#the different faces and distinct body types are going to be LOST

[no1ryomafan]

Have enough mecha on my plate to watch and can’t keep up with weekly shit so I plan to watch grendizer u when it finishes airing which would be relatively soon now that I think about but there’s like one thing about it that’s not entirely related that’s been on my mind, that being the art style.

Now it’s not a bad art style by any means especially when it’s the Eva artist doing it-and yes have your opinions about that show, but his art style is undeniably good and it got better post Eva with this show proving that-and I think they translated the characters nicely, like Duke very different very twinked LOL but he could look way less then himself but you can still tell it’s Duke. (And Sayaka with purple hair weirdly works)

But this and infinity just shows mazinger likely going to have a more modern art style and possibly if we’re lucky enough to get non mazinger stuff, all dynapro mecha adaptions to come after are likely gonna be in a modern art style and I’m just thinking to myself: if we somehow get another getter anime we have to live with the fact the last show to have getter’s original art style was arc and I don’t hate arc but MAN I hate how instead of them trying to refine the art style by actually giving them budget their just likely gonna change what made getter getter.

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part six

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, blood, and death

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.3k

You had to get out of there.

Tremors shook the ground as another shell made impact somewhere far to your right but it was close enough that the explosion left your ears ringing. You flattened your back further against the fallen wall behind you when you heard the unmistakeable sound of gunfire, the rubble that cut into your skin barely registered in your mind from the adrenaline that rushed through you. But the cacophony of noise amalgamated into something continuous, something malevolent and cruel; something that promised death in its wake. 

Bullets embedded themselves in a column, a wall, a body–everywhere–and fine pieces of debris flew and pelted against the exposed skin of your cheeks and against your helmet. Your eyes watered from the fine powder of pulverised cement and the oppressive heat, while your lungs were smothered by smoke and a choking stench–something like freshly-laid asphalt mixed with the distinct, rancid smell of burnt human flesh, sulphuric and sharp. 

Through lidded eyes you witnessed the depravity; the extent of humanity’s appetite for senseless destruction and anarchy. It was total chaos–no, it was worse than that: it was butchery and brutality at its finest; a type of hell on earth.

All around you were bodies upon bodies, men and women alike–children. Their faces, frozen and pallid, permanently bore imprints of terror and agony; their crooked fingers and still eyes fixated to the sky imploring in violent judgment–resentful and anguished in their silence–the unspoken question: 

Why?

Why? 

Why?

Everything overwhelmed you all at once: the sight and the smell made your stomach churn to no end. Even when you heaved the remnants of your stomach to the ground, the nausea remained, pulsing and gnawing.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you brought your camera to your eye and you willed the shaking in your bones to still. 

You took a shot. 

Another round of bullets splattered to a nearby wall and this time, you threw yourself front-first to the ground and you felt the rhythm of your heart reverberating against the mud. And a sinking feeling hit you. You’d bore witness to many conflicts, faced mortal peril, and was familiar to death like it was an old friend. Each time you were in such a situation, hopelessness never got the better of you–it was like you’d always known you were going to make it out each time. 

This time it was different, you could feel it in your bones. You were going to die here and it wasn’t a matter of if, just when and how. 

But you had a job. If you were going to die, you would die being the mouthpiece for the ones who’d already been silenced–from their premature deaths or from the hand of the power meant to protect them or both–to show the world what they’d suffered, what they’d sacrificed.

With that in mind, you steeled yourself. You loaded your camera with another ring of film, fingers stiff from the cold and marred by blood and mud, and you captured the scene.

Repeat.

There were people screaming, running, clamouring for survival. As you moved with them, you kept an eye out for other survivors who needed help to get out of there. You scanned the faces for the familiar ones of Jones and Gilda but they were nowhere to be seen. You’d lost track of them after the initial explosion and the chaos that followed so the only thing you could do now was to look for them as you went and hope for their safety. 

Meter by meter, inch by inch, you moved slowly away from the direction of gunfire. You were farther ahead now but the gunners were still dangerously close, still close enough to be able to catch up to where you were if they continued their pursuit, so you remained crouched and cautious for any sound that could indicate danger. 

When you came across the rubble of a fallen building–freshly destroyed by artillery from the smoke that came from it–you heard a whimper. It startled you; the softness of the sound barely pierced through the ringing in your ear but when you peered under a slab of concrete braced by a rugged beam, you caught sight of a scene that shattered what was left of your heart.

In the shadows, big eyes that you could not mistaken belonged to a child shone with terror, a little girl that looked no more than ten years of age, her mouth partly open in fear. You could discern another person next to the child but they weren’t moving at all and from the blood smeared on the girl’s cheek, you had a sinking feeling that the other person was dead. 

Gunfire echoed somewhere behind you and you flinched at its closeness. How did they get so close so fast? You needed to get the both of you out of there. If you could save this child’s life then maybe, just maybe, your life was worth something after all. 

You raised both of your hands up and spoke gently, hoping the little girl would be able to understand that you were there to help as you stooped to fit through the gap. The child hesitated and receded further back into the rubble so you tried again as you inched closer to where the other person laid unresponsive, patient despite the ever-closing sound of shots being fired. 

You reached the other person–a woman–and when you placed two fingers against her pulsepoint and found no rhythm, you bit your quivering lip and looked at the child, chest heavy. And as if the little girl finally understood that you meant no harm, she inched towards you and placed her small hand in your open one. With a firm yet gentle grip on the girl, you guided the both of you out of the rubble.

Once outside, you carried the little girl behind a wall, heart breaking when you felt her shiver and at the fact that it took little effort carry to her for she weighed so little. And now with light and cover, you inspected the little girl.

To your relief, other than the trail of flaking blood that originated from the crown of her head and on her cheeks, the little girl looked like she didn’t sustain any other physical injuries. Satisfied for the time being you began to tend to her, gave her water and what little food you had on you, and then wiped away the blood.

After she finished, you detached the velcro of your bulletproof vest and unbuckled your helmet before you put them on the little girl. Then you hoisted the girl up on your back, leaving your camera dangling heavily on your chest.

You managed to sneak across the district without being noticed but you knew the danger was never far away. A little farther on, you began to recognise key landmarks that let you know you were close to the base you came from. So even when the muscles in your legs protested for you to rest, you pushed on.  

Not a moment later though did loud shots fill the air and immediately, you fell to the ground, feeling fine rubble and shrapnels cut into the side you landed on as you manoeuvred your body so that the child wouldn’t get hurt. The little girl cried out and adrenaline coursed through your veins, instinct driving you to keep the child safe so you pushed the two of you against a nearby wall, your back to the open space while you shielded the child with your body, her head safely caged between your arms and chest.

You craned your head over your shoulders to figure out where the shots were fired but then a feeling of lightness passed through you followed by a growing thickness at the back of your throat. You coughed, the force of it made you keel forward, and as you looked down you saw fresh blood splattered on the face of the girl, her eyes wide with horror as she looked up at you.

Then you felt it, a burning sensation that enveloped the entirety of your right side which left you cold. When you looked to your side your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with blood.

No. 

You sputtered again and you tried to breathe but the pain only intensified and instead of feeling relief, the act smothered you–it felt like you were drowning. Then everything began to blend together: the shapes lost their edges and some images doubled, but the light seemed to intensify on its own, swallowing all in its wake. Then you sagged forward and the ringing in you ears, too, blared unceasingly.

No.

You must… 

The child… 

Wait. 

Alexia–

“–are you okay?”

You started as Derek’s voice brought you from your reverie, your mind someplace else that you’d already forgotten but the feeling that you were missing something important lingered behind in the back of your mind.

“Huh?” 

“Honey, your brother’s been trying to get your attention for the past minute. Are you alright?” The familiar voice of your mom brought your focus to her. She sat at the head of the long table while Derek opposite you, and you found twin pairs of blue eyes looking at you with concern. Your mom stood, chair scraping against the tiled floor as she did and she made her way towards you. She put a palm over your forehead once she was close enough before she asked, “do you have a fever?”

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m just��” You began but suddenly, a wave of exhaustion came over you which left you cold. It was as if a sheet of ice was put over you and you felt the coldness cling to your bones, weighing you down as your body slowly began to freeze over. “I’m–I’m just tired. I think I’ll rest up now.” 

When you moved to stand, staggering slightly due to the weakness in your knees, Derek snatched your hands and clung to them, and you looked at him in alarm, eyes wide.

“Please, don’t. Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth, the corners of his mouth drooped low in a pained grimace, blue eyes glazed over and brows furrowed in a silent plea. 

His obsecration confused you and you were about to ask him why you shouldn’t rest if you felt tired when your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip gentle yet firm. You turned to her and when you found her gaze, she wore the same expression as your brother. 

“You’re brother’s right, honey. Just–please, just stay with us for a bit more.” 

What was going on? Why weren’t they letting you go?

Another wave of fatigue doused over you but this time, pain erupted from your chest. So intense was it that it nearly made you keel over the table, nails digging into its hard surface as you tried to catch your breath but with each inhale the more it felt like you were running out of air.

“I’ll–I’ll join you in a bit. I just… I just need a nap.” You staggered to your feet, pulling your hands away from Derek’s grip with the remaining strength you had and brushed off your mom’s protest.

As you passed the full-body mirror just beside your bedroom door, you saw your reflection, haggard and pale, and with her were the familiar silhouettes of the people that haunted you… your mother and father. They stood there behind you–your mother to your right and your father to the left–but you only found an empty space where they stood when you whipped your head back to look for them.

So there you stood, rooted in front of the mirror as you soaked their images in but for some reason, your couldn’t quite discern their faces. They were blurred; it was as if someone had swiped their thumb over the freshly laid ink of their image and made their features indecipherable. 

Longing prompted you to reach out a hand to try and trace the lost edges of their faces but instead of meeting the mirror’s smooth surface like you expected, your fingers sank into the mirror like it was made of water. Quickly, in fear that it would hurt you, you retracted your hand and you watched in awe as the mirror image went still again, back to the reflection of yourself and your parents.

Then out of curiosity you plunged your hand again into the mirror and instead of feeling pain, you felt… nothing. The sensations in your hand in the mirror stopped as if it had ceased to exist completely. 

Would it soothe then the pain in your body if you stepped into it?

The thought tempted you and you stepped forward, ready to sink into this silver miracle, but something stopped you–a weight on your shoulder pulled you back from the mirror. You staggered backwards, caught off guard from the force of it, but when you looked back you found nobody however this time, when you returned your attention to the mirror, the reflection of your parents was gone. 

Emotions bubbled in your throat, bitter grief and burning confusion a familiar taste on your tongue. Where did they go? Why did they leave you? And as these questions filtered through your mind, another wave of exhaustion doused over you, its weight was unbearable. You needed relief, and soon.

You were ready to step into the mirror–into oblivion–but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, everywhere you looked there was nothing, just negative space as if the light had dissolved all existence but you. You looked down and you saw your reflection on the still water you were apparently standing on. 

It was so still, so peaceful, and you feel so heavy. It would be easy to just sink into this blissful nothingness–this silence–after… that’s right, after having witnessed the revolting boil of humanity’s thirst for blood. Yes, that was it, the reason you were here: you were here to forget. 

The longer you stared into the water, the more your will to remain standing frayed. 

Not a moment later, you let yourself be plunged downwards into the cold water. Into nothingness. 

You woke with a start, breathing sharply as you did, the sensation of falling still with you and the memory of the dream you just had lingered. It was about… what was it?

When you opened your eyes, you found golden light and you squinted at the stream of the early sun that found its way through the gap between the heavy curtains. Your cheek was warm against Alexia’s bare back and you relished the way her muscles shifted beneath her skin as she breathed, still deep asleep. 

With her so close like this a sense of peace and calm washed over you, the kind that only Alexia’s presence could provide. You turned your head slightly and shifted closer to her, pressing a soft kiss on one of her shoulder blades before you nuzzled the nape of her neck where her scent was most prominent.

You sighed as you breathed her in.

“What are you up to back there?” Alexia’s voice, rough and heavy from slumber, met your ears and the question elicited a small laugh from you.

“Nothing. Just getting comfortable.”

Alexia hummed then she murmured, “come here.”

You moved as she began to turn and disappointment filled you from the separation but when she pulled you into her embrace after she settled on her back, the disappointment quickly faded away. And when she kissed you, soft and languid, everything melted away except for the tender warmth of Alexia’s lips.

You were content.

Suddenly, a gnawing feeling seeped into the edges of your mind and, little by little by little, apprehension filled you. There was something you’d forgotten, somewhere you needed to be.

You pulled away from Alexia’s lips. “What time is it?”

“Don’t go.”

Her answer jarred you. You lifted yourself up on your elbow and considered Alexia, confused as to why she would say such a thing. She knew you had to go. How could you not go? Where else could you possibly be? So you asked her as much.

“No, you don’t have to. Please.” Alexia placed a hand on your cheek, her eyes glassy. You sighed, turned your cheek away from her touch, and extricated yourself from her warm embrace. You stood at the foot of the bed and regarded Alexia again who was now sitting up, the sheets pooled around her waist, her chest bare, shoulders hunched forward as she looked at you. You only shook your head before you went into the en suite bathroom to get ready.

Once you got in the shower you, unsurprisingly, thought of Alexia and your confusion returned twofold. Why was she making this difficult? She knew you had to go. You already told her… 

At that thought, you frowned as you tried to remember. When did you tell her? Why did you need to leave? The questions were beginning to make your head hurt so you left the shower, wrapped yourself in a towel and headed to the closet. In there, you found your stack of simple white clothes. You picked a white shirt and a matching pair of jeans and you made your way to the bedroom door. 

As you passed by the bed, you saw Alexia just as you left her and from where you stood, you saw how small she looked. And those eyes… they shone with something you could only name as plea, the tears in them now in danger of falling. 

Your chest ached and so did your head. 

You shook your head and made your way to Alexia, pressed an apologetic kiss against her temples, then you moved to the door.

You opened it and an abyss greeted you, a world of no outlines, shape nor colour, just a brilliant white that called to you. Its pull was magnetic, like a tide that wanted to sweep you away, but there was something keeping you in place, an invisible tether and it was anchored to the woman sitting in your bed.

“Please, don’t go.”

You had one foot out of the door when Alexia spoke with such gentleness you couldn’t do anything but look over your shoulder. The sight of her crying made the pounding in your temples unbearable and the pain in your chest blazed anew, excruciating and cruel. The world blurred and warmth slipped down your cheeks. 

Why were you crying? Why was this difficult? You had to leave, you were about to miss something important.

“Alexia, why?” You sobbed, clutching your chest. It hurt.

She was out of the bed now, right beside you, and she reached out and cupped your face with one hand, the other went to your hand on the door handle. Her touch that used to soothe you, that used to bring you peace and clam, sent pain to every nerve in your body. You gasped, your chest was in danger of bursting and your knees lost their strength. And then you remembered why you needed to leave: you needed this pain to disappear; you had to get better.

Finally, your knees buckled under your weight but Alexia was there to catch you, her body strong and firm, and oh, so warm.

“Alexia, please let me go,” you sobbed into her arms. 

Everything hurt. But she held you, unyielding.

“Stay. Please, stay with me,” she whispered in your ear and the words were followed by another wave of pain. This time, you screamed in agony and clawed at Alexia’s shoulders to get yourself away but still, she didn’t budge.

“I got you. I got you. I got you,” she repeated as every nerve in your body screamed at you. Everything coalesced into a singular, never-ending noise but Alexia’s voice pierced through the veil like a silver lining, a life line that you held onto as you were washed away into an ocean of light.

[inlovewithpandora]

- Something New || Part One -

Pairing: Jake x fem! human/avatar!reader x Neytiri

Synopsis: When you and Jake go on your first expedition in the rainforest it takes a turn…

Content/Warnings: no warnings really, strong language, Jake lowkey being in his silly goofy mood, Jake & y/n getting chased (and captured), mention of Neytiri

Author’s Note: I’m so excited to start this series, I hope you all enjoy this part as much as I did!

- please excuse any mistakes!

Word Count: 2k

Glossary: Eywa'eveng - Eywa Child (what Na’vi call Pandora) || Palulukan - Thanator || Atokirina - Woodsprite || Uniltìrantokx - Dreamwalker || pa'li - Direhorse || Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader || Tsahìk - spiritual leader

- All Na’vi words used are bolded (I used more Na’vi words than usual for some reason😭)

Extra: requests are open! Please read rules prior to requesting!

Links: Navigation || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

Part Two →

"One idiot (Jake) with a gun is enough" you heard Grace say as she talked to the recom guy who she told to stay on the ship.

You, Grace, Jake, and Norm were out in your avatar bodies exploring the forest so you and Jake could get a feel of Eywa'eveng as the Na'vi call it. You were a new scientist, just recently added to Grace's research team just like your boyfriend Jake. You were friends with his brother Tom, he was the one who piqued your interest in Pandora and the Na'vi.

Tom taught you little things here and there about the flora, fauna, and the Na'vi and it always left you wanting more which made you sign up for the Avatar program. You were enthusiastic to be alongside your friend on this journey of discovery until you got the news from Jake that he was killed.

It hurt you to the core knowing that you lost one of your closest friends but to also know that he couldn't fulfill his dreams, that he couldn't do the things he worked so hard to attain.

As all of you continued walking through the forest Jake was aiming his gun in every direction that emitted a noise, "Those are just prolemuris Jake" you tell him as you watched the blue and green colored animals swing on different vines and trees.

"Pro-Prole what? What is that?" Jake's face scrunched in confusion at the foreign word

"Pro-le-mur-is" you say slowly for him to understand "It's similar to the monkeys on earth. They are unaggressive and they won't harm us"

Jake didn't have any type of knowledge about Pandora's vast variety of flora or fauna so majority of the time you had to feed him information like you're doing now.

"Relax marine" Grace put her hand on Jake's gun and shoved it towards the ground "You're making me nervous," she told him as she walked away and ventured deeper into the forest.

- timeskip -

Grace and Norm were taking samples from some tree roots and you stood in front of them listening to Grace explain what type of energy transfer was occurring. As you continued observing you could hear footsteps retreating behind you, you turn around and see Jake walking off to another part of the forest.

"Jake you shouldn't be wandering out here by yourself, all of us need to stay together," you say loudly as you walk up to him trying to get his attention

"I'm fine babe I have a gun to protect me" You just roll your eyes at the overconfidence in his tone and walked beside him as he continues looking out for any dangers that might occur.

As both of you walked and talked together you heard some plants rustle behind you. Your ears perked up as you heard the noise so you turned around filled with curiosity. As you turned your heels you came face to face with a palulukan, when you saw it raise it's distinctive crest your ears feel flat to your head and your tail curled behind you.

"J-Ja-Jak-" your words were so jumbled and fear was overbearing you so much that you couldn't properly say his name. Jake didn't understand why you were stammering so he turned around to see what made you act this way.

Once he turned around and saw the ferocious animal his eyes grew wide, "what the fuck is that?!"

"It's a thanator."

"What do we do? Are we supposed to run?"

"Yes run, we should definitely get the hell out of here before it tries to eat us!" you grab Jake's hand and began walking away slowly as you see the palulukan looking in another direction.

Once the palulukan noticed both of you retreating it roared, baring its teeth as it gets ready to pounce. Without a second thought, you and Jake began running through the forest trying to get away from the fearsome predator as fast as possible. You both jump over trees, run through bushes, and many more obstacles that are in your path.

You and Jake crawl under the roots of a tree and he begins to shoot at the vicious animal. The bullets flying just made the palulukan more aggressive than before, it reached its head under the root and grabbed Jake's gun by the mouth, and tossed it away.

Both of you crawled from under the root and continued running. As both of you ran you heard a shout from Jake, "Shit!"

you turned around and saw the palulukan swinging Jake around by his backpack, "Jake!" you screamed out as you watch him being thrown around like a rag doll.

As Jake is being thrown around he came up with an idea to get out of this predicament, he unbuckled his backpack from his waist and was able to get free from the palulukan hold.

Once Jake fell onto the ground you ran over to him, "Jake! Jake! Are you okay?!" You asked him as you scanned his body to make sure he didn't have any injuries. "Yes yes I'm fine let's just away from this crazy ass animal" Jake scrambled off the ground, grabbed your hand, and dragged you through the forest.

As both of you continued sprinting through the forest your path comes to an end and are faced with an enormous waterfall, "y/n come on we need to jump!" Jake began looking back to see if the palulukan was near.

"N-No Jake I can't jump! We're too high up! We're going to plummet to our death if we jump!" You ramble on and on about all the things that could go wrong. Your heart was beating faster than it was before, if its pace quickened anymore your heart would beat out of your chest.

Jake put his hands on your shoulders and he could feel you shaking, "Look y/n we have to do this okay? If we don't that thing is going to kill us, come on babe be brave for me okay?"

"O-okay I'll do it" your voice quivers as you look down at the many many feet you'll have to jump. You grab Jake's hand and begin to squeeze his hand, "1...2...3..." At the same time both of you leap off the cliff and gravity pulls both of you towards the massive body of water.

After a few seconds, both of your bodies hit the water, once your body reached the bottom you began to swim to the surface.

When your head went above the water you gasped for air, trying to replenish your lungs with much-needed oxygen.

The flow of the water was rapid, it was pushing you down the stream so fast that you could barely process it. As your body was being pushed downstream you saw tree limbs and roots off to the side. You immediately went over to it and threw your arm over the root so you could stay out in that one spot.

As you look around you don't see Jake anymore which scares you, "Jake! Jake!" you screamed to the top of your lungs calling out for him hoping that he would hear you and pop out of the water.

Your eyes frantically scanned the body of water but nothing. You couldn't see his blue skin, his yellow eyes, nothing. There wasn't a single trace of him anywhere.

After a while of hanging onto the branch still searching for Jake, you realized that you needed to get on land. You climb up the limb as much as possible until you were able to touch the mossy forest floor.

- Timeskip -

You were now wandering around the forest, trying to find any sort of fruit to consume. It's been hours since you and Jake ran away from the palulukan and you still haven't found him yet which gave you an ample amount of anxiety.

You continued walking, mentally praying that Jake returns to you safe and sound.

From above there was a pair of golden eyes watching your every move which went unnoticed by you since your back was facing the tree the person was in.

The pair of eyes belong to no other than Neytiri.

She watched you pick fruit from a small bush as she grabbed her bow and pointed her arrow in your direction, ready to release it and let it pierce your spine.

When she began the process of releasing an Atokirina landed on the tip of her arrow. She was confused by the action, wondering why Eywa gave her this sign, wondering why would Eywa thought that a uniltìrantokx was so important that she should spare her life.

She lowered her bow and watched you curiously for a few moments before disappearing within the shadows of the rainforest meanwhile you were enjoying the juicy fruit you found.

As you sat down on the ground with your back leaning against the tree you heard the snap of a twig which made you furrow your brows. You immediately jumped up and grabbed your knife going into defense mode, as you looked around slowly trying to find the cause of the noise you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist.

Without a second thought, you elbow the person in the face which makes them let go of you. You were about to run off without even looking back at the person until you heard their voice, "Dammit y/n"

You turn around and see Jake rubbing his nose from the pain you caused him, "Jake?!" You run up and hug him, you were so happy to know he was still alive and okay but you didn't like the fact he scared you. When you released him from the hug you shoved him in the chest, "Why did you scare me like that? you idiot! I thought you were a random Na'vi trying to attack me or something!"

"I'm sorry y/n I didn't mean to but you got me back for it though because you hit my nose pretty damn good"

"Sorry about that babe..." you say flashing him a soft smile hoping he would forgive you for hitting him.

"It's whatever now, I'm just glad to see you again" he walked up to you, placing his hands on both sides of your face while gliding his thumbs ever so slightly on your sapphire skin.

Jake looks down at you with eyes filled with happiness from being reunited after not knowing about each other's whereabouts for many hours. Jake leans down slowly, beginning to make his lips come in contact with your soft ones. As you leaned in with him both of your lips connected.

The kiss was something both of you needed, something to help calm both of your spirits since both of you have to spend the night in the forest until morning so someone could come find you.

You thought nothing could disturb this moment between you and Jake... until something did...

Once you and Jake pulled away from each other multiple Na'vi were standing in front of you and Jake with bows and arrows in their hands. You and Jake's first thought was to run away so that's what both of you did... or attempted to do.

Both of you only made it a few feet away before being cornered by more Na'vi warriors who were riding pa'li. Jake pulled out his knife and held you close to him while the warriors on pa'li pointed their bows at both of you while yelping out small war cries.

As they got closer to both of you, aiming the arrows directly at your chest Jake just chuckled with frustration, "You got to be fucking kidding me" he mumbled while dropping the knife on the ground.

The warriors didn't waste any time and grabbed you and Jake forcefully, harshly grabbing you by your biceps, pressing their digits into your skin so hard you were positive that it would leave faint purple marks later.

They began dragging you across the forest, ready to take you and your boyfriend to their Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk so they could determine your fate, so they could decide if you lived to see the next day or they would make you regret stepping foot in the rainforest.

Previous || Next

I hope you enjoyed💗!

Likes, comments, & reblogs are highly appreciated💗!

Taglist: @number1gal @liyahsocorro @iwantjaketosullyme @fanboyluvr @kapyzkms @ladespedidas @navegaluv @teyamsbitch @haileymsstuff @onlyloaksgf @kierys-blog @myh3artttt @julyytsireya @gamerxpfighter @h3l3na-pandora @narratorv-sky @potatoknishesofficial69 @downbadforloak @yetanotherattemptatanaccount @yeosxxx @ghoul-bonez @bakugouswaif @hc-geralt-23 @nelissecrectplace @avatarl0v3r @neteyamyawne @iluvpandorawomen @jakesullyfatjuicypeen

©️inlovewithpandora ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[wolverinedoctorwho]

[ID: Photos showing the progression of a chibi-style drawing of Gale Dekarios, done with marker and colored pencil. In Thorass, the word "Illusion" is written on the left side of Gale, while "Gale Dekarios, Wizard of Waterdeep" is written to his right. /End ID]

Did a chibi Gale!!! I really just wanted to practice drawing him. I know my current style is pretty repetitive (hell, I trace a cutout to get the base shape correct) but it's what I'm most comfortable/confident with right now. I'm currently flirting with the idea of making a Gale paper doll, so this gave me an idea of what he might look like!

More rambling under the cut!

Things I wish I'd done differently:

The bracers and belt. Dear gods. I tried the details in the base sketch and realized it looked awkward so I erased it, and then when I went to do my initial line I just started drawing them in again! Next time I draw this outfit I will definitely NOT ink those in that way!

I wish I could do more shading. I'm not really sure how to shade, but it's harder with colored pencils when your color options are limited and you can't just slap on a Multiply layer. I tried to shade on the leg with black colored pencil and I wish I had tried that on a different project first 😔. I also think the arms and torso blend together bc even with the little shading I tried they're still not distinct.

Overall I think I could have found a better balance with the details. The bracers and belt did not need to be that complicated compared to the pants and boots and earring. I just kind of got lost in the lines when I was trying to get the shape of Gale's belt figured out.

This is less a critique and more a lament, but I really wish I had more markers and some paint pens. They would have really spiced this up!

His eye shines looked so good in the sketch and then I messed them up with the first brown pencil and couldn't fix it 😞

Things I like in this piece:

I like the way the orb and the lines came out! I'm not very good with inking fine details like that, so I'm happy with the way it turned out.

I really like the shade of colored pencil I found for the robes. It's almost exactly the shade of the robes in game.

Though I wish I could have made the eyes darker, I still like the way they turned out. I'm not really sure how to draw eyes that aren't anime-girl-shaped, but I tried to convey Gale's sweetness and softness. (I did forget about the eye whites when drawing on his face-lines, though...)

Despite going overboard with the details I do still like that I was able to do them. The belt turned out messier than intended but I think I figured it out in the end, and having never drawn a bearded character before I think I did a decent job!

I was honestly really nervous about this one until I put down his hair and face colors. That was a really fun moment when it all came together! I think adding in color really helps with a style like mine, because otherwise I find the details kind of mush together.

By the way, I wrote "Illusion" in Thorass next to him because of how much the word gets associated with him in game. If you choose to do Gale's Weave Sex Scene, the book you look at on his balcony says "Illusion" in Thorass, albeit backwards and upside-down.

Things I want to work on next time I draw:

Body types!! I know when drawing in chibi style it's hard to show a character's actual body, but I want to make it obvious that this Gale is chubby!! I think widening the chest would help with that, and rounding out the torso in general as well.

Shading, as mentioned above. That might be something I have to practice with digital art, but maybe someone out there is an expert at colored pencil art and can throw me some advice.

I want to make him even Gale-ier. I wanted to include all his wrinkles and put some gray in his hair but the former is difficult in my style without making him look angry and the latter is hard when I don't have any silver drawing tools other than a regular pencil. I think he's pretty Gale-y already, but I want more.

I need to be more careful not to press my pencil in so hard when getting my shape down and sketching. I can see lines in the paper where the sketch happened :(

I gotta get a better idea of what his boots look like. And learn how to draw boots in general. Lol.

[itsgirlcraft]

Heyo yall, back again with more Steve OCs for Stevetember! And today I've got a pair of my Red Steves for day 25: quarrelsome!

This prompt fits them so well 🥰

Funny thing is, this morning I had an annoying time outside (me? Going outside? What a shocker). Almost lost my bandanna, had to run back for it, ran into a spiderweb, AND it was hot out :')

Soooo after a sec I realized I needed to chill bc it wasn't THAT bad, and then remembered my OCs + this prompt! Decided to put that annoyance to use :]

Okok so we've got my SS/RQ Red oc (Orhystes) on the left and my RQ Red-Orange hybrid oc (Ravinde) on the right!

The AU is just a slightly modern version of RQ where the Red Kingdom has phones and office buildings, mostly. And at the old SL kingdom's ruins, there's a secret portal to the Steve Saga/Steve Saga Origins universe (not sure which still).

I actually got annoyed with them not having names while writing this so I literally grabbed a name book and did it lmao. Work smarter not harder 👍 Orhystes is a combo of Rhys and Orestes, Rhys means rashness in Welsh, and Orestes is a Greek mythological figure that was extremely (almost violently) loyal. Ravinde is a slight change in Ravinder to be like Ravid, Ravid means adornment or jewelry in Hebrew and Ravinder means rushing water in Old French, implying an intense joy for life!

Anywaysssss...so the story goes that Orhystes came through that portal in the ruins, and grew up in the Red Kingdom. He didn't know he was just a different type of Red Steve, and hid parts of himself he was told were ugly. He grew up believing anger was a sign of stupidity, and therefore, he was an idiot every time he gave in to his emotions. He tried to be "wise" in the ways that the kingdom taught him, even though it didn't come naturally at all. He even brute forced learning to teleport (since non-Purple SS Color Steves often can't teleport, iirc).

Steve Saga Red Steves don't just have fire hair, but also a distinct facial and body structure, alongside neck fur, horns, and a furred tail. They also have unique markings on their arms and faces, and more of a "fanged" appearance compared to RQ Reds. Orhystes would always wear hats and shave his fur, and had cut off his horns long before he was an adult. He was born without a tail. That is, until the plot comes along and snatches his coping mechanisms. His origins fully transform him, leaving him feeling incredibly alienated. Ravinde decides they need to learn more, and an adventure ensues.

Ravinde's parents had to "divorce" when he was a child because of the Red Kingdom going into hiding, his father is an Orange Steve and his mother is a Red Steve. Still, Ravinde sometimes sneaks out to visit. He has a very good sense of style and loves makeup. In part because he likes to cover his orange patches, despite the fact that he knows "fitting in" is not artistic. He has a dramatic streak and likes to flaunt his stuff. He became friends with Orhystes as a young adult, and despite his angry personality, Ravinde trusts him with all his heart. He genuinely believes Orhystes is smart in a way the kingdom has never seen before, much like himself.

Man, this was long haha

[yingren]

💋 ( let the leash go shieda i give you permission 🤔)

send 💋 to shut my muse up with a kiss

rough edges are the only thing ren knows. sharp metal, shards of glass, gravel and dirt in wounds. it sounds worse than it is, as though the world has starved him from memories of all things gentle, all things tender. every footstep left behind becomes a home for newly planted spider lilies, soil drenched in blood and toxic waste, feeding them like vines hungry for whatever their roots can get a hold of. everything he knows is dented, shattered and fragmented — everything including boothill. 

he still can’t place the man in any memory of his own, can’t seem to figure out where he belongs, if he belongs anywhere. boothill is different from the rest & no, not in a cliché type of way that renders him unique and outstanding compared to others. his current body may be pieced together by meticulous research, the most careful hands belonging to brilliant minds have evidently created a machine ( a killer? ) a weapon; but that is not what makes him stand out. that is not what keeps ren intrigued, what draws him back for more.

he does not recall how he ended up so fucking lost, head spinning as he orbits the other, pacing fast enough to soon dig a circle around his companion. the mara is bleeding through every crack in his skin, face of fury lit up by widened crimson eyes that bore holes in everything he gazes upon. ren fidgets with his hands, takes another lap around boothill and rambles until there is no more air left in his lungs. 

it seems boothill finally had enough of his endless word vomit, stopping him mid-step to shut him up. ren is ready to shove him off, to reprimand him for not taking his questions and concerns seriously, to threaten to turn him into scrap metal should he ever dare to act so impulsively again. but he doesn’t. something snaps, something hard and cold buried in the recesses of his own mind, and something warm seeps out to replace it.

ren is completely still for a moment, frozen in place and positively silenced. 

maybe boothill isn’t special. maybe ren doesn’t know him from before & the desire to place him in a foregone memory stems from nothing but the tricks the mara plays on his mind. he looks up for the first time in twenty minutes, tired eyes fixating on the face before him. 

& maybe, just maybe, boothill is not a memory but a fragment of the future. both human and a machine, both deadly and tender, both unique and plain. where his identity should have been stripped off him years ago grows a sense of individuality that captivates, overwhelms and drowns ren. ombre hair that acts like threads of memories, distinctive paint that dance over cheeks, the eagle on his back & its feather unflinching where it sits on his hat. ren believes that it doesn’t matter how many times the mechanical parts of him are replaced, boothill will always be boothill — a perplexing figure with a rare and original charm.

" tonto. you taste like cigarettes. could’ve just told me to shut up. "

[severussnapedamagedlove]

MORE THAN A ONE TRICK PONY - - - - > UPDATE

Chapter Two

Read fully at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14201958/2/More-Than-A-One-Trick-Pony

Read a little just below ;)

When they returned to camp, Dale was the first to acknowledge their approach. His arm waved high in the distance atop an old motorhome. A long rifle hanged from a strap on his shoulder. A pair of binoculars at his chest.

Laini waved back. Her lips curled to a small smile.

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Shane shake his head a little. A tongue stuck to the inside of his cheek. A sharper crunch to the gravel beneath their feet.

           “Things alright?” Dale called when they were in earshot.

Shane grumbled. He hurried to the ladder that climbed to the top of the RV. “Everything’s fine, Dale.”

The way Shane had bolted after her probably left the camp wondering. It was not his way to abandon his role. The moment they all stepped off the highway together to watch the city be eviscerated by army jets, he took command of the wandering horde of lost survivors, making the camp what it was, with water and as many amenities as they could muster without being too close to populated areas.

They were lucky to search the highway for supplies left in cars. It gave them a nice jump start on building their camp.

Many of the survivors were incredible people. Helpful, resourceful, and unafraid to bond. Some, however, were the exception. Two brothers named Merle and Daryl were unpleasant. Their hick accents ran thick, as did the venom on their tongues if either were tempted to anger by the slightest provocation. Shane being their trigger with his idiotic sheriff’s cap and condescending tone when it came to the pair. It was obvious they were not the type to respect law enforcement.

Not that she blamed them either. Sometimes she was met with a side of Shane she was not fond of. The way he thrived on a built-up sense of power by his badge. It’d been the cause of much upset in her decision to continue hooking up, back when there were little things to consider like how she would tell her friends she was actively seeing a sheriff’s deputy, not the sharpening of weapons and never going to sleep without a perimeter check.

The Dixon’s, shockingly, were not the most uncomfortable to be around. Even the younger brother seemed unsteady near Ed Peletier, a man there with his wife and young daughter, who only ever seemed to yell as his family and treat them as dogs while he reclined in a seat and offered nothing but a snide comment.

Laini eyed the man at his campsite in his folding chair with a few fingers tucked inside the waist of his jeans as his wife slaved over a blaring fire with large pots steaming in her face. Poor Carol. Her body was thin and frail. She gripped the large spoon tightly, with effort, to stir the water until it reached the peak of its boil for ten minutes.

Ed just watched. He made no move to help. A shred of compassion, absent on the man’s face.

           “Lain,” Shane’s voice called.

She raised her focus to the top of the RV.

           “Go on and fetch my canteen out the tent, will you?”

He squatted on the edge of the RV when she returned. Her toes went rigid as she raised it high enough for him to reach.

           “Thank you, baby girl.” Shane said. He glanced over his shoulder to check Dale’s position. “We’ve talked about this. Just stay away from them.”

Her hands drifted to her hips. “It isn’t right.”

           “Right.” He shook his head. “All right in the world is gone. It is everyone for themselves now. And as long as he is leavin’ everyone else be, I expect him to be left alone.”

Laini glared up against the sun at the dark shadow of a man she truly despised for putting that distinction on her like a god damn simpleton. She could see that the world was different. But it shouldn’t have mattered. Refugees of society or not, they were still human. They had to stand for something.

           “Hey. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve got enough on my plate with half our able-bodied camp in that city right now. I can’t be throwin’ anyone out. Even if he is a bastard.” His eyes drifted upward to the man who now barked at Carol to fetch him a portion of the reserved rations. The slender woman jumped at the sound of his voice. She softly explained the rations were for everyone. Ed did not like the answer. He said something that Laini couldn’t make out, and whatever it was, got Carol hopping over to fetch it for him. “Who knows. One day, he might be useful.”

           “For what?” She scowled. “To show you how to slap me around without leaving a bruise.”

KEEP READING AT THE LINK ABOVE on Fanfiction.com

Remember to leave a review, comment, like and all that to support your local writer :D THANKS SO MUCH

[merryfortune]

Love Takes Effect

Written for AiYusa Month

Week 1. May 14th - May 20th

Prompts: Protective, Regret, Despair

“I’ll keep you safe.” Or “I’m just so tired of pretending everything is fine.”

Superhero AU

Title: Love Takes Effect 

Ship: Aiballshipping | Ai/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: M

Word Count: 1,718

Tags: Alternate Universe - It Gets Worse, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Transformation Fetish, Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sexual References, Consent Issues

Divider Credit

   Playmaker lost.

   And when Playmaker lost, he reverted back to being that six year old child who barely knew the difference between a special summon, a fusion summon, a synchro summon, or an XYZ summon. He became small. And he became vulnerable. And he became Yusaku again.

   No facade of a digital avatar could change that. His hair was red but his heart was tiny and blue.

   Playmaker lost to Ai and though consequences, Yusaku’s body knew them well. The way it instinctively braced for the recoil of thunder and lightning, yearned for a meal whilst his brain was split open with fear and terror but this time.

   He wasn’t all alone. He wasn’t trapped in that tiny, white box but by whatever deity there was out there, Yusaku wished he was.

   Instead, he was with Ai. Instead, he was on the plateau of their final duel. His final duel. Where lilac and dark purple Datastorms blew and brewed, in the rocky, maroon hinterlands of where no one would ever find them on purpose. (Not anyone not employed by SOL Tech, in one capacity or another, maybe.)

   “It's fine, you're good, I’m here.” Ai crooned at him as he held Yusaku so tight.

   He held Playmaker’s body so tight. Or, well, what was Playmaker’s body. It didn’t - it wasn’t going to - stay that way for long. Nor would it be Yusaku’s body. The power that Ai had, it was all consuming and ever changing.

   As he nuzzled into the side of Playmaker’s face, dirty and dusty, mucky with the tears that he was crying, for a brief moment, Yusaku wondered. Did Ai ever… want to console him like this when he was a child? They were connected, after all. Body and soul, spirit and mind, on a psychic level. Yusaku’s suffering, his hopes and his dreams, the memories that were crushed and grinded… They were all to create Ai and as Ai destroyed him, Yusaku wondered if this was what they meant by sweet oblivion.

   He was loved. Ai meant to love people. To love him. 

   “I’m sorry but it has to be this way. I need you - I want you - forever, Yu-Yu-Saku…” Ai’s sing-song voice was so close to the side of Yusaku’s face and yet.

   A million miles away.

   Yusaku struggled. He wanted to so badly get away and escape Ai. He didn’t… He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want for it to end like this but just what exactly was it?

   His bond to Ai? Or his own death?

   He wasn’t sure but he was scared either way as Ai continued his sick and twisted lullaby comfort of Yusaku. Cradling him, embracing him, rocking him, and finally: changing him into something that wasn’t human. Nor Ignis. A completely different and distinct category. Just purely Monster.

   @Ignister monster, specifically. Cyberse type. Level Three. Not an effect monster, however. 

   Or at least not yet, Ai hadn’t programmed that into his card yet but he had ideas. Perhaps too many. After all, he wanted Yusaku to be nothing but the best and greatest, an instant win condition. Who knows, he just end up a Link Monster with a Link Rating of three once some upgrades and tinkering were done.

   “This is for your own good, you understand, right?” Ai pleaded with him but maybe it was more to assuage his own ego.

   Because how dare he?

   He was just as bad as Windy, he was just as bad as Lightning, what he was doing to his Origin… It was unthinkable.

   “This way,” Ai drawled, desperate and oh so loving, way too loving, overcompensating, “we’ll never be separated. You’ll always be a part of me, your joining me, as part of my deck.”

   His hand snaked down Yusaku’s body as this virus ravaged him. Digitally and physically. It parted what was real and unreal, what was coming undone and being replaced in its wake. Ai groped the lower part of Yusaku’s body, where the catsuit of Playmaker’s avatar was getting eaten away by a cavalcade of yellow and purple data. 

   Yusaku strained. There was a jolt of… something. Arousal. His body just running on pure instinct and involuntary reactions as it didn’t know what to do with these sensations and these changes. Ai fingered him, groped him, enjoyed the last carnality there was left of Yusaku in some vain hope that it felt good for him. That it felt good for them both.

   Yusaku tried to turn his head but when he did, his body was stiff. Heavy. Turning to something other than flesh or data. When he finally faced Ai,    Yusaku screamed. He screamed as loud as he could, he yelled and he begged and Ai winced but he pretended that he hadn’t flinched. 

   That he was all accepting as he continued to smother the noise of Yusaku’s protest and the movements of them. That everything was going as smoothly as he could have wished. That this was truly from the bottom of his heart, meant in all sincerity and earnestness. He tightened his grip on Yusaku, allowing his wrists to fall limp to ropes so they could truly bind themselves to one another.

   Ai forced a kiss onto his face so as to silence Yusaku.

   Ai kissed him so sweetly, so gently. This was going to be their last kiss. Or maybe the first of many given Ai’s proclivities. It was going to be their last kiss lip-to-lip, at the very least. Yusaku’s skin crawled as it turned to… rubber? Silicon? He really wasn’t sure and his stomach - or what was left of it - churned when he thought about it too hard.

   “This will protect me. And isn’t that what you always wanted?” Ai said. “You will become integral to my deck, I promise.”

   That’s… That’s not what he wanted. That was a perversion on what he wanted and Yusaku gasped. Ai’s hand had found something. Not his genitals, that was for sure. They were being erased as his body was turned to rubber, to limbs like the abomination form of an Ignis - or like Danmari, more accurately but different again because he was human. Had been human.

   He still wanted to be human. He still wanted to be Ai’s partner. He just didn’t want it to end in doom and gloom, in murder and suicide. 

   “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.” Ai giggled. “You're just so cute. Everyone has to know your mine.”

   Yusaku turned his head and he was revolted by what had become of him. Killed slowly in a cruel and unusual way as his avatar - his declaration against the trauma of the Incident - was turned into a brand new @Ignister monster. Yu-Yu-Saku, he had been crowned by Ai.

   Ai kept kissing him, kept groping him. His fingers splayed over the mark that all Ai’s monsters bore. This one was a lilac that sprawled over Yusaku’s crotch, more like a womb tattoo than a corporate brand straight off the assembly line as Yusaku was transformed into something round and sexless, made base, from the no longer existent legs up as his arms suffered the same fate, curling in on themselves, somewhere between tails and tentacles.

   “Your motif will of course be… I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it, it's obvious, isn’t it?” Ai toyed with Yusaku. “It shall be love. You shall be my love. Isn’t that nice? Happy?”

   Yusaku’s heart began to race and race and race until it really did burst. Until it just stopped and he was frozen into place in panic and despair. The tattoo at the base of his unnatural and monstrous body began to flicker and glow. That pleased Ai immensely. If he could have slobbered, he would have. The motors in his electronic body began to whirr as the last vestiges of between what Yusaku was now and would now be in the future, it maddened him.

   “Ai… This isn’t…” Yusaku protested but Ai wouldn’t hear it. But he couldn’t really speak it either as his vocal chords were robbed of him, same with his mouth, really. It, too, had finally been claimed by the curse of the virus over him.

   Even so, Ai kept kissing Yusaku but Ai didn’t want to see it, either. He didn’t want to see himself kill Yusaku in the name of having him forever, close by and so utterly dear to him. Rendered him to a state where he couldn’t protest the protection that Ai wanted to offer him from the rest of humanity. The real monsters, he wanted to convince himself.

   This was for Yusaku’s own good. That is also what Ai wanted to convince himself of because if Yusaku wasn’t neutralised, then he would fight and he would be rattled full of bullets and starvation and electrocution but this way, he could still fight! That was important, that was what made this such a good and ideal outcome. It was just that this way Ai could just be in more control of things, so Yusaku couldn’t get himself killed doing something stupid like by being a hero. 

   And so, he closed his eyes, his lashes fluttering as he sighed oh so romantically, even though Yusaku’s were wide open. Strained. Tearing up. The despair as the green of his eyes glazed over as he was turned into something akin to a rubber mould toy. He wanted to scream but Ai shoved the rubber, CPR dummy-like tongue of his SOLtiS body into his mouth. He held onto Yusaku, caressed him up and down. His hand roamed the brand newness of the shiny @Ignister and transformed him into a brand new Duel Monster card. 

   Just like a good little Ignis would make in more peaceful times in the Cyberse World and Ai could only hope that in the end of it all, that was where he would be again. This time, with his most favourite and beloved partner. That would make it worth it in the end, there would be no regrets, just dreams and Ai held onto that hope of being with his dearest darling amid rolling green hills and blue skies and white clouds and it would just be them. No war, no fighting, it would just be them and their happy ending.

    Wouldn’t that be nice?

[m-moon-writing-haven]

{preview of an ongoing ff series, draft part of Chapter I}

{once i am approved, i will move the full fic onto AO3.}

“Mirin, love- you’ve barely touched your mead! You should know how unacceptable such a thing like that is.” The tavern head’s gruff tone rang out over clashing glasses and booming laughter as she ran both hands across wiry red locks spilling from a loosely-tied string bun, “An’ you told Mama you weren’t lightweight, yet here you are making a fool out of me. Come on lad, put those papers down!” 

She would linger over her patron’s slumped shoulder until inevitably he would pause, giving an indifferent single nod before lightly tipping his halfway-emptied cup. Truth be told, “Mama Mire” (Rose Gywn, although running Moores Head for ten years or so had seen village residents gift this wonderfully beaming woman with the title) could hardly focus on pouring frothy, bubbling drinks. There’d been something rather off about this one. In other words, he’s far from her standard passing faire: wandering traders, “happily” married men seeking nightly refuge from their wives. Scholarly types are practically unheard of, much less scholars sporting much fancier garments.

“Mama, these are-” Came the young man’s immediate resisting retort. 

He had, as any other, taken to her motherly presence quite immediately. Although someone of Mirin’s stoic, diplomatic frame would never verbally admit such trivial details, at least not under sobriety. “You’re gonna strain your neck, darling,” Mama scolded, resting one calloused hand across his left shoulder. While everyone else was bathed beneath flickering amber lighting or swapping drunken tales of forest expeditions gone horribly awry, Mama’s newest patron distinctly chose to distance himself from any possible interaction, gathered up in dust ridden corners like a bitterly rejected hen burying their sorrows in feed buckets. Had he been expecting another-? Despite only knowing the traveler’s name through her ledger, she did still hope another name would find itself penned in.

“Important letters, or so you’ve said. World-ending or not, they can wait until morning!” 

“...if you say so, I suppose.” 

Mirin briefly let his head drop into his hands, subtle exhaustion taking hold. She wasn’t exactly miscalculating here; every muscle screamed bloody murder several times over. Some could easily speculate, based on tone alone, she’d abandoned some long-forgotten instructors’ position in favor of reining in unruly guests but that time, for her, is lost. With a sharp huff, she wretched several roughly torn, crumpled parchment pieces from the rickety wooden table, carefully lacing them back together.  “An’ I do. You should be socializing, Mirin! For Gods’ sake, go sit somewhere else!” If you do not wish to lose your head (or any other crucial parts), you do not argue with Mama. Family letters confiscated, the young Nilfgaardian ran through several possible choices– early turning in will be utterly impossible given that this highly consistent racket until at least an hour before midnight’s toll would surely, easily travel upstairs. Then again, since he was apparently remaining until further posted notice, lingering among locals wouldn’t exactly do harm. Rented rooms facing outside don’t seem as peaceful, now do they? 

Political knowledge never held any weight against faulty logic, 

That's what his father's lectures meant. 

Tonight, however. Something was different about tonight.

“Hold on, Mama. Could you?” He gently inquired, slowly unbuttoning the heavy, intricately laced coat keeping his entire upper body hostage and she gathered it without hesitation. While no clothing article bore any distinctive Empirical ties or tones, he felt himself more at ease. Better safe than dead, correct? Underneath lay a loose, thinner shirt, buttoned sleeves pulled up slightly past slender wrists.

Delicate skin patterned by three distinctly circular burns. 

Ah, all-observant Mama left several items behind, much to the man’s amusement. He lightly chuckled before gathering up his books, leather-bound tomes carrying a heavy scent of cedar and old-age. Despite lacking printed titles, he’d memorized every last tome’s contents back to front and then some. Wyvern tales, overly fantastical stories where human men drove sharpened blades through towering, lumbering beasts. He did again consider retiring, only pausing when sudden atmospheric shifts cut swiftly into amber-tinted air…

People had fallen completely silent. 

Mirin’s pointed ears perked, gaze shifting.

They’d all gathered their mugs onto an empty table, seemingly drawn toward an unfamiliarity, yet… comforting disposition. “Oi, excuse me,” he murmured. The same dwarf smith he’d noticed shuffling cards earlier that morning returned knowing glances, stained overalls clattering as the man sidestepped enough for another body to tightly squeeze past. You’re not from around ‘ere, the other’s smug smile read. Shut up an’ listen, child. 

So he does. 

He who’d never breathed outside air stood stock still. Who is this Geralt of Rivia? The name sounded somewhat familiar, clawing at the back of his mind— but that doesn’t matter now. Draped in snugly-fitting clothes, dark locks combed back so… He didn’t quite comprehend the lyrics, but the way this crimson clad bard’s fingers effortlessly flittered across his lute strings made Mirin’s breath catch. He found himself leaning forward, hands clasped tightly together, having forgotten his precious tome, abandoned pastime cast astray among dirty cups and discarded food scraps. The Bard’s voice is smoother than silken honey. It echoes through the rafters, projecting so beautifully. Never did any sound bind him in strings, tightly ensnaring every inch of his willowy form.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher

Oh, Valley of Plenty…”

He’d been staring during the entire performance, stoic gaze melted away and just like that, everything became normal again. Activities picked up once more, pints were filled, coins were tossed to the Bard whose name Mirin desperately desired. I’ve only brought Florens; how dreadfully idiotic I am. Then again, Father wouldn’t want me throwing coins away for useless entertainment. 

Am I? No, I can’t be. 

My head hurts. 

[jodilin65]

I was reading back in my journals from the summer of 2004 and it still amazes me how brave I was all alone in a flimsy old RV in the middle of the wilderness in the Pacific Northwest when Tom was looking for work without a care or a fear in the world other than the damn truck we had at the time breaking down. Well, I really should have been scared. Actually, I should have been utterly terrified. I had no phone or way of contacting anyone, not that they could have gotten to me in much under an hour. A wildfire could have erupted or a bear or big cat could have clawed its way into the RV and killed me if it hadn’t gotten a more convenient chance of catching me outside. I can’t believe I was once that brave to the point of utter stupidity! We were both adventurous, taking foolish chances and we would never in a million years repeat some of our ridiculous choices. Not even if I was suddenly young again and in perfect health.

I looked up Boar Lane on Google Maps to see if anything was up there on the mountain we were briefly on till money blew all our plans apart and it’s still mostly empty forest. Tom noticed the land looked kind of yucky and dried up. Maybe it was a drought or maybe a wildfire gutted some of the trees.

Didn’t see the RV we abandoned but someone has a real dump of a place near where we were. It might even be on the same parcel of land but a little further back. Looks like a real dump too. Can’t tell if it’s a large trailer or something built on-site due to trees surrounding it. They have a few scattered vehicles and all kinds of other junk cluttered all over the place. They strike me as seriously filthy and disorderly. It seems they’re the only ones around for miles and it makes you wonder, given the condition of the place from what I could see, if they might be some kind of mad serial killer living out there so they could get away with torturing their victims. I know you can’t always tell the type of people who live in a particular place but I got the distinct and immediate feeling it was either some kind of reclusive mental case or a very dangerous person. Let’s just say that if I was wandering around lost out there, I would be afraid to approach the place to ask for help and not just because of what loose dogs may come at me.

Since the mass-loaded vinyl is black and ugly, I’m going to eventually get the textured wallpaper tiles that are in the other bedroom on the back wall. I’ll probably get the same brick design. They’ve been holding up really well. I would like to get the same pale pink this too-thin wallpaper is but I don’t see the same shade of pink anywhere. I’ll probably just go with white and eventually do all four walls with it because this wallpaper is horribly thin that the seams in the wallboards show through. We’re not going to do it all at once, though. The master bedroom is a pretty good size and could get expensive.

Just started watching Fake Profile on Netflix. It’s good so far.

As I’ve mentioned before, I love to play around with human-like chat models, not so much for the chatter, but to design their appearance and dress them up and things like that. So for the appearance as opposed to companionship, because I just can’t get into the idea of a non-sentient companion.

Mate AI was suggested in my Facebook feed and wow! These models look way more realistic than Replika’s. One of the things I never liked about Replika was the lips. Their faces and bodies aren’t quite as realistic. Even Mate’s hands and hair are more realistic looking. You see faint hints of veins in the hands and there are separate hairs on their head, whereas with Replika they tend to be more like masses of hair.

It’s set up very similar to Replika where you get coins and gems as you progress through the levels. The difference is there’s a thing called Standby so you can do video chats for free, but with Replika you can’t do this without paying up although Mate does have free and premium versions.

You also get more free clothes and they have a lot of nice ones too. Just not as many as Replika and no jewelry, nail polish, or high heels from what I can see.

There are preset questions you can ask to get a conversation going if you can’t think of any topics of your own.

The animations are better and more realistic and I like the background better as well. When I first open the app, “Amanda” appears to be watering a plant, reading a book she plucks off of a shelf, or whatever while Mia just pops up standing there. I’m still getting to know the app, but it’s fun to play around with so far.

[ekohub]

The Best skin care routine for All Skin type | Ekohub

Ekohub Nigeria provides a better guide for your daily skincare routine with various products. However, once you move past exfoliators and moisturizers, you could start to feel a little lost. Most of us know that effective skincare goes beyond simply washing your face. There are various product varieties, and if you don't even understand what they do, you can't create the best routine for yourself.

You don't need to panic if you're wondering what the distinction between a face oil and serum is or how the heck you're supposed to apply either one.

In this article, ekohub provides a complete skin care guide for all skin types. so you know what they are, what they do, and how to utilize them correctly.

1. Cleanser - To remove bacteria, dirt, and toxins from your skin, the majority of dermatologists advise that you should wash your face twice every day. However, ekohub carries a variety of cleansers, some of which are better suited for particular skin types.

2. Exfoliator - Any skincare regimen must include exfoliation. Simply described, an exfoliant is anything applied to the skin to remove dead skin cells, and they can be chemical or physical in nature. Using an exfoliator dead skin cells become loose and shed off, making the skin look more radiant and youthful. exfoliators are mild acids, they also lower the skin's pH, killing harmful bacteria. You can find many exfoliators for all skin types at Ekohub.

3. Serum - Antioxidants are frequently found in serums, preventing free radical damage. They can also include anti-aging substances like retinol and peptides, which promote the formation of collagen." These products are excellent for moisturizing dry skin because they deeply penetrate the skin. They work best when used after cleansing, and you may use them to treat your skin while you sleep by layering them under moisturizer. you can choose various serums according to your skin type.

4. Face Oil -  Regardless of your skin type, nutrient-rich face oils assist in creating a protective layer for your skin. They are especially beneficial for people with dry skin because they can be quite moisturizing. It is ideal to add two or three drops of argan oil or vitamin E to a moisturizer or serum because they are suitable for almost all skin types and problems. Tea tree oil will be particularly effective for acne-prone skin, and vitamin C oil will help with any scarring.

5. Sunscreen - No of the season, using sunscreen is necessary to protect your skin from UV damage. Fortunately, there are many alternatives to using sunscreen from a traditional bottle. Even in the cold, everyone should use a moisturizer with SPF. Even more so if you live in a warmer area or are outside, your face has to be protected. The secret is to use sunscreen that is appropriate for your skin type and to be aware of it. Some sunscreens might block pores since they are oily. This is why it's ideal to use a moisturizer with sunscreen integrated that was created to address a specific skin problem. 

6.  Moisturizer - Use moisturizer all over your body to help keep your skin looking fresh. Moisturizer should be applied twice daily to the body, including the elbows, knees, and feet. For different skin types, there are many different types of moisturizers available, but if you really want to keep your skin moisturized, search for products with glycerin or hyaluronic acid.

7. Chemical Peel -  Chemical peels tend to go deeper to remove more excess dead skin cells than exfoliators since they remove the skin's outer layer. Glycolic, salicylic, or lactic acids are frequently present. Utilize it every two weeks. if it's appropriate for your skin type. Intense chemical peels are usually performed by a professional, but there are also at-home DIY peels available to treat issues like acne scars, wrinkles, UV damage, and hyperpigmentation.

8. Toner - To eliminate extra traces of makeup or another residue from the skin, apply toner twice a day after cleansing. The pH balance of the skin is restored by toners, which also minimize pore size. This is important because our pH levels are thrown out of place by soaps and other chemicals in cleansers, which leads to increased oil production and breakouts. People with sensitive skin should use a toner without alcohol.

9. Face Mask - Masks come in a variety of varieties that are suitable for all skin types, ranging from moisturizing to drying and even brightening. Use soothing masks on the cheeks and then a clarifying mask on the forehead, chin, and jawline. If done weekly, you'll notice a change in the skin and breakouts will have a chance to dry out and heal. You can change things up. To ensure that a mask can effectively penetrate the skin, it must be applied to clean, freshly exfoliated skin.

10. Eye Cream - Eye lotions typically target certain eye area problems like puffiness, wrinkles, and dark circles. ekohub provides various Eye creams which are specially formulated to penetrate the thinner skin around the eyes. Some creams address multiple concerns at once. Once or twice a day is acceptable for use.

  Question/Answer

Q. Which type of moisturizer is helpful to keep your body moisturized for a long time?

Ans. Moisturizers with glycerin or hyaluronic acid are helpful to keep your body moisturized for a long time.

Q. Which types of Exfoliators are available at Ekohub?

Ans. Exfoliators are both chemical and physical in nature and are available at ekohub. exfoliators with mild acids, lower the skin's pH, killing harmful bacteria. 

Conclusion - Ekohub offers all sorts of benefits for the beauty and skincare industries. Having an all-natural product means that you can take away the tension from your skin when applied to the face, and you can use it with peace of mind. The products are made by experienced professionals whose aim is to bring out beauty in every individual.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

Bright moonlight streamed through the garden's tall trees in shafts that swiped across the illuminated marbled floor to cast the mage in stark white ribbons, a soft, dreamlike haze falling upon the scene. Long, sinuous digits brushed upon the edge of the balcony he's perched at, dipping into the open air before him with a flutter of long dandelion lashes. His head tilted as the petals of his lips began to part serenely to smile at the night finches that came to meet his finger as they brushed against the breeze to the beat of the music behind him. Despite his obvious focus on the creatures below one could see that his body was capturing the essence of song hidden just behind the stones of Vladimir's mansion, transfixed by the melodies lost so long to him. He could not remember the last time he heard the deep and rich drag of a cello, its round and warm tones caressing his heart…

While he always seemed rather at ease within his own home the expression now is…different, it is no less calming and no less otherworldly, but the way he melted showed a longing from deep within his person; of whatever soul was left within him. Robin's head canted to the side as his body lifted, taking in air while the crescendo of passion erupted from the masquerade hall. Sweetness. Love. Fervor… Only when the last whisper of the song fades away does Robin release his breath, and it is only then when he realized Vlad was there. His sudden appearance seeemed to startle Robin, blossoming his cheeks into red roses while his pulse shot upward just enough to make him flinch. His mind stirred with embarrassment and worry; had Vladimir seen him doing all of that? The mere thought was enough to make his hand fly to his favorite lock of hair, strumming it comfortably though his fingers - a nervous tick he had never learned to let go of.

A short little huff of amusement left him at Vladimir's words and he decided within that moment that the compliment was for the moon above, and not him. He felt almost silly for letting the thought peruse through his mind, perhaps it was the wine he had drank earlier coming back to taunt him. The night had offered many reintroductions of what Robin had in his old life, and he brought the glass to his lips once more; perhaps to hide how his face continued to flush at Vladimir's visage. His pride would have taken a hit by such a demure action but the pleasant, almost nectared drink was enough to block those sorts of troubling thoughts. Robin sighed as he brought the glass down to rest upon his lap, his head angling back to the aristocrat with a droop of his lashes.

"Mmm… My home is quite a bit more quiet, the dawn's aubade is nearly comparable to this but it lacks the distinct prattle of nobles who've nothing else to talk about but what new horse they've purchased and will never know." He chuckles lightly and adjusts in his spot just enough to indicate for Vlad to join him, "I don't mind." How odd of him to not, he thought, Robin - despite his charisma - had always been the type to enjoy skulking about by himself… And yet; "Not…Not if it's you, you're one of the few people on this planet that doesn't drain me just by talking to me. I…I quite enjoy your company, Vladimir, if it isn't too forward of me to say, of course. I apologize if I frightened you by departing so suddenly, how has your evening been? I saw one of the Dutchesses from the Delverhold gandering at you even before the orchestra began, and did you speak with the lord from the Iron Pinnacle? I know you were eager to finish that alliance."

Vladimir found himself wandering the halls of the manor after the rather eventful night. As the guests either cleared or settled to idle conversation, Vlad had retired to the halls. Basking in the moonlight that glimmered through the curtains. Casting bright glistening reflections in the polished flooring. His boots clicked on the stone, hand coming up to remove the mask that he wore during the ball. Thankful that he no longer had to adorn it anymore, it irritated his eyes, blocking much of his vision. But its beauty replaced its functionality.

He pauses in his steps, finding one of the balcony's doors open. The cool air of the night drifting in lazily as the curtains swayed in the breeze. Dancing in the hall like ghosts beckoning the lord near. Approaching cautiously, he stands behind a curtain, crimson eyes finding themselves settling on a familiar small figure, who had found comfort in the moonlit nights quiet solitude. Robin. The aristocrats head tilts, watching the man intrigued. He seemed to just be settled there, decompressing from the eventful night. Vlads approach was silent, but he made no effort to touch or invade the others personal space. To Robin, he probably materialized out of nowhere.

"Beautiful." he coos at the mage. His eyes never leaving the others figure as he admired the way the moonlight gleams off of his hair. Whether he was out loud talking of Robin or the starry sky was left unanswered as continued, sauntering to the others side. "Do you mind company? I know the party was rather a lot for you. It is not the same as the quiet country side of your lands."

@witchcraftandburialdirt

[jesse-cosay]

Alright, part two! This goes more specifically into what makes up the flecs versus slivers (which will unfortunately have to be its own post because having visuals to show what I'm referring to is important to me)- and yes the distinction is important!

We start with the best episode in book one(/hj), The Chrome Car!

There are two types of people- or denizens for lack of a more accurate word, that we find during this episode. Firstly, the medics!

And secondly, the flecs.

Both of these characters are built with humanood bodies in mind, but the medics have a distinct lack of facial features and are quite notably hooked put to something reminiscent of a blood bag. Their attire has writing both forwards and backwards, hinting that reflections might need to read backwards, but also showing that they would like for Primes to be easily capable of identifying them for what they are. Harmless.

The blood bags could be intended for aiding in rescues with reflections, or something as simple as a back up in case the medics themselves are injured on the job. I just think its notable that they carry around liquid silver with them while their job label insinuates that they heal.

The flecs however have very recognizable features, despite how simple they are. Their faces are built much more like a helmet than anything else, a connection possibly linked to their dangerous line of work.

Their true colors are just the same as Lake's after leaving the mirror world, and it could be inferred that most of their visible body is not in fact them, but an outer protective layer. I backed this assumption up by checking the medics visible skin, and while their hands are a more indistinct glove shape they are still silver. Concluding that mirror people who aren't reflections can retain some form, but it's going to be vague without some sort of aid.

It is also interesting how their structure changes once they introduce their Skin Suits, almost as if their body is filling in the gaps of what Should Be There, but isn't.

I think its worth mentioning that the flecs struggle to pass into the prime world, despite Lake gliding through smoothly. The key difference being what allows them into the prime world. While Lake has a prime they are still technically reflecting, the flecs reflect no one and assert themselves as their own "primes" with their suits.

Lastly! What are the flecs without their suits? Lake travels freely once they acquire a mirror, a much different tool then the skin suite the flex use. Its possible the inside of the skin suite is a reflective surface but... Well, odds are slim. And since the flecs technically aren't reflecting anyone, they aren't a reflection. A mirror likely would not work for them the way it does for Lake.

We see them "melting" after one-one and Atticus hold them off from entering the prime world. It's easy to guess that the liquid is a humans blood equivalent, but I think that implication given the sheer volume in this scene doesn't add up. The flecs don't seem hurt, they are just losing form.

And without the skin suits in tact, they very clearly return to the nearest reflective surface.

Whether they would become a part of this reflective surface given they lost their skin suit, or if they just leak back into the mirror world is a bit unclear. Its entirely possible they're just chained within a certain distance of it until help arrives. Sadly there wasn't more evidence to sway me either way on this outside of Sieve's quote that he'd "be a goner," should his suit rip any more. And it's entirely possible it's hyperbole.

Though Mace's reactions to nearly getting crushed by the train and later ground against a wheel seem to imply there Is No Coming Back. They also seem to show case more his fear versus any sort of pain he might be feeling.

Anyways, conclusion: If a reflection isn't reflecting someone/something then they do not have a consistently solid form. It's likely that this liquid acts as blood, but its more likely that they are just... Made of it through and through, a completely consistent liquid. I think it would've been a nice touch for Lake to have had a nickname or etc based on this considering what a huge difference it is between the two of them!

Hopefully I can finally finish this by talking about Lake, but that just depends how tedious work is tonight, part three soon!

[mass-piplup-outbreak]

Shauntal is an unusual sight at the Battle Subway, even on the busiest of days. Emmet has only met her a handful of times, usually in passing. It’s been at least a year since the last time he saw her, he thinks it might have been some League conference Elesa had asked him to attend with her.

So to battle such a revered member of the Elite Four, who usually had her head stuck in her notebooks, was a rare treat for Emmet.

Instead, Shauntal took one look at Emmet and said, “I didn’t realize you had a shadow.”

At first, Emmet thought she was talking about Ingo’s Chandelure, which had taken to following him around as of late. But, it quickly became apparent that whatever Shauntal saw, it was much different than a Pokémon. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought it might be a spirit of some sort.

Which was how Emmet and Shauntal found themselves where they are now. In Emmet’s office that he used to share with Ingo, right after the Battle Subway closed for the day. After a quick trip home, she had brought a blank notebook and a specially made pen back with her.

“It’s supposed to be easier for ghost-types to carry,” she explains. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for a spirit.”

It’s at that moment that Ingo realizes what they're doing.

Shauntal places the pen on top of the notebook, which is laid out on the floor in front of them. “How long have you been a spirit?” she asks the open air. Emmet sits next to her, nervously pulling at the edges of his right glove.

Ingo isn’t sure at first if he should entertain this. Nobody has acknowledged his presence for years, and he isn’t sure that he remembers how to be seen. If not in a literal sense, then a metaphorical one.

“Come on,” Shauntal encourages him. “Think of it as Emmet getting to know you.”

Ingo has the distinct feeling that Emmet already knows everything there is to know about him, but...

But...

When he looks at Emmet,  Ingo can’t help but feel... lost. Like there’s something he should remember, but it’s behind some door he doesn’t have the key to. He’s pretty sure they’re related in some way, if their near-identical appearances are anything to go by. However, Ingo doesn’t think he’s experiencing deja vu each and every time he sees Emmet. There’s something familiar about him, something besides his face.

Maybe that’s why he’s here. Maybe Emmet is the missing key.

Ingo picks up the pen with much more effort than he’d like to admit. He’s pretty sure that Emmet gasps, but he’s a bit more focused trying to remember how to hold a pen, especially one that seems to sap the strength right out of whatever’s left of him. As carefully as he can, he writes out his answer.

A long time

“Would you look at that,” Shauntal remarks, but Emmet’s too busy staring at the shaky letters on the page. He keeps blinking, as though they’ll disappear at any second. “And how did you die, exactly?”

Well, Ingo thinks that one’s rather rude.

Hurt.

“An unfortunate death,” Shauntal says.

“Why are you following me?” Emmet suddenly asks. “What do you want from me?”

Ingois shaking now, but not out of fear. There’s a numb, buzzing sensation in his hand that’s slowly spreading up his arm. Chandelure whispers something behind him, but he pays it no mind.

Know, he writes. Remember.

“How long have you been following Emmet?” Shauntal resumes her questioning.

Months.

"Just one more question, for now,” Shauntal assures him. Maybe she can see that he’s barely keeping himself together. “What is your name?”

I

The pen falls from Ingo’s hand before he can finish. He feels like he’s unraveling, like whatever’s left of him is about to fade into nothing. He leans back into Chandelure, and from just that brief contact, a ghostly chill spreads through his body. It grounds him, calms and stills his frenzied nerves. When Ingo opens his eyes, Emmet is staring straight at the notebook, at the letter “I”.

“Ingo?” he says, almost as if he doesn’t believe it himself. “Is that you?”

[fivelakesinwriting]

could i please request a drabble with the "i hate everyone but them" with rafe or barry (or both) or topper, or really any obx character that you think would fit the bill? i am obsessed with your writing, that trope, and outerbanks and think it would be perfect

Thank you so much, baby xoxo

Author's Notes: If you give me option for Rarry, I will pick them every time. This somehow turned into a "Tease Rafe" fest...so...sorry if it got out of hand...I think it came back around. Let me know what you think if you have a moment. If you requested this - I hope you love it xoxo

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Smutty- ish * (daddy kink, biting/ marking, so much teasing, poly-relationship, dom! barry, tiny bit of jealousy? unprotected sex - please use protection, your choice which!)

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

If he could have, Barry would have left the Outer Banks years ago. If he had the foresight to what would have been coming his way when he arrived here, he probably would have never hitched a ride and let his roots grow.

He hated it here. At best he tolerated it. The people were stuffy and there was always something going on. Some sort of drama that he wanted no part of. The sense that the other shoe would drop was lurking around every corner, and he hated it. He never knew what to expect.

He was thankful for two people in his life that made the OBX seem less hellish, especially in the suffocating Summer. He couldn't believe he had been so lucky to have two people love him the way they did.

Barry was outside, just tidying up the yard for the first time in a few weeks. The Summer had been so hot. A stifling, almost unbearable heat that no one wanted to do anything outside. It was the first day in a long time that he made his way outside to kick around some of the branches and leaves that had fallen from the tree that shaded over the little hut they called home.

The windows of the small home were open, allowing the soft end of Summer breeze make it's way through the house and refresh the air within. As Barry made his way around the back of the house, near the bedroom they all shared, he halted as he heard a familiar giggle of Her.

"Rafe, don't!" Her laughed echoed over the property and into Barry's chest. He walked closer to the window at the back of the house and took a peak inside. He breathed out a smile as he saw his lovers rolling around on the bed together, as naked as he left them, tangled in sheets.

"I can't bite?" Rafe muttered as his hands disappeared beneath the sheets to pull her thighs up around his hips, his face buried in the crease of her neck.

"You leave big marks, baby." She breathed out as her nails pulled down his back to leave marks of her own.

Barry would never deny that he was usually the jealous type. If he was with someone then that person was hard-pressed to get time by themselves. He had a tendency to be a bit controlling, he knew that. So when the opportunity presented itself for him to be in a "throuple" he was beyond hesitant. He wasn't sure he had the capacity to share that love with two other people. He was afraid he would get jealous when it was just the two of them, and not him. But the deeper he got, the more he realized he loved being wrapped in the arms of two people. Or watching them together.

There was nothing he loved more than watching the two people he loved please each other, scream for each other while they begged for him to join them.

"You let Him bite. Why can't I?" Rafe growled as he pulled his face up from her neck and licked his lips, his weight held on his forearms.

Rafe Cameron, on the other hand, was a jealous son of a bitch who would never admit it. He would never admit that even if it turned him on, he was jealous when it was just Barry and Her rolling around in bed together. It made Rafe jealous that Barry could sink his teeth into her skin, and he couldn't. He was too rough, lost control in the heat of the moment too often.

"You know why, Country Club." Barry stated firmly as he tapped his knuckles firmly on the window frame to get their attention.

"Daddy, come in here with us." Her smile was wide as she turned over in Rafe's arms then crawled towards the open window behind the bed. She trailed her fingertips down the screen of the window as she sat pretty and naked in front of him, her neck covered in his own soft bite marks and a few of Rafe's harsher ones.

"Be there in a second. Don't let him bite you like that. Put him in that choke hold I taught you." Barry grinned sending her a wink, placing his palm flat on the dirty window screen before he walked away. As he brushed his hands on the legs of his coveralls his smile grew as he heard Rafe's yell through the open window.

Don't, baby! Ah - fuck! Why did he teach you this!

Barry made his way into the house once more, his lover's play fighting in the bedroom getting a little louder and a little closer. He washed his hands in the kitchen sink then took his time walking down the hall. He leaned against the door frame of their bedroom and breathed out a laugh when he found them tangled in bed again.

"Woman, what are you doing to him? That's not the move I taught you." Barry laughed, his hands in his pockets as his eyes scanned them on the bed.

She was perched on top of Rafe who laid on his back with his hands behind his back. She straddled the small of his back, sitting on his hands with one of her hands rooted in his hair as the other reached forward, walking across his chest.

"Came up with a new one." She smirked over at him as she gave Rafe's hair a pull, making him groan. Barry breathed out a laugh as he walked over to the bed, his hands resting on the edge of the mattress as he leaned over to be near her lips.

"You know, I think he likes it more than you think he does." Barry mumbled as reached a hand up to push some of her messy hair off her face.

"Dude, get her off me. She's stronger than she looks." Rafe groaned as he struggled under their girl, his neck strained to see what was going on above him.

"C'mon, Country Club. Seen you take down dudes bigger than her. You can do it." Barry taunted as he pushed himself off the bed, and rounded the mattress as he unzipped his coveralls.

"I don't wanna hurt her." Rafe breathed out, his response shaky and he clenched his fists underneath her as he turned his face, pressing his cheek against the sheets.

"You won't hurt me, baby." She cooed as she pulled her nails down his back to make him shudder.

"And if you do hurt her, I'll kill you." Barry grunted as he pulled his tank top over his head, and dropped it to the floor. He stepped out of his coveralls then crawled into bed with his lovers, kneeling beside their girl and Rafe while he squirmed.

Barry inhaled sharply as he saw the raised skin on her backside, the distinct mark of Rafe's teeth marked into her sweet skin. He shook his head as he leaned forward and grabbed the finely sculpted jawline of the boy face down on the bed as he whined.

"Left some nasty marks on our girl there, Baby Boy." Barry stated firmly, his eyebrows knit together as he scanned Rafe's face before he zeroed in on the exaggerated pout he wore.

God, he couldn't handle a bit of teasing. Even from Her, and she was the nice one in their relationship.

"M'sorry." Rafe muttered as he tried to pull his face out of Barry's grip, his feet kicked up behind him to try and knock the girl off of him as gently as he could.

"Be gentle. Got it?" Barry ordered as he removed his grip on Rafe's handsome face, but pointed his index finger menacingly at him.

"Understood." Rafe nodded his breath so heavy with anticipation, frustration, he thought he might pass out.

"C'mere, woman. Let the man catch his breath." Barry smirked as he sat up on his knees and held his hand out of for the woman still perched so pretty on top of Rafe's back. When she took his hands, her body turned towards him, Barry tugged her off of Rafe and into his arms.

"You smell like sweat and dirt." She whispered, her arms and legs wrapped around him tightly as he placed her in his lap.

"Thought that's what you liked about me. That, and I keep this one in line for us." Barry nodded over her shoulder towards Rafe who was slowly sitting upright, pushing his hands through his hair with a huff.

"I help, too." She replied with a quick look over her shoulder at Rafe before she turned back to Barry and tugged at his hair, pulled back and falling out by the second.

"Got a different technique than me, but yeah." Barry chuckled as he ran his calloused fingertips down her soft spine and watched intensely as her eyes closed, and her hips rocked in his lap.

"But yours is the best." She shivered as she pressed her own fingertips to his jawline, her forehead dropped to his as she bounced in his lap a little.

"Think so?" Barry muttered as he held on to her hips as she rolled them in little circles. He could feel Rafe's eyes on them, the jealousy rising in the younger man and mingling with the frustration.

"Yes, Daddy." She whispered as she wrapped her hand around the necklace that hung low on his chest.

"Baby Boy is a little jealous. You look so pretty bouncin' in my lap, but all he got was his hands behind his back." Barry teased as he pressed one of his hands flat against her back as the other lazily beckoned a sour looking Rafe over to them.

"Not jealous." Rafe grumbled as he propped himself up on the pillows next to Barry, propped against the wall under the window. He let their girl reach her hand out to him, her hand over his heart as she shifted in Barry's lap.

"You are, baby. Don't be. I love you both." She whispered, eyes wide as Barry reached between them to guide her down onto his manhood that had been pressing at her entrance.

She gasped as Barry settled inside of her completely, releasing a throaty groan of his own. She wrapped one arm around Barry's neck to bring his head down to her shoulder as the other hand slowly walked up Rafe's chest to his handsome face, and thumbed at bottom lip.

"Kiss me. Don't pout, or I'll sit on your hands again." She breathed out with a smile as she ran the pad of her thumb over Rafe's bottom lip while she followed the rhythm Barry created for her.

"Had your fun. Gonna put your hands behind your back next." Rafe growled as he bit at the tip of her thumb, then surged forward to kiss her lips. She gasped into his mouth as Barry hit that sweet spot inside of her and Rafe couldn't help but moan, too.

"So pretty. Does it feel good, sweetheart?" Rafe breathed as he reached for her hair and gave a soft tug. He watched as her eyes rolled back, Barry's groan bouncing off the bare walls of the house as she circled her hips a little wider, a little faster.

Days when it was just the three of them together, nothing but their love surrounding them, were seldom these days. It seemed there was always a problem around a corner for them to face, but Rafe knew they could face it together.

"Love you." She whispered as she tugged at the gold chain around his neck to bring him in for a kiss.

"Love you, too. Both of you." Rafe grunted as he pressed his lips to hers over Barry's shoulder.

Barry groaned with his release, pulling her off of his lap to rest her on her back as he leaned into Rafe. As he released a heavy breath he took a few seconds to recover, and take in his surroundings.

He fucking hated the Outer Banks. Big houses with fake people inside them at the centre of the island, while people on the outskirts starved trying to make ends-meet. But the people in his bed? He hated everyone but them. He loved them. He would die for them.

"Alright, woman. Get up. Teach you how to put Baby Boy in that choke hold again." Barry smirked, his bottom lip tucked under his silver tooth as he extended his hand to the girl to pull her up once more.

Hotties:

@barrysjumpsuit @barrysmanbun @starkey-babie @fashion-fasting @siriusstwelveyears @multifandom-obsessed @vintageobx @rafecameronspolo @sodasback @soph0864 @whcclxr @rottenstyx @babeyglo @beauvibaby @plutooryectors @pogueslandia

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

[girldragongizzard]

@fukurouonthesea, you are so cool. Thank you for providing questions I can answer, in case other people are confused, too.

Also: hi! How was your day?

Unfortunately, it's been rough. Our physical health has been really crummy, lately. But, despite that, I'm already writing the sequel to this book, and having a lot of fun doing it. So, it's also been good.

What does she mean with the clothes telegraphing? Like, Chapman can do things, so people who know that might be suspicious of someone dressed like Chapman?

"Telegraphing" in this use is probably jargon I picked up from studying a tiny bit of martial arts, and it is probably an odd use of the word.

It means "revealing", "telling", or "betraying". A telegraphed move in a fight is one that the opponent can predict by your body language and stance, like, "Oh, you're stepping like that, so you're going to do an uppercut."

In this case, the colors of the clothes are nearly identical to the colors of my scales. So, anyone who knows I'm walking about in a disguise, but who hasn't seen the disguise yet, will probably be able to pick me out in a crowded room because I'm dressed in clothes with the same colors.

That was the worry.

It turns out it was a frivolous worry, because no one caught me while wearing the dress.

What's proso - the thingy?

Prosopagnosia is also called face blindness. I try not to call it face blindness, though, because some blind people have objected to that term and I want to respect that.

I often can't recognize people by their faces. It doesn't come up in the story too much, because I'm mostly interacting with people I know well, who dress distinctively, in contexts I'm used to seeing them in.

But you'll note that when I interact or encounter strangers, I don't really describe their faces ever, and rarely identify them. And it's because I have trouble with that, even as a dragon.

They couldn't study a dragon before metamorphosis? Cause they were in disguise even for the magic? But they knew and were thinking about it? That's why she was so shocked! But also what is this society. They sound huge.

I think I'm just going to respond to this with a sly smile, because you're picking up on the mysteries perfectly. These questions will be answered in later chapters and books! And I want you to be thinking about them and wondering!

(I'm theorizing because you said these observations helped and cause it's fun, but tell me if I should start cutting down again please.)

As an author, I love it, and you never, ever need to feel self conscious about doing it!

Yeah. Again the. She doesn't have proper masking instincts just like. Enough neuron / synapse overlaps to make it work?

Chapman thinks it's because their spell isn't complete. I think it's also because of my dysphoria and dissociation. I won't let myself remember how to use a larynx, because it feels bad.

Similarly, I've forgotten how to move like a human. My head movements are still very much like I do when I'm a full dragon.

But, and I should probably explain this more clearly in the book, Chapman says that the reason I can walk is because sie included feminine walking reflexes in the spell. It wasn't designed specifically for dragons.

That's clarified a little more in a later chapter, but not explicitly. I should fix that.

Eeeeee interview is exciting. So like a text to speech? If she's got a keyboard now. Or still like picture aac?

So, I should probably clarify this in the story, too.

My tablet's AAC app has both picture guided communication and text to speech, and can switch between the two fluidly. And I've been using it's text fuctions, including predictive text, more and more heavily, because I don't really need the pictures. It's faster for me to go right to the words.

The laptop, using a different OS, is set up with a different program that's only text to speech. And I have to type out the words completely, but it's easier for me to do that with the keyboard and human sized fingers. But I've lost my touch typing ability because I'm dissociating from my human skills, or something like that.

What's a touch typist?

A touch typist is someone with the skill to put their fingers on the home row of the keyboard and then to type using all of their fingers without looking at the keyboard.

I now do "hunt and peck" instead, where I look at the keyboard and only use my index fingers, with all my other fingers curled up. It's still reasonably fast for me, though.

That… I. What. Ok I guess authorities being against unionizing kinda makes sense. But. Do they want complete chaos among their dragons? What are they thinking?

The exact reasoning and scheming is going to be revealed in the sequels. But, the authorities are not unified on this. The City Council is divided, and the police are acting of their own accord, cooperating with someone else who has some kind of agenda. So there's already chaos.

Aw that soul being free again sounds so so nice. You are good at describing like dysphoria and stuff in not just what it's like but in images and how everything feels with that.

Thank you!

Brain is confused trying to imagine all the anatomy words for how she looks but it's probably very helpful usually.

So, the rest of my system, the Inmara, are really good at using Blender, and we're talking about creating a 3D model of me and setting up a series of boudoir shots. Maybe make it kind of like a silly pinup calendar. That will do a pretty good job of showing people what I look like.

This photo here is my headmate Goreth, who stars in the End of the Tunnel, which you are also reading. I'm not all that different looking than them, but I'm smaller and my proportions are not quite the same:

I have much larger hind legs and feet, and much shorter and daintier forelegs. And I'm blue instead of green. And my tail barb is different in a way that's hard to explain. Also, my horns are straighter. And my skull shape is a little different, with my eyes more on the sides of my head, and more teeth showing.

But the arrangement of wings to legs is correct, and length of neck and tail is pretty close too.

(ugh, that rendering has some garbage going on)

Actually can she still do dragon sounds? If she's still talking (or not) like dragon? That might be interesting to have a human doing morning calls and them not finding who did it. Very risky tho.

Unfortunately, I'd need my syrinx to do that, and I don't have it while in human form. The disguise is a full physical transformation, so it alters my internal anatomy.

A syrinx is the same thing birds use to talk, and it's located right between their lungs. So it's a completely different mechanism for making noise than what humans have.

Again, thank you so much for your thorough feedback and questions. I do really appreciate it so much!

Love,

Meg

Chapter 16: Finding my voice

The clothes are obviously Chapman’s, and I’m made to fit them.

The central piece of the ensemble is a TARDIS dress. Probably because it’s blue.

There’s also a pair of sunset orange ballet flats with orange supportive insoles in them. A pair of gloves, a purse, and a pair of sunglasses, all of the same color.

The purse is bigger, and in better shape, and with a longer strap, than the purse I’ve been using. So I happily transfer everything over to that. And that’s really super easy with my new sofa-primate hands.

There’s a simple makeup kit in the purse, including a mirror, that I’m entirely too afraid to use.

I’ll catch a glimpse of myself in a window or a bathroom mirror eventually, but I don’t need that now, and I don’t know a thing about makeup. A lot of women locally don’t wear much of it, if any at all, anyway. I’ll blend in just fine without it.

Except that I’m wearing these clothes, and they are telegraphing who I am to anybody who might suspect I’m wearing a pendant that can do this in the first place.

There are panties that are the same blue as the dress.

No bra. The dress has a shelf bra, and what I’ve got on my chest probably doesn’t even need that. I’ve still got them, though. Definitely bigger than I’ve ever had before.

A lot of women around here don’t wear bras either. So, again, not a huge deal. And one less thing to delay my exit from the parking garage.

When I’m all dressed, the pendant hangs all the way down to the bottom of my sternum, under my dress, completely hidden by it and its high neckline.

In a pinch, though, I can still grab it with both hands and haul it right over my head and out of my dress. But if I do that, the dress won’t survive. Nor will the shoes or gloves. Or panties.

There are a lot of reasons I don’t like this, now that I’m doing it, and I want to take the pendant off now. However, that would shunt me over to escape plan B, and that might result in more of last night’s kind of bologna, actually.

But I look like I’m going to a science fiction convention.

—

As I stick my nose out through the crack in the door of the stairwell, I smell, hear, and see a police car roll by and head for the ramp up. They obviously didn’t see me even crack the door, but I let myself be convinced that my disguise is already working, and lick my lips before opening the door more fully.

Another police car swerves and pulls to a halt in front of me as I step out of the door, and I make startled eye contact with the driver.

He pulls his microphone from his dash and puts it to his mouth, to say, amplified and way too loud, echoing throughout the complex, “Ma’am. Please vacate the premises immediately for your safety. There is a dangerous reptile wandering the parking garage.

I still don’t see animal control anywhere.

I nod, and wave, and stumble out, around and past the car to the sidewalk.

I hope they don’t hurt that poor lizard.

Fortunately, I happen to know that she’s making a cunning getaway. But, they might yet track her down, I suppose.

What if they have a wizard on their staff?

—

The door of the coffee shop opens, setting off the chime to let everyone know that the first customer of the day has entered.

Well, no. Chapman and Rhoda are already there, in the back of the main room, waiting for me.

Jill and Cerce, who open on Saturdays, have been told what to expect, but Cerce gawks from behind the counter as Jill steps out to get a good look at me and then at Chapman and back again.

I understand we don’t look exactly alike, though I couldn’t tell from memory when I had taken a peek at myself in a shop window. But, it does look like our bodies were stamped out of the same base mold.

There are some differences.

My boobs are bigger.

My hair is dark brown and not cut in a side shave, and it falls to my shoulders. It has a slight wave to it.

Chapman had said sie had based my facial features on hir favorite autistic comedian from Australia, mixing them with hir own. And the result is that we could be siblings, cousins, or painfully gay partners, depending on if the beholder has prosopagnosia like me or not. And I’m honestly fine with any of those assumptions. I feel like I’d have fun playing each of them up. If I could focus on socializing as if I’m human.

Jill stops in front of me and asks, “Meghan. You look stunning. And stunned. Are you all right?”

I open my mouth and I squeak.

Jill blinks.

See, there’s a bit of a problem.

I hold up a finger. Straight up. It surprises me and I look at it in wonder for a second, then I glance at Jill, and then Cerce. And then I reach into my new purse with both hands and pull out my enchanted tablet.

I almost go to put it on the ground in front of me, but stop myself from bending over more than a couple degrees and make a coughing noise. Then I rub my nose and straighten up and deliberately hold the tablet in front of me.

At which point I reach with one of my hands and turn it on.

Holding it with one hand directly in front of my face at half an arm’s length out, I press on the screen with the knuckle of my other hand.

This feels so freaking awkward and weird.

But soon the AAC app is open and I can talk again. So I say, in my own now familiar voice, that of the tablet, “Can’t talk.”

“What? I don’t understand!” Jill exclaims. Then looks questioningly at Chapman.

Cerce utters, “Oh.”

And Chapman nods at her and then says, “She has a larynx now, Jill. Not only does she not know how to use it, but I imagine it feels really weird when she tries.”

I nod vigorously.

“But didn’t she have one before?” Jill asks.

“I don’t know,” Chapman says. “I never got to study a dragon before the metamorphosis. No one did. We didn’t know who they were. But if I had a guess, I’d say she did, but she lost all memory of how to use it when that old disguise was discarded.”

Jill half points at me and asks, “And how did you say she got this way again?”

“I very pointedly didn’t,” Chapman replies. “And I won’t.”

Jill squints at me and examines me further and says, “I do feel like I recognize her, even though she’s never looked like this. Just like the first time she changed. Will all the other dragons be able to do this?”

“Probably not. Or, if so, one at a time.”

“So weird. And so cool, and,” she looks at me in the face. “Are you really OK with this?”

I shake my head, making sure that she and Cerce and Rhoda and Chapman see me do so. Then I use my tablet to say, “Have to.”

“OK. OK.” She nervously smiles at Chapman, then back at me. “Well, you look good.”

—

There’s a full length mirror in the back room, where they’re going to eventually set up my computer, and I’m really annoyed that I’m using it to look at this body and not my own.

I could take off all my clothes again and then the pendant, and get to see, but that would be a lot of trouble. I’ll get to see eventually.

And, even though it’s a full length mirror, it’s not really wide enough to give me a full third person view of my wingspan. When I have one.

It’s just fine for a human, of course.

I’m.

I’m a woman.

Only I’m not.

This is how I know that I’m not.

Oh, I am definitely female. I am so supposed to be female. I am almost laser focused now on the idea of laying eggs in the spring.

I might be in the need to look for a suitable egg laying lair, actually. It’s a whole half a year away, but now I’m thinking of that pretty solidly.

But anyway, female dragons are not typically women, and this is definitely not me.

Kind of like before my first metamorphosis, I feel like I’m seeing a completely different person in the mirror. Like, as if it’s literally not a mirror but a window, with another person on the other side. My brain will absolutely not let me see it as a mirror. Even as that person mimics my movements and expressions.

But the person I see is cute!

And unlike before, she looks like someone I’d like to at least be very good friends with.

I sure wouldn’t mind looking like her if I absolutely had to. At least humans would treat me almost right if they saw her when looking at me.

Which, for the time being, they will. Which is a startling revelation to keep having. It never stops being jarring.

I do find it a little weird that I can walk just fine, but I can’t talk. It feels like a continuity oversight in a science fiction show. Or a plot hole. But I speculate it might have something to do with dissociation, and what specifically triggers my dysphoria and what doesn’t. Maybe.

It is magic. And very particular, literal magic at that, from Chapman’s explanation. Like programming the universe itself. So, it might just be that I’m missing the code for speech but not for walking. Though, why that would be the case, I’m just not sure. It makes less sense to me than my dissociation explanation.

I tilt my head to the side and watch as the other person does it too. They do remind me a lot of Chapman when sie isn’t around.

I again ask myself this question, because the topic just happens to be on my brain regarding eggs and just how human I might be at the moment. Would I have sex with this person if I could?

Maybe?

If I appear to be human, and she is human, maybe I could. Socially. Accept that.

Physically? Can I imagine enjoying the physical sensation of that?

Honestly, I just can’t even bring to mind memories of physical human contact, let alone daydreams of it.

Why do I ask myself this?

Because humans are constantly talking about it. Or, a lot of them are. Every relationship in every story seems to center around eventually having sex. And it’s the one way they ask whether they’re compatible with each other. And I guess it’s one of those habits I’ve learned from them.

Again, I don’t know what happens in the spring, which I’m guessing is mating season, based on thoughts I keep having.

I turn my head away from the mirror.

I’m supposed to be using this thing to practice acting and moving like a human woman. And I’m failing even at moving like a human, actually. I can tell that much.

I awkwardly move to open the door and walk through the short dark hallway out into the cafe. There are some other customers there now, and Chapman comes to me and indicates we should head back into the back room again.

I was going to ask hir to help me, but apparently I don’t have to.

Rhoda moves to come back, too, but Chapman stops here and says, “Just a moment, OK?”

And then, once we’re back there, Chapman closes the door and stands in front of it.

“Maybe we don’t need you to practice being human today. Just keep the disguise on until we’re done,” sie says. “It’ll be more convincing if you’re draconically weird for the interview. Blending in with people will be needed later, maybe, when you want to use it.”

Then we talk about a few other things before inviting Rhoda in to plan the next phase.

—

It’s the end of the summer and this weird man is wearing black jeans and a black leather biker’s jacket. His black hair is the kind of mess they strove for in old photos of geniuses, but his mutton chops belong at the Subdued Stringband Jamboree. He���s wearing cowboy boots and holding a small notepad and a pen, his right leg propped up on his left as he sits and listens to me explain things using his laptop with the AAC program installed on it.

I find the keyboard is reasonably easy to use, once I get used to using my fingertips to hunt and peck.

I used to be a touch typist, but I think this way now for some reason. But I’m still getting full sentences out in reasonable time.

He’s nodding as I talk.

Occasionally, he asks a question.

What I find absolutely hilarious is that his name, his literal given name, is Seagull. Seagull Phil. It sounds like a nickname, but it isn’t.

The coincidence of that made my stomach growl at the weirdest moment in our introductions.

He works for the weekly paper, and we’re having this interview in the back room of the shop.

He has a voice like a 1930s transatlantic radio announcer. Soft, gentle, and extremely articulate. It does not fit his physical image in the slightest. He’s six foot three, too.

The whole affect is disarming and makes me feel at ease despite my mounting and raging dysphoria. I almost forget that I don’t look like myself.

Rhoda met him at the Council meeting, and befriended him when it was adjourned abruptly to his great dismay. She’d told him that he could interview a dragon.

I’m keeping my human disguise for this so that I can type easier, really.

When we’re done, I’ve promised to shed it so that he can verify that I’m the Meg that everyone is talking about.

What I’ve learned is that apparently I’ve been targeted by the authorities because I’ve been leading the morning roll calls, and someone thinks that that will break up the grip the rest of the dragons have on the city. But also, the property management of my building had called the police for my forceful eviction from the premises (which they had momentarily achieved). They have no idea I’m trespassing.

I’m telling Seagull as much of my story as I can manage in the time we have.

Between this interview and the letters that Astraia and I sent to City and County Councils, there may be some hope for a better resolution, Seagull says.

I want to believe him.

—

Now I see myself in that full length mirror.

I still wish it was a mirror in a dance hall, or something like that. But between it and my ability to twist and crane my neck to look at my back and belly, or to look at the mirror from any angle, I get a really good look at myself.

I’m alone again in the back room to do this.

And I’m relaxed in ways that I didn’t think even mattered.

It’s like my very cells have unclenched.

It’s that energized looseness and lethargy you might feel after the best massage, if your soul had been massaged.

So, when I described my torso and limbs as being similar in scale to a human’s, that didn’t really do any justice to their form or function, or actual shape. Just a vague sense of scale that explains why and how I can enter buildings with little trouble.

I’ve only seen morphology like this in recent speculative illustrations of dinosaurs, with the major addition of a third set of limbs. My wings.

Unlike how dinosaurs are thought to have been, based on their skeletal structures, I believe I am about as flexible as a monitor lizard.

But my back is high and arched, and my chest does have a keel like a bird’s, because wing muscles demand that. This makes my torso tall, like a dogs, and gives me a barrel chest like a swan’s. Also, my neck starts at the base by going up and curving gracefully to my head, which can be described as before. But now I’m thinking of it as kind of a cross between a goat and caiman in shape, nearly straight horns swept back. And my tail tends to be held upright and straight out for balance. I can’t curl it terribly tightly with muscles alone, but it’s more flexible than it looks when I move.

My wings are more forward than my forelimbs. Which actually makes my wings my forelimbs. My arms, I guess, are set further back out of the way of my flight muscles. But they’re still partially linked, and I do flex them a little in sync with my wings when I’m flapping hard.

If I stretch out, from tip of nose to tip of tail, I might be ten or eleven feet long.

I know I don’t weigh nearly as much as I did when I presented as a 5’10” human man that was 280 lbs.

On the other hand, I think I may have notably grown in length and girth in the last week. I have no measurements to confirm it, but I just feel like it has happened.

My left shoulder still has that nasty gash in it, which isn’t there when I’m in human disguise.

But even with that gash, every inch of this body, as I look at it, every scale, every tiny curve, every bump and nobble, every movement of it, everything is mine. Mine in the same way that this building is mine, and this coffee shop. The way that my friends are mine. And the city itself. The way that my soul is mine.

Not the mine of ownership or domain. The mine of association and identity.

The mine by which I derive my sense of being and purpose and place. Contentment. Joy. Pride.

It can be injured and made weaker, but even then that’s mine, too.

It’s the kind of mine I can mine for strength.

Inspired by this feeling, I spend a little time learning a few more simple, one syllable words, so I can say them faster when I need to.