#so i see you've become a saint for the world. I simply think it should be known that I acknowledged your potential first. Fool.

[kosmical]

Hey boss heard you wanted danganronpa head cannons. Buckle up:

So when Makoto told the gang he wanted to save the Remnants of Despair. Byakuya was the first on board.

Not because he believes in Makoto's 'hope can cure them.' At least not entirely. I feel he saw it as a chance to show the might of the Togami. After the killing game Makoto probably was super famous for saving the world and that upset Byakuya.

So Byakuya sees this little naive man say 'let's rehabilitate the biggest global terrorists while also going against our allies.' He sees this as an impossible task. But nothing is impossible for a Togami... and also he feels if anyone could pull this off it would be Makoto.

oh yeah i definitely think he would be arrogant enough to be like Hm yes it appears someone like yourself isn't suited for this. I Suppose I Have To Step In.

of course he eventually starts believing in the cause because makoto always finds a way (and also byakuya is whipped). But yeah I think initially it'd be a combination of a pride thing and a growing feeling that he'd follow Makoto wherever he goes

[gay-artificer]

Sorry if this is too out of nowhere but ive been thinking about how most of the normal slugcats arent really carnivorous outside of eating eggs and certain insects, exept for like gourmand (minimally) or saint (cannot digest any meat wether by design or evolution) and of course artificer and hunter. This makes me kinda theorize that yknow, slugcats arent normally carnivorous, and only gain the ability to eat meat through artificial means (exept for gourman they just do that i guess).

It also makes me theorize that maybe the reason why the two are able to do that is that they have some really corrosive acids/substances in their stomachs, for Arti those being in the form of garbage wastes microorganisms that make them explosive in general.

As for Hunter, well, maybe the reason they turn into the rot is because of the fact that they have the rot in their stomach if that makes sence? Like maybe they were made to have/grow some early stage rot growths in their intestines to be able to digest things they normally couldn't, or parts of their insides were given some rot genome, but wether intentionally or not, that system becomes unstable fast since it can become cancerous with the rot overtaking the body after some time.

My guess is that they're highly adaptable omnivores and lean towards various levels of severity based on environmental factors- It should be noted that insects and eggs are carnivorous food sources as much as meat is, its just a more accessible source. (And if you've ever seen the teeth on insectivores you would not doubt them. Look at the chompers on a shrew. A crickets worse nightmare) In fact if you look at the bulk of the basic slugcats diet pre-downpour its actually mostly small invertebrates- blue fruit is actually insect pupae, making the only vegetative parts of their diet bubble fruit, popcorn plants, slime molds. (Downpour added dandelion peaches, lilypucks, gooieduck (another mold), and glow weed. Its worth noting that many of these are added not just for world variety but to add items into the environment as tools- such as gooieducks not just being a substantial food source but providing a counter to wormgrass) (In this sense even saint can stomach some meat, as they can eat the blue fruit pupae and bug eggs) So thus the question is why pushes a slugcat to seek meat. It could be simply that its high energy payoff- most of the meat-eating slugcats get less energy (food pips) from eating small prey sources like batflies or blue fruit, so they turn to hunting larger prey. You have the higher energy cost of being an active hunter offset by payoff of actually being successful. It could also be that some slugcats simply lack the physiology (strong enough teeth, jaw strength) to tear into corpses and can only effective use small prey, even if they could eat meat successfully as scavengers. Tough hides can actually be a huge problem for scavenging animals if something else hasn't exposed the softer parts of the body, and this is why the first things lost on a corpse tends to be accessible and easy to take things like eyes, things like ravens need something with actual teeth to break the skin.

Buuuuut personally I think its a developmental shift- We see something like it in amphibian species. Its actually really neat stuff- basically, for a lot larval amphibians like tadpoles or salamanders they're naturally herbivorous and feed mostly on algae. However these young are generally limited in how much they can disperse until adults, which means competition for food can be very intense. As a result, in this developmental stage some will turn to predation- or to cannibalism. They grow larger then their vegetarian siblings, and in some species will grow larger jaws or new sets of teeth. They actually see this even behavior in species that are strict carnivores- some of the young are carnivorous but hunt unrelated prey, others specifically engage in cannibalism. Depending on what type of prey they target, the actually animal develops differently. Since we have the slugpups as a basis- who follow a diet pattern in line with Survivor and Monk, that can be assumed to be the 'basic' diet. But some individuals (likely ones in high stress, or low food environments) develop more intense predatory behaviors and physiology in adolescence. Genes can be environmentally flexible (polyphenism and epigenetics) and 'turn on and off' under certain cues, so for iterators it would probably be fairly easy to 'force' a specific type of slugcat.

[sylverstorms]

Mother Miranda x Lawyer!Oc ----Tilted Scales

Hello guys :) This is another commission I wrote for the amazing, wonderful @saltwatereulogies

Your support has been insane, I can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy the story ❣

Three days.

That is how long you've been in the village, after years of studying abroad, before everything turns to shit.

As you slowly blink focus back into your eyes, you try to clear the haze from your mind. It feels as though you've collided with a truck. Your body hurts, your wrists protest in their iron cuffs, stuck to the wall as they are, having supported your weight while you were unconscious.

Desperately, you try to recollect the events that led you here...

A grey sky. A bleak day. One moment you were making coffee for your mother, excited to be able to sit down with her in the mornings again... and the next you heard the echo of screams.

Overcome by adrenaline, you bolted out of your house, only to witness a scene straight from a nightmare; humanoid monsters ripping villagers apart, cries and blood and animalistic growls all blending together into one mad mix.

And before you could even warn your mother...

Damn it all, what the fuck happened!

You suddenly struggle against your bonds, hard enough to rattle your whole frame. Your wrists burn from the grind against metal, but you don't care–

“Stop that. It is pointless and you will only injure yourself.” A cold voice, strangely familiar, says from far to your right.

You peer deep into the shadows, searching for the only other person in the empty room... until you see her. A mask advances on you, gold and shaped like a crow's visage, then wings folded into a cloak come into view.

You would be a fool to not recognize her. The local saint. The village's prophet. The very 'saint' your mother prayed to, for your safe return, all these years. Mother Miranda.

The sound of her heels bounces off the walls until she comes to stand directly in front of you. Looking past the openings of her mask now, you realize....

This isn't possible.

She hasn't aged a day. Not a single day, since you left the village. The years should show around her deadly blue eyes, somewhere, and yet they don't.

“I see you remember me...” she says, while you're still trying to find your voice. “Miss Warren.”

“What is going on? Mother Miranda, what happened to the village?!” you demand.

Her expression shows nothing. “The village is in need of... renovation.” she speaks, even, regal. “Repopulation, even.”

You stare at her with wide eyes.

“Now, don't give me that look. You would not be here if you weren't of the ones I chose to keep.” she continues. “You see, from now on, every single person in my domain will make themselves useful in some way, or they will be replaced. And you... you have been abroad studying law for a while now, yes?”

“I... yes.” you reply, still not fully having wrapped your mind around your situation.

“Excellent. What I need from you is simple. You will make the village independent from the state’s taxes as a religious organization... and you will keep foreign investors out from that point onward.”

What... what part of that is simple?!

“Do that for me and in return I guarantee your mother and you will go back to your house safe and sound. You will have no shortage of Lei for as long as you live, Miss Warren.” Miranda promises.

But it is not the sweet part of the deal your mind stays glued to. “And if...” you gulp. “If I can't work around the law to do that...?”

Miranda blinks slowly at you, like you shouldn't even ask such a basic question. Like the answer is obvious.

“Well. Then I have no further use for either of you.”

It is in this moment that it dawns on you.

This woman is no angel and no saint.

She is a devil.

-

-

You spend countless sleepless nights pouring over every single paragraph, every little opening or ambiguity in the law you can use to free the village of taxes.

To keep your mother in the dark about this, you work in the office Mother Miranda has provided for you, in her very stronghold.

Although technically it's her home, you don't see her nearly as much as you initially thought. She is gone throughout the day and returns late at night, not even sparing you a glance before heading for her chambers, at the upper sections of the building.

The days she does come into your office to inquire on your progress are few and far-between, your conversations always short and cold.

This evening is different.

“How is your work coming along, Miss Warren?” the prophetess asks with her aggravatingly nice accent, seating herself like a queen on the chair in front of your desk.

Your eyes are tired, but you force them on hers, through the mask obscuring her face. “I think I've got it. I'll be sending the necessary papers tomorrow and the answer shouldn't take longer than a month.”

“Very good.” she nods, a miniscule curve to her lips.

Icy eyes then drop to the wine in the whiskey glass at the corner of the desk. You think she will make a comment about drinking at work, but instead she says;

“Pour me a glass, will you?”

You will your hands steady as you comply, then carefully slide her drink over.

Miranda takes her mask with claw-shrouded fingers... and soundnessly sets it on the wooden surface. Then she pushes the veil at her hair back, shaking long, platinum locks free.

You do a double take you hope she doesn't notice. Because what the actual fuck.

You didn't think her hair was that long, or that straight, or that it would fall over her shoulders like she's staring in a shampoo ad. You didn't think her lips were shaped like a cupid's bow or that her skin was this flawless and radiant.

The helplessly lesbian part of you could begrudgingly admit she was beautiful before... but now you arrive to the painful realization she's drop-dead gorgeous.

“So. I've heard you won cases others would describe as impossible.” she begins.

“Nothing's impossible. You just need to know where to look.” you reply. Law is your comfort zone and she is not that far above you here. “But how do you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

"Nobody truly leaves this village, huh.”

“Not without my consent, no. But I knew you'd come back.” At your slight frown, she elaborates, “You would never leave your mother behind.”

She's right. There was a whole world of opportunities waiting for you out there and yet... here you are.

“Good work, so far. You can take the next two days off. Your eyes could use the rest, Miss Warren.” Miranda speaks, finishing her wine.

“Sarah.” you say. 'Miss Warren' is for clients and she is your boss.

Miranda's lips give a slight quirk that may or may not be a trick of the light.

“I know.” she replies and exits the room, long hair billowing behind her back.

-

-

The taxes were only the first challenge. Now that the village is free of them, investors are flying in circles around it like vultures over meat.

In the meantime, Miranda comes to talk to you more frequently.

Lately, it seems she has more free time. You wish that was a good thing, but...

“So... are you like... going to stay here?” You ask after reading the same sentence five times to make sense of it, because her gaze on you is distracting as fuck.

“I'm not getting in the way of your work.” she says. You want to argue she is, but can't quite do that in a way that won't get you killed.

“I'm simply not used to working with company. Isn't this boring for you?”

“No, actually. I find it interesting, even though science is my field of expertise.” she answers. “And the way you take notes is… amusing.”

You try not to blush as you look down at your notebook, filled with different colored markers and post-it squares with tiny stick figures pointing to the more important paragraphs. You have been doing this for so long to sort out information you didn't even realize you were keeping it up in her presence.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asks with a small smile, the first of its kind you've seen.

To your horror, her clawed pointer aims at a particularly silly doodle, barely the size of a pencil's eraser.

“A... bird.” you grimace like you've been stabbed.

“Ah, of course.” Miranda holds back a chuckle but you can tell she's dying to make a comment.

Studying becomes hell for the rest of the time she's there with you, those sharp eyes picking apart every little move you make. At the same time, though, the hours you spend with her make you realize...

She's not a saint, though she may look like one. She's not completely a devil, either, even if she may act as one, at times.

She's human.

-

-

Miranda shares nothing about herself when you chat, but she seems to like it when you speak about your time abroad and all the things that left an impression on you there.

Your conversation over wine is cut short, however, when you receive a call from a number you learned means nothing but trouble, lately.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” you tell her.

The one calling you is none other than this month's rival lawyer, trying to dispute your claim over the land for his own boss. He's lost to you before, so it's also personal, but you are confident you have cornered them good with the latest papers you sent them...

And you are proven correct, when, a few seconds later, he is all faux polite on the other line, resorting to offering you money for you to withdraw your arguments.

Miranda comes to stand next to you, listening in to what he's saying.

The problem with that is, the second her arm brushes yours and you catch a whiff of her perfume –which always lingers in your office long after she's left— youare the one who stops listening to him.

Your attention flies to other things, like the inches she has on you, the exact color of her pale blonde hair, the little glint of victory in her stunning eyes.

Oh, no. God, no...

You know what this is, the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Alarm bells go off in the back of your head, as though your own mind is telling your body how foolish it's being.

There isn't a worse thing you can do to yourself than be attracted to Miranda.

-

-

Over time, familiarity with the prophetess brings higher levels of difficulty into your 'try to ignore your crush on her' game.

Miranda joins your side and leans over your shoulder, sometimes, to peer down at what you're doing. You don't move and don't breathe until she's within a safe distance again.

Then there are the wayward 'reward' touches, when you turn another investor away from the village. She may pat your back or leave her hand on your shoulder, or even scratch your nape with her claws as a job well done.

You hope your poker face hides the fact you feel her touch on you for far longer than you should, after she's gone.

Tonight, the situation is the toughest it's ever been for you.

There is a rainstorm going on outside; the waterdrops are tapping against the windows of your office as though they're trying to break it. Miranda has pulled her chair next to you so you can talk easier, without having to shout over the cacophony.

“And basically the judge's decision was that—”

You are interrupted by a blinding flash of lighting, during which your mind lets you know the stronghold is easily the tallest structure in it's vicinity—

When thunder cracks down the sky and strikes the building, you nearly scream. Your body tenses and you jump; but Miranda's hands come to your biceps and hold you steady, against herself and your desk.

Another flash comes before you really have time to think about your proximity. She covers your ears with her palms before the thunderclap can send you into overdrive again.

“You are with me and you're scared of a little thunder?” she teases when things quiet down and your heartbeat eases.

It's true; Miranda is the more terrifying force of nature. At the same time, however...

You feel oddly safe to be this close to her.

“Well... I'm not scared right now...” you quietly admit.

Her pointer comes underneath your chin and lifts it so you are looking straight into her hypnotic blue eyes. How is this color even real...

“And why is that?” Miranda asks, her wings coming around you both. They're curtains of black, cutting out some of the storm's sounds.

You want nothing more in this moment than to run your fingers through each individual feather.

You lick your lips. That's...not a question you can answer if you want the balance in your arrangement with her to remain.

Perhaps, though, the scales have tilted for you long ago. You just haven't been brave enough to admit it.

You have the courage to face it now when she leans down and covers your lips with hers, warm in a manner you never imagined she could be.

Her wings pull tighter around you and your mouths slide more firmly together. Lipbalm and creamy lipstick mix, tongues brush, tasting of wine. You are shaking so bad on the inside from how much you want this, more of this, the rumbling of the thunder be damned.

Miranda's palm cups your flaming cheek when she pulls back, perfectly composed and staring at you with a little smirk in place.

You dare to turn a little, lay a tiny kiss on the inside of her wrist, beyond her rings and accessories.

You aren't very fond of storms, but...

You willingly walk right into the eye of this one.

[radical-revolution]

Many of you believe that you have to make changes in your life style. You have to

move somewhere. Something has to happen in your life to show that you're making progress. You've got it in reverse.

Everything in your life should become a no thing. Your desires should begin to become less and less. Your needs, your wants, your bodily comforts. These things should become extinguished from your life. In other words you are transcending the world and your body and your mind. Only when you transcend these things do you begin to feel true happiness and true joy.

All of the great Sages, great Saints have told us the same thing. We're supposed to

develop a state of no mind. We're not to think about our problems and our troubles, so-to-speak. For to think of these things simply increases them. Everything is karmic. Everything is preordained and everything that is going on in your life is supposed to happen.

Yet you are not the life that this is happening to. You are not that. All you have to do is to wake up.

You're not supposed to learn new techniques. People run from teacher to teacher read book after book. Thinking they're going to find a special technique that will enlighten. There is no such technique. Can't you see the idea is to give up all techniques?

To surrender everything?

To become empty?

And just wake up. But because most of you are so stuck in the world, in maya you just can't wake up when I tell you to wake up. You use certain techniques in order to awaken you. Yet no technique is really necessary but you refuse to wake up.

This is again why great Sages from time immemorial have told us only a mature

soul can practice Jnana, real Jnana or real Advaita Vedanta or atma-vichara. Due to the fact that it's so simple. It's so simple that it becomes hard. For all you really have to do is wake up. That's it!

The average person cannot comprehend this. They would like me to sit down and

tell them stories and give them techniques and become initiated and get into all kinds of yoga practices believing that will do it. Yet most of you have tried all these things and you're still where you were before.

You have to undo everything you've learnt. Not add to it. The mind is already filled with preconceived ideas with all the garbage that your environment has fed you, you're filled up with everything. And now you run around trying to find new techniques, new methods, new ways to become enlightened. You're adding garbage to garbage. I mean really, you have to empty yourself you have to turn yourself upside down and empty yourself out completely.

Become totally empty.

When you have a dream all kinds of things are transpiring in that dream. Then you wake up, the dream is gone and you're back in this world. This world is just another

dream. You have to wake up just like you do of an ordinary dream. You have to become

free of this world by waking up.

When you wake up from a dream you no longer entertain the dream world. For you are awake to this world. When you wake up to this world you become aware that you are the imperishable atman. That you are absolute reality, all-pervading, omnipresent. You were never born and you will never go anywhere. You are pure existence. Absolute existence, that is all there is, is the Self and you are that.

That's the real world. You are that world. You are not the world of suffering and

pain and illusion. All this happens in an instant. It does not take time. When you awaken, you awaken instantaneously. Just like you do out of a dream. When you're dreaming the self is in the heart and the I-thought is in the brain. The I-thought and the brain are both dreaming. When you awaken from the dream and this happens instantaneously, the I-thought jumps into the heart and becomes the Self and the Self is all-pervading consciousness.

This happens between awakening from the dream and actually opening your eyes.

When you open the eyes the I-thought goes back into the brain making you become cognizant to the world. When you awaken from this world the I-thought will leave the brain and disappear into the heart centre. You therefore become the Self. It happens instantaneously. It happens all of a sudden. You become totally free, totally happy.

~ Robert Adams