny was gone.

“He’s afraid of us…” Jason muttered, confused. “He took on six goons in the middle of the night and got stabbed, but still walks around Gotham at night without fear…. But he’s afraid of us.”

Babs looked up at him. “We need to find out what happened.” Her voice was matter of fact. “Before B stumbles into it and makes things worse.”

“I know.”

Friday, Jason got his chance.

Danny was creeping across the courtyard and Jason was just happening to cross at a different point. “Danny!” He called, just loud enough to be heard. He had his hands up, empty, as he approached. He was ready for the fear slamming into him this time, and ate the angry that followed behind it. “Wait. Please. It’s important.” Danny didn’t move, didn’t run, though he was scoping out exits. Jason made sure to leave him with several.

“You have one minute. Any other…. Associate…. Joins you and you don’t get another chance.”

“Fair. It’s just us.” Jason came close enough that he could talk without being overheard, hands still up. “I want to say I’m sorry first. I wanted to tell you, but it isn’t something I can really tell people and the relationship is complicated and we don’t really work together. But that’s not the point. B wants to know how you knew it was me and how the pit got to you. We tried to look it…. You… up but there was a weird firewall? Some account required shit and a number. One of the…. Others… called it and it went to a government information warehouse? She pretended it was a wrong number and it was on a burner that we destroyed after but- “

Danny looked ashen. “You called the GIW?”

“You know them?”

“They want to kill me. Again.” Danny crumpled to the ground, hunching in on himself. He took a step closer to hear what Danny was whispering. “-gonna fillet me… don’t have the shield, need to warn Tucker and Sam and…. No not Jazz. She’s normal… she’s safe… they don’t want her… they only want me… my fault…my fault…”

When it turned into Danny just repeating “my fault” over and over, Jason knelt beside him. Danny flinched, curled in deeper, but Jason just gently placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder, reminding him quietly of where they were and that he was safe.

It took time, but slowly Danny’s rapid and shallow breathing returned to normal. He looked up at Jason. “Why…? Why are you doing this to me?”

“We didn’t mean to call the government. Everything ever associated with you has had a firewall around it. Oracle can’t break in without alerting them. Why are they after you?”

“Batman and the league called them.”

“I…. They’ve never worked with the government.”

“Right.”

“Seriously.” Danny still looked skeptical Jason raised a hand calmingly. “Okay. Let’s pause that. Why do you think they would call them on you. What happened?”

“There was a lot of… weird and dangerous stuff happening in my town…. With me. I kept calling the league and leaving them messages. First asking for help… then asking for someone to just talk to me… make sure I wasn’t… going to hurt someone. Then the GIW showed up…”

“What does GIW really stand for?”

“We always called them the Guys in White, because that’s all they wore… but..” Danny took a fortifying breath. Jason noticed he was shaking. “Ghost Investigation Ward. See… my parents… were inventors and I accidentally turned myself into a halfa when I fixed something of theirs…”

Jason stared. It was a lot to take in. Bruce wouldn’t have ignored a kid asking for help. Hell, Supes or the Flash could have been there and back in less time than it took him to have a cup of coffee. So many questions ran through Jason’s mind, starting with why had he been the one the universe picked for this? Dick and Tim were both more emotionally available, able to give more than just a ‘there there’ or ‘that’s rough buddy’. Instead of the reasonable questions, like ‘what kind of weird things?’ or ‘what are you capable of?’ Jason just asked “Halfa?”

“Half ghost. Half human. Technically I died in my parents’ basement. But also I didn’t.”

“Is that how you knew it was me?”

“Yeah. Gotham has a little ambient ecto, all the violent deaths here. Not as much as home but, it works. You died once too though, pretty… permanently. But your core was still weak. It’s formed up a lot more with me, but it’s…. Like a fingerprint.”

“I need to tell B. That you’re being hunted by the government guys and why you think it was him and the league that sold you out. He’s going to want to crack the firewall, and probably hear your side of the story himself.”

“Just… when they come give me as much of a heads up as you can. We were… or you pretended we were friends. You owe me that much.”

“If I have to take on those dicks myself, I will. I won’t let them keep hunting you here. Those of us that died but got better have to stick together.”

Danny still looked suspicious. Jason didn’t blame him. “When he cracks the firewall, he’s going to learn who I really am. If…. If he wants me to trust him, I need to know who he really is.” Danny eventually said, quietly. Jason didn’t blame him.

“I’ll tell him that.” Jason didn’t know what Bruce would say to that. He assumed the answer would be as close to ‘No fucking way in any hell that exists or was ever imagined’ as Bruce got. But he would ask.

Danny nodded. Seeming smaller and way older than he should. Looking like a man that hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in years. Like every drop of anything worth anything had been wrung out of him. Jason knew that feeling. He wanted to make Danny feel safe again. If Danny really did try to avoid hurting people, he deserved safety.

He could have outed Jason to the whole town. He didn’t. Jason thought that was something. “I’ll talk to him.” Jason promised again.

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

sleeping w/ the mercs [NOT LIKE THAT]

sorry the formatting is shit i made this on mobile 🫤

shitty headcanons abt the mercs rooms and ur guys’ sleeping arrangements hope u enjoy like and subscribe it’s rly long so it’s under the cut

scout:

-very very messy room

-but like he knows where all his shit is so whatever works for him

-his mattress is on the floor bro 💔 just kidding but his bed frame is pretty low to the ground so it might as well be

-he’s got a smaller bed and a single blanket so you both are gonna be cuddling whether you wanted to or not

-surprisingly soft sheets, he stole some of spy’s fancy silk ones so it’s pleasant

-always has a fan/AC unit going for the noise but his blanket is pretty thin so it’s colder than you’d probably prefer

-kicks a lot in his sleep so just be prepared 🤕

-doesn’t snore very loud but does drool a lot and he usually ends up laying his face on your chest/your head so you are gonna wake up a little soggy sorry 💔💔

-usually falls asleep around 11pm or midnight but does wake up at random hours of the early morning almost nightly before passing back out

-pretty much always wakes up before you, he goes on morning jogs everyday so if you’re up for it he’ll take you with him

-does like to surprise you with “breakfast” in bed (it’s dry cereal and a tiny carton of orange juice but he tried)

soldier:

-really REALLY plain room

-it’s a little eerie, everything is very clean and the walls are bare concrete bc the rooms at RED headquarters are basically prison cells

-the only decoration in his room is an american flag, his bedside table with a lamp and alarm clock and a little bald eagle stuffed animal the guys got him for christmas one year

-sleeps stiff as a board on his back so he isn’t the greatest cuddle buddy but will do so if you ask (he prefers spooning over anything else)

-he’s got a decently sized bed cause he’s a pretty big guy, so you’ve got room to move around

-his mattress is pretty hard though so it isn’t super comfortable but it’s better than the floor or some old military cot

-goes to bed at 10pm sharp every single night and wakes up at 5am for morning training and will try to get you to get up with him regardless of when you fell asleep

-if you don’t opt to get out of bed he does wake you up again with a plate of food (courtesy of engineer, soldier’s just the delivery guy)

pyro:

-probably the weirdest room out of everybody’s

-their bed is really nice, they’ve got a pillow top mattress and fuzzy blankets so it’s very soft but it’s overcrowded with some burnt looking stuffed animals and an insane amount of throw pillows

-the other decoration is really weird though don’t pay too much attention to it, it’s kinda creepy but it’s also pyro so 🤷🏻‍♀️

-doesn’t sleep in the flame-proof suit but they do sleep in onesie-esque pajamas

-doesn’t sleep in the mask either but they do use a sleeping mask and are usually face down in the pillows

-not the biggest cuddle person either but they aren’t above putting an arm around you or something similar

-always goes to sleep after you do and wakes up before you too

-they usually already have a cereal bar or some other sweet breakfast food on the nightside for you when you do wake up though

demo:

-THE MOST WELCOMING COZIEST ROOM THE IDEAL ROOMIE

-very warm, comforting room, he’s got a fuzzy rug put down and only uses lamps because the overhead light usually hurts his eye

-very large, very soft bed with warm blankets and soft pillows

-the pillows all have a faint smell of whiskey but whatever

-very much a cuddler, sober or not. he doesn’t move around much in his sleep and is a very heavy sleeper so once he’s out he’s out and you are stuck in that bed until he wakes up

-does snore but it isn’t obnoxious

-takes the eyepatch off and wears a bonnet to bed to protect his hair (he has multiple but his favorite one has his family’s tartan as the pattern)

-a night owl, he doesn’t get to sleep until 2-3am and usually wakes up the latest out of everybody (around 9-10am) and he will get pouty if you aren’t there when he wakes up

engineer:

-his room is basically an extension of his workshop, he’s got a desk crammed full of random bullshit and blueprints he hasn’t gotten around to testing yet

-doesn’t spend much time in his actual room, so aside from extra tools, spare parts and papers there isn’t much in there

-his bed is actually pretty comfortable but he hardly ever makes it out of his workshop before passing out for the night so he wouldn’t know 😒

-when he DOES go to bed in his room, he is a HUGE cuddler, he will not let you go under any circumstances

-does snore pretty loud but if you wake him up he’ll readjust himself so he snores less

-usually sleeps on his left side so you don’t accidentally roll onto his prosthetic hand and hurt yourself

-no matter what time he fell asleep the previous night, he always gets up at 6am and makes the team breakfast. he’ll let you sleep more while he’s cooking and surprise you with breakfast in bed (even though he does it everyday so it isn’t much of a surprise)

heavy:

-HUGE ASS BED

-like california king

-he’s obviously a big guy but he does move around a lot so he needs a bigger bed so he won’t fall off every night

-very very warm bedding, he brought most of his stuff from russia so it’s built to keep you warm

-has a little teddy bear his mother handmade for him when he was first born; it’s pretty worn and tattered but he brings it with him anywhere he lives

-does have a little padded box for sasha at the foot of his bed

-isn’t the biggest sleep cuddler but he does like to hold you beforehand. he doesn’t mind when you cuddle him in your sleep, though, so by all means pass out on his chest if you feel like it

-does some reading before he goes to sleep and is usually in bed by 9 or 10pm; wakes up at 5 every morning so soldier doesn’t have to do his morning routine alone

-likes waking you up around 7am so the two of you can have some light conversation with engie during breakfast

medic:

-sleeps on the operating table

-just kidding, but he usually ends up passing out on his desk rather than his room

-his room is very sterile; it kinda feels like a doctor’s office, it smells faintly of rubbing alcohol and is a little drafty so it’s usually pretty chilly

-has birdcages hanging from the ceiling, archimedes has a fancier one compared to the rest of his doves but he swears he isn’t playing favorites

-if you do manage to get him to leave the medbay he’s usually pretty delirious. he’s very affectionate when he’s tired so he’s definitely down for cuddling

-is kinda blind without his glasses so he keeps them on until the very last minute before he falls asleep

-likes to tell you stories of when he did have his medical license and when he lived in germany

-usually falls asleep with his back to you but when he wakes up he’s holding you to his chest

-usually wakes up at 5am as well and goes straight into taking care of his birds, he likes to whistle littles tunes to them so that may end up waking you as well

-almost never eats breakfast but he will be pestering you about it because he’s a hypocrite

sniper:

-well

-it’s a camper van

-it’s very cramped but he’s used to it just being him in there so he never really realized

-his bed folds up into the wall when he isn’t using it and he keeps his bedding folded next to it

-very used to living in much hotter climates, and even though it is new mexico it gets pretty cold at night so he’s usually shivering his ass off under a thin sheet

-is surprisingly clingy for someone so introverted and quiet, he claims it’s because you keep him warm but he’s also just a mushy guy in secret

-usually falls asleep watching some shitty DVD on his little portable dvd player he keeps on a counter next to his bed

-keeps his kukri hidden next to the mattress just in case

-very light sleeper and once he’s awake, he’s awake. poor guy barely ever gets any sleep because soldier is usually screaming outside the van 3 hours after he’s gotten to bed

-doesn’t eat breakfast, but he will make you a cup of coffee in the morning

spy:

-ugh

-bought all of his bedding and the mattress purely based on looks so it’s pretty surprising that it ended up being comfortable

-will not let anybody have their shoes on in his bedroom, you have to leave them in his smoking room if you wanna come in

-kinda like medic in the fact that he goes to bed not even looking at you but wakes up all over you. he is kind of an asshole about it being like “aw babe you literally think i’m irresistible even in your sleep” when HE’S the one that cuddled up to you

-keeps his butterfly knife under his pillow and a pistol in his bedside drawer

-always falls asleep after you and is always awake and out of bed by the time you get up

-he doesn’t eat engineer’s breakfast because he claims it’s “too filling and unhealthy to be eating that much as soon as you wake up” so he always makes a little french breakfast for himself

-he pretends like he doesn’t do anything for other people but he always makes a plate for you of whatever he makes himself and leaves it on his side of the bed with a cute little note for you

-will pretend like he has no idea what you’re talking about if you bring it up though

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Hello Howl how're you doing. I just wondering what's your opinions on Killers excessive determination? Does it effect on his physical body much like geno? (Ik Geno kinda stero injects DM into his soul)

but like, is his excessive determination slowly melting away him like Geno? and what we saw he coughing up black goos, are some part of them are his marrow that just seeping out of his bone, or is it something that is manifest?

Anyways have a great day!

(Omg first interaction)

I personally like to think that the black goo is a mixture of DT and his own melting insides—blood/bone marrow, or more like, the dt gives his melting insides an acidic like properties. And the DT gives it this black goopy appearance, and I personally like to think it smells either really bad or sickly sweet—and has a bubbling like appearance as if it’s boiling.

Now, as for side effects, there’s the canon ones we see. Which is the constant leaking, the choking and difficulty breathing hazard, the frequent coughing and spitting, and eye sight problems that likely lead to extremely blurred vision that could also cause visual or auditory hallucinations—images from the past, voices that aren’t there, etc.

And the constant, overwhelming, physical pain that seems to just be everywhere. In Stage 1, where he’s unable to ignore his physical pains, he seems to shake and curl in on himself a lot.

@signanothername also frequently draws their killer with black stained bones, which I honestly really like. Makes sense to me.

On top of that, I also think that Killer’s ichor also seeps within his joints and bones—even from any broken bones, fractures, and injuries he gains—and if he doesn’t frequently clean between these areas, not only will it hurt more, but the blood can dry and crust up; causing limited mobility and movement. It may also cause intense numbness or partial paralysis in limbs.

I’ve also seen a HC around that if Killer lays on or sleeps on his back, his skull will eventually fill up with goop and he’ll wake up with what feels like a “bloated” skull. And as result, he keeps like a bucket or a trashcan beside his bed, so he can lean over and dump out his skull in the mornings. Or you know, to throw up and cough and spit in it.

I do think that as it worsens, Killer will start experiencing intense physical weakness—if he doesn’t already, because of the immense energy used to both keep his body intact and ensure that his SOUL remains outside of his body—which in turn can cause sudden and extreme energy plummets that he blacks out.

This can result in feeling like his bones are brittle, and he could even start experiencing partial fractures and spontaneous bone splinting from internal pressure.

And although he may not have typical nerves, he could experience something like nerve pain—stabbing, intense sensations where blood leaks. It could be constant, sometimes escalating into something so unbearable he convulses or loses control of his limbs.

He may experience something like rapid dehydration with all constant leaking substances and potential blood lost, making his bones appear cracked or flaked as if he’s slowly drying up because his body has to compensate for all the lost energy.

His body may even be extremely sensitive to temperature; causing him to swing between hot and cold, potentially causing fractures from the sudden expansion and contraction of his bones—potentially even causing steam and/or frost to emit from his body at random.

As the DT continues to cause his body to corrode from the inside out, his motor functions could suffer; leading to tremors, stumbling, or jerky movements.

He could feel an intense internal pressure from within, an ache behind his ribs, as if something wants to burst out; the goop leaking more aggressively from the cracks.

Over time, he could even begin developing what appears to be patches of rot on his body where the goop accumulates heavily; like eye sockets, jaw, ribs, etc.

If ya wanna lean more into the DT aspect of the goopage, it could start becoming acidic to surfaces he touches or anyone who touches him; leaving stains and burn marks wherever he goes.

Over time, his bones could disintegrate and erode; leaving certain segments and joints vulnerable to snapping and detaching all together; line a toe, a finger, an entire limb.

It can all lead to his physical form deforming, becoming something unrecognizable as even skeletal—especially if his DT also attempts to regenerate but causes malformed or mutated growth.

Alexa play the sharpest lives jinx edit.

[starshipsofstarlord]

lap girl (4)

summary. daryl is in mourning for his brother merle, overcome with grief and guilt. all he needs is to lay on his girls lap and receive her affection

warnings. extreme angst, graphic mentions of character death, crying, some fluff, blood

divider credits. @cafekitsune

All he needed was his home, the comfort of y/n’s lap. He stalked through the empty courtyard in the dead of sunset, tired and bearing an ache that was embedded across the side of his torso towards the safety of his home. Merle was dead, and he couldn’t save him.

The image of his brother’s blood resonated in a repeated flash behind his eyes, as well as the flesh that had tangled itself in his tough and walker teeth. He had turned into a flesh eating parasite, devouring any bodies that were remaining in the war zone that now represented a graveyard of sorts alongside the other mobile corpses.

Daryl’s face remained tight from the tears that had continuously dripped from the faucet of his eyes, his agony from the entire experience still mutilating his mind. His hands were stained red, so utterly crimson that he felt sick, nauseated from the act that he had to commit in order to survive. He had killed him, not only for his own life, but to prevent his memory of his elder brother from being tainted with the poison of death that seeped agonisingly through his corpse.

It was an ending that he had never wished for anybody that he cared for, and Merle had the likeliness to be an ass most days, but that hadn’t stopped Daryl from seeing him as the only one in his bloodline that he gave a shit about. To his pitiful luck, the entrance of the cell block was hauntingly empty, aside from the sleep filled breaths that echoed through the large space, and he felt guilty enough already, more so considering that he could awaken his girl from her state of rest.

The mattress wasn’t the comfiest, it was to be expected since it was setup to be the bed for a felon, but he slipped through the walkway after the stairs, tousling his growing locks in critical agitation, as he was pierced metaphorically over and over again with the same blade that had erased any trace of his brother from existence.

“Daryl..?” Her voice was soft and as smooth as the finest silk, causing a lulling of tenseness to roll off his shoulders; his walls were crumbling, and he didn’t mind as he felt he needed to extinguish his emotions in the ritual that his father forbade. His tears had only made his father hit him more, until he was a breathing carcass of numbness. But with her, his girl, she would never bring judgement upon him for being berated with human emotion.

“I’m back.” Daryl responded indifferently, struck blankly with the fact that he would never see his brother again. He’d attempted to scrub his hands clean with the water bottle y/n kept by the hovering silver sink, but it didn’t wash away the shocking brutality that had succumbed him. Merle could never return from becoming a walker and having multiple stab wounds in his brain, and Daryl wouldn’t return from the terror either. It would remain with him for the rest of his lifespan, however long that would be.

“Dar…” She called to him once again, afraid of what he may reveal, as he shook his hands dry. As he turned, she could see the digressed state of his bloodshot eyes, and he was withered with the haunting memory that was looping visually in his brain. “Come here baby, I’m here.” He couldn’t help but resist, staggering towards her as he crumbled, splaying his body across her lap as he allowed wrecked sobs to escape him. Her hands combed through his hair, as she too felt the necessity to cry. He returned, with no Merle, it could only mean one thing…

A tear, lonely and unforced rolled down y/n’s cheek, as she realised that their mismatched family had gotten smaller. “He-he’s dead.” Daryl gasped out with heavy breaths, feeling his chest tightening from the situation that had made fate its own property. “Merle-”, she shushed him gently; he needn’t vocalise the looming death that embraced the world when he was struggling with getting a single word out. He’d settle a little, if she allowed him to continue laying across her lap, and she had no qualms against it.

“I know honey.” She whispered with an underlying of grief, caressing his scalp a little more to soothe him. “It wasn’t your fault. You did all he could.” The what if’s eventually faded from Daryl’s mind, as his eyes shut and he felt peace from feeling his girl’s fingers raking sensitively through his hair, seeing nothing but a pitch black nothingness.

[ranticore]

your centaur fashion notes are so so so delightful!!! first thing I saw when I opened my dash, amazing!

some questions bc you REALLY got the gears spinning: are there particular fabrics that centaurs prefer over others? who shaves their manes — is that a service a human barber would provide? is it a "my mom did it" informal thing? do centaurs go to a farrier for shoes or is that considered demeaning? how do summer clothes work? — eg. is there a centaur equivalent of "you can show this more skin ONLY if the weather is hot enough/you're doing heavy labor" likewise, do centaurs have special socks for colder weather?

Ough I'll try to format this ok on mobile

Fabrics: lighter fabrics are sought after. Bigger bodies need less insulation from cold temperatures. It's also a better Look to wear a blanket that isn't obviously just made to keep horses dry in rain and fabric choice helps with that. Otherwise it's personal preference

Mane shaving: I said shaving but really it's plucking I think. It is usually done at home. someone can do it themselves (awkwardly, with a mirror, though it must be noted that centaurs are flexible enough to reach any point on their body if they need to) or they can call over a specialist. time period matters here as it does for everything else (ironwall was founded in the 1200s), but the traditional way is for a mane and tail barber to come round to their house and neaten up any fluffy bits (fetlocks especially are trimmed to keep them clean). And yeah ur mom will do it for you when you're little

Farriers (such as the ones at the start of the lil story I wrote that one time) are usually centaurs themselves. They do a lot of feet care, trimming, rasping, picking, etc. Traditionally a human farrier would train with centaurs to get direct feedback about the fit of their shoes, and improve their business.

Summer clothes - large drapey clothing isn't necessarily very warm. For a big dress you can take out the petticoats or replace them with fabric with a larger weave. In modern eras the upper body can dress skimpy with low cut tops at a stretch.

Socks - yep, boots and socks are commonly worn to keep the legs and feet clean. They are taken off when entering a house. In fancy houses there'll be a dedicated stationary brush (imagine those big rollers that cows scratch themselves on) to clean mud from the feet. Other people had to deal with using a long-handled pick or floor scrubber brush.

[octuscle]

Changed taste

Callum had left after the second act. The production at the alternative opera had been a cheek. The singers had been a disaster. And the announcement of the underground strike had been a good excuse not to have to listen to this debacle to the end. Unfortunately, the underground drivers had shown no consideration for Callum. The strike had already begun. The underground shafts were deserted. So it was a taxi. This contradicted Callum's attitude to sustainability. He always excused his flat in Kensignton by saying that it was so centrally located that he didn't need a car. Only a few of his friends knew that there was an old Jaguar E-Type and a brand new Porsche 911 in the underground car park. Callum's family had made a fortune from property speculation over 100 years ago. He owned the exclusive block of flats in which he lived. This and a few more.

When he came up from the underground, it had started to rain. And he had left his umbrella in the cloakroom at the opera. Underground strike and rain. Not a good combination for getting a taxi. In the shelter of the entrance to the underground, Callum searched on his mobile phone. A bus station was only 200 metres away. And it wasn't raining that hard. So he set off. And after a few metres, the heavens opened their floodgates. A downpour of torrential proportions drenched Callum in a matter of seconds. His dinner jacket was ruined. And his mobile phone only flashed once more before it died in the pouring rain.

The rain intensified. The few passers-by who hadn't yet found shelter quickly ran through the puddles to find somewhere to hide. Callum's best chance was a launderette where the owner or employee was about to lower the blinds. Callum asked if he could seek shelter until the rain had stopped. The young man looked at Callum and waved him in. He introduced himself as Kieron and said that he had to wash and dry a washing machine for himself while he cleaned the launderette. Callum would be happy to stay here for that long. Callum thanked him and asked if he could return the favour somehow. Kieron shook his head and showed Callum where he could find hangers to hang up his wet clothes. And pointed to a basket of washing. A customer had left it here. Callum could take some of it if he wanted to.

The clothes were obviously still unwashed. They smelled of sweat and cold cigarette smoke. There were dried precum stains in the pants. Callum was disgusted. But also soaking wet. And somehow he was… Turned on? Him? By those disgusting clothes. Kieron had switched on some music. Very loud. Gangster rap and hip hop. Definitely not Callum's style. But that didn't matter. He took the laundry basket and asked where he could change. Kieron pointed to the door with the "Private" sign. There were towels there too. Callum thanked him.

After pulling the door shut behind him, Callum took off his shoes, jacket, trousers and shirt and hung everything on hangers. A little hesitantly, he also removed his stockings, pants and vest. He was able to wring everything out, everything was so wet. He took a pair of boxer shorts out of the laundry basket. Yellowed white cotton. Precum and piss stains. Callum smelled it carefully. And then he pressed them to his nose and inhaled deeply. So good! He had no idea why, but it smelled so good! Slimy drops formed on his own cock. The pants were a size 32, not his size. But they fit like a glove. His bulge was frighteningly large. And the wet patch was growing fast. Callum rummaged through the dirty laundry. The polyester tracksuit bottoms did it to him. He pulled them on, just high enough so that the waistband of his pants could still be seen. Now a pair of dirty white socks… Call took his trainers. Yes, they were still a little wet… But they would be fine. The T-shirt that went best with the trousers stank of sweat. Sure, Call had worn it for several days in a row. For sport, in the pub in the evening. During the day, he wore the Hiviz street-cleaning gear. He took his necklace, which he was so proud of, out of his T-shirt. Then he took his tracksuit jacket off the hanger, put on his gloves, put on his cap and posed in front of the mirror. If he played with his balls a little longer, he would cum here and now. Then Kieron would be fucking pissed. After all, making Call cum was his job.

"I hope the damn rain stops soon!" That was the caption under his latest post. Kieron shouted about how much longer he needed. Call opened the door and shouted back that it was up to Kieron when he could finally cum. A few seconds later, Kieron was standing in the doorway, grinning. He put the mop to one side. And got down on his knees.

Inspiration by @barty123

[rottenpumpkin13]

this is so stupid and random but. 2 am thoughts. how the fuck does sephiroth clean his full leather getup? the blood, sweat, plus whatever the heck fluids he encounters on the daily working for shinra -- on that note does he even sweat? he has to.

is it dry-cleaning? who's in charge of it? does he just have a full closet of leather harnesses and coats like a cartoon character? does he not wash it at all and just walk around in the foulest mix of scents ever?? this is such a dumb thing to get hung up on but now im losing my mind about it help

(on a similar note, i wonder if washing his hair ever tires his arms out)

• All SOLDIERs—especially Sephiroth since he's a public figure—would follow a strict uniform maintenance protocol, where everything would be up for regular inspection. Sephiroth would handle his own day-to-day uniform upkeep, keeping all his gear clean, but for repairs and specialized cleaning like the leather, his gear would be sent off for periodic professional maintenance. And while Ever Crisis confirmed he doesn't get special treatment (🫠), if he's scheduled for a public appearance, Shinra would handle these details to ensure he looks flawless for the media. Hopefully they've also since given him a bed.

• Sephiroth keeps multiple backup uniforms in his quarters, since he's constantly on missions and wears through them fast. He's got several variations, some more armored and heavy-duty, others lighter for mobility. But this setup is pretty specific to him, unlike the Seconds and Thirds who need to buy their own extra gear. Sephiroth has Shinra-issued spares and specialized versions stocked up since he's in constant use (and high-profile) (Shinra give him a break).

• Even with the jenova cells (which I hc influence how it looks beyond the color), his hair still needs maintenance, but he enjoys it, it's relaxing for him. He likes brushing, taking his time washing, and caring for it because it's one of the few things he feels he has control over. His arms may get tired but c'est la vie.

• Yes, Sephiroth sweats, and Genesis can attest to it, thanks to the times Sephiroth insisted on pulling him into a sweaty hug after practice in the name of "maintaining friendship."

[crucifiedramblings]

Fool Me Once — Dr. Gregory House x F!Reader (Part I)

Hello! This is my first Gregory House fic, I've been truly obsessed with this old man recently. No warnings for this chapter (edit: mention of pill abuse), but I will list full work warnings below.

Word Count: 789

Content Warnings: Angst, implied/referenced drug use & addiction, eventual smut, swearing, graphic depictions of medical gore

Next Part: N/A

            

The pills hadn’t been in House’s system for a few days— he would have to rebuild his Vicodin tolerance again. Nothing like a “V-Break” to get the same hazy punch as before— the name could use some work, though. House lazily looked at you through heavily-lidded eyes, his head dipping to the side to look at his own vitals on the small monitor to the right of his bedside.

            You had only been on House’s diagnostic team for a few days when he collapsed in the middle of a briefing. His toxicity screen showed a spike in narcotic levels, and you flushed his system while he was out. He argued that it was doing more harm than good, but you replaced the chemical with comfort medications until he had clean blood. Once it ran clear, and he was no longer dying— you practically spoon-fed his Vicodin right to him. 

            Maybe it was the sympathy— no, empathy— of being a former addict. Maybe it was the fact that you hated seeing House detoxing. Maybe it was because you knew how sick he must have felt. Whatever it was— it triumphed over any nobility you held as a doctor as you placed three white pills into House’s shaking hands with a reassuring smile. 

            House looked at you with an almost frazzled gaze, dry-swallowing the pills as if you were going to snatch them away if he took too long. You sat on a stool by House’s side, holding a small styrofoam cup’s straw to his lips. He gratefully sipped, a soft whistling coming from the lid as House greedily gulped down the frigid water. He gave you a nod, as if to say ‘thank you’ without the words ever leaving his mouth. You only nodded in response.

            House asked for your name, a raspy request given between sips and wheezes. You gave it to him, although skeptical he didn’t know the name of the newest hire on his team— House was a very thorough man in his decisions. He gave you a lazy grin, giggling to himself and eventually drifting off. At least the pills did what you hoped, giving House some much-needed rest. He looked so much more peaceful like that— no longer sporting a leaping forehead vein, teeth no longer bared— he looked at ease. Like he wasn’t in any pain.

            After several torturous hours— the ones that bled into days, which crashed down into weeks— House was cleared to return to work . . . although he technically never left, and was sure to remind everyone of such knowledge. He walked circles around his bed with a newfound vigor, having just replenished his fix for the morning. House’s limp was barely noticeable when he first dosed, and you were consistent in tracking how his decreased mobility affected his mood by the end of the day. 

            The truth was, you were used to House— but you were not accustomed to sober House— the version of himself that he hid away until he could take time off work. The persona that House barely allowed to see the light of day if unnecessary. The facade that reminded House too much of his father in a certain light. 

            You didn’t blame him— you used to be the same way— although he didn’t know that much from your file. He treated you like some brown-nosing geek, saving his life to look good in front of the new boss. House didn’t understand why someone would fight so hard to save him, and then hand him the pills that almost killed him in the same breath. You didn’t quite understand it either— maybe it was the words Wilson muttered by House’s bedside when he was still in a perpetual coma.

“I can’t lose you yet— fight it.” 

            Maybe it was the pang of hurt you felt at the sight of him when he awoke— dripping with sweat, pale, scratching at his own intravenous drip to make himself feel something other than the pounding of his head and the bile in his belly. Whatever it was— the semblance spoke to you well enough to place his own killer into his discolored palms. 

            It was worth it, the way House’s gaze lit up— he angled his head to the ceiling tiles and hastily, shakily swallowed the pills without any consideration. You almost took pity on him— that was, until he commented on your bust in your top. You smacked him with his own file, grateful to have the version of House you had come to know up and running again— regardless of how annoying that version may be. Your help remained unspoken, but in the following weeks, some distant glances and singled-out tasks would bring any tension to a head. 

[weenwrites]

Cooking A Meal: Part 1

Summary - You ask one of the bots to cook you a meal, but honestly it goes about as well as you'd expect. Characters - Optimus, Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, Arcee, Cliffjumper, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, Wheeljack Content - Crack Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - None

✎ A/N: This is an un-revised shitpost, not something too serious.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

He doesn't know anything about human cooking, but he tries for you. He's good at following a recipe, but he'll come to you every now and then to ask what something means or to have you try what he's made thus far and see if it's to your liking.

He tries making healthy meals that would cater to your tastes, and he's good at finding recipes for foods you definitely would like, it's just that when it comes to doing the actual cooking itself, it's executed rather poorly. He's not too bad, but honestly he might just under or overcook something and feed you some runny, rubbery scrambled eggs for example.

When it comes to presentation, he honestly doesn't do much in that area. He just puts the food on a plate or in a bowl and serves it to you with the appropriate eating utensil.

It may be a mediocre meal, but at the end of the day at least he cleans up after himself.

Ratchet

He's very precise with the measurements and he's an expert with a knife. Ratchet's real good at working with his hands, given his occupation as a doctor, and honestly he'd make a pretty good cook! That is, if he understood more about human cuisine...

He doesn't understand why some humans enjoy their eggs with runny yolks or some of their food to be under-cooked, and he doesn't want to give you salmonella or any other disease, so he'll end up overcooking the eggs. The same goes for any slab of meat you give him. Ask him to cook you a steak and he'll serve you what looks like a burnt block of leather that's so dry you can stand it up on it's side.

The presentation of the entire meal is plain and looks boring. He just serves everything to you separately in their own bowls or plates, and never on the same plate. But he says that the important thing is that you're eating something, not the way it's presented.

And at least he cleans up his own messes.

Ultra Magnus

He follows everything to a T. Each measurement he makes is precise, so he doesn't make too much or too little of anything. However, he'll make healthy meals for you to eat. A meal that has a bit of everything from the food triangle unless you're vegan or vegetarian. He'll refuse to make you anything unhealthy,

He even tries to present the food in a fancy-ish way! However, it's somewhat akin to being presented with a whole bunch of paperwork to fill out. The important stuff on the top (or in this case the healthiest stuff to eat) and the least important stuff on the bottom (the rest of the food). It may look a bit weird, and taste off, but... Eh, it's good enough.

Given his handicap and the fact he's still trying to regain full mobility with it, he may be a bit slow with things such as chopping up ingredients, seasoning meat, or any sort of thing that would be more efficient with 2 hands. Still, he's made a lot of progress, so much so that he appears to be doing things at a relatively normal pace.

And of course once he's done in the kitchen, he'll always dutifully clean up whatever dishes he used or messes he made without a single complaint.

Arcee

She sorta does better than everyone else here, but that's only because she insists that you tell her what to do and how to do it. She copies any examples you give her, and always looks to you for advice on how it should look, taste, smell, etc.. And she takes the entire "meal cooking" thing very seriously.

Though the meal may not be too delicious, the meal she makes you is very healthy and nutritious! She tries to include as many foods from the 5 different food groups as she can, and what she can't include she attempts to make up for by adding it as a side to the dish.

She's good at working with her hands, so she'd be quick at dicing vegetables with a knife. So preparing ingredients would be about a cinch. But along with being able to work quickly, she'd be good at handling things carefully. Like she'd be good at working with homemade pasta without ripping or tearing the dough, or pinching the edges of gyoza wrappers shut without puncturing holes in it.

The presentation itself is a bit lacking, but what matters is that most of the food on that plate is edible and very healthy for you! And she's the kind of person that insists that you finish everything on your plate, but not in any sort of forceful way. She'll just remind you to finish all your vegetables or something similar.

Cliffjumper

Similarly to literally everyone else on this list, he'd most likely overcook your food, but he still does a better job than most, but it depends on the meal. He's better at making soups than he would be at cooking meat. But he's a quick learner. He'd manage to closely copy whatever you'd show him about cooking.

He'd make quite a mess in the kitchen though. He'll accidentally knock the spatula off the cluttered counter as he reaches for something else, or he'll jokingly fling some flour at you in a playful manner. He even whole-heartedly thought that you could put the egg—shell and everything—in whatever it is you're making. He didn't think you needed to crack the shell because he once saw that humans could eat things with hard shells like snails or jawbreakers.

But when things start going awry, he'll come up with some unorthodox way to partly salvage the meal. Emphasis on partly salvage, because while it may be fixed, it now tastes off, or looks off, or smells off, but it's still edible. He knows nothing about presentation and honestly he just shovels whatever he's made you onto a plate and hands it over to you as is.

But even though the meal may be sub-par, it's hard to deny that it wasn't fun to make. That is unless you got upset at him for making a mess, in which that case he'll earnestly apologize and start scrubbing away at the mess.

Bulkhead

He lacks Ratchet's dexterity, so he's pretty sloppy with a knife. He might just end up accidentally grinding the ingredients to mush, or cutting them unevenly, but he's trying. The thing he's best at is kneading dough, but he thinks that all you need to do is punch it and move it around, so depending on the dough, he most likely ends up over-working it in seconds.

The food he'd make for you would lean more towards unhealthy and extremely delicious, unless you asked him to cook you a specific healthy food. Nonetheless, it would be a flavorful meal thanks to all the spices and seasonings he'd add to it.

The presentation's relatively nice! It might just make up for the fact the food looks a little mangled (unless you had him make you soup or something that's supposed to be mashed, then he's just about aced it). He'll ask you every now and then about the amount of pepper or salt he should add to the food, or to see if he added too much spice or too little... He might just end up burning a thing or two here or there, but for the most part, the food he makes for you is pretty good!

Bumblebee

He's good at making simple meals like sandwiches or mashed potatoes, but it's always a bit lacking in flavor. It's still good nonetheless, he just adds too little salt, pepper, or seasoning in general. Anything more complex than that and he'll be serving you a mess on a plate.

He's very considerate and tries to make a meal catered towards your personal tastes. If you're vegan or vegetarian, or have an allergic reaction to something, he'll try and find a recipe for something you can eat.

He tries to make the food look "cute". Like if you asked him to make you pancakes, he'd try to stack them up and make a face on them out of whipped cream, m&ms, and syrup. It may taste a bit weird, or sickeningly sweet, but the presentation's nice.

Smokescreen

He sucks at it. He cooks using the microwave instead of the stove. Once he's done with it, your microwave will smell like a dumpster fire, and you'll have to scrub away at all the splattered food that hardened into thick layers of burnt crust which is near impossible to get off. Even if you ignore it, the stench from the microwave might just seep into whatever you cook in there next, and absolutely ruin it's flavor. It's safe to say that your microwave is ruined.

The only knowledge he has of cooking is from watching Hell's Kitchen and Kitchen Nightmares, but then again those shows didn't really teach him anything about cooking, they just served as entertainment. I mean the most he learned is that you should keep track of when you got ingredients, and to keep your pantry, fridge, cabinets, and kitchen clean, but that doesn't help him boil an egg.

Speaking of eggs, he tried cooking an egg in the microwave once—under the impression that the egg would boil—and much to his surprise, it exploded.

He presents the food in an... Interesting way... Honestly he just arranges it in whatever way looks cool and serves it to you with a "bon appetit".

He promises he'll clean up your microwave once he's done, but there's this stench that will always remain in there no matter what you do.

Wheeljack

He's hopeless too. Not only does he burn like 80 percent of what he's supposed to be cooking for you, but he over-seasons it too. There will be so much pepper on your food that you'll be sneezing the moment you catch a whiff.

But with a little supervision in the kitchen, he could make you something remotely edible. It may not look the part or smell the part, but it still is edible to some degree. He's very handy with a knife, and if you knew a thing or two about food science, he'd be open to listening to you talk about the glucose bonds in dough and whatnot.

If he put in a little bit of his time to do some research about food, he'd actually get a solid grasp of the bare bones of cooking. Like how long to cook meat and how to know if it's done, how to work a ball of dough, how not to overcook vegetables... Et cetera. Because it's all science-y in a way.

The presentation of the meal itself is average. He doesn't quite know how to "decorate" your food, so he just slaps it on a plate, or pours it in a bowl, or serves it in whatever fashion it should be served in, and he gives it to you.

[neverinsignificant]

How I Am Getting Myself Out of A Funk

This past month, I’ve been in a very terrible funk that has left me with overwhelming stress, an unregulated nervous system, feelings of discomfort (hopelessness, worthlessness, etc…), bloating and a bad case of imposter syndrome. I realize I’ve been wallowing in my own self pity and not taking care of myself the way I should, so I am being honest and admitting that I am scared as to what road my life may take if I do not improve where I know I can by taking the necessary steps. Here’s how I’m getting myself out of this funk:

• Taking my iron medication

I was prescribed medication for my iron deficiency anemia years ago and I haven’t been taking them due to my fear of swallowing pills. I use to let them dissolve in orange juice, but I grew to hate the taste and realized I wasn’t getting the full benefits by doing it this way. I have a complicated history with pills and I would like to get over it by learning & possibly speaking with a specialist who can help me get over my fear as iron has many benefits that would be beneficial to my body.

• Growing comfortable with my therapist

I recently started therapy and as much as I like my therapist, it has been hard to open up to them as much as I’d like. I know it’s because this is a new experience, but once I grow the courage to discuss some of the things I really want, I know my stress levels will decrease and mental health improve because I won’t have to worry about them anymore.

• Cultivating gratitude

I complain…. A lot because if it ain’t one thing, it’s another but by cultivating gratitude, I can practice to be more thankful of what I have and lessen my desire for more and negative thoughts. It will also lead me back to the path of my spiritual journey, which I seem to have slightly abandoned.

• Consume more water

I made a Habits I’m Not Waiting Until January to Implement post back in December where I said this same thing and I wasn’t consistent, but it’s never too late to do so now.

• Working out with positive intentions

Usually when I workout it has been with the intention to develop a certain body type, which lead to me closely examining and prodding at my body in the mirror, but as someone that comes from a family with people who develop physical health issues as they age, it’s important for me to workout simply to remain healthy, especially as I am still young with an able body. Develop stronger knees; hip mobility; straight posture, strength building.

• Breathwork + thought-stopping

This will go hand in hand with meditation. Simply saying “stop” to negative thinking doesn’t usually work for me, but what does is reframing the thoughts I’m having by making a positive light out of it or actively listing solutions. I don’t tend to be consistent with this, but I’ll try.

• Focus on my gut health

Lymphatic drainage by dry brushing, drinking peppermint tea, eating cleaner based foods, consume more fiber-rich foods, cut out gluten, eating more with smaller portions.

• Say “Girl, fuck you”

To people, emotions, circumstances. Simply dismissing the issue has sometimes helped, especially if they’re minor. Living in delusion isn’t always bad.

I’m not a “clean,” health and wellness guru, goop using (whatever tf that is), green juice drinking everyday girl and that’s okay. This is fairly new to me and I didn’t notice the severity of my health until I felt a sharp pain in my chest from stressing. I won’t fully immerge myself in this “aesthetic” as it isn’t in my interest to do so, but I will incorporate some of the habits to my benefits.

“Everyday the sun won’t shine, but that’s why I love tomorrow!” 🌟 -Glorilla

[madsmilfelsen]

I think Rust is neat and all but what drew me in was his HANDS. Idk how to explain it, but something about the way he holds things and articulates makes me just. Stare at them. Like I just Know he has rough hands

alright babe, you want to talk about his hands, let’s talk about his hands via timeline

Obviously living in the bush of Alaska requires a lot of manual labor to survive, skin rubbing raw inside leather gloves, blisters from splitting wood, scars from his knife slipping on salmon (v real, I used to filet 500 salmon a summer and baby…. yew, my left hand has gotten nicked more than once— Travis and Rust had a fish camp on the Copper River, probably across the bridge from Chitna and a touch north, and lived way up river between Slana and Nabesna bc I’m making all this up right now and I said so) etc etc so his hands well worn before he got out, moved back to Texas and meets Claire snared by his weirdo allure and bizarre way of handling things— Sophia comes along and I bet he was washing his hands like a maniac, dry as fuck, probably worried his rough hands might make her fussy so held her with her little swaddling blankets at first (compensated with A LOT of skin to skin time but that’s a different ask), carefully petting her hair with just the tips of his fingers, down the bridge of her nose to make her go to sleep. Sophia loved his hands (like mother like daughter fr) could be occupied when he took her fishing by just letting her sit in his lap to play with his fingers, try on his wedding ring, ask why his nails are shorter than mommy’s or why they aren’t soft like mommy’s, map his calluses, trace the lines of his palms until he set a hook and watched him reel in dinner.

(Addition) hol up, hear me out— Sophia rooting around his bare chest and pacified with the curl of his knuckle, Sophia teething and gnawing on his fingers, Sophia learning to walk with her soft pudgy hands in his, Sophia squealing and giggling as he tickles her round lil tummy, Sophia’s only sitting still to get her hair brushed but only for daddy— Rust’s hands becoming the most abused part of his body after she’s gone

Crash era— this man does not give a shit about his hands, the most treatment they get is when he taped them together after breaking a finger, had a punching bag for obvious reasons and beat the shit out of it no gloves no tape constantly bruised. Not a stranger to working with mechanics (in Alaska, Travis would make sure he could keep his equipment running— boat engines, four wheeler oil changes, changing snow mobile tracks etc) and probably took his bike apart and put it back together just to make sure he could be Authentic, different calluses with new tools, divots in his skin lost to the unforgiving scraping bite of metal, hissing when he gets transmission fluid in his split knuckles

1995– habitual hand washing returns, dry as hell, his wrists probably crack and bleed in the winter (very very very rarely is annoyed enough to actual do something about it, probably had to bleed on one of his files— he’d use Johnson and Johnson baby lotion becuase that’s he only shit he knew, definitely drunk cried about it at least once, before sucking it up and swtiching to Vaseline), pull up bars give calluses at the base of the fingers/tops of the palms, just does calisthenics because who the fuck wants to buy equipment. Does all the upkeep on his truck (and thinking about it, this would be the first time he’d be like Alone alone in a long while, no handlers, no Iron Crusaders, no backstory upkeep, no dad, no wife, probably takes truck parts inside and cleans them on his kitchen counter because no one is there to say what the fuck are you doing— “we don’t mind being alone” okay Okay sure honey) Makes it worse by the talcum powder in his rubber gloves or licking his fingers to go through case files or staying too long in the dry archives where he can’t smoke so probably tapping his mouth, rubbing circles on his knuckles with his thumb or running it along his nails— don’t know what flavor of adhd that man has a strangle hold on but he can’t sit entirely still, fingers moving with the bits of his mind that aren’t occupied to keep himself from distraction, pretending he didn’t lose his patience with his fatherhood.

2002– Laurie :) home girl said that’s enough! Probably got recommendations from surgeons and plys him tins of hand salve, he doesn’t like the greasy feeling, but his girl is askin’ he won’t say no babey!

2012– full circle, back to them Alaskan fishing boat hands, type of hands that snag fabric (my husband isn’t a mechanic but does work with his hands and I can’t wear silk around him) and hair gets caught on, the man does not own a brush, finger combs his hair once a week and puts that shit in a hair tie, done with it.

[vigilskeep]

Question! To you, is Minerva’s elf status inseparable from her personality? I never struggle when I make city or dalish elves but making my surana has me going nuts lol

minerva would tell you: absolutely not. to her, her identity is as a circle mage first, a grey warden second, and a fereldan third. being an elf is somewhere down below that and a few other things. she will always consider herself to have more in common with a human circle mage than anyone who wasn’t raised and trained the exact same way she is, but simply happens to have the same pointed ears. if you asked her if she was glad to have recruited one of her own people in the awakening dlc, her mind would jump to anders long before velanna

in reality, it does inform who she is. a lot of her dry disinterest in andrastianism stems from being an elf. it is a reason she has to work harder than any human to be taken seriously as a leader in most contexts. it’s one of the reasons she was a little socially targeted for her prowess by her peers growing up, which contributed to the untouchable veneer she keeps up, to not let people close enough to see she can be hurt. it obviously affects how she’s perceived by others, though she mostly considers this a lifelong inconvenience she has to work around. conversely, she is instinctively trusted by other elves, and while she doesn’t think about this much, she would be more hurt than she would expect if that trust were revoked. she also trusts her fellow elves easier herself; she is aware of the threat that humans may always pose to her, whether genuine physical danger or simply a cruel part of their worldview they may let slip at any time, and has certain kinds of emotional guard up approaching them that she would not with a fellow elf. it’s one of the reasons it’s so easy to be around zevran from the start. and finally her obsession with being seen to be the one to save everyone from the blight, hoping that could change perspectives on people like her, is as much to do with being seen doing it as an elf as the other aspects of her identity.

but just because it’s not as clean-cut as she would like doesn’t mean she’s necessarily wrong and deluded about who she is, either. the tragedy of her elven identity is often that she sees it as this inconvenience and struggle she faces, something she has to drag along behind her, while having been severed from what all the joys of community and culture should be, thus never actually experiencing what many would consider key aspects of being an elf. she can’t speak a word of elven or recall any of the foods they make in the alienage or tell you why they keep a vhenadahl. (not that this makes her somehow not elfy enough to be an elf—she is one, she knows that, she just doesn’t really connect to that fact or see it as worthwhile to make any effort to.)

instead, the closest things she had to a father and brothers were human, and she was not made to feel by those people that she should be something separate or aspire to other goals than they did, even if she would have to work harder for it. the circle possesses disparities between human and elf, but its mages are a perhaps uniquely blended community in which incredible social mobility can be possible. (the grand enchanter is an elf! that’s wild!) an elf might be less likely to get a senior enchanter’s robes, but once they had them, that clear hierarchy was what any circle mage would see first. the way she was perceived in the circle was also not only due to being an elf but to being from tevinter, too, and the associated religious stigma meant that often people focused on the latter—despite the fact that being an elf should entirely change their perspective on what that means.

of course if you’re looking for inspiration for your own surana, minerva is a unique case, and yours may be entirely different! the separation from elven culture was done to her by the circle, but she also accepted it; minerva always eschewed her past prior to the tower, determined to live this life and meet her mentor’s expectations. other suranas might have fought to keep the identity they arrived with, creating very different people and approaches