#fast hair growth methods

[cupidastrology]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

please do not repost or copy my work.

you may see an indepth edition of the planets in the 1st house on my post plus, see to subscribe on the post here.

»»——⍟——««

sun in the 1st house: skin shimmers and is bright, clothing is worn in yellows and golds, every step you take you attract attention and heads turn, getting involved with events or situations that showcase mainly natural charisma and confidence.

moon in the 1st house: emotions are at the forefront, motherly influence is a big deal, easy to express yourself or very embarrassing, getting in touch with your environment an emotional way, attraction to outfits that are full of frills and in thick fabrics.

mercury in the 1st house: your thoughts and methods of research are a big deal to your environment, growing up with lots of knowledge and observation from family members or grandparents, teaching old and new ways throughout childhood, involvement of bicycling or rollerskating in environment.

venus in the 1st house: romance will always be a big deal in life, turning heads and an easy seducer, many relationships may walk into your life or many suitors throughout your growth years, wearing clothing that is risky, revealing, or graceful, easy to persuade or get what you want directly.

mars in the 1st house: coming across aggressive or violent situations or peoples in your youth, aggressive or passionate upbringing, childhood is full of activity and motivation, passionate childhood environment or lots of action taking place, growing up very fast, stubborn children.

jupiter in the 1st house: skin may glow or there is a way of looking more youthful than others in your friend group or study group, childhood was full of travel and opportunity, getting in touch with various religions or beliefs from a young age, wearing various colors on one outfit, always seeking new in your looks or style.

saturn in the 1st house: many limitations or a need to learn hard lessons from a young age, childhood environment may have been restricted or of limited resources, access to all but unable to understand what you were getting into with environment, needing to pick your circle of friendships, wearing tight or dark clothing.

neptune in the 1st house: dreamy, almost not present in the physical, your looks and your presence is sometimes ignored and sometimes considered, colors of the ocean or of silver may be of your eye, involved with otherworldly like styles involving hair, eyes, and eyebrows. it can be hard to decipher whom is best to stay around, getting manipulated or coerced into crazy events at a young age.

uranus in the 1st house: unexpected travels and changes with direction in the childhood, constantly needing to change through family or staying with family members randomly. looks are eccentric, weird, odd, and uncomfortable to others. always open to trying new ways to live throughout younger years of life.

pluto in the 1st house: daring, unsympathetic, and magnetic from the childhood. you may have gone through many unexpected and hurtful events ringing with obsession and pain. always able to pull through no matter what; your presence is extremely strong and very intimidating to others. many may not like you, but this makes it easy to seek out your soul tribe.

[blushingbeautyindia]

Why We Love Hair Mask For Extreme Hair Growth Indian Ayurvedic Secret (And You Should, Too!)

Why We Love Hair Mask For Extreme Hair Growth Indian Ayurvedic Secret (And You Should, Too!)

Mask For Extreme Hair Growth Have you ever lusted after impeccably vivid, lengthy, and lustrous locks? I’m sure you’ve got it. They never exit of fashion. Indian women have the most healthful and gorgeous hair of the lot. Ever questioned why? They rely on traditional secrets surpassed down over generations to maintain and often nourish that lovely hair. No amount of high-priced hair products can…

[beautyandkitchen]

USAGE OF HAIR INVERSION TECHNIQUE FOR HAIR GROWTH

Receding hairlines and very low rate of hair growth is a problem that most of us face in our lives and although there are many ways to increase hair growth among which hair inversion technique for hair growth is an interesting concept. It is a well-known fact that as age increases, the hair growth rate decreases. First, we need to analyse the structure and stages of growth of hair. Hair is made up of a protein called keratin. Structure of Hair: Hair has three layers: Medulla- It is the innermost layer but not found mostly. Cortex-It is the second most layer and it contains melanin. Cuticle- Cuticle is the outermost layer of hair. Phases of Hair Growth: Anagen- The first, as well as the longest phase of hair growth, is the Anagen phase. It may last from3 to 7 years maximum. In this phase, the hair grows from the roots and grows long. Most of our scalp hair stays in the Anagen phase. Catagen- It is the second phase of hair growth immediately starting after the Anagen phase. it may last from 10- 12 days depending on the nature of hair. The size of the hair follicles reduce and the hair starts to lose its strength. Hair does not fall in this phase but it starts to weaken. Telogen- It is the third phase and it lasts up to 90 days or so. Hair growth stops but the hair does not fall. Exogen-It is merely an extension of the Telogen phase. During this phase, loosing up to 100 hair s per day is seen as normal. New hair follicles start to appear. As we can see, most of our scalp hair stays in the Anagen phase. But as we grow older, the Anagen phase also slows down and the growth rate is also affected. Some people suffer from alopecia, baldness, excessive hair fall and other hair related diseases. The key point is to nourish our hair follicles so that the growth rate does not stagnate and increase to a great extent also. There are several methods to nourish the hair follicles and one of them is the hair inversion technique for hair growth. It is believed that if you hang the hair down, then a huge blood rush happens inside the brain which reaches the hair scalp and the hair follicles get nourished by that blood flow which leads to increase in the growth rate by a few inches per month. Method to do hair inversion technique for Hair Growth: Take a few drops of essential oils( any oil like rosemary, lavender etc) and mix it with either coconut/olive/almond oil. Rub the oil between your palms to warm it up. Sit on a chair with an erect posture. Lower your head with your hair facing downwards and reach up till your knee. The hair should be combed without any knots and should not be tied up. Massage your scalp with the oil mixture for a maximum of 10 minutes. The oil should be massaged on the scalp in a circular motion in a very gentle manner. Do not pull your hair while messaging or increase the speed of the message. It helps the hair to tangle less and thus prevents hair breakage. Please be careful if you have long nails. Do not use the nail tip for the message. Always use your fingertips for messaging. After messaging your hair, lift it up very slowly. Do not lift your head in a hurried motion as sometimes it can cause dizziness or other problems. Who Should Avoid: Although this is a fairly easy method for hair growth, there are certain people who should absolutely avoid this technique. They are People with high blood pressure Pregnant women People suffering from chronic back pain, spondylosis People who suffer from dizziness and nausea In yoga also there are certain asanas like shirshasana and the dog pose which practise hair inversion. They are also good for overall hair growth. Hair inversion technique for hair growth is an effective way but it needs to be practised with a little caution. While doing the process, if there is even the slightest discomfort, discontinue it immediately. Otherwise, this is a safe method and can be done once daily. Results: Overall, hair health depends on diet, exercise and external nourishments provided for the hair. The diet should consis

[jedipoodoo]

Could you write a part two of “Okay? Okay.” I love the story so far !

Okay? Okay. (Tech x Pregnant! Reader Part Two)

Happy Tech Tuesday! Part One Here

Notes: pregnancy, labor, babies, premature birth, clones have accelerated growth, worried Tech

Your tiny baby boy lay on your chest, using your own heart rate to elevate his. Everyone was quiet as they watched the readings from the sensors Tech had methodically placed on the baby's back. You were all silent, as if any sudden noise would affect the readings that seemed to be telling you your baby was perfectly healthy. However, that didn't affect how your son was still crying in outrage. Being born was hard.

"He's so small," Omega whispered.

Tech couldn't do more than nod in agreement as he looked down at your son. You traced his spine in soothing motions, and bit by bit he began to calm down. That didn't make Tech any more relaxed. At least the crying told him the baby was still breathing, that his body worked well enough to communicate. Silence could be dangerous.

"Tech," You gasped as the tears rolled down your cheeks, "Tech, he's perfect."

Tech's bottom lip wobbled almost indistinguishably, and he wrapped his arms around you and your son.

"He is, Darling," He kissed your temple, and you could feel the tears running down the tip on his nose as he hid his face in your hair.

"You were brilliant," He whispered, gently taking your face in his hands so he could look at you, "You did wonderfully."

Your heart was so full of love for your husband and child you thought you would burst.

"Is he going to be okay?" Echo handed you a blanket for the baby. He was reluctant to interrupt the moment you two were sharing as parents, but all of you were worried about the baby.

Still holding you in his arms, Tech studied the monitors again, before consulting his datapad. Baby Boy cooed in his sleep before taking a breath, unceremoniously pulling his father's attention from the precious data.

With a sheen in his eyes, Tech cupped the back of Baby Boy's head, running his thumb along his hairline.

"I... I can't understand. All data indicates that he is a fully developed infant. His heartbeat is strong, and I can't hear any arrhythmia in his breathing."

"That's good though, right?" Omega leaned over the edge of the bed, trying to get a closer look.

"Perhaps, but natborns are supposed to be incubated in the womb for nine months minimum. Any earlier than that could have disastrous consequences for the infant and the mother."

"Maybe he's just a fast grower, like his father." You smiled up at Tech, and placed a hand on his shoulder to soothe him. Tech had to smile back at you.

"Did you have a name for him?" Hunter asked at last.

Tech shook his head, "We'd barely started to discuss it." You laughed, tucking your head against his shoulder to wipe away some of the tears.

"If anything, we can just call 'im ad'ika until you figure it out!" Wrecker suggested.

"That works," You looked to Tech for agreement, and he shrugged.

"Seeing as that will be a lifelong nickname anyway, we might as well. We will, of course, begin a search for a proper name post-haste." Tech pulled up his datapad again, and you promptly plucked it from his hands. You handed it to Echo, shooting the rest of his brothers out of the room.

"Later, Cyare," You teased, settling the blanket in his hands in the absence of his ever present gadgets. "For now, hold your son."

Tech got the hint, and carefully scooped your squirming son into his arms. The soft green blanket was made from an old shirt, and the ad'ika snuggled right into it.

"Hello little one," Tech gently kissed his forehead, "I am your father."

[fatashellidols]

it had started off as something innocuous, something to be celebrated, even. Record crop growths, year after year. Farms were getting second growing seasons, with two or more harvests in them because the plants grew so fast.

Not just that either, plant life grew stubborn and widespread. In the first year alone of this, your street had multiple berry bushes of various types jut through the sidewalk. In the second, trees sprouted, all bearing some kind of fruit. In the third year, these plants grew fast enough that you could hear them grow if you listened closely enough. In the forth, you began to watch your step under the trees, the fruits that hung from them so large and heavy they threatened to snap the branches they hung from in two.

It was an age of abundance, even with the agricultural revolutions of mankind's past, those were naught but a pittance compared to this. This phenomenon of potatoes the size of one’s head being a common sight, watermelons the size of beachballs being sold at every farmer’s market or even being free to take if you could transport it. Under this influence, people grew fat. Larger and rounder than ever before, you remember the day you hit 400 pounds...and being the lightest person in your social circle.

The true challenge so very quickly became logistics, the problem of physically moving so much food. As some wondered ‘why’ as populations worldwide became bigger with untold amounts of food could rot in the fields, enough ego-swaddled minds rose to the occasion for the result of saying they did it. All using methods considered fever dreams even a decade ago.

Food processing factories and plants sped up to the point that air resistance became the limiting factor of machines. Yet grocery shelves could scarcely be emptied fast enough, nor the excess even burned before more came to take it’s place. And still, the weight of excess became weight of peoples. Morbid obesity became the new norm, quarter-ton and beyond becoming the average weight as more and more people ate themselves to immobility, aided by leaps and bounds of robotics and AI.

It didn’t even feel like that long ago when you couldn’t heave yourself out of your bed, and when food was brought to you, enough to fill your belly to it’s limit. And when it became too taxing to lift your arms for long enough, these automatons happily fed you the food by pump; your poor belly more than happy enough to take it’s fill however possible.

Then there was the day when machines had hoisted you onto a tarp and into a transport of some kind, as soon as you had uttered a single protest a feeding hose quickly found it’s way past your lips. You were placed in some sort of warehouse, the cold stone floor initially sending shocks through your blubber and a much higher gauge feeding tube pressed far into your throat.

And you grew, and grew, and grew. Your horizon turned from the floor to your own body, your flesh creeping closer to the walls by the day. A few plants dangled from the walls and ceiling, growing multiple feet by the day and sprouting dozens of flours. The automated systems kept them in check from totally encroaching on you, but the smell of flora was your one constant companion and seeing which vine would reach a point faster your entertainment as you mindlessly chugged away at whatever slop was being forced into you.

But one day, in an instant, the smell of nature became overpowering and you gagged the best you could as your smell adjusted. The edges of your flab had begun to graze the walls of your containment, but was someone...walking on your belly?

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see someone. A woman, skinny as a rail with green hair walk up to you. How long has it been since you’ve seen someone without so much as a potbelly? Regardless, she laid down on your bust and held a massive cheek in her hand, lightly squeezing it.

“One of my beautiful children...~ Ohh, you must be confused. I am Mother Nature, the being that everything living can trace themselves back to, even you humans. And I saw you, at each others throats, hurting and killing one another with such abandon. And I was hurt, to see all of my children in such pain. I wanted nothing but for you to grow and nurture each other. But so many of you simply passed it up, all selfish and greedy. But a friend of mine helped us hatch an idea together...”

She looked over her shoulder and sighed as you felt a pair of much heavier footsteps set on your gut.

“...she’ll be here eventually. But look at you! You’ll never hurt anyone else, or be hurt ever again. Never, ever, ever~”

The heavy footfalls continued their journey at a much slower gait than the woman’s before you, and you soon saw why. With her brown clothing and hair long enough to trail behind her, her weight was one that would be measured in tons. Unceremoniously, she flopped down next to the other side of your flabby jowls.

“Hi, I’m Mumei. I’ve been watching over all of you humans ever since you crawled out of caves and made civilization—me! Mumei! Fauna was the one that made the plants grow all big and I gave all the ideas to you humans to make it work!”

“That wasn’t part of the plan originally. You just gave me a go ahead to give them extra to stop hurting themselves.”

“Was it? I kinda forgot. But that’s why I gave those ideas to you humans! I couldn’t ever remember them! Soooo how do you like this? I think it’s pretty cool, honestly, how you made industry into something like this. Watch! Yoohoo, another hose!” She waved at the ceiling, and another hose came tumbling down. Prying open your jaw, she forced it right in there.

Under the additional load, your felt your stomach groan and your body as a whole gurgle as your rate of expansion accelerated. Your felt yourself crawl along the floor, pressing up against the walls more and more.

“This one doesn’t look like it’s hurting too much...another hose!~” Fauna cried out as another one dropped into her hand. “Here...we...are~” She said as she wedged it into your mouth, the three hoses straining the corners of your lips.

Your body roared under the...everything. The influx of food, the growth, the pressing against the walls...

“Hmmmm...another hose!~” Mumei cried out and your heart lurched at the thought. There was no way that was fitting in you— “Mmm~” The brown-haired girl hummed in happiness as she wrapped her lips around it, her already massive body swelling under the influx of fattening slop.

Fauna sighed and looked at you. “Don’t worry, there should be a plan somewhere if she immobilizes herself on top of you. But for now, I need to go check on my other children~”

[moremoneytips]

The Best Skin Care Tips For Healthy Skin

New Post has been published on http://innersoulhealthandbeautyreviews.com/the-best-skin-care-tips-for-healthy-skin-7/

The Best Skin Care Tips For Healthy Skin

Everyone wishes to look the best that they can. The key to having a great looking body is to have skin that looks fantastic. But that takes work, and knowledge. Some skin treatments work, some don’t. Read on to find out more.

In order to maintain healthy skin, be sure to use lotion after showering when needed. This will ensure that you have moist, healthy skin. When choosing your moisturizer, be sure to choose one that will not clog your skin’s pores. Keeping healthy, moisturized skin is key to looking young and feeling good.

Be careful of your skin when shaving. Make sure that there is a protective lubricant between the razor and your skin. There are a variety of shaving lubricants that include creams, lotions, and gels that you can apply before using your razor. Also, make sure to shave in the same direction as hair growth.

To prevent breakouts of acne, try using facial care products that come in a spray-on applicator. This will keep you from transferring bacteria, oils and potentially irritating substances from your hands to your face while applying things like sunscreen or moisturizer. Having a more bacteria-free face can in turn reduce your chances of developing pimples.

Fast food is one of the worst things that you can consume during the course of the day for your skin. Usually, this type of food is filled with fat and oil due to the poor quality and method of cooking. At night, try not to give into your cravings for fast food, if you desire healthy skin.

When you are putting on hand cream, don’t forget to put a bit of lotion on your elbows. This easy step can help your elbows to look better and feel softer. A little bit of lotion goes a long way on the elbows. Do not overlook this part of your body, because elbows need love, too.

Drinking plenty of water each day is key to healthy skin. Hydrating properly is essential for your overall health and your skin’s appearance. You should be drinking a minimum of eight glasses filled with water every day to achieve soft and supple skin.

Stay away from tanning beds if you want to keep your skin looking young. Many people like the look of a tan, but what might be a healthy-looking glow today is a ticket to excessive wrinkles in the future. Overly-tanned skin looks especially damaged and leathery as we start to age.

Vitamin H can really help with skin care. This vitamin promotes a natural glow. Also, if you employ some Vitamin H into your regimen, it will make your skin more vibrant. Expensive products are less effective than natural absorption of nature’s vitamins.

If you have oily skin, do not avoid moisturizer in your daily skin care regimen. After cleansing your face, apply a moisturizing product. After allowing the product to absorb into the skin, you can then apply your cosmetics. Moisturizer helps balance the oil production of your skin. Drying skin with a cleanser will only make for more oil production.

If you want to look and feel great, proper skin care is essential. Stunning skin is evidence of true health. If you take the information included here to heart, you can improve your appearance with only a few minutes of work a day.

[cafeinthemoon]

The Leaves of Her Garden – Chapter XVII

Title: The Leaves of Her Garden

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 2901

Chapter (s): 17/?

N.A.: Man I missed this face 👇 so much

Read the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Interlude, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 🖤 | ▶▶

Chapter 17 - Susano’o

The first week passed and the second one came at last, and with it came the sensation that you were not going to reach the level of excellence you intended when you asked your husband to teach you the shinobi ways. It’s true that you were now up to a physical fight and could decently use small weapons, and that currently he was teaching you how to climb trees and to overcome obstacles, but that wasn’t enough, not for you. You haven’t talked about this yet, but you knew that if you wanted to offer yourself real protection, you’d need more.

This preoccupation of yours was interfering in your concentration during your daily activities and even waking you up at night. Sometimes, your heart was taken by some anxious sensation and you would stop what you were doing at the time and look around, wondering what you’d do once you’d see yourself alone in that big house, without knowing what could happen next: a house without its owner was always vulnerable, whether with or without the presence of guards.

When those episodes happened, your ears would work with twice their capacity, and you would feel you were able to hear the sound of a leaf falling outside your room; you also sensed there were people near, some of them just passing by, others standing for a while. Almost all the times they were in groups, and there were differences between these groups as well: the members of some of them had stronger presences, easier to detect, while the others felt… average.

This started by the time you initiated your training. At first you supposed to be just a consequence of the exercises, but as the days passed, it became stronger, and now you couldn’t wait to speak to your husband about it.

There was a morning when you were sitting on the porch, alone, thinking about all of this while waiting for Madara to come and take you to the garden. It didn’t take much time until you sensed his arrival: you looked aside and there he was, walking towards you and taking a sit by your side.

He greeted you with the usual kiss on your temple, but this time he made it longer, warmer, as if he sensed a necessity of assurance in you. When he spoke, you understood this was precisely the case.

- You look pensive today – you felt his fingers brushing you hair behind your ear – What is it? A bad dream? Tiredness?

You sighed, uniting your hands on your lap.

- No. It’s nothing like that. It’’s just that... There are so many things in my mind now that I don’t know where to start. The least I can say is that I’m frustrated.

- Frustrated? – he raised an eyebrow.

You just let out what was bothering you.

- It is my training. I feel like no matter how hard I work, how much I concentrate on the exercises, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I am always missing something, always not being able to perform as good as I should – you turned your eyes to him and took his hand in yours – Please, don’t think I’m saying that this has something to do with you or your methods. That’s not the case. It’s just that when I asked you to teach me, I thought I would become more…

You paused, seeking for the right word, and Madara smiled.

- You would become stronger?

- No… Not stronger, but more… assertive. Less insecure about myself. Instead, I just gained more anxiety. This… – you sighed – This wasn’t what I planned!

That was his time to sigh. Still brushing your hair, he spoke in an apologizing tone:

- Maybe I failed in not telling you that this anxiety you are experiencing is the price for a shinobi’s growth. I am sorry for that, girl.

- What do you mean?

Now he was serious, as you rarely seen him before.

- What I am telling you is that as much as you become an experienced ninja, the harder it will be for you to feel in peace, with yourself and the world. No matter how much you desire peace, you will become so used to conflict that you will soon realize you cannot live without it.

You noticed he was talking about his own life in the battlefield. You didn’t have a life like his, but you met people who had, and you could see how much it have costed to them. That wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, though.

- But I don’t want to become a soldier – you argued – I just want to protect myself.

You sensed his eyes turning on you with such intensity that you had to look away. You felt his hand caressing your hair while he spoke.

- Protecting yourself and being prepared to face conflict… They are the same thing, my girl.

You spent the next minute in silence, until Madara broke it with a question that wasn’t unexpected at all.

- Speaking of this… This anxiety you said you are feeling. Could it be anything more than just apprehension?

You raised your eyes to him, waiting for an explanation.

- Yes. I’ve been noticing your restlessness these days, and I have my suspicions about it. But I want to hear what you have to say – he narrowed the space between you, as if you were about to share some sort of secret – Tell me. Have you been noticing some strange symptoms after your lessons started?

Your first thought was to question how he knew about this, but he already answered that for you, so you just gave him a confirmation.

- Yes. Specially at night. It’s like I can… feel things happening around me. I hear the lowest sounds, I see the smallest details. I also sense when there are people around, even if they are out of my sight. When I lay down to sleep, I can feel them walking around the house. I feel when they approach and when they leave. I only fall asleep when I’m tired of feeling their presences – you turned to Madara, seeking for answers – I’ve been wanting to tell this to you, but I didn’t know how.

Your husband meditated in your words for a moment, then turned to you with an enigmatic smile.

- All of this is so interesting – he stood up, then offered his hand to you – Come with me. I have my theory about your case, but I want to try something first just to confirm it.

You accepted his hand and he helped you stand up before walking you toward the garden for your morning training.

That time you went there walking, and you honestly found it better than being teleported: you enjoyed the opportunity to appreciate the nature around you as you walked, the trees marking the way, the grass under your sandals, the small animals sneaking around the bushes. You enjoyed feeling the life revolving around you, as if you were part of it as well.

But you haven’t walked that way in days, so a difference was noticed regarding that strange transformation in your senses: the smells were stronger, the sounds were louder and even the movements were felt with an intensity that scared you. And among them, there was one that caught your attention: it was subtle, but fast, well led, as if it was planned; if it indicated someone’s presence, the person knew exactly what they were doing.

You swallowed. It was getting closer, but no sound was detected, so you couldn’t do anything about it. It could be just in your head; besides, if it was real, Madara would already have noticed, but he didn’t say anything. You approached him, trying to walk as close as him as possible, but the sensation wouldn’t go away. It would only grow, just like that night you crossed the grove, fleeing from Hiroshi.

Until it became unbearable.

You stopped, looking around with your kunai in hand.

Madara turned to you, calm as always.

- What is it, y/n?

You sensed the blade trembling in your palm and clenched your fingers tight around it.

- I don’t know – and thinking of a way to put the sensation into words – It’s like… Someone is here. Following us.

- Someone? – he came to your side, looking at your surroundings.

You shook your head to confirm and spoke lower, unsure if the person could hear you.

- It’s like when I was lost in the grove, before Izuna-sama found me. But this time is worse.

Your husband looked at you in silence, but you didn’t have time to find out the meaning behind his look: a sudden sensation of alert woke up your senses and made you move the blade before you; you couldn’t even think of what you were doing. Only when you heard the sound of metal you understood that you just deflected a kunai. You looked and saw the enemy’s weapon lying on the grass, not so far from you. The next thing you heard was a laugh. You looked ahead, worried about what you’d do next, only to find Izuna coming to join you on the ground.

- So… it was just like you told me, Aniki – he stopped beside Madara, his arms folded, in his eyes a curious gaze toward you – We have another sensor in our family.

- Yes, but she is still a baby – his brother replied with a smile – There is so much I will have to teach her, and time is not our ally now. I will do what I can, anyway.

You were lost in that conversation, and it showed in your face and in your next words:

- I am… a sensor? What does that mean? – and turning to your husband – What will you have to teach me?

Izuna laughed.

- At least she’s a curious baby, Aniki.

You gave him an irritated look.

- Please, don’t talk as if I was not here, Izuna-sama. I need to know what you are talking about if it has something to do with me.

He raised his eyebrows like someone who didn’t believe what they just heard.

- I let you alone with my elder brother for a few days and you become this audacious?

That time, Madara was the one who smiled.

- Y/n, maybe it is time for you to cut off the -sama when you speak to my brother. Izuna-kun would fit him well – and widening his smile – Or even Izuna. You choose.

You stared at him for a second before understanding what he was doing. Then you laughed.

- I don’t want to break his heart, so I think I will choose Izuna-kun!

Izuna was so angry that you thought he was going to start a fight with his brother.

- So I come here to help you, I do everything exactly as you say, and this is what I get in return? You know I can’t stand ingratitude!

- Thank you for helping me, Izuna-kun.

Your interruption was so sudden that both the Uchiha turned to you.

- Thanks to you, I understand the importance of keeping up with my training better than before – you explained – It is true that I managed to deflect the kunai you threw at my direction, but my reaction was too slow. I need to work on this.

Izuna stared at you for a moment, but soon his seriousness was replaced with a smile.

- I would never agree with this if it wouldn’t make a difference, you know?

He asked his brother permission to leave, and the other said yes. Your eyes barely followed his movements before he disappeared among the trees, but you still sensed his presence diminishing until he was out of your reach.

You turned to Madara and found him observing you with a satisfied smile.

- So we can say we both won today. I confirmed my theory and you learned a new lesson.

This second mention of a theory revived your curiosity about the previous conversation between him and Izuna.

- Tell me… What were you and Izuna-kun talking about? What is a sensor individual? I remember hearing you say you were a sensor once, but you never explained it to me. Is it… something bad?

- It depends on your current situation – he replied with a smile – If you are in the battlefield or lost in a hostile environment, persecuted by enemies, it is something good. If you are lying at night, trying to sleep, but the guards won’t stop walking around your house, it is bad.

Madara approached you and soon you felt his fingers brushing through your hair, an imitation of the chakra flowing all over your body.

- A sensor is an individual who can identify and track chakra signatures of other creatures. The signature is what you would call someone’s presence. There are countless types of sensory abilities in this world. Some people can activate and deactivate them as they please; others can’t do that and sense things all the time. There are people who can differentiate signatures of a human from an animal’s, of a child from an adult’s, or even a clan from another using their abilities. Of course one needs special training to develop such capacities, and this takes time, which we do not have right now.

- So what are we going to do about this?

He thought of it for a moment.

- From what I observed, you are the type who cannot deactivate your ability and can track people by their distance. You can also recognize some people’s signature, right?

You nodded.

- I can easily identify you and Izuna-kun. Your signatures are different than the others’. But all the shinobi’s signatures are different from the common people when I sense them. Yours are always stronger – you shrugged – That’s why it’s hard to sleep at night when I can’t help sensing the guards around the house.

With a smile, Madara passed his arms around you; you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeats while he spoke.

- In this case, let’s start teaching you how to manage this – he touched the back of your head as to help you with your concentration – Instead of trying to sense everything at once, let’s try to sense one thing at a time. Starting with this.

You raised your eyes to his and held your breath when you noticed that the pattern of the Mangekyou Sharingan has appeared. You haven’t seen it since the wedding night; if he was using it this time, it could only mean something important was about to happen.

Soon you found out it was. You saw him making hand signs, still embracing you, and from his mouth came out a word you never heard before.

- Susano’o!

Before you had the time ask yourself what kind of jutsu was that, a bluish barrier quickly formed around you two. At first, you thought it was a sort of a rounded wall, but as it completed itself, it looked more like a body: firm structures surrounded it like ribs, and others above as shoulder blades. As this new body closed itself around you, it became impossible to sense anything outside it, whether it was an animal running among the trees, the birds flying or any people who eventually were at the garden’s surroundings taking care of their own tasks: the only thing you could sense was your own chakra and Madara’s, this latter seeming to extend itself to the blue structure as if they were just one.

- Do you like it? – he asked with a muffled laugh – This is the Susano’o. It works like a supreme armor, through which nothing can pass unless I want. Only the Mangekyo bearers can use this technique.

- And you are using it to block any chakra signature… – you commented while looking around, trying to see through the Susano’o’s translucent body.

- So that you will not have any distractions while you learn to manage your focus.

You didn’t reply immediately. Moving away from his arms, you walked toward the barrier, where the signature was as strong as in the center. When you stopped in front of it, the sensation was almost unbearable: you felt like it could push you back if you gave one more step at its direction. You closed your eyes and without thinking much of it, you raised your hand to touch it.

There was nothing solid in that structure, yet you couldn’t make your hand pass through it even if you tried with all your strength. You were able to see through the blue wall, but it would still obstruct your sight and modify anything you looked at.

You looked around yourself and above, where you noticed that the humanoid aspect of the Susano’o didn’t resume to the ribs – it had arms and a head too – and thought it could be the perfect prison as much as it could be the perfect resort.

You turned back to your husband, who didn’t take his eyes off you during your examinations.

- All of this… made of pure chakra… – and with a smile that managed to bring a distinct bright to his eyes – Of course I would love it. It’s beautiful.

[skellebonez]

Hear me out: Spider Macaque in the Spider Monkie AU with prompts 14 and 35?

I hear you and oh this was way too much fun... I took a great deal of liberty with exactly how Mac transforms into his Spider Monkie form and who says what and the TIMELINE because I... re-wrote this into a ship fic because of you. I call it ShadowCodingShipping because someone had to name MacaqueSyntax eventually! I guess you could say this is definitely a what-if story more than anything.

Warning for body horror because Mac is slowly turning half spider and that's kinda gross and painful. Also this is hurt/comfort but heavy on the HURT. This does not have a happy ending.

Am I scaring you?/I believe I can be of some help here.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a smirk, pain clearly barely held at bay behind it. The monkey demon was a mess, fur tussled and miscolored splotches that hadn't yet grown in properly littered his torso. His torso that had gained a good inch in the last failed attempt at... what they were trying to accomplish. "... are you going to answer me, scientist?"

Syntax did not answer. Whether it was out of fear or knowing that regardless his answer would not make the demon leave him be even he didn't know.

"Queenie calls you Syntax," Macaque continued, moving around the computer to watch him over the screen. "That can't be your name, can it? I didn't give enough of a shit to ask before now. Hey. Hey. Hey. H-"

"No, it is not my birth name," the scientist snapped eventually, watching as Macaque smirked in victory. "Only a complete fool would agree to work with someone as infamous as the Spider Queen and use their legal name as if they were sending an unencrypted message containing confidential information across basic messaging applications without a VPN. What in the world are you trying to accomplish?"

"Ooooo, wordy," Macaque chuckled out as he leaned against the monitor and made it tilt at an awkward angle. "I'm. Bored. Entertain me, scientist, you're the most interesting person in this place. believe it or not."

Syntax raised a brow at the demon, sighing as he continued to type into the computer. "Do you want this to be finished any time soon? Because the more you bother me the longer it will take. I may be able to multitask but humans have limits."

Macaque scowled for a moment before shrugging, failing at hiding a grimace of pain. It must have made the new bones in his spine ache horribly. But he moved easily past Syntax without a word, only whipping his tail against his shoulder as he left.

It didn't hurt at all... he wondered what the point of the gesture even was.

~

The screaming rang through the entire hideout, Syntax's ears ringing even as he covered them. They'd tried twice more in their attempts at Macaque's twisted idea, Spider Queen slowly seeming to become less and less comfortable with not only their methods but with what they were even doing. It was working, sort of, but not correctly.

The changes were supposed to be immediate, so fast that the pain receptors wouldn't register properly. Not for the comfort of the converted, but so that it would happen so quickly they wouldn't be able to fight it. Less pain, less of a change for your body to try to fight off the transformation. Syntax had insisted on mechanical changes, nano-bots or something of the sort instead of organic growth. Macaque himself had vetoed this, saying something about how it wouldn't make him feel whole again.

This made the changes slow. Too slow, so much so that the mixture was fought off by his immortal monkey biology too quickly for it to take hold the way it was supposed to, requiring Syntax to make it stronger and stronger each time in the hopes it would finally kick in.

Now Macaque laid on the ground, holding his face and screaming so much Syntax feared his vocal cords would give out. The last two treatments had lengthened his torso even more and changed his fur consistency entirely. Once soft and thick black fur was a mixture of that and the coarse purple hair of a spider, not meshing together at all and instead forming an odd pattern on his body. At some points silver had begun to peak through, though if that was supposed to happen or if it was a reaction to the sheer stress of his body undergoing a change that should not be happening he was not sure. Syntax could see the red mark on his face warping, changing into the same purple on his torso around his eyes and moving up on his face as two more eyes grew above the ones he already had. It was fascinating to be sure, and he would have said that it was almost pretty had it not seen the build up of them forming in a fashion he wished to never see in slow build up ever again.

He was a scientist. He was supposed to be impartial to his work above all else, and he had agreed to help of... mostly his own volition. But this... This made him more uncomfortable than he was ready to admit.

"Help him up," Spider Queen said after Macaque collapsed onto the floor, screaming ceased as his body fought off the mixture for the fourth time. She looked... perturbed. Discomforted. "After his last treatment... move on to your idea. We are not doing this again."

She moved out of the room quickly, to fast to even tell her if he would or not, covering the side of her face with her hand to shield her from the sight of the collapse man on the floor. Yes... discomforted indeed.

Syntax didn't have that luxury. And he would not leave Macaque to lay on the floor regardless of orders. But the way he shook and covered his new eyes and the small amount of tears leaking from his normal eyes made a pang of pity shoot through him. He was a scientist... but he was still human.

"I believe I can be of some help here," he said softly, taking off his lab coat and folding it part way before shoving it under Macaque's head and laying the unfolded part over his face. The demon let out a half whimper, clearly bit back as he didn't want to show weakness, but eased ever so slightly as he realized the coat blocked out the light of the lab just as well as his hands had. "It's not a perfect solution, but it gets the job done.

"Th-thought Queenie s-said to help me u-up," Macaque stuttered out, moving his hands to grip the coat instead of his eyes.

"Yes, but that would be a bad idea," Syntax explained, sitting on the floor next to him with a sigh. He pulled his tablet down from a nearby table, there was no point in not getting at least some work done, and began scribbling away with the attached pen. "Your eyes are far too sensitive and with the other changes you have gone through your body will likely collapse again before we could get you to a cot. It's best you remain stationary for the time being until I am able to assess your pain tolerance properly, then I will move you to your quarters."

Macaque didn't say anything, just huffed in reply and seemed to relax. Syntax wondered if he was thankful he wouldn't have to move immediately this time, and he could have sworn he heard something... rumbling.

Maybe it was the machinery behind them.

He felt Macaque's tail hit his side after a while, thumping softly against him... but he didn't push it away.

He wondered if this would change anything at all.

~

Syntax saw more of Macaque than usual after that. Sometimes he would wander into his lab and just... stay there. Silent as the shadows he liked to hide in. Sometimes he would just watch him work, other times he would bring him plums or mangoes. Syntax never had much of a taste for fruit, not really enjoying any form of sweets, but he would not pass up free food when his stomach rumbled in protest from his long hours. One time Macaque had brought in a book, sat on his desk, and just read it.

That was bizarre, even for him. But Syntax found he didn't exactly mind the company. It was quite... lonely in the lab. He was the only human in the Spider Queen's entourage and her other two companions weren't exactly the best company. Oh, the big guy was nice and all and Syntax even enjoyed his presence well enough. But he would grow bored of the scientist's techno babble and science talk eventually and leave with a nod and a wave goodbye. He was grateful that he seemed to listen, however, even if he wasn't interested in the specifics.

The other one, however, was a pain in his ass. Constantly one upping him, trying to belittle him for being a human, just being an all around annoyance. He tried to act cool and suave but Syntax just found him obnoxious.

Macaque... Macaque stayed, listened even if Syntax ran out of things to talk about. And it was oddly nice. He felt himself growing excited for when the part-spider part-monkey would make his presence known.

He wondered, distantly... if Macaque was starting to mean something to him. To matter, in a way.

~

The day of the final treatment eventually arrived and Syntax actually dreaded what might happen. This was their last shot to make this work completely, there was a greater than 0% chance that this would cause irreparable damage to the monkey demon if they had to continue farther. But it seemed his worries were unfounded. He was smart, a genius even. He had done his job properly, even if it had taken far too long and was the least beneficial way to accomplish the goal.

Macaque screamed worse than with every other treatment, and understandably do. It would have shocked him if Macaque hadn't since he was growing two new arms.

The Spider Queen had taken her leave shortly after, disgusted by the sight before her. It was Syntax's job to watch as Macaque slowly changed before him, bones and muscle and sinew growing slowly and bit by until finally... finally it was finished.

They had learned from last time, placing a cot on the ground for him to sit on while this happened, and he collapsed onto his back. Two new arms limp against the floor as he shook and twitched and cried cold tears in agony. But it was finished.

Syntax couldn't stop himself. He rushed forward, kneeling beside Macaque's head, watching his eyes and expression for recognition and any sign that he was alright. It had only been two weeks since the last treatment, the time needed for him to recuperate, but in that short time... he had grown oddly fond of the man on the cot. He did not know what he felt for him, not yet, but he knew that he did not dislike him in the slightest.

"Ma-Macaque?" He asked softly after no response for nearly 15 minutes, waiting and watching and finally Macaque's eyes turned to him. "How do you feel?"

Macaque didn't say anything to him at first. Just blinked before a weak chuckle resounded from his throat.

"Whole."

~

The transformation was a mistake. Syntax had never felt guilt for any of his scientific achievement before, and he did not feel guilt for helping the Spider Queen in her endeavor, bit this? This he felt guilt for.

Macaque was in pain. Constantly. Sometimes it was just a dull ache, other times he almost collapsed as something moved the way it shouldn't and he had to bite back a scream. But there was no taking it back now and Macaque reveled in "feeling whole" again.

Syntax felt a mix of awe and wonder whenever he looked at the demon. He was... handsome, the purples and blacks and silvers of his fur blending together properly now. His eyes brilliant gold and green. And when he wasn't in pain his smile was nice, soft even if he could call it that. He was unsure of how much of it was true, he knew the Six-Eared Macaque to be a trickster. But he hoped some of it was, at least when directed at him.

But when he was in pain his face twisted in a way that made Syntax sick to his stomach to see it each time the agony rang true on his face. But Macaque brushed it off, not seeming to pay it much mind. Not when he had his eyes and arms "back".

The Spider Queen agreed with him, he could tell, but probably not for the same reasons. She seemed frightened of him. Goliath and Huntsman were just scared of him too. They avoided him like he would kill them on sight.

Syntax, despite his guilt, welcomes his presence still. He was not frightened of Macaque in the least. No, he just felt guilt that he was in pain. And he would never not want to help him through that now. The spider monkie had grown attached to him, almost a constant companion at his side. And he had grown fond of him as well.

He learned that Macaque had a flair for the theater. He made shadow puppets when the Spider Queen wasn't watching, though for what purpose and what audience Syntax had not asked. He liked to watch Syntax work, and eventually as he started to rest his head on the human's shoulder he learned the rumbling from the second to last treatment was a purr. He didn't know demons could purr, let alone to speed up recovery from injuries.

But the day of the Lunar New Year was coming and Syntax could tell he had something else... someone else on his mind.

~

The next day was to be the day. Syntax's last chance to get the new formula and tech right. It almost felt like a repeat of the past treatments but with less screaming. He was worried.

Macaque wasn't, however. He had never been worried, assuring the Spider Queen (sometimes through growls and bared teeth) that it would be done in time. He'd been a success after all. (Syntax said nothing each time.)

They'd never been this close before, but Macaque had eventually dragged the scientist away from his computer for rest. Taken him to his room, sat on the bed with him, and just. Held him. Purring loud and deep and eventually Syntax was lulled into slumber sitting up against the soft-coarse fur of Macaque.

He realized that Macaque mattered to him more than he cared to admit.

~

Syntax had failed. His formula and tech hadn't worked. They only had one shot left, and there was no time for him to fix his mistakes before the end of the celebration. Macaque had been in too much pain, on the other side of the room, to tell Spider Queen off this time. It was all over...

Until she came. The young woman in white and blue. She'd done something, added an ingredient he had not been able to calculate for, and then...

"Let's give it a spin," Spider Queen had said with a smirk as she turned toward her human scientist... her human guinea pig.

"Wait, no!" Syntax backed up, knowing that it was almost pointless to attempt escape. There was nowhere to run. "I helped you! You need me! Maca-AGH!"

Before the spider monkie could rush to his side the little spider drone had jumped on Syntax, adhering itself to his face before he fell backward over some machinery. It crawled around him, situating itself on his back and digging in it's injectors and

pain agony pain pain something came out of his back pain another painpainhescreamedandscreamed ANOTHER AGONYISTHISWHATMACAQUEFELTPAIN one more

And then it was over. Syntax felt... nothing. No pain. No agony.

No... guilt.

He stood straight, facing forward before kneeling. He knew what he had to do.

"My queen."

Yes. His queen. The Spider Queen.

She was the only one who mattered to him.

He heard his name spoken from the other side of the room but paid it no mind. That voice didn't matter to him.

That wasn't the voice of his queen.

~

"Syntax?" Macaque called, unable to stand from his spot as his arms throbbed in ghost pain. He had tried to stand before, when the drone had lunged at him, but the pain shot through him for a split second and send him to his knees too quickly.

His screams... his screams made his ears pull back not from the pain of the volume but from fear and something else.

Then Syntax stopped screaming and stood and knelt before the Queen.

"Syntax!"

... he never responded.

Macaque wondered if this is what guilt felt like.

[baka-monarch]

A/N: One day I was looking at Krackinnit fluff and said: what if angst tho, so then this happened. I'd like to preface by saying that this is platonic. This is based on the Krackinnit Au and its respective characters, not to be confused with the actual the content creators. Also, for reference, Tommy is around 250ish feet tall at the beginning. I hope you guys enjoy!

-EchoLocation

---Growing Pains---

<Krackinnit Au>

Warning: Swearing (There's like... one swear.)

Word Count: Around 1.7k words.

...

A would-be whimper was suppressed into becoming a low grumble.

He didn't want to grow. Not anymore. He hadn't wanted to grow for awhile but it... it just. kept. happening. Tears pricked at his eyes. He'd been so sure, so very sure, that the last time he grew would be his last. Kraken hybrids were supposed to be around two hundred feet. That's what all the library books had said, from the few that even mentioned krakens.

Weeks earlier, Tommy had come to the conclusion that he'd made it-(Through the helpful but awkward method of stacking his mer friends on top of another)- that he had made it, he had reached the end of his growth spurt. He had even excitedly confided to Tubbo that "That was the last one, I'm positive!" Tubbo, seeing Tommy's enthusiasm, hugged him tightly. "Congrats big man!" They maintained eye contact and wore matching smiles.

To Tommy, he would finally stop growing, finally have less pains, and finally be able to fit a home to his size. To Tubbo, he shared Tommy's joy, because he was glad that Tommy was able to win something, to celebrate something, after all of his past losses.

But of course the universe decided that it was a premature triumph. Tommy shook his head, bringing himself back to the present and deciding not to linger on his own self disappointment.

Fucking genetics, he thought.

His stomach gurgled in response.

But now...Now he was running as fast as he could towards the coast. If he transformed now, it would happen immediately, so that was not optimal. But if he did not transform soon, his primal instincts would kick in and nobody, nobody, wanted that.

If possible, he ran faster.

Moments earlier, Tommy and Tubbo had been spectating Dream's latest Manhunt challenge when Tommy heard a gurgle. He had reassured himself that he'd be fine, after all, he was in his human form and he hadn't eaten anything similar in size to his true height. A slightly irritated stomach was normal and happened quite often because he hung out with Tubbo. Then there was another gurgle. Tubbo had sent him a concerned glance while Tommy's mind raced to catch up with his thoughts. Two noises within a minute was unheard of- unless...

Tommy swore loudly as he rapidly rushed down from the spectator stands. Tubbo opened his mouth to ask, but Tommy had interrupted him with a shout "Gotta go! Enjoy the game!". Tommy bolted away. Tubbo, unsurprisingly, went after him.

...

His head was throbbing by the time he saw the outline of the beach. Despite not wanting it to, his body started to relax at the sight, and the moment he dived for the water his limbs shifted haphazardly and his tentkckle's broke through their disguise, eager to touch and feel anything. His form kept expanding and extending outward until there was a ginormous silhouette that blocked the view of the coastal water.

His head hadn't stopped throbbing. He was growing and knew that the discomfort would only worsen. His stomach grumbled again, reminding him of his lack of consumption earlier. Tommy grimaced, without food, growing was always more painful, choosing to leech off his own energy because of the absence of food inside him.

He curses at himself for his lack of foresight. Then, he eases himself back into the ocean as much as he can, and proceeds to lay on his stomach. His chin digs into the floor of the beach while his arms keep most of his face from the ground. The tips of his fingers claw and grip the earth harshly with familiarity.

His body wants him to endure the pain in the deep depths of the ocean. His mind argues back that the beach is more comfortable to reside on, especially when Tubbo is there with him.

At the same time, a small part of his mind whispers of how he doesn't want Tubbo to see him here, weak, and only able to squirm uncomfortably. Besides, the whisper adds, Dream's Manhunt would be fun, Tubbo could continue to have a blast.

Ten minutes, he compromises with his bodily discomfort. Agreeing along the lines of 'if Tubbo doesn't show up then out to the ocean it is', to suffer more quietly, but all alone.

It's not a surprise when Tubbo does show up -he always does- and is concerned -that too-.

...

Tubbo was carrying a bundle of various natural resources that mainly comprised of leaves. To Tubbo, Tommy's mood is obvious, there is displeasure written all over his features and he glares into the forest, but he turns his head to smile a sad smile at Tubbo. Tubbo returns the smile, but he doesn't know if Tommy can even see it. As if sensing something, Tommy returns to having a stare off with the trees of the forest.

Tubbo knows that Tommy's senses get jumbled during his growth spurts, and that Tommy gets sensitive with his hearing so Tubbo speaks up softly. "I'm right here with you, if you need anything, just ask. I'm going what I usually do, if you don't feel like that's helping, please tell me." Tommy's ear flicked in his direction, signifying he had heard Tubbo's words. No response. So this is one of the more painful ones, Tubbo realizes.

And with that, Tubbo placed the bundle on the ground, grabbed a large leaf, and pressed the leaf against the side of Tommy's elbow. Then he moved the leaf in a circular pattern. The leaf's purpose was to let the texture of the leave's motion serve as a distraction to Tommy's pain. Different leaves meant different textures. Whether the tactic worked efficiently was up to question. Tubbo liked to think it worked, after all, it had worked well enough in the past to help Tommy. Now though... well, Tubbo would continue try his hardest to help, even if Tommy's size kept minimizing said help.

And then their silence began. Well, Tubbo's silence. Tommy would continue to squirm and gurgle as time went on.

...

At one point, Tommy's eyes resigned to watching the tiny mop that was Tubbo's hair. Tubbo was so much smaller compared to when Tommy first revealed his kraken characteristics . Of course Tubbo had completely been dwarfed by Tommy's side, but now he was so so very small, like a sprinkle.

Without warning, Tubbo scooted backwards and Tommy blinked, realizing that he had started crying. They made eye contact, or at least, Tommy thought they did, Tubbo's head was tilted in his direction so...

"I'm sorry," Tommy mumbled, slowly bringing his hand to wipe away his tears. Tommy made sure he was gentle with his movements. Gentle, always gentle, especially near Tubbo.

"There's no need to apologize" Tubbo reassured quietly, but Tommy's ears picked up on it regardless.

"I-" Tommy started, "I really thought it would be the-the last one". One, two, three tears splashed on the shore's surface. Tubbo could see the glistening of Tommy's eyes for a moment before both of his hands were brought to cover his face. As a result, the sand shifted to accommodate the sudden movement. If it wasn't enough for the growing itself, the pain had a tendency to make him more emotional than normal, and now he was somber in a delirious sort of way. He was still crying. Tommy kept his hands in their position and tilted his face down to see Tubbo hugging his elbow.

"I know" Tubbo soothed. "It'll be alright. You'll be alright. We love you, and size isn't going to change that." He comforted.

Tommy didn't immediately respond. His attention was focused on his elbow and Tubbo's presence. There was no feeling. There was no pressure. He didn't feel anything. He didn't feel Tubbo. He DiDn'T FeEl TuBbO!

Tommy's breath hitched momentarily and then the water works fell down and decimated a bit of the shore line. Protect, protect, protect. Quickly, Tommy's hand jutted out to steady itself over Tubbo's head, keeping the tears from directly hitting him. The tears dripped from the sides of Tommy's hand, and even if Tubbo jumped he wouldn't be able to make contact with the ceiling that was Tommy's hand. Contact was key when it came to helping Tommy so... "You can hold me, if you'd like." he offered.

Tommy took no time in doing so, choosing to gently scoop Tubbo into cupped hands. Tommy extended his thumb towards Tubbo, but didn't touch him. There is uncertainty in Tommy's eyes, but that doesn't stop Tubbo from trying to help. Tubbo then proceeds to lean his forehead against the tip of the thumb and is able to partially wrap his arms against the side of it.

Tommy's posture shifts slightly and the tears come to a halt. He's finally relaxing. Tubbo smiles.

...

Tommy rejoices. There's a smile growing on his face by the second. He can feel Tubbo, and that's all that matters. Earlier must have been a false alarm.

Yes, he reflects on it, a false alarm. He focuses back onto Tubbo. It's not that much pressure, but it's Tubbo, and it is the feeling of touch.

Tommy eases his body closer to the shore and settles his hand next to his face. Tubbo climbs toward his face, and to Tommy, every single step is a reminder that he can still feel Tubbo, and a reminder that he isn't too big for it not to be true. Hopefully, he'd not ever be that big.

Tubbo settles into a crevice between Tommy's face and hand. The pressure is still there due to Tubbo's weight. They stay like that until the sun starts to set and the wind blows a bit colder.

...

It's time to move.

The growth spurt is over, and had been for a while now. Tommy peers at Tubbo, who has fallen asleep. He shakes his hand ever so gently, and Tubbo stirs. Tommy eases Tubbo onto the rest of his hand and places him on the shore. Tubbo watches, still a bit sleepy, as Tommy reverts to his human form. Tommy's form shrinks until he's shuffling out of the water.

They meet half-way, and this time Tommy is the one who hugs him. "Tubbo, I gotta say..." he begins. "I think George may have stronger arms than you. I mean we joke and all about his stick arms but-" Tommy cut off with a teasing smile.

"Oi!" Tubbo lightly jabs him in the side. "How's that for arm strength?"

"That's an elbow, Tubbo."

"Same thing."

"If you say so."

There's a beat of silence as they start heading toward the village.

"Thanks." He doesn't know what he did to deserve Tubbo.

"Anytime." Tubbo replies, as if what he's saying is actually true.

And, it is.

...

Edit: EEEEEEEE!!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!!!! I ABSOLUTELY LOVE HOW ADORABLE THEY ARE!!!! 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Mcyt g/t tag list:

@nomynameisanon @trashpumped @loriepoptale @encaos @i-am-a-weeb @wyforyu-gaming @shy-septic-dragon @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @ultimate-lesbian69 @the-misfits-system

[tg-headcanons]

any idea how ghoul medicine (or at least a culture about it) works?

YES YES YES GHOUL MEDICINE!

There’s a misconception among humans in the CCG that ghouls heal fast perfectly and don’t get sick, but that’s not the case. Leaving all healing up to nature doesn’t always work, and they do get sick as much as any other animal. Because of that, there are many procedures and medicines ghouls practice

Ghouls have little to no access to any real healthcare. Any doctor who isn’t blackout drunk could tell what they are, so going to hospitals or regular check ups isn’t an option. Very rarely, a ghoul will become a doctor, and they become a pillar of their community. Though this isn’t reliable and barely any ghouls have ever been to a real medical practice, they have to rely on themselves and the frontier medicine they learn from other ghouls or through trial and error

When they’re injured, there’s a chance that it doesn’t grow back right. If it’s skin then it could mean scarring, but if it’s entire limbs it could mean permanent loss. If they can, a ghoul should try to rinse the wound so no debris can interfere with the growth. If it still fails to grow back right, they can attempt to retry the growth by cutting the wound back open to jumpstart regeneration. In the cases of scars though, very few try to fix them because it’s a whole lot of pain for little reward. Plus the CCG overlooks people with large scars since they still think ghouls can’t scar much, so it’s a good thing to have to throw them off

The amputation method is applied to a lot. Stomach cancer? Cut out the stomach and regrow it. Infected cut on your shoulder? Cut it off and regrow it. The only thing it doesn’t work well for is regrowing fingernails and hair because of how ghoul bodies need to conserve keratin, and brain injuries since it just makes them worse. 90% of the time the fix works on the first try, but if it’s something like surface level scars or a bad optic nerve, it’s not worth the risk of making it worse. It’s a gamble, but it’s the best that they have

Some medications are safe for them in small quantities. If taken with food, they can digest it, but some brands make them sick and some don’t work, so they have to rely on rumors and advice from other ghouls when trying any. Usually weird obscure brands end up working better, like how the oral antibiotics used at most hospitals make them throw up, but there’s an oral antibiotic made for veterinary care that works for them. It’s trial and error, but the payoff is great when one works, like a dog antidepressant that some have figured out is safe for ghouls

They are surprisingly prone to illness and infections. The rc cells that let them regenerate like Deadpool on crack are made for rebuilding tissue, but don’t actually fight infections. In fact they have a slightly lower white blood cell count on average than humans. With how much they get cut, consume flesh from humans who have diseases that they can catch, and retract their kagune, they get sick a lot. Things like Red Run, an infection of the kakuhou that happens when debris gets trapped in it from dirty kagune being retracted, and good ol’ fashion staphylococcus, are very common in them

Antibiotics are hard to come by, as are painkillers and anti inflammatory drugs, so they have to find substitutes. Lots of washing wounds with warm saltwater and a small list of over the counter painkillers are the best many can get.

Some steal medical equipment to use, though Lots of tools have to be altered to work for them. Most commonly, Scalpel blades and syringe needle tips are replaced with whittled down Ukaku shards

They can’t consume much, but they can inhale things. You bet your ass ghouls smoke weed medicinally

Rc suppressants were made to harm ghouls, but they’re used by some ghouls on purpose. Those with rc levels that are too high can suffer from it, as can ghouls with Intravenous Kagune Formation Disorder (a chronic illness in which tiny kagune clumps form while still in the veins causing pain and bad blood flow). so if they can afford it they’ll buy some on the black market

Surgery is possible for them, though very rare. Most procedures they do are done on themselves without any drugs or help and are just simple amputations/removals, but intricate procedures are possible under the right circumstances. If ghouls have the money and means, they can get surgeries for things like cochlear implants, appearance modifications, and spinal corrections. As long as a ghoul is on the right amount of rc suppressants, they can prevent regeneration long enough for the procedure to change their homeostasis.

Vaccines, like all medicine, are hard for them to get. Some ghouls make a living stealing batches from hospitals and selling them (after being kept in questionable conditions) to whoever has the money to get their kids immunized to illnesses humans can give them. Ghouls are astounded that humans will willingly deny themselves and their loved ones medicine, like really? You have all that at your fingertips and never use it? Yeah fuck you

Ghouls are prone to vitamin and mineral deficiencies, and there isn’t anything they can eat besides humans and other ghouls, but there’s some parts that are good for some things. They’ll trade prime cuts of muscle and fat for things like livers and kidneys from other ghoul’s prey to combat deficiencies

They may be ruthless, but ghouls will do anything to protect members of their families or gangs when sick. They will provide food and even risk catching the illness to cuddle up to them. The calming pheromone ghouls produce when cuddled together can slightly relieve pain, and the affection ain’t bad either

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

I really wanted to get the next chapter of Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild up this week, but work was crazy and I also got caught up in another story (I can’t control my muse)...so instead I’m offering up a long snippet of the dystopian/space colonist fic I started off a prompt I got a while ago for an “Arranged Marriage + a/b/o” request I got from an anon.

A/B/O is not my cup of tea, so I twisted it into an arranged marriage by an artificial intelligence instead: 

He wakes up angry, sweat soaking through his pillow, heart racing, stomach cramped. The alarm is buzzing from somewhere beneath the bed, where he must have knocked it. 

“Turn it off,” Ygritte mutters into his shoulder, before rolling away with the rest of their thin blanket.

He complies, letting the shock of the cold floor against his feet spur him into full wakefulness. “I take the test today.” It’s raining. He watches the drops splatter against the small window near the ceiling, and he wonders if Ygritte remembered to check the bucket beneath the leak before she crawled into bed the night before. 

Their garden apartment doesn’t do well in the rain. Jon still doesn’t understand why it’s even called a garden...there’s nothing green about their cramped basement residence, besides the mold growing beneath the sink.  

“Oh yeah. Happy birthday...we’ll get drinks when you come home.” 

“If I come home.”  He could be part of the one percent, after all. That is the Institution's promise. Everyone is SOMEONE. Anyone can be part of the 1%. Are YOU?

Jon knows it’s unlikely. How could he, an orphan from Mole’s Town, have the magic combination of pheno-, geno-, and personality type to be chosen for the Colony? No...he’s just another loser of the 99% who will waste his twenty-first birthday behind the Brutalist concrete walls of the Institution’s testing center, playing lab rat for the day, until the examiners come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s just another nobody. 

They’ll spit him back out on the street, leaving him free to carve out a pathetic existence on a slowly dying planet. 

He doesn’t bother washing. It’d be a waste of precious water when he knows full well they’ll scrub him down at the testing center. Instead he spends his last moments at home drinking a pot of weak coffee, trying to remember anything he was taught in the schools he barely attended. His energy would be better spent bracing for the coming indignity of having every part of his body and mind exposed and dissected. 

“Is the area of a circle, two pi times the radius? Or is that the circumference?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygritte lights a cigarette at the stove before joining him at the table. “It’s not that kind of test.”

He knows that. It’s another Institution promise. The Test doesn’t ask WHAT you know. It asks who YOU are. Are YOU the 1%

How the fuck would Jon know? It’s easier for him to remember that the area of a circle is actually pi times the radius squared, than it is for him to explain who he is. He has no idea. That’s kind of what being an orphan is all about. 

Ygritte could at least throw him a bone and tell him what the test is like. She took it two years ago, though she won’t talk. Most people won’t. There are no rules against it, but The Test is treated like dysentery. Unless you live behind the gates, you’re going to get it at least once in your life, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna go around describing your diarrhea to the world.  

Grenn went to White Harbor for the test a month ago, and though Jon had to buy him six beers and two shots of whiskey before Grenn would shut up about his first-ever train ride, he did give Jon a few insights into the rest of the experience.��

Not that the train isn’t worth the excitement, especially when the ride is paid for (another Institution promise. No matter your means. No matter the distance. EVERYONE makes it to the Test. Are YOU the 1%?) Technically, Jon has taken it once before, from Winterfell to Mole’s Town as a baby, but he doesn’t remember.  

Now he can’t believe anything that moves so fast could feel so smooth. He’s topped out at ninety miles per hour on the best snowmobile Donal Noye patched together, but that left his teeth rattling and his ears buzzing for hours afterward. The train is moving at double the speed, but he could be in the godswood, for how quiet the near-empty economy cabin is. He shares it with a twitchy young man who never looks up from a cheap tablet, and a black raven perched in a large cage who spends the entire ride staring at Jon with one eerie black eye. 

The testing center is located just across from the train station, in an intimidating building that used to have a name. Jon has a vague memory that it was a prison before the Institution took it over. Before that it was something else. 

He doesn’t balk when a masked orderly leads him to a small room, tells him to strip, and then takes off with his clothes. He knows they’ll be returned at the end of the day. Of more pressing concern is the man and woman who enter talking too quietly to make out at the other end of the room, while a nurse rolls in with a small cart covered in collection tubes, gauze strips, and butterfly needles. 

Everyone wears surgical masks, latex gloves, long white coats, and black clogs. 

Jon remains naked beneath a small paper covering. 

He has given blood before, and the messy, life-saving transfusion Mance performed to save Tormund three years ago was far scarier than the rapid, methodical draw that's taken from him now. Still, it’s disconcerting to think of the secrets the Institution will glean from his blood. He’s uncomfortably aware that they’ll know who his parents are before the day is over, even as he’ll continue living in total ignorance. 

Another Institution promise. The Institution values EVERYONE’S right to privacy. YOU control the right to tell the world who you are. Are YOU the 1%?

Before he’s finished the recitation in his head, five tubes are full, and the nurse pats a cotton ball and a band-aid over his arm. She tosses a granola bar on his lap before rolling out of the room with her cart of samples. 

Next comes a physical exam, where the other two examiners speak only to each other as they record his height, weight, blood pressure, and note his every blemish and scar in flat affect. 

“Post-burn contractures across the palmar and dorsal aspect of the left hand, adduction and extension in the metacarpophalangeal joint of thumb fall outside normal range of movement.”

“Keloid scarring along the right gastrocnemius muscle, five point three centimeters in diameter.”

“Slightly hypertrophic scarring beginning at left brow and running medially down across the left orbital cavity to the cheek. No ptosis noted. No apparent damage to the eye.”

He should feel worse beneath the weight of each fault. Instead he relaxes. He was nervous for nothing. Failure was always inevitable. The Institution would never invest in a malnourished kid with a burned hand and a badly healed leg wound. They are famously secretive about their selection process, but some reasons for failure are common knowledge. As the crows like to say, no cripples, bastards, or broken things. 

So, he chews his granola bar slowly and even closes his eyes for a bit, letting the examiners move his limp limbs as necessary for their measurements. He imagines himself a cadaver during the early stages of an autopsy. 

As long as they don’t cut me open….

When an white-haired man enters and lays out what look to be a series of tiny torture devices, Jon wonders if he stopped caring too soon. He white-knuckles it through an excruciating dental exam that ends with his first real exchange of the day. 

“Have you ever been to a dentist, kid?” 

There is still a tube in his mouth, sucking up his spit and a hook pressing at his gums, so Jon just shakes his head. There are no dentists in Mole’s Town. Just Chett, who used to work at a slaughterhouse down south and will pull a rotten tooth for the price of a bottle of whiskey. Jon wouldn’t give the creep the lint in his pocket, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let him near his mouth. Instead he brushes his teeth so hard his toothbrush regularly snaps in half, and prays something else kills him before gum disease has a chance.

“You’ve got better teeth than I see behind the gates, boy,” he pulls the hook from Jon’s mouth to dictate into a small microphone hanging from his mobile workstation. “Review DEFB1 on ID 17630343BA. At some point the focus will need to expand beyond the holy 22 and get back to the basics. Who is going to care about neuron growth if every fourth planter is born with anodontia?” 

Jon understands little of what the man is saying, but he’s heard enough to know he’s at least got as good of teeth or better than some of the rich tossers who live within the heavily guarded gated communities where the Colonists are actually culled from. Behind their high walls, wealthy sons and daughters of the only one percent that really matters, spend their youths preparing for the Test in homes and classrooms pumped with filtered air, where the water runs clear, and no one ever goes to sleep with their bellies cramped from hunger or disease. 

The Institution promises that ANYONE can be the 1%, but EVERYONE knows that's a lie. 

---

The physical exam ends at last, after several more rounds of sterile humiliation. Jon isn’t sure which was worse; having to lie within a noisy cylinder while a disembodied voice reminded him not to move, or being asked to run naked on a treadmill, wired with electrodes. 

When it’s over, the last examiner provides him with a sweatsuit that is softer and better-made than anything he owns, and he wonders if there is any way he can smuggle it out with him at the end of the day. Another orderly comes in with a waxy crisp apple that hardly seems real even as a spray of tartly sweet juice hits the back of his tongue. He’s given a pill as well that he swallows down with a cup of water so clear and so cold, it’s an act of incredible will-power not to ask for more. 

It’s only after, when he’s led to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a pulsing white orb in it’s center that he thinks to ask what it’s for. 

“This will make the answers come more naturally during your interviews,” the man explains before leaving him alone. “We want you to answer as truthfully as possibly, but we understand that can be difficult under the stress of the Test.”

He supposes people lie all the time on the Test, trying to game the system, though Jon doesn’t have the first idea how he’d go about doing that, nor does he have any reason to try. He’s not going to the Colony. This is all just a spectacular waste of time, and it’s a race day, which means he’ll have to pull extra shifts at the Rookery to make up for what he would have made beyond the Wall. 

By the time a petite woman with a neat low bun, and cracking, grey scar across half her face and neck enters, Jon is reckless with anger. 

“I’d like to go home.”

“Hello, Jon,” she smiles as she sits across from him, and she’s the first person he’s seen since he entered the building who isn’t wearing a mask. She’s also the first person to call him by his name. “My name is Shireen.”

“Where’s your mask?”

Her smile dims slightly, but she maintains her gentle tone. “I’m here to facilitate the interview portion of your Test today. Before we begin, is there anything you need to feel more comfortable? Something to eat, drink, a bathroom break? Should the temperature be adjusted?”

He’s sour with anger so he takes everything she offers, suddenly eager to make everything as inconvenient as possible for the Institution. Shireen takes his requests with an easy smile, however, escorting him to the restroom herself. When they return to the room, there is a bowl of hearty soup with a chunk of bread that is soft and airy beneath it’s golden-brown crust. Beside it is a tall glass of water and a smaller cup of green liquid that Jon eyes suspiciously. 

“What’s this then?”

“I thought you might like some juice. It’s mostly apple, with some kale, cucumber and celery in it as well, I suspect.”

It’s the best thing Jon has ever tasted, and while part of him wants to fling the rest of it at her frustratingly serene face, it’d be a horrible waste, and he’d be the biggest loser. So, he takes his time, savoring each bite and sip, rolling the bright flavors across his delighted tongue. 

“Feeling better?” she asks after the tray is cleared. 

“Is that an official Test question?”

“No.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I can’t afford to miss the train home.”

“As you may know, it is not individuals who decide the 1%. Our artificial intelligence algorithm, The Seven, determines who is the best fit for the Colony. That is how the institution guarantees objectivity in its selection process,” she taps the pulsing orb on the table. “Though we find people are more comfortable responding to another person, so I will be facilitating our discussion as The Seven records and analyzes your responses. Are you ready to begin?”

He shrugs. 

“I’ll start with a series of statements. After each, please say a number to indicate the degree to which you agree with that statement, wherein one equals strongly disagree and five equals strongly agree. Three indicates you neither agree nor disagree. Do you understand?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Statement Number one: At social events, you rarely try to introduce yourself to new people and mostly talk to the ones you already know.”

Jon knows everyone in Mole’s Town, and he doesn’t want to socialize with most of them. 

“Two.”

This goes on for a while, each statement absurdly divorced from anything relating to Jon’s life, but the numbers spring easily from his lips as he relaxes under Shireen’s soothing voice, and kind face, and the lovely feeling of a full belly and soft, warm clothes. 

It’s when the format shifts, that he begins to feel strange. Shireen starts with questions that are easy to answer. Where were you born? How many years of education have you completed? What was your favorite class and why?  What do you do for work? Describe your strengths. When are you most satisfied in your job?  Do you live alone or with others? How many others do you live with? What is your relationship to the person you live with? 

At this point, the questions grow more invasive; more personal. A voice tells Jon that the Institution doesn’t need to know how many times he and Ygritte fuck a week...but the answer escapes all the same. 

“Four or five times a week.”

“Do you use contraception methods?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to have children with your partner?”

“No.”

“Given your age and your partner’s, without contraception, given your regular intercourse the odds of conception are--”

“She’s sterile.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Most everyone in Mole’s Town is. It’s something in the water, or the air, or our weak genes. It doesn’t really matter the cause. If it’s not the one; it’s the other. She’s been fucking since she was fifteen, and nothing’s ever caught.”

“How do you know that you aren’t the sterile one?”

He shrugs. “I probably am too, but I’m not her first partner as you say. I’m not her second or third either.”

“How does that make you feel?” 

He glares, and Shireen clarifies. 

“Your partner’s sterility?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” he pushes back from the table, letting his chair lean back on two legs. 

Shireen only gives him a minute shake of her head, and waits for him to answer the question. 

“Angry. I feel fucking furious about it.”

“So, you would like to be a father?”

“I’d like the freedom to choose. I’d like Ygritte to have that freedom.”

“What is your least favorite thing about humanity?”

She can’t be serious with that question. It’s like asking him to name all the stars. He takes a deep breath. Shireen waits. He stands up and paces. Shireen waits. He finishes his water and asks for another. Shireen calls for a refill. He drinks that too. Shireen waits. 

“My least favorite thing? That we’ve given up. We let this machine,” he points at the orb, “decide who doesn’t have to. It’s like….it’s like the men in Mole’s Town who wander into the snows when winter grows too cold, and there’s not enough food or warmth to go around. Grown-ass men who could be fixing furnaces and braving the cold to find the resources their families so desperately need. Most of the time they don’t even have the fucking guts to tell anyone  what they’re off to do. They just wander away one day, and winter takes them. 

That’s what the fucking Institution is. We’re all those men in Mole’s Town who’ve just given up, despite the blood still pumping through our veins. We’re sitting around, waiting for winter to kill us, so that a few can live. And there’s no one left to be mad about it either, because it’s a fucking machine that decides our fate. It’s like being mad at the wind. What’s the fucking point? But just because there is no one to be angry with, that doesn’t mean the rage goes away...and winter isn’t killing us fast enough."

“So you want to live?”

“I want humanity to want to live. I want humanity to want most of humanity to live. I want us to care about more than the one percent.”

It feels radical, saying it here; behind the walls of the Institution. It feels like he’s put the last nail in his own coffin. Shireen watches him as he cracks his knuckles, one at a time, waiting for her to say the interview is over; it’s time to go home. 

Instead she asks an even crazier question. 

“Do you think there is an essential connection between the morality of an action and the morality of the intentions behind it?”

[luxbarg]

Moroccan Hair Growth Essential Oil Fast Growing Hair Oil Nourishing Prevent Hair Loss Thinning Repair Damaged Hair Care Products

★The most effective method to USE ?

▶1. Add proper measure of this item in the cleanser (100ml cleanser in addition to 3m1). Mix the blended cleanser. as expected cleanser strategy can be.

▶2. Can be straightforwardly dribbling 2-3ml in the palm, equally applied to the hair.

▶3. Utilized when perm to fix hair harm brought about by heat.

▶4. A couple of drops of the item can be blended equally with the hair cover, it will give you twofold restoring.

www.luxbarg.com

[you-move]

ISABEL SIGLER.

“i have not failed. i've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.”

-  thomas a. edison

SUMMARY (TLDR).

izzy is an absolute fireball that will run your muse ragged trying to keep up with her, no matter their age. though she is bossy and aggressive, she is often somewhat right. her intentions are good, though her methods are often questionable. she can be charismatic and performative, doing whatever needs to be done to cheer up people she sees as her responsibility.  she is quite intelligent and has a kind heart. she is usually seeking family and a home, but quite often gets sidetracked seeking justice instead.

BASICS.

name: isabel sigler

aliases/nicknames: izzy, iz

age: 9

birthday: april 4

gender: cisgender female

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: questioning

ethnicity: african-american

religion: christian (ish)

APPEARANCE.

isabel is a tiny baby at 3'10” (118 cm.) and a mere 37 lbs (17 kg). this is not a healthy weight for her to be at all. she did not have access to a stable source of food after her parents died, causing her growth to be somewhat stunted. she is very skinny and has a tendency to stay that way, even when well-fed. she is not very strong, but she is very fast and dexterous.

isabel has light brown eyes, dark skin and a poof of curly (4A) black hair. how she keeps her hair depends on verse - there are a lot of times when she is on her own and on the run, so her hair can be quite messy. at other times, (usually when she has someone to help her) she will keep her hair in various updos and braids.

she is always wearing clothes that are easy to move around in, but she loves bright colors and dresses, too. her clothes are never clean for more than an hour without her fussing them up.

PERSONALITY.

alignment: chaotic good

mbti: enfj-a

enneagram: 2w3

zodiac: aries sun, libra moon, scorpio ascendant

temperament: choleric

stereotype: royal, advocate, rebel

archetype: the jester

---

bossy, stubborn and short-tempered, izzy is a strong little lady, toughened by life on the streets. she isn't afraid of anything (or so she'll tell you) and reacts aggressively to any threats. to friends, izzy is kind-hearted and selfless, always trying to do the best she can, and determined to achieve any goals thrown her way.

izzy is as a friendly and confident little girl. she is passionate + enthusiastic, even in the smallest matters. she is honest to a fault + brave enough to voice her thoughts and do what she thinks needs to be done, occasionally without regard to other people, which may make her come off particularly blunt or judgmental.

despite her faults, she is a charismatic leader. her determination and persistence prove virtuous to those she is loyal to, and her optimistic heart can lift anyone when they’re down.

underneath the showy bits, izzy is a bit softer. she can get secretive and distant if someone pushes past her outer layer and tries to get inside. if you manage, you'll find she is a great deal more thoughtful and intelligent than she might appear on the surface; as well as very codependent and somewhat anxious, constantly in need of support and partnership and with a deep fear of abandonment. 

OTHER.

fears: the dark. large intimidating animals. a strong fear of abandonment.

conditions: ptsd + cptsd. extreme separation anxiety. very likely to develop bpd later in life.

likes: affection. theatre/acting. sheep. pretty dresses. flowers, flowers, flowers.

dislikes.being called out on a variety of things that she absolutely is. see: her height, her age (she hates being treated like a child), how bossy she is, etc, etc. also, bullies. this translates out of izzy speak to anyone mean or aggressive, even if they could be potentially dangerous. warning: she will fight bullies.

languages. english!

[radabadabing-bing]

Ruling Me

You ever get an idea, and then you realize how good that idea is? I dunno what overcame me, but I remembered an idea I had way back when I started the blog. Didn’t have a single thing written for it, but I sat down and crunched it out in like two or three sessions. However, couldn’t think of a title, so just slapped on a slightly fitting mediocre one haha

Anyways, that particular idea was that Michalis rubbed Niles the wrong way, and honestly you should know what comes next if you are following this blog. It also let me write dialogue for this which I love to do, I’m pretty pleased overrall with how it turned out. Enjoy!

Niles and Michalis were a little less than acquaintances. They were often deployed at the same time, sure, but to imply they were anything more than occasional coworkers was...generous. Neither had a personality that would particularly jell with the other, nor backgrounds that befitted such a thing. It was more or less a strict work relationship. So why Niles felt a need to approach him on that particular day was something of a mystery. Maybe it was just the convenience of the location they had passed by.

Niles had begun with a particularly tame conversation starter, especially by his standards. He had been loitering in a hall as Michalis passed by. “Well well, King Michalis himself. Nice to see you about-”

“Speak when spoken to, cur.” Michalis didn’t even let him finish, before turning to him with a disgusted look. He glared at the archer with a rather unwarranted disdain.

Somewhat flabbergasted, Niles could only say back- “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter?” Michalis hissed. “I have no need to talk to you. I can barely tolerate your presence on the battlefield. Know your place.” He pointed a gloved finger at Niles, malice exuding from his continued grimace. “I can’t stand the sight of you. Begone.”

When Niles continued to sit where he had been at the first place, surprise still evident on his face, Michalis took his leave first. Storming down the hall, in his dark cloak. Niles was no stranger to such angers, but usually it took him actually doing something first. Sure, there were some haughty nobles in Nohr who would likely see him in the exact same light, but he wasn’t fighting alongside those nobles. Surely he was warranted a chance, a modicum of respect?

And that got under Niles skin. Just a bit. 

Now there were perhaps less extreme methods of annoying Michalis he could’ve gotten to, such as planting himself in hallways that the King of Macedon would certainly pass through. Not to mention, Michalis couldn’t exactly just attack Niles outright- The Summoner would have something to say about that. But just annoying Michalis also seemed a tad...Too gradual. After all, he had delved into verbal assault quite quickly. So maybe Niles could also jump to an extreme as well.

It had been three days since that incident. Michalis was walking alone as always. His face stern, like he had a good reason to be grumpy in an empty hallway. Though he would soon not be so alone, as someone grabbed his long red hair. He whipped around to see who it was, only spotting Niles’s face for a moment- Until an odd scent and sensation overcame him. It all went dark.

He awoke in a much different location. Brief sunlight was all that illuminated the room, as Michalis’s eyes darted around. They quickly settled on a particularly smug man, leaning against the wall. “Good, you're awake. Glad to know I didn’t overdo it.”

Michalis wasn’t even about to waste breath on Niles, until he realized that he was bound to a chair. He grunted as he pulled against the ropes binding his hands together, scuffing the chair across the floor a few inches, trying to free himself. Finally, he snarled. “Scoundrel. Release me at once!”

“Oh? And why should I do that?” Niles said back. “I don’t go out of my way to tie you up just so I can let you go. Besides, it’s not like you had anywhere to be fast, considering you spend most of your time brooding alone. We have time to chat.”

Michalis futilely struggled more. “So what do you want? To kill me?”

“No, not at all. I couldn’t get away with that, trust me. Besides, you are far too entertaining to simply kill.” Niles shook his head. “I just want to...how to put it...Knock you down a peg.”

“Humiliate me? Are you just going to leave me here...to waste away, left with you as my only mercy?” Michalis hated that idea. Left to rot in a shady backroom until this...lowly rogue...came to give him food and water.

“Decent guess, but also no. I’m moreso interested in your words...You couldn’t ‘stand’ to see me, right?” The smug look on his face seemed to grow ever more smug, much to the annoyance of Michalis.

“So what?! Are you going to break my legs? Paralyze me?! Stop toying with me! Get to the point!”

Niles decided to humor Michalis. “Yes, yes, fine. Look up.”

Michalis did, finding that there was some sort of jury rigged contraption above him, and also sitting behind him. Barrels, a tube cascading down...What was it?

“I don’t understand.”

“I figured you wouldn’t. I was inspired by a similar machine, made for filling troughs. A time saving machine for farmers, though I’ve made it a bit more...direct. As funny as the image of you eating out of a trough is, I’m rather impatient.” Niles went over, and grabbed the tube.

“What are you even prattling on about-” Michalis was silenced by the tube being shoved in his mouth. “Mmpf!”

“I told you, it was direct.” The proud King tried spitting out the tube, trying to uselessly speak as he did so. Meanwhile, Niles turned a valve, opening the barrels. A brightly colored liquid descended. “I’ll be honest, this stuff wasn’t cheap to get a hold of. So don’t waste it, okay?”

As the liquid got closer, Michalis tried harder and harder to spit out the tube- He wasn’t sure what the hell that stuff was, but he certainly didn’t want it in his body. Though it was for naught. Soon the substance was filling his mouth. It was sickly sweet in taste, nearly overpowering. He could feel it dribbling down his chin as he tried to keep himself from swallowing it, before giving in. 

He took a deep gulp of the liquid, feeling it sink to his stomach. He looked to Niles again, looking down at him with his sly grin. Michalis grunted in resistance as Niles ruffled his hair. “See? It’s not that bad. Now, I do have other things to do, so I’ll come back soon to make sure you’re doing well.” And like that, Niles slipped out of the room, leaving the feeding King alone.

Michalis grunted more, struggled more, even after Niles left. He wasn’t sure what this substance was, only that it was...honestly really good. The taste was amazing. Still, Michalis’s prideful mind forced him to keep trying to resist. Not to mention, his stomach would fill up and, and he’d vomit at some point...right?

His stomach certainly felt full. It gurgled and grumbled, feeling bloated. He looked down, surprised to see it actually bulging decently outwards. And further outwards. His regal wear and belt felt tight against it. It...was just bloated, right? Michalis’s angered glare soon softened into one of worry.

His stomach gurgled again, louder this time. He could see his belly begin to push over the belt, like it wasn’t stuffed full, but rather filling out with soft fat. As Michalis took another gulp, he swore he could feel his pants and armor filling out. Fabric and metal joints growing taut. Niles words...Couldn’t stand to see him. Things began to click in Michalis’s head.

He struggled against his restraints once more, but it was still pointless. Not to mention, he couldn’t even start trying to spit out the tube. Not because it was difficult, though that was certainly true, no, it was just too good to do so. And with each gulp, his clothes became tighter, straining further to contain his growing form. Uncomfortably tight, actually.

The first victim of his now burgeoning body was the belt. The sound of leather creaking, cracking, snapping apart. The metal buckle shot across the room, clattering on the floor. Michalis’s belly promptly flopped out, pale flesh laying upon his lap. Whatever muscular frame he had before had given away to his currently chubby one. He let out muffled groans as the seams on the sides of his pants split, more pudge spilling out. The chair slightly creaked under him.

His struggling had ended now, as he was starting to willingly drink the substance. His pride was beginning to lose out, as he slowly got lost in the taste. Unconsciously, he began to suckle at the tube- He wanted- No, he needed more. He wasn’t even watching as his clothes began bursting and tearing all over. How his pecs had turned into blubbery tits. His ass spilling over the sides of the chair, his thighs not far behind, as his pants tore further and further. His gurgling gut grew larger by the second, filling with the concoction, immediately turning it into more blubber to pack on.

His shirt was practically tearing down the middle, as his cravat became shreds. His thick neck and second chin wouldn’t fit it. Buttons popping, metal bits and bobs pinging off onto the floor. The chair’s groaning got louder as he surpassed the weight it was meant for. Truthfully, he had likely surpassed that weight far before the chair had begun to give out. 

Before the chair came apart, however, the restraints holding back Michalis’s fatty arms snapped apart. It was only rope, and the growth had managed to pull it far enough. If Michalis was still as bitter as he was the few minutes before, he would’ve certainly pulled the tube out. But that was long gone to this Michalis, who reached for the tube not to pull it out, but to demand even more. Though his arms were a tad too inefficiently large to reach it by now.

A snapping sound briefly brought Michalis back to some of his senses, as he fell to the floor with a slam. He looked down at himself, realizing his freedom- Though ‘freedom’ was a meaningless term when one couldn’t move. An anger welled up in his mind towards Niles- That vicious ne’er do well who was responsible for all this. How dare he do this to the King of Macedon!

But then, another thought- This was incredibly enjoyable. Ugh, how the thought of growing even larger brought him elation. And if he was King, he certainly deserved such a luxury! The thoughts of Niles began to fade once more as he returned to his guzzling, spreading further and further on the floor.

The only clothes that hadn’t ripped completely to shreds was his cloak, which covered very little of his body. The rest was coated in thick fat, spreading further into the room. More and more he encroached upon the room, his frame nearly immobile.

Though soon his growth came to a halt. He suckled the last drops of the potion from the tube. And Michalis definitely tried to get as much as he could out of it, and relaxing his head back. The tube was promptly spat out, a much easier feat now that it wasn’t feeding him the delicious nectar. Another rumble from his stomach, and Michalis let out a belch.

He was likely over six hundred pounds at this point, if not heavier. He sat on his titanic ass, under ripped fabrics and crushed wood. His gut similarly sat flat on the floor, two large rolls encompassing it. His man boobs laid upon it, plump and full. A chunky neck, a few additional chins, an all around chubby face. His long red hair and reforming scowl would be one of the few hints that this man was Michalis. 

The sunlight flitting through the thin cracks had turned to the orange shine of twilight. Michalis felt...dissatisfied. With? He wasn’t absolutely sure. Perhaps dissatisfied he was now immobile. That he was unable to flaunt his new form, away in this dank room. Or was it the fact he couldn’t reach down and pleasure himself? Or maybe it was the lack of that liquid elation, and how his form grew ever more expansive…

He had no time to consider that. There were noises. Footsteps. Michalis stood to attention- Well, his head did at least, focused on the sole entrance and exit. The rest of his body nudged and jiggled slightly.

“Is someone here? I heard a-”

Before the massive king stood Corrin, another not quite acquaintance. In more standard circumstances, Michalis would’ve been more neutral on his presence versus Niles. But now? Michalis face once again grimaced, though made less intimidating by his jowls and pillow like cheeks. Fists clenched as he looked down upon the young prince, who looked upon him, shocked at the transformation his teammate had undergone.

“Bring me Niles,” He huffed out. 

“N-Niles? Why do you-”

“Because,” Michalis didn’t feel like he had time for this. “I need more.”

[kitsnicket]

Do you have any tips for healthy and fast hair growth?

The key to healthy, long hair is to prevent split ends before they happen and then quickly get rid of them when they do happen(I maintain that they’re inevitable no matter how much you care for your hair).

Prevention means a few things:

- wearing your hair in protective styles (braid, buns, etc) secured with gentle methods (hair sticks, forks, or clips for buns. Scrunchies, ribbon, or those ties that look like spirals). You should vary what style you do, where it’s positioned on your head, where you tie off your hair, and you should make sure to not use too much tension. Protective styles should be worn whenever you go out and for bed.

- detangling gently with a wide tooth comb starting from the bottom of your hair and working up. This is especially important if you have to detangle while wet as wet hair is when it’s most fragile and prone to damage

- avoid towel drying. Opt for a soft cotton t-shirt instead and gently squeeze your hair. Don’t twist it or rub it

- absolutely no heat, bleach, or dye. The exception to this is henna

When you notice split ends, cut them. I don’t mean go to the hair salon and get a trim(unless you have a lot of split ends and damage—then you need an actual trim). Take a pair of sharp hair scissors (not kitchen scissors! It can make your split ends worse!) and snip right above where the split begins or where the white dot is.

As for how to grow hair faster…it’s mostly genetic. Some people can grow their hair super quick, others not so much. Any special vitamin or shampoo that claims to make your hair grow faster is a scam. The only one I’ve heard of that potentially helps is biotin and prenatal vitamins but those come with their own side effects and you should talk to your doctor before starting either of them. I will say I’ve noticed a lot of growth whenever I do the inversion method so you could always try that. Lean over until your head is below your heart and massage your scalp for a few minutes. If you start feeling dizzy, immediately stop. The thought process behind the inversion method is that the increased blood flow from leaning over and massaging causes your hair to grow faster. You can also just do a regular scalp massage without leaning over.

[kerakitty]

Hugo’s Age

There’s a lot of conflicting estimates when it comes to Hugo’s age, so I decided to take a whack at it using... SCIENCE!

I went full MatPat on this. I’m talking scholarly articles and pixel measurements! Let’s dive in!

The first thing I did was try to establish a frame of reference for character measurements. Since Lio’s design is heavily based on his VA Sterling K Brown, I figure it’s safe to say Lio is the same height: 6ft or 183cm. This will serve as the basis for all future height/length calculations.

Next I found a study on mandrill growth and development. It’s really dense and most of it is completely irrelevant, so here’s the part I actually used.

Now for the fun part: pixel measurements and math! (I am such a nerd)

So in this first frame, Lio clocks in at 1132px. Since only about half of him is in the shot, I doubled this to 2264px. The study measures the mandrills from the tip of the nose to the base of the tail. The perspective makes that impossible, so I went from Hugo’s hair point to roughly where his tail should be based on his position and how Lio’s holding him. This puts him at 515px.

With those measurements, Hugo is currently about 23% Lio’s size. 23% of 183cm is just over 42cm. And what do you know, there’s a juvenile male mandrill in our reference study that’s almost the exact same size! The mandrill in the study is 2 years old and is only a few centimeters shorter than Hugo. So Hugo is 2 years old! Right?

Well, a lot of people have placed him at about 6 months based on the number of formulas Lio and Song give him (124), but I don’t think that’s a reliable measure. We know the science burrow had limited test subjects. As eager as they were to make progress, experimenting on infants, especially newborns (newly cloned, w/e), would likely be considered too risky. Better to let them get to a more stable age before starting trials to minimize subject loss. All that considered, I’m going with the 2 years figure.

Now in this image Lio stands at 1090px, which I rounded up to 1100 to account for the sliver of his foot that’s outside the frame. Hugo measures in at 612px (hair point to tail base). Using the same method as the previous image, that puts Hugo at 102cm. According to our mandrill study... mandrills don’t get that big. Ever. The largest individual from the study was a 10 year old adult male who was less than 90cm, making Hugo somewhere in the area of 15-20% larger.

That makes sense, he just said his name so the mutagen has clearly already started to take effect and we know it greatly increases animal size. But it makes our chart useless. Luckily we still have formula numbers!

As he walks in the door at the beginning of this scene, Lio says they’re on formula #3853. In Sympathy for the Mandrill, Song says Hugo was on 3 formulas a day, so 3,853 iterations minus 126 for the ones given to him up to the end of day of the first scene, gives 3,727. At 3 a day, that’s 1,242 days or about 3 years and 5 months, putting him at about 5 and half years old.

Now’s where it gets tricky. We no longer have numbered formulas or comparative size to go by, so this is mostly speculation. Song and Lio hadn’t even started Project Kipo yet, so we have however long it took to come up with the project in the first place, the time it took to do research, plus the 9-10 months a human pregnancy lasts.

I have no idea how long Project Kipo took before Kipo was actually conceived, so I’m going to use something else: Hugo’s piano skills. Hugo freestyles a moderately complex piece just before Emilia walks in on him, so I’d guess he’s at level 5 or 6 by this site’s system. So using that same site’s calculator, we can figure out roughly how long it took him to reach that level. Lio’s a professional chemist, not musician or music teacher, so I put him as a Neighborhood Teacher. That caps the calculator at level 5. Hugo’s clearly a fast learner, and I suspect he was practicing as often as possible (including when he wasn’t really supposed to), so I maxed those out. According to the calculator, that’s about 2 years worth of study. Even if he was an absolute prodigy, that’s at least 12-18 months. I’m gonna be conservative and roll with the 2 year figure.

There was likely a decent gap between Hugo saying his name for the first time and starting to learn piano, so that makes him at least 7 1/2 years old at the time he was discovered, but probably closer to 8. Add a few months and the 13 year gap between the fall of the science burrow and the events of the plot, that puts him at around 21-22 years old.

In conclusion: Scarlemagne can legally drink and we need to stop portraying him as a moody teen. The math and science shows that he’s clearly a moody adult.