#they take their food to shelters to eat as to not waste cycle time

[sordid-dog]

scavs you say????

i have a few

I might have to study scavengers more. I wanna redesign Prince when I finally get around to making his ref sheet, so feel free to throw any scav ideas at me!

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.

content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.

warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.

notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?

i'll eat them. omnom

LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.

When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.

(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)

(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)

It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.

Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.

He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.

Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).

What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.

When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.

(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)

(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)

A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.

He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.

During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.

The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.

He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.

The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.

You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.

You'd already given him a large snack earlier.

The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.

He takes a bite of it gratefully.

"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."

You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.

"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.

"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"

Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.

He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.

He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.

Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.

You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)

Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.

He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.

Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.

ARAM is often humbled in your abode.

He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.

He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).

Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.

He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.

Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.

("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."

(You never had the heart to ask again.)

He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.

His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.

It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.

It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.

When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.

He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.

He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.

Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.

The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.

He craves more.

The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.

Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.

He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.

You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.

He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.

You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.

"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"

He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.

He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.

(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)

(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)

Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.

You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."

"Did I look ill before?"

You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.

The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.

"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."

And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.

He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."

[uriekukistan]

HI I BRING INTERACTION pls feed me megu headcanons if u feel so inclined,,,,

hii ty for the interaction :D ofc i am always inclined to megu hcs! he's in my brain 25/8...megumi my beloved <333333333

megumi's always been a light sleeper/had a hard time falling asleep. even when he was a baby, he'd be up like 37 times in the night, so toji and mamaguro would take turns pulling all nighters because what's the point of going to sleep when baby megumi is just gonna start crying 10 minutes later...even when he's older, he still wakes up several times in the night. it's too hot, it's too cold, i'm thirsty, the door slammed four apartments down, etc. of course this only gets worse after the detention center because he starts having nightmares :( dw, this opens the door for some cute itafushi moments down the road im writing a fic abt this

he also wakes up reaalllly early because of this, like 5am...that doesn't mean he's a morning person though. he's very grumpy and almost completely unresponsive to anyone trying to talk to him. not that anyone else is really up at 5am with him...maybe yuuji, but he's on the other side of his sleep cycle (hasn't gone to bed yet, was binge watching a new series) and probably equally zombie-like. anyway, megumi is the epitome of "don't talk to me before i've had my coffee." gojo got him a mug that said that once...

megumi didn't eat breakfast (much to tsumiki's chagrin) until he met yuuji, but that's mostly because he doesn't want to waste yuuji's efforts food :)

to add on to that, he has a pretty small appetite, my personal thought is this comes from when he was younger. he and tsumiki struggled to get food between when their money ran out post parental departure and when gojo came into their lives, so he just got used to not eating a lot...but for the same reason he'll never leave food on his plate. lingering fear that he'll wake up with nothing to eat one day (SORRY i had to make it angsty bc that's just Who I Am 💔💔💔)

um. to end it on a lighter note :) if megumi wasn't a sorcerer, he'd work at an animal rescue facility or a no-kill shelter and he's all the dogs' fav employee :))) (ik a lot of people like vet megumi, but i feel like he'd get too sad when he had to put an animal down bc he couldnt save it........). if he wasn't into that, he'd be interested in ecology and habitat preservation for endangered species.

um i was gonna do a Day In the Life of Megumi but the first points got sooo long so uh. stopped after breakfast.

(the way i write abt him all the time and still had to take a while to write this,,,had to separate au megumi from real megumi)

[rw-ethology]

Do you have theories on why lizards and how relatively open are they to being befriended by slugcat? Them continuing to be a threat to slugpups makes sense, as well as possibility of the lizard accidentally biting the slugcat during a careless attempt at feeding (which is why I now only give them snacks by tossing and running the moment I am sure the Lizard is locked on it). But usually it seems predators take longer to form such mutualistic (suppose?) approach, especially to prey. Cycles maybe?

Looks like kind of a mixture of both generally recognising when it benefits them to stick around, and resource-guarding behaviour directed towards a creature that has made itself look very valuable.

There's two main ways a slugcat can go about taming a lizard- by establishing itself as either a source of food, or a source of protection (saving one from a vulture causes your reputation with it to go way up). Either way, you've convinced it that eating you or letting you die would be counterproductive at this point, so as long as it remains convinced it'll follow you around and protect you from its rivals and other threats so it doesn't lose out. There's probably a number of things that factor into why they'll act in this way so readily, but if you look at it as an alternate expression of other traits and behaviours they already show off, you can kind of see where it might stem from.

Lizards are incredibly food-motivated- they'll go for pretty much anything they can fit in their mouth (that's large enough to be worth the effort), and will ignore almost everything else to run and cache it in their dens, presumably to store for later instead of wasting time that they could be spending finding more. Especially considering the state of the world and limited time pressure placed on every creature by the rain, in general it's probably kind of difficult for a large carnivore to consistently find enough to eat every single cycle. A successful catch whenever you need it isn't at all a guarantee; with that in mind, them having developed some degree of stockpiling behaviour would make sense, and suggests at least a rudimentary understanding that being careful with your food supply hugely bolsters your survival odds in the long run. Likely as a direct consequence of this, many lizards are highly territorial and/or competitive to varying degrees, and will chase rivals down and fight viciously to steal each others' prey or protect their resources under threat. It's also important to note lizards have a global reputation system- if you're nice enough across the board they'll become passive and if you harm enough they'll start to fear you, a behaviour unique amongst predators that suggests as a species they're just about intelligent enough to learn from experience and observation when it's better to just leave something alone.

It's most likely these specific characteristics that allow a lizard to become "tamed" so quickly. All you're really doing is taking advantage of their ability to recognise a valuable benefit, and redirecting their drive to defend one onto you, by teaching them to associate you with good things. No matter how tasty a slugcat looks, if it's proven time and time again that it will provide more food and support (that you desperately need) while alive than it could ever be worth dead, then why on earth would you want to let it die, or allow some other creature to take advantage instead?

However, this relationship only lasts as long as you put the effort into maintaining it. If you fail to let them into your shelter or feed them enough in subsequent cycles, or throw weapons at or around them (even by accident), they'll decide you're no longer worth the effort and quickly go from warning-bites to straight up turning on you as your reputation drops. Additionally, considering they by and large don't seem to recognise the slugcat's other companions- be it other tamed lizards or pups or friendly scavengers- as anything other than a rival or something else to eat, it's pretty clear that to their understanding they really are just guarding a resource and not joining a pack; lizards are not social creatures by nature with very little need to have developed emotional intelligence (even yellows I suspect aren't very close with each other beyond their advanced hunting formations and sharing prey), and any cooperation is strictly down to improving their odds of survival, not any form of attachment or gratitude as we would recognise it. It's still considered mutualistic, as both parties benefit from the relationship, but while a slugcat might become emotionally attached to their companion, the lizard isn't really capable of reciprocating in the same way.

With all that in mind, it's likely not the case that they're any more open to being "befriended" on an emotional level than any other predator in-game- they're just the only ones you can successfully lead to believe that you might actually be more useful alive than you would be as a few extra food pips, and for that to work out in your favour. Other major threats to the slugcat like vultures, miros birds and most large invertebrates most likely either lack the intelligence to discern one prey item from another, or they're so high on the food chain there's simply no meaningful benefit they could get out of collaboration (or both). It just so happens that lizards manage to be in the perfect position on the food chain with ideal behaviour to take advantage of that it's made possible to convince them being your friend is worth it, however temporarily.

-----

BONUS: the first lizard i ever tamed. was a little bit pathetic and utterly failed to protect me from anything before falling off a building in sky islands trying to wrestle a white lizard and losing, but the several painful minutes I spent being mediocre at squidcada hunting were worth it anyway. I miss him every day. godspeed you blue idiot

[paintedelm]

i made two more wawas and an angry bug robot

my brain is infested with these things i am insane im crazy absolutely bonkers even

Anyways lore lore hmmm *shuffles my notecards and immediately drops them, scrambles to pick them up all in the wrong order*

The Gladiator and The Luminant are two wild slugs who travel everywhere with eachother and are like cute little bonded cats., (please go look up bonded cats they're SO CUTE I SOB EVERY TIME I SEE BONDED CATS) and Gladiator really really hates lizards because they could hurt Luminant (and they have already hurt Gladiator before) and also because they need to eat alot to hibernate, so lizards are the best food source since they're quite abundant in the area.

Despite Gladiator's rather violent tendencies toward lizards, they respect scavengers, paying for tolls and helping them fend off attackers.

These two don't stay in a single spot for very long, being quite the pair of nomads. The longest they've stayed in a place was nearby Clawing Against the Tides's can.

*stares at my cards while trying to read the smudged handwriting*

Clawing Against the Tides never held much of positive feelings for the ancients atop his can, especially after the mass ascension. Her disdain for them grew into anger, feeling betrayed that they could ascend while leaving her to waste away, prohibited from achieving his own ascension by taboos. What most upset him was how quiet it was, the only task left for him to do was finding a triple affirmative, nothing else left by the Ancients who wouldn't even see the work of Tides and her fellow iterators.

Time had past, Clawing Against the Tides had stopped working on the Great Problem cycles ago. He sat alone in his chamber, reviewing messages of other iterators in the local group, when suddenly he became aware of another presence in the chamber. A small slugcat, yellow markings and tail glowing faintly.

And sure it wasn't much of two-sided conversation material, even after receiving a mark of communication, it listened, when not messing with the pearls in his chamber, or flailing about in his anti-gravity. And Tides found herself to envy the small creature. It could come and go as it pleased, do whatever it wanted to, and judging it's appearance, it lived quite well out beyond his can.

She began to modify her puppet, allowing for it to detach from her can, and taking inspiration from her slugcat acquaintance in retractable claws for climbing. (Of which the little thing did quite alot of)

It took quite a few cycles- more than Tides would ever admit- to build up the courage to leave his chamber. But eventually, she followed her small slugcat friend out of her chamber, then out of her can entirely.

The outside world was almost overwhelming. He'd seen it through his overseers, but this was different, feeling the humidity of the air for the first time.

From there, the small slugcat she'd been calling The Luminant had brought her to a shelter and introduced her to another slugcat, The Gladiator.

...and then they go back to living as regular, except plus an iterator tagging along on their misadventures. Sorry im out of detail juice my tanks running empty its 11 pm and I'm tired and gotta be up for school tomorrow

anyways im going to bed goodnight *explodes like a prince rupert's drop*

[thygoddessouijathicc]

DSAF Rainworld AU Fanfic: The start of our adventure

(Disclaimer: Ok so I still haven’t finished Rainworld. However I think I’m far enough in (on the shoreline! :D) to start this, plus people like my slugcat art, and I got a minimal amount of likes on my AU ideas. Go check those out if this is the first you see of this.

So players gonna play, Ouija’s gonna awkwardly mash together two of her hyperfixations together and show you the mutilated horrifying monstrosity produced as if it’s a cute kitten.

PEACE!)

It has been 9 cycles since the orange slugcat’s little sister has gone missing. She still had yet to return. His parents had not allowed the slugcat near the trench she had fallen into, but had carved out a little trail after every rainfall to help her return if she still lived.

The orange slugcat was tired of simply waiting for her to appear and decided to take matters into his own hands.

It was a bright morning, the orange slugcat had awoken before the rest of his family, and ventured outside their nest, taking care not to slip as the ground was loose from the last rain. He had reached the pit before his family had awoke and stood hovering over it for a moment.

The orange slugcat took a deep breath and hopped inside.

.

.

.

The fall to the ground was rough as the slugcat lands directly on his face, he can’t afford to express this pain. To live in this world was to live in fear. Fear of hunger. Fear of predators. Fear of water. And most of all, fear of the rain.

If he gets caught in the worlds downpour he will be quickly crushed flat or drowned, he doesn’t know which one will happen first and both are equally bad.

Squeezing under large stone towers, and through pipe after pipe, and up a pole, flipping his way into a room full of batflies. The orange slugcat pounces on the batflies and eats them alive, one after another until his belly is full. 

The slugcat pops back out of the pipe, jumping across an overhanging piece of metal from an age long passed and grabbing another pole. He crawls into another pipe.

The next room is empty save for a pit and a pipe on the other end. Feeling the thunderous sound of rain starting to come down the slugcat realizes it’s all or nothing now, there is no point in going back to explore. He leaps across the pit with some difficulty, and rushes towards the pipe. 

He finds himself falling into the next room, no clear way back up.

Fortunately his mad rush gambit has payed off as there appears to be a shelter. He recognizes it as one due to the faint smell of slugcat and danglefruit juice in a pipe nearby. 

Shaking off the pain of his new wounds the slugcat jumps up to the shelter pipe right as the rains start coming down, surely to flood the area.

It doesn’t matter, by the time he wakes up, the water will be all but gone.

Once he gets inside the shelter, it closes. The orange slugcat recognizes the scent of his sister. She has survived the fall! Well… he knew that much. If she hadn’t she would be home by now. If he hadn’t he would be too. People tend to wake up every day where they last slept if they died. The black and white slugcat wasn’t here, so he surmises she must have gotten further than this. Possibly trying to get back home.

The orange slugcat is bigger and stronger than his little sister and he needed less food. He should be able to catch up to her despite all the wasted cycles.

Weirdly she’s not the only slugcat he smells, nor the most recent. It seems slugcats come through here often. 

As the orange slugcat succumbs to his hibernation, he dreams of the days he spent playing with his little sister and older brother…

(Note: Those of you who know rainworld and those who do not, welcome to the DSAF Rainworld AU! Brought to you by a fan of both things wanting to awkwardly fuse them together into something weird! The story will be mostly a retelling of Rainworld’s storyline with the addition of DSAF elements as well as the fact that once the DLC is out and I know how spearmasters would work, I’ll implement Dave as one and he’ll join Jack on the magical death adventure to find his sister! Btw if it’s not clear of if you haven’t read my initial post introducing the AU, Jack fills the role of the monk.

Btw take a Slugcat Jack faceplanting:)

[packers-movers-in-hyd]

How Cockroaches Adapt and Survive in Various Environments: An In-Depth Guide.

Cockroaches are among the most adaptable creatures on Earth. They thrive in many environments, from lush rainforests to busy city apartments. Over millions of years, they have developed impressive survival strategies. Here’s how cockroaches adapt to various settings:.

Physical adaptations for survival

Exoskeleton Protection

The cockroach’s exoskeleton is a hard, flexible shell that protects them from damage and helps them retain moisture. This is especially important in dry environments. The exoskeleton also offers protection from predators, increasing their chances of survival.

Size and flexibility

Cockroaches have flat bodies, allowing them to squeeze into small spaces to hide from danger. This ability is particularly useful in urban areas, where they can easily find shelter in cracks and crevices.

Antennae Sensitivity

Their long antennae are highly sensitive, helping cockroaches detect food, moisture, and danger from a distance. This sharp sense of awareness is crucial for survival in both natural and human-made environments.

Winged Mobility

Not all cockroaches can fly, but those that do use their wings to escape predators or move to new locations. Their ability to glide or take short flights allows them to explore different habitats and find new resources.

Behavioral Adaptations to Different Environments

Nocturnal Habits

Most cockroaches are active at night, helping them avoid predators and human activity. Being nocturnal also allows them to find food and shelter with less competition.

Omnivorous Diet

Cockroaches can eat almost anything, including decaying organic matter, food scraps, and even paper. This varied diet enables them to survive in many environments, from forests to cities.

Social Living

Cockroaches often live in groups, which provides safety in numbers. Living together also helps them find food more efficiently and communicate about dangers or new habitats through chemical signals called pheromones.

Physiological Adaptations to Environmental Conditions

Water Conservation

Cockroaches can conserve water, which is essential for surviving in dry environments. They can reduce water loss and even go without water for long periods by slowing their metabolism.

Temperature Regulation

Cockroaches can survive in a wide range of temperatures, from hot tropical climates to cooler areas. They often seek warm, sheltered places to regulate their body temperature, especially in colder environments.

Pesticide Resistance

Over time, cockroaches have developed resistance to many pesticides, making them difficult to control. Their ability to survive chemical treatments allows them to thrive in environments where they are regularly exposed to these substances.

Reproductive Strategies for Adaptation

High reproductive output

Cockroaches reproduce quickly and in large numbers, with some species capable of producing hundreds of offspring in their lifetime. This rapid reproduction ensures that even if many are killed, the population can quickly recover.

Protective Egg Cases (Oothecae)

Female cockroaches produce protective egg cases called oothecae, which shield their young from environmental hazards and predators. These egg cases are often hidden in safe locations, increasing the survival chances of the next generation.

Adaptability in Reproductive Timing

Cockroaches can adjust their reproductive cycles based on environmental conditions. In unfavorable situations, they may delay reproduction until conditions improve, ensuring the survival of their offspring.

Adaptation to Urban and Human-Made Environments

Urban Adaptation

In cities, cockroaches take advantage of the warmth, food, and shelter provided by buildings, sewers, and waste. Their ability to hide in small spaces and their nocturnal behavior make them especially suited to urban life.

Resistance to Control Methods

Cockroaches have developed resistance to many pest control methods, making them hard to eliminate in urban areas, where they are a common problem.

Light Adaptation

While cockroaches are typically nocturnal, some species have adapted to being active during the day in environments where food and shelter are plentiful. This change in behavior helps them access resources that might be less available at night.

Ecological Role and Impact

Decomposers

Cockroaches help break down and recycle organic matter, contributing to the nutrient cycle in ecosystems. This role is important in both natural habitats like forests and human-made environments like cities.

Food Source for Predators

Cockroaches are a food source for many predators, including birds, reptiles, and small mammals. Their presence in an ecosystem supports the food web and contributes to biodiversity.

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[genderqueerdykes]

it's beyond alienating to have to make every move you make "count"- to be constantly trapped in a cycle of stepping on eggshells because your next move could easily set you back. no matter what, there's always something out of your hands. an errant bank fee. an overdraft. a bill coming out earlier than expected. a higher electric bill than normal. needing more gas in the tank than usual. a medical emergency.

only taking care of what's practical makes life feel grey and meaningless. of course we're supposed to take care of ourselves. of course we're supposed to get food, shelter, and clothing. but when that's all you're getting, and you have to fight tooth and nail to get it, you become a paranoid, anxious snapping dog who's scared of every choice they make. the panic that comes with every decision a poor person makes is indescribable.

that pressure and panic leads people to make a breadth of decisions, some "smart" and some "stupid". whenever you look at someone who blew all their money at the casino, or spent several hundred dollars drinking in one evening, or impulse spending on a hobby, or buying a new car who is also broke and go "how could you be that stupid? how could you ever get into that situation," you're failing to realize that you are asking that question with a clear head.

the poor person is not behaving with a clear head. the poor person is stressed beyond belief. stress has been scientifically proven in every case to severely impair one's ability to make decisions. it causes impulsivity, insecurity, flightiness. it forces you to think quickly. you're in pain and you have to soothe the pain: NOW. you have no choice. every alarm is going off all at once and you have to make it stop. you can barely breathe. you can't think. you have to act.

when someone chooses comfort over survival, and especially if it ends up coming out in excess like many small purchases, sudden gifts for their family, or a new computer, binge drinking or eating, or whatever it may be, it is a reflection of how great that person's pain is. it is not a display of stupidity. it is not a display of uncaring for others or even their own future. it is not a display of how they can spend money when not under duress. the amount of comfort someone seeks is directly in relation to how much pain they are in.

it's easy to say "well just don't do that!" because you're not in that situation, but the real world is a lot more complicated than that, and sometimes, almost all of the time: people don't make the best possible decision. you can't hold people in an all-or-nothing black-and-white void when it comes to decisions. there are a million types of decisions in between good and bad. most of them are just decisions.

attempting to micromanage how someone else behaves under duress won't make you behave better under duress. you make the same mistakes other people do, too, you just can't see them. micromanaging other people will not make you more successful. all it does is show your lack of perspective into what they're going through if you think you're capable of solving all of their problems from just standing there and exchanging words. this is a waste of everyone's time. nobody needs your speculation, people need real help like resources, mutual aid, time, effort, food, shelter, money, government programs, healthcare and hygiene. not unsolicited, baseless advice.

poverty is so isolating. it means being alone and away from people, events, society. you can't afford trips to and from places. you can't afford to spare gas. you can't afford the entrance fee. you can't afford tickets. you can't afford making eating a social event. you can't buy drinks. you can't engage in hobbies.

all you're encouraged to do are "free" things, but they're not free. Internet isn't free. cell phone service isn't free. sitting on the computer and your phone all day is frowned upon for good reason because it destroys your health. we shouldn't have to only be able to talk to people digitally to be able to socialize. we shouldn't have to watch streams all day. we need to see other people, i DON'T care if it costs a few dollars: poor people shouldn't be relegated to what few free activities there are because most of them involve being alone.

the library is one of the most annoying suggestions because it makes you feel pinned. yes i want to support my local library. i cannot sit still and read in public. it is not socially acceptable to start taking to strangers in the library in fact you can't have conversations there at all because you need to be quiet for the other readers. libraries are places of education, accessibility to information and resources, and social services. it is not a place to socialize. maybe entertain but Only if you can, well, read. i have dissociative disorders and unmedicated ADHD, i don't make it very far into books. i feel like most poor people get really tired of the library suggestion. it's an amazing resource. but it's not for this purpose

social events are almost always off limits. sure you can go to the bar and not drink, if you don't have alcohol trauma, aren't a recovering alcoholic, aren't overstimulated by noise, aren't photosensitive, don't have anxiety with crowds and strangers, aren't a minor, have an ID, and can walk there or get a ride there. sure you can walk to the cafe and use their Wi-Fi but this isn't a social activity and in many places you can't sit there for long periods unless you buy anything.

i get SO tired of the "go to a cafe" suggestion. think about how boring that actually is. you're alone. in America, it is NOT socially acceptable to sit at a strangers table like it is in other countries, let alone just start talking to them. it is NOT a common experience to strike up a conversation with strangers in cafes in America, like we really have cafes other than fucking starbucks to begin with.

going for walks and going to parks is not accessible to people with physical disabilities, agoraphobia, some schizophrenics, people with dog trauma, and other issues. parks usually have really poorly maintained or no sidewalks or foot paths. they can be uneven and hard to traverse for people who use mobility aids. unless you live near a monument or state park, your local parks are really meant for dogs to piss and shit in, for joggers to run through, and to look impressive to investors. they're usually pathetic swaths of grass with you guessed it, nothing to do. again it's rare to strike up conversation at the park. people need conversation starters. there's Nothing going on at the park. it's a great place to go if you need to cool down when angry or stressed, but it's fucking boring.

window shopping is pointless and dehumanizing. i really can't stand it when people suggest poor people window shop so we can think about things to buy when we have money ... why the fuck would i ever do that. when i don't have money i don't think about frivolous things i don't need. what the fuck kind of activity is window shopping, that's for people who have money.

poor people get tired of doing the "free" shit. if you suggest that a poor person should do these things when you do none of them yourself, you have 0 clue how boring and dehumanizing it is to never be able to decide what you do with your time. to have limited options to live. to experience.

money is not the reason you get to experience; you get to experience because you are alive. no poor people don't deserve to sit there and do nothing all day because they didn't "earn" anything. no poor people don't deserve to live their lives because they don't make as much as you. poor people deserve to enjoy being alive. poor people get to decide to have fun with their money, too.

I'm so tired of people being so harsh on people who struggle with financial issues and spending money "right" or "smart". reckless spending and difficulty managing finances are symptoms of mental illness and neurodivergence. bipolar, personality disorders, schizophrenia, anxiety, autism, ADHD, OCD and other mental health conditions can make managing funds very hard. don't be extra cruel to someone who spends money poorly in response to a mental health crisis. this won't make their situation any easier.

i sat in apartment after apartment for a decade doing nothing. i was a total shut in because i had no money. i never did anything but browse the Internet. all day long. without end. i was dissociating constantly. my anxiety was at its highest. i was constantly psychotic. instead of going out to fix it, i would stay inside longer, making it worse and worse and worse. i never bought anything. i didn't have hobbies. all of my decorations and possessions were from my childhood, my clothes were literally falling apart, a decade old. my walls were barren. my world was grey.

don't do this to yourself. don't tell yourself that you deserve nothing because it's harder for you to make money than other people. I'm very lucky now that i have made friends who pulled me out of my shell and have helped me get outside of my house. i spent so long alone and trapped indoors thinking it's the only thing i could do with myself for years. I'm finally recovering. if you're poor you deserve to live. you're alive. and you're not alone. i love you.

[lucky97sblog]

What are some sustainable health and fitness habits everyone can adopt?

Adopting sustainable health and fitness routines benefits not only your personal well-being but also the globe.

Here are some long-term practices that everyone can adopt:

Regular physical activity: Engage in regular exercise or physical activity that suits your fitness level and preferences. It could be walking, cycling, swimming, or any other form of exercise that you enjoy. Physical activity promotes overall health and reduces the risk of chronic diseases.

Outdoor workouts: Whenever possible, opt for outdoor workouts. Exercising in nature not only provides physical benefits but also improves mental well-being and connection with the environment.

Use eco-friendly fitness equipment: Choose fitness equipment made from sustainable materials or opt for alternatives like resistance bands, bodyweight exercises, or recycled gear. This reduces the use of resources and minimizes waste.

Sustainable transportation: Incorporate active transportation methods such as walking, cycling, or using public transportation for commuting whenever possible. This reduces carbon emissions, promotes physical activity, and helps to combat air pollution.

Eat a plant-based diet: Incorporate more plant-based meals into your diet. Consuming fruits, vegetables, legumes, nuts, and whole grains not only improves your health but also reduces the environmental impact associated with meat production.

Reduce food waste: Plan your meals, buy only what you need, and store food properly to minimize waste. Compost food scraps instead of throwing them away, and consider donating excess food to local food banks or shelters.

Stay hydrated sustainably: Use reusable water bottles instead of single-use plastic bottles. Filter tap water at home if necessary. This reduces plastic waste and conserves resources.

Support sustainable fitness brands: Look for fitness clothing and accessories made from sustainable materials like organic cotton, bamboo, or recycled fabrics. Support brands that prioritize ethical and eco-friendly manufacturing practices.

Opt for eco-friendly workout spaces: Choose fitness facilities or gyms that implement sustainable practices. Look for those with energy-efficient equipment, recycling programs, and eco-friendly cleaning products.

Mindful consumption: Be mindful of your consumption habits. Avoid impulse purchases of fitness equipment or clothing that you don't truly need. Invest in quality items that will last longer, rather than disposable or fast-fashion options.

Connect with nature: Take time to connect with nature regularly. Spend time outdoors, go hiking, or participate in outdoor group activities. This helps you appreciate the environment and promotes a sense of well-being.

If you want to Live Healthy you should follow good health habits..

If you want to read more about this: CLICK HERE

Remember, sustainable health and fitness habits are about making conscious choices that prioritize your well-being while considering the long-term impact on the environment. Start with small changes and gradually incorporate more sustainable practices into your daily routine.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Summer Spittlebugs

This time of year it’s not unusual to be walking through a garden or meadow and suddenly come across what looks like a wad of spit or foam stuck to the stem of a plant. This wasn’t left by some uncouth person, nor is it the remnants of some pesticide or other chemical. Instead, it’s the active shelter of a spittlebug!

As the name suggests, these insects create these foamy conglomerations. They then use them as shelter while they feed on the sap of the host plant. There are literally thousands of species within the superfamily Cercopoidea, consisting of the three families Aphrophoridae, Cercopidae, and Clastopteridae. They’re also colloquially known as froghoppers, though the nymph stage that is found within the spit doesn’t yet hop.

The spit protects the nymphs in a few ways. It’s a visual cover to keep predators from seeing them. If a predator should try to eat the spit, nymph and all, it will find that the foam has a rather awful taste. And it can offer some protection from heat and sunlight on hot summer days. It’s made of waste material from digested sap; one nymph can cycle three hundred times its body weight in sap through its system in one hour.

While sap isn’t exactly a calorie-dense food, spittlebug nymphs have secret allies that were only recently discovered. It turns out that they have not one but two species of bacteria living in their digestive systems. In a symbiotic relationship, the bacteria take shelter there while helping the spittlebug acquire extra nutrition. How? By turning glucose from the sap into crucial amino acids that the nymph needs. Other insects that survive on sap also have these sorts of bacteria, but only one species each rather than two.

Adult spittlebugs are also pretty remarkable. They’re even better jumpers than fleas considering their larger size. Some still retain aposematic coloration that warns away predators. And while they may only live a few weeks after molting into their adult form, the females of some species can lay several dozen eggs before she dies.

Here’s the thing: the vast majority of spittlebugs aren’t going to seriously harm your plants. They don’t take enough sap, and aren’t going to hide in their foamy homes long enough to be a concern. If you have a LOT of them on one plant, they may cause a bit of distortion of the plant’s tissues, temporarily weaken its immune system or open it to diseases through the wounds, but this is a rare situation. And the spittlebug species that don’t produce bad-tasting secretions are potential food for other animals, so they do have an ecological role to play.

Occasionally species like the meadow spittlebug (Philaenus spumarius) may carry the bacteria Xylella fastidiosa which can cause widespread diseases in agricultural crops like Pierce’s disease or olive quick decline syndrome. But the plants in your garden are not likely to suffer the same fate, especially if you’re growing a nice variety of species rather than an entire plantation of one thing.

Finally, I want to advocate for biodiversity rather than the kneejerk reaction “It’s a bug on my plant–kill it!”. You want bugs in your garden (especially native species), because that means it’s an active ecosystem that supports local life. If you determine that you have a non-native species like the aforementioned meadow spittlebug, then all you need to do to get rid of it is hose down the affected plants as needed; pesticides won’t penetrate through the spit anyway, and a hose is faster, cheaper, and safer. Otherwise, native species of spittlebug are not going to cause you any issues, will be gone in a few weeks, and have a place in their ecosystem, too. So enjoy the fact that you’ve created a good home for wildlife, and marvel at these insects with a rather unique strategy for survival!

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[yo-anna0315]

Soukoku and a kiddo HCs

Some of this might refer to my own OC rather than just any kid, but anyway Dazai is still with the ADA, Chuuya is either the mafia boss or still an exec under Mori.

Chuuya has a fondness for stray kids and Dazai is impartial to orphans because of Odasaku, but neither of them plan on having kids or adopting because wow they have hectic lives and they themselves are very chaotic.

They’re also doing this new thing called can we have a functional relationship with each other?  This includes Chuuya not turning to alcoholic tendencies every time he gets overwhelmed and Dazai not attempting to actively kill himself without going to Chuuya or someone else first, and the both of them trying to open up and trust each other more outside of combat.  

Chuuya is probably walking home to one of his safehouses late at night, and some street kid comes and pickpockets him.  And GETS AWAY with it.  Chuuya is just shocked because excuse??? Some runt just came and picked his pocket???  He’s more amazed that someone would dare to pick his pocket and succeed rather than be annoyed.  Well damn.  The kid didn’t take anything important, just a bit of pocket change so Chuuya doesn’t care.  But he’s impressed.  

Dazai finds out when Chuuya mentions it over dinner and he’s DYING of laughter.  He wants to meet this kid.

“Chibi got mugged!”  “I didn’t get mugged, you asshole!  I just said they stole some pocket change!”  “Ah, Chibikko’s losing his touch.  “You bastard!”

So Dazai does what Dazai does best and finds the kid without Chuuya even telling him a single thing.  

“All I do is check the security cam footage you have around the safehouse, but that must be too big for your sheepdog brain to handle.”

The kid is a little snappy at first because who the fuck is this bandaged wearing idiot asking if they stole something.  They live on the STREETS, what DON’T they steal?  And then it clicks that they stole from a Port Mafia Executive.  And Not just ANY PM Exec, they stole from the Gravity Manipulator.  

The kid: “haha I’m in danger”

Dazai catches them and brings them back to Chuuya’s apartment and the kid is freaking out because oh my god, I’m going to lose my hand for stealing.  Or worse!  And Dazai is just so happy, what an asshole

“Chibi!”  “What do you want, asshole?”  “Look!”  “Did you KIDNAP a fucking child!”  “No, this is kid who stole from you, remember?  The one who mugged you and stole your cash!”  “You kidnapped a child.”

At this point the kid is in hysterics because why is he so happy?  What’s going on?  Are they going to die???  And then Chuuya, always the one with manners, is like I’m sorry my asshole boyfriend kidnapped you, can I make it up to you with dinner and a shower?

They’re not going to turn down free gifts, but they are extremely on edge.  But Chuuya is a great cook and his shower is luxurious because he knows how to treat himself right (unlike a certain mackerel).  

So the kid takes a shower first because hot water is utterly delightful and should never be wasted, they have two bowls of ramen and rice with nori sheets because hunger.  Chuuya is appreciative because at least someone appreciates the hard work he puts into his food.  Dazai is secretly relieved because he won’t have to eat the leftovers and he can just eat canned crab without feeling guilty.

Dinner and a shower turns into a night on the lounge in the study in safety and comfort, which turns into breakfast in the morning, which turns into dinner every few months and the cycle repeats until Dazai spills sake on the lounge and insists that the kid move into the spare bedroom for the night.

This kid is like okay wtf.  Chuuya is exasperated, Dazai is scheming.  Chuuya makes them have a sit down conversation because he’s trying to be better and the kid doesn’t need more dysfunction in their life.  They extend an open invitation for the kid to come by whenever they want.

“Or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re not used to you at this point.  And you haven’t run away screaming from us so we haven’t messed up yet.”  “Dazai… what the fuck.” 

Dazai and Chuuya agree to keep the kid away from the mafia, mostly Mori because Mori could use the kid as leverage over both Chuuya and Dazai and thas no bueno.  (If Chuuya’s the mafia boss then he’ll probably keep the kid away from the mafia, unless they want in then he’ll sit down with them and have a talk to make sure they know what they’re getting into).  So, Dazai gets a little shadow that just kind of loiters around the ADA.

Dazai trades completed paperwork for tutoring lessons from Kunikida when he has time, Yosano teaches them anatomy and basic first aid, Atsushi, Ranpo, Tanizaki, Naomi and Kenji get a new friend.  Fukuzawa sometimes spends time enlightening the kid about politics and strategy and history, or watches over the kid when Dazai has to work on a case.  

Kouyou finds out about the kid on accident and whisks the kid away to teach them etiquette and class and spoils them with shopping.  Despite her loyalty to Mori, her fondness of Chuuya keeps her from outing the kid to the Boss.

At home, Chuuya teaches the kid martial arts and if they have an ability then Chuuya and Dazai team up to coach the kid through developing their power whatever it may be.  Dazai also teaches the kid how to pick locks and psychology, like how to read body language, how to lie, how to get the truth from someone.

I feel like the kid wouldn’t completely abandon the streets, so they go visit old friends and bring left overs or snacks or water bottles to their friends still on the street.  

Even though they don’t need to, the kid has connections through other street orphans so they can relay information to Dazai and Chuuya.  

“There’s been this group trying to take over one of the ports, but we can’t find any intel on where their base is located or who they are.”  “Oh, you mean the group of people taking shelter in one of the abandoned warehouses?  They’re so rude.”

“The killer escaped, but they aren’t sure how.”  “If you go down this alleyway, you can sneak over the wall.  It’s hard, but once you figure out how to get over, it’s really easy to lose people.”

Dazai and Chuuya have a push and pull type of relationship.  It’s balanced for the most part because they trust each other and know each other well, but sometimes it tips too much like when Dazai gets flighty and suicidal and refuses to tell anyone or when Chuuya starts falling back on alcohol, then it’s a little rocky.  But I feel like having someone else to provide and care for and receive help and appreciation helps them to balance out.

I really like this headcanon because I’m a sucker for found families and Soukoku deserves to be happy dammit. 

[missfangirll]

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

Fandom: The Untamed Rating: General Relationship: Song Lan / Xiao Xingchen Tags: Canonical Character Death, Fix-it, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Pining          Chapters: 3 Summary: Song Lan has lost Xingchen twice. How will he endure after losing him a third time?

Read on AO3

This has lived in my head for a while and finally demanded attention. I am still not over Yi City and this is my attempt at a fix-it.

My eternal gratitute for @stormy-seasons who is a fantastic beta reader, and has helped and encouraged me immensely. Any remaining mistakes are mine. :)

- - - - -

Chapter 1: A road too wide

The road goes ever on and on Out from the door where it began. Now far ahead the road has gone, Let others follow it who can! Let them a journey new begin, But I at last with weary feet Will turn towards the lighted inn, My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

When Wei Wuxian had asked him, all that time ago, what he wanted to do now that he had gained his life back, he didn't have to think much to answer.

“Roam the world with Shuanghua, fight evil alongside Xingchen.”

It was what he had always done, a comfortable routine, not that different from before. No use in dwelling on the past, he had thought then. He was used to wandering the world alone, had done so for years and years in search of Xingchen, for a chance to apologize, to make things right again. Even if the road had felt too wide at times when he walked it alone, he had been content to do what once had been their shared goal: eliminate the evil that lingered in the world. In doing that he had felt close to Xingchen, and it had given him a focus other than his grief, his guilt.

He had never been one for expressing his feelings verbally, his words at the temple a festering proof of that, but he had still clung to that fraying hope of if only: if only he found Xingchen, if only he would listen, if only he could find the words, if only.

But it was idle foolishness to ponder on things lost and words unsaid.

He had lost everything that fateful day in Yi City, had lost his life, had lost Xingchen, had watched Xue Yang succeed. Even if it had been Xingchen’s hand and blade in the end, Song Lan refused to place any blame on him. It had been Xue Yang’s devious tongue that had poisoned Xingchen’s heart, Xue Yang’s twisted mind that had driven him to such hopeless despair that he had seen no other way out than the sword that had failed him.

When the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-Jun had severed Xue Yang‘s hold on him, he had been grateful, of course he had, but not particularly for the existence he had been granted. It had felt daunting, to face the world again, after years of living-not-living as a puppet. But he had accepted the spirit-trapping pouch Wei Wuxian had given him with shaking hands and a quivering heart. There was no one else left to care for Xingchen, and even when Wei Wuxian had told him that the soul inside the bag was shattered, broken, he had never once wavered in his decision. Xingchen and him, they belonged to each other, no matter the form, and so, caring for him was his responsibility. He wouldn't leave him, no matter how much it hurt.

For a short while he really had thought, had hoped, that with Shuanghua and Xingchen’s soul as his companions, the world would feel less empty, less silent, but ever since he had left Yi City behind, he had felt wrong, uneasy, in the way perception shifted when thunderstorms shadowed everything in an amber hue. He felt hollowed, a part of himself left behind in a black coffin adorned with talismans.

The road seemed wider than ever before, the silence even more unbearable now. Each room was too large, each bed too empty, each meal bland. Colours lost their vibrancy, any music was reduced to dull rhythms. He felt as if the veil of Xue Yang‘s influence hadn‘t fully lifted, but since Wei Wuxian had assured him he was free, he blamed being a living corpse for his dimmed senses.

Only in a fight did he feel almost as balanced as before, Fuxue still a trusted companion. He moved with the same deadly precision he always had, his senses sharpened by adrenaline and his energy flow. (It had been a surprise that his golden core seemed almost unaffected by the whole living-dead business, but for everything else he had lost, it was a relief that this at least seemed largely intact.)

Sometimes, very rarely, he even used Shuanghua on a night hunt. Not so much for his own sake, because the image of that blade at Xingchen's throat haunted him still, but for the sword's, which seemed restless without its master. After those hunts he would tell Xingchen about it in his mind, how his sword missed him, how the world missed him. (He felt he had not earned the right to miss Xingchen, and so said nothing of himself.)

When he talked to Xingchen, wordlessly, soundlessly, every time, every conversation began the same.

I am sorry.

-☾-•-❅-

The inn wasn't that different from any other he had taken shelter in, the wooden floors dark with age, but it was clean and inexpensive. He didn't really have to sleep as much as he’d had to when he had been human, but old habits were hard to break. Food wasn't a necessity anymore either, and most days it was a strenuous task, given the state of his tongue, but he still could enjoy the texture, the smell and temperature of meals. Losing his tongue had been as horrifying as losing his eyes so long ago, but he found that, with time, he had started to adapt. Communication was difficult at times, especially when the other party couldn’t read, but he had found most people understood his combination of facial expressions and humming sounds. It wasn't perfect and sometimes led to misunderstandings, but all in all it wasn't as arduous as he had thought.

After he had secured a room for the night – with a glance at the inn-keeper, followed by a nod towards the stairs, which she understood immediately – he sat in a corner of the small dining room, staring at the bowl of rice and steamed vegetables in front of him. The air smelled heavy, of food and unwashed people, and it made his skin prickle. He stirred halfheartedly in his rice, wishing it gone so he could escape to the temporary safety of his room.

When Song Lan finds him again, Xingchen is perched atop a wobbly wooden fence, one arm looped around the post next to him. In one hand he holds a few small peaches, the other, dripping with fruit juice, he holds out to Song Lan, offering him a piece. His smile is blinding, and Song Lan feels an urge to kiss away the sticky remnants of peach juice on his lips. He mock-frowns at the offered peach, then at Xingchen. Xingchen’s smile widens and he shakes his hand a little for emphasis. “You don't even need to touch it, Zichen,” he offers, playful and lighthearted, “just try it. It’s really good!” Song Lan has to hide his smile, glaring at the other for good measure, then carefully leans down, taking the offered piece between his lips. It is really good.

The sound of a cup being slammed on a table startled Song Lan out of his reverie. The mood of the company at the next table had grown noticeably more inebriated and, with a disappointed look at his bowl, Song Lan got up to retreat to his own room. He hated to waste food, but the thought of eating in company – in this company – made his stomach turn.

Alone in his room, the door closed firmly behind him, he finally felt able to breathe again. Setting Shuanghua and Fuxue on the table, he began his evening rituals. Eventually, with his hair down and only in a thin under robe, he sat on the bed, Xingchen's spirit pouch in front of him. It was not that the pouch ever left his side during the day, but these moments, alone, vulnerable, were special to Song Lan in a way he couldn‘t describe.

Softly caressing the silky cloth, he calmed his breathing, trying to convey his thoughts to Xingchen‘s soul.

I am sorry.

That was what he had wanted to say, when he had first lost him, but by now that wasn't the only important thing anymore.

I love you.

Come back.

He wasn't sure if he wanted Xingchen to come back, like Xue Yang had intended, as a fierce corpse like Song Lan was. Xingchen was warmth, life, sunlight – Song Lan had never understood why anyone would compare him to the moon, he had never met anyone as bright and warm – and being trapped in this lifeless existence wasn't something Song Lan wished for him.

And yet.

Even if Xingchen wouldn't return to him, he could mend his soul and enter the cycle of reincarnation, could eventually be born again. (Song Lan very deliberately didn't think about what that meant for him, since he wouldn't die of old age in the foreseeable future.)

Sighing, he laid down next to the pouch, cradling it to his chest, extinguishing the candle with a flick of his wrist. He couldn‘t speak, but had made a habit of pressing the pouch softly to his throat or chest and humming softly, hoping that the vibrations would travel and that Xingchen would somehow sense them. Sometimes, he hummed a childrens‘ song or a lullaby, a faint echo from another life, other times it was just a tuneless melody, anything to make Xingchen feel less alone. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off.

It is deep in the night when Song Lan wakes with a start. Immediately he knows what startled him: Xingchen isn't by his side anymore, but before Song Lan can begin to worry, he sees him, standing by the open window. The moonlight cascades around him in silver waves, making him look ethereal, like a spirit from another world. He is, in a way, Song Lan muses as he watches him. Xingchen has his eyes raised to the moon, the light caressing his elegant cheekbones, his fine nose, the graceful bow of his lips. With a slight movement, a stray strand of hair falls over his face and he pushes it behind his ear with an almost impatient gesture. Then, seeing Song Lan from the corner of his eye, he turns, his lips turning upwards into a soft smile. Wordlessly, he abandons his place at the windowsill and returns to the bed, lying down next to Song Lan, facing him. Still smiling, he closes his eyes, and Song Lan breathes him in.

Song Lan didn't dream. He stopped dreaming the day Shuanghua had ended his life, his nights filled with something akin to deep meditation, but not real sleep. Thus, he woke deeply disoriented, instantly missing Xingchen‘s sleepy warmth at his side, blindly reaching for him under the covers. Reality slowly dripped into his consciousness, the realisation that Xingchen wouldn't be there striking him so forcefully he gasped for air.

The pain of missing Xingchen never went away, always lingered in the back of his mind, but this was immeasurably worse: The memory had been so real, he still could smell Xingchen‘s hair oil, feel his warm touch, hear his soft sleepy breaths. Closing his eyes with a groan, Song Lan forced himself up and out of bed. He wouldn't find any more rest anyway and the only thing that could soothe his aching heart, he knew that from experience, was distraction, movement, so he went on to begin his day.

After donning his robes and putting his few belongings back into his qiankun pouch, he silently slipped down the stairs and out of the house, both swords strapped to his back. Only a pale grey shimmer at the horizon promised the coming sunrise, but the small village still lay in deep silence. Song Lan followed the unpaved road out of town.

“Maybe I should hold onto you, so you don't get lost,” Xingchen grins at him, full of mirth, and swiftly, gracefully, takes Song Lan‘s hand in his. Song Lan almost trips over his own feet, but Xingchen’s smile is so radiant, his eyes sparkling with so much joy, that every excuse why they shouldn’t be holding hands in broad daylight on a road dies on his tongue. Wordlessly, he can only stare at the man beside him and hold on.

Song Lan‘s hand clenched around the spirit bag on his belt. Squinting at the sun above him, he took a moment to orient himself. The next village was his intended destination, the rumors of the vile energy and vengeful spirits troubling it had accompanied him for days. Not much time left before sundown, he realised, and quickened his pace.

-☾-•-❅-

The village was as unassuming as he had expected: a single road, no vendors, not even an inn. When he spotted an elderly woman in a doorway, he hastened to greet her with a polite bow, tapping three fingers to his mouth to indicate he couldn’t speak. Curious, she eyed the two swords on his back.

“Are you a cultivator, Daozhang? Did you come for the ghost?“

Song Lan nodded and raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

The woman gestured to the setting sun. “It is good that you arrived in time, Daozhang.” She sighed. “We have been plagued by that one for a while, and are afraid she will find another victim tonight.“

Song Lan gestured for her to continue.

“Well, you see, on a clear night like this, her lover left her,“ the woman said bluntly, and Song Lan began to understand. It always went like this: lovers lost, friends betrayed, brothers deceived. Greed, anger, hatred, but most of all, love - turned and twisted. He sighed inwardly: those were not easily put to rest. The woman went on.

“It… She was a girl from the village. Her name was Xiao An, they were betrothed. But then he… Well, after she hanged herself in his bedroom, he left the village, but she remained in that house. We hear her crying, every night.“ She shuddered. 

“Then, last week, a young man didn't return home to his family one night. We found him the next morning, he was…“ She trailed off, a haunted expression in her eyes. Shaking her head, she said, “Forgive me, Daozhang, I cannot tell you. He was my granddaughter's beloved, and what she did to him…“ 

She turned towards Song Lan, pleading. “We beg you, Daozhang, release her spirit. We cannot give you much, but-“ 

Song Lan interrupted her with a grunt and a headshake. Then, with another raised eyebrow, he half-turned into the direction the woman had pointed to earlier, silently asking the way. 

She nodded. “It is the last house on the left side, you cannot miss it. It has been unoccupied since… Well, since then.“ With a deep inhale, she bowed to Song Lan. “Thank you, Daozhang. Your help is much appreciated.“ With a nod, the cultivator left into the direction she had indicated.

Since it had already been almost sunset when he arrived in the village, he wasted no time. As he walked towards the abandoned house, he prepared some talismans for the fight ahead.

He notices the fierce corpse behind him a heartbeat too late, too late to turn around and block its fury with Fuxue, too late to dodge the attack. Half-turned, he watches a hand descend towards his neck, unnaturally slow, as if through mud, before silver lightning strikes, cutting the offending arm off. Stunned, he watches as the white-clad figure gracefully follows the motion of the blade, using the momentum to behead the remaining corpse behind Song Lan.

“My thanks,” he pants, only to be grabbed by his sleeve and turned around with more force than strictly necessary. “Did it get you?”, Xingchen demands. “Are you hurt?” Song Lan shakes his head and Xingchen’s shoulders slump a little. Silently he steps closer and embraces Song Lan in a one-armed hug, hiding his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

Song Lan shook himself out of his thoughts. It wouldn't do to get distracted on a night hunt, he scolded himself. Shaking his head to clear it a bit, he mustered the talismans he had prepared, meticulously adjusting a few strokes. Perhaps because he was so focused on that, he realised too late that the trees around him had grown eerily quiet: no wind moved the branches, no bird sang to its mate, no insect buzzed evening songs. Instead, he heard a ghostly whisper that seemed to come from all around him. Unsheathing Fuxue, Song Lan carefully approached the deserted hut, only to stop abruptly when he heard his name.

Song Daozhang.

He couldn‘t answer, even if he had wanted to, so he cautiously stepped closer, eyes darting around to find the spirit that undoubtedly was responsible for this. His steps faltered and he stumbled, as the spirit's next words rustled in his ears.

You left him too, didn't you?

He fought to focus past the heartache and tear-blurred vision.

I didn't want to. I didn't want to. I didn't…

You left him. You left him. You left him and he died. He died, Daozhang.

He had to close his eyes for a moment. He knew this was a vengeful spirit, using his own thoughts against him, and still he was helpless against the guilt that threatened to weigh him down. Determined not to be bested, he turned around in search for the ghost, but all he could make out was that eerie whisper.

He died. He died. He died. HE DIED!

Suddenly, with a gust of energy that even smelled evil, foul and nauseating, the spirit materialised directly behind him, so close he could feel Shuanghua vibrate in warning. He whirled around and struck, only for the spirit to duck away and claw at him. He grunted with shock at a searing pain in his chest, then hurled Fuxue at the ghost‘s neck. The blade connected, and with a loud screech the figure dissolved, leaving only a cloud of dark, coiling energy behind.

Panting heavily, Song Lan dropped Fuxue – with a silent apology to the blade for such undignified treatment – and fumbled for a talisman. In its light, the black mist cleared and left only some sticky black residue in the tall grass.

With a groan, Song Lan dropped unceremoniously down into the grass next to his blade. His breathing slowly calming, he carefully took stock of himself. His robes were torn open, his chest drenched in blood from three large, ragged cuts, leading from his left shoulder down to the opposite hip. He winced and reached for the qiankun bag at his belt to find something to staunch the bleeding, and froze.    

The spirit pouch was gone.

Frantically, he scrambled to his knees, all pain forgotten in his rising panic. Sifting through the tall grass where he had stood mere minutes before, he paid no mind to the sharp blades of grass against his hands, his only focus to find it again.

There. With a wave of unmeasurable relief, he spotted the well-worn fabric and came closer to retrieve it, already silently apologising to Xingchen that he had let them be parted so easily.

But all words died when he saw the state of the pouch.

The silk was torn, gashed open like his chest, black and gaping where embroidered flowers should have been.

No. Please, no.

When Xingchen had died, Song Lan had been under the puppet master’s control, but seen all of it unfold, the heartbreak, Xue Yang‘s gleeful explanations, the agony in Xingchen‘s face when he finally put Shuanghua to his own throat. It had etched itself in his memory, and when he finally was free of the needles, he had relived this moment over and over, every time a helpless spectator. The heartbreak he had felt then, the horror, the helplessness, had almost swallowed him, and only Xingchen‘s presence in the spirit pouch had been a thin ray of hope in the darkness. 

But nothing, nothing he had felt then could be compared to the terror that now squeezed his heart with an iron fist.

The pouch was empty.

[nuttersincorporated]

Brainladdin Chapter One

Here’s Chapter One of my fanfic based on deez-art’s Brainladdin au. Please check out their art. It’s awesome!

If you haven’t read it yet, the Prologue is here and it’s now been beted (its basically the same with just the odd change of word/fixed punctuation)

Chapter One: A look into the everyday lives of Brainladdin and Wakko.

Fandoms: Animaniacs, Pinky and the Brain and Disney’s Aladdin

Word Count: 1359

Author Notes: Thank you to cawareyoudoin for betering this. Any mistakes left are my own. Here’s where the scientifically accurate version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is from.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a prosperous land of shining glory. ACMEbah was a city where anyone could succeed, or that was the story those in charge would like the world to believe. The truth was very, very different.

Unfortunately, the Warner-rabia Dream was a lie. While the rich got richer, the poor got poorer. The middle class was almost nonexistent and the better off working class struggled desperately to avoid falling below poverty line. A great many people were born and died in poverty, trapped in a cycle they couldn’t hope to escape.

One poor mouse dreamed of changing things. He wanted to make Warner-rabia the place it pretended to be. He knew that if he could only succeed, he could make ACMEbah a fair and happy place for everyone.

His story has been told many times but the truth has been twisted. The rebellion and anger at an unjust system were slowly removed from the tale to make it more palatable to the ruling classes. Those with the money to bring movies to the big screen could afford to decide what sort of stories got told and how, so they ripped out the heart of this story.

It is time to tell the real tale again. You should know the truth, but be warned; this story is not the one you think you know.

This is the story of Brainladdin as it really happened…

***

“Run!” Brainladdin yelled at Wakko.

He sprinted, as quickly as he could, away from the exploded mess of his latest attempt to take over ACMEbah, and from the angry local citizens. Wakko didn’t run, he was much taller than Brainladdin, instead he chose to walk quickly by his side, so that they would stay together.

Someone yelled something about Brainladdin being a public menace. Brainladdin instinctively ducked right before something large flew over his head.

Wakko turned around, half planning to attack the thrower, but Brainladdin grabbed his leg, trying to drag him away. Wakko knew Brainladdin wouldn’t leave without him, so he picked up the thing that had been thrown and they continued their escape.

They didn’t slow down again until the sound of angry voices faded away. Once they were surrounded by the everyday sounds of the city, Brainladdin stopped and looked Wakko up and down quickly to make sure he hadn’t been hurt. 

“Are you okay?” Brainladdin asked.

Wakko rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. I wasn’t the one who almost got hit by this.” Wakko held up the thing that had almost hit Brainladdin and he got his first good look at it. It was a huge wooden mallet, almost comical in size.

“I’m not your father,” Brainladdin said automatically but without any real conviction. Then he pointed to the wooden mallet, “You are not keeping it.”

“Oh, please Pops,” Wakko begged, all wide-eyed, innocent sweetness. “You won’t even know it’s there, honest. Look, it can fit in my bag,” Wakko pulled his bag out of a pocket that should have been too small to fit it. He somehow put the mallet inside the bag.

“I…”

“Pleeeeeease!"

“Fine!” Brainladdin said, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “If it will keep you happy.”

Wakko grinned. “Thanks, Padre.” Wakko put the bag back in his pocket.

Brainladdin rolled his eyes at being called Dad in another language, but ignored it otherwise. “Come, Wakko, we must return to the hovel before it gets dark.”

“Why?”

“Because you need a good night's sleep before I…”

“We,” Wakko interrupted.

“… try to take over ACMEbah!” Brainladdin finished as if Wakko hadn’t spoken.

They made their way back to what could only charitably be called a house.

It was crumbling and old. In theory it was condemned but there was no date set for its demolition. In reality, it had been abandoned in the hopes it would just eventually fall down by itself. Since that hadn’t happened yet, over the years several families had ended up squatting there when they had no other available shelter.

Four families currently sheltered in the building. Brainladdin and Wakko had claimed a single room at the top as their home. It was missing half the roof, and most of the wall on the outside of the building, but it still offered more shelter and was safer than the streets. 

When the two were safely back in their room, Wakko pulled out his bag out of his pocket again and started searching through it. Eventually, he pulled out one small wizened apple. Brainladdin saw the look of disappointment flicker over Wakko’s face before he could hide it. Brainladdin silently cursed himself for being so caught up in schemes that he hadn’t found time to get more food that day.

Wakko cut the apple in half and offered a piece to Brainladdin. Brainladdin shook his head. “No, no. I’m not hungry. You eat it.”  His stomach chose that exact moment to rumble.

Wakko rolled his eyes, trying to push a piece into Brainladdin’s hands. “You need to eat, Pa.” 

Brainladdin glared and refused to take it. 

“I’m not hungry.” He turned away. Brainladdin went to his planning corner, pulled his notebook and pencil from under a loose floorboard, and started to work on another plan. He pointedly ignored the apple half Wakko put down next to him and continued to work.

Five minutes later, the apple part was still uneaten. Brainladdin threw down his pencil and turned to glare at Wakko, “It will go off if nobody eats it.”

“So eat it already.”

“I will not. I have work to do.”

“Well, I guess it’s not going to get eaten then.”

“Wakko… please. Just eat the apple.”

Wakko crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue.

Brainladdin groaned. “If I eat half of what’s left, will you please eat the other half?”

Wakko grinned and cut the apple again. “Sure thing, Dad.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your father!” There was no real annoyance in the response. It was an automatic response.

Brainladdin took his quarter of the apple and ate it slowly as Wakko wolfed down his bit. When he was done, he turned to his notebook again and started working.

When the sun set, Wakko climbed under his thin blanket, hugging the moth-eaten teddy bear Brainladdin had given him. “Sing me a song so I can go to sleep?”

Brainladdin rolled his eyes, “If it will make you be quiet.” He walked over to Wakko’s side and sat down next to him before starting to sing,

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star I know exactly what you are

Opaque ball of hot dense gas Million times our planet’s mass Looking small because you’re far I know exactly what you are”

Wakko yawned, his eyes drooping as Brainladdin continued to sing,

“Atmospheric turbulence Causes rays of light to bend Blurry light gives views subpar Causing twinkling little star

We see you as if in the past Light’s not infinitely fast Lookback time delays our view I know exactly what you do”

Wakko’s eyes shut and his breathing evened out. Brainladdin allowed himself a small fond smile. Then, he stood up and slipped out of their small home, secure in the knowledge that Wakko wouldn’t move before he got back.

Brainladdin made his way through the quiet night streets of ACMEbah. He headed to the richer part of the city and searched through the bins until he’d managed to gather two slightly stale loaves of bread, and a bunch of bruised bananas.

Then he headed home again, glad that he wouldn’t have to waste any more time tomorrow worrying about food. 

Brainladdin checked on Wakko as soon as he was back, and was glad to see him still deep in his slumber. Brainladdin put the food down, and patted Wakko fondly in a way he never would have if Wakko was awake.

“Sleep well,” he whispered. “When I take over, I promise, you’ll never be hungry again.”

When Brainladdin turned away and went to his own bed, Wakko smiled and finally allowed himself to really fall asleep.

[rabid-possum-art]

Memories

(This is a short story I came up with, not really sure where I'm going with it or if I'll continue it but I thought I'd post it here TW: starvation, broken bones.) 

The first I remember is taking a breath. No memories beyond the blackness of my closed eyes. The first thing I noticed was the musty smell of freshly fallen rain and the soft disturbance of leaves. The second, was the overhang of trees as I opened my eyes to a dense jungle. The third, after many days of trying to survive, was the feeling of loneliness. 

The sun rises and falls, day after day. I had to keep myself busy to survive. I crafted tools with my own hands out of sticks and stones, I build a shelter out of wood to keep out the cold and the horrors of the night. I hunted, I planted seeds, I reaped those seeds. I did so much more, all for my own survival. And then I died. I died. That’s the fourth thing I remember. I had fallen deep into a cave, my legs were broken and shattered when I hit the cold hard ground.

I didn’t scream, I couldn't, I lay down broken and afraid. I tried to look around me, but the black emptiness of the void surrounded me, consumed me. I passed out from the pain and fear. I don’t know how long I lay there, unconscious in the cold void of the deeper, unlit caves. It could’ve been hours, days, perhaps a week? I couldn’t tell. When I woke again the pain remained except with the added rumbling of my stomach. I didn’t have any food or water, nothing to sustain me. Eventually, I passed out again. 

I went into a cycle of unconsciousness to consciousness, repeatedly in and out of dreamless sleep. The only way I could tell I was awake was by the pain. My body slowly, painfully wasting away. I could feel my body eating itself, my body felt even colder now it was the only comfort I had as I continued to die and waste away. From that point, everything became a haze. I started seeing things, terrible things. After that, I had closed my eyes for one final time. I had died, and then the last thing I remember was opening them again.

[rant-2-me]

My mental state has just worsened over the days, though I'm not sure why, and I just feel so unmotivated and lacking any energy to practice any self care other than napping, and also feel anxious because I'm not studying enough.. feel like I'm just 1/4th assing my responsibilities.. And when someone asks me how I'm doing, sometimes I blurt out that I'm not fine, and the guilt I feel afterwards for making them worry, so I find myself withdrawing from initiating conversation with them, even though I really want to, and this makes them worry about me more.. I just don't know anything anymore, everything feels too much, yet I can't rant in a clear conscience without feeling guilty for bothering them, and thinking how I don't deserve to complain because they have had so much worse (yes I know pain is relative, but I feel so horrible, like a whiny child, who doesn't know how to be content with her blessings)......

Sorry I know it's a lot.. feel free to delete it if it's triggering or making you uncomfortable in any way... I just needed to get it out..

My lovely nonnie, im so, so glad you sent this ask. and got it all out of your system. yeah this sounds cheesy but like ive been there, with not knowing how to reach out—im proud you had the courage to send this ask. girlboss vibes.

also this ask took a while to answer and im so so sorry about that, but I didnt want to do anything less than the best for you, so let's just jump right in <[:)

Lacking motivation, god I've been there, but doing self care is super super important so here is a how-to, hon.

How to do selfcare when you’re not motivated to:

1. Be a little “gross.”

Gross is in quotes because it’s so subjective, but you undoubtedly have a few behaviors you consider kind of gross regardless. Now’s the time to do them without judgment. For me, that’s meant showering less, eating weird food combos (sometimes in bed), and letting my brows and mustache grow magnificently unruly. For you, it could mean doing something you normally judge yourself for or cutting back on activities you only do for the benefit of others. Now is not the time to allow “socially acceptable” behaviors to rule you.

2. Eat whatever the hell you want.

This should be a rule always, but I’m not going to pretend there aren’t societal, social, and personal pressures that go into why we eat what we eat. Try to shut down the voice that judges or polices what you’re eating right now. We’re in the middle of a goddamn pandemic. If dinner has to be some slices of cheese and deli meat eaten in front of the open fridge, so be it. If you have a lot of cravings and are snacking more than you normally would, cool. If pre-pandemic you decided you were going to stick to a certain meal plan and it’s just not happening anymore? Don’t beat yourself up.

Yes, what we eat is connected to our mental health, and I don’t want to discount that—but if the stress of eating healthfully is making you feel like crap anyway, whether that’s because you can’t fathom cooking or don’t have the means to shop for certain foods during isolation, just eat the sleeve of Oreos and try again another day. It’s okay.

3. And wear whatever you want.

Or, more realistically, wear whatever you can. Even if it means wearing the same ratty sweatpants for a whole week. Or month. Maybe you started all this out aspiring to get dressed every day to work from home productively, or maybe you have a whole collection of comfortable loungewear you feel guilty for not utilizing. Whatever arbitrary rules and expectations you’ve set for yourself, you can throw them out.

On the other hand, maybe you need to quiet the voice that tells you there’s no point in getting dressed or feeling presentable. If it helps, by all means, play with your look, wear awesome or weird outfits, do your hair and makeup or whatever activity might feel a little silly given your current reality. In the middle of a pandemic, nothing is a waste of time if it makes you feel good.

4. Use shortcuts to avoid creating chores.

In my first week or so of working entirely from home, I was baffled by just how messy my apartment got. How on earth were so many messes piling up when I wasn’t even doing anything but working, sleeping, and eating? I hadn’t realized it, but a lot of my small tidying routines had become casualties to the pandemic. And, it turns out, slacking on the little ways I pick up after myself every day (such as doing the dishes right after I use them) added up quickly.

Instead of forcing myself to stick to the same levels of tidiness that I used to maintain, I’ve found shortcuts. For example, I use paper plates and plastic cutlery when I feel too fatigued to wash dishes so they don’t sit in the sink for days on end. Or I stick to the same two “outfits” to avoid clothes piling up when I’m too depressed to put them away every day. If you can find a small way to go easy on yourself, even if it feels a little wasteful or indulgent or gross, it’s okay to tap into those shortcuts right now.

5. Be kind to yourself if your place is messy or dirty.

I won’t lie: I’m someone whose space impacts my mental health a lot. Typically, keeping my apartment clean helps keep my mental health in check and letting my apartment get gross makes me feel worse. That’s still true in a lot of ways, but to adapt I’ve been trying to be mindful and accepting of where I’m at. And it’s…helped?

It turns out that taking the pressure off does a lot to mitigate the guilt and some of the other negative mental health effects I usually experience. In practice, it involves a lot of talking to myself. Instead of seeing my apartment turning into a depression cave and immediately thinking, “Oh, God, I need to clean up, this is so disgusting, I’m a monster for living like this, of course I feel depressed,” I go for kindness. I think (or even say out loud because, well, desperate times), “Of course my apartment is a mess right now. I’ll get to it when I get to it. I can handle the mess for now.”

6. Accept your new sleep schedule.

idk anyone whose sleep hasn’t been screwed in some way by all of this. Anxiety, depression, fatigue, pent-up energy from sheltering in place, tech use, new work responsibilities, screwy schedules…pretty much every aspect of our new reality can impact our sleep. Some people are sleeping a lot more, some are sleeping a lot less, and some are cycling through both extremes. Oh, and the temptation of naps! It’s all there.

Trying to maintain a healthy sleep schedule during all of this is a worthy endeavor—and more power to you if you’ve figured out how—but there’s a good chance that it feels impossible.

By “accepting” your new sleep schedule, I don’t mean pretending it doesn’t suck; I mean doing what you can to be gentle on yourself about it. For me, acceptance has looked like watching some comfort tv and reading my favourite books at 2 a.m. instead of staying in bed and anxiety-spiraling about how I can’t sleep. Is it ideal? No way. But I’m not going to waste energy stressing about something I currently can’t control.

7. Give yourself plenty of room to do absolutely nothing.

I’ve given myself permission to do a whole lot of nothing. That includes getting rid of the pressure to be productive and practice self-care, yes, but in a broader sense, it also means not forcing myself to actively “adjust” every day.

Some days, I just need to do nothing but feel my feelings. Or avoid feeling my feelings. Or stare at the ceiling. Give yourself space to do (or not do) whatever you need to.

also, nonnie? my love?

Never feel guilty about telling someone who cares about you when you don’t feel okay.

People who genuinely care about you—and I’m sure they are many—will care if you aren’t feeling good, there are always going to be people who care about you, who want you to be okay, that’s why they ask, why people make rant, why “how are you?” is such a common question.

But if you do need to talk, but you feel like you’ll “burden” people who you do talk to, here’s a guide to ranting.

Guide to ranting:

1. Pick the right person. Someone who’s in the right headspace to listen to you, you could also pick someone who cares about you—if you’re anxiety tells you nobody cares about you, pick someone who “should” care about you in your relationship, e.g: a friend you’ve had for a long time, a friend who’s told a few of their problems, or friend you might not feel close with, but seems very kindhearted and a good listener.

2. Pick the right time to talk to them, so you can have their undivided attention. If they are busy—as most people will be with something—they’ll have a hard time giving you good advice and listening to you. Ask them when they are free, and then ask them:

3. “hey, can we talk? I’m not mad or you or anything, it’s just that I have been not feeling great, and I just want to rant to someone about it.” and “No pressure to say yes, you might have your own stuff to do deal with.” to make sure they are the right person to talk to.

4. It’s ok to test the waters. Start slowly, you don’t have to share everything at once if you don’t want to.

5. You never know how your friend will react to what you say.While you can’t know how they’ll react, just remember that sometimes people’s initial reactions may come from a place of shock, surprise or not knowing what to say. Their initial reaction isn’t always their longerterm reaction, it may just take them a little time to process.

6. Look for ways to take action. Don’t get me wrong, ranting can be amazing for you, but on its own may not solve your problem.

But maybe venting to people isn’t for you. No matter! There are other ways to get out emotions:

Ways to rant without talking to anyone

1. Cry it out— simple and rewarding. When the baggage is just too heavy to carry cry it out. It can help you ease the pressure and ease your mind to think straight after days of holding that frustration in.

2. Work out — easy and fun. tire yourself out and release all the frustration in working out! This is going to be so satisfying for you as you try and punch, kick, balance, lift, and breathe those frustrations away.

3. Clean & rearrange — practical and can be fun. we get frustrated by so many things and one thing that can truly help clear our minds is to have a clean place where we can stay and live for the moment to breathe. Clean your room, rearrange your things and you’ll be surprised by the satisfaction this brings — a signal of a new beginning.

4. Scribble — simple and fun. Make scribbles, doodles, drawings, take a pen or a pencil, and let go. It does not have to be “good” art or professional at all. Just draw whatever comes to heart, sunflowers or clouds or rainbows—anything.

5. Write it down — fun and simple. Let those words out of your head and just live in the moment.

How to fight the lack of motivation.

1. Don't fight the lack of motivation.

If you feel down or unable to muster tons of energy, let it be ok. Be easy on yourself and acknowledge that it's ok to have a dip, especially at this time of the year.

2. Once you have accepted your slump, get to the bottom of it.

Ask yourself, "What is the root cause of this sluggish feeling?" Go deeper than the obvious reasons. Is it related to work? Your personal life? Relationships? It might also just be the weather. Get clear on what areas of your life you're feeling the most resistance.

3. Dig into that area. What is not ideal about this aspect of your life? What would make it better?

Make a list of how you'd like your current situation to improve--and be specific. If you truly can't find a reason to be less than enthusiastic, then accept your feelings and let them pass with time.

4. Take your list of what is missing and go through it.

What is holding you back from being able to create the things that are missing in your life?

5. Get support for creating the life you want.

Do some research and find an expert to help you. Even though they love you, friends and family aren't objective enough, and they tend to give advice that is a reflection of their own life and insecurities.

6. Think of current habits that are contributing to a less-than-ideal life.

Maybe it's fear, laziness, or not having enough confidence. Pick one to focus on.

7. Address this habit over the next 2 months.

They say it takes 28 days to create a new habit, but this varies from person to person. If you focus on it for two months, you are sure to build the neural pathways needed to call it a new way of being.

8. Buy a book, read articles or do some research on this particular behavior or feeling.

Read about the common causes of this habit as well as the proven ways to bust through and work around it.

9. Create a plan around shifting your current habit.

Make sure that changing this habit ultimately helps you move forward in the area of your life that is not ideal. The energy from clarity, awareness and then action will immediately get you feeling more motivated, no matter what.

10. When all else fails: make a list of activities that excite you, and do one of them right now.

Talk to a fun friend, dance around at home, workout, watch a funny YouTube video, tackle something on your to-do list. Accomplishing something will give you a hit of dopamine in your brain. If you're too overwhelmed by your day, sit for five minutes and meditate. Put on some soothing music and breathe.

okay, that's all nonnie, I hope you feel the lust for life in your lungs, please have all my love, i hope this helped, this ask took a while, but it was worth if it helps

and if you need to dont worry to send another ask, if you like spam the inbox!! queen!!!

take care, much love my sweet honey, bye <3

—*putting daisies in your hair as they leave* mod peppermint <[:)

[liaswritesrobots]

Continuation of snakeformers Megatron? That was some great stuff.

Part 2 to this post!

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It's been a deca-cycle since Megatron first saw you. He's been keeping a watchful eye on you since your discovery, making sure none of the others bother you, not that it's a hard task.

Somehow you've miraculously managed to avoid any Serpentronians so far. Though you have been staying in his domain and the others rarely come through unless he's summoned them. Except for Blackarachnia. He's never quite sure what she's doing as she only comes out deep in the night, though he knows she wouldn't harm anything in his area without his permission first so he's not too worried about her discovering you.

Still, you've not caught a glimpse of him either. He's good at staying hidden but he's still so much larger than you are. It furthers his belief that you're not of this world, otherwise you'd be on constant vigilance, especially in his territory. You don't exactly seem comfortable, as he's seen you jump at the sound of crickets, but you're definitely more relaxed than you should be.

You've managed to find a small cave to take shelter in, which he's somewhat thankful for. It makes it easier to keep an eye on you when he knows where you're going to be at the end of the day. You've made yourself a nest with a pile of leaves and a little fire pit out of stones and twigs, a feat that he's equally confused and impressed by.

He watches as you cook a small bird that you had set a trap for out of some rope you had in that removable back pouch, something else he notes as worthy of praise, and wonders if there is deeper purpose for you to set your food on fire before consuming it.

There has to be.

He's watched you set every animal you've caught for consumption over that pit. You've even set eggs you've found over it on a very flat rock. Yet when you eat fruit you consume them without setting them on the flames? What makes them different from any other food?

You have odd eating habits for sure. You don't swallow things whole. You bite or take off pieces and chew them. He finds it a bit of a waste of time to do so. Don't you get tired of chewing? Surely just swallowing your food whole would save you some time since you already waste enough of it putting them over those flames? 

He looks on, watching as you ever so delicately finish your food. You get up and stretch, a small bit of your stomach shows from under your shirt. Odd. That part is the same color as your face. Are you shedding? Did your old skin get stuck? Do you not know how to shed properly? He thinks he'd be more than happy to teach you. He could teach you how to properly eat too. And how to build a proper nest compared to that pathetic little leaf pile you lay upon for rest. He could teach you many things, he thinks.

All in due time. He needs to learn all he can about you first, then he'll show himself to you. For now though, he'll act as your silent guardian.