#how to know your period's here without knowing your period's here

[soupy-the-only-one]

This post already tackle many thing, but i would also like to add that many people do not know there are actually different types of Omegaverse, and they developed thanks (for fault) of how different is the health insurance situation or the societal situation is by country to country.

If you have red omegaverse, you probably have seen three main branches, that we will name by the country developed them: USAmerican Omegaverse, Japanese Omegaverse, Chinese Omegaverse. Every country tend to have their differences, but these three, by merit of being the countries with more population or more tumblr famous media coming out of them, are the ones you will probably encounter in your fandom life.

USAmerican is the one everyone born before the 2000s started with. Alpha and Omegas must get together, and every other secondary gender couple may be seen as wrong. Heath can make you lose your mind. An Omega to be safe must be mated. Suppressants may often be illegal, or very expensive, and omegas will be ready to go in lenghty journeys just to get them. The parallels with private health insurance in the USA and the woman figure in that country are pretty evident. The country you live in have decided the medicine you need to regulate your cycle is now illegal because it may ruin your fertility. Is it true? Is it not? Depend by writer, but the everyday omega generally would care fuckoff about it and just want their pill. Is abortion possible? Well, the pup in the alpha propriety, so of course not. The normal (women having to suffer from very painful periods the doctor tell is absolutely normal, women having to merry to have some rights (like opening a bank account), women having to merry young if they want to actually have a life) got exagerated till they can no more think without their meds. And of course, for kink reason, for vengeance reason, for wanting to be outside the narrative reason, now there is a man instead of a woman in the story. Get your pariod pain you bastard.

In the past it was often time dystopian. Omegas were put in institution and sold to a rich alpha. Omegas got castrated. In the last years stories tended to become more slice of life, and heath more menagable. Still now, omegas have not their supressants covered by health insurance. It must be told that the change was more internal in the fandom, deciding the extreme kink of the first years was now too much and objectifind gay man. That must be told is an idea does not consider why they were written like that, but it would be a whole another post.

Japanese Omegaverse, instead, tend to have a complete different basis: No more Alpha/Omega like for the USA, the only good cristian WASP couple. In this country the anglicanism did not embed society like in the USA, and the system function more as a caste: Alphas stay with Alphas, Omegas with Omegas. Going outside of the status quo may shut you out, and it is not unheard of couples faking their secondary gender to stay in a relationship.

It is intersting in here how the health care mix with how the society is seen. While in the USA the anglicanism make the go get couple the most heteronormative possible to think of, but does leave space for societal movement, in japan the family and the group may be more important. Of course, it does not change the ending couple. Romance is the same in all the world. But in a world where suppressants are more easily available and everyone can hide their secondary gender (being a normal neutral office worker instead of the boasting american alpha use his secondary gender to escalate the company hierarchy), the secondary gender become something to be embarassed of whatever you are, to be hidden, and to be best shown only to other people are the same to you.

Of course we cannot forget how also japanese omegaverse had the warewolf trope, you probably saw sold in your comic book shop. And while this is their fully kink, with alpha warewolf getting their beautiful omega, we must remember how these also function: Omegas are not sold as wives. Omegas do not get the bite mark. While in the USAmerican omegaverse the bite mark is a necessity, because it make you an actual couple, in japanese warewolf omegaverse the wife, or more often the woman hired to give heirs to the house, will have a collar. It is unsightful to have a mark. It is not even necessary to calm down an omega, since they can get medicines, or to have a relationship, contracts are in there for that.

Chinese Omegaverse have a main difference by the other two, and it is its connection with the Xianxia genre. While both USAmerican and japanese are connected to the warewolf genre, in chinese it is all based on cultivation. I must preface by the fact also in China of course they have what we would call classical Omegaverse, near the USAmerican or the japanese slice of life type, but they have also this genre unheard of, by virtue of the genre it is based of being a classic Chinese genre, in all the other countries. This is by far the one i red less about, so please come and tell more in case you have more historical knowledge about it.

First of all, for everyone does not know, xianxia is a media genre based on the taoist concept a man can "cultivate" their qi (a type of life force existing in everything) to obtain immortality and particular powers. The Mo Dao Zu Shi novel, from whom The Untamed live action serie was adapted, is probably the most well know exemple.

Cultivation as a concept, existing since ages of old, already gave multiple notions could be used for fics, like the use of caulderons, people of lower cultivation from which someone can steal the qi to get more power, and the numerous theories about semen retention to keep your qi inside. If some hollywood star or musicians in the late 90's first 2000's talked about Tantric sex, it is the same source, with less knowledge about the real actual phylosophy than the worse teenager omegaverse fanfictioner.

The names of the secondary gender are changed:

Omega: 坤泽 Kunze Beta: 中庸 Zhongyong Alpha: 乾元 Ganyuan

In Cultivation there is the notion you can cultivate with someone else, your cultivation partner, to better cultivate each other energy by transferring it to one another. With Omegaverse, with the existence of heath and ruth, a cultivation partner become not only someone you could have to better cultivate, but a necessity to dissipate there problems and make them energy. Becoming this now a purely cultivation method, the romantic or sexual theme can disappear. Often a kunze and a ganyan will become cultivation partner, even arriving at a mating, but this will never be a marriage. In some versions even, if you fall in love with yout partner and want to marry, you will have to break the mating. This type of omegaverse give more fluidity, changing the fundamental of the USAmerican omegaverse, the bite you can never take back, and mix with the social, phylosophical and fantasy elements typical of the genre. It is now more rare to have a type of relationship frowned upon by the secondary gender element, but by how it is used. This also open new ways to change secondary gender. Being it connected to your qi, a corruption of your energy by external or internal forces can now change your secondary gender. Being used as a caulderon, deciding to use an unhortodox cultivation way, or living in a very bad energy polluted place, can all change your gender. The mating can be broken. And the clan is always extremely important.

As you can see, while all three clearly omegaverse, the themathic talked about can differ very much, and everyone can interact with them in multiple ways go beyond the knot fucking. And even the knot fucking change feeling depending on why it is happening. Are you an omega because you are tired of your sexual feelings and you want a way to act on them, without it being your choice and your fault, so making you innocent? Or are you considering fucking a know just a biological thing you have to do for your health, but consider it the same as eating a protein bar on an hike, and the real relationship is outside of it? How are you two connected? Are childrens possible or not and how does that influence your body?

Even if not liking the kink or the genre, it is not possible to deny the way it is often used to explore real situations the writers live in.

Do you think in the omegaverse there’s a new, awful layer to “the talk” that teens get

[carmenifold]

help two disabled trans women eat and pay rent! (again...!)

hey it's your favorite local broke girl again!! happy new year, and here's to another year of begging on the internet so you don't starve!!! (just kidding i am so fucking tired and i want that to stop! lol) in all seriousness i don't know how we would've made it through the past two years without your help. it's... very difficult to figure out how to move on when people you thought you could trust in a very vulnerable period of your life just kinda.. put the person you love most in mortal danger and ruin your life. we survived but...

fuck it this isnt a journal post sorry. probably the lack of meds making me just say shit. anyway i have what is hopefully (send me luck please) a really good shot at getting an actual job soon and then i could hopefully just!! stop doing this!! and get back to doing art and the things i love and working through my heaping commission backlog (ty so much for your patience im so sorry)

but for now, we still have zero income. please, i know i've asked every month for the past year and then some, but this is the only way we can keep what little hold we have on things for now. if you can, please consider donating to help us make rent (around $600) and get groceries. if you can't, please consider spreading this post anyway. that's the thing that gets us help.

PP / VM / CA

i feel like i ran out of ways to thank everyone who's helped out so far, but i'll just say it again because i still feel so so lucky and grateful to have support through this mess: Thank you. <3

[echo-riot]

An: I saw someone else do a Jock! vi x reader and…I wanted to try a go at it too^^

Original idea: @loaksky (THEY ARE SOO GOOD AT WRITING YOU HAVE TO CHECK IT OUT, my writing isn’t half as good as theirs is-)

Title: Chemistry Off the Ice

Synopsis: High school chemistry takes on a whole new meaning when you’re paired with Vi, the school’s cocky hockey star, for a lab assignment. Known for her bad-girl reputation and irresistible charm, Vi makes it her mission to break down your walls. Despite her relentless flirting, you’re determined to keep things strictly academic—until a drunken night at a party and unexpected late-night confessions begin to blur the line

Featuring sassy banter, undeniable chemistry, and dramatic promposals, Chemistry Off the Ice is a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers romance with plenty of fluff and heart.

Warnings:

• Swearing and mature language

• Brief mentions of underage drinking

• Themes of self-doubt and emotional vulnerability

• sexual content

• Over-the-top high school shenanigans

||———————————————————————||

The fourth-hour bell rings, signaling the start of chemistry, and you drag yourself into class with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to a dentist appointment. Mr. Tails is already at the front of the room, fiddling with his projector and trying to shush a few kids laughing in the back row. You glance at the empty seat beside yours, silently praying it stays that way for the rest of the period.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor breaks your illusion of solitude. You look up to see her. Vi strides in with the kind of swagger that makes her the star of every room she enters. Her magenta hair catches the fluorescent light as she tosses her bag on the counter and slouches into the seat beside you. She’s all sharp angles and cocky smirks, her light gray eyes scanning the room like she owns it.

“Alright, class,” Mr. Tails announces, clapping his hands. “We’re partnering up today for the molar mass and reaction rates lab. Take a good look at the person next to you—they’re your partner for the week.”

Your stomach sinks.

Vi leans back in her chair, folding her muscular arms behind her head. “Looks like we’re stuck together, huh?”

You force a tight smile, already regretting every decision that led you to this moment.

The lab instructions are written on the whiteboard in Mr. Tails’ barely legible scrawl, and you jot them down in your notebook while Vi lazily flips through the chemistry textbook.

“Alright, so first we’re figuring out the molar mass of this compound,” you mumble, tapping your pencil against the page. “I’ll handle the math if you grab the materials.”

Vi raises an eyebrow, her grin teasing. “What, don’t trust me with the calculations?”

“I trust you as far as I can throw you,” you shoot back without thinking, and Vi laughs—a low, rich sound that catches you off guard.

“Fair enough.” She pushes herself up from her seat, heading to the supply station.

You watch her for a second longer than you mean to. The way she moves is all confidence, like she knows exactly how to hold the world’s attention. You snap out of it when she returns, setting a tray of beakers and compounds on the counter with a loud clatter.

“Happy now?” she asks, leaning on the counter and smirking at you.

“Ecstatic,” you mutter, focusing on the measurements.

As the lab progresses, you realize something unsettling: Vi is smarter than you expected. Much smarter.

When she’s not leaning in close and murmuring flirty comments, she’s solving calculations in her head faster than you can write them down.

“You multiply the molarity here,” she says, pointing to your notebook, her finger grazing yours. “Then divide by the volume of the solution.”

You blink at her. “How do you even know that?”

Vi grins, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

You hate that she’s right.

Her sharp intelligence only makes her insufferable flirting more irritating. Every few minutes, she tosses out some line designed to make you stumble.

“Careful,” she says, her voice low as you measure out a solution. “You spill that, and we might have to do mouth-to-mouth.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re not as charming as you think, you know.”

“Really? Tell that to half the girls in this school.”

There it is—the infamous player reputation. You’ve heard the stories: Vi breaking hearts left and right, leaving a trail of lovesick admirers in her wake. It’s almost impressive how shameless she is about it.

“Look,” you say, setting down the pipette with more force than necessary. “Can we just focus on the lab? Some of us actually care about passing this class.”

Vi raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. No need to get all worked up, princess.”

By the end of the class, you’re more annoyed than anything else.

Sure, Vi’s chemistry skills are undeniable, but her constant smirking and relentless teasing have you itching to escape. When the bell finally rings, you start packing up as fast as possible.

“Hey,” Vi says, stopping you with a hand on your notebook. “Same time tomorrow?”

You glance at her, noting the way her light gray eyes seem to catch the light, the playful edge to her grin.

“Unfortunately,” you mutter, pulling your notebook free.

Vi chuckles, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Looking forward to it, partner.”

As she walks out of the room, you shake your head, trying to figure out how someone so infuriating could also be so good at chemistry.

You’re not looking forward to tomorrow. Not even a little.

~~~

The next day in chemistry, you walk into the classroom with a sense of foreboding. As much as you’d like to think otherwise, the prospect of spending another hour with Vi feels less like an academic exercise and more like a test of patience. You take your seat, flipping through your notebook, and brace yourself.

Right on cue, Vi saunters in, late as usual, her bag slung lazily over one shoulder. Her light gray eyes scan the room before locking onto you, and that trademark smirk spreads across her face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite lab partner,” she drawls, dropping into the seat next to you with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Miss me?”

“Like a toothache,” you reply without looking up.

Vi chuckles, leaning on the counter and invading your personal space just enough to be noticeable. “You’re funny, you know that? It’s cute.”

“Funny isn’t what you’re going for, though, is it?” you retort, finally glancing at her. She’s wearing that same cocky grin, the one that probably works on every other girl in school.

“Depends,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “Is it working?”

You roll your eyes and turn back to your notes. “Not even close.”

As Mr. Tails starts explaining the second half of the lab, Vi leans closer, her breath warm against your ear.

“So, what’s it going to take?” she murmurs, her tone dripping with confidence.

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “What’s what going to take?”

Vi shrugs, her grin widening. “To get you to like me.”

You snort, louder than you mean to, earning a sharp glance from Mr. Tails. “I don’t think you can handle rejection, can you?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, feigning offense. “Rejection? From you? Oh, come on. Everyone likes me.”

“Not me,” you say firmly, meeting her gaze head-on.

For a split second, Vi looks genuinely surprised, like the concept of someone resisting her charm is completely foreign. Then her surprise shifts into intrigue.

“Alright,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “Challenge accepted.”

You groan, already regretting engaging with her.

The lab itself is straightforward enough, but working with Vi is anything but simple. Every step of the process is punctuated by her relentless teasing and over-the-top attempts to impress you.

“You know,” she says, carefully pouring a solution into a beaker, “I think we make a pretty good team.”

“You mean because I’m doing all the work?” you reply, adding a precise amount of compound to the mix.

“Nah,” Vi says with a grin. “Because I’m making this fun.”

You pause, glancing at her. “This? Fun? For who?”

“For you, obviously.” She winks, and you roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle you don’t strain something.

By the halfway point of the lab, you’re ready to snap. Vi’s relentless flirting is like an itch you can’t scratch, equal parts annoying and distracting.

“Why are you like this?” you ask, exasperated, as you scribble down your results.

“Like what?”

“Like…” You gesture vaguely at her, searching for the right words. “This. All the flirting, the smirking, the—”

Vi grins, cutting you off. “The charm?”

“More like the ego,” you shoot back.

“Ouch.” She places a hand over her chest, feigning hurt. “You wound me, partner.”

You snort. “Somehow, I think you’ll survive.”

Eventually, you can’t take it anymore. You set down your pen, turning to face her directly.

“Look, Vi, I’m just going to save you some time here,” you say, your tone firm. “I don’t sleep with players.”

For the first time, Vi’s confident grin falters. It’s brief, barely noticeable, but you catch it.

“Players?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” you say, crossing your arms. “The whole school knows your reputation. Short flings, casual hookups, leaving girls heartbroken—sound familiar?”

Vi doesn’t deny it. Instead, her grin returns, but there’s a new edge to it. “So, what, you’re saying you’re immune to all this?” She gestures to herself, her voice dripping with mock disbelief.

“Completely,” you reply without hesitation.

Vi leans closer, her gray eyes narrowing in challenge. “We’ll see about that.”

You roll your eyes again, turning back to the lab. “Good luck with that, Casanova.”

Despite her frustration, Vi seems more determined than ever. For the rest of the lab, she tries every trick in her playbook: complimenting your intelligence, cracking jokes, even pretending to mess up the experiment just to get your attention.

Nothing works.

By the time the bell rings, she’s visibly annoyed, though she hides it well.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asks, her tone almost mocking as she packs up her stuff.

“Unfortunately,” you reply, mirroring her words from the day before.

Vi chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

As she walks away, you can’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Vi might be used to getting her way, but you’re not about to make it easy for her.

~~~

On the third day of your forced partnership in chemistry class, Vi’s persistent charm offensive reaches new heights. You walk in, coffee in hand, determined to endure another hour of her relentless teasing without snapping.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Vi greets as soon as you sit down. She’s already there, twirling a pen between her fingers like some kind of suave protagonist from a bad teen drama.

“Morning, headache,” you reply dryly, taking a long sip of your coffee.

Vi smirks, undeterred. “Damn, you’re spicy today. Didn’t get enough sleep? Thinking about me all night?”

You shoot her a deadpan look. “The only thing keeping me up was imagining ways to escape this lab without getting detention.”

Vi laughs, a low, throaty sound that somehow makes your pulse quicken despite your best efforts to stay immune to her. “You’ve got jokes. I like that about you.”

“And I like silence,” you retort, pulling out your notebook. “Think you can manage that for once?”

For the first half of the lab, Vi is surprisingly focused, finishing her portion of the work faster than usual. You suspect she has an ulterior motive when she leans back in her chair and grins at you like she’s just scored the winning goal.

“So,” she begins, stretching out the word like she’s savoring it. “There’s a party at Ekko’s tonight. You’re coming.”

You glance at her, unimpressed. “That wasn’t a question.”

“Exactly,” Vi says, leaning forward. “Because I already know your answer.”

You snort. “Oh, do you? Let me guess—‘Hell no?’”

She shakes her head, that cocky smirk never faltering. “Wrong. It’s ‘Hell yes.’”

You raise an eyebrow. “And why, exactly, would I want to go to some sweaty, overcrowded house party?”

“Because,” Vi says, leaning even closer, “you’ve been working so hard trying to resist me. You deserve a night off.”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Vi, I wouldn’t go to a party with you if my life depended on it.”

“Okay, but what if Ekko’s life depended on it?” she counters, grinning.

“Then I’d send flowers to his funeral,” you reply, turning back to your notes.

Despite your initial refusal, Vi somehow convinces you by the end of class. Maybe it’s the way she flashes you that infuriatingly charming smile, or maybe it’s the realization that you really could use a drink after dealing with her all week. Either way, you find yourself standing outside Ekko’s house later that night, already regretting your life choices.

The party is exactly what you expected: loud music, red Solo cups, and a mix of people you vaguely recognize from school. Vi finds you almost immediately, appearing at your side with two drinks in hand.

“Look who showed up,” she says, handing you one of the cups. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“I’m here for the free alcohol,” you reply, taking a cautious sip. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Vi grins. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart.”

One drink turns into two, then three, and before you know it, you’re blackout drunk. The night becomes a chaotic blur of questionable decisions and ridiculous antics. At one point, you challenge someone to a dance battle despite having zero rhythm. At another, you climb onto the coffee table to deliver an impassioned speech about the superiority of cats over dogs.

Vi, to her credit, stays by your side the entire time, equal parts amused and exasperated.

“You’re a mess,” she says, catching you when you nearly trip over your own feet.

“I’m a delight,” you correct, poking her in the chest. “And you love it.”

Vi chuckles, steadying you with an arm around your waist. “Sure, whatever you say, lightweight.”

By the end of the night, you’re slumped against Vi, mumbling incoherent nonsense about the IRS.

“You can’t take me home,” you slur, wagging a finger in her face. “The IRS will find me. They’re watching.”

Vi stares at you, torn between laughter and concern. “Uh, okay. Noted. So where am I supposed to take you?”

“Nowhere!” you declare dramatically. “I live… nowhere. I’m a ghost.”

“Right,” Vi says, clearly fighting to keep a straight face. “Looks like you’re coming to my place, then.”

You don’t protest, too busy mumbling something about the government tracking your movements.

When you finally reach Vi’s house, she’s surprisingly gentle as she helps you inside. Her cool exterior cracks just a little as she guides you to her room, trying not to panic.

“Alright, sit tight,” she says, rummaging through her dresser. She pulls out an old hockey sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, holding them up like they’re some kind of offering.

“Clothes,” you mumble, staring at her like she’s just solved world hunger.

“Yeah, clothes,” Vi says, crouching in front of you. “Think you can manage to put them on, or do you need help?”

You squint at her, as if weighing your options. “Help,” you decide, flopping back onto her bed.

Vi freezes, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Uh… okay. Cool. No big deal.”

She moves carefully, trying to maintain her usual nonchalant demeanor as she helps you out of your party clothes. Her hands are steady, but you can feel the tension radiating off her as she avoids looking directly at you.

Vi stops short as her eyes catch on the lacy fabric beneath your party clothes. She stares for a second longer than she should before snapping her gaze away, her ears burning as red as her hair.

“Uh…” she clears her throat, fumbling with the sweatshirt in her hands. “Fancy.”

You crack an unsteady smile, still far too drunk to process her awkwardness. “You like ‘em?” you slur, wiggling your eyebrows in an exaggerated manner that sends Vi into a full-blown tailspin.

“Just… just shut up,” she mutters, her voice tight as she tries to focus on anything but the fact that she’s helping you undress while you’re wearing the kind of lingerie she thought only existed in movies.

Her fingers brush against your shoulder as she pulls your dress up and over your head, and she freezes again. You’re too out of it to notice how tense she is, but her jaw is clenched so hard it’s a miracle she doesn’t crack a tooth.

“This is fine,” she mumbles to herself, determined to keep her cool. “Totally fine. No big deal.”

“Big deal,” you echo, your words slurred but teasing. You grin up at her lazily. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing,” Vi snaps, her voice a little too sharp as she yanks the sweatshirt over your head. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hum in response, unconvinced but too sleepy to argue. “Mmm… you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Vi groans, her head tilting back as if begging the universe for strength. “God, you’re impossible.”

“Admit it,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the fabric of her sweatshirt as she adjusts it on you. “You think I’m hot.”

She doesn’t respond right away, which surprises you. When you glance up at her, her expression is guarded, her usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found.

“Just… go to sleep,” she says finally, her voice softer than usual.

You frown, reaching out clumsily to poke her cheek. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Because you’re drunk,” she says, gently pushing your hand back down to your side. “And you’re not gonna remember half of this tomorrow.”

You pout, sinking back into the bed. “Maybe I will. And then I’ll remind you.”

Vi rolls her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitches in a reluctant smile. “Sure, sweetheart. You do that.”

She tucks the blankets around you carefully, her hands lingering just a little longer than necessary. For someone who acts so tough, she’s surprisingly gentle, her movements almost reverent.

“Goodnight,” she says softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face again.

“Goodnight,” you mumble, your eyes already drooping closed. “You’re still blushing.”

Vi doesn’t respond, but the flush on her cheeks deepens as she sits back, watching you fall asleep. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she lets out a quiet sigh.

“Yeah,” she mutters to herself, her voice barely audible. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

As you drift off to sleep, Vi sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a mix of fondness and exasperation. She may act like she’s got it all together, but tonight has definitely thrown her off balance.

“Damn,” she mutters under her breath. “What the hell am I getting myself into?”

~~~

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache, a dull, persistent throb that feels like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to your skull. The second thing you notice is the faint smell of detergent and something sharper—hockey gear?—clinging to the fabric covering you. You blink, squinting at the sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains.

You’re in a room you don’t recognize, dressed in an oversized hoodie that nearly swallows you whole and a pair of equally massive sweatpants. It takes your sluggish brain a few seconds to piece it together, but the faint memory of Vi’s smirking face and her cocky voice filters through the haze.

Oh, no.

The door creaks open, and you flinch, pulling the blankets up to your chin like some kind of shield. Vi strolls in, a cup of water in one hand and a small packet of painkillers in the other, her hair still messy from sleep. She’s wearing a tank top and boxers, her toned arms on full display, and there’s a smug grin plastered across her face.

“Morning, trouble,” she greets, her voice far too loud for your current state.

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “Kill me.”

“Nah, I’m not that cruel,” she teases, setting the water and pills on the nightstand. “Here. You’ll need these.”

You glance at the offering suspiciously before reaching for the pills, your movements slow and deliberate as if the slightest wrong move might shatter you entirely.

“What the hell happened last night?” you mumble, downing the painkillers with a grimace.

Vi leans against the wall, crossing her arms. “Let’s see… You got blackout drunk, tried to fight a lamp, insisted you were in witness protection when I asked for your address, and then passed out in my car. That about sums it up.”

You stare at her, mortified. “I did not try to fight a lamp.”

“Oh, you did,” Vi says with a laugh, pushing off the wall to sit at the edge of the bed. “Called it a ‘government spy.’ Honestly, it was pretty convincing. I almost believed you.”

You groan again, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself in front of everyone.”

Vi grins, leaning a little closer. “Not everyone. Just me. And maybe Ekko. And, uh, half the party.”

“Vi!” you wail, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, her grin widening.

“Relax,” she says, holding up her hands. “It’s not the end of the world. No one’s gonna remember half the shit you did anyway. Well, except maybe me. You’re kinda unforgettable, y’know?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but the way her grin softens into something more genuine makes your stomach do an unwelcome little flip.

Before you can dwell on it, there’s a knock at the door, followed by a deep, gruff voice. “Vi, you up?”

Vi’s expression shifts instantly, her grin fading into something more guarded. “Yeah, Vander, I’m up.”

The door swings open to reveal a large, burly man with a thick beard and a face that looks like it’s seen more than its fair share of fights. His eyes flick to you, still bundled up in Vi’s clothes, and his eyebrows raise.

“Another one?” he asks, his tone teasing but not unkind.

Your face burns, and you sit up straighter, trying to look at least a little dignified despite the hoodie hanging off one shoulder.

“She was drunk,” Vi says quickly, her ears turning pink. “I couldn’t just leave her.”

Vander chuckles, crossing his arms. “You’re a real saint, Vi. Always takin’ in strays.”

You bristle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “I’m not a stray,” you snap, a little sharper than you intended.

Vander raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, but he holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My mistake.” He glances at Vi. “Just keep it down, alright? Powder’s still asleep.”

“Got it,” Vi mutters, waiting until Vander’s gone before turning back to you. “Sorry about that.”

You shake your head, still feeling awkward but grateful for the distraction from your hangover. “It’s fine. I should probably get going anyway.”

Vi frowns, but she doesn’t stop you as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, wobbling slightly. She’s on her feet in an instant, steadying you with a hand on your arm.

“Whoa, take it easy,” she says, her concern breaking through her usual cocky exterior. “You sure you’re okay to leave?”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, pulling away from her touch. “I just… I need to go.”

She doesn’t argue, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—disappointment, maybe?—that makes your chest tighten.

“Alright,” she says softly. “Let me at least drive you home.”

You hesitate, then shake your head. “I’ll call someone. Thanks, though. For, uh, everything.”

Vi watches you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before stepping aside to let you pass. “Anytime, trouble.”

The nickname makes your stomach flip again, but you push the feeling down, focusing instead on making it out of the house without further embarrassment.

As you step outside, the morning air cool against your skin, you can’t help but glance back at the door. You tell yourself it’s just to make sure you didn’t forget anything, but the truth is harder to ignore.

You don’t know what’s more frustrating—the fact that Vi’s cocky grin is still burned into your mind, or the fact that some part of you doesn’t want to forget it.

~~~

The first day back at school after the disaster of crashing at Vi’s place is hell. Not because of the homework or the typical high school bullshit, but because you can feel Vi watching you from across the hallway. Her sharp gray eyes practically burn holes in the back of your head every time you pass her locker, where she always seems to be leaning with that stupid, cocky grin.

You’ve made a decision—a firm, unshakable decision. Whatever happened at her place, it’s not going to happen again. Not the teasing. Not the casual flirting. Not her annoying tendency to worm her way into your thoughts without even trying.

You’re keeping things strictly platonic. Strictly professional.

Unfortunately, chemistry lab doesn’t make that easy.

You’re already seated at the lab bench, flipping through your textbook and pretending not to notice the sound of Vi’s boots as she strolls in late, as always. She drops her bag with a dramatic thud next to your stool and slides into the seat beside you.

“Morning, partner,” she says, her voice low and playful.

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the page.

“What? We are lab partners,” she says innocently, leaning back in her chair. You can hear the smirk in her voice. “I mean, unless you’re asking to switch. You’re not ditching me, are you?”

“No,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Good.” She scoots her stool closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. “’Cause I’d hate to lose the best lab partner in school.”

You glance at her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you actually going to help with the lab this time, or are you just here to steal my notes again?”

Vi grins, leaning in slightly. “Depends. You gonna let me copy off you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on.” She tilts her head, her grin softening into something almost charming. “I’ll make it up to you. Buy you lunch or something.”

You snort, turning back to your book. “I’d rather not get food poisoning, thanks.”

Vi places a hand over her chest, feigning offense. “Ouch. That’s cold.”

The teacher starts explaining the experiment, sparing you from coming up with a response. You focus intently on the instructions, ignoring the way Vi keeps fidgeting beside you—tapping her pencil, spinning her stool, drumming her fingers on the table.

It isn’t until you’re halfway through the lab, measuring out a solution, that Vi finally seems to settle down. Or so you think.

“You missed a drop,” she says, her voice low and close to your ear.

You jump, nearly spilling the beaker, and glare at her. “Jesus, Vi. Do you have to sneak up on me like that?”

She leans back, looking smug. “Just trying to help. Teamwork, remember?”

“I’m doing fine on my own.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She gestures vaguely at the lab setup. “You’re really nailing the whole ‘one-person team’ thing.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to your work, determined not to let her get to you. But it’s hard to ignore her. The way she leans in just a little too close. The way her voice dips when she’s teasing you. The way she smells faintly of sweat and mint gum, a combination that’s annoyingly distracting.

The experiment drags on, and by the time you finish, your nerves are completely shot.

“Alright,” the teacher announces, clapping her hands. “That’s it for today. Don’t forget to clean up your stations.”

You start packing up the equipment, barely acknowledging Vi as she stands and stretches, her hoodie riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

“See you tomorrow, partner,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You don’t respond.

The next few days follow the same pattern. You keep your distance, only speaking to Vi when absolutely necessary. She, on the other hand, seems determined to make things as difficult as possible.

“Need help with that?” she asks one day, her tone laced with fake sincerity as she watches you struggle to balance a tray of lab equipment.

“No, thanks,” you say curtly, not bothering to look at her.

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs, leaning back against the lab bench with a lazy grin.

Another day, she “accidentally” knocks over a bottle of water, splashing your notes in the process.

“Whoops,” she says, not looking the least bit sorry.

You scowl, grabbing a paper towel to mop up the mess. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re fun to mess with,” she says cheerfully, handing you another paper towel.

By Friday, you’re at your wit’s end. You’ve been ignoring her flirty remarks, dodging her attempts to get closer, and shutting down her teasing as quickly as possible. But no matter how much distance you try to put between you, she keeps finding ways to get under your skin.

It all comes to a head during lab when she decides to take over the experiment without asking.

“Vi,” you snap, watching in horror as she dumps half a bottle of reagent into the solution. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says with a grin, giving the beaker a little swirl.

“You’re going to blow us up.”

“Oh, relax. I’ve got it under control.”

You snatch the beaker out of her hands, glaring at her. “Stop messing around. This is serious.”

Her grin fades, and for the first time all week, she looks genuinely frustrated.

“Why are you so damn uptight all the time?” she asks, her tone sharper than usual. “It’s just a stupid lab. Lighten up.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so uptight if you actually took anything in your life seriously for once,” you shoot back.

The room goes quiet, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. Vi stares at you for a moment, her jaw tight, before grabbing her bag and storming out of the room.

~~~

It’s one of those days where everything feels off, like the world’s spinning just a little too fast, and you’re stuck in the middle, trying to catch your breath. You’ve been dodging Vi all week—more than usual—and it’s starting to catch up with you. The tension in chemistry lab, the way you both keep avoiding each other’s gazes, and her frustrated silence every time you shut her down.

So, when the bell rings for lunch, you’re quick to dart out of the classroom, your thoughts a little too loud and messy to focus on anything else. The back alley of the school’s the closest thing to peace you can get, and you sneak around the corner, lighter in hand, a cigarette already dangling from your lips.

It’s not like you’re trying to be reckless; you just need something to calm the nerves, to block out the chaos of the day. The air’s cold, biting at your skin, but you don’t care. You’ve been feeling like you’re on the edge lately, and the smoke? It’s the only thing that makes it feel a little better, even for a second.

You lean against the brick wall, exhaling the smoke slowly and watching it curl into the air. Your thoughts start to drift, but not for long.

You hear the footsteps before you see her. The telltale heavy thud of boots you’ve grown all too familiar with. You freeze, the cigarette halfway to your mouth, but it’s too late. Vi’s already rounding the corner, and you can’t just pretend you didn’t hear her.

“Nice spot,” she says, her voice low and teasing as she crosses her arms, leaning against the opposite wall. “Didn’t think you were the type to sneak away for a smoke break.”

You don’t answer right away, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and stepping on it with more force than necessary. The last thing you need is to get caught, especially when she’s here.

“Can I help you?” you ask, your voice colder than you intended.

Vi just smirks, walking closer. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been wondering when you’d stop being such a pain in the ass.”

You roll your eyes, pushing past her toward the exit, but she’s quick—too quick—and she’s blocking your path before you can make it two steps.

“Not so fast.” Vi grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “We need to talk.”

You stare at her, trying not to let the frustration you’ve been hiding all week show. You know where this is going. She always has a way of pushing when she wants something, and right now, it’s you. But you can’t give her what she wants—not when you’re still trying to figure out why she keeps coming back in the first place.

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” you say, pulling your wrist out of her grip. “You should probably get going before you get caught.”

Vi isn’t backing down, though. She steps forward again, her eyes narrowing, her usual smirk gone. “You’ve been acting like a real dick lately, you know that? You’ve been pulling away from me, avoiding me, like I’ve got some kind of disease or something.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe you should take the hint, then. I’m not some idiot you can just string along for fun.”

She steps even closer, her face now only inches from yours, her voice quiet but intense. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You hesitate for a moment, biting your lip. The words are harder to say than you thought they’d be, but they’re there, pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shake.

“Vi, I’m not like the other girls you mess with,” you finally mutter, avoiding her gaze. “I’m not someone you can just hook up with and forget about. I’m not… I’m not some notch on your belt, okay?”

Vi’s eyes soften for a second, and for the briefest moment, you almost believe she might understand. But then she scoffs, shaking her head.

“Is that what you think?” Her voice is laced with disbelief. “You think I’ve been—what? Playing with you this whole time?”

You shrug, trying to hide the hurt you’re suddenly feeling. “I don’t know, Vi. Maybe that’s just what you do. You get bored, and then you toss the girl aside. I’m not interested in being part of that.”

There’s a long pause, and for a second, you almost think she’s going to walk away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. But instead, she grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Listen to me,” she says, her voice low and serious. “I wouldn’t have spent all this time with you if I didn’t give a shit.”

You stare at her, the words sinking in, but you can’t bring yourself to believe them. You want to. God, you want to. But there’s this nagging fear, this little voice in the back of your mind telling you that you’re just one more in a long list of girls who will end up discarded once she gets bored.

“I don’t need a pity party,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Just… leave me alone, Vi.”

You pull away from her, but Vi grabs your wrist again, this time with more force.

“Stop running,” she says, her tone harsh. “You think I’m just playing with you? You think I’m gonna toss you aside like that? After everything we’ve been through?”

You look at her, your chest tight with emotions you don’t want to deal with. “You’re not gonna change. You’re the same as all the others. You only want one thing, and then you’re done. So, no. I’m not doing this, Vi. Not with you.”

Her grip tightens, but she doesn’t say anything at first. It’s like she’s waiting for you to take it back, to say something that will make her think you’re not serious. But you don’t. You can’t. The fear of being just another girl who gets swept up and tossed away is too strong.

With a final, frustrated sigh, Vi releases your wrist, stepping back. “Fine. If that’s how you want it.”

You turn to leave, but then she calls out, her voice softer this time. “I’m serious about you, y’know. You don’t have to be scared of that.”

You don’t respond. You just keep walking, the weight of her words pressing down on you with every step. You try not to let it get to you, but damn, it does. You’re already second-guessing everything, wondering if maybe you’ve messed up by pushing her away.

But it’s hard to shake the feeling that, no matter what she says, you’re still just another girl who’ll get forgotten when she gets tired of you.

Later that night, you’re lying in bed, the room dark and silent, but your mind’s racing. Vi’s words echo in your head, over and over again: “I’m serious about you.”

You roll over, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to do with the emotions that have suddenly surged through you. You’ve always kept your guard up—kept yourself distant, safe from getting hurt. But now? Now you’re not sure if that’s even possible. You’ve pushed her away, but maybe… maybe you’re wrong about her. Maybe you’ve been looking for excuses to protect yourself instead of just taking the leap.

You can’t stop thinking about her. About what she said.

“Stop running.”

And for the first time in a long while, you’re not sure if running’s the right thing to do anymore.

~~~

You’ve just about had enough of the monotony of chemistry class when Vi slides into the seat next to you. Of course, she’s late—Vi always is. You try not to notice how she somehow manages to look effortlessly badass even in the midst of a boring class. Her magenta hair is a little messier today, a few strands of it falling over her sharp eyes, which glint mischievously. She sits down, slinging her bag onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Yo,” she greets, her usual cocky smile plastered on her face as she casually throws a glance your way. “You ready to mix some shit that’ll probably blow up in our faces?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you grab your lab materials. “You’re something else, Vi. Always ready to burn the school down.”

“Only if I’m bored,” she retorts with a wink. “So, how’s the chemistry of our little ‘thing’ going?”

Your heartbeat stutters a little as you meet her gaze. You know exactly what she’s talking about. Yesterday’s confrontation in the bathroom is still fresh in your mind. The look on her face as she cornered you… that spark of determination mixed with frustration, and the vulnerability that she tried to hide.

You try to shake the memories off as you start setting up your experiment. You can’t let it mess with your focus. Not now. Not here.

“I’ve been thinking,” you finally say, voice low enough to avoid attracting the teacher’s attention. Vi quirks an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as she catches the shift in your tone.

“Oh? What about?” she asks, her voice casual, but there’s a hint of interest beneath the surface.

You take a deep breath. “About what happened yesterday… in the alley. With me pulling away and all that.”

Vi’s eyes soften for a moment, her usual playful mask slipping. “Yeah?” She leans back in her chair, watching you carefully, as if waiting for you to say what’s been on your mind.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” you continue, trying to keep the nerves at bay. “I’m not gonna lie—I’m scared, Vi. Scared of being just another girl you hook up with and toss aside like the rest. I’m not some notch on your bedpost, you know?”

There’s a pause as Vi stares at you, her gaze intense. The playful grin is gone, replaced with something more serious, something you weren’t expecting to see. The room feels a little colder as the silence stretches between you two.

“I get it,” she finally says, her voice a little quieter than usual. “I’ve fucked up, okay? I’m not proud of it. But that’s not what this is, not with you.”

You roll your eyes, half-expecting her to pull one of her cocky, smooth-talking moves. But when she meets your gaze, you see something in her eyes—something real.

“I’m not promising I’m perfect,” she adds, her hands resting on the edge of the table as if she’s about to lean in, to make her point. “But I’ll be damn sure I don’t make you feel like you’re just another hookup.”

You’re not entirely convinced. You take a long, slow breath, processing everything she’s said. Maybe she’s sincere. Maybe she’s not. You don’t know for sure, but you sure as hell aren’t about to let her off the hook so easily.

“Alright,” you say, looking her dead in the eyes. “I’ll give you a shot. But my rule still stands.”

Vi tilts her head, a glimmer of confusion crossing her face. “Rule?”

You nod, leaning in slightly, matching her gaze. “No sleeping with the player until you prove you’re not just some smooth-talking, good-for-a-few-quick-hits girl. You’re gonna have to earn my trust, Vi. And that doesn’t come easy.”

She grins then, wide and mischievous. The old Vi, the one you’re used to, comes flooding back in full force. “Oh, I like a challenge,” she smirks. “I’ll prove you wrong. You’ll be begging me to take you to bed before you know it.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth creeping up your neck. “We’ll see about that. But, no. I’m serious. You need to work for it. You need to show me you’re more than your reputation.”

Vi leans back in her seat, an exaggerated sigh escaping her lips. “Man, I gotta work harder than I thought. Guess I’ll just have to pull out the charm and start winning you over the old-fashioned way.”

“You better,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Otherwise, don’t expect to get anywhere near me.”

She laughs, a genuine sound that’s enough to make your heart skip a beat. She may have been a cocky asshole at first, but now, with her little grin and the spark in her eye, you’re starting to see that maybe, just maybe, she’s more than her rep. Maybe you’ve been too quick to judge her.

“Well, alright then,” she says, the confidence returning to her voice. “You’re on. And you’ll see, I’m not like the rest of them. I’m not just gonna walk away from this. I’m sticking around. So you better get used to me.”

You can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it’s time to let someone in.

The rest of the chemistry lab passes in a blur of Bunsen burners and half-hearted attempts at paying attention to the teacher. But through it all, Vi stays close. A little too close sometimes, but you don’t mind it. Her presence is comforting in a way that you didn’t expect.

At the end of class, as you and Vi gather your things, she bumps her shoulder against yours with a playful grin. “You’re gonna regret this,” she mutters, the challenge clear in her voice.

“I doubt it,” you retort, smiling back. “But you’re welcome to try.”

She winks, clearly enjoying the banter, and for a moment, you think that maybe you’ve made the right choice. Maybe this is worth the risk.

That night, as you lie in bed, you can’t stop thinking about what happened in class. Vi’s words, her challenge, her promise to prove herself—it’s all swirling around in your mind. You’ve given her a chance. You’ve made her earn it, and now it’s up to her to show you she’s more than just a hockey player with a reputation. It’s not just about the physical connection anymore. It’s about trust.

And for some reason, you’re starting to believe that she’ll prove you wrong.

~~~

You hadn’t expected to be here. In fact, you would’ve bet money that there was no way in hell Vi was actually asking for help. You’d seen her breeze through math assignments and talk her way out of any awkward situation without breaking a sweat, but here she was, standing at her front door with a crooked grin plastered on her face.

“You really want me to help you with this?” you asked, one eyebrow raised as you looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. The last thing you thought you’d be doing today was sitting in her living room, going over an English paper.

“Yeah,” Vi shrugged, her voice a little more sheepish than usual. “I can do math, gym, whatever, but English? Ugh. That shit’s hard. Besides, I heard you’re good at this stuff.” She grinned, obviously trying to play it off, but you could see the hint of genuine concern in her eyes.

“Sure, Vi,” you said with a smirk, pushing past her to step inside. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Vi’s house was a stark contrast to her bold personality—small, homey, and kind of messy, with a hint of charm. The place smelled like baked goods, and a couple of half-empty coffee mugs sat scattered across the kitchen counter. There was a comfortable chaos to it, a lived-in feeling that made you realize just how human she was underneath that tough exterior. The dark gray walls were decorated with mismatched frames, pictures of her and her friends laughing, her sister, Powder, posing next to a trophy Vi had probably won. You could see the pride in her eyes when she talked about her little sister.

“Alright, come on. Let’s get to it,” Vi said, plopping down on the couch and patting the seat next to her, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m trusting you not to make fun of me for my spelling mistakes.”

You threw her a skeptical look but sat next to her anyway. The couch creaked under your weight, and Vi shifted to get comfortable. “You’re lucky I’m doing this for you, Vi.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, pulling the paper closer. “Just get to it.”

You started reading through the paper, trying to suppress a chuckle at how bad it was. The content wasn’t horrible—it was clear she had a decent understanding of what she was writing about. But the grammar? God, it was a disaster.

“This isn’t a high school paper, Vi,” you said, glancing up at her. “It’s a goddamn warzone of commas and run-on sentences.”

She flopped back on the couch dramatically. “Hey, I didn’t pick this class. English is bullshit, anyway. What’s the point of all this crap? They want me to write essays about some old dead guys who probably didn’t even know how to spell.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, and despite yourself, you rolled your eyes. “Maybe if you took the class seriously, you’d pass without me holding your hand.”

She smirked, clearly unbothered. “Hey, I’ve got other talents.”

“Right,” you said sarcastically, pointing to the paper. “Like… this ‘talent’ of turning a page of words into a cluster of bad choices?”

“Shut up,” she grinned, nudging your shoulder with hers. “Just fix it, okay? I’m pretty sure you could get an A for me, and I can’t be bothered to put in all that work.”

You sighed, but a part of you was willing to help. Vi had this way of making you care more than you probably should. You leaned in, scratching out a few of the sentences, rearranging them, and fixing the punctuation like it was no big deal. As you worked, Vi leaned in too, hovering just a little too close for comfort. The occasional brush of her arm against yours made you hyperaware of her presence.

“So, what do you even do for fun when you’re not wrecking your body on the rink?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light, even as the proximity between you two seemed to increase with every move.

Vi looked at you, her expression turning slightly softer. “I… well, I don’t know. Hockey’s pretty much my thing. I guess I do some shit like play video games with Powder and the guys when we’re not at practice.”

You paused, taking a second to really look at her. The tough, cocky exterior cracked just enough for you to glimpse the person underneath—the girl who was still figuring herself out, who probably felt like she had to put up walls to protect herself. She wasn’t just a jock or the “bad girl” everyone thought she was. No, she had layers.

“You’re a gamer, huh?” you asked with a raised brow. “What games?”

She grinned, her usual cockiness slipping back in place. “Not that you’d understand, but I’m all about the classics. Got an old-school console in my room. You ever played Crash Bandicoot?”

Your eyes widened. “The classic? Hell yeah, I love that game. What else do you play?”

Vi laughed, clearly amused. “You’re telling me you play the same stuff? What are you, a 90’s kid or something?”

“I am a 90’s kid,” you shot back, nudging her. “It’s all about the classics.”

“Damn, I gotta admit, that’s kind of cute.” Her voice was quieter now, almost teasing, as she bumped her shoulder against yours again. “Maybe we should play sometime.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll have to beat me first.”

Her eyes lit up with the challenge, and for a moment, you both just locked gazes, the tension thick between you. She was still that cocky, determined girl who wouldn’t back down from anything, but now, you were starting to see the softer side of her—the one that liked the idea of playing games just for fun, the one that didn’t need to be the toughest girl in the room.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you have that one,” she finally said, returning to her paper. “But I’m telling you, I’m winning next time.”

“Keep dreaming, Vi,” you teased as you finished up her paper, handing it back with a satisfied smile. “All done. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Vi grabbed the paper, her expression still full of playful cockiness, but there was something else in her eyes too. Something warmer. “Thanks, teacher. I guess you’re not totally useless after all.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, grinning. “I’m not helping you with the next one. You’ll have to figure that out yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage. You just wait,” she shot back, the flirtatious edge in her voice making your stomach flutter, just a little.

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, each of you catching your breath, your shoulders still brushing lightly from time to time. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t casual, either. It was something in-between, and neither of you seemed eager to break the moment just yet.

“I’ll walk you out,” Vi said, standing up and stretching, her muscles rippling beneath her hoodie. She reached a hand out to help you up, her touch lingering just long enough to make you feel like there was more between you two than you were willing to admit.

As you both headed to the door, Vi stopped for a moment, looking back at you with a soft smirk. “You’re not half-bad, y’know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Flirting with me now?”

She chuckled, her usual cocky self returning, but there was something in her smile that felt real, more genuine than it had in a long time. “Maybe. But you’ve still got a long way to go before you can outplay me. Just remember that.”

With a wink, she closed the door behind you, leaving you standing outside, the faintest smile on your face.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on between you two. Vi wasn’t like anyone else you’d ever met. She was tough, cocky, and didn’t take shit from anyone. But maybe there was more to her than the surface you’d been seeing.

~~~

The week flew by faster than expected. Vi had kept her promise, sticking to her word about taking things slow and never pushing you beyond your comfort zone. There was a comfort in how she respected your boundaries, the way she seemed to instinctively know when to back off and when to push you just enough to make you want more. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, one built more on trust than anything else. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable around someone, especially someone like Vi.

The mornings were filled with casual hellos as you passed each other in the hallways, and the afternoons were spent hanging out at her place, doing everything from aimless walks around the neighborhood to sitting in her room, playing dumb games on your phones—like Roblox, of all things. It was ridiculous, but it worked. She’d distract you with her stupid jokes, and you’d laugh so hard your stomach ached. The time you spent together felt like a mix of pure chaos and unexpected moments of peace, and you didn’t want it to end.

One evening, it was just the two of you again, sprawled out on her bed, half-arguing about some random thing you were doing in the game. You weren’t even sure what you were doing anymore; the game was background noise to the vibe that was building between you both. Vi was lying on her back, one arm propped behind her head, eyes glued to her phone screen while you focused on your own. It wasn’t much, just you two existing in the same space. The air was thick with something that neither of you were acknowledging—yet.

“Yo, you’re really bad at this,” Vi teased, her voice rough and playful. You rolled your eyes, smacking her arm.

“Shut up, you’re just mad ‘cause I’m better than you.”

She snorted, flicking your forehead. “Not even. You’re just lucky.”

A beat of silence passed, and her eyes flicked over to you, the playful glint in her gaze turning into something softer. “You’re always so focused on your phone. Like, you never actually pay attention to me.”

You lifted your head, arching an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked, her voice dipping lower, teasing. “You’re just distracted. It’s cute, though. But I guess I’ll have to make you pay attention.”

The atmosphere shifted, and it wasn’t because of anything she said. It was in the way she said it, the way her voice softened at the end, laced with a challenge you couldn’t ignore. You felt your heartbeat pick up, the tension hanging in the air, thick with unspoken words.

You opened your mouth to reply, but then Vi was suddenly closer, her phone tossed aside, her hand gently resting on your arm. The subtle touch made your breath hitch in your throat. You swallowed hard, but she was already leaning in, eyes flicking to your lips and back to your eyes.

There was no turning back. You didn’t want to turn back.

And then, she kissed you. Softly, tentatively at first, just a press of lips that sent sparks through your entire body. Her hand found your cheek, gently cupping it, as if trying to pull you deeper into the moment. You kissed her back, slower at first, just savoring the connection, the feel of her lips against yours, the taste of something sweet and unspoken.

But as soon as you let yourself sink into it, something shifted—something raw and desperate. She pulled you closer, her body leaning into yours, and you felt the heat between you both intensify. You had no idea how you ended up this close, how everything blurred into one single feeling. Her hands were everywhere, pressing into your back, your waist, and you could feel her heart beating against your chest.

When she pulled away just a little, her forehead resting against yours, the breathless space between you felt electrified. You didn’t speak, but the world was still spinning in that moment.

“I don’t know what this is,” you whispered, the words barely audible in the quiet space between you.

Vi’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Does it matter?” She pressed her lips to yours again, this time with a little more urgency, as if trying to communicate everything she couldn’t say.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and suddenly, everything seemed so much clearer. She was everything you didn’t expect, but everything you needed. And in that instant, you couldn’t fight it anymore.

“I—” you started, but your words were lost when her hand slid down your side, making your breath catch.

The truth hit you all at once.

You were tired of playing by the rules. Of being cautious. Of hiding behind walls you didn’t need. Vi had a way of knocking them down without even trying, and you wanted nothing more than to be close to her. She’d made the first move, and you weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t want it. You weren’t going to lie to yourself anymore.

“I think you’ve got me,” you murmured, a small, shaky laugh escaping your lips.

Vi pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes searching yours, trying to make sure you were serious. “Yeah?”

Your chest tightened, your pulse racing, but this time, it was all excitement. “Yeah.”

And with that, she kissed you again, more fiercely this time, like she’d been waiting for you to catch up. You didn’t resist; you didn’t want to. And as the kiss deepened, you felt the last of your reservations slip away. You weren’t sure where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t care. You were done pretending you didn’t want this. Done holding back.

You blinked at her, still reeling as she pulled back. “Vi…”

“Don’t overthink it,” she interrupted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Her fingers lingered against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. “Just…be here with me. Right now.”

It was a simple request, but it carried so much weight. This was Vi, after all—reckless and impulsive Breaking rules was practically her brand. And yet, despite her reputation, despite everything, you believed her.

So you nodded, and she smiled—a real smile, not her usual smirk. Then she kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the connection. Her hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. One of her legs hooked over yours, anchoring you together, and you gasped into her mouth.

“Relax,” she murmured, her lips trailing along your jaw. “I’ve got you.”

The words sent a wave of heat through you, and you arched instinctively into her touch. Her hands roamed your back, fingers pressing into your skin as if mapping every curve. When they dipped lower, grazing the waistband of your jeans, you shuddered.

“Vi…” you breathed, your voice shaky.

She paused, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” she said, her tone serious despite the hunger in her eyes.

You shook your head quickly. “Don’t stop.”

That was all the encouragement she needed. Her lips crashed into yours again, fiercer this time, and her hands slid under your shirt, fingers skimming over your stomach. The sensation was electric, and you moaned softly against her mouth, your nails digging into her shoulders.

Vi chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. “Thought you might like that,” she teased, nipping at your lower lip before sucking gently.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, and she groaned, grinding against you in response. The friction was maddening, leaving you desperate for more. You tugged at her tank top, needing to feel her skin against yours, and she obliged, pulling it off in one fluid motion.

The sight of her bare chest stole your breath. Her toned muscles gleamed in the dim light, every scar and bruise telling a story of its own. You reached out, tracing the line of her collarbone with trembling fingers, and she shivered under your touch.

“Fuck, your hands…” she muttered, closing her eyes briefly. Then she leaned in, capturing your lips once more as her own hands worked to remove your shirt and bra.

The cool air hit your skin, raising goosebumps, but Vi’s warmth chased them away. Her palms slid up your sides, cupping your breasts as she kissed down your neck. When her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, you gasped, your head falling back.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

You couldn’t respond, too lost in the sensations rippling through you. Her tongue swirled over your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak, and you whimpered, your back arching off the bed.

“Vi, please…” you begged, though you weren’t even sure what you were asking for.

She seemed to understand anyway. Her hand slipped between your legs, rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your jeans. The pressure was delicious, and you rocked into her touch, chasing the pleasure building inside you.

“Is this what you need?” she asked, her voice husky.

You nodded frantically, unable to form words. She smirked, clearly pleased with herself, and unbuttoned your jeans with practiced ease. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, tugging them down along with your underwear, and the cool air against your heated skin made you gasp.

Vi knelt between your legs, her gaze raking over you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “Look at you,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Before you could respond, she lowered her head, her tongue swiping slowly up your folds. The sensation was almost too much, and you cried out, your hands tangling in her hair.

“Shh,” she soothed, glancing up at you with a wicked grin. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

And then she dived in, her tongue circling your clit with expert precision. You writhed beneath her, clutching the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Her name spilled from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable trembling with need.

Vi alternated her movements, switching between fast, flickering strokes and slow, deliberate ones, keeping you teetering on the edge. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, she slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right and hitting that spot that made stars explode behind your eyes.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, your hips jerking uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” Vi encouraged, her voice muffled against you. “Come for me, baby.”

The command shattered whatever restraint you had left. Your orgasm ripped through you, blinding and all-consuming, and you bucked wildly against her mouth, your cries echoing through the room.

Vi stayed with you through every wave, her tongue and fingers working tirelessly until you finally collapsed, boneless and spent. She crawled up your body, planting soft kisses along your stomach and chest before reclaiming your lips.

~~~

You didn’t sleep much that night. The buzz of Vi’s touch, her lips on yours, was still alive on your skin as you lay there, replaying every moment over and over. You’d finally given in, allowed yourself to trust, and now, the morning after, you were left with the consequences.

The most obvious consequence? The cluster of hickeys on your neck, dark red marks that stood out against your skin like graffiti on a clean wall. You didn’t even realize they were there at first. The heat of the moment had distracted you, and by the time you noticed, there wasn’t much you could do about it. Covering them up with makeup wasn’t an option, so you were left with a bad case of “wear your mistakes like a badge of honor” as you scrambled to throw on a hoodie and pray no one would notice.

But, of course, they did.

As you walked through the hallways of the school, you could practically feel the eyes of your classmates on you. The whispers were subtle at first, but you heard them all. “Look at her neck… is that… is she…?” It didn’t take much to piece together what they were talking about. You hated the attention. Hated how exposed you felt, like everyone could see right through you. And it wasn’t even just the rumors you were worried about—it was the thought of Vi.

What if she didn’t care about this, about you?

You barely made it to your first class before someone asked, “Did you get jumped last night or something?” That stupid, offhand comment sent your nerves into overdrive. Of course, you laughed it off, trying to act like it was no big deal, but inside, you were panicking.

And then there was Vi.

Her presence was like a weight on your chest, but you couldn’t escape it. You spotted her in the hallway between classes, her signature cocky smirk on display, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She leaned against the locker like she owned the place, her muscles flexing underneath her hoodie. The crowd around her parted like the Red Sea, as it always did. You felt your stomach twist.

The moment your eyes met, she grinned. The mischievous glint in her eye was there, always there, but this time there was something else in it too—a challenge, maybe. A wink, and then she pushed off the locker to walk toward you, the smirk never leaving her lips.

You felt the heat rise in your face as she got closer, but you tried to stay cool. It wasn’t like you didn’t know what she was doing. Vi loved the effect she had on people, the way her mere presence could make anyone feel like they were under a magnifying glass. She was confident, magnetic, but right now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in over your head.

“You look good today,” she said, her voice low and teasing, completely unfazed by the hickeys on your neck.

You blinked, caught off guard by the casualness of her tone. It didn’t seem like she was embarrassed. You, on the other hand, wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “Uh, thanks,” you mumbled, your eyes darting nervously around, trying to gauge how people were reacting.

Vi didn’t follow your gaze. Her hand found its way to your shoulder, fingers brushing against the fabric of your hoodie, and for a split second, you felt the world fade away. But only for a second. The whispers were still there, and you could feel the weight of their judgment.

“Everything okay?” Vi asked, her eyes narrowing with concern. “You seem kinda tense today. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to explain the chaos in your mind. “It’s nothing. Just—” You gestured vaguely at your neck. “People are noticing.”

Vi’s smirk softened into something more like amusement, but there was a flicker of something else behind her eyes, something you couldn’t quite read. “So what? Let ‘em talk. They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” You scoffed. “Of what, exactly?”

She shrugged, unfazed by your sarcasm. “You’re mine. And they can see it. So, if they wanna talk, let ‘em talk.”

That should’ve been enough to ease your nerves. After all, Vi was the star athlete, the girl everyone wanted to be. She was used to attention. She was used to being the one people ogled. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite—awkward, quiet, out of place in this chaotic world. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your insecurities were written all over your face.

Vi, as if sensing your hesitation, stepped in closer, her hand brushing against the small of your back as she leaned in slightly, her lips just brushing your ear. “I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks, babe,” she whispered. “This thing between us? It’s between us. Got it?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew she meant it. Vi always meant what she said—when she cared about something, she went all in. It was just hard to reconcile that with the way you felt about yourself.

You weren’t like her. You weren’t the center of attention, the girl everyone was drawn to. You were the opposite—the quiet one, the one who spent more time in her head than engaging with the world around her.

Vi was everything you weren’t, but maybe that was what made it work. She had this confidence that practically radiated off of her, and it felt like she was constantly pulling you into her orbit, making you feel like you could be confident, too, even if it was only for a moment.

But deep down, you still couldn’t shake the question: Did she actually want to make this public?

Did she want to be with someone like you, someone who was so different from her? Or was this just another one of her flings, something she’d eventually tire of, leaving you with the pieces of your broken heart?

Before you could dwell on it any longer, Vi leaned back, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips as she straightened up. “You’re overthinking it, babe. Relax. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t feel entirely reassured, but you didn’t have the time to question her further. As much as you wanted to have a heart-to-heart, as much as you needed to know what this really was, the bell rang. Vi gave you a playful shove toward your next class, the kind of shove that told you everything was fine—at least, for now.

~~~

The moment you step through the cafeteria doors, you spot Vi. She’s leaning against the wall with her usual cocky grin plastered on her face, but she’s not just waiting for you. No, she’s got something planned. Something big.

You try to avoid her gaze, but it’s impossible. She’s got that confidence that fills up a room like it owns the place. You swear she has a magnet in her chest that just pulls all eyes to her. And today? Today it’s your turn. You’re stuck in her orbit whether you like it or not.

You try to focus on something, anything, but Vi’s energy is infectious, like a wildfire spreading through the room. And then, it happens.

Without warning, she’s up on top of the lunchroom table, eyes sparkling with mischief as the entire cafeteria quiets down. People start whispering, murmuring about what the hell is going on, but it doesn’t matter. Vi’s got the room’s attention, and she’s loving every second of it.

You’re already cringing, knowing what’s coming. You should’ve expected it. She stands tall, one hand holding a massive poster, the other in the air like she’s about to give a speech.

And then, she says it.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she yells, making sure every person in the room can hear her. “It would be pucking awesome if you’d go to prom with me!”

Your heart nearly stops in your chest. Oh, god. No. This cannot be happening.

The poster reads exactly as she said, written in bold, bright letters: It would be pucking awesome if you go to prom with me with the last words underlined for dramatic effect. And just to make it even worse, the entire girls’ hockey team is behind her, dressed in their jerseys, grinning like maniacs. Some of them are even clapping, egging Vi on, while others are cheering and whooping.

The entire room goes completely still. Not a single sound can be heard, except for your pulse in your ears. You can feel the heat rush to your face as you shrink back, desperately trying to hide behind the nearest lunch table. You’re mortified. Absolutely mortified.

Vi jumps down from the table, her boots making a satisfying thud as they hit the ground. She’s strutting toward you like she owns the place, and you can barely breathe as she reaches into her bag. She pulls out a single flower, a bold, red rose, and hands it to you with that same unbothered grin.

It’s cheesy. It’s ridiculous. It’s… Vi.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, voice low but still carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. “That’s for you, (Y/N). Prom? With me?”

You just stare at her, completely dumbfounded. What the hell is she thinking? What is this? Is she serious? Because if she is, this is… this is a level of public embarrassment you’re not sure you can handle.

“Vi!” you hiss, eyes darting around the room as you clutch the flower in your hand. “What the hell was that? In front of all these people? Are you trying to make me die of embarrassment?”

She shrugs casually, not even fazed by the attention. “What’s the big deal? I like you. I want you to go to prom with me. Why should I hide it?”

You want to yell at her. You really do. The way she’s acting like this is no big deal only makes it worse. But her tone, her sincerity—fuck, why does it make your heart race in a way that makes no sense?

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” she continues, not even looking around at the still-staring crowd. She’s unapologetic, completely unbothered. “You and me? We’re a thing. And I’m gonna let everyone know.”

“You can’t be serious right now,” you mutter, still trying to process the overwhelming chaos of it all. “This is insane.”

“I am serious,” she says, and her smile softens just a little. “You’ve got to stop worrying about what other people think, (Y/N). It’s us. That’s all that matters.”

You glance at her, unsure of what to make of the vulnerability in her eyes. It’s a side of her you don’t often see, especially not in the midst of all the attention. And then it hits you—maybe, just maybe, this isn’t just some stupid joke to her. She’s actually trying to do something real. She wants you. She wants this to be something more.

“Vi, this isn’t funny,” you say quietly, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares on you. “You can’t just… throw this out there like it’s nothing.”

She steps closer, her grin widening again, that playful glint returning to her eyes. “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be your personal spotlight for the rest of the day,” she teases, nudging your shoulder with her.

You want to tell her to stop, to get away from the center of attention, but your chest tightens. The thing is, as much as you hate the spectacle of it all, there’s a part of you—deep down—that’s actually touched by her boldness. She wants you, and she doesn’t care who knows about it.

For all her cockiness and bravado, she’s laying it all out there, no apologies, no hesitation.

You glance down at the flower in your hand, the red petals standing out against your clammy palm. You wish you could just disappear, but Vi’s there, looking at you with that grin that somehow manages to make you feel like the only person in the room.

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, trying to keep the nerves from taking over your voice. “I’ll go to prom with you. But you owe me for the public humiliation, alright?”

Vi laughs, loud and unrestrained, before she leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, a brief, soft thing that makes your knees weak. “Deal,” she says with that characteristic grin of hers. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

And despite the chaos, despite the fact that you just agreed to go to prom with the school’s biggest attention magnet, part of you already knows that it’s going to be fucking awesome.

~~~

The evening air is crisp as you stand at the front door, waiting. Your heart is pounding, and no amount of deep breaths is making it better. You’ve been nervously fidgeting for the last hour, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You’ve never been one for big events like this—prom was always something that seemed… unreachable, too perfect. But tonight? It’s not some fantasy. It’s real. You’ve got a hot date who happens to be a badass hockey player with a reputation that could make a lot of people sweat.

You adjust your outfit for the tenth time, just to be sure everything’s in place. Your dress hugs you in all the right places, the color matching the shade of your nervous but excited heart. Your makeup is flawless, you think. And you’re not going to be intimidated by the idea of being next to her. Vi.

Then you hear it—the soft crunch of gravel under tires. You step toward the door, just in time for the doorbell to ring, and you swing it open with a quick breath. And there she is.

Vi. Standing there like she owns the fucking world.

She’s dressed in a tailored suit, the fabric dark and sleek, hugging her athletic frame perfectly. Her hair is slicked back, the magenta strands impossibly smooth, leaving her face more defined, sharper than usual. Her piercing gray eyes meet yours as she takes you in, and for a moment, it feels like everything around you stops. The world might as well be holding its breath for this one moment. You know, for damn sure, she’s doing the same.

“You look… fuckin’ amazing,” she says, voice low, yet the smile playing on her lips says everything.

You blink, trying to collect your thoughts. “So do you,” you manage to say, voice tight with nerves you can’t seem to shake.

Her eyes scan you again, softer this time. “I meant it. Damn, you look so good I’m gonna have a hard time not showing you off tonight.”

Your stomach flutters at her words, but you quickly shove the sensation down. “Shut up. You’re the one who’s gonna make everyone jealous, aren’t you?” you tease, glancing at her with raised brows. You’re not wrong, though. Everyone will be staring at her tonight. That much is inevitable.

Vi steps closer, her body heat hitting you like a wave. “They can stare all they want,” she grins, her voice teasing, yet there’s something in her eyes that’s different—something that tugs at your heart. “But you’re the only one I’m interested in tonight.”

That makes your breath catch.

Before you can say anything else, she offers her arm, a smirk still tugging at the corner of her lips. “C’mon, we’ve got a night to ruin. Let’s go show ‘em how it’s done.”

The ride to prom is a blur of music, half-nervous laughter, and teasing jabs at each other. Vi is impossibly calm, while you feel like a nervous wreck. There’s something about her presence that steadies you, but still, it’s hard to shake the feeling of all eyes on the two of you. But when you arrive, it’s even worse.

The entrance is lined with other couples and singles, all eager to get their first glimpse at the night’s main event. You and Vi walk in, and the moment you cross the threshold, it’s as if the entire room turns to look at you. You can feel every eye on you—mostly on Vi, but you can feel the weight of their stares on you, too.

Vi’s hand is warm and firm against your back, guiding you through the crowd. She doesn’t seem phased by the attention. In fact, she’s loving it. And you can’t help but feel this ridiculous rush—this unexplainable burst of confidence just by standing next to her.

The two of you make your way to the dance floor. The music’s loud, the beat thumping under your feet, and Vi’s grip on you tightens as she pulls you toward her. “Let’s make this night ours,” she says, and her voice is rough with excitement.

You both get into the rhythm, bodies moving to the beat. You find yourself laughing at how easy it is, how the entire room could fall away and it wouldn’t matter. It’s just you and Vi. And for the first time in your life, it feels like you actually belong. You stop worrying about everything and just… feel. Her hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer, her breath warm against your cheek.

You don’t even notice the other couples around you until a loud cheer erupts from Vi’s friends. You glance around, and your heart almost skips a beat—Vi has pulled you in for a kiss in the middle of the dance floor, as casual as breathing. Her lips are soft, yet demanding, her hands firm but gentle as they hold you close.

The crowd’s not shy about making noise. Whistles. Clapping. A few of her teammates shout, “About time!” and the rest of them burst into applause, making you feel like the whole world is in on this moment.

But then it’s just you and her again.

Vi pulls back, her grin as cocky as ever, eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re incredible,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Her thumb gently caresses your cheek. You can feel the weight of her words, the sincerity behind them, and it hits you—this night is more than just a celebration. She’s here. For you. And there’s no doubt in your mind that she’s serious about it.

You smirk, giving her a playful shove. “You better stop, you’re gonna make me blush.”

Vi laughs, pulling you closer again, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Let ‘em look. They’re jealous. No one’s gonna have a night like this. It’s ours, babe.”

Later, after the music has died down, and most of the students are either too drunk or too tired to keep going, you and Vi slip away from the chaos. You find a quiet spot outside, away from the flashing lights and the sound of laughter.

The night sky is clear, the stars shining brightly above you. You sit down on the grass, your legs outstretched as you lean back to look at the constellations. Vi sits next to you, her hand brushing against yours.

[strawberryblue-blog]

Period —FC BARCELONA.

summary: barca's boys reacting to your period when it is annoying or painful.

warnings: none. mention of the menstrual period, reaction, angst, pain, discomfort, cute/soft.

words count: +1.3k.

Pedri González.

When you tell him you got your period, the first thing he does is drop everything he was doing to become your special supplier. "Give me five minutes, I'm going to the store," he says as he quickly puts on his shoes.

You know it's over the top, but you can't help but smile. He returns with your favorite brand of pads or tampons, a couple of chocolates, chamomile tea, a hot water bottle and whatever else you've been craving.

"I know chocolate doesn't cure everything, but I thought it would help," he says as she arranges things on the table and hands them to you with a smile. "I got you, love."

Ferran Torres.

He knows that during your period you prefer to stay in bed or on the couch, so he takes the reins of the kitchen and the housework so you can rest.

"I know you don't feel like moving, so let me do you something tasty," he says as he puts on an apron. You hear him fiddling around in the kitchen, looking for ingredients and following a recipe that he clearly struggles with, but insists on finishing.

"It's made with love, even though it didn't come out so pretty," he says as he serves you a hot dish. The aroma and his effort comfort you more than you expected. Maybe later you help him clean up so you can finally snuggle in bed and receive a lot of his affection.

Pablo Gavi.

When he sees you squirming on the couch, he carefully approaches you and asks, "Do you want me to hold you?" Perhaps a bit fearfully so as not to disturb you or invade your space (or your sudden mood swings)

When you agree, Pablo will take you. You settle against him, and his arms wrap around you like a warm shelter. No matter how long it takes, he doesn't move or complain, even when you change positions several times.

He will walk you to and from the bathroom, comfort you, lift you up, help you. If you need to talk, he listens; if you remain silent, he simply gives you little kisses on your hair and makes sure you are comfortable.

Fermín López.

He finds you in bed complaining about colic and tiredness. He would be very sorry to see you go through something like this, so Fermín wouldn't leave you alone for a second.

He sits beside you, carefully, strokes your hair and says in a soft voice: "You can handle this, you're much stronger than you think. But let me do anything for you, I can cook, make your bed, bathe you, anything. I'm here for you."

He holds your hand, and his presence is enough to make you feel that you are not alone. Every once in a while, he says something funny or sweet to lift your spirits.

Alejandro Balde.

"Let's get distracted," he tells you as you look for something to watch together. He'll do anything to make you forget you're on your period.

He lets you choose absolutely everything: the movie, the series, even the snacks you're going to share or even if you just want to lie on his chest and rest. If you decide to play something on the console, it doesn't matter if you're terrible at the game; he makes sure you have fun. He'll even talk your ear off so you don't suffer.

"Today is your day, there are no rules. What else do you want to do?" he says, willing to go along with all your decisions.

Héctor Fort.

When he sees you doubled over in pain, he disappears for a moment and returns with a glass of water, a painkiller and a hot compress, what did he ever see you do to yourself.

"This should help you," he says as he helps you put the compress on your belly. He himself will pat your belly or hug your legs to help you. Then, he stays by your side to make sure the pain subsides.

If he sees you are uncomfortable, he adjusts the pillows or brings you more blankets without you having to ask. He would go to the store or make pastries (your favorite), all for you during this annoying period.

Lamine Yamal.

He sees you in a bad mood or on the verge of tears and decides to change your mood with a touch of humor. He takes everything with humor and of course he was going to do it for you when you need it the most.

"If your uterus could talk, I bet it would tell me to shut up but you are an angel" , he says with a smile. Then he starts making up stories or making jokes that make you laugh in spite of everything, he would pretend to fall down, snore, etc.

"See, you're the only person who laughs at my bad jokes. I'm sure that means you love me more than your hot tea." I'd say when you unexpectedly laugh together with him and almost forget about your period. Your goal in life, fulfilled.

Pau Cubarsí.

There are days when you don't need words or grandiose actions, and he knows it. He sits next to you in silence, watching you carefully. If you need something, he does it without you having to ask.

If he sees you are uncomfortable, he adjusts your pillow, brings you a blanket, or simply puts his hand in yours to let you know he is there. His caresses are soft and gentle, he cares for you as if you were fragile and delicate and maybe that's because you are. But Pau is even more so.

You would spend it in bed, him hugging your belly while your favorite series is on in the background. You can laugh or cry, you can moan, sweat, get dizzy, ache or anything but Pau is there. Hugging you like a slug.

[littletroggo]

200 follower celebration!

oh my this was faster than expected...

clones are mostly responsible for this mess so why not celebrate with them!

this celebration will be tagged with #troggo's 200 follower celebration, and requests will be open until Sunday, February 9th 11:59 pm PST

request instructions:

send a request through my asks

pick a clone, any clone! (this includes ocs if you have a reference i can use!) limit: 3 characters per request

pick an action for them. this can be as serious or silly as you'd like

dealer's choice is also an option for either or both categories if you want some chaos (humor? fluff? angst? will ting default to fives every time? who knows~)

optional: specify the time period, aus included (cadet, phase 1 armor, phase 2 armor, imperial, western au, etc) note: i will default to bucketless phase 2 (if applicable) unless otherwise specified

optional: for clones without a canon face design, they can have their bucket on, your own headcanon for their face, or my own design!

general note: characters will be drawn the way i have in the past which isn't 100% canon compliant (ie. tech's red hair, echo having gold eyes pre skako minor, omega's cowlick, etc). if there's something about how i interpret their design that you'd prefer/not prefer, add it in your request! (i won't take offense to it)

be as specific or broad as you want!

examples: post s3 hunter juggling knives; modern au domino twins playing house of the dead; waxer and boil meet numa again; FORDO

general rules:

prefer if you're a follower (it's a follower event after all), but i won't check and i'll accept anons

no nsfw or gore

no cl*neshipping/clone x clone/cl*necest

while this is a clone focused event, non clones are allowed if the request also includes a clone note: i'm not the best at depicting romance so keep that in mind if you request a ship. this is warning to say i rarely draw ship art

no request limit! but i will prioritize first time requests

i have the right to refuse if i'm not comfortable with the request. i will respond as such, and you're free to submit another

and thank you for 200!! it's still crazy for me to imagine. i wouldn't be here without the love and support from all of you <333

[newtonsheffield]

Heyo, Aussie lawyer here! There might be something about being able to leave without notice, however it is likely that if you piss them off enough by taking your sick days consecutively, they might just terminate you early (and still pay the annual leave ofc). They are embarrassing themselves more by acting like this, so you are definitely coming out of this better - and you will be free soon. Not sure what consolation this would be, but my employer has had 6 people resign in the last 2 months and is similar to your boss. My advice is to let the place burn, the others will jump ship on their own (so too can your visa friend for 180 days if she is on a 482 visa...she should seek advice about that).

Look, I’m just trying to go to work and get through this notice period. As much as I want to call in sick and screw them over, it’s not them that really suffers. It’s my coworkers who I like who have to call everyone and reschedule patients who yell at them.

Truly, this behavior is just reinforcing to me that I’m doing the right thing. I am having an exit interview scheduled though because i want them to get the feedback to try and make the workplace better for my friends who still work there.

Their visa is a sponsorship situation so I’m not sure how complex that is to untangle for them but both she and her husband are stuck in it really.

My bosses unfortunately think that everyone is just grumbling because we like the sound of our own voices. They don’t realise that I only know… 4 people in a staff of twenty not actively looking for other work. They’re trying to prevent me from starting a revolution and we’ve already got the barricades built in the streets 😂😂😂

[ropebunnykant]

with the utmost respect, no lmao.

i'm not saying there AREN'T parallels between 10 things and the heart killers, because obviously there are. and not just because they're based on the same source material, but because jojo did intentionally throw in nods to it and parallels because he clearly has a love for the movie and wanted to do a modern shakespeare adaptation similar in style to it. however, that doesn't make it based on 10 things.

jojo himself called it a shakespeare adaption. and while i know word of god isn't always the thing to go off of, when it comes to someone's intentions with their media and what they're inspiration is, it's important to take the creator's words into account. but, even beyond that, there are plenty of things that show us that it's a taming adaptation, not a 10 things adaptation. i have an entire tag dedicated to all the direct parallels to taming that we've gotten, many of which are not referenced in 10 things at all, which you can view here if you'd like.

now, about your arguments for why it's a 10 things adaptation, starting with the post you linked here. yes, katherina is her name in the play, but many versions refer to her as just katherine or kate or any such variation of the name. which... that's what katherine is, btw. a variation on katherina. they both mean pure. it's the same name. that's why her name is katherine in 10 things to begin with.

also, i'm not sure how saying that patrick was singing to katherine but petruchio wasn't is really a point in 10 things favor? style isn't really singing either. he's chanting. and fadel's reaction to it is far more in line with the embarrassment that katherina suffers at the hands of petruchio than it is with kat's reaction in 10 things, which is that she's charmed by it. i'm not saying it's not at all a reference to 10 things, because it clearly is, but it's actually paralleling BOTH pieces of media at the same time.

as for the arguments you make here, i am not going to totally refute that bianca in 10 things is stronger than bianca in taming because if that's what you believe, that's totally your prerogative. however, that is also entirely up to interpretation. i personally think that bianca in taming is just as strong as she is in 10 things. she's quieter about it yes, but she's just as manipulative as bison AND bianca from 10 things. her strength is just represented differently because of the time period she is in and the fact that she is trying to work WITHIN the system, whereas katherina is working outside of it.

i also don't really understand what your point about style being cocky and shameless in the same ways patrick is are meant to prove? those are also traits of petruchio. and while yes, patrick loves kat just the way she is and petruchio doesn't... i wouldn't exactly expect ANY modern adaptation of that play to have the characters not enjoying each other for who they are? that doesn't negate them being based on those original characters? is patrick also not based on petruchio then, because he loved kat as she was and didn't try to change her?

i really don't understand the outright denial there seems to be with calling this a shakespeare adaptation for so many people. you're not even the only person that has tried to tell me this, and it's so very strange to me. because yes, i get that everyone loves 10 things and is more familiar with it, but you can love 10 things and appreciate the references in the heart killers in it without dismissing the intentional hard work and research that has been put into this show when it comes to the shakespeare aspect. and if it's about not liking petruchio or the initial play, then you would also have to dismiss the validity of 10 things as an adaptation because it was also based on that, and patrick was also based on petruchio.

also, i will say, it is very rude to come onto my post discussing the taming characters that style is based off of and try to tell me "no actually, he's based on this character that is based on only one of (not even the main one!) you're talking about in this post." if you think it's a 10 things adaptation, that's fine, but i'm allowed to have my interpretation of it as well and discuss the parallels between the characters and the shakespeare originals without being told that i'm wrong because you don't think that's actually what it's based on. but go off i guess.

was gonna say this in the tags of my last taming parallel but i think this actually warrants a post of its own. i think the thing that makes style a lovable character despite being based on such a horrific character is the fact that he’s not solely based on petruchio. he’s also based heavily on tranio, who if you’re unaware, is lucentio’s servant and dear friend. so, while he has the boldness and shamelessness of petruchio, he has tranio’s unwavering loyalty and hopefulness. honestly, i’d argue he’s more based on tranio than he is petruchio, because petruchio at his core is an inherently cruel character, whereas tranio is inherently kind, which fits style far better. i’d even argue that kant parallels petruchio far closer than style (not a dig at kant! its just that kant has the ability to be cruel and calculated when he needs to be because his hand has been forced, whereas style inherently just doesn’t have that in him).

i also think it’s interesting because style stands out from the others in a number of ways, not simply because of his hopefulness but because (to our current knowledge) he’s not a criminal. which is an interesting parallel because lucentio, bianca, and katherine all have a higher status, while tranio is a servant and therefore distinct from them. additionally, tranio’s plot in taming is that he is disguised as lucentio for most of the show, and i think that sort of parallels style needing to become a police informant by association in a way.

[sanguinealcholic]

crying listening to you're losing me by taylor swift

[futurewife]

.

every month i lose my sex drive (with my cycle) then it comes back and it surprises me everytime. i go from #fucksex #desireless to wait i need my hole pounded. i need a man sweating and groaning on me disgustingly with his entire body weight. urgently!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

[lightcreators]

Once  you  become  powerful  enough,  age  becomes  optional.  Ah,  he  knew  someone  else  confirming  that  sentence  so  brutally,  he  laughed  automatically  with  embarrassment.  Maybe  it  has  been  horribly  naive  of  his  part,  but  he  thought  afterwards  the  example  of  Lelouch  vi  Britannia  (  with  Hades-sama,  that  will  be  once  more  pushed  behind  and  pretending  he  had  been  unconcerned  on  the  matter  ),  he  wouldn't  met  people  …  that  old.  Information  of  immortality  coming  from  Lelouch  hadn't  been  exposed  by  main  concerned,  no,  because  that  boy  was  far  too  much  busier  to  ensure,  inside  chessboards  of  another  locations,  he  would  gain  his  point  towards  Hades-sama.  It  has  been  Teito  who  expressed  the  news.  Did  he  actually  processed  the  information  until  then  ?  He  thought  he  was,  but  apparently  no.  His  age,  on  the  other  hand,  had  been  communicated  from  the  beginning.  Nineteen  years  old.  Nineteen  years  old  and  already  immortal.  With  a  God  of  the  Underworld  who  looked  like  someone  horribly  young,  and  who  seemed  to  play  with  Lelouch's  appearance.  Immortality,  he  knew  nothing  about  it,  and  didn't  seek  it.  It  had  fallen  on  his  head.  Like  several  other  pieces  of  information  from  his  valiant  friends  in  which  the  word  demon  had  a  much  more  demonic  connotation  than  warm  side  of  being  a  Maoh.  If  Hades-sama  would  have  wanted  to  exchange  two  words  with  him,  he  wouldn't  have  know  what  he  was  supposed  to  say!  !  He  faced  somewhere  same  problem  with  Draguel  realizing  he  was  more  divine  than  planned and expected.

❝  Once  at  the  top,  I  guess  there's  only  the  others  left  to  observe.  ❞  He  commented  carefully.  Meeting  with  Lelouch  has  been  made  during  his  greatest  period  where  he  couldn't  be  worse  inside  whatever  first  impression  and  conclusion  you've  must  have  of  him.  He  had  no  matter  to  manipulate  him  for  whatever  ambition  since  his  Maoh  position  concerning  another  world,  and  coming  from  his  behavior,  there  was  nothing  interesting  enough,  educating  him  towards  opened  door  he  got  has  been  his  happy  ending.  Nevertheless,  if  some  day  pleasure  reached  his  mind,  and  find  him  not  enough  rightful  on  his  position  of  king,  that  nice  Emperor  giving  himself  the  pass  to  interfere  in  middle  of  Shinmakoku.  Wolfram  has  been  indirectly  spared  because  he  always  acted  as  his  protector,  and  ensure  everything  was  fine,  but  the  dreadfully  warning  wind  about  how  he  migtht  be  threatened  as  an  noble  stayed  present.  Teito-san  was  here  for  calm  down  Lelouch,  hence  they  has  been  fine  …  ❝  Ah  …  ❞  Rest  of  his  explanation  generated  complete  confusion .  ❝  An  divine  one  then  …  ❞  He  finally  expressed  the  words,  confessed  that  conclusion  that  needed  to  be  exposed.

Following  explanations  generated  an  additional  sadness.  A  settling  of  scores  that  had  led  to  nothing.  A  settling  of  scores  that  had  only  destroyed.  Dramatically,  it  sensed  this  was  the  ruins  of  something  else  in  which  he  received  the  reflection  without  any  kind  of  context.  There  was  indeed  a  fight  going  on  between  an  Emperor  and  an  God,  which,  so  far,  generated  NO  CONSEQUENCES.  Have  you  ever  met  the  creator  of  your  own  word  ?  No.  Wouldn't  probably  never  met  that  guy.  Hades-sama,  otherwise,  yes,  but  he  didn't  created  the  Earth.  ❝  It's  a  sad  result.  A  war  of  egos  that  ends  in  irreparable,  age-old  consequences  to  resolve,  without  any  happy  ending  in  return.  ❞  There  was  an  following  silence,  as  he  accepted  to  confess  about  it.  ❝  I  will  probably  never  met  the  creator  of  my  own  world,  or  whatever  creator  if  I  want  to  be  honest  with  you,  though  I've  met  temporary  …  one  God  of  the  Underworld.  Name  must  be  unknown  there.  Hades-sama,  the  protector  of  the  dead  ---  ❞  Late  realization  came  towards  density  of  revelations  he  was  currently  exposing.  The  Creator  of  this  world  died  ?  The  Creator  of  this  world  dissociating  himself  and  has  been  the  one  engaging  that  fight  ?  For  some  reason,  especialy  with  chessboard  talk  he  had  once  in  a  while  with  Lelouch,  and  how  Teito  exposed  Lelouch  interference  with  him,  he  was  certain  it  wasn't  insignificant.  ❝  Wait,  it's  your  world's  own  god  who  decided  to  fight  against  himself  to  ultimately  cause  simple  destruction,  and  remain  unique  and  isolated  somewhere  ?  How  could  this  world  hold  even  a  minute  without  a  Creator  to  support  it  ?  ❞  He  needed  then  to  process  his  next  words.  ❝  You  are  like  the  last  standing  guardian  of  a  kingdom  that  could  collapse  at  any  moment  because  your  own  god  has  abandoned  you?  ❞  Inside  higher  spheres,  they  always  must  be  someone  handle  responsibilities  of  the  board  as  the  Game  Master,  the  one  handle  foundations  of  his  own  world.  Lelouch  could  have  that  adventurous  life  because  one  best  friend  handled  responsabilities  in  his  absence,  allowed  yet  to  touch  that  kind  of  life.  State  of  this  world  was  more  serious  of  everything  he  could  have  guessed  at  first  approach.  ❝  No,  you  doesn't  rambled  too  much.  I  understand  how  serious  it's  is.  I  would  love  to  bring  hope  but  it  will  be  harder  that  I  initially thought  …  ❞

Old is a understatement of the century, or thousands of years. though the word was said, he is much older. One of the first beings in the world, though his state at the time was more then the current state of his being. One being seperated into three, the creator god of this world was ever potent in even dealing with something as strong as him. But Dagruel is ever duty bounded, invisible chains that bind him to duty, to wisdom that allow him to last far longer then most beings would. A million years is nothing to him, for he is demon lord Dagruel. King of the giants and everything that comes with it. his only consolation is that one part of him roams the land, enjoying freedom that he never could have.

"Once you become powerful enough, age becomes optional. Though I somewhat envy those who can, my concept is a being that can never age conceptually." Dagruel appeared in the world as if, no childhood, no mother no father. in truth he is ______

"The demons lords...had achieved nothing, but to show their grief. A importance existence was destroyed, tell me. Have you ever met the creator of your own world? I have. And he has created many static beings. But he died, and two of those beings ever decided to fight, one for grief. one for duty."

there were more beings, one such being within the palace itself. the fallen angel deeno, once name Lucifer but now... in any case it wasn't important enough to bring him up. Maybe he is sleeping somewhere else, lazing around as his very concept is to just watch. Unable to escape the fate of what their duty bounds them to.

"My duty, to the creator is this. To guard the gates of heaven itself which stands above us. And to guard the seal to prevent this world from becoming destroyed. Even now, the world itself could die should this seal break."

Duty is the chain that binds.

"Ah, I rambled too much. But I suppose its because you are a existence that can't do anything about it. that I could."

[hideawaysis]

"well as an autistic person i don't agree with this because i don't do this thing and" oh boy, wait until i tell you that autism is a SPECTRUM.

[lupismaris]

I'm just gonna complain in the tags tw medical stuff tbd etc

[gameclam3]

One of my mutuals posted a list of games they plan on playing and psy///nauts 2 was on there... stomach literally dropped

[gingersnapwolves]

So today I want to talk about puberty blockers for transgender kids, because despite being cisgender, this is a subject I’m actually well-versed in. Specifically, I want to talk about how far backwards things have gone.

This story starts almost 20 years ago, and it’s kind of long, but I think it’s important to give you the full history. At the time, I was working as an administrative assistant for a pediatric endocrinologist in a red state. Not a deep deep red state like Alabama, we had a little bit of a purple trend, but still very much red. (I don’t want to say the state at the risk of doxxing myself.) And I took a phone call from a woman who said, “My son is transgender. Does your doctor do hormone therapy?”

I said, “Good question! Let me find out.”

I went into the back and found the doctor playing Solitaire on his computer and said, “Do you do hormone therapy for transgender kids?” It had literally never come up before. He had opened his practice there in the early 2000s. This was roughly 2006, and the first time someone asked. Without looking up from his game of Solitaire, the doctor said, “I’ve never done it before, but I know how it works, so sure.”

I got back on the phone and told the mom, who was overjoyed, and scheduled an appointment for her son. He was the first transgender child we treated with puberty blockers. But not, by far, the first child we treated with puberty blockers, period. Because puberty blockers are used very commonly for children with precocious puberty (early-onset puberty). I would say about twenty percent of the kids our doctor treated were for precocious puberty and were on puberty blockers. They have been well studied and are widely used, safe, and effective.

Well. It turned out, the doctor I worked for was the only doctor in the state who was willing to do this. And word spread pretty fast in the tight-knit community of ‘parents of transgender children in a red state’. We started seeing more kids. A better drug came out. We saw some kids who were at the age where they were past puberty, and prescribed them estrogen or testosterone. Our doctor became, I’m fairly sure, a small folk hero to this community. 

Insurance coverage was a struggle. I remember copying articles and pages out of the Endocrine Society Manual to submit with prior authorization requests for the medications. Insurance coverage was a struggle for a lot of what we did, though. Growth hormone for kids with severe idiopathic short stature. Insulin pumps, which weren’t as common at the time, and then continuous glucose monitoring, when that came out. Insurance struggles were just part and parcel of the job.

I remember vividly when CVS Caremark, a pharmaceutical management company, changed their criteria and included gender dysphoria as a covered diagnosis for puberty blockers. I thought they had put the option on the questionnaire to trigger an automatic denial. But no - it triggered an approval. Medicaid started to cover it. I got so good at getting approvals with my by then tidy packet of articles and documentation that I actually had people in other states calling me to see what I was submitting (the pharmaceutical rep gave them my number because they wanted more people on their drug, which, shady, but sure. He did ask me if it was okay first).

And here’s the key point of this story:

At no point, during any of this, did it ever even occur to any of us that we might have to worry about whether or not what we were doing was legal.

It just never even came up. It was the medically recommended treatment so we did it. And seeing what’s happening in the UK and certain states in America is both terrifying and genuinely shocking to me, as someone who did this for almost fifteen years, without ever even wondering about the legality of it.

The doctor retired some years ago, at which point there were two other doctors in the state who were willing to prescribe the medications for transgender kids. I truly think that he would still be working if nobody else had been willing to take those kids on as patients. He was, by the way, a white cisgender heterosexual Boomer. I remember when he was introduced to the concept of ‘genderfluid’ because one of our patients on HRT wanted to go off. He said ‘that’s so interesting!’ and immediately went to Google to learn more about it. 

I watched these kids transform. I saw them come into the office the first time, sometimes anxious and uncertain, sometimes sullen and angry. I saw them come in the subsequent times, once they were on hormone therapy, how they gradually became happy and confident in themselves. I saw the smiles on their faces when I gave them a gender marker letter for the DMV. I heard them cheer when I called to tell them I’d gotten HRT approved by insurance and we were calling in a prescription. It was honestly amazing and I will always consider the work I did in that red state with those kids to be something I am incredibly proud of. I was honored to be a part of it.

When I see all this transgender backlash, it’s horrifying, because it was well on the way to become standard and accepted treatment. Insurances started to cover it. Other doctors were learning to prescribe it. And now … it’s fucking illegal? Like what the actual fuck. We have gone so far backwards that it makes me want to cry. I don’t know how to stop this slide. But I wrote this so people would understand exactly how steep the slide is.

[curlicuecal]

playing science telephone

Hi folks. Let's play a fun game today called "unravelling bad science communication back to its source."

Journey with me.

Saw a comment going around on a tumblr thread that "sometimes the life expectancy of autism is cited in the 30s"

That number seemed..... strange. The commenter DID go on to say that that was "situational on people being awful and not… anything autism actually does", but you know what? Still a strange number. I feel compelled to fact check.

Quick Google "autism life expectancy" pulls up quite a few websites bandying around the number 39. Which is ~technically~ within the 30s, but already higher than the tumblr factoid would suggest. But, guess what. This number still sounds strange to me.

Most of the websites presenting this factoid present themselves as official autism resources and organizations (for parents, etc), and most of them vaguely wave towards "studies."

Ex: "Above And Beyond Therapy" has a whole article on "Does Autism Affect Life Expectancy" and states:

The link implies that it will take you to the "research studies" being referenced, but it in fact takes you to another random autism resource group called.... Songbird Care?

And on that website we find the factoid again:

Ooh, look. Now they've added the word "some". The average lifespan for SOME autistic people. Which the next group erased from the fact. The message shifts further.

And we have slightly more information about the study! (Which has also shifted from "studies" to a singular "study"). And we have another link!

Wonderfully, this link actually takes us to the actual peer-reviewed 2020 study being discussed. [x]

And here, just by reading the abstract, we find the most important information of all.

This study followed a cohort of adolescent and adult autistic people across a 20 year time period. Within that time period, 6.4% of the cohort died. Within that 6.4%, the average age of death was 39 years.

So this number is VERY MUCH not the average age of death for autistic people, or even the average age of death for the cohort of autistic people in that study. It is the average age of death IF you died young and within the 20 year period of the study (n=26), and also we don't even know the average starting age of participants without digging into earlier papers, except that it was 10 or older. (If you're curious, the researchers in the study suggested reduced self-sufficiency to be among the biggest risk factors for the early mortality group.)

But the number in the study has been removed from it's context, gradually modified and spread around the web, and modified some more, until it is pretty much a nonsense number that everyone is citing from everyone else.

There ARE two other numbers that pop up semi-frequently:

One cites the life expectancy at 58. I will leave finding the context for that number as an exercise for the audience, since none of the places I saw it gave a direct citation for where they were getting it.

And then, probably the best and most relevant number floating around out there (and the least frequently cited) draws from a 2023 study of over 17,000 UK people with an autism diagnosis, across 30 years. [x] This study estimated life expectancies between 70 and 77 years, varying with sex and presence/absence of a learning disability. (As compared to the UK 80-83 average for the population as a whole.)

This is a set of numbers that makes way more sense and is backed by way better data, but isn't quite as snappy a soundbite to pass around the internet. I'm gonna pass it around anyway, because I feel bad about how many scared internet people I stumbled across while doing this search.

People on quora like "I'm autistic, can I live past 38"-- honey, YES. omg.

---

tl;dr, when someone gives you a number out of context, consider that the context is probably important

also, make an amateur fact checker's life easier and CITE YOUR SOURCES