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xx-snuggles-xx · 6 months

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helloo!!

i used to have a blog like this but i got sad [#lol🥲] and deleted it. my main is @bug5-4-friend5 :0 i’m looking for friend so feel free to message me but don’t be sliding sexual style into my dms (i have a bf),, my wishlist is linked below if you’re so kind enough to get me a gift please let me know in a dm or anon so i can properly thank you :) (no ill intent)

anyyyyway :P here are some things about me!

my name is M or Morrie! :)

my pronouns are they/he

i’m 19

i have a lovely boyfriend ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ ) whomst i love so dearly (´ω｀*)

i’m a freshman in college :0

I have not declared BUT i’m going to major in art and gender & sexuality studies!!!! so cool right :D

i love any media of art i can get my hands on

im polygender -nonbinary and trans masc

im achillean/bisexual :3 meaning i only am attracted to masculine people (normally only men or non-binary people, but sometimes also butch women)

i am on the acearo spectrum :)

YAY’s! :)

music (my favorites atm are “House Made of Ash” by Lil Darkie and “M” by Florist)

the arts 🤌 (lmaoo) anyway with out having dived tooo deep into it i like the surrealist art movement and also dadá 👌

poetry 🫶 (i LOve richard siken OH My god, favorite poem is “Scheherazade”) i also like “Jesus at a gay bar” by Jay Hulme

doordash,,, you’re telling me i don’t have to leave my house and i can still get my favorite food? helllll nah, broski that’s the devils work ;)

NAY’s! :(

the smell of weed :/ (so sad ik)

casseroles,, but especially like. like most traditional (not northern) meatloafs, i have yet to try one casserole that i like.

bacon, pizza, hot dogs, most chicken nuggets, fried chicken, basically any fun food :/

Pablo Picasso- i do understand he was very monumental for the art world though i have my reasons not to like him :|

how I spend my free time

making art! :D

photography

homework

with my BF <3!!

writing poetry

crocheting

taking naps _(,’o｣∠)_

making jewelry :0

YAY’s! ;)

men (my bf)

mlm (nblm nblnb t4t achellian)

pet play (bunny puppy) :3

cnc

s0mno :)

impact play

edging

praise

degradation

free use

breeding

NAY’s! >:(

fake safe words

most bodily fluids (pee vomit scat etc,, blood is okay in certian situations)

most anti bodily autonomy (de-trans, slavery, forced impr3g, forced fem/masc, anything racial, “sissy” etc)

DNI-

de trans

Eating disorder/Ana/mia… Blogs

minors

homophobes racists transphobes etc

cis-hets can interact but don’t be idiotic pls :3

this post is.. not done btw… :v lmao

#j :)#oh my love #j please #mlm #achillean #mlm nsft #t4t #t4t yearning #mlm yearning #my post #ask morrey #amazon wishlist #♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

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kashisun · 1 year

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Nobody asked but i wanted to share the current mix of different skins i use for my male sims recently

Base skin is the Morrey skin by @sims3melancholic

I use the Sweet Pea skin overlay by @sammi-xox

Then i use the Denzel skin by @khadijah551 ( with the colour slider )

And i also use the highlight n 5 by @ddarkstonee

And yeahhhh! That’s what i used to make Amari and Trey

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ressources #ts4cc finds #wcif

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unkn0wn-w0rld · 8 months

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Masterpost:

The remaked 2024

Unkn0wn World, Halohorn: The world of my mind

Hello, Unkn0wnNys here and I'm the C&P of my own world.

On this blog you can:

Ask us questions, gives us dares to the aftersouls of this world.

If you're curious about us, you're welcome. here some characters of mine:

ଘThe og's (In order):

Crowxy

Catxya

Past Catxy

Catxy

Sayana

Lixzy (Coco)

Bodlyna

Hopexy

Myniolia

-----------

Tekayen & Myckwell

Shyttevy & Suttfey

Wenlyn, Teynfey & Xelly

Xenify( bonus Unhinged who Belong to Trypano) & Lonesty

Shoomky(Sharcellys) , Wynnley & Moonvy

Saiky, Hoshy, Saleys (bonus Mace who Belong to Trypano)

Diesney & Lildye, Teaysu & Amysu, Morrey Mel & Almelvy

Redfey & Sunnsy

Deyzel, Xeryl, Saphirrys, Rayvshi, Loomyn, Chryms and Sya

Lheenvy, Shey and Dawnsey

Cosmixy (Somlyv), Jayden (Omelyv), Howley, Cherryv (Cherry Rose) and Joykleez (Joyclyn Rose)

Redrose, Femzy and Nysyn

Rayvona and Lamuny

★ [Sha]Nyses:

Shanys/Nys/Unknown 777 (Both The human [irl me] and the one with the star eye [alt irl me as second persona])

Nyushu (Star halohorn)

DemiQueen Shanys

Sorrows0ul

Blacks0ul

Vents0ul

✘The background/side ocs:

Wellen

Xyaon

BerryBelle

Sunflower

Yvonté

Gvens

Halo

Zayked

Cloudxirys

Nemphly

Lovynden

Starilyss

Fenflyn

Flowren

Jahen

Feyzah

Nosify

D'yunz

Mowlyn

Blynks

Uphensis

Tayv

Kezoku

Xyen

Sovney

Remoka

Katenoa

Iosvyn

Revenks

Noomfu

Ronica

Taetana

Solys

Myreka

Owlkey

Qwolvs

Pheyz

Velsvy

Azvex

Excyn

Hozyak

Jinyx

Ewenka

Stoomylus

Judesi

Yudasi

Xoenv

Woenv

-Hope you will come here. You are welcome here..until we meet again.

#Unkn0wn World #unkn0wnlians #gacha account .#gacha club

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nysnextd00r · 1 month

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To: Morrey

*classic Sans wakes up in your place*

Classic Sans: uh.... Hello? *He says out loud, he stands up and walks around trying to find you*

Classic Sans: Morrey? Where are you? *He asks you*

You again is not on the right blog.

#unkn0wn [nys] answers

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the-mainverse · 10 days

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Almelvy: ask Morrey

Morrey: . . . Where no one can't find her.

Melody: Oh. That is relieving. Are you feeling a little better Alme?

#ask #nysnextd00r #mye melody

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violetsgayhouse · 3 years

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My qpp fo is like. 7’5 to my 5’2. Short people winning in this day

SHORT PEOPLE WINNING THIS DAYYYY mines 7'2 to my 5'5 this is so cool so cool

#ALMOST made my insert 5'0 exactly. but then i remembered morrey #evne if im not taller than him i wont be an entire foot smaller otherwise I will be the subject of short jokes #v speaks #asks #anon #fo talk

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faramiroftarth · 6 years

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For the ask game! Morrey from Gilmore Girls xD

1) fight them or fight for them

WHO’S GOT BEEF WITH MY MAN MORREY!? Because me and Babbette will kick their behinds for him! #MorreyIsOurKing

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

10! Because every time him and Babbette are on screen I die of happiness. ESPECIALLY WHEN HES PULLING THE WAGON WITH THEIR CHUBBY CAT IN IT! We need more Jazz Cat Morrey in our lives.

3) would i smooch

On the cheek because I’m afraid of Babbette, but like can I adopt him as my awesome jazz grandpa/uncle?

4) have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

I WANT TO WRITE MORE MORREY, AND I SHOULD IN MY JESS/DUNCAN FICS! Seriously, Morrey would be such a fun and loving person to write like - perfect men do exist.

5) voice HC if they don’t have a voice already

Morrrey has a voice but I always think of him as the Jazz skeleton from The Nightmare before Christmas, no idea why.

Thanks for asking~!

#Asks #lpdwillwrite4coffee #Ask Games #Answers #MORREY IS THE SWEETEST OLD MAN ALRIGHT #AND IM GLAD YOU SENT THIS

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leticiadeldebbio · 2 years

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Top 20 King’s Cage Quotes

From book 3 of Red Queen Series.

“And his eyes are worst of all. Her eyes, Elara's eyes. Once I thought them cold, made of living ice. Now I know better. The hottest fires burn blue, and his eyes are no exception.”

Mare Barrow - Chapter 1

"There are pieces of me, small pieces, still in love with a fiction. A ghost living inside a living boy I cannot begin to fathom. The ghost who loves me, in what poisoned way he can. And I feel that poison working in me.”

Mare Barrow - Chapter 8

"You ask how much of it was me. Some. Enough.”

Maven Calore - Chapter 8

“A king without supporters is no king at all.”

Evangeline Samos - Chapter 8

"He's terrified. For a second, it makes me happy. Then I remember: monsters are most dangerous when they're afraid.”

Mare Barrow - Chapter 10

“I lost every other person I ever loved.”

Maven Calore - Chapter 12

“Now I'm in a king's cage. But so is he. My chains are Silent Stone. His is the crown.”

Mare Barrow - Chapter 12

“You’re right, I’m not like them. War is not what I was made for.”

Maven Calore - Chpater 14

“Maven Calore is not his own self. He is a construct, a creation of his mother's additions and subtractions. A mechanical, a machine, soulless and lost."

Mare Barrow - Chapter 14

“I’m not a fool, little lightning girl. If you’re going to play in my head, I’m going to play in yours. It’s what we’re good at.”

Maven Calore - Chapter 14

“People like us, we lie to everyone. Especially ourselves.”

Maven Calore - Chapter 14

“As you enter, you pray to leave. As you leave, you pray never to return.”

Cameron Cole - Chapter 15

“I've been broken too many times to break again.”

Cameron Cole - Chapter 15

“Not a god’s chosen, but a god’s cursed. That’s what we all are.”

Julian Jacos - Chapter 17

“Those who know what it’s like in the dark will do anything to stay in the light.”

Maven Calore - Chapter 17

"You are the only person I care about, the only person who reminds me I am alive. Not empty. And not alone.”

Maven Calore - Chapter 17

"She was his hurricane, and every nudge pulled him deeper into the eye of the storm.”

Evangeline Samos - Chapter 19

“Fear can be a good thing. Fear doesn't let you forget.”

Morrey Cole - Chapter 24

“You aren’t alone. You have your crown.”

Mare Barrow - Epilogue

“To stand in front of a person who is your whole world and be told you are not enough. You are not the choice. You are a shadow to the person who is your sun.”

Mare Barrow - Epilogue

#red queen #red queen quotes #maven calore #king maven #mare barrow #maven x mare #prince maven #kings cage #mareven #cal calore #julian jacos #evangeline samos #book quotes #bookstan #booklover

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whodeservedthatgoddamnepilogue · 6 years

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I just wanna say thank you, thank you so much for making Cameron have dark skin in your edit, i see a lot of people in this fandom lightening her skin very often, and you didn't and gave Morrey dark skin too, so thank you so much. Please keep up the good work!

Aww thank you! I’m personally a very strong believer in keeping edits similar to how the character in question is actually described, and while most do, I’ve found that darker-skinned characters and edits generally aren’t kept to that, even though they obviously should be given that same respect. I always have and *will* try to break away from that sorry mistake that lies in every fandom, as again, it’s just so sad to see.

Anyways, I'm so glad that you appreciated it! Cameron and Morrey are two of my favourite characters, right up there next with Evangeline and Shade. I'll try to continue making you happy!

#red queen #red queen edit #cameron cole #morrey cole #ask #thank you

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caravagest · 3 years

Photo

Customer Service

5K words - Short story - Sci-fi

Warnings: mentions of homophobia, transphobia and abortions

“I never much liked those Areedans, myself”, Morrey said, not for the first time since Vidan had known him, and probably not for the last.

Vidan, for one, thought Morrey ought to have been used to them by now. He was the oldest worker at the station, and had been there the longest – going on sixteen Vanetan years in service, and, probably, looking down the barrel of another couple decades there. At Morrey’s ripe age of forty-seven, career re-orientation wasn’t exactly an easy prospect. Eventually, Morrey would grow old at the same post he had always held, behind the same stained counter, under the same sickly neon lights. Around seventy, if he had enough money put away, he’d retire, and head back home to Vaneta to die planet-side. Vidan could see it happening, could almost picture Morrey’s face when the still slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes grew into deep crevices and the skin of his cheeks gave way to gravity and dropped into waxy fat under his jaw.

For now, though, Morrey was still full of just enough youth and energy to brew coffee, hold a broom, wipe down tables, and sneer at aliens, who made up perhaps half of the clientele of the station, maybe even more. Vidan himself regarded them with curiosity, if a safe amount of distrust, but not with the contempt Morrey held them in. Perhaps it had come with his time at the station, or perhaps he’d always been that way. His wasn’t an uncommon stance on Vaneta. Non-reproducibles weren’t popular with the Church, and as such, they weren’t popular with the people. It was bad for tourism, but Vanetans didn’t care for tourism so much as they did for conquest.

“I heard they can listen to your thoughts”, Vidan mumbled, and tried not to stare too hard at the four-armed man browsing the dry snacks on the other side of the station. “So maybe you shouldn’t think that too loud.”

“I heard they see them”, Morrey said, in a quiet tone, but not so quiet that he made any great effort to spare the customer the conversation, should he give it keen attention. “He’s not looking this way, is he?”

“They don’t see or hear thoughts”, Shelvore piped up from his chair. He was on break, but he never did like to take them outside like Morrey, who left the station every chance he was given to smoke a stick and drink a half of coffee away from the clientele. Shelvore liked to stay seated inside and read his books. He was never much for conversation, except for when it allowed him to show off where he knew more than his coworkers. Even though he was a young man, Shelvore dressed like someone twice his age, read printed books far after it had went from retro to ridiculous, and always liked to show off his knowledge, especially when no one had prompted it. Aliens were a strong suit of his; he was from Santina, where the Church had no hold and inter-species exchange was common.

“It’s a sense we humans don’t have. They perceive thoughts in their environment, it’s neither seeing nor hearing. Trying to picture it is like a man born blind trying to imagine sight.”

Shelvore had a strong Santinan accent, with his vees sharp and distinct from his bees and a clipped quality to his thees. It made him sound a bit snobbish, Vidan thought.

“Well, can this one”, Morrey asked, nodding towards the purple-skinned man, “hear what I’m thinking right now?”

“He can’t hear--”, Shelvore started, but apparently decided it was pointless. “I don’t know”, he admitted. “I don’t know if he needs to look your way, or how close he needs to be. It’s hard to understand how their telepathy works.”

Morrey scoffed, and turned his back to Shelvore, digging into his pocket for a candy bar. Vidan, though, kept his eyes on the tall alien. The man had been staring at the same selection of snacks for quite a few minutes now. It made him uneasy. There were only so many types of fried eggs and legume chips. Vidan wondered if the Areedan was, in fact, only pretending to look at the snacks – if he truly was consulting their thoughts, how ever he in fact did it. He tried not to think of anything offensive. Of course, trying not to think of it only brought it up, and he immediately started to wonder if it was true they expelled excrement from their mouths and had no anal cavity. He figured Shelvore would know, but he also figured he wouldn’t much like to casually ask him if Areedans really shat out of their mouths.

Vidan looked around helplessly for a distraction, and automatically gazed down at his wrist, to his data chip. A press of his thumb against it and his retina implant flared up, a blue sheen overlaying his vision. He wasn’t supposed to look at the networks during work, but, well, it was a slow day. He thumbed the data chip to scroll through news articles he couldn’t bring himself to care about. Through the luminescent letters and images, he could still see the Areedan.

The alien had stopped browsing the dry snacks, finally, and had selected a small bag of overpriced vinegar toad eggs – Fried In Adiga Oil, claimed the packaging, though it was really just regular sunflower oil with less than two percent adiga. Now the Areedan was looking at the drink selection, which was otherwise more diverse than the dry snacks. Considering how long his first choice had taken him, he might still be here a while.

Vidan continued to fail to read an article about the Center Council’s new bill on interplanetary animal transport, and, finally thumbed his data chip off. The blue screen on his vision disappeared, with the usual worrying squeak that let him know his ear implant needed changing. He leaned forward, put his forearms down on the counter, and watched the alien.

The Areedan had long, black hair – all of them he had seen did – and two of his arms were crossed behind his back elegantly. Vidan thought, not for the first time, that there was something graceful, something very pretty about Areedans, even the male ones. It was a guilty thought. He imagined it was brought on by the novelty. Vidan had only worked at the station for a month and he hadn’t gotten used to the aliens yet.

Finally, the customer leaned down to grab a soft drink and turned to the counter, and Vidan averted his gaze quickly, as if to prevent him from reading, or seeing, or hearing, or whatever it was they did with thoughts. It was probably useless.

If the Areedan had witnessed anything he’d been thinking about – about how pretty he was, or maybe about whether he defecated from the same hole he ate from – he made no show of it. Vidan figured telepaths probably didn’t get offended that easily; it would take up too much of their time.

Since Morrey was still unhelpfully nibbling on his candy bar (probably on purpose, the bastard), Vidan slid behind the register and put on his best customer service smile, focusing on the thought be polite to the customer, be polite to the customer, be polite to the customer, in hopes it would prevent the alien from seeing any of his less flattering ones.

“Find everything okay?”, he asked. Be polite to the customer, be polite to the customer.

“Yes thank you”, said the alien, very flatly, with no particular intonation to his voice, and handed Vidan his items.

Vidan scanned them quickly – be polite to the customer, be polite to the customer – and returned his eyes to the massive, empty scleras watching him. Maybe watching him. It was hard to tell with the lack of pupils but the general inclination of the alien’s head led him to believe he was being looked at. At least, the Areedan smiled back. Vidan liked it better when there was some overlap in facial expression. Some aliens he’d seen he couldn’t decipher the body language of at all.

“Very nice station”, said the alien, again in this toneless voice. “You are of very good service.”

It occurred to Vidan that the alien probably didn’t get to use much Common Tongue, and wanted to exercise it. Be polite to the customer, be polite to the customer, be polite to the customer.

“We try our best”, Vidan agreed and kept the fake smile stretched tightly on his face.

“You do”, said the Areedan, still smiling, and shot Morrey a look. Morrey stared back, unabashed.

Be polite to the customer, Vidan continued to repeat desperately, trying very, very hard not to picture what said customer’s bodily waste functions looked like.

For a beat there was silence as Vidan realized he was definitely, absolutely picturing it.

“It is more liquid like when your kind vomit water”, the alien said. He never did stop smiling.

Vidan tried to figure out how to apologize, but already the man had grabbed his snack and his drink and was headed out, giving him a polite nod as he walked out.

Morrey scoffed as they both watched him walk back to his transport.

“What was that?” He scoffed again, louder. “Did you see how he glared at me? What, he’s not satisfied with my service? Well, I don’t – I tell you, those nonreps – Well, they don’t have manners like we do.”

“Areedans are always honest”, Shelvore spoke up again, not looking up from his book. “There’s no point lying when you can just read each other’s thoughts, right?” And, to Vidan: “Were you wondering about how he shits?”

Vidan didn’t look at Shelvore. His cheeks, which had started to go hot when the Areedan spoke to him, were burning now.

“They shit out their mouths, don’t they?”, Morrey asked, much like Vidan had himself, in the relative privacy of his mind.

“Like he said, it’s more of a regurgitation.”

“D’you think I offended him thinking about it?”, Vidan asked.

“Probably not. They do it out of their faces, so they don’t really think it’s dirty.”

“I pick my nose out my face and people think it’s gross”, Morrey went, grabbing a sponge and starting on some spare dishes. They usually waited until more piled up before washing them, but it had been an idle day. There was nothing else to do.

“Like I said,” finished Shelvore, “they don’t really keep secrets. It’s not a big deal to them.”

With that, he turned his eyes back down to his book. His break would end in a dozen minutes, and he didn’t seem to want to spend any more of it talking to his coworkers.

Vidan kept thinking about the Areedan even after his transport had taken off and disappeared from the station’s artificial atmosphere. He was only the second one of the species he’d ever seen in real life. It seemed they didn’t come off Areeda very often, especially not to venture into mid-sentient territory, like Vaneta. Shelvore had told him once, on one of those occasions he felt like sharing his wisdom unprompted, that to high-sentients like the Areedans, communicating with humans and other mid-sentients was like a grown adult talking to a young teenager. They might get along well enough, and there was definitely enough comparison in their experiences that they could form some bonds or friendships, but eventually there was too much of a discrepancy in maturity, in experience. High-sentients preferred to remain within their own circles.

“They don’t see us like we see low-sents”, Shelvore had explained. “It’s not like when you see a dog, or a baby that can’t speak yet. You can definitely communicate pretty well with them. But it’s a bit like if you’re talking to a kid who only knows about kid stuff, like school crushes and homework. You always kind of have to dumb things down a bit so they get it. And if you’re a normal adult, you don’t spend your time hanging out with kids.”

It made Vidan a bit uneasy. He didn’t like to think of himself as equivalent to a child in the eyes of other species. To the Church, humans were the superior race – the one chosen by the Eye. Some alien species had a secondary role as chosen – reproducibles, who could bear some offspring with humans, were considered worthy, though still to a lesser degree – but all high-sentient species were non-reps. Shelvore, though, wasn’t of the Church. Human superiority was a risible concept to him.

“Come off it”, he’d once said, rolling his eyes, on a night he and Vidan were alone at the station and engaged in yet another sterile debate. “If you’re so special, why did your god give those ‘non-reproducibles’ abilities you don’t have? It’s so self-centered.” Vidan had given him the general platitude about the Eye reserving some of its gifts only for the ultimate fulfillment of its wishes, keeping the full extent of its power for the truly worthy once they had proven themselves, but he had mostly tried to veer the conversation off the topic. Religious talk with Shelvore never went all that well for him.

He was torn away from his thoughts on high-sents by the chime of the door, sliding open for a new customer.

The new customer was a Cratean. Vidan had seen quite a few of them, and not just because they hailed from Karfue, a relatively nearby planet. In recent months, there had been an epidemic of them, ever since they had won the Center Council debate to establish their medical clinics in orbit around Vaneta. It had been a feverish and drawn out battle. On the one hand, Vanetan government fought tooth and nail to keep them out of its airspace. While the Crateans claimed to offer multiple medical services, there was no hiding that their main attraction was free, anonymous abortions – deemed sinful by the Church, and, therefore, a crime on Vaneta. On the other hand, the Crateans argued that they orbited just far enough off Vaneta – nowhere near the atmosphere – that they remained within the free market range and should be able to operate freely. Vanetan government argued back that a free medical service didn’t qualify under business dealings, but, eventually, Crateans had won the case with a simple loophole: adding a minuscule fee to their service to claim profit.

Ever since the ruling, Vanetan government had doubled down on reminders of the law, of the harsh punishment for baby murderers, of the harsher still judgment of the Eye for those that disrespected its will… And Crateans had been all over the nearby airspace.

Vidan could just about tell them apart enough that he could tell it wasn’t always the same one, but they all still looked very much alike to him. They came in different heights, with more or less fat on their long torso and somewhat diverging shapes to the nubs on their neck, and some of them looked to have lighter skin than others, but overall he felt there wasn’t much diversity in their looks. He figured perhaps it was a result of their parthenogenetic reproduction. When they came of age to reproduce, the tail of a Cratean would fall off and a new, small alien would grow from it. Vidan figured that didn’t make for a lot of genetic changes.

This one was somewhat short for their species, and tall for a human. Lanky, with skin the color of their planet’s desert sand and the same white blouse he’d seen on all the other ones. It seemed they’d taken to dressing up as doctors to legitimize themselves in the eye of the Vanetan population. Vidan doubted it worked very much.

Much like the Areedan previously, this customer had a wide smile plastered on their face, but unlike with the Areedan, this one didn’t seem at all genuine. Vidan knew that Crateans didn’t have natural facial expressions. They’d apparently taken to shaping their face into a facsimile of a grin whenever in the presence of humans, surely in an attempt to appear friendly, but so far the consensus seemed to be that it was creepy and unwelcome. Crateans, who couldn’t hear, see, read, or do much of anything with other people’s thoughts, seemed blissfully unaware of that fact.

“What can I do for you?”, Vidan asked as the alien approached the counter. This time he didn’t try too hard to stop his mind from running free. The rumors about Cratean abortion doctors – that they really were in it to sell human embryos as a delicacy back on their planet – were outrageous, but Vidan thought he might believe them. It was true Crateans enjoyed eggs and fetuses, both of which were a bit of a novelty on their parthenogenetic planet. It wasn’t too far-fetched to assume they weren’t wasting their time, knowledge and resources on providing a free medical service for a smaller, generally xenophobic planet which detested them for it just out of the goodness of their hearts. There had to be something to gain from it. He still couldn’t quite tell what he thought of it.

“45 cubes of oxygen, please”, said the Cratean. They had a soft, bright voice, and nearly no accent. Clearly their Common Tongue was very practiced. The only trace of their own language Vidan could hear was the odd inflection all of them had to the end of their sentences – an inappropriately cheerful rise that hardly fit the context. They handed Vidan a data card, which he took and swiped on the payment terminal.

“Right away”, Vidan said, and grabbed his bright yellow safety vest hidden underneath the counter. Morrey, who had finally finished his candy bar, cracked his neck and went for his coat.

“Well, I’m off for today, boys”, he went, ignoring the customer as he always did when Crateans were around. Morrey wholeheartedly believed the fetus-eating rumors, and he didn’t like them at all.

As Morrey headed for the back door, Shelvore checked his data patch for the time and remarked his break was indeed ending. With a sigh, he closed his book, put it into his messenger bag, and came back behind the counter.

“You still read on sheets”, said the Cratean, again with their same gleeful inflection.

“Yes”, Shelvore said in the curt way of a man who had had this remarked upon many times.

“If you’ll lead me to your vehicle”, Vidan offered. He knew Shelvore wasn’t much for small talk with customers.

“Of course”, the Cratean beamed, or at least appeared to, and the two of them headed outside.

The gas station was an entirely man-made satellite, but still, the owners had seen it necessary to plant grass and trees all over it, to make it look more welcoming – and perhaps also because it helped recycle the expensive oxygen in the costly artificial atmosphere. In the sky, Vaneta hung over them, massive, green and ochre. Vidan was slowly getting used to the sight.

He and the Cratean rounded the building to where their ship was parked in the back. Cratean ships had none of the sharp edges of Vanetan design, and none of its delicate lines, either. They were blunt, purposeful, clean, to the point: large, rounded white things, smooth all over. The lowered walkway was a gentle slope onto the marigold grass.

“What model is that?”, Vidan asked.

“A 3-26.” There were only so many types of Cratean ships, and their Common model matriculations were short and to the point. As Vidan recalled, 3-26s had their gas ports on the front end of the ship, just past the walkway lock.

Thankfully, the ship was parked right next to the oxygen tank, which meant he wouldn’t have to drag its heavy gas tube too far. He found the port easily enough, twisted it open, grabbed the handle of the tube and pulled it out. The Cratean watched, quietly, the forced smile still on their face. It made Vidan feel uneasy.

He had a bit of trouble screwing the port into the oxygen tank, but finally, he managed it. With a swipe of his data chip against the tank’s reader, he accessed the menu and selected 45 cubes.

“It is very costly, all this oxygen”, the Cratean said, apparently hoping to get a conversation going.

“I bet”, Vidan said.

“I am bringing it back to the clinic ship”, said the Cratean. “Your people breathe it so fast. Constantly I need to get more!”

“I’ll say”, Vidan said. He wasn’t too in the know of what Crateans breathed, or if they did, or how they generally sustained themselves, and he didn’t feel like asking either.

“We see many a human, in the clinic. A lot of business.”

“Mmm-hmm”, Vidan acquiesced, watching the number of cubes on the terminal slowly go down as they pumped into the ship.

“It is all that two-party reproduction. So very interesting. Do you have a-” the Cratean seemed to taste the word for a moment “- girlfriend?”

Crateans, who had no genders, always seemed delighted to discuss them with humans.

“I do”, said Vidan automatically. It was more of a lie than it was a truth. He’d met his “girlfriend” in a parlor in the underground of Vaneta’s Capital Island, one of those illicit bars were people partook in all the sin-crimes they could – drugs, excessive drinking and homosexual activities. Erevin was born a girl, he said, but he never felt like one. He never wanted to dress like girls did, or wear his hair like they did, or be pregnant like all fertile women were expected to on Vaneta; but he felt like himself, he said, when he could live a few hours as a man in the bars, where nobody questioned him. He’d told Vidan about it while they drank their souls out in a tiny, cramped booth of the E-767 Area parlor. Vidan didn’t get it, not really, but Erevin chopped his hair really short and wore trousers and men’s blouses, and he called himself a man, and so Vidan saw a man, and a handsome one at that.

But when he took Erevin to his family, he had to show off a girl. There was no other way they could be together in public.

“We don’t have to”, Vidan told him once, in the privacy of his room while they were home alone. “I could say we broke up, you wouldn’t have to act like a girl in front of them.”

Erevin had shrugged, looked at him with that sly smile he had sometimes.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t be a man on Vaneta. No matter how I dress, or how I wear my hair, they can see it in my data chip, in my records… Someone would find out if I tried to pass for a guy anywhere but in a parlor. If I have to call myself a chick I might as well show you off.”

And then, leaning closer, and putting his hand on Vidan’s, he’d told him:

“When we make enough money, we can go off Vaneta together. We could go to Santina. They have – those hormones, there, and surgeries. I could look proper.”

And, surely, Erevin had to know he didn’t need Vidan to do that. He could make his own money, and go to Santina himself, get the treatments he needed, live the life he wanted. But he had to know, too, that Vidan wasn’t where he needed to be either. Because he liked men far more than he ever did women, and he’d never had a real girlfriend, only the fake girlfriend Erevin played out, and if Erevin left without him, in a few years he’d be miserable with a real wife in a pretend marriage. Maybe Santina was a way out for him, too.

So he’d taken this job at the gas station, while Erevin worked at a daycare planet-side, and they were putting away their money, biding their time. Soon, Erevin said when they met on their rare common days off. Soon.

“Is she” - the Cratean started, paused, again tasted the word - “pretty?”

Vidan hesitated – looked back towards the station, saw Shelvore still behind the counter, at a safe distance – and, in confidence, before he could try to stop himself, he said:

“Yeah, he is.”

The Cratean elongated their neck, in the way they did when they were pleased by something.

“I thought”, they said, curious, “that your girls people used the she, and your boys people used the he.”

“Typically so”, Vidan said, failing to find how to explain the situation he himself didn’t quite understand, but the alien just bobbed their head, seeming pleased with his answer.

The tank chimed the end of its delivery, and Vidan unscrewed the gas tube and brought it back into the ship.

“Well, here you go”, he said. The Cratean bobbed their head again, their neck elongated far enough that they were rather looming over him. He never liked when they did that. “You’re all set. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Nothing”, said the alien.

“Thank you for coming to the Mercurial Air gas station”, Vidan recited with his best customer service smile, “we hope to see you back soon and bid you a fair trip.”

“I will be back!” the Cratean confirmed, before they turned to the walkway, head still bobbing.

Vidan walked back around the station to the front, went behind the counter, and put the safety jacket back in its place. He felt a little dazed from his admission – to a complete stranger! To a customer! To an alien! - that his girlfriend wasn’t really a girlfriend. Perhaps it wasn’t how the Cratean had interpreted it – still, it felt like it. Never had he said it to anyone – certainly not his family, or any of his friends, but not anyone else either – no one he talked to on the data networks, and not even the people in the parlors who, surely, wouldn’t mind at all.

The expression on his face had to have been off, because Shelvore noticed.

“Did they say something weird to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re making this face.”

Vidan considered it. On Santina, he knew, homosexuality wasn’t a sin-crime. Nothing was a sin-crime there, in fact; the government was separate from the Church, or any religion for that matter, and the crimes there were were only crimes, cut off from the notion of sin, of a god, of a judgment above humanity. Vidan sometimes wished Vaneta were the same. How good it must feel, he thought, to commit a crime and know the only wrong is a human moral, decided for human reasons, that you may freely disagree with, that you may debate.

“You have homosexuals on Santina”, said Vidan, tentative.

“Here we go”, Shelvore sighed, rolling his eyes. “Listen, I’ve had this conversation with Morrey already, alright – yes, it’s legal, no, I don’t have a problem with it, no, I don’t get why you do, yes, I think it’s dumb that you do. I don’t want to fight about it, so we can just go back to work.”

“I didn’t want to fight.”

“That’s what you Church people always say, but you always do want to fight. You just don’t want to yell.”

“I have a boyfriend”, Vidan said, very fast, like if he spit it out fast enough Shelvore wouldn’t hear it, or wouldn’t really get it.

There was a pause, a moment of silence in the empty station. Vidan’s heart fell into his stomach, and for a moment he knew – he knew Shelvore would report him to the station management, and they’d report him to the Church police back on Vaneta, and then he’d be investigated, and they’d find out about Erevin, and the two of them would be prosecuted, and they’d never go to Santina, and he had ruined it, not just for himself but for Erevin too, just because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut--

“You do?”, Shelvore asked.

“I – Yes.”

“You told me you had a girlfriend.”

“I lied.” He looked down at his feet. But Shelvore didn’t seem upset, or disgusted – mostly just intrigued.

“No shit. How long has it been?”

“A year in two weeks.”

Shelvore nodded, thoughtful.

“What brought this up, then? Why tell me?” The remark we aren’t exactly close hung just under the surface.

“The – The Cratean, they asked about him. I told them.” And, so Shelvore could understand the gravity of the situation, he added, “It was the first time.”

“Congratulations”, Shelvore said, gave him a gentle clap on the shoulder. Shelvore wasn’t much for physical contact, typically. “I’ll buy you a soda.”

“We’re going to leave Vaneta.” Now that he’d started to tell, he had to get it all out. There was a gleeful need in him to spill it all out, to make it exist outside of the little sphere of Erevin and him and their lonesome intimacy. “We’re going to put money away and move to Santina, and he’s going to get those surgeries he needs to look like a guy.”

“Where are you planning to move?”, Shelvore asked as he made his way to the drinks selection. It felt like he was being too casual – like he didn’t get how enormous, how life-changing, how incredible it was to tell someone all this. He probably didn’t.

“I- I don’t know, yet. Wherever we can.”

Shelvore nodded. “You have my data, right? If you need… Well, I could help you find a place to stay.”

He hadn’t expected Shelvore to be anything but grossed-out – supportive hadn’t even crossed his mind. Vidan had thought they were only coworkers, perhaps friendly ones, but no more. Suddenly he found he was getting teary-eyed, and he tried to blink it away.

“You like Fizz-Risk, right?”

“Can I get an ice cream sandwich?”, Vidan said, instead of bursting into sobs.

Shelvore looked up at him, and smirked, and nodded again.

“Yeah, I’ll get you one.”

He grabbed one out of the freezers, and came back behind the counter, handed it to Vidan. It was very cold in his hands and he couldn’t resist the urge to press it to his burning forehead. His eyes were still wet, but thankfully his cheeks stayed dry.

“Thanks”, he said. Shelvore nodded, sat on the counter (they weren’t supposed to, but no one was there).

“No problem”, he said, and then he paused, looking for words. Finally, he gave Vidan one of his rare smiles. “Thanks for telling me, anyway.”

Vidan wanted to thank him for listening, and for being nice about it, and for wanting to help, but he knew he’d garble up the words – so he unwrapped the sandwich, and started eating.

#Writeblr #ofcolourtracking #wtwcommunity #writersociety #Sci-fi writing #LGBT writing #Short story #My writing

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xx-snuggles-xx · 4 months

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Hey so idk if you’re the right person to ask this to but I’m kind of worried about this in a way.

Is it transphobic of me to think I’d only want to date a cis man?

I’m trans myself, but I’m also gay and like,, I’m gay because men with dicks exist. And I know about straps and stuff, and would use one on my future partner given the opportunity, but I also think that I’d only ever want to date a cis man. Power to the people who are cool with straps and all, but I just don’t think I would be.

Thoughts? Advice?

(sorry for grammatical errors)

hey thanks for the anon. i hope you’re having a good evening!!

tbh I don’t know if there is a right person to ask this question to but your own self,, what are your intentions?/rhetorical,,, i sense that with you even asking this question you don’t mean any harm.

in my opinion it’s not transphobic at all, i actually used to have this preference myself. (that was until i got into a cisXtrans relationship that didn’t fit and realized that t4t was, in my opinion, a better fit for me, even though now i am currently in a amazing cisXtrans relationship)

i think just as long as your loving the person for who they are (not just for their parts) you’re okay :)

Hope this helps :) <3 <3!!

#ask morrey #my post

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evangelineartemiasamos · 7 years

Note

I really wanna see a Gisa x Morrey brotp. They seem like the type of friends to just sit on a porch together and talk shit about the people who walk by. I also headcanon that Cameron joins in once in a while and leaves them reeling from her comments.

Yes *__*

Maybe they both like sewing (or any other hobby)? Or Gisa asks Kilorn about getting people used to Newbloods? But Gisa and Morrey talking about random strangers sounds so accurate. They poke fun at people, but they don’t get really mean.

#ask #xsonnydelavegax #gisa barrow #morrey cole #king's cage #camisa #i mean kilorn might try to help morrey over his fears might happen as well but gisa asking for advice then doing it herself is cuter

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unkn0wn-w0rld · 21 days

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To: Almelvy

Classic Sans: what? Did I do something wrong? Why are you staring me down? *He asks them*

Almelvy: my twin sister, Morrey. How the heck did you get that idea..?

#† halohorn land†

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meereens · 4 years

Text

@asoiafrarepairs [a weekend in the stormlands]

argella durrandon x rhaenys targaryen

Argella Durrandon had been alone, watching the sunless waters slosh below the great seaward wall like black wine when the rider came. Maester Oswald was the one to inform her, with eyes as flat as his voice. Her father would not have sent only one man forth to proclaim a victory. Time slowed as she descended from the battlements, the wind lulling her along as it blew the ends of her dagged sleeves forward. Gold sleeves, gold fabric like the banners that had been raised so proudly when her father left to combat the invading horde. The man who had beaten the Dornish as a green boy and killed a green king before her lifetime rallied the men of the Stormlands easily, their brassy shouts melding with her own as all cheered his valor. He had placed a gauntleted paw on her shoulder and told her to keep Storm’s End from falling into the waves in his absence. He had given her a garrison of two hundred to aid in the task.

Most of those men were in the courtyard now, the life sapped from their faces. Ser Harrold looked eons older than six-and-twenty, while Ser Brenwyl on his right had transformed his wide mouth into a straight line. At least they could stand each other’s company again; the other day she had found herself compelled to break up a heated game of dice, suggesting she would hand the instruments of their fun over to the sea god and his minions. The new face in the center drank from an offered wineskin, stroking the flank of his chestnut courser with his other hand. Its legs were caked with mud. He stumbled into taking a knee once Argella stood a hair’s breadth away from him.

“My princess.”

She lifted a hand. “Rise.”

He obeyed and glanced over at Ser Haldrick Cole.

“Ser Morrey, say your piece,” the commander said. If he had said it already, every soul presently assembled would have known before her, from knight to meandering washerwoman. Janson, the old, limping master of horse had crawled out from his post ahead of her to hear what had befallen their people’s champion. Ahead of her, his daughter, his heir, who should have been there to raise the gate. Ser Morrey heaved a breath, but Argella cut him off.

“I assume my father is dead.”

“Yes, Princess.” He seemed relieved to not have to say it to her himself, earning a quick glare. Small wonder her father had fallen if he had such yellow-bellies rotting his ranks.

“And what of his army?”

“The battle was done as soon as he was.”

They should have pressed on. Did the lords who had wet their beards with mead in her father’s hall and supped on pheasant swallow their oaths as well? Truer men would have fought for their homeland, for their king’s memory, for her. The battle was not yet done, not for as long as a Durrandon breathed; did they intend to serve her up on a golden plate? She raised her eyes from Ser Morrey’s apologetic ones and scanned the yard, a parade of statues swaddled in plate and mail, eying her in turn. Someone in the front started hacking, an ugly, feline cough that lasted long enough to disrupt the boiling in her veins.

“You may speak on it more, ser,” she prompted.

“We met the enemy on the hills south of Bronzegate,” he began. “They had the high ground, but we had the numbers. Near twice as many men, and far more knights besides. It was drizzling as we closed in, by midday, storming. Your father’s bannermen wanted a delay, but he must have known the storm would ground the Targaryen monster. The rain blew from the south, blinding their men. He gave the command, and thrice we struggled up the steep and muddy slopes. It must have been night by then, or else the darkest day. As we broke through to the center, the dragon emerged.”

Argella inhaled slowly. The dragon sicced on their hills was the same beast that had laid waste to the kingswood, incinerating Lord Errol. Lords Fell and Buckler had ridden back to warn her father of the creature and the queen who held it in thrall, the woman mated to her own brother.

“It was impossible to see at first, hidden by the line, and with dark grey scales like the clouds overhead. The murk of the storm masked its true size as well, though it could fit a garrison on its back. Rhaenys Targaryen blinked, and the van went up in dragonflame. Panic set in, horses screeching, but your father did not yield. I fought until I heard shouts that he had been slain. By Baratheon, they said. Our spirits had been broken.”

Her body would make no room for a yoked spirit, nor would her spirit permit useless grief.

“Is yours broken still, Ser Morrey?”

He paused before answering. “Truly? It depends upon what happens next.”

“Then I shall tell you,” she said simply. Her father had possessed a deep, booming voice; thunder in a man’s throat, her mother called it. He could command any room by clearing his throat, a yard by uttering men! Hers was low for a woman, rich in timbre, but it had yet to capture the attention of an army. It had yet to inspire awe. She breathed deep within her and addressed not only Ser Morrey but all gathered under the white-and-grey marbled sky. You are my people, she thought. For as long as we last.

***

She was the Storm Queen now, the first there ever was, in a world where another queen controlled the skies. Argella insisted on accompanying Ser Haldrick to watch the men drill with bows, spears, and crossbows. The grey-scaled dragon would fly hundreds of feet above their heads, armed with an intelligent rider as well as a flaming gullet. He knew as well as she did that their weapons’ chances of making meaningful contact were slim to none. Since she had barred her gates, however, maintaining the hope of a chance against the Targaryen threat was paramount.

Privately, as they sat with a tankard of ale between them, Maester Oswald had invited her to speak in candid terms.

“My terms are always candid,” she had said. “I would rather die a queen than live a wife.”

A row of men launched their spears into the air. Eight out of ten struck their makeshift targets in the belly. When the host approached, would her father’s killer ask the queen to spare her for her useful womb? Another row lined up to aim, spears at the ready, when a large shadow passed over the ground. She saw heads lift, heard the wonder worm its way through the fear as the shout rang:

“Dragon!”

Slowly, her eyes made their way up until she was craning her neck to see. An overgrown gargoyle, that was what it resembled from afar, with its massive batlike wings. It dipped down long enough for her to catch a glimpse of its lizardine foot, gnarled and wicked, before it rushed higher. The beast abruptly took off for the top of Storm’s End’s sole tower, completing a lazy circle as Argella’s spine prickled from her vantage point. The beast was by rights an ungodly mishmash of creatures, yet moved fluidly, sinuously. When it brought itself low, sailing back toward the courtyard, she could comprehend it in full. Ser Morrey had been wrong about its scales. No dark grey, they were instead a varnished silver. She caught herself; mulling over a monster’s appearance as it prepared to cook her in her gown would not do. “To me!” Hitching up her skirts, she ran across the raised wooden platform without bothering to take stock of Ser Haldrick behind her. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest as she made it to the corner and went down the stairs to the yard itself, where the dragon still hovered. Her men had not broken out of the spell the sight of it had put them under. “To me, to me! Inside the tow—”

“I have come to parley!” Yelled Rhaenys Targaryen.

She turned around, incredulous. The queen was visible on her dragon’s back, hands gripping two spikes for leverage. Her long, loose hair was a strange silvery color that could have been plucked from the moon, and it flowed effortlessly as she slid off her mount like it was ice. She wore ringmail but no sword, the black belt dangling from her crimson tunic empty.

“Your intentions were not clear,” Argella said.

She inched closer toward her with raised palms. “Forgive me. It is difficult to wave a flag whilst maneuvering a dragon.”

Ser Haldrick caught up to her and edged his body in front. “I am the queen,” she reminded him. “I need no aid in this matter.”

“Of course.”

The dragon’s tail thunked against the ground, as if it were a bored child that wanted to leave because the sweets were elsewhere. Her crossbowmen had their weapons trained on it, poised. If she gave the command, some of them would hit their mark. Whether they could pierce through the shining scales once the bolts sprung free was another matter, and another still was the issue of the creature’s proportions reducing them to needles in a giant’s side. She crossed her arms. “Parley.”

Queen Rhaenys beamed. “I believe you know of the terms my brother offered forth. That you would marry Orys Baratheon, your dowry starting with the lands east of the Gods Eye. Massey’s Hook would come too, and the woods and plains from the Blackwater south to the Wendwater and the Mander’s headwaters. King Aegon would be your liege lord, and you would be Lady of Storm’s End. The sea is beautiful here, like the night sky,” she added, unexpectedly. “You can wake up to it for the rest of your life.”

“I will wake up to it for the rest of my life regardless, should you kill me in a day,” Argella said. Rhaenys’ smile must have been stuck to her face, since her words did not tear it off. Being the Lady of Storm’s End meant being the lady of a usurper, come to rip her crown off her head and her gown from her shoulders. The queen could not dull the truth any more than she could sweeten the circumstances. “Orys is pleasing to look upon, and well-muscled,” she said. “He is a man in the summer of his life.”

“Then perhaps you should have married Orys Baratheon instead of your brother.”

She took the slap gracefully. “There are worse fates.”

“Did he kill my father himself?”

Rhaenys sighed. “Yes. Regardless, this is your way out.”

Out of a fiery death.

Argella pictured the slight woman riding her beast to the top of the tower again, this time to meet her. She would call upon the wind to send such a gale that it could sweep the dragon up inside it and spit it out somewhere far away, or the sea to rise up and absorb all the flame it had to hurl. The Storm Queen would stare the dragon queen in the face and bare her teeth. The Storm Queen would not flinch.

“You may take my castle,” she said slowly. “But you will win only blood and bones and ashes.”

“While you could remain living in your castle should you cease talk of ruin.”

Her eyes locked onto Rhaenys’, surer than ever. Lightning ran through her gaze, a blue lightning strong enough to pierce through scales and char the flesh beneath.

“Ruin is what you have brought to the Durrandons already. May you choke on ours sevenfold.”

Instead of moving to leap on her dragon and commence the assault, Rhaenys moved closer. “You will not bend the knee?”

She was looking down on Rhaenys, at the bridge of her nose. “None of us will. Down to the last man, we will resist you.”

Whip-fast, she darted up and laid a kiss on her cheek. Argella glowered as the woman stepped back, bouncing on her heels.

“Farewell then, Durrandon.”

Later, as she mused, she realized she did not know if she had meant it as a goodbye to her or her House.

#asoiafrare #argella durrandon #rhaenys targaryen #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #argella x rhaenys #rhaenys x argella #rhaenys is canon impulsive ok she’d do this

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the-mainverse · 23 days

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Morrey: tell

Sci-Fi: Syntax had gone haywire and went bye bye. He asked me to record his power surge before he decided to go chase his dreams. Idiot it gonna get hurt. *She went over to them and showed them her data.*

Virus: ...! *The data showed a drastic increase in his power. Speaking of numbers, it was nearly 3 million!*

Virus: ...Stars...

#ask #nysnextd00r #sci fi #virus

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