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I'd rather you not reblog if your Tumblr is full of dicks or vaginas or assholes. 33, Straight, Demi, Gainer/Feedee with huge fantasies.
P.S.: Don't call me pig/hog/etc
P.P.S.: for only pics/vids search #SSBHM
“I like Stone Soup,” said the cow. “Stone Soup is an honest con. We get a meal, everyone thinks they’ve seen a little bit of magic, you sell the stone for a little bit of pocket money, you pick up another stone at the next town. Everyone gets something.”
“And if I remember right, you were the one who suggested we steal the magic beans.”
“That wasn’t stealing, that was a legitimate trade.”
“A legitimate trade for a talking cow that disappeared by morning?”
“He didn’t even lock the barn! How is that my fault?” She huffed and laid her head onto her forelimbs. The stalk of grass in her lips wobbled with her scowl. “Old fool never knew what he had.”
Jack hummed. He craned forward to get a better look into the tiny, cracked glass, pulled gently at the corner of his eye and delicately dabbed the makeup brush.
“My point is,” said the cow, “this all seems rather - cruel.”
Jack turned. One half of his face was magnificently painted in faerie shades of blues and violets. The other half was just confused. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“For gods’ sake, Jack, this is a perfectly innocent girl who you plan on humiliating in front of the royal court.”
“How would she be humiliated? As far as she’ll know, she’ll have a lovely time at a lovely ball in a lovely ballgown.”
“You don’t have a lovely ballgown!”
“Well I can’t afford a ballgown, now can I?!”
“So you’re going to make her waltz in her fucking underclothes?!”
He took a dramatic breath. “Look,” he said, brandishing the makeup brush. “If it worked on the fucking emperor, it’ll work on a fucking scullery maid. If she gets told by a fairy that she’s wearing a fairy dress that can only be seen by intelligent people, she is going to believe like hell that she’s wearing the very image of sartorial extravaganza.”
The brush was masterfully twiddled. “And when everyone else finds out that she’s wearing a fairy dress that can only be seen by intelligent people, there won’t be a single person in that room who would dare to disagree.”
The cow shook her head. “I don’t know, Jack,” she sighed. “I just don’t know.”
“It’ll be fine,” Jack said, turning back to the tiny glass and bringing a deft hand again on the canvas. “Trust me. How did you do finding the slippers?”
“Couldn’t find crystal,” said the cow. “Best I could get were a glass set from an elf down at the cobbler’s.”
Jack hummed. “Well, they shouldn’t be that important. Nobody will look too closely at her shoes.”
There were two guards at the palace gate, slabs of meat and muscle wrapped in candybright costumes. They looked every bit as solid as the iron gate between them, and looked like the kind of guard prepared for every kind of foolishness they’d see tonight.
They weren’t prepared for the woman who stepped down from the cow-drawn wagon. Her slippers gleamed amber in the torchlight, and her dress was… It was…
Well, the fey who hung over her shoulder told them that her dress was a beautiful thing, spun from the glimmer of starlight, the sound of snowfall, and the colour of the moon. He said that any discerning gentleman could tell that this was true, and the guards agreed.
Neither of them had looked too closely at the dress. In fact, they had been trying to carefully, politely and inexplicably avert their gaze.
I remember someone saying “mad scientists in fiction aren’t scientists because there’s never a control group”
I think if you’ve created an elixir that turns people into goat men you have sort have gone past the need for a control group. The control group is not going to placebo themselves into goat men. You can probably not run the control group, and safely assume that none of them would have turned into goat men. That said, having a control group for that would make the mad scientist seem extra crazy and be really really funny, especially if he was carefully testing them for goat like features from the dyed water they drank instead of the elixir
We can confirm that Soln. 42 does not, specifically, result in hybrid + Homo sapiens x Capra hircus. Rather, it possesses the capacity to induce drastic physiological transformation based upon traits and mutations idealized in the subconscious psyche of each subject. See fig.s 1-3 for detail of results.
79% of subjects exhibited transformations that would have been predictable had we better understood the biochemical mechanisms of Soln. 42, e.g. changes in height, hair, and/or eye color; younger and/or slimmer appearance; more pronounced and/or gender-affirming sexually dimorphic traits; removal of life-limiting medical conditions; and minor enhancements to extant human capabilities (strength, sensory perception, etc). 15% underwent no physiological changes at all.
Among the remainder we found an interesting admixture of nonhuman traits and mutations. Mammalian ears, tails, and fur featured heavily, as did various morphologies of wings. See fig. 4 for details of this diverse minority. We interviewed subject + Homo sapiens x Capra hircus from trial phase I and determined that his exceptional physiological transformations can be accounted for within the context of this category.
Fever is a hilarious immune response. Our bodies tell the disease “hey, wanna see which one of us dies of overheating first? No? Too bad.” and honestly they’re not even the winners a decent chunk of the time but it works often enough that we never evolved it away or anything. Fantastic work.
What able bodied authors think I, an amputee and a wheelchair user, would want in a scifi setting:
Tech that can regenerate my old meat legs.
Robot legs that work just like meat legs and are functionally just meat legs but robot
Literally anything that would mean I don’t have to use a wheelchair.
If I do need to use a wheelchair, make it fly or able to “walk me” upstairs
What I actually want:
Prosthetic covers that can change colour because I’m too indecisive to pick one colour/pattern for the next 5+ years.
A leg that I can turn off (seriously, my above knee prosthetic has no off switch… just… why?)
A leg that won’t have to get refitted every time I gain or loose weight.
A wheelchair that I can teleport to me and legs I can teleport away when I’m too tierd to keep walking. And vice versa.
In that same vein, legs I can teleport on instead of having to fiddle around with the sockets for half an hour.
Prosthetic feet that don’t require me to wear shoes. F*ck shoes.
Actually accessible architecture, which means when I do want to use my wheelchair, it’s not an issue.
Prosthetic legs with dragon-claw feet instead of boring human feet or just digigrade prosthetics that are just as functional as normal human-shaped ones.
A manual wheelchair with the option to lift my seat up like those scissor-lift things so I’m not eye-level with everyone’s butt on public transport/so I can reach the top shelf by myself.
A prosthetic foot that lights up when it hits the ground like those children’s shoes.
i googled this on a whim and the first thing i get is nyt race science
just as an FYI for those who don’t know - the NYT publishes things that are lowkey eugenics and phrenology and race science CONSTANTLY. it flies under the radar except for journalism twitter calling them out but the NYT SUCKS. it is very hard to encourage people to find reliable sources online when the “reliable sources” like papers of record do shit like this, and the NYT is one of the WORST offenders.
