#these hours are going by so slowly

[cowshampoo]

I have such a low tolerance to weed its infuriating. Like I barely had any and I'm in such a dreamlike state. Worst part is this is my first time and I'M AT A FAMILY GATHERING. I am so nervous someone's gonna notice. My brother says I'm fine but I'm going in and out of awareness. Also I can't find my phone. But I legit thought I was dreaming. Thank god for my bro though I would NOT be okay without him.

[hiding-under-the-willow]

anyways. What

[paintedcrows-caws]

Front row seat to Alex Hirsch's InMotion London Talk!! Aaaa!! (The high quality close up photos were taken by the wonderful @stupidlittlespirit! Who was sitting with me and had a far better camera, haha)

You can watch the full thing here, recorded by the brilliant Topaz Animation!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hn_O7CMM67A&t=137s

[napping-sapphic]

AGGHHH I JUST WANNA TREAT SOMEONE WELLLLL I WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY AND I WANT YOU TO SMILE AND I WANT YOU TO EAT WELL AND FEEL COMFORTABLE ASKING ME FOR THINGS I WANT TO DO THINGS FOR YOU ANS TAKE CARE OF YOU AND LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHH

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 15: Starvation

cw: drugging, substance dependency, starvation, emeto, sorta dehumanization, dissociation, nonsexual nudity, vague deathwish

previous // next

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 537

=~=~=

He can no longer sit up on his own.

Too weak. In the sparse moments where he's coherent enough to think, the spy knows they're tapering off his rations. Hunger crawls up from his stomach like a swarm of ants, leeching what little strength remains.

He It is always trapped in a haze, but the haze is no longer big enough. It aches all day, unable to even sleep until someone brings another water bottle. Pain consumes its leg, hunger shivers in its bones. When guards pass by, it begs them for water, not food, wanting only to numb it all.

Sometimes they comply, but it's rarely enough. Are they taking away its relief too? Or has it built a tolerance to the drug?

(the thought terrifies the spy when he can comprehend it; the thought of never returning to himself)

It can hardly move. It doesn't want to move. When the stubborn thing inside tries to lift its head, there is only dizziness, more pain, a fleeting fear that this may be the end.

The creature wants none of that. No thoughts, no senses, only the drug that allows it to sleep.

They bring it water and it drinks and nothing happens. No fog, no sudden emptiness. It whimpers into the concrete for hours or days.

The bring it water and it drinks.

(no food)

It can't stop shivering, nausea twisting its empty stomach.

(why can't you do something why can't you move why couldn't you have held fast)

They don't bring it water.

Two guards, it can see them through hazy vision. Its eyes hurt, its head aches.

(this is different)

They grab its arms, dragging it out of the cell, bad leg howling, utter agony, creature howling with it, voice weak

(pathetic, could've ran, could've done something)

the movement and pain and nausea and dizziness are all too much after it's been allowed to feel nothing for so long and it heaves up nothing, bile on its tongue, tears in its eyes. They drag it somewhere and it hurts it hurts it hurts.

(could've turned it down)

would've died

(would've been better)

They have to hold it up, hands around and under its arms. Someone else is talking at it, but it doesn't matter. It hurts and it's cold, colder than the cell was.

(when did they take his clothes?)

It tries to vomit again, left with a sour string of spit clinging to its chin. Over, it just wants it to be over, just wants it to—

Its head jerks up so quickly it sees spots when it hears the snap of a bottle opening. The new person is holding it out

(smirking)

It tries to reach for the bottle, can't shake itself free of the hands, trapped. It can't make sense of the stream of words pouring from its mouth, but it can't stop them either.

pleasepleasepleaesithurtspleaseithurts

(you were supposed to be better than this you were supposed to endure–)

The man laughs.

“Damn. Guess you really can do a number on a guy without lifting a finger.” He screws the cap back on, ignoring the creature's despairing whine.

“Put him back for now. I think he's almost ready for some questions.”

[isbergillustration]

One of them is going to fuck you up. The other will cheer them on supportively. Up to your imagination who does which.

[serpentface]

Do psychotropic drugs and/or ritual play a role in any of the blightseed cultures? A pretty broad question, lol

Yeah that’s a very broad question, the answer is about as much as it tends to play roles in real history. Alcohol is pretty ubiquitous (outside of cultures that abstain from intoxicants) and used for a variety of purposes, opioids are commonly used in some parts for pain relief or recreational purposes, stimulants (usually in mild, natural forms) are used to provide extra energy, and hallucinogens are most commonly used as part of a larger religious framework (rather than for recreational purposes). Any more elaborate answer kinda has to be case by case in a certain culture or part of the setting.

I'll just take this as an opportunity to talk about the one established sect that pretty much REVOLVES around psychoactive use. This is the Scholarly Order of the Root, which is a sort of mystery religion + elite community of scholars who currently occupy the Ur-Tree and its forest in the far southern Lowlands (southeast of Imperial Wardin, on the same land mass).

The Ur-Tree is the obligatory Huge Fucking Fantasy Tree (and its surrounding forest). It’s a mass of vegetation about a mile tall and almost as old as Plant Life Itself, its upper branches are primeval plants, which become more modern the nearer they get to the ground (and each 'level' holds tiny ecosystems, some containing descendants of LONG-extinct arthropods/other small animals). Its lowest branches and the surrounding forest are contemporary plant life, and all is connected and protected by an incomparably MASSIVE fungal mycelium network (which is itself a living god).

A lot of the Scholars' more secretive practices revolve around experimentation with substance use with the goal of expanding the Mind and transcending the body to fully connect to the Dreamlands, and they have a supply chain of traders and mercenaries called Rootrunners who traffic substances into the Lowlands. Most of their psychoactive use is in a very intentional capacity and not just like, for fun, but a LOT of them are just straight up addicted to cocaine (in the form of alchemically refined bruljenum, which is used for practical purposes of its stimulant effect during long hours of work).

All known psychoactives are desirable for experimentation (particularly hallucinogens), with each having properties that either allow expansion of the Mind, transcendence of the body, or outright divine communion. Their effects are logged in great detail and interpreted to form the basis of the Scholars' understanding of the natural world and reality itself.

The most important substance is Ur-Root, which is root matter from subterranean levels of the Ur-Tree that have both their own intrinsic psychoactive substances and a very, very high concentration of living god mycelium. The tree root contains DMT and the mycelium has its own wholly unique effects (being an actual living god). They alchemically refine it into a purer, more potent form, and use it to expand beyond the body and directly commune with the Giants, a group of entities they have identified as the only true gods.

An Ur-Root trip starts off with minor visual distortion, which turns into shifting fractals that slowly obscure the vision. Eventually the senses are entirely taken over by a 'tunnel' of rapidly shifting fractals and geometries. In a complete trip, the experiencer gets a sense that they have been pushed through a membrane and entered another realm, finding themselves in a distinct experiential Space.

At this point they may encounter entities which communicate to them in a language impossible to describe but wholly understood. These beings are understood to be the Giants, or at least aspects of the Giants that mortals are capable of comprehending (they often take familiar tutelary forms of the Mantis or the Snake, or appear resembling the same type of sophont that the experiencer is, all composed of ever-shifting geometries). The experiencer often feels a sense of unconditional and endless love from these beings, though the Giants may be more hostile and may appear in the form of the Trickster (usually a cultural figure regarded as malicious, be it an animal or otherwise) in a bad trip.

(^Up until this point, this has mostly just been a DMT 'breakthrough' experience ft. 'machine elves' and the like).

They are then removed from this space and returned to something that feels like the real world, but is nearly unrecognizable. They have a sense of rapidly moving through time, and will usually see 'the spires' towards the beginning, which just so happen to look like this:

(source + some context via Implication- the spires are exactly what this art is depicting)

The experiencer continues to move across an unfathomable amount of time, occasionally 'seeing' other such flashes of unfamiliar landscapes and creatures, and yet also being devoid of all their senses, the 'seeing' is pure, unfiltered experience. There is a sense of interconnectedness with all life, and that one has become the forest (or even Life) itself. The sense of time is wildly distorted, the trip lasts only about 5 minutes but feels like an eternity and is understood as literal hundreds of millions of years.

The experiencer has usually lost any remaining sense of Self and individual consciousness during this phase (in which case this time distortion is usually a neutral or even peaceful experience), but some retain a fraction of their identity, and find themselves trapped and conscious while experiencing what feels like eternity (which can be LIFE-CHANGINGLY distressing, even after the fact).

(^This latter part of the trip is the effects of the Ur-Tree fungus).

The trip ends with a sense of rushing through the ground and back up into one's body, at which point they will abruptly return to their senses and consciousness. The details are then immediately retrieved via interview and recorded in immense detail. The whole experience is understood as having been full comprehension of the Dreamlands, communion with the Giants, and then a tour through the act of creation.

This is done as part of the initiatory practice into the inner mystery-religion of the scholars, and as needed for study by high scholar-priests. It is not taken lightly, both as it is absolute communion with the gods and reality, and in that it can be a very, very difficult experience. People who have gone through this often walk away with a permanently shifted perspective, often in a positive and/or comforting way- a sense of interconnectedness with all life, a peace with the concept of death, seeing less of a point in individual ego and the concept of Self, and comfort in the sense of divine love they (may have) experienced. This heavily influences the philosophy of the Scholars and has had effects by proxy in the religious worldviews of the region.

Details of this experience are closely guarded, and initiates are given absolutely no prior knowledge and expectations for their trip. This is seen as a necessity- their naivety will allow for a true, unfiltered experience, and can be used to gauge whether they should or should not be accepted. Those that have a distinctly bad trip upon initiation may be assumed to have been 'rejected' by the giants and thus denied full priesthood, though this largely depends on How they interpret their distressing trip- those who identify this as a test and harsh lesson in a journey to enlightenment may be accepted (as this is how fully initiated scholar-priests interpret and handle their bad trips).

This inner priesthood is only a small fraction of the Scholarly Order, and its greater function is as a hub of education and repository of knowledge, and Scholar-trained doctors can provide some of the best medical care available in the setting ('best medical care in this setting' only means so much but it's pretty solid, relatively speaking). Only a chosen few Scholars ever get to commune with the Ur-Root, and most of the divine secrets revealed in the process are kept hidden (though they indirectly influence the politics and worldview of the entire order).

[mysicklove]

Imagining ? Idk who for but maybe Yuuji?

He loses a bet or he owes you or something so you make him wear kitty ears and get on his knees n lick his hand and he's all glossy eyed and blushing embarrassed when he robotically meows and u laugh at him

i love yuuji more than anything, and i can go hours on and on about him in cat ears, but THIS particular situation reminds me of bakugou soooo much.

like it is him to the tee i literally have thought about this exact situation a thousand times i just havent writen a fic on it. his entire body is a vicious shade of red and he wears pink lingerie, frilly and cutesy, with a matching pink collar (with the bell of course). he wears white cat ears, and you have even gave him fingerless gloves that has pink paw pads on them.

but ofc, it is katsuki, so he is glaring at you the entirity of it, and you have to be careful with whatever you say, because one wrong word and he is locking himself in the bathroom for awhile to spite you. but if you craft your coos sweet enough, rub at his face a little bit, he will eventually find comfort on his knees in front of you. of course the twinge of humilation sends blood straight to his cock, but he pretends it doesnt exist for the sake of his pride.

it will take alot of convincing to get him to act cutesy for you, but eventually when his mouth is swollen from kisses and his eyes are hazy from the constant positive attention, he may follow your comands. lifting his hands up to his face in the standard cat pose, and letting out the smallest, awkward meow out there. it of course makes you giggle, and depending how deep his into the play, he will either throw a hissy fit and curse at you, or he may just bury his head into your legs and whine from embaressment.

[pondslime]

"Life mocks me even in death."

Griffin Dunne as Jack Goodman AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981) dir. John Landis

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Another weird question for you: How long do you have to fast for a blood sugar reading to count as a fasting blood sugar measurement? Also, does drinking soda (like, full sugar soda) slowly over the time before the blood test count as not-fasting? Asking because I keep testing* in the fasting blood sugar range when I am pretty sure I am not supposed to. Like, two hours after eating a meal when I've been slowly drinking soda the whole intervening time, or half an hour after drinking a whole full-sugar gatorade *with the home blood sugar test thing, not like doctor's office tests. though I test in the fasting range there too? I do know the word for the tester thing but I am brain fogged at the moment

[tumble-tv]

i want to scrub all of my joints with steel wool and replace my cartilage with hot glue in hopes that maybe that will ease my pain for once in my life

[akkivee]

WAIT STOP THE PRESSES NEW ARB ON SWITCH ART

[haine-kleine]

don't mind my self indulgence but uhh Touya being healed with the combination of rapidly evolving technology, healing quirks and Endeavor's funding to the point it's like the fire on Sekoto never happened. he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize the person that looks back at him. the burns were such an intrinsic part of him, even before he became Dabi, even before he woke up sixteen years old with stitches all over his face, back when he was a child and trained his fire with the parts of his body that he he could easily hide under his clothes.

it's nothing like when he woke up from the coma and looked in the mirror for the first time, seeing something his mind struggled to comprehend as himself, the too-old boy with desperation in his eyes and a garish smile cut directly into his face belonging in his worst nightmare that has come true. accepting it back then was easy, the wretched feeling of brokenness following his every footstep since he was four years old. the outside matching his insides was a relief, in a twisted way, as much as it hurt to imagine his family looking at him and not recognizing Touya, as sorrowful as it was to live through that fantasy.

this- just feels wrong. he doesn't see himself in this new, unfamiliar face. what he sees is rather a mosaic of his family's features: his mother's soft white hair, his father's eyes, Fuyumi's eyelashes and Natsuo's stubborn eyebrows. the combination of so familiar but foreign features combined into a mask that was plastered on his own ruined face.

he hated that forlorn looking boy's picture sitting on his altar and he hated thinking that that's how his family remembered him. it's the very same boy's older face that he sees in the mirror.

Touya was never this pitiful, desolate boy. he was always burning, even when the others couldn't see it. being stuck with this hurts worse than being faced with the consequences of his reckless self-abandoning training.

and worst of all, he knows that if he ever starts using his quirk, the cremation process will start all over again.

[futuristichedge]

[acommonanomaly]

My new kitty, Bartholomew Fitzgerald!

[aurosoulart]

remembering how to draw my character Rennan after *checks watch* two years of not drawing him