#and at that point you become prescriptive

[androcola]

You can go your own way (How can I ever change things that I feel?)

summary: Mike has a night out with a friend

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1978

Mike stumbled out of the restaurant with a woman following close behind as he laughed an uncharacteristic laugh. He was unsteady on his feet, his face was flushed and his head was swimming. He was drunk. Very drunk.

He didn't mean to get drunk, but one glass of wine led to another and suddenly their table looked like a bar. He usually avoided alcohol and hadn't been this drunk since his days of severe alcoholism back in Texas.

He was far too wasted to realize the monumental bill he had picked up all on his own in an act of chivalry. That wouldn't hit him until the morning, as well as a nasty hangover.

The woman who followed behind him was a friend. Nancy Kramer, being the receptionist at his therapist's office, had been seeing Mike every week since 1968 and over time made fond friends with the man. She was a short lady, a little younger than him, with blonde hair usually in a bun high on her head and a coral pink skirt suit. Her make up was slightly smudged and her hair looked tossed as she was also well wasted.

Since the two had become friends in the early 1970s, they'd been hanging out with each other just as Mike hung out with the others. The others were proud of him for the fact that he had opened up so much as to let another person take such a personal spot in his life. He also felt quite proud of himself as well.

Making friends outside of Micky, Peter, and Davy had never been an easy task for him.

The two drunkenly strolled down the sidewalk joking and laughing out loud at and with each other, bumping into each other and into strangers, receiving dirty looks and insults along the way, but neither of them cared, least of all Mike, who usually was very self conscious about his actions and habits in public and the looks they may get him.

Drunk didn't even begin to describe his current state.

He had no idea how he was still on his feet, or he wasn't even thinking about it. One of the many reasons he avoided alcohol was due to the fact that he was on many prescriptions, including Valium, which can make one drink feel like ten, or twenty, and he had certainly had his fill. He felt to be on another planet or plane of existence.

As the two tripped and stumbled through the night, having no idea what time it was, they came across a park with some benches. Perfect.

Nancy's high heels and her drunken state didn't make for a good combination and as a result she was constantly picking herself up, or being picked up by Mike who would nearly fall on top of her everytime, laughing to the point of tears.

They wandered into the dark park that was illuminated only by a few lamp posts and slumped down onto one of the benches together and their laughter slowly died to a few shared chuckles and then into silence.

Mike ran his hands down his face as it all hit him harder upon sitting down and he groaned aloud. “I'm way too drunk...” he slurred with a hiccup. He began to fear the inevitable stomach turn.

Nancy fell against his arm and sank into him feeling so drunkenly serene. “This was such a fun night... It's really been a while.” she said in her New York accent. She wasn't a native Californian, but she fit beautifully into the landscape.

“I guess it was...” Mike replied, once again hiccuping between his words, causing Nancy to giggle. Mike covered his mouth before placing his hand against his chest. “Oh dear...” he murmured. “I really shouldn't have had that much wine...”

“It's so warm out tonight...” Nancy said before wiggling out of her suit top, revealing her lacy white blouse which had a couple of small wine stains. She laid the top over the back of the bench and sunk back against Mike's arm. “That's better...” she said contently.

“You've got the right idea.” Mike said before removing the top of his chocolate brown suit and tossing it over the back of the bench and loosening his tie. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to feel the gentle night breeze.

The two fell silent, sitting and watching the city move around from their bench. To Mike, it looked as if everything were moving in super slow motion, leaving behind it an after image that faded away and followed the next. The tall trees around them seemed to spin around him, causing him to feel as if he were at the very end of a funnel. He hung his head and rubbed his eyes, but that didn't get rid of the blurry and glowy after images that every moving thing produced.

He began to regret mixing so much alcohol with his prescriptions and he worried that things would only get worse. He really could've killed himself doing such a thing. He wondered if he just had. He found that as these thoughts crossed his mind, he couldn't quite access that worry and bring it to the front of his mind. It just wasn't touching him like he thought it should be, and he wondered whether it was the alcohol or his anxiety prescription doing it's job.

Suddenly, he felt a hand rubbing his arm deeply and he looked over to see Nancy still leaning into him and rubbing his arm. He thought this was odd, neither of them had never touched one another in this way. He couldn't be bothered to think anymore about it, however, as he was much too drunk and knew that she was quite drunk as well.

“What are you thinking about?...” Nancy asked in a soft tone. “Dunno.” was all Mike could manage in reply, now focusing all of his energy on keeping his eyes open and his stomach relaxed. The only fear that managed to penetrate the copious amount of alcohol in his system was that of the inevitable vomit fest that would take place.

“D'you ever thinking about us?...” Nancy asked, still a soft and almost sensual tone. Mike was extremely perplexed by such a question but before he could speak any reply, he suddenly let out a loud and drawn out burp, causing Nancy to start laughing almost as hard as she was just earlier. Mike quickly clasped his hand over his mouth, he could suddenly feel embarrassment again. He had always made an effort throughout their friendship to never let such sounds of that nature slip around her, after all, she is a lady.

“Heavens... Pardon me.” Mike slurred, patting his chest. “I think I'm just a little drunk...” he said. Obviously. Nancy's laughter resided and she leaned back into him. “Really... I mean it.” she then said, referring back to her question.

“I don't understand...” Mike replied. He really hadn't a clue what that question meant. She twirled her finger in a circle against his arm as she leaned in even closer, she couldn't get any closer but she managed.

“Nevermind...” she said, and with that, they both fell silent once more.

Mike didn't give the question a second thought as he once again focused all his energy on staying conscious. Nancy pressed her nose against Mike's arm and inhaled deeply through her nose, savoring his scent.

Mike always smelled vaguely floral, sometimes with a hint of denim or linen. He had never been a fan of cologne or musk due to his very sensitive sense of smell and an easily irritated throat, so instead he always wore very subtle perfumes and deodorants that smelled fresh and floral. Something that wouldn't cause him migraines.

It certainly wasn't typical of a man of these times, and she appreciated that.

Mike didn't notice the woman inhaling his scent. He held his head low in hand, listening to the city around him in almost disorienting stereo and reverb.

“I shouldn't have drank so much...” he groaned. “Are you alright?” Nancy asked, running her hand up his arm and to his shoulder. She felt the exact opposite from him. Serene and content. Just the perfect amount of wasted. “I will be.” Mike said with another smaller burp. He was beginning to remember why he stopped drinking all those years ago. “Pardon me...”

As he held his head down in a deep focus, he felt fingers walking up his arm like little legs and he glanced over to Nancy who had a big dopey smile on her face. He was completely oblivious to the implications of what she was doing and thought maybe she was just trying to play with him so he managed a small smile.

“If you're tryin' to tickle me, don't bother. I'm not ticklish.” He said. His Texas drawl, which had thinned throughout his years living in California, was thick and slurred in his drunken state, leaving him barely understandable.

She only smiled and let out the smallest chuckle as she continued to walk her fingers up his arm, then his shoulder, then across the back of his neck until her arm was around him. “What are you up to?” Mike chuckled, now making eye contact with her as she pulled him in close, so close that the tips of their noses touched.

Just then, she placed her other hand gently onto his chest and slipped her fingers in and out of the gaps between the buttons on his shirt, feeling his chest in small amounts, stroking the hair on it. She smiled more and more. Mike's hand quickly came up and closed over hers and pushed it away.

“Ms. Nancy...” Mike muttered before suddenly she lunged into him and pressed her lips against his in a somewhat sloppy kiss. Mike's eyes went wide and suddenly he was sober. He took her by both shoulders and pushed her gently and her lips disconnected from his. “Ms. Nancy!” he exclaimed before she pushed back into him and reconnected her lips to his. She grabbed his face and ran her fingers through his beard. The feeling of it was exhilarating and she felt herself become only more excited.

This time, with more force, he shoved her off and shuffled back on the bench away from her. “Ms. Nancy, what are ya doin'!?” he said, this time not so slurred. She smiled and laughed. “You taste like wine...” she giggled. “Ms. Nancy... you can't do this.” he said.

His mind immediately went to Nancy's boyfriend. Johnny Meisner, who was a shorter and somewhat neurotic man, bearing a slight resemblance to the Beach Boys' Alan Jardine, had always made Mike incredibly uncomfortable. It was clear that Nancy had a type. That being men of great neurosis.

He was a jealous man, hellbent on the idea that Mike was attempting to sweep Nancy off of her feet and away from him and would glare daggers at him anytime he was in their presence. Mike had many run-ins with the man, confronted and even threatened with violence if he kept “making moves” on her.

Mike plead his innocence every single time, on the grounds of his utter and life long lack of sexual feelings or attraction towards anyone at any point, but Johnny would hear nothing of, and it certainly wouldn't help his case if it were to come out that his girlfriend had kissed the man who was the object of his suspicions.

“Don't you ...Don't you find me attractive?” Nancy asked with a hint of desperation in her voice. Mike was floored by such a question. He had never thought of such a thing before. “I...” he muttered. “I thought you liked me...” she said, now only sounding pathetic. “Ms. Nancy... I like ya just fine... but... not like this.” he replied, so drunk and dumbfounded by everything that was unfolding that he was barely able to find his words.

“But... the way you look at me... the way you speak to me. Your eyes are so sincere... Your voice is so soft...” she slurred. “I thought you felt the same way... I thought this was a date...”

“Ms. Nancy... You have a man... and I'm pretty sure he wants my head, man!” Mike replied. “Oh, Michael...” Nancy sighed as she dropped her head. “Things between me and Johnny haven't been good for a while now.” she said. “You're all I think about when I'm with him... When we make love, I imagine it's you just to help me get through it all...”

“Ms. Nancy... what are you sayin'?...” Mike asked quietly. Nancy's head shot back up and her eyes locked onto his. They were filled with tears. “'I'm saying I'm in love with you, Michael!” she yelled as she stood slowly, still unsteady, but much steadier than earlier. “You don't know what you're sayin'... You're drunk. We both are. You don't mean this.” Mike reasoned.

“I've been in love with you since 1973...” she said. Everything was spilling out it seemed. “I think of you all the time... I fantasize about you in bed... in the shower... at work. Everywhere.”

That sent a rush of heat to Mikes already flushed face.

Mike felt shattered upon the realization that he had likely been feeding into this for years, completely oblivious to it all. “I thought you knew... I thought that's why you treated me the way you did.” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Mike stayed silent, thinking his words over carefully, as carefully as he could in his current condition.

“You don't want this. You don't want me.” he uttered. She seemed to almost take offense to this. “I do!” she yelled. “Michael... I need you. I” before she could even finish what she was saying, Mike handed her suit top to her. “I think it's time to go home.” he said bluntly and flatly. She couldn't say anything anymore and finally relented, taking her top from him. “Let's go.” she said.

“Separately.” said Mike suddenly.

“I don't understand.” Nancy replied. “I'll call you a cab. have him take you home. I won't tell anyone about this. But you have to go.” Mike said. “But... what about you?” Nancy asked. “I'll find a way.” Mike replied. Truth be told, he had no idea what he was gonna do with himself, but at the moment, this felt like the right decision.

Nancy dropped her head and slumped back down onto the bench and laid her suit top over her shoulders and continued to wipe tears from her eyes and cheeks. She watched helplessly as Mike stood, but only after several attempts to do so, and shuffled over to a nearby phone booth to place a call to the cab service. She felt terrible. She knew she had ruined the night, her relationship with Johnny, and her friendship with Mike.

Mike stumbled into the phone booth, nearly falling over inside, trying his best to adjust to being back on his feet. His head spun much worse now that he was standing. He leaned up against the inside wall and rubbed his eyes for a moment before stuffing his hand down into his pocket to hopefully find a loose quarter.

Pulling the quarter out of his pocket, he held it tightly in his hand as he opened his eyes back up and squinted at the phone in front of him. It was dark inside the phone booth, nothing but the light of the street lamps. He slowly raised his hand up which shook and wobbled and he held the quarter in his fingers. Squinting harder, he inched the quarter closer and closer to the coin slot, trying to line up his aim just right.

“Okay...” he whispered to himself before slamming his hand against the phone, completely missing the coin slot and dropping his quarter onto the ground which rolled around on its side, making a little circle before falling on its face. Mike stared down at the quarter feeling defeated. He knew that if he attempted to bend over and pluck it from the ground, he'd more than likely fall over, and would be even more likely to not be able to get back up for at least a little while. “Aw no...” he mumbled pathetically.

Once again, he stuffed his hand back down into his pocket and rooted around for another quarter, desperate for another so that he wouldn't have to make the dangerous journey of bending over. Even sober he wasn't very good at that.

Several minutes passed as Nancy sat on the bench outside quietly weeping to herself, mascara running down and staining her cheeks. Every now and then she'd glance up at the distant phone booth, just barely seeing Mike's figure silhouetted by the city lights ahead. She had never felt a worse regret, and wondered if this may be the end of her friendship with Mike.

These feelings had been building up in her for years, but up until now she had done a pretty good job of keeping them to herself.

She wasn't lying when she said that things between her and her own man had been souring for a while. And it was certainly a turn off to watch him act so jealous, even threatening her friend with violence if he were to show his face around the two of them again.

She wondered where her life would end up, and if she'd ever learn to live with these feelings, now knowing that they were completely unreciprocated. Her heart ached. The tears continued to fall. She found herself almost wishing she had never met the man.

After a few more minutes of silence and quiet weeping, Mike came tumbling out of the phone booth and shuffled back over to Nancy and stood before her. She slowly turned her head up, almost afraid to look at him. He wobbled and swayed, trying his best to stay standing. “I've called you a cab.” he said flatly. “At least I'm sure I did... I'm not sure if they understood a single word I said.” he said, hiccuping a few times between words.

Nancy only nodded and dropped her head back down, sniffling a few times.

Mike frowned and plopped back down next to her onto the bench and just looked at her. He reached his hand out to touch her, but hesitated before pulling his hand away, realizing maybe he shouldn't touch her, lest she take it as an advance, a possible change of the mind.

“Please don't cry, Ms. Nancy...” Mike pleaded softly. “How can I not?... I've just ruined our friendship...” Nancy wept. Mike wanted badly to put his arm around her to comfort her but he couldn't bring himself to. “Our friendship isn't ruined... we can make this work.” he replied. “Oh, how could this ever work?... I can't change what I feel.” she said as her weeping became more pained. Mike sat quietly, looking down at the ground, thinking over his next words.

“We're both very drunk... maybe neither of us will remember this.” he finally spoke. Lame response, but it was all he could think of. His wits weren't with him at all.

Nancy didn't respond, she only shook her head. “Please don't tell your old man.” Mike said after several moments of silence. “I won't.” Nancy replied.

Once again a silence fell over the two. Both of them were absolutely spent and had no idea what to do with themselves. Nancy's sobs and sniffles died down and eventually she became entirely silent. They both sat on the bench with their heads down, assessing the situation.

Mike found himself wishing Micky were here.

Mike fiddled with his hands, watching them move in slow motion and watching the after images they left behind in the air, only occasionally glancing at Nancy discreetly. She stayed still with her head down and her arms crossed.

Mike wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what else he could say, and he wasn't sure it would even be intelligible. He let out a small sigh and rubbed his eyes again.

“I'm sorry.” Nancy's voice suddenly said and Mike lifted his head and looked to her. She didn't look back, keeping her head down. “Don't be...” Mike said softly. “We're just drunk.”

Suddenly, a big yellow taxi pulled up on the road in front of the park and Mike looked up. “Looks like your ride is here.” he said. Nancy looked up to see the taxi as well and then turned to Mike. “Come with me. I don't want you to be out here by yourself.” she said, putting her hand on Mike's arm. “No. you should go by yourself.” Mike replied.

He knew it would be the smart thing to just get in with her, but he didn't know if he could stand the awkward ride home. Also, he feared he may get sick in the car and he really didn't want her to get caught in the crossfire. Her or the poor cab driver.

Nancy dropped her hand from Mike's arm and looked away before standing up. “D'you want me to walk you to the cab?” Mike asked, looking up at her. “I think I can make it.” she said before she began to walk away, albeit a little unsteadily, but she managed to stay on her feet.

She approached the cab and reached for the door handle before hesitating. She looked back at Mike who sat smiling at her from the bench. He waved bye-bye to her and she pathetically waved back and tried to smile the best she could before turning and slipping into the cab.

Mike watched intently as the cab pulled out and drove away and he watched the car go until he could see it no longer. As soon as it was completely out of sight, Mike dropped his head and closed his eyes to think.

He was already out way past his own self imposed curfew, and he was sure his friends were likely up late and worried sick about him. He never intended to be out this long.

He reached behind him and grabbed his suit top from the back of the bench and pulled it over his shoulders and wrapped it around himself. Maybe Micky may still be up. Maybe he could place one more call and ask to be picked up. He wasn't sure if he had any more quarters, though.

He wondered then what may come of this. He told her he'd likely forget this by the morning, but, truth be told, he was sure to remember this. He only hoped it wouldn't hurt their friendship too badly. He hoped nothing irreparable had just happened.

He hoped everything would be okay by the morning.

[dandelion-wings]

I have no certainty that this will ever be a full fic, but I was thinking about it at the barn today and got home and promptly stuck this in a doc and wrote a thousand unconnected words, so while we're definitely too close to this year's Windblume, maybe this will be like so many of my holiday fics and I'll hit the holiday next year. XD We'll see!

In the meantime, I'm wondering how long I can drag the running joke of Diluc and Jean's differing priorities out before it gets stale:

"I've ordered the roses," Diluc tells her. "I indicated that it was urgent, so they should arrive the day after tomorrow, before the end of Windblume." "Thank you," Jean says, smiling at him in gratitude and relief. She can put her Windblume together without them if necessary, but she's become attached to the symbolism. She really does feel freest in Lisa's company, and she wants Lisa to know. "On the other subject, have you consulted Doctor Baizhu about your heart problem? He's a noted physician in Liyue Harbor, and his medication formula has done wonders for Tunner's condition." "I've heard of him. I think Barbara may have, but I don't think anything came of it." Diluc frowns. "He didn't even send a trial prescription?" "Well, there was something Barbara started me on afterwards, but it was making me oversleep in the mornings, so I discontinued it." "She was waking up at five instead of four," Kaeya unnecessarily interjects. "Sometimes even six. Can you *imagine*, Diluc? Not waking up until almost dawn? Unacceptable for our Acting Grand Master." Jean shakes her head at them both. She doesn't appreciate Kaeya encouraging Diluc's fixation. He knows full well that it isn't as significant as Diluc seems determined to make it, and how necessary sticking with her schedule is during the Grand Master's absence. She doesn't appreciate Diluc's conviction that she's deathly ill just because she's had a few small incidents, either. "It was a serious lapse, not a subject for mockery. Before you go, I know you're busy, but... you did say you'd be willing to read a draft of my Windblume. I would value your comments." "I did," Diluc says, his frown softening. "It sounds as if I have to go to the Cathedral this afternoon, but I'll take it with me and have it back to you by evening with my notes." "Thank you," Jean says again, and swallows her trepidation--Diluc, of all people, won't mock her for its failings--as she hands him the folded page.

...Though since this fic is hugely self-indulgent already (being, y'know, goofy to the point of OOC), the answer may be "just drag it out until I stop thinking it's funny, and never mind what the readers think." XD

Working on a couple of whump prompts now (I phone-wrote the starts of several during the past week between barn chaos, but this is literally the first day I've had time to sit at a computer for more than half an hour since), but I read this Reddit post this morning and couldn't resist the urge to riff a little, so let's call this a warmup:

"...and the last time I passed out, I woke up with my head in her lap and her favorite blanket over me. She was stroking my hair, and when I looked up, she called me 'dear,'" Jean explains. "Then, this Windblume... don't you think it seems suggestive? But Lisa is so flirtatious with everyone, I really can't be sure." Kaeya seems to be choking on his drink. "The *last time* you passed out?" Diluc repeats, as if he hasn't heard all the rest of her list at all.

"The time before that, I wasn't unconscious for more than a few seconds, but the moment I sat up she got me a pillow and made me lie back down, then sat with me and held my hand until Barbara arrived. I had hit my head quite hard on the floor, though, so that may have just been a reasonable precaution."

Lisa's hand had been soft, and warm, and so gentle around hers. She'd stroked the back of Jean's hand with her thumb, just the slightest buzz of static raised by the motion, but that buzz had seemed to go all through Jean and flutter in her stomach.

Diluc's eyes go wide. "When did you hit your head?"

"Oh, that was shortly after Stormterror appeared. I wasn't truly hurt. The double vision passed within a few days," Jean says, waving his worry away. "Though you're right, I'm afraid. That could have simply been concern, and not anything else. I wouldn't be thinking more of it at all if it wasn't for this Windblume. I thought she would simply give me some flowers, and perhaps more of the perfume she's been making for me. I hadn't even remembered that we talked about this book of poetry. I'm sure it wasn't so difficult to find for her as it was for me, since she *did* find it-"

"Oh, no, she put plenty of work in," Kaeya, apparently recovered from his coughing fit, tells her. "Don't you recall that two-week vacation she took last month?"

"Oh, *no*. She told me she had important personal affairs to take care of. I hope looking for the book didn't cut into them."

Kaeya, in the middle of a long, slow sip of wine, swallows wrong *again*. This time Jean has to stand up from her chair and go over to thump him on the back, and Diluc rises, takes his wineglass away, and comes back from the bar with a glass of water that he sets firmly in front of him.

When Kaeya isn't wheezing anymore, Jean sits back down. "I trust the two of you to tell me if I'm only imagining things. You did when I had that terrible crush on the Grand Master as a teenager. Do you think there's any chance Lisa feels fondly towards me?"

"It seems very possible," Diluc tells her, with a seriousness that assures her that he has, in fact, been listening to her list, despite his apparent distraction. "Have you given her a Windblume in return yet? You may be able to deduce more from her response."

Kaeya's eyes light up. "Diluc, I never expected such an entertaining idea from *you*. Now, Jean, make sure you don't make your poem too formal. Something personal and intimate will produce much more interesting results."

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

so agatha didnt let alice do that curse protection spell on her, right? she was just like keep playing. do you think thats bc she was like 'i dont know what Deaths Knife is gonna do specifically but i doubt im ever gonna be rid of her if i get fucking enchanted with it'

[bearofohu]

my favorite fact about the layton games that most people dont realize is that even though hershel is the protagonist every game is through luke’s POV

[anotherpapercut]

people acting like there isn't still very much an active stigma against cannibas and cannibas users is going to be my joker origin story

when i go to the doctor they still put cannibas use under the tab "substance abuse". not even just substance use. it is fully assumed that people who use cannabis, even as a prescription medication, are abusing it. just because you're friends with a couple of dumbass stoners doesn't mean that we've abandoned the idea as a culture that weed is a bad and scary and dangerous and highly addictive drug that will ruin your life if you use it once

[catboybiologist]

“As a biologist, the terms biological woman and man don’t make any sense to me” okay then you’re an idiot and a terrible biologist. I swear to god, morons like you only become biologists just so you can hold it over others, when in reality, if biology deniers like you can become biologists, then being one really doesn’t mean much anyway. But this probably just gave an autogynophile like you a boner to read, anyway.

Oh fun! Haven't gotten one of these in a while. Disregarding the fact that you somehow think the qualification for being a biologist entirely hinges on defining womanhood, I do need to ask some clarification. I know I'm feeding the trolls here, but here we go: does your definition of "biological woman" mean:

Sociological woman? Eh, context dependent, I'm not fully out of the closet, but oftentimes, I am and present femme. So let's call that one 50/50.

Psychological woman? Because I am one.

Neurological woman? Because I am one [1].

Physical woman? My soft tissue redistribution is handling that well.

Hormonal woman? My blood tests are within cis female ranges.

Transcriptional woman? As a signalling molecule, the downstream effects of estrogen have broad transcriptional effects, completely changing the profile of gene expression and functional genomics of my cells. [2]

Genetic woman? I mean, see my above point- as far as my genes that are actually active, I have all of the same transcripts being produced, controlling which genes are expressed.

Karyotypic woman? I actually have a few signs pre-HRT that might point to a non-XY chromosome pair, but I haven't had a karyotype. We'll put that down as unknown. And hell, even if its XY, there's plenty of cis women who are karyotypically XY, with suppressed sry or complete androgen insensitivity. Interestingly enough, a completely androgen insesitive woman can go her whole life without knowing- and functionally, is very similar to a trans woman, actually. Fancy that. [3]

Reproductive woman? I can't produce an egg cell, but neither can significant fractions of cis women. Also, this is all gonna change soon, which is fun. [4]

There's also a lot of understudied aspects to the biology of HRT and even pre-HRT that are emerging, largely demonstrating widespread cellular and genetic remodeling of trans individuals undergoing hormone therapy. The field is a bit behind due to constant political pressure to revoke funding, but a lot of the results are extremely exciting in both testosterone and estrogen hormone therapies. I'm sure that, as a self professed biology As someone who presumably has a lot of expertise in biology, I'm assuming that you're aware of all of this cutting edge research, and are keeping up with modern papers, including but not limited to these cool findings:

Trans men on HRT exhibit significant genetic and transcriptional changes that make them biochemically male. [5][6]. It's a good hypothesis that the same happens with estrogen treatment, but those studies don't exist yet- I'm sure you're reserving judgment until more publications exist, of course.

Trans men on HRT develop male cell types and tissues. [7]

Trans women experience muscular and blood cell changes that align with cis women moreso than cis men [8]

And many, many more! This is an exciting, underserved, and groundbreaking field of research, and I'm sure you're keeping up with the latest in scientific journals about it.

I'm sure, of course, that you understand that it becomes impossible to draw a distinct line anywhere in here, and that words like "woman" are shorthand for the myriad of traits that invisibly synthesize in our mind and in society to represent a concept? I'm sure you understand that science is fundamentally descriptive, not prescriptive? I'm sure that you understand that these findings, while really cool and interesting, actually don't mean jack shit about what the word "woman" means or not?

As someone who is the ultimate decider in what a biologist is, I'm sure you know that bioessentiallism is a childish mindset that completely ignores and disregards the constantly changing, dynamic nature of biological systems, something that extends well beyond biological sex and its relation to gender.

I'm sure that also, that you understand that beyond just this, that the role of science in society is to advise how to achieve our moral principles, not create moral principles in themselves. And I'm sure that understanding means you know that trans affirming healthcare and supportive societal treatment leads to reduced mortality and increased happiness for everyone, right?

So great to talk to someone who is surely a scientist on this. You are a biologist, if you're talking like this, I assume? I assume you're not going to spit complete misreadings of scientific language from the background sections of these papers that only reveal you've never read a scientific paper in your life if you're thinking this way? I assume you have experience interpreting data like this?

Also, imagining my genitalia while writing this? Ew. Please stop projecting your fetishes into my inbox.

Works cited:

Kurth F, Gaser C, Sánchez FJ, Luders E. Brain Sex in Transgender Women Is Shifted towards Gender Identity. J Clin Med. 2022 Mar 13;11(6):1582. doi: 10.3390/jcm11061582. PMID: 35329908; PMCID: PMC8955456.

Fuentes N, Silveyra P. Estrogen receptor signaling mechanisms. Adv Protein Chem Struct Biol. 2019;116:135-170. doi: 10.1016/bs.apcsb.2019.01.001. Epub 2019 Feb 4. PMID: 31036290; PMCID: PMC6533072.

Gottlieb B, Trifiro MA. Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome. 1999 Mar 24 [Updated 2017 May 11]. In: Adam MP, Feldman J, Mirzaa GM, et al., editors. GeneReviews® [Internet]. Seattle (WA): University of Washington, Seattle; 1993-2024. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK1429/

Murakami, K., Hamazaki, N., Hamada, N. et al. Generation of functional oocytes from male mice in vitro. Nature 615, 900–906 (2023). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-023-05834-x

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[nymphoniah]

come undone | logan howlett

paring: old man!logan x younger!reader

AN: i can't stop thinking about old man!logan guys, i think its turning into a problem um... but here's a quick drabble about you being needy, and him being the gruffy old man he is, you decide to take matters into your own hands <3

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), old man!logan, explicit age gap (reader is in their 20's), logan spoils his girl, thigh riding, daddy kink, swearing, pet names

you find logan resting in his office, seated on his leather arm chair. his white button up is messily undone, revealing his worn out beater underneath. his chest hair peeking through the shallow neckline of the shirt, leaving your mind to wonder about.

he catches your gaze and flashes you a smile, "c'mon doll, sit in your old man's lap", he coos, signaling you to come over with his middle and pointer finger.

and how could you ever say no to logan?

you couldn’t help but approach him. curling up in logan’s lap, you rest your head against his broad chest. your fingers gently rubbing against his ribbed tank top that fits snug against him. his body isn’t what it once was before, but he still remains defined and muscular, filling the tank top perfectly.

logan’s salt-and-pepper beard tickles your rose tinted cheeks as you litter his face in kisses. you can’t help but take in his beauty, every wrinkle, scar, age spot; for him being over 200, he absolutely aged like wine.

moving your fingers from his chest to the shell of his ears, you swiftly remove his prescription glasses from his face. you press your lips gently against the crow’s feet that defined his tired eyes, making him crack a tiny smile.

“you’re so handsome, logan.” you sigh, placing his glasses onto the side table placed on his right. you rest your head back on his chest, taking a deep sigh. the scent of his cologne floods your senses, bourbon and vanilla.

you shift around, straddling yourself onto his left thigh. your legs wrapped around him like a vice whilst your core pulses for attention against his tense quad.

“looks like someone’s needy,” he teases, placing his firm hands on your hips, gently guiding you back and forth against him. “cmon baby, take it out on me.” you gently rock your hips, keeping a slow and steady pace.

with his old age, he’s lost his stamina for sure, but he always has the energy for you. making sure that you get off, anytime and anywhere. you’re his princess, and he always makes sure to spoil his sweet little girl.

your hips rock in tandem against his thigh as he rhythmically bounces his leg to match your pace. you mewl in pleasure, tilting your head back as ecstasy fills your mind.

logan places gentle, sloppy kisses against your neck, making sure to pay close attention to your pulse point. he’s nipping at the soft skin of your neck, concentrating on one area enough to leave a maroon bruise the next day.

both of your movements become more erratic. as your pace quickens, his hands move to your chest, groping your breasts, thumbs nimbly working at your buds, rolling and gently tugging on them.

you hiss out in pleasure, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. “so close…” you whimper, biting your bottom lip tightly to alleviate the growing tension in your stomach.

“let it out darlin', i know you can do it for me,” he grunts into your neck, his hands finding their way back to your hips, pushing you harder down onto him.

absolutely soaking through your panties, you can feel the patch of wetness you left on his light washed denim jeans. you’re faltering on the edge, not wanting to let yourself go so soon.

“c'mon, i know you want this princess," he murmurs into the shell of your ear, nibbling at your earlobe.

"let go for your daddy,” he groans as he pushes your hips down, forcing you to grind harder against him. logan utters a string of sweet nothings in your ear, ending with a you can do it darlin', and you finally tick.

you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you, your pants becoming more and more exhausted. your hips thrust forward and hard around him one last time, and the knot in your stomach finally snaps.

“f-fuck logan, fuck!” you whine, your combined moans filling his office.

you gently pull away from him, pressing your forehead against his, your lust blown pupils meeting his stern gaze.

“yknow how to rile me up,” he says cheekily, gently molding your ass between his fingertips. “almost got me to come in my pants like a teenager,” logan snarkily adds.

“shut it old man,” you quipped, taking his glasses from the side table and placing them back on him so that they sit on the edge of his nose bridge. you press a quick kiss to his lips which soon formed into a smirk.

logan looks up at you through his glasses, hanging on the curve of his nose— a perfect sight you can never get enough of.

“now let me show you what this old man can do…”, he murmurs against your lips.

[transandrobroism]

notes/replies on that last post (about Florida moving to ban all HRT for adults) suggest it was struck down by a judge, which is a relief obviously. but i do wanna pick up on the response being "set up DIY networks for HRT! organise and help each other!" which is cool and all but... as the latest reblog comment points out, T is a controlled drug.

some quick and dirty googling confirms testosterone is a Schedule III controlled drug in the USA, with most legal sources suggesting possession and/or distribution of Schedule III drugs is a 3rd degree felony. conviction can mean up to five years in prison and a $5,000 fine. crucially, in Florida (where this law was intended to come into force), selling or distributing a Schedule III drug to minors pushes it up to a 2nd degree felony with a harsher fine/sentence.

i make this point because the response to HRT being restricted is often some variation of "mutual aid DIY network" or just flat suggesting DIY to people as the solution. which is cool if you're on estrogen, but possessing testosterone without a prescription is a literal felony in the USA. T is also a controlled drug in the UK, where trans people face long waiting lists for HRT - it's not illegal to possess T for personal use, but it is illegal to get them sent to you from abroad (importing a controlled drug) and to give them to other people (supply). to legally get T you need a prescription from a doctor.

in a hostile transphobic environment there is no guarantee that prosecuters will decide not to charge trans people for DIYing HRT. "set up DIY networks" for transmascs basically translates to "set up an illegal drug ring".

this is a form of transphobia that affects transmascs but does not affect transfems. it also affects nonbinary and intersex folks seeking or using testosterone HRT. in fact it could potentially impact some nonbinary trans folks worse because the medical gatekeeping around trying to transition as nonbinary is already an uphill struggle.

it is not easy for those of us on T to just DIY it and fuck the system. without a valid prescription our HRT becomes a banned illegal steroid that can land us in serious legal trouble if we get caught, especially if we're distributing it to other people as part of a mutual aid setup. i know we're all very "be gay do crime" for the memes but we are talking about an actual factual go-to-jail-irl crime here.

the fact that our HRT is an illegal drug unless prescribed by a doctor is a form of transandrophobia that affects trans men, transmascs, nonbinary people on masculinising HRT, and intersex people who want or need testosterone. it means that:

we cannot DIY transition without committing a crime, and have to weigh up that risk when considering DIY as an option

setting up a mutual aid testosterone DIY network is even more of a crime, especially if you want to use it to help trans teens

we are thus more dependent on placating medical practitioners and convincing them to prescribe us HRT

we will always be more impacted by any moves to restrict or delay access to HRT because we don't have an easy, legal DIY option

when access to HRT is limited for transphobic reasons, the DIY option comes at much higher risk

where access to HRT is severely delayed (as it is in the UK by years-long waiting lists), it is easier for transfems to start DIYing while they wait than it is for transmascs to do the same thing. in fact in the UK they've started selling estrogen HRT over the counter for menopause, so here if you want to start estrogen DIY all you have to do is get a cis lady friend to ask a pharmacist for menopause treatments. if you wanna start T you have to go on the fucking dark web (I'm exaggerating but... not a lot)

none of this is intended to suggest that transfems don't experience medical transphobia or gatekeeping and this isn't a "trans men have it worse universally across the board" post. there are undoubtedly some areas where it's harder to be transfem. however, this is one area where it is clearly and demonstrably harder to be a trans man. i am pointing this out because i keep seeing people saying that transmascs have it easier or there's no systemic or structural transphobia targeting trans men or we only ever experience misdirected misogyny or whatever. here is your proof that that is not true. this is a form of structural and systemic transphobia that impacts trans men and not trans women. and there is no possible world in which you can argue that testosterone being a controlled drug is somehow misogyny.

[stollengoods]

Let’s Get Wild

REQ. Tha-gyu x Reader Smut

Warnings: Cursing, drug use, and threesome/lots a smut (like someone needs to take my phone away from me cuz this was filthy bitch haha)

Summary: Your dumbass friends take Viagra.

————

Most people would think a single woman renting out a home with two men as your roomates would be a cause for concern. Especially if those same roomates, did all kinds of random substances on the daily but to you they were harmless goofballs; they could be dumb and annoying at times but harmless non-the-less.

You guys met at the club, Nam-gyu worked there as a manager, Thanos was a famous rapper so he was there almost every weekend, and you used to work there as a dancer until you finished college and went on to become a nurse.

You’re shift usually ends at 11 PM and you would get home around 11:30 - 11:45 PM. Most of the time you would get home before the boys because the club didn’t close until 2 AM, but sometimes your job would ask you to stay for a few more hours and you would for the extra pay.

Tonight was one of those nights, you texted the boys in the the group chat not to worry if they didn’t see you at the house because you probably weren’t going to be home until later.

On the way home they decided to stop at McDonalds and buy dinner for everyone. They wanted to surprise you and also knew that you most likely weren’t eating enough as you should for how hard you work.

When they got home, they set the food and drinks on the table. They didn’t know exactly how long you would be, but typically when your boss asked you to stay an extra few hours you got home no later than 3 AM.

They went into the fenced off backyard to smoke some weed before coming inside. They both sat down at the table engulfing their food in minutes.

Thanos burped, leaning back in his chair, “Alright, what do you got for us tonight ?”

Nam-gyu smirked pulling out an orange prescription bottle from his coat pocket.

“I pickpocketed this old fucker.” He said, shaking the bottle and listened to the sound of rattling pills.

Thanos made a face, “Why an old guy ? He’s probably got heart issues and shit. No way he’s taking anything fun.”

Nam-gyu shook his head, the corner of his eyes red due to the marijana they smoked earlier. “No dude, I specifically picked him because he was dressed like a rockstar and plus you should’ve seen all the woman he was picking up, that dude was a chick magnet ! Whatever he’s on I want.” Nam-gyu pointed his thumb to himself at the last statement before opening the pill bottle and shaking one out onto his hand.

“What even is it ?” Thanos asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity now.

Nam-gyu handed Thanos the bottle, “That’s the thing, the labels kind of worn out, so I can’t really tell.”

Thanos inspected the bottle label closely but ultimately shook his head, “Yeah I can’t make it out either.”

He fished a pill out of the bottle and pinched it between his fingers looking at the front and back of the pill. “It doesn’t look familiar.”

Nam-gyu bit his lip in excitement, “I know, im telling you dude I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

Thanos smiled, “Alright, down the hatch it goes.” He slipped the pill into his mouth, Nam-gyu following suit as they both swallowed it in sync.

————

“Dude, it’s been almost an hour and all I feel is a headache and my heart beating like crazy.”

Nam-gyu sighed, “Yeah, I know, this fucking blows.”

The sound of the door lock turning made them look back to see you stumbling into the house, closing the door behind you and sliding down it onto the floor.

“Hey there’s are Meredith Grey, how was work today ?” Nam-gyu called out to you.

Him and Thanos sat on the couch, watching a movie, with their heads turned to peer at you.

You could barely keep your eyes open, “Fucking exhausting.”

“Well we got you some food on the table, if you’re hungry.”

You perked up at the sound of food, you made yourself stand and walk over to the table. “Aww, thank you guys, this is a really sweet gesture.”

“Oh yeah, no problem, we know the long hard hours you work and wanna make sure you get the energy you need.”

You smiled at them, before grabbing your food and putting it in the microve. Once done, you sat down at the table and began munching down on your hot McSpicy with fries and washing it down with a coke.

You tilted your head, noticing the orange bottle of pills on the table in front of you for the first time. You picked it up and looked at the label, noticing that it wasn’t either of their names.

You rolled your eyes as you realized Nam-gyu must have stolen it from someone at the club. Curious though, you tried to look for the name of the drug but the label was too tattered to read it.

Thanos got up from the couch and joined you at the table, “Oh yeah, maybe you can help us out and tell us what this is.”

You huffed, “Please tell me you guys didn’t take one already, without knowing exactly what was going into your body ?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry too much y/n.” Thanos shrugged, “We took it an hour ago and still feel nothing except for our hearts racing but that could just be the weed we smoked earlier.”

You closed yours eyes at the mention of weed, “You mixed it with another substance ?”

“Yeah, but it’s just weed.” Thanos defended, “That’s not harmful, it’s like drinking alcohol.”

You smacked your hand in the middle of your face at his ignorance. “Thanos, mixing prescription drugs with alcohol can be lethal.”

“We only smoked weed, I was just comparing it to alcohol.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “No, Thanos, I get that I was just saying-“ you sighed, “You know what nevermind, let me see if I can figure out what this is before I give myself a heart attack.”

You popped open the bottle and shook one out onto the palm of your hand. The pill looked fairly familiar and it wasn’t until you looked very closely at it to read the writing that you let out a laugh.

“What ?” Thanos asked, “What is it ?”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head with a big smile on your lips. “Hey Nam-gyu ?” You called out to him.

His head turned around, “Yeah, what’s up ?”

“Come here please.” You motioned him with your finger.

He raised his eyebrows and got up walking around the couch, your eyes along with Thanos’s were instantly drawn to the prominent hard on showing through his grey sweats. Nam-gyu sat down across from you completely oblivious to his situation.

“Who’d you get this from ?”

His eyes went to the blue pill in your hand, “Some older guy at the club tonight. I thought since woman were practically throwing themselves at him, he would have something that we would want, but turns out it was nothing. This shit is ass.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

The smile on your face grew even more, “Well typically Viagra only works if you’re sexually aroused.”

Nam-gyu’s eyes squinted in confusion not completely catching on yet, “Viagra ?”

Thanos froze for a second and then looked down, “Fuck.”

Nam-gyu’s head snapped to him, following his gaze and he chuckled, “Dude why are you-“ He blinked his eyes a couple times before looking down at his own erection.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, “Yeah… so you guys took Viagra-“ You checked the pill again, “-And at the highest dose as well, wow.”

“Shit.” Nam-gyu commented, looking anywhere but at you.

“Good news is, since you only mixed it with weed there shouldn’t be too many side effects besides Tachycardia. Plus weed can increase the amount of Viagra in your system, making it last longer and amplifying its effects.”

They both looked at each other with worry and confusion. “What’s Tachycardia ?” Nam-gyu asked, looking back at you.

“It’s just means a faster than normal heartbeat.” You explained.

“Shit.” Thanos cursed under his breathe, “Y/n you gotta help us.”

You laughed, getting up from your seat and throwing your trash away. “Yeah not gonna happen, you two can suck each other off, I’m going to go sleep.”

You went to your room and shut the door, quickly switching into comfortable pj’s and snuggling under your covers.

A few hours later you awoke to someone shaking you lightly and whispering your name. You barely peeled your eyes open enough to make out the color of Thanos’s purple hair.

“Thanos…” You groaned, “What the fuck do you want ?”

“Y/n, you gotta help us.” His voice sounded panicky.

You whined, stretching your limbs, “Huh ? What are you saying ?”

“The Viagra we took earlier, remember ?”

You let out a soft laugh recalling the event suddenly, “What about it ?”

“It’s been two and half hours and we’re still hard as rocks.”

“Alright TMI.” You rolled over onto your side, your back facing him.

“Y/n-“ He pulled your arm down having your back lay against the mattress. “I’m not playing around, we both tried jacking off and came but nothing changed, we’re still hard and it’s starting to become painful.”

“Okay, I still don’t know what you expect me to-“

Thanos cut you off, attaching his lips to yours. This wasn’t the first time you two have kissed, sometimes when you would drink with them, you guys would get really steamy. Not just with Thanos but Nam-gyu too.

You moaned into the kiss, your fingers lazily running through his hair. He rolled himself on top of you, making you instantly feel his hard on pressed against your leg. You felt yourself clench at the thought of him inside of you.

You felt the bed dip next to you and looked over while Thanos kissed along your neck. It was Nam-gyu, he was feeling himself over his sweats as he watched you and Thanos play with each other.

When Thanos pulled away to remove his clothing, you crawled over to Nam-gyu. He leaned back onto his elbows as you made your way on top of him. You could hear his breathing pick up, as your face inched closer to his. You attached your lips to his and he moaned into the kiss as he tried pulling you more into him.

That’s the thing you loved about getting intimate with Nam-gyu, he was so needy.

One of his legs was trapped between your thighs and Nam-gyu bucked his hips up & down, humping your leg. He broke away from the kiss, releasing such loud sensual whines of desperation.

You began kissing his neck and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hands clutching your hips to pull you even closer to him.

“Y/n.” You heard a deep voice call next to you.

You looked over to an exposed Thanos laying on the bed stroking himself, “Suck me off.” He commanded.

And this is what you loved about being intimate with Thanos, he was very dominating.

You licked your lips, nodding your head and crawling over between his legs. You grabbed the base of his cock and saw as his eyes glaze over with lust watching you. You licked a strip from where your hand was to his tip and felt him shiver beneath you before taking him into your mouth.

His hand tangled in your hair as you started to bob your head on him. You gagged around him when he shoved you down on his dick more, loving the sounds of you struggling to take him all in.

He released your head and you came up for air, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting you two at the moment. You wiped your mouth and Thanos sat up, swiftly unbuttoning your top.

You gasped at the cold air hitting your exposed skin, your nipples rock hard from it.

Thanos attached his mouth to one while his hand messaged the other. Your hand went to his hair lightly pulling on it. You felt vibrations against your skin as you heard him moan and noticed Nam-gyu, now fully naked as well, behind him. His arm was reached around Thanos’s waist, stroking his dick.

Thanos stopped what he was doing to you and turned around to focus on Nam-gyu. Attaching their lips as he fondled with his balls. Nam-gyu’s nails dragged down Thanos’s chest and he hissed into the kiss.

Thanos then detached his lips to spit in his hand. He reached down stroking Nam-guy’s leaking cock and watched as his mouth hung open, releasing such pretty moans for him as he looked at him through half lided eyes.

“God such a needy fucking slut for me, huh ?”

He whined, nodding his head as his hands hung onto his shoulders for support as he came undone; his cum spilling onto Thanos’s cock and lower abdomen.

Thanos grabbed him by the neck, his face only a few centimeters from his. “You better clean this shit up.”

“Y-yes sir.” Nam-gyu squeaked out.

Thanos released him, throwing him against the mattress. You watched as Thanos layed down and Nam-gyu quickly got up and crawled on all fours licking the cum from around his stomach.

You bit your lip at the sight, Nam-gyu was usually a shit talker who acted like he was a tough domineer but when it came to sex he was the complete opposite. Such a submissive, needy partner.

Nam-gyu was about to lick the cum off of Thanos’s dick but he stopped him. “Y/n-“ He used two fingers to motion you over and you listened crawling over to replace Nam-guy’s position next to him.

“Yes ?” You asked.

He rested his hands behind his head, “I want you to ride me.” You broke eye contact to look over at his cock that was decorated in Nam-gyu’s cum.

“Now.” He growled.

You swallowed, removing your shorts/underwear and positioning yourself on top of him. You grabbed his dick to line up with your entrance and felt the sticky substance coat your fingers. Nam-gyu’s cum mixed with your arousel made it very easy for you to sink yourself down onto him.

“That’s a good girl.” He moaned, placing his hands on your hips helping you bounce on his cock.

Your pace quickened when he slapped your ass with one of his hands and you moaned out his name. You felt him twitch inside of you and knew he was close. He pulled you into his chest and swiftly rolled you over so he was now ontop of you.

You didn’t have time to think as he thrusted himself into you, deeper and quicker this time. Your mouth hung open, moans falling out of it one after the other.

“Gonna cum.” Thanos grunted.

“P-please.” You begged, feeling yourself too close to the edge as well.

“Please what kitten ?” Asked, “You want me to cum in this tight pussy of yours, hmm ?”

You clenched around him in response and he groaned. “I need to hear you say kitten.”

Your nails marked up his back as you tried to form words, “P-p-please c-cum in me…”

He caressed his thumb on your cheek, “Such a good girl for me.” He said with a smile, “How could I say no ?”

His hand then went to your throat as he did three last hard thrust into you before spilling his warm cum into you. You came at the feeling of his cum filling you like a pastry and spilling out of you when he pulled out.

You never worried about either one them getting you pregnant because of all the drugs they took. Thanos layed beside you, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist with his head in the nap of your neck. It only took a few seconds for him to start snoring softly into your ear and you giggled a bit.

Nam-gyu who was fast asleep after Thanos had jerked him off; unconsciously rolled over pressing his chest against his back and you smiled at how cute they looked while sleeping. It didn’t take long for you to follow suit.

————

In the morning, it was your day off so you didn’t care too much that you slept in. The clock read 12:34 PM and you groaned as you stretched your limbs. You felt your ass damp and looked beneath the sheets suddenly remembering the events that took place last night.

You looked over and noticed the boys were no longer in your bed. You yawned, walking over to your bathroom and took a shower. Once done you threw on your clothes for the day and walked out your room into the kitchen. It smelled of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns making your mouth water.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up.” Nam-gyu snarked and you stuck out your tongue at him taking the chair across from him at the table.

Thanos scrapped the eggs out of the pan onto Nam-gyu’s plate that was full of food already. He pointed his spatula at you, “How many eggs you want ?”

“Two.” You said holding up two fingers as well.

Nam-gyu took a bite of his food and then stood up, “Mmm, before I eat I’m going to throw your sheets in the washer real quick.”

You nodded your head, “Thank you.” You called after him.

It wasn’t long before Nam-gyu returned and Thanos had made you and him a plate of food. Thanos sat in the chair next to Nam-gyu and everyone chomped down on their food.

“Do you need money for a plan B ?” Thanos asked, with an eyebrow raised.

You shook your head with a chuckle, “No. I’d be lucky enough if either of your guys’s sperm lasted two days in me.”

Nam-gyu looked at you confused, “What do you mean ?”

“You guys are so hopped up on drugs that your sperm cells aren’t the best. Even if they got me pregnant, I’d most likely have a miscarriage after a couple of weeks and not even know it.”

Nam-gyu’s eyes looked concerned, “Damn… that’s-uh kind of depressing.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It’s not like you’re starting a family anytime soon and when you want to just slow down on the narcotics, yeah ?” He nodded his head going back to eating his food.

Once finished you set your dishes in the washer and thanked Thanos for the delicious food he prepared. You told them that you were going to go get your nails done and to not wait up for you. Thanos stopped you at the door handing you a wad of cash.

“What’s this ?” You asked.

“Money for your nails.”

You tried giving him the money back, “I’ve got it, you don’t have to-“

He shook his head, “I insist.”

“Really Thanos I don’t-“

He smirked, “Let me spoil you.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes at him, “Thank you.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked out the door as he shut and locked it behind you.

[emacrow]

"Danny... you need to go to Frostbite now because something is wrong with your obsession.." by the creator/ema crow pt 1

The hissing began sounding like iron dragging on a chalkboard.

Jazz said, sighing at her half brother who held the 27th child he had in his arms, looking at her like she about to steal his otherworldly possession. She counted how many kids there were in the apartment before finding danny trying to put the kids to sleep.

Go to Gotham collage for space engineering he said, he'll be fine with his Protect/space obsession on being on prescripted medicine from Frostbite because having duel obsessions tend to go haywire in Gotham city and Clockwork warned Danny several times to take them on Time.

Six months in Gotham, and she visited him to see his apartment becoming an enforcement of an apartment full of liminals and children that Danny had rescued and kept in his haunt for 'safety'

Jazz doesn't wanna ask about the girl in the black Bat costume, missing a shoe, half limping/sneaking out the window as she pinches between her eyebrows.

Jazz knew something was up after danny stopped visiting Amity Park two months ago to the point that Tucker and Sam got concerned with the lack of texts responded.

The image of danny looking more like a giant elderitch spider banshee with 6 very long arms, 8 slit eyes spread across his body with a large mid section with sleeping three toddler strapped in over stretched baby sling, a couple kids giggling quietly and peeking their head out of from inside the overgrown long half black molding into silverly mane

At least this is a mild inconvenience than that one and last time watching that holocaust documentary nearly took 3 months and half to control without the constant overprotective, baby and fenton proofing everything in the Amity Park to the point of nearly mauling the undead out of Skulker after a few bad sentences spoken.

"Danny"

More hissing, and silent creeping backwards.

"Danny, you can't keep these children in here, didn't Pandora tell you that over obsessing could lead to imbalance again." Jazz said holding her hands up in a surrender way to show now fenton weapons in her hands.

Jazz had to think because this might take a while with the way Danny was throwing a fit..

How bad was gotham for danny to start kidnapping/rescuing children and babies?

Part 2 link here <-

[pacifierpuppy]

I keep having this fantasy about being slowly gaslit into regression, being lied and tricked and by the time you realize what’s going on it’s already way too late for you to back out.

It starts with you accidentally starting to wet the bed. It’s not every night, it seems like a freak accident at first. But after the 3rd time in a month, your partner takes you to the doctor because she’s worried about you. The doctor examines you, runs some tests, and prescribed you some medication that should be able to help with this issue. On the way home, as you stop into the pharmacy to pick up your prescription, your partner also grabs a pack of overnight protection briefs. Just in case. Just until your new medication starts working. It’s not a shameful thing she’s not mad at you, it’s just the sanitary thing to do considering your condition. So you agree to wear them, you start taking your new pills, but it never stops. It starts getting worse, too slow to notice at first, but after a few months you’re wetting yourself more nights than you aren’t.

The breaking point comes when you have a daytime accident. You’re driving home from work, and your pants suddenly feel warm and wet, the stench of piss filling your nostrils, it’s almost too much to handle. You’re overwhelmed. You finally get home and walk inside, crying from the shame as your partner rushes to your side, trying to see what’s wrong. As soon as she sees you she realizes what happened. She guides you to the shower, re-assuring you as she helps strip you from the soiled clothes, running to grab fresh ones for you as you clean yourself and contemplate what’s going on. You hear her on the phone scheduling another appointment for you as she places the set of clean clothes by the sink for you to change into after your shower. When you’re finally done, you step out and notice a pair of your padded briefs on top of your clothes, no underwear. It makes sense, but it’s still not easy to accept you’re going to need wear these during the day as well. You’re worried. The medicine isn’t helping, you’re not sure why this is happening to you. But your partner is there to re-assure you, to get you the help you need. You two will figure this out together.

You arrive at the doctors 2 weeks later (it was the first appointment they had open) with soaked padding hidden underneath your pants. The daytime accidents had become more and more common in those agonizingly long weeks waiting for this appointment, but you’re here now, your partner is here with you holding your hand, rubbing your thumb with hers to reassure you as you sit together in the waiting room. Finally your name is called, and you have another visit with this specialist your partner found. He’s very sympathetic, he explains that this, while uncommon, is something he’s seen before. He prescribes you another course of treatment to go along with the first. It has a pretty lengthy list of side effects, but he’s confident it will work. He writes you a prescription for the new medication, re-ups your prescription for the first treatment too. It’s a lot to take in, but the finish line is in sight.

Your first week on the new medication is ROUGH. You knew there were side effects, but you weren’t expecting this. You’re incredibly tired. It’s not uncommon for you to take multiple naps throughout the day. This paired with brain fog (another side effect) makes working incredibly difficult. Your performance is slipping because you just can’t really focus on anything anymore. Those, combined with how the medication makes you grind your teeth until your jaw is sore, you just don’t know how you’d get through this without your loving partner by your side. She holds you as you cry at night, comforting you, reminding you that this isn’t your fault. It’s not a moral failing it’s a medical condition. It’s not going to be forever. You just need to wait for the medicine to take its effect, and you’ll be good to go. “It’s like Chemotherapy,” she says. “The side effects suck, but it’s better than the alternative, right?” And of course, you know she’s right. It’s just hard to keep everything in perspective.

She was by your side with solutions to every problem. Concerned by how much you were grinding your teeth, she looked for some solutions online before you wore yours down to nubs. The pacifier had been a hard sell, but she reminded you it was just like your protective briefs. It’s just what we need to do because if your condition. So every night you strapped the pacifier around your head so you couldn’t spit it out in your sleep, and you kept it on hand during the day for if the grinding got to bad. When the fatigue and confusion and lack of focus got so bad you couldn’t work anymore, she helped you get some extended sick leave from work, so you knew you’d have a job to get back when you got better. When new side effects started appearing, like your loss of fine motor control and muscle atrophy, she was more than happy to help. She would help you cut up your meals into more manageable pieces, since you had trouble working your fork and knife. She got you bottles with lids to help with how much you were accidentally dropping heavy glasses. When you started having trouble with the stairs, unable to make it up to your shared bedroom on the second floor, she helped get you set up in the guest bedroom downstairs. It was a childish room, but at least you weren’t risking those stairs multiple times a day anymore. She looked after your every need. She picked up your prescriptions on time every months, made sure you never ran out of your protection, drove you to your now weekly doctors appointments monitoring your progress, the side effects, and your continued deterioration. She took care of you, and you could never thank her enough.

When you got too weak to change out of your wet protection yourself, she helped with that too. She started buying a new brand of protective undergarments, ones that your doctor had highly recommended, with tapes. She set up a nice little table for changes in your room, and your little changes quickly became your favorite part of the day. It’s not that you enjoyed having someone change you out of your wet diapers, (and let’s face it, that’s what they are) but it was just so….. intimate. Her opening up the tapes, wiping you clean, making sure to massage the lotion into every little crevice, applying the scented powder, it was a lot more fun than you cared to admit. She made sure to give you all the attention and care you needed, making sure you didn’t feel embarrassed about this change in circumstances. After all, as she kept reminding you, it’s only temporary. Only until you get better.

As the months turned into years, the changes in your life kept piling up. When doctor switched you to an all liquid diet, your partner made sure to lovingly prepare your meal replacement shakes, even holding the bottle for you on nights when you were too weak to hold it in your own. After finding you face down on the floor one morning, having fallen out of bed and unable to get yourself back up, she replaced that guest room bed, your bed, with one that had raised walls so you weren’t at risk of falling again. When your various medications started impacting your emotions, making you cry at the drop of a hat, or get frustrated at the smallest things, she was always there to comfort you. On Valentine’s Day, after you had expressed how much you missed cuddling her at night, she got you a big stuffed bear sprayed with her favorite perfume so it was like you were holding her in your arms again. She bought you new clothes that snapped at the crotch to make changes easier, she exercised your limbs, made sure to get you out if your bed so you weren’t at risk of getting bed sores, she took care of your every need and want.

You didn’t notice her calling you “Baby” with increasingly more frequency, it had always been one of her favorite pet names. You didn’t notice her beginning to talk to you in more and more childish ways as time went on, fussing over this and that. You didn’t notice the knowing looks her and the doctor exchanged from time to time. Why would you? It’s not like she had anything to hide from you. She clearly loved you. Look at everything she was doing for you. You eventually stopped noticing the years ticking by, your condition never getting better. You forgot that was even an option, after all, you had been settled into this routine for so long now, you barely remembered what life used to be like. You hardly even questioned it when she started occasionally breastfeeding you. At that point you were so starved for that sort of intimacy you were just glad she found a way you two could still have fun like that in your weakened state. (Sex had been a physical impossibility for some time now. You could barely stand, let alone do anything like that)

By the time you did realize, it didn’t even matter. You tried to confront her, but she just laughed. After all, what could you even do about it? Who could you tell? How would you be able to survive without her? It’s not like you could go back to being a normal person after this, she had made sure of that. Even if you got away, would anyone be able to love you like this? Be able to dedicate their life to taking care of you? You were comfortable here. You had your every need taken care of. It was easier to just give in, like you had so many times before.

After all, Mama would never let anything bad happen to her baby.

[visionsofcarnality]

can we get headcanons for gilf!Joel maybe? his slicked back hair in tlou ep3 stirred something in me 🥵🥵🥵

i like the way you think…

Silver Fox ! Joel Miller Headcanons NSFW!!

Traditional old man in every sense of the word, he doesn’t make cheesy comments when you grab a door handle but he does give you a scolding little glare that totally doesn’t light a fire in your panties.

Self conscious about his somewhat saggy skin around his chest, middle, and extremities even after you’ve assured him until you’re blue in the face. You do help him though. Watching how attracted you are to his body even aged as it is definitely strokes his ego.

Has an online refillable prescription for Viagra that gets delivered to his apartment, and when he takes it he becomes an absolute fiend.

Usually without the Viagra he still is able to throughly satisfy you with ages of foreplay and a nice thorough fucking, leaving you both satisfied after one climactic round.

But when he takes Viagra-

You better clear your schedule and invest in a massage gun for your legs afterwards because you are going to be SORE.

I’m talking several positions, screaming until your throat hurts, your pussy feeling raw and used, daylong marathon sex.

Joel doesn’t seem to soften even a fraction until your body is wailing in protest and you can’t feel your thighs anymore.

You don’t think he could possibly have any more left in him until he’s once again emptying his heavy, full balls into your cunt; adding to the previous loads from the past six rounds he’s already shot into your body.

When he’s not fucking you stupid with the assistance of his little blue pills, he’s treating you like the princess you’d expect he would.

Don’t even think about carrying your own groceries, what are you, crazy?

Speaking of groceries…

If you aren’t living together yet best believe he’s on your doorstep every Sunday at 11AM with a truck full of groceries, dropping them off after church let’s out and he’s free to go to the store.

He makes you sit and continue sipping your coffee/tea while he puts them away, simultaneously checking the sell-by dates of everything in your fridge and pantry like a man obsessed.

Like a true old fashioned southern boy, he won’t tell you he’s in love with you. But he will point out the amount of things expired in your house.

“Come on, now. You’re gonna get sick, this is ridiculous-“ As if he hasn’t brought you your favorite brand of cereal and all your preferred snacks. Even all those “Shitty, organic, cardboard crap” things you love.

Never had a good plate of grits? He’s making them meticulously for you the morning after a hookup. “Eat, you need it. That stuff’ll keep you goin’ all day.”

Is all too supportive of your flimsy little sundresses. The gauzy fabric floating around your legs like a visualization of your perfume, nearly beckoning him closer. Even when you’re looking like a good little church girl in your soft, flowy dresses… all he can think about is how easy it would be to bend you over and have his way with you.

Which he does the second he brings you home from his cousin’s cookout in the suburbs.

Did I mention that he got a vasectomy after his divorce? Still, seeing you with his now adult daughter makes him daydream about getting you pregnant.

Which he finds insane… He doesn’t want any more kids, he physically can’t have any more kids… But the only thing he can think about right now is burying his cum in your pussy and keeping you pampered in his house with your belly full of his babies.

That vasectomy won’t stop him from trying his damndest, though. Especially after Sarah (who he had young) has her first baby and he watches you hold the six month old infant for the first time.

This man is a GENTLEMAN in the most old fashioned sense of the word.

Like, I cannot stress that enough.

If you’re an independent person, prepare to be thoroughly pampered.

His old fashioned chivalrous ways may be frustrating sometimes but it really does come from a place of just wanting to show his love.

Like when he insists on driving you everywhere whenever you go places together, or when he always finds a way to move you to the side of his body furthest away from the sidewalk when you walk, or when he automatically picks up your purse when you meet so that he can carry it for you.

But you forget all about those minor annoyances when he bends you over your kitchen table and pounds you into next week, muttering nonsense about how you’re too young for him or how you’re such a dirty girl for wanting him and his old man cock.

You moan his name when he grips both your hips in a tight but loving hold, all too willing to forgive him for his incessant door opening when you’re all dumbed down on his cock, the cock which is now way too hard and blood filled because he definitely popped one of your favorite blue pills a while ago.

But much like the gentleman he is, after he fucks you into a blissed-out stupor, he carries you to the bed and wipes your spent pussy clean, cuddling you into the mattress and running his hands through your hair while you both come down from your highs.

When he does get insecure about the age difference between you, all you can do is kiss his leathery, stubbled cheek and wrap your arms around him… Convincing him with your actions instead of words that his age is only a factor in your attraction to him… And that you love him for what makes him him.

this post got way too long but NONNIE I HOPE I DID YOU JUSTICE!!

[12percentspider]

Info time: Diabetes and related issues [this is long but I highly suggest reading]

Do you ever see something and you go "that doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about diabetes to dispute it"? Well, I can help you there. I can help you know enough about diabetes to dispute it if need be. Especially because well, there are seemingly a lot of scams going around where people claim to be diabetic [in my experience it's maybe 3 scammers that just remake] and the information is not very correct in most cases. Not to mention this type of scam pisses me off because I am in fact diabetic, and not only are people preying off of others' lack of information about the chronic condition, but it's also trivializing a serious lifelong condition that can be fatal. If you have now or have lost a loved one to diabetes complications, you are already aware of how dangerous it can be as well as how dangerous misinformation is as well.

What is diabetes? Diabetes is a chronic condition related to the endocrine system- the pancreas specifically. However, if complications get serious enough other parts of the body will be affected. In type 2 diabetes, the body's cells have become resistant to insulin, which is a hormone produced by the pancreas that allows cells to use glucose from the blood- your body's energy it needs to function. When someone is 'type 2', the food that person is eating is not able to fuel them, regardless of caloric content. Glucose is commonly called "blood sugar". It's a type of sugar that is processed and then transported via the circulatory system to your cells where it's needed. With type 1 diabetes (which used to be called "juvenile diabetes"), the pancreas does not produce any/enough insulin for some reason or another, generally because of autoimmune or other damage. [For me personally, I was diagnosed as an adult and had to have it confirmed as type 1 due to the presence of autoimmune antibodies, also apparently my pancreas hadn't quite given up at that point.] As we've seen before, insulin allows your body to use the food you are putting into it. As a double whammy, you can have type 1 with resistance, so not only is your body not producing any/enough insulin, what's there can't be used properly. [RIP Spider who has this] So to explain the effects, think about what happens when you're literally starving. Now imagine that's happening no matter how much you eat. Your body may go into starvation mode and store fat. This can be misleading, which when combined with fatphobia has people concluding that "well, you have diabetes because you're fat, duh". Heck, I have/had diabetic relatives who believed that eating too many carbs will automatically cause the condition because that's what everyone is told/assumes. Eventually, you'd starve and your body would start deteriorating as so. HOWEVER because you would have so much glucose that just sits there because it can't be used, your kidneys are going to work overtime to try and correct this- and they can't do it alone. Your liver can also suffer severe damage. That's not to mention a whole host of other complications that can occur.

So what about it? Well, obviously there are treatments. Insulin injections have existed since the 1920s. There are also medications that can help your body actually use the insulin it's being provided, be it naturally or artificially. So yes, people with diabetes are dependent on prescriptions to survive. My grandma lost a sister in childhood due to insulin treatments apparently not being available in the extremely rural area they were living in at the time. More recently, the israeli occupation has banned insulin from being distributed to Palestinians. [Insulin has also been used historically in psychiatric hospitals to force low blood sugar in psychiatric patients, but that's a whole other rabbithole about psychiatric abuse.] There are resources for the US and beyond if you or someone you know and/or love are in dire straits financially and need help with insulin or other diabetes medications/ related medical help. That's only one aspect of treatment, though. Because pain, stress, hormone changes, other medical issues, and plenty of other factors can raise your blood sugar to dangerous levels, other kinds of treatment to manage other factors may be necessary.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get to specifics. So the most common problem you're going to see mentioned is high blood sugar. We've already covered what the effects are, but what is considered high? For the most part, "high" is 200 milligrams per deciliter. My CGM (continuous glucose monitor) lists "high" as anything 181 or higher but stops giving an exact number after 350. This is why I had a good laugh that time I saw a scammer using an image of a meter reading glucose in the 120s- that's good blood sugar. If you're going to get even more specific you want your pre-breakfast blood sugar to be 80-130. So when you see an accompanying image reading in the 500s, that's extremely dangerous. That's "you're in danger of going into a coma" dangerous.

Insulin pricing? How come I'm seeing people saying they need $300? In the US, pricing cap was set to $35 somewhat recently. What this means is that per insulin pen (as far as I've experienced, the above-linked resource post should have links with better clarification) it's $35. Can't be more than that for one pen. How many doses that provides is very up in the air. It absolutely varies from person to person. I have relatives with type 2 that have to inject a dose of very long-acting insulin weekly, one has gone back and forth with daily doses on top of that. I'm type 1 and have to take one dose of long-acting nightly with injections of a short-acting insulin before every meal, with the exact dosage amounts varying per meal. Insulin is measured in units (there's probably an actual mL amount, both of mine are 100 units per mL with a 3mL pen). How many units someone needs is determined with their medical provider (or care team? When I went to 'diabetes education' after diagnosis I was set up with a "care team").

Edited:

["...pharmacies can refuse to split boxes of insulin pens depending on company/store policy. so if someone lost their insulin and needed to get a replacement because insurance wont pay for more, the pharmacy could make them get a full box of three or five pens."]

via: anon ask (thank you much!!!) So it turns out that yes, with $35 being a cap it would very much likely be for EACH pen, with 3 being $105 in this case and 5 being $175.

But at any rate, if someone is in an emergency situation in the US should be able to get an insulin pen for $35 pretty much when they get to a pharmacy [again, from edit: no, not every pharmacy]. Yes, I get that this can be difficult in some situations, but that's outside the concept of insulin prices.

If someone's blood sugar is over 500 though, they almost certainly need a hospital more than they need an insulin pen. Yes, alright, the actual real single mother on twitter who was the source of the profile images/meter images that whatever the current url for vero-og has stolen and been using for months... that was actually months ago and I'm sure she doesn't need to be told to go to the hospital right now. [That said, if you get an ask from someone and the url is a variation off of 'vero-og' that is a confirmed scammer.] And then on top of that, yes, why would you block people that can get you free or discounted insulin? If someone was offering to save your life for free or find you what you need for far less than what you were expecting to spend, why wouldn't you take it? Unless what you're actually after is money.

SO TO RECAP: Insulin does not cost $300, $350, $370, whatever someone is sending you an ask about. In the US, it is federally capped at $35 per pen, with further resources available, as well as further resources being available internationally. If you need help, please be honest about it. I promise there are people who care, you don't have to try and explain yourself- but it absolutely does not cost that much and if it did, there are ways to lower the cost by quite a bit if there aren't resources to make it free. Diabetes is a lifelong chronic condition that is not caused by "being fat" or "eating too much", it is caused by your body not functioning right and your body can starve no matter how much food you eat. Unfortunately, people have been lying on this site for months if not years claiming to have type 1 with an insulin emergency. These people cannot possibly have diabetes, or they would be well aware that they do not need hundreds of dollars to get their insulin. They are counting on you not knowing this so you will donate to them. The 'vero-og' scammer had been harassing someone who donated and threatening them with the intention of bullying more money out of the donor.

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 1

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts You move next door to a disabled veteran and his troubled partner.

Warnings and details: disabled!Johnny; established Ghoap future Ghoap/reader; domestic abuse (not Ghoap); heavy themes of suicide, violence, abuse, poor coping mechanisms, prescription drugs. I’m not sure if I have anything here, let me know if anyone is interested in this series.

#

A helicopter goes down in the mountains of Kazakhstan and it takes a piece of Soap with it. They never recovered the arm—nor the three service members who lost more than their arms in the crash. The thought is one that Johnny’s mind cycles back to often, in moments of quiet or while he lies awake at night feeling tremors in an arm that’s no longer attached. Suddenly he’ll wonder: what are those bones up to, buried in snow and ice so deep the sun will never touch them again? Do they miss me?

Fuck, he misses them.

#

After the accident, the world is very black and white. Mostly it’s black. Blackness at the edge of his vision threatens to creep in when he stands too long, when he stands on his own, when he turns his head too fast. Anytime his blood pressure rises over that Goldilocks number of 120/80, it threatens to drop him faster than Simon used to during their first weeks of training together in the 141.

The doctors say that he’s a miracle. The traumatic brain injury had his brain swelling and pushing at the confines of his skull like water freezing in a bottle. Give him a little longer in the cold and maybe his cap would blow off. Except it hadn’t; he was still dealing with swelling all over: in his thalamus, his hypothalamus, in his cerebrum, all the words he’d never bothered to learn in school and couldn’t fucking remember now no matter how hard he tries. He gets the point. Simon does too. Johnny should be dead.

Instead he just wishes he were.

Even now, when he can remember his name and Simon’s and even (more often than not) the name of the waitress who serves them chicken and waffles at the local diner every Saturday, there are still more bad days than good. Still more darkness than light. Still more nights waking up to the sound of helicopter blades slowing, the relentless hum becoming a deafening chop chop chop like the thrum of his heartbeat. There’s that moment of weightlessness when the helicopter goes down and he has yet to go with it that makes him wake in a cold sweat, nauseous and looking for something to be sick in.

Through it all, Simon is there. Simon is the light. He’d laugh if he heard Johnny say that—though a laugh is probably too generous. Simon doesn’t laugh much these days. Not when he spends three fourths of his time taking care of Johnny and the other fourth thinking about how better to take care of Johnny. If it weren’t for Simon, Johnny would have done himself in by now. There’s a thousand ways to do it; plenty of arms and munitions in the apartment they share together. Or there are the pain pills, if he wanted it to look like an accident. A few too many of those and he could crawl right through that darkness in his vision and find out what’s on the other side. As soon as the thought crosses his mind (and it crosses his mind more often than that fucking chicken crosses the road), the guilt comes, like anyone and everyone can read it on his mind: his mama rest her soul, Simon, Jesus on the cross. After all of the work that has gone into him, into saving his broken body and mind, into rehabilitating him, how can he even think of throwing in the towel?

Turns out it’s pretty fucking easy to think about it.

As a matter of fact, he’s thinking about it the first time he meets you, when you nearly do the job for him.

It’s spring, cool, and he’s working up a goddamn sweat anyway. Simon stands in the alleyway, smoking and pretending not to watch as Johnny hobbles up and down the length of the parking lot with his forearm crutch. His armpit throbs. His knee throbs. His head throbs as he continues along, beating out a strange little rhythm on the concrete—thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump. He says all the curse words he knows and dreams up a few new ones too. It’s supposed to be getting easier, but Simon just pushes him harder to make up for the ground he covers. That’s one of the shitty parts about loving an ex-military man; he never goes easy on you.

Johnny’s thinking about the tub upstairs, just big enough for him if he curls in on himself. Sometimes a hot bath helps the knots in his muscles, but sometimes when Simon leaves the room to get a washcloth Johnny will slip beneath the surface of the water and see how long he can hold his—

Then you come out of absolutely nowhere in your shitty little four-door and nearly hit him. As a matter of fact, you do hit his crutch, sending it sprawling out of his hand and sending him clattering to the ground on his bad side. For a moment, he thinks: this is it. This is how I die. Not in a helicopter in Kazahkstan but here, now, today, and he can’t tell if it’s relief in his belly or regret. Then your tires squeal like pigs on the pavement, the smell of burnt rubber thick in the air, and he is face to face with you and your horror, close enough that the air from your hasty turn brushes along his body and sends his heart pounding.

“What the steaming bloody fucking Jesus do you think you’re doing?” he finds himself shouting, pain lancing all along his side from his fake knee to the stump of his arm. Simon is there all at once, cigarette abandoned to smolder to ash in the alleyway, putting his hands under Johnny’s armpits and lifting him like a child even when he yelps in pain like a kicked dog. Johnny leans against him heavily. The edges of his vision are turning black. He bangs his fist against the hood of your car. “Did Jesus send ye? Did He tell ye to finish the fucking job and do me in? ‘That’s the cunt right there, beam him with your car’? Did he tell you that?”

You reluctantly get out of the car, not even wearing a goddamn seatbelt. The car’s soft, insistent alarm begins to remind you with unending politeness that the door is open and your seatbelt is off while you stand there, pallid, eyes huge and watering in the face of Johnny’s shouts.

He sees then that one of your eyes is swollen almost completely shut, blood turning the white sclera pink like the fine mist of blood over the snow when they finally pulled Johnny free from the helicopter. No wonder you didn’t see him coming, with a single functioning eye. He’s opened his mouth to tell you so (and to tell you a dozen other fucking things) when he nearly swoons, the rug of the world being tugged under his feet by the hand of God.

Simon slips a firmer arm around Johnny’s waist.

A man gets out of the passenger side. He begins to berate you for not paying attention, for nearly killing Johnny. Johnny agrees, but is annoyed all the same. He’s the one who almost died; leave the shouting to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke out, tears dripping near-constant from your eyes. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. Let me get your—”

“Done enough, haven’t you?” Simon asks cooly. It sends you reeling back into the car where you sit with both hands over your mouth, chest hitching with your panicked sobs.

“Hey, is he, like, okay?” your partner asks.

“Fuck off,” Simon says, deftly ushering Johnny over one shoulder and holding the crutch in the other. He carries them back to the elevators without breaking a sweat, and Johnny cries on his shoulder from the pain of it, the sheer embarrassment of it the whole way home. The day before Kazahkstan he couldn’t have been able to tell you the last time he cried; now he cries every fucking day from one reason or another.

“I’m fine,” Johnny says when they make it back to the apartment and Simon eases him down into a chair. They arrange his knee in the one position that has it throbbing less, but then Johnny bats Simon’s hands away. “Go. I’m fine. I don’t need you hoverin’ over me.”

“Alright.”

“Fuck off with yer alright.”

Simon doesn’t say anything. Johnny hears his footsteps leading toward the bedroom they share—hardly a bedroom, how long has it been since they slept there together peacefully? Since they fucked? Johnny can tell you how long it’s been. Since before things went black and white. The footsteps stop then.

“You stepped in front of her, Johnny,” Simon says, his voice low but not quiet enough to count as a whisper. “I watched you do it. Don’t think you’re so fucking slick.”

He shuts the bedroom door behind him.

[bitter-me]

A funny request that I have in mind

Male Xianyun(genshin impact) reader telling embarrassing stories of the High-Cloud Quintet to Stella/Caelus, March 7th, Dan Heng and Yanqing

High-Cloud Quintet Troubles

M. Reader as Xianyun [Genshin Impact] (Platonic)

----------

I don't know if they could even be called embarrassing. But they're definitely random.

----------

The days in the Loufu were quiet. Everything seems to be peaceful once the whole crisis was resolved. That is.. until Dan Heng meet an "old friend"...

"Baiheng managed to scare Jing Yuan enough with her stories to the point he would bolted right out of bed out of fright. He wasn't able to sleep for days!" He says casually, sipping his tea. March and Caelus burst out laughing as the image of a frighten General comes to mind, the "all mighty" General, shaking like a leaf over some scary story from a Foxian. Their laughter is quite nice on the ear. It's been centuries since [Name] could enjoy moments like this. Oh and the look on the youngsters face is just wonderful. "Um.. [Name].. you don't really have to.." "Oh please, I insist."

Dan Heng shifted his gaze awkwardly amongst the group. Don't get him wrong, a reunion is always nice. But he didn't think it would be like this. Surely the elder would run out of stories, right..?

Oh how wrong he was..

"One time Baiheng was so dizzy from a flight test she fell out of the starskiff the moment it landed!"

"Wait, really?" March asked curiously. The famed starskiff piolet herself, can actually be somewhat clumsy? She thought the Foxian was perfect in all sorts of ways!

"Oh, I almost forgot! Jingliu had once become a walking cooler for everyone, her abnormally cold temperature actually has its use during intense heat."

"She what?!" Yanqing exclaimed. The Grand Swordmaster? Really? Caelus snickers at the mental image, everyone laying on each limp of the cold swordmaster's body just to cool off. What a sight that must be!

"And that one time where Yingxing was sick, Dan Feng nearly overdosed him with medicine. The prescription for short-lived species are different after all, but that somehow flew over his head."

Dan Heng remain silent at the elder's words, averting his eyes as he took a sip of his tea. It seems the High Elder isn't as "precise" as everyone says.

"Speaking of Yingxing, during his process in making weapons, he would craft some questionable items out. It's hard to describe but it's no doubt bizarre. The best way I can describe it is of a child who just discover pottery."

"They're that bad?"

"Bad? They were horrendous!!"

Caelus lets out a laugh at the other mental image, he could imagine what types of "weapons" Yingxing was creating and dubbed it as a prototype. Well at that point, might as well trust the process had become a mantra.

As much as people praise and hold the High Cloud Quintent in such high regards. They doesn't seem all that perfect when [Name]'s the one telling the story. The mighty group sounded more like friends messing around, having fun, and.. creating memories.

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

How to expand your vocabulary (in an enjoyable way).

Self-Awareness

If you find yourself struggling to find the appropriate words to express yourself ,then you need to learn more words. If you are reading this article or you find the title interesting, then you are closer than you thought. You are simply self aware. Self awareness is the first step to muster the courage to pursue the art of language and communication. It dawned on me that I was verbally malnourished when I could barely find the words to describe the character I read in a novel. "So what was he like?" My curious friends will ask and all I could say was "he had a troubled childhood and it was evident in his lack of self-control." The sound of that description even troubled me. I knew there was more to his character, but I restricted by my literary scarcity. I still struggle with this but I am making daily efforts to improve. This article will be prescriptive and descriptive.

Execution

Read books, I mean read actively. I read books and I atke pride in it but I am a severely passive reader. I barely engage with the story, the character, or the author's attempt to challenge my prejudice or affinity for the character. My reading goal was to read as many books as possible, quantity over quality. By quality, I mean quality of my reading, not the books per se. Now, I read differently (and I only started this a month ago), I read prudently, making stops anytime I encounter an unfamiliar word. I include that in my vocabulary list on my Notes app. after about 10 words or so. I immediately find each words synonyms, two per word; one easy, one difficult. For example, Decrepit (derelict, neglected).

Use Chat GPT to create sentences for you in different context and practice with that.

3. Find ways to include your new learned words in your own way. If you work a 9-5, it may be helpful to customize your prompt to business/professional context, to be more applicable to you. But most importantly, create your own sentence structure. If you have a meeting, prep for it by using the words your learned, take notes as a guide to help you effectively convey your ideas. I learned "impetuously" recently and during a meeting with my manager she asked me to access myself based on my strength and weaknesses. I responded with "I tend to impetuously accept projects without understanding the deliverables and I end up being overwhelmed with the expectations." My point it make sure you use the context of your everyday life. If you are a humanities major, you might approach this differently.

4. Make it enjoyable. Think of each new word as a specific dollar amount. Then create a "verbal bank," the more words your learn the richer you become. Ecah word for me is valued at $50. I earn $25 extra if I can use it effectively in a conversation. It you learn 10 new words a week, you have made yourself $500. Deposit that into your verbal bank!

5. Record yourself saying this words. Try to actively recall them but through a conversation. Do 1-minute tests. Record yourself describing your day, giving a presentation etc Notice with words flow naturally, if you like go back to your vocabulary list and test yourself. by creating sentences.

6. Expand your reading. Well, I did say to read books and I would suggest to go beyond. Read articles (very well written ones) and when not reading, actively listen to podcasts and pay attention to how the host convey their ideas. You would notice that good writing or speech is not necessarily peppered with difficult words. Good writers is simple to understand because the authors make diffiuclt topics or esoteric topics digestible.

Emulatate & Practise

You simply just have to emulate. Copy the style & syntax of people you admire or respect for their speech or writing. Keep practising. It is a choice to improve or not. Don't hold yourself back. I am practising by writing as well and I have barely scratched the surface and I am sure you can tell by my writing. It is not sophisticated but I do hope to improve and you can to.

Excite yourself

You will come to find yourself smiling when you read a text with words no longer foreign to you. Words that were once distant and strange will eventually become a part of you. That is the best feeling ever, it's exciting.