#my pet ant died

[sunllghtt]

He STINKS I just know it

[honeycombhank]

Well, I have sad news

⚠️ Pet death trigger warning ⚠️

3/14/24

I was holding my rats how I always do, sometimes one or many at once until everyone has had some good quality time and if I don’t get to everyone then I start the next day with who ever was up next.

Today I had been holding TipToe and Apple pie and then went to feed everyone because it was far past bedtime and I needed to start bedtime routine, this means I make sure I at least look at every rat making sure they are doing well and ensures I never miss something like a new health issue or injury that could have popped up that particular night, I saw everyone, everyone except mama moony, she had not come out for dinner, and even in her old age she always came out to eat dinner and say goodnight, tonight she did not, I knew what this most likely meant and moved boxes and bedding very carefully to try and find her, she was in their fizzy water box house and had passed away sometime this evening. My love helped me move her.. the ants had come to try and salvage her body and I couldn’t handle seeing it.

I won’t describe it but I will say it was really frightening and made me feel so uncomfortable and sad. I couldn’t have kept that from happening because even though I am taking steps everyday to keep the ants at bay they still are coming out immediately at even a thought of something worth it to them. I’m doing my absolute best at keeping things clean..

We quickly found something to put her in and removed her three daughters as well and placed them into a small cage with fresh bedding and water. I will clean their big cage tomorrow.

I have more to say but I just wanted to share what happened with you guys, I hope what I did share wasn’t too scary for anyone.

I am missing our sweet Mama Moony, she was so good at caring for all her babies and really showed such emotion and empathy towards other living creatures, she was always so kind and gave me one of the best experiences getting to watch her give birth and become a mother and seeing her navigate the way of the world.

Rest in peace Mama Moony Pooh. Don’t forget about us up in ratty heaven.

[zapsoda]

had a nightmare the other day where i strangled a bird to death and it was horrible and i hated it and i woke up feeling quite bad

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

[casin0table]

Funny thought about If I Loved You (Reprise)

Technically my AU (To The Nerds / Ghost AU) isn’t quite plausible because while yes Peter died in a location built by the Waylons and therefore there would be a chance that the black magic of the Waylon place would likely allow for a ghostly resurrection, you have to remember that the reason Peter needed to die was because the LIBs wanted what Steph wanted most in trade,

even in the situation where “hey maybe they are ghosts” it was more likely that if Peter was to be actually killed in that scene and then claimed by the LIBs, dragged down to Drowsy Town / Black & White alongside Max

No one would’ve seen him ever again, not one true goodbye

However that proposes a different question

Who gets Pete’s soul?

Pete is a sacrifice if anything, maybe a guest but more likely an object for the eldritch beings of the Black and White to do as they want with seeing as he is like an ant amongst men, or some sort of pet or livestock, to be eaten or used as people often do with animals.

So who gets him? (Nightmare Time spoilers ahead)

On one hand, Pete’s life and soul is a sacrifice to the LIBs, an item offered up to the lords in trade—and correct me if I’m wrong but—I believe Nibbly is the only one out of the Lords in Black to actually take sacrifices, typically consuming them like how he talks about eating Max’s soul, so he would get Peter.

However Pete is also a Spankoffski, and as we know in the series and as is alluded to in The Summoning, Tinky wants to complete his set of Spankoffskis, keeping Ted to join his brother in a hellish nightmare, in his cube or whatever and would likely want/have called dibs on Peter if he was to die

So who gets him?

Personally, I’d like to think it would just be the two of them tug-o-warring over Peter.

“He’s MY sacrifice!”

“Nuhuh nuhuh! I called dibs on the Spankoffskis!”

“Wiggly gave him to me! Give me him! I’m hungry!”

“Well I deserve him more than you!”

“Nuhuh!”

“Yuhuh!”

“Nuhuh!”

“Yuhuh!”

Meanwhile Peter who is still conscious (as a ghost albeit) fucking sweating as he’s basically tortured because of how hard they’re pulling

ok thank you for reading bye

[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 9: Bloodthirst (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight and my bonus beta reader for the next two chapters, @whumpsday!

In this chapter: Thistle indulges in getting cozy, but finds the house disturbed by yet another new arrival.

With respect to @whumpsday, the og of hungry vampire sadbois, and @entomolog-t, the og of tiny vampires.

***

There were now enough pixies for a pixie pile.

Thistle was ecstatic.  He’d grown up sleeping in a pixie pile, and he’d missed it, longed for it, ached for it ever since his separation from his family.

Sleeping on top of Moon was nice enough, but he wasn’t a pixie.  And with Marigold here, there were two pixies.  Not enough for a pile.

But Jax had a pixie incarnation now.  There were three pixies, which met the minimum number needed to be a proper pile.

Moon would be included, of course, even if he wasn’t a pixie.  The pile would simply go on top of him.

Thistle made sure everyone had a nice, soft pair of pajamas.  Enough thick, fuzzy socks.  Enough blankets and soft pads to sleep on.  Hot, sweet drinks to sip in the evening before falling asleep.

Oh, yeah.  This was going to be perfect.

Thistle cleared enough space in his wooden castle–for once, he was worried he might not have enough room in there for something.  He arranged everything just right, plumping pillows and layering blankets and smoothing out sheets.  He wove small animals out of plant fiber–such toys weren’t out of place in pixie nests, quite similar to humans’ stuffed animals.  They didn’t usually make them bears or cats or dogs, though–pixies had a completely different array of animals that were culturally important.  

Thistle remembered his Mother’s Mother’s hive having a nest of ants in the bottom of the structure, tended to like a herd–he couldn’t remember if they’d done anything besides occasionally eating the larvae.  It’d been such a long time ago that all he remembered was that they tasted quite good.  Before Thistle had left, Mother had been in the process of trying to make space in their tree for clusters of honeydew-producing aphids.  She’d also told Thistle that some hives knew how to rear moths or spiders for their silk, which Thistle had always longed to see, but she’d said moths were more complicated than aphids and spiders had a safety risk.

There had been that one time his older brother Oak had brought home a disfigured moth which would have died without help–its wing had gotten caught in its cocoon while trying to emerge, and now it was wrinkly, tiny, and useless for flying.  Mother let Oak keep the moth as a pet, even though it had no practical use.  It was fuzzy, nice to hold, and pretty to look at.  Oak had named it Cattail.

He lovingly traced the memories as he wove, imagining himself making a toy for Dewdrop.  Aunt Winter’s new baby, Dewdrop.  He wanted to meet Dewdrop so badly.  Thistle was really the only one in the hive good enough with his hands to make toys without using magic.  He would have been making all the toys for Dewdrop.  Had someone else been making them?  Was Dewdrop wanting for toys?

He suddenly realized he’d begun crying when a tear dripped down onto the moth doll he’d been making.  He slowly wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, then sniffled and straightened himself up.

There was no need to be sad.  He was going to have a pixie pile again.  Dewdrop was fine, and so was he.

He arranged a moth doll and an aphid doll so they were nicely on top of the covers, then stood back to examine his work.  I should sell those on Etsy, too.  Everyone would go wild for them.  He started writing the listing title mentally.  Miniature insect bug arthropod crochet doll lifelike fidget toy Micro realistic choose SET or INDIVIDUAL made to order.  He could sell one for $20 or a set of three for $50.  Yeah.  That would be good.

He walked out and pushed Marigold’s wheelchair to the entrance of his wooden house.  “Are you ready for bed, Marigold?”

He nodded.

Pixie-Jax flitted on the roof of the house, jumping down onto the ground.  “I am too!”

“Shh,” Thistle said.  “Speak quietly.  We’re supposed to be calming down now.”

Jax nodded, looking very serious in his oversized pajamas that swallowed his hands.

Moon arrived five minutes after the agreed upon time, as always.  He had an eye mask on his forehead and an extra pillow under his arm.  “I stayed up late so that I could be tired precisely for this slumber gathering,” Moon declared.  “Let us commence.”

“Okay,” Thistle said, trying not to get excited.  He was supposed to be calming down.  “Moon, you go in first, and then we’ll all get on top of you.”

Moon ducked to go into Thistle’s house.  “Good Heavens!  It’s a proper cornucopia of comfort in here.”

Thistle poked his head in and watched as Moon arranged himself, pulling the covers back.  Moon held his arms up.  “I’m ready for dogpiling, boys.  Have at me.”

“Okay, Jax next.”

Jax dashed into the wooden structure and snuggled up under Moon’s arm.  “Like this?”

“Yes, perfect.  Okay, now Marigold.”

Thistle lent Marigold a hand to stand up out of the wheelchair.  He supported him by the elbow to help him inside.  Marigold’s face twinged with pain as he went down into a kneeling position.

“You all right?”

“Yes–just a moment.”

He shifted to a position that apparently lessened his pain, then gingerly lay down under Moon’s other arm, head on the crook of his elbow.

That just left Thistle.  He crouched down and situated himself on top of Moon, so Moon’s chest fluff was his pillow.  “Everybody comfy?”

There was a round of assenting sounds.

Thistle reached down and pulled the blanket up, swathing them all, and turned off the light.  “Good night, everybody.”

“Thistle my boy, would you pull down my eye mask?  My hands are quite full.”

Thistle reached up and pulled the mask over Moon’s eyes.

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Jax.”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

No response.

“Marigold?”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

“Good night, Jax.”

“Good night, Moon.”

“Is this really quite necessary?”

“You’re supposed to say good night.”

“...Good night, Jax.”

“Marigold?”

No response.

“Marigold, you didn’t say good night to anyone.”

“Good night Thistle, Jax, and Moon.  There.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

“Moon?  You didn’t say good night back to Marigold.”

“Good night, Marigold.  Are you quite satisfied now?  Have we somehow missed a possible permutation here?”

Thistle snuggled closer to Moon, and Jax copied his motion.  “No,” Thistle said contentedly.  “I think that’s everyone.  Thanks.  Good night.  I love you all.”

“I love you, Thistle.”

“I love you, Moon-”

“We are not doing all that again.  I would like to go to sleep sometime in the next twenty-four hours.”

Thistle tugged on the sleeve of Moon's silken pajamas.  “Just once?  Just one, Moon?  Please?”

Moon sighed.  “I love you, Thistle.”

Thistle happily flicked his ears and settled in.  It seemed like Marigold had already fallen asleep.

They dozed like that.  Thistle could hardly get sleepy with how happy he was.  It was so warm and fuzzy, and a soft glow of magic welled up inside him.  He just lay there enjoying it.

It was a while later, after he’d finally managed to fall asleep, that he woke up.  He wasn’t sure why.  But-

Oh.

Oooh.

Marcy’s necklace.

It was sitting on the table–Marcy had left it there today.  It was glowing.  It’d been soft white all night–but now it was bright yellow.

Yellow.  Yellow.  What had yellow meant?

Thistle disentangled himself from the pile and snuck over to the door, peeking his head out.  He didn’t see anybody.

“Hello?” he whispered.  “Is somebody there?”

There came a sound, then–a sort of tittering, accompanied by light flapping.  He turned his attention upwards and saw some small fuzzy creature way, way high up near the ceiling.  It frantically dashed into the room and smacked into the wall, then tumbled down.  When it finally stopped its erratic movements, Thistle saw it was a bat with tawny red fur.

No, not a bat–the real creature emerged from the form of the bat as soon as it touched the ground.  It was a fuzzy humanoid with protruding fangs and triangular ears.

The fish tank flipped open.  “Yo, Thistle!” Jewel shouted.  “Are you gonna wake anyone else up and tell them there’s a fucking vampire in the house or do I need to do it?”

“A vampire?” Thistle squeaked.  

“Gotta be.  I mean, just look at him.  Right?”

The new arrival flipped himself upright from where he’d fallen on the ground, still on all fours, ears pinned back against his head nervously.

“Thistle?” said Moon’s sleepy voice, and his head appeared out the door, eyes still half-closed.  “What are you shouting about?”  His eyes widened as he saw something was up.  “Oh?”

“It’s a vampire,” Thistle said.  He looked over.  “Right?’

“Well yes but, I’m not–I don’t want to hurt you,” the creature said.  His ears were still flat and his voice trembled, as though not entirely sure he would be believed.

Oh, he was speaking Pixish.  The language a predator would typically speak if their primary prey was Pixies.

“I’ll go get Marcy,” Thistle said.  He looked behind him and saw Marigold stirring in the bed, with Jax not far behind.  “...I’ll stay here with Marigold.  Moon, you go get Marcy?”

“Am I your messenger?”

“...Yes?”

“...All right.”  Moon drew himself out of the house and spread his wings, then took off upstairs.

The new arrival watched him with wide eyes.  Clearly he’d never seen one of Moon’s kind before.

“Thistle, who’s that?” Jax whispered.

“Just stay inside.  I’ll handle this.”  He gave a nervous wave to the creature.  “Hi.  I’m Thistle.”

“I’m Auburn,” he said.  Pixish actually had more words to describe colors than English, with Pixie’s sensitive eyes able to see more with minute differences. He wasn't sure if vampires could see the same way, but the word he gave as his name, Kasabrua, the closest translation of which was Auburn, actually referred to the very specific shade of red in the coat of a fox’s fur.  That was exactly the color his fur was, so it was fitting–it was basically the equivalent of calling him “Foxy” or “Vixen,” although Thistle knew those two words had…. connotations in English that they wouldn’t have in Pixish.

“Hi, Auburn.  It’s nice to meet you.  My friend Marcy is coming downstairs.  She’s a human.  Is that okay?”

Auburn hugged the wall, like he was afraid Thistle was going to attack him.  “Yes.  Yes, please, I’d like to meet her.”

Thistle and Auburn kept tense eye contact with each other as Moon came back down, followed by Marcy, still in her pajamas.  “Oh my gosh, hi!” she said with restrained enthusiasm.  She knelt down beside Thistle, who fluttered onto her lap.

Auburn kept his eyes on Marcy, body tense.  He was clearly terrified, but he made no motion to leave.

“He speaks Pixish,” Thistle said. 

“Hi,” Marcy said gently.  “I’m Marcy.”

“I’m Auburn.  You’re really big.”  He swallowed.  “Sorry, um… I'm not supposed to be seen, and I’ve never met a human before.  So, so it’s a little scary.”

“She is pretty big,” Thistle said.  “But she’s nice.  Do you want to tell us a little bit about yourself?

“Well, um…  I heard that all kinds of creatures live here together in peace, even predators.  So, so I’m interested in.  That.”  He flattened himself against the ground, as though to disappear.  “If that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Marcy said.  “Where did you hear it?  Who?”

“A, um.  A tree creature told me.  A dryad.”

Marcy and Thistle looked at each other.

“Could it be the same dryad that told Jax?”  Thistle poked his head into the house.  “Jax?”

Jax crawled forward, just peeking out.  “The dryad that told me was a big tree.”

Auburn shook his head.  “The dryad that told me was a holly bush.”

Okay, they were definitely going to have to coerce Trilloras to come out and answer questions.  They’d already tried every combination of begging, coaxing, and threatening they could think of to get her to come out, yet her sapling remained totally inert.  They were starting to think that maybe she was asleep or unconscious and couldn’t hear them.

“It sounds like they’re different dryads,” Marcy said.  “But that’s okay.  We don’t have to talk about them.  Let’s talk about you.”

Auburn nodded nervously.  “Right, right.  Um.  I just want to live in peace.  So, so if this is a place where I can do that.  Then I want to stay here.  If that’s okay.”

“Sure!” Thistle said brightly, absolutely delighted.  “Sure, we’ll figure out a way you can live here.”

Auburn drew forward slightly.  “Real, really?  Um, mostly I was worried about…where I would hunt.  Um, since–if–it seems like everyone here–”

“We can figure that out,” Thistle said.  “We have a trick.”

“Can we talk about it in the morning?” Moon said.  “I’m not ready to be awake yet.”

“Right!” Auburn squeaked.  “Sorry, sorry for interrupting.  Um, you can, you can go back to sleep.”

Marcy looked from Auburn to Thistle, then sat on the couch.  “I’ll stay down here.”

“Okay,” Auburn said bashfully.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  It’s just to watch things.  You’re probably not tired because it’s night, huh?”

“I’m… tired.  I could sleep.”  He sounded dejected.

“Okay.  Um.  How do you sleep?”

“On the ceiling.”  He looked morosely up at the ceiling.  “But there aren’t any footholds.”

Marcy tapped her chin.  “Oh!  Hold on, I know.”  She went into the next room and retrieved Colin’s pullup bar, mounting it in the doorway.  “There, like that?”

Auburn clung to the wall with his creepy little hands, shimmying up it until he was far enough to push off and jump into the air.  His arms transformed into wings as he flapped them, and he propelled himself up to take hold of the bar.

He hooked his feet around it and hung upside-down, ensconcing himself in his wings like a blanket.  “This, this is wonderful.  Thank you.  I can stay up here?”

“Yeah,” Thistle said.  “That’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

Auburn seemed peaceful enough, but Thistle was still glad that Marcy was nearby.

Despite being too tired to function, he wasn’t sure if he would sleep much with a vampire hanging over the room.

***

The pixie pile did manage to get a decent amount of rest in the end.  Thistle woke up feeling recharged and energetic–ready for a day full of art.  Because that would be step one to welcome a new resident: it was his responsibility to befriend Auburn so he wouldn’t have to hunt.  Now that he’d already done it with Severa and knew it was possible, it didn’t seem so daunting.  If anything, it was exciting.

True, Auburn was scary.  He was almost as tall as Moon.  His fangs poked out of his mouth.  He clearly was a lot stronger than Thistle.  He slept overhead, hanging menacingly.  And he drank blood–probably, they hadn’t seen that yet.  He’d probably attacked and maybe even killed people.  But he was already here peacefully and seemed willing to do what they asked.  This couldn’t be harder than Severa, surely.

Auburn was still in the same place hanging from the pullup bar in the morning–true to his word, he was fast asleep and looked exhausted when everyone else was stirring.  Teddy and Colin came down, and more introductions were had.  Teddy very valiantly hid her disquiet at seeing Auburn, while Colin was concerned about rabies.  Marcy reassured them it was safe and that she would handle it, although privately she was also a little bit worried about rabies.

Thistle made the rounds to gather a group for a painting session.  Marigold, Jax, and Severa were on board without needing any cajoling.  Moon declared he was going to try it, since he was warming up to Thistle’s silly projects.  Jewel said he didn’t want to do anything involving paint, since it got all over his skin and felt bad in the water, even if it was nontoxic.  Violet couldn’t be coerced to come out even though Petunia definitely would have enjoyed it, but whatever.

“Art is a great way to bond,” Thistle said, laying out his paints.  He had Marcy lay out some canvases for them to paint.  “It’s a great activity to do together, and you can talk while you do it.  This will be a great way to get to know each other.”

“I admit I thought it quite useless at first,” Severa admitted.  “But I am starting to enjoy it more.”

“It’s growing on me, too,” Moon said.

Auburn knelt next to the paints, touching one of the tubes.  “Great!  Um, so, what, what do I do?”

“You, um…”  At this point Thistle noticed that Auburn’s hand was shaking.  “Hey, are you okay?”

Auburn drew his hand back, then gave a pained smile.  “Oh, sorry.  Um, I haven’t, um, I’m pretty hungry, that’s all.”

Thistle felt like he’d been smacked in the face.  That was why Auburn was tired enough to go to sleep last night?  He simply hadn’t eaten and therefore had no energy?  He’d been sitting there hungry enough to start trembling and didn’t say anything?

“Hey, we can’t have fun and bond on an empty stomach,” Thistle said gently.  “Come on, let’s take care of that first.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Auburn said quickly.  “I’m sorry.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

“We want to, though.  We wouldn’t tell you to stay here and then make you starve.”  Oh whoops, Thistle had said that and then remembered that Auburn would presumably have to drink someone’s blood.  Thistle certainly wasn’t eager to volunteer himself for that.

Fortunately, Severa spoke first.  “I will help you.  You drink blood, yes?  I have plenty of blood, and my magic is strong.”

Auburn practically wilted with relief.  “Thank you.  Thank you so much.”

Severa reached down and pried one of the scales on her abdomen back, exposing vulnerable, soft flesh.  Auburn crept near.  “It’s really okay?”

“Yes.”

Auburn leaned over, shaking, and gently made a soft cut with his fangs, then clamped his mouth over the wound, taking small sips.

Severa put her hand on his head.  A tear leaked from his eye.

After a moment, he drew back, wiping his face.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  Severa pushed the scale back down, wincing but not complaining.

“There,” Thistle said.  “Everyone is okay and feels good.  Right?”

Severa and Auburn both nodded.

“Good.  Now let’s get painting.”

Thistle guided Auburn, Severa, Moon, Marigold, and Jax through laying out their canvas and starting to apply the paint to it.  Marcy participated too, sitting on the floor with a proportional paper.

“So,” Thistle said conversationally as they worked.  “Auburn, can you tell us a bit more about yourself?  What made you decide to seek us out?  Why did the dryad tell you to come here?  If you know.”

“Oh, um.”  Auburn had red paint all over his hands and was putting paw prints all over his canvas.  “Well, my family kicked me out of my colony.  So, so I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“That’s horrible!” Jax cried.  “I can’t imagine if Thistle kicked me out!  Why would they?”

Auburn’s ears drooped, and the motions of his hands became slow and unenthusiastic.

“Jax, he might be sensitive about it,”  Thistle chided.  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Auburn.”

“No, it’s okay.”  He dipped his hands in yellow and started making yellow pawprints.  “Well, I’m, um, I’m a Worthless, so when things got tight, I was the first to go.”

The exact word he used was Struntajo, which meant roughly worthless, but he said it like it was supposed to mean something more.  Thistle had never heard anyone use it that way.

“What’s that mean?” Jax said, once again failing to understand what a sensitive topic is.

“We can talk about it later if you want,” Thistle offered, wincing.

“No, it’s okay.  I didn’t realize you’d have no way to know what that is, I guess.”  He clasped his paint-laden hands together.  “Um, when prey is plentiful, vampires will sometimes have an extra pup in their litters that’s small and weak.  If there’s enough to go around, the runt gets enough food to grow up strong.  But, but if there isn’t, then the runt is there to take the hit when they have to make sacrifices if things get worse.”

“Sacrifices?” Severa said.

Auburn shuffled his feet.  “Leave it to die, usually.”

“That’s horrible,” Severa said, utterly horrified.  “They have an extra baby on purpose for the sake of having something to sacrifice if their gamble doesn’t pay off?”

“I mean, it makes sense if you think about it.  At least, I mean.  My siblings all contributed more to the colony than I did.  So, so when resources started getting scarce, it’s better that they could cut me off rather than someone who actually helped.  You know?  As soon as I became an adult they made it clear I had to leave if I didn’t contribute more. It wasn't a surprise or anything.”

Severa clenched the paintbrush she was using so hard that it snapped in half.  “That is a horrible way to think about it.  I could never dream of even considering sending someone I’d raised from a little baby out to die just because they weren’t useful enough.”

Auburn shrunk away from the anger in her voice.  “Er, well, if there isn’t enough to go around…”

“Then you get more, or you yourself go hungry.  That’s what being a mother means, not this- this perversion where children are seen as an investment you expect returns on in the future.”

Auburn rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, well I’m not a parent, so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re right,” Severa snipped.  “You wouldn’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Thistle said, trying to rein the conversation back in.  “That sounds very difficult.  So that’s why you were looking for somewhere else to go?”

Auburn nodded.  “I’m bad at hunting.  I’m small, weak, not a strong flier, and not good at magic.  My family got tired of helping me, so I haven’t been back to the colony.…  I’ve been.”  Tears welled up in his eyes again.  “I’ve been just barely hanging on.  You’re the first ones who have been nice to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Marigold said.  “I’m surprised to find myself sympathizing with a predator at all, but I truly can’t imagine what I would do if my family were like that.”

Thistle was intimidated to think about Auburn being a runt, considering how very large he still was.  Thistle very bravely stood near him.  “Do you want a hug?”

Auburn nodded miserably.

Thistle wrapped his arms around Auburn’s midsection, and Auburn’s arms came around him gently.

“Ooh, you’re soft,” Thistle said into his fur.

Auburn chuckled.  “Glad there’s something good about me, at least.”

“I am not jealous,” Moon announced mechanically.  “I am also soft, and it’s fine that there are multiple soft people in the house that Thistle likes to touch.  It does not reflect on my worth as an individual.”

Thistle sighed and looked over his shoulder.  “Good job, Moon.”

Moon gave him a thumbs up.

***

@static-stars

@cloudwatchingtoday   @theepiccreatorofmagic-blog-blog  @waitisthatgt @itssmoltime 

@ratcatcher0325  @crazytinygirl @bittykimmy13  @whumpsday @theroyaleemily 

@kitn-underfoot 

@tinyguy42069

@jewel-fan-wys

@cheeseybeans8

@whumpshaped

@lucentbliss

@alilbitlesbian

@aceouttatime

@alarcomet

@becca-but-bitty

@tiny--pineapple

@bittykimmy13

@whumpsday

@kitn-underfoot

@gt-brainrot

@silent-orchid-lady

@starfields08000

@predacon-skydrift

@vidawhump

@whumpdreamz

@honeycollectswhump

@imber-rose

[ratlordsarah]

another dream I had with dr two brains 💀

this actually happened a few nights ago, but I forogr about it lol

I am also gonna put an undercut on it, bc this one is pretty long 😭

But first, context: in this dream, I was roommates with my friend (Hii cas 🤫🧏) , and we each had 100 rats as pets (my friend also had 50 pet mice), and in the basement, we had Martin Luther king, Harriet Tubman, and Steve Urkel as roommates who also lived in our attic 💀

anyways, there were cats that were always climbing through the air ducts, and out the vents in the house, which was a problem considering our rats. Btw, I mean all sorts of cats, big, small, fluffy, hairless, you name it 😭

but as it turns out, the reason why cats were there was bc dr phil was in the ventilation system and put a cat spawner from Minecraft in there and he was doing it because he was convinced that the house was possessed by a “demon” in which the “demon” was none other than Chris kratt from wild kratts. later on, dr two brains randomly ascends from the sky and phases through the roof of our house as if he were in Minecraft creator mode, and starts speaking mouse to the mice, and rat to the rats 💀

as it turns out, he ended up manipulating the rats& mice to come over to his lair and we could only get our rats and mice back if we went to his wear house, and gave him all of the shredded cheese we had in the fridge (in the dream, we had a specific fridge dedicated to shredded cheese)

We gave him the cheese and got our rats and mice back, but he felt bad for taking the rats in the first place, so he ended up giving us each a golden statue of biggie cheese and Spamton from Deltarune fist fighting an ant

I don’t really remember what happens next, but I missed some important key details, because I am now Whitney Houston and we are all running from the house because Chris kratt was trying to murder us (dr Phil was right) and everyone died by jumping out of a high window, accept for me.

but I was so distracted by a flower trying to sell me crack that I woke up.

(The dream has ended at this point, but I tend to hallucinate when I wake up for 5-50 seconds sometimes. This also happens when I fall asleep sometimes too.)

but now, as I have awoken my my slumber, I see a floating dr two brains saying “you didn’t bring me enough shredded cheese, to the incinerator you shall be next” in a mix of a British accent and a southern accent, which naturally made me jolt out of bed

needless to say, fun way to start my morning 💀

should I be on meds???😭

[that0nefangi1rlinyourarea]

THE BAND CLUB!!!! (MY ANIME CLUB OCS!)

-

INFORMATION ABOUT THE CHARACTERS!! (LEFT TO RIGHT):

Laurelle, THE Gal

-

LEADER/PRESIDENT OF THE CLUB.

> Guitarist, Lead Vocalist

- Is usually a cheery, supportive, and fun girl to be around with. Usually has band sessions close to where the Anime Club's at. Avid Weezer fan. Though given the fact that she's nice to some people (most especially her friends/closest friends), she absolutely DESPISES the Anime Club. Let's say her band's having their rehearsals, and THEN the Anime Club would be, I'unno, blasting random anime music. Who does Laurelle despise the most in the Anime Club? Mort. Definitely Mort. She gets into arguments and banters with that lil fella occasionally, also poking fun of their weeb behaviour. Gets a weird feeling around him sometimes, makes her spine shiver with the thought of someone watching her from afar (Mort). Finds either Mark or Dave interesting. Oh right, Clyde and Laurelle are childhood friends. She's chill with him. Probably the only Anime Club guy she tolerates (aside from Dave). I could say she's part of the student council and sometimes tries to get the Anime Club in trouble.

》 LIKES: Seals (Harp, specifically), Playing music, Weezer, The Ergs!, Blur, Her special violin, Videogames, her friends, her pet maltipoo named Daisy, LOVESSSS Rivers Cuomo (80's-ish era with his BOWLCUT!!)

》 DISLIKES: Any insects (Yes, ants too), dirty areas, The Anime Club, Mort

Oliver, THE Striker

-

VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE CLUB

> Drummer

- Sanest of them all. Very into SOAD or Korn. He's really chill! When it comes to the Anime Club, though, he doesn't mind them. Just finds them weird sometimes, usually with the Japanese terms/words they use so randomly. Probably dislikes Mort too, he finds him greasy. (Mort slander but I love Mort. . . I DON'T EVEN CARE!!) He's a very skilled drummer too! Probably gets along with Dave reaaaal well. He can also play the guitar! But prefers drumming 'cause he likes the thrill of it.

》 LIKES: Moths, Drumming, his friends/bandmates, beaches, sweets, other Metal Bands, being quiet

》 DISLIKES: Clingy girls/fangirls, whenever the band is sometimes not following the right tempo, not being in the right tempo whenever he drums, losing his drumsticks, whenever Erick is being annoying

Erick, THE Don Juan

> Guitarist, Backing vocal #1

- He.. Um. All I can say is, FREAKY. Probably gets the girls too. Doesn't care what people think of him, just as long as he feels himself and is having fun with what he does. Probably bullies the Anime Club with Laurelle. They're almost like siblings!! He's insecure about his braces though, but he can't help himself to smile with his teeth. With the Anime Club, yeah, he makes fun of them. He also likes picking on Clyde mostly because he's usually the sensitive one, but Laurelle catches him doing so and just scolds him for picking on her childhood friend.

》 LIKES: Women, his guitar, any music, picking on Clyde, making fun of the Anime Club with Laurelle, petting his dog, online dating (occasionally), his fans, comics

》 DISLIKES: Mint Chocolate Chip Icecream, The Anime Club, "Weird" girls, catfishers

Nolan, THE Nerd

> Bassist, Backing Vocal #2

- Nerdiest of the three. Loyal follower of Laurelle. He gets along with ALL of the Anime Club members. In fact, he sometimes hangs out with them. Turns into a shaky jittery mess whenever he gets confronted about something he's done/generally just gets shouted at randomly. Sometimes Laurelle asks him to disclose secret embarrassing information from the Anime Club members for blackmail, but Nolan politely declines. He's scared of Erick for some reason. Maybe it's because of how he's so easygoing and extroverted. Likes reading novels or any educational books in general, mainly Science with biology. Despite his geeky look, he can actually sing good! Bravo, Nolan!

》 LIKES: Books, Singing, Making up basslines, Giving Laurelle for chord ideas or melody ideas, Anime, Talking about his interests

》 DISLIKES: Confident/Out-going people, Crowder Areas, Pornography (He gets shy and probably wees himself due to being too flustered.), Getting wrong answers, No one listening to him ramble, Getting yelled at

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i held an intervention for my cousin?

strap in bc this is gonna be long, but first i need to introduce this little cast of characters: I (26f), my sister (23f) and my cousin (22f) are literally the only young ones in my family. my fathers siblings never married, and i have only my mother's sister (50sthF) who has married and also has a kid. so this made us kind of close since we were kids, especially my sister and my cousin (due to their close ages) were always together. we did live far from each other, and could only meet one or two times in a year.

my cousin and my sister have ocd. i have depression. we all have anxieties. my aunt and my mother both have anger issues, so we kind of can guess what kind of house my cousin is living in. and also from what we could see during our short visits. so yeah, we're all fucked up, but ever since i started therapy and forced my sister to go as well, things started to change. my cousin kept making excuses about money issues, and not really needing any therapy, but her ocd started spiraling down very quickly after her cat got sick last year (we'll get to that soon).

so here's where the problem lies: my cousin has ocd, and needs to constantly ask for approval. she also has severe separation anxiety, to the point that she cant even think about a family member or her cat dying. and see, i get that! we also had beloved pets who died and honestly it still fucks us up, but she is getting delusional about it. god forbid we mention that the cat is now an old lady, or say that shes not as sharp/agile as she was before—this makes her cry immediately. also her ocd is very focused on her cat: she thinks she can carry diseases to her cat, she gets hysterical if we change our clothes near the cats bowl, asks everyone repeatedly if sth unrelated might make the cat sick. shes also of the belief that if someone uses an insect spray, then the poison will stay there till she goes to that place and carries the poison to her cat and making her sick. we kept explaining to her that if the sprays would work like that then we wouldnt suffer from a serious ant infestation for the third year in a row, but as it goes with ocd, she just cant accept it. she only believes what her mother says, and well. her mother gets agitated Very Quickly and they start fighting which makes everything worse.

usually id interfere and tell my aunt to just get along with my cousin as shes going through therapy and medication, and i saw it first hand on my sister that it takes time for ocd to get calmer. its not like oh u started therapy? why arent u already performing like a mentally healthy person?? this is what i suffered from when i first started my therapy. but my aunts main issue isnt her ocd. the ocd is par for the course—the main problem is that my cousin never helps around the house.

we knew this, since we have been together forever, that my cousin never works. she complains a lot, even snaps if u ask her to do two things at once (even if its like hey check the kettle and btw put this glass in the sink as well). and my aunt has zero tolerance for her attitude, which leads to her doing the chore herself and well this kind of encourages my cousin to get away from the chores by complaining. she was like this ever since we were KIDS. she'd play with us and make a mess, but when we were supposed to clean everything shed either not do a thing (saying "i dont know how to" even to simple things like put the thing in the basket) or shed just. vanish. whenever we ate lunch or dinner, shed immediately go to the bathroom, and come out after everything was cleaned and washed. and before u say there might be sth else, it really wasnt. she even admitted to it later. she just didnt want to do a single shit. and well, now that shes older, its getting kind of upsetting. whenever she's alone at home she does NOTHING. and when my aunt comes back from her trip SHES the one who has to clean after my cousin, even tho she has just arrived home. this is why no matter how much she asks us to go stay with her when shes alone, we never go. bc we dont want to clean after her. or when she comes over to our house she just. barely does a thing.

this is taking a huge mental and physical toll on my aunt, bc shes physically disabled (severe migraines caused by a bubble in her head, and recently due to her bad workplace her right hand and arm are also not doing well), and even tho she kind of brought this on herself (but indirectly encouraging my cousins behavior), its still really upsetting. whenever we go to their house, my sister and i try to shoulder a part of chores, bc 1) our aunt shouldn't have to do everything by herself and 2) we were taught to help. my parents never had any tolerance for us slacking off.

cut to last week when we went to their house, and it was a huge war zone. my aunt kept shouting at my cousin for things that werent her fault (like her asking for approval or complaining about sth someone did), and on the other hand my cousin kept dodging the chores, and when my aunt asked her to do ONE thing she kept snapping at her and complaining like it was a huge deal (it really wasnt. example: my aunt asked her to put her clothes which she had already folded and put on her bed away. my cousin snapped at her that she would do it and she should get off her back and then kept complaining that her folded clothes arent bothering anyone and she shouldnt be forced to put them away. this is not an exaggeration.) i also realized that part of the problem with their relationship was how my cousin kept complaining about everything to my aunt, which makes my aunt go insane bc she needs a break from the negativity, but my cousin is very clingy and would call her multiple times a day just to bitch about sth. and hey, i also bitch about things to my mother, but i dont call her that much when shes/im away, and also i try to balance it with good fun stories. i know my cousin isnt like having a very bad life, she just likes to complain about everything. but this, coupled with her insistent need for approval, and her clinginess, makes for a bad recipe.

so, when i finally had a private moment with my cousin, i told her that she needs to do chores, and this would do wonders to the current tension! i said this very gently and very quickly bc i didnt want my aunt to overhear us, and my cousin started crying and nodding and said she would try. this made me feel a bit calmer about the whole situation, until the next fucking day when my grandparents came to my aunts house and my cousin, u guessed, did nothing to help my aunt. at one point my sister found her kissing her cat instead of setting the table, and it made us both extremely mad.

i think that gently talking with her wont do good, bc she'd probably do the same thing again. i feel like i need to be more stern and a little bit harsher to hammer the point home, bc apparently she doesnt understand anything unless its shouted at her. im not gonna shame her or anything, im just gonna say that she needs to a) continue her therapy (which she has dropped for 5 months) b) take her pills regularly (which she doesnt) c) enforce a clear boundary between herself and her mother no matter how close they and d) do the chores. if she doesnt do these stuff, then she wont be able to get any sympathy from me, and my sister. also cant complain about it anymore if she's not going to do any fucking thing to improve her situation.

so, wibta?

What are these acronyms?

[6leggedhorse]

How I Met Loki:Signs I missed

Loki, the god of fire, shapeshifting, trickery, & chaos; they can be wild when it comes down to them revealing themselves to us mortal humans. But today, I decided to make something fun, something less gloomy. I want to openly discuss how I figured out Loki was T-posing in my space, and believe me it took a while for me to figure it out. So feel free to get comfortable, get your favorite drink and snack and cuddle up with your pet because this was a wild one.

In the beginning…

I don’t truly know when Loki came into my life. I speculate it had to have been a long time given the circumstances of my life. I left home after I was being blamed for a freak accident and the home life I had with my family was toxic, I couldn’t function. I left, I moved out in 3 days, I was lucky to have my boyfriend take me in as the situation was intense. But, I got out, I survived, and I began to thrive a bit. But soon, things changed, things began to happen in 3s. I found 3 wallets of the same description back to back to back; once a day. Literally. These wallets were large, black, and expensive looking, they also had money inside; the first wallet I found had $10k in it.

I didn’t think nothing of it, but things got crazier, 666 started to appear, I found it funny and ironic because my employee number at the time had 666 in it. So I started to treat it as a joke, then the number started showing up everywhere. I thought I was being absurd and tried to pretend it didn’t exist and ignore it. That didn’t work out well because Loki just up the ante on the number. I was seeing it almost everywhere and day; I got used to it quickly and it no longer had any effect on me or my attention span.

Well, then my luck began to change, I got a free box of Girl Scout cookies, my work started selling mini tiramisu cakes, my iPad purchase came with 100 dollar gift card for free, the job I wanted, placement in a program I worked insanely hard to get into, and get a stipend that went from 15k to 20k; my luck became batshit insane almost. It was so bizarre cause I didn’t even think about why I just accepted it and thought maybe I was just on a temporary luck streak. I want to make it clear that I didn’t think any deity would want to be in my life, I didn’t pursue deities, and vice versa, I figured I was like the lone wanderer from Fallout, making my own choices and recognizing that my choices do matter. I just figured whatever happens will happen on its own time and that was about it for me.

So Loki ups the ante again, I get invited to three different churches. It was three times in a week if I recall correctly and that was in my eyes, insane. I had random people becoming attracted to me and inviting me out to church. I never gave them a firm promise that I was to go. But because it happened as many times as it died, I truly debated on going to church again. I figured a deity for sure was calling upon me at this rate, but who was it was my question. I figured the number 666, my luck, the church invites, they all mean something. I was certain at this point, but who was it? I thought it may have been the Christian god, but that got debunked because of 666 and the intense increase in good luck. I thought perhaps it was Ishtar, but her signs didn’t line up with what I was dealing with. I was flabbergasted and so confused, I paid for a tarot reading on Etsy, I needed answers.

I bought the reading from LunarCrystalsTarot on Etsy, I purchased the What Deity is Reaching Out reading with crystals and the What Type of Witch are you/Best path to take readings. I waited for what seemed to be forever, but one day, in lecture, I finally got the answer. I was high key smiling because I had the answer I was looking for; EVERYTHING finally made sense. But I wanted to triple check it, so I asked Loki a couple questions and began researching into them. But I wanted to get a final confirmation from someone who was Lokean, I began my goofy search on Tik Tok. I know you’re probably reading this like “Bruh”. Well, it took me 0.1 seconds to find @ChaoticRebirth and discovered that Katie, (@ChaoticRebirth) has a small business and has 10x the experience I have with Loki so I slid over my pouch of gold doubloons and gave her everything I’m tell you now. A while after, I got the response and my final, hardcore, YES.

I was shook to the core, I had so many questions; so many whys, I still have whys. But when I began letting them into my life, I got one helluva a tower moment. I needed to get really serious about getting my mental in order; I was struggling with issues that I didn’t want to address or face head on. I needed to see a psychiatrist, and fast, something was wrong with me, and I had a pretty good idea what I was struggling with, I just didn’t want the diagnosis and stigma that came with it. Eventually, I was seen, and on top of chronic PTSD, my greatest fears became a gods awful reality: I was struggling with an anxiety disorder and eventually I’d learn I was also dealing with Inattentive ADHD. I cried when I got the second diagnosis, I wanted to hide, I knew that was causing me pain, but it made it 100x worse that I was right when I wanted to be wrong.

So I get medicated, I fought with my partner on and off via text and voice messages about when I should start the medication. After fighting over it, I took it and as of the 20th of this month I’m 4 months into being able to accept my diagnoses and learning how my brain works. I can finally think clearly, my brain is quiet, there is no more thoughts going off at once at various speeds, my thoughts can slow down and I can process them properly. Now the ADHD part I still struggle with a bit but I’m working on it slowly to help myself function better. Albeit the ADHD is mild, but boy is it still a pain in the ass to deal with. I’ve come to learn that my diagnoses are just that, diagnoses, they’re not labels nor do they define my character. I mean they give me sparkle but I have other things that give me sparkles.

I have other traits that I need to learn to love about myself and be more accepting and allowing myself to grief and learn to let go, and what not a better way in doing that is inviting and embracing chaos. Now of course it’s going to hurt, I’m gonna get triggered, angry, and perhaps cry my eyes out. But that’s part of the process, cause in between that there’s the silly goofy, the laughter, the smiles, shits and giggles, and the spontaneity in my luck. Enjoy the time you have with Loki, cause you will and can learn a lot from them, it might be a lot and intense, but it’s worth it. Just set boundaries and take it slow until you’re ready to pick up the pace.

Epilogue

And that was that Loki is still present in my life, but I await the time where they T pose out of my personal life. And when they do, I’m gonna ugly cry, cause they’re importa to me. Remember to improvise, adapt and challenge. Improvise with what you have, once you can improvise, you will better adapt to your surroundings and succeed in your endeavors. Once you realize you can successfully adapt, you will be able to overcome challenges with ease. You will have bumps in the road, but you’ll get through it!

I strongly recommend @ChaoticRebirth (Katie) on Tik Tok and Instagram and LunarCrystalsTarot on Etsy as they’re both very knowledgeable people and are strong in their talents in divination.

Until next time! Drink water! Take your medication! Breathe!

[cloevr]

the weight of siggy being missing has gotten heavier... yesterday marked 1 month since he disappeared and never came back... we've done everything we can but now as it sets in that i may never see him again my feelings have begun to shift from worry to full on grief

if i would have known that was the last day i would see him i would have never left his side and held him all day.... and it was moms fault but she doesnt even care. they both have poked fun at me for being so hurt by this to them its as if a pet ant died or something theyre like well he was just a cat but he meant so much to me. like he was so special and i was the person he bonded with first when we got him. it really hurts to be honest i keep looking over clips and pictures of him... i keep walking around the house hoping to see him curled up in a basket or a shelf or something. we still have his clean litter box and his treats bag and his cans of wet food and it's hard to look at them because it reminds me. i didnt want to do away with them because he could come back but at this point i think we need to just put them away. maybe donate the cans i dont know

[tinycoded360]

Other Grounded fun

Just some more pictures from my recent gameplay

I ventured under the shed

The only thing I don't like about Grounded is all the parkour you have to do from time to time. XD (It makes me think about how borrowers must be masters of parkour and how they literally would have to be ready to fight anything that comes their way.)

In the above picture, I have to parkour my way all the way up! Or take the Black Widow Tunnel. ( I took the Black Widow tunnel)

Kept thinking, "Don't fall, don't fall, don't mess this up."

Got my prize! (I was hunting for milk molars)

Some of my favorite things in Grounded! I love the Moths in the game. I find them to be super cute. (I feel bad when I have to kill them) I want one as a pet! It'd be so cool to ride it around.

But I do have a baby Ant pet! I made friends with all of the ants.

Me making friends with the black Ant Queen.

Unfortunately, the baby black Ant died due to a spider :(

Anyway, I just love this game. I'll probably write stories inspired by it or straight-up fanfiction based on it. At some point in the future, lol.

There's one story idea I want to do: where a borrower finds the shrunken kids trying to survive. But the interesting part is that the borrower would be the giant compared to the Ant-sized teens. Aw, one day I'll write it.

[sadistic-softie]

Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. I need a new bug collection right now. I no longer have access to my old one and it's been soooo long. It was a filthy and lazy collection anyways. I just picked up what I found or kept as pets long enough to see die. I put them in a divided container with no lid and they just collected dust. Ugh. I'm glad I'm starting fresh, actually. I need to hunt for new bugs. I need to find them and pick them out for myself. I need a bug wall. A place to just slowly fill with bugs. Maybe I'll use my cork board to pin them? I have plenty of pins and needles. I imagine a gorgeous wall of bugs. Little bugs, big bugs, pretty bugs, ugly bugs. I need to figure out how I'll kill them without damaging them. Likely a really potent spray depending on the bugs size? Maybe bleach? Lol. I could probably find some sort of pest killer spray in the house. Maybe I could affix a small hose to a transparent cup so I can just place it over the bug and gas it through the hose? I dunno. Many many ideas. God, I love bugs. I still remember my first pet bug. Caught it wandering my room. I was gonna let it go but something about it just caught my interest, so I did some research and made it a little home instead. It was a female Herpyllus ecclesiasticus, or eastern parson spider. A ground spider. Shy, like many ground spiders, but fierce. A hunter that kills its prey on its own without the use of webs. I would watch her. Absolutely fascinating. Very skilled killer. She often ate her prey later in the night after killing them rather than immediately, but sometimes I got lucky enough to watch her eat after the kill. I fed her ants I would catch outside as well as any other bug that would wander into my room, including other species of spiders. Many were fast and fought or ran from her, but she always won in the end. I loved watching her take them down. I had her for quite some time and came to adore her, so when I knew her lifespan was nearing its end (they live for roughly 2 years if I remember correctly), I let her go so I wouldn't have to see it. Perhaps she died that day. Who knows?

[hikikomoriaesthetic]

˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ hello, i’m not dead lol. I just didn’t post as I had nothing to vent about as my life had been practically the same every day. until today, well around an hour ago when I felt my everything I usually held back bubble up to the surface. just one thing, after another and then another. once I stopped worrying about one thing, another thing makes it’s way to the top.

I’m not sure if I mentioned it on a previous vent as I have shit memory lol. but I’m a pet owner, I have a therapy animal, which I’m extremely close to- insanely so. she’s the one thing that helped me get out of my major depression slump years ago and stop dislocating. literally my whole entire day is a routine around her, I don’t mind as it keeps me moving and I do love her. but I’ve always had major separation anxiety which used to be to my mother but moved onto my therapy pet, as such I can’t leave my room for longer than an hour without worrying.

an hour ago I noticed she was sick, my mother quickly helped feed her medicine and food and she wasn’t as sick as she was years ago- but all I can think about is her dying. she has to die one day, and I don’t know how old she is since we saved her from an old neighbour. but I don’t want her to suffer or be in pain, so all I keep thinking about is putting her down so she can’t die in pain. perhaps because I only want the best for her, and don’t want her to one day die in pain- but like my mother said, she could live for years happily and get over this sickness. but all I keep thinking about is how to peacefully kill her.

it scares me, her just being sick has sent me into multiple breakdowns thinking the worst- i genuinely don’t think I’d be able to handle her death, especially since she lives in my room. I don’t know what I would do if i saw or heard her die. I don’t know what to do, but I’ll try and sleep on it and if she is still sick I’ll probably try to convince my mother to take her to get put down.

I’m not sure if this would be considered cruel, I genuinely can’t feel or think anything except it would be kinder to kill her before she has to one day suffer. perhaps in one way, I feel best if I control her death in the most peaceful way. I feel better venting, I’ve calmed down at least. don’t worry lol, I can’t even hurt an ant without feeling bad let alone hurt her. I would only get her to be euthanised if push comes to shove. my first instinct is to always panic and as such my mind goes to horrible thoughts, I’ll try to sleep on it and see if she’s better in the morning. I know death is normal, but something about it always terrifies me when it happens to someone or something I am attached to. 🤍🤍

update (the morning after) - she died during her sleep. I’ve accepted it, I’m just a bit confused what to do with my life since my routine revolved around her. I’ll just take one day at a time..

[mannermacabre]

On god I need to study you. Hi I'm Willow AKA @pseudological-facade and I'm interested in your pet project

hi hi hello!!!!! i am normally the one doing the studying buuut i may make an exception for YOU willow!! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝ i have a lot of pet projects hmm let me rattle some off to you. once i stitched the head of an ant to the body of a cricket with the wings of a butterfly!!! ٩(◕‿◕)۶ it took a lot of precision and was only halfway successful it came to life for like five minutes and then died (＞ｍ＜) i dont really have my ONE BIG THING at the moment im pretty relatively new to mad science you know? though i’ve always been fascinated with apocalypses ＼(≧▽≦)／