#(( and for once in my life over half the list is male even if most of them are secondary to request only ))

[ovaruling]

i found this very interesting, especially as a woman who has cheated death several times, came away from it disabled, and is now fiercely determined to live independently into old age, child-free (in this case, the relevance of that being the context of having no children to assist me with care or basic function as i age).

however, this is also important for all women, because being able to carry fitness (and by fitness i refer to the ability to complete everyday tasks and basic mobility without extreme difficulty or injury) into old age is a topic that affects us as a sex with some growing urgency.

statistically, we know (or should, by now) that women cannot depend on male partners/family members to care for us in times of illness or crisis, and that also goes for caring for us as we age. they leave. they shirk. they hope we’ll just die and relieve them of the burden of caring for us.

and even if male partners are not a factor, aging women ARE seen as a burden–to our families, to our friends, to our loved ones, to our doctors, to our governments, to our societies. having children or a partner or family members or friends does not necessarily guarantee that they will assist you in your old age.

so it is of utmost importance that we as women educate ourselves on how to stay as physically independent as possible as we age. here is an excerpt of the article that describes why i think this is so important:

"Think of the Centenarian Decathlon as the 10 most important physical tasks you will want to be able to do for the rest of your life. Some items on the list resemble actual athletic events, while some are closer to activities of daily living, and still others might reflect your own personal interests. I find it useful because it helps us visualize, with great precision, exactly what kind of fitness we need to build and maintain as we get older. It creates a template for our training.

I start by presenting my patients with a long list of physical tasks that might include some of the following:

1. Hike 1.5 miles on a hilly trail. 2. Get up off the floor under your own power, using a maximum of one arm for support. 3. Pick up a young child from the floor. 4. Carry two 5-pound bags of groceries for five blocks. 5. Lift a 20-pound suitcase into the overhead compartment of a plane. 6. Balance on one leg for 30 seconds, eyes open. (Bonus points: eyes closed, 15 seconds.) 7. Have sex. 8. Climb four flights of stairs in three minutes. 9. Open a jar. 10. Do 30 consecutive jump-rope skips.

The full list is much longer, with more than 50 different items, but you get the idea. Once they’ve read it, I ask them to please select which of these tasks they want to be able to perform in their ninth, or better yet 10th, decade. Which ones do they choose?

All of them, typically. They want to be able to hike a mile and a half, or carry their own groceries, or pick up a great-grandchild, or get up if they fall down. Or play 18 holes of golf, or open a jar, or fly somewhere on a plane. Of course they do.

That’s great, I say. You’ll make that kid’s day when you pick her up like that. But now let’s do a little math. Let’s say the kid weighs 25 or 30 pounds. That’s basically the same as doing a squat while holding a 30-pound dumbbell in front of you (i.e., a goblet squat). Can you do that now, at age 40? Most likely. But now let’s look into the future. Over the next 30 or 40 years, your muscle strength will decline by about 8 to 17 percent per decade—accelerating as time goes on. So if you want to pick up that 30-pound grandkid or great-grandkid when you’re 80, you’re going to have to be able to lift 50 to 55 pounds now. Without hurting yourself. Can you do that?

I press the issue. You also want to be able to hike on a hilly trail? To do that comfortably requires a VO2 max of roughly 30 ml/kg/min. Let’s take a look at the results of your latest VO2 max test—and guess what, you only scored a 30. You’re average for your age, but I’m afraid that’s not good enough, because your VO2 max is also going to decline. So you can pull it off now, but you likely won’t be able to do it when you’re older.

On it goes. To lift a 20-pound suitcase overhead when you are older means lifting 40 or 50 pounds now. To be able to climb four flights of stairs in your 80s means you should be able to pretty much sprint up those same stairs today. In every case, you need to be doing much more now, to armor yourself against the natural and precipitous decline in strength and aerobic capacity that you will undergo as you age.

Eventually, my patients get it. Together, we come up with a list of 10 or 15 events in their personal Centenarian Decathlon, representing their goals for their later decades. This then determines how they should be training. In the end, most people’s Centenarian Decathlons will probably overlap to a degree. Someone who enjoys stand-up paddleboarding, for example, would perhaps choose “events” focused around building core and cross-body strength. But she will likely be training the same muscle groups as I am doing for archery, and maintaining a similar degree of stamina and balance.

The Centenarian Decathlon is ambitious, no question. A 90-year-old who is even able to board a plane under her own power, let alone hoist a carry-on bag, is doing extremely well. But there is a method to the madness. These individual tasks are not out of reach. There are octogenarians, nonagenarians, and even centenarians right now who are running marathons, racing bicycles, lifting weights, flying airplanes, jumping out of airplanes, skiing the Rocky Mountains, competing in actual decathlons, and doing all sorts of other amazing things. So all these events are within the realm of possibility."

[ukrfeminism]

A new survey of female cyclists from the London Cycling Campaign has unveiled the relentless abuse women are subjected to on London’s roads. Now, a new petition (link below) is calling on the Mayor Of London to take action.

If you’ve never done it before, the idea of cycling in London can be intimidating. Wrapping your head around all the different routes and cycle lanes can be confusing, and the roads are particularly busy and crowded. But these are things that get easier with experience. What doesn’t get easier is having to deal with abuse – something nine out of 10 women who cycle on the streets of London have experienced, according to a new report. 

The research from the London Cycling Campaign, which aims to make cycling in London safer and more enjoyable for everyone, is based on a survey of 1,000 women who travel by bike in the capital. It found that 63% of women experience abuse from other road users at least once a month, with that abuse including verbal, sexual and physical attacks – including women being groped or slapped on their bikes while stopping at traffic lights. 

Women were also concerned about the safety of cycle routes and the infrastructure currently in place, with nine in 10 saying they would start to cycle or cycle more if they had safer cycle routes – for example, protected cycle tracks – for their journeys. Currently, over half of the women surveyed said they were forced to choose between cycling on busy roads without any safe space or through isolated, quiet or dark places for their journeys.  

The campaign group says these experiences – especially the on-road abuse – have a knock-on effect on the number of female cyclists in the city, where two-thirds of the daily cycle journeys are currently taken by men. And the survey backed this up: over 20% of the women said they’d given up cycling, temporarily or permanently, because of abuse. 

Stylist’s deputy editor Ellen Scott knows all too well how scary it can be to cycle as a woman in London. “I cycle to and from work and I love the freedom of it, but every commute has at least one dangerous moment: most often male delivery drivers on their bikes speeding past or cutting you off without warning,” she says.

“I had an incident a few months back where a male cyclist pushed past me and another woman while we were stopped at a red light. He did it so forcefully that I was shoved off my bike and left with a massive bruise. 

“And it’s not just other cyclists, of course. I was egged while riding my bike by some people driving past in a car. The same week I had a man in a van chase me while shouting out of his window because he thought I’d gone through a red light (I hadn’t).” 

Strong Women editor Miranda Larbi has also faced unwanted attention as a woman on the road. “Cycling is a massive part of my life, and I truly believe that it’s improved just about everything – my mental health, concentration, fitness and mood,” she explains. “In the winter – when it’s not raining – cycling is straightforward, but I’ve found that in the summer you tend to get quite a bit of unwanted attention. 

“Just when it gets warm enough to cycle in shorts and a vest, that’s when the horn beeps and shouting starts. I’ve even had a bloke run up to me at the traffic lights and try to sit behind me on my saddle. Men have tried to run after my bike or kerb crawl in cars alongside me. I’m not intimidated but I can see how that would put new cyclists off.”

Following on from the survey, the London Cycling Campaign has put together a petition calling on Sadiq Khan, the Mayor of London, to take urgent action to improve women’s physical and social safety while cycling in London. The suggested changes include providing more high-quality cycling infrastructure so women feel safe cycling on their own and with children, and working to measure and reduce the abuse women are subjected to.  

The petition, which is still available to sign, also calls for local cycle networks around schools and businesses to be improved to encourage more women to use cycling as a way to get around their local area. 

The final petition will be handed to a representative from the Mayor of London’s office at the group’s central London LCC Women’s Freedom Ride on Sunday 3 March. 

“While more and more people are cycling in London and safe cycle routes are rolling out in many boroughs, there’s still too many parts of London where cycling isn’t and doesn’t feel safe enough,” Eilidh Murray, chair of London Cycling Campaign, said of the findings. “Women still face additional barriers to cycling and additional hostility when cycling.” 

Sophie Linden, London’s deputy mayor for policing and crime, also responded to the survey’s findings: “Every woman and girl should be able to enjoy the benefits of cycling in London without fear of violence and intimidation. Yet sadly, across the UK, we face an epidemic of violence against women and girls and today’s report demonstrates the significant impact this abuse and aggression is having on women cyclists.” 

She continued: “It is simply unacceptable, and the Mayor and I are committed to preventing violence against women and girls and challenging the attitudes that enable these behaviours.” 

[yourmomxx]

the birthmark on his cheek

JJ Maybank x male!reader

Summary: One afternoon, you have an interesting encounter while sitting in detention.

Warnings: not really anything, reader is kinda shy I guess?

Word Count: 2.3k

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Anyone who would hear you say the following words out loud, would probably automatically stamp you as an absolute weirdo. But it was true: you liked detention.

Well now, not exactly detention detention. That’s something you never really had to do. But you liked seating yourself into the half-empty classrooms after school ended, placing your laptop on the table and editing the pictures you took throughout the day, until you felt they were useable for the yearbook.

Doing this in school other than at home was somehow more comfortable to you, and it gave you the feeling of being amongst people, without having to actually actively talk to them.

Today was one of those days again. You entered the classroom and took your usual seat in the second to last row, and slowly began unpacking your stuff.

On the teacher’s desk, right in front of the chalkboard, sat Mr Ramos - English teacher and unwilling supervisor of 5pm detention.

He didn’t even look up when you came into the room, most teachers were used to your - quite unneeded - presence by now.

In your opinion Mr Ramos was a nice guy, but sometimes also seemed like the type of person to fantasize about killing his wife and starting a new life somewhere in the south of Europe.

Which was a very specific analysis.

When the clock showed 5pm sharp, Mr Ramos got up and took his attendance list and a pen with a sigh.

At this point, you were already extremely focused on the picture that was shown on your laptop, where you had caught Mitchell Gates mid-air, tossing a ball into the basket, scoring the last-minute winning point for your Highschool’s basketball team.

You vaguely noticed someone coming into the room and taking the seat directly next to you, though you couldn’t really be bothered to look up and check who it was.

You noticed that the classroom was pretty empty for a Wednesday, except for you, Harvey Davenport, and a girl with brown, curly hair and reading glasses. You didn’t know her name. She was one of those people everyone saw everywhere but no one ever really knew.

Maria. Or Martha. Something along those lines.

“Cooke, Amara,” Mr Ramos started listing up the attendee’s names. The girl with the glasses raised her hand.

Oh.

A heavy sigh then came from the teacher, as his eyes fell on the next name written on the list. He suddenly looked very worn out. “Maybank, JJ,” he read.

The person in next to you raised their hand. You felt your heart beating in your throat.

“Present, Sir,” JJ said, smiling cheerfully. As if he wasn’t sitting in detention right now.

Ramos ticked off his name and JJ lowered his arm again.

You managed to spare a side-glance at him sitting on your left. He was almost directly next to the window. His hair was caught under a cap which he was wearing — and he was fidgeting with a pen in his hand.

He was wearing a white tank top that showed off his flexing arm muscles every time he moved and seemed to slightly move his head to a music beat that was playing in his mind.

Quickly, you looked back at your computer screen again so he could not catch you staring at him, and slowly tapped the keyboard to get some work done.

Every once in a while you would let your eyes gaze over to JJ next to you, and every time you were just as fast to focus back on your pictures again.

But this time, when you angled your neck to steal another glance at him, you could feel your heart beat faster once more and the blood rushing into your ears.

Outside of the window that JJ was sitting next to, the sun was slowly setting above the Outer Banks, and the vanishing light threw an orange shade into the classroom.

JJ was sitting with his head laid back and closed eyes. His relaxed face as well as his hair, that had finally been released from under his hat, were angled just right for the light to catch them, and illuminated in smooth gold.

His arms were crossed in front of his torso and he had slumped further into his seat than before. Through the motion, somehow, his shirt must have risen up and you caught yourself staring at the exposed skin of his hipbone.

Carefully, you reached next to you on the table where your camera was placed, and picked up the expensive object to lift it to your eye.

You steadied and lowered your breathing, as if every move too loud or too fast, could wake the boy in front of your lens up and destroy this angelic moment of his relaxation and beauty.

You cautiously focused the lens and when you breathed out the breath of concentration you had been holding, you pressed on the shutter button.

The sound of the picture being taken seemed like thunder in your ears, but when you hurriedly put the camera down and sorted yourself to pretend nothing ever happened, you realized that JJ hadn’t moved a muscle.

You let out relieved sigh and connected the camera to your laptop with an USB cable.

When the picture finally loaded and showed up on your screen, your cheeks heated up and a small smile was forming on your lips.

Just like the model, the picture looked absolutely beautiful, and would look even better when you were finished with editing it.

Taking a closer look, you spotted a little brown dot on JJ’s jawline, just a bit under his ear. You frowned and looked at his real sleeping form, not even caring about being detected right now, and squinted to try and get a better look.

And indeed, on his jawline - an incredibly sharp jawline that was, by the way - he had a small birthmark, just a bit under his ear.

Satisfied, you turned back to your laptop again, and started working on JJ’s picture, your hands still shaking a bit from anxiety.

—

“Hey.”

You could hear a tapping noise. Or scratching. Or both.

“Hey.”

Again.

Slowly, you gazed over the display of your laptop into the mischievously glistening, blue eyes of JJ Maybank.

Sweet Lord.

You looked to the now empty seat at your left, then at JJ again, who was turned around, each leg on one side of the chair and his arms crossed on the backrest.

“Hey,” you managed to get out, closing the laptop just a little bit as to not seem impolite. And to get a better look at him.

“You’re the photographer guy, right?” He asked, still smirking and twirling the toothpick in his mouth around with his tongue while he spoke.

“I, uhm … yeah,” you answered. JJ hummed and focused his attention to the camera lying on the desk where you had placed it next to your computer after you had taken his picture.

Your eyes were flickering across the room, but no one seemed to mind or care what was happening between you and the blonde boy.

JJ reached for the black camera, and you hastily grabbed it out of his hands.

“Sorry but that’s like … really expensive,” you muttered when you carefully put the camera back to where it was before.

JJ raised his hands apologetically. “My bad.”

“So, you like taking pictures?” He was smirking again, just like before, and turning the damned toothpick again, just like before. And your heart was beating and skipping and doing god knows what things that it shouldn’t do, just like before.

“W-what?”

“You like taking pictures?” He leaned closer, maintaining eye contact, and your breath hitched in your throat. “Of me?”

You felt like dying. Right here and there. JJ sat back again, grin even wider than before and blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“It’s just for, uhm … it’s just for yearbook,” you tried to explain. Jesus, hopefully he didn’t think you were some kind of stalking weirdo.

“I’m not some stalking weirdo who follows girls home and likes to take pictures of them naked or something,” you quickly added, but JJ just waved his hand.

“Calm down, man, didn’t even think of it like that. You’re not really a girl’s guy, are you?”

Whatdidhesay?

You sat there petrified, staring at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded, and JJ couldn’t help but laugh at that.

God, you were adorable.

God, was the sound of his laugh beautiful.

“Alright alright,” JJ finally said, still slightly out of breath from his laughter. He repositioned himself in his chair.

Your eyes flickered to the veins on his hand and the leather bracelets in his wrist. This boy was so attractive, it was eating you from the inside out.

“Can I see them?” JJ asked, startling you another time. You raised your eyebrows.

“You wanna see … my pictures?”

JJ shrugged. “If you think it’s worth photographing me then I would like to see the end result.” He started smirking again. “Unless there is footage on that computer you don’t want me to see?”

You felt your ears heat up and quickly shook your head, avoiding eye contact with him. You tried turning the display in his direction, but stopped mid movement.

“I, uhm …” you cleared your throat, “Maybe you should come over to my side. You’ll … see better then.”

Much to your surprise, JJ took his chair and sat down next to you without any comment.

You felt your entire body heat up at the realization of how close he was, and unsuccessfully attempted to calm your shaky hands when you operated the keyboard to show him the pictures.

Most were already well colored and edited, apart from a few exceptions which you still weren’t sure of if you wanted them printed anyways.

When you reached the picture of JJ half asleep in the chair with the light of the setting sun on his skin, you held your breath and gulped, unsure of how he would react.

Next to you, JJ remained silent for a bit. To you, it felt like three times of eternity. It was long enough to let an unsettling feeling sink in your stomach.

Finally, he spoke up. “This is …,” he breathed out, “wow. I mean -” He put his finger on the screen but pulled it away just as quickly when he realized that you probably didn’t like it when he did that.

Truth is, you hadn’t even properly realized it, and it would have been alright anyways because it was JJ Maybank after all.

“I mean, the camera quality, the lighting. I look so -” He paused. “I look so beautiful.” He whispered.

JJ looked at you with a soft expression. “I think this is the best photo someone has ever taken of me,” he admitted.

You felt your heart swell at the praise and your lips curled up in a smile. “Thank you,” you said.

“If you want to, I could print it out for you,” you offered. “Then you can, I don’t know, put it up or something.” You trailed off and shrugged. Suddenly your fingers were incredibly interesting.

You missed JJ’s fond smile as he first looked at the picture, then back to you again. “Yes, that’d be great. Thank you.”

“Really?” You almost shrieked. “I mean …” you cleared your throat. “Sure, sure. I’ll just…”

Mumbling to yourself, you pulled out a pen and wrote the words ‘JJ picture’ on the back of your hand. The blond boy followed your movements with his eyes.

You held up your hand for him to read. “See? Now I won’t forget.”

JJ chuckled and shook his head. “You’re cute, photographer guy.”

Your heart did that thing again. That stupid thing where it started beating faster and made your brain short circuit.

“Maybank, Y/L/N!” Mr Ramos’ voice suddenly rang through the classroom. All the other students also turned their heads to look at the two of you.

The teacher raised his pencil in a warning. “If you can’t stop distracting the students that are required to be here, Y/L/N, then I will have to ask you to leave in the future.”

Your eyes widened and you started stammering an apology when suddenly, JJ came to your aid.

“Understood, chief,” he said and saluted Mr Ramos. When the teacher turned away and everybody started minding their own business again, he added, now looking at you: “Seriously, stop distracting me, Y/L/N.”

You didn’t know if it was the way he emphasized your last name, or what he said entirely, but you felt the adrenaline pumping under your skin and a sudden need to scream. But in the good way, if that made sense somehow.

You didn’t notice how JJ moved his chair next to you, and when you came to your senses again he was already sitting on the table next to you again, twirling a pen in his hand and whipping his head to a song no one could hear, just as nothing had happened.

You felt the heavy feeling in your stomach again and just as you wanted to return back to your work too, the boy turned his head and threw a wink at you.

You smiled, and he smiled back, and you light-heartedly continued correcting your photographs.

—

When you laid in bed that night, you were thinking of tousled, golden hair in the setting evening sun, and toned arm muscles reaching out of a tank top, and a small birthmark right under an ear on a jawline.

That night, you fell asleep thinking of JJ Maybank.

[rotten-c0rps3]

•𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛•

Masc list

Updated: May 27th

A list of my male/masc monster characters. I will be adding more in the future. I will do Character x reader with them, so don’t be afraid to request if one catches your eye!

Ｈａｌｏ

Species: Angel

Gender: Male (but only once he got down to Earth, Angels don’t have genders in Heaven)

He/They/It (Couldn’t care less about what people refer to him as, just doesn’t want to be perceived as feminine)

Backstory: Nobody told Halo it’d be quite so… lonely being on Earth. I mean, up in Heaven, Halo knew everyone. Thats how Heaven was, basically one big office building in the clouds, full of friends. Now, even though being a “fallen Angel” isn’t as bad as humans described it, it’s still pretty sucky. Maybe he’ll find some human to keep him company. Why would the other Angels care? He’ll just say he’s doing his job up close!

Personally: You thought Angels would be interesting? Ha! Nah, just kidding. He’s interesting, just has some boring interests and hobbies. If a causal guy isn’t for you, Halo isn’t either! He’s quite chill once to get to know him, it’s up to you if that’s a good thing. Also, he might be chill, but he’d give you nothing than utter devotion. He will expect the same back from you.

Looks: Well, picture the most beautiful man you can. Then erase that from your mind, because Angel beauty is so much more intense. That being said, he’s a little scary in his Angel form. He’s as white as the moon, with only three fingers on each hand and skin the texture of soft sandpaper. He was no head, a ball of bright light where it would be. Despite his brightness, his light doesn’t hurt your eyes. A single, blue eye sits in where the center of the light seems to be. He’s not often in this form, unless at home.

Human form: Halo has very short, black curly hair. He’s pale, with the complexion of the moon, but not sickly looking. He does have two eyes in this form, but his left eye is heavily damaged-looking. This happened because when he transformed for the first time, his one eye had trouble splitting correctly and made one of his eyes bonk looking. He’s beauty beyond your comprehension, but he dresses like a loser.

Likes: Human food, TV, sleeping, taking baths, his Angel colleagues, when God gives him easy tasks, being in his angel form, platonic intimacy, babies, praise

Dislikes: Rude people, perverts, eccentric religious people, people being able to tell he’s an Angel, not being able to watch TV

Relationships: Doc (Colleague, great friend),

Doc

Species: Angel

Gender: Male (But only after getting to Earth since Angels don’t really have a gender in Heaven)

He/Him (Uses pronouns as a way to “blend in with humans,” doesn’t really care)

Backstory: After hearing his fellow Angel friend Halo got put on Human-watching duty, he quickly made a deal with God to go down to Earth with his buddy. Doc is a prepared man, too prepared most would probably say. So, before his little vacation down to Earth, he made sure to read all the info on humans he could find in Heaven. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lot, and most was out-dated too. The only interesting thing he learned about was human doctors, which he may or may not of named himself after. Maybe a certain human could teach him some new things?

Personally: Truly a loser, but in a totally hot way! A little bit obnoxious about the things he likes. Total “glass half-full” and “Life is beautiful” type guy. If you don’t want a man who’ll obsess over everything he likes, including you, Doc might not be for you.

Looks: He never really leaves his house, ONLY because he’s strictly against changing out of his Angel form. A lean, clean man. Decently hairy, but well dressed and mannered. Usually dressed formally. Despite his Angel form being on the human-looking side, it id very easy to tell he isn’t human. This is because where his face should be, is a large mouth. Kinky, if you’re into that.

Likes: Reading, human medical supplies, the idea of human doctors, history, the way medicine tastes, surgery supplies, sharp things, blood, pain, human emotions, seeing human organs in books, learning about human anatomy, human touch, hygiene,

Dislikes: Accidentally drooling on things, when people are angry at him, when people are scared of him, having to leave his Angel form, rude people, ignorance,

Relationships: Halo (Colleague, great friend),

Percy

Species: Shapeshifting parasite (Made up parasite names are “Happy Tick”, “Paradise Parasite”, and “Pleasure Pinworm”)

Gender: Male (Fluid, can present as anything it wants)

He/it (Presents as male to blend in with humans but “it” would be more accurate to what he is)

Backstory: Once upon a time, a man and a parasite, mimicking a woman, fell in love. Then, they had three beautiful, healthy children. Er… wait, sorry, no. That’s incorrect. Sometime a few decades ago, a parasite found its way into a male host. Then, three little parasites were born from their mother’s corpse, living inside their host father’s stomach. They had their very first meal, eating their way out of the male human before devouring him entirely. (Read Luis’ backstory for more) Sadly, one little parasite only got the scraps. Because of its early malnutrition, whenever it goes into a human form, it never looks quite right. But, you’d love him regardless of looks, right?

Personality: It’s hard to say whether starvation gave Percy his… eccentric personality, or if that’s just how he is. It’s hard to say, mostly because he’s the only one of his specific type of parasite. Percy is a lot of things. Creepily always happy, easy to find annoying, easily excitable, easily harmful, easily manipulated, easily teachable. There are no words I could put to describe the boyfriend Percy would be, but he wouldn’t be a very good one. At least not without a lot of teaching and punishments first. If you like specifically kinky things that have to do with your blood, you’ll like Percy. If you like guys who’ll be on their knees begging one moment and then bitting the hell out of you the next, you’ll like Percy.

Looks: In his natural state, one he’s really only in when inside a host, he’s basically a big glob of black goop.

Human form: Tall, inhumanly so. His limbs are just slightly too long for his body. Percy is sickly pale and uncomfortably thin. He smiles almost all the time, which would be cute if he didn’t look like a rabid dog when he smiles. He has long oily looking black “hair”. His “skin” is impenetrable, making him basically unable to be hurt. This, however, makes it so he does not at all understand human pain.

Likes: Drinking blood in a definitely not erotic way, seeing blood, tasting blood, smelling blood, blood. Also inflicting pain, not because he’s a bad guy, but because he genuinely doesn’t understand it and just likes peoples reactions to it.

Dislikes: Being starved, not having a host, his sister most times, being bullied, when humans can tell he’s not human, when humans doesn’t enjoy the pain he gives them, not understanding things, not knowing things, being compared to vampires,

Relationships: Luis (Brother, decent relationship), Sylvia (Sister, strained),

𝕃𝕦𝕚𝕤

Species: Shapeshifting Parasite (Made up names are “Fluster Flies”, “Love Bug”, and “Kissing Bug”)

Gender: Male (As close to cis as a genderless parasite can get)

He/she (Unlike his sister, he could not give two fucks about what people see him as)

Backstory: (Read Percy’s backstory for more) Growing up, the three parasite siblings were the human equivalent to orphans. Their species was made to be like this, of course. But that fact didn’t make their life easier. The siblings had to do all sorts of terrible things. Such as, steal, scam, assault, kill, kill, kill… Okay.. in their defense, a parasites gotta eat something! It was merciful to spare all those people having to live as unwilling hosts.

Personally: Unlike his… certainly interesting brother and strict sister, Luis is much calmer. He’s quiet, but that’s just because he’s used to blending into the background of his siblings. Very causal, but not with dating. Dating is serious for a parasite, it means they have to be willing to let their faulty humanity slip in front of their host. Luis is ready for commitment, let’s hope you are too.

Looks: Nobody knows what his parasite form looks like. Human form looks nothing like siblings because of their species differences. About average height, looks pretty short next to Sylvia and Percy, though. Luis is the most meaty out of the three, mostly because he’s the best at catching hosts. The guys pretty cute, especially for a parasite. Especially next to Percy. Agh, anyways. He usually keeps his hair pretty short, also unlike the other two. Definitely more human-like compared to Percy.

Likes: When his siblings don’t fight, when Sylvia’s in a good mood, the relationships human siblings typically have, feeding on people’s lust, feeding on people’s human emotions, being alone, being outside, being compared to vampires,

Dislikes: Crowds, touchy people, fights, blood, perverts, being poor, having to kill for food, his “father”, death,

Relationships: Percy (Sibling, fine relationship), Sylvia (Sister, neutral relationship),

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧

Species: Zombie

Gender: Nonbinary (Doesn’t understand human gender but is fine with whatever he’s seen as)

He/she/they (Doesn’t really care)

Backstory: Long ago, a woman found out she had the misery of never being able to have children. Fortunately, she knew a little magic. When about twelve men and women died, Shawn was born, sewn from their flesh and filled with salt to slow the process of decay. Unfortunately, since his “birth”, his mother was killed for her actions and he’s now slowly rotting away. Maybe you and him could go dig up his mother’s old spell book.

Personality: Shawn was once as happy as a kid could be. He danced, and sung, and did everything a normal kid would. Then his mother died. He was left alone for years. He’s been adopted by a new caregiver, but he’s not the same. He’s quiet, he’s a shut-in. Maybe you could bring some of his happiness back.

Looks: Shawn is pretty handsome, for sewn together corpses anyway. His hair is choppy and different colors, ranging from blonde to black. Since his mother’s death, no one has been able to treat him properly to slow the process of rot, so he’s missing his right leg. He has a wheelchair, although he much prefers to use his crutches.

Likes: His mother, animals, being alone, the forest, nature, old houses that smell a little weird, TV, reading, art, poetry, old things, cooking, cleaning, helping out,

Dislikes: Insects, rotting, death, having to rely on other people, old people, being forgotten, the people his mother killed, the people who killed his mother,

Relationships: Jane (Caregiver, neutral), Linsey Abigail (Mother, were very close)

Gᵣₐₙₜ

Species: Siren

Gender: Cis male

He/him

Backstory: Grant was like any other siren. Growing up with no parents, he had no one to lead him. He had to watch humans just to figure out how to live! This, perhaps, is what gave him a superiority complex of thinking of himself like a god. Man or god, Grant is terrible. A true fixer-upper, if you will.

Personality: Although Grant is selfish, apathetic, and quite frankly stupid, the title of “Grant the God if Greed” he gave himself is quite appropriate. He ain’t no god, but he loves to be greedy. It’s really sad, though. Being so heartless means no one likes him, and that means he’s alone all the time. Maybe he’d share his riches with you, but you gotta at least entertain his pathetic ass first.

Looks: You know the human tale of half-fish, half-human? Well, that is true for mermaids and mermen, but not sirens. Sirens are pretty human, actually. Well, except the gills, and discolored skin, and fins, and fish tail sticking out of their backside. For a siren, Grant is pretty human looking. Which helps when he has to blend in to steal. He has rich, golden eyes and choppy brown hair. He’s not a young siren, so don’t expect Prince Charming. His clothes are usually dirty, and no amount of stolen jewelry he wears covers that.

Likes: Eating fish, stealing from pirates, getting away with stealing, jewelry, being viewed as superior, shiny things, gold, the ocean, his cave, his treasure, how simple and fragile humans are,

Dislikes: When his plans backfire, getting hurt, humans finding out he’s not human, being out of water too long, when it’s mermaid breeding season,

Relationships: None (He’s a loser)

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Trouble

Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Dean pretty much hated you from the beginning. You were snobbish and bookish. He was no better in your book, but when you get hurt you see a different side to the salty hunter. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all…

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 3660

One Shot

Author’s Notes: It’s been a rough week guys, so here is a fluffy, sexy little one shot to make you feel better. It made me feel better…. but then, Dean always does.

Dean Winchester, the cure for what ails you!

Masterlist Geronimo (sequel)

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his morning smoothie in one hand and his morning paper in the other. Sam loved a routine. The life of a hunter was pure chaos most of the time it was easy to become unbalanced, physically and mentally. The youngest Winchester discovered a long time ago that if he kept to a personal routine that he could ground himself in it. It provided a solid foundation to build his life on and to Sam Winchester, that was vital.

Since finding the bunker, it became much easier to establish a daily routine. Dean called it nesting and although he didn’t get up with his brother to go running, he too had his routine. Shuffle half asleep through the bunker until he reached the galley. Grumble as he filled his favorite Scooby Doo coffee mug with strong, black coffee. Furrow his brow and scowl at anyone who dared talk to him before he drained his second cup. Rinse, repeat.

Right on schedule, the eldest brother entered the kitchen looking like a bear woken early from hibernation. He grunted a hello as he passed, heading right for the caffeine. Dean leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as he took sip after sip of black gold.

After a few minutes, he looked over at Sam who had that amused smirk on his face. “What?”

Sam turned back to his paper, feigning disinterest, “Nothing. Rough night?”

“My night was fine; my morning was crap.”

Sam knew exactly what his brother was grumpy about but decided to poke at him a bit. Just for his own brotherly amusement, “Oh?”

Dean glared at his brother, “Don’t give me that, I know you heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Damn it, Sammy… The damned Hallelujah chorus coming from the showers!”

“It wasn’t Hallelujah. It was Respect.”

“It was five in the fucking morning! If Aretha Franklin doesn’t come back from the dead and kill her, I will!”

Sam sighed. This was just the latest on Dean’s long list of infractions committed by their houseguest. Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Opposites in practically every way, which is exactly why they needed her to part of their team. They needed a fresh perspective, and you provided one that was both educated and creative. You weren’t a hunter, but you had a smattering of relatives in the life. You grew up knowing what was really out there and you took it upon yourself to stay informed. You didn’t go looking for trouble, but it seemed to find you anyway.

“Dean, just talk to her, like a reasonable adult. She’s really not so bad once you get to know her.”

Dean was already on his second cup of coffee, “I already know plenty. She’s a stuck-up, tone deaf, know-it-all who uses all the hot water. The sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can send her happy little ass on her way.”

Sam didn’t reply. He knew his brother and this “protests too much” act, was just that. An Act. Dean had it bad for their new roommate and didn’t even know it. Poor bastard.

Dean glanced around the room, “Speaking of her highness, where is she?”

“Walking the dog.”

“Hmm, the dog can stay. I like the dog.”

The loud slam of the heavy, bunker door echoed through the halls along with muffled voices. One they recognized as yours, the other was agitated, and male.

They exchanged a what the hell look and immediately took off towards the commotion.

“What is this place? It does not look like a temple.”

“It’s not a temple, exactly. It’s a temple of knowledge, sort of. A home base,” you explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your patience was growing thin. Your clothes were torn and muddy and you ached everywhere. This morning really wasn’t going your way.

“It does seem secure,” the man allowed.

“It is,” you assured him. “It’s very secure. Completely safe, so you can just put me down…”

From the entry way came the voice of the most irritating man you’d ever met, Dean Winchester. “Wow, nice skirt.”

The huge, muscular man who held you in his arms immediately went on the defense. In an astonishingly swift move, he shifted you from his two arms and tossed you over his shoulder with one hand while he drew a broadsword from his belt with the other. “Stay back or I will cut you where you stand!”

Both brothers drew their guns and you found yourself in the middle of a damned stand off!

“Drop it, Tiny!” Dean barked, keeping his weapon trained on the giant that was standing in the war room. Seriously, the guy must be almost eight foot tall. He was big enough to be Andre the Giant’s brother and was dressed like an extra from the movie 300.

With you hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Dean could only see your backside and legs. Not a bad view, he had to admit.

Nice ass, for a prissy snob.

“Put down the girl,” Sam commanded. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

The intruder laughed then; a full-on belly laugh that shook his whole mighty frame. “Hurt me? You are weaklings, obviously suited to temple work. You know nothing of combat.”

Dean’s mouth quirked and he cocked his gun, “You’d be surprised.”

You were growing more exasperated by the second. The blood was properly rushing to your head now, making you dizzy and giving you a headache. Plus, you’d really just had it with the machismo showdown. “Just stop it, all of you! These are my friends, the ones I mentioned earlier. The warriors I told you about.”

The man looked skeptical, “These are warriors?”

“Yes, they are. These are the good guys. So please, just put me down.”

He made no move to accommodate you, “Friends, perhaps but they are no warriors. You would do well to entrust your safety to me, lady. I am the one true champion.”

You’d finally had it. You smacked his back sharply and let out a stream of rapid, scalding Latin.

The Winchesters knew plenty of the dead language, but even they didn’t quite catch what you said. Whatever it was, it proved effective. The stranger sheathed his sword, pulled you from his shoulder and sat you slowly down in a chair.

Red faced, you shoved the mess of hair out of your eyes. You sat a little straighter and tried to remain dignified. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is… Hercules.”

They both holstered their weapons. Sam spoke first, instantly fascinated. “No kidding, really?”

Dean seemed more concerned with you. He scowled down at you, his eyes darting from injury to injury. You had tears up and down the sleeves of your shirt that showed scratches still bleeding. Your right cheek and temple were scraped up and you were holding you left ankle off the ground at an odd angle.

“What happened, are you alright?”

His tone was gruff and impatient, and he frown was intense. You knew he didn’t like you any more than you liked him, but was a little sympathy too much to ask? You already felt like you got your ass kicked, you didn’t need to be scolded on top of it.

“She is injured and should be attended to at once,” said Hercules, his voice ringing with authority.

“I’m fine, I just fell.”

“I found her trapped at the bottom of a crude pit in the forest. Once I rescued her, I brought her to this fortress as she requested.” Hercules looked around the bunker in wonder, “She said this was a place of safety.”

“It is,” Sam said.

Dean knelt down in front of you, prodding around leg and ankle, earning a hiss of pain from you. You tried to push him away but were unsuccessful. You were tired now that the adrenaline was fading. All you wanted was a hot bath and a bed.

“There are about a dozen holes out by the south bend of the river. Not very wide, but like seven feet deep, the riverbank looks like a Whack-A-Mole game,” you explained. “He just popped up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me! I fell down one of the holes and twisted my ankle.”

“You never should have been wandering the woods unescorted.” The massive hero folded his arms over his chest and gave each brother a firm dressing down, “Where I come from, no warrior would allow their lady to face the dangers of the world with nothing but a useless hound to defend her!”

Macey, your clueless black Labrador, suddenly looked up from her station at the base of the stairs and thumped her tail.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call us?” asked Sam.

“I lost my phone when I fell down that stupid hole.”

Dean had heard enough. With a grunt of annoyance, he scooped you up and strode off towards the infirmary, “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

Left with little choice, you reluctantly wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck. You felt frustrated and foolish. You were supposed to be here helping them, adding insight, and providing expertise. Now you looked like an incompetent klutz who had to be rescued all the time. Plus, this was the third phone you’d lost. Add irresponsible to the list of faults.

“I perfectly capable of patching myself up.”

“Yeah, how you going to do that? That ankle is either sprained or broken. Either way, you aren’t going anywhere without help.” Dean gently set you down on one of the beds. He fixed you with a firm look, “Why don’t you just accept it without a bunch of static for once?”

He had a point, but you didn’t have to like it. That strong independent streak in you ran deep and had been reinforced by years of working alone. It had gotten you through every uncertain situation in your life. A small part of you felt that accepting help, even for something simple meant losing your hard-won strength. Of course, the throbbing pain in your ankle didn’t seem so small at the moment.

Dean returned with an arm full of supplies. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. When he reached for your right foot, you instantly yanked it back. His eyes snapped up to meet yours and he softened. He may not like you, but he still didn’t like seeing you in pain.

Someone doesn’t like going to the doctor.

“Y/N, you alright?”

You nodded rapidly, “Yes, of course. Sorry. Reflex.”

“We’ve got to take that boot off. See if its broken.” At your nod, he gingerly grasped your leg, “Try not to kick me, okay?”

“No promises,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady while Dean worked to loosen the laces of your hiking boot.

When he went to slowly tug at the heel, you yelped and yanked your foot back again. Obviously, he needed a different approach. “You know, maybe it’s not your ankle that’s bothering you.”

You blinked in confusion, “What? What do you mean?”

“It’s me. I make you nervous.”

Your denial was swift and expected. “No you don’t!”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, “You’re not nervous?”

“No. Of course not. Even if I were, it wouldn’t be due to you. Hercules himself is sitting in the library, another mystery dropped in our laps needing to be solved. If I’m feeling anxious, its only because I’m eager to get back to work.”

Dean shrugged, “I thought maybe you were worried I was going to kiss you again. Or maybe you were worried I wouldn’t”

Your mind instantly snapped back to that hazy day in the kitchen, Dean’s lips on yours as his hands tangled in your hair. His hard body pressing up against you as he backed you up against the wall. Every part of him that touched you burned hot; his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his breath as it mingled with yours. He ignited a fire within you that day, and it had been smoldering ever since.

You swallowed unconsciously and met his gaze. A mistake. Your cheeks heated at the intent you saw reflected there. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t given it a second thought.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, “Really? You didn’t like it then?”

Dean’s hand was back on your leg, resting there. You could feel the warmth of his touch through your pant leg and your heart sped up. “I didn’t say that.”

He grinned then, slowly. Dangerous and sexy. He leaned a bit closer to her as his hand slid up behind your knee, the contact unexpectedly intimate.

You took an unsteady breath, “I know you’re just trying to distract me.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth, “Is that a fact?’

“Yes, you do it all the time! Strutting around the bunker like your God’s gift to flannel, making bacon 24/7, and you talk through every episode of Doctor Who!”

“God’s gift, huh?”

“Ugh!” You pushed at his shoulder in frustration, “You are so annoying! Arrogant and rude and I don’t like you at all!”

The fire in your normally calm eyes was fascinating.

Man, she is fun to rile up! Such an easy mark too. Odd, given how perceptive you were in pretty much all other areas.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” In one swift move, he pulled the heel of your boot, popped it off and slid your foot out.

You dug your fingers into Dean’s arms and let out a stream of colorful curse words. “Christ almighty!”

Dean chuckled until he saw your face blanche, “You alright?”

“No! Why don’t you just chop off my foot, you sadist!” You screwed your eyes shut against the wave of pain. Now that your boot wasn’t keeping pressure, it was hurting far worse. “Fuck, I’m seeing stars.”

You could feel him get up and when you opened your eyes again, he was already returning from across the room. He held out three small white pills and a glass of water. You swallowed them quickly and downed the entire glass. You watched him as he cut away your sock and expose your injury.

“Pretty shade of purple,” Dean whistled as he ran his fingers over the already turning colors and swelling around your ankle bone. Ever so gently, he probed, searching for a break. “Alright, go ahead and move it for me.”

Trying to ignore the pain, Y/N concentrated on Dean’s face. There was kindness there, under the swagger and grit. The man chopped the heads off monsters, battled demons and fought evil every day of the week. By rights, his touch should be rough, hardened by the hunter’s life. Instead, he was the opposite. Studying his chiseled features, it became clear that Dean Winchester’s true appeal was in how deeply he cared.

“Good girl,” he praised when you wiggled your toes, “Any numbness, pins and needles?”

You shook your head when he glanced up at you, “No.”

“Good. Nothing broken. Looks like you’ve got yourself a nasty sprain.” Dean made quick work of wrapping her ankle. “How’s that feel?”

“Better.”

He smiled as he settled an ice pack on top of the wrap and moved on to the scratches up and down your arms. “Huh, yeah. Gotta love those little pills, they kick in quick.”

You tilted your head, “Those pills… Ibuprofen?”

Dean dabbed disinfectant along the cuts, “No. I don’t remember what they are. Had a few left over from when Sam broke his elbow. Guess it’s your lucky day.”

Y/N grabbed his hand, “Wait, so they weren’t just run of the mill, over the counter pain killers?”

He chuckled, “Nope, way better, believe me.”

“Oh, hells bells,” you groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? What’s wrong? Are you allergic?”

“I’m a lightweight Dean, I don’t even drink! Those pills will have me knocked out in an hour!”

Dean shrugged and continued his work, “Ah well, there are worse things.”

You could already feel your body relaxing, though you tried to resist. Fighting it would be useless in the end; it was just the way your body processed drugs of any kind. Naptime, it was so frustrating. “What about Hercules?”

“Don’t worry about your boyfriend, I’m sure Sam already has it halfway figured out by now.” Dean dabbed the cotton ball over the thin scratch angling across your brow. Your glassy eyes met his and he had to smile. “You really are a lightweight, aren’t you?”

You frowned at him, “Why do you think I never drink with you guys?”

“I just figured you were stuck up.”

“Oh.”

Dean could tell by the way your expression fell that he’d hurt your feelings. He could chop the heads off monsters all day long and not feel an ounce of remorse, but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Words had the power to cut deeper than any machete or silver blade.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and rummaged through the bandage box. “It’s just you don’t really spend any time with us unless its working. Figured that was intentional.”

“Why would I force social interactions on someone who doesn’t like me?” You returned; your words blunt. “That would be stupid and counterproductive.”

“Fair point,” he grunted as he gently placed a clean, white bandage over the biggest cut. “I don’t not like you though. I like you.”

At this point, you were really having trouble concentrating. Even the tiny muscles of your eyelids were turning to mush. It was all you could do to keep your concentration, but Dean had been an ass to you since day one. You weren’t about to let this opportunity to find out why pass you by.

“Then why are you such a dick to me?”

“I’m not a dick! Not all the time.”

It struck you then, God you were thick! Your jaw dropped, “Wait! Is that why you’re a dick? Because you like me?!”

Flustered, he got up and packed away the first aid supplies. “Those little pills really are messing with your head.”

“I’m right! This is like the grumpy hunter’s equivalent of pulling my pigtails on the playground!” You grinned widely because you solved the puzzle, “You’re flirting with me!”

He returned to the side of the bed and looked down at you with an unreadable look on his face. In a lightning-fast move, he swooped down and lifted you into his arms. Your face was now inches from his, his bottle-green eyes bored into yours with such intensity that your stomach fluttered.

“When I flirt with you, you’ll know it.”

This time your gaze flickered down to his lips. God, I hope he kisses me again!

“I like you too,” you admitted, your words slurring slightly. “I guess I just like dicks.”

Dean burst into laughter and your eyes widened when you realized what you’d just said.

“Damn it! Not like that! I mean… I do like them… but…just,” You sputtered, frustrated that you ruined the mood. “Shut up!”

Dean continued to chuckle as he carried you down the hall to your room. You grew heavier as you relaxed in his grasp, and you rested your head against his shoulder with a sigh. Those happy, little pills nearly had you asleep in his arms. Not that he minded, you fit surprisingly well there. And you smelled amazing. It was that expensive perfume you wore, light and clean. It made his mouth water.

“I’m making your coffee Irish tomorrow; you are one funny drunk.”

You only hummed in response. He nudged the door to your room open with his hip and laid you down on your neatly made bed. He took one of your throw pillows and propped up your wrapped ankle before removing the boot from your other foot.

Your eyes fluttered back open when he took the spare quilt from your chair and tucked it around you. Your smile was soft as you grasped his hand and tugged him down to sit beside you on the bed.

“You got everything you need, Sweetheart?”

You nodded while your thumb traced patterns across his knuckles. “Thank you, Dean. For taking care of me.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. A delightful combination of warm, soft lips and prickly stubble. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Just as he was about to pull away, you angled your head up and caught his lips in a kiss. He was surprised but quickly smiled into it. Different than the kiss you shared in the kitchen; this one wasn’t hurried. It was gentle and exploratory, like a flower slowly opening up to the light of the sun. Dean had never received a kiss so tender. You kissed him like you meant it in your heart. It made him feel, special. Cherished.

When you finally drew back and let your head fall back against the pillow, you saw the look of pure astonishment on his face. You smiled, your eyes half-mast. “I feel better now.”

He brushed the hair back from your face, letting his fingers run through the silky strands. You were already drifting off; he shook his head. “Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

“Dunno,” you murmured, finally letting sleep take you. “But you will.”

Dean sat there for several minutes, considering your words as your breathing evened out and became slow and deep. He did like you, far more than he should. You weren’t his type at all. You were prim and proper. You valued intelligent conversation and musty library books. You drank chamomile tea and wore fancy clothes. If anything, you were more Sam’s type. Classy. Ladylike. In that moment, the salty hunter realized two things. One, he wondered just how ladylike you were going to be lying naked beneath him. And two, he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.

[esters-notepad]

It may not always be obvious on the outside, but the inside of my head is a weird place. Somehow, my brain attached itself to the idea of combining the @chrumblr-whumblr challenge with Johnny Cash songs, and wouldn't let go until I made a list. Half of the songs are from American IV, the other half from a collection of greatest hits. If somebody wants the list, drop me a comment and I'll post it!

No guarantees that I'll write all through May. In fact, no guarantees that I write anything more about this at all. But I did write something for the first prompt: blindfolding.

Jenkins tried to breathe slowly. The rough sack over his head trapped the heat and damp like crazy. As if this blasted jungle wasn't hot and humid enough in the first place! His hands were going numb from the too tight handcuffs around his wrists, and the stones on the ground dug painfully into his knees and shins. The one silver lining of the day, Jenkins thought wryly to himself, was that the Koreans didn't seem to know that Susan was a girl's name. They'd taken down his rank and full name without so much as a twitch. Not at all like the first time he'd been taken prisoner of war, by the Germans back in 1944. They thought he was from the WAC at first. Then, after an intrusive medical examination established his maleness beyond a doubt, they'd scheduled him for execution in the morning, as a sexual degenerate. Thankfully, he'd been rescued that same night. Jenkins shook his head, trying to put the memories from his mind. Apart from that horrible day in Normandie, Pa's little scheme had prepared him well for a life in the Army. Everywhere he came, there was speculation about what the S meant, of course: Stan? Sam? Steve, perhaps? Jenkins never told anybody, but it always came out anyway. Sometimes he'd have to bust a few heads over it, but usually it stayed at good-natured ribbing. He was a good soldier, and people appreciated that.

Jungle animals cried out to each other. Somewhere in the middle distance, a motor vehicle drove away. The Koreans talked with each other, softly enough that Jenkins couldn't have heard what they were talking about even if he'd understood the language. Jenkins shifted his knees, trying to find a softer spot. He idly wondered what his old Pa could be doing right now. He had to be getting on in years, just like Ma. He'd gotten a Christmas card from him once, the year after their big showdown. Jenkins never replied, could never think of anything to say, and so there weren't any more cards. Did the old man even know that his son had gotten married? Maybe Ma had told him. Jenkins couldn't help himself. When he thought of Milly and Ma in their little cottage at the edge of town, he broke out in a proud grin beneath the sack. The two most wonderful women in the world, caring for each other in his absence. And ever since his last leave, Milly was expecting. She knew, of course, that he had no intention of putting his own sons through the same hell he'd grown up in, even though it had worked out all right for him in the end. So when she wrote to tell him the good news, she wrote "I know that if it's a boy, you want to name him Bill after my father. But what if it's a girl? Then can we name it Sue after you?" I love you, Milly, Jenkins thought. Dear God, I love her so much. Keep her safe - keep the baby safe - please keep me safe, and let me come back home and meet the baby and provide for them. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.

[jinisnuggets]

Hii, I recently found your account and saw you have treasure on your fandom list and would love you to do something them related.

Could I request a high school fluff story between fem reader x Doyoung? Doyoung, yn, and Yoshi have friend group trio where yn has a crush on Doyoung but he already has a girlfriend?

𝕀𝕥'𝕤 ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕋𝕠 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕋𝕣𝕦𝕖

Pairings: High School! Doyoung x Highschool! Fem Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Genre: Fluff, angst with a happy ending

Warnings: Breakup, sensitive language, mentions of bullying, mentions of cheating

Synopsis: Doyoung, Yoshi and you have been best friends ever since middle school, however when you entered highschool your best friend Doyoung got a girlfriend, what you couldn't tell him is how you felt about him for so long even before you ever spoke a word to him.

Doyoung's relationship with a girl who soon became popular in the school just stopped all the plans you had with Doyoung and Yoshi. every time you and Yoshi tried to hang out he would always bring up his girlfriend.

The next day after you all moved in together as roommates, Doyoung came back to the dorm upset, when Yoshi went to talk to him you overheard them say how his girlfriend started an argument over him moving in with you.

Of course she did..

Truthfully, you never liked the girl, Jeong Sihyun. In your past school, she was your classmate and made your life a living hell. She and her friend group always loved to target you, they even once pushed you right off your chair. The disappointment you felt when Doyoung announced her as his girlfriend just made you want to splatter the absolute nastiest things at him.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to tell Doyoung, he had liked her for so long and although it bothered you.. you would never be capable of breaking them up.. even when you knew it was for the best.

Doyoung loved her, and she seemed to like him too, although it disgusted you.

But soon the love faded when you constantly heard arguments between the two when she used to come over.

It went from arguments of Doyoung forgetting things to arguments of you.

You only ever heard your name come out from both mouths.

"IF YOU DON'T UNFRIEND HER I'LL BREAK UP WITH YOU RIGHT NOW!"

"SHE'S MY BEST FRIEND!!! WHY CAN'T I LIVE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON FOR ONCE??"

"It's either me or her, Doyoung. You choose, it's not okay to have a female best friend and a girlfriend."

"Oh just like you made out with your male best friend on the bus last week? Fine then, I chose her, and we're over!"

Upon hearing Doyoung's harsh words to his ex, you were left in complete shock. How much patience does he have for him to have not broken up with her right after he found out what she did?

After she left you exited your room, Doyoung was sitting down, the mood felt odd, as he wasn't happy and cheerful as he always was. Part of you was glad, finally things would return to the way they used to be, you could finally hold Doyoung's hand again, the three of you could finally go out and eat breakfast together on the weekends, you guys could finally take your yearly trips, you finally wouldn't hear all over the hallways how Doyoung was cheating on Sihyun with you, everything would return to the way they used to be.

But half of you felt guilty, you were the only reason they fought so often, the reason they broke up…

"Doyoung…. I'm sorry… it's my fault the happiest moments of your life ended-"

"How long were you planning to hide the fact that you used to be bullied by her?"

The silence was too loud at the moment, gosh how much you wish Yoshi hadn't gone out with some friends to the movies.

"We were best friends… what do you mean bullied?"

"Don't you dare lie to me Yn, I know you were bullied, and she was the person who you hated most."

"She never laid a hand on me!"

"Yeah right, just like she kicked your chair while you were sitting on it."

"How did you-"

"You could've been honest from the start, you predicted this would happen from miles away."

Your heart sank, now your guilt felt endless. You wanted him to stop, stop hitting you with his harsh words.

"I'm not mad at you… I'm not upset about this break up either… I just didn't understand why you kept it from me for so long…

"I'm sorry Doyoung, I didn't want you to break up with her since you loved her so much…"

"Loved her? It's impossible to love her, she never liked me, she just dated me for her own advantages."

"I'm sorry…"

Doyoung stares at you while you stare at the ground, you felt like you wanted to disappear, but you suddenly got a burst of shock upon hearing Doyoung start laughing.

"How are you in such a happy mood!!? You just broke up with the person you love-"

"What if we text Yoshi to hurry up? I'll invite you guys to eat dinner tonight."

"What?"

"You didn't expect me to cry over her right?"

"Well.. honestly I kinda did.."

"Wow Yn, you know what? I'll invite Yoshi to eat tonight-"

"Hey! That's not fair!"

You start chasing Doyoung around the dorm, finally you laughed with him again, you finally saw him smile again, finally things were going back to how they used to be.

You and Doyoung sat on the couch as you waited for Yoshi to return from the movies, although it was silent you couldn't help but smile to knowing things would finally get better for all of you.

"Afterall it's hard to find someone true.."

You look at Doyoung, confused but knowing his sentence had a meaning.

"It is…"

Just as Doyoung opened his mouth, about to speak, Yoshi opened to door and ran to Doyoung, although it was a loud mess for a while, you all smiled and chatted the entire way to the restaurant.

You never found out what Doyoung wanted to say that night, he never told you either. Therefore you never knew the exact reason for Doyoung's sentence, but you never asked after that.

Afterall he's right, although it's hard to find someone true. You found your true, and helped him find his..

[rbelle310]

Imagine frumpy secret agent Sakusa Kiyoomi being forced to masquerade as a male model to investigate a human trafficking ring fronting as an agency.

He's got his crazy curls exactly like he did in high school except worse, hasn't worn anything suitable for polite company outside of his work clothes.

It's not an exaggeration to say that Agent Sakusa's entire closet is basically carried over from college when he went to class in his jammies, and his high school sweats that don't actually fit him anymore but he wears them anyway.

The man isn't fit to be seen in public, but thankfully he's not going to be alone in this.

Enter disgraced stylist, Miya Atsumu who once worked behind the scenes in some of the most glitzy and glamorous events from red carpets to Rakut*n Fashion Week.

His only flaw apart from (in his opinion) being too handsome for this world? The man is a complete asshole, with a nasty temper and a tongue like a rasp.

After a public altercation in which Atsumu was filmed screaming at an A-list actor for being a hideous, pig-faced scrub without a lick of poise, he's been black-listed in the industry. He now spends his days plastered when he's not 'helping' his twin in the restaurant.

Life seems pretty bleak for Atsumu, and then one day he gets a call from some guy calling himself 'Kuroo'.

"Myaa-san, I heard from a kohai that you're 'the best he's ever worked with, even if a little scary'. So how would you like a chance to redeem yourself?"

Atsumu thinks it's a joke and tells Kuroo to go fuck himself. But then he gets an email with Sakusa's photos.

He looks at the hair (he can almost see the birds nesting), the uniform (nice) and the faded Itachiyama sweats that hang two inches above his ankles (lord have mercy).

It's a mess, but to Atsumu's discerning eye, he can see the canvas.

Sakusa Kiyoomi may look like he spends his free time wandering Akihabara in flannels, but he's also tall and well-built with a jawline so sharp you could cut glass with it.

There's also, as Atsumu realises after staring at the attachments for an inappropriate length of time, a slight pout to Sakusa's lips that would pop nicely with the right tint.

"When I'm done with ya, you'll be the prettiest boy at the ball." he murmurs, the beginnings of a grin forming. Just a hint though. He doesn't want to get carried away.

"Tsumu! Stop jerking off back there, lunch rush is startin in ten minutes!"

"FUCK OFF SAMU!" Atsumu yells back, "I'M WORKIN."

He stuffs his phone in his pocket, throws the apron off (nearly tripping in the process) and runs out the door.

Five minutes later, he comes back, puts the apron back on and finishes lunch. He's an asshole, not irresponsible.

Of course Atsumu takes the job, he's more excited than he'd like to admit. He's getting ideas in his head, all the things he could do with that raw material.

If only he'd actually *met* Sakusa Kiyoomi first before agreeing.

Pretty Sakusa, fussy Sakusa, a frowning Sakusa who turns to his chief and says, "I didn't agree to this. I thought we were just buying clothes."

The agent is only a fraction taller than Atsumu, but he holds himself in a way that Atsumu can almost look up his delicate and pointy nose.

"I don't need some control freak with a dye-job turning my life upside down. I just need to dress the part to get my foot in the door."

The other agents in the room hold their breath awaiting the eruption of Mount Miya. Of course, they'd all seen The Video. One of them chokes back a snort, round eyebrows writhing with the effort of not laughing.

Some muscle in Atsumu's cheek twitches. He's smiling, he tells himself, he's not going to explode. He's not. He's...

"YA THINK ANY MODEL AGENCY WILL LOOK TWICE AT A PIG IN HUMAN CLOTHES?! YA DO IT RIGHT OR I'LL SHAVE YER FUCKIN HEAD AND LET YA WALK NAKED!"

It takes half the agents to pry Atsumu off Sakusa and the other self-sacrificing half to stop Sakusa from successfully macing Atsumu.

A while later, Kuroo walks into the tech office where their lead analyst Kenma is replaying footage of the fracas.

"Well that went well."

This is the recipe for a late 90s action comedy with maybe a lick of thriller, an obligatory fashion montage and so much, so so much unresolved sexual tension.

Brought to you by Karasuno Productions and the director of Haikyū Fighter.

Coming soon to a theatre near you.

[artemis-entreri]

Jarlaxle’s Uncertain Age 2

Although no listed time (as far as I know) has come about for Jarlaxle’s age he could not be as young as 245 years old. As of the book Timeless (I’m not all caught up on these books) Jarlaxle is already mentioned by name by Matron Zeerith on Briza Do'Urden’s 100th birthday. In Homeland Briza is mentioned to be around 400 years old when she dies in 1339 DR. Timeless further clarifies her age by stating that Briza was born in 1018 DR

“

Dalereckoning 1018

“A hundred years,” Patron Rizzen said to Matron Malice Do’Urden, the two in the small chamber that served as a throne room in the minor house of Daermon N’a’shezbaernon, more commonly known as House Do’Urden….“Few matrons have served for a full century,” the often-oblivious male added. “This is a great day. A great day for you and a great day for House Do’Urden.” 

“House Do’Urden,” Malice echoed with a derisive snort. She had taken control one hundred years before to the day, the day her first child, Briza, was born, the day her mother and matron, Vartha Do’Urden, died.” - Timeless

So here we can see that Briza is actually 321 years old when she dies. 

Once Briza leaves the Xorlarrin compound Jarlaxle takes notice of her and himself claims to be somewhat older.

“From the shadows of an alleyway beside the gates of House Baenre, a dandy-looking young drow watched Briza Do’Urden run from House Xorlarrin. He lifted his eyepatch—a recent magical acquisition, enchanted to show him things his eyes could not and to prevent him from being seen by things other than eyes—to better survey the woman. She wasn’t much younger than he, and he thought that, yes, he could indeed note the resemblance to her rumored father.” - Timeless

So at this point, 1488 DR (the year “Hero” ends) Jarlaxle should be more than 470 years old. This also explains why very few drow know that Jarlaxle is a Baenre noble, because most of the ones who were alive at the time of his birth are already dead, or were not in a high enough position to know more about the inner workings of the Number 1 house. 

My guess, and I will update this as I finish off the rest of the books, is that Jarlaxle is even older than this. My reasoning is that the longer your life the less strict people typically are with amounts of time. For a 10 year old, a single year is a huge difference, but for a 40 year old, saying someone is 5 years younger than them seems like a small difference. Drow can live up to 700 years (except for a few notable examples) and at over 100 Jarlaxle could easily be 120 years old when making that statement.

The orignial post about this topic came out before Timeless was released, so the author of that post cannot be faulted for entertaining the idea that Jarlaxle might very well be 245 years of age. I also acknowledge that the original author themselves stated and provided evidence for why they believe Jarlaxle is around 500 years old, and turns out, the original author was correct! 

Tl;dr Jarlaxle Baenre is at least 470 years old, at least according to the book “Timeless”. 

[[ Sorry for answering this 9 months after it was submitted, I kept meaning to do so but always got waylaid with work before I could take the time to go through my old posts and newer source material.

Way before I sat down and looked through all the source material, i.e. the novels, D&D sourcebooks, supplemental material like the Villains’ Lorebook, I speculated that Jarlaxle was around 700 years old. I don’t believe I ever posted that anywhere though, as it was purely baseless speculation.

Before continuing further, I feel that it’s important to note the original timeline of the posts that are being responded to:

- The original post I made about this topic was on January 16, 2018. 

- The follow-up post was also made on January 16, 2018. As of today (June 12, 2022), that’s approximately 4 and a half years ago, and as of the time that this Ask and Submission came in, that would’ve been about 3 years and 9 months after those posts were made. The contents of those posts are very much out of date, as the Generations Trilogy wasn’t even known to be in the works at the time of those posts. 

- Timeless, the first book in that trilogy that details Zaknafein and Jarlaxle’s youth, was published on September 4, 2018. 

- A hint about its existence first appeared on February 6, 2018. 

- Timeless was confirmed on February 12, 2018 by Salvatore. 

- I finished the Advanced Reader Copy (ARC) of Timeless on July 22, 2018. 

Going back to the original first post, I’d explicitly stated even then that I didn’t believe Jarlaxle could be 245. This is what I wrote as the very first paragraph in that first post:

When I first saw Jarlaxle’s age in the game, Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, which shows it as 245, my immediate thought was to disregard it as factually inaccurate and entirely too young. At 245, Jarlaxle would only be 50 years older than Drizzt, something that seems highly improbable given their respective maturity and worldliness. Furthermore, we know from the books that Jarlaxle and Zaknafein got into a lot of mischief together at Melee-Magthere, and because Zaknafein was sacrificed when he was over 400 years old, if the two were the same age, that would put Jarlaxle at around 500 years old in current Realms time.  

In addition to dismissing 245 as his age, I also estimated that he would be around 500 years old prior to knowing about the existence of Timeless and subsequent books.

I did go on to discuss that 245 age because, also as I explained in that first post:

Although I personally subscribe to the belief that Jarlaxle is around 500 years old rather than half that, it came to my attention that, barring confirmation from Bob or WotC, Idle Champions’ stated age for Jarlaxle is just as valid as other speculations about his age. 

What is considered canon has always been a struggle for WotC, with so many different types of media and products to manage, which ultimately led them to them declaring a bunch of things as being non-canon to the TTRPG part of D&D on July 21, 2021. However, before that point, basically anything that appeared in official WotC products could be canon, and in fact there was a lot of debate about the listed information in Idle Champions due to the game being an official WotC product but also presenting information that many fans found incongruent. As someone who has always tried to find ways to make seemingly nonsensical canon make sense, as well as being a resource that others come to for that kind of thing, I wrote this bit as an effort to reconcile Idle Champions’ given age for Jarlaxle:

Playing Devil’s Advocate, practically speaking, it’s possible for Jarlaxle to be as young as 245. Yvonnel the Eternal gave birth to Gromph when she was 1355 years old. Although it makes a certain degree of sense for a drow Matron Mother to produce offspring quickly in succession after achieving her seat of power, there might have been complicating factors that caused the third-born son to appear especially late, with only daughters appearing before Jarlaxle. Although we only get to see some of Yvonnel the Eternal’s children, she had twenty of them, fifteen of whom were priestesses. Given how favored females were in drow society and how such a high ratio of female to male offspring signified Lolth’s favor, Yvonnel the Eternal probably wasn’t in a real hurry to pop out her 3rd son. But, it had to happen eventually, and it’s not like she ever had to worry about becoming infertile. After all, even as she approached 2000 she was able to birth Berg'inyon, and it’s likely that had she not been cut down by Bruenor’s axe she’d pop out a few more Baenres.

It should be clear from the very beginning of the sentence that I didn’t actually believe that Jarlaxle was 245, if the paragraphs prior didn’t already convey that. I cited that I was playing devil’s advocate, which means taking an opposing or unpopular cause for the sake of argument or to expose it to a thorough examination. In this case, I took that position to offer a possible interpretation for a way in which Idle Champions’ canon could be valid. I also did this for a more whimsical reason, which I’d explained in the last paragraph of that post:

I’m putting all of this out there though as I’d imagine some might be interested in a teacher/student scenario involving Zaknafein and Jarlaxle, in which the former would out-age the latter by a couple centuries. This isn’t something that I care about much one way or another, but I figured some might have a lot of fun with it. :P

I wanted to note that there are precision issues with your statement, “Drow can live up to 700 years (except for a few notable examples)“. It is the case that drow certainly can live up to 700 years, and as you noted, Yvonnel the Eternal was one such outlier, having lived to 2000 years. However, your statement gives the impression that the average lifespan of (Lolthite) drow is around 700 years, which is very much not the case. In general, elves have average lifespans of 750 years, however the average lifespan of Lolthite drow is significantly lower, due to the nature of their society compounded by the dangers of the Underdark. As for specifically how much lower, let’s look at the likely origins of the average lifespans for elves stated on the Forgotten Realms Wiki (with thanks to Tolantra):

By 2e rules, the maximum lifespan of elves is 750 years, with the maximum for drow being 525, minimums being 354 and 228 respectively. These ranges only take into account non-outliers, such as infant sacrifices and unnatural old coots like Yvonnel the Eternal. 

Going back to Jarlaxle, as of this point in time, there’s no way to know exactly how old he is. We may be given this information in the future. As of what we have available now, as of the current Realms year in the novels, which is 1490 or 1491 DR, we’re led to believe that Jarlaxle is older than 473. Starlight Enclave takes place in 1490 DR, and the ARC of Glacier’s Edge doesn’t give any specific dates (although this could change in the published version). Glacier’s Edge does state that the northbound party spends several months in Callidae, but it isn’t specified how many months. 

Briza would be 473 if she had not died, and her age is the only detail that we are explicitly told. Jarlaxle believes that Briza is younger than he is, but this is far from being hard evidence. He could well be right, but he could just as well be off in his guess, especially with how elven appearances cease aging after reaching sexual maturity, not to mention there existing the phenomenon that some people are older or younger than they appear. It’s shaky to build solid conclusions based on speculation, which is what Jarlaxle does when he ponders Briza’s age. He could very well be the same age as Briza, possibly even younger.

In summary, although it is most likely the case that Jarlaxle is older than Briza and is around 500 years of age, there is no way to tell for sure with the information that is available currently. It’s even inaccurate to put down a specific age range for him, because there isn’t hard evidence for it. We would need to see the details for any assertions related to his age, otherwise any such assertions are purely headcanon. Which is perfectly fine, but it isn’t canon. ]]

[mytruthandbeauty]

27 January 2024

I’m writing this to share some of my joy at my finally choosing a home country, at finally being able to say that I’ve concluded that I’ve found a place that accepts me and that I accept. A place where I feel safe and have peace of mind. I thank the universe for bringing me here and opening my eyes to all it has to offer and for it not turning me away. I’m not a world traveler even though a few people have referred to me as such, but I’m sure that was in jest. I know that I’m privileged to have been able to travel at all. I have only been to five countries outside my home country and I’ve spent most of those three and a half years in Mexico and I’m blessed that Mexico has allowed me to be here all this time. During that time I’ve left Mexico three times, but I’ve always returned. I’m not going to try to make this attraction into some mysterious or spiritual thing I’m too practical for that. The draw Mexico has on me is very practical even though there are also some elements that appeal to my need for beauty. Life teaches you that you should be true to your real self if you are going to be happy with your life and being surrounded by beauty is something that I need to be happy. Mexico supplies beauty in spades. You have the natural beauty of the varied landscapes, the artistic beauty created by its people and the beauty of the smiling faces of the people. But I’m not writing this to talk about aesthetics but the down to earth reasons I love living here.

The most important factor in why I continue to live in Mexico is I am not concerned with or afraid of being confronted by transphobia. I have not had anyone say anything, do anything or act in a transphobic way toward me ever. I am not saying that, that sort of thing doesn’t happen somewhere here or to someone, but it hasn’t been my experience. I haven’t seen a single person out in the streets preaching that gays or trans people are sinners and going to hell. I haven’t once been referred to in male terms by a Mexican except maybe once or twice and when I asked the person if they had done so, they professed that if they had it wasn’t meant to misgender and they apologized for the misunderstanding. I have unfortunately experienced this once by a man at the airport and when I confronted him he offered no apology. He was a white American, surprise, surprise! But in all fairness I’m pretty sure I was once misgendered by a boy, a Mexican, from whom I was trying to get directions and he worked at this building inside a booth behind a plexiglass window. When I asked him if he called me sir he just gave me this dumb smile, so I can’t be sure if he did or if I misheard what he said. Still a couple times in about three years is not very bad. It had been a lot worse back in the states.

My next element about living in Mexico that really makes life a joy is having access to affordable and good quality healthcare, which includes being able to get prescription medication over the counter at very affordable prices. Fortunately for me I am fairly healthy so I don’t need to go to see a doctor often or routinely, but the few times that I have had to see a doctor even though I don’t have insurance I’ve been able to pay for my visits out of pocket because the price was so minimal I think the highest price I have paid has been something like US$40 but in Mexican pesos. so I’m not afraid to go to a doctor whenever I need to do that.

The next thing which is very high on my list is affordable housing. I have been able to always secure housing that is not just well priced but comfortable clean safe and in typically lovely neighborhoods and all of these places have been fully furnished which includes not just the furniture, kitchen appliances, but water and Wi-Fi. I do have to buy bottled water for drinking, cooking and brushing my teeth, but that is a minor cost of $35.00 Mexican pesos for one 20 liter bottle, which typically lasts me about a week. I’ve only had to pay electricity and in most cases I think one place I had to pay for my propane gas, which I used for the stove and hot water, but that typically was only about seven or eight dollars a month. This is not the same as housing, but when I look for an apartment I always look for a place that is in a walkable setting meaning that from my place of residence I can easily walk to all the places that I would typically need to go on a day-to-day basis such as pharmacies, grocery stores, possibly hardware stores, maybe a café, or a restaurant, supermarkets, department stores and banks. When I’m out walking I don’t want to be in constant fear for my life due to the proximity of high speed traffic, you do have to sometimes be aware of the traffic, but often there are streets that don’t allow for frenetic driving, because they are narrow, have visual obstacles that make drivers slow down and the pavement is cobble stone which slows them down too. Drivers here tend to be more courteous and respectful of pedestrians as a rule in my experience, so you have that going for you as someone who maybe getting around on foot. Also on the subject of safety, I have not once felt unsafe the entire time I’ve lived here, not from the national guard with their assault rifles or a casual passerby.

One very simple, but equally important element to good living in my estimation is having ready access to inexpensive fresh unprocessed foods, this is something that I think is under rated by so many people, but so vital to a high quality life. In just about every location in which I’ve lived here I’ve only been a few minutes by foot from a tienda/frutería where I could always get fresh vegetables and fruit. Sometimes there might not be certain items available, but that was simply because they weren’t in season, so you’d get something else. I think it’s better that way and things aren’t being frozen and shipped hundreds or thousands of kilometers just to satisfy a few overly demanding customers taste buds. And that kind of behavior is bad for improving climate change anyway. Another thing about food that is so good here is panaderías. Panaderías are small bakeries that bake their own bread and pastries fresh daily and I love that, because I love fresh pastries, that was something I couldn’t get in my birth country.

And last, but certainly not least, is the weather. Mexico generally speaking has great weather, but here in Oaxaca there are annually 311 days of sunshine. The humidity is comfortable. I’ve only been here during autumn into winter and the days are comfortably dry with mostly sunny skies. The elevation is 1,550 meters or about 5,160 feet which probably accounts for the cooler nights which get to about 50F/12C and warm afternoons of about 80F/28C, like today it started at 53F/13C and this afternoon it’s now 86F/30C. The sky is a bright blue with just a scattering of pale white clouds and the sun has been bright all day. So, these are my reasons for living in Mexico and returning to Mexico at a glance and more importantly why I’m going to make Mexico my official home by getting legal residency. I’ve started the process by searching for a lawyer to help me make this dream a reality and I meet with him soon. Hopefully all will go well and I’ll have my residency card soon. As I said at the beginning of this post I’m not a world traveler. My ambition has been to find a home. I don’t believe that home is simply where you’re born, that is just a circumstance of your birth and that place may not align with your values or suit your needs, tastes or desires, it’s a circumstance you can change if that is what you need to do for whatever reason. I know that I will still want to travel sometimes, but after my residency is secure I’ll have a home to which to return, so it will be vacations to other lands and having a country in which I feel safe and have peace of mind to return will be the icing on the cake. And again I am very grateful to Mexico that I’ve been able to live here and hopefully will soon call it my home. I tried to offer a restrained essay on why I love Mexico, I could easily have made this a very flowery piece, but that I think would have gotten in the way, and in so doing share with you the joy I feel for this wonderful opportunity that life has given me. I will post my progress toward my Mexican residency as development occurs in the mean time thanks to anyone who reads this.

[befenvs3000f23]

Week 5 Blog Post

Since it’s a free writing week I figured it could be fun to blog about one of the projects in my other course since it’s (tangentially) related to this course as well. In my vertebrate structure and function course (ZOO 2090) we’ve been given an assignment to make a small informational piece about a species from an approved list of vertebrates. I wasn’t too keen on any of the species I started looking at until I came across the various Amphiuma species. I had never heard of these creatures before but they’re incredibly interesting! They’re a species of aquatic salamanders (I always loved finding salamanders as a kid so there’s another reason why I found these fellas so interesting) which are found along the southern states along the Gulf of Mexico.

What I immediately found most interesting about these amphibians is the general lack of information about them. There’s still plenty to find with some research and digging but compared to other species there’s seemingly little. What I have managed to find out about them has only intrigued me more, they’re physiology and behaviors are so unique! For starters, like other amphibians they begin life in a larval stage. In this stage they will have external gills and live aquatically but only for two weeks. Compare this to something more common like a leopard frog which takes from 3-6 months to complete their metamorphosis and become a full frog and you’ll see this is an especially short time for an amphibian to retain its larval characteristics. On top of that, once amphiumas become adults they lose their gills and primarily use their lungs to breathe… even though they almost exclusively live in the water for their adult lifetime, which can be upwards of 15 years. It seems like everything about these little critters is designed to make whoever is looking at them raise an eyebrow.

On top of all these strange physical features there’s also many strange behavioral traits. As mentioned before they breathe with lungs but since they live in the water they must regularly come to the surface to breathe. They can also breathe through their skin but this seems to be less common since they’re lungs can be over half the length of their body and thus they can retain air for a long time within them. Another unique feature is that the males will reproduce annually yet the females only reproduce every other year. 

To relate this back to nature interpretation a bit more, I find all this super interesting but seemingly one of the reasons why there’s less knowledge of amphiumas is that they’re not endangered, don’t have an overly specific niche and are tough to find. Spending all their time living in murky waters alone lets them avoid humans but on top of that, there hasn’t been an especially pressing reason for humans to research them. As an interpreter, these are the kinds of things I’d love to share with others. People know enough about salamanders generally that if they were presented with these amphiumas they’d surely be intrigued too. I think the slightly mysterious aspect can really draw people in to want to learn more.

It seems I’ve hit my word count fairly quickly ranting about my newfound interest in these little creatures, hopefully some of you found it interesting too:)

Image source: Missouri Department of Conservation

[c-c-2]

“Kindred” by George Sterling (1869–1926) (1), Poetry Magazine, Volume I. No. 3. December, 1912, collected by Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). “The New Poetry: An Anthology” 1917.

Musing, between the sunset and the dark,

As Twilight in unhesitating hands

Bore from the faint horizon’s underlands,

Silvern and chill, the moon’s phantasmal ark,

I heard the sea, and far away could mark

Where that unalterable waste expands

In sevenfold sapphire from the mournful sands,

And saw beyond the deep a vibrant spark.

There sank the sun Arcturus (2), and I thought:

Star, by an ocean on a world of thine,

May not a being, born like me to die,

Confront a little the eternal Naught

And watch our isolated sun decline—

Sad for his evanescence, even as I?

Illustration: “Arcturus next to the head of Comet Donati in 1858” from Edmund Weiss (1837-1917) (3) "Bilderatlas der Sternenwelt" (1888-1892)

Notes:

(1) George Sterling (1869–1926) was born in Sag Harbor, New York, and after studying poetry and considering the priesthood in seminary, he moved to California to work in real estate. He was the author of many poetry collections, including “The Testimony of the Suns, and Other Poems” (1903), “A Wine of Wizardry and Other Poems” (1909), “Beyond the Breakers and Other Poems” (1914), and “Selected Poems” (1923). He was a member of the elite Bohemian Club (1a) and wrote two of its plays: “The Triumph of Bohemia” (1907) and “Truth” (1923). He counted the writer Jack London as a close friend, and Ambrose Bierce and Ina Coolbrith as mentors. After being a prominent figure in the Bohemian literary scene in San Francisco, he helped to start an artist colony in Carmel-by the Sea, California. He committed suicide by cyanide in 1926.

(1a) "There are two elements, at least, that are essential to Bohemianism," George Sterling once wrote in a letter to Jack London. "The first is devotion or addiction to one of the Seven Arts; the other is poverty. . . . I like to think of my Bohemians as young, as radical as their outlook on art and life, as unconventional . ."

The Bohemian Club was founded as an official regular meeting of journalists, artists, and musicians in 1872. The building’s exterior is adorned with plaques bearing owls and the Club’s motto, “Weaving spiders come not here,” just as it had when early members Ambrose Bierce, Mark Twain, and Jack London roamed its halls. That soon changed, however, when local businessmen and entrepreneurs were granted admission.

Still headquartered today in its original location at Post and Taylor, it has become among the most exclusive men’s clubs and/or secret societies in the United States. Club standards remain so high that honorary membership is offered to only some United States presidents, usually bestowed prior to their inauguration, and a select coterie of international business leaders and policy-makers.

Every year the Bohemian Club holds a two-week-long gathering at their private forest in Sonoma County, Bohemian Grove. The notorious “camp” reunites members from around the world to participate in male bonding, unabashed bacchanalia, and debauchery such as relieving themselves on the surrounding redwood trees in a “display of man’s power over nature.” The half-sanctimonious Cremation of Cares opens the festivities, in which members figuratively (and sometimes literally) burn away the responsibilities of their outside lives.

The present corps are understood to include George Bush (the elder), Henry Kissinger, board members from Halliburton, Bank of America, and international members of the so-called “oiligarchy.” Put bluntly, the Bohemian Club’s roster can read like a complete list of modern day hegemony, replete with powerful, conservative white men. To this day, very few Jews and even fewer black members have been granted admission to the elite circle.

(2) Arcturus, also called Alpha Boötis, one of the five brightest stars in the night sky, and the brightest star in the northern constellation Boötes, with an apparent visual magnitude of −0.05. It is an orange-coloured giant star 36.7 light-years from Earth. It lies in an almost direct line with the tail of Ursa Major (the Great Bear); hence its name, derived from the Greek words for “bear guard.” As one of the brightest stars in the sky, Arcturus has been significant to observers since antiquity. (2a)

(2a) In popular culture, the star’s name brings “A Voyage to Arcturus” (1920) by David Lindsay (1876-1945) to mind. It is a gender-bending, genre-smashing novel that is a neglected landmark in the history of science fiction and fantasy. Cited as a major influence by J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, its impact continues to resonate across medium and culture. In Lindsay's vision, a young soldier travels the multiverse in search of meaning. In the star system of Arcturus, he will encounter astonishing new worlds containing strange and inexplicable transformations. He will fight Gods and become them. His story is a revelation, a riddle and a ride. This gloriously strange and singular ur-text is unjustly forgotten and gives evidence to the many meanings and cultural currents that went into this work, one that changed the course of a century's worth of fiction.

Though he is today regarded as a profoundly influential author of sci-fi and visionary fiction, British novelist David Lindsay struggled to publish during his life. “A Voyage to Arcturus,” his first novel, didn't see print until he was in his mid-40's, and his career as a writer saw very little critical or commercial success. He died in 1945, leaving behind several more manuscripts, which remained unpublished after numerous rejections, and an unfinished novel. A year after his death, Arcturus was republished. Bolstered now by praise from authors and critics including C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, the popularity of Arcturus spurred a republications of Lindsay's other titles and the publication of his previously unpublished works, including his unfinished final novel “The Witch.” Experimental in both form and content, Lindsay's novels may not have found their readership while he was alive, but today, they are recognized and praised for their singular vision, deep impact on multiple genres, and unique blend of fantasy, philosophy, and science-fiction.

(3) Edmund Weiss (1837-1917) was an Austrian astronomer. He was born in Frývaldov, Austrian Silesia, now Jeseník, Czech Silesia. His father, Josef Weiss (1795–1847), was a pioneer of hydrotherapy. His twin brother, Adolf Gustav Weiss (1837–1894), became a botanist.

In 1869 he became a professor at the University of Vienna. He was named the director of the Vienna Observatory in 1878. He also served as president of the Austrian österreichischen Gradmessungskommission, the degree measurement commission. He published a number of comet observations and ephemeris' in the Astronomische Nachrichten between 1859 and 1909. In 1892 he published "Atlas der Sternenwelt", a pictorial atlas of astronomy in German.

Weiss died in Vienna on 21 June 1917. The lunar crater Weiss is named after him. Asteroid 229 Adelinda, discovered by Johann Palisa in 1882, was named after his wife, Adelinde Fenzel Weiss, with whom he had seven children. The asteroid's name was given by the Astronomische Gesellschaft during its meeting in Vienna in September 1883. Adelinde Weiss also named the asteroid 583 Klotilde after their daughter. Asteroids 265 Anna, 266 Aline and 722 Frieda were also named after members of his family.

[kingchisum]

So I’ve played sports my entire life. I started with coed t-ball, no one said a thing about boys and girls playing together then(ages4-6 if I remember correctly), and score was not kept. Then I played rugby into high school(2x state champion as a 14 year old playing against kids up to 16 years old), the coach had a daughter who played with us a couple of times, she outran us all. And I know that is the reason he let her play sometimes, she wasn’t ever going to be tackled, and if she were to be tackled it would have been a back who was similar to her size. In a sport like rugby it is dangerous for young girls to play with boys after a certain age because of puberty. It’s the hormones for the most part that make the difference, muscle mass growth and type are determined by these hormones, that has been scientifically proven. So if we were to test anything in regards to athletics it would be hormone levels, but guess what, they don’t always correlate to our dichotomous definition of gender. Some people born with vaginas have naturally occurring “male” levels of testosterone and vice a versa. And I find myself incompetent to say anything about intersex individuals, so all I can say is I support them and hope that they don’t get pushed to the side once again, because it’s a hard thing to think about. Checking genitals, makes no sense, checking hormone levels makes half sense, so neither should be implemented for any reason. Children’s sports should not be scored, oh yeah strap in, this isn’t just a rant about one thing. You see, there is no point to it. Some kids aren’t trying, some kids don’t even want to be there, others just aren’t attracted to athletics. So it is never an actually fair contest, it is never a good measure of how good one team is over another. Did we forget about how almost all top level schools from middle school up to college recruit kids who aren’t even in the same district as all of their peers? I mean there is just such little sense involved in even thinking about checking genitals or banning humans from competing because their body doesn’t match the way they feel, that it makes it hard to even think about this subject, and yet here we are. People will say that there must be scoring in kids games, how else will we know who won, how else will we know when the game is over, how will we make an entire team of children feel inferior to another team of children? Important questions? I think the fuck not. Did I love hoisting my trophies and feeling the cold medal bump my chest, fuck yeah. Was it worth the anguish of others, hell no? Adults have the freedom to choose wether or not they want to compete, I think most people would be shocked to learn that a lot of kids don’t want to play sports. Think about it, what percentage of adults plays sports after high school? Not many in my experience, why, because athletics is a tiny percentage of the hobbies and extracurricular activities that exist. You know like making models, wood working, doing drag shows and or races(I’m a big fan of both). Sorry, that’s pretty much the rant but I have a really good idea to tell you now. Dragging with drag queens. Two person teams, not a single genital will be checked, unless otherwise desired(and yes I know that drag isn’t inherently sexual). First event drag race, second event drag show, and then the twist. Round two, everyone swaps around, the racers do the show and the queens do the racing. Oh my gosh, I can’t contain myself, what a bucket list item, oh man.

[thelostandforgottenangel]

Working with teenagers can be a job in itself... and honestly is funny as shit!

Had to physically put my body between a seventeen-year-old bimbo and a customer because the girls brother who works with us and is higher then the moon made a sandwich wrong, took 35 minutes to make two sandwiches which takes 2 minutes and total to prepare then didn't make them right, customer was calm and cordial until she was told to shut the fuck up by a child...

While training ... Manager caught *same girl* giving oral to a guy behind the dumpster to get out of doing dishes cause she didn't want to work 🤣🤣

The teen's playing 'Guess Angel's age' cause theres no way I'm older then them, so far I'm as young as 18 or the early 20's

Made one guy shit himself when I told him I was 48...

Collecting change out of DT and parking lot during lulls in customers

*Free drinks and discounted meals*

One guy found out I am Poly and Bi - has not stopped questioning me on my life choices, how can somebody keep up with so many relationships when he cant get a date ... even though I'm convinced he is a man whore

One girl calls me 'Mommy' and I have decided she is my child

Girl overheard me joking with a friend about liking it rough and enjoying pain *was not being dirty just talking about life fucking me on repeat and wanting to go to tattoo therapy* - Asked me if while in bed with somebody I ask them to hit me (when explained by other person in the lobby that I'm a survivor of DV, SA, and SH she apologized PROFUSELY ... but it was funny the way she said it so now I can't let her live it down and have to walk around on her shift yelling 'Hit Me!' over a headset)

I have to give two guys shit cause they over salt the fries and fuck up handing out orders while I'm running three stations

*Sexual Innuendo ALL THE TIME*

My boobs are a hot topic... because I am the only female on my shift and apparently they are amazing to the male workers

Working 3 jobs and being told others *the teens* feet hurt and they have to sit down, I dont understand what they are going through... while working on a twisted ankle and hurt back

'Where did you get an apron!?!' It's an old part of the uniform that never changed but most locations don't use

*stupid boy* 'How are you so nice!? That customer just yelled at you' *Me having been minding my own danm business just trying to survive my 10 hour shift* 'I have multiple personalities and this is just the one I let be seen because you dont want to see the other lady' *stupid kid scoffing* 'Theres no such thing as multiple personalities! Its fake... my religion says-" 😑😒

Had to listen to a 17 year old tell me Depression is a choice I have made and his beliefs say I am just sad so I should just take pills to feel happy

Being asked 10+ times a day every shift if I'm pregnant or am I sure I'm not pregnant cause I like eating pickles and have found they are tasty in ranch without being fried

Being looked at like I'm fucking nuts if I start dishes early, put away another shifts shit, pick up boxes too heavy for me, start taking 2 orders at once, start assigning tasks while manager is busy

Smiling at the Karen that fucking has to be a smartass cause her food hasnt been brought out at 5 minutes

Some if the teenager's are salty over me already being promoted after only being there for a month and a half *like I don't have 2+ years experience and actually do my job - yeah not sure why I'm getting offered to be promoted either*

Hearing a kid tell me I don't know how hard thier job is only to walk over and do it for them moments later cause 'it's so hard'

Manager's know I will handle shit so the moment I walk in the door I am assigned to prep veggies, salads, ect. and then I get handed a list of assignments so I can make the kids on my shift actually work instead of sitting on thier phones or in lobby... Yes I do enjoy this

Getting enjoyment out of seeing my manager looking shocked when I work late, clock out, and have to change clothes into something revealing cause my next shift starts in 30 minutes and I need tips

Roasting the pothead teenagers on my shift cause even when I'm doing it, everyone is laughing and relaxed

[hotdamnmadison]

Old About Me Section - Fet Life

Getting To Know Ashley

REALLY LOOKING FOR A LOCAL TOP IN THE (REDACTED) AREA. WANT A BOYFRIEND ON THE DOWNLOW. ANYONE OUT THERE?!?!?!

So much to write, so much to tell. I guess it is refreshing to know that I'll only have to write this once (as opposed to the countless ads on other sites I've used).

I WRITE A TON!

Please take the time to read it all if you intend on messaging me.

Let's start from the top :) You can call me Ashley - I am a 28 year old crossdressing male. I live as Ashley when my privacy allows for it (not often, unfortunately). To be blunt, I live a double life. Due to my work and home life, I rarely get the chance to dress and become my other half. Scheduling has been (and likely will continue to be) a conflict. But I have found that since 2019-2020 I am starting to become more comfortable with this side of myself. And the day may come that I reveal myself to the world (or at the very least some close family and friends.) In the meantime, you can expect to have to work around my crappy schedule :( sorry!

Why are you here Ashley?

Great question. Honestly I go through stages in terms of what it is that I want. I've been objectified. I've been dominated. I've done the sissy clichés. And I've found a lot of self proclaimed alpha males. It's fun sure - but it isn't what I am after anymore. Please pay close attention to the list below and see if you fit one of the following :)

1. A Loving Top

Currently I am looking for something a little more dedicated (pretty silly considering my home situation). I am looking for a man who wants a legit down low relationship with a crossdressing sissy. I'm your girlfriend, you're my boyfriend. We meet up when we can - and when we can't, we can communicate electronically (more on this later). Looking for a guy who is creative, intelligent, a problem solver, and cares about my pleasure and emotions just as much as he cares for his own. I've hunted for this exact person on other websites. Many claim to be what I am after - but it never takes long for them to show their true colors. Usually my scheduling conflicts and neediness cause most convos to crash and burn. My hope is to find someone who is patient and is truly in it for the long haul. I am hoping to find a man who thinks about me as much as I think about him. I could write about this mystery man for HOURS but… moving on.

2. A Bunch of CD/TV/TG Friends! :D

There is nothing more sexy than a group of friends getting together for a photoshoot and some fun. I am hoping to uncover a small handful of friends that like to play dress up and have some fun :) Over the last few months, I have gone from being interested in JUST bottoming to being open to the possibility of topping another cute CD or TG. This sentiment doesn't carry over into the realm of masculine men - and I'd prefer to be with other feminized individuals if my cock is involved.

The Yea's and Nay's

I LOVE being locked away in chastity, ignoring my dick and playing the role of the girl. This means my only sex organ is my ass. Have had men in the past beg for access to my dick - and I respectfully decline. I love attention and dedication to this idea of a real relationship - even if it will end up never truly materializing into a forever partner. It is still fun to live the fantasy with someone who is equally excited. I love big dick. Have been with smaller men before and (unfortunately) it just isn't the same as taking a monster. Black men are a huge plus if they're out there and want to date me! :)

I HATE being asked to change or adjust my preferences. This is exactly why I left the other websites. So many guys don't quite fit the bill so they demand I become something else. Please remember you are inquiring to me - not vice versa. So don't try and talk me into what you want and out of what I want. I hate short sentence writers. We are trying to build a relationship - so you should want to communicate :) … You can never write too much and I love a man who can write a couple of detailed paragraphs.

[mightymorris95]

Weird Background

I recently got out of two serious long term relationships where I was a unicorn for one and pushed into an monogamous relationship with someone that was not the healthiest. Which ended in a reset of scenery and demeanor. I am now doing a self love and self exploration thru exploring my body and bounds in an open dynamic with a rotation of friends that I have known since childhood.

The important stuff

For safety sake everyone's names will be edited. My name is Monique. I am weirdly deep into astrology but it doesn't make me close minded or jaded to anything else.

I am an Aries Sun and In 80 to 90% of my relationships I practice a submissive role in the public eye and authoritative figures of my hard core long term relationships. I was the go to when it came to bringing a winner home to mom. Some one quiet, meek cordial. Very clear and flexible to adjust my social boundries and norms. When it came to my sex life I was any aggressive animal. I would assert myself dominate in all aspects when it came to my sex life. I was reckless, impulsive selfish and sometimes cold when it came to my sex life. I let no one. None of my partners. Male or female take 100% control when it came to my sex life. It felt powerful. I was god like. I enjoyed pushing my partners to the brink of brokenness and vulnerability.

However....

Recently..... I met my maker....

For years I had been intermediately visiting the same 3 people that would let my aggression force them to break under the weight. Until... I met him. Mighty Morris. He is a Taurus. He is direct, discreet and more cautious then I ever could be. I have been with him once or twice in the past but nothing in the last half decade..

The first time we ever laid together, He was the first straight forward genuine person i had been around all my life. (Or at least at 19 it felt that way) He was the first consensual sexual encounter I had ever had. Here I was 18 middle child of three, holding on desperately to my virginity for it to be taken in such a deceptive way. To then wait a year for a guy to emotional drag me and not even take my virginity. So her I am sore and gullible at 19. Trusting Mighty with a little more than I should. It was a magically breath taking exprience.

Im now 26.

The first time we reconnected. It felt like the same route and routine. After coming to a table and discussing some explorations we wanted to try. I was open to the idea. I never knew being a dom was so exhausting. Always starting sex, setting the mood, carrying and mediating the sex session and doing emotional after clean up and care. Actually listing it made me realize how hard I made things by not embracing being a sub sooner. Did you know I made it a habit not to climax at all in order to milk my significant other and absolutely tiring them out. Even playing with myself before so in the perfect circumstances when everything realign. I wouldn't fold. Wont catch me slipping. I wont be caught up or tied down. But this man caught me up. Tied me down after folding me like a lawn chair. The weird bliss I felt not having to worry about holding out or holding on. The Magnificent Mighty Man has around 7'-9' inches of absolutely tap out. Ive never encountered such a connection. He pushes me to invest in me by pushing me to where I have to care and check in.

Ive honestly never known someone who could leave my body so sore and aching in the most euphoric  way. To feel my pelvic floor grasp around him in our positions where Ive clear came and Im clearly tapped energy wise, he takes a moment to analyze the situation. Then proceed with caution until hes build momentum back up to 'Scramble my mind thru my pussy'

All in all I think these recent encounters have taught me alot about being a sub. I like making him happy. I enjoy hearing his heart race as Im pleasing him. He keeps such a wonderful poker face that the tenderness in his eyes when hes releasing his load on my face... makes me wet all over again. Even when I am in the worst position physically I know I am open and willing to always please him.