#But we wish we could have the community without the discomfort

[crittertalez]

As a system with a lot of nonhuman and alterhuman members (hence our system name) our alterhumanity often affects our daily life and make many of us want to nest, or make us be able to make nonhuman noises, or even have individual scents. And as embarrassing as it is to admit to more "normal" people, it can affect sex lives as well, including some members going into heats or ruts or whatever equivalent they have. Which would all sound like a perfect mix-match of things to get us into the misceverse! But there feels like there's just this significant barrier between us and that community

That being just how heavily it focuses on people's sexes and ascribing certain personalities or dynamics or behaviors or what have you to being a certain sex or having certain sex characteristics. Even when it comes to people making it more explicitly queer there's still an expectation to believe that, say, it is "typical" for a certain sex to be more submissive and calm while another is more aggressive and territorial. And, even more notably, it's seen as fun and interesting, quirky even, new, for this to be treated as a fact of life. The idea that one sex could instead do the actions typically associated with another is queer and known to be unusual (even if the person is describing it as a Good and Interesting thing, they're still enforcing the idea that certain actions typically belong to another sex)

Which.. Is just Sexism 2! "Women cook and clean and are more quiet, demure, submissive and Men protect the territory and what is theirs (which includes their wives, being treated as possessions), they're sex-driven and aggressive" 2. "Women nurture and Men protect" 2. We want to go into animal care, we spend much of our time researching animal dynamics and behaviors for fun. But even if nonhumans & alterhumans often do not see themselves as human, we are still all people, and the idea that ascribing certain personalities/behaviors/traits/etc to certain sexes is okay and fun as long as they aren't human sexes is.. Blegh.

I don't quite like being kicked in the head even when the kicker has a paw instead of a human foot. Something being seen as "natural" or a part of being a nonhuman animal does not automatically make it good

We've had this issue with omegaverse as a concept in general as well, especially when it comes to the versions that focus solely on men. Obviously the point is to explore secondary sexes and not the primary ones, but if you were to replace "omega" with female (and yes, that word specifically, so you understand what I mean) and "alpha" with male suddenly the problem becomes a lot more clear with ascribing submissiveness and nurturing behavior to one sex and aggressiveness, domination, and protectiveness to another

Adding a third sex or even sexes that have a mixture of traits assigned to them doesn't necessarily get rid of this discomfort, as there's still the fact of the matter that sexes are getting assigned typical personality traits. Not to mention that within the community there's an expectation to say what your sex is, and to see the idea of others being able to instantly tell what sex you are as hot and fun. Even with queer labels existing to make the idea more expansive and inclusive there's just something that feels.. Off. About how inherent to the community the idea of certain sexes coming with certain personality traits and behaviors is. I'm not much of a fan of bioessentialism even when it has a coat of nonhuman paint over it

(Also, the wolf studies that alpha/omega/beta as concepts were derived from are extremely inaccurate studies that don't have basis in real life and we honestly wish that the idea of alpha males would die out already so people stop thinking it's a real thing. It hasn't been pleasant to run into in any iteration, whether in zoology, incel culture, or alterhuman communities)

[taeyongdoyoung]

wolf and bunny

summary: you ask your best friend to fuck you in your sleep but your bottled up feelings come out to the surface... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to lovers warnings: cnc/somnophilia, discussion of boundaries, eating out, touching, groping, unprotected sex, spanking, stranger+wolf/bunny roleplay, little red riding hood references, face-slapping (once), size kink, cockwarming, multiple rounds, feelings (ew), pet names, discussion of future scenario 👀 (i know i said this is the end but...we'll see) author's note: hii everyone, this is the third and final part of my wolf and bunny series, thank you so much for going on this nasty journey with me 🤍 part one & part two word count: 2k

You and Chan are having a bit of a disagreement in connection with the circumstances surrounding your next game.

“But I want to know exactly which night you’ll do it.”

“If you know, you won’t be able to fall asleep,” Chan reasons with you. “Kinda like Santa Claus. Kids stay up all night waiting for him and then he never comes.”

“Please, even if the kids were asleep, he’d still never come ‘cause the parents are putting the presents under the tree!”

“It was just a metaphor.”

“A bad one. You’re gonna have to work harder to convince me.”

“Hey, wasn’t this your idea in the first place?” Chan reminds you teasingly. “You’re the one who wants me to fuck her in her sleep.”

“Ey, don’t pretend you won’t be into it,” you shake your head.

You are both so stubborn you don’t see this ending unless one of you retreats. Then, after a brief consideration, you speak again.

“Fine. You can keep the secret of the exact night you’ll do this. On one condition.”

“Sure, bunny, let’s hear it,” Chan listens eagerly.

“If I wake up, you won’t stop. I’ll just pretend I’m still sleepy and we keep going.”

“Is that even possible? I mean, for you to not wake up?”

“It is if you drug me or something,” you shrug.

“Ugh, don’t give me such evil ideas. You never know when I might take advantage of you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, wolfie.”

“But are you sure the sleep thing is a great idea? I mean, you wouldn't be able to say a safeword...” Chan can't help but worry, always putting your needs first and planning every scenario in great detail to make sure you're alright. Damnit, could he get any more perfect? He's so sweet and considerate you wish you could just tell him how you feel. But what if that scares him away? What if you lose not only your wicked game buddy but your best friend in the entire world? You wouldn't be able to live with yourself.

“Yes, I'm positive, Chris,” you place your hand on top of his. “I trust you 100% and know that you'll look after me. The question is, do you trust my judgement?”

“I mean, I do trust you. It's just that last time you didn't communicate your discomfort clearly and I wouldn't want to risk messing up to the point of accidentally hurting you,” Chan verbalizes his anxieties.

“I get what you're saying but it's not like I'm open to doing this with a stranger. It's you we're talking about. You've always been great at taking care of people so I know you wouldn't go too far. But at the same time, I wouldn't mind if you went loose. If anyone can take it and accept you fully, it would be me.”

“Yeah, I know. You're right. But just in case, I want you to know beforehand that I care about you and respect you like a lot. So, even if I get carried away, I still want you to feel safe.”

“Aww, Chris, ya old softie! I always feel safe with you, it goes without saying!” you insist.

“Well, I like hearing you say it.”

You gulp nervously. His voice is so commanding and yet so reassuring that your words have never rung truer. He's more to you than a safety net and you hope he knows it. He's incredibly thoughtful and infinitely kinder than the first impression. He's a riddle in the way he keeps surprising you and yet you wanna keep learning more about him. He's hundreds of the loveliest words in the dictionary multiplied. He's more comforting than your favourite blanket. He's warmth personified and you would be an idiot to let him go.

“I'll try to say it more often, then,” you promise. “When I'm with you, I know no harm will come my way. But here's the thing...you're the only one I'd willingly let hurt me.”

“I don't want to hurt you, though.”

“You don't?” you pout, suddenly feeling guilty. Then, what have you been doing? Was he forcing himself to act out these fantasies for your sake alone? You genuinely thought he was enjoying them as much as you were.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Chan is quick to explain. “I like our games. I meant that I don't want to hurt you emotionally. Ever.”

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense,” you chuckle, feeling a little stupid. “Well, you don't need to worry about that. Glad we had this talk.”

“Me too,” Chan gazes at you fondly.

“So, which night are you fucking me while I'm asleep?” you attempt to find out while he has this dazed look in his eye.

“Next- Hey, nice try! I'm not telling you, you impatient devil.”

“Aw, man, I was so close,” you bemoan the uncertainty of your future.

“You wish.”

The long-awaited night finally arrives. Chan has a key to your place so entering it is too easy. He makes sure he picks a night when you’ve complained about being exhausted and sleepy all day long. And he is certain that you’re passed out in your room, not suspecting a thing. Well, a part of you is always anticipating what could happen, but still.

He’s beyond glad to find you sound asleep. You’re wearing nothing but a t-shirt and some flimsy panties. Chan admires your sleeping form for a couple of brief moments before he gets down to business.

He wonders where to start. Should he tear them up? Or maybe push them to the side? Should he grope your boobs through your shirt? Or perhaps slide his hands beneath it, stroking your nipples directly? So many opportunities. He wants to do everything, he decides.

Chan starts by moving your panties to the side and licking your tiny pussy. He touches you with his fingers, gently prodding your entrance but not exactly sticking them inside yet. Then, he sneaks his hand underneath your shirt, teasing your nipples. Fuck, you’re so soft.

He marvels at the knowledge that you’d trust him with something like that. Though the previous scenarios were hot and intense as fuck, this one hits different for him. Maybe because last time you were awake, you were still in control because you could say the safeword whenever. Maybe because you want him at your most vulnerable even in your sleep. Or maybe because he’s slowly falling for you, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

It’s okay. Chan’ll show you, instead. He pinches your nipples lightly and continues to make out with your pussy. You are so wet already it’s adorable. He wonders if you’re dreaming of him, as you shift slightly in your sleep. He wants to drag this out. But how?

He uses his nails to trace circles on your skin, which causes goosebumps to appear. Are you cold? He wants to keep you warm and full at all times. Chan can’t take it any longer and takes his cock out, sliding in so perfectly. As if you were made for him. Made to take his cock and let him do crazy things to you. His sweet little bunny…

You moan desperately and the spell is broken. You’re awake. He wanders if you’ll speak or he’ll have to make you. Both options sound quite appealing. But he wants to hear your voice more than anything.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Chan whispers gently.

“W-who are you?” you cry out.

Aw, you’re gonna pretend not to know him? That hurts. But it can be fun, he thinks.

“Just the big bad wolf,” he chuckles at the irony of it.

“Please, don't do this,” you fake not wanting it, even though you've never wanted anything so badly in your life.

“Oh, bunny, but I already am,” Chan replies, spanking your ass a couple of times in the meantime.

“G-gonna split me in h-half,” you mumble, voice muffled against your pillow.

“Yeah? G'na ruin my sweet girl?” he speaks to you so softly you want to melt right there and then.

“Feel so full 'n so s'eepy,” you slur helplessly.

“Aw, tiny, go back to sleep, then,” Chan pats your head soothingly.

“Can't. What a deep voice you have!” you play along too well.

“All the better to degrade you with, my slutty bun,” Chan laughs, while still continuing to fuck you.

“What big hands you have!” you keep saying.

“All the better to grab your tits with,” Chan chuckles and makes good on his promise by playing with your boobs.

“And slap me with!” you remind him playfully.

“As you wish, princess,” Chan growls and slaps you across the face harshly but not harsh enough to actually leave a mark.

“What big eyes you have,” you sigh wistfully.

“All the better to stare at you fall apart,” Chan responds cleverly.

“And what big cock you have!” you scream, barely resisting the urge to laugh. Are you a silly little bunny or Little Red Riding Hood? At this point, you don't care, but it feels too good regardless.

“All the better to fuck you with,” he grunts loudly, spilling inside of you.

You follow rightaway and urge him to stay like this for a while. Maybe round two is in order?

“You know what else is big?” Chan teases you.

“Oh, shut up, Bigfoot!” you reply and are no longer able to hold it in, breaking into laughter. Chan also finds the interaction hilarious and buries his head in the nook of your shoulder. You stroke his hair without realizing. Shit, he's so adorable you almost say the three words. Is it too risky? Too soon? You need a distraction. You need... “Fuck me again.”

“Already? Aren't you tired?” Chan wants to make sure.

“Fuck me till I fall asleep again,” you ask him.

“Um, okay, sure,” Chan looks a bit confused but does as you ask.

This time there is less talking and more fucking but no matter how many rounds you go, sleep doesn't come again. You both orgasm more times than you could count, but somehow, it isn't nearly enough to distract you from the inevitable. You love him. Your heart knows it, your pussy knows it, even your brain knows it but is stubborny telling you not to confess for fear of somehow ruining things.

Once Chan decides he's completely spent for the night, he pulls out of you and rips off the bandaid.

“Are you alright? Something suddenly shifted but I can't quite place it,” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and nudges you softly with his shoulder.

“Do you want the truth that might mess up everything or do you want me to lie to you and say I'm fine?” you ask, even though you're already on the verge to tell the truth.

“With you? Always the truth, please,” Chan clearly states his preference.

You sigh deeply and tilt to the side so you're facing him properly.

“I think...no, I know I love you.”

“I love you, too, babybun,” Chan responds fondly and kisses you on the nose.

“In a non-friendly way. And I don't mean just sexually, either. I mean, the friendly way and the sexual way haven't diminished, of course. But I also love you in a...I want to be yours, your girlfriend, your lover, your romantic partner, your everything.”

Chan is taken aback by your words. You...feel the same?

“You already are,” he confesses genuinely.

“Huh?” you blink in shock.

“I mean...you are already my everything. But, if you'd like me to officially ask you, then...will you be my girlfriend, angel?”

“You...you'll have me?” you are still in disbelief.

“I thought I already had ya,” Chan pinches your cheeks lightly.

“Damn right you do, Mr. Wolf,” you giggle and pull him into a kiss.

He smells like autumn, his embrace exudes warmth and his lips taste like home.

“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to tell you about my feelings,” Chan confesses. “When I found that story of yours in your drafts, I just couldn't resist the opportunity. I hoped that if I turned your fantasies into reality that you'd eventually fall for me.”

“Oh, Channie...I've been falling for you for longer than you realize,” you admit shyly. “How could I not? You're everything I've ever wanted.”

So, this is what it feels like to have the world in your hands. Huh. You could get used to it.

Bonus:

“No, I'm not kidnapping you!” Chan is adamant as you two sit in a nice restaurant.

“But Chriiiis,” you whine. “You said you'd do anything for my birthday.”

“Anything but that!” Chan shakes his head in amusement.

“Why not? It can be fun!”

“Fun? What if something goes wrong, what if someone sees us and thinks I'm actually kidnapping you, what if...hear me out, here, I go to prison for it?”

“Well, duh, then I'd bail you out!”

“As if you could afford it,” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Hey! But seriously, I'll just tell the cops that I asked you to kidnap me.”

“What if they don't believe you and think you have a Stockholm syndrome?”

“I'll...think of something. Come on, we're going too far with the what-ifs.”

“You gotta be prepared for any situation. You'd know that if you carried the heavy burden of being a dom,” Chan tsks at you.

“I'd know that if you let me,” you give him a wink.

“That will only happen the day I agree to fake-kidnap you.”

“So, tomorrow? It's a date!” you grin excitedly.

“Keep dreaming, darling.”

“Oh, I will.”

The End

[love-hatred-stuff]

> okay, here we are; a happy ending to my dbf!buck story^^

> warning’s the same as in part 1, just keep in mind that bucky is like tfatws!bucky, just without the metall arm ig

> enjoy my sweets<3

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s been three months and you were living in a dorm with your college friends now. You tried your best to stay busy and distract yourself. Wether it was studying in the library until late hours or letting your girlfriends convince you to join them for all those frat parties.

Because you would be lying if you’d claim that everything that happened didn’t break your heart.

If only you knew how miserable Bucky has been doing…

Your parents had mentioned that he had distanced himself since you’ve been gone and they were really sad about it and wondered what had caused his sudden discomfort.

To be completely honest, it might sound strange, but you were scared to leave him alone. You out of all people knew how lonely he really was. It wasn’t just the fact that he had no other partner in his life or any other friends except for Sam. You know you’ve helped him get over so much by just being there for him, so you could only guess what would happen to him if you weren’t there anymore.

James relied on you a lot. And you gladly took care of him. So you hated yourself for abandoning him like that. He had promised you everything he could have ever given you. Just for you to exist beside him as an exchange. Bucky would always be the man you would’ve married if you could.

Though you barely ever talked about how strongly you felt for each other, the love and affection you’d shared when you were alone had always been your own personal language that only you two understood. A connection so strong, you didn’t need words to communicate.

It was like nothing you had ever felt. Surely James would say the same.

••••••

You were conflicted. What could you do to help him but without anybody noticing? Now that you were living elsewhere, it would be harder to meet secretly.

It was four months after your heartbreaking goodbye. You haven’t seen each other at all. So you needed to see him, although you knew it would make things even harder.

You were trying to convince yourself that you were doing this because you didn’t want him drowning in his sorrow and self loath. But deep down you knew you needed him at least just as much.

-

It had been a particularly stressful night for you. Though it was supposed to be the opposite. You just couldn’t help but feel utterly bad about yourself and overall uncomfortable in your own skin as all those sweaty bodies of people you mostly didn’t know shifted around you.

It was time you talked to him. Because there hasn’t been a single minute in all the time you’ve been apart from James that you didn’t think of him.

You were scared, sure. After all, you practically left him, although he had done nothing wrong, -well at least nothing that couldn’t be fixed. The guilt was eating you alive so you really needed to do something about it.

Maybe now wasn’t the best time to do so because you did have a few drinks. Actually you’ve downed more shots than you’ve done any other night in your life. You weren’t big at drinking. Tonight you just so happened to have the urge to drown your feelings, so you would stop thinking about the man you shouldn’t have, couldn’t have.

Well, turns out, it had the opposite effect on you. That’s how you ended up here. In some bathroom where you didn’t even know how you came up there. With your phone in your shaking hand, searching for his contact. It didn’t take long (despite your problematic, helpless condition) because he was still one of your emergency contacts. Another thing that made your heart sting like an open wound.

It happened faster than you could overthink it. Only a few seconds and you heard your ex lover on the other end of the line speak to you. James had been surprised but he couldn’t say he didn’t desperately wish for this to happen. He just imagined you to be… more amenable.

…

“Hello? Y/n? Darling, are you okay?” He was getting worried sick by the fourth time you didn’t answer him.

“Oh hi-“ You must’ve slept for a second there-

“Yes, I’m goooood.” Your words came out childish and uncoordinated. That was all he needed to hear to know that you were under the influence of something. He was already up and prepared to grab his keys to pick you up as fast as he could. He just needed slightly more information as on where you were at the moment.

“That’s great, doll. Will you do something for me and tell me exactly were you are?” He spoke softly and slowly but strong and loud enough so you could understand him perfectly.

“What? Oh no! I’m sorry James!” You cried. “I jus’ miss you so much and- and I wish I could crawl up in your arms like I always did. You know that?” And there you were, at the point of breathing a little to fast and uncontrolled for Bucky’s liking.

“That’s okay, my doll. You just tell me where you are and you’ll be able to do just that in a minute, aight?” Trying to stay strong for you was hard for him. Especially when you’ve just said the things that he always dreamed about you confessing to him one day.

It was like his world suddenly had a meaning again. Because you were his world and he was waiting for it to come to life again. Yes, cheesy, but any other words probably wouldn’t put it the way he truly and honestly felt about you.

The breath he’d been holding finally released the moment you told him the address, sounding drowsy, like you would pass out any given moment. And the next sharp breath was taken when he climbed inside his far too expensive truck -the government gifted him as compensation for his trauma- and drove off while hoping he would reach you on time.

It was pitch black outside and if it weren’t for his good eyes, he would’ve needed hours to find the damn street where the party you were at was going on.

All that mattered was you and getting to you before any other person could take advantage of his girl in this state.

The frat house practically reeked of alcohol and whatever drugs were being puffed there. He really didn’t feel sorry for himself to have missed this kind of century -and the experiences that came with it- the moment he swiftly bypassed all the drunk idiots in this place.

James was glad you told him absentmindedly that you were hiding in a bathroom. He figured it would rather be upstairs than were all the people were around.

He ran up the stairs and knocked on the first door he found to be looking like a bathroom door. He would thank god for his good instincts another day Bucky thought, as you opened up pretty quickly and let him inside. He closed and locked the door behind him and was boundlessly glad that no-one else had found you before he could.

You were a smiling mess as you greeted him, suddenly full of energy again.

“James! I miss you so much!” You excitedly threw yourself at him. Arms around his neck, every other part of your body trying to cling to him as well. He dissolved your struggles easily by lifting you up, taking the liberty and putting his hands under you butt to support and hold you against him.

“I miss you more, baby.” He couldn’t believe how lucky he got today.

“No, I miss you more!” It was unusual for you to act this way, it was a sweet sight nonetheless. Even if it would be all just a dream of his, he would cherish this memory of seeing you so happy faced forever.

“Okay, okay. You win!” He couldn’t help but give you one of his big smiles in return.

There was comfortable silence for a minute before he came to speak again.

“I hope you won’t scream at me tomorrow, because I gotta take you home now, doll. And I can’t put you anywhere else but inside my bed. Unless you wanna have your roommates know that your lover is as old as your dad (technically born 1917, so much older than your parents).” He whispered in your ear, making you giggle in the process before maneuvering you out of this shithole of a house.

Oh, he could never forget about the consoling way you smelled. James had found comfort in these things about you and every time he got just tiny pieces of yourself thrown his way it would make him feel at home. He could consume you every day for the rest of his life (respectfully).

•••

The next morning you didn’t even had to open your eyes to know were you were. You could feel his smooth sheets around your body, just like his calloused and strong hands gripped you waist possessively but lovingly.

That moment you knew you’d never leave him again. Not giving two shits anymore about what other people had to say about this relationship. James was yours and he wanted to be yours more than anything else he had ever wanted or could ever want.

•••

Wow guys, I must say, it was quite fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Tag-list (people in the comments of part 1):

@ijustneedpopcorn @cyberficlya @rabbitrabbit12321 @cjand10 @prettylittlepluviophile @myloveniall

my masterlist

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Chapter 11 linked here

Chapter 13 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, reader scared of thunderstorms, small bit of violence and blood

"Oi, y/n. It’s time to wake up."

Your eyes opened and you were greeted with a gorgeous man standing over you, staring at your face. Levi didn't seem tired at all, his voice without any indication of sleep in it and his side of the bed was cold to the touch; you figured he had been awake and up for a long time. As you groaned and stretched your limbs, your mind wandered to last night’s events and how Levi initiated holding your hand as you went to sleep. You were surprised but flattered that he had allowed you to invade his personal space like that. Thankfully he did because you had woken up extremely well rested, most likely due to the comfort you found with him in the dark.

“Breakfast is on the table. Eat up while you can.”

Your gaze fell upon the small nightstand where a spread of food was laid out before you. Your mouth started to water as you spied all the pastries Levi brought you, complete with a warm drink. However, you found it hard to reach out and take a bite, too caught up in his kind gesture.

“It’s not poisoned, brat,” he said, giving you a look, “but it’s going to collect dust if you keep staring instead of eating.”

“You… remembered?” you half whispered. Levi’s unyielding gaze softened, knowing what you were referring to. You had told him months ago that your dream was to enjoy breakfast in bed again. It was a luxury that you experienced in your youth but hadn’t had in many years, and now here you were, able to have this moment, courtesy of an extremely kind hearted captain. Levi didn’t say anything as he sat on the bed next to you, sipping on the tea in his hands. He was grateful for the warmth of the liquid going down his throat after being in the morning chill, having already been busy outside loading the carriage with your bags and bonding with the horse. The spring season was coming to a close but it didn't want to go out without one more cold spell. You shivered as you nibbled on a muffin, the room becoming a lot colder now that you were out from under the sheets. Levi, of course, noticed your discomfort and was quick to come to your aid, grabbing a discarded blanket from behind him and laying it across your shoulders. You thanked him, feeling the heat reenter your body, and Levi quietly admired you when your focus went back to the good in front of you. You looked utterly adorable first thing in the morning, even with the dried up drool on your chin. When you gave him a lazy smile upon waking, he felt like he was going to explode from the amount of love that was coursing through his veins. Was this what heaven felt like? He wished he could stay like this with you forever. He started to feel shy as he realized how vulnerable he had been around you overnight. All of these loving touches and gentle gestures were still so new to him and he wasn’t used to showing his softer side to anyone. Even this morning had him second guessing his actions. Was he being too overbearing? He wanted to prove to you that he was helpful, useful—that he could be an attentive partner. What he lacked in verbal communication, he made up for tenfold in acts of service. While Levi was lost in his thoughts, overthinking every little action and word he’d previously shared, you were busy thinking about how empty you were feeling without his hand in yours.

After fueling up with breakfast, you were on your way to Wall Sina in no time. It was another day filled with quiet musing as you and Levi both stared out your respective windows, watching the world pass you by. The rain had started a few hours ago but it hadn’t affected your travel plans yet. However, it seemed that your luck might’ve started running out as thunderstorms began overhead. You definitely weren’t a fan of them but you tried to keep your composure as the noise boomed around you. The carriage driver informed you that you couldn’t travel in this weather so he was stopping at a town up ahead for the time being. The horse and carriage were parked under a big awning near the local stables and the driver made a beeline for the coziness of the busy tavern.

“If he gets drunk I’ll kick his ass,” Levi grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. “You don’t want to go in there too, do you? Though it might be warmer.”

“I’d rather not spend my time around rambunctious loudmouth men if I can help it,” you replied, to which Levi agreed. You decided to pass the time in the carriage by working on your embroidery. You found it relaxing to keep your fingers busy with an idle task and Levi found it relaxing to watch you. He was enthralled with the way your fingers worked to move the needle up and down, back and forth. You moved with such ease, such grace. He was jealous of the way you held the fabric with a delicate touch, selfishly wishing that could be him in your grasp instead. He had given it much thought and decided that he really enjoyed sleeping in the same bed with you. Even with the feelings of self consciousness and uncertainty that came after, your presence gave him a sense of security throughout the night that he hadn’t had in a very long time. As the days go by, he found himself getting more and more comfortable opening up to you and allowing you to penetrate the walls he’d built up his entire life.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you asked him, catching him off guard, but he’d never let you see that.

“Just admiring your work,” he said, gesturing to your embroidered tea towel, “it’s very… elegant.”

“You’re sweet, Levi. If you want, I can personalize one for you right now since I brought two towels with me. Just tell me what design you want and I’ll start on it in a second.”

Before he could refuse, you had already swapped out the towels in the embroidery hoop.

“I only brought black thread,” you rambled, “I hope that’s alright. If you want color I’ll add it when we get back-”

All of a sudden, a flash of lightning burst across the sky as thunder roared, making you yelp in fear as the embroidery hoop clattered on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Levi asked, his eyes trained on your shivering figure. You didn’t know how to respond, feeling foolish at your jumpiness, but you were in no condition to put words to your actions. You scrambled to pick up your project but your shaky fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Levi noticed this and quickly rushed to your aid, collecting your things and placing them on the seat. Another barrage of thunder came upon you and you jumped again.

“I’m sorry, I just-I don’t like thunderstorms,” you said meekly.

Levi furrowed his brows. “Don’t apologize.”

Lightning lit up the inside of the carriage causing you to close your eyes and cower in your seat in anticipation of the loud cracks to follow. What you weren’t anticipating was the feeling of someone sitting next to you and an arm around your shoulders. Your eyelids opened to allow for you to see Levi surveying you, determination lighting up his irises as he brought your body toward him even closer during the next round of thunder.

“I don’t ever want you to feel scared when I’m by your side. I know I can’t protect you from everything in this world but I can damn well try.”

You didn’t say anything—you didn’t have to for Levi to know how much you appreciated (and believed) him. It was obvious in the way you visibly relaxed, resting your head on his shoulder and chest slowing its heaving. You stayed like that for the remainder of the storm, Levi being the anchor you needed to ground yourself against your fears.

Three days later and you were finally in Mitras, the tumultuous weather settling into hot days and cold nights as expected. You felt the familiar buzz of the city as the carriage rolled through the towering buildings and palatial homes. As much as the excess riches sickened you, you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to be back in such a familiar, safe place. You hoped that word of your arrival never made it to your family because you weren’t in the mood to deal with them on this trip, especially not with Levi accompanying you. He didn’t need to be exposed to their advantageous, scheming ways, lest he think that you inherited those same traits (you’d like to think you didn’t). You felt the carriage roll to a stop and you looked out your window to see you’d arrived to the shelter you coordinate your work with. You hopped out of the carriage and ran inside to greet your colleague.

“Ms. L/n! We can’t begin to tell you how excited we are to see you,” said the woman in charge, Mrs. Reimann. You had been working with her since you started sewing clothes and blankets for the needy and if it was any testament to how long you’ve known her, you remembered a time before she sported a head full of gray hairs.

“If my eyes don’t deceive me, it seems you’ve brought a new handsome man to help our cause,” she said, lowering her glasses from the top of her head to her nose in order to get a better look at Levi, who had come in behind you. “A husband, perhaps?”

“I’m afraid not. Just someone wanting to help a worthy cause,” Levi replied, cool as a cucumber, while you were a bit embarrassed by her lack of tact.

“Hmm. What a shame. You know, I’m always telling her that she ought to marry someone before she becomes a wrinkly old maid. Did you know that over the years, I’ve set her up on ten dates and she didn’t go on any of them? I’ve never seen her with a man. Do you think she’s even attracted to them-”

“Alright! Thank you Mrs. Reimann, I’m sure Levi’s not interested in that boring topic,” you said, cutting her off and then glaring at Levi to be silent when he mentioned that he wouldn’t mind hearing more from your blabbermouth friend. “We’re here to help the shelter. Would you like me to get my bags from the carriage and we can get started handing things out?”

“Oh!” she cried out, “Aren’t you the sweetest thing! Actually darling, I need you to make some house calls instead. We’ve had more and more people sneak up from the Underground but the Interior Police has many eyes on this place. So much so that people have stopped coming to stay because they’re afraid of a raid and getting sent back down there.”

You weren’t sure why but you felt Levi stiffen behind you, an unreadable look on his face. Was he super empathetic or did he have experience with the Underground? You had no idea.

“We’ll get started right away. Just give us the addresses and we’ll take the carriage over.”

When you gave the driver the list of addresses, his eyes opened wide and he shook his head with such intensity you thought it’d come off his neck.

“Uh-uh, no way am I going there. Those neighborhoods are way too dangerous!” he yelled, shoving the paper back at you. “Good luck but I ain’t going. I’ll meet you two at the inn you’re staying at to take you home tomorrow. If you’re still alive, that is.”

“Coward,” you muttered as you and Levi pulled your bags from the carriage and the driver took off, wasting no time getting out of there. “Looks like we’re walking, Captain. You up for the exercise?”

“I’d crawl on my ass if it meant getting away from here. We’re being watched from all sides and it’s creepy as shit.”

You couldn’t sense the extra eyes on you, but you weren’t surprised they were there after your talk with Mrs. Reimann. You and Levi left some kids’ clothes and a few blankets at the shelter before starting your journey to the drop off locations. You finally came upon the first one after 30 minutes or so of walking and you were exhausted from the sun beating down on you. How did Levi not even break a sweat? You wiped your forehead with your sleeve as you knocked on the door.

“Tch. Use a handkerchief,” Levi chided, handing you his. You gratefully dabbed it on your skin and handed it back to him as the door barely creaked opened.

“What do you want?” the voice from behind the door asked cautiously.

“We’re with the Reimann group. The shelter told us that you might need some supplies and we’re here to drop them off.” You slowly reached into your bag and set down the requested items, backing away from the door to show you meant no harm. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to reach out. Please, take care of yourself.”

You turned around to leave, not wanting to overstay your welcome. Most of the people you came into contact with were, understandably, jumpy around strangers and didn’t trust anybody.

“Thank you.”

You were startled by the gratitude that left the man’s mouth. You turned to see that he had emerged from behind the door, holding the blankets in his arms and looking like he was going to cry.

“Thank you. For doing this. We all appreciate it.”

You nodded solemnly. “Thank you for being brave. And I’m sorry you have to be. I know things will get better for you.”

The man shut the door as you and Levi were off to your next destination. Levi looked deep in thought after that interaction but you weren’t going to press him on what was on his mind. You dropped off more blankets at more run down houses, your heart aching for these people who have experienced more hardship than you could bear to think about. Levi was a big help, giving everyone you met words of encouragement, bringing in the supplies when someone was too weak to carry them themselves, and even aided one man who’d broken his arm but needed to move an old couch away from a busted window (you two fixed the window as well). Before you knew it, you were finally at the last address as the dark of the evening loomed over you.

“This place requested some blankets and the rest of the kids’ clothes. They must be a big family,” you thought out loud, knocking on the door. It creaked open, a little eye peering at you.

“Hello,” you greeted, trying your best to not scare the child, “we’re with the Reimann shelter. Do you have a parent or adult I can talk to?”

The child nodded, opening the door a bit further but you didn’t dare step inside. A woman appeared after a few seconds, relief all over her features when she spotted the textiles in your hands.

“Oh thank you! You two, please, come in.”

You entered first, Levi close behind you. The inside of this house, like the others, was mostly bare, but was surprisingly cozy. There was a small fireplace roaring in the corner with logs ablaze. You were shocked by the amount of kids running around—you counted 7 but if they stopped moving, you would probably count more. You set the clothes and blankets down by the fireplace to warm them up. You checked to see if Levi was with you as you didn’t sense his presence. He was gone, having been dragged into a game by some of the children. It was a rare occurrence to see the gentle smile he was currently wearing and you couldn’t help but feel a tug at your heart as you saw how kind he was being. You knew he was a good man with a large heart, empathetic beyond all means, but seeing it in action was enough to almost bring you to tears. He was a strong soldier but you knew that wasn’t his defining trait—or a job he probably wanted in the first place. He seemed most comfortable in a position like this, bringing hope and joy to others.

“Please, have some tea,” the woman offered, handing you a cup. You wanted to refuse but you could tell she wouldn’t take no for an answer. You grasped the teacup gratefully, taking a sip.

“Thank you again,” she started, “for bringing those clothes and blankets. My family and I are grateful for everything Mrs. Reimann and her group have done for us. When I was in the Underground, I felt hopeless. I knew there was no way my kids would grow up to be healthy or happy down there, so when they got us up here and into this house, I’ve been counting my lucky stars that we all made it safely.” She turned to the kids. “Everyone say thank you to these kind people for helping us.”

“Thank you!” the kids said, giggling as Levi ruffled the hair on some of their heads.

“It’s no problem, really, it’s the least we can do.” You finished the liquid remaining in your cup and set it down with a careful hand. “We should take our leave as it’s getting late. Thank you for hosting us, the tea was delicious.”

“Of course,” she replied, “let me send some with you as a gift.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t-” You began, but she waved you off with her hand.

“Nonsense. You and this man have just ensured we don’t freeze during the cold nights. We owe you at least this much.”

She gave you a sachet of tea leaves that Levi, now standing next to you, put into the inside of his jacket pocket. You waved goodbye to the woman and the kids and stepped out into the cold night air.

“What a nice woman,” you said thoughtfully.

“She reminded me of my… someone I used to know,” Levi responded, his voice uncharacteristically far away sounding.

You hummed in acknowledgement. “You sound lucky to have known someone like that, then. Cute family, too. You’re good with kids.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not really. I know you’re a softie at heart, Captain,” you teased. The capital, for being so populated, was eerily quiet at the moment. You figured it was because you were in a rougher neighborhood and people didn’t want to risk coming in contact with the criminals and thieves that hung around these parts, preying on people that already had next to nothing. You scooted closer to Levi, an uneasy feeling settling over you the further you got away from the safety of the lit up house you were previously in. The houses in the next neighborhood were all but abandoned, no sign of living beings inhabiting the dilapidated buildings surrounding you. Levi took charge, leading you through the shortest route toward the inn you’d be staying at. He was moving so quickly that you grasped the back of his jacket so you didn’t get left behind. In the blink of an eye, he shoved you into a doorway as you spotted the glint of a blade barely miss you; it would’ve sliced your neck if he hadn’t moved so fast. You were stunned by the force of hitting the wooden door but quickly recovered when you saw a group of men with various knives and guns surrounding you and Levi. The latter bared his teeth, gripping a knife he had tucked in his belt, as he began slicing his way through the group, dodging bullets and cutting necks. While they were occupied with Levi, you took the chance to run. You knew of his superhuman strength; there was no way you could match it and you being there would hinder his ability to take them all down. You weaved through streets, the labyrinth of houses becoming more convoluted as you sprinted, but you at least remembered the general direction of the inn. You knew you couldn’t afford to stop moving at top speed but your lungs were ready to give out from exertion. You pulled yourself into a vacated building, panting as quietly as possible. When your heart no longer felt like it was going to burst, you opened the door to make a run for it when all of a sudden, you felt a knife prick the skin on your throat and heard the click of a gun.

“You’re comin’ with us, darling.”

Chapter 13

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent @raginginferno267 @come-away-with-me87

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

For the record, I don't hate Dream fans.

I hate that a young woman's life could have been ruined because she opened up about something that very understandably left her feeling betrayed and exploited.

I hate that a piss-poor response riddled with manipulative language and a legal threat was enough to quell the conversation.

I hate that nit-picking and hair-splitting over legalities and the definition of one word obscured serious discussion of the facts of the situation.

I hate that I've been made to feel like a hysterical, puritanical weirdo for believing that celebrities in their twenties shouldn't flirt with 17 year old fans.

I hate that I poured a year of my life into something I now have trouble looking back on.

I hate that I can't watch manhunt videos with my ten-year-old sister anymore without feeling a sick pit in my stomach.

I hate that a community I loved became a hundred times more hostile overnight.

I hate that I've had to watch people I once respected and cared about show their true colors in response to this situation - first minimizing the severity of the claims, then insulting the victim, then ignoring or endorsing the hate that former friends faced for simply expressing discomfort.

I hate that people who have openly wished death on others continue to be encouraged and laughed along with, all for the sake of someone they have never met and almost certainly never will meet.

I hate that these people, themselves, may have faced harassment and cruelty in the past for enjoying something viewed not only as immoral, but as the internet's greatest crime of all: cringy.

I hate that even the people who once devoted all their effort to lambasting Dream for everything he's ever done have just casually thrown the most severe accusation onto the pile of "cringe" things he's done.

I hate that bad actors have made so many false or overblown accusations in the past that we've collectively become desensitized to them.

I hate that this fandom has fostered such an environment that any criticism is treated like baseless and malicious slander.

I hate that this post is going to get brushed off as "obsessed parasocial dranti-ism" even though I've tried so hard to avoid having to see or think about this man and everything surrounding him.

I hate that we will likely never get closure or know for certain how much of Amanda's story was true.

I hate that so many people, right off the bat, refused to consider the possibility of any of it being true.

I hate that practically nothing has changed since October.

I hate feeling like nothing is going to change.

[zlobonessa]

also I'm about to get a bit more serious and a lot more annoying but it's really interesting to me how you can actually analyse regulus as a parallel to subaru in the aspect of patriarchy and toxic masculinity — and failing at it, actually.

subaru's issues with traditional masculinity are evident. arc 3 conflict is stemming from his inability to accept the fact that he cannot just be the great traditional hero saving a day and his lady without regards for her wishes. he grew up in a shadow of his father, a man who succeeded in getting everything that is promised by patriarchy — a loving family, a career, respect from his community. subaru cries a lot and scared for his life. he is a loser, he is vulnerable, he is insecure. he is everything that a patriarchal man shouldn't be.

so what does regulus have to do with any of this?

from a first glance at regulus you could assume that he is the one who played patriachy and won. he has a harem! he is violent and he can afford to be violent, he disregards other people's opinions and other people's lives. his wifes are supposed to obey him and if they don't, they are prostitutes snd whores and traitors. his rights are the only ones that matters. he is the one in charge. he is The Man.

but what if we look a little closer?

under scrutiny you can notice he is not actually completely secure in himself — rather the opposite. he directly tells as much:

he also compares himself to reinhard, yet another perfect man (just like subaru does) and not in his own favor:

his wives also notice the pattern:

and subaru puts the final nail in the coffin:

in other words, everybody can see through his scrawny ass.

we can still dig deeper here.

regulus appearance is described as averege (absolutely not impressive enough to get a girl he likes to llke him). he is not physically strong, he immediately loses the confidence that he'll win the fight the moment subaru and emilia take away his main advantage. he is the youngest son, a problem child. he is not particularly liked in his hometown. he is poor, which is a very important detail: combination of poverty and patriarchy produces its own type of helplessness, insecuity in masculinity. you forced to take unrewarding, most often physical, exhausting jobs that destroy your human dignity AND do not pay enough for you be a successful family provider. regulus is a failure in patriarchal society and he desperately wants to escape this position.

unfortunately, the only way he sees is up, and the only climbing technique he knows is the same patriarchal violence that put him down in the first place.

[also, sidenote: it's really funny how he is is only archbishop who gets the fanciest clothing and a whole ass manor.

class traitor.]

the authority of greed for regulus is a way to fight his insecurities by establish his dominance — patriarchal among others. he is the strongest now, nobody can humiliate him. he uses extreme violence to get his way. he forces a woman he likes to become his wife, knowing him, probably under the pretence of saving her from these incomplete swines. he knows better what is best for her, right?

well if it doesn't sound familiar.

that's also who subaru can be. cruel, cold, unable to ask for help and allow himself to be vulnerable, uncaring about what women he supposedly does all this for actually thinks about that. we can clearly see this in the if routes, but a lot of it is present in the main route too, to less extreme degree.

(also..... harem if lmao)

but as we established earlier, all of this doesn't actually makes regulus happy. he is still insecure, he lashes out at the barest hint of threat to his ego, he still deeply discomforted by interaction with reinhard. upholding the ideal of traditional masculinity doesn't help him and eventually leads to his doom. regulus is another dark reflection of what subaru could be — if he had not found another way, if he had been way too stubborn to change, to find support and to free himself from harmful, cruel ideas.

[starsreminisce]

His gaze didn’t lighten, though that smile again played about his sensuous mouth, no doubt his favorite mask. “Only occasionally will I do that. And I can’t help it if you send things down the bond.” I contemplated refusing to ask as I had done last night, but … “How does it work—this bond that allows you to see into my head?” He sipped from his own tea. “Think of the bargain’s bond as a bridge between us—and at either end is a door to our respective minds. A shield. My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge unless they’re very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight. As a human, the gates to your mind were flung open for me to stroll through. As Fae … ” A little shrug. “Sometimes, you unwittingly have a shield up—sometimes, when emotion seems to be running strong, that shield vanishes. And sometimes, when those shields are open, you might as well be standing at the gates to your mind, shouting your thoughts across the bridge to me. Sometimes I hear them; sometimes I don’t.”

I tried to convince myself that everything I’d done had made you hate me. But I felt you through the bond, through your open mental shields. I felt your pain, and sadness, and loneliness. I felt you struggling to escape the darkness of Amarantha the same way I was. I heard you were going to marry him, and I told myself you were happy. I should let you be happy, even if it killed me. Even if you were my mate, you’d earned that happiness.

But Elain studied me, the map, then nodded. She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind … Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns.

Considering that we don't know where Elain is with her training, the only tidbit we have is her saying that she needs to get reacquainted with her powers. This suggests she hasn't been experiencing them much, especially when Feyre mentions Elain hasn't had visions or any foresight regarding the outcome of Feyre's pregnancy or the search for the trove.

What’s interesting to me is how early Nesta started to train to shield her mind in ACOWAR. I believe that’s why Nesta was able to ward off most of the mating bond's effects, except when Cassian stabbed himself—she kept her shields up most of the time.

Feyre says Elain has no mental shields or barriers, and I don’t believe that has changed. If Elain had been practicing, she would have argued that to make a case for her to search for the trove. Additionally, Feyre describes Elain's mind as a result of lacking sunshine, likely since Lucien has been away on his quest to find Vassa. As much as people argue that Feyre should disclose to Lucien who his real father is, we drew that conclusion because of Elain's revelation.

I believe that Elain and Lucien likely communicate more through their bond than is explicitly shown in the books, especially considering the hints we get from both ACOSAF and ACOSF. Rhys's experiences with Feyre might provide some insight into this, as their bond seems to allow for an intimate understanding of each other's emotions and thoughts.

It's possible that one of the reasons the bond might be uncomfortable for both Elain and Lucien is the sudden shift from being able to hide their true feelings around others to having someone who instinctively knows when they're lying. Elain's words, "he doesn't know me," could reflect this discomfort and the unsettling feeling of being seen so deeply by another person.

[idolatrybarbie]

the world tipped on its side

epilogue - a sip or a spoonful

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 1.9k

rating & summary: mature | he wants all of your love.

warnings: hospitals, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff and feels, discussion of surgery and anesthesia.

notes: we have reached the end of this months-long delve into emotions, disability and family! omg - it's really insane to think that this lil' fic brought me some amazing new friends and introduced me to a great new writing community. twtois is my baby, and i love these two. i hate to say goodbye, but all good stories must come to an end. thank you to everyone who has followed me because of this fic, and/or showed this fic any love. it was a gamble writing about disability - as in, no one coulda read this fic and we would not be here - but like frankie i am a gambling man. and it paid off! so thank you again, and i hope you enjoy.

You’re stuck in the waiting room. Doctors won’t let you past the threshold of the medical floor, so here you are. Family only. Try as you might, the assertion still stings. He’s going to be okay. He has to be. It’s the only thing keeping you from losing your mind.

This ultimate curve ball you’ve been thrown has you reflecting, the flimsy chair you’ve chosen threatening to create a human spill of you at any second. Things with Frankie are easy. You have no clue why you ever wished for anything to come along and complicate that. Except that’s not entirely true—another lie, but you’re getting better at catching yourself.

When you’ve spent so much time acquainted with pain and uncertainty, the lack of it becomes a foreign concept. Existence without struggle is like pulling teeth. Feeling that free-flowing ease that Frankie somehow provides in droves still sometimes makes your skin crawl. It's a learning process. But nothing could possibly be scarier than the thought of losing him. You learned that today. Every other fear, all discomfort you hold fades to the background. He and you are inextricably linked.

A man bursts through the doors of the E.R., a whirlwind for your mind to grasp onto amid the sea of sterile white pain. He’s a bit shorter than Frankie, skin beige and brow creased as he strides through the waiting area like he’s on a mission. His walk makes him impossibly familiar: the way he wears his shoulders like earrings, toddling in the slightest with every right step. When he reaches the front desk and speaks to the attending nurse, his spine only relaxes slightly.

Of course you eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Here to see Francisco Morales,” the man says, speaking precisely.

“I’m afraid he’s not accepting any visitors right now,” the nurse replies.

“You’re looking at his emergency contact. Santiago Garcia…you look it up, you’ll see me.” His words are forceful; a slap across the face with an order to stand at attention.

You mumble an, “Excuse me,” and join Santiago at the attendant's desk. “How is he?”

“Ma’am, I already told you—”

“Please. I’m his…girlfriend,” you say. The word tastes weird in your mouth.

Speaking to Santiago, the nurse says, “I can speak to you. I can’t speak to her.”

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself away from the desk and walk back to your seat. Rubbing fingers into your temples brings no relief to the steadily growing tension headache at your forehead. Your brain is working overtime, thoughts echoing as you try and take deep breaths.

He’s going to be okay.

“Ma’am?”

You’re expecting the nurse again, ready to ask you to vacate the waiting room to make space for the family of someone else—someone more important than him. You fix your mouth to tell her to get bent before you see who it is. Santiago.

“Oh, um—hi,” is all you manage.

He takes the seat next to you, keeping his back straight against the bendy top rail of the chair. “Frankie didn’t tell me he was seeing anybody,” are the first real words to you from this virtual stranger.

“It’s new.”

“I’m glad someone else is here,” he says, presenting you with a hand to shake. You take it, grasp firm around the bones of his knuckles before you let go.

He’s got palms like Frankie’s. Scarred and worn with use, from carrying a gun. From killing people, the back of your mind whispers. You ignore it. What was it that Frankie had said about this Santiago?

“He’s the only one still doing military shit these days…a bit of an asshole. You two probably wouldn’t get along.”

And then there was that other thing—the medical death wish. Perhaps an urge not entirely reserved at the hands of a doctor if he’s out there pretending to be G.I. Joe while all his friends have retired. Suddenly, unfortunately, you understand this Santiago Garcia better than most people you’ll ever meet. The pang of jealousy that hit your stomach at his materialization dissolves as you finally make proper eye contact. You introduce yourself. He does the same, telling you to call him Santi.

“Did they say anything about his condition?”

“He’s fine,” Santi shakes his head. “Just giving him a few to recoup, taking a couple tests.” Silence lingers a while before he broaches the topic of your relationship: when, where, how long. He asks nicely enough that you find yourself answering.

“We met on this stupid fucking movie,” you say. “I needed a helicopter and a pilot to fly it. And I’m sure you know he’s the best.”

“Oh, for sure,” Santi agrees. “You made the right decision.”

“Wasn’t me actually,” you say. Despite yourself, a smile creeps along your face. “My best friend—Mia. She’d worked with him before and it just happened to work out… I don’t know. Strange series of events.”

“Sounds like Frankie.” When you give him a questioning look, Santi explains, “He has a habit of finding himself in unconventional situations. Like crashin’ a fucking helicopter, for example.” The breathy laugh that accompanies his words should lift your spirits, but it doesn’t.

A drop of water falls to the back of your hand, and before your brain can catch up, you’re sobbing in the emergency department waiting room. The pliable chair beneath you threatens to fold with every sob that wracks your body. Santiago sits next to you, frozen in uncertainty.

“Sorry,” you say, voice garbled with tears. “I—it feels like my fault. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“Look, hey. Listen,” Santi starts, “People like us, like Frankie and me…we do dangerous shit. It comes with the job description. That’s the deal we cut.”

You don’t want that. Not for Frankie, not for Santiago. Not for anyone. You love what you do—what you did, before the accident. You know there is no reward without risk, but somehow that doesn't seem quite fair. The hardship you’ve endured is a different sort of pain, but you know regardless. No one should have to live that life.

“But I can tell you that these last few months, Frankie’s been the happiest I’ve seen him since his kid was born. He’s not one for show ‘n tell, so I wasn’t sure why. But I am now.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Sweetheart, with all due respect, I don’t say anything that I don’t mean.” He averts his gaze now, staring out at nothing as he says, “Frankie’s been through a lot. Done a lot. I don’t know what he’s told you. But I do know when that man cares about something, he will do anything in his power to get back to it.”

You get tissues from the nurse’s desk, settling in. You’re in the middle of trading Catfish tales when you freeze mid-sentence. The man himself stands before you—patched up and limping, but alive. They’ve taken his clothes and given him a hideous set of toothpaste green scrubs. You practically rush him, pulling Frankie close in a bear hug. The material crinkles like paper beneath you.

Your nose brushes against his jaw, the smell of him under soap and cleaner. Frankie carefully wraps his arms around you in turn. The action warms your skin, bringing you in from the cold.

“You’re okay,” you whisper.

“I’m okay,” he confirms. Frankie pulls back from the hug to look at you. “You saved me.”

“I don’t think—”

“You did. Thank you.”

“Always.” The word falls from your mouth like second nature.

Frankie must spot Santiago over your shoulder, giving him a nod before he pulls you in for another, briefer hug. Then he moves to Santi. You watch as they pat each other on the back like brothers. The shorter man paws at Frankie’s shoulders to get a firm grasp. They share a deep, concentrated stare; their communication is all in the eyes. Maybe that’s where Frankie gets it from. Regardless, you can’t decipher it. Whatever the two men share stays between them. Frankie embraces Santiago, lifting him an inch off the floor for effect.

“Alright,” Santi huffs. “Put me down, Fish.”

“I see you two have already met,” Frankie says as he steps away.

“Quite the lady you got here.”

“He was telling me some stories about your first deployment together,” you say.

“You got here right in time,” Santi says. “Was just about to tell her about how you got that call sign.”

“I think that’s enough storytelling for tonight,” Frankie says resolutely.

You narrow your eyes at him with a laugh. “You can’t escape me, Catfish. I’ll find out sooner or later.”

They let you take Frankie to your car in a wheelchair. Santiago makes Frankie promise to call him before he walks it back to the hospital doors. Frankie’s seat sits at an incline, letting him lay down while he stays buckled in. He looks exhausted, thoroughly worn down and ready for days of bed rest.

“We’re headed home, okay?” you say, readjusting the seat cushion beneath you at a red light. “You’re gonna sleep, and then when you wake up we can order food. That sound alright?”

Your fingers tap against the center console, a tick you’ve picked up from Frankie’s own car habits. You stop when he takes your hand into his own, squeezing gently. He looks up at you with round eyes, dark circles beneath them. He’s okay.

“I’m already there,” Frankie says.

-

You hate hospitals. The smell of antiseptic can never truly hide the stench of death. Your dad died in one; the possibility of living life as you loved it was robbed from you in a room just like this. And yet here you are putting your faith in this hospital, the doctors that work within its walls, and the spirit of hope that lingers here. Or maybe that's just Frankie.

They've got you in a gown, laid out and waiting. Soon enough, the anesthesiologist will come in with another doctor and stick you with a needle. You'll count back from ten...and light outs. It won't be up to you anymore.

Until then, Frankie's by your side. Holding your hand, kissing your forehead. Talking to you about nothing, really, but you like to hear his voice. He stops you short when he asks, "Where do you want to go first?"

"What?"

"When everything is, y’know, said and done. If you could go anywhere?" he explains.

"Home. In a wheelchair. I won't be doing much of anything," you say.

"Come on, just—anywhere."

You laugh. "Frankie, there's nowhere to go. What, are you gonna wheel me across Europe?"

"If you want," he says.

"You are ridiculous."

"And you still love me for it. Where?” Frankie insists. He's not letting this go.

You sigh as you answer, "I don't know. I kind of liked that story you told about Michigan. With the snow."

"The one where I almost froze to death?"

"Yeah, that one. Except maybe we skip out on that part this time," you say.

"There are more glamourous destinations,” Frankie says.

"You said anywhere. That's where I want."

"The great state of Michigan.” He leans back in the plush seat beneath him. “Okay. I think I can make that happen." His phone chimes. Frankie pulls it from his pocket to take a look. "Mia's on her way."

"What? Why?"

"I called her," he admits.

"She won't be here in time, and then I'll be in surgery for a while," you say. Five hours. Three hundred minutes, give or take, to make or break your life. "I won't be discharged for a few days."

"I'll be here. We both will," Frankie says.

"You don't have to—"

"I'll be here," he repeats, firmer this time. The look in his eyes is fierce; halfway between love and a safety net, your own face reflecting back at you.

Part of you, jagged and lingering, wants to call his bluff—expect the worst and you aren't disappointed when it happens. But no, Frankie looks serious. His face is stone, jaw set tight as he holds your gaze. You have no choice but to trust him. Forever and always.

So you nod, squeezing his hand. "Okay."

tags! @wannab-urs @iamskyereads @anoverwhelmingdin

[barbarakaterina]

CodyWan Week Day 2: chasing off suitors with a stick

When Cody finished his conversation with Fox and looked around himself, there was a group of people standing around Obi-Wan, and all of them seemed tipsy, were giving him the kind of looks Cody saw on the covers of Bly’s romance novels, and left lingering touches on his arm from time to time.

Cody gritted his teeth. This, more than anything else, was why he hated galas.

He marched over with a resolute step, and rather loudly said: “Excuse me, sirs.”

All of the people seemed startled, as if woken from a trance. If only they had such an excuse.

“Oh, commander,” one of them said vaguely.

Cody ignored them and pushed his way to Obi-Wan. “Sir,” he declared, again just a bit too loud, “may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Oh, of course,” Obi-Wan replied, giving him one of those empty socialite smiles. “Please excuse me, gentlebeings,” he added to his company, and they all tittered their goodbyes as Cody fairly dragged Obi-Wan away from them.

It took some time to find a spot where they could be reasonably alone, but Cody didn’t relent until he did.

Once they had privacy, Obi-Wan slumped against the wall, his polite smile gone, and Cody scowled at him. “You’re an adult,” he said. “Fully responsible for yourself. So why do I keep finding you in these situations?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “You know I can’t offend them-”

“If they get offended when you tell them no, they deserve to be offended!”

“Perhaps, but sadly, they are rather too important to take into account what they deserve. And you know I often come off as flirtatious without meaning to-”

“Stop,” Cody said sharply. “You are not asking for it in any way, shape or form. The only single issue on your part is that you refuse to clearly communicate your lack of interest!” Cody realised his voice was rising, and forced himself to be quiet and gentle. “It worries me, Obi-Wan,” he said.

“I know, my dear.”

Cody hesitated. “Have you…spoken to your mind healer about this?”

Obi-Wan exhaled. “There are enough other things to discuss, I’m afraid, that take priority.”

Cody got that - the war had made sure of that - but still… “I’m afraid that one of these days, you will agree to sleep with one of these leeches simply because you won’t wish to offend them,” he admitted with brutal honesty.

Obi-Wan shrugged, and Cody grew even more alarmed. “Obi-Wan, you hate sex!”

“Jedi do not hate,” Obi-Wan replied. “It’s slightly uncomfortable, that’s all. I’ve certainly gone through more discomfort for missions - in fact, I do for almost all missions.”

Cody gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t project his own feelings onto Obi-Wan, he knew. <i>He</i> might feel like crawling out of his skin at the mere idea of engaging in anything sexual, but Obi-Wan’s aversion was not the same. Only…only he worried how much of it was an actual difference between them, and how much was Obi-Wan’s pathological self-sacrificing streak. “Just…promise me to discuss this in your next session?”

Obi-Wan gave him a searching look. “If you believe it’s that important, I will,” he said after a moment.

Cody exhaled in relief. Someone more qualified than him would untangle this. “Good. Now, what do you say we get out of here? Cuddle on the couch with a nice nature documentary?”

For the first time since the evening started, Obi-Wan gave a truly genuine smile. “That, my dear,” he said, “sounds like the perfect plan.”

...and a surprise "aro/ace CodyWan" to boot!

[mobblespsycho100]

An Interview with Kabru.

Q: Glad you could make it! Happy to have you here

K: Likewise. I admit, I was surprised when I got this invitation. I'm quite flattered, haha.

Q: Shall we just get right to it?

K: Go right on ahead, if you please. I'll be sure to answer as earnestly as possible.

Q: Okay then! First question: why do you smile?

K: Why wouldn't I smile? It puts people at ease. Discomfort will bring seperation, and a smile can disarm their worries as easily as words or a trade of blows can.

Q: Ah, I see... smiling as a tool of effective communication! Interesting. Moving on to the next one, (you can give as many answers as you like) what do you love?

K: The company of others. How humanity can stab one another in the back as they see fit, without much deliberation. We lift others up, so that we can piece them back together when they shatter into glass.

Q: You sure do love talking with other people. Third question, what you do love most about yourself?

K: Myself? Hahaha, what a wonderful, thought provoking question. My answer is always the same, what don't I love about myself? It should be clear that I wouldn't love the company of others if I loathed my own self.

Q: Alright, then. What is something you wish you could change about yourself?

K: I wish to have more control over things outside of my control The color of my eyes. It's a bit of a ... unsettling distracting shade of blue, isn't it?

Q: It really is! They're quite enchanting... Now here's our fifth question, Why do you think so much about others?

K: Humans are fascinating, aren't they? Unlike monsters, they heal and they hurt. They create and they destroy. They want others to be genuine with them, but lie as easily as they breathe. We are all just living in our own worlds, and it is when these worlds collide do we invent what is known as 'community'. Is this enough of an answer?

Q: Of course. Interesting answer... Final question for today then, why do you stab oranges to eat them?

K: It's just more convenient, isn't it? I don't like to get my hands dirty, and peeling just feels so much more difficult while wearing gloves especially. I never really thought about it much though, why should it matter how I eat my oranges? They only taste differently depending on the region where they were grown in.

This is such a silly interview, haha! Thank you for having me

(Q: Thank you for answering honestly.)

Oh hey, by the way, did you know? When using a knife to slice or pierce through oranges, it apparently has the same sensation as stabbing human flesh.

[goodolreliablejake]

When I was in fourth grade, I had a couple of kids I sat with at lunch. We bonded over Dragon Ball Z. But there came a time when it was enough. I could not stopping about this show, to the point where it alienated these few friends. They started to avoid me. When I wasn't with them, I would wander around at recess alone, walking rounds to avoid the discomfort and alienation that came from being around others without knowing how to connect or be accepted by them.

It escalated to where the kids I considered friends were surrounding me, and they confronted me about my obsession with Dragon Ball Z. They teased me. And I was so hurt, afraid, and angry, and ashamed. I lashed out. I kicked a kid. He wasn't even the one teasing me, but in that moment he felt like he was one of the kids surrounding me, mocking me. Years later, I had class with him in high school, and I wished I could apologize, but I didn't even know if he remembered me.

I was tested, and the doctor said that he didn't want to label me with autism. He thought that giving me that label would make my life harder going forward. But instead I've always been in ambiguity. This almost-diagnosis, this shadow diagnosis. I've been in therapy for years, and I've asked about this uncertainty, and they assured me I wasn't autistic.

I later developed an intense interest in theatre. Improv in particular was so fun and so informative. It was like getting a crash course in how people operate and interact with one another. And it was a language in which I could communicate back. I was praised for my creativity, but there was always a limit.

I'd reach a point in rehearsals and things, multiple times where... A director, a teacher, whatever would get so frustrated because... Something felt false to them. They'd tell me that I was acting as though I were telling a great story but that it didn't feel real or true. I would push myself further and further to try to reach this elusive sense of authenticity.

But now I have think that this was way off base... The problem was never what I was doing. I wasn't guarded. I wasn't refusing to emotionally engage with the material or the audience. No, the problem was.. it came across as false to them, because my authentic and genuine expressions in day to day life come across as inauthentic to people. *I* feel false to neurotypical people. But it's not because I'm inauthentic, it's because I'm different.

I've never had this problem with other autistic friends. And there have been many. They were always my best friends.

[minkkumaz]

I'M TRYING TO GET OVER THIS

months passed by since riwoo walked out with no explanation. as he laid in your memories, you finally were starting to be happy again. but he made things a lot more difficult when he showed up unannounced.

PAIRING lee riwoo x fem!reader WC 1.3k TAGS angst. minor cussing. major miscommunication. OMI NOTE this makes me wanna die goodnight, i cried four times writing this. inspired by memories, conan gray.

there was a part of you that died that day. the day riwoo walked out with no explanation. maybe you’d feel a little more sane if he told you everything, but he didn’t. the closure you longed for disappeared as he became unreachable. but you loved him. you loved him more than words could explain. the feeling of homesickness bubbled up in your stomach at the unlivelyness of your house.

countertops that were once littered with empty diet coke cans and receipts from your dates remained clear. waking up next to the ghost of a figure that was once there. all of it was gone, your life, your meaning.

it didn’t exactly register in your brain how distant he has been until he was gone from you. how his phone would be more out of reach, how his hands didn’t rub circles into yours late into the night. there were many things you picked out once you became aware. and you still didn’t know why. communication was never something the two of you were good at. simple apologies became much more meaningful. riwoo was introverted at heart, his calm demeanor almost could be compared to being emotionless. you never saw that in him, he let his guard down around you. so when days, weeks, even months went by without a word, you thought that maybe you were getting a taste of what it was like to be a stranger to him. you wanted to keep him in your memories, and look back at the photos of the two of you together. happy that the moment existed, and not that it ended. somewhere in between the lines, when you were able to smile instead of cry, he had to come back into your life again. rain pattered against the glass windows of your home. it was late, and you were as tired as the clouds. wanting to let go of everything and just sleep. comfort in yourself was something you became used to over time. when your doorbell rang, you felt confused. the darkness of the night meant no visitors for awhile, so you hesitantly let the creaky floorboards signal you coming to let whatever was outside in. you wish you didn’t open that door. completely soaked, riwoo stood at your porch. his clothes stuck to his skin and his hair made him look like a wet dog. the depth of his eyes, something you found yourself zoning out in, stared at you with regret. “hi, y/n. can we talk?” he muttered, blinking back the rain water.

“um, yeah yeah. come in riwoo.” you open the door wider to signal him inside, immediately drenching wherever he stepped.

you rushed to get him his spare clothes that you boxed up some time ago, as well as a towel. it didn’t take long for him to situate himself, so once you were properly met face to face with him, your vision went hazy. the feeling of hurt and betrayal immediately became familiar. it was always there, you just tried your best to ignore it. “what are you doing here, riwoo?” you ask him plainly, in an attempt to hide behind your discomfort. “i shouldn’t have walked out on you that day, but i need to explain to you why it happened.” he confessed. “i don’t need closure anymore, it’s been months riwoo.” your face begins to burn and you’re unable to maintain eye contact.

“but i need closure. what i did was so fucking stupid and i don’t think i’d be able to bear it if you didn’t even know why.” silence overtook you. the whole situation still didn’t sit right with you, so words became unattainable. “a lot of me was overwhelmed by all of this. by us.” he started, “when we first started dating, i didn’t have any real responsibilities. but then so much stuff happened since then and i thought i needed a break.” “then why didn’t you say anything to me?” “you know i was never good at communication, y/n. you can’t blame me for taking some time away.” he furrowed his eyebrows at your response. “three months riwoo. three months you left me without saying anything and you expect me not to be upset? to not blame you for all this shit that has happened?” you cry out, barely acknowledging the tears that began falling down your cheeks. “i know i–” “please don’t make it harder than it already is, i’m trying to get over this.” you cut him off, biting your bottom lip to hold back any further sobs.

“i don’t want you to get over me, y/n. is that selfish?” he says in almost a whisper. “you already know what i’m going to say to that.”

“then don’t say anything, please. this time apart has only made me miss you more. it made me realize how much i need you in my life.” his hand grabs yours, the gentle touch you used to love felt invalidating on your skin. “why won’t you let me go? why do you have to show up when i was finally starting to be happy again?” you sniffle, letting his free hand wipe away your tears. “because we still have so much ahead of us if you let me back in, if not as a lover, as friend.” “there’s no reason in convincing me that we could ever exist again, riwoo. not even as a friend. we both know we’ll prevent eachother from falling in love with anyone but one another.”

“and why can’t we just let that happen?”

“because i want to move on. i think it’s better for the both of us.” you affirmed, removing his hands off of you. “i think you need to leave now, riwoo.” a breath escaped your mouth that you didn’t know you were holding in as you walked away from him. there wasn’t any movement behind you for a moment. you almost wanted to turn back and tell him not to move. but you couldn’t. riwoo stood up from your couch and walked to the door, in which now had a box of some of his leftover things. but before he picked it up, he turned around to face you for the last time. the sadness on both of your faces probably should’ve told you guys that maybe you should try again. “i’m sorry things ended up this way, my love.” he held his head low, before you wrapped yourself around his torso. “don’t call me that, this is hard enough.” your words come out muffled into his chest. “can we stay like this for a little, then? for the last time.” he asked quietly, as you hum in return. he returned your hug, a sob threatening to escape from his throat at the thought of having to eventually let you go. you tilted your head up too see him. he looked weary, eye bags hardly peeking underneath his waterline. yet they were visible enough to make you frown. this was all his fault, but you felt bad. and though part of your heart died that day, it still beat for him.

“will you let me kiss you, y/n?” he looks down at you, helpless.

you barely nod before warmth spreads across your lips. it was intimate, his own chasing after yours. something that used to be rewarded to you after a long day. something that used to comfort you when life wasn’t going good. something that gave you butterflies. something that you would never feel ever again.

it ended as soon as it began, and he finally pulled away from you to grab the abandoned box in the floor. when he started to leave everything became blurry. “i’ll always love you, y/n.” with that, he became a distant memory.

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[syrips]

Hi, we don't talk much - if at all - but I'm a longtime lurker in the community you're posting about. I won't pretend to have context for what happened, but I'm so sorry you're hurting. Your reply, which you posted, was full of rational points, and I'm so sorry you're hurting. I do not wish to speak ill of the community, but I have noticed some unusual behavior among the members up til now, which is one reason I don't interact much. You're not cursed. You're a positive and kind person with a lot of passion and exuberance. If others cannot deal with that, that's on them. If they cannot handle hearing things they don't like without freaking out, that's also on them. You're right: people who can't accept that their Fandom opinion is not universal are ill-equipped for mature conversations about Fandom. You have always been so supportive of diverse opinions. Your "be cringe, be free" mentality is inspiring. People who also believe Fandom opinions reflect real life morality - especially in a Fandom all about vampires - need to check themselves before casting stones. Nothing I've seen you say indicates that you're ableist. I don't think an ableist would worry as much as you do about hurting others. Again, I'm not sure what happened, but I think whatever happened could have been handled with more grace and fairness to you and to the admins asked to foster communication between you (who has expressed open desire to communicate) and other adults who should be mature enough to talk to you without asking others to regulate their emotions for them. Those people - whoever they are - need to think about how they conducted themselves. I'm so sorry you are going through this and that whoever had an issue put your friends in the middle. I'm sorry your friends, when put in the middle, felt obligated to prioritize something or someone else. I'm also sorry that you felt obligated to post your chats to feel seen and heard. I imagine doing so will feel bad for you and for them, given time, but that you must feel terrible to have reached out to Tumblr at large by posting screencaps in the first place. I'm so sorry you hurt and feel alone. You all deserve better, especially you. Try to have a good night and know there are people out there who wish you well.

aah i cant stop crying, thank you

i dont wanna sound like im a victim cuz i know i can make people uncomfortable. the whole 'be cringe be free' mentality is always prone to cause others to be uncomfortable by the blunt openness. i know discomfort doesnt mean unethical, but their discomfort is valid. all i want is people to understand my intention is never to hurt, and that i apologize if my literal/direct reactions cause issues. it's why i desperately need communication or some form of these social rules, otherwise it feels unfair when i 'break' them and become seen as unethical/inappropriate for things beyond my control. and it's even more painful when told that there's nothing i can do on my end, while none involved reach out to me

i dont want people to be upset or hate each other, i mostly spoke out because it was affecting my personal life, the games/groups i was in/kicked from, and the way i was being pushed away/outcasted. not only did it hurt physically but it's been messing with my mind so badly. but reading this helps alot, so thank you.

[sirfrogsworth]

My dad and I had a very long day but we are starting to figure some things out.

His main issue is circulation to his right foot. That is causing most of his pain and discomfort. His right big toe is a goner. But if they can restore circulation to his foot with a stent, then that is all he will lose. But there is a major worry that he could lose half his foot or all of his foot or even part of his leg if the catheter procedure with the stent is unable to improve circulation.

The more foot they take, the harder it will be to walk. And if he can't walk at all, I might not be able to take care of him. And that would suck for a myriad of reasons. My possible homelessness being a real concern.

The podiatrist was real doom and gloom about all the possible amputations and scared my dad with worst case scenarios. I didn't appreciate that. I mean, I know he had to present all the possible outcomes, but can we at least do the procedure tomorrow before we talk about losing a leg? I don't know.

That said, we are told this doctor that puts in the stents is one of the best in the world. He has won awards for this and everything. So if anyone can save my dad's foot, it is him.

I still think my dad has an infection. He was pretty lucid today, but for the last 30 minutes he has been seriously hallucinating. I can still communicate with him, but he is very loopy. He hasn't slept all day and they gave him a Percocet and that made him quite, umm... high as balls. So if there is an infection combined with no sleep and an opioid med, I would guess that is a recipe for delirium. They are going to give him an Ambien tonight so I am hoping he'll get some long deep sleep and hopefully that will fix the delirious state he is in. It has worked in the past.

I had a great conversation with his kidney doctor today. She is wonderful and I wish we saw her more often. She is one of the smartest doctors I think I've ever encountered but also incredibly kind, funny, and empathetic. She reminded me of a cordial Black auntie but like with a Mensa membership. She went from complimenting my dad's silver hair and making fun of her husband for using Just For Men hair dye to hacking the hospital computer to find my dad's sleep study results that we have been unable to obtain since July... and then perfectly interpreting them without being a sleep specialist.

She is not just proficient in kidney issues, but she seems to have well above average knowledge of many medical issues outside her purview. She gave us some great advice on a variety of problems my dad is facing. She also gave a great explanation on why my dad has issues with his breathing and requires constant oxygen. Can you believe after all this time no one has been able to give me a good answer on why he needs oxygen? I've had several doctors just say they didn't know. But I ask her and she tells me his lungs have trouble inflating all the way. I forgot the medical term, but he can not inhale deeply. So it's like working with half lung capacity at all times. She recommended a breathing exercise toy thingie. It's like a game where you inhale and try to lift a little ball. You do your exercises every day and hopefully increase the power of your suck over time.

After (hopefully) fixing the foot, my secondary concern is my dad's mental decline. He was lucid in the morning and most of the afternoon. But after a Percocet he was grabbing for imaginary pills in the air and trying to eat them. It is very hard to take care of him when he has these episodes. Especially since he gets them at night. I am not able to sleep when this happens. He becomes a danger to himself and sometimes tries to get up and walk places when he doesn't have the balance. One time he tried cooking raw potatoes on the stove top and nearly burned himself. He just put whole ass potatoes in a hot pan and thought he was cooking them for my mom. That was a very difficult night. But until last week he hadn't had an episode in nearly a year.

So I am hoping once the infection is completely gone and he is back in his own bed and able to get quality rest, these events will be rare again. But I am worried they may be a more common occurrence and I will have to adapt my caretaking to accommodate them. Perhaps I could sleep in the morning and afternoon instead of late evening. I dunno.

Anyway, his catheter procedure is in the morning and then I think he has dialysis. Since he won't be in his room most of the day, tomorrow might be a rest day for me. I'll stay home and try to catch up on all the sleep I've lost.

We are working it out. I think my dad has a decent prognosis at this point. But there are still many things that could go wrong. I am choosing to be optimistic at this point.

One final thought... my dad's medical care would be substantially worse if I was not there to advocate for him. It makes me feel sad for all of the elderly people out there who don't have someone to speak on their behalf trying to get them the best medical care possible. Like, if I didn't tell them he needs Ambien to sleep in the hospital, he could be so far into delirium right now that they would be unable to communicate with him at all.

[theashrider]

My toxic trait is… taking the lesbian characters I used to ship back when I was gay, and turning them into straight (or at the very least, non-lesbian) ships now that I’m straight.

Without context, it sounds insane and probably homophobic. But I find it really hard to abandon my comfort ships just because I can’t relate to them as well as I used to before.

I started shipping Supercorp before I realized I was trans. In my head I always imagined Kara being non-binary or transgender due to a mismatch in kryptonian-to-human gender concepts. I needed to find comfort in the idea of a character that’s seen as a woman but is actually just incorrectly categorized as female due to her exterior appearance. I made up a gender spectrum for Kryptonians to justify this idea, and I used to daydream about what it would be like to be an alien that isn’t confined to human gender identities. I imagined that getting called Supergirl would cause discomfort and awkwardness because these humans saw long hair and heard a soft voice and decided that this alien, this being from however many light years away, was surely a girl in the way that human girls are. Hell, I even imagined Kryptonians having the ability to regulate their hormone levels and having a wide vocal range that allows them to switch between feminine and masculine tones without needing to practice. I fantasized about having that type of super-human ability to control my body characteristics to finally look and sound the way I did in my mind.

I started watching Xena because I knew it was a popular wlw show, but eventually started imagining Gabrielle as trans in an Ancient Greek time period where trans guys probably couldn’t do anything about it. Then season 5 happened and suddenly Xena was calling Gabrielle the father of her baby and Gabrielle was stepping up to protect their child, and I latched onto the idea of this closeted trans guy who’s living as a woman but still manages to find a way to be a parent and a partner in a non-traditional way. That helped me cope with my inability to medically transition, seeing this short, talkative, feisty character as a closeted trans guy that everyone else (including their partner) saw as a woman. I took comfort that Gabrielle could find a way to be a good partner even without being able to present herself the way she wants to. I’m around the same height as her. I will never be able to change that, and neither can that character. But she is still a father and a bard and a soulmate and all of that transcends the physical reality of her body.

Doctor Who has been my favorite show since I was a kid. It has been present in my life through every phase and new discovery about my identity. I shipped River Song with the Doctor from the moment I realized she wasn’t just a two-episode guest character. Then the Doctor became a woman and we never got to see her interact with her wife. But I wondered what it would be like to have them meet, have them figure out their relationship now that they’re both women. And I started thinking that maybe the Doctor wouldn’t be completely comfortable in a female body, since she’s been living as a man for so much longer. So I decided that, in my head, whenever River and the 13th Doctor met, the Doctor would have a hard time communicating that discomfort with her wife. I imagined that she would crave regenerating back into a man, or maybe regenerating as a cisgender woman who doesn’t feel like she’s a man who looks like a woman. I’ve had times where I wished I was a woman even though I have a female body and brain, just because I can’t imagine women feel the same way trans men do in their minds. So this character that can change the way they look and sound like, really just gave me something to hold onto while I struggled internally over my appearance and my voice.

I wonder whether other trans people have done this with characters they love and take comfort in. I also wonder whether voicing these feelings and ideas in primarily wlw (or mlm) spaces would hurt or offend the members of that community, considering how common straight characters and ships are and always have been. It feels a bit isolating to be in these communities and fandoms but not have anyone to relate to because you’re not really shipping the same people everyone else is shipping. You’re shipping a version of them that you made up, and probably doesn’t match with canon at all. I can’t find many fan works that cater to my headcannons (and I don’t have the artistic ability or time to make them myself) but I also don’t feel like I can ask for them from fandom creators.

I’ve never seen anyone else talk about something like this. I’m interested in finding others who also do this or have done it in the past to take comfort with their own gender identity. And I think I just needed to finally write all of this out.

[myriad-ofmuses]

@thetraumazone

He carefully held Cooper's tank close to his chest when they all piled out of the pantry and back into their own safe space, the undercurrent of tension beginning to fade from his bandaged body, letting his partner go on ahead of him so that he could close the pantry the door after them with a flick of his tail.

Frustration, worry, and hurt had brewed a quiet storm within Griffin's healing soul, and aside from the initial freakout that had occurred when he'd seen his current state, he was pointedly avoiding looking at him for the moment.

That stung a little in its own right, but.. he couldn't deny that the cold shoulder he was receiving wasn't justified.

It still felt worth it, but guilt was still very prevalent that he'd upset him to this degree. He didn't like doing that, even if in this case it had been an unavoidable casualty to his mechanisms.

They moved in silent sync to their bedroom, Bellamie still toting Cooper's tank while his partner carried the plates they'd taken from the other place, the dinner he'd hastily made them while he waited for his partner to wake from his stress-nap.

Following him inside, he re-routed long enough to set the parasite's tank on the dresser, sleepy mono-eye gazing up at him before it closed again. Likely, he wouldn't remember much of this event, at least not until he pulled it directly from Griffin's memories later.

With Cooper safely resettled, he took a moment to steel himself. It was somewhat mortifying that while he could face off with anyone without even a trickle of fear or intimidation, all it took was a look of pain, or disappointment from his partner to question everything that had until that moment, had felt warranted.

For him, who had always been one to follow his convictions.. (even to eventual ruin..) - it felt unnatural to be given such pause.

At the least the newly tested medicine was doing its work, while he was still careful about how he moved, to avoid aggravating his injuries - he didn't feel the pain of them, not a single ounce of it.

That only bolstered his resolve to convince his partner that this had all been worth it. Anything.. was worth it, when the result would benefit him.

With a fortifying sigh, he turned and walked back to join Griffin on the bed, taking the plate of food that was offered to him, watching the other picking at his with his fork, while staring blankly ahead.

Wings shifting a little discomforted at his back, he glanced down at his own plate, his scaly tail that lay between them, anxiously twitching a bit, using his own fork to tear off a chunk of chicken, popping it into his mouth even if he didn't have much of an appetite, at the moment.

Taking the time to chew and swallow, he finally broke the silence between them, still staring down at his plate while he did so. It was necessary to use his voice to communicate until Griffin would look his way again, sign language was pointless when the one you wished to share it with, seemed not to pay attention.

"Can we.. cut to you yelling at me? I.. do not like this silence.. even if it is well deserved for.. scaring you.."