#IS THIS NOT NORMAL. IS IT NOT NORMAL TO RESEARCH.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to someone flirting with their s/o + jealousness

I'll be honest, I had like four headcanons on jealousy (and five on pregnancy, curse on you and your baby fever), so making this headcanon became a priority. Plus, I tried to make it a bit longer. As usual, under the "read more" line, you'll find both my other project for Arcane (a series of vintage-style posters) and my other socials in case you want to follow me because you love me too much.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky |

poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster 1| | Silco poster 2| |Silco poster 3| | Steb poster |

Jayce:

- He’s not the type to cause a scene, nor is he the aggressive kind.  

- When someone flirts with you in front of him for the first time, he’s confused for a few seconds.  

- The problem begins when the thought starts settling, stagnating, thickening like sediment at the bottom of a bottle. Was the person really hitting on you, or is he just being paranoid?  

- Did they not realize you were together? Or did they do it on purpose?  

- It doesn’t take long for him to start ignoring you, not even on purpose—he suddenly forgets he’s a scientist, a successful adult man, and spirals into a crisis.  

- What if he’s not enough? What if that person realized before him that he wasn’t suited for you?  

- You notice something’s off, but he doesn’t say a word. If it happens again, his fists clench, he feels like the world is collapsing on him, and if it persists, he leaves without even thinking.  

- He doesn’t want to witness that scene; he’s terrified that you might accept the flirtation, that you’ll realize he’s not good enough for you.  

- And if you’re going to leave him, he doesn’t want to see it with his own eyes.  

- Eventually, he’ll be the one to bring up the subject, just to tell you that if you’re tired of him, he won’t hold it against you and that he understands.  

- It’s not true, but he wants to seem mature. He wants to be a good partner until the end and almost breaks down when you reassure him that you don’t want to leave him, that he is enough.

 Viktor:

- Pre-"Arcane s1-tamed" Viktor would snap at the person flirting with you or insult them under his breath.  

- In the wrong moment, with enough alcohol in his system, his reaction could even turn violent.  

- Viktor gets jealous with anger—a mix of fear of being mocked, the lack of control over the situation, and his sense of replaceability set him off.  

- But he’s also an adult. He’ll try to make peace with himself before talking to you about it.  

- Post-"Arcane-tamed" Viktor observes you, tries to read your signals. He’s irritated but keeps calm and even interrupts the situation, pointing out that the two of you have things to do.  

- He doesn’t wait long to bring it up and is straightforward: “Do you like him?”  

- His jealousy is laced with sadness. The thought of losing your warmth, intimacy, and everything he has with you makes him feel empty.  

- He knows he’s often absent because of his research, that it’s hard to be with someone with “special needs” because it can be limiting at times. He’s aware of his unique personality and his background. His anger quickly shifts to resignation, becoming a quiet sorrow.  

- When you try to reassure him, his response is even sadder: “I know I’m hard to love. I don’t blame you.”  

- When someone hits on you, as soon as you’re alone, he holds you closer. During cuddles, he breathes in your scent deeply, as if trying to memorize you in case he will ever have to remember you.

 Ekko:

- At the Tree, it’s pretty normal. They share everything, and everyone is just very friendly. If someone flirts with you at the Firelight hideout, he laughs, jokes, and stays calm.  

- The problem arises outside of that safe space.  

- When someone from outside flirts with you, he’s stunned for a moment, but if it continues, he leaves before you can even respond.  

- He knows that if he stayed, things might escalate.  

- “I didn’t like how that guy was talking to you,” he blurts out when you try to talk to him, but it’s obvious the issue cuts deeper than that. His tone and downcast eyes reveal that it’s more significant than it seems.  

- Living at the Tree has taken your relationship to a deeper level. You take care of the kids together, share everything, and live as part of a big interconnected family.  

- The idea of someone threatening the peace of his home, his family, makes him feel like those things he takes for granted could suddenly change. 

- That tomorrow, you might no longer be his “married” partner but two strangers.

 Vander:

- Vander is too old to be jealous, and has been in enough strange and ambiguous situations not to overreact.  

- If someone flirts with you, maybe at the bar in front of him, he chuckles to himself, commenting only after the person leaves that you’re so attractive no one can resist you.  

- He doesn’t like it, but it often makes him smile to see others recognize what he sees in you.  

- On the night when someone is particularly persistent or you seem to laugh more than usual, he taps his finger on the bar, contemplating what to do. When he catches your eye, he simply mouths, “If you want to go, don’t worry—I’ll close the bar.”  

- It’s not about being open to a polyamorous relationship, don’t misunderstand. He believes that a relationship should be based on the fact that you actively choose to be with him, not on obligation. That’s why he gives you the freedom to back out if you want.  

- When you shake your head, refuse the other person, and stay with him—maybe touching his hand at the bar when he has a moment of peace—he looks at you with an indescribable tenderness.  

- “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he whispers when you’re finally alone, holding you tightly in his arms.  

Silco:

- On one hand, he’s too old to make a scene, but when he sees someone flirting with you right in front of him, something inside him falters.  

- Being able, after so many years, to form such a deep bond with someone put him in a state of comfort he hadn’t realized might one day be taken away.  

- Suddenly, that possibility becomes real, vivid. Outwardly, he shows no emotion and doesn’t lose his composure for even a moment—because if he did, he might lose control. But inside, he feels like he’s dying.  

- If you laugh a little too much or don’t explicitly reject the person, the turmoil inside him intensifies rapidly.  

- He’s been through too much, and his mind is wired to “strike before being struck,” which is why he immediately becomes colder, seeking emotional distance to avoid being vulnerable.  

- He’s not the king of good communication. If you try to ask him what’s wrong, he’ll dodge the question. It’ll take a lot of effort on your part to understand what triggered his behavior, to talk to him and reassure him gently, never too directly.  

- You’ll need to show him, through actions, that you haven’t left and don’t plan to before he starts acting normal again—becoming more physically affectionate when you’re alone.  

 Jinx:

- Jinx is possessive and jealous, living in constant fear of being both not enough and too much at the same time—of losing everything she has and being abandoned by anyone who can still leave her.  

- It’s in those rare moments when the buzzing behind her eyes quiets, when she’s at rest, that for a single second, just one fleeting instant, she allows herself to forget that fear.  

- And then, when you’re together, and someone pays you a compliment that makes you laugh, something snaps in her head.  

- Do you know them? Why are they so friendly? Why don’t you say something? Why did you stop walking? Walk, dammit, walk. Why are they touching your shoulder? Why don’t you stop them? Why don’t you stop them? WHY DON’T YOU STOP THEM.  

- The likelihood that the person who flirted with you ends up found the next day with a broken limb in a dumpster is extremely high.  

- But even that doesn’t calm her. When you get home, she isolates herself, spiraling into thoughts that maybe, if you could, you’d have gone with that person or followed them.  

- She’ll need lots of affirmation and both verbal and physical reassurance before she calms down.  

Vi:

- Her jealousy exists, it’s there, but she expresses it in a very straightforward way.  

- Having been forced to grow up too quickly and unable to throw tantrums because she was responsible for her siblings, her emotions have always been carefully bottled up and dealt with through questionable coping mechanisms.  

- Sure, having someone by her side now means she can’t go brawling in the streets, especially when the reason feels so trivial.  

- Usually, she doesn’t even pay much attention to it, but this time, exhaustion, stress, or a moment of vulnerability probably made the situation unbearable.  

- And as always, if you have questions no one can answer, the solution is probably at the bottom of a glass.  

- She doesn’t want to burden you with how she feels; it’s not even your fault, and she knows it’s stupid to feel this way. But when she’s forced to confront the idea that you may not a constant in her life, that maybe you want something better, something more—at that moment, she needs to get out, to scream, to punch something, with enough alcohol in her system to pass out in an alleyway.  

- She struggles to talk about it, hates making you responsible for her emotions, and hates that she has to make you worry when it’s not your fault.  

- When you bring it up and try to approach her with an attitude that makes her feel reassured, she has moments of being emotionally fragile, more vulnerable than usual.  

 Caitlyn:

- This woman is a lady killer—it’s sadly very normal for people to get jealous of her.  

- At work, during conferences, or noble meetings, she’s used to people flirting with her. That’s why, when she sees someone flirting with you, her first thought is that they might be making you uncomfortable.  

- If she sees you’re actually uncomfortable, she’ll personally step in to ensure the other person leaves.  

- If she doesn’t see you uncomfortable, she’ll observe you for a few minutes, becoming distracted and absent from her own conversations, lost in analyzing what she’s seeing. -However, she dislikes waiting to address issues, so expect her to ask if something is wrong between the two of you as soon as you’re home.  

- Caitlyn’s issue is that her thoughts ferment. If she doesn’t address the matter immediately, each day will make her mood worse, leading to unnecessary tension.  

- She might not shake off that strange feeling immediately and could remain distant until the next day, but it’s not punitive. Her emotions catch her off guard and make her colder unintentionally.  

- She’ll make up for it completely the following day.  

- She’ll also ensure she gets matching rings for both of you, so they can serve as a signal to others.  

 Mel:

- For Mel, jealousy is just bitterness.  

- She doesn’t show it. Her training in always appearing reliable and cordial means she’s adept at masking her feelings. So, when she sees someone flirting with you at a gala, her gaze lingers for just a few moments before she returns to smiling at her conversation partner.  

- A little passive-aggressive, with comments like “I saw you had fun” or “So, tell me about…”—but not meant to provoke you.  

- She’s the first to acknowledge that at meetings and galas, one must be adaptable, charming, smiley, and captivating. She knows that flirting is often part of the façade or just a small piece of a larger strategy, so what may sound like provocation is usually her way of asking what was on your mind.  

- Her bitter jealousy becomes stronger and more genuine when there’s no strategy, no deeper game, but the person continues attending events and spends all their time trying to flirt with you. In these cases, she won’t hesitate to interrupt with a firm, “Excuse us,” and lead you to the balcony.  

- No scene, no lecture—just a curt and slightly sad, “I only ask that you don’t make a fool of me.”  

- When reassured that there was never even the intention of doing so, she becomes almost an accomplice. Have fun (within limits), gather amusing or trivial information, and tell her all about it later when you’re alone under the sheets.  

 Sevika:

- Sorry to disappoint, but she’s the least jealous character here.  

- Her most stable relationships have all been at the brothel. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wait until the person leaves to comment on how slimy they were or how you seem to attract everyone without exception.  

- Zaun is precarious; her job is precarious; even staying alive is extremely precarious. She doesn’t have time for jealousy. To her, it wouldn’t make sense to get angry or even cause a scene just because someone flirts with you when she can’t be around much or offer you stability herself.  

- She knows perfectly well that her mechanical arm, her boss, her boss’s daughter, the drug use, and the dangerous work she does make her someone it’s hard to stay close to. But this doesn’t make her insecure—rather, it makes her grateful.  

- It’s your choice to stay by her side, and if you ever want to leave, she believes you should feel free to do so without fearing any outburst from her.  

- When you reassure her that you’d never betray, replace, or leave her, she pulls you close with one arm, kisses your forehead, and gives the faintest smile.  

- That said, if someone flirts too much and you complain about their persistence, Sevika will handle it diplomatically—by picking them up and slamming them against the wall in front of you, making sure the point sinks in effectively.  

[panics-side-blog]

Wanted to give my two cents to the post since I bought them and similar binders as a baby trans dude to reinforce that buying them is a bad idea.

I legit had gotten nerve damage because of them, the right side of my rip hurt badly after wearing them for half a year, didn't help that I sometimes wore a sports bra over them to reinforce the added pressure when I had sport class.

Breathing hurt and not the normal amount you would get when you binde, it legit stung really badly on the side where I had the zipper.

It took about 2 years for my body to recover from that, 2 years of me getting random stings of pain and trouble breathing because of that.

I know dysphoria can fuck you up majorly and sometimes the pain and damage feels like a minimal problem compared how much dysphoria can mess with someone, but please if you have the money and strength get a better binder.

I personally got mine from trans-missie, mine costed about 35 € per binder but only because they where specifically tailored for my body since they had an option for that.

I don't know if they ship outside of Europe tho, they are a company in the Netherlands if I remember right.

As far as I'm aware they also make stuff for trans women and are still a safe company to buy from unlike another company I heard from who's quality downgraded to a dangerous degree (can't sadly really remember which one it was but I believe it was gc2b I recommend doing some research.)

Hey, PSA for younger/newer transmascs:

Tumblr has been showing targeted ads for "FTM binders" off Amazon. They look like this:

Do not buy these.

A binder is a piece of medical equipment. If you use one incorrectly, or use a poorly made one, you can really fuck up your ribs. This article from the Cleveland Clinic talks about how to bind safely.

A $14 binder is guaranteed not to be safe. There's a reason reputable companies charge more- sometimes a lot more. They have to carefully design binders so they don't crush your ribs or make you sick.

You know how everyone says Don't Bind With Duct Tape? Don't bind with Amazon binders.

[sanguineterrain]

I think I saw you're on s1 of criminal minds soooo baby sweetheart Spencer 🥰 (u are in for a ride with his plotlines!) If ur writing requests maybe reader and Spencer going on a date? And maybe they're both kinda shy 🤭

short one! hope u like 🩷 gn!reader. first date w/ spencer. he's so baby sweetheart 💕

****

"Was this a bad choice?" Spencer whispers in your ear, barely audible.

You turn away from a Pissarro, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "The painting?"

"No, uh—" Spencer casts a sidelong glance at the painting. "I don't think I'd have the authority to criticize even if I did mean the painting. Besides, Pizzarro's work is beautiful."

You're beautiful, you want to say.

Somehow, you're still nervous around Spencer. Maybe it's normal considering this is your first date. You'd hoped to have gotten over it by now.

He's just so... unreal.

"I think if anyone had the authority, it'd be you. French artists must've popped up at some point during your research."

"More than you'd expect, actually. We had a case a while back where the killer used blood and turpentine to—" Spencer stops, shakes his head. "No. Sorry. That's not appropriate date talk."

You laugh. "I don't mind, Spencer. I know you work for the FBI. It's interesting to hear you talk."

He frowns, that adorable crease in the middle of his forehead resurfacing. You want to kiss it.

"No, I meant coming here," he says. "Was it a mistake? I did some research before I asked you out, and they said that it's important to get to know the person on the first date by talking. But we haven't been talking. But then I know you enjoy museums. And you like silence sometimes because being outside can be overwhelming. So that's why I chose here. Not because I don't want to talk to you. I do, I just—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," you say. "But that's probably the most considerate decision anyone's ever made for me."

"Oh." Spencer tilts his head. "I mean, I don't know how else to go about it."

You know. That's why you like him so much. That's why you're so nervous.

"Do you want to talk?" you ask. "We can go to the cafe and talk."

Spencer sighs. "I don't know. There's a lot of rules to dating, according to the Internet. And Morgan."

"I like looking at paintings with you, even if we don't talk. I'd like doing pretty much anything with you, Spencer."

He ducks his head, scratches his neck. "Really?"

His shyness makes you shy. You bite the inside of your cheek. "Uh-huh."

"I'm overthinking this, aren't I? Hotch tells me that I think myself out of a good thing."

You shrug. "Well, you won't here. I overthink stuff too. It's okay."

Spencer nods and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. "So you're enjoying this?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"I am."

And then, jerky and a little awkward, Spencer takes your hand. You hang there for a moment, fingers just barely linked. Then you adjust your grip so you're properly holding hands.

"If my hand gets sweaty, you can let go. I don't mind," Spencer says.

"My hands get sweaty too. I don't care."

He squeezss your hand. "Okay."

You return to the Pissarro. You'd may as well be looking at concrete, though. The only view you'd spend hours on is Spencer Reid.

[sweetimpurity]

I Think I'll Keep You 5

a/n: Thank you again for your patience! I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter is already underway and will come very soon! And some more art and bots coming out as well so look out for that!

w.c.: 10.2k NSFW MINORS DNI

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“...accurate and efficient methods of decoding… further aiding us in understanding… um… complicated genetic codes… pushing preservation and conservation. Uhh… yeah.” Miguel sighs, sitting up in his seat and peering over your arm as you type away on his laptop. Sitting at a table in the middle of the library during tutoring hours. Your fingers typing for him as he speaks what he wants written. He can’t type. Not with his right hand totally out of commission. So he’s come to your open tutoring hours. And now you have a student to work on so you can get paid and he can get help with his work. It’s Saturday and the two of you have been practically connected at the hip for the past two days.

You woke up beside him yesterday afternoon after that late night emergency room run. Lazily, sleepily taking the rest of the day slowly. Walking across campus to get food since all you both ate the whole night was a few pieces of candy. Smiling and talking, shoes splashing in shallow puddles along the concrete. A refreshing feeling having moved on from the mess of the last few weeks. The bubble has popped. That bubble of sex and ignorance that felt so great for the both of you. Sitting in the dining hall, among the hardwood and tall, ancient windows of your old university; looking over the school grounds turned fall shades and the autumn breeze blowing in through the window. Trying to talk about anything that won’t add any more stress or tension. No talk of friends, or family, not even school. Really just talking about whatever comes into your mind. And the conversation is just so easy. It’s different to spend time with him outside of the dorm room. It didn’t happen very often before. A lot of your conversations were pillowtalk. It’s different talking about the other parts of your life that don’t take place right after doing the deed. Miguel is funny. And he’s a good listener when his mind is clear and he’s focused on you. Only you. 

Feels like things are going back to normal. Well not how it was before. A new normal. 

“I think it sounds good… it’s a little awkward in the intro still but we can fix it up later…” You assure him, fixing a few typos and reading it over. The library is nice and quiet as always. You didn’t have any other students come this afternoon so you have time to focus on this and help Miguel since you know he can’t really do it himself right now.

“I don’t know… feels like I’m missing something. I’m gonna include the research but it doesn't feel like enough.” He sighs, leaning his elbows on the table, pushing his frames further up the bridge of his nose and looking over the notes in his hand. His knee is bouncing under the table and you can feel the vibrations of it in your seat. He’s applying to the Alchemax grant program. A huge grant with a long essay to go with it, multiple letters of recommendation and a personal profile piece. Tens of thousands of dollars for his research project. And he’d basically be an intern there. Able to use their facilities and labs to complete the job and create a brand new study of his own. It would start right after graduation and almost definitely lead to a great job at Alchemax Industries. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of your chair. 

“You okay?” You hum, observing his clearly distressed behavior. His knee bouncing, his brow furrowed, the sighs. He looks over at you, in your eyes. Don’t lie. “Yeah I’m fine… just… want to get this right.” 

You nod. Knowing that’s not all there is to it. But accepting it for now. “Well, maybe you should include some of your… personality…traits…” You suggest with a small smile, knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, clasping your hands in your lap and looking over at him next to you. 

“Like what. I mean… Tyler knows me. He’s the one that told me to apply.” [Tyler Stone. President and Ceo of Alchemax Industries.] He sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head, his dark curls becoming a little messy with the metal pushed through them, and rubbing the sides of his nose with his fingers. The ache of wearing his glasses for a while when he usually doesn’t like wearing them at all. But he’s worn them more often the past few days. He can see you more clearly now.  

“Yeah but he’s not the only one who’s gonna be working with you or deciding if you get the job or not. You want people to know who you are… know the kind of person you are. More often than not, that’s more important than the research when it comes to something like this. I mean, you’re not just applying for a grant, you’re applying for a job…” You explain kindly. He looks up, in your eyes, his eyes raking over your pretty face. He loves feeling like he can be close to you again. He loves feeling like he knows what’s going on in your head. Or maybe that’s just his need for control seeping in. Like venom in warm blood. Just sitting next to you like this. Even if he hasn’t so much as kissed you since everything went down. It’s only been nearly two weeks but it feels like an eternity. He wants to so badly. But he reminds himself that this is how things are right now. He messed up and he’s getting a second chance. He won’t take your forgiveness for granted. “Yeah, you’re right.” He admits, dropping the graphs and charts on the table.

“Maybe talk about family… inspirations… personal goals. People like that kind of stuff. People also want to know that you can be a part of something bigger than yourself…” You say, fingers brushing over the keys and ready to type what he says. “Uh…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to pull this out of his brain. He doesn’t really want to talk about his family. Doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being considered inspiration. But his upbringing and his parents’ names alone have opened a lot of doors for him in the past. His fingers fidget on the back of your chair, catching a few strands of your hair, playing with it so softly that you don’t even feel it. And he watches the side of your face to make sure you don’t notice, your eyes focused on the computer screen. Curling the strands around his finger and getting lost in touching you. Hanging on desperately to this morsel of touch. Knowing he probably shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself.

“I guess… we could say I grew up watching my parents with their business. But that’s more… financial services. When I was born, OLI was just taking off and now… I’ve watched them build it into what it is today.” He explains. You keep typing, writing it down in the notes to keep it straight. You can hear the sigh in his voice like he hates to be talking about it. You don’t know why. Mostly because he’s never spoken about this before. But if he’s applying for such a big opportunity then it’s important to include.

“OLI, I’ve heard of that, I think…” You look over at him, unsure what that stands for but you know you’ve heard that acronym before, or maybe you’ve seen it somewhere? 

“O’hara Legacy Investments.” He says with a nod and sigh, a level of disdain in his tone. He leans forward, his mind still on this essay. On beefing it up with info that might secure him this grant. Even though he’s confident his connections will get him in. There’s always a chance things might not go his way. He wants to prepare for every possible outcome. He hates to feel out of control. You stop typing. That sounds like investment banking. Like the kind of thing that makes people billionaires. 

“Is that the… that tall building downtown?” You ask, looking over at him and he nods, a blank stare in his eyes as he’s looking down at the research notes. “Your family runs that?”

“Yep.” He sighs, not offering more information so you don’t ask for more.

“Okay sooo… how would that influence your work at Alchemax?” You prompt, trying to veer back on course. You can tell he’s losing steam, you’ve been at this a while. 

“So I guess it’s not really the same as what I would be doing at Alchemax but… Watching how that runs… how many people it takes to keep something running like that. I guess something about leading teams of people working towards a goal…” He keeps thinking out loud and you keep typing, interpreting his words into organized notes and ideas. “So.. maybe about you as a leader? You think you can be a good leader…” 

“Yeah. I think so… and soccer, we could include that too.” He says, perking up and sitting up a bit straighter. Although the topic of soccer does bring his anxiety levels up a bit. Watching you type while playing with a piece of frayed material on his cast. “Yeah, captain of the soccer team, sports is always something they want to hear. If you’re a leader… organizer. And coming from SU especially, they love to see it.” You agree, typing and compiling the thoughts that come to mind. “And to know you can work in a team…” 

Miguel nods. Feeling relieved that you’re able to help him with this. He did all the more technical notes for it over the past few weeks. Organized lots of thoughts and data to start the writing process. Then he broke his fingers and that put a wrench in the process. It’s due next week and without you he’d be screwed. But it works out sort of perfectly, and a little selfishly, that now he’s spending more time with you because of that. “I think also…” 

He starts. You look over, ready to type whatever he suggests. “I’m an older brother too… that’s… I don’t know…” He mumbles. You find yourself smiling. “I feel like… maybe being a leader in that way is different.” 

“It’s very different, yes…” You nod, looking back at the laptop screen, a smile dancing on your lips. “Maybe something about… protecting… looking out for those that are important to me. Or being a good role model I guess…” He sighs. Thinking. About Gabriel. About you. Pretty much the two most important people in his life. I guess I haven’t been a very good role model as of late. 

“Loyalty… role model…” You say and nod. Typing those words in the compilation of notes you’re making in the margins. His knee is still bouncing.

“I also think you’re very passionate…” You say. He looks over at you, the side of your face, watching you type more things in the notes. Trying to create a section of his essay that can portray him as not just another applicant. “I think I’m just generally angry… I don’t really think before I do things…” He scoffs, shaking his head and leaning forward, his arms on the table, his head resting down on his forearms, looking at your pretty face from this angle. You grin and nod, giving him a look. “Yeah but we don’t have to include that… passion works…” 

He laughs through his nose, blinking softly and admiring your face. Watching your pretty eyes, the light of the computer screen reflecting in them, making them especially sparkly. It’s quiet for a moment, just the clicks of keys and fingertips. He thinks, reflecting on all that’s happened in the past few weeks. That thing with Dana keeps coming to mind. That was really a moment of lost control. Is that the passion you’re talking about? That he loses control and can’t get it back until it’s almost too late? He worries about that. Not remembering most of it because he was so angry. It sort of feels like a dream. Especially since he fought with you right after that and then everything went right to shit. 

All he knows is that Dana made it back to his dorm. He knows for a fact nothing happened. He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway because he despises her and she was drunk off her ass. But she did lie on his bed. Her perfume was all over him. And he remembers standing over her and wanting to make her hate him. Just so that she would leave him alone. That’s a level of anger he never wants you to witness, or anyone really for that matter. It scares him a bit now to think of it. All he knows is that if you think he’s loyal, he’ll be loyal as a dog. If you think he’s passionate, he’ll be a raging, burning fire to keep you warm. You think he’s anything, he’ll be that. If you want him to be. 

He fidgets with the fray on his cast. Coming off the blue material. His gaze caught on the little cursive “mine” you wrote. That night in the drug store. When you were both so deliriously tired, sitting in the middle of the floor. Having this on his arm is like a reminder. Or a promise. That maybe you’ll be his or he’ll be yours again. He’ll just have to be patient. His thumb brushes over the word, like making sure the letters won’t fall off, making sure they’re stained into the blue permanently. Do you even remember writing this? He thinks. Or were you so tired it feels like a dream? His bouncing knee still vibrates against your chair. 

“Anything else for today? We did a lot…” You ask, looking over at him. Bringing him out of his thoughts. “No, I think that’s good, thank you… but maybe next week we can finalize things and you can help me edit it?” He asks hopefully. “Yeah definitely, I’ll block out some time for you…” 

He nods, sighing and pulling his glasses off his head. Folding them up in his hand and collecting his papers. You just save the document, debating in your head the words on your tongue. Closing the laptop so he can pack it up in his bag. 

“So… you wanna tell me what’s stressing you out?” You ask, turning in your seat to face him and leaning your elbow on the table, head in your hand. He stops what he’s doing, putting down the stack of notebooks. “You can read my mind…” He smiles. 

“No, you’ve just been bouncing your knee against my chair for the past hour.” You sigh, smiling soft but sympathetic at him. His shoulders slump. “Oh sorry…” He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed for being so obvious, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. 

“It’s okay… Is it the grant? I think your essay will be good enough…” You hum. Noticing all of his distress and not wanting him to be freaking out over something he’s already spent so long working on. “No it’s not… I… I’m really glad you can help me with it. Thank you… I’m just worried about the game tomorrow…” He nods. And it dawns on you. “Ohh…”

“I actually should get going… have a meeting with the coach. Figure out how we’re gonna pull this off…” He sighs, getting up from his seat to gather his things. He’s been wracked with anxiety about the game ever since putting two and two together that he’s out for the next few weeks. It’s against the rules for someone to play with a plaster cast on and he’s nowhere near getting that removed. So the team will have to supplement him. 

“You’re not gonna play are you? You shouldn’t… not with your hand like that.” You insist, watching him get up, pulling on his jacket precariously with his one working hand. He can hear the concern in your voice. “I can’t. It's an instant disqualification… so I have to talk to Coach and maybe I’ll just assistant coach tomorrow, I don’t know…” He sighs, knowing it’ll be a struggle for the team to play without him. And they very well might not win. This is a university proud of its win streak so far. 

“If it hurts, let Coach know… you don’t have to do anything that’s uncomfortable.” You advise softly. Wanting him to be comfortable. Always. That look of care on your face makes him feel a little warm. Making him feel a little soft and fuzzy inside. He can’t remember ever being worried over like that. He clears his throat, trying not to let that feeling get to him too much, shoving his laptop in his bag and zipping it up. “I will… don’t worry about me…” 

He says it but he doesn’t really mean it. Although he doesn't want you to be anxious; he definitely doesn’t need to inflict any more emotional pain on you, he’s done more than enough of that over the past few weeks… he does want you to care. Or it’s more like… once he realized you actually do care, now he doesn’t want to lose that. 

“Just be careful… I know you’ll do well and the team will be fine…” You smile gently. Clicking your pen and watching him getting ready to leave. His bag slung over his shoulder. “Thank you… yeah I just need to chill.” He sighs, moving his hurt hand around absentmindedly to soothe the ache. “Well… the feeling you’re having just means you care. It’s a good feeling, even though it’s scary…” 

He looks in your eyes, down at where you’re still sitting. Feeling struck by your words. You’ve always been so good at that. You always know exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. He hopes to do the same for you one day. If only he can figure out how you manage to do it every time. He just nods in thanks, a renewed sense of relief inside. 

“Dinner later?” He inquires, brow raising as he’s starting to walk away. Walking backwards away from the table, his eyes on you the entire time. 

“Sure, I’ll meet you there…” You rest your head on your hand, watching him go from where you’re sitting. Watching that look on his face. A sort of satisfaction in that he’s leaving but already thinking about when he gets to see you next. He nods. Turning towards the library doors and smiling to himself, making his way out. Sneakers tapping on the hardwood floors of the academic building, sparing you one last glance. Finding your eyes still on him. A stupid sort of giddy feeling in his chest. Lopsided grin on his lips as he leaves the library.

“O’hara! Dude.” Peter’s voice brings him out of his flurry of thoughts. Watching his friend march down the rest of the hall to him. “Where you been? You disappeared again…” Peter chuckles.

“Oh yeah I‘ve just been… busy in the lab and stuff… and my application.” He lies. While it’s true he has been working on his application and piles of homework, he’s also been actively avoiding all of his friends ever since your fight. Unable to handle even the slightest of social interaction. His mind set on you and only you. But he won’t tell Peter that. 

“Dana said you were being crazy or something…” Peter huffs, his brow quirked in disbelief. Miguel’s heart starts to beat a little harder at that. Did Dana tell everyone what happened? Or her version of what happened? “What did she say?”

“Well… she’s kinda implying that you two hooked up after the party last week…” Miguel’s eyes widen at that news. It’s just not true. But that seems to be the story everyone believes so far. “MJ thinks she’s full of shit bu-"

“She is full of shit.” Miguel sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Or trying to with his cast. It was a foolish thing to give into his anger and take Dana back to his dorm. But he didn’t sleep with her. He’s not surprised though that she’s spreading that rumor around. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Shit, what happened?!” Peter flips, looking down at the cast engulfing Miguel’s forearm to the tips of his fingers. Looking at the seemingly broken hand, his eyes scanning over Miguel as a whole. Feeling like he has no idea what’s going on with someone who’s supposed to be his closest friend. “I broke my wrist but it’s fine, doctor says it’ll be fine even without surgery.”

“It’s fine?! What about the game?” Peter asks in panic, running a hand through his previously neat light brown locks. It’s against policy rules to play with a hard plaster cast for the safety of the other players and teammates. But Miguel’s the captain, their top offense and shooter. 

“I’ll be on the sidelines and Miller and Durante can take care of it.”

“It’s Princeton, Miguel. We’re gonna get fuckin’ smoked out there…” Peter huffs, going on and on but Miguel just shakes his head, feeling that anxiety rising again. The anxiety you were able to dampen only moments ago. “I know it sucks… I know. But those new drills have been helping… I’m gonna talk to coach.” 

“Alright… but Marco and Santiago need to get their asses in order before tomorrow. I’m not playing defense because they can’t pay attention to the fucking ball.” 

“I know, I know…” Miguel sighs and nods. Knowing this is all bad timing. They’ve been preparing for this game for a while now and it’s a pretty big spectacle. The stands will undoubtedly be full to the brim. It makes him tense and anxious to think about.

“Okay…” Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, text me what Coach says…” He sighs, lifting his fist. Their knuckles colliding as he’s starting to walk off to where he’s going. “No more disappearing…” Peter chuckles, looking back as he starts walking down the hall, pointing a finger at his friend. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Peter says with a nod, his hands in his pockets as he rounds the corner, walking into the library. Miguel sighs, feeling that tension, that tomorrow might not go well and it’ll be all his fault. Because he can’t do more to help the team he’s supposed to be leading.

He jogs down the stairs, down another hallway and outside. The fall breeze and smell of the trees and crisp autumn air flows past his cheeks, blowing back the little curls by his ears. Hunching his shoulders up when the brisk air cools his neck, pulling his collar up and walking across the commons to get to the athletic building on the other side of campus. To meet with Coach about the game plan for tomorrow. 

“Come on guys, one more time!” Miguel calls out to the team. Dressed in his uniform, dark blue and silver stripes, school colors with the Sterling University crest on his arm, a C on his chest. Number 99 on his back. Cleats and his cast to match. It does suck he has to miss out on actually playing but he does a lot of assistant coaching as captain anyway so it’s nothing he’s not used to. Coach Dean is talking with the referees anyway. Schmoozing on the sidelines, convinced it’ll earn them less whistles through the game. 

Miguel sighs, anxious, shaking his head and directing his attention to the mobs of people filling the stands. The sun is setting, the field lights coming on and a slight chill filling the air. A buzz with that too. College soccer fans here as well as lots of students from both universities. People are excited. The team is excited as well as anxious without Miguel playing beside them. Knowing they’ll have to supplement him being out. Miguel huffs, stretching his arms and wincing slightly at the remnants of ache in his wrist, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Come on… si yeah! ¡Mantén la posesión!" He shouts from the sides, watching the team warming up with the drills and keeping order, following them up and down their half of the field. “Marco!¡Sigue presionando! Call for it!" A mix of Spanish and English naturally leave his lips. Dark eyes follow their form and technique. Keeping everyone in order. They’re doing really well as always. But Miguel would prefer perfection. “Good! Alright break!” He shouts.

The team all relaxes, sighing in relief and collecting on the sidelines near the bench. Some passing the ball back and forth. The goalie is doing some technique in the practice nets with Durante and Miller. Others glancing at the opposing team warming up on their side of the field. “Marco, you’re gonna break you’re fuckin’ ankle doing that. Keep it light, it doesn’t have to be so fast. Slow down and go through the steps, alright?” Miguel instructs calmly, grabbing a ball and demonstrating on the turf by the benches. Marco nods, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey. 

“Just like that… keep it loose and look at Miller, he’s the one you’re paying attention to. Don’t look at Durante, he’s gonna be looking at Miller for that pass down the field. But that was still good, keep it up..” 

“There’s a lot of people here…” Peter comments, squirting some water into his mouth, catching his breath. Miguel walks over from helping Marco, standing beside his friend and looking out at the people in the stands. It’s a little more than they’re used to. Little intimidating considering this stadium seats thousands of people.

“It’s a big game…” Miguel huffs, grabbing his water bottle. Wish I could fucking play… he thinks. Glancing at Coach, still talking to the refs near the midline. They have a little while before everything starts.

It’s the end of the first half and it’s been a good game so far. Princeton is good but so is Sterling. They’d be better if Miguel was on the field to help them. He finds himself getting frustrated on the sidelines, disagreeing with the refs calls and calling out to his teammates, trying to lead and instruct. The whistle blows and the team finally relaxes. Panting and walking over to the sidelines. 

“They’re fast…” Marco pants, plopping down on the bench to catch his breath. “We have to be faster… but we’re holding our own…” Miguel says, hands on his hips and looking over the team, trying to keep the edge from his tone. He’s here to lead, not berate.

“You good?” He sees Peter covered in grass stains. Peter’s the one that’s been scoring pretty much all the goals so far. Princeton’s defense is good. It’s one of those games where no one’s going to score very many goals, it’s all about making sure the other team doesn’t get too close. “That was really good, keep doing that. And if it works better for Marco to go up the right side, then do that.” Miguel says. 

“I will… they’re so fuckin fast…” Peter pants, grabbing his water bottle and squirting some in his mouth. Breathing heavy through his nose. The team takes a few minutes at halftime to refuel and plan for the second half. Peter and Marco will have to be smart about the next plays. They’re down by two and the other team just keeps getting closer and closer. 

“I got a girl in the stands…” Peter says with a lopsided smile, still out of breath, spraying some more water into his mouth. “Yeah?” Miguel’s brow quirks at that information. He knows Peter has a lot of girls around him and friends that are girls. Makes sense, he’s very smart, an athlete, loud and the life of the party. Everyone always trying to get a piece of him. Not a foreign concept to Miguel himself. Miguel grabs his water bottle too, raising it to his mouth. “Who is she?” 

“Her name’s y/n…” 

What?

“...yeah you should meet her… she’s really pretty and smart and funny...” 

What?

Peter keeps talking, tossing a ball to someone else across the bench. Not even registering the look on Miguel’s face. Like shock and something else. Something Miguel himself can’t put a finger on. And Miguel can only half listen to Peter’s words. “She’s head of the tutoring club… did I tell you I started doing that? Dude, I’m getting paid to do some freshman’s homework and get course credit. It's like the easiest shit in the world…” Peter laughs, talking on and on. 

Miguel doesn’t understand. It’s like his brain can’t process this. Staring at Peter silently and waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But how could it be a joke?

“She’s riiiiight… there-” Peter turns, pointing at the stands. Turning stiffly, Miguel looks out to where he’s pointing. His dark eyes searching the stands and looking for your face. Hoping to see some stranger who happens to have the same name as you. But no. It’s you. 

He watches your gaze snap onto them, seeming surprised to have both their attention now. How did he not notice? You’ve been here this whole time, sitting nearly 15 rows behind him and he didn’t know? But Peter knew?

He can’t help that his immediate reaction to seeing you is relief. Seeing you up there and he just wants to smile. Wants to disappear with you and forget this stressful game. You’re like… his best friend in the whole world. But then that relief is quickly quelled when he realizes Peter is the one who invited you, he’s the reason you’re here. 

Miguel huffs. Nearly getting hit in the face when Peter starts waving at you. Stepping back and trying to make sense of this. There you are, waving back their way. What is this? He wonders. Unable to help the scowl that appears on his face as he observes Peter waving. What is this happening that he doesn’t know about or had no idea could even happen? Another bubble has popped and he didn’t even know it. 

He looks back up at you. Your eyes looking his way. But are you looking at him or are you looking at Peter? He hates that he can’t even tell. He hopes it’s him but it’s too much distance to know for sure. He just holds up a hand weakly. Waving at you. Feeling like an idiot, a total fool. And here Peter is waving at you, thinking Miguel doesn’t even know who you are. Fuck.

“Alright boys! Let’s huddle up!” Coach yells, coming over to the bench and motioning for everyone to come over. Peter moves to head over, gently kicking a ball on his way. And Miguel can’t help but keep glancing at you. Feeling self conscious. You’ve been watching him and witnessing all of this, this entire time? He didn’t even know you were here and half of the game had already been played. And all he’s done is stand on the sidelines while Peter played big shot scorer. 

Your hands wave at him, mouthing something he can’t make out. His brow knitting together as you try to communicate something to him before Coach snaps again. 

“O’hara!” 

His eyes snap to the team huddled by the bench. Taking long strides to get over there. But his mind is a mess. He didn’t even know you knew each other. 

The second half, the rest of the game, it’s hard for Miguel to focus on coaching. He’s watching the team play but it’s like a delayed reaction in his mind. Like his body is here but his brain is trying to tap into some invisible signal stretching from you to him. Peter scores again and Miguel flinches at the sound of the stands erupting. Cheering and echoing through his head. Pounding the sides of his skull.

He can’t help but glance your way every chance he gets. But every time he’s able to spot you in the sea of colors and foreign faces, you’re looking at the ball on the field. Which is always in Peter’s possession. And he can’t focus on anything except what he doesn’t know. What he can’t control. 

…

“Wooooo!” Marco hollers, the team gathering in a huddle on the field and celebrating their close victory. They won, but it was a tough game. Miguel stares almost blankly as the team all slaps hands and says good game. And by the time he snaps out of it, turning to find you, the stands are already emptying out and you’re gone from your seat. 

“O’hara!” The team shouts, bringing him out of the mess of thoughts. The players crowding him in celebration on the sidelines. Cheers and loud voices. Talking about moments in the game, highlights, certain techniques that had Princeton on their toes. All in all it was an exciting match and Peter was definitely the savior, scoring more goals than anyone and making the game. And Peter is all smiles. 

The team heads back to the locker room. Showering and warming down from the game. Miguel stands at his locker. His new locker since the punched in door wouldn’t close properly on his old one. Pulling off his jersey carefully with one hand and hanging it up. Wiping down his broad chest with a towel and hearing Peter with some of the boys walking in from the showers. His movements slow, brow furrowing, grabbing his change of clothes and pulling a tank top on, the black material bunching down his toned abdomen against his deep skin. Listening to Peter’s voice. 

His mind races. Since when did you two become such good friends? And why wouldn’t I know you were coming to the game when I saw you all day yesterday? Does Peter know that? Does Peter know we spend countless hours together? Does Peter know we have this deep connection that I’m actually working really hard to repair? He ought to. 

He listens to Peter’s conversation, as if waiting for him to say your name to confirm he’s talking about you. But he can’t make it out all the way. Something about a party, something about his car, something about the game. He watches the rest of the guys leave the locker room. Peter walks by with the guys and he just subtly, silently glares as they pass, not noticing him. pulling his hoodie on and shutting his locker gently. Pulling his phone off the charger and slinging his sports bag over his shoulder, walking out. 

He slumps down the concrete steps, the hallway leading to the exit doors, opening out to the athletic parking lot. Raking a hand through his hair, his mind a mess. He’s not used to feeling so beaten down after a game. They won, he should be happy. He should be glad. But he just feels indifferent. Or he just really needs to see you. 

When the door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him. 

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is y/n… y/n this is Miguel” 

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?” 

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends. 

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m kinda tired…” You sigh. Part of you not wanting to go since it’s not your normal scene but a bigger part needing to go so you can feel like you’re really one of Miguel’s friends. Not someone he has to hide. That you can get along with them and be a part of his life. That’s all you want to prove to him. 

“Come on… please?” Peter pouts. And Miguel wants to scream. Trying to tell you with his eyes that he doesn’t want to do this. Not right now. Maybe later when he’s had time to mentally prepare himself. It doesn’t help that you look adorable right now. In your Sterling Uni hoodie with a scarf to keep warm. He doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather just go to dinner. Like always. Talk for hours and maybe even fall asleep talking in your dorm like always. Not this. Please not this. 

His eyes burning a hole right through you, trying to communicate it without using the words since he can’t right now, not with Peter standing right there. Part of him wants you to come and show you off. The other part of him wants you all to himself, not wanting to share you with anyone. But he’s trying to be better. Trying to control himself rather than try to control everything else around him. 

“It would be fun, right Miguel?” Peter asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He wants to say no. Wants to say fuck no and disappear, taking you with him. But he can’t do that now. So he just nods stiffly, forcing a smile. Almost painfully. “Yeah… come…” 

Your eyes light up and Miguel knows he’s done for. “Oh great!” You smile and Peter is instantly excited too. Talking about how great it’s going to be and how many people will be there. Miguel’s heart is pounding, seeing how easily Peter was able to get you to come. How Peter is smiling and looking at you. A sense of dread filling his chest.

It’s the usual bar. The college bar around the corner from campus where the sports teams usually congregate after a game. Or the general student body on a Friday night. Loud music and conversation, the place is packed. Football and UFC playing on the multitude of TVs hanging in the place. The team filters in all acting like they own this place. Playing pool and getting drinks, talking to girls in corners and at the bar. It’s a crazy night at least for you. Miguel’s seen nights like this before, but this time you’re here. And he won’t let you out of his sight. Even as people talk to him, trying to strike up conversation and catch up. Since everyone knows who he is and knows his name. He still keeps his attention focused on you. He doesn’t care about anyone else in this bar tonight. 

Drinks flow the second everyone is in there, laughter and loud voices, trying to be heard over the music. Miguel keeps his arm barred at your side to help get you through the density of people. Like a shield to make sure no one bumps into you. Not wanting you to be too claustrophobic or crowded. Staying nearby until you find two seats at the bar miraculously. As you sit down, Miguel quickly scans the room. Looking for one face in particular. No sign of Dana and he can relax a tiny bit. Sliding into his stool seat beside you. 

He sits down, watching how you observe the place, looking a little out of your element here. It’s clear you’re not a party girl. You’re a smart, intelligent tutor and it shows. It would almost be comical if Miguel didn’t have a fierce determination to protect you in this place. 

He leans over, getting closer to your ear to be heard over the noise. The smell of your shampoo mixed with your perfume, so close and familiar, filling his senses and almost making him dizzy. His mind flashing with moments of you in his bed. Your body under his and his face buried in your soft sweet smelling hair. He’s the only one in this bar that knows what you sound like when you come.

“Drink… Do you want a drink?” He asks, trying to be heard over the noise, his cheek brushing against yours. Pulling back to hear your response. “Yeah! Whatever is fine…” You smile, trying to speak over the chaos of people and stimulation. A bit out of your element but doing fine. Excited to be here with him and feel like you’re fitting into his world. 

He gets the bartender's attention, ordering you just a beer in a bottle. He doesn’t know if you’d want anything fruity, not that this crappy bar would have anything that good anyway. He’s never drunk with you before. He slides it over to you, watching you take a gulp and smile. You’re so out of your element here. He sighs. A swell in his chest. 

Even though he would normally be drinking a couple beers himself, he just has water in front of him. He wants to stay relatively sober. Enough to keep watch over you and make sure no one else talks to you. “Oh, I thought you were gonna get the same thing…” You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the bar and watching him sipping his water from a plastic cup. 

“Someone needs to be responsible for all these people right?” He chuckles. As captain of the team he actually does feel that responsibility. To keep people in line since he knows they’ll listen to him. “And I need to be sober if I’m carrying you out of this place drunk off your ass…” He jokes, teasing you. 

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, no way. No thank you…” You sigh, shaking your head. Looking down at the label on the bottle in your hand. Then your eyes dart around the crowded room a few times. He just looks at your face. You’re so pretty. Especially pretty in this low light. 

“Well how is the beer at least? I know it’s not something sweet but it’s probably the best thing they have here.” He huffs, keeping his eyes on you, studying you. He’d love to just be all over you and show people that you’re his. But you’re not right now. You’re his friend and that’s the boundary you both set. He’s trying his best to uphold that after his mistakes. “It’s fine… I don’t ever drink much anyway so I’m not picky…” 

He nods. Learning more about you all the time. The two of you have never been out to a bar or club before so this is all brand new. He can see how you’re a little nervous in this place. It’s not your usual hangout spot and he can tell. “Yeah, this place is pretty chaotic tonight…” He comments, looking around then back at you. “You’re okay though, right?” 

“Yeah I’m fine…” You smile. Clasping your hands in your lap. He’s attentive, more recently than ever. It’s true that he’s become like your best friend over the last month and a half. Even though it hasn’t been that long, it’s felt like a lifetime. And with how much time you spend together, it still feels like he separates you from a lot of the other parts of his life. Friends, family, everything else. You spot Peter across the way standing with some people. The only other person you even know in this place. 

Miguel follows your gaze over towards where Peter is and he can't help but wonder why you're looking at Peter or what you're thinking. He looks at the group of people around him, recognizing teammates and classmates, but notices Peter in particular.He tries to remain cool, looking back at you. "He's a great friend… isn't he… "

He says it with a little bit of annoyance in his voice, thinking about how you two have gotten really close as friends and he didn't even know it.

"Yeah he's really sweet," You smile, not really noticing his expression. You want Miguel to know that you can get along with his friends too and you can be a part of his life. "He's funny…"

His brow twitches just a bit. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that you two are friends in and out of the tutoring club. And that you’re calling him sweet. And funny. He knows how charismatic and charming Peter is, knowing he could get any girl he wants. "He always gets the girls…  he's quite the flirt…" He mumbles.

"Oh really?" You smile and scrunch your nose up, looking back at Peter and seeing that yes, there are many girls around him right now. And he must be very popular with the girls, you think. You hadn't really noticed that Peter was a flirt but you think he's charming. Maybe you're just so focused on being his friend to prove to Miguel you can be part of his friend group.

Miguel can feel his patience slipping. How you seem so oblivious to the fact that Peter is a huge flirt and that Peter was flirting with you earlier when he invited you to the bar. But he's been Peter's friend for years, of course he knows the girls flock around him. It just annoys him that you’re completely oblivious to it. He watches you watching Peter across the room, trying not to let it show on his face how frustrated he is.

"How's your hand?" You ask, taking a sip from your bottle. Gesturing towards his cast in his lap. Trying to talk over the noise in the room. The topic change gives him some relief. Grateful to think about something other than the image of Peter taking you home tonight. He lifts his hand, flexing a few fingers. "It's fine. Doesn't really hurt much right now. It's a good reminder to not lose my cool again… "

"Yeah, that locker room hates to see you comin’…" You joke with a smile. Shaking your head. Punched his locker like some guy in a movie.

Miguel can't help but smile, knowing you’re referring to him punching the front of his locker like a crazy person. He sighs, knowing it was stupid and a loss of control. "That locker had it coming though…"

You laugh at his words, his eyes lighting up watching your head throw back a bit. The fluttering sound of your laughter carrying slightly over the noise in the room and hitting his ears. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time. Make you smile like this every day. And  Peter works his way through the room over to the bar. 

"There you guys are! I thought I lost you…" Peter's face lights up when he gets closer, excited to see his best friend and you, the pretty tutor. He stands behind both your chairs putting his hands on the backs of them. Miguel’s eyes flick back-and-forth between you two. You're still oblivious. Smiling at Peter like you don't know what he's doing. Every instinct inside of him telling him to make Peter back off. But he's trying to be better for you. Trying not to lose control or act impulsive. 

"Spending the night bragging, are you?" You smile and tease Peter lightly. Leaning over the back of your chair. He did score a lot of the winning goals tonight. Peter laughs and loves any attention from you. Miguel can only listen and watch this interaction between the two of you. It's like a nightmare come to life. And he's feeling claustrophobic in this crowded place with all these people. He just wants to take your hand and go back to campus, go back to your dorm, go back to the library.

"Well you all played very well…" You hum. Looking between the two boys. You can't help but notice Miguel’s body language. Thinking he must just be upset that he didn't get to play because of his cast. But he did very well on the sidelines. 

"Peter here was especially on his game today. Princeton is tough…" Miguel says with tension in his tone, finally joining in on the conversation. His eyes flicking between the two of you but landing on you mostly. Watching your reaction to Peter's words.

"It's all in the foot work really. Reading the opponent… Gotta think about 10 steps ahead." Peter says with a grin, in his element. Miguel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he loves Peter, he wants him to fuck off right now.

You giggle softly at Peter's joke and his obvious love for attention. Loving the way you can so casually hang out with Miguel and his friends for the first time ever. Miguel clenches his jaw, sipping his water and trying to keep his cool. You take a sip of your beer finding it's the last one, putting the empty bottle back on the bar. It seems both boys take notice. 

"Can I get you another? "Peter asks, His eyes lighting up.

“Um…" You're thinking. You don't really do this that often and you're finally getting to hang out with Miguel and his friends. What the hell… "Sure!"

Peter flashes that charming smile at you and Miguel can feel his control slipping again. Now he's buying you drinks? 

"I got it." Miguel suddenly says, waving to the bartender for another round. If anyone's getting you drunk tonight, it's gonna be him. So he can make sure you're okay. “Okayyy…” Peter huffs softly, raising his brow at Miguel’s rivalry. But Miguel doesn’t care. Grabbing the fresh cold beer bottle and sliding it over the bar in front of you. Looking back up at Peter, a stern expression on his face. 

Over the next hour and your next two beers, Peter just won’t go away. He’s practically hanging on your chair, talking to you about whatever. And because you’re so nice and sweet you just keep giving into him. Smiling at Miguel too like you want him to be in on the conversation. But it just makes him feel worse somehow. Is he really losing you to Parker? Is that how this is gonna go? 

“So… you guys are like best friends?” You ask, your words slightly slurred, cheeks pink and flushed. You’re tipsy and Miguel’s watching you like a hawk. Your beer shined lips as you smile up at Peter. So damn cute and pretty. “We are… best friends…” Peter says in a cocky way. Grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and shaking it a few times, a beer in his other hand. Miguel might be the only sober one in this place and it’s getting annoying. 

He fidgets with the same fray on his cast, pulling on it and pulling on it. Watching you talk to Peter. Forcing a smile when you look his way. It’s getting unbearable. Eyes flicking around the crowded room and just wanting to get out of here. 

“One more round?” Peter asks and Miguel groans internally. You’re both drunk, everybody is drunk and he just wants to get you back somewhere it’s safer. Peter gets to chatting loudly with some other people down the bar.

“Do you wanna leave?” You lean over, getting closer to Miguel, right up to his face and he just gives you a soft look. Admiring your pretty flushed features. He can see you’ve been having fun. “No, I’m good, we can stay if you want…” He hums gently. 

“Don’t lie, Mig…” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the noise. And his brow knits together, hearing the nickname, your soft warm voice, wanting to reach out and brush your hair back, kiss your pretty pink lips. Anything. “I’m a little tired…” He admits. And even in your tipsy state, you know it’s time to go. 

“Let’s go then… it’s too loud…” You sigh, a distracted Peter now talking loudly with Marco and Miller down the bar. Relief, Miguel thinks. He does really want to make sure you get back to your dorm okay. 

…

“Wai-I ‘ave a question…” You slur, hanging onto him and pressed up against his chest as he’s trying to get you over to bed. His big strong arms around you and it feels so good, feels so right. What you’ve been missing all this time and now it just feels like everything is perfect and everything is good and… and your tongue still tastes like beer and… and he smells so good. 

“Yeah, what's your question?” He asks so soft and gently. His voice is like smooth melted butter mixed with sweet brown sugar. Bringing you over to your bed and sitting you down on the edge. Making sure you don’t topple over. “Hold still, I’m gonna take your shoes off…” 

“D��you think… that… um…” You sigh, the alcohol clouding everything making you instantly forget what you were about to ask him. But the thought is mixing around your brain just waiting to come out. After all, it’s all you were thinking about all night. “M-my shoe is stuck”

“I know, I’m trying to get it off…” He sighs, unable to stop the smile when he hears your little whine. You are pretty cute like this and he likes helping you. Kneeling down in front of you and taking your shoe onto his knee to undo the laces, slipping it off.

“Do you think that… all your friends… that they like-like it?” You sigh, wiggling your toes in your socks as he slides your shoe off. His hands on your calves, absentmindedly caressing up and down, having you in his hands like this is too good to pass up, but he looks up at you at your question. His brow furrowing, wondering what you mean. “Do they like what,-?” He almost called you baby right there. But stopped himself. Maybe it’s just being like this with you right now. Being close and finally being needy for his help, needing him in any way. Or the way you seem so soft and fragile right now he just wants to protect you. 

“That they like me…” You sigh. Pushing a hand through your hair and he pulls your other shoe off, your feet freeing and legs dangling off the side of the bed. 

He looks up at you, piecing together your broken sentence. Do his friends like you? Peter? 

“Like P-peter… does Peter like me?” You ask and his expression goes serious. Swallowing thickly and setting your shoes to the side. He knows the answer. He knows that Peter obviously has a thing for you. It’s becoming more clear you have a thing for him too. 

Miguel straightens back up, standing over you and listening to your drunken rambling. Your mumbles. “Cuz I think Peter is really nice and I think you and I can be friends… and I can be friends with your friends too…” 

He doesn’t understand what you mean. Towering over you and feeling so blocked up. Like he’s miles away from where he wants to be with you. He wants you to want him. Not think about Peter. 

“Uh… I think Peter likes you, yeah…” He mumbles. Looking down at your face. The way it lights up and his heart falls. “Really? So we can all be friends?” 

His heart hurts, looking in your eyes. So confused, not knowing what to think. But wishing he could just kiss you right now and make your thoughts stop. Or to fill your thoughts with him. If he kissed you right now would you forget Peter ever existed? If he kissed you right now, if he laid you down and pumped into you until you were a crying trembling moaning mess like all those times before, would you forget Peter and think about him again? 

“I’m sweating…” You huff, moving to get up off the bed and his arms come to steady you. “Woah woah slow down, sweetheart…” The words ooze off his lips. His hands guide you before you reassure him you can walk. He huffs, watching you walk over to your closet. He sits down on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. Feeling pathetic and so lost. Not even knowing what to do at this point. Has he actually lost you for good? Will he actually only ever be your friend now?

You’re sweating, pulling at the material of your hoodie and ripping it off over your head. Slipping your pants off and sighing in relief. Standing in your panties and bra by the dresser and looking for some comfy clothes. Your mind filled with the thoughts of being Miguel’s again. You’re friends with his friends like any girlfriend would be. So what’s stopping him? What’s stopping both of you from just being together again? Since you’ve proven to him, you can fit in. 

“Miguel…” You hum, his head coming out of his hands and looking up at you. Eyes widening seeing you in just your underwear. Gulping thickly. “Yes?” He whispers. Like beckoning to your call. Like a plea for you to just put him out of his misery already. 

You walk over to him, trying to half haphazardly pull on a big t-shirt. His hands unable to stop themselves, coming up to help pull the material down. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. This all just makes him feel somehow worse. Your body taunting him, teasing him with everything he needs and no way to get it. 

Your hips slot between his legs, standing between them and getting closer. Fingers clenching into his shirt and smashing your lips against his. His fingers splay out, shock and surprise. His eyes wide and heart seemingly stops. You’re… kissing him… you…

Heavy breath through his nose and his eyes flutter closed. Kissing you back, feeling your eager tongue tasting like alcohol come into his mouth. Letting it swirl against his lips and his tongue. His big hands snaking around you, holding you for the first time like this in so long. You gasp and hum against his lips and a chill goes down his back. He must be dreaming. 

But your hands go to his chest, pushing him back on the bed, and he’s so weak to you. His back hitting the mattress. He wants this so badly. Wants you more than anything in the entire world. You climb on top of him, clambering over his body, sitting on his abdomen and leaning down to kiss him again. 

“Wait-”

He’s silenced by your lips, trying to be dominant and licking into his mouth. You never did that before. That was always him. But right now it’s like you’re hungry for him in the exact same way he was hungry for you all this time. 

“I need you…” You whisper, pulling back from his lips with a smack. His eyes wide and breath heaving. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and yet it’s not right at all. “No baby… you need to go to sleep… you’re drunk…” He whispers, feeling so weak, his hands running up your warm bare thighs, like medicine. His cast is slightly scratchy on your thigh. Finally your body on his, your warmths feeding off of each other. 

“No please… say you want me, please you have to, don’t you want to?” You whine. Leaning over him and kissing his cheek, burying your face in his neck. He’s speechless. Doesn’t know what to say or think. He thought you were done all this time. He thought you were pining after Parker. 

“I want you… I do want you…” He whispers before his mind can even think. His hands falling from your thighs and flat on the bed. It feels wrong to touch you this way. His love for you overshadows his own selfish need. You won’t remember this in the morning. 

You won’t remember this in the morning. 

“I love you…” He whispers. Into your hair. Choking back a lump in his throat. 

“Mm?” You groan, pushing yourself up drunkenly on your hands, your hair dangling into his face under you. 

“Nothing…” He whispers. Swallowing thickly and wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you to his chest and hugging you. Keeping you there, knowing you’ll pass out in a few minutes anyway and he can tuck you into bed safe and sound. 

To be continued…

Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!! Let me know what you think or your theories!

Taglist (thank you my sweets 🍬) :

@miguels-cock-piercings @queerponcho @club-danger-zone @bossva @softcrayon

@nommingonfood @bruhhvv

@jessies-unrelagated-thoughts @mauvecherie-writes @haveclayeveryday @kimivixen

@jadeloverxd @chiikasevennn @mvlanchqly @resident-cryptid

@x0tw0d57 @vampyboys @miguelspriscilla

@francesca-the-1st @migueloharasbbm @razertail18 @laysmt

@tojiragdoll @maiyart @wazawazooo @mun-2996 @marshhbs

@curious-randomlr @safixiovi @daddyfroglegs @theplaid-wearingmoose @reader-1290

@yeanika @elysiumsangel @rinnako @mangoslushcrush @twwcs

@izakopanyi2 @migueloharasoulmate @slut4oscarissac23

@miss-loomis @genny101

@aphinthestars @webshooterrr9 @m4dyy

@jdbxws @roserfz27 @ohara-whore @oharaslove @daisy-artfield

@mooreaey6yem @peachey-pie @migueloharacumslut @pxtched

@yougavemeyourheartyouknow @julia4today

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental: Delivery, Part 1

The following days were a whirlwind for Yazan and Randy, as they discovered this new phase of their relationship. They both know it will be a bit surprising to everyone back at the hospital when they return with both four babies and a newfound love for each other. At the same time, you can’t always stop what the heart (or dick) wants!

Yazan and Randy tried to enjoy as much as they could in these final weeks, including a trip to the beach. Yazan gave up on finding shirts that would fit, so he arrived at the beach wearing a large bra and board shorts. Randy said it might have been easier for him to shave his beard, to at least appear more feminine while in a public space, but Yazan didn’t have the energy to worry about shaving, especially as he had always maintained a beard for as long as he started growing facial hair. Randy didn’t bother arguing, so they went down south towards Royal National Park and wandered along a more secluded beach, knowing there wouldn’t be as many people around.

Yazan and Randy talked about all sorts of things, including names for the babies, Yazan’s massive breasts, preparing bottles of colostrum and eventually milk, buying the things needed for a nursery, and eventually birth.

“So, we definitely know your ass is malleable, but we still don’t know if it could sustain birthing all four babies.” Randy said.

“I know, I just… I’m scared.” Yazan sighed and looked away.

“Hey, Yaz, look at me.” Randy replied as he grabbed Yazan’s shoulder and moved towards him. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, we’ve got support from the researchers here, we’re all going to make sure you and the babies are safe. Alright?”

“Alright. I just -”

“Nope, you’re going to be okay!”

“Ugh, here you were bursting into tears weeks ago and now here I am like a blubbering mess.”

“You at least have hormones to explain away your blubber. I don’t!” Randy replied, and they both laughed.

***

At around 36 weeks, they both agreed that Yazan stays at the apartment and only leaves to go across to the lab as needed for the now daily scans. Yazan wasn’t too sure why it needed to move to daily ultrasounds, but it was Mike’s strong recommendation to do so. As far as Randy and Yazan were concerned, and going off the ultrasounds, the babies were all developing nice, healthy and strong. It gave Yazan time to slow down and appreciate the little moments, like the larger ripples of movement from the babies, as well as being able to work out who is positioned where within the belly. He also noticed his belly had dropped, meaning he could breathe fairly normally for the first time in months. It’s only a matter of time now, he thought.

(morph by @bigmpregnm)

It also meant he didn’t need to stress too much about clothing, so he had no hesitations in bringing out some of the shirts and clothes he gave up on long ago to just drape over the top of him. Randy saw Yazan one afternoon standing on the balcony of the apartment, looking out towards the city. Randy walked up from behind and moved his hands as far as he could to the front of the belly, swaying and kissing Yazan on the neck.

Yazan purred as he felt everything coming together nicely. “Isn’t this lovely?”

“What is?” Randy asked.

“Just… everything. The babies are almost here, I’ve got you to help me with the kids, we’re in this beautiful apartment here in Sydney for now, and then we can start a new life together back home.”

“A new life together?”

Yazan turned around and said, “Yeah, I was thinking today -”

“That’s never a good sign!”

“Shush you! I was thinking that I’d probably need an extra set of hands to help look after these four, and since you’ve already helped so much, I’d love it if you could move in with me? I’ve got a spare room if you -”

Randy leaned in and kissed Yazan on the lips. “I’d love that, Yaz. Yes, of course I’ll move in with you!” 

Yazan grinned widely at Randy’s response. “I love you, Randy.”

Now it was Randy’s turn to grin widely. “I love you too, Yazan.” Randy turned towards the edge of the balcony and screamed out “I love you, Yazan!!” Yazan laughed and tried to cover Randy’s mouth as Randy mumbled “But I want the world to know, Yaz…” They laughed as they walked back inside the apartment and prepared for dinner.

***

Randy could sense that Yazan was getting more tired as the days went on, to the point where he recommended Yazan just stayed in bed to avoid putting his body under extreme pressure. Yazan, being the stubborn person he is, didn’t take too lightly to being told to do nothing, so had no hesitation in wandering around the apartment, lightly bobbing his belly. Of course, after a couple of minutes, he would feel puffed out and have no choice but to sit down.

“See, I told you! Go, you’re on bed rest now.”

“What?! You can’t order me to rest.”

“I can! Remember who signed your medical clearance?”

“Fine…” Yazan groaned loudly as he tried to stand up and slowly walk back towards bed. He took off his shirt and pants, and grabbed extra pillows to have behind his back as he sat up in bed on “bed rest”.

“Okay, babe, I’m going to go to the lab and grab an ultrasound and tubes so we can do the tests from home. You stay in bed, alright?”

“Yep, okay then. See you soon!”

Randy quickly shut the door and dialled Anna. “Hey, Anna! How’s it going?”

“Yeah, not too bad. Coincidentally, I’m just having a look at Yazan’s most recent blood results. They seem okay…”

“You don’t sound confident?”

“Are you on your way to the lab?"

“Yeah, I’ve put Yazan on bed rest, so I was thinking of borrowing a mobile ultrasound and doing the scan from the apartment.”

“Okay, we’ll talk more when you’re here.”

“Rightio, chat soon!”

Randy speed-walked towards the bus stop to get to the lab. Once there, he saw Anna out the front with Mike talking.

“Hey there, guys! Is everything alright?” He saw Anna and Mike look towards Randy with a serious look on their faces. “Guys? What’s wrong?”

“Let’s talk inside.” Mike said with a hint of worry.

As they got into Mike’s office, Mike immediately said, “Right, so the most recent blood results seem to show a spiked level of testosterone in Yazan’s system. We’re not too sure where it’s coming from, but we’re worried this is the beginning of Yazan’s body rejecting the pregnancy.”

Randy gulped as he processed the news. “Okay, so what do we do? Do we book him in for an emergency c-section? He’s on bed rest now as he’s too tired to move around the apartment.”

“Too tired? Anna, I think we need to see Yazan.”

“No, Yazan doesn’t want -”

Anna interjected, “I know Yazan doesn’t want Mike there,” and briefly mouthed sorry to Mike, “but we’re worried that if the body rejects the pregnancy without us being able to get labour underway, there’s a real chance the babies will die as the body pumps T-cells all over.” Randy looked down in worry. “We’re here to help you, Yazan and the babies, okay? So can we come over and have a look?”

“Okay… but I bet you Yazan will not be impressed!”

“I guess I’ll have to practise my best bedside manner then, right?”

***

After two hours in bed, Yazan already hated doing nothing. He never was the kind of person to sit around and wait, so he did what he thought would be vaguely useful: he decided to go and clean the apartment. He saw Randy picking up so much of the slack around the apartment because of his immobility, so he thought he’d do something nice and clean the place room by room. So, with a bit of effort, he slowly moved himself out of bed, slipped on a bra and some shorts and got to work.

He grabbed a broom from a cupboard and started sweeping around the main living room. He thought it was a fairly simple task to do, especially as he could lean on the broom and rest as needed. I’ll just start with the sweeping and go from there, Yazan thought.

After about 15 minutes of sweeping across the entire apartment, he started to feel a different kind of pressure building up in his back. He groaned as he rubbed his lower back to try and dissipate the pressure, but noticed it wasn’t disappearing.

“Hmm” he groaned. “Maybe I’ll go and sit down.” As he went to go and sit, he suddenly felt a searing pain spread across his back and abs. He gasped in shock at how intense the jabbing pain felt. “That’s insane! No, this can’t be it… No, no, no, no, no!”

He can’t be in labour now. He eventually sat down on the sofa and calmed down the babies as they kicked up a fuss. “Shh, it’s okay kids. Daddy’s here. Seems like you’ll be here sooner than expected, huh?”

About 20 seconds later, he felt what he could only describe as a water balloon bursting inside him, followed by a small trickle of liquid coming out of his ass. “Fuck!!! This can’t be happening now!!”

His waters have broken. These kids want out now!

He groaned as he tried to stand back up, but struggled with the pain across his hips and lower back. He could feel the babies push further down towards his ass, confirming that his manpussy really was going to be where the kids were coming out.

After two more intense contractions, Randy walked into the apartment. Anna and Mike stayed outside to wait for Randy to invite them in. Randy looked down in shock as he saw Yazan kneeling on the floor, rubbing his belly aggressively and sweating all over his body. He also saw a small puddle of liquid near his ass. Yazan looked up and smiled briefly at Randy before groaning in pain.

“Yaz, what the fuck are you doing? You’re meant to be in bed!”

“Argh, you know I can’t sit still! I just wanted to - ARGH!” Yazan screamed as he felt an intense contraction rip through his body.

“Babe, how long have you had these contractions?”

“I don’t know, but they’re getting stronger!” Yazan groaned.

“Anna! Mike! In here - now!”

“Wait, what…” Yazan turned and groaned as he saw Anna and Mike walk into the apartment and look down at the scene. Mike’s jaw dropped as he saw Yazan’s extremely bloated belly.

“I really should’ve brought him in for a planned c-section last week. Shit!” Mike said quietly to Anna.

“Well, he’s in labour now, so we need to help, Mike!” Anna replied sternly. Randy looked at Anna, slightly pleased that she’s standing her ground. Anna kneeled down to Yazan, “Hey Yazan, I’m Anna, one of the research assistants. We’re going to take you to RPA now. We’ll call one of our other assistants to prepare a private room. For now, just breathe, and once this contraction is done we’ll get you to stand up. Okay?”

Yazan nodded as he struggled to breathe through a new contraction. Randy looked incredibly concerned as he saw Yazan holding his breath.

“Yaz, you need to breathe through the contractions. Like this..” Randy tried to help Yazan slowly breathe as the contraction slowly died down.

“Ahh, that was a rough one, Randy!” Yazan lightly chuckled. Randy didn’t find it humorous as it looked like Yazan was about to pass out from the pain.

“Alright, we’re going to help you stand up now, Yazan, okay?” Anna put on her best doctor’s voice. Randy looked up and smiled at Anna as she took the lead. “Mike, can you help Randy lift Yazan?”

Mike quickly scrambled across to Yazan, as he and Randy helped bring Yazan to his feet. Yazan groaned loudly as he felt the babies dig further into his hips.

“This hurts so fucking badly, Mike. Fuck you!”

Randy mumbled to Mike as Yazan moaned, “What’s that phrase, you’re in the shitter?” Mike glared back at Randy, while Randy smirked back at him.

[softness-and-shattering]

Thats a good point, I see all kinds of neurodivergence in my family but only a couple of us in my generation, afaik, have a diagnosis.

However, my gp attended a recent talk about overlap of queer folk with neurodivergence and also a group of comorbid illnesses including, iirc, POTS/MCAS/EDS/CFS theres a couple others Im just blanking. Digestive issues? Things that we've broadly noticed as a community, and it seems like its starting to be studied.

And also, everyone has some kind of trauma, idk how many people if any have no kind of disability whatsoever, humanity is vast and diverse. And we're wired to look for patterns. Interpret this information how you will, I certainly cant say for sure if these patterns are broader than trans people, or are more people trans than we expect, are we seeing correlation or causation or is there a mechanism in common with all these labels thats the deeper cause, is queerness an interchangeable/'sometimes' factor or a central one, we are way too early to know that yet.

I think its probably not nothing. But we're also not uniquely fucked up. Maybe we're just sticking out, so to speak, so thats where the research is starting. Many people werent taking ME/CFS seriously until long covid prompted more research bc, iirc, there was now a lot more people affected who were harder to ignore. And who were seeking help. Like a lot of people have an allergy or a dodgy wrist or "that weird thing with my digestion" and they dont consider it a disability or seek treatment, yknow? And especially mental health and especially what runs in families, it looks normal to you so why would you ever bring it up to a dr? "Everyone struggles with these things. Everyone feels this way" well you do and your parents and aunts and uncles do and your siblings do, and maybe you told a dr forty years ago you were in pain and they brushed you off so you thought everyone was walking around in agony.

And that gets into an adjacent conversation about medicalising and diagnosing and when does that help and when is it like, making a negative thing of normal human experiences and variations, its not a disorder till its negatively impacting your life, if youre surviving but treatment could help you thrive is it worth the side effects etc etc plus the whole discussion of psychiatry in particular which can be an amount of guesswork and diagnostic labels are often just patterns of symptoms that we see oftrn go together and we dont always yet understand the underlying neurology. (One of my all time best therapists kept up with the latest neuroscience and always had very good and effective suggestions. I only stopped seeing her bc I moved away. If you can be seeing professionals who are keeping up with research, definitely prefer them over someone who hasnt learned anything since they completed training 50 years ago. Always.)

Tl;dr I agree with OP and also this stuff is extremely complex and we're always learning new things about us!

something that should be taken with a grain of salt are the statistics talking about the high rates of mental illness + neurodivergence among trans people (ocd, bpd, adhd, autism, etc)

I see both sides of the political spectrum taking these studies at face value - conservatives say we're broken, and trans people try to come up with reasons why for example autism + gender dysphoria makes sense and why one of them feeds into another

at the end of the day you have to remember that we're the one category of people on this planet who are legally required to go see a psychiatrist in order to receive non-psychiatric medication and surgeries.

more trans people are in therapy by law than any other demographic of people, and as a result, this captures more comorbidities.

if I had to look at my own family & rates of mental illness?

mom, dad, 2 maternal aunts, maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, sister, sibling, and me all have OCD.

7/9 of them are cishet, never been to therapy, never diagnosed. 2/9 are trans, required therapy for hormone treatment, and were diagnosed.

you don't have to do any math to just see that the resulting statistics end up intensely skewed.

and we can think back to how autism was virtually never diagnosed more than 50 years ago - ruling out any grandparents being included in statistics - and even my parents' generation (they're in their 60s now) wouldn't have been included either.

I don't think it's to anyone's benefit to accept these studies uncritically. a lot of these things are hereditary and far more prevalent in the overall population than people realize

[dissapointu]

arcane characters with a s/o that has narcolepsy 😴

OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA, I’m not sure if I already did this or not, but if I did oh well.

————————————————————————

Jinx

Okay, so Jinx thinks it’s kind of fascinating at first. Like, she’ll poke at your cheek if you doze off mid-conversation.

“Hellooo? Earth to S/O? Did I bore you THAT bad??” she’d whine, but then immediately stop when she realizes it’s a real thing. After that, she starts carrying pillows around like a maniac. She’ll straight-up run to wherever you are mid-collapse and shove one under your head before you even hit the ground. And if someone so much as looks at you funny when it happens? BOOM. They’re gone.

Vi

Vi is SUPER protective when she finds out. Like, the first time you pass out in the middle of an argument or while walking together, she low-key panics. “Babe?? S/O??” She’s shaking your shoulders, freaking out like you just dropped dead. But when you wake up and explain, she calms down and becomes THE QUEEN of spotting your warning signs.

“You’re lookin’ tired. C’mon, let’s find a bench before you faceplant.” And she’ll let you nap on her lap like it’s no big deal. Ultimate GF energy.

Sevika

Sevika is all chill and calm on the outside, but the first time you pass out, she’s freaking out internally. Like, she’s got a permanent poker face, but her brain is screaming, What the hell is happening?! Once you explain, she nods like, “Got it,” and then treats it like a normal part of your relationship.

“Oh, S/O’s out again. Guess I’ll carry them.” And she does. Every time. (Bonus: If anyone says something stupid about it, Sevika’s giving them a glare so deadly it could turn them to stone.)

Silco

Silco is… confused. Like, he’s trying so hard to understand. “So, you just… fall asleep? Without warning?” He asks questions like it’s a business deal.

But once he gets it, he’s surprisingly sweet about it. He’ll make sure your workspace is safe, your chair is comfy, and your environment is perfectly controlled. The man doesn’t mess around. Plus, he keeps a blanket in his office for when you randomly pass out during one of his monologues. He acts all gruff, but secretly he thinks it’s cute.

Vander

Vander is Dad Mode™ from the jump. Like, the first time you pass out, he gently picks you up and lays you down on the couch like you’re the most fragile thing in the world. After that, he makes it his life mission to keep you safe and comfortable.

He’s always checking in, like, “How you feelin’, love? Need a rest?” He’s also the type to carry you home if you fall asleep somewhere inconvenient. Like, he’s straight-up got you in his arms, princess-style, and everyone in the Last Drop is swooning.

Ekko

Ekko is SO SWEET about it. Like, the first time it happens, he’s a little freaked out but quickly figures out what to do. He makes sure the Firelights know about your condition, so if you fall asleep mid-mission, they’ll handle it.

And when you’re chilling together and start nodding off, he’ll just pull you into his lap, wrap you in his jacket, and let you sleep. He also tries to invent little gadgets to help you stay comfy, like a portable pillow or a napping helmet.

Jayce

Jayce is all golden retriever energy, so the first time you pass out, he panics HARD. He’s shaking you, calling your name, and looking around for help like, “What do I do?!”

Once you explain, though, he’s all in. He makes it his personal mission to research narcolepsy and even tries to invent some tech to help. He’ll also carry you if you fall asleep somewhere inconvenient. Like, he’s got you slung over his shoulder while babbling about his latest invention, totally unbothered.

Viktor

Viktor is surprisingly chill about it. Like, the first time it happens, he’s startled, but once you explain, he’s immediately curious. “Fascinating. Is there a pattern to it? Any triggers?”

After that, he’s SUPER attentive. He’ll make sure your workspace is ergonomic and keeps a spare blanket in the lab for you. If you fall asleep while he’s working, he’ll just quietly adjust his chair so you’re more comfortable. And when you wake up, he’ll act like nothing happened. Soft boy vibes.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is THE most prepared person ever. Like, the first time it happens, she’s already got a whole medical kit out before you even hit the ground.

Once she learns more about it, she becomes the queen of planning around your condition. She’ll make sure there’s always a comfy spot nearby and will insist on carrying a blanket and pillow everywhere. If you fall asleep in public, she’ll sit right next to you with her rifle in hand, glaring at anyone who looks at you funny.

Mel Medarda

Mel is graceful about it. Like, the first time it happens, she calmly catches you and lays you down like she’s done it a hundred times before. “Rest, darling. I’ll handle everything.”

After that, she treats it like it’s no big deal. She’ll make sure you’re comfortable and even hires the best doctors to check on you. If anyone tries to make a big deal about it, she’ll shut them down with a single glare. Queen behavior.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa doesn’t panic. She just scoops you up like a sack of potatoes and keeps moving. “S/O’s out again,” she’ll say, completely unbothered.

But deep down, she’s worried about you. She’ll subtly make adjustments to your routine to keep you safe and even clears entire schedules so you can rest properly. She’s protective in a tough-love kind of way, but you know she cares.

Cecil B. Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is SO intrigued by your condition. He’s asking you all these scientific questions like, “Fascinating! Does it occur during heightened stress, or is it completely random?”

But he’s also super sweet about it. He’ll make sure your environment is cozy and even invents a little gadget to alert him when you’re about to fall asleep. He’s always ready with a blanket and a cup of tea for when you wake up.

Salo

Salo is all business at first, like, “Noted. I’ll adjust the schedule accordingly.” But once he sees how it affects you, he softens up.

He’ll make sure you’re never alone when it happens and will discreetly rearrange things so you’re always comfortable. He’s surprisingly gentle about it, even if he doesn’t say much.

Scar

Scar is super casual about it, but you can tell she’s keeping an eye on you. The first time it happens, she’s like, “Oh, S/O’s out. Guess I’ll wait.”

But she’s secretly really attentive. She’ll make sure you’re safe and will even sit next to you while you nap, making sarcastic comments to anyone who tries to bother you.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is so sweet and understanding. The first time it happens, she’s worried, but once you explain, she’s like, “Oh, okay! No problem!”

She’ll make sure you’re comfy and even rearranges her schedule to make things easier for you. She’s always there to catch you if you fall (literally).

Lest

Lest doesn’t panic, but you can tell she’s concerned. She’ll quietly catch you and make sure you’re comfortable, then sit nearby until you wake up.

She’s super protective and will subtly adjust things to make sure you’re safe. She might not say much, but her actions show how much she cares.

TL;DR: They all handle it differently, but they’re all super sweet and protective in their own ways. 10/10 partners, would nap with. 😴💖

[bonnyhoddie]

Rodger and Glisten

I’ve been playing Rodger recently to get Main research but I prefer Glisten a lot more, and I find his extraction dialogue a lil amusing considering Glisten’s better at extracting than him. Also I feel like they’re both just as competitive as each other, but Glisten just shows it more.

Would higher extraction speed mean Glisten is smarter or stronger than Rodger? He’s not the best at skill checks and I’d never use the magnifying glass and award combo for him but he can turn the wheel on the machine better than everyone else except Vee.

Also omg if anyone with good luck wants to do a main hunt lemme know, I haven’t found a main at all in 2 days, and I have 43% Shelly research I really want herrr

Any of the mains really but Shelly’s cute and I think she’s super useful with her abilities, skill check stat and trinket. Then I want Sprout and Pebble after.

Also, rant time despite not actually being mad or annoyed or anything, actually it’s kinda funny:

Why does everyone just drop like flies on the first floor. Like, god damn, a full lobby of 8 people and it drops to 2 or 3. It won’t even be filled with noobs either, like, they’d all have toons that require them have experience at the game, like Gigi, Teagan and Goob, but chaos ensues. Like, all of a sudden, nobody can hide, everyone’s being chased and I’m just there watching and hearing everyone die and just like that, either I’m completely on my own or with 2-3 other people. Having only 1 or 2 people die on the first floor is so rare for me for no reason.

I also had another Rodger call us all stupid idiots for ��not planning a run better’ because the distractor died floor 2 and they died at the very start of floor 3 and had 1 heart.

Which, first of all, we can’t plan a run with a) not knowing people’s specific skills since they’re all strangers, just their toons, and b) everyone fighting to get to an elevator, meaning the toons we like might not even get in because a noob or a toon we just like less gets in.

And, second of all, if you NEED a distractor to survive floor 3, play some solo games or a normal run, not one that is meant to be long, cause clearly you need to work on some things. If it were just mistakes or bad luck (which happen a lot to me) that’d be perfectly fine, but not relying on a distractor to exist just to survive and completely dropping your guard just because there’s a distractor. Get some skills at that rate.

Also, distractors, I love you so so so much and appreciate all you do, but please sprint a lil sometimes, every time I see the twisteds running so close to the distractor I get scared of them turning at some points, accidentally running into something or someone, or Panic Mode happening, because those catch a lot of people out, including me when I’ve played distractor Tisha and Razzle (yes, with both the plush and shoes, you’d never catch me playing distractor without both of those), and every time, I see those same distractors that don’t run every now and then for a lil more distance get hit.

[ophelia-ophelian]

Research you

Mr. Silvair x reader

AN: okay listen— i have no clue if there is fanfiction out there about Homicipher at all so, I’m still trying to figure out how to do their language within our text. I am actually brainstorming a way to fix it😼 but I digress, I love this dude he’s so cute. Also I saw the poll of keeping in game language, but since this is longer I’m doing what @/dav-ulysses suggested and mixed it. maybe shorter blurbs will be in game talking

Warning: blood/syringe, suggestive but not much, experimental writing

As you wake up, you take a look around to try and remember where you are and what you were doing. You see the tattered walls that enclose every room in this magic world and swing your legs over the bed you were resting at. You hear a giggle in front of you and see Mr. Crawling sitting near the door staring at you through his hair. 

“Leave?” He squeaked out, tilting his head.

“No, I’m just going to go explore,” you respond as you open the door and leave. As you turn around, you realize he’s going to follow you as normal. Despite him being so scary and monstrous looking, he’s been more friendly and helpful than most people you’ve met since coming here. People? You give a thought, I can’t tell if I would say people or creatures? You brush off the thought and look around to see Mr. Chopped’s head laying on the counter in the main area with Hand resting next to him. 

You hear a hum as you turn to see Mr. Silvair, “Hello. You okay?” You smile back as an affirmation as he continues, “Want research you.”

You try to reply using their sounds, “Erm…Why research me?”

“Me interested human body. Me want research you,” a pause, “Your likeness previously human. You human here, yes?”

Ah, he wants to research humans. You knew Mr. Silvair was interested in them, given the amount of tools such as syringes, scalpels, and the like whenever he mentioned his research. You also recall his small musings about helping Mr. Chopped get a body of his own, but being warned about how dangerous it would be since it might completely change him and destroy his sentience. Mr. Silvair pulls you out of this rabbit hole of thoughts by clearing his throat and ushering you back into his research room. You smile as confirmation of letting him study you and you follow him into the back of his room. He beckons you to lay, and as you do, he begins talk to you about what he’s been learning. Given the time passed you tried to keep track of, you were starting to understand the language of this world, give or take a few words that you could fill in with context.

Once he is finished his mini rant to himself, he waves his hand to get your attention, “I want to test the difference between human blood and our blood, and what could possibly be leading to the rot of your body, the longer to stay in this ‘realm’ you talk about. Can you let me take your blood?” With an affirmative, he rolls up your sleeve and wipes down your skin with some type of wet cloth and gripping your bicep to make your veins protrude more. “If you do not like watching, do not look,” and with that, you feel the prick of his syringe and the coldness of your blood draining creep in. Before you know it, however, he pulls back and gives you a bandage to cover your bleeding. Looking up at you, he mentions “Humans do not heal like us, but given your time here, you seem to be adapting. It is irregular and I want to know why.”

He pulls back and puts his syringe behind him on a desk with a number of other liquids that you could probably guess would be other creatures’ blood. Some were colored like yours, and some were darker, but most seemed as similar to yours in color than you expected. Mr. Silvair notices this and talks about the difference, but since his back is turned to you, its harder to decipher what exactly he is explaining since you can’t use the crutch of reading his lips to try and match the sounds to the vocabulary words in your dictionary – which Mr. Crawling so kindly gave an empty journal one morning when you offhandly mentioned there are so many words to learn that you are losing track of and need to write down to remember them all.

Seemingly done with his lesson, Mr. Silvair turns back to you and places his hand over your chest. You flinch backwards, questioning what he’s doing and he tilts his head, explaining that he wanted to measure heartbeats since he knows all humans have them, but they are different for some reason. You reply with your knowledge from high school biology about hearts the best that you can and he nods.

“Thank you. Can I check yours to make sure that you are healthy?”

Taken aback, you figure its from a good intention as you remember that certain creatures here have different understands of emotions. Such as Mr. Hooded doesn’t understand liking people and fun and Mr. Crawling thinks being cute is wearing human eats like a cat. You give Mr. Silvair consent to a body check and he thanks you in return. He then places a hand on your chest, the other on your back, and instructs you to breathe deeply. As you do, he seems to be humming in approval and his hands change position across your chest, applying slight pressure each time. 

He does this a few more times before furrowing his brows, “Your heartbeat is getting faster. You okay?” He hums inquisitively before tilting your head up to meet what would be his eyes if not for the fabric covering it. “Its speeding up now that I’m looking at you. Could it be that I make you nervous?” He questions. Your eyes, face suddenly feeling hot, breaks eye contact and you stare at anything other than him. You admit, he is one of the best people here given he taught you so much when you barely understood “yes” or “no,” and continuously took care of and protected you. Not only that, he cares for Mr. Chopped, who is unable to do anything unless you or Mr. Silvair carry and help him. You also admit how charming he is with his long, silver hair, and his handsome face, and–

“I see,” he continues, leaning in and moving his head to look into your eyes again. You lean back, attempting once again to look anywhere other than him. He follows and soon, he is towering over you, slyly smiling as his hand that isn’t holding your face grasps one of your own hands, bringing it up to his chest. Though faint, he does have something resembling a heartbeat, maybe because he’s more human-like than the other creatures here, he might actually have a heart. He moves your hand over his chest till it lands opposite of where a human’s heart would have been. It makes sense, their world is very different and opposite than ours. “I also happen to relate to your heart, human. I enjoy your presence more than I initially expected. Most humans succumb to the festering of their bodies here, or are killed by the hostile others. But you,” he drops your hand on his chest and holds your other hand, bringing them together, and then closer to him, so that you are now mere inches apart, “are exceptional. You are strong, you are smart, you have resisted most of the effects of the festering. You, are special. Very special. I am interested in you. Moreover, I am interested on your body. How strong is it and what would cause it to break, I wonder?”

Feeling the heat in your face spreading through your body, embarrassment evident now, you gasp as he pushes you further with your back on the table. “How are your reflexes, I wonder,” he softly says as he slams a hand near your head, causing you to flinch. “Interesting,” he notes, “How would you react to different types of touching? You react differently based on the individual, I’ve noticed. But I’ve never tested myself. Let’s see…” He then traces ever so light lines up and down your thigh, noting your shivers. “Fascinating,” he continues, then he uses that same hand to caress your face, using his thumb to reassure you. As you lean into it, he hums inquisitively with hints of satisfaction before completely removing himself from you and turns to his vials of blood again, jotting down notes. Stunned, you continue to stare at his back mouth agape before he waves you off saying that he has concluded most of his research and will call upon you again once he needs you. You shift your position and get off the table, quickly readjusting your clothes and heading back out into the main area, Mr. Chopped still asleep with Mr. Crawling sitting outside the room.

“You okay?” he chirps.

“Yes, I’m okay,” you respond, giving him two peace signs which he reciprocates with a giggle.

Well, that was certainly something. 

Tag list: @kiatheinsomniac

[t3a-tan]

How would Oliver handle a human child that didn't have bad intentions but was not gentle enough? Let's say the kid just doesn't really understand the terms "gentle" and "fragile" well enough to know how to handle Oliver and somehow he ended up being held by them? He is so good with kids that I wanna see how he handles that

I had a lot of fun with this! Enjoy ^^

Word Count: 4071

---

Oliver couldn't stand seeing upset children. Not because they annoyed him, but because sometimes you could tell just by looking at these children that they were being neglected in some way. Part of him was sympathetic— he had seen so many human couples in his travels and research, and it was often the case that the neglect was unintentional.

But still. Oliver couldn't help but intervene in some cases. Below a certain age it was too dangerous to approach a child— infants and young toddlers tend to put things to their lips, because that's how they explore new things; ie. Oliver.

Past that it was still risky, but he could handle the bruises. Children could be a lot more delicate than most think— once they are capable of reasoning and can communicate, it's simply a matter of finding how best to deal with that particular child in order to get what they need; whether that's food, attention, or entertainment.

Today, whilst checking the houses to update any files he had, he noticed a young child— perhaps only 3 or 4— who had been left all alone. No car in the driveway, no one else in the house. Their face was a bit red and eyes a bit watery, as if they had only stopped crying maybe ten or so minutes before he arrived, but they were still hiccuping and gasping every now and then, in distress.

After checking over his file and taking a look at the calendar in the kitchen, it became clear what had happened. Both parents had left to work and forgot to drop their toddler off at nursery— perhaps just because they were tired, or maybe because both thought the other would do it.

The toddler was half dressed too, so maybe they were in a rush; one parent could have gotten the toddler half dressed and then headed off and told the other to deal with it, only for a miscommunication to happen and…the poor babe be left alone.

With that investigation done, Oliver could not just stand by in the walls and watch. He could not rely on one of the parents realising what had happened, and the longer this went on the more likely it would result in trauma for the child. It may already be the case— though he hoped not.

Three or four…that was a pesky age. Some children that age could reason fairly well— some could not.

Oh well… I will just have to try my best.

He could see a few notes on the counter or up on the fridge mentioning a name that was likely the toddler's; Ava. With that in mind, he made his way to the living room, which is where she was currently sitting and staring at the door. He took off his glasses and left them in the walls beforehand, not wanting them to get broken.

Starting high was safer. From there he could gauge her reaction without risking a sudden grab or curious fingers.

“Ava?” He spoke out from on top of a toy box— the top of which was just slightly hard to reach. He stood still, watching as her head swivelled around to look at him, though she didn't move towards him at all, looking at him with a very neutral expression despite the sniffling. Oliver smiled a little, crouching down despite the fact that really he was the shorter one in this situation. It was instinct.

“Hello there…mummy and daddy went to work, didn't they?” He asked. That got a response immediately and she nodded quickly, inhaling some snot from all the crying as she began to speak, on the verge of crying again as if Oliver had just reminded her what she was upset about in the first place.

Most of it was incoherent— but it wasn't babbling, so that meant she was at a normal rate of speech. From what he could make of it, she was mostly repeating ‘mummy’ and ‘daddy’, mentioning a car, using the word ‘gone’, and it was clear that she was telling him exactly what he asked; her mum and dad had gone to work and she got left behind in the rush of things.

Oliver gestured calmly with his hands, showing his palms as he took on a reassuring demeanour.

“Shhh…shhh…it's alright. Mummy and daddy are going to come back.” He assured, reminding himself that children that age are more likely to understand positive language rather than if he said that her parents are not gone. “We're just doing nursery at home today, okay? Does that sound fun?”

She shook her head and wiped at her face, already starting to get upset again, looking around as if her mum and dad might just be behind her.

“N…no…” She hiccuped, voice trembling. “Mummy and…d-daddy…nn— need to…take me…”

Oliver's expression softened, his chest feeling tight at the sight. He tilted his head ever so slightly, debating whether or not he could safely be held by this child or not.

“Ava? Ava, look at me. How old are you, do you know that?” He asked, leaning down a bit. Luckily she did look up at him again, peeking through her fingers and wiping at her snotty red nose with her little hands. She sniffled again, eyes watery, but processing Oliver's question and answering in turn.

“F…four…” She murmured, voice still wobbly through her slightly uneven breathing. It was on the older end of the range Oliver had guessed, which was good, but it was still ultimately a risk.

Oh sod it. If I don't do something now she will get even more agitated and upset. Talking won't hold her attention enough.

He smiled down at her.

“Wow… you're such a big girl! And you know your own age too— very clever.” He gave her a moment to process that before continuing with a question, trying to lead gently into things to avoid making her scared of him. “Did they teach you that in nursery, Ava?”

She nodded slowly, looking up at him with rounded eyes, her lips a little purple from all the crying earlier. Thankfully, despite how she was anxiously fidgeting; rocking back and forth or clenching her shirt in a fist every now and then; it wasn't too difficult to draw her attention away from her missing parents.

“I can…I can…count…all way…to ten!” She responded slowly, wiping her watery eyes again and scooting a bit closer to the toy box Oliver was perched on.

“Can you? Oh, I would just love to hear that. Can you count to ten for me?” He requested. The more at ease she was, the less likely she was to squeeze him to death once he was in her hands. Not to mention the more comfortable she would be with him.

Ava nodded and began to count, looking up and to the side as she thought about it, slowly getting through the numbers, although she repeated some due to her frazzled state. Her voice was still shaking as she took in shuddering breaths every so often, but it wasn't as close to hyperventilating as before.

Oliver clapped his hands together, beaming.

“Bravo, bravo..! Hmm… I'm sure you also have lots of toys at nursery. Is that right?” He asked, getting a nod in return. If he could keep the child entertained until her parents got back, then hopefully this incident wouldn't repeat itself. “And you have lots of toys in this box too, don't you?

She nodded again, bright blue eyes staring up at him with much less wariness than before. She even scooted a big closer, wobbling to her feet and gripping onto the lid of the toy box as she stared at Oliver with some curiosity now.

That's good. Not for my ribs, but good for my mission.

As she leaned on the box it tipped towards her slightly and Oliver just managed to keep his balance. He quickly regained his composure, and walked slowly towards the right until he could simply hop off of the toy box and onto the TV stand right beside it. It was a bit lower down, certainly within reach, but he was pleased to see Ava was only watching him instead of grabbing him immediately.

“Can you show me your favourite toys?” He asked, gesturing encouragingly towards the toy box and sitting down on the edge of the stand, letting his legs dangle off of the edge as he watched, expression bright and warm.

Latching onto the distraction immediately without even understanding that Oliver was trying to distract her, Ava pried open the fabric lid and stuck out her tongue in concentration as she tried to pull out any of her toys. After a few attempts she let out an agitated whine, growing irritated. Oliver was about to intervene when she accidentally knocked the entire box over as she pulled her arms back out.

She stumbled back and fell onto her bum as the box fell, but she was completely unharmed. She momentarily examined her arms with an upset expression, anticipating injury despite their being none. Quickly, Oliver interjected.

“Good thinking! It will be much easier to get them out like this. Clever girl.” He praised, seeing how her eyes locked onto him and a small smile cracked across her expression, arms forgotten about as she quickly focused back on the toys again, getting on her hands and knees, just grabbing whatever was closest and beaming as she showed it off to him.

He chuckled slightly, leaning forward onto his hands as he engaged with her, getting more of a feel and understanding of her personality. Like most four year olds, she soaked up praise and attention like a sponge— but she seemed to roll with things much more smoothly than others her age might have. She was resilient, and self assured; even if Oliver needed to guide her there every now and then.

“Is that your favourite?” He asked, tone full of interest and wonder, as if he was just as excited about the random plastic tractor as she was. She nodded excitedly.

“And— and it's got…it's got um… a farmer. Called…Emma…” She announced happily, quickly dropping the toy onto the carpet as she searched for the farmer. During her search though she got distracted by the other things in there, showing them off only halfway as she piled the various toys around her.

She was playing with and fidgeting with them all individually, monologuing about what she was doing in what was mostly just incoherent babble due to her being unable to pronounce most of the words. That didn't stop her though, and Oliver happily listened, paying attention and engaging every now and then to assure her that all eyes were on her at that moment.

This worked for about twenty minutes until she started getting bored playing all by herself. She looked at Oliver, her red cheeks and purple lips having returned to normal by now since she was no longer crying, the snot having dried to her face. She waddled over to him and Oliver sat up straight, but didn't jolt or make any sudden movements.

She smiled as she snatched him off of the edge of the TV stand, Oliver just barely holding in a yelp as he had seen the hand coming at the last second. He winced, arms held awkwardly to his sides by her grubby fingers and causing his elbows to dig into his ribs a little. Her grip was tight enough to bruise and almost pushed all the breath out of him, but it was just loose enough for him to breathe.

“Ava— can you try to be gentle, please?” He asked, voice coming out a bit strained despite himself. He pulled his grimace into a calm smile, maintaining the same warm reassuring demeanour despite the aching pain in his body.

She paused for a moment, blinking down at him owlishly, not understanding what he meant. Her hesitation didn't last long though as she settled back down by the toys, laying down on her stomach and holding Oliver in front of her innocent eyes, her other hand coming closer to feel his hair curiously, mesmerised.

Oliver held still— squirming would either cause her grip to tighten, which could very easily break his bones, or it might make her afraid of him. He masked a groan of pain by clearing his throat, still smiling as her tiny but surprisingly strong fingers pushed his head to the side slightly.

“You're…as small as Emma..!” She declared excitedly, and Oliver winced when that grip tightened a bit more in turn. Any more and it could quickly become dangerous for him. He recalled the farmer she mentioned before and the size comparison— he wasn't unused to being compared to a doll.

“Oh yes, you're absolutely right! Good girl. I am just the right size for her tractor too, aren't I? Can you put me in the tractor, Ava?” He asked, trying to calmly redirect her and free himself in the process as soon as possible, as it was now difficult to inhale. His ribs creaked in protest, but he fought off the instinct to kick at all.

Perking up at the suggestion she immediately nodded, sitting up on her forearms as she looked for the tractor and finding it quickly. Once she had she shuffled around to face it, resting her cheek on the ground and smiling as she lowered Oliver into the seat of the plastic tractor.

Oliver released some of the tension that had been growing in his shoulders, inhaling some much needed air as he sat back on the slightly too large plastic seat. Just as he was in the middle of recovering though his hands instinctively clutched the fake pink wheel in front of him as the tractor; and he along with it; was suddenly lifted into the air.

It was very disorienting to fly through the air like he was as Ava delightedly made chugging sounds and waved the tractor around to pretend it was driving, but it was preferred to the death grip she had held him in before. After a couple of minutes of holding on for dear life and just trying to pretend he was on the back of his bird steed instead, the tractor finally stopped moving around as he was instead held up close to her eyes.

Oliver was a bit shaky from the sequence of events so far, but he still managed to smile up at the giant toddler.

I'm not sure how many hours I'll be able to handle this. I need to try to explain how fragile I am to her…

Before he could even attempt that though, Ava was already speaking.

“I'll be the… the mummy and you can be the baby..!” She announced, and it was not so much a question as it was a role that, to her, Oliver was already accepting. That became clear when she began to babble about the setting and other stuff, but Oliver was more focused on the hand approaching him.

“Ava, listen to me.” He spoke with a slightly firmer tone than before, due to how dangerous this could get without intervention. She recognized that, her smile dropping and hand falling back immediately, eyes completely focused on him. He suspected he had very little time before she would lose that focus and grab him again anyway, but he sighed in relief that she had stopped.

Looking up at her, Oliver could tell plainly that his seriousness was putting her on edge. So, he shifted his time to be more light-hearted again as he smiled.

“I have a game for us to play. But you have to listen really closely to the rules, okay? Are you going to be a good girl and listen?” He asked.

His return to being more playful made her relax again, and she nodded eagerly at the sound of a game idea. Oliver was relieved. Some children were determined to get their own way, and would simply ignore the idea of another game for the sake of playing what they wanted to.

“I'm a good girl…a-already..!” She pointed out, a bit tongue-tied as most toddlers were. Oliver let out a small chuckle. It was easy to forget how dangerous young children could be when staring up into their innocent gazes.

“You're absolutely right. But, I still want you to listen, okay?” He emphasised, wanting to keep her on track. He cleared his throat. “Do you know about…Goldilocks and the three bears?”

She perked up and nodded, putting the tractor down in favour of leaning on her forearms and looking at Oliver that way. Taking advantage of the solid ground, he climbed out of the driver's seat and stood on legs that felt a bit like jelly from all the jostling that had been done to him earlier. She thankfully did not seem to have a problem with it, instead only taking the opportunity to reach ahead and give Oliver a small poke.

He stumbled ever so slightly, but got his balance back immediately and showed no reaction to the poke to avoid sparking any interest in that interaction. Not until he was sure she understood she needed to be gentle, and he could already tell she was getting distracted.

“In this game, you get to be Goldilocks!” He announced, adding a bit of theatrical flare to his words to make the idea sound as exciting as possible. It seemed to work as he saw her shift with excitement, eyes gleaming with joy. “Do you want to guess what I'll be?”

Ava ummed and ahhed about it for a few moments before looking down at him with a bright expression.

“Bear!” She guessed. That was exactly the answer Oliver was expecting and it made sense for a child of her age to guess that.

“That's a great guess! You were close too. Both things start with a ‘buh’ sound after all.” He praised, emphasising the phonics with enthusiasm. “I'm going to be…a bed.”

The toddler giggled, rolling on the floor restlessly as she took in Oliver's words. She looked at him, now laying on her back and seeing him upside down, thoroughly entertained by the sight and thought. As Oliver wanted, she was hooked.

“You— can't be a…a bed..! Beds are for sleeping..!” She pointed out, finding the absurdity extremely amusing, and intrigued by Oliver's game. He was quick to play into her playful manner, taking on a more humorous tone.

“Ah, you're right! Beds are for sleeping…it would be a bit silly for you to sleep on me, wouldn't it?” He pointed out, eliciting a squeal of laughter. Ava rolled back onto her front, gaze still focused on him, and hands thankfully clutching the front of her shirt instead of him. Oliver smiled, and continued.

“No, of course not… But, just like Goldilocks found a bed that was just right, I want you to do the same thing. And when I tell you it's just right, you win! If you win 10 whole times, you get a prize. Does that sound fun?”

Really it was a very convoluted way of explaining things, but Ava seemed to engage best with praise and play, so Oliver was trying to incorporate that as much as possible to keep her happy.

Ava nodded again, so Oliver explained the rules more clearly.

“First, you're going to pick me up. If you hold me too tight I'll say ‘too hard’. If you hold me not tight enough I'll say ‘too soft’. But if you hold me gently, I will say ‘just right’. When I say ‘just right', put me back down and we'll play again. Ready?”

Without waiting for him to say go, she was already reaching forwards and picking him up, her fingers quickly squeezing onto him in the same painful grip as before. Oliver expected that for a start, and strained to speak, hopeful that this method would work.

“Too hard…” He tried to keep a light tone despite the fact that all of the air was being pushed from his lungs by those deceptively small fingers. Realising that winning wasn't as easy as she first thought, Ava concentrated; tongue sticking out again as she opened her fingers a bit. The grip was much too loose, and Oliver dropped a little because of it, having to cling onto her fingers to keep from falling.

“Too soft..!” He spoke through his big inhale of needed air, relieved at the lack of broken bones despite knowing that this would involve a few rounds of trial and error before she would consistently know the right level of pressure. The fingers closed in again, just on the edge of being too tight. But, as it was close enough, and to avoid making her lose interest too quickly, he counted it.

“Just right! Very good job, Ava. That's 1 win!” He praised. “Aren't you clever?”

The process repeated again and again, and to keep Ava's engagement with the game Oliver offered up rewards in between rounds— like a finger five (which she liked a lot) and invisible stickers. By the seventh round she had learned that ‘just right’ was closer to ‘too soft’ than ‘too hard’, and so Oliver wasn't worrying about having his ribs broken each round anymore.

They reached round 10 very quickly, and she got ‘just right’ immediately, much to her delight and pride.

“That was incredible, Ava! I'm impressed that you got the hang of that so quickly.” He smiled genuinely. Although the bruises from earlier were bad and would take a while to heal, at least he could rest assured that he had a method to help prevent further bruising. “Your prize is… I'll play any game you want.”

Already he could feel the fingers begin to tighten again as her focus turned away from her grip and to thinking of a new game.

“But!” Oliver quickly interjected, stopping her in her tracks. “I'm still going to tell you if it's just right or not when you hold me, okay? Just to test if you're paying attention.”

It was all continuing to go relatively well, and Oliver was perfectly content playing along with the child's imaginative play provided his bones stayed intact. Whenever Oliver felt her grip getting too tight or too loose he made sure to correct her and heaped her with lots of praise once she got it right.

Ava had completely forgotten about her parents being gone, just enjoying playing games with Oliver.

Faintly, he heard the sound of a car pulling up beside the house, and although he wasn't sure if it was one of her parents or not, it was soon confirmed by the sound of the front door unlocking. Ava also paused when she heard the door, sitting up a bit and turning around, her fingers held in her mouth as she stared.

A woman burst into the living room, letting the door swing open and not bothering to close it as she spotted Ava on the floor. As soon as the toddler saw her mother, her grip on Oliver completely released as she began crying again, immediately returning to the same distress as before now that she remembered what had happened. Her little hands instinctively reached towards the woman, making grabbing motions.

Oliver landed on the carpet with a small ‘oof’, before backpedalling into the shadows under the TV stand, watching as the mother rushed over and scooped up the crying toddler, apologising profusely and smothering her in affection to try to get her to calm down.

He smiled slightly at the sight, relieved that Ava was now in her caretakers hands again. His body was equally relieved, and he winced as a pang of pain shot out from the various bruises he had acquired whilst entertaining the curious toddler.

He didn't stick around for too long after, once he was sure that Ava was going to be well taken care of. He managed to find the entrance he had come out from in the first place, retrieving his glasses and placing them on his face. His finger pushed at the bridge to put it in the right place again as he slung his pack over his shoulder and walked outside to whistle for Gale.

I'll have to cut this trip short…but the bruises were well worth it.

[blissfullyecho]

Hey echo!! I’ve been following you for a while on my old tumblr account and even bought your book and toolkit which has been a game changer! Was wondering if you have some tips on looksmaxxing for black women- I do agree that looking the prettiest does get you far in life. Also where can I preorder your book? Thank you for the advice you post- I love how you keep it real! I used to be one of the girls that believed in manifestation, affirmations and subs, but you brought me back to reality!

Looksmaxxing Tips

Source: I’m from Miami and currently live in LA.

Disclaimer: I already know I’ll get cancelled for this but this is for the girls who get it.

Hey! Aw you don’t have to be anon 🤍 thank you so much for your support!! Like truly that was very nice and I’m happy you’re still around after my hiatus. First things first, this post is going to get me in trouble but… I’ll do it lol. Remember that time I was cancelled for saying we should be shaving our underarms?

YOUR BODY IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR FACE

You know it’s true. You know when you look like you take care of yourself, people treat you better. Yes, you NEED to make sure you’re at a healthy weight. Your face can be absolutely busted, but if you have a nice body, you get a pass. I’m half Hispanic, and my background and your background tends to get on the heavier side pretty quickly. There is so many scientific research about how we develop Type 2 Diabetes quicker and we’re globally at a higher weight. So this is the part when I’m gonna get cancelled: you have to be fit. You have to be in shape. You have to have muscle. You have to be tight and toned.

———- WORKOUTS I RECOMMEND

1. Pilates $$-$$$

2. Barre $$-$$$

3. Running/Sprinting/Walking/Stairmaster $-$$

4. Kickboxing $-$$

5. Solid Core, Barry’s, SoulCycle, Pelaton, etc. $$-$$$

6. Growing Anna Nas (YouTube. For some reason I can’t link YouTube links) $0

7. Pamela Rief (YouTube) $0

8. MadFit (Youtube) $0

——— MY DIET TIPS

1. I eat whatever I want, but I eat so in moderation. It’s so important that you don’t deprive yourself because this should be a lifestyle. I get lunch portions, kids meals, the smallest size of unhealthy foods (like I would get a small fry for example), etc. Ben & Jerry’s has the really tiny ice cream cups that I’ll get if I want something sweet. But food known to cause weight gain, I’ll still eat them but I won’t have normal portions of it because normal portions of those kinds of foods are literally 1,000+ calories.

2. I’m against drinking my calories unless it’s a meal replacement (like a smoothie)

3. I practice intermittent fasting. I’ve done 18:6, 16:8, 20:4, and 23:1. They are all great. I think it’s healthy to give your body a rest from eating throughout the day to allow it to digest. I eat from 12pm-6pm some days, but some days if I’m going out to dinner, I push it back to maybe 4pm-10pm. So many benefits to this, do your research.

4. I don’t eat carbs for dinner. Carbs are essential for energy. Why do I need energy at night? Protein, healthy fats, and veggies is what I stick to. I limit carbs to my smoothie and lunch. But my main dish is never a carb; I like fat and protein as my main dish with a SIDE of carbs like rice or a side pasta dish.

I don’t recommend Ozempic or other alternatives! You’ll get the Ariana Grande sunken in face and look absolutely insane. That’s the side effect that scares me the most, and it usually happens later on after being on Ozempic for it to take affect. I want to keep my face plump.

DON’T TOUCH YOUR FACE SURGICALLY

I’m always a fan of a good rhinoplasty, but make sure you come to LA for one. NYC has really good doctors too. Never, EVER get your surgeries done in Miami. Business is so shady in Miami that I don’t trust it. I’m not telling you to get a nose job— I’m saying that’s the only procedure I’m actually for and not against.

I used to get Botox and I stopped. The problem with Botox is that is prevents muscle movement, which will develop muscle atrophy. Meaning, your face muscles will lose shape and strength sooner than normal, and your face will start to sag. My credentials is that I have a nursing degree and I dated a plastic surgeon over the last year.

I’m sure you don’t need lip filler, but a little (like half a syringe) to make your lips go out further is a GAME CHANGER. Just make sure you dissolve filler each time you decide you want a touch-up.

Another trend is buccal fat removal— I don’t know WHY people are wanting the snatched face because it makes you look so horse-like and old. I’m only talking to those who don’t naturally have a snatched face. There’s a difference between looking puffy, and having face fat. Face fat is good, it keeps you looking youthful! So don’t get that done.

Stay away from all other fillers.

COME TO LA FOR BODY PLASTIC SURGERY

I’m the biggest advocate for breast augmentations. I got my boobs done because I wanted them to look more perfect. You just have to make sure you go to a good doctor. Don’t be cheap with it. But getting your boobs done just elevates your look but don’t get crazy. A perky C cup is fine, even a perfect D cup is fine. Get the boobies up and perky. Push-ups and other chest workouts are good to start doing but they’re not going to be total game-changers. If you like your boobs, great. But if you want that perfect body inside and outside of clothes, get the girls up. Give them some volume.

If you have extra flab or skin, go for the non surgical procedures!! I got Morpheus8 done on my inner thighs because I had a bit of loose skin from weight loss (it was like 50lb weight loss and I lost it fast) and my thighs are sucked in and cute now). But it depends on what they have but go to a medical spa ran by a plastic surgeon. Don’t go to the commercial med spas or anything.

Body Gua-Sha is really good to do as well to help shape you up a little. I do this after every morning shower.

GET A SPRAY TAN

Yes, you should get a spray tan. I know you don’t need one, but your skin tone would pop so much more if you got one and they hide so many imperfections on your skin. Everyone looks better tan— everyone. It’s giving summer vibes all year round and I’m here for it. My black friends get spray tans and I’ve seen the difference in real time. Skin just looks so much healthier and younger with a spray tan. But it has to be a spray tan, it has to be a little artificial to look good lol. I know people swear the sun is the best but when I go out in the sun, I turn grey!!!! I turn such a weird color but because I fake tan, I keep my golden color without looking moldy lol. It’s giving that SpongeBob episode when he had the suds. Try it once and tell me how it goes lol. I swear you’ll be obsessed. I actually want you to message me and lmk.

MAKEUP, LASH EXTENSIONS, MICROBLADING

Your lashes should be undetectable. Classic natural set with a wispy and individual mix ONLY. Lashes should only be used for a thicker lash line, NOT for length. If you get strip lashes, make sure they’re natural and WISPY. The more natural and effortless the better. You also look younger and classier too. I’m a fan of a natural looking micro blade, but keep your brows natural. Don’t fan them out or fluff them, but don’t have IG brows. You want to fool people into thinking you’re just naturally like this. Obviously when you go out, do the brows or lashes, but on a normal Wednesday 2pm, it’s not necessary. Makeup should always be glowing. Matte makes you look like a grandma. A subtle glow in the cheeks or nose just gives healthy. Matte gives chalky.

HAIR

Keep it SAFE with hair. Natural color, natural length, healthy hair. How you style it is up to you but make sure it goes with your face shape. Hair that’s too long can be too much and hair that’s too short can make you look a little older. I don’t know if you wear your natural hair or if you install, but if you install keep it at an appropriate length. Think VS model. If your hair is natural and you wear it out, scratch everything I just said :) but keep colors natural and your hair healthy!

—-

I’m running out of space to type, but I’ll say this. Your BEST template is a Victoria’s Secret Angel. Not the new ones lol that show was embarrassing. I’m talking about the OG VS. That’s if you want to be universally stunning. Everyone will turn heads at a VS Angel. You want to give classy, but you also want to give youthful and sexy. Look at paparazzi photos of them being off-duty. Gain style and look inspiration off of them. They got CANCELLED for not being inclusive and it hurt feelings. Now they aren’t making nearly as much money before and the brand is tainted because a few insecure women decided to be all emotional. See what happens when you listen to insecure toads?

I didn’t want this post to be something you can find on the internet because there’s so much about this on the internet, but I gave you some opinions based off things I see that I agree/don’t agree with.

🖤🍸Make sure to check out my book called The Luxe Girl’s Playbook to Life for a fresh perspective on reinventing yourself for 2025. You’ll receive immediate access after purchase.

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is a bit different from normal, instead of focusing on a particular species of genus we will be focusing on landlocked salmon today by special request of Topi!

(Atlantic Salmon)

Landlocked salmon are notable due to the inherent nature of the salmon life cycle, where salmon hatch in a freshwater stream, migrate to the ocean until they achieve sexual maturity, and then travel back to the same stream they hatched from. However, landlocked salmon are unable to migrate and spend their life cycles entirely in freshwater. The three main landlocked salmon would be The Kokanee salmon (Oncorhynchus nerka), which are a subspecies of sockeye salmon, the Formosan landlocked salmon (Oncorhynchus masou formosanus), which is a subspecies of masu salmon, and finally the several populations of landlocked Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar).

(Formosan landlocked salmon)

Landlocked salmon hold almost no differences to their sea run relatives, other than that which speciation provides. Almost always landlocked salmon are far smaller. Considering that salmon are mid level carnivores, whose diet shifts based on age, freshwater prey is just simply less available than marine prey is. Salmon fry survive off of zooplankton, which is available in large amounts in freshwater, but as they grow into juveniles who eat worms and larvae, but by the time they are of age to transition to the marine environment, they rely on larger prey, such as other fish or squid. This is why landlocked salmon are far smaller, and often considered a far blander flavor by fishers.

(Atlantic salmon)

Another difference between the anadromous (migratory) fish and the non migratory is based on the migration pathways themselves. Landlocked salmon species tend to spend their lives within lakes, as they tend to offer more large prey than rivers do, and when after reaching the end of their lifecycle, these fish tend to run rivers connected to lakes, searching for the same stream they were born in. Those salmon of which were transported or by some means found themselves the first generation of landlocked salmon tend to search only for a safe area, other salmon, and higher elevations during their migration. Of those salmon landlocked only in lakes with no connection to other bodies of water there is significant inbreeding, and disease often tends to kill these populations out. It is thought that salmon of which are acclimated to freshwater and intentionally landlocked have a higher chance of surviving after spawning season, as some salmon species possess the ability to survive the spawning, and return to the ocean for another year. This is something that is not fully understood, and currently being researched by many of the fish hatcheries along the Columbia river, major rivers in California, and along the Atlantic. We may understand the relation between the stresses of moving from saltwater to freshwater better in the future!

(kokanee salmon)

To focus on the landlocked variations of Atlantic salmon for a moment, these are individual populations caught in the many lakes or river systems along the Eastern coast of the United States and Canada. These fish in particular are known as some of the best for fishing in the areas they live in. These fish can be found in a range from the Atlantic coast all the way as Western as Lake Eerie in some cases, living in cold water conditions, with growth being the highest at temperatures of 67-77 degrees fahrenheit, and a diet that is mostly made up of insects and small fish, often cannibalizing other young landlocked salmon.

(Atlantic landlocked Salmon)

The kokanee salmon is found along the Pacific coast, in many different lakes from Alaska to California, and as far East as Idaho, and in some rare cases, Nevada. There are also populations within lakes in Japan and Russia, although there is debate on the subject of speciation for these populations. Although some populations of kaknee have been intentionally introduced across lakes and freshwater systems much further East in the United States. Thes fish can get as large as 8-20 inches, and have a handful of morphological differences between them and sockeyes. Kokanee have a higher number of gill rakers, smaller egg size, and a higher efficiency rate in taking in red coloring from food sources to distribute in their eggs. They can live a lifespan around 4 years before spawning and passing away, as these fish do not survive after breeding, and can not interbreed with sockeye salmon.

(kokanee salmon)

The Formosan landlocked salmon, also called the Cherry salmon, is found in Taiwan. Living in the Lishan mountain range, these fish survive in cold water at extremely high altitudes, with an upper temperature limit of 60 degrees. These fish are thought to have become landlocked by the warming of the Dajia River during the last ice age. They live along the many small creeks and backwater streams, with an extremely endangered population with only around 4,000 living at any given time. Cherry salmon are exceptionally small, reaching only 30cm (around a foot) with most around only 6 inches in their adult life. Subsisting off of bugs and small terrestrial life that gets close to the water. These fish survive only around 4 to 5 years before breeding in higher colder waters, and passing away for their fry to replace them.

(Formosan landlocked salmon)

Those are the landlocked Salmon everybody! Have a wonderful day

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Male violence towards women is not motivated by "hatred" towards women. That is an oversimplification.

On whose part?

Are you claiming that the feminists and anyone else who makes that claim is wrong, or are you saying I'm oversimplying what you think feminists really claim?

Because if it's the latter, it's not exactly rare for feminists to explicitly blame abuse on misogyny.

is motivated by toxic masculinity and men not being taught by society to express emotions in healthy and positive ways.

Domestic violence centers are regularly criticized by people who talk about men's issues for supposedly being biased in women's favor and against men.

And leaving that aside, the first link goes

The perception of men is then seen as dominating, aggressive, and unemotional.

A perception feminism itself strongly contributes to. It regularly and explicitly genders abuse.

When society puts so much pressure on men to behave in an unconnected way, sometimes men can begin to normalize power and control as perpetrators. They can also then ignore or not recognize when they are victimized by domestic violence because from an early age males are taught to believe they should be able to handle physical and emotional abuse. Not having recognition of their own victimization can lead to non representation of male domestic violence victims.

Okay. How about the part where society goes "it's not REAL abuse when a woman does it?"

I feel the need to emphasize this, and be clear. Men are generally permitted to defend themselves from assault by other men. But much less so for women.

Men are more likely to be arrested and go to jail, even if they did not lay a finger on a female abuser, and were the one to call the cops. In many places, it's almost explicit police policy to assume the woman was "defending herself".

I have been in and seen extended discussions where people refused to admit a woman could actually pose a serious physical threat to a man, ever, and said anyone who discussed it was clearly just a sexist man who wanted an excuse to harm women.

Note that there were several women disagreeing in these discussions.

Apparently the idea that a woman could grab a weapon was a "hyper-specific edge case", even though I provided an example of a woman who stabbed her larger partner to death with a nail file.

That article is really missing - or ignoring - the single most important part about male victim erasure.

Strangely enough, when I see people discuss this issue in terms of "toxic masculinity", they seldom discuss the female privilege that leads to male abuse victims being erased,

I'm not sure why you thought this was supporting your case about "male violence against women".

Even if it wasn't just an opinion column.

Your second link's strapline says "Young men who subscribe to traditional ideals of manhood are more likely to sexually harass women and bully others."

And then it says,

The researchers surveyed 1,000 young men on their attitudes toward seven pillars of traditional manhood: self-sufficiency, toughness, physical attractiveness, rigid gender roles, heterosexuality and homophobia, hypersexuality, and aggression and control over women.

Except traditional masculinity is strongly against men sexually harassing women, and bullying.

Or hurting women even in self defense.

Also, the fact that you're equating "toxic masculinity" to "traditional, mainstream masculinity" does not actually make feminists look less misandric.

I spent almost my entire post talking about female abusers, and you conveniently managed to find two "sources" that, um, don't actually mention female abusers.

Not once.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[octonerd]

Two hats swap AU! / Kind of overall swap AU Siffrin the ever-dashing and elusive rogue and their party journey to save the world from an entity known as The Jamboree, who seeks to trap all of Vauguard in an endless dance. The party is comprised of a dorky nerd, a possibly-blasphemous housemaiden and a superstitious archeologist (oh also there's a fisherman..woman?). i will draw the rest of the groups designs soon enough... click read more for more info!!!! GRRRRRRR PLS READ ITTTT

okay so this au just started as a loop human design but like the idea of a whole ass role swap au began to like start spinning around in my head, its all built around Sif's control issues, as the star actor/director, rather than avoidance. This is represented in Loop's more performative getup/look and then reversed for Stardust's (og siffrin) design, with the consequences of stardust's loops being they avoid taking responsibility entirely and hide away.

also for less name confusion: Siffrin = Loop Stardust = Siffrin

oh also the whole group is swapped! including bonnie who just isnt here (Petronille is here instead) Isabeau is a Dork who used to be a rough and tough tomboy as a kid (i can actually relate) Odile is someone who looks to more cultural or spiritual answer's to things and is actually an archeologist! she's fr a researcher and yes its due to backstory reasons. Mirabelle is a housemaiden, who despite growing up in a house (orphaned/didn't really get a choice), She never quite grew to love change as much as the housemaiden's who raised her would've hoped. She wasn't a hero by any means but going from an aimless young adult who was afraid to try new things to having the world's fate sprung upon you changes you whether you like it or not. pls pls if yall have any suggestions/idea just comment/dm them!!! i will bite ya'll i swear I'm very sane and normal pls...

[rightbrainboredom]

An Ah-ha Moment

So I'm watching marvel movies to help do some research for my fanfic, specifically The Winter Soldier right now. I had a realization, maybe people already noticed this maybe not. Well when Steve and Nat are at Sam's place they talk a bit about how they're each feeling with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. has become Hydra. Nat states that Steve seems fairly chipper considering what they just found out, and considering that he basically 'died' for nothing. And she's totally right. During their conversation Steve actually has a bit of a smirk on his lips, and there is a hopeful light in his eyes. Up until now his expression has been serious and flat, morose even. Steve responds with, "Well, I guess I just like to know who I'm fighting."

Earlier in the film Steve talks with Peggy about how lost he's feeling in the modern political climate and how he feels he doesn't know who the bad guy is any more. But now knowing that the bad guy is Hydra, that puts him back into familiar territory. He's done this before. He knows who the bad guy is, it's Hydra, without a doubt, and he knows how to fight them. This is probably the most normal and 'at ease' he has probably felt since he woke up. He's fought this war before, sure there's more advanced weaponry, and Hydra is much farther spread, but it's still Hydra. He's beat them before, he knows that he can beat them again. All he needs is the right team, an new set of Howling Commandos if you will. He's home, and he has a true and defined purpose.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Haha

[jjenthusee]

A Part Of The Family

Roy Harper and Lian Harper Drabble!!! (feat. Jason Todd and Dick Grayson)

A/N: if you’ve kept up with me, you might have noticed that I’ve started to stan Roy YAY 😫 it was a crazy deep dive and I got attached to his character lol one of the main reasons i wanted to write for him was because of his Native American/Indigenous upbringing. I was shocked when I found out because (i don’t normally try to share too much about myself cause this is a public space) but i’m indigenous too ✨😌✨ i have to rep my people for Native American Heritage Month *confetti* but i thought i would have to share this to give context on how i plan to write and explore Roy’s character. At least from my research (sorry if this is wrong) but he did grow up on the reservation in some of the backstories and it’s not explored very much :( it explains his tattoo, knowing the language, and frankly, a lot of native rep is kinda bad, but i thought leaving out a major part of his childhood didn’t help reflect who he was. As someone who has experience and lives as a member of the tribe it’s based on, I wanted to share some silly thoughts :) ofc remember all people with cultural backgrounds have different experiences so read this or don’t but i’ll see how this turns out so ENJOY 💐 and comment, like, reblog

Summary: Roy shares a part of his past with Jason and now he’s determined to share an important moment of Lian’s life.

Word Count: 1.2k

“I don’t think she’s going to budge anytime soon.” Roy rested himself on the couch, overlooking his best friend and daughter. They were both on the floor, a soft blanket laid for Lian’s designated tummy time.

Lian blankly watched Jason hold toys, making noises as she followed the sounds, glancing up to look at his excited face as he talked to her.

“Don’t listen to him, Lian. Just over three months of life and we are already best friends.” Jason’s words kept Lian’s attention.

She would give the tiniest smile in return. No laughter yet, but she expressed her enjoyment of Jason’s presence, nonetheless.

Roy was grinning watching the two, a much clearer expression, but remarkably like Lian’s smile. He had been lacking some sleep, but Jason’s frequent visits were helping him get a couple extra minutes of rest.

To Roy’s surprise, Jason had been over almost everyday this week.

The company was fine, better even according to Roy, but he didn’t mean for this to happen. It had been a small slip, a tiny mistake, just a sleepy mumble of his brain when he watched Jason clumsily hold Lian for the first time.

Roy corrected Jason’s hands to be comfortable for him and Lian. In the movement, he had unconsciously spoken.

“This reminds me of way back, when there was a new baby in the community, all the kids would crowd around trying to make funny faces, trying to make the baby laugh.” Roy lulled along to Jason’s slight sway, more confident in holding Lian in his arms. “Then we would hear all the elders yell out to us that we would have to cook if we got the baby to laugh.”

Roy chuckled to himself, remembering the days back on the reservation, feeling the hot sun on his skin.

Jason set his gaze on Roy, never moving his head away from Lian’s tiny body, but focused on the man’s sudden reminiscent tone.

It wasn’t often that Roy mentioned the past, he didn’t discourage it directly, but he also didn’t freely talk about it either.

So, Jason took a chance.

“Cook?” Jason harmlessly questioned, smoothing out the tiny hairs on Lian’s forehead as she stared at his face again.

“Well, it’s a big deal when a baby laughs for the first time. We celebrate and it’s planned by the person who makes the baby laugh.” Roy got up from his spot once he heard the washer finish. “Almost costed my entire savings when one of my friends and I tripped trying to run to the baby first, luckily all we got was a big sneeze.”

Roy threw the damp clothes into the dryer, chuckling to himself.

“I wonder when Lian’s going to laugh.” Roy smiled at the thought. “I hope it’s soon. Wouldn’t mind a lil’ party.”

Roy should have been careful about his words that afternoon.

Now Jason felt determined to be the first person to make Lian laugh.

At this rate, Roy wouldn’t be surprised if he already had the decorations planned out and stashed away somewhere.

It was nice to have company. Roy had usually expected Jason to be there next to Lian, giving laidback greetings.

Then there was another Bat sitting before his daughter.

Dick had unknowingly found out about Jason’s frequent visits and Jason was very pissed about it. Despite his very noticeable apprehension to Dick’s presence, he bit his tongue in favor of Lian finding the new addition intriguing.

Too intriguing. Uncomfortably intriguing and an annoyance to Jason.

“Fu—Get lost, Dickface.” Jason spoke with slight venom in his voice, but it quickly disappeared as he held out his fingers to Lian’s tiny hands.

“But Lian wants me here. Isn’t that right, Lian?” Dick cooed, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. Making noises to get her attention.

“Don’t you have other red heads to bother?” Jason scooted closer to Lian, trying to nudge Dick away.

“You’ve been here five days in a row and you expect me to ignore that?” Dick stood up to make faces at Lian from above Jason’s head.

“A man can’t visit a friend?” Jason stood up blocking Dick.

“Then I’m visiting a friend too.” Dick maneuvered his way to Lian’s side in her bouncer.

“Just fucking leave—“ Jason threw Lian’s rattle at the back of Dick’s head.

The tiny sounds bounced off Dick’s back as it collided to his feet.

There was a brief moment of silence before Dick slowly looked back at Jason. A smile was on his face, but the vein in his head was bulging slowly.

“Dinner’s ready—“ Roy called out, making eye contact with the two men wrestling with a baby blanket as Jason tried to somehow twist the fabric to trap his brother.

Dick on the other hand was flexible enough to lessen the hold and pushed the side of Jason’s face with his free hand.

They murmured insults back and forth as calmly as they could, but the strained smiles on their faces couldn’t mask their current wrestling match.

“Stop pushing me—“ Jason grumbled.

“Then stop twisting my arm—“ Dick pressed back.

“Hehehe.”

Three necks snapped to the quiet sound from the ground, almost lost in the commotion, but there was little Lian.

She laid on her back in her bouncer, completely enamored by the noise and movements around her.

She made small movements in her arms in her excitement, a wide gummy smile on her face.

“I made her laugh.” Jason smiled confidently while tightening the baby blanket around his brother.

“I made her laugh.” Dick challenged, trying to kick back.

Roy walked around the two men to pick up Lian, cuddling her in his arms, and unbelievably happy to witness the delightful sounds from his daughter for the first time.

“Nuh uh, Dickwad, it’s my party.” Jason threatened.

“Jaybird, she was looking at me too! Wait, what party?” Dick finally asked.

“Why are you even here?!” Jason groaned.

Roy couldn’t even focus on the two bickering behind him, he was busy kissing the side of his daughter's head.

He tenderly kept her in his arms, seeing her gaze back up at him.

His smile was met with a smaller copy of his own.

Roy had seen and heard of the A’wee Chi’deedloh, the First Laugh Ceremony, in his time living on the reservation. As a kid, it was just a time for him to eat and play with his friends, but it also welcomed a new family member.

He remembers one of the elder women talking to him as a young boy who stood watching from the distance.

“We welcome the baby into our present world from the Spirit World, it’s a time that we share with everyone. It’s the first sign of a baby showing us they want to be a part of the family, to show and give love.” Roy heard the elder talk to him. “Don’t forget to eat and get salt from the baby, it’s their offering to us, to encourage them to be generous as they grow.”

At the time, Roy was involving himself more with the tribe, asking questions and participating. He remembers the look on the baby’s face as he received salt and a bag of goods.

He remembered how content he felt that day eating his sweets and now he would finally experience the perspective of a parent helping their child in the ceremony.

“Welcome, she’awéé’, my Lian.” Roy affectionately whispered to his daughter. “I’m happy you want to be here.”

—

Translations:

She’awéé’ — my baby

A’wee Chi’deedloh — First Laugh Ceremony

Roy Tag List: (temporary) @soysaurus @janybabyy @simpingforheros