I Think One Of The Reasons Drag Kings Aren’t As Popular As Drag Queens, Aside From The Fact That Straight

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Chapter 9 is officially up ♡ I’ve passed 40k words on this thing which is way longer than anything I’ve written before. Still can’t believe I was able to pick up a decade-old idea and come this far with it. Thanks for all the comments & reblogs!!

reblog to slowblink at your mutuals

YAAAAA POLYCUT!!!!

I wanna come out and say this. Y’all are cowards for just shipping Shiver and Frye. Make it poly. Big man deserves love too

One of the most important things I’ve learned as a Real Adult™ is the importance of a job half done. 

Today I did a load of dishes, wiped off my stove, and swept the kitchen floor. Did I do the best job, or finish every dish? No! My stove still has that caked on caramel that I need to bust out an SOS pad to take care of, one of our big pots is still sitting in the sink, and somehow a kitty kibble unearthed itself while I was wiping down the stove (?? how??).. but the kitchen looks a LOT better. It’s once again an inhabitable, usable space.

Parents, bosses, teachers, even my own self, harp upon absolute perfect completion of a task as the be all and end all of a job well done, but god damn, my kitchen isn’t terrible because I took the time to improve it. Little steps, especially when you’re struggling, are important. They mean a LOT. They are a sign that you won, if only in that brief moment, and they make getting all the other stuff done so much easier later on down the road. 

government is trying to ban tiktok meanwhile millions of poor and disabled americans are about to completely lose their internet access at the end of april because congress wont renew funding for the affordable connectivity program

hell fucking world

osha compliant blowjob

There was an Agreement

Between the Circus Kids, as Caleb had taken to calling them, there had been a longstanding agreement not to let the other forget anything important. Not when they knew that it could happen and how much it would hurt them to realize it when it did. 

It had been Mollymauk’s idea. It was why he had given Yasha the book she used to press flowers and small keepsakes meant to be passed on to the woman she had wanted to show the world to. It had been Mollymauk’s idea, to find her on a bad night, and prod her back to reality to ask the small questions. The important questions. 

“What colour were her eyes, love?”

“What did she used to call you again?”

“Can you tell me that story about that time you fell into the swamp? That was funny and I need a laugh.”

Yasha remembered every question. Every detail it had been meant to drudge up and back to the front of her mind. Every small smile she missed and the way Zuala’s eyes would light up right before she laughed. She remembered every small pattern of speech and the way her wife had been so fierce in her love. 

And she remembered the way Mollymauk would never let her forget. 

“Caleb,” Yasha had always been afraid that her voice was too loud when she intruded on these moments the mage would take. These little reprieves long after the adventure was done and their future was safe. When there was a familiar lavender tiefling off exploring the world with no apparent recollection of them, and the life being built around the broken foundations between them was still unsteady in the wake of it all; “Do you remember Molly’s laugh?”

She did. 

She heard it often enough. In her memory and in every fresh flower in a fresh book she wanted to keep for herself. In every way Kingsley would strut or swoop in and out of her life with the same exuberance that Mollymauk had once clung to her when she made her way back into his. 

Caleb would smile at the question. “I believe we still hear it often enough, no?”

“No… No, I don’t think it’s the same. Do you remember that time we had in Zadash, when he tried to get you in on a con to get us rooms?”

There was a moment when Caleb would have to pause. To think. To realize exactly what was being asked. 

His hands would shake sometimes, as he got the drinks for them from some cupboard or other. His eyes would be wet, his smile would be sad. 

Yasha knew that Essek had tried to do the same. But it was different with someone who never knew the tiefling they both loved. Essek could never offer an opinion or correction. Beau would never want to correct them unless they twisted something so far out of the truth that she felt the need to make sure the truth was still there. 

But they had an agreement to remember. 

“Caleb,” Yasha would say, often with an arm around Caleb the same way she would once hold Mollymauk when he asked the same questions. She missed how he would climb into her lap with that annoying, feline grin of his. Caleb would lean against her and drink with her; “tell me about Molly.”

–

(Also now at my AO3: Here)

I hope this is up to your standards :3

Playing Octopath Traveler 2 last night and found a head gear item called Festival Garland which I'm guessing is for Agnea cos you get her in the same area, but for my party it made most sense to put it on Osvald so I put a flower crown on the jacked up escaped convict math wizard and I wish I could draw cos the mental image was *chefs kiss*

It’s wild to me to see transvestigator conspiracy theories online that could be so easily explained by natural human variation. That woman has a deep voice? Yeah, sometimes they do. A woman has broad shoulders?? Maybe she plays rugby or hits the gym a fuckton. There’s a “bulge” in her tight pants?? Maybe her vulva is just fat. All the “markers” of trans woman that transvestigators use to harass any woman aren’t even things unique to trans women.