#recommend tapping for better quality :)

[queruloustea]

ah, so one of my sketches may have gotten slightly out of hand ...

i may fully finish this (or what-have-you) later if my joint pain decides to abate a bit :)))

#hollow knight #quirrel #monomon the teacher #monomon as a method of transportation #fog canyon #jellyfish lady my beloved #recommend tapping for better quality :) #queruloustea

[thatfreshi]

Can I request an Astarion x reader fic where the reader keeps getting hit on/cat called by random people, and she brushes it off at first but it slowly becomes evident that it really bothers her, and needs someone to intervene or comfort her?

TW - Sexual harassment, threat of kidnapping

Recommended Song: Used - SZA FT. Don Toliver

Ah taverns, such wondrous places of inebriation and sloppy people of all creeds. You and Astarion are party people, despite his introverted nature. It's more about being two people thriving in chaos, playing the other patrons like pawns to make the night exciting, flirting with a stranger to snatch their drink from the bar, and all of those morally grey things. Sure, maybe it's not ethical to steal, but it sure is fun.

It's not a secret that you are two of the most good-looking regulars, but it's also well-known that you're severely monogamous. In fact, it's gotten very close to voyeurism multiple times, which has gotten you kicked out of a couple places. You don't mind public displays of affection, even if they're a little far gone at times. All of that to say, it's hard not to notice when you arrive.

Ever since the death of Cazador, you've been living in luxury. Despite rejecting ascension, Astarion didn't mind getting his hands all over the stockpile of gold and jewels the Szarrs had at their estate. After all, you'd say he deserves it. It's almost like being nobility, adorned in gorgeous clothing amongst the common people, and yet you fit in quite well. This rich adornment came with tight-fitting gowns, gorgeous lace pieces, corsets of the highest quality. Those also didn't go unnoticed, but this night in particular some people crossed the line.

You and Astarion brought your own bottle of wine to start the evening, something to get you loose enough to put up with whatever was on tap. Occasionally you'd befriend some strangers, just for the evening. Astarion had a bad habit of making jokes about his vampirism, so you often avoided speaking to the same people again in case they'd look past his sarcasm.

This night in particular you'd come across quite the fun group, and you'd kindly shared some of your wine with them, which was a most rare occurrence. Soon enough you ran out, and Astarion offered to grab something else for the table.

"I'll be right back darling."

He has a habit of disappearing in most circles, but he's always nearby when it comes to you, especially in a place like this. Of course he's protective of you, all you truly have is each other. He'll walk to the bar and purchase a new bottle, keeping eyes, or at least ears on you the entire time he's away. Perks of loving an elf, as his heightened senses have come in handy multiple times.

"Well, that man of yours certainly is something."

A human man comments from across the table, taking a sip of your fancy wine.

"I know."

You smirk, taking a sip of your drink.

"I can't imagine he's all that in the bedroom though."

You almost spit out your wine, surprised by the audacity of this complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Just someone who thinks you could do better."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, I could bed you for a change."

You almost want to throw up at how bold this man is being. Instead of dragging the conversation on any further, you grab your drink and go to stand up, trying to eye Astarion from across the room. The tavern was awfully busy, far more than usual. After realizing he was nowhere in sight, you move to make your way to the bar. Suddenly, there's a hand in your hair, yanking you back.

"Well that's no way to treat a nice young man, now is it?"

This human snarls in your ear. No one seems to notice the situation, as the crowd is bustling. It's not often you get scared of random tavern goers, but this man is far more handsy than others.

"Unhand me."

You go to grab for the knife hidden under the slit of your dress, realizing you forgot to grab it on the way out. Of course, tonight of all nights. Realizing you were trying to grab for a weapon, the human twists your wrist behind your back, making you yelp in pain.

Astarion had a hard time hearing that night because of all the overlapping conversation, but that sound was all he needed for his ears to perk up and for him to abandon his drink mission. He has a keen sense for knowing when you're in danger.

"Adorable, you think you're that strong huh?"

He goes to feel where you reached for your knife, lingering on your leg a little too long. Then, he freezes.

"Excuse me sir, could you show me where your pulse is in your neck? Make sure your blood's still pumping?"

Astarion has his dagger in hand behind your attacker. The human starts shaking, and slowly creeps his hand off of your leg and onto his neck.

"Very good. Now, if you'd like to keep that precious sustenance pumping through your veins and don't want me to pop your jaw out of it's socket, you'll unhand my wife."

He points the tip of his dagger right where the neck meets the jawline, almost drawing blood. Soon after the human unhands your hair, and scrambles away, not before Astarion leaves the tiniest knick in his neck: a reminder. You turn around and embrace the vampire, finally catching your breath. He lets you stay wrapped around his side as he guides you out of the tavern.

"Are you alright my love? Did he hurt you?"

"Just my scalp a little. I forgot my knife before we left, stupid mistake."

He lifts your chin up to make eye contact with him.

"You shouldn't have to be armed so some man won't harass you. Would I prefer you to have a weapon on you? Of course, but if you ever can't protect yourself, I will."

You start to tear up a little. It's been a while since you've been that scared, and no one seemed to notice. What would've happened if Astarion was too late?

"Look at me."

He wakes you from your thoughts.

"Let's go home. Perhaps this isn't the right place for us."

You wrap your arm around his, holding onto his sleeve. Darkvision is nice at times like this, since he can see much further than you. The walk home is quiet, and he doesn't mind. However, he is constantly eyeing nearby alleyways in case that man decides to get smart with him. When you get home you ball up on the sofa, and he makes sure the door is double-locked, something he doesn't often do considering he made the locks himself. He makes his way to the sofa, the plush velvet making a nice contrast to rickety wooden chairs of the tavern.

"Come here darling."

He pulls you back to lay on him, and he unclasps your necklace, placing it gently on the nearby table.

"Astarion?"

You look up at him.

"Yes my love?"

Tears prick at your eyes again. You have a hard time getting the words out, as if it's an embarrassing question.

"Will... will you always keep me safe?"

Your voice wavers. He starts massaging your shoulders.

"Of course my sweet Tav, I'll keep you safe as long as you live."

His voice lowered, a certain serious tone taking hold. Part of him felt guilty things even went as far as they did tonight, but he promised himself he'd never let it happen again.

"I love you."

He smiles. It's not often you just say 'I love you' to one another, it's usually said in many different ways, in actions, in pet names. You save it for serious moments, when it feels important to remind each other of your love, how it binds you.

"I love you too darling."

Nothing else is said. Soon enough you fall asleep as he rubs your back, peaceful and safe.

#astarion #astarion x reader #comfort #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #angst

[syneilesis]

[fic] Coffee Break

Coffee Break

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 1.2k words ao3 link

You buy Xavier a new coffee machine.

A/N: I am so in love with this man. Day 2 of the closed beta test and here I am writing fic lmao. God, I love Shen Xinghui so much. This fic is inspired by his Shimmering Sunlight story. Some spoilers about the main storyline and character-exclusive stories, though nothing too significant. Though I frequently refer to his CN name in my other posts, in this fic I use his EN version -- Xavier.

The box is light in your hands, but the salesperson assured you that weight does not equate to quality. Price, too—because although the Hunters Association is generous with their pay, you don't want to raise flags by taking missions incessantly. Tara's nose for intrigue, of course, is well-known among your circles.

It would be all the worse if Xavier gets in on the gossip too. (You'd have to thank the stars for the man's indifference to workplace drama—and to most in general. Xavier may be airheaded at times but when he's focused on something he is monstrously focused on it. It's impressive, and—well—cute.)

The recommended beans are secured inside your messenger bag. You don't call Xavier this time to give him a heads up. He had, a few days ago, granted you the privilege to enter his home whenever you like, his hand tracing the book spines on the shelf, all the while saying it. He wasn't looking at you, but his tone remained light, playful even, that it prompted you to tease him by pointing out that if he merely wanted an efficient alarm clock, he could just buy one of those state-of-the-art ones sold in major stores. That's when Xavier whirled around to look at you, mirth in his eyes but with a secretive, scheming tilt on his lips.

“I'm coming in,” you announce, regardless, by the door, pushing it in with one hand, and Xavier's voice floats across the hall.

“You're really taking advantage of this, huh.”

“Well, a wise man once said that one must seize every opportunity given their way.”

Xavier emerges from a room in all his cardigan-and-sweatpantsed glory, hair mussed enough to indicate that he's just risen from his bed.

“Good morning!” you chirp.

He glances at the clock—two in the afternoon—and eyes the box in your hands. The caution—and curiosity—is obvious in the lilt of his question. “What's that?”

“For you.”

He takes the proffered item and inspects like it'll explode at any moment. You sigh and retrieve it again, and he follows you when you make your way to the kitchen.

“I already have a coffee machine,” he says, confused, as you begin to clean the gift.

“And it brews bitter coffee.” You spare a glance at him to find that he's watching you. You tap the lid of the machine. “This is a more recent and an undeniably better model.”

“I don't recall asking you to buy one for me.”

“That's because you didn't.” There's a pause where you deliberate telling him your next sentence and facing him directly as you say it. You go for it, in the end. “It's a gift. This is a gift from me to you.”

It doesn't register to him at first—it's as if he's waiting for an explanation that requires the mention of Captain Jenna's orders. But after a blink and a shuffle, it clicks, his eyes widening and he's fully awake all of a sudden.

And when he responds, it seems urgent: “What's the occasion?”

You shake your head. “Nothing—or rather, it's the occasion for drinking good coffee.” The coffee beans make their appearance. “Go sit on the sofa or something while I work this thing out.”

Xavier chuckles. “What—now you're ordering me in my own home?”

“And making you good coffee!”

“You're a guest—even I know that it's rude to have the guest make food or drinks for the owner of the house.”

“It's fine! And besides, I'd like to test this out as soon as possible. Refund and exchange policy only lasts for seven days from the date of purchase. I'd want to know if this works just fine.”

Xavier attempts to protest a little more, but you hold firm. Once he trudges back to the living room, you concentrate on the coffee. The salesperson seemed trustworthy enough when pitching the product, and you really can't forget the time Xavier served you a cup of bitter coffee. Not even three sugar cubes could salvage that unholy concoction.

When it's done, the heavenly aroma wafting along your nose, you test a sip from your own mug. It's a success. Placing the mugs on a tray, you head to where Xavier is.

He's reading a book. Though 'reading' seems to be a stretch because his head bobs twice, his eyelids drooping, the edge of a nap threatening his posture.

“Xavier,” you call him, and his head snaps back to attention. You bite your lip to stave off a laugh. Sitting next to him on the sofa, you put the tray on the table and hand him his own cup. “Try this one.”

A sniff and a tentative sip. And then he hums in approval, now drinking it normally. You smile around the rim of your mug, your eyes falling on his book.

“This is good,” he comments, wearing a smile of his own when he turns to you. “Did you use another kind of coffee beans?”

“Yep. The salesman recommended me another one, and it was the right decision. By the way, why are you reading an instruction manual on building a claw machine?”

“It's nothing,” he says, swiping the item away. There's another book on the table—a collection of short stories—and he snatches that up instead. You recognize the title.

“Oh! I've read that before.”

“Is it good? I haven't read it yet.”

“Yes. I particularly loved the titular story. The suspense buildup was done skillfully and the payoff was perfect.”

“I see, then I look forward to starting it.”

Surprisingly, Xavier begins reading it then and there, occasionally sipping his coffee and turning the page. You, beside him, are minding your own cup, thoughts drifting here and there. Your next mission. New strategies in battle. Your next appointment with Dr. Zayne.

It's when a weight has plopped down your shoulder that you jolt out of your musings: Xavier falling asleep on your shoulder, mug empty, the coffee residues pooling at the bottom, book opened in the chapter of your favorite story.

“Xavier?” you murmur, careful not to startle him if he's truly asleep.

He doesn't stir—only burrows further into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, the puffs of his breath close and warm against your skin.

It would've been cruel to push him away, not when he looks comfortable. And besides, you're afforded an opportunity to study him—so you let him as he is.

From your angle, staring down at his sleeping face, you note of his eyelashes, long and thick and seemingly soft, slightly curved upwards, hovering over his smooth cheeks. They frame the blueness of his eyes very well. They make him even prettier under daylight. You're reminded of the time you and he strolled under the blooming peach blossoms, the pink backdrop highlighting the radiance of his presence, statuesque. He as sublime art itself, rivaling that of Rafayel's paintings—or better yet, surpassing them. And when he smiles—

Unbidden, heat crawls across your cheeks and settles there. Oh no. Oh, no no no.

Oh dear, this won't do.

You swallow, and turn away. Against your neck, Xavier sleeps on, unaware of your unfurling realizations. By the window, a familiar bird perches, twittering under the afternoon sun, a small but melodious background song.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace shen xinghui #love and deepspace xavier #fic #my fic #shen xinghui #shen xinghui my beloved #i'm obsessed with this man #this won't be the only fic i'll write for him and for this game

[hamletshoeratio]

"But no new content 😭!!" that means jack shit. We have several literal decades worth of content we can watch or rewatch. The writers and now the actors too are not only fighting for their livelihoods but for the futures and the soul of their industries.

Fuck new content, fuck the executives and producers and powers that be who make millions upon millions while the people, who create the content that make them rich, can barely make ends meet.

Here's some suggestions to anyone who doesn't know what to watch;

Nostalgia rewatch; watch old favourites, shows and movies you haven't seen in years but that stayed with you, the ones that mattered to you.

Watch the shows your parents didn't let you watch growing up because they thought the show was "too mature" for you.

Watch the shows and movies people have recommended to you that you never found time for before.

Watch indie films!!!

Look at different genres than what you've watched before and give them a go.

Try films and shows from other countries and/or in other languages. There's dubs and subtitles available and these shows and movies can be just as good if not better than their American and/or English speaking counterpart.

And remember when watching shows, that you do not have to binge them all at once, you can have your own personal tv schedule and watch say an episode a week like you would've done when/if they aired before streaming

Look at some older films and shows, why does it matter if it's in black and white or the camera quality is lower than 4k and hd, so long as it's good? And so many of those shows and films, while not perfect, have aged better than shows that have come out in the last decade, like the golden girls for instance has aged so much better than say glee (ok many many many shows aged better than glee but let's be real for a second, music was better when artists were terrified of the Glee cast doing a better version of their song on the show. I do still wish it was a show my mom didn't let me watch tho, lmao glee was fine but no, her twelve year old being obsessed with Les mis and rewatching it religiously was cause for concern 😂😭 I was just as obsessed with glee for seasons 1-4 especially).

It's ok to indulge your inner child and rewatch the classics tm. The shows and movies you grew up with. Rewatch the shows that got you through sick days from school, the tv movies you remember watching premiere, the cartoons that MADE your Saturday mornings, etc.

On the topic of animation, that's literally an unlimited genre you can tap into, which rarely gets the recognition and respect it deserves.

Don't be afraid to watch the one season wonders, the shows that networks and streamers cancelled after one season in spite of strong reviews and good ratings. Or the shows that ended abruptly around the season 3 or 5 mark because networks and streamers cancelled them because they didn't want to negotiate contracts and have to pay the actors and writers more. Get angry, remember what the actors and writers are fighting for.

The privilege of older shows that either concluded naturally or that writers were given a heads up on might be on it's last season is that you get closure, unlike with the above. That might not mean an ending is good but a bad ending is better than a cliffhanger. There's always fix its fics for a bad ending. And if the ending is good, it's typically GOOD in my experience. The fear of a cliffhanger and zero closure has already turned many against watching new content until the show is renewed for another season or is fully wrapped (and fans don't hate the ending).

Watch the shows that were in their day or are popular or critically acclaimed, they usually hold up to the hype.

Watch the old shows and movies your favs were on/in before they were your favs.

Try a soap or a telenovela, they can be entertaining af (holby city my love, Tuesdays have never been the same since the BBC robbed me of you).

If you liked a reboot or a revival of a show, try the original (in certain cases, the og is even better, see boy meets world v girl meets world).

If you like period dramas, try shows and films from other countries based on their history. A lot of times when people are telling their own history it goes far better than when Hollywood tries it (see the many times Hollywood has actors brought in because producers think they're good for box office and they then go on to butcher the accent their character should have, see Cameron Diaz, Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep and so many others who have absolutely butchered the Irish accent over the years for instance. There's also many many instances even recently of just blatant whitewashing see Matt Damon as the last samurai...).

Listen to recommendations, watch the shows and movies you know your family and friends loved but you never got around to watching.

#wga strike #sag strong #sag solidarity #sag strike #wga solidarity #wga strong #writers guild of america #writers guild strike #like your ncis law&orders greys er spn etc all have nearly 20+ seasons WE'RE GOOD FOR AWHILE FOLKS #like the amount of content we have for star trek alone like #do you want tos tos films star trek the animated series tng tng films ds9 voy enterprise dsc picard ld the shorts prodigy tas films? #support the strikes #union strong #sag aftra #sag aftra solidarity #sag aftra strike #sag aftra strong

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Hi! Your blog is awesome. I don't know if I'm allowed to ask non-atla questions, so I hope this is okay. I'm working on a non-avatar ttrpg campaign that takes place both in a (fictional/fantasy) northern tundra region AND during a magical endless winter. The people in it aren't based on any specific culture but, given that they're successfully living in similar environments & have for countless generations, I want to draw as much inspiration & knowledge from real-life circumpolar cultures & native science as much as possible. Do you have any advice or even just fun, underappreciated ideas for winter tundra survival, things someone who grew up in a desert like me wouldn't think of on my own? If you need/want more direction: I'm particularly looking for clothing, shelters, resource gathering-practices for non-food (esp what kinds of resources would be valuable), as well as like, any fun details that evolve naturally in a culture that formed in the tundra that you'd want to see represented. I hope that makes sense ^^; Thanks so much if you decide to answer, have a good day either way <3

[I am SOOO sorry this took so long! Tumblr kept not saving my progress when i tapped "save draft" so i had to rewrite a few of these passages a few different times]

Don't worry about asking, friend, i get cultural questions all the time and i'm happy to share.

Note: my knowledge is almost entirely based on coastal tundra peoples with access to marine mammals. That's not to say it's impossible for people to live farther inland, just that it's not my area of expertise.

Clothing

Just about everything you wear is going to come off of a dead animal. This doesn't necessarily need to be the case if your fictional culture has a means of raising hardy livestock for fiber and a history of woven textiles, but even then skin clothes are warm and generally quite hard-wearing and are a good fit for living in these circumstances.

This amount of fur means lice are a perpetual problem. If you want to make that an immersive part of the game, you can work in a mechanic for checking scalps and clothing and bedding for lice.

Bird skins can also be used for clothing and waterfowl specifically has the benefit of water resistance. Fish skin can also be used for similar properties. Animal intestines can be made into a waterproof material if sewn with sinew and soaked before finishing.

On that note i'd recommend making a list of available animals and what qualities and textures their skins and furs have. Even if you don't intend on being incredibly descriptive with clothing, it's something better to have and not need than need and not have. And if you do anything else creative in a similar setting you have your nifty little source to consult.

When it comes to the actual construction of the clothes, you want a loose fit. Trapped air ia a great insulator and you want clothes to be easy to move in. Another benefit for loose-fitting upper body garments in cold weather is you can pull your arms in and keep them by your much warmer core. Not only will this option keep you comfortable, it can also prevent muscle injury or getting frostbite

Mittens can be worn on a string yoke. This doesn't have to be exclusive to children either. Wind can pick up out of nowhere and lost mittens means fingers exposed to arctic cold which can mean gangreen and amputations down the line.

Swimming or running to deliver a message may involve stripping nude, even in cold. Clothes soaked in water or sweat are deadly in the cold.

Clothes may be stored in bags outside when not in use. The low temperatures can kill bugs and bacteria. On a similar note, boots and coats are best to be hung to dry as soon as one is indoors for the day. This may mean it's normal for people to be topless indoors.

Boots should never have holes or tears. Frostbite and resulting gangreen is already bad enough but you especially do not want it on your feet

Shelter

You're going to want dwellings to have as few rooms and windows as possible and small doors. The fewer walls you have, the easier it is for heat to circulate throughout the whole dwelling. You'll probably want one room separating the door and where you sleep. Remember: trapped air is a great insulator.

The culture I've reconnected with is semi-nomadic so the permanent houses are not always occupied and a village can seem abandoned when it's just on its "off season". You can take that or leave it depending on what you're going for.

Even if the dwelling is not a tent, you're probably still going to have poles serving as a supporting frame.

Sod houses are common due to the availability of sod (the grass and the dirt its roots are tangled in). Tents made of warm, waterproof skins (like walrus skin) are also an option.

An easy way to insulate such a dwelling is to build a wall of packed snow around and fill the gaps with loose, airy snow. This traps air the same way down feathers do.

Non-Food Resource Gathering

While I imagine you meant obtaining resources outside of hunting, in a tundra or tundra-like setting, a lot of your resources are going to come from dead animals. Your garments and shelters and bedding are likely to be made of animal skins, with hollow and/or fluffy fur for warmth, or smoked intestine or fish skin, sewn with tiny stitches and soaked to keep everything flush, for waterproof boots and overlayers. Antlers and tusks are good carving materials for things like spoons and closures and slabs for armor and handles and also talismans and smoking pipes and beads and art. Baleen is good for art too, as well as boot soles and smaller sleds and beautiful baskets. Sinew and rawhide are good for thread, ties, and rope. Bones have a near infinite amount of uses from tiny wing bones to make sewing needles to huge whale bones used to build houses.

For the purposes of working this into a roleplaying game, i'd second the recommendation of keeping a list of animals in your universe and their properties, as well as the things that can be gathered from or made of them. A sort of crafting recipe guide would allow all kinds of quests and sidequests.

There are, of course, non-animal resources to gather for non-eating purposes. Soapstone is the traditional material for oil lamps. Grasses can be woven into baskets for any number of purposes, including supports to give the uppers of one's boots more structure. Wood, in the form of slices of tree trunks, can be hollowed out into bowls and small tubs and buckets or, as logs or slats, can make up flooring. Sturdy branches can be used for frames in houses, boats, and drums, and tree resin makes both good glue and antibiotic salve for closed wounds. Sod, also called turf, makes a good building material and moss is exellent insulation in boots. You can make a list of these too, if it helps.

If your fictional culture has a strong tradition of metallurgy, then they'd also mine for metal that can be used for knives. If not, slate is another option that requires significantly less fire. You could even have both and make the metal a status symbol.

Fun Details to Represent

There are so many lovely little things that show up in arctic cultures

First, a gift economy. Where a cash economy relies on a fairly individualistic culture where you work for someone else to earn capital and exchange that capital for goods and services, a more collectivist and interdependent culture natural to the harsh conditions of the tundra tends to result in a gift economy. The currency in a gift economy, to perhaps oversimplify, is favors. Someone does you a good turn, you remember that, and when you're in a position to help, you return the favor. Usually this means basic material things like hospitality and food, but the "gifts" exchanged can also be luck! King Islander boys would often wish hunters setting out at dawn good luck, with a slab of driftwood as a token of that luck, and if the hunters were successful, they'd give the boys who wished them luck a share of their catch. I believe it was Frank Ellana who remenised that this was what the world was like before money.

Another thing that would be nice to include is parenting practices considered fairly gentle to a Euro-American perspective. Physical punishments are traditionally treated as abuse and scolding a child is not only seen as wrong but something an adult ought to be ashamed of. Discipline is instead a series of moral lessons, teaching children why what they did was wrong and using stories as examples of the consequences. Given the amount of stories about the dangers of abusing a spouse or child, i'd say a lot of these lessons were proactive and preventative. Knowing someone will be hurt by it is considered enough of a deterrence to stop bad behaviors. Traditional potty training, for example, is also gentler in comparison; starting at a younger age (about six months) with more emphasis on praise and encouragment than routine. The goal here is to teach the baby to signal when they need to go so they can be taken out of mama's atigi and relieve themself in a hygenic manner instead of holding it until they get permission. Even our take on kissing is based on inhaling instead of pecking with the lips. This kind of gentleness is usually overlooked to instead focus on the badass hunter image or overall "cuteness" so it would be nice for it to be referenced.

Oral histories would be pretty neat too. I think the idea of learning to be a historian of oral histories is an interesting one and i think it has a lot of potential plot hooks for an rpg.

That's all i have for now. Sorry for the delayed response time. Happy gaming, and i'm always up for further discussion if you would like ^-^

[hellenhighwater]

Hi Hell, congrats on the exciting foster kitten news!

I just applied to adopt a kitten and had my interview for her today. The woman seemed most interested in convincing me of how terrible dry food, traditional litter (she preferred clay), and tap water is for cats. She said the carbohydrates and ingredients were terrible for their kidneys, the dust in litter is bad for their lungs, and the chlorine in water is harmful. I have a 12 year old cat named Scipio who has been using those things all his life, and now I feel guilty and scared for his health. He seems perfectly healthy to me but she said “cats are stoic.” What do you use with the Tiny Terrors? Is she extreme?

Well, I'm not a vet, so the actual answer is that your cat should be getting what their doctor recommends. But I've had those conversations with people before, and I can give my two cents--just take it with a grain of salt.

So...it's basically always true that you can spend more money on fancier 'health' options and there is, to some extent, benefit to the pricier choices. But there's a point at which that benefit is pretty minimal compared to what you get for the midrange price options. This is as true for pet health as it is for people health.

It's true that wet food is usually a better option for cats. Among other things, it helps them stay at a healthy level of hydration, can be easier on their digestive systems, and is often more palatable for cats who are elderly or have dental problems. But that doesn't mean that dry food is inadequate--Mal and Vice used to split a can of wet food daily, and graze dry food whenever they wanted. They're currently eating almost exclusively dry food, because Vice is on a sensitive skin and stomach diet to help address his overgrooming. I would avoid the bottom-end dry foods, because they seem prone to contamination, but that's more manufacturer quality than an issue with the dry food generally. Dry food is usually a nutritionally complete way to feed a cat, and there's nothing wrong with it.

Mal and Vice drink tap water. They have a bowl of still water, and a fountain with an inbuilt filter. The fountain is because if they don't have running water, they will make running water by splashing their bowls all over. I can't speak to chlorine but it's definitely healthier than drinking out of puddles, which is what they would be doing if left to their own devices.

They use clay litter because that's what's effective and affordable. When I'm changing it out I generally give it a few minutes for dust to settle before I let them at it--someone always wants to make a deposit in the clean box--but there's pros and cons to all the litter options out there.

In a perfect world with infinite resources, I'd be feeding the cats a careful balanced diet of fresh-prepared meats and filtered spring water, and they'd take dumps in a tiny kitty toilet that cleaned itself without my help. But that's not really practical or achievable for me, my life, or my cats, and frankly, it's not necessary. I want them to have a good life. It doesn't need to be a perfect one. If your cat is doing well, and their vet is giving them a clean bill of health, you probably have nothing to worry about. I'm not a professional; you should consult your vet and research options for yourself (which is what I do) but you're not doing anything wrong here.

I will say that when I was going through the process of adopting Mal and Vice, some places (usually private rescues) wanted me to jump through INSANE hoops to even apply. I respect that their hearts are in the right place, but... There are hundreds of kittens in shelters right now that need homes desperately, and the quality of the cat has very little to do with the quality of the rescue--they might have more or less vet work done, depending on where they're coming from, but nobody's managed to fundamentally change the nature of the beast. If you can provide a safe home, food, clean water, and attention to a cat, that's really all they need. The rest is just gravy.

#look i deal with a lot of animal cruelty in a professional context #and if your cat is having their basic needs met #and is healthy and happy and safe #then youre good #there is so much worse that their life could be #there's always someone who thinks anyone not providing the absolute platinum standard of care is somehow neglect #its not #there's always a better best bestest thing #but that doesnt mean other options are bad

[postmodernbeliever]

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Four: Best Gravy in Town

^^ guys if anyone knows a better way to make gifs than giphy or capcut let me know.. cant deal w this atrocious quality anymore

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 4,813

dedicating this one to @sp00kybas ;) <33

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You’d stayed in your fair share of motels. You once road-tripped it with a few girls from college down to the Carolinas for spring break, and the few times you went with your father to visit your family for Christmas after moving out tended to stretch into staying at the dumpy Seafairer nearby to escape the week-long chaos at nights. You were aware of their atmosphere, the lack of amenities and comfort– but this motel was not like the others. This one felt like the room you watched horror movie protagonists stalk into suspiciously, where you scream at the television screen, “Don’t go in there, that’s clearly a trap, dumbass!” But here you were, in it anyway. Fox struggled to find the restaurant that Sheriff Hale recommended on the drive to the motel, so he dropped you off apologetically and set back out to find some food for you both. The agent helped you check in and he was kind enough to carry your bag inside for you, even he made a face at the vibe of your room, which was all the more disconcerting; but he promised he wouldn’t be gone long, and so you felt alright with being alone. You were a big girl, right? You could handle it.

Everything was going smoothly. You’d hung up the few spare suits and dress pants you’d curated for your first-ever go-bag, and you laid out your toiletries neatly in the bathroom. You placed Liane’s rock on the nightstand beside the bed. The Kansas sky was a deep black you’d never seen on the East Coast, so after admiring the clearest view of the stars you’ve ever seen, you flicked on every available light and tried to soak up the yellow warmth of the offputting space. You sat around for nearly forty minutes awaiting Fox’s knock at the door. You flipped through all the television channels, getting stuck on the adult videos for a minute before snapping yourself out of curiosity; when he still didn’t show up, you decided to step into the shower and rinse the day off. You triple-checked the lock on the door and shut yourself in the dingy bathroom, trying not to think about the last time it was really cleaned. There was dirt caked in the grout of the floor, and the mirror had all sorts of suspicious water stains, but the bathtub was clean enough and you tried not to nitpick. You stripped down, popped out your contacts, and cranked the faucet to the hottest temperature it would reach. The water pressure from the showerhead was abrasive, but you didn’t mind; it beat against your back like a drum, and for the first time all day, you were comfortable. You took your time massaging shampoo into your hair, which had shrunk into a frizz ball by the end of the day, and you took deep breaths, trying to push all images from work out of your mind. You would’ve succeeded at finally winding down if it weren’t for the tapping sound you heard, incessant against what sounded like glass. 

You peeked from behind the shower curtain, finding nothing in the bathroom but your soiled clothes on the toilet seat. It was then that you gazed up and found a small window, barely a foot wide, stationed above the shower. There was no curtain covering it, no blinds, and you instantly panicked. There was no way to see out of it without standing on something to elevate yourself, and you couldn’t risk balancing on things in a running shower, so you rushed to turn off the water and wrap up in a towel. Tracking wet footsteps onto the shag carpet, you shuffled the spare desk chair from your room through the doorway and lugged it into the shower, carefully stepping onto the seat. You mulled over what to do when you did discover the source of the noise: if it was some peeping Tom, you’d have to get your gun, simple as that. If it was the wind, you’d probably laugh at yourself for being so easily afraid. If it was a branch, you would promptly feel like an idiot. But as you pressed up on your tip-toes and looked out the little window, you found none of your options. Instead, you found rain. Round, heavy raindrops battered the glass in droves, so hard in fact you feared they might shatter the window. You dropped your head in slight embarrassment because you should’ve known– heat frizzes your hair, but humidity turns you into the Einstein you resembled minutes ago. You ignored the most obvious sign. You hopped off the chair and pulled it out of the shower, trying not to beat yourself up.

After you finished the bathing that was so childishly interrupted, you felt much better. You shimmied into a fresh pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt that donned your high school mascot and plopped on the creaky motel bed, running a comb through your hair. And finally, a shower and a scare later, a knock sounded on the other side of the door. You rushed to open it, only to find a drenched agent on the other side shielding a greasy brown bag beneath his suit jacket, duffle bag in hand. 

“Oh, God!” you exclaimed, “Come on, come inside!”

“I wish I’d checked the weather forecast,” Fox groaned.

The man stumbled inside and you awkwardly wiped the rain from his cold shoulders, gratefully taking the paper bag from him. Your stomach was growling. Setting the food down on the desk, you rushed to tidy up after yourself. Your old clothes were still strewn across the bathroom, and you left a trail of tissues and wet towels behind. 

“Do you, uh,” Fox paused, the squelching of socks in his shoes interrupting him, “Do you mind if I hop in your shower real quick?.”

Your lips turned down in a sympathetic smile. The agent was shaking. You could only imagine how cold he felt. “Of course, go ahead. Go warm up, I’ll get the food out for when you’re done.” 

Fox’s eyes squinted in a kind smile and he shuffled through the room, trying to avoid dripping as much water on your carpet as he could. He locked himself in the bathroom, duffle bag and all, and when you heard the shower head creak, you went back to clearing the room of all your junk. You zoned out to the sound of the muffled water running, and every so often you’d hear a squeak of feet against the bathtub, and you’d blush. Fox Mulder is showering in my room, you thought, my work partner is naked in my motel room. You did everything to avoid the picture in your head as you ripped the brown bag open and spread it across the desk, creating makeshift plates to eat the food he worked so hard to procure. There were two double cheeseburgers, a big box of tater tots, a soup cup full of what looked like brown gravy, and about one hundred ketchup packets. You chuckled softly as you dealt the food out. You shoved the recliner by the front door over to the desk, beside the wooden chair you climbed on not long ago, so he’d have somewhere to sit. Resolving to finish packing away your things and find a place to throw your dirty clothes, you continued to not think about who was in your room, and what he was doing. 

When Fox opened the bathroom door, soft curls of warm mist spilled out behind him, humidifying the corner of the room. He found you resulting to throwing your dirty outfit on the floor in a huff when you couldn’t locate a laundry basket. 

“Woah,” the man chuckled, walking behind you and setting down his bag by the window across the room. 

“No hamper!” You pouted.

“I wonder if I’ve got one next door. I left my clothes hanging over the shower railing, by the way, I hope that’s okay.”

You turned around to find your partner standing by the door in real clothes, regular ones, and it never crossed your mind he was a person, like you, until now. Fox had on a pair of sweatpants, likely old ones by the fraying at the knees, and a boxy blue hoodie missing its strings. It looked like it once fit him but now was too big. His hair was wet and spiky, and it fell haphazardly over his forehead– he probably wiped it with a towel before he came out, yet neglected to brush it, leaving it a mess. You wondered if he ever brushed through that hair, or if running his hands through it was enough. You also wondered about how often he looked like this; if he was this comfortable at home, or with his friends, or if you’re seeing a rare version of a man that tends to fall asleep in his dress shirts. You wished you didn’t pick him apart so often, but there was so much to see, and you were so unbelievably curious. His gaze softened at the sight of you in normal people clothes, too, and he hoped it didn’t show on his face. Since he met you he wondered if he’d get the chance to see you out of uniform at some point. He liked this you, the you with no lipstick or collars. You looked your age, with your glasses sitting just so on your bare face. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course, that’s fine. I’m… sorry you got stuck in the rain,” you consoled, starting to feel vulnerable with just him in the room this way.

“It’s okay, it’s just a little water. Thanks for letting me clean up.” Fox’s eyes darted to the bag behind you, and he said, “I’m starving, how about you?”

“Oh, yeah. Me too.”

You moved to sit in the desk chair, but Fox tutted, “Hey, no, take the recliner.”

“Why? This chair’s fine,”

“Just sit in the comfy one. You still look tired.”

You didn’t really know what to say. Those two sentences seemed like different points, but something in his face connected them. He wanted you to relax, and you couldn’t do that in a hard chair. So you obliged his request and settled into the mothball-scented recliner, which creaked under the pressure of you. You tucked your legs into a criss-cross position and reached for one of the foil-wrapped burgers, fingers working fast to peel it open. You sunk your teeth in hungrily, which you were. You haven’t had a proper meal since yesterday. As you took another big bite before finishing the first, you caught Fox staring at you with a goofy expression, eyes wide. 

You wiped the corner of your mouth where you felt burger sauce dribbling, and you asked, “What?”

“You can eat!”

You shrunk into the chair a bit, all of a sudden feeling the extra weight in your stomach and thighs like a brand. “I haven’t had anything today.”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” the man added quickly, “I know you’re hungry. It’s nice to see you eat. Don’t hold back, please.”

You wanted to believe he wasn’t seeing you through the lens you saw yourself. With all the chaos of the past two days, you hadn’t had much time to ponder on how he perceived you. But you knew you weren’t stick-thin, and you knew you weren’t as pretty as half the women you passed in the J. Edgar Hoover building just on the way down to the basement. Fox had been nothing but kind, but almost too kind. Maybe he pitied you, or he knocked you directly into some category in his head where he stores all of the girls he could only ever see as the sweet one, the chubby one, the forever friend. You took a smaller bite of your burger as he shoved nearly half of his into his mouth at once. He had burger sauce on his lip, too, and when he looked at you, you motioned for him to wipe at it. 

“Hm?”

“You’ve got a little something.”

“Where?”

“It’s- uh,” you moved to show him again, pointing at where your bottom lip curved. His eyes followed your finger, and he stared for a moment. “Right here.”

Fox wiped his lip with his thumb and then licked the residue clean off. He smiled bashfully. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

You took another small bite of your burger and watched him flip open the box of tater tots. He eagerly uncapped the gravy and made a starving grumble. “The lady said they had the best gravy in town, y’know. Swore we had to try it.” He gingerly dipped one into the cup and popped it into his mouth, and it took mere seconds for him to smile. “Oh, you’ve gotta taste this.”

You reached your palm into the box and picked a tot, and you dipped it generously into the gravy, counting on its good review. But when you took a bite, you tasted nothing but package gravy- maybe even worse than when you’ve made it at home. You scrunched up your nose and said, “This tastes like I got it at the grocery store.”

“I know it does.”

“Why’d you act like it was good then?”

“Because,” Fox giggled, “I don’t know, I thought it was funny.”

“You’re a dork,” you blushed, swallowing the tater tot and deciding you’d have them with ketchup from now on. 

It took Fox about three more bites to finish the entire burger, and he dove into the box after that, plowing through the tater tots and shitty gravy he paid good money for. He ate like a teenage boy, dripping sauce and leaving crumbs behind, wiping greasy fingers on a napkin every two bites. It was a little gross, but it was endearing in a way, too. He wasn’t trying to come off any other way than how he was naturally in front of you. You wished you had the same freedom. As you nibbled at your food, Fox noticed how he’d scarfed down half the potatoes and you hadn’t even had another.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I am,” you sighed.

“Then eat! Eat more! Come on, I saw you take that big bite before,” he chuckled, “What, is it not good? I can get something else if you don’t like it.”

“No, it’s not that. It tastes fine.”

The room fell silent for a minute, and Fox stopped himself from asking why. He graduated with a degree in psychology. If he thought for a second, it would be clear to anyone why you weren’t eating. He leaned back against the desk chair and opted for a soft, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t care how you eat, or how much. You’re hungry, so you should eat the whole thing. I don’t care.”

You shifted anxiously in the recliner, twiddling with the foil wrapper. “Well, I-”

“This is about your weight, isn’t it? That’s what’s bothering you?” Fox pushed. 

“I mean...”

“Put that out of your mind. You’re exactly what you should be, and if you looked any different, you wouldn’t be the girl who just got assigned to my shitty job. I like you as is.”

Truth was, he really did like you as is. A pound less wouldn’t be right. You took up just enough space. You were soft at the edges, and your suits looked pretty on you, and he couldn’t imagine you in any other form. To think you thought of yourself as undeserving made a switch flip in his chest. 

“You know, nobody told me how nice you are,” you muttered.

“Yeah, well, I’m not really Miss Popularity around the office.”

Taking a bigger bite out of your burger, and making him smile, you asked, “What does that mean?”

“I find it hard to believe you got assigned to the X Files and nobody mentioned anything about me.”

“Well, they mentioned you were a bit odd , but I didn’t question it, I guess.”

Fox leaned back against the rigid chair and closed his eyes, wondering if it was worth going through it all again. He’s tried to explain himself before, but it always ends in confusion, misunderstanding, or worse. But you were going to learn about him whether it was by working alongside him or hearing gossip elsewhere; God forbid people start to lump you in, too, and misjudge your character or your beliefs simply by association. He would hate to see you get stuck in the basement of the FBI all because he’s distinguished himself as the resident loser of the institution. But what’s worse- to hear it from the source, or to find it out later than you wanted to, before you could change it? He didn’t want to take away your choice, but he also didn’t want to lose you. He just got you. Somewhere in his gut, though, there was an inkling, and it was on that that he acted. 

“Well, y’know, the work I do on these unexplained cases runs pretty deep. You haven’t really had time to see the extent of the stuff I investigate. People don’t respect my work, they think it’s a waste of time and resources. That I’m some freak who runs around chasing monsters,” Fox began.

“Monsters?”

“Monsters, cryptids, spirits. Aliens. Every case file I have has some kind of element to it that reaches beyond the realms of what logic and hard science can explain. I’ve come across vampires, shapeshifters, people who possess unexplainable psychokinetic powers or seemingly religious divinities. I’ve shot men only to see them bleed green, and yet after all of these experiences, I still can’t seem to prove that it all exists. The trail goes cold or disappears completely, making me look crazy. And I know these things exist, the proof is in my work and the people whose deaths will never be reconciled, but they don’t exist on paper, and if I can’t submit it in a report then the bosses just laugh. There are so many dark forces you haven’t seen yet in my work, and I’m sure you don’t or won’t believe in them, but this is what I do, why I’m banished to the bottom floor.”

Silently, you polished off your burger. The agent sat across from you like a nervous wreck, eyes searching your face for some hint at how you took him. But all you did was wipe your mouth and hands and tuck your half-dry hair behind your ears. Once you mulled it over, you asked, “Why do you do it, then?”

Without hesitation, he said, “My sister.”

By the somberness that overtook him, you knew it was time to tread lightly. “What happened to her?”

Fox rose from the chair and tugged at his sweatshirt, walking past your chair and toward the window. You turned to lean against the back of the recliner and watched him stand before it, taking stock of how the rain smacked against the window like it wanted to take shelter inside the room. 

“She was taken when I was twelve. Abducted.”

“By who?”

“Well, that’s where it gets tricky,” the man laughed, but it didn’t make you smile. There was a weight to it that sank in your stomach. “I believe- I know that it was aliens. Or people working with the aliens. I mean, I watched her get taken through our living room window. She was in her pajamas, and a blinding light burst through the house, and everything shook, and she just floated up into the air and… poof . She was gone. I’ve never been able to find her, no matter how hard I look.”

Resting your chin on the back of the chair, you believed every single word he said. You couldn’t understand why, but you just did. Maybe it was how his voice slightly shook as he confided in you, or how he kept his back to you so he wouldn’t have to see the judgment on your face. But you knew he was telling the truth, whether or not the events were fact. He believed it, so you believed him. 

“I wanted to work on the X Files because I believe there’s more to what happened to my sister,” Fox continued, “I think somebody, somewhere, knows what happened to her. And I want to find out what that is. And if it really was aliens, which there is endless but intangible proof of, then who’s to say all the other highly contested beings humans have been dreaming up and swearing sightings of for thousands of years don’t also lurk in the darkest corners of our world, where they live in secret? Hiding in shadows, taking people, surviving in their own way? I need to give everyone a chance. I've had my story invalidated over and over, I can’t do that to other people. There are people out there who believe in ghosts and monsters, and who have lost family to circumstances that no one else will give the time of day, Ro. I can’t stand by and let these people suffer. I want them to be heard the way nobody hears me. I want to make people feel safe, to stop the monsters.”

If God was truly real, this would be the moment you believed He was at work- within Fox. He didn’t need to be as articulate or intelligent as he was to make you believe it. The man’s body glowed with his belief and devotion. His eyes were glistening with tears and the fear of letting you know what he stood for. You saw it in the way he shoved his hands in his pockets, how he looked at the ground, how his chest rose and fell like he’d just confessed to murder. That man was shouldering a burden beyond your comprehension, yet he gets up every day and helps other people who struggle as he does, all on top of being scrutinized by everyone in his field. You thought of a young boy who lost his sister, a young boy who needed help and spent the rest of his life ridiculed for searching for answers, and your eyes began to glisten, too. They glistened with a lot of things as you looked through him.

“You used the name.”

“Huh?”

“Ro. You called me Ro.”

Fox turned his back to the window, looking considerably more tired than he had before. “I guess I did.”

You untangled your legs and stood up, face hot, walking over to the window. Fox saw the raindrops in the reflection of the streetlights outside freckling your smooth skin, and he took a step closer to look out alongside you. 

“What you do is important,” you affirmed. “You give people hope. You hold onto it even when you’re met with nothing at every turn. You’re not in the basement because you’re an outcast, you’re in the basement because they want to keep you down there where people can’t see the truth about you. You’re not somebody who takes orders, you give your own. You question their every move, don’t you?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, if you do, then so do I.”

Fox looked down at you, feeling that same fluttering warmth he felt when you set up your desk, and when you fell asleep on the plane, and when he almost crashed the car. “That’s a big commitment to make to a guy you met yesterday.”

“Well, I don’t know enough about aliens or vampires to chime in, but I believed in Santa until I was fourteen. And if you’re honest about everything you’ve seen, who am I to tell you that you didn’t see it? This is your world, Fox, I’m only just joining it,” you confessed. “And if they put me in the basement to stop you, they hired the wrong person. I’ve made a career out of chasing monsters, too.”

Your partner was at a loss for words. He’d never been in this position before, where someone met him halfway and promised to believe him. He was ready for you to tell him he was crazy and kick him out of the room; he was imagining a world where tomorrow he wakes up and you’re gone, back to Washington, begging to be reassigned to a unit where there aren’t psychopaths running the operation. But you were alone with him, comfortable, and you saw right through to his heart, just like you did the first minute you spoke to him. That was when he knew. 

“Well, if I told you I have reason to believe the killer we’re out here looking for is harnessing some kind of biblical power, would you believe me then?” Fox proposed, a smile finally interrupting the stagnant look he held. 

“I think I’d need a little more detail, but sure,” you nodded, “You know, it sounds like this job isn’t going to be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

A loud laugh bubbled up in your throat, and it hung in the air like a drug. You leaned into his side in a moment of urge, and he held steady for you, pushing back with pressure. When your body began to run hot, you rocked back on your heels and shuffled over to the edge of your stiff motel bed, falling back-first onto it. Fox waddled over to the recliner and pulled it to the foot of the bed, collapsing into the cushion.

“Can I ask you something?” 

You propped yourself up on your elbows and locked eyes with him. He had a tendency to make severe eye contact, but something about it was hard to resist. “Sure.”

“You handled a lot today. I mean, all that anxiety on the plane, the stress of starting your first case and meeting all those people. The crime scene. You just seemed so… I don’t know, overwhelmed by it all by the time we got back here. And now, after I gave you my spiel, it’s like you don’t have a care in the world. I would’ve thought you’d be completely overloaded.”

Tilting your head back to gaze up at the ceiling, you figured if he was going to be honest with you as he has, then you need to repay the gesture. Partners can’t hide things from each other. 

“It’s been a lot, sure. I have issues keeping my anxieties under control. But you’re a calming presence, I guess, or at least you remind me I’m still in the real world when I feel like I’m losing my grip. And because of that, I guess I just… trust you.”

“You don't even know me,”

“You don’t really know me either, do you? Yet you just told me the purpose behind your life’s work.”

Fox grinned and slouched in the chair, throwing his feet up on the edge of your bed. “Got me there.”

“Hm,” you scrunched your nose in triumph. “Then again, maybe I shouldn’t trust you. Maybe you’re some weird, spooky guy that everyone thinks is crazy and really is. But I need a job, and I need someone to teach me how to do it, so I’ve got no choice.”

“Are you sure no one told you?” Fox gave you a suspicious glance at the mention of his very nickname. 

“Told me what?”

“That they call me Spooky Mulder back in Washington. And you should know they’re gonna think you’re insane for working with me.”

“Let them,” was all you gave in response. 

You couldn’t describe the expression on the man’s face, but you liked it. It suited him, to have his big eyes shining, and the apples of his cheeks dusted pink. You watched him get up and bustle over to the desk, collecting the discarded leftovers and swiping them all into the trash, Then, he pushed the recliner back over towards the door and swiped his bag. 

“We’ve got work to do tomorrow,” Fox stated, “You should get some sleep.”

“God knows if I’ll fall asleep in this place,” you scoffed.

“Well, I’m right next door if you need me, Piglet.”

As he swung your front door wide, you pleaded, “Hey, can’t we go back to Ro? That was nice!”

Fox looked over his shoulder with a smile that made you thankful you were sitting down, and he silently vetoed your suggestion. “Goodnight.”

You pouted, but it just turned into a grin. “Goodnight, Spooky.”

He shut the door behind him in a hurry, so as not to flood your motel room, and you were left in a quiet space that felt starkly colder. You blamed it on all the rainy air he let in and fell back onto the mattress, hoping that by the time you woke up tomorrow, you would have shaken the gentle ache in your bones.

#fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #tw religious themes #plus size reader #catholiscism

[littleacebee]

Hello audio drama community! I would love to interest you in little podcast appreciation-recommendation game. Please reblog/comment and share with me:

One podcast that you think person interested in audio drama should listen to (either because of the influence on the medium, a cool way of using audio format, general amazing sound, performance etc, whatever you think falls in this category)

One podcast that has community around it you love interacting with (fandom, artists, discord server, official accounts, etc)

One podcast that inspired you to create something (fanart, fanfic, something handmade, cosplay, headcanons, something completely original, etc)

One podcast that have music you could listen on repeat (theme, musical episodes, any songs included)

One podcast that’s new and you need more people to join in appreciation (like max one season, even better if not complete)

One podcast you can’t wait for (is not yet released)

RULES: One podcast per category, you can put the same podcasts in few if you want but I encourage trying to pick six different. I know that probably you have more than one that can fit every category but still I ask for one – I don’t want you to treat it as the one you put is your favourite or the best one, just the one you thought about now, is lately on your mind. If you can’t think about one for certain category you can leave it empty. If you want you can add explanations why this one, the description of the podcast or generally show some love but that’s completely voluntary. And if you are official podcast account and want to join the fun, came and join! Put your own podcast in any category and share your other choices.

And of course just have fun with it and share some positivity!

I’ll start:

One podcast that you think person loving audio drama should listen to: The Orphans - extremely interesting way of telling the story with amazing cast and quality

One podcast that has community around it you love interacting with: The Amelia Project - Soon after I listened to TAP the cocoa collars took place and it was so nice to see so many people show love to this podcast. Love you my besties <3

One podcast that inspired you to create something: Stellar Firma - I embroidered one of the quotes and plan on making it into a pillow, it will be an amazing extremely confusing pillow

One podcast that have music you could listen on repeat: Night Shift: An Urban Fantasy Audio Drama - “Give it all up” is stuck in my brain and I already added it to my playlist to listen on repeat

One podcast that’s new and you need more people to join in appreciation: The Kingmaker Histories - Listened to latest episode today and I just love the number of cool dangerous women that are introduced, you would love them tumblr

One podcast you can’t wait for: Cry Havoc! Ask Questions Later - Every bit of info I get about this podcast just make me more and more excited

#podcast recommendations #is this elaborate way to get self indulgent podcast recommendations? maybe #fiction podcasts #audio drama #fiction podcast #the orphans podcast #the amelia project #the kingmaker histories #cry havoc ask questions later #night shift podcast #stellar firma

[mci-writing]

My Life is Like a TeamStarkid Play, But Less Terrifying (Rise!Leonardo x Fem!Reader) 1/???

A/n: Hi. Just gonna preface a little with a general note that the reader is part alien. It is an integral part of the story for later and it will be brought up quite a bit. Just based on past tmnt iterations and their relation to aliens and space which Rise lacked up until the movie (and, even then, still lacked). The two songs used here are both from The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals: What Do You Want, Paul? and La Dee Dah Dah-Day respectively. I recommend listening to them so the flow of the scene sets a little better. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: language use, sexual references, musicals, some dark humor but like tastefully in a theater kinda way, this series is very reader-centric Word Count: 5.4k Kofi

Part 2

Fingers anxiously tap, tap, tap at a bedazzled binder, the label, ‘PLAY IDEAS’, is peeling at the corners. Teeth nervously nibble at the dry skin on the bottom of the owner’s lip, stopping when she inevitably draws blood again.  

“If you keep gnawing away at your lip like that, you won’t have one left,” The voice next to her spooks her out of her trance, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she straightens. (Y/n)’s face quickly drops as Leo pokes her cheek, her (e/c) eyes meeting his shit-eating grin. The accompanying red-eared slider happily slides into the metal chair beside her, arms resting on the backs of the chairs beside him, “You’re worrying too much, senora. Your drama teacher would be insane not to use any of the spicy ideas brewing in that mind of yours.”

“I wouldn’t say spicy…” (E/c) eyes slide down to the binder between her fingers only for it to be snatched by three long and slender, green fingers. They follow to a smirking Leo, the mischievous glint in his eyes sparkling a little brighter as he shakes it to and fro, which he stops at the slight sound of a paper plausibly tearing, “Though, I won’t get to share them if you mess them up, Leon.”

He purses his lips, blowing through them and making that weird horse whining noise, as he sets it in his lap and flips through the pages (which all luckily seem intact, thank fuck). He stops occasionally to analyze a few, his exaggerated faces giving her no true hint of what he’s thinking. His humming with each page doesn’t help.

It’s not like the pages are anything special or filled with over-the-top, never done before ideas, but they at least provide an idea of where to take whichever play they decide to pick for the semester. It’s filled with mainstream big plays, with hopes that the big names will draw more of the student body to join, and plausible proposed budgets that the school’s faculty would easily agree with (going off of her mother’s industry metrics-). There were also margins and pages filled with mathematical equations estimating probable costs that only Donnie or a very determined and a little too excited drama student director would notice. Leo is more than positive they teamed up on it in some way.

He lingers on a few pages, which she assumes to be the more eye-catching ones or the few musicals he actually knows (courtesy of the girl next to him). She doesn’t miss him quickly moving past the big number pages and extra gibberish that only those in “the business” would understand. It’s a rare instance of him being completely silent as he analyzes the pages. It only heightens (Y/n)’s worries about the quality, but she distracts herself as she moves her (e/c) irises to linger on other details and aspects presented to her at this moment.

A good bit of his features are obscured by his admiral blue winter hat and matching sweater while his jacket hangs over her chair (she isn’t sure when he managed to put it there). Not even the most perceptive of people would pick up on the exposed parts of his face being reptilian shades of green in his current getup. Then again, she’s more than positive the turtles could very easily pass as people when they cover their shells (something she has bared witness to so often), especially in the melting pot of NYC. She does miss his crescent moons, hidden away by the felt of his hat, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid lingering questions. Without the shit-eating grin, his face is mischievous enough that you would assume he’s always up to something, which isn’t necessarily an off assumption, but (Y/n) just knows when the wheels in his brain are turning from years of experience.

“Alright, done!” (Y/n) doesn’t realize how close she is until his head turns to face her, the two mere inches apart from each other as opposed to the slightly bigger distance they had. It definitely throws her off a little, but Leo remains unphased as he continues, “Looking through this thing only proved my point further. You possess the sauce-”

“The sauce?” (Y/n) asks with a tilt of her head, somehow managing to take the binder back into her arms and holding it close to her chest, “What the hell is the sauce?”

“I have no idea! But Mikey’s used it enough times for me to confidently say that you have got it, whatever it is! Mama Celeste will be so proud, (N/n),” She’s now 100% sure he mistook Mike’s cooking speeches as some new lingo, but she’s not allowed to dwell on that for too long as she hears the voice of her drama teacher calling her to his office, “That’s your cue. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

She stands to her feet, taking a deep breath as she turns her attention to the office. She stares for a moment, feeling the nervousness creep up her spine as the binder in her hands gains thousands of pounds. With a shaky step forward, the deep pit in her stomach reminds her of literally everything hanging on her gaudily designed book. Of course, any other time she’d be reminding herself that any of the musicals they choose is alright and that any of her ideas being turned down isn’t the end of the world, but she can only focus on the fact that this is her senior year and anything going wrong feels like the end of the world to her. 

She feels dizzy in worry, her throat going uncomfortably dry. Her breathing slows and, to any party outside her mind, she looks like a deer in headlights as she stands staring at the door. Her heart rattles in her chest-

“Heey, Mamacita! Chill out,” Green fingers settle themselves on (Y/n)’s shoulder, tugging her into Leo’s chest as a reassuring grin graces his features. Their cheeks touch as he stares straight towards the door, his fingers on his other hand softly gripping her chin and keeping her eyes on the door, “You know all the business insider secrets because of your mom. Don’t let them go to waste. Ya’ve got this, (N/n). Go in there and rock it like you know how.”

His words actually manage to calm her, her breathing evening back out as she slowly regains her confidence. The small feeling of nausea remains but is slightly tolerable now.

“Plus, as much as I love the laser light show idea for The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, Hadestown will probably be a hands-down legend for this school with the right vocal lessons. But that’s just me.” Annnd now she knows his biases from her creative selections, “Knock ‘em dead, tigresa!”

He gives her a light push through the door, leading to her stumbling and falling on her ass in front of her teacher. He doesn’t pay her much mind, barely looking up from his paperwork. 

“Ms. Brown. Good evening,” He gives her a bit of a hand wave before finally looking up, “Ready to discuss this semester’s play?”

“Yes, Mr. Sherma” She quickly stands to her feet, suddenly very self-conscious of her grotesquely decorated binder as she holds it to her chest, “Yes, I am. And, this time, I brought an idea book to explain my ideas a little better!”

He holds his hand out for it, delicately handling it as he brings it to lay on his desk. His fingers are nimbler than Leo’s as they open the pages, flipping through them with careful precision. His eyes linger longer, the scene playing out similarly to earlier.

He occasionally brushes the parts of his brown hair back, his eyes, tired but curious, scanning each and every detail. She’s reminded of some of her classmates joking about him looking like a Renaissance version of a particular Twitch streamer.

The only time it’s obvious which ones he’s interested in is when he looks over the proposed budget pages a bit longer than others. He hums and mumbles, not shy from making noises of displeasure at certain pages. She’s pretty positive she hears him mumble ‘cringe’ at some point.

(Y/n) awkwardly sits in one of the many chairs in his office, her fingers lightly tapping against her knees while her feet make little kicks. Her brown orbs glance around the room when she feels she’s been looking for too long. Various awards line the walls, some for students whose names she recognizes and others she’s maybe heard in passing. She recognizes a few of her own, not fighting the small smile that comes to her lips at the acknowledgment of her work of the past few years. The walls are also decorated with pictures throughout the years of performances and practices past as well as the occasional goofy memory, some a little hard to make out with the dying light of the assorted lamps.

“This… idea binder is full of interesting ideas, Ms. Brown, but they don’t tell me what you specifically want to do,” Mr. Sherma sighs as he closes it. His blue eyes meet her brown ones, an intensity behind them that she can’t read, “Each page has a lot of detail and potential, but none scream with desperate want, you know?”

She grows nervous, feeling herself start to sweat under his gaze. She tosses his words around in her mind, but it doesn’t make it much clearer, “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“What do you want, Brown? Tell me what you desire to see. Your deepest intent, Brown,” She feels herself flinch when he suddenly stands, her back pressing deep into the chair as he leans forward and sings at her. She never knows what to expect from her drama teacher, but the operatic sounds that leave his mouth aren’t it, “What do you see for this production? I’m looking for someone with strong ambition, someone to sell their specific vision, someone to share with precise precision their thoughts. ‘Cause I want you to want… To want!”

She’s thrown off further once he begins walking around his desk. He stops once he reaches the front, comfortably leaning against the mahogany with little disregard for its old and thin nature. He crosses his arms over his chest as he stops, looking down at her, “So what do you want, Ms. Brown? What’s the one concrete goal that motivates all your actions?”

(Y/n)’s lost at his sudden questions, her head naturally tilting as she stares back at his determined gaze with equal confusion. Her face scrunches up, eyebrow lifting. He doesn’t elaborate, again, so she doesn’t even know how to begin to unpack all of what he’s pushing for.

“I don’t think I have one of those?” She finally manages to wrangle up, giving her teacher another one of her nervous, closed-eye smiles.

He remains quiet for a moment, staring her down for a bit. She opens her eyes once she realizes he hasn’t said anything, awkwardly maintaining eye contact as he doesn’t exchange immediate words. She can feel a grimace starting to form while his face remains stony.

“Well, then, how’s anyone supposed to sympathize with you, Ms. Brown?”

“Huh? I don’t know…” Her mouth gapes open at that, but she quickly closes it to think of literally anything she could plausibly list. Most of her current goals involve catching criminals and living to make another day? Understanding her powers a little better and maybe her family heritage some? But those aren’t necessarily things many of her peers could relate to and sympathize with, at least, not in the way she has to deal with her goals. She thinks hard about some common goals that most high schoolers have, “I want what anyone wants…?” She thinks really, really hard, “Money, a partner? Kids, someday, maybe?”

Mr. Sherma nods his head at that, turning to face his desk. (Y/n) relaxes a bit, thinking that maybe, just maybe, that would be the end of it-

HE JUMPED ON THE DESK?!?!

“What the fuck?!”

“I want you to want, Brown! A girl so vague just can’t be trusted! Something you pine for, maybe someone who keeps you lusted.  I’m just a boss, I’m not an idea guy! I hire you kids to keep our plays ripe. But if you can’t pin the point that’s in the skyyyyy!” 

He starts to dance with ease, ignoring the resistance of his desk’s legs as he does a smooth spin in the middle of the surface. His footwork is delicate, fancy, even. (Y/n) finds it hard to even focus on what’s being sung at her as her eyes glide behind his movements. He stops in the center, sliding to his knees and pointing his right index finger in her direction while his left-hand rests on his chest “Then I want you to want, to want!”

“Sir?!” She can’t fight the laugh in her tone as she calls out, equally amused and heavily confused at this turn of events. She literally can not pinpoint why in the known universe he is singing at her, especially this song of all things, but she can’t lie and say she isn’t severely entertained.

“D’you know what I want for myself? I’ve waited for so lo-ong to tell somebody else,” His tone drops, becoming more somber as he manages to rhythmically set himself down from his desk. He grabs the picture of his wife off his desk, his head tilting as a fond look comes to his eyes, “Carol, my wife, you’re my muse, my source of light. Carol, my love, I want you to choke me out at night…” He plops himself down into his chair, longingly staring at the photograph of his wife, “I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me… I want you to choke me while I jerk off… I want you to choke me while I… jerk off.”

(Y/n) sits up at those words, a discomfort settling in the pits of her stomach and sinking further down. She doesn’t fight down the look of shock in her eyes at the admission, nor is she able to stop the noise of confusion she makes, “Um, sir-,”

Without missing a beat, Mr. Sherma presses the call button on his office phone, the beep loudly sounding through his small office. He leans over, a dazed look in his eyes as he stares forward, “Melissa, get my wife on the phone for me.”

(Y/n) quickly gathers her bags, reaching for her idea binder, “Mr. Sherma, I think I should leave-,”

“No, (Y/n), I want you to hear this,” He tugs the binder closer to him, not sparing her a glance as he adds, “If you leave, you’re fired.” 

It rings a bit before Mrs. Sherma answers, “Carol! Yes, everything’s fine, I promise. I just wanted to tell you something…,” He freezes, his dazed expression growing horrified as he stares forward, past the expansion of the messily decorated walls of his office into the inner turmoil of his request weighing on him, “I, uh, I forgot what it was… Maybe someday I’ll remember. Goodbye…”

It remains quiet after that. (Y/n)’s gaze remains downtrodden as she contemplates and processes how she was thoroughly traumatized by the shame of her drama teacher, but also not surprised by his antics. Mr. Sherma, however, was mentally suffering with his inability to tell his wife his deepest desires…

She looks up in time for her (e/c) pools to meet with despair-ridden shades of blue, the latter widening as Mr. Sherma rises to his feet and dances around his desk.

“Ms. Brown, now you know what it is to want!”

“I want to go home!” 

“It consumes a man with a passion to drive the primary plot,” His verses speed up as he ignores her pleas, “So take up yoga or improv classes. Volunteer at shelters or twitch to the masses.”

(Y/n) takes her gathered bags while he’s distracted.

“There’s gotta be something to keep my hands off you. Off youuu”

She manages to slip around him and grab her binder, holding it close to her chest.

“‘Cause I want you to want!”

“I’m gonna get some… coffee? Do you want anything?” (Y/n) manages to ease to the door, her hand struggling to get a good grip on the door.

“No, I need you to want!”

“How about an iced caramel frappe? Nothing better-,” The door magically opens for her just as her hand gets a good grip on the door. It drags her forward, causing her to lose her balance.

“And if you don’t want…” He freezes, taking a deep breath before releasing the highest note he’s hit that (Y/n) has ever known him to, “We’re throughhh.”

A soft donk sounds as her forehead meets a hard plastron. Scaly, strong arms wrap around her waist, holding her up. She isn’t surprised to find Leo above her with his signature, though more slightly confused than usual, grin. She raises her hand as she shrugs, nudging her head towards their exit and grabbing his hand to drag him through it, “Have a good rest of your evening, Mr. Sherma!”

As the two leave, they hear her teacher call out for her, hitting one last high note as they push through the auditorium doors. It only encourages (Y/n) to pick up her pace, leading the turtle through the halls toward the exit.

Leo is rightfully confused, especially when (Y/n) doesn’t elaborate on it in the slightest.

“Are we going to talk about that orrrrr?” He attempts to nudge, his hands coming up and crossing behind his head. He leans back into the hold, his eyes never leaving her form as they walk the streets of the neighborhood around the school.

He feels his breath hitch when she turns to him, undeterred by the grimace on her face when the light escaping from the sun’s rays meets the color of her eyes. He hears her response, but he finds himself more focused on her mannerisms as she animatedly fumbles through explaining what went down. Her (h/c) hair bounce with every step, just as animated as her, but still relatively deflated from the exhaustion of her instructor and the heavy plush of her pink winter hat.

“This almost was not worth giving up my shift for,” She finishes, bringing her fingers up to her lips to breathe on them. A pout takes place on her plump lips as she digs in her jacket pockets, slipping her gloves on, “He started singing about wanting and wants when all I want now is to make back the tips from Run of The Mill. We didn’t even pick anything because of his weird song!”

Leo finds himself only able to nod as (Y/n) continues to grumble the rest of her rant. He had only really heard the last bit of what was going on, but that was due to him deciding to investigate after hearing some weird screeching and shouting. He didn’t actually expect to find her being held hostage by her singing teacher, but it aligned pretty well with the few things he’d heard about Sherma from (Y/n) and April. Even now, he feels the man is something unreal entirely.

He takes the binder out from between her armpit while she’s distracted, her ramblings turning into muttered gibberish that he can very much still understand. He starts flipping through the pages again, his face softening as he stops on a page of distracted doodles he hadn’t noticed on his first run.

(Y/n) was no artist, by any means, but she was damn good at creating a scene of stick figures. Some showcased plausible blocked scenes and others were silly little things like a chibi version of herself squashed under a rock labeled ‘Drama’ in her fanciest cursive or exaggerated versions of their friend group doing severely ambiguous poses.

As he goes to flip to the next page, the hums of people on the street reach his ears, but his companion has stopped her ramblings. She’s stopped altogether, staring ahead with a bewildered look.

 “Carolers caught your attention, (N/n)?” He asks as he looks up from the book to her, a smirk dancing along his lips as the quip readies itself from his brain cells, “You can’t judge them too harshly for being a tad bit pitchy, y’know. Not everyone can hold a note by ear.”

The teasing was worth it, especially with the deadpanned expression she gave him in response. However, she shakes her head as her thumb and index finger grip his chin, pulling him down to her level. Their faces are mere inches apart and Leo can all but feel all the warmth spread through his face, “They’re all perfectly dancing in sync.”

He doesn’t exactly process her words, his eyes going smaller as his lips form an O shape, “What?” The words do slowly jog back up with his brain processing, laughing at her statement, “I’d expect them to be dancing in sync if they’re all caroling. Would be a little embarrassing if they put a whole dance together and all ended up doing their own thing-,”

“No, Leo,” Her fingers turn his head forward as she speaks. Her hold is firm enough to keep him there, yet soft enough that he doesn’t feel like his skin is gonna tear off as she directs him, “Look at them all in sync. Everyone…”

And just like she said, everyone on the street had been humming and dancing in sync to the same tune. No one seemed to be a pitch-off or a step out of line as they filled the streets of midtown New York.

“Holy shit…,” He mutters out, eyes the size of saucers as he takes it all in, “Was there some block party announced that we don’t know about or something? Flash mob, maybe?”

“For it to be this big, impossible,” (Y/n) mumbles back, releasing her grip on his chin as she also continues to take in the sight of the sea of bodies.

“Yeah-yeah-yeah!”

The crowd separates down the middle, continuing to shimmy and sway in tandem. A lone girl remains, bundled up in a big puffer jacket with a green vest over the top of it. Her right hand rightly grips a clipboard and the recycle sign on the left breast of her vest is just barely visible through the crinkles of the uniform. She’s suddenly belting out words, the widest grin on her face as she bounces for a few beats, fist happily pumping in the air as she perfectly centers herself between the crowd.

“Just a typical day, that’s got me feeling in a beautiful way. No rhyme or reason,” She starts, pointing at some random person in the crowd, “We could sing a duet, dance a style or two. Or I’ll make you a bet, just a smile will doooo.” 

She does flawless chaines before going into a sly, Italian fouetté. The duo flinches at the precision, their eyes trailing her moves. It really does nothing to give them context, but they can’t really complain when they’re already so enthralled.

She ends by raising both hands towards the air, feet spread as she belts to the sky, “Sometimes I just wanna shout on top of roof and mountaintops. All the world is paved in goldddd.” She lowers her hands as she holds the note out, tossing her clipboard off into the crowd somewhere. She places her now free hands on her hips as she walks along the lines of the crowd, hips bumping to the beat of the music, “Yesterday was retroactive, got myself a new perspective. I strut it up and down the road.”

“If the fighting climate change gig doesn’t work, she’d totally rock Broadway,” Leo comments perfectly between verses as they get a little closer to the action on the streets.

The girl stops her strutting right behind them, both arms resting on one of their shoulders, “So I throw out my worries and my old skin away,” She gives them both a little shove forward, nodding her head before doing a pirouette en dehors, “Doing what I want to do on this la dee dah dee daaaaaaay!”

Both teens stumble with (Y/n) catching herself by setting her feet on the pavement and Leo grabbing his arm as she’s steady. The girl stops spinning as she holds out the note, the folks in the surrounding area joining in midway through. The crowd begins to form a circle around the girl, Leo, and (Y/n), joining hands as they skip around them for a bit before changing directions and skipping the other way.

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd releases their hands in exchange for clapping on the beat, perfectly moving their hands in tandem with one another. High right, high left, low right, low left which each other word of the chorus and clapping on every word for each straight ‘La dee dah dee day’ 

The girl gives them both a high five before running out of the crowd as the circle disperses. Everyone on the street continues to hum and step on beat.

(Y/n) and Leo turn to each other, equally dumbfounded at the event transpiring around them. They still somehow manage to remain in the middle of the chaos, even as they attempt to weave through the crowd in search of the nearest manhole cover.

“What the fuck was that?” (Y/n) finally asks, turning to the blue-clad turtle as he fixes his ruffled clothes to hide himself a little better. 

Neither are really watching where they’re going when Leo accidentally bumps into a homeless guy on the street. He panics, straightening the guy before he can teeter much, “I’m so sorry, sir,” He quickly begins searching his pockets, “Here, let me see if I have any-,”

“Hey, man that’s cool,” The guy happily replies with a smile, seemingly ignoring the change that jostled out of his tin can, “‘Cause I may not have a home, but that’s way okay. ‘Cause I prefer to roam the streets all day.”

He sings in the same cadence as the girl from before. The crowd of people turns towards them, doing the heel-toe around them on the beat to the song, every other row going the same way while each row in between goes a different way.

“The world is my house, the dogs are my food,” A small dog scampers past, “Oh, look— a new blouse!” He lifts a newspaper from off the street, his face lighting up as he runs past them, “And a new trash can tooooo!”

(Y/n) steps closer to Leo, his arm immediately going for her shoulders and pulling her closer until she’s flush against him. Her hand immediately grips his jacket in an attempt to pull him closer. They’re unable to keep their eyes off of him and both are a little too petrified to move from where they stand. The guy skips around them, raising his hands into the air and lowering them the longer he circles.

“I used to want to kill them all while high on bath salt zombie drugs and snacking on a dead man’s face,” He stops and stares at them for a little too long, his glare shifting around to every person dancing around them as he does a little, slow spin in place. He stops before a bright smile lights his face, “But that just feels like yesterday! This song takes all the pain away. My politics and house views changed.” He does a little dancy dance to emphasize his point, “Dancing on the concrete used to hurt a lot, but now I got new feet and this jam’s just way too hot!”

“La dee dah dah day!” The crowd around them all lift their hands to the sky as they sing the chorus again, waving them to the beat with a small step every other note, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day! La dee dah dah day!”

(E/c) orbs spot an opening, her mind counting each beat it opens up. She steps away from Leo a bit, getting a grasp on his arm as her narrowed eyes keep a close watch on her path of escape. Her compadre starts looking through his pockets again, a grin on his face.

“I have literally no idea what’s going on here, but this is so cool!” He manages to pull out a five, happily setting it in the homeless guy’s tin can, “That’s all I’ve got for right now, but I’ll totally keep more cash on me in case I run into you guys again tomorrow.”

“Leo, come on,” She manages to pull him through the crowd just in time. It’s almost comical how easily she tugs him along through the rows of dancing New Yorkians, “This is the second dance number I’ve been forced to sit through today-,”

They continue to weave through the crowd, the clear street beyond the dance mob seemingly beyond their fingertips. (Y/n) keeps a strong grip on Leo as she leads the way, while he remains amazed by the group's movements around them. 

Just as they reach the end, the girl from before lands in front of them. She’s regained her clipboard, which now rests tightly in the palm of her hand. She takes a deep breath before she sings out a call, “Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Of course, you want to save the planet!” The crowd calls back, freezing in place to stop and look back at her.

“Do you wanna save the planet?!”

“Well, there’s just one way you can do it!”

“By singing a song!” Without warning, the girl begins cartwheeling toward the center of the crowd as they sing back at her. She stops a moment to sing with them, “Singing along!” Before immediately going back to her cartwheels. The crowd goes back to singing the chorus as she does, every other row overlapping with the other

“La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day!” With each row she cartwheels by, the ensemble turns back towards the center. They continue to repeat it a few times, changing the lyrics up just as she hits the last row, “La dee dah dah, la dee dah dah, la dee dah dah day… Away…”

The girl does a flip in the air as she reaches the center, landing on her feet perfectly with her arms raised in the air and her clipboard intact between her fingers. She lowers herself to rest on one knee, belting out one final, “La dee dah dah”

Each row of the crowd falls to their knees one after the other aligned with each word she sings. It’s almost creepy how synchronized their moves are. They finish the song off in unison with a final, “Day!” Everyone holds the position for a few beats before getting up and moving along with their day like nothing just happened.

The two remain standing there after watching all of that happen, equally confused and mesmerized by the events that just transpired before them. Leo is by far more amused than (Y/n). He turns to her with a knowing grin as he takes in her face.

Her mouth is held open, has been since the girl cartwheeled and flipped back to the middle. Her eyes, while not the size of saucers, hold an intrigued gaze in them. Her grip on Leo’s arm loosened in the midst of that, her hand now limply resting on his inner forearm as opposed to tugging it forward.

“You’re gonna catch flies, (N/n),” Leo teases, his index finger hooking under her chin and slowly pushing it upwards. Once her mouth closes, he tilts her chin up towards him and their eyes meet. He doesn’t fight back his grin like he does the warm feeling in his cheeks and she doesn’t miss the way it rises as he catches sight of the soft flush in her cheeks, “You wish your classmates were that in sync.”

She huffs as she walks ahead of him into the alleyway, waiting for the streets to clear before pushing the manhole cover aside. She sits against the entrance, looking at him a little annoyed, “Yeah…” 

She jumps down into the sewer hole and activates her flight ability just in time to float to the bottom. Leo climbs down not too far behind her, touching the pavement a few minutes after.

#leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader #leo x reader #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #leonardo hamato x reader #leo hamato x reader #leonardo hamato #I don't usually go here whoops #the next part will be out as soon as possible or something #will eventually be crossposted on ao3 and maybe wattpad #will do hc singing voices if asked (pls ask me I have many thoughts) #once I hit 3 chapters of this I'm making a masterpost I promise

[isbus]

So I’m back…

But this time, I have a tutorial!

Do you have a 3DS?

(If you say yes to that, then we’re cooking).

Do you want to draw something similar if not better than…

THIS?!

Then boy I have a tutorial for you!

Since this was drawn on a 3DS, I can’t really tell you anymore than for a 3DS. Sorry..

Step One: Prep!

Grab your 3DS and go to “Nintendo 3DS Camera”! Or whatever it might be called if you have a “New” one.

Optional: If you want you can take a picture within the game- if it’s capable of doing so.

For me I’m gonna use a screenshot from Miitopia.

Step 2: Background!

Part 1: Plain Backgrounds

If you want something like the following image, follow this part’s instructions.

Take a random full screen sized image. Any image will work as long as it fits the screen perfectly. (Take a screenshot from a game such as Tomodachi Life or Miitopia).

Tap the image so that it says graffiti.

Then use a stamp, such as the dialogue bubble.

Hold the stamp and make sure it fills the corners.

Then you have a plain white background! This one you can press finish,but the other method you can’t.

Here’s a quick video tutorial, because I don’t think I phrased it right!

(I took it on my phone, that’s how easy it is).

Part 2: Backgrounds that aren’t pure white!

If you want to make the starting image (but your own), then follow these steps!

(Once again, I’m using Miitopia screenshots for an example).

Once again, GRAFFITI!

Instead of using a stamp, you might have to just color it yourself. Mainly because the stamp method is harder for backgrounds like the first one.

COLOR THE BACKGROUND, BUT DON’T DRAW ANYTHING ELSE. (Unless you just want to draw a background). Trust me, it’s easier.

Boom! Plain background ready for sketching.

Don’t press finish cause it can decrease the quality with enough graffitiing and finishing.

Step 3: Draw the Base!

You gotta draw that body-ody-ody!

Just draw a bust or whatever is easier for you. “Omg IsBus you have to have drawing skills?!” Yeah I know. How could I?

I’m gonna draw the bust up because it’s easier for me.

(Don’t look at me like that.)

For the plain BG ones, just do the same thing for the rest of the steps but for your screen.

Since the background hasn’t been saved, don’t use the eraser because it will remove the white BG. Unless you are using the first background method, that is. (Use the white pencil.)

Step 4: Draw the character / Coloring Page Step!

On the plain BG you can draw what ever but for me and my Miitopia character, I’m gonna draw him. If you did the color-only-a-part-of-the-drawing method (like I’m doing), you can do whatever still.

Think of the white area as a green screen; you can draw whatever you want on it.

This phase is like the pencil part of a physical drawing. White out the base as you get to parts you want over it (for example: hair or clothes).

Bam! Coloring page!

Part 5: Coloring!

Remember when I called it a coloring page? This is why.

Color the drawing how you see fit!

If you’re using the all white bg, then you might have to use the stickers or the rainbow pencil. I recommend the stickers if you want to shade/shine, but if you want more options, use the rainbow brush.

If you’re basically doing what I’m doing, you can use the colors from the image to color your character!

Once you’re done coloring the image, remember to ink the lines again! Use a medium brush for coloring but a thin brush for inking the lines.

Part 6: Final Details!

For people who want any additional details, or need to clean up edges.

If you did the plain bg you can decorate and clean up as much as you need!

If you’re doing what I’m doing, you can clean up the edges of the white spot and add additional details.

And Voila! You did it!

If you have a 3DS and followed my tutorial, show me what you did! I wanna see it!

Have a good day/night! And thank you for reading!

~IsBus

#isbus #isbus original #original art #original character #original characters #digital art #3ds art #3ds #nintendo 3ds #drawings #digital drawing #drawn on a 3ds #tutorials #tutorial #I wanna see your art #miitopia #the second one wasn’t as good #sorry lol #mission failed successfully #long post #show me what you got

[linguistwho]

Introducing: The Linguist's Phonetic Gallifreyan

This is a modification of Brittany G.'s Doctor's Cot Gallifreyan, which reorganized the layout of the Consonants and Vowels tables, adjusted how punctuation works, and added two new mechanics for quality of life. Its full title is The Linguist's Phonetic Gallifreyan, but the shorthand, for lack of a better idea, is GalliPhon. Interested to know the details? Read on!

I started working in Doctor’s Cot a few months ago.  It’s interesting, and a fun change of pace from Sherman’s Circular, but it has a few flaws that have really started to dig at me.  Firstly, despite the system being made to represent any language, it still is clearly made with English in mind.  Nearly all English consonantal sounds are contained in the top left corner of the consonant table.  While it does not bother me all that much that the system is made with English as the primary use — I do primarily use Sherman’s Circular, after all — it leads to all the consonants looking samey, and the layout feeling otherwise purely random.  In a similar vein, all the English consonants being clustered together led to a lot of indistinguishable consonant pairs.  I have dealt with this by leaving lines unconnected on one side, or dots attached to their corresponding circle, but this feels cheap, as Brittany did specify that indistinguishable consonants should be separated into new circles, which I find tedious and aesthetically displeasing.  Another problem with the layout is that א’s circle ends up being a pain to make every time I need to write a word that starts with a vowel.  For these reasons, I decided to reorganize the charts to have a more logical layout.  And, while I was at it, I modified the formulation of punctuation to accommodate more punctuation marks and added two new mechanics to make formulating words less tedious: diphthong bridges and the reversal dot.  As a warning, this is NOT a guide to the use of Phonetic Gallifreyan.  To learn how to play, I would recommend checking out Brittany’s walkthrough, using my charts instead of the Doctor’s Cot ones.

The Consonant and Vowel Charts

They are now loosely organized based on the IPA categorizations in the 2020 chart.  Broadly speaking: a single thin line corresponds to trills, taps, and approximants; double thin lines corresponds to laterals; a thin outer line and thick inner line corresponds to unvoiced fricatives; a thick outer line and thin inner line corresponds to voiced fricatives; double thick lines corresponds to nasals; and a single thick line corresponds to plosives.  And for decorations (going from left to right in the chart because they are hard to describe): alveolar, retroflex, postalveolar, dental, “other symbols,” pharyngeal and glottal; labiodental; bilabial; uvular; velar; and palatal.  The symbols do not always correspond exactly, but that’s the general organization I worked off of.  For the vowels, I went easier on myself and organized them mostly by the English vowels, left-to-right O, U, A, I, and E.  Additionally, as there are 28 base IPA vowel sounds but 30 spaces, I included the two most common diphthongs, ai and au.  However, as I now have an option to make diphthongs, these are not recommended for use.

Diphthongs

I have added a function that will allow you to have two vowel sounds in a single circle, but only if they are part of a diphthong.  Distinct vowel sounds must be in different syllable circles, even if there is no consonant between them.  Two vowels in a dipthong, however, may be connected by a diphthong bridge, a line leading from the edge of the first vowel to the middle of the second.  An example of both a diphthong and a still separate vowel can be seen in Ohio: /oˈhaɪ o/

Vowel/Consonant Reversal

The other function I am adding is the reversal dot, necessitated by how annoying it is that words like “is,” “and,” and “or,” require two circles despite their simplicity.  So, in Phonetic Gallifreyan, you can add a filled dot to the center of a word circle to indicate it should be read vowel first.  Consonants still go outer circle first, then inner circle.  As an example: “and” /ænd/

Punctuation

The primary change is that they don’t consist of two circles, just one. This way, a limited pool of punctuation can be combined to create more punctuation, like combining a period and a comma to make a semicolon, or three periods to make an ellipsis, or even some rarer punctuation like the interrobang (‽)

Credit to Brittany G. for the basis, and to Wikipedia and Phoible for research on IPA, punctuation, and more.

#UPDATED MARCH 27 2023 #if you are translating any GalliPhon posted before this date you will get ɤ where ʊ was intended #the ʊ ɯ and ɤ vowels have been moved (essentially clockwise) #(mainly bc I was getting annoyed at how much space the oʊ dipthong took up) #also apologies for how terrible this all looks #unlike Brittany I am far from being a graphic designer #GalliPhon #gallifreyan #doctor who #The Linguist #conlang

[snorpdawg]

UPDATE AS OF 8/12/23: THIS POST IS OUTDATED. For more up-to-date information regarding the AU, refer to the post linked here.

THE GANG’S ALL HERE!

A very long endeavor finished at last. A cohesive lineup of the Bugswap cast for not only ME but you guys as well 😏 I strongly recommend tapping/clicking for better quality as the pictures may be a little low-res depending on your device.

These should be the finalized designs, at least for the time being. Designs may change over time, but designs may not. It all depends on what I aim for in future dates, so who knows? Visually, they’re a lot more cleaned up than the bios, so I’m gonna use this lineup pretty often, haha

Not to get too corny, but thanks so much for everyone’s support and encouragement! Honestly, I was a bit skeptical people would even like the AU but my tune’s definitely changed. Expect to see these grumps around quite a bit for the foreseeable future ;0)

#bugsnax #bugsnax fanart #bugsnax AU #bugswap au #from left to right: #gramble gigglefunny #beffica winklesnoot #chandlo funkbun #cromdo face #floofty fizzlebean #filbo fiddlepie #bugsnax the journalist #the journalist #snorpy fizzlebean #triffany lottablog #bugsnax shelda #shellsy woolbag #shelda woolbag #elizabert megafig #lizbert megafig #wiggle wigglebottom #wambus troubleham #🎨 ; sweetie scribbles

[alonedustspeck]

Alright I haven't posted my art on here (or anywhere honestly) in a while but I have fan art and I want to share it lmao. This is fanart for The Files series by denimbeans on AO3 if you haven't read it go check it out its very fun highly recommend.

I didn’t color this and I also shaded it in a way I’ve not shaded before so forgive me if it looks wonky lol.  I might color it later but I go back to school tomorrow so if I do it'll be a while. Tap/click on the picture for better quality :)

#percy jackson #the files #denimbeans #pjo fandom #pjo fanart #pjo fanfic #anaklusmos #its 1 am and I have to drive 2 hours tomorrow what am I doing omg #I hope people like this #I hope people like the shading because i've never done it before and its hella funky but not in a bad way #if that makes sense idk #my art #the file #fanart #digital art

[beskarrd]

Polish and Promises

Summary: You’ve always wanted to paint Eddie's nails before a set with his band. He finally agrees.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: kissing, sexual-ish touching (no actual smut), eddie being a flirty little shit cause that's a warning in itself, very very brief mention of marijuana, no use of y/n

Your hands shook slightly as you swiped the small brush over his fingernails, careful not to catch on his skin as you pulled down. The scent of a musky cologne with a hint of weed wafted into your nostrils as you inhaled deeply. You tried to steady your breathing, but it was hard as Eddie’s right hand danced across your left thigh, tracing something unintelligible into your skin.

He had asked you lovingly if you would paint his nails black for his set tonight with Corroded Coffin and you all but jumped at the opportunity. You always insisted he would look great with nail polish. “Totally metal, baby,” to be exact. He had finally given in to your wishes but you didn’t think this is what he had in mind as far as positions go. 

You had started standing over him as he sat on the edge of his bed until Eddie piped up, “If you don’t want to keep standing, may I suggest sitting in my lap? Much recommended. Great comfort quality.”

You shook your head knowingly and that was how you found yourself balanced precariously on Eddie Munson’s lap, your thighs straddling his dark jeans as he rested his back against his headboard. You felt his gaze burn into you as you continued painting, but you remained focused on finishing up the work you had started. 

“Watch those fingers, Munson. Can’t have you ruining my hard work right before your show,” you smirked. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he replied smugly. He knew he was teasing you by delicately palming your thighs. They had always been a soft spot of his. He always found time to tap a beat into your skin or etch love into your legs any chance he got. Whether it be at school, while you were driving somewhere, or just sitting in his trailer like this. He was never a fan of keeping his hands to himself. 

Much to your dismay his hand began to venture to the tip of the waistband of your shorts, delicately running the pad of his fingers over and slightly flipping it outward, exposing more of your skin.

“Eddie,” you warned. He gently threw his hand up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be good,” he said with an exasperated tone and a humorous eye roll. “Do hurry up though cause this whole ‘having a pretty girl on my lap and not being allowed to touch her’ thing really fucking sucks.”

You chuckled lowly, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you tore your eyes away from his nails and looked up at your boyfriend. Being so close to him gave you the excellent view of watching his breath hitch in his throat as you finally made eye contact with him. You used that to your advantage and simply returned what he had been hinting at all night. You softly ground your hips on his lap and watched his eyes close as his mouth broke out into that killer smile you had been waiting for.

“Is that so?” you asked, feigning obliviousness. 

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me here,” he sighed out. 

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek to hold him over and returned to your work attentively. “The less you move the faster I’ll be done and the better it’ll look,” you replied. You moved on to his ring finger, holding onto the large metal ring that adorned it to keep it steady. 

You didn’t get very far before Eddie leaned in close and replied “I know I asked for this and all but, it’s getting harder to care cause, you’re really fucking hot and I’m trying very, very hard not to abandon this little idea of yours and fuck you senseless.” Your breath stilled and he knew he had you there. Your gaze moved swiftly from Eddie’s nails to his face, only to find his lips inches from yours. He moved in to kiss you, however, you weren’t one to give in easily. You leaned back and returned to swiping the dark polish over his nails. 

“Two more minutes, Eds, and then I’m all yours,” you promised. 

You were surprised when he actually remained still for the rest of the process. You didn’t know he even had it in him to sit nicely for more than two whole seconds. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie spent those final minutes staring at your focused face, eyebrows scrunched in concentration, biting your lip in order to hone your skill. As he watched you put the finishing touches on the final finger, he wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky as to have the most beautiful girl in all of Hawkins not only support him and his band, but also patiently deal with his fidgeting in order to make his set all the more fun tonight by giving him an, agreeably, ‘metal’ look.

You let go of Eddie’s hand and screwed the cap back on the nail polish, leaning back to admire your work. “All done, Eds,” you said softly. To reward him for his patience you gently grasped the palms of his hands and placed delicate kisses on his knuckles, careful to avoid any smudging. 

“They’re perfect, princess, thank you,” he grinned, admiring your handiwork. You pumped your first triumphantly. “I knew you would like it! See, it wasn’t that bad,” you stated. 

You moved to get off his lap but his palms stiffened around your hips. The friction against your core was enough to send you into a spiral, your breath catching in your throat as you met his hungry eyes. He lightly took his thumb and forefinger and hooked them under your chin in order to hold your gaze, still remaining vigilant in not ruining the nail polish. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he smirked as he met your lips in a heated kiss. You could feel the want, no the need, Eddie exuded into your mouth but you abruptly ended the kiss, not without a few pecks from Eddie in a desperate attempt to continue. He whined like a child as you broke apart and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Your nails are still wet, baby, don’t mess them up before your set,” you chided. 

“If you stopped teasing me so much, I wouldn’t be tempted to ruin them!” Eddie shot back. 

You swung your legs off Eddie’s lap and stood with your arms crossed, looking at Eddie slumped on his bed in defeat. His pouty face almost made you laugh. He truly was unbelievably childish, even though that was one of the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

“Tell you what Eds,” you said lovingly. You climbed back onto his lap, on your hands and knees (purely for dramatic effect of course) and stopped right in front of his nose. “Keep those nails of yours pristine all night and when we get back home I’ll let you do,” your hands ran down his stomach to toy with his belt buckle and pull him closer to your face. “Anything you want to me.”

Eddie scanned your face with lust blown eyes. His eyes eventually traveled lower to where your shirt separated from your chest in a not-so-subtle move you caught and noted for later. He met your stare again and leaned back with a Cheshire cat smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart, and I will not be using the word anything lightly,” he remarked. 

“By all means, Munson, do your worst,” you met his lips in a searing kiss and hopped off his lap to grab your bag. “Come on now, wouldn’t want to be late, huh?” you called as you made your way to the other side of his room. 

“Fuck me, I love you,” he groaned as he stood up slowly. 

“I know,” you smiled over your shoulder. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things 4 #stranger things #strangers things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut

[sidewalkchemistry]

advice for letting go of addiction to junk food? /:

I find that attachment to junk food is often due in part to not really ever falling in love with nourishing whole food ingredients. You're only gonna ever find joy in turning away from junk food when you're just as, or more, attracted to the whole food alternatives you're giving yourself. It shouldn't be about punishment or self-denial. It's about satisfaction, excitement, and self-love. Don't beat yourself up about your current situation. Simply, step forward into this new journey with patience & self-compassion.

💚So, first things first is really developing a longgg list of whole foods that you enjoy. Different fruits, vegetables, grains, beans, seaweeds, foraged plants, seeds, nuts, herbs & spices, and so on. I recommend mostly purchasing what's in season (the taste, texture, and price points tend to be way better!), and visiting farmer's markets when possible (in my state, they take food stamps and have tons of discounts, to make the produce more accessible to all. I hope it's similar where you are). You may have to do some learning about how to identify fresh & ripe produce, determine how to identify good quality, comparing the tastes depending on food preparation methods (boiled vs roasted vs fresh vs pickled), and little things like that. Don't be afraid to try new things. You will likely find that you grow to like things you would've formerly disliked.

💚Next is to get into finding alternatives for your previous favorites. Especially snacks or quick meals. So, let's say that you are super into potato chips and instant noodles...swap that for homemade chips or wedges (you can make them in the microwave, air fryer, or oven - with little to no oil) & a simple noodle soup (packed with herbs, some miso and/or seaweed, a few veggies of your choice, and anything else you might like).

💚It's critical as well to really develop a rolling menu of recipes to make yourself. Your meals don't have to be complex or take ages (something like a taco bowl is great). Focus on simple but flavor-filled meals by highlighting the fresh flavors and spices, and by creating a well-rounded flavor profile in your dishes (for savory dishes: umami/salty + sour + sweet + optionally herby, spicy, and/or bitter). An accent flavor (or something to make the dish pop) is also great, such as citrus zest, liquid aminos, coconut, paprika, sesame seeds, green onion. Have ideas for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, desserts, sauces & dressings, drinks, and snacks & dips.

💚Notice keenly how much better you feel when you reduce the junk food. Choose that good feeling over some really short-lived gratification. Notice, too, how poorly junk food can leave you feeling.

💚Learn to journal or tap into a hobby when your emotions get high and you want something unhealthy to "drown out your feelings." It's not about the fact that those foods aren't great for you. It's about paying attention to your feelings instead of stuffing them away.

💚Eliminate the misconception that it's cheaper eating junk food. You're less likely to feel the natural satiation point when you're eating low nourishment foods, so overeating is quite normal when you eat lots of processed foods. Also, the processing of such foods often is less kind on the earth compared to whole plant foods. So, it's expensive in that larger scale too. And you just aren't your best self - less energy, motivation, and stuff are likely when junk food is your primary fuel. The most affordable foods worldwide are typically satiating whole plant foods (grains, legumes, potatoes, etc).

💚Don't keep junk food around all the time. It turns into an 'out of sight, out of mind' thing.

💚Change the way you grocery shop. Spend time in the produce section especially. Always leave with things like greens, seasonal fruit, frozen fruit/veg, root veggies, etc. Discover which stores have the best options and actually stock quality produce. Wholesalers/big box stores & ethnic markets tend to do pretty good.

💚Create new habits. When you get home from work, you might be used to eating a certain snack. Interrupt that habit with a new one.

💚Stay hydrated. Water-rich produce (like cucumbers, oranges, leafy greens, berries) and drinking water can both help. Sometimes, we seek food when we're actually thirsty.

💚Start your days on a good note with fresh flavors. I recommend fruit for the sweetness and energy. And make sure your meals are satisfying and nutrient-dense, so you aren't starving and looking for energy drinks or anything an hour later.

💚Don't be all-or-nothing in your approach. This helps you to avoid that punishment mindset. It's just about choosing the food that really makes you feel good and happy and content.

💚Try out flavors from around the world. Get into ingredients and flavor profiles you've been missing out on. For example, rosewater, tomatillos, various mushrooms, berbere spice, different curries, dragonfruit, pandan. I just love traveling via my plates. It's an easy way to romanticize your life.

💚Learn to make a good, hearty, interesting salad. Smoothie bowls are a good thing to learn too. These are low-effort meals that are great when the weather is hot, you're busy, and/or your energy is low.

💚Get into making your own condiments. These can add an extra kick of flavor and interest for your dishes. For example, herb infused vinegars and oils, hot sauce, pickled veggies, rich sauces, etc.

💚Avoid food waste. Often when people are trying to eat better, the produce they purchase often goes bad before they can incorporate it into meals. Store items properly to extend their shelf life. Buy some fruit somewhat underripe (if they're a kind that ripens off the tree). Freeze things before they can go bad. Make soup broths, pickles, kimchi, jams, sauces, etc. Make meals around what is ready to be used. Also, don't be overly adventurous and buy too many unfamiliar ingredients at once.

💚And I'll end on an unexpected one. Spend more time outside in nature. You are typically become appreciative all those colors and scents and intrigue in simple/slow food meals when you do.

I wish you the best & I apologize for taking a while to respond.

Lili

[pro-health-24]

Aizen Power Supplements: A Game Changer for My Fitness Journey

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