#my T dose is way low too and my levels are like upper half of female range

[trans-stew]

was looking for my latest blood test on my charts and found this gem

got diagnosed with chronic transgenderism apparently :(

[cassolotl]

Coming off testosterone

I stopped taking testosterone on day 235, May 19th 2019 - 6 days ago, and after just under 8 months of low-dose testosterone. I had 1 pump of Tostran gel per day, which the medication leaflet says is 10mg of testosterone.

~

WHY DID I START TAKING LOW-DOSE TESTOSTERONE?

I’m nonbinary, and my goal was always to be androgynous. I started taking testosterone to deepen my voice, mainly, but the idea of a more masculine fat distribution on my body was appealing because I also have dysphoria about my hips and slim shoulders. “Passing” as nonbinary isn’t really a thing because most people don’t know that there are more than two genders, so the best I could really hope to achieve realistically was to confuse as many people about my gender as possible. 😈

Changes I wanted:

Deeper voice

Genital changes

Less feminine body fat distribution

Changes I didn’t want:

Facial hair

Hairline changes (but if it happens a little that’s okay)

Loss of hair on head

Body hair

A couple of years ago I had one session of voice therapy (NHS), which was fun and very interesting, but it taught me a couple of things. One was that finding my lower pitches and getting that low resonance by finding my chest voice was definitely helpful and relieved my voice dysphoria. The other was that there was no way I was going to be able to keep up with multiple voice exercises per day to keep it that way. I pretty much decided that day that testosterone was the most sensible option, and even though it was scary I would just have to find a way to deal with the negative effects.

My voice dysphoria was sort of disconnected from my idea of my gender. All I really knew was that my voice needed to be a lower pitch and more resonant. I felt that dysphoria especially when I was talking excitedly or when I was singing. But I also knew that I didn’t want people to mistake me for a man either, and since it’s a very long slow process and quite unpredictable I knew that I would need to be careful to keep track of things to make sure I didn’t start giving myself a new kind of gender dysphoria in the masculine direction!

It was another year or two before the stars aligned and I actually managed to get the can of Tostran into my hands (NHS).

~

HOW DID IT GO?

As I mentioned above, I was on a low dose, one pump of Tostran per day. One can lasted about 107 days. The endocrine nurse said I could reduce the dose to half if I squirted the gel onto my leg/stomach as usual and then wiped half the gel-dribble off with tissue and threw it in the bin before I rubbed it in, but I never did that. The two-month blood test put my levels at 9.7 nmol or something like that. (Female range is 3 or below, and male range is 10 or above, so I was very nearly almost at the male range.)

The first month I got that scratchy throat feeling, which I now know happens when my voice is deepening, and I noticed my voice getting a little lower. Also I was SO GREASY OH MY GOD, I had to shower twice as much, I had to get some high-powered anti-perspirant deodorant. It didn’t make me spotty, it was just disgusting! But it felt okay because I could tell it was affecting my voice. I also noticed that I smelled different, and that my bedroom acquired that delightful(??) teenage boy smell! Ew. This kicked in properly in under a week, and trailed off around month two, though I still needed to take more showers and wear hardcore deodorant and I was still more greasy for the entire time I was on T.

On day 26 I noticed that my... [flails around wildly for non-dysphoric word] pudendum had gotten a little bigger, and I regret not getting “before T” photos. The growth was fast and a lot more noticeable than I had expected, and it was extremely emotionally intense, because I hadn’t realised but I’d been sort of suppressing and dissociating from genital dysphoria for my whole life. I knew I had genital dysphoria, but not how much or how it was affecting me. I was completely unprepared, and it was overwhelming. (I am very lucky that I was able to access fortnightly gender-specialist talking therapy at Charing Cross GIC during this time.) A few weeks later I started looking into genital surgery options. I think my genitals haven’t changed much in the last 2 months, so I guess it took about 5-6 months to get to where they are now.

Here’s the graph the Voice Pitch Analyzer app [iOS/Android] makes:

And here’s the graph I made myself using data from the app:

In the second graph, the thing I notice right away is that my highest pitch now is lower than my lowest pitch pre-T.

My first month was rapid pitch drop, and then there were a couple of months of wibbling around on a plateau, and then after that things kicked off again, I had a few scattered days of scratchy throat and things started meandering downward. A common pattern was two to four weeks of wild fluctuation and no drop, followed by a sudden drop over a day or two. Sometimes my brain took a while to adjust to a drop in pitch, and I would tire myself out speaking with a higher pitch than my vocal chords really wanted to do.

In the last couple of months I got a lot worse at making the voice recordings, which in hindsight might be because I was less enamoured with being on testosterone, and it was maybe a sign that my testosterone advantages were sort of wrapping up and it was nearly time to stop.

No one who sees me regularly said unprompted that they could hear a difference in my voice. When I asked people if my voice sounded different, they said “ehhh, maybe kinda, yeah?” I learned that testosterone doesn’t make your voice sound different! It makes it feel different, to yourself and to other people. My therapist, who I see (approximately) fortnightly, said she couldn’t tell the difference at all, and when I played her my day 1 voice recording to compare it to my current voice (6 months or so) she was like 😮.

Strangers are still mostly gendering me female, as far as I can tell, but my appearance and my voice means that strangers gender me male a little more often than pre-T. I also get “sir, I mean ma’am, gosh I’m so sorry...” more often. It makes me uncomfortable to make people uncomfortable, so I just usually say “it’s okay, I’m nonbinary so I’m kind of both??”, which rarely makes them less flustered or less confused. I had some cards made years ago that have the nonbinary flag on one side and the definition of nonbinary on the other, which I should just start handing out whenever this happens!

My testosterone dose was too low to stop my menstrual cycle, but it did seem to mellow out the highs and lows. My PMS and menstrual symptoms are generally a nightmare even though I have no uterus to bleed from, so that was a nice relief. It was very strange to experience PMS and boy puberty simultaneously.

I kept records of my specific dysphoria feelings from about 3.5 months, thanks to prompting from my gender-specialist therapist at Charing Cross GIC in London:

The ideal outcome, which I was looking out for, was all of the lines meandering towards that horizontal line in the middle. That would mean the feminine dysphoria was reducing and the masculine dysphoria was reducing.

I am pretty lucky, in that most of the changes I wanted from testosterone are permanent and the changes I didn’t want are temporary or reversible. I made some lines on the graph more bold because those were the ones that I wanted to keep an eye on. Here are my thoughts on this graph:

Facial hair was impossible to score because it gave me both masculine and feminine dysphoria. Feminine because those dark fine hairs on my upper lip are most often seen on cis women, and masculine because they were caused by testosterone and male puberty.

When my pudendum started growing it also gave mixed signals. It was good because it was getting bigger, but as it grew it highlighted that there was a lot going on down there that made me feel feminine dysphoria (mainly labia around my pudendum, and sometimes that it was still relatively small).

I am not a very hairy person. I thought I wouldn’t like having more body hair, and for a few months when I scored my dysphoria I focused on specific patches of new hair and thought about whether I was dysphoric and thought that I wasn’t. After a few months I realised I was being too short-sighted. Yes, I can totally deal with these new fine hairs on my thighs. Yes, this darker and thicker hair on my shins is okay. Sure, these hairs around my belly button are no big thing. But when I took a step back and looked at the bigger picture, and saw the hair as a pattern, my whole brain recoiled. Yes, I am definitely dysphoric about masculine patterns of body hair on myself. :S

There was a trend of all types of dysphoria getting less over time - until month 7, when they all started getting worse except voice. It took a while to be sure it was a trend, but looking back on it, that was definitely a thing!

The ideal outcome would be all of those lines converging on the middle horizontal axis, and it hasn’t happened. There are no flawless solutions for nonbinary people at the moment. As things stand and with what’s available to me right now, I will probably always have gender dysphoria. But I’m pretty glad that I’ve done what I can and I will keep doing what I can, because it is all helping.

Unrelated to any gender stuff, I have put on weight and gone up a size or two in trousers and one size in t-shirts. It could just be that I’m in my 30s and my metabolism is slowing, which is what I assumed it was at first, but the weight has come on in quite a short space of time, so that made me think about what I’ve been eating and why. I noticed that I was craving carbs and sugar, eating it, and then feeling unsatisfied afterwards. The type of hunger I’ve been feeling lately feels the same as the type of hunger I had when I had Implanon, a three-year birth control implant. When I had that removed my appetite went back to normal. So this putting on weight feels a lot like a hormonal thing. I have mixed feelings about it! I strongly dislike my clothes feeling wrong and having to buy new clothes, but also bits of me are pleasingly wibbly and it’s fun to be able to rest my cup of tea on my stomach when I slouch. :D

Also unrelated to gender stuff, even on a low dose many of my EDS symptoms were noticeably reduced: fatigue, loose joints, joint pain, IBS, dysautonomia. (Joint pain and fatigue were still present, but not as bad after exertion.) I also noticed that the really vivid dreams and very emotional days that come with PMS mostly disappeared, which I was sad about.

~

HOW DID I KNOW TO STOP?

People gendering me in different ways has increased lately. Like, a few weeks ago me and @watchkeyphone were trundling about town, and one charity/religion street-hawker person asked if we were sisters, and then a hundred yards later their colleague called us “lads” or something.

A week or so ago, I realised that my voice was sounding and feeling resonant in my chest pretty much all the time and that felt pretty nice, but I was still scoring my voice as sounding feminine, and I wondered if that might be because the changes are so gradual that I just changed my idea of what feminine sounds like. I noticed that I was more comfortable recording my voice to put online for various reasons.

I don’t live in a culture where people go around saying “excuse me sir” or “hello madam”, we don’t routinely gender each other in a formal way. But also, either I don’t have enough casual contact with strangers to notice gendered familiar words like “mate” or “love”, or strangers just avoid using those kinds of words with me because I’m hella queer-looking. So I basically realised that I have no idea how strangers see me or hear my voice at all.

So, in approximately this order:

I put a recording of my voice on the internet and asked strangers to gender my voice. Most of them said androgynous, leaning a little masculine. One person said I sounded like Q, a computer-generated intentionally genderless voice!

I went to a queer social group, and when it came up in conversation naturally I complained about how hard it is to know when to stop testosterone because I can’t tell how my body and voice are gendered by other people, and a lot of people I see regularly still see me the same way as they saw me pre-T. A couple of people said, “actually, in the past couple of months I have really noticed the effects...” So that was reassuring!

I decided to notice how my pitch works in different situations compared to pre-T. After the queer social group we went down to the river and some people swam, and when they got into the water and it was very cold, some of us cheered supportively - and I tried to woo like the “woo girls”, and my voice just came out at a dude pitch instead...! I apparently can’t be high-pitched at high volumes any more.

I watched a video about gender and voice by someone I’ve met in person. When I met them I noticed that their voice was pretty androgynous, and I enjoyed it and thought about how nice it must be to have a voice that can’t be easily gendered by strangers. When I watched this video last week, in which their voice was exactly the same, I noticed that they sounded like me. That was the moment that I realised my voice was done!

I spoke to my PA about it. I played my pre-T voice to her and her face was A Picture, she could not even. She then said that she has quite a feminine voice, and she suggested we each make a recording of our voices reading a paragraph of the book on the table, and then compare to her partner’s voice in a recording. My voice sounded more like her male partner’s voice than like hers.

I can now speak with a comically low deep resonant voice if I want to, and I can also speak with a high cutesy voice in order to address my cat, provided I am warmed up a bit.

~

HOW DID STOPPING GO?

On the day that I posted the voice file online, when strangers started saying I sounded masculine, I was honestly pretty surprised. In my head strangers in person were still mostly gendering me female, but when I really thought about it people hadn’t actually been gendering me much at all. I think I had been assuming strangers were hearing a woman’s voice because the change had been so gradual that I hadn’t had a moment where I could “update” my own gendering of my voice. I didn’t wake up one day and go “wow I sound like a dude” or whatever, so there was just nothing to update.

So, as soon as there was an indication that I might sound like a man soon, my gut said “NOPE” and I worried a little bit about going too far in the masc direction. If I keep taking T then I will sound more masculine and I might regret it, but if I stop and find that my voice dysphoria could be relieved with a little more testosterone I can start again in a few months, right? So I decided to not take it that day unless I learned/felt something that indicated I should put the gel on, and... I didn’t.

The first couple of days were pretty uneventful. Around day 4 I started to feel really run-down and chronic joint pain from EDS was flaring up, so I cancelled near-future plans. Yesterday was like the worst of my (uterusless) periods, I was in a lot of abdominal and lower back pain and then last night I slept for 11 hours... And today, also typical of my uterusless periods, it feels like a storm has blown over and I feel like a new human.

So what I’ve concluded is, coming off T triggered a very, very bad period.

Also, the past couple of days I have once again been SO GREASY, and I got spots yesterday, which is unusual in itself, but these are striking because they are WEIRDLY HUGE?? One of them is on my jaw and has caused a very noticeable swelling, so I’ve named it Balthazar.

(From “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” S03E12: Nine Days.)

~

WHAT NEXT?

It’s only been a week, so I’m assuming more weirdness is coming, but it’s all going to be ovary-hormone-related silliness so I’m pretty much used to it and I’m not too worried.

I am sad that I will probably slip back towards feminine body fat distribution. I will probably lose some of the weight that testosterone brought with it, but the remaining weight will probably end up on my hips again. I am really not looking forward to dissociating my hips again but I don’t know what I can do about it except have liposuction every few years?! (I will not do that.)

I am also sad that the bad bits of my menstrual cycle will go back to Full Force, and that my EDS symptoms will worsen again.

I am very much looking forward to my body hair getting finer and lighter, and maybe my upper lip hair will fade a bit too. If not I will probably have to get it painfully removed.

I want a metoidioplasty. Unlike many trans guys, I want no testicular prostheses, no vaginectomy, no phalloplasty, no new urethra. The clinicians at Charing Cross are aware that I want to have a metoidioplasty, because I included it in a letter when I wrote to the endo about a blood test, to make sure my surgery needs are documented in my medical records from the earliest date possible. I did that because they have minimum-time requirements for a bunch of diagnoses and referrals (like, two appointments before hormone treatment recommendation), which you can sometimes get around by providing reasonable counter-arguments. One of their requirements for referring for genital surgery is being on testosterone for at least a year where clinically indicated, so since testosterone has done its job now that means I’m not clinically indicated for testosterone any more, and I’m hoping that being on T for only 8 months shouldn’t be an issue. I also found a blog by a trans guy who had a simple metoidioplasty like the one I want, and his blog posts are really helpful and informative and have good quality non-porn photos (so rare omg), and his junk and my junk are extremely similar in size and appearance. (Here are his before and after pics.) So, fingers crossed the docs will consider that I have been on T for long enough and my pudendum is developed enough that surgery is an option.

I’ve written to the endocrinologist to say that I’ve stopped putting on the Tostran gel, and to ask if I still need to have those blood tests I’m meant to be having. I’m due to see him on 1st July anyway, a little over a month from now, and no doubt I will have saved up a list of questions for him!

~

CONCLUSION

Testosterone works.

[thefudge]

lima syndrome || a klonnie fic

klonnie week: day ii. | TROPES

lima syndrome  - def.  the phenomenon in which abductors develop sympathy for their captives, named after the abduction of the Japanese Ambassador's Residence in Lima, Peru in 1996 by members of a terrorist group

(you can also read it on ffnet)

“my grandmother is going to kill you.”

this is what she tells him as he fastens the polyethylene rope around her ankles. 

his fingers linger on her calves, pulling the leg to see if she can get out of the trap. he notes in passing that the flesh is firm and the muscles are strong, stronger than one would expect of a pampered witch princess. 

“let’s not get ahead of ourselves, love.” 

bonnie looks down at him. he might’ve been handsome if his jaw didn’t stick out so much. it’s as if he has a grudge on the world. 

“i don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing, but this valerian root won’t hold long. i’ll get my powers back...”

“and i’ll keep injecting you,” he supplies with a crooked grin. “pity it doesn’t shut you up as well.”

she struggles a little in his grasp, trying to kick him in vain. “you won’t get away with this.”

“that’s what they all say,” he remarks moodily.

she’s surprised to see that he’s taken her to what looks like an airbase. 

“you can’t possibly hope to get me on a plane as your captive.”

klaus - she’s heard his henchmen call him that and she found it oddly upper-crust for a kidnapper - tilts her head up with a brush of his fingers. “only private jets for her highness.”

and indeed, the landing strip is bare except for a gleaming silver beast, the kind high-stakes ambassadors usually fly in. whoever has ordered her capture has ample means. 

“i hope they’re paying you well,” she mutters as he guides her towards the tarpaulin. 

he must admit that she’s acting very level-headed for one so young. she is calm and thoughtful, her panic having receded to a private place in her mind. from time to time she will clench her fingers, as if calling out to her fettered magic, but she’s doing her best not to make a scene. she’s realized there’s no audience except him and his men. and his men are worse than him. 

“you’re a werewolf,” she says, as they fly over the panama channel. 

she’s half-asleep (it’s been two very long days) and her eyes have turned a darker shade of green, like deep pools at the bottom of the ocean. 

“i can sense it, even with my magic low,” she mumbles, cradling her chin in her hand. 

he leans back in his chair and smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “and what do you sense exactly, witch? my impure blood?” 

“yes...” she mutters, eyelids closing against her will. “it smells like oranges...in the sun.”

he’s a little shaken despite his better judgement. he turns towards the window and avoids looking at her again. all these witches are the same - mystical fools with no damn sense in their heads.

an hour later he puts a small pillow under her head. he doesn’t want her breaking her neck, does he?

they land at 3 am in no man’s land and she’s not entirely awake for the business of disembarking and walking over the pebbly ground to the nearby shack where a few men are waiting for them.

so, he has to carry her in his arms. he feels rather foolish at first. he hoists her up firmly over his shoulder, the smell of freesias and sweat invading his senses. but she keeps sliding off his body like a woodland nymph, so he hooks his hand around her shoulders and another under her legs, and carries her like a bride. she doesn’t nestle into his chest. her head falls away from him. he stares at the length of her neck and listens to the throb of her pulse. 

they spend half a day at the dilapidated motel outside the village. to anyone else’s eyes, the building is abandoned. but inside, a small army of men are preparing for a ritual. 

bonnie gradually understands the purpose of her abduction. she can feel the nervous energy in the air pouring down from the amazonian rainforest. they’re only miles away from one of the temples. 

she starts to cry laconically, tears running down her cheeks while her face remains a funeral mask. 

the werewolf crouches down at her level. “you needn’t cry. it will all be over soon.”

“what do you care?” she snaps, and it’s the first time she sounds bitter. 

“i don’t. but tears irk me.”

she spits on his shoes. “you irk me.”

she’s not likening him to oranges in the sun anymore, that’s for sure. he smiles coolly. “it would be rather strange if i didn’t.”

bonnie looks away, disheartened. “you don’t have to do this.”

“ah, another thing they always say.”

it’s hot and sticky in the truck as they drive through the half-submerged jungle. there used to be a city here, many hundreds of years ago. now it’s just vines and sticky leaves and bugs the size of your head. there’s probably bones too, buried under the foliage. 

he hates the jungle. he hates the humidity, the smell, the pressure of it all. his head feels about to explode. 

his men sit on the dumpster bed behind, holding machine guns over their shoulder. it’s mostly for show, in case any unlucky humans crop up in a ten-mile radius. they don’t really need them. their claws would sink into your heart before you had time to blink. 

bonnie sits by his side, forehead leaning against the grimy window. 

klaus hates the stifling silence so he turns on the radio, but the signal is warped in these parts of the forest and all he gets is truncated fragments of a popular ballad. 

bonnie heaves a weary sigh. “it’s my birthday today.”

his hands stiffen on the wheel. “i know.”

she laughs bitterly. “right, it’s gotta be my birthday for the ritual.” 

“well. happy birthday anyway.”

he doesn’t know why he says it.  it’s very daft, given the circumstances. he rubs the back of his neck. he can’t stand the silence, so he presses on. “i don’t know my actual birth day. no one can tell me, as no one can recall with certainty.”

the witch raises her legs to her chest. she’s not tied up anymore seeing as there’s nowhere to run. she scratches the red welt on her arm where he injected her with the next to last dose of valerian. he’s saving the biggest shot for the ritual. 

“your parents probably wanted to forget the day you were born,” she tells him callously. 

“...i suppose i deserve that one.” 

she nods wearily. “you do. you’re a disgrace.”

“a disgrace?” he echoes, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “that’s a bit much.” 

“we’re both servants of the moon and instead of helping me, you’re sending me to my death.” 

he scoffs. “both servants of the moon? no, little witch. you don’t have to chain yourself when the moon calls for you.”

bonnie shrugs. “maybe i do.” 

they don’t speak again for the duration of the ride.

they spend a rainy night in a moldy tent on the side of a precipice where the ground is still relatively warm and dry. 

she protests weakly at first that she should be given her own tent, that she’s not about to make her escape and die in the jungle, but he won’t hear it. he knows her kind is “crafty”.

“crafty?” she explodes with a laugh. “if i was such a wily creature, i’d have found a way to kill you by now.” 

klaus lets her words wash over him like the rain beating down on their tent. 

there is hardly room for two people inside; her proximity is inevitable, but it’s comforting too. he doesn’t know if she feels the same, but it drives away the demons of the jungle. 

he rolls down two sleeping bags.

bonnie watches him with a guarded look. “are you going to sleep too?”

he laughs. “of course not. i’d give you a prime opportunity to kill me, like you said.”

“i doubt i could,” she complains, looking around despondently. “i don’t have my magic. i don’t see any sharp objects around. and i don’t think i’m strong enough to strangle you.”

“oh, don’t give up hope yet,” he teases amiably, which makes her shiver uncomfortably. he removes his jacket. his t-shirt is stuck to his skin, exposing every line of his body. bonnie wonders if he can see her body through her thin dress and even thinner shawl. she folds her arms over her chest. 

“you should rest for tomorrow,” he tells her gently, but it’s rather cruel. 

“yeah, i should get my beauty sleep. i don’t want to look bad on the pyre,” she retorts, holding back a fresh wave of tears. he looks disturbed by her comment but can’t bring himself to offer her any comfort.

they lie down, side by side, on the sleeping bags. bonnie stares up at the dirty canvas. 

“i was going to...open a school for witches,” she says softly, staring at the shadow of an insect on the side of the tent. 

klaus turns slightly towards her. his bare arm accidentally brushes against hers.

“you wanted to teach?”

she nods, wiping her wet eyes quickly. “i wanted to help young girls like myself find their footing.” 

his thumb traces a few freckles on her elbow. she means to move away from his touch. she means to scold him. but she doesn’t, because this is her last night alive and she won’t deny herself this small human gesture. 

“you’d be good at it.”

bonnie scoffs. “you don’t know me. you have no idea what i’d be good at.”

“maybe. but i’m a wolf. i can sense these things.” 

“that’s superstition.”

“really. a witch telling me about superstition.” there’s humor in his voice. she hates that she will probably think of that when the flames engulf her. 

“well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” she bites back, wishing she could hold something to her chest and squeeze it tight.

and somehow, he reads her mind because he pulls her towards him. it’s strange and unexpected - even to him - the way his fingers clench around her waist.

“what are you doing?” she asks quietly as her hands touch his chest tentatively. 

he doesn’t answer at first. he stares into her heart-shaped face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize her features. his hand runs up and down her spine, leaving pleasant tremors in its wake. his eyes, she notes, have globs of amber in them. the sun made liquid. 

“i want you to know, no one’s paying me,” he says at length. 

“what?”

“it’s my mother. she is the one who wants you dead. she wants to absorb your power.”

bonnie’s eyes widen. she clenches her fingers around his t-shirt. “your mother is esther? you’re esther’s son?” 

he nods gruffly, as if ashamed of the legacy. 

bonnie is speechless for a moment. “but she - how -?”

“even the original witch makes mistakes,” he replies bitterly. “my biological father is one.”

she’s overwhelmed by his confession. she doesn’t know how to respond. 

they stare at each other for several long minutes, pondering on each other’s strange fate.

“what do you get out of this, then?” she asks quietly. 

“she’s my mother, bonnie.”

her name on his tongue has a strange effect on both of them. he closes the gap between them and kisses her on the lips, without permission or apology. he cradles her cheek and kisses her like she was always his for the kissing. but it doesn’t feel proprietary. it feels like he’s been waiting to do it for a long time. it’s funny to think a few days ago she didn’t know his name. 

she sighs into his mouth as he removes the shawl from her shoulders. 

they kiss for a small eternity, glued to each other by sweat and exhaustion. he doesn’t disrobe her any further, he only touches her body furtively, skimming small islands of bare skin before coming back to her face. he loves touching her face. if you follow her features closely, they’re rudely asymmetrical, but still beautiful, all the same. he’d like to draw them. 

she strokes the back of his neck as he bends down to kiss her lips again and again. 

his fingers brush against her knees, parting them slowly. his knuckles caress the inside of her thigh making her heart jump in her throat. but she whispers into his neck. “no. not like this.” 

and he understands. he removes himself from her.

they fall back, side by side, staring at the canvas, their shoulders touching. 

“i’d like to...” she says nervously. “someday. after you’ve taken me away from this place and bought me dinner. maybe.” 

klaus laughs and it sounds innocent and boyish for once. “you’re wasting your breath, witch. i’m not taking you away. i can’t.”

“i know,” she mumbles, closing her eyes. “but a girl can dream.” 

a girl dreams. and in this dreams she burns like a bundle of hay, like a handful of branches. the werewolf kneels by her pyre and weeps. everything tastes like ashes.

but bad dreams eventually melt with the coming of the sun.

he injects his mother with an almost lethal dose of valerian as she comes towards him to embrace him. her smile is greedy. her eyes glint with a murderous need. he doesn’t feel too bad about sticking the needle in her. he knows she won’t outright die. her powers will be weakened beyond conscious state and she’ll fall into a deep coma. she’ll wake up in the middle of the jungle. and maybe she’ll survive. 

his men listen to him as he’s their alpha. some of them defect because they don’t like the sudden change of plan. they’re old creatures, wary of novelty and all things young. klaus lets them go without killing them. all he wants right now is to get out of the jungle. 

bonnie drives the truck haphazardly across the wet trails, glancing from time to time at the werewolf. he doesn’t seem capable to do much else anymore. but that’s fine. he did his part. now, she’s the one taking them away. 

sheila bennett doesn’t understand why her granddaughter smells like oranges every night she comes home. 

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Shifted➣Halloween Mace

Written by: OooOooPartyGirl

[ALSO, TRIGGER WARNING]

It was storming.

    Of course it was. I bet mother nature was having a good laugh watching all the small kids run from door to door in the pouring rain unaffected by the weather if it meant getting even a small dose of the God sent thing we call candy. And of course here I am, a 31 year old woman settling in the nook of my window sill having just arrived at my house after a long day at work praying that the lack of light emitted from my house will drive the little buggers away from my door and in turn away from me. Call me bitter, but conversing with children? Not necessarily my forte.

    Whack

    I turned my head quickly to the bedroom door only to see a draft had caused it to close abruptly. I huffed a breath, annoyed at myself for being this overly scared on halloween and turned back to the window to continue my admittedly creepy, stalkerish observations of the community's behavior on this supposedly 'spooky' night. Although once my vision to the outside was completely restored, something caught my eye that had only become visible in the mere seconds it took me to look to the door and back. I wouldn't have thought much of it, it was just an owl after all, but the only owls I've ever seen have been brown with amber or yellow eyes. This owl, however, had vivid green eyes and was, red? But that wasn't even the weirdest part, the thing was staring right at me with those enticing eyes and its head was cocked slightly, as if it was observing my observation; Actually never mind that last part, it makes my brain hurt just thinking about it. After a weird staring contest that honestly could have lasted anywhere from 10 seconds to an hour, my body decided that my eyes were too dry and I needed to blink. But as I oddly enough expected, when I reopened my obnoxiously needy eyes, it was gone. I got up stiffly from my position on the window sill and made my way through the darkness downstairs deciding that a drink could do more good than bad at this point, before I headed back up to bed.

    The next few days were uneventful. I got up, got ready, went to my boring ass job as a barista at a local coffee shop, went home, went to sleep and started everything all over again. What can I say? Times are rough. After I broke up with that selfish Hannah bitch a year and a half ago, I was left with nothing. She took my house, my car, my job, even my dog for Christ sake. I've had to start all over. I packed up with the little money I had left, and headed off from LA to the great white north. Canada is really as great as they say it is, sure it gets a little chilly especially in Vancouver where I live now, but other than that, it's perfect. They have the best accents, the best coffee, the best Timbits? Whatever those are, and of course the beautiful thing called poutine. I got up from bed and got ready with low expectations for the day. Once I arrived at Colleen's Corner which is the coffee shop I work at, I made my way inside only to be greeted by my favourite co-worker, Aubree.

    "Hey Gracie, how've you been? It's been too long grasshopper, too long indeed." She mutered in what I assumed to be a completely failed Chinese accent as she bowed.

    "Aubree, I'm fine thanks for asking and incase you were unaware, I literally saw you yesterday, and are you ever going to give up the grasshopper thing? I've been working here for a over a year, you're hardly my master dragon anymore."

    "Excuse me!" She fake gasped and clutched her chest as if she was truly hurt by my words, "I could not foresee your betrayal, oh grasshopper how you hurt me so" She removed her hand from her heart and brought the back of it to her forehead dramatically.

   "Bree, really?" I bit lip trying hard not to laugh and encourage her juvenile behavior. "Just stop calling me grasshopper, it's simple really, no need to make a big deal over it."

    "Can I call you grassy?"

    "No."

    "Hopper?"

    "No."

    "Hoppy?"

    "Bree, I'm warning you. If you don't stop, I will have no choice but to make out with you right here, right now." I said calmly while crossing my arms, knowing the lesbian card always worked with her.

    "Eww. Get those lesbian hands away from me," She joked, "you know as well as I do I'm as straight as... As, a-, uh.. As.... A branch!" She nearly shouted proudly.

    "Really Bree? A branch? Branches aren't always straight you know, a better expression is pole, you're as straight as a pole."

    "Right, you heard branch? Turn your hearing aids up Hoppy, I definitely said pole."

    "I gave you fair warning Bree, remember that." I said with a smirk, inching my way towards her.

     "Wait! Gracie, Gracie bear, please," She raised her hands in defence and started backing away. "Think about what you're doing Grace, I'm too young to die!"

    "Well no one said anything about death Aubree, now come back here before I-" I was cut off by someone clearing their throat behind me, and judging by the largely decreased severity of Aubree's terrified expression, I knew exactly who it was.

    "Why good morning Grace, if you're done harassing poor Aubree here, I would like you to actually do your job." My boss said in her I-mean-business voice.

    "Aw come on Col," I tried, "let a girl have some fun will you?" I turned to face the infamous Colleen Ballinger, boss lady extraordinaire.

    "No! Uh, I mean, no, boss it's alright, me and Grace will, uh, do work things. Actually I think I heard someone call me to the kitchen so Grace can work the till and the tables today. Great, nice chat, bye!" Aubree bolted to the back room, not sparing a second for me or Colleen to compromise her escape plan.

    "You know what? I'm not even going to ask." Colleen said shaking her head with a breathy laugh. "Just do what she said and work the till for today Helbig, who knows, maybe you'll find a lucky lady and stop having to torture my employees huh?"

    "Yeah whatever boss, just go back to your office and pretend to work why dontcha." I winked and scurried off only half as fast as Aubree, trying to get away before Colleen could come up with a comeback.

    The rest of the day went pretty slow. I guess it takes a few days for everyone to run out of the caffeine and sugar they got on halloween and need to come here to get their fix. Colleen decided in retaliation for my 'rude' remark earlier, I had to close up shop for the night. Aubree had to leave along with all the other employee's for a variety of reasons and Colleen was long gone, perks of being the owner I guess. So I was left sadly all alone to clean up, count up and close up. I finished cleaning and counting the profit for today without much trouble, and headed to the back room to grab the keys to lock up. I grabbed the keys and was headed back to the front when I heard a loud crash, like glass breaking. With a rushed and sloppily thought through, thought process, I made the decision to check out what was happening, and if it was a robber like I thought, I would totally be able to chase them off (note the sarcasm). I ran to the front of the store and as expected there was a severe draft coming from the lack of a front window and a maybe 250 pound, muscular man dressed in all black climbing in through it. He was a little busy trying to break in to notice me, so I thought I would sign my death wish and call out to him.

    "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" I shouted, praying he wouldn't hear the shakiness in my voice. He looked up at me quickly, maybe slightly scared, until he saw a petrified tiny 130 pound girl, then he laughed.

    "Aw, baby you almost had me worried for a minute there" He said in a cliche gruff and scary voice, as he finished climbing through the window and started making his way towards the oh-so-mortified me, giving me a lustful once over.

    "Mister, I- I call-, I called t-the police." I stuttered out while walking backwards and unfortunately, right into a wall. "Y-you better leave. P-please, please l-leave." My voice shook so bad I was unsure if he could even understand me. He laughed again and I lowered my head trying not to show the embarrassing tears that conveyed just how terrified I really was.

    "Aw that's cute honey" His voice held malice and humor. "But unfortunately" he grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes to level his. "I don't believe you." I whimpered and he laughed again, his breath was alcohol ridden and nearly as harsh as his words. "How 'bout this beautiful" he pulled away slightly, so he could get a full face of horror when he spat his next statement. "If you make this easy for me, and show me where the money is," He paused, and leaned in to whisper the words in my ear with an evil smirk plastered on his face "I'll fuck you after I kill you." I whimpered louder this time and cried harder until there were no singular tears, just streams of moisture running from my eyes.

    "No! M-mister, please-!" I was cut off by rough lips on my own, immediately seeking entrance into my mouth which I would never willingly grant. He laughed once again when I struggled against him.

    "No? Fine then babe, I wanted to hear your screams anyways" He grinned wider and he looked down, watching his hand as it felt it's way to my upper thigh under my work uniform's skirt. He put the other calloused hand over my mouth to stop me from crying out and used his body weight to keep me pinned the wall. I thrashed around nonetheless and in a desperate effort to stop his advances, I bit his hand as hard as I could, until I felt the warm metallic taste of blood pool in my mouth, and as soon as he instinctively retracted his hand, I screamed as loud as I possibly could, trying to get the attention of anyone that could be near by. All too soon, his hand returned to my face forcefully and he breathed a laugh, his anger overcoming his lust, he raised his uninjured hand "You'll pay for that bitch!" I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact, but it never came. It was silent for a second and I was to afraid to move. Then there was a whimper. Wait, a whimper? It didn't come from me. My curiosity won over my fear and I opened my eyes. Can fear cause you to hallucinate? It must because what I saw was impossible. Directly in front of me, there was the man who tried to rob the place, with his hands grasping the furry red one wrapped around his neck. Yes I did say furry. There, in this little hole-in-the-wall cafe was a monkey? I don't remember getting hit in the head. The monkey growled and threw the now terrified thief back through the window he came from, landing with a sickly thump. I stared at the man for awhile, noticing the small and irregular movements from his bloodied chest. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon so I slowly turned to face the beast who saved my life. When my eyes met those of the animal however, it was an animal no longer. There, staring at me completely naked and slightly flustered, was a crimson haired goddess with green eyes that were all too familiar. Before either of us got the chance to speak, I noticed a wince as her head shape changed slightly.

   "Uh, hi there." she said looking nervous. I just stared. This beautiful woman was completely naked in front of me, just saved my life, and had just changed from a monkey to a human. "Um, I understand you have a lot of questions right now, but, um, could I get some clothes first please?"

   "Uh." Apparently my vocabulary has become that of a 4 year old in the presence of this woman. Great. She giggled hotly noticing she had no reason to be afraid and snapped to get my attention. "Um, uh, yea-, yeah sure, you can come to my place." My face turned as red as her hair when I realized what I said. "Oh! Wait, sorry I just meant-" I was cut off by another giggle and well manicured hands waving me off.

    "Don't worry about it princess, I get it, no clothes here right? It's okay, I am beyond appreciative for your kindness and hospitality, and I would be even more so if you took me to your home" She spoke so precisely and surely, it was as if she had memorized this encounters dialogue before it even happened.

     "Oh, uh yes, yes of course miss, you did just save my life after all. Can I ask you one question before we head out though?" I asked.

    "Well I believe that in itself was a question, wouldn't you agree?" I hesitated, working out in my brain if she was correct. "Don't think about it too hard princess," She laughed at her own joke "I'll be nice and grant you 2 further questions before we leave."

    "Oh, okay. Are you a shapeshifter?" Yes people, I watch tv, I know the only supernatural creature -unless there is a Pagan God I'm unaware of- that can change to a monkey, is a shapeshifter.

    "Yes" She shrugged, like this wasn't a massive revelation in my naive human life. "You've got one more question there gorgeous, make it a good one." I silently cursed the woman for her blush worthy terms of endearment.

    "Why a monkey?"

    "What?"

    "Why would you shift into a monkey?" She laughed again at that and shook her head.

    "Out of all the questions you could have asked, this is the one you choose?" She held a grin though her face grew curious.

    "Yes." Hey, if she was aloud one word answers so was I.

    "Alrighty then." She sighed and readjusted her position to cover more of her body; I guess the answer was more complicated than I assumed and she didn't want to have to explain it twice with me staring at her body this whole time. Smart. "First of all, I would like to point out the animal I shifted to was an ape, specifically a chimpanzee, not a monkey." I rolled my eyes in hopes that she'd let my common misconception slide and return to her explanation, which she thankfully did. "Anyways, the main reason I chose a chimp, is its similarities to humans. Something you probably don't understand about shifting, is that it hurts, like big time. When we shift, we actually experience the bones, muscle, and tissue moving and breaking and realigning. For instance when I turn into an owl, for example," This caught my attention particularly, I narrowed my eyes at her knowingly but she just smirked, cleared her throat, and carried on. "Owls are pretty hard on me, they share very little in physical appearance and structure, with humans. The hardest part of that transition is the hollowing of bones, I'm used to bones breaking by now, but having the marrow and God knows what else, sucked out of them? Stings like a bitch. So when in a pinch, I usually go chimp mode because not much changes, yet I come out more intimidating, shocking and a lot stronger."

    "Wow, okay so why were you at my house on halloween?" I asked surprisingly calmly. For some reason even though this whole situation scared the hell out of me, I felt I could trust this woman, and not only because she just saved my life.

    "Aw too bad princess," She pouted her bottom lip with mock sympathy. "you ran out of questions." She laughed at my rejected expression. "Come on beautiful, we have a home to get to and clothes to find." She spun on her heel and walked out the door causing the little bell to ring and bring me out of my slight daze, she turned around to meet my eyes again but came out unsuccessful as my eyes selfishly trailed over her unclothed body. "The name's Mamrie by the way and if you're done checking me out, I would really appreciate to get going." I blushed madly at her words and tried my very hardest to avert my eyes from her completely.

   "Uh, right. I'm Grace." I walked through the door past Mamrie towards my car ignoring the snickering coming from the only person behind me.

    "Grace." She tried. "I like it. Can I know your last name?"

    "Helbig." I answered, not really wanting a conversation about me, she was the shapeshifter after all.

    "Grace Hell-big? You realize how easy that is to make fun of right?"

     "No, no one's ever made fun of it before" The only nickname I ever got was grasshopper from Aubree, not even Hannah could come up with something the 2 years we were together.

    "Ou this should be fun." She took a second to stroke her fake beard. "I'm thinking... Smellbig, that's my favourite. It's your new nickname."

    "Whatever Mametown." I grinned at my own wit as we arrived at my car. "Just get in so we can go home."

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    "Welcome to my humble abode." I said to Mamrie as she walked through the door to my house. I was careful not to touch her in any way in fear of touching something I might regret not regretting.

    "Humble indeed." Mamrie tried to cover with a cough, but gave her insult away with a telling grin

    "Oh? And what is that suppose to mean Mames?" I smiled faux sweetly.

    "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about it princess" She giggled while messing my hair, giving me a view I would not soon forget.

     "How 'bout we get you those clothes." I turned and rushed up the stairs trying to clear my mind of the too highly inappropriate thoughts to be having about a girl you've known less than a day. I assumed Mamrie had followed me to my room by the giggling that followed me all the way there. "Just pick whatever you want from inside the closet." I gestured to the wardrobe's door I had just opened for her.

    "I'm sorry to disappoint smellbig, but I'm already out of the closet" She laughed and entered the room not waiting for me to regain my composure she had ruined by her words. She is gay? Does that mean she likes me? I mean I get that just because she's a lesbian doesn't necessarily mean she is attracted to me, but I'm a wishful thinker. Sue me. Mamrie came out of my closet sporting an American flag onesie and a wicked grin.

    "What is it?" I questioned her newfound cheery attitude.

    "I found something." She giggled and I realized her hands were suspiciously behind her back. Oh shit.

    "And what would that be?" I questioned again unsuccessfully hiding my fear. She moved her hands in front of her to reveal red lingerie panties with the phrase 'all about the bass' written across the ass. I sighed in relief that she had not found items for more lonely nights, if you know what I mean.

    "Is that relief I see?" Mamrie asked with a smirk.

    "No." I answered shortly hoping she'd drop it.

    "I think it is, should I go back in and keep looking?" She started towards the door.

    "No!"

    "Come on let's have a look."

    "Mamrie, No."

    "Grace, yes." She mocked. I needed to think of something to stop her quick. I got up from the bed and yanked her arm around to face me. We both stood there for a moment registering my actions before I  grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into me, smashing her lips on to mine. I committed to the kiss, immediately enjoying the warm and soft texture her lips had. She took another second before tilting her head and smiling into my lips biting the lower one softly forcing me to try and suppress a moan. We both pulled away and smiled at one another for a second before Mamrie turned and headed towards the door to my room.

    "Where are you going?" I asked, wondering why she hadn't said anything about my oral assault. She didn't answer. She opened the door and headed down the stairs. "Mamrie?" She still didn't answer she just continued to the front door and opened it. "Mamrie! Please just-, just wait, please." She stopped and turned around; surprisingly her face held a huge grin.

    "Can I stay here the night?" She tilted her head in a questioning manner. She was really confusing me, I thought she was upset with me, now she wanted to stay the night? Though who was I kidding, there was no way I was going to deny her.

    "Sure?" I said as a question, hoping she would explain, but she did no such thing and shrugged already on her way back up to my room. After a moment of consideration, I decided to just go with it and see what she wanted to tell me. I opened my door to see Mamrie already in my bed laying on her back with her hands clasped behind her head. I groaned at the odd situation and changed into my pajamas before climbing in beside her and mirroring her position. "There is a spare room if you wanted that." She shook her head, her face still held a grin I couldn't understand. Finally she turned to face me.

    "You have 2 more questions princess." She turned back and stared at the ceiling. Though this whole 2 questions thing was new to me, I already had 2 questions in mind.

    "Why were you at my house on Halloween?"

    "Because I saw you running into your house when I was flying by, for reasons I may never understand, you peaked my interest. I found your observing behavior odd, but refreshing. I haven't met many people who have that type of introvertedness that they want to watch, but not to be seen." Wow, this woman has super powers, is beyond beautiful, confident, and is suddenly so insightful?

    "Oh, okay." I replied lamely, honestly I was too busy thinking if my next question was the one I really needed to ask right now.

    "Go on princess." She encouraged. I took a deep breath.

    "I guess this might be considered 2 questions but, if you liked the kiss," I studied her reaction, but she had none. "Would you, uh-, do it again?" I looked away in an attempt to save myself from her possible negative answer, but it didn't last long as Mamrie grabbed my chin and stared into my eyes with a still unreadable expression. She leaned in slowly and tilted her head, her lips meeting mine much softer and gentler than the last time. When she pulled away she wore her infamous grin.

    "Did that answer your question?"

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      When I woke up in bed the next morning, I was almost confused why there was no one next to me, but then I remembered the inexplicably realistic dream I had last night and understood. I got ready like any other day and headed off to Colleen's Corner. I met Aubree at the door and hugged her.

    "Aw Grace! It's been too long gra-, uh, girl." She greeted with an award winning smile.

    "Bree knock it off, don't make greeting me like this a habit." I walked with Aubree to the back and grabbed my apron.

    "Yeah, yeah whatever. Hey sorry about ditching you yesterday, had to pick up a drunk little gay man."

    "Tyler?" I knew the answer but thought I would ask regardless.

    "Tyler." She confirmed. "Also you're bussing today so enjoy." She winked and walked back to the kitchen to probably do nothing but flirt with the chef, Chester. I grabbed my cloth and cleaner and headed out to the front to start a long day of cleaning. I made it to the front of the store to clean the windows, when I noticed that the main front window was spotless. No one had cleaned the windows in weeks and I'm pretty sure I saw a maple syrup stain on it just yesterday. I was so focused on the window, that I nearly failed to note the unforgettable green eyes of the red owl that landed on a light post outside. It took me nearly a full minute to understand what was happening, and when I did, the owl was already taking off. I watched it lift smoothly from the post with wide eyes and as it flew by. And just before it was completely out of sight, I could almost swear the damn thing winked at me.