#gender issue gunk

[ftmtftm]

I'd like to ask for some help from any intersex followers I have (or any intersex folks who come across this post!)

I've been struggling a lot to find proper terminology for intersex issues in my research because Google is all gunked up and Tumblr is just as hard to parse through.

So, if anyone could point me in the direction of any good literature by intersex authors or any good online resources (especially that define terminology) that would be incredibly helpful!! I'm still doing work myself but any sort of direction would be wonderful!

(tl;dr I want to be a better ally to intersex folks in trans feminist conversations about sex/gender and approach my own theory with intersex experiences in mind better! So, any and all resources would be appreciated!)

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'

🌶️Obligatory Warning for Some Descriptions of Violence & Mild Suggestive Content

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

As detestable as they were, at the very least your assailants were well organized.

You were plopped neatly at the center of the room, in a very conspicuous location that would have made it difficult for a hypothetical someone to, say, just flat-out torch everything in sight without also catching his very tiny, mortal, companion up in said firestorm.

The group of them split off to tend to their tasks with a frankly shocking level of competence and foresight. Was this how adventurers were actually supposed to work? They didn’t just—I don’t know—saunter into an abandoned castle on a whim and a prayer, with no real end goal in sight and nothing but the perpetual bounding of a singular, shared, braincell to keep them on their toes? There was a plan? What was this madness.

“How much time do you think we have?” one of them called, busy working to set up some sort of wire trap that, in your humble ‘I have faced this legendary dragon and survived’ opinion, looked like it would do exactly diddly squat.

“Enough,” the Elf Wizard shrugged, thin arms crossed tight across his equally gaunt chest. “These vermin don’t have the same concept of time as we do. It may return soon, but we may also be waiting hours.”

Hours? Hours? You fought the urge to groan. And then remembered it hardly mattered if you did or not, because you were still trapped in a bubble of perpetual Silence, and that just made you want to groan louder.

Assumed-Rogue nodded tersely in response and continued constructing his pseudo-trap. The long, red, stripes of his sleeves were odd things—very in-your-face bold for a dude whose job you assumed it was to slip through shadows unseen. But then you noticed that the threads he was spinning were pooling from those slashes of crimson, and alright, that was fairly cool. ‘Your failure of a stealthy design gets a pass this time, good sir.’

“You’re certain this is one of the Briar Beasts, Lord Flamm?” Armored Lady piped in, busy shifting through the various swords strapped at her hip.

“Of course,” he hummed, flicking through his spell tome. “Have I ever led you astray before?”

Armored Dude snorted from his place across the room. “You’re not the issue. I just have trouble believing one of those monsters would still be alive at all after all this time.”

‘Lord Flamm’ snorted. “And why not? They’re like cockroaches—thriving through the worst of the world and gorging themselves on its corruption. This one is no different.”

Your brows twitched irritably.

Thankfully, Silence was not an indefinite spell. And after about ten minutes of muzzled misery, you felt its sticky, gauzy, gunk wash itself out of your throat.  

“I’m getting the impression that you’re really not a fan of dragons,” you said, testing your volume.

Lord Flamm stared down at you with a hawk-eyed sort of sneer. His pale, green, glare felt like a tangible thing crawling along your skin.

“They are unnatural,” he huffed after a moment. “No creature should walk the planes of this world for such a great span of time. Immortality is a perverse transgression against the sanctities of life and existence.”

“You are literally an Elf,” you replied, incredulous. His face scrunched up like you’d forced a whole lemon into his mouth, and then he dropped another dome of Silence over your head.

Another ten minutes crawled by, and words returned to your tongue.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?” you hummed, casually testing the arcane restraints binding your limbs. Those seemed to hold themselves in place with a great deal more fortitude than his on-again-off-again Mute Button, which was as frustrating as it was respectable.

“It’s not nearly the same. I was born into my burden,” he sniffed.

You blinked, confused. “I mean, so was Tsunotarou.”

Elf Wizard made a punched-out sort of noise, like you’d decked him right in the spleen.

“You named the beast?” he gawked. “Like a pet?”

“Look, man,” you grouched, offended on your scaly friend’s behalf. “If anyone’s the pet here, it’s me!”

Lord Flamm’s face went white, to red, and then nearly puce.

“Wait,” you spluttered. “That came out wrong—”

And then you were gagged once more.

The next time your muzzle was lifted, Lord Flamm was already pacing along the little, invisible, edge of the spell’s cage. You cleared your throat and he came to a stop a few feet away from where you were bound.

“I can see what’s happened here,” he said, stern, and you arched a brow in disbelief. You didn’t even have any solid idea what the fuck was going on, and you’d been living it for the past few weeks. He cleared his throat and glowered down at you. “You’ve been taken in by the monster’s wiles.”

You spluttered. “Not to just keep repeating myself, but really, if anyone did the ‘accidental seducing’ thing here, it was—”

He waved you off with a puckered grimace. “That hardly matters. At the end of the day, you are still the creature’s prisoner, and it is my duty as a man of integrity to assist you however I can.”

You frowned. Because while this whole thing had technically started as a hostage situation, it hadn’t really felt like one lately. Sure, Tsunotarou still threw tantrums that shook the foundation when you’d tried to put up a makeshift bathroom door, but he also listened to all your stories with the rapt attention of someone genuinely invested in the garbage pouring out of your mouth. He tucked you into your big mattress nest at night with his scaly nose, and endured all your griping with nothing but good humor. He showed you his treasures and told you terrible, dry, jokes that you were sure you only found so funny because he certainly hadn’t meant to be.

You sighed and dipped your head, expression shuttered.

Lord Flamm stepped forward and you felt a thin, gloved, finger tuck itself beneath your chin to tilt you back up to face him.

“I will save you,” he promised, something genuinely sturdy and righteous coating the words. “If you ask it of me.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose.

“There once a man from Trebucket,” you chirped, letting the jaunty tavern melody roll off your tongue like any good Bard ought to.

Lord Flamm arched a thin brow, in equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“Who really only wanted to find the dragon so he could fuck it—”

His face twisted in rage, and to the surprise of literally no one, you were Silenced yet again. Though this one felt the most like a victory so far.

And thus, the cycle repeated itself. Every quarter hour or so, the spell would drop and you’d start babbling some sacrilegious, borderline pornographic, nonsense that had him cursing you all over again. You counted each round of mockery softly in your head. Half to keep time, half to—

Your gaze trailed past the intricate, stone, entryway and caught. Perched atop the overhang were two gargoyles. Which was quite odd, seeing as you’d spent half a month living out of this room now and had never noticed them before (and you certainly would have, what with your host’s propensity for pointing out the gothic carvings each and every time one popped up in the castle’s architecture). Not to mention, they looked an awful lot like the pair of grey monsters which had been guarding the entrance when you’d first slunk in—the very duo that you’d sworn had tracked you and your friends with beady, gemstone, eyes and dug their pointed talons through solid rock.   

Ancient buildings always seemed to have a life about them—never quiet, never still. Always settling with strange noises and shifting shadows that danced oddly along surfaces that were forever decaying. And this castle was no different. So it took you really listening, really closing your eyes tight and straining your ears against the perpetual white noise, to make out the low grinding of the Gargoyles as they shifted atop their perch and curled their sharp claws.

You tilted your head at them, curious, and the one on the left seemed to bristle. As much as stone could bristle. The one on the right very softly dipped its chin, almost like a bow. Its purple, glass, eyes flashed in the lowlight.

‘Wait,’ that look said.

And so you did, sitting straighter and at proper attention.

The group of Dragon Slayers was still milling about making preparations. Eventually, one of the two yet-unclassified hench people slunk from the room, and when your gaze slipped back to the gargoyles, the one on the right was gone.

You made eye contact with the remaining carving, and it curled its lip at you like a grumbly hound.

There was a scream from beyond the threshold, and then a great clattering of noise not unlike an earthquake, or the resonating crunch of a building crumbling at its base.

Immediately weapons were drawn, shoulders hunched in panic. Defensive magic swirled through the air like ink in water.  

“What’s going on?!—”

With a shrieking roar, the remaining gargoyle lurched forward and collided with one of the armored attackers. The impact was like a crack of thunder, and it rattled around your skull like a gong.

And with that—dragon or no—the battle against the Hunters had officially begun.

With a panicked squawk, you began worming your still very bound self out of the dead center of this tornado of chaos. You flopped across the floor like a particularly determined caterpillar, or someone trussed up a in a sleeping bag with no limbs. You made it almost a solid twenty feet before you were scooped up by the back of your collar and dropped onto your knees.  

“Not so fast, you little cretin.”

And then there was a curved knife at your throat and a set of hands trapping your own. You gulped and the blade bobbed against your chin. Stupid rogues with their stupid stealth. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists, willing the meager scraps of magic that twirled in your veins to bob to the surface. You could feel the trace rumblings of a Thunderwave reverberating down your limbs, and it was certainly no Fireball, or Lightning Bolt, but maybe it would be enough to—

There was a spray of red, red, red and the Striped Rogue at your back collapsed in a puddle of gore.

Standing over the corpse of the felled assassin was a boy. Or, well, something that very much looked like a young boy. Or, not young. Just… It was strange. He was small, slight, with a cheerful youthfulness to him. But the mirthful expression lighting his crimson eyes chilled your bones like the seeping cold from a long-forgotten tomb. It was like looking at someone with dozens—hundreds—of faces. A kaleidoscope of lifetimes. It was disorientating.

“Hello, you,” the little demon cooed. He reached out to tap a clawed finger against your forehead and the arcane binds holding your limbs shattered on impact. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”

Something tugged at your brain as you gaped at that mess of choppy, black-and-pink, hair, and the glittering irises that matched the blood splattered across his cheeks almost too horribly well.

“Are you… Lilia?” you asked, dazed.

“Well done, little human,” he trilled, lips curling in delight as he hauled you back to your feet. “But there will be time for proper introductions later. Let’s get you somewhere safe first, before my silly ward really does tear this whole castle down.”

“Tsunotarou is here?” you frowned, anxious. “But these people are here to kill him.”

“We’ve done our best to keep him away for as long as possible,” Lilia hummed. “But I doubt he has much more patience for skulking about in the shadows. He never did,” He sighed, long and world weary. “And I loved this old haunt so much too. I hope it survives.”

“You—” you gawked. “You’re talking about the castle?!”

“Of course,” Lilia smiled, perfectly sweet. “Swatting these pests is going to cause more damage than they’re worth to begin with—”

You were yanked out of the path of an encroaching blade, and Lilia sidestepped the pair of you smoothly to safety.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the Paladin thundered, hand whipping out to leash a whirl of vibrating, bright, magic around Lilia’s wrists. “This fight is mine! And you will have no other!”

“Ah,” your savior sighed, looking down at the faint, yellow, glow circling his skin. “Now that is a doozy.”

The great sword came down with a crash, and Lilia ducked away from the destruction with ease. He gave you a light tap on the shoulder, pushing you forward, and you felt the flush of a Haste spell nibbling at your limbs.

“Go on ahead,” he said, with all the nonchalant politeness of someone lamenting that they were going to be late for afternoon tea. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

BOOM went the now glowing sword as it sliced through the air where your savior had been standing not a moment before.

“Do not take me so lightly, wretch,” the Paladin spat, and Lilia’s civil little smile twisted into something that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“If you insist,” he beamed, with a level of enthusiasm that was bordering on sociopathic.

You didn’t stay to see the fallout. Lilia’s orders to flee aside, you knew well enough what a cat looked like before it pounced—that smug, animalistic, satisfaction that came after deciding that it was going to play with its meal for as long as it liked. And the grinding, snapping, howling noises coming from their direction was enough to reinforce that looking back would be a very terrible idea indeed.

You’d only just made it past the threshold and out in the grand hall beyond when there came a whining groan that sounded familiarly enough like the protesting noises the banister would make whenever Tsunotarou dropped too much of his weight on top of it. You peered back into the room, and from the darkness at its rear emerged a long, thin, snout.

The Great, Ebony, Dragon slithered forth from the blackness like a snake through the grass. The sharp drag of his claws against the stone was earsplitting, and when he spread his wings behind him, he seemed to cast the entire cavern into shadow. Faster than you could blink, one, two, three of the Slayers were scooped up by those massive, pointed, teeth and tossed through the air—wherein the pair of gargoyles descended upon them like a set of well-trained attack dogs. Your dragon swiveled to spit black smoke across the rest of the echoing room and its occupants. Between the swirling smog seeping from his throat and the blackness of his wings, the brilliant, green, glow of his eyes were the only source of light in the gloom. It was all horribly eerie, but mesmerizing in a way that reminded you exactly why so many ballads and epics had been written about the terrible might of Dragons.

He reared his head back and roared. His bellowing seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle, and the sparks jumping from behind his canines bit through the smoke with harsh little pop-pop-pops. And man oh man, he reallymust have been taking it easy on you and your duo of idiots, because this would have had the three of you shitting your pants on the spot.

From there, the battle more or less became a one-sided massacre. The stone soldiers flew through the air, decimating the opponents as their master demanded. Occasionally there was a flash of pink, and then a cheerful laugh followed inevitably by a noise that was all kinds of unpleasant. And at the center of it all was your newfound friend—picking apart the opposition with all the careful rage of someone determined to sear the consequences of these Hunters’ folly into the memories of their lineages for ages to come.

And then—amidst all the quite frankly epic fighting that you would have to tell Ace and Deuce all about when they came back to visit—you noticed that not far from where you were hiding observing was a familiar, angry, gaunt face. Lord Flamm’s elaborate black and maroon robes swirled around his ankles as he paced, and he was leering at the chaos unfolding not a hundred feet away with an expression that calling murderous would have been kind.

You bristled immediately, limbs lancing through with a tight sort of indignation.

He was just—right there! Standing all the way out here! When the rest of his party was busy being chewed to itty-bitty pieces!

And sure, rationally you knew that Wizards were squishy, glass-canons not meant for close combat more intense than a round of rock-paper-scissors. Sure, when you and your idiots had been facing down a dragon, Ace and Deuce had ordered you and your equally ill-armored self to run for it. Someone had probably hurled the Elf from the room the moment combat began, or demanded he whirl away to safety.

But you wanted to be angry. Because this was the man who had strode, eyes wide open, into a hornet’s nest with the sole intention of crushing the poor bugs beneath his heel. He deserved to bear the brunt of the miserable, stinging, backlash.

It certainly didn’t help that he was glaring down Tsunotarou with near frenzied loathing. The tome in his hands was flipped open to a dense spell that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and he was casting. Something tedious, and extravagant, and with enough somatic nonsense to make your head spin. His gloved fingers glowed beneath a growing mote of magic that shone horrible and bright in the natural shadows of the castle. Whatever sort of magic it was, it was strong enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and push frantic adrenaline through your veins. Sigils swam through the air, and you swore you could feel it sapping at your own tiny pool of mana. If this was some kind of spell that would gobble up magic, then a dragon who was nothing but magic—then Tsunotarou—he would—This spell might actually—

You ran at that wretched little bitch with everything you had, and tackled him to the ground just as a bolt of crackling, pale, force magic boomed from between his fingers. The spell shot wide, and you thanked every divine being you could think of for the enduring shittiness of Wizard Muscles.

“I should have known you’d risk your life to save that unholy monster,” he seethed, rolling back to his feet and sending you tumbling off the side.

You stood firm and silent between this awful, garbage, Elf and the Dragon he so hated.

Lord Flamm raised a hand in your direction, incensed, and then you watched as something sharp and frightened slithered its way across his features. No sparks danced along his fingertips, no black miasma curled from his palms. You shoved your hands into your pockets and rocked back and forth on your heels like the most obnoxious piece of shit you could be.

“Wow,” you drawled, low in your throat. “That was impressive. I mean. How many times did you cast all those spells on me earlier? I’m shocked you have anything left.”

The already dark look coloring his face twitched into something truly foul.

“You were doing that on purpose,” he snarled. “You vile, loathsome, bumbling ignoramus of a bard!—"

“Ah, stop, stop!” You beamed, fanning yourself with a limp wrist. “You’re going to make me blush~”

You ducked out the way with a yelp as a mote of fire whizzed past your ear—singeing far too many hairs at it went. Because fuck fuck fuck. Cantrips were still a thing. And he was powerful enough that those simple, little, bits of magic would still probably be more than enough to fry the meat off your bones.

“It’ll be enough to kill you,” he seethed—like he could read your thoughts—teeth tugged into a hideous, gaping, sneer.

Your mind zipped through every possible escape route and settled frantically on the only option that had ever truly seemed to save your ass.

“What white teeth you have?” you tried.

He roared and another shot of brilliant, red, flames careened over your head.  

You ducked out of the way with a squawk just in the nick of time, nearly faceplanting into a wall in your haste.

And thus ensued a terrifying but morbidly hilarious Benny Hill chase through pillars, and behind rocks, and into holes. You killed your singular, daily use of Misty Step just trying to get out of one of said holes. And your brief attempt at tossing up a Mirror Image to throw off his groove did little but get you whacked with a Counterspell that made your bones ache.

Just as you’d burned through the last of your meager magic and were genuinely preparing to just try and deck the guy again, black smoke began to curl through the hall—soon followed by the ominous roll of thunderous growls and the heavy grindingof a gigantic beast clawing its way into the room.

You threw yourself at the dragon with more enthusiasm than was probably proper for a situation like this, and he immediately ducked his head to catch you against his snout. He curled himself around you with a rumbling snarl and your vision was drowned in a shifting sea of ebony scales. You squished yourself into his bulk with a shuddering sigh, fingers clutching a bit uselessly at the slippery surface of his natural armor.

A burst of orange flames rolled harmlessly off Tsunotarou’s scaled side and his lips curled unpleasantly over his canines. You could see the licks of emerald fire rolling off his tongue—dancing along his white teeth and lighting the hall in an ominous, sickly, glow.

Before the pair of you, Lord Flamm looked half-mad. If not fully consumed. His party wiped, his hostage freed, and the creature he hated so fiercely baring down on him with no escape.

He let his head fall back with a discordant trill of laughter and grinned at the approaching dragon without a hint of repentance. Fear, perhaps. Panic, certainly. But no remorse. He raised his hands once more, and another dredge of his own fire sparked along his fingers.

“And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”

The Great Briar Beast of Old opened his gigantic, black, maw and choked the hall in a torrent of emerald fire.

And Lord Flamm and his Dragon Slayers were no more.

You stared intently at the singed corridor, as if waiting for one of the piles of ash to jump to its feet and pull a sword. Which you might have excused as paranoid fretting if you hadn’t heard of necrotic magics capable of doing exactly that. But after a long moment of waiting with bated breath and tight fists, the monsters did not rise from their graves, and all seemed to be truly well and over.

You let out a gigantic gust of a breath and collapsed bonelessly against the dragon at your side. After a solid minute or two of just awkwardly trying to find a good way to hug a giant lizard more than a dozen times your size, Tsunotarou slipped out of his scales, and then he was warm and fleshy in your arms once more. Still too big, still earth-shatteringly strong, but human-shapedenough that you could merrily settle into his embrace without the risk of becoming a pancake.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped past the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re okay!”

“Me?” he gawked at you. It was an awkward angle to make eye contact, seeing as he’d latched himself onto you like a particularly determined koala, but he managed nonetheless. “You were worried about me during all of that?” He blinked those wide, neon, eyes at you like you were some horribly long and tedious math equation that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. “You were the one who was captured!”

“They were Dragon Slayers,” you entreated, brow furrowed. “They didn’t need me for much of anything. Of course I was worried more about you.”

When the constipated look on his face refused to fade, you prodded him gently in his side.

“Look, I promise if we ever run into Bard Poachers I will be exponentially more cautious.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced—whether because he was trying to suss out of if something like ‘Bard Poachers’ were an actual, factual, threat upon your person, or because you’d just openly hurtled yourself at a clearly overpowered, feral, wizard with no regards to your already shitty constitution to speak of, so a promise to ‘be more cautious’ was about as good as saying that maybe next time you wouldn’t outright flirt with death. Only subtly. A lil’ bit.

You reached up to smoosh your thumb along the sharp slant of his frown and smooth out the harsh edges that were practically digging into his jaw.

“Tsunotarou, if you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” you warned.  

“Malleus,” he interrupted, firm. You blinked up at him slowly and your hand fell back to rest in the nonexistent space between you.

“A what?”

“Malleus,” he repeated, and you felt the weight of the word dance through the air like sparks. Like an invocation, or a curse. “My true name.”

You waited a moment in shocked silence before slowly repeating your own name back at him. He startled and snorted a laugh into your neck, some of that lingering, terrible, tension finally seeming to seep out of him.

“I am well aware of what you are called, Child of Man.”

“…I know that,” you mumbled, fighting the urge to fidget. Malleus, Malleus, Malleus. The syllables sat heavy on your tongue, like your mouth couldn’t figure out how to push them past your lips. “I thought you said that dragons don’t give out their real names.”

He drew back just enough to cup your cheeks in his ashy palms, brushing a clawed finger back and forth against one of the small cuts littering your jaw.

“There is power in a name,” he said. “It is not a gift readily bestowed.”

Then why—

You swallowed, nervous, and one of his thumbs tracked the movement along the hollow of your throat.

“This way, if you call for me, I will always hear you,” he promised, eyes going flinty and venomous as he gazed at the cinder piles of smoking intruders. “And something like this will never happen again.”

“I—I mean,” you spluttered. “Me being—And this being—I mean—” You cleared your throat. “That hardly seems like a good enough reason to—to—” To put something so important into the hands of someone who literally broke into your house less than a month ago. To give something so precious to someone so human.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, that sharp anger melting back into something painfully soft. Your poor heart kickstarted itself all over again. He ducked forward to press his nose into your temple, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath as his grin sharpened into a smirk. “Though I would have liked to bestow my titles on you in other ways as well, if this little hero would be amenable.”

You squawked, and the only thing that shook you out of the immediate spiral into ‘did he really just ask me to—am I really going to be stuck in every goddamn bard’s trope existence of—of—'  was the merry laughter that bubbled up from somewhere behind you. 

“Careful, my Prince,” Lilia hummed from his place perched atop a particularly large heap of rubble. “If you come on too strong, you’ll only scare them away. Humans are flighty like that, I’m afraid.”

You could feel Malleus’s pout against your forehead.

“Not my human,” he grouched. His hands dropped from your cheeks to encircle your waist and clutch at your lower back. “And that besides,” he continued testily, “you were the one who only just this morning insisted I take decisive action.”

“That’s true,” Lilia agreed with a gentle bob of his head, resting his pointed chin against his palm. “But perhaps three sentences at least before the proposal?”

Malleus blinked, slow and serpentine, before flicking his neon gaze back to you. “That does seem fair I suppose. What do you think?”

“I think,” you gawked, trying and failing to process any of the words that were coming out of their fanged mouths, “that I am having a stroke.”

“NOT ACCEPTABLE!” boomed a voice from overhead. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL ILL AFTER ALL THE EFFORTS WE TOOK TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”

You jolted in shock, and Malleus’s talons flexed reassuringly at your waist as he gently turned you back-to-chest so that you could face your accuser. He nestled his chin into your shoulder, and you could feel his horns bump against your skull as he tried to burrow in as close as possible. Which all would have been thoroughly distracting, but then you noticed that one of the Gargoyles from early had landed directly across from you. Its spiked head was swiveling back and forth as it appraised you like some particularly ruffled cockatoo. And that in itself was bizarre enough to help you focus on something other than the weight along your back and the steadily rising heat in your cheeks.

“Uhm, hello?” you tried.

“WE HAVE ALREADY MET!” It screeched. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR INTRODUCTIONS!”

“It talks,” you blanched.

“OF COURSE I SPEAK, YOU IGNORANT ENTERTAINER!” The Gargoyle thundered. Its yellow eyes flashed in indignation. “HOW COULD I NOT LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN A RESPECTABLE FASHION WHEN SERVING SOMEONE SO MAJESTIC AS HIS MAJESTY?!”

“I think,” the other Gargoyle said, slipping forward so silently you could hardly believe it was made of such strong stone at all, “that what Sebek is trying to say, is that we are happy to finally be able welcome you into our home, even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. And that we are very pleased to be able to speak with you.”

“THAT IS WHAT I ALREADY SAID, SILVER!” the spiky one snarled. No one else looked particularly bothered by his ceaseless volume, so it was probably normal. He stuck his carved nose into the air with a harumph. “AND I HAVE HEARD OF THE WAYS OF YOU TRAVELING STORY TELLERS! IF YOU BREAK MY MASTER’S HEART, YOU WILL SUFFER AN ETERNITY OF TORMENT AT MY HAND!”

Malleus growled, low and rumbling, from over your shoulder. Instantly his stalwart guardian cowed—head dipping like a kicked a puppy.

“Of course,” it continued, much softer. “I don’t think this human would do that. And—And I think my master has made a very good choice in his mate, and I will be happy to serve you too.”

Lilia sighed a sigh that sounded very much like a doting mother overflowing with parental affection. Like the kind of noise one may hear on a cozy Sunday afternoon while helping prepare dinner, or while sitting on a little, floral, couch and sifting through little paintings of grandchildren. There was still blood splattered all along his cheeks.

“It’s so lovely to have the family all together again,” he cooed. “And I do think that you will make such a marvelous addition.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you nodded jerkily, just as your knees buckled and you collapsed to the floor.

.

.

On the first day of the new month, Ace and Deuce made their way back to the forgotten castle nestled in a pool of lava.

“We should never have left them,” Deuce grumbled for what was maybe the ten thousandth time. Ace was sick of hearing it. He was even more sick of the fact that despite being constantly inundated with various versions of ‘oh, we’re such terrible friends,’ the little, twisting, spike of guilt in his gut never grew any duller. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Something-something-repetitive-exposure-therapy, or whatever? This sucked. He wanted a refund on this whole ‘conscience’ thing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sell his soul and become a Warlock or whatever. Surely that would help.  

“We didn’t have a choice,” Ace reminded him. Again. “They’re okay. I know they are. We’re going to show up and they’ll be, I don’t know, lying in a bed of gold being hand fed grapes or something.”

Deuce made a rumbly, whining, kind of noise that made him sound even more pathetic than usual and Ace sighed, determined to instead focus on the rickety rope bridge swinging beneath their feet.

The ancient, looming, monstrosity of a building was just as cold and dark as it had been the first time. If anything, it was more filthy. With walls stained with seeping ash and the charred, skeletal, remains of something that Ace was definitely, absolutely, not going to think about scattered throughout the grime.

The two of them made their way to the heart of the castle until they were standing at the entrance of a grand, cavernous, chamber that may have once been some sort of ballroom.

Ace didn’t know what he was expecting. Slaver’s coils maybe. A chain around your ankles and rags drooping from your shoulders. Or maybe you wouldn’t even be there at all—long since swallowed down as a little, midnight, snack.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see you lounging contentedly atop a mountainous heap of soft blankets, with the master of this castle—terror-incarnate, death from above, an eldritch beast ripped straight out of legend—curled along the lumpy hills of your grandiose pillow fort, its great head nestled at your back as you reclined against its scales and chattered away. Like the goddamned, rambling, idiot you had always been.

One of the dragon’s large, green, eyes shifted towards the intruders at its door, and Ace froze in place. You paused your chattering to raise your hand with an excited little wave. Your tattered traveler’s clothes had been replaced with something silken and soft enough that it would probably melt in his fingers, and it swayed like mist around you as you made your way to your feet. You were practically dripping in platinum, and diamonds, and emeralds, and—he was going to stop counting them before he gave himself a conniption.

And yeah… it wasn’t exactly a throne of gold and gemstones, but it was almost just as impressive. And immediately indignation swept through Ace with a horrible kind of vengeance. Because how dare you actually be living it up over here when he had been so fucking worried just lying about all that cool stuff to keep Deuce from storming the castle gates?

“You made it!” you chirped, perfectly merry despite the gigantic maw full of sharp teeth hovering at your shoulder.

“Of—Of course we did,” Deuce stuttered, his blue eyes flicking back and forth so quickly from the dragon, to you, to Ace, to the dragon, to you—that Ace genuinely thought he might be having a seizure. “We promised we would.”

You stopped in front of them with a considerate little hum, sharp eyes tracing and cataloguing their varying reactions. After a moment of what was obviously some very smug preening and even smugger ‘I win this round’ silent gloating, you slipped out of the piles of entangled jewels with an exaggerated shrug. With the exception of an intricately carved emerald pendant hanging softly between the hollows of your collarbones, the rest of the infinitely expensive and rare gems fell to the ground with a series of clattering chatter.

“All that shit is so heavy,” you whined. Whined. Like you had any right to complain about anything at all for the rest of your existence. You leaned forward with a wink. “I was just hoping it’d make your thieving, money-hungry ass, jealous.” You smirked, proud. “And it looks like it worked, you goddamn traitors.”

Ace was about to splutter out the most scathing remark his spiteful little brain could come up with, when Deuce ruined everything by rushing forward like the blubbering idiot he was and scooping you up into a bearhug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” he wailed. “We missed you so much!”

“Speak for yourself,” Ace huffed, and twinged miserably when it came out sounding far too soft. He cleared his throat and decided to take a different approach. “You know, last time I was sort of joking about the whole ‘bards and dragons’ thing. But it looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable. And here I thought you were always super opposed to the ‘fucking my way out of my problems’ stereotype.”

However, because the universe seemed determined not to give Ace any kind of win for the rest of his natural existence, instead of getting all embarrassed and mousey, you just huffed and turned up your nose at him.

“Well obviously not as a dragon,” you complained. “Do you know how big he is? How would that even work, huh?” The aforementioned dragon lowered his gigantic head to settle on the ground at your side, and you leaned against him good-naturedly when he grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, no,” you said to the beast, rolling your eyes. “Nice try, but no.”

Deuce immediately choked and started hacking up a lung, and Ace wanted to die.

“You can talk to it?” the redhead asked instead of keeling over.

You shrugged.

“Not like this. But I’ve learned to interpret most of it.” You wiggled your fingers. “It’s my sixth sense.”

Ace’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, right. If anything, it’s your ‘I’ve been dicked down by a dragon and think that makes me soooo special now’ sense—”

The great, ebony, monster growled and the Fighter’s mouth snapped shut like someone had taken a hammer to his jaw. You snickered goodhumoredly and elbowed your companion gently at the base of one of its long, sharp, horns.

“He’s just joking around,” you said to the winged horror. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”

There was another grumpy sneer, but the dragon simply settled more heavily at your side with a defeated sort of huff. The gust of a sigh sent a wave of scorching heat along Ace’s front, and he fought the urge to cow immediately and beg for his life. Because apparently that wasn’t going to be necessary, because you had—you had—

“Are you in love?” Deuce blurted, because unlike Ace, the Barbarian was pure, and good, and still didn’t fully understand how eggs worked, let alone the concept of Fuck or Die.

And then you surprised him yet again by getting as flustered as he’d expected you to when he’d accused you (rightly) of bending over for a goddamn fucking dragon.

But before you could answer, the dragon lifted its head to press its temple against yours. Or, as well as it could do that when it dwarfed the lot of you the way an elephant might hover over a mouse. Mostly it just ended up being a very, very, delicate head bump. A deep, warbling, purr started from its chest and rolled all the way up and past its sharp, white, canines.

“Uhm,” you tried again. “You guys are invited to the wedding, I guess.”

“The what?!” Deuce howled, before promptly falling to his knees to fan himself like a devasted matron in a church.

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your head, clearly embarrassed. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a bit like ‘it’s kind of a whole saga, y’know.’ And Ace, in all his infinite good will, decided to take pity on you just this once. And also because you were clearly loaded now, and all good friends know that sharing is caring, right?

“Come on then, Bardy,” he smirked, leaning down to kick Deuce flatter to the floor—half to knock the guy out of his frantic spiraling, half so he could perch on his back like a chair. Because the stone floor looked really uncomfortable, and he had a feeling that trying to slip into that nice nest of blankets of yours would not end well. “Tell us a story.”

.

.

.

[TAG LIST] CLOSED

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess, @liliasleftpinkytoe

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[radfae]

you seem rational etc can i ask what your thoughts on trans people are?

i self identify as a trans woman and i know that a lot of womens' issues specifically DO NOT REFER TO ME, however

the conflation of gender and sex i see in radfem spaces is intense and just comes across as bigotry tbh

i've seen radfems refer to trans men as "confused girls" who were manipulated by the patriarchy into hating their body and like.. that just seems very anti-expression and backwards to me

since you’re asking, i’d like to believe you’re coming into this with an open mind, so i ask you to please listen to me all the way through. this is also a pretty general question so i did my best to sum stuff up but if you have any specific questions feel free to follow up with another ask. i’ll talk to anyone in good faith.

i believe in freedom of expression and common courtesy in respecting other people (until you’ve done something to lose that respect). basically, you can do whatever you want, and i mainly take issue with people who can’t/won’t separate trans people from the gender they’re transitioning to and recognize their sex/actively encourage ill feelings of dysphoria/etc. i also think we have a huge issue with informed consent regarding transition and we need to examine why dysphoria is occurring and explore other methods of treatment instead of jumping to being a lifelong patient.

i think “confused girl” is rude but i do think it’s important to know exactly why you feel the way you do. gender isn’t innate. your feelings of distress stem from something. reality girl zine doesn’t do a great job at appealing to a wider audience (and may have caricatures some find offensive), but it makes great points about what girls are taught about gender from a young age and how stereotyping male and female traits may lead young girls to identify out of girlhood (some of which i personally empathize with as someone who is now desisted).

all this being said, our ultimate goal is always gender abolition. since we do live within the frameworks of gender and i understand transness in our world as it is, it’s important to recognize that gender is not real, it’s not innate, there’s no male spirit and female spirit, and wearing pants and having short hair doesn’t make you any more male than wearing a skirt and having long hair makes you female. gender, when it comes down to it, is a set of stereotypes. if you remove the social aspect of gender/the idea of what it means to be a woman removed from sex, you have nothing leftover. it’s a bunch of gunk created to oppress women. it’s evolved a lot now, but the extremely basic premise of gender is to fit people into boxes: women-like activities include wearing skirts, makeup, tight clothes, and cooking. men-like activities include wearing pants, loose clothes, having body hair, etc. if this weren’t true, the basic elements of transitioning to a different gender wouldn’t exist. trans women wouldn’t be upset online about being misgendered while wearing a dress and makeup, because clearly dress and makeup = woman. doesn’t this all seem a bit regressive at its core? i’ve used this infographic a lot, but it’s always relevant:

[ratasum]

Some random asura headcanon thoughts for you today in the form of a few things:

Asura are fastidiously clean. You may see them a bit gunked up from work, and their labs may be cluttered, but for their own bodies they are a bathe every day kind of race. This is much more prevalent, I think, in the higher levels of the meritocracy. Time to regularly keep clean means you are clever enough to work smarter not harder, likely have a large krewe, and probably can afford access to private baths more frequently. Not that it effects the lower classes too terribly... they may just bathe every other day instead.

Asura have bathhouse culture. Being a culture that came from underground, they'd very likely have had access to underground hot springs. I could see this very easily causing them to have very few qualms about communal bathing, including mixed gender bathhouses, just because they wouldn't see any issue with it. You'll see a lot more lower class asura utilizing them on account of not having access to private facilities, but a lot of asura higher in the meritocracy very much enjoy it. They'd just keep their bathhouses more private to those of their own status. Think a gathering of philosophers at a Roman bath kind of thing.

Most asura will carry multiple sets of clothing. Just on account of preferring staying as clean as possible on their physical bodies, it's likely common to keep work clothes and a couple of sets of casual clothes on one's person at any given time. Communal laundries are also pretty common, though everyone prefers to do their own even there. It does mean you get a lot of asura standing around scrubbing their underthings while talking about geometric interconnectivity theories.

[whoopsiedoodlez]

INTRO POST THINGY

hello!!1!! and welcome to my blog : ]

my name is Whoopsie Doodlez and this is my blog! where I post art, fandom gunk, and other stupid stuff!

general

pronouns:

she/him/they/it idrc what you use LOLZ

sexuality: angled aroace

gender: idk and idc

current hyperfixations

Eddsworld

The Batman [ 2022 ]

other interests

Gorillaz, commentary YouTube, body horror, Caddicarus, smiling friends, OneyPlays, writing, art, Tomska, Outlast, Alternate reality games, and, Spilling the Milk.

BYF ,DNI and other things...

please read this before interacting with my content.

BYF

some of my content may contain gore, eyestrain, heavy swearing, and other things that might be disturbing to some viewers. if you are uncomfortable with the previously mentioned subjects. please be wary while viewing my blog < 3

thin ice

Eddtord shippers

riddlebat shippers

Hazbin Hotel and or helluva boss fans [ that DON’T support Vivziepop ]

genshin fans

DNI

basic DNI criteria [ as seen here: https://basic-dni.crd.co/ ]

fetish/kink artist/NSFW artist/has an NSFW account

AI “artists”

PROSHIP/COMSHIP/DARKSHIP/LOLICON/SHOTACON/WHATEVER CODENAMES YOU GROSS MFS USE

[this also goes for people who are neutral on the matter]

anti-furry

anti-otherkin

anti-age regression/pet regression

propara/radqueer

pro-ed/pro-sh/or romanticizes serious issues

people under 13

support Jimmy Urine/James Euringer and other members of MSI

DSMP FAN/ Associates with the dream SMP

Tomtord shippers

Tordmatt shippers

Hazbin Hotel and or helluva boss fans [ that DO support Vivziepop ]

blocking is not something that I am not hesitant to do!

if you are making me feel uncomfortable I will block you

with very little warning.

please interact if you...

are a fan of any of my interests

are queer/or support queer people

are neurodivergent

have the same F/O as me [ a self-shipper being more than fine with sharing? how shocking! /s ]

are a selfshipper/ yumeshipper

navigation

tags to better navigate my blog

#OC art or #OCs = art of my OCs

#fanart = general fan work tag

#not mine = content that I did not make

#self shipping or # self-ship = unfiltered self-ship. a general tag

#❤️cherrylemonade💛 = Tord x Cyrus tag

[ please know that there will probably be more tags added in the future < 3 ]

my social medias

want to see my more of my art? go to my deviantart !

want to see my shitty pixel art? go to my pixilart!

want to see me get a little silly ? a little goofy ? drink la croix ? BOOM Tumblr MF [that's where you are right now...]

[ I do have a TikTok and a Pinterest under the name whoopsiedoodlez HOWEVER, I am not active on those sites ]

miscellaneous info

I AM NOT OK WITH PORN/FETISH CONTENT BEING MADE OF MY OCS AND SELF INSERTS!

[especially porn/fetish content of my self-inserts.]

I have dysgraphia, so misspellings and poor grammar will be common in my posts. : [

please do not reupload my art. If you find my art reposted/reuploaded on another site,

[ especially without credit... ] Please contact me.

I am not good at reading sarcasm in text. use of the s/ tone indicter is much appreciated!!!!1!

I use bro, dude, and guy [s] as gender-neutral terms. if you are not comfortable with this

PLEASE TELL ME.

if I am talking to you and I make you feel uncomfortable AT ALL.

please tell me. [ because I won't be able to tell otherwise ]

I can get very excited when talking about my interests : 3

well, that is all for now : D

пока! пока!

[babyspacebatclone]

So, one of my personal happy things is my hair.

It’s tailbone length (and I’m 5’10”, 1.75 meters, and it’s over 3’, 1m!! 😊) and naturally completely straight.

Up until 42 years old, my cheap butt has insisted in only using Suave and similar products on it (and by that I mean cleaning), but I recently decided to branch out into hair oil for some Identify-Affirming Care.

(Not gender affirming, I’m completely gender agnostic; specifically my identity as “person with gorgeous long hair”)

Now, part of my Autistic journey was accepting I. Hate. Hairbrushes.

I have used a very specific type of medium tooth comb for over a decade, but I didn’t want to gunk that up when it wouldn’t be super effective.

My local Ulta didn’t have any decent combs, though, and I can only survive one store trip an outing, so I decided to risk buying a small nylon brush that caught my eye.

My biggest issue with hairbrushes is the tearing sound. Oh my, hearing my coworkers brush their hair is painful.

Why did no one tell me nylon bristle brushes don’t make that noise unless you actively fight a tangle????

You didn’t ask??

Ok, how is a traumatized Autistic woman supposed to go asking “So, are there any kinds of hair brush that don’t make it sound that makes me want to cry but everyone else just ignores?”

Anyway, waiting for the weekend to start playing with their hair oil, let’s see if I can manage a long term routine that helps with my split ends…

[fencecollapsed]

Favorite Halloween costume you've ever done?

oh that's a good one ummmm,,,

I can't narrow it down to one I'm gonna list a few I'm particularly proud of djskjd

lil honorable mention right off the bat, in 2008 I did Jack Skellington, and it was the first costume I made myself so I legally have to mention it, it's not really a Favorite at this point but it was a milestone!

now what I'd say are my top three:

- in 2014 I did Bill Cipher! it was fairly simple but I thought it was fun and unique - I made the costume out of a dress and pretty much every human Bill Cipher I've seen was a suit guy. I don't have pictures djskd but yellow dress with brick patterns painted on the skirt, a long-sleeved black shirt, black leggings and boots, a top hat, triangle patterns painted on my face, and I made little blue flames out of foam board to hold in my hands <3

- Gary King in 2018 was also a very good one! my only issue with it is that I could've done the blue gunk better, which I know now because I have done it better!! that and I would've given myself a beard if I'd known how at the time 😔 otherwise generally I think it was a really good costume!

2018 vs 2021

- aaaand last year 2022 was Hunter Owl House and I'm sooooo proud of that one <3 absolutely delightful costume. so fun, so gender. I had a VERY hard time figuring out the scar since I didn't have you there to do it for me djskfjd that was absolutely the most frustrating thing and I don't love how it came out, with more practice time I could do better. otherwise, again, very fun costume!!

this year my costume's gonna be Max Jägerman and I am VERY excited so we'll see if the end result ousts one of these as top three

[howlingafterdark]

- Nox - 28 - They/Them (maybe bite/bites as well?) - Wolf Therian - Church Grim, Hellhound, Black Shuck (Black Dog?) (Werewolf??)

Now that the big important box is out of the way, I'm Nox! I'm 28 and nonbinary and primarily use They/Them pronouns, but you can also use bite/bites neos for me as well if you're feeling spicy. I am a Wolf Therian (specifically a Northwestern Wolf) and also ChurchGrimKin, HellhoundKin, and BlackShuckKin. I'm also questioning Werewolf. This is my side blog, I interact from @awolvenjournal. This is not a space for minors! I made this specifically so I could talk about more adult topics separate from my main kin blog (@howlinginsolitude) without gunking all that up. Though that one is a primarily SFW blog, here is much different topics may include: Adult themes Species and Gender Dysphoria Mental Illness related issues Blood and/or Gore How my nonhumanity affects my day to day life How my nonhumanity affects my personal kink and sexuality That is your warning for this blog. I'm fine with interactions on any of these, unless stated otherwise. This being said, I am absolutely unquestionably again things such as zoophilia, and do not find nonhumanity to be an excuse for the horrific acts that are caused by it. If you think you're going to find sympathy here for it, get the fuck out.

DNI:

Zoos, Racists, transphobes, queerphobes, MAPs, anti-kin, etc. I know these don't really work but I can at least say it's here. Basically, I'm not afraid to block people if you're being shitty.

Tags for various posts include: Howling to myself - Original Text Posts Oh no it all went wrong - Talking about species and gender dysphoria Maybe we dreamt it up - Dreams and memories You guys wanna see a dead body? - Original art and images Night Bites - 18+ stuff of any kind

[talesofsonicasura]

Axolotl Dreams- Prologue

For the Six Eared Macaque fans, an x Reader for you folks involving my Mer!Macaque. I'm getting a hang of these but some could be more awkward than others. I'll try my best like with any other story and headcanon! This can be read gender neutral or preferred gender. Enjoy.

Moving day, something that is equally split in how one may view it. On one half is the positive outlook when it comes to such a topic. A new life with the rare building a family that comes with it. The chance to start again after a tragedy or get away from ghosts of the past.

Reconnect with something you haven't seen in a long time. Maybe the rare chance to be somewhere you can fit in and make new friends. Even meet the love of your life or even old companions.

Now to the negative side of moving. Long stressful drives after packing up your various items. The possibility that the place you move to is worse or not it was described to be. Difficulty of making friends alongside the risk of awful neighbors. Moving away from all you know and the friends you treasured. Unpacking your stuff while settling into your new house. A house that could have unknown issues inside.

For you, it was a mix of both. Moved to avoid the ghosts of your past and begin again, to have a life you choose. The drive been brutal since the new home is at least 4 states away from your last residency with the place being a bit of a mess.

Ceiling plaster, pieces of old trash such as fully rotten food to broken cutlery like plates, and even plants on their last legs. You decided to save the dying flora first as they didn't deserve such a fate. Getting water from the bathtub would be much faster plus a good way to set up a mop bucket after your done picking up the trash.

The mess couldn't be more brutal for it took at least three extra big garbage bags to clean up. Some of those broken plates had nasty unidentifiable gunk to it that you would rather not find out. Overall it had been a harsh two hours but the floors were ready to be mopped.

After that awful mess, you thought to yourself that a light snack would be good before continuing on. The bathroom surprisingly being the most clean part of the house. You left the bathtub full of water so you wouldn't have to constantly run it just to fill or rinse the bucket.

But nothing could've prepared anyone for what you found. Inside that tub full of water was some kind of creature. Appeared to be an axolotl larva from the body shape, light pink coloration and a violet tadpole tail as the creature is about a ft long. That was the only axolotl about this entity though.

Its face was starch light with a resemblance to a monkey though, six little pink frills that looked too much like ears, black hair that lead to a short across the back, small arms bearing small fingers and pearl opalescent eyes. The strange fella looking at you with complete curiosity. Something that would have been adorable if wasn't the fact you don't know how it got in.

"Um...hey little fella. I didn't see you there." They gave you a little heart melting blep and swam a bit closer. Tiny pearl eyes staring at the large bag of chips in your hand. Guess they're a bit hungry or wanted to try some. Why not?

You spent your small break eating chips with the strange bathtub creature. Called them 'Chip' since they really like well, chips. Chip was definitely part axolotl as their face did a little derpy axolotl smile when they yawned. Again, so cute.

Although you had to bribe them with a few bath toys so you can finish cleaning up the house and unload all your items from the truck. Mop bucket is getting sink water this time. While you continued to mop the floor, you couldn't help wondering about Chip.

What exactly is the little fella? Did they enter the bathtub through the pipes? Are there more like Chip? If so, where are their parents? These thoughts made time seem a lot slower even when you began to unload your items from the truck.

Only things you were going to unpack for the day are your mattress, a few blankets, your old aquarium tank and a pull wagon. The two latter items being for Chip to use. Can assume that the fella is a baby and shouldn't be left alone for too long. One of the reasons why you went to check on them everytime you finished mopping a room.

You cleaned up the large tank before filling it with water, laid a water proof cushion at the bottom, then load onto the wagon. After securely strapping the tank, it was time to pick up Chip. The little fella was currently fast asleep using the small waterproof pillow you provided to lay on.

Being quiet and gentle, you pick up the little slumbering creature. Their skin felt very smooth with a soft film like texture to it albeit a bit slippery. Carefully placing Chip and their pillow into the tank. Once you quietly rolled the wagon into your bedroom, it was time to drain out the bathtub.

You didn't know how long Chip would be staying if their parents showed up but you make sure the little baby is well cared for. The parents is another can of worms altogether that'll be left for a later time. Plus, taking good care of Chip could save your hide if they're hostile.

Dinner tonight would be simple Macaroni and Cheese. A nice quick easy meal with little hassle. Like before, you shared some of your food with the axolotl baby. Spoon-feeding Chip to avoid any scraps from ending up in their tank.

The remainder of the night was spent by reading. A little bedtime story to get the baby to fall asleep and some light reading before you head off to yourself. Darkness of slumber blanketing you in seconds.

The sound of Chip cooing had stirred you awake. You were about to do say something only for the words to be caught in your thought by one simple thing: Chip's parent. The little fella's parent showed up and holy shit is the guy huge!

Holding Chip in his large hands was a 24 ft sized Axolotl type Mer...monkey. That's definitely the upper body of a monkey, actually yeti being a bit more accurate. The lower axolotl half being a violet magenta in color, four powerful looking legs held it up, the ankles had gray with a pink stripe cloth bands, black fur peeking underneath the accessories and cover part of the hand shaped feet.

The tail ended with 9 different color frills that resemble fan leaves:two green, two red, two blue and ended with three violet outlined pink frills. A thick mane of black fur went down the black with some branching down to encircle magenta and violet outlined spots almost like makeshift eyes.

The waist had violet fur before leading up to the monkey top half. Black fur circling around a lean powerful muscles with a nice blotch of violet fur between his large man tits and silver spots becoming peppering the black fur now more noticeable alongside the pink paw pads on the hands.

Finally his face, fur under his chin look similar to a short beard, purple highlighted the end of the large bangs around his face, six colorful gold rimmed ears sharing the same colors like the tail from top to bottom i.e red, blue and green, red face markings painted his nearly chisel face, red tinted golden brown eyes amongst light yellowish gold, and a monkey muzzle currently in a grin.

He held Chip happily in his hand when you noticed two extra babies were with him. They were nearly twice the size of Chip with one a few inches bigger than their sibling. Both little Mermonkeys in a violet bubble no doubt filled with water. A heartwarming sight.

It was heartwarming until the father turn his head towards you. A large mischievous grin as he licked his lips with a long tongue before flashing very sharp teeth. "Oh little mortal babysitter... I SEE YOU~" Shit.

And that's it. Looks like Reader got a discussion with Macaque next chapter. The three babies are Macaque's and they do have names. Smallest one Reader been calling Chip is Meredith, his youngest daughter. Lacuna is the biggest since he was born first. And Shǎndiàn is the second girl alongside the middle.

I'll explain how they came to be in a later chapter alongside Reader's reason for moving. Next chapter of Crocodile Rock is in progress alongside the next headcanon for Joestar Misadventures Sun Wukong.

There will be more Macaque and Josuke Higashikata related content coming since Billy Kametz sadly passed away yesterday from colon cancer. My first exposure to this actor's incredible talent had been in Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, long before Lego Monkie Kid was made.

Josuke being one of my favorite Joestars in the series so far and such a comfort character honestly. A sweetheart capable of being a smartass and a badass.

Anyway, please be respectful to Billy and his family. I heard about people hounding his family for funeral details. Something that is not only rude but completely disgraceful. There is a difference between being a loyal fan and an inconsiderate hound dog. Let his family and close friends mourn in peace ya pricks.

That's it for now. Until next time folks, here's a link to my Axolotl Mermonkey Macaque. I'll see you back in Megapolis. Rest in peace, Billy Kametz. Wish you a peaceful afterlife alongside a good life in your next one.

[morelikedoccock]

If You Play With Fire (or Electricity) pt. 14 (Final chapter)

Summary: You've been badly burned before, so when you encounter a man who has clearly had some sort of freak accident that left him with burns even worse than yours had been, you feel compelled to offer him help, even at the cost of your safety (and maybe also your heart).

Doc Ock x gender neutral reader

Rating: M

Tags: reader with past, gender neutral reader, Canon-Typical Violence, Burns, Scars, Choking, but not sexually, caring for burns, someone's gotta notice those, First Aid, Medical Procedures, Injury, Blood, Blood and Injury, Caring for cuts, Unconsciousness, Dreams, Feelings, oooh someone’s catching feelings, reader gets injured, Nudity, Angst, Definitely more feelings, Fluff, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Near Death Experiences, Crying, Prophetic Dreams

Inspired by this post

Link to Ao3

pt. 1  pt. 2  pt. 3  pt. 4  pt. 5  pt. 6  pt. 7  pt. 8  pt. 9  pt. 10  pt. 11  pt. 12  pt. 13

~~~

Note: This final chapter is my love letter to Otto, and it's also a love letter to all y'all who adore him too. Thank you for reading my story, and I hope you enjoyed!❤️

playlist for this chapter (and the previous chapter too): here

Chapter 14.

      You’re not entirely sure how you managed to get Otto back to your apartment unseen, but here you are, standing in your kitchen beside a sopping wet super criminal, who happens to also be the man you’re in love with. Otto is soaked, frozen, exhausted, hungry, and injured. Well, at least you have a clear set of issues to work with. 

      “You have to get out of those wet clothes,” you tell him. When he raises his eyebrows, a faint pink rising in his cheeks, you blush. 

      “Not like that! It’s first aid protocol, and also common sense.”

      “Very well,” he says. His mouth quirks slightly as he begins to pull off his coat, then he winces.

      “Let me,” you tell him, and you move forward to help. You tell yourself that there’s no ulterior motive in your touch as you gently guide his arms and actuators out of the coat, then drape it haphazardly over one of your chairs.

      “Shoes,” you say. He obediently takes them off.

      “You’re not wearing socks?” you ask, appalled. “I’m surprised you don’t have blisters!”

      “We were preoccupied,” Otto replies, his cheeks turning pink once more. “It’s hard to explain the need for socks to them.”

      The only remaining garment is— Oh lord. His pants.

       “You should, um, you should shower off the river gunk,” you mumble. “As long as you can stand a little more water, it would be best for you to get clean.”

      Rubbing the scars between your fingers, you work up the nerve to offer him an extra set of hands.

      “I, uh, don’t want this to come across as weird, but I would be happy to help— I’ve got a detachable shower head— you’re tired and hurt—”

      His eyebrows inch higher with each word, and finally, you can’t take the embarrassment and you bury your face in your palms.

      After a moment, a pair of hands gently pull your own away from your eyes, and Otto presses his lips to the backs of your fingers.

      “That’s very sweet of you. I accept.”

      Your cheeks feel like they might spontaneously combust as you lead him to the bathroom. Thoughts flit in and out of your mind, memories of the other time you had him in this tiny room, when he was bloody and unconscious. Of the things you had thought that night, kneeling between his thighs so you could stitch up his wound.

      It feels like steam might shoot out of your ears at any second.

      “You should— should probably take off your pants,” you say. The pink in Otto’s cheeks is a bright red now, but he hesitates for only a moment before undoing his fly and letting his soaked pants drop to the floor. 

      “Do you want me out of my underwear too?” he asks, sounding both amused and embarrassed. You open your mouth to reply, but only a squeak emerges. This makes him chuckle, and the sound unlocks your throat.

      “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you tell him hastily. “You can leave them on.”

      He smiles at you, still blushing, then he climbs into the tub and slowly lowers himself until he’s sitting comfortably. The actuators sway sluggishly around him, their white lights all focused on you.

      “Are you sure more water won’t hurt you?” 

      The actuators nod. You bite your lip, then pull the shower head down and turn the water on. It takes a minute to adjust the temperature and pressure until you’re confident that it won’t aggravate his burns, then you direct the stream over his back, paying careful attention to the angry skin around the metal fused to his spine. 

      “I’m gonna rinse your hair,” you warn him, then you do just that, enjoying the way his hair curls and moves under the stream. Shampoo next. You grab a bottle from beside you and squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm, then you pause. What would be the best way to do this?

      “Can you tilt your head back as far as it’ll go?” you ask tentatively. Otto glances at you, then he obeys without complaint.

      “Close your eyes.”

      His hair is soft under your touch as you smooth the shampoo through it, moving your fingers in careful, gentle circles over his scalp. It’s silent but for the quiet sounds of your movements, and your mind starts to wander. Trying not to think too hard, you bite your lip and continue to massage the suds through his curls, doing your best to keep it out of his eyes.

      Otto moans softly. You flinch and pause, worried that you have accidentally hurt him somehow.

      “Don’t stop, please,” he whispers. Unable to help yourself, you bend and press your lips to his for a moment before beginning to lather the shampoo into his hair once more. When you can’t justify touching him for any longer, you grab the shower head and begin to rinse. Soap cascades down his body in foamy rivulets, white against the red of his burns. You can tell that it has to sting in some places, but he doesn’t move.

      “I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I promise it’ll be better once you’re not covered in river filth.”

      He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. You reach for the soap, lather your hands, then offer the bar to him. 

      “I’ll get your back if you get your front.”

      It’s such a simple thing, to wash someone like this, but somehow it feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever done before. His shoulders are so broad under your fingers, his skin soft as silk. You swirl your hands over the expanse of his back, mindlessly lost in the feeling of his skin against your palms. When you reach the burns, you just barely ghost your fingertips over the livid skin, unwilling to cause him more pain than absolutely necessary.

      When you’re finished, you rinse his back, then rinse his front, trying not to stare at his amazingly broad chest in the process. You can feel him watching you.

      “Don’t look at me like that,” you hiss. “I’m trying to be respectful.”

      “I appreciate it, but don’t hurt yourself,” Otto replies with a grin.

      You snort.

      “I should be okay.”

      To escape this potentially embarrassing moment, you beckon to your favorite actuator. 

      “Can I rinse you off?” you ask. It slides forward without hesitation, bucking up against your palm for a moment before allowing you to cautiously begin to rinse it. You make your way along its length, and by the time you reach the place where it connects to Otto’s back, the others have slid forward, ready to be next in line.

      You giggle at their reaction. They’re being even more friendly than usual, and you wonder vaguely whether or not it has something to do with the sudden change in the color of their lights. 

      When all of the actuators are clean, you hand the shower head to Otto, who has been surveying the goings on with amusement, and gesture to his soaked boxer shorts.

      “I’ll go get you a towel while you get out of those and finish washing,” you say, nearly stumbling over your words in your haste, then you snatch his pants off the floor and practically run out of the bathroom. The pants go on top of his coat, which is now dripping steadily onto your kitchen floor. 

     Towel in hand, you approach the bathroom door with the air of someone approaching a possibly active landmine, and knock. The door opens a crack, and one of the actuators pokes through.

     “Here,” you say, offering it the towel. “If you could get me his, uh, his boxers, I’ll put them in the wash.” 

      The actuator disappears, and returns with the soaking wet boxer shorts. Only now do you realize that they’re white with red hearts printed on them. So cute. 

     “Thanks, and take your time. I’ll go start the laundry.”

      His coat isn’t the kind that you can just toss into a washing machine, so you hang it up in the kitchen with a towel beneath it. It might get dry… some day. 

      In the meantime, you figure that you might as well wash your sheets while you’re at it, so you pile his pants and boxers into a washing machine with the bedclothes, add detergent, and start the cycle. Then you stare at your reflection in the circular window.

      Your hair is tousled, your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are wide in your face. You look more than a little hectic. Grinning, you return to your apartment.

      Otto is sitting at your kitchen table, your towel wrapped loosely around his thick waist, just below the burns around the bottom of his metal waistband. His eyes follow you as you walk inside and shut the door.

      “Feel good to be clean?” you ask with a smile. He chuckles, running a hand through his damp curls.

     “Very,” he replies. “It’s been a while since I had a real shower.” 

      “Well, I’m glad you’ve gotten the chance to take one now, at least.”

      You jog to your bedroom, grab your kit, and jog back out into the kitchen again.

      “I know you said you won’t go to the hospital for these, so I’m gonna disinfect them,” you tell him. “It might hurt a bit, so please don’t kill me.”

      You pull the bottle of disinfectant and several gauze pads out of your kit, then kneel down between his outstretched legs so you can properly see the burns on the underside of the metal band. It only belatedly occurs to you where you’re suddenly situated. And fucking hell, this time he’s awake. 

      You would like to think that you know how to learn from your mistakes, but you’re kneeling between his thighs again, and you look up at him anyway. He meets your gaze for one heart-stopping moment, then he averts his eyes, a brilliant red rising in his cheeks. You look down.

      “Sorry,” you manage, “I can’t really see the burns any other way.”

      “It’s alright,” he replies, but you can tell by the way his voice is muffled that he’s covering his mouth with one hand. The other is by his side, and it’s clenched into a fist.

      Oh lord.

      You will the heat away from your cheeks and work quickly around the front of his waist, covering the top and bottom sets of burns with disinfectant, then you stand and move around behind him with a silent sigh of relief. He leans forward so you can reach his spine a little more comfortably, and you continue to clean the open parts of the burns.

      When they’re disinfected, you cover the worst spots with gauze pads and tape, then you move in front of him again to admire your handiwork.

      “If you get blood poisoning, I’m hauling your ass to the hospital whether you like it or not,” you tell Otto. He doesn’t appear to be listening, instead his eyes are hazy, his lips parted, his gaze focused on your mouth.

      “Come here,” he murmurs. You swallow hard, then step forward. He reaches for you, dragging you gently down until he can part your lips with his, slipping his tongue through. You sigh, practically melting into his touch, reveling in the taste of him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tilting his head up so you can deepen the kiss. He breathes your breath, gasps your gasps, and devours your quiet moans. 

      “Food and sleep,” you rasp, pulling away with great effort. “We both need food and sleep.”

      Otto looks into your eyes, then nods, looking sheepish. You relent and kiss him briefly once more before heading for the laundry room to switch over the wash.

       Something touches your leg while you’re eating some time later, and you nearly choke.

      “W-what?” you manage, looking under the table. The something is one of the actuators. It clicks up at you.

      “You’re injured too,” Otto remarks. “There’s blood on the knees of your jeans.”

      You scoot your chair back and stick out your leg, and just as he had said, there’s a red stain on your knee. A similar stain is visible on your other knee as well. You swear, suddenly remembering the shock of pain you’d only distantly felt when your legs had given way on the dock. 

      “Fuck,” you mumble. “Now I gotta deal with this too.”

      Forgetting your food, you jump up and start toward the bathroom, only to be stopped by a metal tentacle wrapping around your waist. 

      “You’re not going anywhere until you finish eating,” Otto says mildly. “After that, we can see to your knees.” 

      You begin to protest, but you stop almost immediately. He’s right. 

      “I can’t go anywhere until you let me,” you reply, patting the actuator that is still holding you. It shifts, clicks, then slowly unwinds, allowing you to sit back down at the table.

      You finish your food, then you push yourself to your feet. 

      “You’re not gonna try and stop me again, are you?” 

      Otto smiles. He looks exhausted, but there’s a lively sparkle in his eyes that warms your whole body.

      “Not stop you,” he says. “They want to assist you.” 

      An actuator coils around your waist as he speaks, while another curls into a sort of disk and slides under you, so it’s like you’re sitting in a sort of knobbly metal chair suspended above the ground. You giggle at the sudden attention, still warmed from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. 

      “I can walk, you know,” you tell them. One of the claws clicks in reply, but the coils don’t loosen. Instead, Otto gets to his feet and he and the actuators carry you to the bathroom. 

      “Am I gonna be allowed to take off my own pants?” 

      The question makes Otto blush. He turns around and faces the door, but the actuators don’t seem to want to let you do anything by yourself now. You begin to laugh helplessly as one of them unbuttons your pants and tugs them off. Yet another, having apparently been paying close attention to what you’d done before, turns on the shower head to the right temperature and pressure. Suspended over the tub, you watch in vague disbelief as the actuators carefully rinse the blood away from your scraped knees, then even more carefully rub the bar of soap over the cuts. You were right before, it stings quite a lot. Gritting your teeth, you deal with the discomfort as best you can. It begins to fade when the soap is rinsed away.

      “Now what?” you ask, leaning your elbows on the metal around your waist. “Are you gonna carry me to my bed like some sort of pampered— ouch!” 

      The claw that had been rubbing your knees with a clean towel pauses, chitters what must be an apology, and changes its tactic, patting the cuts dry instead.

      “I need to get the laundry and make the bed before anything else,” you say with a stifled laugh. It’s nice to be cared for like this, if a little strange. 

      “Show me where the sheets are, and I’ll make the bed for you,” Otto offers, still facing the door. 

     “Put me down, please?” 

     The actuators do as requested, setting you gently on your feet. You walk over to where Otto is determinedly staring at the painted wood and reach up to pat his cheek.

      “I really don’t mind if you look,” you tell him. He turns and looks down at you, then blushes again.

      “I have a confession to make,” he says suddenly. You stare at him. He gulps, then looks up at his actuators.

      “I can see anything they see,” he admits. “And they store memory, so I can remember what they remember too.”

      All the times you’d spoken to the actuators rattle through your mind. The time you'd stitched up his thigh returns to you, and you have to resist the urge to smack yourself in the forehead.

      “Let’s— let’s unpack that another day,” you finally say. “I’m too tired to think.”

      He nods, then follows you to your linen closet. 

     “The printed set, if you don’t mind,” you tell him, then you pull on a pair of very loose pants and run to retrieve the laundry.

      When you get back to your bedroom, Otto is waiting for you, your kit on the floor beside him.

      “Come sit,” he says with a soft smile. You drop the laundry onto a nearby chair and sit on the edge of the bed, then look up into his eyes. His gaze is warm as he bends to you, kissing you softly while his fingers slip beneath your waistband. You help him slide your pants down, then off. He draws back, then leans down and tenderly presses his lips to your bare thigh in a slow, lingering kiss. You swear you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs.

      “Otto,” you whisper. He straightens and cups your face in his palms.

      “You saved my life by finding me tonight,” he rasps, “the least I can do is care for you in return.”

      The actuators hand him the disinfectant and a gauze pad. His touch is exceedingly gentle as he swabs disinfectant on the scrapes, making sure to cover all the open wounds thoroughly. When he’s satisfied, the actuators take the bottle and offer him gauze pads and tape. He’s just as careful and thorough as he applies the gauze to each knee and tapes it securely down. 

      Finished, he straightens and the actuators return the supplies neatly back to their proper places in your kit. He smiles down at you, and there’s a softness there, a kindness that you don’t quite recognize. It’s as if some weight has lifted from him, some darkness having dissipated. 

     “Thank you,” you whisper, suddenly feeling unsure. This is a new Otto, or more likely this is the old Otto, finally in control of himself again. Is he still the same on the inside? Does he still…

      You hesitate, then reach shyly for him, not entirely sure how to approach him now, but you needn’t have worried. He leans down and gathers you in his arms, hugging you close, his breath hot against the side of your neck.

      “Will you stay?” you ask timidly. “I— I want you to stay.”

      Otto pulls away just enough to gently capture your lips with his, to kiss you as if he’s never tasted anything so sweet.

      “I’ll stay.”

      You wrap your arms around his neck and pour yourself into the kiss, pour everything you have to give into the fervent crush of your mouth against his. He responds, matching your passion with his own. You teeter, then fall backward onto the bed, pulling him down with you. He doesn’t quite squish you, but it’s a close call, and mirth begins to bubble up in your chest. You laugh, and Otto chuckles along with you.

      “Oh, your laundry is on the chair,” you say, reminded of this by the way that the towel around his waist is beginning to slip down. He looks around, spots the clothes, and pushes himself to his feet.

       “Is this your way of telling me I need to get dressed and go sleep on the couch?” he asks, beginning to unwrap his towel.

      “What— no!” you reply indignantly. “I didn’t mean—”

      But Otto is grinning. He winks at you, then turns and drops his towel, and you’re treated to a brief yet lovely view of his bare ass before he pulls up his boxers. When he turns back to you, he suddenly looks almost shy himself.

      “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer that I…”

      “Absolutely not,” you say. “Come over here before I get up and haul you over myself.”

      “Alright, alright,” he says with a laugh. It takes him only a second to stride across the room and climb into the bed with you, and then he’s pulling you into his arms and kissing you with an easy, languid laziness that melts you from the inside out. 

      An actuator stretches out and flips off the lights. 

      Long minutes pass. You break away only long enough to press your lips to his collarbones, and then to the side of his neck, then you return to the soft warmth of his mouth.

      Eventually you subside into just the occasional brush of lips against lips. In the semi-darkness, you can see that he’s watching you, his eyes half-lidded with drowsiness.

      “How did you find me tonight?” he murmurs, breaking the silence. You take a moment to think, your fingers running absently through his curls.

      “I really don’t know,” you finally confess. “I had— well, I had a sort of nightmare. There was lots of fire, and then I was underwater. It felt so… real. I guess I woke up in a sort of panic, and by the time I realized what had happened I was already at the river.”

      “‘Already at the river’?” he repeats, sounding startled. “How?”

      “I don’t know.”

      There’s a long moment of silence, then Otto smiles.

      “I’m just a simple physicist. Who am I to question the miracle that is the human mind?” he says. “I suppose I will just have to accept the mystery.”

      “I guess so,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

      Otto leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

      “No need to apologize, my dear. You’ve given me a second chance, and I intend to treasure it.”

      And oh, the words are right there, right on the tip of your tongue… but you bite them back. Not yet. Instead you tilt your head up to meet his lips with yours.

      “Thanks for staying,” you whisper. His arms tighten slightly, pulling you close. You snuggle up to him, your face resting in the crook of his neck, and you let out a deep sigh. Weights settle over and around you as the actuators find comfortable spots for the night. One, you suspect you know which one, cuddles against your back, making you smile. Otto sighs, and kisses the top of your head.

      This? This is pure comfort, safety, and happiness. It’s everything you’ve been wanting for so long. As you drift off, you know that with Otto’s arms around you, you can sleep soundly. You’re safe.

       You wake that afternoon to the sight of Otto’s spectacular bed head. The same sight greets you the next morning. And the next. And the next. Time seems to fly by, but every moment is special now. Otto manages to rent out the apartment beside yours, but he spends nearly all of his time with you. You’re not even sure what he uses the extra apartment for. For work maybe, or for tinkering with his actuators. 

      You finish reading his research together. When he reads, his voice is just the way you had imagined it, deep and lilting and beautiful. Sometimes you get lost just listening to him, and then you have to ask him to repeat a paragraph or two. He doesn’t mind.

      At night, you sleep together in your bed, sometimes staying awake for hours just talking about this or that. You talk about your pasts, your passions, your hopes and fears for the future. Some nights you twine together, your lips and sometimes bodies joined in a blissful, playful dance. Other times, you simply lie together, content to just exist together in silence, fingertips drawing languid circles on each other’s skin.

       The words sit on your tongue, just waiting. They long to escape, wanting to fly free and true and impart their meaning to the one they are for, but you hold them still. For days, weeks, you hold them in, until you finally can’t take it anymore—

      And when those three words finally spill from your lips, blessedly free and joyous, the man you love doesn’t hesitate to say them back.

[robertsheehanownsmyass]

Hmm can we have an angsty (but happy ending?) klaus x f reader fic please?

Howling

Klaus+ Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, drug use, alcohol use

TW: suicide mention 

“Klaus!” You bellowed to his retreating form, as he ducked and scurried around the writhing bodies in the club. He was running, and goddamn if you wouldn’t be there to bring him home again.

You had been up late partying the night before and everything was fine. But a lot of things can change after Klaus falls asleep. He awoke with a start and a shout at around 3pm, waking you up in turn. He sprang out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes were lying nearby.

“What--” you mumbled sleepily, rubbing the gunk from your eyes and already hating your hangover. “Klaus what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do it anymore Y/N. I have to...I have to go,” he said as he shoved his feet into a pair of ratty chucks and started looking around for his coat.

You sat up, confusion and fear gripping your stomach and making it flip. “What are you talking about? Come sit and we’ll talk--”

“I. Have. To. Go.” he said through gritted teeth, green eyes blazing.

This took you aback. What happened?

“Please,” you whispered. “Don’t leave me.” Tears began to sting your eyes.

Klaus looked sad. “I’m sorry. I have to go and you have to let me.”

Before you could say anything else, he was out of there, leaving you shattered.

Hours and buckets of tears later, you decided that like hell would you let Klaus walk out like that, and decided to find him. Sometimes, after a really bad batch of nightmares or PTSD, he would head out to the clubs to try to score drugs. It would be a good start, anyway.

You found him at the second place you checked, sitting at the bar with a drink and holding himself as if to make himself smaller; to diminish his own existence. It broke your heart. You approached him and saw that his face was streaked with previously shed tears. You laid a hand on his arm and he jumped, surprised.

“Klaus,” you said. “Let me help you. Talk to me.”

“Noooo. No,” he moaned. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be anywhere near me,” his despair was evident.

“Tell me what happened.” you pleaded.

He abruptly stood and headed toward the back of the club. “Leave me alone!” he yelled over his shoulder. 

“Klaus!” You bellowed to his retreating form, as he ducked and scurried around the writhing bodies in the club. He was running again, and goddamn if you wouldn’t be there to bring him home again.

He disappeared into the men’s room. Silently cursing gendered bathrooms under your breath, you shoved in without hesitation. One man at a urinal looked at you with a raised eyebrow, then went back to his business.

Klaus was sitting on the floor with his back against the tile wall on the other side of the room, hugging his knees to his chest. Tears were streaming down his face.

You ran to him and sank to the floor next to him. You threw your arms around him. “Klaus.” you said over and over, trying to chase away his misery with the emotion behind your words. “I love you,” you sighed, and kissed his forehead. He melted against you, finally giving in to his need to be touched.

“Sometimes,” he said, barely above a whisper, “Sometimes I want to die. I’ve tried, you know. She keeps sending me back.”

“I want you to be happy,” you said. “I want you to want to be here. Be with me.”

“I know,” he said, and nodded. “I know.”

“So what do we do? How do we fix this?” you pleaded. “If you keep running away just because you think you don’t deserve me, I’m going to put a tracking device in you.”

“Where would you put it?” He asked, a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

You smacked his arm. “Stop being pervy. I’m serious! You are worth fighting for you idiot. I love you. Stop running away!”

He nodded and smiled sadly. “I can’t say it won’t happen again, Y/N. These issues rise up whether I like them to or not. But all you can do is keep finding me. Keep finding me and bringing me home.”

You nodded, emotion preventing you from speaking. Instead, you wiped his tears and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“I love you,” you said when you could find your voice again. “I love you and I will help you no matter what. I will always have your back. I promise.”

This time his smile lit his whole face and reached his eyes.

“With a promise like that, I think we just might make it,” he said, and bent to give you a kiss.

[the-entity-down-the-street]

Flutterby, Butterfly

Hey everyone, I’m back! I took a break from tumblr for a while, and while I might post less from now on, I figured now was the time to come back. Today I have something a little different. A story I wrote about coming to terms with my gender identity! It’s framed as me having a conversation with my own soul. It’s my hope that someone who has had similar experiences might find comfort in reading it. However, trigger warning, because there is a very honest discussion about my experiences with dysphoria and body problems in general. It’s a bit graphic and anatomical. I’ll put the story under the cut so you can skip it if you prefer. For everyone else, enjoy! 

We met somewhere dark. Not dark in the physical sense. Light filtered in through the bedroom window like any normal day. Pale sunshine like pastel prison bars shone through the blinds. I’d been here for weeks. Or months. Who knew anymore?

My friends, save one, had left me for their own homes. Not that I blamed them. This was a dead town without the university’s typical buzzing student body. The lifeblood had been supped dry. Of course, it wasn’t very exciting anywhere else either. We were suffering in the world’s most mundane and boring catastrophe. Locked away in our homes, quietly terrified, numbed in our isolation. This was where we met.

I had been cleaning the gunk off my soul. What else was there to do? After peeling away the rot of old habit, scrubbing away the mold of toxic friendships, and pulling at parasitic thoughts, I thought the work was done.

And yet.

Something was off. Beneath the grime was someone I didn’t want to recognize.

“Hello again,” they said. “Are you done hiding from me?”

“You’re a side-effect,” I told them. My body issues were the last bit of junk to tackle. I thought I’d settled them as I got healthier, but isolation and recent weight gain had done me no favors.  “Once I’m back in shape, you’ll go away.”

They sauntered over to the bed and plopped down. Fresh, clean, and naked, they moved like someone who had never known restriction. “Is that so?”

“Of course. I just want to be thin.”

“And flat,” they said, gesturing to their chest. I envied their beauty. Lithe, fit, and androgynous.

I crossed my arms. “Insecurity isn’t an identity. I’ve always hated my boobs.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. They’re flabby. Gross. They don’t fit on me.”

“Would you be happier if they were perkier?”

“I mean—”

They sat up. “Or do you push them out of the way when you look in the mirror, even when you’re skinny?”

My mouth pressed into a hard line. What could I say? Countless timed I found myself squeezing them into my armpits, squishing them against my ribs, blocking them out with my hands. I measured the beauty of my naked body by how I looked without them. Even chubby I’d push them out of the way to feel better about myself. We both knew what they were trying to tell me.

“I’d like to be flat-chested. Big deal,” I said, at last. “Body preference isn’t an identity. I’m still a girl.”

“Is that why you fantasize about having a hysterectomy?”

“Hey, nobody likes their period. It’s messy. It hurts. I get bloated.”

“You get womanly,” they said.

“Ugh, don’t say it like that. That’s just weird.”

They shot me a smirk, like I’d proven their point. “Disgusting, isn’t it? You’re so uncomfortable you barely want to put your clothes on.”

I turned on my heel away from them. “Pads feel like diapers.”

“And tampons are so much worse,” they added. I agreed. That cotton between my legs made me too aware of my own body for comfort. “Remember when you were on the ring? And you could skip your period? Felt natural, didn’t it?”

“Until I got bloated and lost my sex drive.”

“Yeah, that sucked. It was like being hacked from the inside. No wonder you avoided hormonal birth control for so long.”

I had. I even tore up my womb with that copper torture device to avoid it. Part of me hoped it would perforate my walls so the doctors would have to perform a hysterectomy. That didn’t help my case, I realized.

“No, it doesn’t,” they agreed. “Getting your tubes tied was the right choice.”

The right choice. That was one way of putting it. Everyone knew I was staunchly childfree, and I was solidifying that staunchness with a snip. I told myself the two months of euphoria after was just a sense of personal accomplishment. Of freedom. Of finally having bodily autonomy.

I always got a little rush from changing my body. Haircuts, dye, new piercings, tattoos, whatever little modification I could afford to make my body feel like mine. Yet nothing compared to what that surgery did for me. It wasn’t a rush. It was an awakening. It was…

“You. You disconnected from womanhood,” they explained, moving their fingers in a snipping motion. “That’s why it felt so good. Nothing hits like gender euphoria, baby.”

“But I like girly things. Make-up. Jewelry. Pretty dresses.”

“Never said you didn’t. Style isn’t an identity.”

Oh. I faced them, defeated. “Then what is my identity? Where is it?”

They stood up and approached me. Sea green eyes saw straight into me. Because they were mine. “You’re looking at it. Where am I?”

“Inside me.”

“Exactly,” I told myself. “I’m not part of your garbage. I’m not an issue. What am I?”

“…You’re my soul.” The moment I said it, I knew it was true. I couldn’t pull or scrub or peel them away. We were the same, yet not. The disconnect between us was slight, deep only as breast tissue and muscle mass, but it was the root of most of my body issues. It was the unease of unbalance. I wasn’t myself yet.

“There you go.”

“But what does that make me? What am I, if not a woman?”

They smiled at me. A sweet, knowing smile. “If you want an honest answer, you’re the purple that falls between the pinks and blues of the world. The shade varies on the hour of course. Sometimes fuchsia, sometimes lavender, sometimes wine, but purple all the same.”

“I was asking for a label,” I said, flatly.

They shrugged. “Take a word and use it. What do you want it for? Others or yourself?’

I thought on that. The answer was both. I wanted to explain myself to others, and I wanted to define myself for myself. Androgynous felt right, but then again, so did genderfluid. Nonbinary was broad, but I kind of liked that. It was an umbrella to cover everything else. All these words were synonyms that described, to different degrees, the nuances of my soul.

“Then use all three,” they suggested. “You’re a writer. Since when do writers use just one word to describe something? Especially something so complex as a person? This gives you wiggle room when explaining it to people. If they don’t understand one, maybe they’ll understand another.”

“Yeah, I don’t think my mom knows what the fuck nonbinary means.”

“But she knows what androgynous is. She knows what feminine and masculine mean. You’ll tell her you’re the balance between them. That’s where you’re happiest,” they explained. “But in the end, no matter what label you pick, they’re all true. You know who you are.”

I did. We did. They did.

Yet I felt my world crumbling. I was sitting alone, naked as my soul, staring in the mirror at someone I wasn’t. The people who knew me didn’t know me anymore. I was an alien in my own life.

I had a sudden burning need to erase my old self completely. I wanted the person I saw inside to be who everyone else always knew, to project them onto their memories. More than anything I wanted my real body. This one had an awkward fit, like I was wearing something from several years ago, and I was squirming in it. It felt… off.

“This feels backwards,” I said. “I’m growing backwards. I’m not growing into myself. I’m cutting myself away. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Has it been comfortable cutting off old friends you’ve outgrown? Has it been comfortable to confront the toxic habits you’ve clung to?”

“No.”

“But it’s been for the best?”

“Yes.”

“Then there you go,” they said. “Sometimes metamorphosis feels like going backwards. Remember when you were little, and you called butterflies flutterbies? That’s you. Right now, you’re the flutterby. You’re dissolving in your cocoon. Do you think that’s comfortable for the butterfly?”

“No.”

“But it’s for the best?” They phrased it like a question, but I knew it wasn’t.

“…Yes.”

“Then let yourself dissolve.”

I sighed. “But then what? Who will I be without my old self?”

They smiled again. “With time, the butterfly.”

[corvidconjurer]

For LGBT asks, 7, 17, 24, 27, 30!

7. What is one question you hate people asking about your sexuality?

Honestly, the worst question I get asked is how my relationship “works” when I don’t want to be sexually active with my partner. I’m not sure why but for some reason people assume that my partner needs to be pitied because we don’t have sex. Idk it really gets to me that not being sexually active with my partner makes me less of a partner.

17. Have you been in a relationship and how did you meet?

OH BOI!!!! Okay, Gushing about Sam time! So, we actually met through a mutual bestie @creeepyfangirl and while at first I was hesitant about getting into a relationship due to some pretty nasty ones in the past, I eventually started opening up to Sam about my life and things. And the best part is how patient he was with me and he was so gentle about everything! God, it may not have been love at first sight, but it felt like the first love I’d ever had. Eventually, after about six months of me being nervous and tiptoeing around our relationship, Sam sat me down to try and figure out where we were. Long story short, it has been the best 2 and a half years of my life and I’m so excited to see what lies ahead!

24. How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that mean to you?

Oh wow this one’s a deep one. Hmm, well, for me I’ve never really seen myself as trans as weird as that may sound. I just feel like a dude that happens to have some birth defects. And, I’m happy to be me without all those gunked up issues of what exactly I am. I’m a dude that loves pink and thinks heels are cute. But also I dig fishing and trucking. Idk, I think if I had to pin down who I am, I’m just Shawn.

27. What do you think of gender roles in relationships?

Depends on the roles my dude. I think some are wonderful and help balance out a relationship, and others do nothing but bog down open conversations and hurt the relationship. I believe that it is up to the individual relationship to parse out what exactly they fall into and expect from one another. Personally, I like the roles of a nurturer and protector. Now, to be clear, in my relationship that changes depending on what happens. But, it helps to have a balance of what we need. Of course, if Sam wants to change those roles and find something different that’s totally fine. But for me, as long as the roles can change with the relationship, I think their pretty okay.

30. Why are proud to be lgbt+?

I’m proud because I love my partner with my whole heart and I know that when I talk about him in public or in an area with other people there is a chance that I find someone like me who feels a little more okay with who they are. There is no wrong way to be you and I’m glad that is the LGBT+ montra!

[radicallyvegan]

Have you noticed how there's been a lot of anti vegan posts going around in the radfem community lately? "Veganism promotes eating disorders" "Veganism has nothing to do with feminism" "Eating meat is feminist" etc..

I actually was just talking to a friend about this the other day! I have seen a lot of anti-vegan sentiment in the radfem community. It’s always disheartening to see. People want to believe that they are good, and when faced with the idea that they may be contributing to the suffering of others, it is often easier to reframe the situation in your mind then to admit you have been wrong and change your behaviour.

There is a lot of troubling stuff in the vegan community, which doesn’t help our cause. There are anti-science, anti-medicine, anti-vaxxer vegans. There are people who are attracted to veganism because it is seen as restrictive, and they can use that to hide an eating disorder. There are vegans who say horrible things about fellow humans because they simply aren’t at the same level of understanding yet. There is a lot of misunderstanding about what veganism even is, because people misuse the word and equate it to things it isn’t.

Veganism is a rights movement focused on eliminating the exploitation of nonhuman animals by humans.

That’s what it is. It is not a health movement, even though many people see health benefits from going vegan because of higher fruit/vegetable consumption. It is not an environmental movement, even though reducing and eliminating meat will have a massive, massive positive impact on staving off global warming and dwindling sea life. At its core, we are fighting for the rights of all beings to live lives free from undue harm or suffering. In that sense, it overlaps with feminism, wherein we are fighting for a specific kind of being (females) to be free from exploitation and suffering at the hands of men.

Feminism and veganism are not the same thing, but they are related, as they are both rights-based movements. Most people, even radfems, will agree that it is better not to prematurely kill an animal if it is avoidable, and most of them would probably not do the actual slaughtering themselves. However, this is true of most people in general--it is always disappointing when people who “get” radical feminism don’t “get” veganism, but I remain hopeful. Radfems have clearly been able to change their minds in big ways and see things from another point of view--as have vegans. I used to eat meat, and I used to say all the shit I hate to hear now from carnists--”oh, me not eating this steak won’t bring it back to life, so I better eat it!” But I changed. People can and do change their minds and behaviour. But nobody changes because someone else calls them a piece of shit for their current behaviour, and there’s a lot of vitriol spewed against carnists by vegans, especially online. Which is detrimental for the movement, as screaming at someone is unlikely to help them change and more likely to help them stay firmly rooted in their current position. In a way, this type of “activism” is anti-vegan, as it deters people from considering veganism seriously.

The one thing that does strike me as the most odd is this notion that meat-eating is feminist, because it is associated with masculinity and power and hey girls, we can’t leave all that fun power to the men! Radical feminism is, at its core, anti-capitalist and anti-exploitation, and we’re always talking about how adding more female CEOs doesn’t help women out as a whole--we don’t want equality with men, we want liberation from them! Except when it comes to steak, then we want our bacon cheeseburgers, too, even if it’s exploitative and environmentally unsustainable. There was one post going around saying salad is forced on women because it’s low-calorie and diet food, and contributes to body image issues, so eating meat is in direct defiance to that. There’s some truth to the idea that bland and low calorie food is feminized, but vegan food does not have to be low calorie or bland. There are vegan bodybuilders and fat vegans and I guarantee you none of them are lacking in protein or calories or whatever it is we are supposedly missing out on. We can eat enough calories and defy the gendered pressure to be thin and eat diet food and still not eat dead animals. You can do both, trust me.

The other thing that bugs me is that nonvegans only ever talk about veganism in terms of food--yes, the exploitation of food animals is a huge part of veganism (and often the most visible, since we eat every day), but how come no one ever makes the case that animal entertainment is feminist? How about leather and fur, are those feminist? What about animal experimentation for beauty products, largely marketed at women? In this way, feminism and veganism overlap--men, who own beauty companies and fashion brands, market animal exploitation to women and make us desire the skins of others to wrap around ourselves and to put gunk on our faces that had to be put on a rabbit’s face first to make sure it didn’t cause burns. Are these practices feminist, or anti-feminist, or neither?

In my mind, veganism and feminism are intrinsically linked, because to men, we women are viewed on the same level as animals--worthless, exploitable, bodies for consumption. In my mind, we are animals alongside all the others, and no one has claim over anyone else’s body--we are all here on this earth together, and we all want to live our lives freely.

So, while you can be a feminist and fight for women’s rights and disregard animal rights in the process, it is more consistent to also fight for ending the exploitation of animals. As long as some lives are considered worth less than others, people (usually men) will exploit that value system for personal gain.

[briarthedragon]

yes to ask all 70 questions do i send 70 asks or can i just say all 70 questions? 1-70? :3c plz

omg yea thanks >.

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?Kinda? I love my parents and they love me, for sure. But they don’t really support my identity - they’re rly homophobic and transphobic to the point that I can’t come out as genderqueer safely. So kinda? Eh?

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?Either my Zukes or my bestie Skye. I say “I love you” to p much all my friends every day so it’s hard to keep track, but I last talked to them xD

03: Do you regret anything?Oh yeah, I regret tons of things. I regret attending the university I went to, I regret not seeking help with my mental health issues earlier, I regret time wasted, I regret investing in toxic friendships. 

04: Are you insecure?Yeah, definitely. I doubt myself a lot, I fear that I’m annoying or bothering or hurting my friends, and I don’t really feel like I”m enough.

05: What is your relationship status?I’m in a QPR with my two wonderful zukes, @twixtandscream and @flowersalesman ! 

06: How do you want to die?Idk. I want to die after improving the world a little bit, that’s all I know. 07: What did you last eat?A bowl of cereal lol08: Played any sports?I played basketball as a kid, I ran cross country in middle school, and I did marching band in high school. 09: Do you bite your nails?Constantly. I accidentally gnawed down to one of my nail beds last night rip 10: When was your last physical fight?shit uhhhh idk? I come close to physical confrontation a lot but I don’t think I have been in a fight recently? 11: Do you like someone?I like a lot of people! lol. but romantically? yea i have,,,, some crushes................ im very gay it’s a problem 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?Yyyyyep. I pulled a couple all-nighters at uni. One to finish a project for an art class, and the others to make sure my roommate was safe when she stayed up 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?Yeah, I hate a lot of people. No one I know personally, but I hate a lot of nazis and also Donald Trump14: Do you miss someone?Yeah. Wish I didn’t, but it’s hard to get over things sometimes. 15: Have any pets?My family has a wonderful dog named Tumnus! He’s a gorgeous silken windhound. I also have an outdoor cat named Tib. 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?Pretty sick, and not too great, but I’m gonna try to make today good anyway 17: Ever made out in the bathroom?nah that’s nasty. so many germs,,, no one washes their hands. people shit in there 18: Are you scared of spiders?eh? i don’t like bugs and they make me feel creepy crawly stuff all over but I’ve been designated spider squisher at my apartments and stuff. and i like tarantulas 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?eh, enough to fix mistakes i’ve made? totally. but way back in time? absolutely not. i dont need smallpox thx20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?uhh a few weeks ago? 21: What are your plans for this weekend?I’m meeting up with one of my zukes! :D 22: Do you want to have kids? How many?nnnnnnope. i’d be a terrible parent and also i just don’t wanna 23: Do you have piercings? How many?yea i have one set of ear piercings. i wanna get more ear piercings tho and maybe a nose piercing. idk 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?science, language, art, music25: Do you miss anyone from your past?yep. wish i didn’t. they don’t deserve it. 26: What are you craving right now?snugs 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?not that i know of? 28: Have you ever been cheated on?nah i haven’t been in a romantic or sexual relationship so 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?i’ll apply this to my zukes and idk? have i? i mean maybe with headcanons or fics or something idk 30: What’s irritating you right now?my nose is all gunked up and there’s road work outside my house going constantly 31: Does somebody love you?i hope so 32: What is your favourite color?i like a lot of colors but i usually say pink and blue 33: Do you have trust issues?kinda? i trust my friends but i worry that they try to spare my feelings (these fears were Confirmed for some ppl who used to be very close friends so it’s,, bad.) 34: Who/what was your last dream about?uhhhh i don’t remember dreams that much but i def remember there was gay shit 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?i cry a lot, it’s hard to say. 36: Do you give out second chances too easily?sometimes 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?easier to forgive. i’ll forgive a lot but i don’t forget and i don’t always trust again 38: Is this year the best year of your life?idk. the first half was rly shitty 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?20. it was only a few weeks ago tbh 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?nah 51: Favourite food?idk tbh. i like a lot of foods 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?yea, kinda? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?messaged my zukes goodnight 54: Is cheating ever okay?never. 55: Are you mean?when it’s deserved ;356: How many people have you fist fought?i punched a friend once jokingly, and i regret it and feel so bad even years later lmao. my next fist fight will probably be with a nazi or somethin 57: Do you believe in true love?yea, but not exactly in the traditional sense 58: Favourite weather?chilly cloudy days, rain, thunderstorms, snow 59: Do you like the snow?yea!! 60: Do you wanna get married?idk.61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?no 62: What makes you happy?my friends, my fandoms, comedy, animals, nature, magic, art, the smell of books and holidays, making things, good food63: Would you change your name?i mean. i kinda have. legally? idk yet 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?nah dude i’d totally kiss her again if she wanted ;) 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?uhhh i don’t rly look at ppl in terms of sex? but gender? ehhhhh i don’t rly have an opposite gender so it’s hard to say. sorry im too special snowflake sjw uwu 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?i’ll just go with “different gender” for this and yes 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?i’ll go with “different gender” again and say my mom, i was talking to her about work 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?either Skye or my zukes again lol. most recent convo 69: Do you believe in soulmates?i believe in people you can spend forever with 70: Is there anyone you would die for? absolutely, but dying for people is easy. i’m trying my best to live for them until i have to 

[hall53brooks-blog]

The Goodbye Celebration ( 2015).

If http://reife-losungen.info/dietonus-bewertungen-preis-welche-effekte/ are actually to strongly believe the worldwide media, recently the endure Dutch voter defeated populism by refusing the offer due to the Celebration for Freedom (PVV) from the Dutch Trump", Geert Wilders, to come to be the largest gathering in parliament. Someone claimed I right now ruined my rate of metabolism following this diet as a result of my grow older that is why I do certainly not loose body weight. The bad reaction is actually the kind of froth-mouthed woman-hating rubbish that seems listed below the pipes of numerous female-written cavalcades, the odd YouTube craze from the feminist-targeted misogynist hate-video, or even the viral embarrassment from women which challenge to involve conversation from gendered depersonalisation by themselves creative phrases. 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Mobile protection could be erratic in specifically distant regions, and also the rainy time makes rural roads particularly difficult to travel as well as connect with girls in need. Passion your internet site - my boy as well as I attempted the alcoholic beverage - that really isn't that poor and also I experienced decent afterwards - many thanks! There is just one week up until Kate Mercer's forty-fifth wedding ceremony anniversary as well as the planning for the gathering is actually going well. Besides that consuming during pregnancy must not be actually motivated by any means, there only really isn't sufficient research to assist that its risk-free. Opportunity combined along with alcohol consumption just water would constantly make the issues fade away, thus someday I in fact looked at the active ingredients on Propel and also viewed sucralose. Only try to consume as long as you could and also expand your choices of fluids making that less complicated. The greatest use energy alcoholic beverages in connection to exercise might be as a sort of neuromuscular primer before a workout session. And 11 to 18-year-olds drink as well as consume 3 times the highly recommended restriction, with sweet cocktails being their major resource of incorporated sugar. Minority times I carry out want to drink a glass from milk, in my viewpoint this is actually easily the best tasting nuts milk I have actually made an effort. Party Conversation is where our company discuss things our company're enjoying and also going through when we're certainly not playing computer game. Angela ... I merely add added water to the Vitamix to create whatever remains in certainly there even more like a juice (instead of a healthy smoothie). I have actually likewise included a number of suggestions for quick and easy early morning tea combinations: one dynamic cup as fuchsia as a gemstone; as well as yet another an extra traditional combination from flower and also sugar-cinnamon that I consume alcohol year round. I provided her Citrical and also D3, but it hurts my heart to understand that this unsatisfactory trait is strolling along with a walking stick at just age 53! After that you will not appear so silly to on your own." You" ll with any luck drink yours in much less stressful settings. Some months ago I was actually interviewed by a reporter for the Detroit Free Press on the subject matter of sporting activities cocktails. There has been actually silence as well on the substitute from vital EU backing for UK organizations that rely upon the European Social Fund to alleviate the reduces to welfare reform that have had such an irregular influence on females. Lukewarm water in this particular recipe will reduce the increasing result of baking soft drink I attempted both boiling water as well as lukewarm and although it helped make no variation for jewels, some individuals have been experiencing sky blisters/ hollow insides when making a bun. Children are very most prone to their peers' effect during the course of secondary school, around the grow older from 13 or 14. Through high school, there is actually already a significant shift in the technique their human brains are functioning, and also the persuade that kids store over them isn't nearly as strong. If popular music is your best incentive, make an effort Nike BOOM This application syncs your popular music to your workout sessions and includes some audio-visual incentive from professional coaches as well as sportsmens en route. Ultimately, however, ranged see it here are actually extremely suggested for striking weak parts that could spawn only in the backline of the enemy gathering. I have a 2 full week old and also beware of exactly what I eat/drink, however I would love to try this drink. The service is entirely cost free for the expectant girls; all charges are paid out through M-Pesa through the plan. The adversaries will certainly deal with in small groups, as well as they could be gotten rid of fairly simply so long as the whole entire party targets one enemy at once. A comprehensive testimonial of individuals at the 2015 Boston Endurance discovered a number of intriguing realities concerning the running footwears that they use. If you carry out tough activities on a very hot summer season time for 30 minutes or even additional, attempt consuming coconut water. You may consequently also think about women experiencing the should bogus sexual climaxes as not merely a repercussion from a community that still sees sex in a male-centric method, but as a technique for women to provide primarily to the male pride. As an individual that often tends to drink booze incredibly hardly ever, (simply certainly not that interested), I find that when I occasionally have the weird handful of days from consuming red wine I find this quickens weightloss and also I sleep better. Wheat or grain receives a bum rap in the alternative wellness realm, getting guilt from all edges.

The most convenient means to stay away from gunking up your expensive mechanical keyboard with beverages and crumbs and numerous accumulations of suspicious biomatter is actually to excuse on your own, rise from your chair as well as wander into an additional space. Trump has also needed to Twitter to take care of the complication from sexual offense in the military, stating Exactly what carried out these wizards count on when they place females & guys together?" Yes, this is exactly how a presidential prospect for a significant political party is actually mentioning rape. While the word body fat has actually ended up being the adjective for virtually the rest people. Just trigger you don't look like you make use of hrs at the fitness center with a very laid outed sixpack and a low number of physical body fat doesn't imply that your excess fat as well as individuals need to know that. Accusation: Offers a low volume from harm that deals some volume from stress and anxiety harm while likewise debuffing the target; Doomsay: Bargains a low amount of damages to the entire event while also dealing tension damages. However, after a handful of more hrs from play, that save likewise ended up being damaged as well as crash-prone.