#This is not a safe space for dolphins

[themintman]

I am loosingmy marbels

[gizdathemxel]

i think the thing that bothers me most concerning radfem/terf thought is this weird bioessentialism that hangs around it — the idea that man/masculinity = always bad and women/femininity = always good, which is just so icky ??? like it’s a dehumanization of everyone regardless of where they fall on the gender spectrum, it kinda assumes that there is just one kind of man/masc or woman/fem (which under european standards, is NOT a very good thing), and also completely ignores how intersectional feminism and gender is.

like unfortunately some of the biggest misogynists are women. like let’s not forget that there are plenty of women who are willing to throw other women under the bus for male validation (think nlogs, and pick mes) or literally just bc they do not fw other women. let’s not forget that women in positions of power over other women (and even men!) can and will use that power (white feminists pushing aside feminists of color, the white tears phenomenon/violent rapist movie stereotypes/abled bodied women participating in eugenics against disabled women and men)

though not as much as I’ve seen men be complete creeps and weirdos, i have also seen a lot of dudes engage in feminist thought and try to challenge the patriarchy in their own lives.

I’ll be 100% clear and say that yes men are much more likely to commit acts of violence against women (or anyone perceived as such), but falling into that bioessentialist thought is literally so unhelpful. besides everything I’ve alr stated, it also just re-affirms the “validity” of patriarchy by dehumanizing everyone. like “ofc men are misogynistic evil sexist pigs bc they’re men; biologically they’re just like that” and “ofc women are perpetual perfect victims; they’re women, they can’t do or be anything else”. you see what I’m saying

like it is cathartic to be like i hate men or i wish the world was just full of women and stuff but its honestly kinda scary to that kind of thought be taken seriously in feminist spaces

tldr: bioessentialist (man naturally have these traits and women naturally have those traits) is bad; it completely ignores the other nuances alongside gender (race, class, ability) ,dehumanizes people to things they can’t control, and ignores serious issues committed by either gender (also ignores how transppl fit into that) and that’s the issue i have with terf/radfem thinking okay byeee

[section-chief-prentiss]

puzzled

Summary: In your spare time, you and Emily start working on a puzzle in her office. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader 

Word Count: 2429

Ao3

“You can refresh your email as much as you want,” JJ teased from the desk next to yours. “But it’s not going to make a case appear.”

You sighed, glancing over your computer at the blonde agent sitting across from you. Her light hair was thrown back in a ponytail, and she had a light blue blouse on and black slacks. Her legs were crossed, and she looked at you with amusement in her sparkling eyes.

“Four days,” you said, running a hand through your messy hair. “We haven’t had a case in four days.” 

“For the first time since joining the team, I’m caught up on paperwork,” Luke commiserated from his desk a few feet away. “I never knew four days could feel so long.” 

Spencer whirled around in his desk chair, his brown, curly hair flying in every direction. “A recent study found that bored participants tended to think more about time, which caused it to feel like it was moving slower. Since we’re accustomed to frequently working on cases, it’s only natural that the unexpected downtime we’re experiencing would cause us to feel that time is moving more slowly than it is.”

You set your hands on your desk and pushed yourself up to a standing position. “I’m going to see if Emily has anything for us. Maybe that’ll help time move faster.” 

Spencer perked up. “Time doesn’t actually speed up when we’re occupied; it’s only our perception that—”

A groan from the rest of the team drowned out the rest of what Reid was going to say, as you navigated your way out of the bullpen and up the stairs toward Emily’s office.

You knocked twice on her door, straining to hear her response on the other side. 

“Come in!”

You opened the door a crack and peeked your head through the space. “Are you busy?” 

Emily cracked a smile. “As busy as any of you are.”

You made your way inside, closing the door behind you, and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Emily’s desk. The Unit Chief’s raven hair hung in a curtain around her face, her bangs perfectly cut just below her eyebrows. She wore a long-sleeved red shirt—your favorite color on her. 

“No new case yet?”

Emily sat forward in her chair, clasping her hands together and resting them on her desk. “Not yet, it appears all serial killers have taken the week off.”

“Do you have paperwork you need help with?” 

Emily chuckled. “You’re so bored that you’re asking for paperwork?”

You frowned at her. “Em, I’m desperate.”

Emily’s brown eyes locked with yours for a moment. She bit her bottom lip—her tell that gears were turning, and an idea was forming in her mind. 

Nodding, she opened one of her desk drawers, reaching for something you couldn’t see.

“Hotch left this in his desk when he resigned,” Emily said, setting a box down between you.

The top of the box showed a 1000-piece puzzle depicting dolphins cresting over waves, a sunset behind them. 

You softened, thinking of the previous Unit Chief, who’d left the team to enter witness protection to keep himself and his young son safe from a serial killer. 

“Aww, for Jack?”

“No,” Emily grinned. “It was for him. He loved puzzles, said they helped him focus on a case when he was stuck.”

You picked up the box, studying the image. There were a lot of similar shades of blue, but you hoped that would present enough of a challenge to keep you entertained while you waited for a case to come in.

“Are you gonna help me with this?” you asked. 

From your first day at the BAU, being in the same room as Emily caused butterflies to flit around in your stomach. Her kind eyes, her dark hair, the confidence she strutted around the BAU with—you couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. But you’d never had the nerve to ask if she felt the same way.

You were sure she couldn’t. Even if she did, the HR nightmare of entering a relationship with your superior was likely something neither you nor Emily were willing to risk. You both loved your jobs too much, cared too much about helping people, to put any of that in jeopardy.

You watched Emily as she weighed your offer, her eyes flitting from yours to the stack of unfinished paperwork on her desk. 

“It’s either the puzzle, or we sit in here in silence working on paperwork,” you said. “Which sounds more fun?”

“Fuck it,” Emily said. “A break wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Your face lit up with a grin. “Exactly.”

You both relocated to the couch at the far end of her office, and you set the puzzle box on the coffee table in front of it. Emily cleared off the table while you opened the box and flipped the contents onto the table.

“Edges first?” you asked.

“What am I, a sociopath?” Emily joked. “Of course edges first.”

You giggled, searching through the pile for any border pieces. “In college, my ex-boyfriend refused to start with outside pieces when we’d work on puzzles together. He said it was too easy and he wanted to engage his brain.” 

“Gee, why did you ever break up?” Emily asked dryly.

“He cheated on me. Repeatedly.” 

“Like I said,” Emily paused, holding up a corner piece as evidence. “Sociopath.” 

You tried, and failed, to fight the smile tugging at your lips. She was right—your ex, Sam, was a douchebag. You deserved better than how he treated you.

And you hoped that better was sitting next to you.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you worked, sorting through pieces. While Emily searched for edge pieces, you transitioned into organizing the middle pieces into piles by color. 

Once that was done, you collaborated on putting the frame of the puzzle together—Emily assembling the sunset on the top half, and you focusing on the varying shades of blue that made up the water on the bottom half.

As you snapped the two halves of the border together, there was a knock at Emily’s door, startling both of you. 

Emily grinned. “Come in!”

Penelope rushed through the door, file in hand. “We got a case.”

An hour ago, you would’ve loved nothing more. Now, you were already missing this one-on-one time with Emily.

“I guess we should clean this up,” you said, reaching for the box.

Emily put a hand out, stopping you. “That’s okay; we’ll leave it here. Work on it during our downtime.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, silently wondering when the next time would be that you had downtime. But you weren’t about to turn down the offer, so you nodded.

“I’ll grab the team.” 

***

On the elevator ride back to the sixth floor at the end of the day, you felt yourself nodding off, head bobbing up and down in an attempt to keep yourself conscious.

The rest of the team was too exhausted to comment on it. The elevator ding startled you awake, and you moved through the BAU on autopilot, beelining for your desk and grabbing your bag so you could get home as soon as possible and sleep for a few hours before you had to pick up the case in the morning. 

Fortunately, the case kept you in D.C., so you’d get to sleep in your own bed tonight. Throughout the day, the team scattered between the BAU, Metro P.D., and various crime scenes, assisting where you could. 

But before you could hightail it to your car, the light on in Emily’s office caught your attention.

“See you tomorrow,” Tara mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” you said, making your way toward Emily.

You were too exhausted to bother with knocking—it had been a long, emotionally exhausting day, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about protocol. 

Emily was sitting up on her brown leather couch, her head tucked toward her chest, fast asleep. There was a puzzle piece in her hand.

You took a moment to memorize this moment, since you knew if you pulled out your phone to take a picture, Emily would actually murder you. 

Her hair was still perfect, somehow, even after a day of running around. Her blouse and pants were wrinkled from all of the activity, and as you walked toward her, you saw that she’d even fallen asleep with her shoes on.

You reached out to gently touch her shoulder and whispered, “Emily.”

She woke with a start, wincing from the light but searching for danger.

“You’re fine,” you said softly. “You just fell asleep.”

“I wanted to… work on it,” she yawned, gesturing to the half-completed puzzle. 

Earlier, while the team was building a profile and getting frustrated that things weren’t lining up, Emily suggested the puzzle. The team had gathered around the coffee table, debating which parts of the profile would need to be changed. The whole time, you kept your gaze on Emily, as if you were still the only two in the room.

You took a seat on the couch next to her. “We can work on it tomorrow.” Or so you hoped, assuming the case had wrapped up by then. 

Em nodded but didn’t move. You slid forward on the couch to get a better look at the progress your team had made on the puzzle, and you were impressed. Most of the bottom half was done—the difficult part, mostly due to Spencer—which just left the hues of red, pink, orange, and gold of the sunset. 

As you admired the puzzle, one piece jumped out to you—half red, half pink—and you saw immediately where it needed to go. You popped it into place and started searching for the next one. 

Next to you, Emily took the piece she’d been holding and slid it into place. Surely it couldn’t hurt to add just a few more pieces. You could always drink coffee in the morning if you needed a pick-me-up.

Your previous exhaustion melted away as you focused on your task—entering a flow state where nothing mattered except the picture in front of you and the women beside you.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you found yourself staring at the last few gaps, scattered in various places around the image that needed to be filled in. 

It wasn’t until you were down to your last three pieces—you and Emily had taken to silently alternating back and forth, and at this rate, you were poised to put the last piece in—that you realized there was one missing. 

Maybe you were just tired, you told yourself. It had to be here somewhere. Hotch was too organized to have ever lost a piece. 

You put down a piece that filled in the last piece of one of the dolphins. Emily finished off part of the sunset on the horizon line, but there was a gap where one piece needed to fill in the blueish-purple tints in the sky.

You frowned, glancing at the floor around you.

“Are we missing one?” Your voice was scratchy from tiredness and the fact that you and Emily had mostly worked in silence.

Next to you, Emily was silent as you peeked under the table before standing to search the couch cushions.

When you turned up empty, you sat back down with a sigh. “Well, that’s disappointing.” 

You glanced over to Emily to find her face flushed and hands balled in her lap. Her beautiful, dark eyes wouldn’t quite meet yours.

“Are you okay?”

Her light skin turned an even deeper shade of red as she unballed her right fist. Sure enough, the missing piece was sitting in the middle of her palm.

You laughed. “Em, if you wanted to place the last piece yourself, you could’ve just said so.”

“It’s not that,” she said, putting the piece on the table but not in its spot. “I, um, didn’t want to finish it because I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t want it to be over.”

Your heart raced. Were you deliriously tired, or was Emily really saying this?

You opened your mouth to respond, but when no sound came out, you closed it again.

Emily swore, burying her face in her hands. “I knew it,” her voice was muffled. “I knew I was reading this all wrong.”

She looked up to face you, and your heart sank in your chest. “I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for you; if you could just forget I even said that—”

“Em!” You interrupted. “I feel the same way.”

But Emily was already shaking her head. “No, you don’t have to say that. This was so inappropriate of me; I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m too tired to be thinking clearly…”

“Emily,” you said forcefully. You took her hand in yours and smiled, color flooding your cheeks. “You don’t understand. I feel the same way.”

The raven-haired beauty’s eyes widened as she took in your words. “Oh! Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you said with a giggle. “But I know it would be complicated, and I don’t want to mess with either of our careers.”

Emily sobered at that. “Neither do I.”

“But…” you hedged, glancing at the clock. “It’s 4 in the morning, and we need to be back here in two hours, so the time for good decisions has already passed.”

Before you could lose your nerve, you picked up the last piece and snapped it into its place. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to marvel at the completed image, because the person sitting next to you was even more mesmerizing. 

Pressing your palms against Emily’s face, you pulled her toward you until her lips were crashing against yours.

It felt even better to kiss her than you’d imagined. Her lips were soft, and even after a long day, she still smelled of her floral perfume. You ran your fingers through her soft hair, and Emily moaned against your mouth. 

Emily’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. Where you touched, your body hummed with electricity and desire. 

Too soon, you pulled back. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you confessed. 

“I’d hate to make you wait again,” Emily said, a teasing smile on her lips. “But if we want any sleep tonight, we should probably head out.” 

You pretended to ponder that before shrugging. 

“Who needs sleep?” you mumbled, throwing yourself once more into Emily’s welcoming embrace.

Tag List:

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[witchhickx]

I'm so sick of people going on about how season 2 sucked because it was 'fan-service'. No, it was not. The Good Omens universe is built to give weight to Aziraphale and Crowley's moral arguement. Sure, humans, dolphins and gorillas are innocent and worthy of saving but our angel and demon duo aren't exactly bound to them. Earth is their chosen safe space, it's the place where they can be themselves. They choose to love Earth (and each other). That's why Armageddon was a key pivot in their relationship. It forced them to get out of their life of quiet marital bliss to figure out how to maintain their happiness in the face of the ineffable. They had to find the balance between their moral truth and divine duty. They're Romeo and Juliet, caught between Heaven and Hell. That's the entire point.

[agere-fics]

Doctor Papa

dni: k!nk, anti-agere, agepl4y, or ddlg-esque blogs 🍄 this blog is a safe space for age regressors and age dreamers 🍄

pairing: caregiver!papa!bruce banner x regressor!little!reader

characters: uncle thor, bruce banner, reader, mentions of: steve, bucky, sam, and tony stark.

summary: you have to get MRIs done but you're nervous. thank goodness, papa knows how to cheer you up.

word count: 1,751

content warnings: MRIs, hospital gown, reader is written like they're a child's height, no mention of a particular chronic illness, please tell me if i'm missing anything

author's note: tadaa!! all done! this is the most i've written for a one shot! very proud of myself. also, this is inspired by me having to get MRIs done recently ajfhs

♡

Sometimes stuff we've done lots of times can still seem scary; which is annoying because who wants to feel anxious about the same exact thing over and over again?

You have to get these scans done by tomorrow. With every heart of your being, you wished that wasn't true but your previous scans were too old.

UGH!

Luckily, your papa had a trick up his sleeve.

He told you to stay here, in this gigantic, empty, white walled room. It was utterly boring, there were no paintings or statues or anything. Not even toys! Well, okay, you had your Mr. Rainy Day Bear but still! At least there were floor to ceiling windows- OH, and a skylight, too. Those are always nice.

While you waited for Bruce to come back, you watched what went on outside. There was Tony using his latest invention to attempt to lift Uncle Thor’s hammer. Tony still had no idea that it couldn't possibly work! How silly of him.

Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood in a far apart triangle. They were tossing around the Captain America shield like a Frisbee, guffawing, and yelling things that were joyously incomprehensible. It looked like lots of fun! Definitely more fun than MRIs. Maybe, they would let you join in later.

The double doors of the empty room swung open and papa’s humongous green form entered.

“Okayyy, love bug, I've grabbed all the cardboard pieces from recycling that weren't gross.” He grimaced thinking about the black, moldy gunk that spoiled some previously useful parts. He shrunk back down to Bruce Banner size after dumping the cardboard into a large pile. “We should have enough for our little art project.”

“Art project?” You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were actually lit up with stars of joy this time, instead of meteor shower anxiety.

The idea was to make a cardboard MRI machine. Having an art project to focus on would comfort and reassure you about the process you would go through tomorrow. If he could make it fun, your anxiety wouldn't be so bad.

“I’ve seen the machine before, papa, I can make the bestest one yet!” You hopped on your toes, giddy with tight, flapping fists.

“I grabbed your sticker books and some paint, too-”

“OH YAY, THANK YOU PAPA, THIS IS SO EXCITING!!”

Mission accomplished. Anxiety gone, replaced with magical cure Art Project™. Bruce smirked to himself.

You laid down on a tall, square cardboard piece. Bruce traced your form with a sharpie as you giggled. Once you had the correct length, you both began cutting a rectangular piece and put that piece on a metal cart with wheels.

Then, you cut out half circle pieces and hot glued them all together until it made one large 4D sphere with a hole in the middle like a donut.

At one point, the glue burned you but Papa Bruce fixed it right up and stopped the booboo pain with a cure-all kiss.

Your cardboard MRI machine may look done to outsiders but it wasn't even close. It was missing the most important part of all: the stickers! There were heart stickers, stickers with dolphins, rainbow stickers, puppy stickers, stickers that had Mr. Hulk and Papa on them, too! There were even stickers of Stevey, Bucky, Iron Man, and Uncle Thor! Papa said for your birthday he'd make stickers with you on them, too.

You also painted squiggles, polka dots, lines, circles, triangles, kitty cats, and zig zags. All of them in your most favoritest color.

“There!” You stood proudly, hands on your hips. “Now, it's very, very pretty, papa.”

Papa gave you a minute and then asked, “Are you ready to practice?”

You blinked and sighed. Defeat warping your mood. “Yeah...”

Papa spun away, put a doctor's coat on, and then turned back, holding a clipboard. “Alright, are you the caregiver for Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

“Yeah, papa.” You lightened up a little bit.

“Papa? No, I'm Doctor Doctor. Who's papa?”

“You're papaaa!” You pointed at him.

“Okay, okay I'm Doctor Papa.” He repeated, “Are you the caregiver of Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”

You tilted your chin up and did a faux British accent. “Why, yes, sir. He's feeling very, very bad and needs a scan.”

“Ah, yes, I see that on his chart, Caregiver.” He flipped through the scribbled pages on the clipboard. “Let's have. Mr. Bear lay down on the table with his head on the pillow.” Bruce gestured with his hand.

You laid your stuffie down on the pretend bed, placing Mr. Bear’s head gently on the pillow. You patted his hand for good measure.

Doctor Papa put ear plugs into the bear's ears and placed cushy pink headphones on him. The headphones had cat ears on them. Papa raised his voice a little, “Mr. Rainy Day Bear, what kind of music do you like to listen to?”

“Doctor Papa, Mr. Bear is nonverbal.” you said matter of factly. You raised your pointer finger to the sky. “I’ll answer for him. He likes The Wiggles, Papa- I mean Doctor Papa.”

“Alrighty then, The Wiggles album coming right up.” Bruce pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found the right music. “Wiggles rave?”

You nodded, then kissed the tippity top of Rainy Day’s head. “You'll be okay, Mr. Bear.”

Bruce began to push the cardboard bed into the donut sphere. You took a big, big deep breath in.

“BRRRR BEEEP AGHHHH RRRRR DNNNN-”

That breath was immediately released back into the atmosphere. “PAPAAA!” You clutched your chest, laughing so hard your legs felt weak.

Doctor Papa continued, “DRRRRR EEEEEE EHHHHHH MRRRRRR!”

You were rolling on the floor, tears leaving your eyes. How silly of your papa!

“BRRRRRrrrrrr….” Papa rolled the cardboard bed out of the donut. “How are you feeling Mr. Bear?”

“Papa, he can't hear you!”

Bruce laughed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He removed the headphones and then the earplugs. “How is the fantastic Mr. Bear?”

You lifted Mr. Bear’s paws and had him sign to Bruce, ‘I am okay.’

“Perfect! Let's take a look at your scans here…” Papa turned around and scribbled quickly on the paper. When he faced you again, he showed you the scan. It was a poorly constructed scribble of Mr. Rainy Day Bear with a big, biiiiiiiig, heart right in the middle. “I knew it, Lots-Of-Love-itis.”

You unburied the British accent. “Quite good, sir. Well done, Mr. Bear.” You placed a hulk sticker on his paw and hugged him tightly.

Papa kneeled down and asked, “Do you want to practice with you this time?”

You gave it a thought, looking this way and that. “Hmmm, will you make the funny noises again?”

“BEEEEP BRRR-”

“Not right now, Papa!” You shouted with a smile.

“Oh, during the practice?” He waited for you to finish rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay…” You breathed in, out, in, and out slowly. “Let's practice, Doctor Papa.”

♡

“Big day, lille venn.” Uncle Thor said as he helped tie the back of your hospital gown. He double knotted the strings behind your neck and then the ones by your hip. “There you are. All set.”

You frowned at that, looking at Thor with big, watery eyes. “Not all set.”

“It'll be okay.” His hands (placed on your shoulders) turned you to face him. “Remember your breathing?”

“Mhm.”

“Let's do it together.” He raised his left hand as you did the same. “Climb Yggdrasil, breathe in.”

You traced up your pointer finger.

“Let's sit at the very top, hold your breath.”

You paused at the tip of your finger.

“Slide down the Yggdrasil branches, breathe out.”

You traced down your pointer finger.

Uncle Thor had you repeat that four more times, until the tears dried and the anxiety flowed further away.

“Very good, great job. Let's go see Papa.” He held your hand as he walked you towards the scary room. Worse than the boring room from yesterday.

You turned the corner and there was Papa at the computer. “Hey there! The computer’s prepped and waiting for you, little one.”

You looked at Papa, then Uncle Thor, and then Papa again. “Okay… I'm ready.”

Papa led you to the metal bed. It was rectangular and thin. A sheet was laid out on it so you wouldn't get super cold. There was a thick pillow on the end that had your favorite kitty cat pillowcase on it, which made the corners of your lips turn upwards.

Papa pressed an arrow down bottom next to the donut sphere that brought the bed down to your level. He held your hand as you hopped on and then helped position you onto the center. He guided you through a big, deep breath so that your body was as comfortable on the table as can be instead of tense.

Next came pink headphones with cutesy kitty ears on them and plain boring ear plugs so that your hearing wasn't hurt from the loud noises. Papa already set up your favorite kind of music so when the headphones were placed on you, it was already playing. Bruce furrowed his brow in question, moving his thumb up and down. You replied with a thumbs up. You were ready.

Bruce handed you a panic button to hold just in case and laid a blanket over you to keep you warm. Papa kissed the top of your head and left the room.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

BBRRRRRRR

‘It's okay. I'm okay.’

BEEEEEEPPP

‘Woohoo, I'm doing awesome!’

REEEEHHHHHH

‘This is boring, it's got to have been a bajillion minutes by now.’

After ten years (minutes), the machine stopped and Papa walked back into the room. He gave you a high five and bunches of praises that you only heard some of because of all the ear protectors. But you could tell by his facial expressions that he was so very proud of you.

He pressed the arrow down button again and the bed began moving to an easier height. You removed the headphones and earplugs yourself, you felt like such a big kid (in the best way)!

You stretched this way and that while making funny noises which made you abrupt into hearty giggles.

Bruce held your hand as you jumped down. Next thing you knew, he was hugging you tightly, picking you up, and spinning you around and around!

“I'm so very, very proud of you, bumble bee!”

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

♡

[brucewaynehater101]

Deep down, Tim knows that they are at fault. Deep down he knows that Jason and Damian attacking him like that *isn't ok*. But that's a truth he can't bring himself to face because even if he did, would Anyone believe him? If he told Bruce or Dick that the attacks still happened, that one of them tried to take his life at least once a month still, that neither of them would do anything. Tim doesn't know if they would defend him and punish Jason and Damian, or if they would just say, "you need to be more careful Tim, they can't always control themselves." And if the answer is anything but the first he knows his heart wouldn't be able to take it.

Instincts are there, but they are easy to over come. They very from shifter type to shifter type and usually fall into groups by Animal Type. Such as a Tiger and a Housecat will have similar instinctive problems but they won't be the same as a Wolf or Dolphin's. As a snake Tim 100% has the urge to nap in warm places and does get slower when cold. His suit has special heaters in it that the others don't have due to his inability to regulate his own heat. Damian insists that Tim being unable to function without "a bunch of hand warmers" I'd proof that he shouldn't be in the field and should be fired. Tim bites his forked tongue to stop himself from screaming that if Damian can't not give into his instincts and attack Tim anytime he sees him Shifted then he shouldn't be in the field because he's gunna attack a civilian.

Also for now Bruce has no idea how shifters work. But this is Good Dad Bruce. He's going to put in Effort. He's *going* to find the resources he needs to parent this New Tim because he doesn't think he can bring himself to send any version of any of his children to a home that could hurt or likely kill them. Until then, Bruce is going to insist on New Tim (he gets called TJ thanks to Duke. After all, they can't call him Drake, he hates Timothy, Tim would be confusing, and neither Tim likes the idea of being called "Jackson") takes one of their spare rooms and gets a full 8 hours of sleep every night/day and 3 full meals a day. TJ was Visibly Confused by this due to the fact he hasn't been staying in the manor at all for almost a year due to Damian and Jason. He only sleeps in his nest which has Beyond Batlevel Security to keep them out.

Also, I can't decide. Would a healthier version of Damian and Jason stay away like Tim wants them to or would they go "no *fuck* your bastard excuses for Brothers we will teach you what it's like to actually trust and have us have your back."

Tim not seeking an answer or help is very angsty. He chose his emotional/mental health over his physical well being. Part of it may be him knowing how to navigate the murder attempts but not knowing how bringing this up would change the status quo (in possibly worse ways).

I like what you've added about Tim's instincts. A good milestone for that batfamily is if they find Tim napping on a window seat. This would be a huge show of trust by him and an indication that he feels safe.

I think a healthier version of them would give Tim space and communicate boundaries with him, but they would also try to bond with him.

For Damian, this is a lot of parallel bonding. The kid will find wherever Tim is in the Manor and sit in the same room with him doing something different (like drawing or doing his homework). It is an effective way for Tim to get used to his presence and stop seeing him as a threat. Of course, Tim is nervous or on edge the first 10 or so times this happens. Eventually, he starts to lower his guard enough that Damian can make a comment or two. They slowly work up to full conversations and Tim seeking out Damian's presence himself.

For Jason, he'd try to read in places near Tim as well. His main strategy, though, might be favors or gifts. He'd learn what foods Tim likes, what activities Tim wants/needs to do that Bruce won't let him (like sneaking out), and generally just helping Tim out in small ways. It at first freaks Tim out, but they work up to Tim himself asking Jason for favors.

[zilritsch]

cc!Dream is a puppy, but I'm ready to fight for fact that c!Dream is a CAT!

He pretends that he doesn’t need anyone, that he can handle it on his own, and then he simply comes to his loved one for comfort and affection (yes, I’m talking about Punz).

He is upset that Techno rejected him (and I understand Dream), he literally sounds like a cat who was coldly and harshly thrown from his warm lap and his sweet slumber was interrupted. He is betrayed and does not understand what he did to deserve this from the person he trusted and who was safe for him.

Dream organizes a manhunt because games bring kittens closer together, building family bonds.

He climbs trees and sleeps anywhere, and especially likes to lie and bask in the sun on the roof of a Community house.

I'm sure he hisses at people and walks silently, scaring everyone and everything.

He tries to spend a lot of time with each friend, mostly he follows them around and watches (like with Puffy), or chats animatedly and asks a lot of questions (like with Sam when he's building something), or sleeps nearby, or maybe directly on a person (as with George and Sapnap).

Although Dream wears a mask most of the time, it’s difficult to notice how he looks at you and blinks slowly, but this is how he shows love.

He also watches how people eat and guards them during meals, either eating everything first or after the others.

Dislikes enclosed spaces and prefers to have access to all rooms (he hates that he built Pandora's main chamber so small).

He loves soft things, so he always wears things that are comfortable and pleasant to the touch. (He hates that Pandora doesn't even have a bed.)

He loves meat, and sometimes eats it raw (this saves time!!). Considers attempts to replace meat with artificial meat a crime.

Loves water, and especially dolphins and playing with them. Their energy and speed match his own and give him the opportunity to not hold back.

P.S. This is a mix of headcanons and my attempt to show that c!Dream is a cat.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith knows, truthfully and entirely objectively, that his life has improved since he started dating Lance. Obviously. There is no disputing this fact if nature. His attitude has mellowed, his days are brighter, his nights are even better, his crops are watered his skin is clear et cetera et cetera. (Literally, on that last one, since Lance is sneaky with his product).

…However.

There are setbacks.

Like right now, where he’s been pushed so far to the edge of the bed that he’s actually holding his breath to avoid being squished against that wall like a new coat of paint. So.

He loves his boyfriend. Seriously. He’s slept more in the months they’ve been seeing each other than he has in his entire life combined, actually. It’s insane. There’s something about Lance pressed up against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his ribs, nose barely peeking above his shoulder to let in some air (seriously how does he do that; Keith has watched him and he has, like, maybe one nostril available for oxygen intake. The rest of his face is smooshed against Keith’s upper arm and pec. And he’s got the blanket up to his ears, too. Does Lance not need to breathe for long periods of time? Like a dolphin? Keith will have to ask) that just makes sleeping actually relaxing, for once. Like maybe he doesn’t have to stay half awake, like maybe he can actually trust himself to be safe in his own bed. It’s an incredible feeling, to finally feel well-rested in the mornings.

He does. However. Feel the ittiest, tiniest bit like he’s sleeping with a corset on. And being hydraulic pressed into the corner of the room. If he has to pick something to be nitpicky about, he means.

“Lance, c’mon,” he mutters, exhaling finally. Lance, who is mostly asleep based on the growing puddle of drool Keith feels wetting his sleep shirt, takes the opportunity to squeeze tighter like a goddamn python. “Can you move over a little bit? I’m up against the wall, I got no room to breathe —”

The human corset suddenly lets up, and Keith can breathe again.

So he does.

Perhaps a touch dramatically, with the bug gasping inhale or whatever.

(Look, he’s not perfect. He’s quite comfortable blaming Shiro’s influence, actually.)

“Thank you,” he huffs. He takes a few deep breaths, feeling the twinge in one of his ribs; tender from an injury he has yet to admit he has. (It’s fine. He checked. It’s barely even bruised mostly, he’s good. It’ll handle itself or become a Future Keith problem, so.) He curses under his breath as he stretches a bit, taking advantage of the space.

He frowns. “Wait, what?”

He sits up, confused as to why his spider monkey boyfriend is not in his immediate presence. It takes a second for his bleary eyes to adjust to the half-light of their bedroom, but eventually he manages and looks over and Lance is — Lance is on the goddamn floor. The blanket is with him. And four pillows.

“Lance.”

Keith bites his lip. This is either a bit or a very delicate situation, and if it’s the latter and he laughs then he’s very much in the doghouse, and for all his complaining he would much rather spend the night suffocating than alone. Much rather.

“Aw, Lance, come on.”

Unfortunately, his voice shakes, and he can’t quite tamp down his snorts and giggles, as much as he tries to muffle them.

Lance doesn’t speak, but Keith can almost physically taste his frown. His pout practically has its own atmosphere, it’s so potent.

“Hey.”

Keith gets to his knees, half-shuffling across the mattress. He leans over the edge, closer to Lance’s curled up form, and raises an eyebrow, amused. “Leandro. You are not being serious right now.”

The silence continues to grow. Keith can almost feel an actual chill, there’s so much iciness leaking from Lance right now.

(He also has the only blanket, but whatever. Tomato tomato.)

“Baby.”

“If you never want to sleep with me again that’s fine,” Lance says tersely. Keith rolls his eyes, head in his hands. “The floor is lovely. I’d rather be here than anywhere near your stinky mullet anyway.”

Keith sighs, long and heavy, steeling himself for the inevitable back pain he is going to have tomorrow morning. The things he does for love.

“You are the most dramatic man alive. Scoot over.”

Caught off guard, Lance uncurls, looking over at Keith in confusion.

Keith grins. “There are those pretty brown eyes.”

The pretty brown eyes in question are still squinted in suspicion, but Keith was expecting that. He moves as casually as he can manage, even trying his luck by humming something Lance was listening to earlier, picking up the edge of the blanket and sliding in behind his boyfriend, flat on the floor, arms winding around his waist and head bent at the junction of his shoulder. Lance is still tense, but allows Keith in his space, thankfully. Keith was half worried he’d stomp away to go sleep with Hunk.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Lance’s neck and lingering there, making his boyfriend shiver as his lips tickle his skin. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Just feeling a little claustrophobic.”

Lance softens, but only barely. “You can tell me to back off, you know. I will.”

There’s still an undertone of hurt to his voice, a backing of insecurity. Keith tightens his grip, shaking his head.

“No. Don’t want that.”

Lance makes a frustrated noise. “Well, then what do you want, Mr. Mixed Signals?”

“You.” He traces an invisible line down the side of Lance’s neck with his mouth, kissing and biting slightly, relishing in every little twitch of Lance’s shoulders. “Duh.”

“No, not ‘duh’,” Lance argues, but his voice has gone weak. “You’re a pain in my ass. Do you want to be cuddled or not, Red?”

Bingo. Keith fights a smirk at the nickname, knowing he fails when Lance sighs, but the slide of his hands to rest on top of Keith’s bely his amusement, his fading irritation.

“Course I do,” Keith promises. His kisses the back of Lance’s neck again, but it’s softer this time; no underlying motives. An assurance, a promise. “I just. You know. Would also like twelve percent more space to inflate my lungs, if that’s okay.”

Lance snorts. Keith grins.

“You’re such a goober.”

“You’re the goober, actually. The pile of drool on my shoulder proves it.”

He feels more than sees Lance’s neck go red. Keith snickers. Lance hates when Keith brings up the drooling and for that he will literally never ever stop.

“I hope you wake up in agony.”

“Oh, I will, thanks to your hissy fit.”

Lance kicks his heel into Keith’s shin because he’s a shithead. Keith takes it without complaint because he’s the biggest whipped loser of all time and he’s well aware of it.

“We can go back to the bed, you know,” Lance offers eventually, although he makes no effort to move.

Keith yawns. “Nah.” He rests his head on the top of Lance’s spine, tangling their legs together. “I’m good where you are.”

———

based off this post

[unicyclehippo]

flew for the first time in a very long time, since well before covid started, & oh i missed it so much. first, how remarkable an invention a plane is, how clever, how world changing!! it can seem so normal but actually we are FLYING. i looked down on the clouds that look down on me. the sun rose & everything was brilliantly incandescently white. i stared out the window for the entirety of the admittedly too-short flight & cloud spotted—i saw lions & palaces of cloud & a fleet of dolphins breaking out of the waves. mostly it looked like quilting wadding. i love to fly. i love to people watch, i love to cloud watch, i love the clouds, i love the captains & the cabin crew. when i fly i feel like i will never run out of things to love about humans

a short list of things i loved about the two flights i took:

- special shoutout to the cabin crew, ground crew, they’re incredible. literally all the crew i interacted with had the biggest smiles & were so so friendly & helpful. if ur a crew member out there, i love you. huge shout out to the mid 50s (?) hostess on my first flight—short, super sharply put together in the “im a modern witch” kinda way—who had a quip for almost every comment directed her way. the only one i rmbr was when an elderly passenger called her love she replied “how’d you know my name is love? you must be a psychic!”

- all the passengers i saw were calm & unruffled at the least & sometimes very nice! all around me i could hear people meeting & passing with those small human courtesies repeated & repeated—pardon me, d’you mind if i duck past, hey do you need help with your bag, oh mind their head there, where are you headed, can you get by do you need some room, thank you, thank you, thank you, can i help you, can i help you, can i help you

- special shoutout to the passenger w the crying baby. he was such an upset baby & the only thing that calmed him was being walked up & down the aisle over & over. every time he came down the aisle, i saw heads turn toward him & people smiling their baby smiles—exaggerated, kind, often accompanied by a scrunch of the nose or a tiny wave. ‘he doesn’t sound happy poor thing,’ i heard a lot, or things like it, as his dad bounced him in his arms, & then, invariably, help was offered. ‘my mother swears by this trick‘ — ‘my husband does this to calm our kids” — ‘my wife always does this’. the flight was delayed by nearly fifty minutes. no one was allowed out of their seat as we idled on the tarmac except for this unhappy baby & his dad, walking up & down the aisle.

- special shoutout to my seat buddy, who had a wonderful bright yellow backpack with rainbow straps. i have a matching one & told her so. she said it was a whim, on account of the yellow & rainbow. i told her it’s a very durable bag & one of my favourites. there’s a softening that comes with a compliment, a small comment when we meet—it’s an invitation from then on to say whatever little something pops into our heads. are you listening to music? what book are you reading - oh it’s a library book! good on you mate! we gotta use them more. do you know how to get the headphones working—ooh i figured it out. mind if i use your charger, mines not working. hey the refreshments are headed this way did you want anything? are you headed home? my family is in the row in front & she smiles every time they twist uncomfortably to chat through the gaps in the seats. later, as we are waiting to disembark, she confesses she was on the flight before but it was cancelled . you mean i could’ve had more space, i teased. she laughed, apologises. i could have had far worse company…but not by much, i teased a little more, & she laughed harder. get home safe, we say to each other—i don’t know her name, she knows mine just because my mother whispered it through the seats (are you too hot back there? do you have enough leg room? i can’t move the seat but - oh your sister wants me to recline my seat onto you, im going to squish you!). get home safe, i hear echoed by ten more people to their seat buddies as i hurry off the plane. the last is from a smiling crew member (refer back to my first point. i love you crew members).

- a turbaned man held his baby up at the huge windows looking out to the planes. she clung to him for a minute then tried to dive out of his arms, her own spread wide like the wings of a plane, laughing.

- the women having dinner in the food court as we waited for our plane. i was facing away from them & somewhat half heartedly eavesdropping but every now & again they said something so familiar that it may as well have been my own sisters sitting behind me. ‘—don’t hate her but some of the things she says-‘ ‘i know, i know. can she even hear herself? it’s like. so self-centred.’ ‘and she THINKS she’s being the nice one or she wants us to think it? i don’t even KNOW anymore. like, either she’s so conceited she thinks we love everything she does or she knows she’s behaved badly & is enjoying, i don’t know, us not knowing what to say?’ ‘i KNOW. and, like, we have to be honest,’ ‘absolutely,’ ‘but at the same time it’s like. she should know.’ ‘she should KNOW.’ ‘but she doesn’t or she’s pretending not to and im so done.’ i don’t know who you ladies were, i never saw your faces, i wish you all the best with your friend.

- the Intensely Cheerful & Organised Mother who was my seat buddy on flight 1. you were corralling three teen daughters &, from the glimpses of your notebook i caught, were studying for a test on medicine or maybe nursing. i know you were all on your way to see taylor & you were Determined that it was going to be the perfect trip. i have never seen someone work so hard at getting their luggage to fit in the overhead compartments but you managed to find a space for all of it & i applaud you now

i know there’s more but im for bed. basically i love to fly & im so happy to have done it again

[wildcrocuta]

Welcome to my blog

my name is sawyer, i am a hyena, wolf, and an ungulate cladotherian, including cetaceans! i am genderfluid and use she/him pronouns and my boyfriend is @melonthemelon27. i have been awakened since 2018 and my blog revolves around my experiences with therianthropy and my physical alterhumanity! my blog is open to all alterhumans and questions/asks. id love to meet other therians with experiences similar to mine, though I'm always open to new ideas and insight. ill also share some of my own art relating to theriotypes or my fursona x)

About me

i am autistic and a huge interest of mine has always been animals. before I discovered therianthropy, I called myself a wolf and associated animals with my identity. since discovering I was alterhuman, animals since then have always been a huge part of my self-discovery as I feel disconnected from humans besides zoology, another interest of mine is entomology! i own a few insects as pets, including a giant asian mantis and darkling beetles. I'm hoping to own more after college though. i also love film scoring, specifically the bloodborne and shadow of the colossus soundtracks, and I love media such as wolfquest, animal jam, resident evil, and saw! as mentioned, i have a few different theriotypes as a polytherian. i am a spotted hyena, wolf, and ungulate cladotherian, though the ungulate forms I associate most with currently are mule deer, elk, bison, moose, and chevrotains. as an ungulate, I have been looking into cetaceans such as dolphins as well

besides being a therian, i am also heavily spiritual and very into daemonism. my daemon is a brown hyena named fenner that is a representation of my soul. I'm also a (sfw) pet regressor and very into objectum, though I don't post about it as often on here as I have a separate blog for it. dni list : ummmm dont be mean or discriminatory! i am very open to other ideas, besides hate, because I use this blog as a safe space. I'm okay with paraphiles and kink-related blogs, so long as everything is consensual

[yandere-writer-momo]

Now little mermaid reader swim too far of again this time she's lost in atlantic Ocean

Poor little blue tang mermaid has swam so far, she’s ended up in the Atlantic now. It’s been such a chore trying to find her home…

But she knew she was getting closer once the water became warmer.

She was lucky to be able to hide in time before a great white shark merman spotted her. He was a massive merman covered in scars from fisherman, pirates, and boats. And his presence was terrifying. But he didn’t seem to mind her, if anything Jack seemed curious on how a cute little mermaid like her ended up near his domain. He doesn’t speak much but she notices how territorial he is so she stays far away from his space.

Jack chases off Lemon Shark merman Kaoru and his goons a lot of the time. Kaoru is covered in even more scars than Jack is but he’s a little easier to speak to. Kaoru pops up in her reef here and there with various shells and gifts he found. He’s very straight to the point about what he wants. And Jack hates him. Jack chases him off and throws out any gifts Kaoru tries to bring the little mermaid.

It takes a long time to get out of that section of the sea. Kaoru is hard to escape from and he’s fast (same with Jack). But he back off once the little mermaid reaches a certain point in the ocean. That’s when she notices Orca merman Katsumi and his dolphin mermaid buddies (sharks don’t mess with dolphins and orcas).

Katsumi is super friendly. He even offers her to ride on his back since they’re heading towards that side of the ocean anyways. He talks a lot about anything and everything. But he takes it up a notch with her. Isn’t he so cool? The little mermaid would be so safe with him since they travel in groups.

But when the mermaid notices they’re heading in the wrong direction, she has to make plans to escape. Especially when Katsumi drones on and on about offspring.

With the help of beluga merman Doppo, his adopted father whose concerned on if she can even carry Katsumi’s offspring, she’s able to get away. And she ends up back in her reef.

Lionfish merman Baki cries when he sees her. She’s been gone for so long and he’s been so worried! How could she leave him and puffer fish mermaid Kozue?

Once she explains her situation, her friends forgive her. Especially because a certain Bullshark merman (Jun) has been harassing them about her whereabouts.

A shame all the suitors across the seven seas don’t want the little blue tang mermaid to be mateless. She’s going to be getting a lot of company over the next few months until she accepts one…

Choices choices

[sol-consort]

Regarding the human kink thing when it comes to turians, some people actually do be nesting, omega-verse style. Imagine being a human assigned to a turian ship, and you just over here in your bunk, innocently arranging the pillows and stuffies, while these guys are just standing there, slack-jawed and harmonizing their subvocals lol

[updated post]

A/B/O is not for me, but I dig the concept of aliens being intrigued by plushies. They are weird when you think about it.

The weird part isn't the plushies–it makes sense for warm-blooded mammals who value skinship to enjoy cuddling soft things, hugs are fundamental for your health—No, The weird part is how the most popular plushies aren't human shaped.

You could argue dolls, but dolls aren't used as plushies. They're more hard and sturdy, something that can withstand being played with. they have joints and brushable hair. Dolls are puppets to tell a story with, a psychological form of play through creativity.

I want you for a moment to imagine an advanced civilisation of bears with me.

With metropolises and bustling economy, they haven't mastered space travel yet but they've been eyeing the planet closest to them, bringing back rocks from the moon, etc.

In one apartment complex, there lives a bear family. The furniture is more accommodating to their larger build, clothes are more of an accessory to them considering their luxurious fur coats keeping them warm.

It's nighttime, tomorrow's a Sunday and mom bear has to leave to work early, she's currently washing the dishes leftover from the wonderful dinner the family just had. Her wife, however, is putting their son to bed. it's his second week in elementary bear school! he's unhappy with his seating arrangement in class however, the teacher placed him too far from his best friend.

His mother promises to have a chat with the teacher about it when she drops him off tomorrow, the son bear is very delighted and roars happily. A big yawn escapes him as his eyelids get heavy.

In his arms, there lies a cotton friend. His most beloved treasure, the most precious inanimate object to his heart. His plushie!

He adores it. It makes him so happy. It helped make him feel safe when he first started sleeping alone after his moms got him his own bed.

Now, I need you to tell me what does the plushie look like?

For me, these are the options that instinctively came to my mind when attempting to imagine what sentient bear cubs living in a 21st century would gravitate towards in a plushie.

A) a teddybear, more fluffy, abstract, and cartoonish looking

B) a plushie in the shape of a honeyjar

C) a plushie in the shape of a fish–more specifically, salmon or trout

D) fuck idk man leave me alone

When compressed down to their core, in the most simplfied form, the choices are:

A) Identity

B) Food

C) Food

D) How did you get into my house?

-

With that long analogy out of the way, when you compare that limited selection to the actual things humans have already turned into plushies, it just doesn't make sense.

Food, yes we have plushies of food but also of animals we do not eat. rabbits, cats, dogs, dolphins, bugs. We have plushies of predetors even, things that once hunted us down, beings that still could very well kill us if we meet face to face, tigers, sharks, bears themselves even.

Animal cartoons are much more popular amongst kids. Fables about talking animals have been a stable genre ever since humans invented writing. Animal plushies are popular amongst adults too.

Plushies of inanimate objects, of plants, of fictional characters and fantasy creatures.

I'm willing to bet that humans already made plushies of verans since the first year they came into space, that they sold out on earth immediately. Hell, I'm sure there are plushies of reapers, of protheons and even of turians and other species.

Not even abstract ideas were spared from being into marketable plushies! isn't there a series designed to raise awareness for mental illness?

The whole meme of "turns your fav into a marketable plushie" spread so much because it is true. If there is one thing humans love, is making plushies of anything not human.

And that's the weird part to aliens, the big boy of human anomalies. "Why do they want to cuddle literally everything in this universe? and how come plushies of other humans is the last thing on that list"

You try to explain it to a salarian once but they just look at you in confusion. What do you mean you sleeping with plushes resembling your species is "weird"?? Don't you humans like hugging each other so much? Yet cuddling the soft imitation of a reaper each night isn't weird to you????

That's not even mentioning how the bear society analogy is flawed because we are biased by nature. We projected the bear society onto our human agriculture and based it upon our own popculture.

When in reality they would hold very different values, a different emotional range. They'd be as diverse as the other alien species in mass effect, sharing more resemblance to them than to humans.

We see someone sad, and we have this need to touch them, pat their shoulder, rub their back, hold their hands, and give a hug. Bears let their children walk on their own while we carry our young more, much like aquatic birds in more ways than we'd think.

A/B/O nesting isn't my cup of tea, but with turians, it's easier to digest. Yeah, they are birds. It would be literal nesting. That's kinda cute.

We like caves, it's also cute. Would turians prefer the top bunkbed? Anyway.

Birds usually throw clutter away from their nests, anything that's not a straw or building material is disposed off to make space for their eggs.

While we like the opposite, clutter fucking rocks! at least for humans.

We have a mattress, then a mattress cover, then a sheet.

Then we have pillows, stuffing, then pillow covers, decorative pillows.

After it, multiple blankets! a soft one, a heavy one, an airy one. Sometimes, blankets come with blanket covers.

Finally, the plushies arrive. Multiple of course, some for decorations, others well worn with cuddles. Sometimes a gaint big one to fully wrap all of our limbs around.

Sometimes our beds have crumbs from food we eat in it, othertimes it has a stray sock we took off while in bed and forgot.

Most of the time it has our phone in it, a pet joins us there, book we're reading, laundry we were supposed to fold but forgot, a bag, or several outfits as we get ready to go out.

That's a cave, much like bears leave the skeletal remains of their prey, we have crumbs from the cookie we suddenly craved at 3am.

Nests are neat and clutter-free, at least the bird ones, always getting cleaned from waste. Eggshells are thrown out as they hatch, baby birds waste are immediately disposed of.

Lizard nests aren't that different.

Because the equivalent to a nest foundation isn't the blankets, plushies, or pillows. it's the house foundation itself!

The concrete walls and the sturdy floorboards. The whole bedroom is already a well-built nest. The bed is just an extra cushion. The fluffy material and loose feathers birds leave at the very top, so the twigs don't scratch the fragile eggs.

So, in conclusion. Turians and Salarians would get VERY overwhelmed in a human bedroom, let alone a human bed with plushies, stuffies, and blankets.

They're like, "Are you expecting a baby???" When they notice what their brain consider is extra protective fluffing for eggs.

Turians even more because of their lack of skin nerves, hard plating, and all. Their outershell makes it hard to appreciate soft things, let alone hugging them, when they can barely feel it.

Salarains? They're softer, more squishy, and they might enjoy the way it feels against their skin. Most reptiles do, and they're the closest thing for reference.

They're warm-blooded, but they do originate from a fully tropical planet + they're amphibians and might have used to be semi-aquatic? Meaning that while they still produce their own bodyheat, it wouldn't be that much to begin with. Space is definitely much colder to them than to a human.

That's why hugging a human is so nice to them! They can leech off of your body heat as their very own sun–or at least a substitute for a heatlamp.

But plushies and blankets are a different story. With blankets, they might make them cold or freeze since they blocked whatever light or heatlamp the salarians must need for sleep when they're not wearing their temperature adjustment suits.

And if you sleep next to them under the blanket, your trapped body heat will cause the temperature to rise above what's comfortable for them and risk overheating them. Same with the fluffy sheets, pillows or plushies.

there's the risk of overheating them with your body as the blanket traps in the heat. it will happen slowly, but that just makes it more dangerous. A slow simmer of rising body temperature as they realise what a death trap a human bed actually is.

Plus, salarians only need one hour of sleep per cycle, it seems very excessive to them that you'd build a whole room and make the biggest piece of furniture in it solely for the purpose of sleep. All of those plushies just to hug to sleep?

Drell, who breathe through their skin, would view blankets as a total nightmare. Their clothes already need a lot of adjustment to accommodate their conditions, only certain material is airy enough to allow them to get a lungfull, and you want to suffocate them with cotton or polyester?

They know you only breathe through your nose, but it still...makes them feel uneasy. Seeing you covered completely in stuffies and thick blankets, only your head poking out. Much like what it would feel for us to see someone go to sleep underwater with a flimsy mask connected to an oxygen tank. Now, this is truly a death trap–the salarians were right.

As long as you forgo the blanket and...allow them to fully strip down, they will give this whole human bed thing a try. Silk or satin sheets and pillow covers feel the best against their skin, smooth surfaces that seamlessly glide, air particles passing through it with little trouble.

Anything fluffy, feathery, or with fur will irritate their skin. It's like something brushing against your nose. They sacrifice a lot of comfort when it comes to indulging the human need to cuddle, but most drell rarely complain as they accommodate to your need, even if it meant you'd be slightly cutting off their air circulation.

Maybe their society is exceptionally polite? Maybe devotion and sacrifice for the ones you love are just ingrained in their biology? It would explain their endless royalty to the hanar despite how staying on that planet is literally killing them.

Oh yeah, owning a humidifier in your room will cause them a lot of pain and discomfort. Turn it off, or if you really want to woo a drell, get a dehumidifier.

Krogans would fucking love our beds tho. Might make fun of it at first, but they secretly also want a soft mattress and plushies to cuddle with.

Get close enough with a Krogan, and they'll start crashing in your room and taking naps on your own bed whenever the chance presents itself.

Don't the asari sleep in pods? I'm thinking of that sex scene in ME, she fucks you in a pod. That's something. At least...Liara gets used to human beds?

-

Anway! having established all of that definitely vital and necessary world building, I can finally talk smut about the turians! the original context of this request!

One look at a human's bed and their minds are definitely going south. First of all, human, you're in desperate need of a mate because your nest is a mess! Why do you have so many different fabrics? Aren't you worried you'll suffocate yourself with a plushie or too while sleeping?

Second of all...they didn't know humans were this soft. You mean, most humans sleep like this? In very comfortable beds? Even like...the army tough ones? Oh, that's why they get so excited for shore leave? so they can return to their actual comfortable nests–sorry yes "beds" and have some decent sleep?

huh.

And none of you are expecting children, correct? This is just how the average adult human goes to sleep?

Turians don't have the heart to tell you that they associate soft beds–ones like yours—to the human equivalent of a heart-shaped bed with rose petals scattered around, candles illuminating the room and a very deliberate lack of condoms.

They try not to...think about it whenever they come into the room. A bluish hue adorning their cheeks, trying to avoid eye-contact as they explain that uh...fuck, they accidentally glanced towards your bed and forgot what they came here to say.

I talked before how jarring it's to them that humans easily allow others on their bed, be it human or not. You just casually invite your friends to sit on it? The same sheets you sleep on each night? the one so heavy with your delicious scent they can practically smell it the second they stepped foot into this room?

And now you're telling them to take a seat, even handing them one of your plushies to keep in their lap. What's a friendly gesture and a show of trust is being very very badly misinterpreted by their brain chemistry, their biology going haywire at what they consider the declaration of "Get me pregnant" Whether you're actually capable of it or not.

-

Sidenote, the angara might be the only ones to share our bed preferences, not only that but show enthusiasm at the mention of plushies.

The only difference is that their society values plushies that resemble people more, angara like them. The dolls and plushie lineup are very intertwined.

Cuddling very intimately with someone isn't sexualised either, nor presented under a romantic light necessarily. Their society prides itself on love and affection; they're direct with expressing their emotions.

A single angara family can have many mothers and fathers, tens of sisters and brothers. Cuddling and sharing a bed is very normalised even far into adulthood.

They might be the ones giving humans the wrong idea by immediately inviting them back to cuddle on their bed after only the second meeting. Just because they decided they like you :) It's the equivalent of going out for coffee.

Protheoans, meanwhile, fall on the opposite spectrum. Javik doesn't have a bed, does he? He never asks for one either. They're a society of warriors, they value strength and abhor tenderness. Brutal honesty is their forte.

But...they also read each other's emotions through touch.

While beds are a foreign concept, plushies are not. Javik can sense the history of a room just by directly touching its floorboards. Plushies and other sentimental objects must be valued very greatly in their society, doesn't he hold onto the disk of memories from his time back before being frozen?

He understands why his own species came to value plushies, but why the hell does yours do it? You lack his abilities, all humans do.

You try to explain it to him, but it just sounds like you're describing vague and badly done emotion reading with extra steps.

He concludes that humans must hold traces of these abilities. It just translates into safety and the need to cuddle others. Also, it is clearly inferior to the protheon's advanced ability, so yeah.

Javik dislikes your bed but likes your plushies and actually welcomes cuddling. He remains stoic throughout it but you can feel him poking through your memories.

Same with your plushies, he asks that he may keep one as a relic. A piece of your soul, your history is encased in it like an artifact in amber.

Touching it almost feels exactly like travelling in time to meet your old self, getting to part the curtians of space itself and get a front row view on the person you used to be.

Plushies immortalise you to protheans, who would've thought.

-

I had so much fun with this an analysis it <333 I know it isn't exactly what you had in mind anon, I'm sorry, A/B/O is listed as a "no" in my requesting list. But the concept was so good I had to approach it in a different direction.

I hope you still enjoyed it!

[fullmoonfireball]

Olimar was dead, he knew that much. And yet, here he was.

He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a little ball and rot away, in the hopes his soul might get the chance to return to the stars, but he couldn't. The Pikmin needed him- even if he wished they didn't- and his limbs kept moving, dragging him and his squad forward.

It was already past noon, meaning he only had so much time to figure out what to do without the trusty S.S. Dolphin before sunset. With how badly she had been crashed, her frame reduced to a twisted heap of metal, there was no way he could fix her enough to fly to safety before night fell. And as much as he wished he was fully dead, being devoured by the native wildlife didn't sound appealing in the slightest.

Thankfully, he noticed, it seemed the Pikmin had no interest listening to his internal monologue at the moment, or else they surely would've erupted into screams and cries at such a thought as Leader being eaten. No, instead they were busy singing amongst themselves. The melody and rhythm were simple, but the lyrics... Maybe his stem wasn't as good at translating as he initially thought. Something about love? Or angels? He shook his head. There was no point in getting caught up on the tune, not when the fact he didn't understand them meant he wasn't a Pikmin, and especially not when there were things to do... Or so he would've thought, if something about the tune didn't make him think of sweet smells, like those of the berries his dear wife tended to in their backyard...

Olimar stopped in his tracks. A few of the less attentive Pikmin bumped into his back, and the singing stopped. He was hungry. He almost wanted to smile. Maybe he wasn't quite as dead as he thought if his digestive system still worked. Of course, that almost-joy was short lived. They'd been walking for a couple hours now- going back to the Dolphin's wreck to fish out some instant space noodles would be a fool's errand even if he wasn't sick of eating them, which meant...

The air filled with various buzzes, and Olimar could physically feel the Pikmin's excitement. Their Leader had an actual, material task to do. Olimar took a deep breath and whistled. The buzzing quieted as the Pikmin stood at attention, and Moss, who had been at the back of the group making sure there were no stragglers, rushed to his side. He climbed up on her back, and the Pikmin followed.

"You think you can sniff out a tasty creature?" he cooed. She sniffed at the ground around her before letting out an affirmative bark, rushing forward in a new direction. Moss had presumably lived here for her entire life, she had to know what was and wasn't edible, right?

Olimar couldn't help but turn to look behind him. Moss's leaf-tipped tail blended in perfectly with the stems of the Pikmin clinging to her back, only distinguished by its teal colour. If it was just a bit less green, it would look exactly like the stems the blue Pikmin. One of his hands strayed to his own stem, tugging it down in front of his face. Its shade of red matched perfectly with his gloves, a bit darker than that of the red Pikmin. He grimaced and let it go, turning forwards once more. Olimar gripped harder onto Moss's fur. He shouldn't dwell on such thoughts. He should be planning how to prepare the meal, or where they would go tonight... Perhaps a cave would work. It definitely wouldn't be as safe as the sky, but the natural darkness the creatures were accustomed to down there would mean they were less likely to go into a frenzy. Yes, they could clear out an area near the cave's exit to wait for the sun to rise again. And with how strangely time worked down there, he could sleep for however long he needed... Oh, how nice that would be...

It wasn't much longer until Moss screeched to a halt, a safe distance from a sleeping Bulborb with three Dwarf Bulborbs. Considering how many Pikmin the creatures had eaten, it only seemed fair that he should get to eat one of them. He reached behind him to grab a Pikmin, and readied himself to throw, considering his targets carefully. The 'mother' Bulborb would keep him fed for a few days, but going after her would require taking out the Dwarf Bulborbs first, not to mention the higher risk of losing Pikmin... One of the small ones would be far more efficient to go for. He'd have to go hunting again tomorrow, but there would be less meat wasted and it would be far easier to take out.

Olimar hopped off Moss's back, Pikmin still in hand. He gestured with his free hand for the rest to stay up there.

"Hey!" he called, not quite loud enough to wake the Bulborb, waving his arms. One of the Dwarf Bulborbs jumped, now alerted to his presence. It approached him, straying from the safety of the group in the hopes of getting a tasty Pikmin snack. He threw the Pikmin, and BAM! With one well-placed hit to the top, it was down, the others none the wiser.

"I need two more of you to help carry it," he instructed, looking over his shoulder. "Doesn't matter who, it's not for the Onion. I'll lead you to where it needs to be."

The Pikmin tilted their heads to the side, but a pair obediently slid off Moss's back to carry the corpse. Now all they needed to do was find a cave, and they would be set for the night.

Thankfully, caves were plentiful on this strange planet, so it didn't take too much more walking to find one.

"There's our home for tonight," Olimar mused, leaning over the opening.

The Pikmin stared at him. While they didn't say a word, he could feel their confusion and, even more, their trust. We don't know what you're doing, but we'll follow you anyways.

"Come on." He took hold of the body. "I'll help you carry it down."

The three of them looked a bit uneasy about taking it down so far, but they nodded. Anything for you. He could feel a stinging at his eyes. Sunset was coming fast, he didn't have the time to cry. He stepped with them towards the opening, helping the Pikmin over the lip, before falling down, down, down with them.

Every time, it was such a strange sensation, falling so far, and yet barely even being bruised once he hit the ground. Terrifying yet harmless, truly a testament to this planet's lower gravity. It seemed like the Pikmin shared that opinion, having squealed and screamed all the way down. He'd only just stood back up when Moss and the rest of the Pikmin landed down beside him.

"Alright, let's keep moving." He climbed up on her back. Maybe he didn't need to be in any rush, but there wasn't any need to waste time either.

The group snuck their way past the cave's creatures, doing their best not to disturb them or let them get to the Pikmin carrying the Dwarf Bulborb.

The first level didn't have what he needed. How unfortunate. But if they had to go further anyways, they might as well. The Pikmin were a little less hesitant to drop down while carrying the body the second time, but they let out a pleading little squeak as they lifted it up. Olimar sighed and hopped off Moss's back. It really shouldn't have been a surprise they could get to his soft spots so easily...

"There you go," he cooed, helping them over the lip. Their squeals as they fell seemed a bit less scared and more excited this time. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. They were so much like Shiyo when he was little... Crying about facing something new, only to immediately try to put on a brave face.

It was only when Moss finally hopped down after them that he realized how caught up he'd gotten in his own thoughts. He vaulted over the ledge of the opening, going down after them.

"Leader!" the Pikmin squeaked. "We thought you weren't coming!"

"I'm sorry for worrying you all." He patted the nearest Pikmin's heads. "I just zoned out a bit."

"What's a Shiyo?" One tilted their head.

Right. Even his own thoughts weren't entirely private anymore. "It's... It's not important. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay!" It beamed. "Yay!"

Olimar shook his head. What funny little creatures they were. He got back up on Moss's back, ready to continue their little mission.

It didn't take much longer until they came across exactly what he was looking for: A Fiery Blowhog. Perfect.

"Blue. Yellow. Drop it. More reds, get on."

They gave him a strange look, but obeyed anyways.

"Alright, now only you follow me." He marched out in front of the creature, the three Pikmin in tow. The Blowhog reared back, and spewed a stream of fire at the Pikmin and their charge.

"SPIN!"

While disoriented by the jet of flame, they obeyed, rotating the body in place. Soon enough, the Blowhog's blast stopped. The Dwarf Bulborb looked charred, but not too bad. Definitely edible! He let out a triumphant cheer... and the Fiery Blowhog snorted, turning towards him.

"Get back to Moss and the others!" he yelled. "I'll be fine!"

The Pikmin hurried off, and he gulped. There was no way he was suddenly flameproof, despite the red stem. The Blowhog reared back. Olimar ran, the flames hot on his heels. What awful planning, of course creatures would be more interested in him now, with that sprout he probably looked like a large Pikmin! He should've thought of an escape route...

Thankfully, the beast had no interest in pursuing Olimar much further, allowing him to reconvene with Moss and the Pikmin once he regained his bearings.

"Leader!!!" squealed the Pikmin, scrambling up and wrapping their roots around him. Just like his princess, Jiday, would whenever he got home from a long stint of work... He could feel himself tremble.

No Olimar, you still have things to do, he reminded himself. Daylight might not be a factor right now, but you have to eat. You have to eat. Once you've eaten, your tasks are done.

Wordlessly, the group made their way to the exit hole of the cave. Olimar peered up. He could make out stars against the darkened sky, even if only faintly.

He heaved a sigh. "Alright, this is our site." He sat down on the ground. "We'll know it's safe to leave once we see light coming from up there."

The Pikmin looked uneasy. "Leader is sure about this?"

He nodded. "We'll be safe down here as long as we stay out of the way of any creatures. They're used to darkness down here, so nightfall shouldn't make them act any different. If any do come to bother us, Moss and I will handle them."

A chorus of "Thank you, Leader!"s came from the squad, some of them nuzzling up to him.

"Ah... You're welcome. Do you mind giving me a bit of space?" He groped at his spacesuit's compartments, before coming up with a multitool he'd stashed away who-knows-when. He flicked out its knife, and the Pikmin stared, intrigued. "I'm just going to eat the Bulborb." A few of them straightened up, rushing to grab the body and bring it to Olimar. He muttered a thank you, and plunged the knife in. The Pikmin were transfixed.

With some force, he managed to cut a leg off. From there, he removed the skin from the thigh. The meat was a horrible grey-brown. He gulped. At least it wasn't raw. When he bit in, the meat was dry, flavourless, and somehow still squishy... but stars above, when compared to weeks of nothing but instant space noodles, it was delicious.

He ate and ate until he was well and truly full. Goodness, did it ever feel good to be full. Moss happily took whatever scraps he didn't eat, leaving nothing but a few sinewy scraps, unappealing organs, and bones. He stretched. The Pikmin were still staring at him expectantly.

"That's all for today. I'm going to bed."

"Seeds?" a particularly bold Pikmin blurted out.

"Hm? No, I can't make seeds without an Onion, as far as I know." They nodded amongst each other.

"Only Home-Onion makes seeds. Leader isn't Home, so it doesn't make seeds," could be made out from the babble. He grimaced to himself.

"Well, unless any of you have any more tasks we need to do tonight, we're going to sleep." Olimar leaned up against Moss, who had taken to gnawing on one of the Dwarf Bulborb's femurs. Being able to feel her fur for once was nice, even if it was a bit coarse. How he wished he could've given her a nice, cushy life on Hocotate. A better diet would surely soften her coat up, just like it did for Bulbie...

He was snapped out of that line of thought by the tens of Pikmin crawling up onto him, a dense blanket of squirming roots as they tried to find the most comfortable folds of his spacesuit to cling on to.

They looked up at him with wet little eyes. "Doesn't Leader want to nest?" Great, now he felt guilty for being startled.

"Yes, of course," he sighed, spreading his arms a bit to give them more surface area. "Please get comfortable." Thankfully, he could still make out the opening from this position, since it didn't seem like he'd be moving any time soon. He shifted in place a little, trying to take his own advice, and closed his eyes.

"Isn't it comfortable?" one Pikmin whispered. They opened right back up, but the Pikmin didn't seem to notice.

"Soft and firm," another's voice. "Just like Leader!"

"Its belly is the best!"

"Stop calling me an 'it'," Olimar grumbled. 'It' probably wasn't actually what they were saying, but he was too tired to distinguish between that reality and what he could hear.

At that, the Pikmin began to babble amongst themselves unsurreptitiously. He couldn't make out the exact words, but their confusion was plenty clear.

Eventually, one spoke up, "if Leader isn't 'it', what is Leader?"

"Olimar," he groaned. "Please just call me Olimar, not Leader, and I'm not an 'it', I'm a 'he'."

"What is a 'he'?" Their eyes were wide with curiosity, he couldn't stay mad.

"Well, most creatures don't reproduce like you do. They don't have Onions to produce seeds for them, they create them themselves, with the help of another individual of their species. And to distinguish between the roles they play in reproduction, we use the pronouns 'he' and 'she'."

The Pikmin stared, begging him to elaborate. He supposed it was just cruel fate that he should have this talk with an alien species before- no, instead of with his own children...

"Alright, get off, we're not sleeping yet," Olimar ordered, squirming in place. "I'll need my arms to help explain this." The Pikmin excitedly obeyed.

"In species like my own, one individual provides one half of the 'seed', and another provides the other. When they reproduce, the full seed grows within one of them." He scratched a pair of figures into the dirt. "The one who grows the seed is a 'she', and the other is a 'he'."

The Pikmin erupted into babble once more, eagerly discussing this little lesson.

"If Leader-Olimar is he, is creature-Moss also he?" a yellow Pikmin asked, pointing at Moss. It looked particularly excited about being able to come to this conclusion.

"Ah, no, but good guess." He shook his head. "Moss is a 'she'. The way her body is indicates that she would be the one to grow the seed, or- more likely- seeds."

"How does Leader-Olimar know?" a red Pikmin interjected. "Leader-Olimar and creature-Moss aren't the same."

"Could be!" another one chimed in. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what it meant by that.

"There are creatures very similar to Moss back where I'm from. We call them dogs, and they follow similar patterns of reproduction to my species. From what I've seen, Moss is very much the same."

"Dog. Dog. Dog? Dog. Dog! Dog," came the murmur of the squad as they tried out the word.

"But how can Olimar tell?" the red Pikmin from before questioned.

"Their external organs are-"

"But organs are inside-meat?"

"Not necessarily. Things like eyes or skin are external organs, and-" He had went to pinch his cheek as an example, but whatever he'd grabbed certainly wasn't his skin. He tugged a little. It felt as though he'd grabbed a chunk of hair instead, though a bit more concentrated somehow. "... I don't want to know what I look like right now, do I," he muttered.

"Leader looks safe!" a Pikmin immediately answered.

"Leader-Olimar!" another corrected.

"Leader-Olimar looks alive!" one more chirped.

"Alive and safe! Safe and alive!" the group chanted.

None of those cleared anything up, but that was probably for the best. He sighed and continued. "Anyways, external organs can be used for reproduction. Usually you can tell because the 'he' organs stick out, while 'she' organs go in, a bit like a gill."

This caused yet more confusion amongst the Pikmin. He was sure he could make out a few blue Pikmin confusedly asking if they were 'she's, and while he was prepared to answer that with a 'if you want to be, yes', he wasn't quite prepared for what they actually came forward to say.

"She," they said in unison, all pointing their roots towards Olimar.

"What?"

"Leader-Olimar and creature-Moss have inside bits!" A few of the Pikmin began to dance around, quite pleased with their deduction. "Moss is she, so Olimar is she!"

"No, that's not..." He slumped his shoulders. This was better than getting called 'it' all the time, and it would be a waste of time to keep bashing against this brick wall. "...Sure. Let's go to sleep now."

"Leader-Olimar is so smart," a few Pikmin hummed as they wriggled back into position. "She is such a good leader!"

Olimar sighed to himself. At least someone thought he was doing well. He looked up to the cave's exit, where he could make out the night sky, pinpricked by stars. He couldn't hold back any longer. Those very stars blurred away, his eyes overflowing with tears.

At first, he'd thought it strange, almost cruel, that this planet's sun should completely drown out every other visible star during the day, that he should only get the faintest chance of catching a vague glimpse of Hocotate in the dead of night, utterly unrecognizable from this distance. But now, it seemed like a necessary evil. He should only mourn the home he would never see again when there was nothing more important to do.

"Chipi, dear, I hope you'll be able to forgive me," were the last words out of his mouth before he fell asleep.

[sleepyfins]

My Fin-troduction!

Hello! Thank you for swimming by, I'm Sleepy and welcome to my Aquarium!!

I post fish related content on this account. It's harder than you'd think to find a Tripod Fish themed Moodboard, and even harder to find fully SFW fish accounts. I've found none so far.

While this is an AgeRe account, I don't post when regressed. Instead, this account acts as a safe space for anyone who might need it.

Requests

I can do fish-themed Moodboards, Outfitboards and Stimboards. Sea Creatures allowed like Crabs which are Crustaceans or Dolphins which are mammals.

Feel free to request items, colours, themes and anything else that's relevant too!

My Worksheets are coloured blue so it's easier to read if you have Dyslexia or ADHD

I'm happy to do Factfiles too, but my requested posts always come with facts.

And I have a Picrew Masterlist that I update whenever I find new ones!!

Extra

I'm a boy. I go by it/its, he/him and fin/fins.

I have seven goldfish of my own who live in my pond. One is ill at the moment. :[

My favourite fish are Tripod Fish and Yellowfin Tuna. I think they're super cool.

I have a very sweet caregiver. His name is Teri, he writes fanfiction and he has other projects too such as Luminescence. His account is @nuggeteri :]

While this account is only for fish, I enjoy watching Bagpuss, I like Dinosaurs and like Insects. I also enjoy cutesy horror content like DDLC, PMMM and NSO. ^^

Thank you for reading this far!

[ourflagmeansheartbreak]

Okay and another rant

Yes about Izzy

Yes again

Because yes it’s important

The crew giving him a leg was so fucking meaningful to the short man he literally cried.

Izzy always loved and cared for people in his own way. How many times has he made Ed take his anger on him instead of them? He got his toes cut off and I really don’t think it was just because he’s so desperately in love with Edward as everyone makes it out to be; at some point you realise he was doing damage control and taking it on himself. Because he blames himself for everything that happened. And he doesn’t deserve that because both of them are supposed to be held responsible for THEIR actions but that’s another rant.

So when they’re finally safe, he absolutely lets himself go. He yells and drinks non stop and curses at everyone essentially trying to push everyone away and… probably just end it here.

But they don’t fucking let it happen. They see the pain, they see what he has done for them, they care. They do the makeshift leg and writes a stupid note and leaves it near his doors as he yells for everyone to go away. Because at this point he blames himself so much that he won’t risk trying and still being unlovable.

And he sees that. That small kind gesture. And something in him doesn’t want to believe it; he has been nothing but insane to them and that’s how they repay? By giving him space and giving him gifts? And he cries. He’s so shocked he covers his fucking mouth.

He accepts it and keeps it, and most importantly, he keeps the fucking note. And reads it to himself. And smiles. Because it’s proof someone cares. Just a little bit. Because it’s proof he’s not completely unlovable. Because someone cares, they cares, they cared enough for this, they cared, they cared, god they cared for him oh my god they cared for him.

That small gesture of kindness was so powerful to him he stops drinking. He pulls himself up. Starts training again. Hanging out on the deck. Wood carving. Talks to people. Talks to Lucius. Helps Stede. Gives Lucius the little sharky/dolphin (I couldn’t get a good look what that exactly was). He essentially is spending his time trying to repay for the kindness he received; in his own little silly ways but my god is he trying, so hard, every single day.

Don’t tell me Izzy is beyond repair. Don’t tell me he deserved it. Don’t tell me that.

You don’t become a pirate at 16 and not see some shit go down. Not be in a middle of the shit going down. Not learn how to shut down and be “the pirate” that you’re expected to be.

If you think Edward deserves redemption for everything that he has done, so does Izzy. You can’t pick a side and just claim that oh Eddie is a babygirl who just needs some love and then turn around to say Izzy deserved everything and more. The two faced hypocrisy is ridiculous. They are both grown ass men and they both should be held responsible for their own actions, and they both deserve love and kindness and both are capable of redemption.

Don’t tell me Izzy doesn’t. Don’t tell me. That simply isn’t true.

And the truth is rarely simple as they both are dynamic characters with complex personalities. And I wish, I really fucking do, for BOTH of them to go through healing process and both of them to emerge victorious.

[ch1meraa]

Made a mini-ref sheet of my OC ‘Vic’ - This is his humanoid form, albeit he still has six limbs, the long tail and digitigrade legs.

I was chatting with a friend and we were talking about how our characters would cope with space-travel. So, what neat features would they have to help them cope with different planets/radiation levels and atmospheric variations and so on…

So I drew Vic with extra breathing apparatus, or ‘spiracles’ - and there’s some information here about them, how they work and what-not :) think of them like how dolphins breathe, except their job is to extract as much oxygen as possible - and scrub high CO2 levels safely - hence why Vic’s flesh and blood is purple, instead of red.

Feel free to ask questions if you want to know more~

Vic (C) me~