My Not So Lovely Life

My last two brain cells are stuck between fandoms and books. ‘93 baby and dog mom

[writing-prompt-s]

Everyone at magic school picks on you for your creepy skeletal minions. One day a trio of bullies has you cornered. "What now, necromancer? There's no corpses or bones around to save you." You sigh, "Actually, I'm an osteomancer. The skeletons don't have to come from corpses."

[shittyoudidntneedtoknow]

Love this idea. Could go so so dark

[hope-for-the-planet]

Western South Africa Sees Leopards Returning to Ancestral Habitat After 170 Years

A shift in project focus to human-wildlife coexistence rather than just focusing on providing protection to reserves, has been key.

From the article:

For an astonishing 170 years, there hasn’t been a leopard sighting on the western coast of South Africa. That recently changed when South Africa National Parks (SANparks) published a camera trap photograph of a leopard in West Coast NP, showing how the elusive predator has recolonized an area where it has long been absent. Conservationists have hailed the moment as a milestone for rewilding and conservation programs that have paved the way for the cat’s return.

Leopards were able to return to their previous habitat due in large part to rebuilding habitat corridors. Unlike just putting a big fence and guards around where the animals are (an increasingly outdated style of conservation), this type of conservation required a change in focus to wildlife coexistence with local communities.

[hope-for-the-planet]

Massachusetts is turning retired cranberry bogs into natural wetlands. They’re on track to rewild 1,000 acres

The Division of Ecological Restoration has an ambitious pledge in the works when it comes to the state’s many cranberry bogs.

From the article:

Massachusetts is home to 13,000 acres of cranberry bogs, making it the second-largest cranberry-producing region in the U.S. and the third-largest in the world. The bright, red berries are the state’s moneymaker, contributing over $1.7 billion to the state's economy annually.  But a good chunk of that acreage is taken up by defunct cranberry bogs that have been rotated out of cultivation.  Fortunately, a new program by the state’s Division of Ecological Restoration is on a mission to convert them back into natural wetlands.  In November 2024, the DER funneled $6 million in grants to the restoration plan. According to the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, more than 500 acres of retired cranberry bogs have already been converted into wetlands — with hopes of restoring 1,000 acres in the next decade. “These projects will transform degraded former cranberry bogs into thriving wetlands that will provide habitat to important species, flood control in time of storms, and access for all to beautiful natural areas,” Governor Maura Healey said in a statement. 

[simkaye]

A holy blade seals an ancient power to the murk of the swamp.

Me, a curious little rat: I sure hope nothing silly happens :)

[somanyjacks]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but if the phrase "self care" doesn't resonate with you, try calling it "system maintenance" and see if that clicks.

[wormsslime]

[somanyjacks]

Reblogging to add amazing tags from @meta-theory

#this both makes things more fun and also is a really good analogy#because there are four types of system maintenance and that makes the term much more exact than the nebulous ''self-care''#and therefore much more helpful to those of us who uhhh struggle with nebulosity#for anyone curious the four types are:#1. corrective (to fix current problems)#2. preventative (to avoid future problems)#3. adaptative (to re-adjust to any changes)#4. perfective (to work towards a better system)#I really like this idea I'm gonna make a checklist

[pommedepersephone]

This is how I am explaining self care to my kids now.

[shittyoudidntneedtoknow]

When something just clicks and it makes everything clearer

[jartita-me-teneis]

[sparklytimepiece]

for the jewelry crafters and the macrame enjoyers alike, as both I love this

[riahchan]

[hisuianserperior]

This is a message from the United Federation of Planets reminding all sentient space fairing species that the planet Earth is a no dumping zone

As many know, most species have their own relatively unique ways of achieving space travel before being brought into the Federation. Even upon being brought in, they tend to stick to their established methods due to the difficulty that comes with learning and implementing the methods of others. This applies to other technology as well, such as weaponry or medicinal devices. The humans of Earth do not have that problem. They are a highly adaptive species, a necessity to survive on that planet of horrors. Any alien technology found will be experimented on, will be reverse engineered, will be improved, will be made worse, and will become everyone else's problem. So for the mental health of the Galaxy as a whole, Do not dump anything on Earth.

[bubblebbg]

"𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞"

hitman!Ghost x reader

Killing is just a job for him. As depraved as it sounds, he's a natural at it, and he doesn't see himself ever stopping. Not with the ease and the money. When it comes to pulling the trigger, he's never hesitated.

That was until you.

WC: 2.4k

TW: suicidal thoughts, mentions of violence, gun, knife, implied intercourse, probably OOC at points

The job description had come with a hefty paycheck and little to no instructions. Fifteen thousand dollars cash, plus liquid assets. Meet at the coordinates given on Sunday at 4 AM. Details to be given there, payment after successfully finishing the mission.

Ghost isn't an idiot. He shows up with enough weapons on him to get him on the no fly list in every country.

It's damp and cold. If he didn't have his mask on right now, his breath would be coming out in white puffs inside his car. He's put even more on edge when he sees you, a stranger in a sweater and scarf, looking down as you walk.

You knock twice on the hood of his car as discussed. He unlocks the passenger side.

You slip in and take a deep breath. You look a mess, not to mention suspiciously innocent. Your eyes are tired, features ruddy from what seems to be either a lack of sleep or lots of crying. There certainly could be a weapon stashed in your sweater, but somehow he doubts it. An unlucky messenger, maybe.

"Hope it wasn't too hard finding this place," you mutter softly, managing a glance at him. He's scary. From the hard glare, silence, and what looks to be an entire arsenal on him, you get the memo. He isn't here for chit-chat, and he certainly doesn't trust you.

You sigh and soldier on. "As I mentioned in the description, you'll receive all of the money in cash after the job is done. I have some things you'll inherit, but not everything. I wrote a little contract here. It's not very professional, but-"

"Cut the bullshit. Who do you want me to kill?" His voice, gruff and low, cuts through your timid one. You feel yourself sinking into your seat.

"Me," you whisper.

It's nearly imperceptible, but you see his eyes widen. He has a way of staring right at you that puts you on edge. Like he'll shred you if you so much as make a wrong move. Ironic, considering your request.

"You what?" He asks, biting down the incredulity he feels threatening to take over his tone.

You swallow and take another deep breath, feeling emboldened. "I'm paying you to kill me. I want you to witness my last week, then put me out painlessly in my sleep. I know it's not very conventional-"

He pulls a knife on you. You can feel the presence of its cold, fatal edge just millimeters from your throat. His eyes are narrowed.

"Jesus, man," you shakily mutter.

"Who the fuck sent you?" Ghost barks.

"No one!" You feel stupid for the tears that threaten your eyes. You squeeze them shut. "It's all legit, ok? I just can't seem to do it myself, so I figured I'd pay someone. I'm just," you pause, breathing again. "I'm just done."

Ghost scrutinizes you further. You don't see it, but you can feel it - his eyes roaming over you, looking for even the slightest falsehood. Anything to indicate a lie.

You must have passed his parameters. You hear him sheath the blade.

"Bloody insane," he mutters, more to himself than you. "Fine. One week, and not a second more."

Day 1

"Red onions or yellow onions?" You look to Ghost, who pushes the cart beside you. He's switched the menacing mask for a simple balaclava under a hoodie. He gives you his signature 'I don't give a fuck' look. Expressive for a man of few words. "Yellow it is."

You get stares wherever you go with him following you. You can see why; Ghost is tall and imposing, his silence oppressive. Its nice, in a way. You feel seen beside him.

You pay for the groceries and exit the store. He puts them into the trunk of his car and drives you to your apartment.

When you enter your small place, he goes about his usual cautious routine, searching each corner and frame for some threat. You would roll your eyes, but you know its how he's survived in a harsh profession. You'd be more concerned if he didn't look around.

"You can do whatever," you shrug your coat off and start to unpack groceries to start on dinner. It's a little early, but you have nothing better to do. You quit your job last week. "TV remote is on the table if you wanna watch something."

You chop vegetables and meat in relative silence. He eventually deems the place up to his standard of safety and sits down, flicking through channels on the television. When you finish dinner, you sit on the other side of the couch and hand him a plate. "I usually only cook for one, so sorry if it came out weird."

He eats without complaint. After eating and watching shows together, you find that you don't mind the silence. Whatever it is to him, you find it domestic and comfortable. You're allowed a little bit of comfort in your last week.

For bed, you offer him pajamas, which he declines. He follows you to your room. "Gotta keep my eye on you. Just in case," He asserts in a low voice. He sits on a chair in the corner, arms crossed as he watches you. You roll your eyes, but your sleep comes quick and dreamlessly.

Day 3

The next couple days are spent much the same way. He follows you and begrudgingly participates in whatever activites you throw at him. So far you've made him go to the movies and visit the aquarium with you. Now, you've forced him on a walk in the park.

It's another grey fall day. Sometimes he walks so mechanically that it makes you want to laugh. You make him push you on the swing for a bit just because it inconveniences him. When the novelty is gone, you let him stop. "You can sit on the other swing."

He takes it. You're not sure how long you're both sat there, quiet like always. You swing slightly, really just kicking your feet, and watch the clouds as they pass.

"I like fall."

He snorts. "I bet you do. Gloomy ass."

You roll your eyes, but you smile anyways. You chance a question. "You have any family?"

You expected this same silence from him. What you didn't expect was for his quiet, hoarse answer after minutes without replying. "No."

You nod and look ahead. Is it a painful subject for everyone? "I do," you reply.

"Complicated?" More of a statement than a question.

A sigh. "Yeah."

You kick at the damp woodchips below you and bite the inside of your cheek to stop that sudden urge to cry. "I don't think they understand me."

"Do families ever understand?"

That makes you chuckle. You may have imagined it, but his eyes seemed to crinkle with the hints of a smile.

"Let's go," you stand. "It's getting dark."

Day 6

"I don't see the appeal," he gruffly states. You can hear the smirk in his voice. "Are you seriously crying?"

You sniffle and wipe the popcorn butter off your cheek. "You just don't get it. It's a cinematic masterpiece."

Since the beginning of this week, you and. Ghost had fallen into a comfortable routine. Meal, activity, nap, meal, activity, sleep. Tonight, you had gotten him to watch Pride and Prejudice with you - the 2005 version, of course - and he had made snarky comments the entire time.

"Yes, a masterpiece. You hardly ever see a male director get the female gaze right, Ghost, and," you huff as you catch him mocking you, his hand puppetting your words as you speak. You smack him with a pillow.

His eyebrows raise. "Oh, you do not want to go there with me, sweetheart." You raise your head in defiance. "Maybe I do."

He looks at you, giving you a chance to take the words back. You nail him in the face with another cushion.

He pounces. You laugh and kick and squeal, smacking him with anything you can grab. He's stronger and faster - anything he doesn't block doesn't even make him flinch.

He pins you down with a hand on your chest and uses the other to whack you repeatedly with a pillow. "Ack! Son of a -" You uselessly use your hands to try to grab the pillow or smack it away, but he smacks you anyways. "Ok ok! I surrender!"

He stops and looks down at you. You're breathing heavy, and you're smiling - really smiling. It's the first time he's seen it on you.

He drops the pillow. The hand that was on your chest releases you. You look into his eyes and you feel your heart beating against your ribs.

You eyelids flutter shut. He pulls his balaclava up just enough for his lips to meet yours.

Day 7

Ghost can't believe how impulsive he was last night. It wasn't like him. There's no room for emotions in this job, and certainly no room for waking up naked in his client's bed. You were warm in his arms.

He shakes the thought. He screwed up, yes, but it's your last day and he has no time to think about the mistake. He needs to focus on fulfilling your last needs. He takes you out to eat, drives you out to watch the city lights for awhile. You haven't had much to say.

He lays in bed with you, straining his eyes to watch the subtle changes in your expression. You're on your sides, facing each other. You trace his rough palm with a finger. He tries to ignore the electricity it sends through his nerves.

"Will it hurt?" You whisper. Suddenly, his throat feels tight. He shakes his head.

"No. You won't feel a thing."

He watches your chest rise and fall with a new breath, and the tears forming in your eyes. He catches them with a thumb before they can hit the pillow.

"I know I didn't put it in the contract, but do you think you could make sure I always have flowers on my grave? I like flowers. I don't know if anyone will leave some for me."

He lets you lace your fingers with his. His own curl to hold your hand.

"I guess I can do that."

You finally look at him. Your words tremble as they leave your lips. "Do you think I'll get into heaven?"

He frowns. Slowly, he pulls you closer. You didn't think you'd be doing so much crying this week.

"I don't know about heaven and hell," he mutters, "But if we end up in the same place, someone made a poor judgement call."

When you finally calm down, you can feel sleep taking you.

"Goodnight, Ghost."

He waits a few hours until he's sure you're deep in sleep. He slips out carefully, not wanting to wake you up. From a case, he preps his pistol. For some damn reason, his hand won't stop shaking when he points it at your forehead.

Day 8

When you wake up, light filters in through the blinds. You rub your eyes. Heaven feels just like my room, you think. That is, until you realize this is your room, and you're still alive.

You rub your eyes. Some part of you is relieved, if not confused. You leave your bed and look around the place. It's like nothing has happened, and no one has been here. Something like dread or disappointment sits in your throat. Had you imagined it all?

Your head snaps right as something catches your eye. A little yellow square. You peel a single sticky note off of your fridge. So it wasn't a dream. You smile to yourself. He has shitty handwriting. You read it, and fuck, you're crying again.

Keep your money. I'm too busy trying to get that awful movie out of my head.

-- G

[bubblebbg]

Reblogging this in hopes that my little fic gets more love 🥹 thanks everyone who has supported me so far!

[jartita-me-teneis]

[chipper-smol]

fun behaviors to give dragons that aren't feline/canine based

cause as much as i love dragons purring and roaring i wish there was just more variety in how they would act

clacking their teeth together to show contentedness/happiness (budgies)

using tails as a defensive weapon in a whip like fashion (iguana)

twitching to express that they're not a threat to members of their species (hognose snake)

feeling calm when eyes are hooded/covered (birds of prey)

head bobbing as a threat display (anoles/bearded dragons)

flattening neck or sides to appear bigger (snakes/lizards)

mantling over food to protect it from hatchmates (birds of prey)

wiggling neck as a courting maneuver (budgies)

audibly grinding teeth as a warning (macaques)

maintained eye contact as a challenge (gorillas)

pounding wings against sides as a threat (gorillas)

slapping other dragons with their claws when their personal bubble is invaded (seals)

hoards used as a site to impress mates (birds of paradise)

snorting when undergoing heightened stress (horses)

making repeated loud noises with surroundings to establish territory (woodpeckers)

loud constant arguments with other dragons when roosting (bats)

building lairs that cause a domino effect of change in the land around them (beavers)

slapping their tails against the ground/water as a warning (beavers)

wiggling tail tip to attract prey (various animals)

wiggling tail tip as a warning (snakes)

plucking or scraping off scales as a sign of stress (parrots)

raising spines/frills as a response to danger and carrying on with their usual business as they believe they're protected (lionfish)

and im not saying canine and feline behaviors are wrong or bad to give a dragon (people wouldn't write dragons with those behaviors if they weren't fun in the first place!) but i feel for creatures that are mythological giant winged lizards that you can do more and get experimental with it. often the more unfamiliar behavior the more dragony the dragon feels

[shittyoudidntneedtoknow]

I like this

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

+New series coming soon+

Pairing: Savior!Daryl x Fem!Reader (enemies to lovers - super slow burn)

Summary: You killed Merle Dixon, one of Negan’s top Saviors, to protect Alexandria. There would be hell to pay. But instead of meeting Negan’s bat, you’re handed over to his crossbow.

Warnings: Typical TWD violence & gore; eventual poorly written smut; angst; non-canonical character death; canonical character death; (will update)

A/N: Working on Blood Ties right now but this plot bunny will not stop hopping around so gonna work on it some too.

[shittyoudidntneedtoknow]

Ooh I can’t wait!!

[just-gingerkat]

Thinking about how The Murderbot Diaries is a character that is completly and fully character driven to the point where the very writing and book format is revolved around it.

The first book is short, concise. It skips a bunch of scenes over the course of many weeks. It focuses purely on what Murderbot thinks is important and worth focusing on. Thats why the majority of the book is dedicated to its thought process, its complaints, or it's fear. It skips over "meaningful" scenes because it doesn't find them important. Like most of the conversations, like it helping Volescu. It doesn't care. It does care when it feels uncomfortable and wants to be left alone. It does care when its scared and something big might happen. It does care about Mensah which is why the few scenes that are more meaningful are with Mensah and then back to narration.

The books get longer and longer as they go on, showing how as Murderbots journey continues so does its ability to care. More intimate moments, more admitting to us that it's afraid, it doesn't want this, it does want this. It begins to describe and pay attention more and more to whats going on around it and it grows to decide what it wants and it's all so beautifully conveyed through writing.

Even The Company was such a clever and subtle way of telling us something. Because everything in the books centers on how Murderbot thinks. Murderbot would never aknowledge its feelings towards The Company and therefore we never knew of it until someone pointed it out. And that too is development because now Murderbot cares enough to let us know. To let itself know. It still shuts down, draws away in its own thoughts. But each book gets longer and longer with less time between them because Murderbot is slowly learning to pay attention, and interact, and aknowledge the present moment. Its learning to care

[shittyoudidntneedtoknow]

THIS

[evildevil42]

if i ever had godlike powers over the nature of animals i'd just make crabs smarter. like on par with crows or something. you'll walk out onto the pier at night and see a group of crabs working together to drag an unconscious man into the water. you can't help him now. he's gone.

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

now 2 beanie baby dragons are crossing your dash together :3

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

beanie baby dragon is crossing your dash

[coffeedragonart]

Sometimes, when a wishing well has taken many, many offerings, all that gold starts to attract wildlife…

[fishbonesart]

Care for a drink?

[shittyoudidntneedtoknow]

Love 💕