#gill live reacts

[ookaookaooka]

i was just thinking the other day about how fucked up plant pheromone signaling is. like we talk about it like “oh, plant A is getting eaten so it holds up a sign saying PREPARE THYSELF and plants B, C, and D see that and go oh shit we better start making a chemical that makes us taste bitter so we don’t get eaten” but it’s more like. if the sweat we produced while running away from something that’s trying to eat us contained aerosolized cocaine, which makes anyone who smells it start running away as fast as they can in whatever direction they happen to be pointing, which hopefully is in the opposite direction of whatever’s trying to eat us

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

Fish guy is actually pretty much the same height as Steve when they’re sitting next to each other on the edge of the pool. Steve finally gave in, the heat of the day getting too much, and is trailing his feet in the water – fish guy doesn’t seem to care, but Steve still made sure to shower before he came out here. Next to Steve’s feet, the flat point of fish guys tail is also swirling in the water.

Fish guy loves pears. Steve’s sure they’re his new absolute favorite thing, and Steve’s watched him demolish six, cores and stalks and all, one right after the other.

He’s licking sticky juice from his fingers. Steve can’t see his eyes behind the shades; but he’s certain fish guy is watching him. Probably waiting to see if Steve will produce more food; fish guy has developed a hearty appetite, and he hasn’t put on much weight yet, but he’s not exactly what Steve would call emaciated either. A little over a week of regular food is obviously helping.

“Okay,” Steve sips on his beer, the points to himself, “Steve.”

“Steeee,” fish guy readily replies, nodding. Steve has no idea how or when he picked up the nodding and head shaking, but he uses both correctly, as far as Steve can tell, so Steve doesn’t argue.

Steve points at fish guy. Nothing, then a curious head tilt.

Steve’s starting to come to the conclusion that maybe fish guy just doesn’t have a name. Which, okay, Steve can kind of see that. He vaguely wonders if fish guy has any family; if he’d even want to go back to the Upside Down.

“Right. Should probably name you something vaguely fish related, no? Should we stay on brand?” Fish guy cocks his head the other way, like a bird. They’ve been sat here long enough that the sun has started to dry the ropey mess of hair that fish guy has; it gone kind of curly now, pinging up as it dries.

Steve really wants to comb it out, but he has no idea how fish guy will react; they’ve only just made it to sitting next to each other. Steve’s vaguely aware that combing someone else's hair is a bit...familiar, but he figures fish guy is kind of in his care or whatever.

Maybe they could build up to it.

“Fish,” Steve muses vaguely to himself, “fishing? Scales? Tails? Fishing, fisher? Fisher, Eddie, Eddie Fisher, that singer guy Mom really likes. What do you think, how does Eddie sound? Good as anything, right?”

Steve has no idea what’s going on behind the sunglasses, but fish guys head keeps cocking curiously to the side. Steve points to himself, “Steve.”

Fish guy, replies, “Steeee,” as expected, nodding.

Steve points to fish guy, and says, “Eddie.”

Fish guy points to himself cautiously, and quietly volunteers, “Edidie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, nodding, “near enough, man. Eddie. Sounds good.”

“Good,” Eddie replies, startling Steve a bit because it’s clear as a bell.

“That’s right, good. Eddie.”

Eddie, very slowly so Steve can clearly see what he’s doing, reaches for Steve’s beer bottle. Steve’s instinct is to take it away, what if it’s poisonous or something? But then he figures Eddie’s been pretty clear about rejecting stuff so far if he doesn’t want it; plus he lived in the Upside Down for, presumably, years. If he can survive in a toxic environment like that, then surely a sip of beer won’t hurt him.

Eddie’s funny as he lifts it, sniffing cautiously before he works out the mechanics of fitting his lips around the neck of the bottle. He drinks. Seems to ponder it for a moment, and then drinks again, giving the bottle a mournful little shake when he realizes it’s empty. There wasn’t much left anyway; Steve figures he’ll be okay.

“Good,” Eddie says as he hands the bottle back, “inied.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “finished.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t have any gills?”

“You are definitely asking the wrong person here Robs,” Steve scatters another handful of peas into the water, watching as Eddie bobs along, collecting them one at a time and popping them into his mouth, “ask Dustin. He’ll produce a book. There’s literally always a book.”

“I don’t want to ask Dustin, he’ll actually try and explain it to me...I’d rather speculate emptily.”

“You do love a bit of empty speculation.”

Robin nods in agreement, “so, no gills, what do you think?”

“I think…” Steve ponders for a few seconds, filling up the dog bowl with the rest of the peas and floating that on the water, “that he can’t actually breathe underwater. He can just hold his breath for a fucking long time.”

“Nah. Boring. Plausible. Logical. Could be correct. I need something wild Steven.”

Steve thinks, but he doesn’t have much of an imagination, not like the kids or Robin. Clever people have good imaginations; Steve’s not one of them. But he does remember hearing something about bugs one time, “he breathes through his skin.”

“Fucking rad.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Argyle.”

“He has the good stuff Steve, supply and demand,” she says shrugging, and then, “why, you jealous?”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. Because no, of course he isn’t. Much. Maybe a tiny bit. But that’s okay, Robin should have other friends and stuff he guesses. She pokes him in the ribs and he flaps at her.

It just encourages her, obviously, so he tries to ignore her which just makes her ten times worse. She pokes more, and she just knows him too well, goes for his ticklish ribs and before Steve knows what’s happening he’s on his side, trying to curl up to get away, begging for mercy and shrieking with laughter, Robin hollering “admit your jealousy Steven. Say uncle! Say iiiiiiiiiit!!”

Robin disappears suddenly with a splash and yelp. She scrambles on the grass, trying to right herself from where she was shoved, Eddie suddenly flopped half on top of Steve, his tail twisting around Steve’s middle. Robin scrambles back a few more paces, Eddie’s arms locked at the elbow to hold his torso up off the ground as far as he can, claws raking into the grass.

He’s completely silent, and Steve, shocked, just sits for a moment, looking at the back of Eddie’s soaking head. The water’s dripping from his hair in rivulets down his pale back, his shoulder blades standing out sharply, the knobs of his spine visible where his back is held in a sharp arch.

He’s puffed up like an angry cat, Steve thinks absently.

He makes eye contact with Robin over Eddie’s shoulder, and she raises her eyebrows just a teeny tiny bit, ‘what the fuck?’

Steve shrugs, ‘I don’t know.’ Then tilts his head to the house a little, ‘give us a minute.’

Robin frowns spectacularly, ‘I’m not leaving you alone with the crazy fish guy’ or words to that effect, Steve guesses.

He nods toward the house again, trying to give his best, ‘I’ll be fine,’ vibes.

She looks hugely doubtful, but does move away, all slow and careful. Eddie hand walks to keep himself between between Steve and Robin, his tail clenching around Steve as he does.

“Eddie,” Steve’s hand hovers in the air for a few seconds before he bites the bullet and lets his hand rest on Eddie’s tail. It’s surprisingly smooth. Not soft exactly, but not hard. Doesn’t even feel scaly really, just smooth and warm it doesn’t look scaly either, now that Steve can have a close up look. It’s just...black. Matt black.

Actually now that he’s here, there are some funny little slits toward the tippy bit, they kind of look like they could be openings, but he doesn’t have time to investigate because Robin’s gone, so Eddie turns to him.

Steve has no clue what to say as Eddie’s tail slowly unwraps from his middle, “Eddie,” he starts, as Eddie slips back into the water.

“Steee.”

Steve just sighs, retrieving what are now Eddie’s sunglasses from where they’ve fallen by the edge of the lawn, “what am I going to do with you?”

Eddie tips his head, listening, but Steve doesn’t have anything else to say. At a loss, he heads inside to make sure Robin is okay.

A/N I know the time line doesn't work with Argyle since this happened after starcourt but lets just all agree to ignore that. There is no tag list for this work.

Part Four

[saphiccarma]

- Sweet Thing

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - Sirens weren't all that bad, instead hunted for their tails that had glimmering scales worth a high amount of value. Agatha and Rio intended to sell your tail, but soon became rather attatched

Warnings: Kidnapping (fishnapping?), spear wound, non consensual kissing (Kind of? Reader doesn't know human customs so it's a bit iffy)

A/N: Uhm- I fell in love with this prompt and this is my fav thing I've written for aaa week so far.

Sirens were creatures of the sea, brilliant ones that were meant to swim free and wild. Unlike most tales, you did not sing sailors to their death, only a few sirens chose to do that. The sun bore down on the vast ocean, not able to reach the depths where you lived, so you swam near the surface. It was a dangerous move to do so. Pirates still roamed the seas, even as far out as you were, and sirens' tails sold for a high price.

Typically, you lived in the depths where humans couldn't reach, swirling in between coral and rocks while following colorful fish. Flat areas were used as farming grounds for food. It was a perfect life, yet part of you still longed for the human world. You had never gone close to shore before, always living too far out. Not only that but your father had prevented you from contact with humans.

As you grew older, so did your defiance for your father and you had been wandering closer to the surface, going further away from home and closer to the shore. Once you had gotten close enough to hear voices. People danced along the shore in the night, sticks with a bright thing glowing off of them. From what you had heard they were torches. Humans swung their arms and feet, joyful laughter echoing as odd garments attached to them swayed with their movements.

You wished so desperately to join them.

Sirens were rumored to be able to transform into humans, tails shifting to legs, gills and fins disappearing into your skin. The odd tint of your skin would disperse, and you would look like a normal person. You never had the confidence to try it out. Humans wore these odd things, clothes, your grandma called them. Sirens didn't have clothes. You figured you would stand out too much and that was the last thing you wanted if you were trying to explore the human world.

Seagulls cawed above you as you leisurely floated near the surface, the tip of your tail peeking out. There was only a split second you had after you saw them. A large ship, its sides climbing up and up, wooden panels lined up neatly to prevent water from getting in. Large metal nozzles peaked out the side. Silver flashed through the air and then there was a piercing pain in your tail.

Yelping, you paled when you bled into the water, a sharp spear sticking out of your tail. Panic overcame you as you reached to pull it out, wincing at the sting. It had gone all the way through your tail. Scales came out with it, leaving bare skin and a large hole in your tail. Shock kept you stuck in place, staring at the gaping gap in your tail that leaked a bright red.

"Dammit Billy!" You heard a voice curse from the ship and your head snapped up, eyes widening with fear, "You weren't supposed to hit the tail."

Once again you hardly had time to react before a net was hurling at you. With your tail damaged and pain pulsing through you, you weren't able to get away as the net dropped down on you and closed all around you. A scream bubbled in your throat. There was a harsh tug and then you were dangling in the air, your blood dripping into the water and you could see shark fins circling below.

You winced as your body slammed into the ship, wood digging into your sensitive skin. Thrashing as you were dragged across the wood, you tried to break free. But your tail flapped uselessly, and your arms did nothing against the ropes. A taunting chuckle echoed behind you, and you were no longer being dragged across the wood. You stopped in your struggles for a moment, meeting eyes with a woman.

Her piercing eyes were an icy blue, framed by brown hair that fell around her face and highlighted her sharp cheekbones. Her tongue dragged over her pink lips as she crouched, one hand on her knee, and studied you.

There was nothing you could do to stop the fear that tore through your system. It overran any common sense you otherwise would've had and numbed the pain in your tail. Blood leaked onto the deck, seeping into the wood and staining it an even darker color.

Another woman stood behind the blue eyed one. This one had big brown eyes, one that was often associated with childlike innocence, but she looked anything but innocent. Her lips, a pale pink, were pulled into a smirk that made her eyes twinkle with dark joy. A knife twirled between her fingers and when your gaze caught on it your breath hitched. Sun light bounced off it, highlighting the sharp edge.

She met your eye, pausing in her fidgety movements, and held the knife up for you to see. You flinched back, trying to get away. Your eyes flickered around for an escape, searching for somewhere to go.

It was then that you noticed how many people were here, watching in silence. There were four others on board. A woman who had a pink shirt, one with red in her hair, and older woman who looked weird, and a young boy - the youngest out of all of them. His eyes were wide, and face flushed as he looked away from you, keeping his gaze

Inhaling shakily, you forced a question past your lips, "What do you want with me?" Your words were unsteady, hesitance and fear dripping from them.

"Well, we wanted your tail," the blue-eyed woman drawled, "But then Billy hit it, so you have no more use, hon."

"You’re pirates," you breathed softly. If you thought you were scared before, it was worse now. Your heart beat frantically in your chest. Humans may have portrayed sirens as these horrible creatures, luring sailors to their death for fun, but that was only some of you. Sirens told tales of pirates who murdered their friends in cold blood, laughing as the blood tainted the water and dolphins pocked at their bodies sadly. Pirates were the most brutal type of humans.

"Well, I thought that was obvious," She glanced around dramatically, her long fingers flaring around. Your tail twitched.

"She needs medical care Agatha," the boy, Billy you think, said. He made a pointed glance towards your tail which was leaking out onto the deck, a steady stream of blood. Your head was lightheaded as you propped yourself on your elbows.

"Put me back in the water and I'll be fine," you mumbled. Your father will find you. Or the fish would tell him. It didn't matter but you would rather die in the ocean then on this ship.

Agatha scoffed, her head tipping back slightly, "That's funny." She leaned closer for a brief moment, eyes slowly dragging from your face down to the gaping wound in your tail. "Billy go get some cloth and a needle with string. And what are the rest of you doing? Get back to work!" Everyone but the brown eyed brunette left, Billy scurrying away to get whatever she ordered.

With a small nod from Agatha, the other woman stepped forward, her smirk widening as she twirled her knife around. You flinched when she bent down, prepared for more pain. Except she only cut through the rope and let it fall to the floor.

"She's skittish," She said, glancing at Agatha with some sort of emotion gleaming in her eyes, "I like it."

Billy came back a moment later, carrying a bundle of cloth in his hand with a needle and string in the other. He averted his eyes towards the ground as he got closer. The shiny metal caught your eyes, and they widened in more fear. You tried to scramble back, no longer tangled by the rope, but it did little use when Agatha grabbed the tip of your tail and yanked you back. A yelp escaped your lips as she held you firmly in place, despite your frantic squirming.

"Hold still," she snapped. Her hands were surprisingly tender as they pressed the cloth onto your wound, the white material becoming red quickly. The other woman knelt by your head, her hands held out placatingly before she pressed down on your shoulders, forcing you to lay down. Her eyes lingered on your chest for a moment, something dark in her eyes.

"How does your healing work?" Her words were soft, not matching the mischievous glint in her eyes.

You gasped when Agatha pressed down on the wound, your tail flicking up, "Uhm- like normal?"

You watched as Agatha raised an unimpressed eyebrow as she wiped the blood on your tail, the cloth occasionally catching on your scales. They shimmered under the sunlight, and you were suddenly aware of how hot it was up here. It was like you were being held above a heat vent, the water bubbling and searing your skin. Your skin and scales were drying out.

Baring your teeth, you hissed when Agatha swiped through the wound, her towel collecting blood and giving you a clearer view. A hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up and forcing your mouth open. An offended sound left your throat as the brown eyed woman examined your mouth. She squeezed your cheeks and leant closer.

Their hands were all over you, on your tail, your face - it was too much. You shoved at the woman holding your face, although that did nothing but make her tighten her grip and grin wildly. Her eyes were ablaze with delight as she tugged your face close.

"Don't do that," her voice was light, almost like a song, "Be nice."

Agatha scoffed from her spot at your tail, glancing up with a small smile. You would snarl at her if you could, but the other woman still held you tightly. Her grip was bruising against your face and her nails dug into your skin. She hummed as she twisted you, giving her different angles of your fangs that protruded like spikes from your gums.

It was a defense mechanism that ran in your specific genes, but it did nothing to help you now. Finally, she let you go, her fingers uncurling from your cheeks, but her eyes never left your face.

"Can you have stitches?" Agatha was threading the string through the needle as she asked the question, sitting back on her shins.

You blinked, wide eyed and confused, "Those are?"

"I'll take that as a no," she sighed, chewing on her lower lip, "How do you heal?"

"I've never-" you shrugged. Pain throbbed from your tail, worse than anything you had ever felt. You had gotten small nicks and cuts before. "Nothing has been this bad."

Agatha threw the needle onto the ground, "Well that's helpful." She glared at you as if it was your fault that you had been speared through your tail. You returned her harsh look.

"Water," you croaked, your throat suddenly dry. The two women exchanged a glance before the unknown one stood, her boots clicking on the floor. Biting pain coursed through your veins, and you wished it would stop. The harsh sun beating down didn't help as you lacked the familiar comfort of the sea. A moment later the other woman returned, a bucket in her hands before she splashed it all over your tail. It wasn't graceful or much but soothed the ache of the puncture.

Agatha leaned past your tail, cupping your chin in her face with a sick grin, "I think I'll keep you."

^____________^

A few day cycles in you figured out how to turn into your human form, your tails becoming legs and gills vanishing. The only thing that remained was your sharp teeth. It was awkward at first, stumbling around as you tried to figure out how to walk. They made it look so easy and Agatha and Rio laughed as you fell flat on your face.

The two had dressed you in their clothes. It felt restricting to be confined by such human things and you hated it, but apparently that was what was expected by humans. You were stuck in their room, stuck to stare longingly out into the sea as you watched the waves crash up against the side of the boat, but they never let you out. If you were let out, you were bolt in an instant and jump into the sea.

Billy brought you food on a tray with a sympathetic smile and a soothing voice. He offered empathy, a listening ear, which you turned down at first. Then days turned into more and you were still stuck in the room. You took up Billy's offer to talk when the days began to become longer and longer, drawing out as if they would never end.

Agatha and Rio would return at night, snuggling up in their bed as you slept on one parallel to theirs. Once you had woken up to the bed creaking and obscene moans being drawn out. You had flipped over, the blanket pulled up to your shoulder, as you sat still as a rock in bed. After casually mentioning it to Billy when he came to see you, he turned bright red and spluttered before explaining it was the way humans reproduced. You decided not to question it more after that.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, the door creaked open, Agatha walking in. Rio trailed behind with her hands shoved casually in her pockets. Per usual, you scrambled back as far as possible on your bed, hissing. Agatha rolled her eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed, eyes scanning over you in a way you would never understand. It was as if she was trying to see inside of you. She scooched closer and you bared your teeth.

Lips curling in annoyance, Agatha's hand shot forward, grabbing your chin. There was a split second before she had a tool in her hand, pliers if you remembered correctly, and they were latched tight onto your teeth.

She leaned in close, her eyes narrowed, "I told you to stop that," her voice was low, a warning, "I will give you one more chance before I yank your teeth out, understand?"

Rio was smirking behind her when you glanced back, your cheeks flushed a dark red. Agatha raised a brow.

"Understood?"

You huffed but nodded the best you could with her firm grip on you. Her nails dug into your skin one more time before she let go with a satisfied smirk. Closing your mouth, you licked your lips and sat back, face red as the tomatoes Billy showed you how to juggle with once. Agatha twirled the pliers in her fingers before shoving them into her pocket.

"How would you like to leave this room?" Agatha's words sent a jolt of joy through you, and you perked up, pointed ears alert and ready to hear what she had to say. She smiled at your excitement, "Hang on pretty girl, there's a couple things first. If you try to run, I will lock you back up in this room again. You are to stay by my side. Do not make me tie you up like a dog."

You tilted your head, blinking at her. What was a dog? Although being tied up did not sound like fun, after a moment you reluctantly nodded. There was hardly a moment before Rio's hand was latched onto your forearm and she was dragging you out. You stumbled over your own two feet, still not used to without a fin, and let Rio drag you along. Not that you had a choice.

You glanced back at Agatha for help, but the woman was just watching in amusement, eyes twinkling brightly.

"Alright," Rio said softly, shoving a door open, "Here's the sun."

Blinking, you took in the sunlight, hand coming up to shield your eyes. It shone down brightly, a harsh heat compared to the cool of the bedroom. While the coolness reminded you of the depths of the ocean, it was nice to see the sun again. You tilted your face up, closing your eyes and letting the heat seep into your skin. You hardly noticed Rio's grip on your arm, or the way it loosened, and she stood watching you with a soft smile.

"Y/N!" Billy's loud voice interrupted your peace, and your eyes snapped open. He was running towards you, shirt untucked and flapping in the slight wind like his fluffy black hair.

You forced a smile onto your lips after a nervous glance at Rio, "Hey Billy."

He grabbed your hand, tearing you away from Rio. You were partially glad for the distance from the woman, but a part of you wanted to be near her. Billy dragged you up the stairs, once again tripping over your own two feet. It was a miracle that they managed to stay on them for the whole day.

The sea splashed against the side of the boat, a consistent and steady sound that made you long for the sea even more. That deep yearning inside of you arose again, even stronger than before. Your eyes latched onto the waves, imagining yourself in them. You would no longer have legs - you would have a fin and gills again and the wet feeling of the water on your skin.

The fish circling around you, the water cool and comforting. A little bit of sun shining through the blue surface when you came up. Your family's faces were slowly fading from your mind, but you still longed to be with them again.

You didn't realize that since you stopped so did Billy, his hand still in yours as he stared at you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "You don't deserve this."

You shrugged. Maybe you did deserve it. Even after hundreds of lectures from your father, you still chose to push your luck. The thrill of adrenaline you got made it all worth it. If you had just listened, then this never would have happened.

"Billy," Agatha's voice cut through the air, "I'll take her from here."

Billy smiled sheepishly, directing one to you with a deeper meaning, before he scurried off. Agatha gave him an affectionate glance before she turned her eyes to you, an unamused look in them.

"Don't let Billy drag you around." She muttered it like it was a piece of advice, but it sounded more like a command. You rolled your eyes at her and curled your lips in defiance. Agatha narrowed her eyes and grabbed you by the arm. "Watch the attitude."

And once again you were tempted to respond with some sort of snark but refrained in exchange for walking away and further up the deck. The wind blew your hair in your face and whipped against your skin. It wasn't so different from the underwater currents and made you miss home even more. Agatha trailed behind you, although you could hear a second set of footsteps that told you Rio was there too.

You wandered up the front of the ship and stared down into the water. It would be so easy to jump.

A hand clamped down your shoulder and hot breath hovered by your ear, "You gonna jump?" Rio lips brushed against your cheekbone as she leaned even closer, and you could feel her chest press up against your back. A part of you wanted to pull away from her touch, leap into the water and enjoy the comforting embrace, but something held you there. It wasn't Rio's hand, nor Agatha's piercing gaze.

Even as you tried to pick your feet up off the wooden deck, you failed. It was as if you were stuck in place. Frustration boiled in your stomach as time passed on and your brows furrowed.

The waves crashed against the ship, seemingly more aggressive in tune to your emotions. Tears of resentment pooled in your eyes and your fists clenched.

"Why?" you croaked, "Why not just let me go?"

Rio's lip teased the column of your throat, and you shrugged her off while your heart pounded in your chest.  You could practically feel her smirk even though you couldn't see her. The movement of her lips felt personal although you didn't know why, it felt as if it meant more, but you didn't know why. Her arms slowly circled around your waist, tugging you even closer and trapping you.

"Because you're too sweet to let go," she whispered against your skin. Your lip wobbled as she squeezed you tight and kept her palms flat against your stomach. Dolphins surfaced, their fins peeking through the top of the water as they leapt and dived happily. It irked you that you couldn't be there with them. You used to swim with dolphins every chance you got, swerving through you their pods like an obstacle course.

The thought only made your eyes burn further and your heart tighten.

"I want to go home."

You hated how broken your voice sounded, how cracked it was. Desperation leaked through as you felt a tear fall. Another human weakness. It trailed down your cheek and you felt Agatha's hands cup your face, turning you towards her. Blue eyes, shimmering with desire, met yours. Except hers weren’t filled with tears. Agatha’s hands were so gentle on your face, kinder than she should be.

Her thumb wiped away the fallen tear with a soft smile, one that almost hid the sharp look in her eyes, "This is your home."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The Yandere Student Council 

You just needed to get your schedule officialized. Having gained special permissions to take a desired course you needed the student council’s collective stamps of approval to proceed. Normally all you would need to do was slip in the necessary documents. But something seems to keep happening to yours and it just works better for you to do it in person. Thus begins you’re journey of getting the obsessed student council’s approval.

The first one you go to is the one with the easiest access –the Secretary. Gill Hunter has an absolute poker face when his boyfriend isn’t around. So you’re pleasantly surprised when he’s actually willing to hear you out. Keeping his amber eyes on you he listens to your plea for his stamp, seemingly not reacting at all he promises to help you—for a price. You have to step in for him and his boyfriend from time to time. He says it's just a week as he demands you shadow him for the day. Calling to you in his monotone voice to join him in the student council lounge. Don’t bother bringing up you’re friends or your desire to eat your lunch alone. Even as the week comes to an end and you get your stamp he has you working closely with both him and his boyfriend very closely as an honorary assistant.

“Most if not all schedules go through me, you don’t want your schedule being messed up again. Do you?”

The next one is Gill’s beloved–the Historian. June Frimroar is a different kind of person you need to get a stamp from. Where Gill strings you along with his stone-cold face and hardly hidden intentions, June will do the exact opposite. With a smile that flirts with scheming and altruism, he’ll ask for the most innocent kind of help. Only to somehow become something far more intimate and demanding of you in the first place. How else would simply taking notes during student council meetings lead to you smushed in a locker with the historian and his boyfriend? Or how you’ll be forced to help undress June whose hands inexplicably might be sprained? He’s an enigma to loosely associate with trouble, easily put off by how kind he is to you and your friends as you start spending more time with him and the rest of the student council. Certainly, those rumors of him crippling classmates for fun are far from true, right?

“Don’t you trust me, (Y/n)? Just listen to me and I’m sure everything will work out…even if that blackmail situation with your friend is completely separate.”

Like clockwork, you fall into being the student council’s lackey suddenly trusted with helping the seemingly overwhelmed Treasurer. Min Su is an odd fellow who’s been dignified a living legend with his accounting possibilities; rumored to casually be hired by the government a couple of times. So it's odd that he suddenly must have you spending your club hours documenting receipts. He’s so apologetic and jumpy that you don’t feel right questioning him. So it's normal that he has a fierce blush on his face as you take the records from his hand. Or the little noises of excitement pleasure he seems to have when you lean over him to admire his speed as he’s calculating the books. He’s likely to forget that you needed to get his stamp until you off-handedly mention how you’re going to miss him when you get that stamp.

“Oh, you wanted that? I-I’m happy to give it to you, n-no problem! But you’ll still visit me right?”

At this point, your presence is much more normalized in the student council quarters, and naturally, the Sergeant of Arms or more well known as the student council’s hype man is happy to welcome you. Popular beyond belief Roman Ferris arguably has the largest fan and friend base in the entire council. Knowing everything about everyone he already knows what you’re asking for and he’s cheekily telling you he’s already prepared how you’re going to get it. If you thought Gill was forward then you’d be mistaken Roman straight-up demands every weekend that you come with him on a date. Movies, restaurants, ice cream, trips to the park, he’s doing it all with you. Demanding you dress up for these ‘definitely not dates’, hold his hand while you walk, and smile at him only him when you pose for the camera. It's odd how he knows your every like and dislike, always ordering for you and smiling ominously when you ask. But he’s definitely not giving you this stamp if you suddenly stop coming to his dates hangouts, even if he promised he would. It’d be bad if the whole student body considered you a harlot for playing with the golden boy’s feelings. So just smile while you eat your favorites and keep your mouth sealed about your suspicions.

“Don’t worry about it babe, I already know just how you like it! Don’t worry how I know~ You’re so cute when you're well-fed!”

Practically cemented to your unwritten obligation the Vice President is well aware of what you’re after. Spencer Lyle will wait until the end of the day mindlessly stamping your document as he scrambles through his hefty pile of paperwork. Bags under his eyes and his lids dropping dangerously you figure you’ll help him, already familiar with the kind of work he was doing anyway. He thanks you when you eventually wake him up and from then on something sinister a friendship is born. Suddenly he’s coming up to you in your classes, during lunches keeping you talking casually as he leads you to the student council room. You were going there anyway, right? He’s just the perfect friend for you. Great at warding off bullying fans or teachers that get a little too snippy, he becomes your go-to friend. Not too popular but well-respected feared by the student body; totally perfect for relying on him to be relatable. Completely complacent with letting him into your life and it feels so normal now that he rings your dorm bell for an early morning. You know him so well so it's natural he does the same.

“Hey, you ready to go cupcake? Bags under my eyes? Yeah, I was up all night protecting you doing council stuff, you know how I work.”

Last but certainly not least the Student Council President: Lucoa Grander the college’s prodigy cryptid. Known to be a living genius and prominent underground business personality it seems only natural that he gets such a powerful, prestigious position. He is such a celebrity you go to Spencer to deliver your schedule confirmation only to receive a disappointing answer. Apparently, the president’s only willing to stamp yours personally, and thus your witchhunt for the illusive president begins. Searching high and low, stringing on his fan base’s own timeline and the other council members’ accounts you try to find him. But after a while, you give up fully prepared to abandon your desired course to have the blue-haired pierced-up president mysteriously showing up. He greets you so casually, sitting next to you as he asks mundane questions. When you finally ask for his stamp he gives it to you…on a major condition. 

“We’ve been looking to widen our ranks and I’ve we’ve been keeping a close eye on you. And we’re thinking of making you an honorary member–it's a new position to diversify our team. You’ll get your stamp this way and we get you our beloved a new member that’s fair enough isn’t it?”

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Chordata - Myxini

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Myxini, commonly called “hagfish”, “slime eels”, or even “snot snakes”, is the most simple class of vertebrates. They have one order, the Myxiniformes, and 3 families.

Hagfish have a cartilaginous skull but no vertebral column, though they do have rudimentary vertebrae. They also have tooth-like structures composed of keratin. Species range from 4 cm (1.6 in) to 127 cm (4 ft 2 in) long. They have elongated, worm-like bodies, and paddle-like tails. The skin is naked and loose, attached only along the center ridge of the back and at the slime glands. They have simple eyespots which only detect light, six or eight barbels around the mouth, and a single nostril. Their jaws move horizontally rather than vertically like other vertebrates, projecting two pairs of horny, comb-shaped tooth plates that grasp food and pull it into the mouth. They are marine predators and/or scavengers.

Hagfish are most well-known for their defense mechanism: releasing copious amounts of slime from specialized mucous glands in their skin. The slime reacts to seawater, expanding to 10,000 times its original size in 0.4 seconds. This slime is flexible, more durable and retentive than the slime excreted by any other animals. If a predator is not deterred by the sudden mouthful of slime, hagfish can also tie themselves into a knot to scrape more slime off of their bodies, wiggling free from their captor while its gills are clogged. Hagfish will also use this traveling knot behavior to clean themselves of any excess mucous.

Very little is known about hagfish reproduction. They are split into males and females, with females usually outnumbering males. Depending on species, females lay from 1 to 30 tough, yolky eggs. The eggs stick together with velcro-like tufts at either end. They do not have a larval stage and hatch as miniature adults.

The oldest-known stem group hagfish are known from the Late Carboniferous, with modern forms first being recorded from the mid-Cretaceous.

Propaganda under the cut:

Hagfish thread keratin, the protein that make up their slime filaments, is under investigation as an alternative to spider silk for use in applications such as body armor.

Hagfish slime threads can also be used as ultra-strong fiber for clothing.

Hagfish skin, used in a variety of clothing accessories, is usually referred to as "eel skin". It produces a particularly durable leather used for wallets and belts.

Remember this?

In 2017, a truck carrying 7,500 pounds of live hagfish got into a road accident on U.S. Highway 101. The aggravated hagfish then released enough slime to cover the road and nearby cars. Horror movie situation tbh.

But why were several tons of hagfish being shipped in a truck? Well, they were on their way to Korea for seafood purposes. Yeah. They are eaten in Korea and Japan.

Hagfish have a sluggish metabolism and can survive months between feedings; this is likely due to the scarcity of food on the seafloor. When food is present, such as a dead whale, they can go into a feeding frenzy.

Here I am listing all these ways that humans use them, but hagfish are also an important part of the deep sea ecosystem. Plus… I think they’re cute and I too wish I could produce a bunch of slime when I don’t want people to touch me. I mean, Howl in “Howl’s Moving Castle” does it and people love him, so…

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Mcr headcanon: y/n (gn) is starring in a horror movie and they’re character d!es in the movie.

Like they d!e in a HORRIBLE way, like horrifying way, how do the boys react to it?

TW: mentions of a fictional character's death, mentions of food, mentions of jealousy

Gerard

I'm literally on my way back from a Yosakoi festival after getting up at 3am (it's 9pm currently, I had 4 hours of sleep), and my feet have been in soaking wet shoes for the past 10 hours (I think they're starting to develop gills) because the rainy season decided to made a comeback and they had to cancel the fireworks because of that (at a festival that's called a "fire carnival" of all events), and you're coming with this? Not formatted properly because I'm literally sitting in a bus, that's driving through the Kyūshū night while I have glitter stones stuck to my face and two braids with Yukata-hair-accessories on my head.

WC: ???

Assuming Gerard knows what's gonna happen, he's probably looking forward to it. He's sitting in your living room, watching the screen attentively, the snacks you were sharing long forgotten as his eyes follow the action. He's leant forward, ellbows on knees, asking "oh, is this where it happens?" in an almost gleeful voice. Depending on how sudden the scene happens, he either gets jumpscared or just follows the story like the most interesting lecture. Either way he ends up laughing, and leaning back into the couch once it's over, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead. "Well done," he'll tell you with his lips pressed to your forehead.

Would he watch that movie again: sure! It's a good movie! Next time he'd like to discuss the foreshadowing of the ending through the use of colours and the weather in the early scenes of the movie.

Mikey

Mikey loves horror movies, and that his s/o is staring in one is just a major plus to him. He has a lot of experience with horro movies, so he catches on pretty early that your character is going to die, even if you didn't tell him. He would low-key get excited about it. A voice in the back of his head tells him that 15 or 20 years ago the idea of watching a character that has the face of a beloved person die on screen would have terrified him, even though he was very well able to tell fiction from reality, but now he just enjoys the action, as he feels you cuddled into his side. He might even go as far as offer ideas for even more gruesome deaths, or ways to make the character's death even more painful for the audience.

Would he watch that movie again: absolutely! Has the potential to become a new favourite of his.

Side note: my seatmate just fell asleep on my shoulder. I shall not move until she wakes up.

Ray

Ray would generally be pretty chill about it. He grew up with horror movies too, and he is used to seeing you on screen, so he isn't all too bothered by it, but probably more bothered than Gerard. He doesn't show it all too openly, only pulls you in after the scene is over and praises your work. The only indication that he is more affected by it than he lets on is when he pulls you in a little tighter that night, holding you close to his warm body with his nose buried against your neck. (Seatmate just tried sitting up, and failed. Head is back on my shoulder.)

Would he watch that movie again: he wouldn't necessarily bring it up by himself. If he wants to see you act, there are other movies you're in, where you get a happy end, or at least don't die (he prefers watching those over watching your character die, even if he has to suffer through watching you kiss another actor or actress in front of the camera. It always makes him a bit more self-conscious watching you kiss those perfect people, even if it's not real, and he get a bit more clingy than usual for a few days afterwards.)

Seatmate sat up again, is leaning towards the other side now.

Frank

Frank plays is cool, but isn't. Like the others he has seen enough horror movies and has seen you enough on screen. He's even okay with your characters making out with other characters on screen, even though he does have a (well controlled) possessive side that usually tries to act up when some person is hitting on you. (Seatmate's head is back on my shoulder. She's so cute.) So he knows he shouldn't feel that pit in his stomach opening, it's just fiction after all, you're right here next to him, babbling about how hot the studio was that day while playing with his fingers. Still he closes his eyes at the last shot showing your character staring up right past the camera with lifeless eyes. He has watched your characters die on screen before, but something about the way this is portrayed hits different. "Whoa, that looked pretty real," he'd chuckle, his voice a little more shaky than he'd like to admit, "rad acting there!" Luckily you know him well enough to see through his facade. You know he's self-conscious about his feelings towards this scene, so you don't address it directly, but you scoot a little closer to him at night, and he takes the invitation, and wrappes you in his arms (which is rare, since he usually needs a little bit of space to fall asleep).

Would he watch that movie again: only if you asked and he couldn't come up with an excuse not to watch it. He'd rather not see this last shot of your face again.

And since nobody asked, you get a picture of our banner

[whereserpentswalk]

There was a girl whose body was thrown into the ocean when she was still alive. Her father did it with a tearful smile, going out on a boat because she wasn't the person he decided she was, and threw her away for reasons only humans have.

And as she fell, and as the water filled her lungs, the ducks saw her, but they had no pitty on her, saying to eachother: "this girl was killed under the laws of humanity, and we cannot interfere with the law. It is sad what happened, but it was her father's right."

And as she went further down, and closer to death, the schools of fish saw her, but they had no pitty on her, saying to eachother: "this girl is reacting far too violently. If only she was more calm when they thrust her down, then mabye we would spare her. She's too old too, and too masculine, and not even a virgin. We must find a better looking victim to spare."

And she fell so far down that the rays could see her, but the rays didn't spare her, and told eachother: "this girl is weak. Can she not swim, not pull herself up, is water in her lungs enough to hurt her? If she was just a child perhaps we would spare her, but she's old enough to be able to swim out of this herself, even if ropes bind her hands. We cannot spare her."

And eventually she floated down to the sea with no sun, where only the sharks could see her, and the sharks said to one another: "this being has tasted blood in her mouth, yet has no fins to swim with, we must help her."

And the sharks took her, and swarmed her body yet did not eat her. And her skin became grey and rough, and her bones became as soft as the tip of her nose, and her teeth became sharp and plentiful, and her eyes became white and cold. And she could breath as gills grew on her sides. And she could swim, as fins grew on her arms and legs, and a tail grew on her back.

And she lives now as the queen of the sharks, half human half animal, and she finds those who reject and harm their own children, and she takes them to the sea with no sun, where the sharks will be there to judge them.

[melanirana]

Okay- questions-

WHAT PROMOTES SINGING?

Happy feelings? Bad ones? Courting rituals? Or are there different songs for different things?

WHAT IS THE GENERAL LIFE CICLE OF MERS?

How long do they live? How long does the circle last? How long do they live in the wild compared to captivity? How long will Sun and Moon most likely live?(ignore this one if it makes you uncomfortable or is a spoiler.)

WHAT MATING RITUALS DO MERS DISPLAY?

Dancing, singing, grooming- what is the timeframe of all of these? Which ones are more important? Which are less important? Are there any others?

HOW DO MERS SLEEP?

Fish have to constantly keep swimming or they’ll die from what I’m aware! Are half their brains functioning like usual fish? Are they twitchy in their sleep? Or do they just hiss at the grim reaper and he’s like ‘okay then’ and leaves them to sleep in peace?

WHAT IS THE GENERAL TERM FOR A BABY MER?

Guppy? Cub? Pup? Idk!😭

sorry- just needed answers. Oh yeah- bonus question-

HOW WOULD SUN AND MOON REACT IF Y/N KISSED THEM NEAR THEIR GILLS? Their gills are sensitive right? So would that make them more prone to becoming flustered if Y/N was just like ‘I’m going to make a hot fish blush.’

I love your art and I stay up at night thinking about the biology. I love this au so much-

Aaaaaaaa thank you. (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~♥️

Inflickts my Biologie Autisum on you

What promotes singing?

Singing can have a variety of meanings, sometimes it's to communicate that you're happy, that you're lonely, that you're having fun, that you would like to meet. But sometimes they sing Just to sing, to strengthen the bonds they have with their school or individuals.

What is the general life cycle of mers?

Usually Mers tend to get around 50 years old, it is relatively rare for them to get older. Mers reach adulthood at 16. Mers don't hatch with their adult colors but with, what are called, Baby Stripes. They have them for the first 8 years of their lives, after which they start to slowly fade and are fully gone by 13.

What mating rituals do mers display?

A whole lot of things but yes singing, dancing, grooming, hunting together and then some, so anything that strengthens the bond between them. Singing is one of the more important ones as well as grooming, these two rituals are continued until the end of the courtship and the Mers part again.

How do mers sleep?

It's not all fish that need to move in order to breathe, for example, the Parrot fish. Same goes for Mers, they don't need to move to breathe, their gills automatically pump water through them.

What is the general term for Baby Mer?

I always just call them Baby Mers, but you can any of those terms. Though, Guppy is probably more accurate.

How would Sun and Moon react If y/n kissed them near their gills?

Congratulations! You know have two cooked fish. They are flustered to all hell and a puddle on the floor.

Never stopp sending me biologie questions I love answering them

[dragonfelling]

STS time! tell me about a sedentary lifeform in your world! (plants, fungi, etc)

One of the most prominent plants in Anemoi culturally is the Popflower. It is used not only in bouquets, but also as dyes and ink that reacts to magic use. It is also used in medicine for those who suffer from specific and rare ailments that have to do with their magic turning on their body similar to an autoimmune disorder. The roots are used as a pungent food and the petals are also used for seasoning.

Popflowers glowing on a dark night, releasing seed pods as they are disturbed by an Inland wyvern eating a Pop drake

These pods can only grow in areas of high concentrations of magic. The only place they've been found growing is the mountains of Anemoi where a God was felled and fertilized the silty soil with his blood. It is hard to notice unless you lay within them, but popflowers radiate a bit of heat. This is enough to warm the mountains throughout the winter when north Anemoi hovers around 5c-0c

The popflower does not have an elaborate root system. It has a main tap root that is poor at sucking up water, but specialized towards sapping magic from the earth and just keeping it in place durring storms. Due to heavy and consistent Anemoian rains, they end up sapping most of their water needs through their petals and the rest through smaller roots by the surface.

Popdrake being held delicately in someones hand.

Popflowers are the backbone to the survival of two other species, including the pop drake and the inland wyvern.

Popdrakes are small and hyper specialized to only eat popflowers. they came about at the same time as popflowers emerging from the mountains. They live among them, using their spines to blend in among the flowers. They give birth to live young who are independent from their mothers from their first moments.

They are often caught en-masse by humans to sell during festivals, skewered and either candied or roasted. they are extremely spicy due to a concentration of the same compounds that give popflowers their distinct flavour and moderate spice.

This spice does not deter the Inland wyvern however. These wyverns are actually a type of fish and are related to every other wyvern. Wyvern have the same skin/scale and lung systems as I Peshka, where as they can breathe air and water through a gill system in their throat. They mainly eat these popdrakes. They will stand still for hours, waiting for a popdrake to move. When one does, they will bend down to gobble it up in one quick movement. Their crests and throats glow due to the magic of the flowers being passed down the food chain reacting with what was once regular luminescence.

[actuallysaiyan]

Hi bacon hi, i'm here to make a formal request for the monster event 🙇🏻‍♀️ jiraiya x mermaid!reader, "my voice enchanted you. You came to me. Now you must pay the price." Thank youuu💗

warnings: smut, handjobs, mentions of enchanting/slight dub con, heartbreak, slight angst, happy ending pairings: Jiraiya x Fem!Mermaid!Reader

He watches the water wistfully. Once when he was a younger man, he swore he had seen such a beautiful siren in these very waters. He could imagine it in his mind’s eye so perfectly. She had healed his broken heart that day. She had been so kind. But when the day ended and the sun set, she left without giving her name.

Ever since that day, Jiraiya makes it a point to go to the shore and check out the water to see if you’ll ever come back. It’s been years, but he knows he’d be so happy to see you. You had made such an impact on him on that day. He had been rejected for the umpteenth time, but when he saw your smiling face and heard that beautiful voice, Jiraiya knew he could be happy once more.

Still, his heart had a hole in it. One that was exactly your shape. You couldn’t stand the thought of enchanting him forever, so you never came back to see him. Even though you had strong feelings for the man, you knew it was better to just boost his ego and self-esteem and for him to find someone normal to love.

But the man was stubborn. You saw him from time to time. You just never let him see you at all. You kept tabs on him, making sure he would go on to live a very happy life. He had charmed you so much that day, you knew it would be completely sad and devastating if you were to fully put him under your spell. That was the unfortunate part of your species. You’d never really know what true love was like.

Then came the day that you were out in the ocean, sitting on a rock and singing to your heart’s content. It was a sorrowful song full of heartache and unrequited love. You wondered if anyone would fall for such a sad song. You were thinking about him again. The way he made you feel, the way he smiled at you…

You barely notice the small boat that’s coming your way. The storm clouds begin to get darker than before. And to your horror, on that small boat, is the man you are singing about. He’s got a deep look of lust in his eyes. A deep gasp escapes you when you realize what you’ve done to him. 

Before he can drown, you pull him onto the rock with you. You know you’ll have to deal with this issue before it turns into something worse than it is.

Jiraiya awakens in a cool chamber. The bed feels fluffy. The pillows are soft. He lifts himself up, sitting in the bed. Then you appear before him. His eyes widen before they darken once more. You have this gorgeous figure, he can’t stop looking at you. The way your hair shimmers in the light that dances in this cavern. Or the silvery scales and gills that adorn your face and body. The man is quite smitten, to say the least.

You approach him, figuring you can finally make your move now. You straddle his lap, kissing him so deeply. Jiraiya moans, tasting you for the first time. You really soothed his heartbreak. And now you were here, years later, enchanting him completely. He had so many questions, and yet they all died on his tongue the minute you began to undress him.

With his cock in your hand, you stroke him slowly. You look at him carefully, noticing the way he’s reacting. He was acting like he was completely in love with you, which shouldn’t be. He should be looking like you had enslaved him.

“W-why are you doing this? What have I done to deserve such love from you?” He asks, his cheeks red and lips parted.

You look down and spit on the head of his cock, lubricating it more as you pick up the pace of your stroking. Then you look back into his eyes, a sly smirk on your face.

“My voice enchanted you. You came to me…” you want to say the last bit, but you struggle.

Jiraiya moans. “I want to be forever yours.”

Another searing kiss unifies you both. Jiraiya knows he wants to be completely in love with you, and you know that you can fall for him too. Now that you know he fell for you despite your enchantment. “Now you will pay the price…the price of becoming my lover.”

dividers: @adornedwithlight

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[awhisperofbluevn]

F.A.Q. Masterlist

Here's a list of all the questions I've already answered or anecdotes I shared, make sure to check it out before sending an ask !

I'll update it as times goes on.

Merman-centric questions :

What would he think of land animals ?

Do his pupils extend if he has a positive relationship with the MC ?

Does he have a family ?

What would be his family's reaction to him marrying a human ?

What's his love language ?

Will it be revealed in the game how the fisherman caught the merman ?

Do merfolk lay eggs ?

Is he the jealous type ?

Can the MC braid his hair ?

Does he have a favorite fish ?

Would gestures work to communicate ?

Would he try human food ?

Does he smell like fish ?

Is the merman a yandere ?

What's his MBTI ?

Are merfolk hostile to humans ?

Does he know what a kiss is ?

Is it possible for a merman and a human to have an offspring ?

Where does he live ?

Did he want to eat the MC in the demo ?

Does he have bioluminescence ?

Would he like picture books ?

What's his name ?

How would he react to technology ?

How would he react to Vocaloid ?

How long do merfolk live for ?

How old is he ?

Can he crawl on land ?

Would he like gifts ?

Does he have lungs ?

What use is his nose since he has gills ?

What's his salt tolerance like ?

How much does he weigh ?

Does he have hair ?

Is his hearing better than humans' ?

What animal is he inspired from ?

How does he deal with jealousy ?

What's his bite force ?

What fish does he like ?

Would he leave the MC for another merperson ?

How does he react when he's being territorial ?

How do merfolk take care of their hair ?

What's his lenght ?

How does he react when sick ?

How does he react to fireworks ?

Can he eat human food ?

Is he clingy ?

What's with that black strand of hair ?

MC-centric questions :

What if the MC sings well/can play an instrument ?

What if the MC threw a fish at him while singing ?

What if the MC has heterochromia ?

What if the MC was bad at singing ?

What if the MC was deaf ?

What if the MC was non-human ?

What if the MC dies ?

What if the MC knows how to dance ?

What if the MC had scars ?

What if the MC has periods ?

What if the MC is crying ?

What if the MC draws a portrait of him ?

What if the MC is depressed ?

What if the MC is hurt ?

[thedo0zyslider]

Shot Through The Heart - 2k Words

Martyn plans on winning this game, but not without leaving Scott a little parting gift. One to remember him by while he bleeds out.

Tw: graphic violence, brief thoughts of suicide

There's only three people left alive on this fine day, and Martyn intends to be last one standing. In any way possible. Though the other two players might not like his ideas so much.

Scott and Impulse want a fair fight. No weapons, no tools, no tricks. A fair brawl between the three of them, and whoever wins gets crowned the victor. They're both already abandoned their weapons, healing items, and anything else deadly; their stuff being thrown into a messy pile a few feet away. Martyn isn't down with that plan in the slightest.

He keeps his sword, bucket of lava, and a golden apple on him. Everything else, armor included, is thrown in the pile with Scott and Impulse's things. They don't notice him sneaking it, Martyn being careful to not even reveal he has them in the first place. If Scott notices his best sword isn't thrown in the pile, then his ally doesn't say anything.

Impulse keeps talking, about how they should do the fight. Because he doesn't wanna get ganged up on by the two Mean Gills, obviously. Scott, for whatever reason, indulges this conversation. Maybe because indulging Impluse keeps him alive just a little longer. (Scott knows he is not living, that he's dying first. He's already won a game, and certainly doesn't win again. No one would.) Martyn doesn't say anything, just crosses his arm over his chest and waits.

He doesn't care how this fight goes. He already knows it's not going to be fair, and who the winner will be.

Martyn shifts closer to his teammate, doing so as discreetly as possible. Thankfully, Impulse is too absorbed in his chattering to notice, and Scott is almost as committed to listening as their enemy is to talking. Almost.

A red eye watches him, moving to study him every few seconds as its owner chats back with Impulse. A fin twitches curiously and a siren tail flicks with curiosity. Martyn knows, that whatever Scott suspects him of doing, his teammate will let him get away with. Martyn doesn't think he's ever loved anyone more than he does in that one moment.

Scott glances at him one last time, gets a glimpse of the sword he's still hiding behind his back, and Martyn knows it's time.

He grabs Scott, hand resting firmly on the back of his head, and kisses him. His teammate kisses back. A moment later Martyn thrusts his arm forward and shoves a sword through his stomach. Surprisingly, Scott doesn't pull away, just gasps and keeps kissing him. Martyn thinks he kisses harder, actually.

The kiss feels like it goes on forever. It doesn't last long enough. It's messy, and there's blood in Scott’s mouth. Martyn doesn't care. He wants to make the most of it while he still can, even if it means he has to taste iron. He pulls Scott closer, ignoring the sounds of flesh and organs tearing beneath his sword, and bites his bottom lip. Scott doesn't even react to the pain he's most definitely in. Instead, he buries his hands in Martyn’s hair and tugs it as his intestines get torn in two.

Damn, that's hot. Martyn thinks, pulling his weapon out of Scott’s stomach as quickly as he'd shoved it in. His ally almost crumples to the floor, only held up by the hand holding his head and another gripping at his bloody waist. Martyn, now supporting all of Scott’s weight, probably needs to stop thinking that killing people and blood are insane attractive. At least for the moment.

They pull away after a few moments and a lifetime, and that's when Impulse's screams of horror register in Martyn’s head. That's when he remembers he has a job to do, and a game to win. Even if making out with Scott till he dies would be just as fun, if not better.

"I love you." He mumbles, bumping their noses together one last time. His hair falls in his face, loose from the bandana and from being pulled at. His lips have blood on them, his allys blood. He licks if off. It tastes like death.

"I know." Scott whispers, his voice shaky. He knows Martyn loves him, because he wouldn't be doing this if he didn't. It's the worst part about this.

After that, Martyn lets go of him. He lets go, and lets Scott fall to the ground; dying. He watches him bleed out for a minute, watches the life drain from his eyes. Then Martyn moves his gaze to Impulse, suddenly getting a burst of energy. He thinks thats the finally adrenaline is kicking in.

Impulse sees the murderous intent in Martyn’s eyes, and does the only sensible thing an unarmed man can do. He runs. In the opposite direction, because Martyn is kinda blocking his path to the disgraced weapons and armor. Though this just makes the final confrontation all the more entertaining. For one of them, anyways.

"Aw come on Impulse!" Martyn teases, running after his last enemy. Impulse is surprisingly fast when he wants to be. The blonde wasn't expecting to sprint after him this much. "You don't wanna miss out on the fun, do you?"

"I do, actually!" Impulse yells over his shoulder, skidding carelessly down the side of mountain they're on. Martyn skids after him, more determined than he's maybe ever been. He is not letting this guy get away, especially not after stabbing his kiss buddy. Or boyfriend. Or whatever they'd been before Martyn drove a sword through Scott’s torso.

Point is, if Impulse wanted to escape, he should've done that before meeting them near the clocktower. As soon as they all stood together, it was over for him, one way or another. Martyn was always going to make sure of that.

He chases after Impulse for a few minutes longer, not really gaining on him like he wants to. But then, in his haste, Impulse stumbles, and Martyn’s right behind him and suddenly aware the bucket of lava still on his person. Then Imlulse gets away again, but not for much longer.

Martyn throws the lava out of the bucket, hoping for a lucky shot. And luckily for him, some of scalding magma lands right on his opponents heel. Impulse screams, and falls to the ground. Martyn takes his chance, and springs at him, wrestling his fellow player under him.

He would've been a fool not to take such an easy opportunity to win, and Martyn is not a fool. Sure, the blonde's a lot of things, but a fool has never been one of them, and it never will be.

He manages to tackle Impulse to the ground, and straddles him almost immediately. If they're both gonna die soon, why not have some fun with this? Even if what Martyn considers "fun" right now is pretty subjective. Well, subjective for Impulse, anyways.

But, it was rude to play with your food, so he won't drag this out too long. He might be a murderer, but Martyn still has manners.

"Caught you~" He hums, placing a hand on Impulse's cheek. Like a lover might do. Though there's nothing loving about this exchange. It's all the opposite of love, rather fittingly. Or maybe this is ironic. Martyn wouldn't know, he was never really the poetic type (Assuming that flirting with someone before killing them is poetic, of course)

Impulse doesn't say anything, just tries to kick him off instead. He fails at this miserably, by the way. Kicking doesn't really work when half of your left leg has been eaten by lava. And when you're being straddled. Basically all of Martyn is outside of kicking range.

When that plan doesn't work, Impulse tries to grab at him instead. Martyn pins both of his wrists down with a free hand. He does it embarrassingly quick, too. It's almost like Impulse isn't even trying. The fact that he probably is trying, and trying his best at that, just makes it sadder.

"Cute." The blonde hums, grabbing for the sword he'd stashed around his waist. His hand leaves Impulse's cheek in the process, and the ither one keeps the brunette held down. Martyn would like to keep whatever homoerotic thing he has going, but to do that he'd risked being punched. And also his opponent escaping. Which would be less than ideal for him, but very good for Impulse.

And we can't be having that, now can we?

This really was disappointing. Impulse was usually so good at these games. He'd even outlived Martyn before! He thought that killing this guy would've been harder, involved a little more banter maybe. Martyn thought it would've been more changling then betraying Scott, even. But, no, it turns out he was wrong.

Oh well, no one can be right all the time, can they? Besides, an final kill made for an easy victory! And Martyn had grown quite tired of losing and being someone else's easy final kill. A little role reversal hadn't hurt anyone......except that it had! Whoops! Sorry not sorry, Scott and Impulse!

Impulse makes a sound under him, drawing Martyn out of his admittedly crazed thoughts. The sound he makes comes out scared, fearful, even. Martyn pins his wrist down harder, brings the sword closer, and can't help relishing in his neighbors final moments.

"Shame," Martyn says, titling Impulse's chin upwards with the hilt. It takes a lot to not lean in and give him a quick peck of the lips. Scott probably wouldn't be happy if his kiss buddy was kissing someone else, after all. Or maybe he wouldn't have minded. His old teammate had been a self described whore. "Looks like you're joining in on the fun after all."

He stabs a sword through Impulse's chest without another word or warning, and it's all over. Everything's over. The game is over. Martyn has finally won this thing, just like he's been planning to. Though he has to say, a final chase and kiss-stabbing his only ally hadn't been in the plan, but they did make for a damn good final act.

He stands, taking his sword out of Impulse's chest and throwing it to the ground. He shouldn't need it anymore. If Martyn had any armour on him, he would've thrown that away too. There's nothing left for him to fight. Not anymore, not now that he's a winner.

Though actually winning the death game is going a lot different, and a lot less dramatically, than he anticipated.

Marytn is expecting to die once he's the last one alive. He's expecting to die almost immediately after Impulse does. He doesn't. He stands there, waiting for something to happen. He doesn't know what he's waiting for, exactly, but he expects something. A flash of lighting as the gods strike him down, randomly falling over dead out of nowhere, maybe even a random arrow to the head.

But nothing happens.

The adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt, drains away from his body, but nothing happens. Martyn stands there, probably looking like an idiot, because what's supposed to be happening isn't happening! He's supposed to be dead and nothing is happening. He thought you died like, instantly once you won. That's what Scott had said. So why is he still here?

Martyn pulls up his timer, and quickly figures out why. It hasn't stopped ticking. The clocks hand is still moving. Most likely, he has to wait for it to reach zero, and then death will take him. Because of course he does. Because of course the universe won't let him die easily. It'll let everyone else die easily but not him! That's exactly like something They would do, isn't it?

Martyn stuffs his timer back in his pocket with a grumble. He still has over an hour left. About an hour and a half, to be exact. An hour and half before the universe let's him die. Or, an hour and a half to pull a Grian and kill himself. (Though he might need a sand mountain to jump from if he really wants to call it "pulling a Grian..")

Martyn doesn't know which one would be more painful, waiting or just getting it over with. And he isn't particularly excited to find out. Maybe, if he waits, They'll be nice and ket him die in his sleep or something. There's a low chance of that happening, realistically, but it's not a bad thought to entertain.

He starts walking away from Impulse's body after that, elaborate ways of suicide running through his head. If Martyn does decide to kill himself, he has over an hour to make the most unique suicide method humanity's ever seen. Doing a noose would be boring, especially after the show he just gave. If Martyn’s going to kill in style, he won't exclude himself from dying spectacularly. Wouldn't make him much of a showman if he did.

But, before Martyn decides how he's going to die, he has one last thing to do. It's why he started backtracking back towards their meeting spot, the clocktower coming into better view again. It's why he walked away from Impulse's body, and straight back towards his teammates.

He crouches next to Scott’s body, running a hand through blue hair. He looks so small like this, so small and lifeless. Martyn feels himself getting all sad over his....teammate being dead, so he stops thinking about it. There's nothing to be sad over, not anymore.

He had won the game, after all.

Scott’s eyes, lifeless like the rest of him, stare up unmoving at the sky. There's a small smile on his face and blood dripping from his mouth. His fatal injury has stopped bleeding, leaving a large pool around him. Martyn’s getting blood all over his pants. Normally, he would avoid doing that, since blood was so hard fo clean from clothes. Now he doesn't see a reason too. Might as well get his clothes as bloody as possible, while he still has time left to do that.

He'd been told that blood looked good on him a long time ago, last time he wore the banner wrapped around hid waist. Martyn can't say he disagrees.

Speaking of the banner, he takes it off and kays it over his fallen allys stomach. Where the stab wound was. It wasn't very nice to look at it. If Scott were still here, he'd be complaining about how ugly it was and how Martyn had let him look like that.

But he isn't here anymore, because Martyn won.

He covers the wound as if he was.

"Bye, Scott." He says, closing his teammates eyelids. He doesn't go back and do the same for Impulse. Martyn doesn't even think about Impulse's body once I leaves it. He doesn't think about Scott’s once he's off the mountain, either. He can't think about them anymore. There's no reason too. He'd won everything. Why think about and regret the people he'd killed to get there? They were already dead, and there was no turning back time.

Though the thought of time does remind him of somewhere he needs to go. His resting place, maybe, if he's so unlucky enough. Unlucky, because he can't think of anywhere better or worse to die.

The blonde stops walking towards the trees, and changes directions to the beach instead. He gets there in no time at all, and Martyn is reminded of how horribly small this map is and how horribly close the last two bodies truly are to him.

(Maybe this is the part that's romantic or poetic or ironic of whatever. Martyn wouldn't know. He was never very good with understanding stories.

Maybe he should've been.)

Martyn gets back to their island, and throws himself into their giant timer that Scott had made. He doesn't even hear the glass break as he falls, only the ocean waves laping at the shore. Shards stab at his skin, tearing it open, but Martyn doesn't even care. The sooner he bleeds out the sooner he dies, and gets whatever punishment is coming to him. The wooden top of the timer falls into the sand beside him. Martym wishes it had crushed him instead.

He lays there, teammate and final enemy gone and lifeless less than a mile away. He lays there with Scott’s blood still on his lips and coating his plants. He lays there with Impulse's blood on his hand and shirt and sword he forgot to throw into the ocean. He lays there with an empty bucket and a golden apple on him, and what feels like too much red to wash away.

Martyn lays there, a winner lying in broken glass and red sand, and lets the high tide take him.

[whataboutsimple]

Simple AUs

Or AUs I have idea of, but will never work on. Feel free to use them if you wish to!

1. Villain!Olivia AU or what happens when nerd's idol dies.

Concept is rather simple: after Ellegaard's death Olivia looses it and uses 100% of her brain power to build a "perfect world" where no one will die ever again. Expect for those who won't elaborate of course..

During the WitherStorm she gets into tracker bim for too long and gets withersickennes. Of course she won't tell anyone to not cause any panic. They already have sick Petra, no one should be paying attention to her.

Jesse decides to go and look for Magnus, but why? They need someone smart, someone intelligent, not a walking craze creeper man! Argh, Jesse always took Axel's said.

No- no, no, nonononono- Jesse can't take Ellegaard armor! She finally found someone who understands her passion for redstone, she can't loose her!

What.. what do you mean they lied? What- N-no.. sh-.. no. S-shE coulDn't! SHe diDN't LIE! THAT'S CAN'T BE-

The storm defeated, but her sickness didn't fade away. Ah, might as well make some upgrades for her arm..

Now, now Jesse, don't be so scared- let's work together! Trust me, this.. machine won't let anyone get hurt anymore!

Well, it could've gone better. But, ah, at least now no one can get in my way.

Notes: Olivia got her hand replaced with mechanisms, she got Jesse killed, she uses the same concept as "PAMA" — chiping people to use them.

2. Sky city death AU.

Concept: Instead of landing in the lake, like Jesse normally should, they are too slow to react properly and won't make it in time.

Lukas saw it with his own eyes. He saw Jesse landing to the ground. He saw their inventory laying around like it was a pile of trash.

Even with broken arm Lukas manages to get himself and the Founder back to Sky City. Petra and Ivor are happy until they get the news.

It can't be, right? It's Jesse. They always make it out! Or maybe not this time..

Blaze Rods got arrested and putted in jail until the group will find a way to their home. Lukas won't leave them here. He'll come back and take them to the court back in BeaconTown. He'll do anything to get them pay.

Now the problem is: how will they get back? Without Jesse it's gonna be hard for sure..

Petra and Ivor can't get everyone in the mansion trust them enough, so they make decisions. Lukas almost died from White Pumpkin. They barely made it out alive from the Mansion.

No one made alive from the Mansion expect for them. Cassie Rose got the flint, so now they can only follow her through the portal.

Who can keep Petra sane? She's too irritated and Lukas is no better: he saw his friend's death for fuck sakes! Ivor already saw such tension between Order members.. Old Order members.

They are no match to PAMA. Ivor physically can't do everything alone what Jesse did. Is it the end?

Notes: Lukas arm became useless right after they left Sky City, everyone from the Mansion Episode died expect for the group and Cassie Rose, Cassie Rose managed to escape before main group.

3. Long live the king AU.

Concept: Aiden and Jesse swap places, but keep their original characters. It's hard, but everyone tries their best.

Aiden is noisy and bit of a dumbass.. but they love him, though it's hard sometimes. He doesn't know any limits without them, so it's like controlling an angry pug.

They never understood why he was so rude to Jesse. They were nothing but kind and patient! They even kept Maya and Gill in place. Aiden still didn't like them somewhy.

Okay, this time he got too far. How could he put other people in danger? How could he hurt poor pig? They need to talk and now! Winning ain't worth it!

He promised to apologize. Okay, at least they knew he kept his promises.

Oh, uh, since when Petra and him are friends? Okay, nevermind, she needs help - they will help. Still though last time they checked Petra wasn't a big fan of Aiden's behavior..

What is thing thing?! How are they supposed to defeat it? What are they gonna do? What- wait, Aiden is a good leader actually when it's comes to stress situations.

Okay, maybe they can handle it. If only he could stop throwing those dirty looks at Jesse everytime they do anything..

Notes: Olivia and Axel tries their best to deal with Aiden's behavior, though it can be hard sometimes.. Aiden saved Jesse from tracker bin since they were the closest to him instead of Petra or Gabriel, we will learn through the story how angry gremlin can actually be a good character without erasing his gremlin side.

That's my Top3 for today, guys! Feel free to ask anything you want or use the ideas.

[thehypnone]

All Yours. Only Yours

WC: 1,3K

Pairing: Rain/Dewdrop

Tags: Transmasc (still) water ghoul Dewdrop, grinding, gill fingering

“You really never did it?” Rain asked. Dew’s lived with gills for centuries and never thought about sticking his fingers in them? Surprising.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

“You really never did it?” Rain asked, softly trailing his callused fingertips down the length of Dewdrop’s neck, teasing the soft fins there.

“Never even crossed my mind,” the smaller chuckled nervously, face painted with a deep blush from all the attention Rain was paying him.

“Hm, that simply won’t do,” he sighed and before Dewdrop could react he turned them both, the small ghoul now straddling Rain’s middle, his long fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“Wh- what do you mean?” Dewdrop shivered with something he couldn’t deny was anticipation.

“Here,” Rain pulled his mate’s hand to his own neck, his gills, “do it.”

“Rainy, I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” he cut him off, “you won’t hurt me.”

Dewdrop took a deep breath, fiddling with Rain’s small gill fins before gently lifting them and teasing the underside, just where the opening was. The skin there was cool, slick and so soft. 

“Go on,” Rain encouraged, staring up at Dewdrop with a look that left the small ghoul no choice but to obey, “I know you want to.”

He did want to. He’s lived with gills for centuries and never thought about sticking his fingers in them? Surprising.

Even more surprising, though, was that his packmates didn’t either. Considering all the places they all did shove their fingers into, the gills shouldn’t be left unthought of. Yet, here he was.

Dewdrop stroked the thin film of slick and pushed his finger into Rain’s gill. The bigger water ghoul huffed and Dewdrop felt it on his fingers, “Oh.”

He looked at the expression on Rain’s face, clearly enjoying himself. He took it as his cue to go on, pushing his finger into the tightness nearly up to the second knuckle. Dewdrop swallowed, letting out a shuddering breath, apparently more affected than Rain himself, “It feels like…”

“It does,” Rain purred, and it made Dewdrop’s finger vibrate before he pulled away. “At least for the fingers, can’t compare the rest myself unfortunately. But it does feel good.”

“Can you… make me compare?” Dewdrop whispered, as if he got shy all of a sudden.

“Thought you’d never ask, baby,” he groaned, moving the smaller ghoul back, grinding him down onto his half hard cock. He shuddered as Rain’s dick rubbed against his clit through both of theirs, already wet, underwear.

The friction on his little cock distracted Dewdrop enough that he noticed Rain’s movements only when he felt his fingers on his neck again. His breath hitched, Rain felt his pulse flutter under his touch.

“Are you sure?” hr asked, always considerate, toying with Dewdrop’s gills. He nodded, dropping his gaze to Rain’s chest, his cheeks so beautifully flushed.

Rain obliged, gently prodding at one of the openings on the smaller ghoul’s neck, slowly sipping just the tip of his finger inside. When Dewdrop didn’t jump away, he wiggled it further in, soft flesh engulfing it, until nearly half of it disappeared, “How is it?”

“G- good,” he whispered, and it tickled Rain’s hand, “‘s nice.”

“Yeah?” his mate smiled, pushing Dewdrop’s hips to grind down on them with his free hand. “Does my finger feel like it does in your pussy?”

Dewdrop whined, choking on his own spit as his gills constricted around Rain’s finger.

“It was a question, baby,” he encouraged, Dewdrop’s expression getting more and more fucked out as he, now unconsciously, kept dragging his cunt back and forth over Rain’s hard cock.

“Similar,” he breathed out, Rain now starting to slowly thrust his finger in and out of his gill, following the stuttering rhythm of Dewdrop’s hips, “b- but obviously there’s-”

“No feeling of my lips around your little dick?” he finished for him, angling Dewdrop’s hips so that said little dick would be pressed into Rain’s cock. He mewled, squeezing his eyes shut as his mate continued to toy with his gills. Soon, he felt another rough yet gentle finger at one of his other gills, pushing its way in.

Dewdrop could feel them touching inside, wiggling, stroking. It felt so weird but so good and he didn’t want Rain to ever pull his hands away. The bigger ghoul, as if he was reading the other’s mind, not only didn’t pull away, but added the third finger into the third slit. Dewdrop moaned, slightly gurgled, probably because of having three fingers in his literal throat.

“I wonder if I could toy with my own dick like that if I fucked your pretty mouth,” Rain sighed. “Have to test it out someday.”

“Rainy, p- please,” was all Dewdrop could choke out.

“You’re gonna come like this?” Rain asked, knowing the answer perfectly well. “Just from me fingering your gills, your throat, and humping me like a pathetic bitch?”

“F- fuck, Rainy,” he whimpered, his body tense yet swaying with the effort of staying upright, “y- yes.”

“Good,” he groaned, his hips involuntarily buckling up, betraying his own lack of composure. “‘cause I’m fucking close too.”

Dewdrop shuddered at that, a sweet moan escaping his lips as his body folded in on itself. He rested his arms on Rain’s chest, thumbs just above the gills on his ribs. 

“Do it,” he said, apparently reading Dewdrop’s mind again as he teased one of the gills with a finger. “Stick it in, the left side.”

The smaller ghoul obeyed, shaky hand trailing down to rest his fingertips just at the opening of a gill. He gently pushed his slim finger in, just the tip, feeling similar dampness that he was met with on Rain’s neck. It was tighter here, though, because of his ribs.

“Further in,” he instructed, doing so on Dewdrop’s neck. He whined again, slowly wiggling his finger deeper, basically in between the ribs.

They were both so close, but they didn’t even care. Orgasms stopped mattering, never did actually, not really, not this time.

“Can you feel it?” Rain asked. Dewdrop looked down at him with a confused expression, too fucked out to know what he meant without specifics. “My heartbeat. Isn’t it close?”

He focused on it, indeed feeling it. So very close.

“You’re nearly touching my heart, baby. It’s as close as you can get,” his mate whispered and Dewdrop finally lifted his eyes, looking into Rain’s. His heart was so close, like it was just under his fingertips.

“Can you feel how it’s all yours, how it’s beating only for you?”

Dewdrop felt tears running down his face just when his orgasm crashed into him as his whole body spasmed, lips open in a silent moan. His arms gave out and he fell down onto Rain’s chest, manoeuvring his hand out of his rib gills somewhere along the way. The small ghoul’s lips immediately found his mate’s neck, kissing the gills there softly.

Just as Rain was about to cum himself, Dewdrop dipped the tip of his tongue into one of openings, throwing the ghoul over the edge with a choked out moan. He sagged under the smaller, both slowly catching their breaths, coming back to themselves.

Soon, Rain noticed his mate shivering slightly, now clearly from the chill of the room, “Come on, let’s get changed, then a nap.”

“Mhm,” Dewdrop mumbled, letting himself be manhandled up, then out of his dirty underwear and into the clean pair. It didn’t take long before he was wrapped in a fluffy blanket, curled up against Rain's side with his head on his chest.

“Rainy?” he whispered after some time, when the bigger ghoul thought he was already asleep.

“Yes, baby?” he spoke softly, leaning down to kiss the base of Dewdrop’s horn.

“Love your heart,” he mumbled, and just now Rain noticed how his ear was glued to his pec just over it, listening to its beat, memorising it. It made his heart squeeze with so much pure love and adoration for him, “’s all mine.”

“All yours, baby. Only yours.”

[genderkoolaid]

I recently listened to the Jules Gill-Peterson episode of Gender Reveal. In it, she argues that the histories of transmasc and transfem people are essentially disconnected until the 80s or so, in part because transmascs migrated to rural areas and went stealth, whereas transfems moved to cities like New York and San Francisco and formed communities. (This brief summary does not do her justice, please read the transcript or listen before responding.) What do you think of her argument? Do you have any historical records that confirm, refute, or complicate it?

So generally I agree with her. Obviously this is specifically about US history, but I agree that transmascs historically have sought isolation to stay stealth where transfems have formed a lot of communities (although thats not to say there havent also been stealth transfems in history). She does bring up transmasculinity in lesbian spaces although its very brief. I kind of wish she focused on it more because I feel like acting as though trans men who lived in stealth isolation from other queers is The transmasc historical narrative erases a lot of the complex ways transmascs lived, and lesbian spaces have always been a MAJOR part of that. Drag masculinity was one way historical transmascs could engage in transmasculinity, and also took place largely in cities & drag kings absolutely interacted with drag queens, so I don't think there wasn't any places where historical transmascs & transfems shared spaces. But she's also a transfem and it makes sense that her focus is more on transfem history & its intricacies.

Honestly I think that the idea that transmascs going stealth vs transfems finding community isn't the interesting thing here. That's whatever. What's more interesting in my opinion is the questions of

Chicken or the egg (ha): do transmascs go stealth instead of forming communities because there were no communities and therefore no awareness that others existed, or was there no community because everyone went stealth?

What is the origin of this difference between transmascs and transfems? What factors influence the difference in our histories?

Listening to modern non-western transmascs talk, I've gotten the idea that part of this comes from how women in patriarchal societies have more restrictions, and often aren't allowed to go out on their own, which limits their ability to find queer spaces and connect with other transmascs. I think there might also be something to be said about the idea that cis society may tend to react to transfems with "you should be cast out" and transmascs as "you should be fixed", but that's just an idea + it's definitely not black-and-white.

Going back to the first question, I'm inclined to believe that they lack of community/awareness came first: I think part of the reason for so many trans men going stealth is because many of them weren't aware other trans men existed, so they had a mindset of "I have to find a way to survive without being outed", whereas transfems knew other transfems existed and so their first step was "find other people like me". I imagine that's also the reason for the difference between stealth trans men and lesbian trans men: maybe people who weren't aware of lesbian spaces were more likely to go stealth, and people who were aware of lesbian spaces joined them for the same reason transfems sought out other transfems. See this quote from a Korean trans man:

"[T]here is nobody that we can really call “older generation.” In Korea FTM identification and transition only began when they learned that such a thing was possible. Before they felt like they didn’t belong in their bodies. The lack of words made it impossible for them to understand what that feeling meant. FTM trans people that are older than me, those in their 40-60s, understood their situation late. Most of them had lived their lives as lesbians until the 1990s. When the Internet started providing information, only after this began, they understood who they were and started treatment."

That's also why the transmasc community only really started after transmascs started getting widespread attention (coinciding with the rise of the Internet as well), because suddenly younger transmascs weren't either becoming butches or going stealth- they knew others existed and wanted to find them. (As a side note: I got the idea for a historical fiction story exploring the idea of some kind of "transmasc secret society", because I'm sure there was some point in history where at least a few guys found each other).

I think its important to ask these questions lest we fall into the trap of "transmascs just love their male privilege and want to preserve it and have never done anything for the trans community, unlike transfems, who are the real trans people". That ignores how transandrophobia has shaped the behavior of transmascs.

I do have another criticism: maybe she's doing this on purpose, but I feel like its extremely oversimplifying the history of how people treated crossdressing women to say that it was seen as just a cool thing. There was definitely a different attitude to the idea of women crossdressing for survival, but (and this might be kind of nit-picky but its something that gets on my nerves so humor me):

If you weren't crossdressing for survival, that was a problem. I am of the opinion that a good amount of women/"women" who would make this argument when they got caught crossdressing were doing so because "'I'm doing it to survive!" would probably get you some sympathy, but "I'm doing this cause I like it!" would get you. you know. jailed for crossdressing & labeled an invert. And there is an expectation there that, if you no longer need to do that to survive, you would stop doing it, and to insist on continuing to do that would, again, get you labeled an invert.

I just in general really really dislike hearing people say "well the patriarchy wants everyone to be a man" because No It Does Not. its similar to that post that goes "bi women are told they should be lesbians and lesbians are told they should be bi but the actual goal is for there to be no queer women at all". Cis women might be told they would be worth more if they were men, but thats another case of generalized "man" being used to erase cisness. Cis women need to be cis women (and therefore wives & mothers), thats why women/"women" are so heavily controlled. You may have cases of "father wanted a boy so he makes his daughter live as a son" but that has always been seen as abnormal or even cruel. The idea of invert women and women who crossdress as man because of their ~evil sinful desires~ is not new (One scientist estimated "that one woman in every 3,000 is the victim of this strange mania")

I think crossdressing women historically were reported on with a sense of awe partially because I think a lot of people didn't realize how easy it is to pass and so the idea of a man being secretly a woman, or vice versa, was something unbelievable (a lot of old news articles about these people I've read spent a lot of time focusing on how no one could tell and being shocked at them voting & marrying women). Also because a lot of them were only outed in death so there wasn't a living person to confront or arrest. But I think we should hesitate to take news reports that saw them as some interesting headline to mean "people thought they were cool and treated them well" (especially in situations where we only have stuff like headlines & we may not know exactly how people felt about the person). Looking through my hoard of historical trans men resources, you have stories like Augustus Baudouin, a 17 year old who was outed after being put in prison for robbery. After being placed in the women's ward, his "repugnance to appear in women's attire" was so great that he hung himself. Even if the headline called him "extraordinary", being outed ended with him dead (in a way that grimly mirrors transmasc suicide deaths today). Christine Vensettie was also arrested so he could be forced to get "treatment" for his crossdressing. Edward De Lacy Evans's story shows a bit of what "treatment" can mean (namely, medical abuse & sexual assault) and was literally put in a freak show.

This isn't to say that the violence and repulsion Western society has long held towards transfems isn't bad or anything, just that I feel like portraying the history of society's reaction to female crossdressers like this ignores a lot of complexity. Also "the patriarchy wants women to be men" is like the #1 TERF belief when it comes to trans men, so I'm always on edge whenever anyone says it or something like it because it contributes to the belief that society really is trying to influence young girls to transition. I think people, when talking about passing trans men, always focus a lot on what happens when we pass and talk far less about the consequences when we don't.

Anyways this got much longer than I initially planned lmao. In general I agree with her, she obviously knows a lot and I'm also sure this was just a snippet of her beliefs on this topic. In my opinion one of the big questions about transmasculinity to work through is that of our history, because its so easy to compare it to transfems and see how little there is in comparison. And I think, besides just wanting to know more about our history, its important to investigate this to understand more about how transandrophobia works. Erasure is one of the biggest parts of transandrophobia and exploring why our existence has been erased in the past, and how that erasure has impacted our lives, will help us fight erasure today and in the future. So I hope to see more people going past just "transmascs tended to go stealth" and examine the factors which influenced this & why, across the world, transmascs tend to be erased and isolated while transfems tend to have communities and specific terms.

[novella-november]

flying doggos -- designed!

These alien doggos (common name pending) are a weird combination of canine, feline, and avian, with the temperament and behavior of common domesticated dogs, the purring abilities of cats, and the flying and egg-laying ability of birds.

These alien doggos have as many specialty breeds as modern dogs, from working breeds to fancy bred for aesthetic looks, and others a hodgepodge mix of all of these above who are kept merely as companion pets by a wide range of People -- including breeds adapted to aquatic enviornments.

Most commonly, mutiple doggos are kept in working packs, who are owned by traveling merchants and traders, to help carry supplies and occasionally to hunt down game, though most breeds, like chickens, produce unfertilized eggs which are a source of protein for their owners.

If more doggos are desired for expanding their numbers, a doggo equivalent of a rooster can be introduced to the pack to produce fertilized eggs, which hatch in about a month if properly incubated.

Flock owners who usually travel will either have to stay in place for the duration to allow the eggs to be incubated naturally by nesting doggos, or will have to build or procure a special incubation pack, which can be worn across the chest or back and has special stones in the bottom that react with the metal base to create heat, which will need to be vented every few hours to avoid overheating.

These doggos have unique alternate forms depending on the breed, with aquatic breeds having gills and webbed paws instead of wings, allowing them to freely dive and live underwater with even the deepest divers of the Aquatic Peoples.

made with heroforge for the initial designs seen here :P