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Stuff and Things

@tigergirltail / tigergirltail.tumblr.com

Alexis - 39 - transfem (she/her) - ΘΔ - tabletop gamer, occasional cosplayer, median system, practicing witch, trans artist, banner by @skelotom

Happy Trans Day of Visibility! I've made 20 of these! That's crazy considering I'm a full time teacher and graduate student.

Send these to someone to crack their egg.

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Follow up to goth moth

I thought of adding a hat, and @skelotom approved of my decision. Although I don't have my own witch hat, so I had to borrow hers.

Hope ya don't mind, Erin!

Lmao

Goth magic works in mysterious ways~

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Lamia HRT Part III

First Checkup

I practically stumble out of Erian’s office after my checkup, colors still swimming through much of my vision.  Thankfully, my face’s new heat-sensing pits are sensitive enough that I can “see” and walk about serviceably enough to get around, but I sit down in a chair closest to the door to try and recover just a little more before going home.  

“I am not knowledgeable about this condition,” the doctor had told me, “but feel free to visit the hospital the next time these particular symptoms flare up.”  

Not the answer I had hoped for, but I’ll take his word for it.  Not like I’m the expert here.  Though these symptoms - the dizziness, the vivid color hallucinations, the crawling feeling under my skin, the nosebleed that had thankfully stopped halfway here..  I’m having trouble trying to piece it together, especially in this state, but it sounds.. oddly familiar to me. One possibility skirts my mind, but I shake it off because it feels like nonsense, even in the context of an interdimensional city that lets you become an animal..  Or, in my case, a monster.

I primarily feel the heat of dozens of people passing by as I think and rest, uncertain how much time passes, until one shape in particular stops in front of me, holding something out towards me.  It’s hard to tell when primarily using heat vision to “see” what’s in front of me, but it’s shaped like.. a leaf?

“Try this, Lady Serpent.” they address me, placing the leaf in my hand.  I carefully bring the leaf to my mouth and try to bite it - it breaks easily enough, but attempting to chew with a mouth full of solely sharp teeth is a difficulty I’m still adjusting to.  More of Erian’s words go through my mind related to them - “Your teeth are showing growth atypical to the known lamia species, and if you are indeed not taking other medication as you claim, I will need to run additional tests to be certain there are no other impurities in your system and/or potentially hazardous complications down the line.”

Seeing my difficulty, only partly due to my recollection, the stranger rests a hand on my own again and says “No need to chew, if you find it difficult.”  I oblige and swallow the leaf shreds I’ve managed, and I start to feel invigorated rapidly, my normal vision slowly returning.  Blinking away the mix of sight and infrared, then blinking twice more to be certain I’m not hallucinating, I find standing in front of me the most beautiful elf I’ve yet seen since coming to Hyper City.  Their skin is an unusual yet familiar obsidian tone, their silver hair is textured, and their eyes sparkle of gold, all on a frame somewhat stockier than most of the other elves I’ve seen, yet still as graceful in movement and manner.  On recollection with a clearer head, their hands as they gave me the leaf were also quite soft, lacking that lacquered wooden feel that other elves I’ve seen within Hyper City are known for.. at least to my limited knowledge.  And the look of it certainly matched, making me wonder what made the elf in front of me different.  “Feeling any better?”

“Y-Yeah, much, actually.  I barely even swallowed, how-”

“Magic, of course.”  The elf interjects.  “I’m a mage, you see, and I grow.. medicinal plants as part of my research.  Had a sample on me and you looked like you could use a pick-me-up.”  The way they look me up and down as I rapidly recover suggests something more, but I dare not pry immediately after being helped.

“Oh, cool, keep forgetting there’s other magic stuff here, not just the HRT…  Uh, I’m Robin, and I’m becoming a lamia, hence my scales and such..” I introduce myself awkwardly as I sit up straight in the chair, munching on the rest of the magic leaf.

“A lamia, you say?  How interesting.  I recognize you, by the way- we live in the same apartment complex.  We don’t cross paths often, so it’s nice to formally meet you.” the elf says back, almost a recitation, which would probably make anyone else second-guess - I, however, don’t like to make assumptions.  They continue,  “Ah, forgive me, you can call me Marna.  They/them.” they tell me after seeing the unintended look of confusion on my face.  “As you can see, I’m an elf.  Have been for approximately..  Two years.  Just exited my own appointment and still saw you sitting here.”

“Elf, huh?  That’s cool!” I’m genuine, but perhaps too outwardly excited - I find some unpleasant exomemories of a particular group of elves I once met surfacing.  In fact, Marna’s obsidian skin, while not directly the same as those elves, makes me think of how such a skin tone was famously related to royal bloodlines in the Northern-.. I shake the thought away, sure that these dots I was connecting to a work of fiction was mere coincidence.

“Quite.  Say, are you sure you are well?  There was something slippery and quite warm on your hand.”

I look down at my hand, see the wet spot, and bring it up to my face.  My pits do detect it’s a warm spot, but the heat is not transferring to the skin, almost like it’s been isolated. I sniff it next and recognize what it is immediately.  “Oh!  Right!  I spilled butter on myself right before I collapsed, because I was making breakfast…  But I didn’t really feel it, so maybe I tolerate heat better now!”

“Right before you collapsed?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said..”

Marna’s eyes narrow slightly, seeming to inspect my skin, but before I ask what they’re doing, they speak up as if nothing happened. “Apologies, Robin, I don’t wish to keep you, especially since you seem to be doing alright.  You were sitting there for my entire appointment, after all.”

“Huh?”  I pull out my phone to check the time.  Geez, how long have I been sitting here, this was a 10am appointment and now it’s “3pm?!”  I get out of my chair quickly to leave, barely remembering to have some semblance of politeness and turn back. “Oh!  Right, thank you for helping me, Marna!  We’ll talk later!” 

Marna gives me a smile and wave as I rush my way out the door, then frowns a bit, deep in thought, and exits while mumbling to themself.  “You suffer from symptoms of mana sickness, seemingly because you unknowingly put a heat protection enchantment on yourself.  You recover rapidly from unrefined mana consumption and barely react to me being a mage.  Your unsubtle expressions told me you registered my skin tone differently than most.  And you are the resident of our apartment complex, which has experienced recent thinning of the mana I spread around the complex, an amount congruent with the presence of a-..  Hm.  Sorry, Robin.  Looks as though I’ll be watching you for a while.”

Anonymous asked:

I really appreciate you educating people about the harm outdoor cats do, as well as how harmful it can be for them. And I need to get this off my chest for people who continually cry for cats to free-roam despite it all.

My neighbour and I found an adorable kitten when we were about 13yo. Someone had moved out of our apartment and left him behind. She took him in and for about a month or so she brought him over every day so I could play with him. I got him a spiky collar with money I barely managed to save up as a 13yo because it looked so silly on a tiny black kitten who was barely the length of my forearm. I got to name him. His name was Spike.

But one day she told me that her grandmother decided to take him in. I was obviously sad but happy that he would live out his days as the gentle lapcat he proved to be.

It turned out her grandparents lived on a farm and they wanted him for 'mice control'. We lived in the Canadian prairies where the temp can fall well below -40°C during winter. And when I asked about how Spike was doing, she said "oh he got locked out of the barn froze to death." When I got extremely upset, she said it just happens to cats like it was a completely normal thing to say. At the time, I thought she was an outlier. But over the years I've heard outdoor cat people tell me about the grisly, painful deaths their cats had gone through. And they never just stop at the first horrible death or disappearance. Never.

I couldn't give less of a shit about people who say that their cats are fine because the place they live is predator-free or remote. There are diseases. And people can be unimaginably cruel. Even other cats can pose a threat.

The manner of his death doesn't even matter (as horrible as it was). It was only a matter of time before he got picked off, whether by another animal, human, or exposure. I'm 25 now and I still can't think of Spike without tearing up. He was the sweetest little cat I'd ever met. He might've still been with me now if I was able to take him back then and I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty about that.

That's so sad, I'm sorry.

I've found a lot of outdoor cat owners are pretty unconcerned about their cats dying. Being run over or getting attacked by another animal or just going missing and never finding them again is seen as a normal part of cat ownership. Every outdoor cat owner I meet has some horrible story about a cat of theirs dying or being horrifically injured. It''s not acceptable for any other pet but for some reason cats are the exception.

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Most of my parents' cats lived long, healthy lives, with only two exceptions I remember. One had FIP as a kitten, which was a death sentence before a treatment was recently found for it. Unpleasant, but not a result of negligence.

Then there was Twiggy. Twiggy was the fluffiest, sweetest, stupidest orange cat I've ever met, and he should have had a long, healthy life too, but he was an outdoor cat, as all my parents' cats were, and he was hit by a car. It was days before someone found the body, so I'll never know how much or how little he suffered, and it eats at me whenever I think about it. I still vividly remember my mother calling me while I was at work to tell me what happened.

To this day, whenever a game (Stardew Valley, MonHun Wilds, etc.) lets me have a cat, I always colour him orange and name him Twiggy, to give him some echo of the life he should have had.

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A Vulture In Therapy (wip)

It's been a while since I've posted anything because the next pages of The Appointment are taking a while, so have a sneak peak of some planned future events in the meantime

--- THE FUTURE FLYER'S CLUB ---

"Maybe it's just because I'm going back through the hormonal teenage phase," I sighed. I looked at myself in the mirror. The changes were happening, but very slowly. My body was covered in puffy white down feathers, and my skin had gone grey. The bone morphics were coming along nicely.

"I don't regret it, but there is this hollowness in me, some new need that isn't being fulfilled. Even though I have friends, a partner, a support system, I still feel so heavy and alone."

"Perhaps it would help you to meet more therians of your 'theriotype'?" The mirror said.

"You know I'm bad at meeting people..."

"~That's bullshit~ <3"

"W-"

"Middle school. You joined band even though you were afraid. You gathered a group of outcasts and made them friends. Highschool, you put together an Acapella group to perform in the talent show. You gathered more outcasts and made more friends. Online, you took risks with a bunch of strangers and made friends for life. College you opened up again and again to people you never met. You are not bad at meeting people, you're scared and one day soon you will decide you want it more than you fear it."

... I walked away from the mirror. She was right. Maybe. Maybe I needed to create my own happiness. Maybe I was ready to take the initiative. I went to my tablet and drafted my first sketch of a club poster.

"Future... Flyer's... Club. A club for bird Therians (or any winged creature) that wants to work together to teach each other how to fly. Yeah. I think this is something we need. But am I good enough to make it? I don't know."

"But you want it more than you fear it. So take the leap."

Maybe I'll print a few test copies tomorrow. Maybe I'll bring them to my check-in with Erian next month and ask if I can leave some in his office. Maybe I'll ask Madam Mabel if I can leave a couple at The Roost.

Maybe it'll start small, and maybe it'll grow from there. My flock.

Flight isn't just an instinct, it's a skill.

No mother bird to show us how.

Lets show each other.

Welcome to the Future Flyers' Club! We have Posture Practice, which is just a scaffolding with a harness rig and a large fan (it took so many extension cords to get that fan all the way out here) but hey, it'll get you used to flapping and to the soaring position!

And if your legs are feeling stable, you might try out our long jump launch! It's a bunch of haybales stacked up with some distance markers on the ground.

I've also got a tape measure in my pocket if you want to check your wingspan or tail length!

I know it's not much to look at yet, but it'll get there. Just like us!

"You are not bad at meeting people, you're scared and one day soon you will decide you want it more than you fear it."

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