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geekys-corner · 3 years

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Mind listing the OCs/personas and a couple facts about them? (Might help with questions lol)

Sure! I’ve written 16 below lmao *sticks in a read more*

Anthony - Originally my version of Anti, he’s now a sweet bean who really likes plants. In his backstory and the start of his story, he was found in a tiny pocket dimension inside his old apartment while he and the place around him fell into disrepair with the only thing truly alive being his plants. After losing his entire family, he was very fragile and hurt himself quite a bit, but my other characters rescued him and nursed him back to health and stability!

Onyx - My angsty punk dude who I adore. He is on the autistic spectrum and is mostly non-verbal, once going 4 months without speaking before breaking the silence to tell his best friend that Viggo Mortenson broke his toe in that one scene in Lord of the Rings. They have a twin sister who is 13 minutes older and a firm witch while he is a firm nonbeliever. Sometimes he goes to the junkyard with a baseball bat to let out their anger.

Leon - His backstory is very dark so I won’t get into it, but he’s a very shy bean with one arm and a love for sewing. He has the fluffiest light pink hair, and is just the embodiment of pastel.

Kyle - The older brother of the duo! He’s friends with Onyx and also has a punk look with spiked blue hair, but he’s an absolute sweetheart! He’s eight years older than his brother, and ran away with him when he was a newborn to escape their abusive mother. He raised Joey on his own in the streets, escaping care systems that would split them apart and shove them in to foster homes, and grew up to be completely independent, albeit unaware of what it is like to have a loving family besides his brother. He may be quick to resort to fight or flight to protect his brother and grumpy to strangers, but he’s built them a good life!

Joseph - The little brother! Joey is a smart little kid, (ranging from 10 - 14 depending) with very bright ginger hair and freckles. He’s on the far side of the autistic spectrum and is completely nonverbal, but he’s very expressive, spunky, and loving whenever he’s able to. He adores peanut butter and milkshakes, and would very happily have them six times a day. While he can’t speak, he will send Kyle countless facts from astronomy or marine life through text at any time of day or night. He’s always seen in his blue skateboarding frog hoodie, a beetle backpack filled with his supplies, and his headphones and tablet. He loves to draw and he’s great at it, and always draws sharks, especially whale sharks.

Caelan - Another punk, but this time in bird form. He is a griffin, and in some AUs a dude with prosthetic feet. He has messy blond hair covering his eyes and is based around an Egyptian falcon. He’s very quick witted and very annoying to people who don’t know him, but would go to hell and back for his family.

Marioma - The model of a modern major general- this dude is the only one like him, meaning he has no AU counterparts! He’s different from my other characters since he’s technically self-aware, and acts in my stories if and when I want him to! He’s a grumpy, determined dude who’s trying to quit smoking per request of his boyfriend, Arthur. Before him, he was a sly, hardened, and cunning man who needed someone to rely on who wouldn’t die on him.

Arthur - Foster fails: 5. He owns a bookstore in the universe he inhabits and, just like Mari, he’s one of a kind! He lives the ideal rainy city aesthetic, with an apartment above his store with open windows, plants, cosy blankets and homemade food, handmade clothing, and animals. He’s got curly hair and his scarf is his comfort item, and he takes in animals if and when he can. He and Mari just live a comfortable life :’)

Clyde - A duo with Anthony, he was originally a version of Henrik, but is now completely different. This boy is a classic OC and therefore my teenage angst punching bag. He’s a doctor in his husband Lucas’ mafia, and is very strong-willed and the biggest sweetheart. He has water powers that I always forget about, and could very easily drown someone if he wanted to. Besides that, he does cry a lot over small things, and Lucas has walked in on him crying over their cat in a business-tie.

Levi - If he and Clyde fused, they’d make Henrik. He’s my 55 year old doctor who just the embodiment of grumpy cat and expresso. He’s very lanky and has joint problems after trauma in his late 20s, and sometimes you can hear his bones cracking as he walks. He has, can, and will slap the sense into Clyde when he needs to and hated him to begin with, but warmed up to him. But, he’s completely different to his husband Sage, and in the end, is a very caring guy who won’t take any shit. He’s also therapist, and gives sessions to most of my OCs- (he’s also the doctor at the end of Don’t Leave! Dr Allison!)

Tyrell (Cloak) - So I split the same OC into two halves, essentially from two AUs but in one? They’re not twins, they’re the same guy with separate families but they’re the same. They’re both POC with the same face, hair texture etc. Cloak-Ty is very grumpy, and is called Cloak because of the cloak he wears in his fantasy-based AUs! He wears an eye patch and lost his eye depending on the AU, and went through a lot. You can tell he’s angsty because half of his hair is buzzed off. He tried to push away his now-husband Demitri, but luckily he’s an absolute himbo who doesn’t know when to quit, and eventually melted through the icy layer to a loving, sarcastic, hard-working man.

Tyrell (Ponytail) - Same as above description wise! He’s taller and buff with a ponytail. He went through the same backstory, but was found by Daniel who took him to Lucas’ mafia where they recovered together and eventually fell in love. Half of his face is badly burned and the eye has pin-hole vision, but it doesn’t stop him from being the best sniper on the team. When at home, he loves tea, hanging with his family, and painting. He’s amazing at watercolour and earns money on the side from selling his work! Sometimes he and Dan team up and draw together!

Bloodbranded:

Wayde - He lives in the Winter Forest Region and hunts for his family with his exceptional archery skills. He’s witty and pretty spontaneous, making him good under pressure, but incredibly reckless. He has a bad claw scar across his right eye which cuts into his hair, but he can see just fine! He has beautiful green eyes with central heterochromia, so they turn brown in the centre. While he may be annoying and hot-headed, he cares a whole bunch and grows as a person to fall in love with Milo. He’s a hopeless romantic and protective as all hell, even when Milo can handle himself just fine.

Felicity - She wasn’t born in the WFR like Wayde, she was adopted by her two mothers and is Wayde’s cousin! She’s a POC with beautiful dark skin, and her parents style her hair in unique braids that are decorated by gold rings. She’s a magic user and a very skilled one at that, even when she’d just started out, and wishes to revive the old form of magic that had been taken over by the modern, corrupted magic form that’s based entirely on nepotism. She uses a staff and a book, and is clumsy to start out, but soon becomes a mage to be admired, or feared if you’re an enemy!

Milo - Unlike Felicity and Wayde, he was born in the desert region, and ends up in the WFR by mistake (which is a vast change in temperature for him). Because of the contrast in temperature, he’s always wrapped up in winter clothes, even in places where the others are sleeveless, just because he’s spent his whole life in the heat! When he’s at home, he lives with his Mother and goes out to collect lightning glass after the nightly storms to sell and turn into jewellery or windows etc. Milo was born deaf and uses sign language to communicate. He’s smart, energetic, and excited to see new things, but can handle himself with ease, and knows how to take care of himself through quick thinking and fighting skills from living in the desert. When he and Wayde start dating, he likes coming up behind him and cuddling him or giving him quick kisses!

Prism - Much like their name, they are very colourful. They are a dragon hybrid and live in a kingdom of others like them, but unlike any other dragon, their scales are - like their name - prisms. They gradient between rainbows across their body, but each scale has a rainbow shimmer when they move. Their wings are like stained glass, and their hair (as of now, it might change) is like labradorite! Prism is mute and doesn’t express much, usually communicating through eye rolls. They live as the King’s new heir after he took them in as he believes Prism is the symbol of their kingdom and species’ beauty. Because of this, they are completely untouched by any blade and don’t have a single blemish or scar as to preserve them. Many guards have died to prevent them from obtaining even the slightest scratch. Beyond their anxiety, they join the crew and act as the voice/sign of reason! Even if they are assigned to their kingdom, they soon learn that their friends truly care about them more than their appearance.

That’s most of my OCs, this is already super long so I don’t want to drag it on! If anyone is interested in any OC, feel free to drop an ask, I’d love to write one shots or answer questions! <3 ^^

#geekyfox1's ocs #oc #oc list #bloodbranded #bloodbranded development #oc description

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silverdecepticon93 · 4 years

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Daughters of Justice x BNHA: Super-Pets

Context: All of the DOJ have pets, I just wanted to write about them! Also, sorry about the GIFs, they were the closest I could find to the actual animal.

Bakugo x Bat! Reader:

When Bakugo first met your pet, he was understandably a bit hesitant to approach him. After all, not many people owned a huge black boa constrictor as you did. However, Omar was a friendly and gentle creature, and one of the things that you loved most in the world. So it made you very happy, even if you didn’t show it, when he and Bakugo started to get along.

“Geez, he’s heavier than he looks,” Bakugo grunted as tried to stand up, Omar had curled up around his shoulders like a scarf and seemed to be moving a lot slower than usual.

You looked up from the book you were reading before frowning slightly, “He may be cold, I keep telling Father to add a heater in here for the pets.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that he doesn’t want your creepy-ass snake down here?” Jason mused as he fixed up his helmet.

“He allows you to come down here, does he not, Jason?” You rejoindered.

Bakugo snicker as you tried to lift Omar from his shoulders while Tim tried his best to hold in his laughter, Jason only rolled his eyes and continued to work on fixing his helmet. Bakugo followed you as you carried Omar to your room, the snake now wrapping around you for warmth and nuzzling its head to your cheek.

“The snake’s more affectionate than you are.” Bakugo mused, making you look up at him with a deadpan look on your face but he can see the glint of amusement in your (e/c) eyes.

As you two walked, he tried to get as close as he possibly could to you. Your snake perked up when you held his hand and you two were now walking shoulder-to-shoulder. Slowly, Omar maneuvered himself to wrap around Bakugo’s shoulders as well as you, bringing you two closer together.

“It appears Omar is, how is it said again? Oh yes! Wingman.” You said as your fingers softly petted his scales.

“Nah, I just think he likes me better,” Bakugo mused and a soft smirk appeared on his face as the snake lovingly nuzzled against his cheek.

Deku x Super! Reader:

“Dynamo! Here, boy, c’ mere!” You said as you patted your legs, crouching down slightly.

Izuku had seen a lot of strange things during his school year at UA but never had he seen someone playing frisbee with their half-Kryptonian dog using an old satellite dish, all while flying in the air. He chuckled slightly when your dog, Dynamo, barked happily before flying over to you and sent you back flying and flipping through the air.

When you stopped, your puppy was happily licking the side of your face while you laughed and chuckled, holding him close and tightly. Dynamo had been another one of Lex’s cloning experiments, obviously one of Krypto the original Super Dog, and how could you resist not adopting him.

“Clark accepted that dog a lot faster than he accepted me.” Conner mused in an ironic tone, making you roll your eyes as you flew down next to him.

Dynamo wagged his tail happily and flew out of your arms, now running on the ground towards Izuku. He was now running around the green-haired boy happily, his floppy ears rising and falling as he jumped up and down.

“Dynamo, off of Izuku, Off.” You ordered. However, Izuku only smiled and bent down to pet the dog, “He’s fine, (Y/n), he just wants to have fun. Dontcha boy?”

As though agreeing with Izuku, Dynamo barked happily before jumping on top of the boy, a sickening ‘crack’ sounded through the air.

“Omigosh! Izu-kins, you okay?” You asked him, shooing off your dog and kneeling down. Izuku tried to muster his best smile but it looked pain, “I-I think he might’ve broken a rib or two.”

“We seriously have to neuter your dog.” Was all Conner said before going to phone to call an ambulance.

Ochako x Wonder! Reader

You always had been a tough kind of person but there was a slight secret about you, you simply couldn’t resist cute small things. Something you liked to tease Ocahko about because compared to you, she did look a little bit small, but height difference didn’t necessarily matter.

“How do you know that your mouse won’t run away?” Ochako asked as you two walked to the pet store.

You shrugged as your spotted mouse, Achilles, rummaged out of your shirt pocket, his cute little nose sniffing the air.

“I dunno, Achilles is pretty loyal, plus, he loves me too much.” You finally said as you began to pet the top of the mouse’s head softly, “Isn’t that right, cutie?”

The mouse seemed to squeak in agreement, making both you and Ochako chuckle as you two entered the store. Thanks to a visit from Velocity and her pet, it resulted in Achilles’s exercise wheel being broken so you decided to buy a new one, Ochako was there since your mother decided to give her a day-off and because you guys decided to make it a cute little half-date, too.

“Aw, look at the other cute little mice!” Ochako cooed as she pointed at an animal display of mice. You were also staring at them in interest and read the species tag before looking down at your pet, “I wonder what species Achilles is.” “You mean you don’t know?” Ochako frowned, looking at you. You shrugged, “My grandma got him for me, she never told me what species he is though.”

“Huh,” Ochako finally said before her stomach started rumbling, you also heard the noise and smiled softly when she giggled nervously. You looked out the pet store window to see a restaurant across, “How about we get that exercise wheel, and then we can get some pizza?” “Sounds good to me!” Ochako beamed as Achilles squeaked happily at the idea as well.

Denki x Flash! Reader:

“Veloci-bunny! Get back over here!” You shouted as you ran around Star labs, you followed a small white streak.

You stopped when it managed to go under the desk, now using its powers to phase through god knows where. You scowled angrily as you crossed your arms over your chest, from behind you, you could hear the tired pants of your boyfriend, Denki Kamanari.

“I don’t know which is one is funnier,” He panted as he looked up at you, “the fact your rabbit is faster than you or that you named her Veloci-bunny.”

“First off, I was twelve when I got her,” You responded, “and second of all, you can blame my dad and Uncle Cisco for making her so fast.”

At the mention of your Uncle, the familiar sound of a portal opened up behind both you and Denki to reveal Cisco Ramon, all dressed up in his ‘Vibe’ persona, with a cage in his hand that contained your albino rabbit.

“Yeah, well you can thank your Uncle Cisco for getting her, too.” He mused, handing you the cage.

You smiled and happily took the cage from him, looking down at your rabbit, Denki looked curiously over your shoulder to see the white rabbit trapped inside, the only thing that stood out to him was the black lightning symbol on its forehead.

“How’d she even get out of the cage?” Denki asked but was surprised to see your pet started to become blurry and fall through the cage, only to take off in a white streak. You frowned and handed your blond boyfriend the cage, “Like that. I’ve got her this time, though!”

Denki made a lot of stupid choices in his life but dating you, was absolutely NOT one of them.

Shoto x Arrow! Reader:

Chiko was your extremely protective pet bird, you often had to keep her in her cage or else she might nip at your parents or Roy or even your baby sister Mia. However, Shoto looked as though he was the only person Chiko would allow next to you, on occasion.

“I’m sorry, Sho, don’t take it personally,” You said as you inspected the nip on his finger, “Chiko just has a protective streak.”

“I wonder why that is,” Shoto asked as you grabbed the medical kit in the lab, grabbing some antiseptic wipes as well as a band-aid. You only shrugged as you took out a wipe and started to clean the finger that Chiko had bitten, “It might be because I found her in a box, poor thing had a broken wing but she didn’t let me help her at first. I don’t know who her owner was but I don’t think they took good care of her.”

Shoto saw your pet finch fly onto the table next to you two, you took out a band-aid and put it over Shoto’s cut.

“She’s covered for anything medical so you shouldn’t be worried, I’d still keep an eye out for symptoms,” You said as you put the two items back into the first-aid kit then you stared at your bird, “and you are in big trouble.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Shoto smiled as he looked over to the bird, reaching his hand out. Chiko tilted her head in confusion but slowly hopped next to the dual-haired boy and started to rub her head apologetically on the bandaged finger of his hand. You turned back to see Shoto smiling softly as Chiko kept on nuzzling her head on his finger, the scene made you smile slightly as you walked over to the two of them, “Okay...maybe she’s not in that much trouble.”

Chiko chirped happily at that announcement.

Momo x Green Lantern! Reader:

Momo watched in awe as you painted your portrait ever-so-carefully. A wide spectrum of different types of green being used as you did your best to capture the image of your muse, your pet turtle, Michelangelo.

Currently, he was munching on a leaf, something you put just to distract him. You were still painting over the pencil sketch of the canvas but Momo adored the focused way you painted as well as the elegant and satisfying you moved the brush.

“Did you name your turtle after the famous artist?” She finally asked. You blinked and looked over at her, “huh?”

“Well, I was learning about more european history today and read about ‘Michelangelo’ he was an Italian sculptor and painter. Did you name your turtle that because you are an artist yourself or because he is a painted turtle?”

You chuckled awkwardly at her question before coughing a little, “Um...no, not really. I named him after my favorite character from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

Momo blinked a bit before tilting her head, “Is he the one with the blue mask?”

“No, that’s Leo,” you responded as you went back to your painting, “here, how about when I take my break, I can show you the TV show. I have the whole collection.”

Momo tilted her head but smiled softly, “You seem to like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

“Well, I am the Green Lantern so bad-ass green characters are just my favorite,” You explained jokingly before looking at your turtle, “Isn’t that right, Mikey?”

You turtle continued to munch on his leaf before nodding in your direction slowly making you smile.

“It’s cute that you gave a little lantern ring, too,” Momo observed. You furrowed your eyebrows before looking at her, “I….I actually have no idea where that came from.”

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lynne-monstr · 4 years

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Writers Month 2019: Day 17: Accidental Baby Acquisition (malec)

requested by anonymous

(note that i cannot write children so no actual human babies will appear in this.)

summary: In the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Magnus only hopes Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about the cause of his death. He knows for a fact more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

ao3 link

“Alec, no!” Magnus lunges, grabbing Alec’s sword arm before he can attack.

Alec twitches beneath his hand but doesn’t shake him off. Later, Magnus will marvel that he’s learned to trust Alec so deeply he'd put himself in the path of a Nephilim weapon without hesitation. But that’s a thought for later. For now, he’s more concerned about what he’s come home to.

It had been such a nice date night, but it already feels like a distant memory.The perils of being a powerful warlock with an equally powerful boyfriend.

All the lights in the loft are off save for the entranceway at their backs. In front of them, the living room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city’s light pollution filtering in from the balcony windows. Everything is wreathed in shadow. Magnus feels the weight of his glamour dropping and the room sharpens into the full spectrum of night. Which is when he sees it. In the darkened depths of the living room, there’s a darker smudge under the coffee table.

He and Alec aren’t alone.

There’s something in the room with them, lying in wait beneath the furniture. Magnus tastes the air and the hair on the back of his necks stands up. With his natural vision, he can see what his instincts warned him of, what Alec saw with his heightened Shaowhunter senses. There’s a creature pressed tight against the far leg of the coffee table. But he also sees why he stopped Alec’s attack. The creature is huddled as far away as it can get without leaving the shelter of the furniture.

It isn’t attacking, or preparing an ambush. It’s cowering.

Something that feels like a memory curdles in Magnus’ stomach. He hates to see anyone or anything cower.

Beneath his grip, the muscles of Alec’s forearm twitch. He shifts on the balls of his feet but doesn’t interfere. Warmth expands in Magnus’ chest. Alec’s battle instincts must be screaming but he’s willing to yield to Magnus’ expertise in this particular area.

Edom.

There’s an Edomei in their home.

The Edomei is curled into a ball of pitch-black scales. Its very presence warps the light around it, making the space under the coffee table darker than it should rightfully appear. A pair of equally black wings shoot from the creature's back. The wings look wrong—crooked and grotesque, deformed and hanging in ways that make Magnus shift in discomfort.

“It’s injured.” Alec’s voice is soft, though his body remains a coiled spring. “What’s it doing here?” he adds, keeping his voice low, as if the thing can understand English.

Maybe it can. Magnus has never looked too deeply into the native inhabitants of his homeland aside from strengths, weaknesses, and hunting patterns. The only thing he knows about these creatures is how to kill them.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I invited it over for drinks,” Magnus whispers back. He swallows down the rising dread at the reminder of the place he once called home. He’d prefer to forget this part of his heritage but here it is, not even on his doorstep but inside his home.

Alec, his wonderful Alexander, attempts to lighten the mood. “Well, you did once tell me you made the best cocktails in North America. Maybe word spread.”

Magnus lets out a silent huff, and gives Alec’s arm a squeeze. It never fails to amaze him that Alec can read him so well. He clings to the comfort as he makes his decision on what to do with his uninvited guest. His logical mind says to kill it. The rest of him balks at the thought of killing a child. Because that’s what this is, a tiny, young Edomei that somehow found its way to his loft.

Slowly, he releases his grip on Alec and takes a tentative step forward.

The Edomei under his coffee table backpedals in a flurry of wings. It makes it about three steps before listing off balance, stumbling onto its side with a pained cry. Its wings flap uselessly and a thready screech fills the air.

Magnus is moving before he can convince himself what a terrible idea this is.

“It’s okay,” he says, walking forward with small, tentative steps.

It was never really a decision at all. A child is a child, regardless of species. He only hopes that in the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about his cause of death. He knows for a fact that more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

Behind him, Alec keeps pace, hovering at his shoulder. His unsheathed blade glints in the evening light but he doesn’t raise it.

As Magnus gets closer, he can hear the Edomei breathing in weak squeals. Its scaled chest continues to heave, faster and faster as he kneels beside it, a string of nonsense reassurances spilling from his lips in the same low, hushed tones that work well on all types of children.

Around them, the loft is perfectly still.

The eyes that meet Magnus’ gaze are deep red with no pupil but he gets the sense of being studied by a predator. A very small one in need of help, but a predator nonetheless. Magnus doesn’t flinch. This tiny Edomei is hardly the only predator in the room.

After a beat, it lowers its head.

The urge to let out a breath is palpable but Magnus resists. No showing weakness now or it may be the last thing he does.

He leans in for a closer look. The small dragon-like creature isn’t just dark in color but filthy. Caked between the scales are layers upon layers of dirt and grime. Magnus wrinkles his nose. It must have dragged itself through half the gutters of Brooklyn in search of shelter.

“Alright, let’s patch you up. This rug is a lost cause but we can still salvage the hardwood if we work fast.” There’s no response, which is a shame but ultimately not a surprise. He’s not sure if it’s because the Edomei doesn’t understand human language, or because the denizens of his father’s realm don’t have a sense of humor. Either is equally likely.

Raising a hand, he prepares to summon a ball of magic to his aid.

“Magnus be careful,” Alec interrupts before he can cast the spell. He’s in a defensive stance at Magnus’ shoulder, blade poised to plunge into the Edomei’s heart at the slightest provocation. “You don’t know why it’s here. It could kill us both the moment you heal it.”

They both remember the battle at the beach, the sheer amount of devastation even a single Edomei can wreak. Even a small one—practically a baby, Magnus realizes with an ache—is incredibly dangerous.

“It’s a child, Alexander. It’s here because it has nowhere else to go.”

Alec’s eyes go a little bit soft, his blade slowly lowering though he doesn’t drop his guard. His Alexander has always had a soft spot for the young.

“It must have come through that portal and escaped detection all this time. Unsurprising, considering its size. When it got hurt and tried to go home, the portal no longer existed and there was no magic for it to follow back to Edom. I suppose it found my magic instead and traced it here.” Magnus swallows down the memories of filthy alleys and rancid food and the absolute knowledge that no one in the world cared for him enough to save him. “An easy mistake to make, considering where my magic comes from.”

A warm hand settles on his shoulder. “You’re nothing like him, Magnus.”

“I know,” he says, and isn’t that something, that those are words he can say without a hint of sarcasm.

He spent his entire life doubting, convinced that there was no atoning for the sins of his past. He still has his moments of weakness, but he can’t deny the impact of Alec’s stalwart acceptance. In this moment, he’s intensely, absurdly grateful that he trusted Alec enough to take that leap and tell him of his heritage. To trust the man he loves with his most closely guarded and shameful secret.

Alec’s hand falls away and Magnus doesn’t need to look to know he’s readying himself for a fight if things go wrong. “Do what you have to do. I’ll cover you.”

Before he can regret his choice, Magnus sends out a stream of magic into the Edomei’s mangled wings.

This time, the creature’s cry is pure excitement. The moment the last of the hollow bones knit together, it launches itself into the air, circling the remnants of magic coming off Magnus’ fingers. Magnus nearly blasts it but years of helping untrained warlocks control their magic stays his hand.

Alec steps in close but doesn’t attack, still following Magnus’ lead.

Following a hunch, Magnus shoots out a few harmless sparks. The the Edomei flies after it, landing in a tangle of wings on the far end of Magnus’ couch. It bounces on the cushion, trying to grab at the dancing points of bright blue magic. When that doesn’t work it breathes out a tiny jet of fire, no larger than the flickering flame of a lighter. Magnus presses his lips together, not wanting to laugh and scare the creature. His resolve nearly breaks when he looks over at Alec, whose eyes are wide, a lopsided smile painted across his face as he watches what should be a fearsome beast pounce on bits of magic.

“My poor couch,” Magnus laments with a frown, sending out a couple more bursts of magic. Some of it races around the Edomei, the rest erases the tiny burn marks from the upholstery. At the same time he he spares a burst of power to gradually brighten the lights in the room. He's getting tired of not seeing in color.

Alec presses his lips together but can’t hide his amusement. “We’re keeping it, aren’t we?” The words are resigned but there’s a hopeful tone in his voice that tells Magnus he’s just as enamored with their unexpected visitor as Magnus is. His voice turns contemplative as he adds, “I wonder why this one is so different than the others.”

“Well, we did save it. Maybe it’s grateful,” Magnus says, though he’s not convinced at his own glib answer.

“Or maybe there’s nothing inherently evil about being from Edom,” Alec replies, pointedly. “Maybe the other Edomei were taught how to be destructive and this one never learned how to hurt people.”

Magnus can’t help himself, he leans in and kisses Alec. Just a light press of lips but enough to let him know how much his words mean.

They both tense for a split second when the Edomei flies at them but it merely settles on Magnus’ shoulder.

“It needs a name,” Alec says, watching the two of them with a fond expression that’s usually reserved for Magnus himself.

“He needs a name,” Magnus corrects. He considers whether or not to be jealous of Alec’s affection and decides against it. The Edomei is adorable, after all.

As if it can sense his thoughts, his new shoulder companion gives another happy noise and plops it’s head down to rest in what was until that very moment a perfectly styled hairdo.

Mischief lights up Alec’s face, now clearly visible in the well lit room. “How about Michelangelo, since he’s clearly a master artisan.” He points to Magnus’ hair, which has become a birds-nest in an almost literal sense. “And now the next time you try to tell me you shared quarters with Michelangelo, it will actually be true.” One corner of his mouth turns up, clearly pleased with himself.

Magnus pretends to pout. “Are you insulting my flirting?” He still remembers the look of confusion that pickup line had earned him from Alec in those early days. Nothing like the smile that lights up his face now, or the warm glint in his eyes that Magnus can feel all the way down to his bones. He pretends to pout, for old time’s sake. “Fine, but if he tries to crawl into our bed at night, you have only yourself to blame.”

Alec grins in satisfaction. “Michelangelo it is.”

The Edomei kneads its claws into the expensive fabric of Magnus’ silk shirt. Magnus grumbles about Versace but his heart isn’t in it. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

The tiny creature flaps its wings, stretching out its long neck and letting out a high-pitched honking noise completely at odds with its small frame. Magnus assumes it’s some form of agreement and scratches its belly in reassurance.

It looks like there were going to be three of them in the loft for the foreseeable future.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #lynne writes fic #writersmonth2019 #i've had this in my drafts for so long and i finally untangled the mess of it!#sorry for no babies in this fic but that is not a thing i can do #i can however do baby animals!

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justforbooks · 4 years

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The Better Half by Sharon Moalem review – on the genetic superiority of women

Let’s hear it for the female of the species and (more guardedly) for her second X-chromosome! Female superiority in colour vision, immune response, longevity, even basic survival from birth to death are illustrated in Sharon Moalem’s The Better Half. After decades, if not centuries, of bad press for women and their vulnerable biology, this book argues that in fact “almost everything that is biologically difficult to do in life … is done better by females”.

Moalem, a Canadian-born physician, is a research geneticist who has identified two new rare genetic conditions. He has worked across the world in paediatric medicine, including clinics for HIV-infected infants and is also a biotechnology entrepreneur and bestselling author. The Better Half is his latest foray into the field of popular science, and presents a general argument for the superiority of women’s biology to men’s.

In most circumstances, a human female has two X-chromosomes, one from her father and one from her mother; a male has just one, inherited from his mother, which is paired with a Y-chromosome, inherited from his father. Moalem believes that the X-chromosome has always received a poor press, and that it is time this negative view is counteracted. He draws on swathes of medical and historical data to show that, in many instances, the superiority of women’s biology is explicitly linked to their possession of the second X-chromosome. The greater complexity of women’s biology, he claims, is the secret of their success – it is more difficult to make a female but, once made, she trumps the male in her lifelong survival skills, for instance in her hyper efficient immune system shrugging off infection and maximising the benefits of vaccination – which means that females can avoid the consequences of a wide range of life threatening events ranging from starvation and cancer to, Moalem has cautiously concluded, Covid-19.

In mainstream genetics it was long held that, despite having two X-chromosomes, female cells only made use of one: the second randomly switched off or deactivated early on in embryonic development, a process rather summarily described as an instance of “genetic redundancy”. There was some evidence that the deactivation reduced female chances of succumbing to X-linked problems, due to the availability of an undamaged back-up. It was acknowledged, for example (though rather grudgingly), that women generally escaped being colour blind. Moalem notes that when he was studying genetics there was much emphasis on the tiny Y-chromosome as “what makes a man”. He observes wryly that maybe this positivity was related to the fact that “most of the people who were speaking breathlessly about the Y had one as well”.

Now a new spin on the X-inactivation story is emerging in genetics. Via a process called “escape from X-inactivation”, it turns out that the silenced X-chromosome is not so silent after all – there are escapees which may continue to offer back-up services, for instance providing extra cellular recovery options in the face of traumatic injury. It is to the benefits offered by this flexible availability within different cells that Moalem attributes the secrets of women’s biological superiority.

Statistics going back as far as 1662 show women living longer than men, and today’s figures show that 95% of people who have reached the age of 110 and over are female. In sport, women’s success in races such as ultra-marathons offer a different perspective on what it means to be physically superior. In the spirit of Angela Saini’s book Inferior, Moalem notes that this superiority has largely been ignored by medical science. And he discusses the medical trial data whose absence is observed by Caroline Criado-Perez in Invisible Women, her exploration of how the world is designed for men. Medicine needs to stop ignoring the secrets of women’s biological successes, Moalem argues, and find ways of harnessing them to improve the survival chances of the whole of the human race.

Imagine you live in a world where most individuals can see 1m colours. But in one group of these people (let’s call them males), about 8% cannot tell the difference between colours such as red and green, and a smaller number are totally colour blind. In a second group in this population (let’s call them females), almost all can see the standard 1m colours, but some (perhaps as many as 15%) can see 100m colours. Would you excitedly rave about the amazing talent of this latter group? Or would you just describe them as “not usually colour blind”? This same group has an immune system that has a profound talent to fight off many forms of infection and reap major benefits from vaccinations – with the down side that sometimes such hyper efficiency can lead to autoimmune disorders such as multiple sclerosis. Would you celebrate the former or emphasise the latter? For years, it is the drawbacks that have been underlined.

The Better Half is an eye-opening book. In explaining why the advantages that accompany females’ greater genetic options have to date been largely ignored, Moalem points to “paradigm blindness”, and to the fact that research geneticists rarely get out in the field to notice, for example, the much greater survival rates of girls in paediatric ICUs (rates which, he discovers, have been clearly obvious to the nurses doing the frontline caring).

I take issue with one part of his chapter on “The Male Brain”, for the moment setting aside the unproven assumption that the brains of men are different from the brains of women. Moalem chooses to consider autism, and it appears as a given in his book that autism is more common in boys than girls (itself an assumption that is increasingly being challenged). Yet at the more impaired end of the autism spectrum, it is possible that there are as many girls as boys, and his suggestion that females have a different “kind” of autism doesn’t quite prove his wider argument. The X-linked disorders such as “fragile-X” or Rett syndrome receive only a passing mention – not surprisingly perhaps as they run counter to his argument about the superiority of the X-chromosome.

What about hormones? Moalem has perhaps missed a good opportunity to counter oestrogen’s frequently negative press, and to laud its potentially neuroprotective effects. The greater susceptibility of women to Alzheimer’s disease is put down by Moalem to a form of anti-inflammatory process linked to an over efficient immune system; their lesser susceptibility to Parkinson’s disease (surely a possible inclusion in the list of female genetic successes) is unexplained.

One section of the book focuses on “why women’s health is not men’s health”, and considers the failures of drug companies to test their products on females as well as males. For sure this has had detrimental consequences on, for example, the accuracy of dosage rates. But in at least one of the examples he gives, that of Ambien, body mass and blood volume are key factors in calculating dosage rates: because people vary enormously in size and shape, simply dividing test participants into males and females still risks inaccuracy. He is talking about averages, it’s true, but even so Moalem seems firmly wedded to the notion that genetic females and genetic males can be neatly categorised into two distinct types, and that the understanding of genetic sex will provide all the answers we need.

The impression given in The Better Half is that there is a lifelong free-ranging choice between X-chromosomes available to the female, her cells dancing back and forth between the best options that will help her to heal quicker after a car crash or to overcome the bacterial infection that might lead to an ulcer. There are brief and tantalising hints about the “escapees” from X-inactivation in several chapters of Moalem’s book, but it is a shame that we are never given a full, head-on account.

Yet this book is full of wonderful titbits of information – from the existence of a female prostate gland to the number of honey bee flying miles it takes to make 1lb of honey. The celebration of the genetic diversity offered by the female’s second X-chromosome is wholehearted and the examples Moalem gives are highly effective. He has written a powerful antidote to the myth of the “weaker sex”.

• The Better Half: On the Genetic Superiority of Women by Sharon Moalem is published by Allen Lane (RRP £20).

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #The Better Half #Sharon Moalem

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sadncssfossilized · 4 years

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sexuality troubles.

i’m so fucking confused. being non-binary/trans makes everything so fucking hard. i don’t know where i fit... anywhere on the sexuality spectrum. i have no idea if all of my attraction to men is real or if i’m forcing it on myself bc im afab. i don’t know if i’m bi. ive always wanted to be attractive to men ever since i was small i think as a coping mechanism because of trauma. but i’m also extremely scared of older men, even if i do find celebrities attractive. but a lot of male celebrities i straight up DONT find attractive at all, they’re like cardboard to me. i don’t know if that’s because i think a lot of hollywood white men hearththrobs look extremely bland/the same bc white society or if there’s something genuinely off with my attraction to men meter. ive heard people say that not being able to process whether a man is attractive or not is a lesbian thing. but i don’t feel like a lesbian. i don’t feel female. i love women, i have always known that, but i don’t feel like a woman and i don’t want to be a woman. i want to look masculine. i want to be masculine. i don’t want to be a girl anymore. i don’t want to be a man, completely, i just want to be.... not a woman. not a man. a nothing.

is it a preference or am i only attracted to women?? i loved being bi. i love the flag i love the options, and i don’t really process people’s gender’s except on a social level. ive never been close with ANY boys across my life, or even more than acquaintances because of my shy and reserved nature and i’ve never connected with any on a personal level both because of fear, being flustered, and feeling like they’re cooler and more superior to be and genuinely a different species so to say, so i don’t know if that has to do with my fear of being sexually involved with them. i’m always afraid men want the worst from me, and i always get the feeling that they are judging me based on my attractiveness to them and discard me mentally as soon as i am not and i hate that so much. i think because i’ve never known a boy truly and deeply, i keep prejudices against them and don’t think that they are as compassionate or HUMAN as non-men. but at the same time, i’ve always felt called to get self worth from their attraction to me. literally since pre-elementary. even if i think a guy is ugly i still base my worth off of if he’s attracted to me?? it’s automatic, and fucked up. i’m scared to go further than flirt with a boy. i’m scared to mess up conversationally , i’m scared of entering a relationship with one especially because i’d be the “woman” in it, and i don’t want to be fucked like a man fucks a woman. i want a queer man so i can feel safe and normal around him. straight men are an enigma to me. they scare me so much with their lack of societal awareness and cruelty. i feel like they don’t GET IT you know? but if i ever was to date one, since i’m pre transition and in the closet i’d have to pretend to be a woman and pretend to be okay with that. the idea of a man taking me like i was a woman makes me want to hurl.... that’s not the relationship dynamic i want at all.

all of my emotions toward men are so fucking conflicting. ive dreamed of kissing men before, fantasized about being soft with them, holding their hand, cupping their face and kissing them gently, but if they’re an irl i never fantasize about what they would be like sexually, land the idea kind of off puts/repulses me in a way. thinking of my irl women crushes kind of makes me feel the same way, but i’m more open to the possibility of that? ive never had a relationship with a man and only probably had like 1 male friend across my entire life, so my fear could be because of trauma + fear of the unknown + bc of my prejudices bc of my lack of experience + dysphoria. meanwhile, i’ve had 1 girlfriend and all of my friends have been female my whole life. ive just NEVER been comfortable around boys/men. which i feel like is less indicative of lesbianism and more of like. trauma haha. i sexualized myself at such a young age to cater to the boys around me and even to the adult men around me, it hurts to think about. i hate how trauma complicates everything. i don’t know why i have that impulse, i don’t know why it started. ive just never felt safe around a boy. i feel like they always want something from me. ive been attracted to them but i’m soo scared o f them. like, i always have something to prove, whether it be my personality or humor or attractiveness, just to stay in their presence.

nsfw incoming.

ive tried to jack off to a lot of gay porn and i think my men attraction meter is broken because so many of the men in gay porn are ugly/unattractive to me. straight up. in their face, and body. and the body ideals in the gay community, where i would fit in post transition, don’t.... resonate with me. like not to be crude but a lot of the body types of the men in here are unattractive to me, but then again it’s white dominated and caters to a very specific vision of a huge bubble butt, way huge thighs, overly ripped chest, bland ass white boy faces paired with ugly haircuts. is this what i’m supposed to be attracted to? the men i’ve been attracted to irl do not look like that. the men in gay porn are all so passionless too. (which is honestly an issue i have that makes jacking off to women in porn sort of difficult too??) i don’t know. i don’t feel like i’m attracted to men the same way gay men are. but then again, how would i know that? i don’t know any actual gay men. i just know from some porn blogs? some pornhub videos? i don’t fucking know. i jack off to images/videos of men very few times compared to how much i get off to women bc of my particularity . it’s more difficult, but it’s easier by when i think about how the man feels, like his pleasure, his sounds, his expressions, rather than the aesthetics of it all. not to say i don’t appreciate the aesthetics of some nice men- chris evans, frank ocean, rob mcelhenney, taika waititi, nice. which sounds like a very non-lesbian thing to say i would think, but i know a ton of lesbians who talk about celebrity men super raunchily and stuff, so i don’t know anymore and i don’t think i know enough about lesbianism to know whether these are lesbian experiences or not. the majority of men content ive jacked off to has been gay fan fiction, and that has actually been easy to get off to bc of the descriptions and the i can visualize characters and passion the way i want. it’s harder to do it with actual videos/images of men, because it’s so different in my mind and imagination m, but that may be bc gay porn can involve a lot of roughness/impersonal-ness? also i feel like i still have a certain degree of internalized homophobia toward both wlw AND mlm despite working through my acceptance of my sexuality for a number of years.

i just want a person. but i don’t know if it’s beyond my control who i’m sexually attracted to. my sexual attraction to men is a lot lower than to women, and it’s a lot easier for me to make them bland in my head and not be able to point out a unique thing about them . i feel like girls are more... distinct/easily alluring to me than most men you know. that may also be affected by how women actually know how to dress and look unique and men don’t really shift from 1 bland societal style, i don’t know. i don’t know. i want to be attracted to men. as a transmasc, i want to be gay. i don’t want to be straight. ive been gay all my life, and i don’t want to leave that label. i want softness and love. but men scare me, and i don’t know if it’s because of a tragic coalescence of bad life experiences (or lack thereof) or because of genuine lesbianism. ive talked so much about being bi, and even been called a confused lesbian before by transphobes, and ever since they said it i cant stop questioning. i feel like at this point i HAVE to be a lesbian or something, bc that’s how this shit goes in movies and stories. i don’t want to be a lesbian. i want to be attracted to men, i wanna be bi and be equally attracted to both, i want experiences with both in my mind, but irl i get so fucking scared and i don’t want anything to do with it. i don’t wanna be a straight transmasc and i also don’t want to become what transphobes have spent their time telling me i am. i want to be what i’ve always thought i’ve been, bisexual and transmasc. i was comfortable with bisexual, until everybody else kept telling me to question and it’s been eating me alive since. fuck. i don’t know anything. is this a preference and bad combination of a huge number of deeper factors or am i straight up NATURALLY not attracted to men? have i been lying to mhself? have all my attractions in the past been fake? this is gonna sound terrible but i don’t want to be a lesbian. it doesn’t feel right. and id be proving the horrible people right, and have to retract everything i’ve ever said about being bi to my following on my other social media. and i’ve said a LOT. and i’d also have to give up my admiration of my irl men crushes and male celebrities and their sexiness. all of this shit is so ridiculous but at least i’m being honest with myself with this post. someone help me haha

#questioning #lesbian #trans masc #nonbinary #bisexual #transmasc #trans man #help #lgbtq #queer #trans #rambles

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absentiadevils · 4 years

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( brit marling, 35, cisfemale, she/her, vampire ) It’s been a while since we’ve seen SPRING SUMMERS I hear they’re VAMPIRE and they reside in DARKLANDS. Some may say they act VOLATILE & HOSTILE, while other’s claim they are DETERMINED & CANDID. With that being said, their soul will always remain a little crooked.

Full Name: Spring Weed Summers Nickname (s):Weed Role:N/A Occupation:Pain in the Ass DOB:March 20 Race:Vampire Gender / Pronouns: Cisfemale She/her Orientation: Aromantic/Asexual Spoken Languages:English, German, Hebrew*(wc) Hometown: Sheffield, UK Current Residence: Darklands Father: Henry Summers Mother:Agnes Summers Siblings: Twig Summers,Blaize Summers * (Identical),Joe Summers * (Identical),Winter Summers,Summer Summers,Autumn Summers,Willow Summers * (Not identical, twin of Spring),Sky Summers,Hot Summers,Cool Summers,Celsius Summers Height:5'8 Eye Colour:Blue Hair Colour / Style:Dirty blonde, curly & unruly Dominant Hand: Left Tattoo(s):N/A Scar(s): Permanent rings around her throat & wrists, smaller scars across her torso, burn scar on her back, and a peculiar X scar on the left side of her chest. Religion: Don't ask Alignment: Chaotic Evil

HISTORY

The Summers household was one of poverty & contracts. Long before and after Spring, her parents bargained her siblings and herself tot he highest bidder. Sometimes they were worth only a weeks worth of drugs, and sometimes they were worth cash. On the outside looking in many people speculated the house was always full of love, because of how her parents acted. They threw lavish parties that mingled both the living and the undead. Ninety percent of the time they were high off their gourd and fed invisible unicorns before the food even got to the children themselves. It’s a miracle they survived, but they only survived because of the contracts that were negotiated and signed in the middle of the night.

The only one to warn Spring of their parents dark trickery was her eldest brother Twig. However, Spring had just assumed he had joined the inebriated mindset of their birthers, because none of her other older siblings warned her that such things like demons and vampires were real. He did make one promise that he would come back for her.

Unfortunately her parents didn’t stop birthing after herself and Willow were born. Spring wasn’t the last one bartered to the Wolff brothers. The two men were glorified members of the SS-Totenkopfverbänd, their experimentation didn’t end at the concentration camps. Blaize,Joe,Winter, & Summer were all fucked over before it got to Autumn & Spring. This as well as several other factors contributed to her deep hatred & ire for everything in existence. In retrospect they tortured every emotion out of her, until it got to an unquenchable rage.

Through one experiment they figured out how to prolong the life of her soul & her sister Autumn. Abilities that danced between the macabre magic & science alike. She still aged even after the initial turn because her soul & Autumns had been tampered with. Spring Summers mood only worsened each and every year that passed. She truly became fully undead when she was 35, after her sister tried to experiment with how to disconnect their bond. It ended with both their deaths, and only one resurrecting to be a full undead terrorist.

She escaped the torturous hands of the brothers when she was 20, and sought out to break the cycle with her younger siblings. Unfortunately it ended badly, the younger group of siblings instead were turned into demons themselves obsessed with their own soul bartering. She has no relationship with her family anymore, as they could never stick around her foul temper long enough.

It took her what felt like eons that passed by before she would enact her revenge against the brother that turned her. What she hadn’t taken into consideration is the eldest sibling, Twig, finally returning to the fold - as a hunter. His one sole mission? To kill her. Rumors reached her in the Darklands about someone with the name ‘Twig’ being hidden among the humans. She doesn’t care much for him, but as for the humans? Spring is always peckish, and it’s the time of the season.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

FAMILIAL

Twig Summers ( Human/Hunter, 55+ ) Hot Summers ( SPN, 25+ ) Cool Summers (SPN, 25+) Celsius Summers (SPN, 21-25)

OTHERS:

They had you, too. ( Supernatural ) 0/1 - Someone the brothers would have also tortured, or perhaps someone able to bond with that scenario. They, for some odd reason had steel patience when dealing with Spring & taught her Hebrew. Best Friend ( Supernatural ) 0/1- Even the devil has a best friend. One that she can tolerate, and one that tolerates her constant shrieking negativity. They even know the secret about dinosaur band-aids. Unlikely Friends (Supernatural) 0/? - Most people are uncertain how to cope with Spring. Often times she is too much for them to handle, but this person seems to have dodge every piece of furniture that is thrown at them. Against the odds they have wormed their way into a special place. We’re Dead Anyway - (pref. Vampire, but other supernatural work) 0/1 These two sometimes get along, and sometimes they want to rip each other to shreds. However, over time they have gotten used to the other. So used in fact they might even call each other friends. That is if one of them could ever admit to it.

Act Your Age - (supernatural) 0/2 Some brave soul has decided to take on the approach of being a parental figure to Spring when she’s had none in her life. It is UTP how they approach this, but there’s plenty of defiance to pass around. Fetch is Never Going to Happen - (any species) 0/? These people and Spring are enemies at first sight. Spring always runs on the boiling hot spectrum and this person does too. When their tempers collide it’s a wonder they always survive. Grow a set of Balls - (any species) 0/? These people of good heart encounter Spring. She scares them and makes them fear of their impending doom. They think it’ll be her that does it, and that she’s playing a game. Whenever they hear her stomping by they hide and hope she doesn’t notice them. It’s Jurassic Park all over again, but the shaking water is you.

I’m not finished yet - (any species, could be the same as the above wc) 0/?At the bottom her black dead heart lives a bit of a sadist. She plays with her food, and is rather open to the thrill of a hunt. She has fed from your character before, and that started the psychological game that you engaged in. Perhaps you know there’s an expiration date that nears, and that’s part of the fun. What is your problem? - (hunter/spn) 0/? These people and Spring have tangled since her time residing in the Darklands or before her settle there. They know by now of her unwavering anger and how it thrives. It’s what continues to spoil the line between enemies and frenemies, because you just can’t stand one another.

Spring Fling.- 0/? Spring doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body, but at times she feels the attraction and energy to hook up with someone. It’s probably the only thing that has kept her from smothering your character with a pillow. It’s a no feel encounter, unless you count the bundle of rage that you’re banging.

#[ bio;spring ]#violence tw #abuse tw #child abuse tw

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thursdays-fallen-angel · 5 years

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Hello, for if you are still doing the numbers trope, What about: 28 and 26 for Destiel?

(Fantasy AU + Coffee Shop AU from this list; 1.2k)

The new guy is weird, Dean has decided. Weird and definitely hiding something.

Not that that makes him a bad guy. Dean definitely likes Cas, and he likes working with him, too. Dean didn’t hire him—his co-owner Charlie did that, because all hiring falls in her half of the business responsibilities—but having known him for a couple of months now, he knows that he would have.

Cas works hard. He respects the coffee shop, listens to his managers, does the work that needs to be done without needing to be asked. He’s kind to customers and earns generous tips. He’s a good employee.

But he’s definitely still hiding something. Dean knows he is.

He just isn’t sure what.

He always wears long sleeves, even when the sun is out and the square outside of their shop is hot and humid. He doesn’t like to ring customers up, and practically refuses to be on the registers at all. Dean once saw him spill boiling hot water over his hand without so much as wincing. It’s not normal. And it’s definitely not human.

While there’s plenty of non-human in the world, most of them tend to be fairly open about what they are, and stick with their own kind, besides. And in this coffee shop, in this town? The most diversity they have is Charlie with her half-elvish blood, and her fairy girlfriend, Gilda. They aren’t ones to discriminate, but the fact of the matter is, they simply live in a human-heavy area.

So what the hell is Cas?

Dean considers asking, but first he can’t figure out how—he doesn’t want his employee to think that it matters (because it certainly doesn’t) and he also doesn’t want it to seem like he’s been profiling him (even if he sort of has)—and then as time wears on, he can’t figure out when. Cas is his employee, and as they spend more and more time working together, his friend, too. Dean likes him. A lot. More than he should like one of his employees, probably. And, given that, how is he supposed to ask out of the blue, ‘By the way, I’m pretty sure you’re not a human, so what gives?’

He ends up getting his answer when he least expects it. It’s a normal day, if a busy one (because everyone wants coffee on the morning of a solstice, due to the fact that they all want to stay up for the celebrations after sundown), and everything is going fine right up until a blender explodes and douses Cas in half-blended frappe mix.

For a second, everyone behind the counter goes silent. Cas looks down at himself and plucks morosely at the mess on his shirt, then heaves a sigh and gives the most dramatic eye roll Dean has ever seen in his life.

And Dean starts to laugh. He probably shouldn’t, because it is a mess, but damn is it funny. The other employees start to chuckle, too, but one of them, at least, goes to grab a mop. Cas just fixes Dean with a glare filled with exaggerated annoyance (which is completely undercut by the smile tugging at his lips), then escapes into the back to clean himself up. Dean stays in the front long enough to ensure the rest of the mess is cleaned up and the drink gets remade, then follows after Cas to make sure that he’s also getting cleaned up alright.

He freezes in place as soon as he steps into the back room. Cas stares at him. He stares at Cas.

Because Cas is shirtless, his shirt held beneath the running water in the sink while the frappe is rinsed out of it.

And in addition to being utterly gorgeous, Cas is covered in scales. There’s a patch of them at the center of his chest, then more littered across his ribs and around his shoulders. They mark his elbows, the inside of his wrists—they’re everywhere, in a spectrum of colors ranging from a brilliant blue to a deep, onyx black.

Dean is utterly speechless.

Cas shifts in place, and lets his shirt fall into the basin of the sink. “I…” He stops, wets his lips. “Dean, I can explain.”

Dean doesn’t need him to. All at once, everything is starting to make sense. “Holy shit,” he says, “you’re a dragon.”

Cas’ shoulders hunch. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know that dragons—”

“We’re real. There aren’t many of us around here. And we aren’t the stereotypes that the world often associates with us.”

Dean blinks at that. “Hey man, I’m not saying anything about stereotypes. I barely even know anything about dragons. I can just recognize…”

He makes a vague gesture toward Cas. There are scales lining the vee of his groin, leading down beneath the hem of his jeans in a way that simultaneously draws Dean’s eyes and also makes him wish he had no eyes, because holy shit, that’s not a sight he’s ever going to get out of his mind. And, shit, he should not want to touch those damn scales as much as he does. What the hell is wrong with him?

One particular dragon stereotype does pop into his head then, though, and he grins as he realizes it. “Wait. Is this why you won’t cashier? Because you don’t want to associate yourself with money?”

Cas sighs, and a bit of pinkness colors his cheeks. “I don’t see why it matters.”

“It doesn’t,” Dean is quick to agree. He wanders forward, his hands shoved into his pockets to give himself a casual air—and to also keep him from doing something stupid, like touching. “But, it’s kind of funny. And it makes sense. And, you know, it might also be one of those kinds of things that would be good to tell your boss. So that I can make sure I’m not pushing you into anything you’re uncomfortable with, and all that.”

Cas blinks at him, then repeats, “Pushing me into anything I’m uncomfortable with?”

“Yeah?”

Cas seems to be struggling with the idea. “That is… your only concern? Out of all of this?”

Dean frowns. “Yes? What else am I supposed to be concerned with?”

“People tend not to trust dragons in jobs such as this. Or with money anywhere in reach. Not with our tendency to… hoard.”

“Well…” Dean shrugs. “Do you hoard? Or have any sorts of issues with money?”

Cas pulls a face. “No. Not money. I’ve never had much of an interest.”

“Great.” Dean starts to reach out to clap a hand to Cas’ shoulder, then thinks better of it and aborts the gesture halfway through. “You’re staying on, then. Your job is safe if you want it. You mean a hell of a lot more to me than just your species, Cas. You’re not getting away from me just because you’ve got some scaly bits.”

And—okay, that probably sounds a bit more like flirting than a simple employer-employee reassurance, but, well. He means it. And he needs Cas to know that he means it.

Judging by the way Cas’ red cheeks and shy smile, Dean thinks the point makes it across just fine. And that makes him feel bold. So he takes a risk.

“Also, uh—if you want. Maybe I can treat you to dinner? Or drinks? And we can… talk about stuff. Spend some non-work time together.”

Cas absolutely lights up. “Yes. Yes, I would like that very much.”

Dean grins. “Great. Good.”

And just like that, he has a date with a dragon.

#destielfanficnet #destiel #destiel fanfic #deancas #dragon!cas #coffee shop au #fantasy au #prompt fill #makenna's writing #anonymous #replies

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popatochisssp · 5 years

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Snips & Snails 2/7

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader Chapter Warnings: *sex! But other than that, none, it's pretty vanilla!

It takes a lot of courage to get naked with your interspecies partner for the first time.

AO3 Link

BRAVERY (Optionally Canon)

It was something you’d been wondering about for awhile.

A delicate type of question—the sort that could only arise from a relationship like yours, with such a wide gulf between your cultures, your customs, and even your biology itself—so of course, it should be raised with the utmost care and respect.

You were pretty mad at yourself for just blurting it out one afternoon while watching TV.

“Hey, do monsters…y’know?”

Sans roused a little from where he’d been starting to slump over a little, on the verge of dozing off. “do monsters what...?” he asked.

“…Y’know. Do……sex?”

“………”

The ensuing silence was enough to make you fully appreciate the inanity of your question.

But it was already too late to take it back, so you just…waited for Sans’ response.

“snrk…heheheheheh…hahahaha, oh my god, babe…!”

Your cheeks feel damningly hot.

“I…! Shut up, it’s! A very valid question!”

Sans continues laughing, covering his face with his hand like he could hide the fact that he was laughing at you more than with you.

“yuh…yeah,” he chuckled, “you’re so valid… ya’ gotta know if i can take ya’ to the bonezone, right?”

“Oh my god.”

You have a lot of regrets right now.

So many.

Most of them about dating this cackling skeleton who has no pity for your embarrassed plight.

…That’s a lie, you don’t regret a second of that.

Just the seconds you spent asking such a dumb question out loud, how insensitive and tone-deaf could you be, anyway?!

At least Sans was having a good sense of humor about it.

“awww, baby, don’t…” He seems to take notice of your humiliation…though not enough to stop laughing. “heheh, don’t, c’mon, c’mere, i’m sorry for laughin’…”

You let him tug you closer under his arm, but you don’t look him in the eye-socket. “No, you’re not.”

Sans snickers unapologetically.

“nah, not really,” he admits. “that…that was hilarious, you’re adorable.”

He nuzzles the top of your head as if to prove it, the gesture full of affection.

Mostly it just makes you feel patronized…and a little indignant, now that you think about it.

“Well! You can’t really blame me for asking, can you?” you demand. “You have the advantage here, I’m human! You know we do sex stuff because we put it everywhere!”

And that was true: you could hardly go two steps in real life or two clicks on the internet without stumbling over something sexual and human-related.

A monster with a human partner, a human crush, or just some curiosity about humans had a whole wealth of studies and images and pornography at their fingertips to answer all of their questions.

“I’ve never even heard of monster porn,” you mutter.

“heheheh, well, yeah, that stuff’s private.”

You frown. “So, there is monster porn…it’s just…for monsters only?”

Sans shrugs a little. “not strictly, but…yeah, more or less so far.”

…You were just getting more confused. “Then how does…how do you share it?”

Your first, hilariously silly thought was some kind of underground information network— risqué monster photos being passed across bars in manila envelopes by monsters in trench-coats.

Obviously it couldn’t possibly be that.

But, “eh, i think by phone, mostly,” was not really what you expected to hear, either.

Like…like sexting? Just sending a sexy picture to your partner?

It was starting to sound a little bit like…

“Is monster porn just…individual? Like…one on one?”

Sans didn’t even seem to understand the question. “yeah? it’d be pretty embarrassing for some stranger to end up with your nudes, wouldn’t it?”

You weren’t sure what to say to that.

Of course leaked nudes would be embarrassing, that was private stuff…but humans still wanted to look at sexy things? Porn didn’t just not exist because some people were private…

You have the feeling there’s a cultural miscommunication happening here, but you don’t have the slightest idea where to begin at clearing it up.

Sans seems to notice how confused you are and takes a crack at it himself.

“oh. right, i forgot, humans are all…mix an’ match.”

“…Mix and match?”

“y’know,” he explains, “standardized, compatible. ya’ got the same, uh…stuff.”

“No?” What kind of human porn had Sans seen? “There’s lots of different kinds of human ‘stuff’…”

Sans rolled his eye-light. “sure, yeah, but it’s…it’s all on the one spectrum, at least. ya’ could actually cover it all in a sex-ed class, not like for monsters.”

Monsters, who were ostensibly all the same species, but had such a wide array of subspecies that they had managed to completely stump human systems of categorization when they surfaced.

You thought of the first monster couple that came to mind—Burr and Audrey, a bunny and a plant—and tried, probably very unsuccessfully, to imagine what sort of things went on in their bedroom.

Ohhh… ‘Mix and match.’

You think you’re starting to get it.

At least with humans, there was a relatively limited number of things you could find in somebody’s pants, and probably some sort of guarantee that you could do something with those parts and make each other feel good.

Monsters? They probably didn’t have that same luxury.

You look up at Sans, frowning. “Wait, so…do monsters even have sex-ed if you can’t…?”

Thankfully, your curiosity doesn’t seem to be an offensive topic.

“heheheh, yeah, we have it. it’s pretty much the usual, ‘be responsible and considerate to your partner’ stuff, just no…diagrams or whatever, ‘cause everybody’s ‘different and unique’ an’ that’s something we’re supposed to explore on our own.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You’re encouraged to explore yourself?”

“‘round that age, yeah. gotta figure out your own good spots so you can help your partner find ‘em later, when you’re ready.” The ridges above his eye-sockets crumple a little in confusion. “human sex-ed doesn’t…?”

You scoff.

“Not enough of it. It usually doesn’t even bring up anything besides the ‘default’ sexuality.” The thought gives you pause. “But…monsters, if you’re all so different, do you…how does sexuality even work?”

Your question makes Sans chuckle again. “that, uh…that’s a little broad, ain’t it?”

…Boy, it sure is.

Sans is a monster, but he’s hardly the spokesman for his entire species.

You feel your cheeks starting to heat again, but before you can apologize, he starts talking.

“far as i can tell, though, humans put a lot more stock into all that label stuff than we do. lots of categories and specifics…think i tried lookin’ it up once, to see if there’s a human word for…what most of us are.”

You watch as Sans pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through old notes, things he jotted down in case he wanted to reference it later.

“oof. this was real early surface days. especially shitty at note-takin’ back then,” he admits. “i got no idea what i was gettin’ at here. mean anything to you?”

He angles the screen toward you and see some strange characters on the screen, jumbled up and indecipherable to you. There’s only two words in normal text that you can actually read, toward the bottom.

‘pan’

‘demi??’

“Oh!” Well, that made some sense. “So, for monsters…gender and stuff isn’t important, you’re just…attracted to whoever you like? That way?”

Sans looks…a little impressed by the swiftness of your conclusion. “huh. maybe there is somethin’ to those labels. that’s…i mean, basically, yeah?”

The porn thing was making a lot more sense to you in light of this new information.

Mass-produced pornography probably wouldn’t have nearly as much of a niche in a society where the majority of individuals only experienced sexual attraction alongside an emotional connection.

You do wonder just how much monster erotica is floating around with fictional characters…but you decide not to ask about that.

There’s a way more important implication in what Sans just told you that needs some addressing.

“Does that mean…does that mean you’re attracted to me?”

It seemed like a silly question. You kind of felt dumb again for even asking, since Sans was dating you, of course he…it should be a given that he was attracted to you!

But…it had…been some time, since you’d first gotten together and he hadn’t…

Maybe it wasn’t so much of a given, if you were this far into your relationship and only just now bringing up the topic.

It feels like the kind of thing you probably need to find out before going any further, even if the thought of a negative answer was starting to make you a little nervous.

But to your relief, Sans slowly turns blue and starts to laugh—the way he did when he was feeling especially shy or flustered.

“eheheheheheheh, i, uh…ah, jeez, i didn’t mean to make ya’ ask,” he says a little apologetically. “i…i like ya’, don’t i? so…so of course i…” He cleared his nonexistent throat. “yeah. yes. you’re…yes.”

He’s so cute.

Sans reminds you so often of why you’re dating him and with the affection (and no small amount of relief) you’re feeling, you find it easy to say, “Well, that’s good, ‘cause I’m pretty attracted to you, too. Maybe you can show me sometime where your ‘good spots’ are…”

You didn’t think it was possible, but your flirty tone seems to make him blush even harder.

It’s adorable…but just in case that was a little too strong and he’s actually uncomfortable or something, you dial yourself back a bit.

“I mean, it doesn’t…have to be now, or anything,” you assure him, gently patting the arm he still has wrapped around you. “Just…cards on the table, y’know? Thought I should…make it clear I’m interested, for whenever y—”

“how about now?”

You pause, looking back up at Sans.

He still looks very shy, his skull literally aglow with it, but he meets your eye with impressive boldness for such an easily flustered skeleton.

“‘cause…that’d be…i’d like to…do that. with…with you…”

Oh…

………Oh!

“Are you sure?” you ask him, even though you’re smiling; even though you can already feel yourself getting eager just thinking about taking this step with Sans.

He’s someone you trust, someone you care about, and most importantly somebody you think you could have a lot of fun with.

It doesn’t hurt that you’ve already seen him with his shirt off and really liked what you saw.

If he’s ready, then…so are you!

Your excitement must be contagious—the blue on Sans’ face is starting to fade, being replaced by a crooked grin that looks…

“yeah,” he says, his baritone voice so low it makes you shiver. “i am…really, really sure.”

Your heart starts to beat faster. “Upstairs…?”

No sooner said than done, apparently.

You love having a boyfriend that can teleport because in the blink of an eye, you’re there—in Sans’ room, in his bed while he dips down to you for a nuzzle.

You smile and reach up to him, pressing your lips to his teeth and jaw with an eagerness that makes him chuckle.

You knew it would, just like you knew he’d lean back against his pillows and tug you up on top of him with an ease that swoops your stomach and makes you laugh, too.

This part is nothing new.

Smooching Sans is just as fun as it’s always been, easy to get lost in. The polished softness of bone against your lips is one of your favorite sensations, and his big hands petting along your body, gentle and exploring is pleasantly addicting.

This time, though…there’s something new in it, something charged in the air.

You can feel it behind every kiss and in every excited touch of phalanges, giddily skimming just beneath your clothes like getting to touch your bare skin is something Sans can’t quite believe he’s allowed to do.

You want more of it.

You push forward with your hands, shoving at the shoulders of Sans’ hoodie until the fabric starts to slide. Sans seems to realize your intention and he stops petting at you just long enough to pull his arms out of it, letting the well-loved jacket crumple underneath him on the bed.

Sans looks…different without the hoodie—more solid, more real somehow—and if your fingers hadn’t itched to touch him before, they certainly do now.

You don’t deny yourself the pleasure.

Sans hums happily when you dive back down to his mouth, kissing him even as you start to stroke along his clavicles through his t-shirt. He nuzzles at you a little harder, trying to chase you as you trail your lips down further, past his jaw and onto the thick vertebrae of his neck.

The bony discs are a new sensation against your lips, enticingly strange, and you find yourself peppering more and more kisses along the column of Sans’ throat, trying to commit it to memory.

You only pause when a particularly firm smooch makes him shudder, hard.

“Not good?” you ask, pulling back a little so you can actually look him in the eye-socket.

Sans isn’t looking at you, though.

He’s flushed again, his red eye-light angled down and to the left— nervous.

“it’s…fine,” he assures you slowly. “i, uh…that’s…maybe……one of my…spots?”

It takes you a second to process…and then you grin.

“A good one?”

Sans’ eye-light shrinks a little. He must remember hearing this tone in your voice before, at least once.

“………go easy on me…?”

Not a chance.

You lean in and give him another kiss, open-mouthed, and when you drag the flat of your tongue along his vertebrae he gasps.

You like that reaction.

You keep at it, mouthing at his neck with lips and tongue and the occasional graze of teeth—bone on bone that gets Sans breathing heavy and trying to press up into it.

When he starts to squirm, his fingers digging into your hips, you can’t help but feel powerful up here on top of him, learning how to take this gentle giant apart with your mouth alone.

The thought of how much more you could do…

It’s heady.

Sans still has his shirt on and that seems wrong so you start to tug at it, wanting it off.

“wait,” he pants, pulling back a little. “wait, i…you, too, okay? i…wanna see ya’…”

The sentiment behind the breathless admission hits you hard.

Sans wants to see you, too.

He wants to look at you, at your body that you’d never really thought was anything special and he even seems excited about it.

…Maybe he’s thinking the same thing about you right now, and that makes you smile: you’re just two goofballs, both delightedly confused that you want to undress each other.

“Sounds good to me,” you say, and then you’re peeling off your shirt, helping Sans out of his own and then…

There you are.

Both…topless in front of each other, just…looking.

He looks just as good to you as he did that day at the beach. His broad-set torso looks so sturdy, more like it was sculpted from marble than just a happy accident of bone, and it’s too alluring for you to resist.

You reach out, stroking your fingers over all the newly exposed territory: his clavicles, his sternum, the almost graceful curves of his ribs.

(You’re careful to avoid the ones toward the bottom. You remember he was ticklish there…)

Sans lets you explore, not particularly reacting to your touch. More than anything, he seems focused on you, his eye-light roving all over your bare chest and stomach like he’s trying to memorize you.

Maybe he is.

But he looks like he wants to touch you, too, and just…isn’t, so maybe he could use a little push.

“Hey,” you say gently and you want to laugh at the way he looks right up at your face, like a schoolboy caught staring out the window. “You can touch me, too, y’know. You’re not gonna get in trouble.”

“…eheheheheheheh…yeah? you’re not gonna snitch on me?”

“Pfft…!” This damn jokester of yours… “Not if you give me all your lunch money.”

“i’m broke, put it on my tab,” he says, but with the tension broken, he finally goes for it.

Sans reaches up to you, his hands framing your ribs with ease. They feel huge on your body, like he could just pick you up and move you however he wanted and the size difference between you is nothing new, but here, in this context, it’s…

Surprisingly hot.

You feel like you’re learning something about yourself, even as he starts to stroke along your chest, thumbing curiously at your nipples, skating his phalanges over your belly lightly enough to raise goosebumps…

Sans looks utterly riveted by it all.

“you’re so……soft,” he murmurs eventually, like it’s something to marvel at.

You laugh a little.

Literally any human must seem soft to somebody who’s made of bone, but you still find yourself flattered anyway. The way Sans says it makes it seem like a good thing and he keeps pawing at you, petting you like he’s so enamored by your body that he can’t stop.

There’s a clumsy eagerness to it that’s a little endearing…and a lot sexy.

You lean in, kissing him again except this time with your bare chest pressed up against his ribs. He nuzzles you back and by the way he flattens one of those big hands of his against the middle of your back, holding you tighter against him, you guess he likes the feeling as much as you do—skin on bone.

You want to know what else Sans likes.

“Where else is good, baby?” you mumble against his teeth. “Show me, help me out…”

“mmm…alright, twist my arm…”

But he grasps at your fingers and pulls them, guiding them down, down…

Into his rib-cage?

…Huh.

When Sans gently settles your fingertips against the underside of his sternum, you’re not sure what you’re expecting, but when you rub and he moans, you perk right up, utterly delighted.

You rub more, feeling the bone heat beneath your touch, and Sans quickly starts panting again. You explore a little with your other hand—the underside of his ribs doesn’t seem to do nearly as much for him, but when you reach his spine you know you’ve struck oil.

All you have to do is stroke the seams of his lower vertebrae—the lumbar ones, you think—and Sans’ whole body jolts, nearly bucking you off if not for the way you catch yourself on a rib at the last second.

He stares at you with wide eye-sockets, too stunned by his own reaction to be sheepish.

“……fuck,” he says emphatically. “didn’t…i wasn’t expectin—ghhk!”

You latch back onto his spine, not even bothering letting him finish. That was hot and you want to see what other reactions you can wring out of him.

Sans starts trembling, huffing when you go after his sternum again too, and your mouth on his neck makes that delightfully deep voice of his pitch higher than you’ve ever heard it go.

“mmnn, ba—nnh—baby…waaaait,” he practically whines, as if you weren’t already turned on. “come onnnn, sl—ohhhhh stars, fuck, i wa…i wanna…nngh…”

He trails off, breathing quicker and going almost limp against the pillows behind him and it occurs to you that you might actually be able to make Sans come, just from this.

The thought is tempting (and very, very sexy), but it seemed like Sans actually wanted to say something and far be it from you to keep him from it.

Sans groans when you back off, almost helplessly disappointed, and you smirk at him.

“What, baby?” you tease. “What’d you want?”

He doesn’t answer you right away; maybe can’t. There’s a glazed look in that red eye of his that makes you feel ready to pounce and it’s a real struggle to just sit there patiently while he catches his breath.

“i wa…i wanna make you feel good, too,” he slowly articulates. “lemme…lemme do that for you. show me how.”

You chuckle. “I don’t think I can feel that good as long as I’ve got pants on. Hang on a sec.”

Without even thinking about it, you slide yourself off of Sans and start to shimmy out of your pants and underwear. He sits up on his elbows to watch you, enraptured, and it’s not until you have everything off that you fully realize…

You’re naked, in front of Sans, your boyfriend…for the very first time.

Until right this second, you’d been riding pretty high on the confidence boost of making Sans unravel but now, much as you hate to admit it, you feel your self-consciousness starting to hit you.

You’re…not a model. You’re not a celebrity, either. You’re just you, and your body is…

You know what Sans said, about being attracted to you, but suddenly you can’t help but think that maybe now that he’s actually seeing all of you, it might not be…what he was hoping for.

“Uh…” You bite your lip a little, feeling your face heat. “I guess I’m, uh…haha probably a little different from the humans in…porn….”

“no kiddin’…”

…ouch.

But then Sans keeps talking.

“this is way better. stars above, you’re…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, like he’s at a legitimate loss for words and that’s…fine.

You didn’t need your heart, anyway.

Sans gets up, mattress springs creaking as he moves toward you. His eye-light is locked onto your body and you nearly remind him that your eyes are up here, but with the awed focus on his face right now, you’re not sure he’d care.

His phalanges reach for you, pausing tentatively halfway.

“i… can i…?” he asks, almost hushed.

You don’t know that anyone’s ever been so eager or so careful about touching you before.

Sans has such a knack for making you feel special.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

With permission, Sans touches you, nudging your legs apart. Butterflies in your stomach, you let him even though your heart pounds at the intent in his gaze as he pets along your inner thighs.

The first curious brush of his big fingers against your most sensitive areas makes you shiver…and suddenly, you think you must know what Sans felt like when you found some of his good spots.

The grin he gives you is downright wolfish—hungry.

“tell me,” he rumbles, so low and sultry that you feel yourself reacting to his voice alone. “tell me what you want me to do.”

Oh, stars…

“Don’t, uh…you don’t already know what to do?” you tease a little weakly. “You’ve seen human porn, right? It’s everywhere, you should be an expert by now.”

Sans snorts. “yeah, sure, i seen it. you’ve seen it, it’s just a lotta…slammin’, in-an’-out stuff that looks good for the camera.”

…Pfft, what a way to describe it!

“that ain’t real stuff,” Sans insists. “i’m askin’ what you want.”

There aren’t a whole lot of guys out there who’d ask a question like that when you were already naked in front of them.

Sans is such a sweetheart…

And if he really wants you to show him what you want, you think you can accommodate him.

“……babe?”

Sans doesn’t quite seem to understand what you’re doing when you crawl forward on the bed and turn your back to him, getting yourself settled between his femurs.

You turn your head straight up and find him looking down at you with a confused frown, but you just smile.

“You want to know what I like, right?” A purely rhetorical question, and you take Sans’ hand in your own, guiding it over you down to the apex of your thighs. “I’ll show you.”

His big, bony fingers are pliant beneath yours and curl easily just the way you want them. You feel him watching when you start to move his hand, tracking the pace, but it’s not long before your body starts responding to the attention.

You know what you like, the best ways to get yourself off, and for the first minute or two, it feels like Sans isn’t even there—just you and your practiced touch making pleasure hum through you, building slowly toward your peak.

It feels good and you start to relax, letting your eyes fall shut and resting your head on Sans’ sternum behind you.

You can’t quite say when Sans starts touching you without your help.

You jolt, gasping when he twists his fingers in a way you definitely weren’t guiding him to. It’s good, though, and not even the smug chuckle that vibrates through you from behind can ruin it.

“how’m i doin’?” he asks, in the tone of a man who knows he’s doing well. “s’it good?”

Of course it is.

His hand is still moving between your legs, just like you showed him, but it’s starting to feel…different. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, and you don’t think you’ve ever handled yourself with such slow, careful curiosity.

Knowing that it’s Sans—exploring you, playing with you, learning how to make you come—makes it feel like so much more than anything you ever did by yourself.

“stars, look at’cha,” he breathes, curling forward over you. “you’re incredible…you’re so hot…can’t believe you’re lettin’ me touch ya’ like this…”

You feel your body starting to really heat up, your breath coming a little harder. The part of you not yet wholly focused on your climbing pleasure manages to notice something very, very important.

Sans is talking way too much.

He’s still talking at all.

You can fix that.

You reach back, slipping your hand up into the cavity of Sans’ torso and blindly groping for his spine. You find it and start to rub at those sensitive seams again, making Sans choke on a gasp.

Finding your voice for a moment, too, you chastise him with a hissed, “Don’t stop!”

He obeys, his hand starting to move again between your legs but this time without any commentary: he’s too busy huffing for breath now as you clumsily stroke his spine.

The only noises you hear out of him are bitten-back groans and they’re music to your ears, fuel for the fire his fingers are stoking higher in you by the second.

You’re pretty sure Sans is right there with you. You can feel in it the way he curls over you a little tighter, nuzzling the top of your head and pawing at your chest with his free hand; touching you everywhere he can while you chase your orgasm together.

You catch it first, just like that—with Sans’ hands on your body as color explodes behind your eyelids, arching your back and knocking your head against his sternum.

If there’s pain, it mingles so completely with the pleasure that you don’t even notice, coasting high on sensation.

You lose your backwards grip on Sans’ spine, but your hand thoughtlessly catches on a rib and you squeeze, trying to ground yourself.

“hnngh…!”

Sans chokes, hunching down over you and apparently that was enough to push him over the edge, too.

The sound of his broken groan may be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

You hope you can remember it…or maybe just get to make him do it again another time.

The two of you spend a few long moments catching your breath together, bodies wrung out and slumped against each other for support.

When you finally speak, it’s simultaneous.

“Wow…”

“wow…”

…………

“Pfft, you goober!” you laugh, but Sans scoffs at you.

“i’m a goober?” he demands. “i think if anybody’s a goober, it’s you.”

You don’t understand the pun at first…but then Sans holds his hand out in front of you, still coated in the evidence of your orgasm and oh, stars, he probably thought that was so gross of you.

“Oh jeez, I…yeah, that happens when humans…there’s…I’ll just go get a t—”

Aaaand, he was already wiping it on his sweatpants.

Charming.

“—or you can do that, I guess…”

Sans settles his chin atop your head. “gonna take a lot more than a little slime to scare me off,” he declares, and for the subject matter, it sounds entirely too sweet.

Maybe for that, you’ll wash his sweatpants for him, so that doesn’t stain.

But the thought gives you pause, quickly followed by a wave of annoyance.

“Shit!” you exclaim, making Sans jump a little. “I didn’t even get your pants off! Damn it!”

As soon as he processes the words, Sans bursts out laughing.

“aww, babe,” he snickers, “seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, you got to see me naked,” you protest, gesturing to your still very nude self. “I want to see you naked, too!”

Sans wraps his arms around you, hugging you close. “you’re not missin’ out on anything, i promise.”

“But—”

“ya’ ever seen one of those…naked plastic skeletons you guys put up everywhere when the leaves change?”

The mirth in his voice is hard to miss but, “Yeah…”

“s’exactly like that. ya’ seen one pelvis, ya’ seen ‘em all.”

You frown. “Really? There’s nothing…down there? Like a…uh.”

It occurs to you that you…may possibly be a silly, oversexed human, expecting a skeleton to have some kind of genitalia.

But before you can get too embarrassed about it, Sans casually adds, “i could make somethin’ for ya’, if ya’ wanted me to.”

“What, s…seriously? Like a…magic d—”

“magic dick, yeah.”

“I…how does…?”

“can show ya’ the tongue if ya’ wanna see how it works? m’pretty good at that one.”

Yes. Yes, you absolutely have to see this.

You twist in Sans’ grip, looking up and holy shit, there it is—a big, translucent blue tongue lolling out from between your boyfriend’s teeth.

You’re fascinated by the sight of it and reach up towards it.

When Sans doesn’t stop you, you actually touch it, just a curious little poke, and it’s…well, more or less what you’d expect a tongue to feel like. It's wet, a little slimy, but also strangely reminiscent of the time you’d shaken Grillby’s hand: something both there and not there at the same time. It seemed to be a lot smoother than a human tongue, too, without all the bumpy taste-buds.

“Can you…does it work?” you have to know. “Can you taste with it?”

The impossible tongue retracts, slipping back behind Sans’ teeth where it just seems to…disappear.

“yeah. it’s magic—it’s me, it does what i want it to. don’t need it to taste stuff, but it’ll do it if i got it out.”

…You can’t even begin to figure out how that makes sense. For your own sanity, you just put it down to ‘magic’ and try to let it go.

“So…magic dick.”

“yeah. if ya’ wanted.”

“Why no magic dick this time?” you ask. “Is it…snrk…is it like the ‘good china,’ you only…whip it out for special occasions?”

You can’t even keep a straight face asking the question. You can’t blame Sans for laughing at it, too.

“heheheh, you’re plenty special, babe,” he assures you. “tongue’s easy, i’ve done a tongue before. gotta research a little before i try something new.”

“‘Research,’” you echo, emphasizing the dubious quotations in your tone.

“haha, no, seriously, actual research. real unsexy, probably…diagrams an’ medical textbooks an’ shit. did the tongue look human to you?”

“No?”

“yeah, ‘cause i winged it.” Sans snuggles you closer against him even as he proposes to you a very philosophical question. “what d’you suppose it’d look like if i tried to mimic some human…stuff, without bein’ able to remember all the details?”

The first image to pop into your head is a semi-phallic…shape, resembling nothing so much as the cheapest, most terrible-looking dildo money could buy.

And then you try to imagine it in blue, suction-cupped onto your boyfriend’s pelvis.

“…hahaha… Hahahahahahaha! Oh no…!”

“i’ll assume by your laughter that whatever ya’ just thought of was hilarious an’ also the least sexy thing ya’ ever pictured in your life.”

You cover your mouth, trying to stifle the chuckling. “A little bit, yeah,” you admit.

“that’s why ya’ gotta let me mess around with it a little first,” Sans explains. “haven’t exactly paid a lot of attention to that stuff before. i can probably make somethin’ a little sexier, but i need the details for that. can’t make somethin’ out of magic unless i can recreate it in my head first—so now’d be the time to start thinkin’ if ya’ got any requests.”

…‘Requests’?

Oh.

The possibilities of that are…actually soberingly incredible, now that you think about it.

You’d never entertained a future where your partner could just…make anything for you, if you gave him enough time to work out how. Images were suddenly racing through your head, each sexier and more fantastical than the last.

Anything.

Amazing!

“if ya’ don’t wanna wait, though, i seen a lot of hot dogs, could probably do a pretty good one a’those.”

………

If it weren’t for Sans’ arms around you, you think you’d double all the way over with how hard your laughter hits you; hard enough to make you wheeze.

“A hot dog?! Shut up, you’re the worst!”

“heheheheh, don’t you mean ‘the wurst’?”

“Fffffffffff…!”

You can’t even tell him how much you hate him because you’re laughing too hard.

It’s probably just as well, since that would be a total lie.

Optionally canon scene to Fur a Good Time, Call… Could take place anytime after Chapter 12, if you're looking to place it in the continuity. A sex scene--even one as fluffy as this--just didn't quite seem to fit in the vibe of the original story, so I left it out.

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

#snipsnsnails #undertale #fanfiction #sans #sans/reader #horrortale #ht!sans #myfic #lemon #lime

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kathleenseiber · 3 years

Text

Sixth time’s the charm: new IPCC report shows climate is still changing

IPCC releases sixth major assessment report, and it’s clear that the biggest threat now is delay.

As fires and floods rage across the globe, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) has released its latest major assessment report on the climate. The results are clear – without a shadow of a doubt, human influence has warmed the atmosphere, ocean and land.

This is not a surprise.

The report synthesises more than 14,000 scientific papers to provide the most up-to-date view of how the changing climate has affected, and will affect, the world. It found that many of the observed changes are beyond anything experienced for thousands of years – if not hundreds of thousands – and may continue to influence the Earth’s systems for millennia to come.

This, too, is not a surprise.

The report says we need to immediately slash greenhouse-gas emissions and rapidly reduce our reliance on fossil fuels in order to avoid the worst-case scenarios of extreme weather, sea-level rise and more.

This, yet again, is not a surprise.

We have known all this for 30 years.

IPCC Working Group I Report Fast Facts

The report was compiled by 234 scientists from around the world.

It is part of the sixth iteration of IPCC assessments, with the last one released in 2014.

This is just the first section, addressing how we have advanced in our scientific knowledge of the physical basis of climate change.

Subsequent reports released over the coming months will address how these findings can be translated into policy and action.

Credit: Monash Climate Change Communication Research Hub / IPCC.

Let’s take a step back and look at the bigger picture.

In 1990, the IPCC published its First Assessment Report. It has since released a series of further reports, drawing on the expertise of hundreds of international researchers to synthesise our knowledge of the science of climate change, its impacts and the actions we need to take.

Even in the first report, the evidence showed that “human activities are substantially increasing the atmospheric concentrations of the greenhouse gases: CO2, methane, CFCs and nitrous oxide”.

This spurred the establishment of the international environmental treaty, the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), in 1992, with the goal of avoiding “dangerous human interference with the climate system”. This agreement was signed by all industrialised nations.

But in the three decades since, “we have emitted one trillion tonnes of carbon dioxide coming from the combustion of fossil fuels and land-use change”, says the CSIRO’s Pep Canadell, who was coordinating lead author on chapter five of the new report.

“That is 41% of all CO2 emissions emitted since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution – 41% in the last 30 years.”

So in 1990, scientists were already issuing warnings about the need to urgently reduce our emissions. We then not only continued to burn fossil fuels, but almost doubled our emissions compared to the dawn of the industrial era.

In the subsequent years, the science has solidified as the IPCC released report after report, each one acting as a pillar in our understanding of climate change.

This new, sixth assessment weaves in eight more years of data about the physical underpinnings.

Credit: Monash Climate Change Communication Research Hub / IPCC.

Lead author of one report chapter, Michael Grose from CSIRO, highlights “the sheer weight and bulk of evidence presented in the report”.

“There’s more evidence than ever – there’s more sophistication in that evidence than ever,” he says. “Just the sheer number of scientific papers that are reviewed and assessed, and the number of hours worked on it – it was immense.”

Blair Trewin, climate scientist from the Australian Bureau of Meteorology and lead author on chapter two of the report, says the data sets used have a more global coverage than previous data.

So what do the findings actually tell us?

“We can see that the climate system is in a state that it has not been for at least centuries to millennia, and changing at a rate that is unprecedented in at least the last 2000 years,” Trewin says.

“We’re really seeing conditions that are outside the range of human experience.”

Ice-core records have confirmed that the concentrations of the main greenhouse gases – carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide – are higher than at any point in the last 800,000 years. For context: our species, Homo sapiens, only arose 200,000 years ago.

The report continues in its apocalyptic missives: the land is warming faster than the ocean; hot extremes are getting hotter and cold extremes are warming even quicker; the subtropics are drying; extreme rainfall is increasing; marine heatwaves are more frequent; the oceans are acidifying.

The report can now also directly attribute individual extreme events to human-induced climate change – from marine heatwaves around the Great Barrier Reef to the Black Summer fires of 2019–20 – in a way that we could not do with certainty a decade ago.

Credit: Monash Climate Change Communication Research Hub / IPCC.

The report also has a greater regional focus than previous iterations. It fills in the gaps with far more detailed projections for how global climate change is linked to change in specific areas across the world.

(How will Australia fare? The ARC Centre of Excellence for Climate Extremes has prepared a special report detailing future consequences for our country.)

“Beyond the next 20 years, global and regional change depends strongly on the global emissions that we experience,” explains Grose.

The report presents five different pathways we can take, like a choose-your-own adventure novel: in a storyline at one end of the spectrum, we rapidly decarbonise and avoid the worst; while at the other extreme, we continue to pursue fossil fuels and release high volumes of emissions.

Grose refers to each of these pathways as “narratives” – stories we construct for ourselves about the paths we could follow.

Shayne McGregor from Monash University, a lead author on chapter three of the report, notes: “The key point here is that what is required – regardless of what scenario we’re looking at – is rapid, sustained large-scale reductions in greenhouse-gas emissions.

“It’s not too late. Every action that we do moving forward is beneficial – every half a degree or 0.1 degree of warming we can reduce or minimise, the better off we are.”

The IPCC reports – particularly the impact- and response-based reports that will be released in coming months – are aimed at informing the choices of policymakers.

But many find it immensely frustrating that these responses are coming so late and so slowly.

Matthew England, a physical oceanographer and climate scientist from the University of New South Wales, says the science has been there for decades. He explains that models made even before the first IPCC assessment report have played out with confronting accuracy,

Perhaps the best example, he says, is the pattern of global surface air temperature change.

From the late 1960s onwards, models were created coupling the atmosphere and ocean systems to predict how different regions of the world would warm. These models produced certain patterns: the northern hemisphere would warm faster, with the most severe heating over the Arctic, with the southern hemisphere warming more slowly.

England explains that this is because the land experiences greater warming than the ocean, and the northern hemisphere has much more land.

“The physics of why that happens is so fundamental, it’s almost embarrassing,” he says. “It comes down to how much heat the land and ocean can each absorb.”

These exact patterns of warming have been observed as predicted over the decades since.

“This fingerprint of global atmospheric change is virtually identical to what was predicted,” England says.

“It is frustrating to see these projections that are 30 years old now just play out without meaningful action.”

After the IPCC fourth assessment report was released in 2007, England says many researchers – including lead authors of these reports – questioned whether more were necessary.

“Really top scientists [were] having conversations at conferences in 2008, 2009, saying, ‘Hey, is this sending the wrong message by having IPCC reports five, six, seven, eight, nine? This should be the end. The science is settled – now action is needed.’”

Credit: Monash Climate Change Communication Research Hub / IPCC.

While England notes that we still need IPCC reports to lay the groundwork for adaptation and mitigation strategies, these scientists were questioning whether we needed further updates on the physical basis of climate change to justify the need for cutting emissions.

“We don’t need that,” he says. “We haven’t needed it for a couple of decades now.”

Reports are now becoming more fine-grained, filling in the details. But we already know the action we need to take.

In 1996, Nobel Laureate F Sherwood Rowland, a pioneer in the field of ozone depletion, said: “What’s the use of having developed a science well enough to make predictions if…all we’re willing to do is stand around and wait for them to come true?”

England points out that the same can be said now for climate science.

The enormous cost of the current and future climate extremes “just dwarf the costs of inaction”.

He also points out, that “the fossil-fuel industry has slowed down this progress to make a buck, and that’s one of the cruellest aspects of this”.

(We have known for a long time that fossil-fuel companies have lobbied for decades to obscure the science, downplay projections and delay action.)

But the science is about as certain as it’s going to get. The biggest uncertainty, by far, lies in what we choose to do about it.

When IPCC reports like this one are released, bringing their warnings of the mythological-scale changes humans are inflicting upon the planet, they can incite an atmosphere of grief and terror – but this is also a moment of mobilisation.

This report is yet another reminder that we know exactly how to avoid the worst of the consequences. It will be difficult, requiring systemic changes, but there is still so much work that can be done.

“We’re still in control about where we want to take this planet,” says Canadell.

As F Sherwood Rowland said in 1997: “If not us, who? If not now, when?”

Read the full report here.

The climate crisis Australia our children could inherit

How to use climate models

Tech alone cannot solve climate crisis

Climate science on trial

Take action:

Climate Council resources

Podcast episode: What can I do?

Climate Action Network Australia

Sixth time’s the charm: new IPCC report shows climate is still changing published first on https://triviaqaweb.weebly.com/

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sharknadoslutt · 6 years

Note

pwease write this novelesk multyparagraph doohickey because i love sugar and honestly this sounds cute

👀👀👀👀

Well, if you really wanna know the cringe love story that is Eli and Vayriel

Well I already talked about how they started ‘dating’ in another post, but to re-cap.

Sugar, at this point was at the top of her game. She was hot. An idol. A literal phenomenon. However, she had also started aiding the Rebellion on the down-low. So, as a means of keeping up public appearances (Ya know, all hail to the Emipre and all that jazz) Sugar starts publicly dating Imperials.

Nothing big, just a little arm candy. She’d be seen with a General on Shore leave on the islands of Glee Anslem. Or seen accompanying a simple cadet to a military call on Coruscant. Little shit like that to keep the public dumb and unsuspecting of her true dealings.

She dates a whole spectrum of Imperials however she bores of them easily (Not that she’s trying to find a long-lastin relationship but the way she see’s it, if she’s gotta pretend to date someone at least let them be interesting)

So, ya know… being a successful blue alien she starts hearing about the rising star known as Commodore Thrawn! At the time she assumed he was Pantoran (Because Chiss isnt a widely known species in the core/mid worlds) and she decides “I’m going to date that man”

So she calls up a friend of hers, who comes from a high-class military family based in Corscant and is like, “Do you know Thrawn? Can you set up a meeting? He’s gonna be my new man” - So, being the royal friend Fiame is she does. She makes it so Thrawn is supposed to come to Sugar’s Coruscantian apartment but Fiame would be there for the introduction.

Sugar is like. Fuckign excited. She’s so used to dating humans at this point, and she’s never really dated another Pantoran.

Well, she was disappointed on a few fronts.

Firstly, Thrawn was not Pantoran. Wasn’t a big deal, they had discussions about it because Chiss and Pantorans have similar circulatory systems and whatnot. However she was even more disappointed when Thrawn brought Lieutenant-Commander Eli Vanto under the pretense “I thought this was a casual social gathering”

Well Sugar’s friend, Fiame, is an artist. So. Thrawn is just more interested in speaking about art and Fiame’s career.

Sugar gets bored.

And notices this adorable skinny boy at the end of her dinner table, trying to pretend like he’s not literally staring at her. This positively precious brown eyed man with the same essence of a puppy, is just so nervous. So Sugar is like,

“Hey, Eli, want a tour of the apartment?”

So while Thranw and Fiame are talking or whatever Sugar takes this boy to her practice room, plays the melodium for a while (Which, from my own personal headcanon, Eli’s mother played so he’s like. lulled by her playing) and she just kind of drops her ‘dumb alien girl’ persona that she takes on when she’s on stage or with fans, and is herself for a while.

And they just instantly click. she just finds his nervous self adorable. He attempts to play a little melodium song his mother played when he was a child and Sugar climbs on top of the flat of the instrument, spreads her legs and is like, “Wanna fool around?”

And, bam. She turns this boy into her bootycall. Literally. No Shame.

It’s not even a public bootycall, these two are just genuinely fuck buddies.

Feelings dont really start to form (Not admitted feelings) until Eli finally gets the balls to be like, “Hey, um, Vayriel.. Wanna join me at a fancy ball on Empire’s Day?”

Sugar goes as his date hoWEVER she dances with Thrawn. Like, one of those really fucking dramatic ballroom dances and FUCK. THAT CAUGHT A LOT OF ATTENTION. A LOT. OF FUCKING ATTENTION. Tabloids everywhere, across the galaxy just being like,

“Is Sugar dating Imperial Superstar Thrawn? Read ore to find out!”

or the more racist ones like,

“BLUE!? The color of love! Spicy holos of the sweethearts shared dance from Empire’s day to come!”

Sugar thinks this is fucking hilarious and in an interview about the whole thing she’s just like, “Me, dating Thrawn? I dont kiss and tell, sorry.”

This breaks Eli’s heart. His heart was kind of broken ever since the event in which all eyes were on his girl and his best friend. He felt like nothing. So when Sugar nonchalantly glosses over the possibility that she and Thrawn have a romantic history.. It just hurts him, ya know?

So, Eli decides to be a man and next time Sugar invites him over or whatever and is just like, “Vayriel, if we keep doing this I want it to be official.”

She’s kind of caught off guard by this shit. Because. Well, this is her bootycall. Granted, they’ve gained this great friendship and she does really care for him, but at the end of the day he’s still part of the Empire. He serves this evil that she’s really against. And honestly, she’s not sure she can keep up this facade with Eli much longer before she starts to REALLY catch some feelings.

She asks him for sometime to think on it, and he agrees. He goes home, and they dont bang. (That sounds lame for me to say, but considering how their relationship has been one of a sexual nature until now it’s relevant)

Next time they see each other is after that whole debacle with Eli and Thrawn discovering that the Empire is using Wookiee slaves. And honestly, Eli is kind of a mess. He’s distant, his eyes are dark. That innocent light they used to wield is what made Sugar interested in him to begin with, and it’s gone.

So she cups his cheeks and is like, “Eli, what’s wrong?”

And he breaks and tells her what happened, but in as little details as possible.

They have this big heart to heart that ends in them staying up all night and talking about things that had happened in their lives. Vayriel tells Eli about what happened to her as a teenager (In another post I talked about WHY she serves the Empire - Long story short, her college group was taken hostage by a desperate Wobani refugee camp and when the empire came to get the students they slaughtered the village, man, women, and children).

The talk brings them closer and whatnot but in the morning Eli wakes up to find Sugar gone. However she sent him a message to check her space instagram (Listen, there has to be an equivalent, i just dont know what it is called ya fools)

And there’s a simple close up picture of her mouth over a microphone, but she’s grinning like a fool. It’s captioned, “It’s hard to work when you cant get your boyfriend out of your head”

From there it’s a year of just legit dating, ya know inbetween military and performing schedules. During a 3 week shore leave they publicly vacation on Naboo and man oH MAN IT THE MEDIA DONT EAT THAT SHIT UP.

Im working on the rest from there. There’s some heartbreaky shit that happens because, ya know, the boy leaves the Empire to go be with the Chiss Ascendancy so I’m waiting on Alliances to figure out exactly whats going on. so. um. yeah. Here is the story that literally 1 person asked for.

#they're cute okay #leave me alone #ask #anon #hollyspeaks #vayriel shooghar

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demondosha · 5 years

Text

Mobile Bio

GENERAL 

Name: Unknown

Nickname: Johnny Do

Codename: Демон Душа [Demon Dosha] (former), Heatseeker

Date of Birth: Unknown

Age: Unknown, approximately 12.

Naionality: Russian (former), American

Species: Mutant

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Unknown

Family: Unknown

APPEARANCE 

Height: 140 cm (4'7")

Weight: 38 kg (84lbs)

Eye colour: Blue

Hair colour: Blond

Face Claim: N/A (I’m still looking)

[images from the comics]

SPECIFIC 

Disabilities & Illnesses: Autism Spectrum Disorder, Intellectual Disability (misdiagnosed) and undiagnosed PTSD. His senses are very sensitive, especially sight and hearing. Johnny is non-verbal, although he makes sounds and sometimes repeat part of words. He will later on learn some sign language as well.

Powers: Pyrokinesis

Personality in short: He’s curious in his own way, very protective once he get attached to someone and can be playful with those he trusts. Many would say he doesn’t have a distinctive personality, but that’s because they have never really tried to befriend him (which includes being very patient with him).

Fears: Johnny is generally anxious, but there’s three things in specific that he fears: water, people in military uniforms and people in medical uniforms/clothing.

Interests: There was never much chance given to develop interests at the mental institution or the project, but he seem to have a liking for building things.

Background: (TW: child neglect, child abuse, hinting of ableism) There is no information regarding the boy called Johnny Do before he was dumped outside a mental institute in Moscow. At that time, the boy appeared to be about two or three years old. Diagnosed with autism and intellectual disability, it’s thought that he’ll stay there for the rest of his life. However, after nearly seven years at the place, Johnny’s mutant abilities appeared. Once the government found out about his abilities, he was taken to the Siberia Project for Superhuman Research. There they tried to turn him into an asset for the Russian government, but since he doesn’t speak or in any other way seem to respond to communication, the training didn’t go well. Most of the time he spent in a fireproof cell wearing a fireproof straitjacket and a sensory deprivation mask. Unknown to the project leader, SHIELD had infiltrated the facility and during a raid, Johnny was freed together with other project participants (most of them there due to force). The timing couldn’t have been better for Johnny, since the project leader had decided that they needed to lobotomize him to make him more compliant, being too dangerous as he was now. It was the agent who freed him who gave him his name, Johnny Do. Johnny since he had very similar abilities to Johnny Storm and Do because it was one of the few things the boy ever said and his codename was Demon Dosha. Unfortunately for Johnny, things didn’t get much better with SHIELD. He still found himself imprisoned, though now without any restraints and people wasn’t screaming at him. Despite tries from SHIELD, he still isn’t communicating in an understandable way and with his pyrokinetic powers, even SHIELD is beginning to think about what treatment they can give him to make him less of a danger to others.

VERSES

Main: See above. Can be adapted to other rescuers than SHIELD. Hydra, X-Men, other government etc are other possibilities.

Cold War Era: Like main except SHIELD might not be fully as big and strong yet, so Johnny’s rescue might have to some from somewhere else. Since he’s in the Soviet Union, it’s all very sensitive and political. Any Westerner found out to smuggle a mutant child across the borders would be severely punished and their home nation would most likely not help them out of trouble.

Adult: Takes place in his main verse, but he has now turned 18. This is a verse that needs to be plotted with me before using.

DC: Very similar to his main verse except the facility is raided by the Justice League (or any other group that makes sense). An alternative is that Johnny is being smuggled to the US and is found inside a shipping container. And he is, of course, a metahuman.

OTHER

Johnny’s signs for the different Avengers.

ASL signs Johnny knows and uses (after some training) (although I generally view it as Clint teaching him ASL, since that was how it started when I began rping Johnny, it can honestly be anyone teaching him)

#bio #mobile link

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barbecuedphoenix · 7 years

Text

Crack! Headcanon: Orientation Switch

What happens if Eldarya isn’t a romance RPG targeted at a specific consumer group, and the creators re-rolled the dice for deciding the sexual orientation of the main LIs?

>_> Well, it’s still going to be like a lunatic’s asylum. Just a bit more colorful.

Warning: Below the break, you’ll find rainbow paint on your favorite characters and crack relationships galore. Get your freak on first if you want to read ahead. ;)

Nevra: The Swinger

Nevra has known from a young age (in vampire years) that it’s not only girls he’s attracted to. And once upon a time, he concealed this fact by passing himself off as an (extremely) healthy heterosexual. Because within his conservative clan, where status is currency and reputation means everything, a romance between men is considered an irresponsible and fruitless dalliance. At best. And the participants better shape up soon if they wish to stay in the family.

It wasn’t until he and Karenn moved to cosmopolitan El for work that it finally dawned on Nevra that here, he doesn’t have to give a damn about what his clan thinks. In fact, returning home is optional. And once Karenn was on board with the idea that they would stay in El for good, the makeover began. Nevra is a proud, fiery man with a raging sex drive, and after decades of following the rules imposed on him, he was ready to reprogram the whole game. And have the time of his life doing it.

Within a few years, he sets new standards of what a swinging bisexual looks like in El: dressing to the nines in tight pants and a muscle shirt that shows off his assets to all eyes, and openly pursuing both female and male partners. And to many people’s consternation, he has no shortage of admirers from across the gender and sexuality spectrum. Which he will casually remind others about. It’s good to be the king.

It’s not all fun and games for this stud though. One reason why he has a reputation for bouncing across relationships is because many longer-term partners, even in El, find it hard to accept that he’s equally partial to men as to women. Over the past several years, Nevra has been through many strange scenes in which his partners insist he’s either a.) actually gay, b.) actually straight, or c.) bound to leave them for someone of the opposite gender. The real answer, in Nevra’s opinion, is d.) sex is sex, but a connection is what clinches the deal. And he can forge a connection on either side of the gender divide, which just makes life more interesting.

Unfortunately, few people share his level of open-mindedness. And since Nevra dislikes ongoing drama in a relationship, he has developed a very simple method of ‘screening for major mistakes’ after his first night with someone new: if his partner keeps throwing a hissy-fit at his jokes about getting checked out by the opposite gender, then they’ll go their separate ways very soon. He won’t put out if they won’t trust him.

Ezarel: The Reluctant Husband

There’s one joke that Ezarel likes to make about himself that isn’t a lie: he’s perfectly fine without sex. For as long as he can remember, he has never been turned on by naked specimens of any gender. And receiving a kiss or cuddle from others tends to inspire a restraining order rather than raging desire. Seriously, how rude can people get?

Throughout his tender adolescent years, Ezarel loved to exploit his ice cube-cool to show-up his randier male peers. Like walking up to female lab partners with perilous cleavages in view, and telling them with the driest face that they had been blatantly mispronouncing a name for the past several minutes, but he’ll give them a quick lesson to keep them from embarrassing themselves in the future; they can thank him later. General result: every one of his peers hated him on some level, but their primary weapons of innuendo, sex appeal, and sexual put-downs all failed against him. Ezarel was untouchable, literally. And he would tell them with a smug grin that he was simply the evolved one of their generation.

The fun came to end when Ezarel hit his early twenties (in elven years) and finally researched the persistent phenomenon of his ‘inner monk’. At first, he breathed a huge sigh of relief at knowing that he isn’t socially or hormonally impaired, and that his sexuality simply rests on the tamest end of the spectrum. Then he started swearing at how that’s not about to fix his problems for the immediate future. Because as a noble at the prime of his life, he has certain, unavoidable duties to fulfill: like carrying on the family line. Fantastic: now sex is going to be his nightly chore for the next few years at least. The gods have a terrible sense of humor.

So nowadays, Ezarel is more low-key on flaunting his asexuality: it’s a mixed blessing for him. While he’s safely immune to the battle of the sexes, and has no shortage jokes of being one rung up the evolutionary ladder, he just can’t feel the same excitement as some when ‘performing as a husband’ (he’s only left with supreme awkwardness). Worse still, even close acquaintances are prone to misinterpreting what they see as his ‘frigidity’. Like how his asexuality equates to an inability to love. Each time, Ezarel will be quick to correct them: he does have a heart, thank you very much, whereas some people with full libidos are proven to have no empathy. And there is such a phenomenon as non-sexual affection. They’ll all find out when they pass middle age.

Valkyon: One Foot Out of the Closet

Valkyon never grew up with an adult role-model to take cues from, or who would have furnished him with a road-map on where his ‘urges’ should take him. So it wasn’t until he was in his late teens that he started to realize he has less common tastes than the norm. As in, his eyes are saved quite strictly for fellow men. That was also when Valkyon realized the one benefit of his self-sufficient upbringing: it’s up to him alone to decide how to react to this news. And he reacted with his usual calm, no-nonsense logic: his sexuality is just another harmless quirk of his mental programming; an occurrence of nature that has no bearing on his reproductive capacity or cognitive health. Many species of Familiars too see their share of homosexual relations, with no ill effects on individuals or the species itself. So reacting negatively will be like cursing himself for hitting six feet in height at sixteen: nonsensical.

Unfortunately, there seems to be a number of nonsensical figures for most of Valkyon’s life. Several of the oldest scars that crisscross his body came from incidents when neighbors, colleagues, and barracks-mates heard about his preferred type of bed partner, and took offense. Though this should be said: the fact that Valkyon is the one left standing every time proves that they’re definitely not that smart. And to his chagrin, each time he survives only seems to worsen his reputation. Now that is just paradoxical.

It wasn’t until several months after moving to El that Valkyon started to notice the total reduction in the number of sharp glares and sharper whispers at his back. And that it correlated with the number of same-sex couples openly walking on the street and ordering drinks for each other at bars. So. It seems he might not need to walk around in as much armor here on a regular day. Maybe.

Despite the more tolerant environment in El and his legendary thick skin, those rough early years left their mark (internally) on Valkyon. Nowadays, he still flash-freezes discussions on his private life, avoids dating, and finds it hard to drop the poker face and physician’s mindset he perfected when looking at a naked body, male or female. Valkyon knows who he is and sees no reason to apologize for it, but he just can’t be sure that there isn’t another idiot somewhere nearby, waiting to pay him unusual scrutiny for his preferences. And has relatives ready to fill his mail box with hospital bills in three weeks’ time.

But. If there’s one bit of progress he’s making on coming out in El, it’s this: he doesn’t wear shirts anymore.

It’s getting some good reactions.

Match-Ups:

Nevra & Valkyon

Not many people know that they are in fact an item. Valkyon makes absolutely no reaction when Nevra turns his charms on every other pretty face that walks into the building. But little do outsiders know that this is a mutually-beneficial fit: Valkyon doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body and hates attracting attention on his private life, while Nevra is both protective of Valkyon and has a cuckolding kink can’t resist strutting before other people, his lover included. So they’ll keep up this con before the public eye to deflect attention on their relationship… until people notice that they share the exact same mailing address. For the last few years.

There’s no question that Nevra will occupy the more dominant role in this relationship. He’s the more experienced man by far when it comes to sex, romance, and the nitty-gritty of social and emotional maneuvering. Not to mention that he’s at least three times the bossy extrovert Valkyon is. Where does it say that it’s the big, burly guys who should top anyway…? Fortunately, cool-as-a-cucumber Valkyon is perfectly all right with taking the back seat. It’s just not his style to waltz his partner into the bedroom or arrange candlelit dates. And the back seat is the best place to catch his high-flying lover whenever life knocks all the hot air out of him.

Nevra & Ezarel

It takes a while for Nevra to understand that Ezarel’s toxic sarcasm and ‘untouched, and uncaring’ persona isn’t just a front. And his initial reaction is this: what a tragedy! How can any adult live without sex?! The elf’s counter-reaction is this: I’m the evolved one.

Fortunately, Nevra learns quickly to keep his hands to himself, Ezarel stops threatening to sue him, and they settle for a purely cerebral/emotional connection instead. And that’s when the sparks finally begin to fly: for all their differences, they’re evenly matched when it comes to snark.

Foreplay for them now consists of a friendly argument, a lightning-round volley of wisecracks, and ending with one of them declaring that he hates the other. With no small smile. And sometimes, if Ezarel is in the right mood, he’ll let Nevra spoon him on the couch while he reads. Until the vampire stirs from his nap, gives him a squeeze, and starts joking about how enticing he smells. Which is when the former learns again just how sharp elven elbows are.

It comes as a surprise to no one that Nevra is the ‘Romantic One’ of the pair: always willing to initiate joke advances and more serious invitations to visit new places or try new activities, when he’s not smoothing over arguments that fall a little past the friendly line. Ezarel, naturally, is the ‘Skeptical Object of Desire’: never without a pithy quip or quirky joke to deflect Nevra’s advances. Though now and again, he succumbs to little shows of affection: like smiling at Nevra when he falls asleep on the couch before squirming out of his arms. And then painting a moustache on his face.

Ezarel & Valkyon

It’s not going to happen.

Valkyon is a resilient guy and not someone who enjoys placing demands on his partner, but he does have a few standards all the same. Like 1.) his beau has to be someone who doesn’t spend his waking life on the run from his feelings and personal problems. And 2.) he has to work out regularly. Valkyon may have a decent platonic history with Ezarel, but he draws the line on being the elf’s lover and babysitter around the clock. Man up, Ez, for crying out loud.

Ezarel in turn is happy to dodge the crossbow bolt that comes with the idea of dating Valkyon. Sure, he’s a solid friend, a non-volatile target for his pranks, and actually one of the formative influences of his (now infamous) sense of humor. But the man still acts like he’s made of clockwork most hours of the day. Who’ll wind up to begin each morning with a blunt fifteen-word lecture on why it’s a good idea to grow up and exercise regularly. Who does Valkyon think he is? His father? Uh, wait a minute…

So, they’ll be happy just to meet up for drinks every weekend or so. With Nevra sitting in between them as a referee and convenient social buffer. Keeping that vampire in their gang is good for something.

I had too much fun writing this. Happy Pride Month 2017, dear readers. ;)

As always, read, enjoy (hopefully), and review. Any feedback is well appreciated by my inbox.

#headcanon #crack scenario #crack pairing #LGBTQ+#Pride month #Eldarya #Ezarel #Nevra #Valkyon

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simplyoriginalcharacters · 7 years

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Lyra Espinosa

Hello there! This is the first of my two main characters, Lyra!

Context about the setting: The story takes place in an isolated ambiguously-European town (how original) called Solace, cut off from the rest of the world due to it being situated near a coastline and a dense forest. Many of the characters are mythological creatures from all over the world taken human form and live among each other pretending that they don’t know about their neighbour’s blood-drinking habit or hairy transformations once a month. Despite these unique traits, it’s a fairly normal, closely knit small town.

Full Name: Lyra Vega Espinosa

Age: 19

Gender: Cis-female

Species: Human (Witch)

Hair: Tightly curled, short, light brown

Eyes: Slightly protruding, dark brown

Weight: 75kg / 165lbs

Height: 5"10 / 178cm approx

Extraneous Physical Features: Sharp long nose, freckles across shoulders, nose, cheeks and collarbones, scar across right cheek and down right side of upper and lower lip due to being pushed into a barbed wire fence when trying to protect her twin brother in a schoolyard brawl when they were thirteen.

Clothing Style: Casual Sporty

Personality: Good: Extremely loyal (will beat your ass if you even touch her friends without their express permission), highly intelligent (well, she may not have graduated top of the class or anything, but she did manage to get into a prestigious and extremely selective Astrochemistry course in her university, so there), brave, adventurous, friendly, free-spirited, and charismatic. Is also secretly a hopeless romantic (but shhh, nobody told you that)

Neutral: Extraverted, sensitive, reflective, loves the beach and the ocean, an excellent actor (though this isn’t necessarily on stage), creative

Bad: Has a childish sense of humour, has incredibly low self esteem (yes, I know that she is charismatic and this is a contradictory trait, but all humans have contradictory traits to some degree), is clingy and self-sacrificing (she doesn’t want to lose another family member), cocky and arrogant.

Backstory: Born into a mixed-race family (Scottish on her mother’s side, Cuban on her father’s side), Lyra never felt like she fit in with many of her classmates. Lyra did not grow up in Solace, rather a small country town in Scotland called New Deer. Despite the red-faced monocultural aspect of her birthtown, Lyra and her twin brother Cygnus were never bullied, having grown up on their father’s advice of ‘Pull the first punch, but smile first.’ Despite her friendliness and general cheer, Lyra did not have many friends, much to her dismay. Her parents were practicing witches, which did contribute to it, but it was mainly due to Cygnus’s ability to see ghosts, which their parents discovered after Cygnus led a ghost of an old Basset Hound to the shopowner and nearly gave the poor man a heart attack when he saw old Bessie semi-transparent behind him.

Upon the recommendation of a friend, Lyra and her family moved to Solace when Lyra was about 10 and Lyra had a much happier time and managed to gather together a relatively large group of friends (though she only has about five people she’d probably kill for, at least at the beginning of the story).

Skip ahead about eight or so years, and Cygnus (who she adores) starts acting weird. He’s secretive and comes back at random points in the night, and despite the fact that he won’t tell her anything, begs her to promise to not say anything about his behaviour to their parents. Cygnus begins acting stranger and stranger (she finds strange pieces of wood and herbs in his jean pockets, unusual stones and a dried piece of raw meat at one point, though she assumes all but the last one are simply ingredients for spells) and, at one point he crawls into her bed in the middle of the night because of a nightmare (something he hasn’t done since he was nine) and admits to her that he’s scared, though he won’t admit what he’s scared of.

On the morning of Lyra and Cygnus’s 19th birthday, Cygnus goes missing. After three days, the police come to their door and tell them they have found Cygnus’s dead body under a dense copse of trees in the local forest - and they suspect it was a murder. This is where the story begins.

Main Goal: To find out who killed her twin brother and why

Major Obstacles: Was it a supernatural being, was it a neighbour, who would kill him and why, did Cygnus have any interaction with these murders, did it have any connection with his strange behaviour before his death, was it actually a suicide, if it was a murder was it a once off thing or is there a serial killer running round Solace, what would the murderer have to gain from killing Cygnus?

Extraneous Character Info:

Lyra has a little sister called Perdita who’s thirteen.

All witches have familiars, which are basically parts of a witches’ soul taken form - Cygnus’s was a swan, Perdita’s is a dalmatian, Lyra’s is a little owl, Lyra’s mother’s is a bluebird and Lyra’s father’s is a woodpecker.

Lyra used to date one of her close friends - another witch called Darcy (who has a nightingale familiar) who she continues to have a close relationship with though it is strained by their past romantic relationship.

Lyra is a surfer and got a swimming scholarship to her University.

Sorry this is so long! My other character will be submitted as soon as possible! Thank you!

Hello!

Lyra strikes me as the type of girl who want to go cave spelunking. She’s outgoing, adventurous, a risk taking extrovert who loves the stars (possibly because she was named after them). I appreciate that her personality is fleshed out enough from the good to bad for me to picture what she might find herself doing. It did however leave me with a few questions. Why doesn’t this girl try to figure out what her brother is doing? Why didn’t she follow him, look in his phone, cast a spell? Since your story starts with a death, let your character start in the middle of some theories. Don’t have her just begin to think about what happened, intelligent people always have theories before the fact, not just after. Show us a character in the midst who’s rejected the easy stuff.

There are a few details that need to go into the profile to really help me completely see Lyra. She’s a witch, but what does that mean in this world? Are there schools of magic? Magic in general? What about their parents? Why does it seem like only Cygnus’ magic was important to get them moving to Solace? What is the police force like in Solace? Is she going to work with them? Is the Astrochemistry program she’s going into accepting of magical people? Does it involve magic or is it all standard spectroscopy? Does it affect her swimming? All of these questions and more are probably answered inside the story, but looking at this profile Lyra seems lacking because we can’t see what differentiates this adventurous witch from others we’ve read about.

I’m also curious about her family. It’s entirely possible all of this was written for very specific reasons, but right now we’ve got two children in the family named after constellations, and one who isn’t. We have four family members who have bird familiars, and one dog. Right now this paints the younger sister in an overtly different light. If this was purposeful, take note that we noticed, if not, ask yourself if you meant for the readers to single Perdita out, because it may make our minds wander.

As a small side note her father’s motto of “Pull your first punch, but smile first.” I think may have been written incorrectly, or I’m simply not getting its meaning. It’s going over my head because I don’t know how smiling before delivering a blow at not full strength would keep someone from getting bullied.

To end this off I’m going to step my toes into the water on a sensitive subject. In your character’s physical description you mention her nose, hair, and eye color, but never other features such as jaw, chin, face shape, and no mention of skin tone. Unfortunately many people tend to think of white skin as ‘default’. Think of old school crayon boxes with a ‘flesh’ colored crayon which was a generic beige. The range of skin tone from the palest white Scot to the deepest brown Cuban is enormous, and all of those skin tones can have freckles, brown hair and brown eyes. Where does your character lie on that spectrum? Don’t assume that if she’s white it doesn’t need to be stated, and if she’s not don’t be afraid to describe her as a woman of color. Be descriptive so we can picture her clearly.

Happy Writing!

-Shields

#soc critique #submission

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skaerkilde · 7 years

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dadsona content

i tried drawing my dadsona, and i got upset, so i wrote about him. good dad content below the cut!

KRIS ROCKWELL

"Quiet Dad"

LIKES

- crystals

- flowers

- pop punk rock

- molecular biology

-metaphysics

-Kurt Vonnegut

DISLIKES

- socializing

- the Endangered Species List

- first impressions

- seafood

-mathematics

-Ernest Hemingway

DADBOOK

"nothing ever got where it was without being invited first" -me, about spirits

hi, i'm kris. i may look mean but i'm not that mean. i can be mean, though, so watch your back. i also make a mean blackberry pie. let me know if that interests you.

On a Friday Night you are most likely to....

read a new book while listening to jazz. It relaxes me.

If you had one thing to take with you onto a desert island, what would it be?

my collection of oreserved seeds. I could grow a garden.

What are your turn-ons?

using plant genuses at petnames. don't call me a rose, call me a rosa synstylae.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

honestly? i wanted to be a action hero. like, the kind of guy who does parkour on rooftops and gets into high-stakes knife fights on top of casinos in monte carlo.

What's your favorite movie genre?

novel adaptations that stay true to the book. i have been burned too many times to count.

What's your ideal date?

we go to the botanical gardens and i name all the flowers. you tell me i'm the prettiest flower of all. we make love underneath a crepe myrtle (lagerstroemia indica), and then we are chased out by security. we also do this in a museum, a butterfly habitat, and possibly the opera. we take the crepe myrtle with us.

What do you never leave home without?

a bag of at least 20 crystals and a good book.

I spend a lot of time thinking about:

whether or not my chakras are open, balanced, and flowing. i don't know shit about my own chakras.

Settling into the neighborhood was pretty easy. I'd met most of the neighbors, all of which seemed to be fathers, single or no. It's kind of weird that we'd moved into a neighborhood of nothing but dads, but maybe that was a sign? Birds of a feather, or something like that.

With Amanda off at school, I had the house and whole day to myself, so I decided it was time to get cracking on some unpacking. Heh, Amanda would roll ehr eyes at that. I got up from the couch (my bones cracking a little, yikes), and started working on unboxing the kitchen. I don't know how much more I could've taken of Amanda dipping her hands into ehr cereal bowl because we hadn't unpacked the spoons. I raised an animal.

In the midst of lining my never-opened glass spice shakers into their unused rack, there was a knock at the door. I wondered if it was Joseph coming by to invite us to a church function (I'd seen flyers advertising the 'Maple Bay Unity Church's Start-of-Summer Block Party' posted on nearly every street lamp), or maybe Amanda just forgot her keys. Funny, she usually screams until I open the door.

It was neither. Instead of Joseph or Amanda, I was faced with a tall bear of a man holding a very tastefully arranged flower basket. Were those carnations? Ooh, fancy.

For a moment, the man didn't say anything. He just stared down at me with these intense violet eyes, framed by a mane of curly, cowlicked blonde hair that somehow looked both messy and carefully pinned. I cleared my throat.

"Um, hey... Did someone send these for me?" The man's face turned bright red, highlighting the otherwise pale freckles splashed over his nose and cheeks.

"U-um, no, I-"

"Dad, speak up!" From behind the man appeared a preteen kid with identical blonde hair pulled into pigtails. Their eyes weren't quite the same, more on the blue end of the purple spectrum, whereas his were on the red. Emboldened by the child, he spoke a little mroe confidently.

"I'm Kris, I live right across the street." The kid pointed to the house across the way, a nice little two-story with no lawn, just a continuous flowerbed. Huh. That must be where the flowers came from. "My daughter- er, son, and I wanted to come over and say hello."

"Hiya! I'm Penny." He smiled, revealing a little gap between his teeth, where something either fell out, never grew in, or just grew apart. Kris smiled, but not big enough to see if he shared the trait.

"Yeah, he's my little buggaboo. It was actually his idea to bring you, um... this." He held out the basket of flowers, which, when thrust right in front of my face, actually smelled amazing. I didn't even knew carnations had a scent.

"Uh, great! Thanks! I'm Otto, and my daughter Amanda's actually off at school right now, but you'll probably see her around." At the mention of Amanda, Penny was practically right on my toes.

"You have a daughter? Can she come over? I can show her the fairy rings!" Kris tugged gently on one of Penny's pigtails, and he responded by reaching up and pulling on his dad's beard. Huh. Alright then.

"Pen, you can't show someone the rings until they've paid tribute to the gentry. You know that." He didn't seem like he was just humoring his kid's imagination, it sounded like he... actually believed it. He was either sincere, or one hell of an actor.

"I'll let her know she was invited. And thanks for the flowers, you didn't have to buy me any."

"I didn't. They came from my garden."

Oh. Right. Duh.

"They're more special if they're hand-picked. They're just a little something to... welcome you to the neighborhood." Kris's face turned red again, and he tugged on Penny's hair again, this time two short, quick pulls. This time, Penny did not pull back.

"Daaaad, you said we'd get ice cream after this. Can we go now?"

"Alright, alright, steady your wings. Sorry to cut this short, but kids, you know?" He shrugged and smiled, though I sensed a little something else in it. Nerves?

"Right, I gotcha. Thanks again for the flowers, and I hope we see each other around!"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Take care." Kris whipped around and took hold of Penny's hand, almost sprinting across the street and back into his house. Before the door closed, Penny turned and gave me a big wave. I don't know why, but I got the feeling that he was trying to get away from me. Was he just nervous? Actually, that seemed pretty likely. He handled it with grace, though.

I closed the door and set the basket of flowers on the coffee table, hearing a dull 'thud' as i set it down. Huh, weird, Flowers aren't supposed to be that heavy. I stuck my hand into the center of the arrangement, and pulled out a small leather bag tied with a ribbon. Unfurling it, I found that the bag was full of... nails.

What?"

Digging through the flowers more, I found a small, handwritten note attached to a the stem of a yellow carnation. In uneven, loopy letters was a short note.

"Iron for the fair folk. Can never be too safe. Welcome to the neighborhood! -Kris & Penny

I set the bag of nails on the table, and decided to look up what the 'fair folk' was. In any case, it was nice of Kris to warn me about them.

#dadsona #writing #my writing #kris rockwell

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