#it's a debilitating issue that I deal with on a daily basis

[evil-jennifer-hamilton-wb]

Finally some positive representation

[genderkoolaid]

Do you still believe HRT, which unless you have a messed up endocrine system doesn't hurt or sterilize anyone , and SRS, which often calls for reduction or addition of things and doesn't have to entail the removal of any genitals, gonads etc, are in the same vein as being trans abled, and wanting things like debilitating illness, removed limbs, and to use mobility aids etc when physically and mentally abled? /genq

It could've been a trollpost, but I saw someone posting about something that supposedly came from you about how it's the same as removing healthy gonads or to sterilize oneself intentionally to want a limb removed to disable oneself /g

Uh, yeah, at the very least I believe it doesn't make sense to support people's ability to choose one but not the other. [Also as a necessary disclaimer: I am physically disabled and I use both a cane and a wheelchair. It has had a major impact on my life. This is my opinion as a cripple who suffers on a daily basis from both my disabilities and systemic ableism.]

If you get healthy gonads or sex organs removed, you are essentially reproductively disabled. When it comes to phalloplasty, especially RFF, your arm can experience some nerve issues (which for most people is not serious, there are therapies you do to help recover) but you could, potentially, experience some kind of disability. None of this is a value statement about any kind of medical transition because disability is morally neutral. In fact for many people being reproductively disabled is an entirely positive thing! Even though for another person it could be deeply upsetting!

I've fought for a long time against TERF fearmongering about transmasculine transition, specifically HRT, and their warnings that "it will make your good pure body DISABLED!!!!!" which is both ableist and transphobic. It comes from the assumption that a disabled body is inherently lesser and tragic and a place of suffering, and that no trans person would ever take disability for the ability to experience euphoria and relieve their dysphoria. Many of us would rather be disabled and happy than abled and suffering. So why do we only get to apply this to medical transitioning for trans people?

Yes, obviously getting a limb removed or paralyzed or losing a sense is going to change how you live and you will have to deal with a lot of ableism. But it's not up to me to tell someone else that they shouldn't pursue happiness and relieve because oh no! They might be a DISABLED PERSON! The worst thing to be in the whole wide world!!!!!!!! Like disabled people already have to constantly hear "wow if I was you I'd kill myself." And while you shouldn't comment your feelings on someone else's condition unprovoked, I think it's way better to see people getting excited to live a happy and active disabled life instead of constant traumaporn. So yeah I think people should have the ability to pursue voluntary disability & I also think it would be cool to see people with BIID reclaim the label of transabled, since it was coined by a BIID activist to create a less medicalized and suffering-focused way of talking about BIID.

(Also, my stance as a mobility user has always been that the only criteria you need to fill to get a mobility aid is thinking it could help you. People already suffer unnecessarily because they are worried they aren't "disabled enough" to deserve an aid. So if someone w BIID feels better when walking with crutches I don't care! Especially if they actively fight against systemic ableism and inaccessibility! I am wayyyyy more concerned with all the buildings in my hometown with no goddamn elevator + crosswalks with no button or speaker than I am with someone using a wheelchair because it helps their dysphoria.)

[versegm]

Not quite done with my Orleans reread so take this with a grain of salt, but I think the major theme of this singularity is: how do you deal with the absolute worst side of yourself?

This chapter kickstarts Mash's character arc because, as someone who lived in debilitating isolation until now, she doesn't have such a side. As Mozart puts it, she's "a blank music sheet without a single note on it." Anger, envy, greed, she only knows those under the lens of "well uhhh you should... probably not do that?" That's why suddenly being thrust among people whose central issue atm is dealing with their worst selves is good for her health.

How do you deal with your worst self? Jeanne struggles to reconcile this evil clone of her with who she's always believed to be. Marie Antoinette, while really close to Jeanne ideal-wise, still accepts that she does have a side of her that is bitter and resentful over her death. Mozart embraces his worst self with open arms. St Martha committed Suicide By Good Guy rather than stay this awful side of her any longer. There's a wide array of different perspectives, and you would be hard-pressed to pick one as the "correct" one. Mash went from "I interact with 1.5 people on a daily basis" to this sudden rainbow of human experience. No more fertile soil to grow from.

Anyways. How does one deal with the worst side of themself? For Liz, the answer is with a right hook.

[gailhai1storm]

i find it weird when friends react a sertain way to me talking about ways my mental health issues affect my life.

like i will say, "ye im a hoarder, my room is pretty bad"

or "ye i have really bad arachnophobia"

or "ye i get quite deppressed sometimes"

and i usually leave it at that cause I have no reason to share details, and the person will usually go

"oh i get it, that sucks" or "ah ye me too actually"

but then i will tell those same people more details (not even that really bad stuff ) just explain how I'm cleaning my room and proud of myself and why its such a big deal

and they react with utter shock.

and the reaction tends to be, "how do you live like that"

"i could never live like that"

and everytime im left wondering what they hell they thought I ment.

i tell people im friends with that I deal with that stuff on a somewhat regular basis partially to avoid the that type of shocked reaction.

what do they think i mean when I say I'm a hoarder?

a just very fully coset?

when i say i have arachnophobia, what do they think I mean when I say severe?

cause if someone told me that i would assume that it was debilitating and effected there daily life in a significant way. but when I explain how it effects me people react like I've said the craziest thing.

and i guess thats the main thing.

they way they react makes me feel like I'm crazy.

like i am truly broken for being like this, and they don't mean it and will never understand that.

because what im saying is crazy, but acting like its this out of the park thing to say.......

it hurts

cause its my life

[d3lto1dpr0c3ss]

chronic pain often makes people more sensitive to pain (for example, fibromyalgia is well known to increase pain sensitivity). chronic pain in and of itself can increase pain sensitivity because the chronic experience of pain causes the nerves to become overactive/hyper sensitive and send pain signals either when there is nothing causing pain or something that should only cause mild pain

i myself experience much more pain and more extreme pain from even minor injuries—sometimes things that arent even injuries at all, like lightly bumping into the edge of a desk, can leave me with pain severe enough to make me cry for several minutes. i can't speak for everyone, but i do know i've read research papers about increased pain in those with chronic pain

the issue really comes to people with chronic pain have difficulty distinguishing when pain is something that needs to be treated or is abnormal, and their lack of reaction causing others to downplay it. did you pinch a nerve in your back or is that just your typical back pain? do you have diverticulitis or is that just a crohns flare up? is that a concussion or a migraine? did you fracture your wrist or is it a bad arthritis pain day?

when you're used to experiencing debilitating, severe pain on a daily or weekly basis that you know needs no medical attention and/or is completely normal for you, it makes it extremely difficult to draw the line and recognize when pain with no easily identifiable cause (simple fracture, internal bleeding, organ infections, minor dislocation, etc) is something you need to be worried about

as someone with a variety of health conditions that leave me with constant chronic pain, if i went to the ER every time i experienced some new form of pain that's an 8+ on a painscale, i'd be at the ER at least monthly. but that means that when something is actually really wrong, i'm not going to know to see a doctor.

and if you're experiencing pain that's a 6 out of 10 every day—let's said you have chronic costochrondritis (cartilage connecting your ribs to your sternum is inflamed, making even breathing painful at times). when you're daily experiencing pain thats 6 out of 10 when you sit for too long or lay down for too long, if you fell and fractured a rib, it's not easy to tell. playing the trumpet can cause a flare up that leaves you in severe pain for hours—is this pain in your ribs with breathing not just that? how many hours, or days, do you deal with what easily could just be a flare up before deciding that something's wrong? how many times have you wasted money, been berated, or embarrassed when you sought out medical attention prior for what turned out to just be your chronic pain?

let's say its an unrelated injury. when you fell, you also minorly fractured your shin. you can still walk, can still put weight on it. it hurts, it hurts like your ribs often do. you know that pain that severe is normal for you, is something you don't need medical attention for. and you tolerate pain this severe daily. how do you decide that this is something you shouldn't just tolerate, something that won't go away if you wait a few hours or days when you're so used to having to do such?

when you do decide that, how do you describe the severity of the pain—it really hurts, you say, but you can easily wait a few hours in the ER because you're used to this level of pain. you go in to get examined and you're not crying, you're not flinching away or showing visible signs of pain as they inspect the injury, not because you arent in severe fucking pain but because youve dealt with pain like this for too many years to be so outwardly reactive. maybe the doctor doesnt even think you need an xray—probably just a bone bruise and bit of inflammation, if you came in with a fracture or something so serious, there's no way you'd have been so patient, so calm, and so unreactive.

doctors, friends, strangers absolutely will be influenced by someone's lack of reaction or extreme expression of pain—when people hear me tell them i'm in severe pain but all they've seen is that i'm moving a bit slower than normal, even if they know i have chronic pain there's still a subconscious level that they're going to downplay or disbelieve me. and even if they don't downplay it, when i'm daily in that kind of pain, they aren't going to react the same way they would if they'd just seen me snap my arm in half, even if they know the pain is to the same level

and when your normal is being in severe pain, knowing it will pass with time, knowing you dont need medical attention, and being surrounded by people who aren't reacting to it... it's so difficult to understand and to make that decision that this time something's actually wrong, you aren't the boy who cried wolf, and to get others to treat your injury/pain with the same level of concern as someone who doesn't have chronic pain and can't handle it as well

An issue with a lot of whump and injury writing guides is that they also tend to assume that the characters are always able-bodied but like.

It's been proven over and over again that people with chronic pain have higher tolerances for everyday pain, including things that would leave other people crying or screaming. When you experience dizziness, body aches, chills, etc as just your baseline, those things aren't a good indicator that you're injured or bleeding. Even mild concussions are very hard to notice when you have chronic headaches/migraines (speaking from experience).

And those are just the experiences of general chronic pain, not even more severe and debilitating conditions that can completely warp someone's relationship to their body and their brain's way of processing pain.

[howtofightwrite]

What's the possibility of someone developing their own fighting style just purly from being in fights alot? My character is raised in a facility and forced to get in fights on a daily basis, I feel like at some point she'd develop her own way of combat (?

Thank you Starke :))

Yes and no, but also, no.

Okay, so let's start with that last, “no.” Fighting on a daily basis will wear you out and kill you in pretty short order. Even if you're fighting flawlessly, and not suffering any injuries, the sheer wear and tear will become debilitating in a matter of weeks. Your character is not going to be fighting flawlessly, meaning she's going to be injured in those fights, and the injuries will quickly stack up until she's in no condition to defend herself.

The first yes and no come off a different issue; two different terms that are both called style.

So, your fighting style describes both how your character approaches combat, and also the kind of martial arts they practice. There's a lot of intermingling between these two concepts, and if you have a martial art background, that will heavily influence your combat style.

So, yes, your character would absolutely develop a combat style. They may even start with a nascent style formed by their prior exposure to violence, pop culture, and any number of other factors. Seriously, prior injuries (both experienced and witnessed) can affect your combat style. This is your character's philosophy towards using violence, and it's almost impossible not to have some kind of combat style, (even if that “style” is to avoid violence entirely.)

Your character would not last long enough to develop their own martial arts style. “Self-taught martial artist,” isn't a realistic aspiration. It's a little like self-taught neurosurgeon: The actual skills are more precise then they may first appear, and the consequences for trying to , “fake it until you make it,” are particularly dire.

One critical issue with martial arts is, it's very easy to teach yourself, “wrong.” Following that, it's very easy to practice those errors into your muscle memory until they are (practically) irrevocable. These are errors that the practitioner will be completely unaware of, and against a foe with actual training, can be a huge liability. These aren't simply, “hidden vulnerabilities,” in some cases, the practitioner may be at significant risk of injuring themselves, due to errors in their technique.

So, let's loop back to that last, “no.” I said she wouldn't be fighting flawlessly. Even if she was, she'd be dealing with bruising on her hands, and forearms.

Without any background, if she learns how to generate force for a punch, she's likely to break bones in her hands. It's not really possible to guess which bones, because there are a lot of ways you can try to strike at someone with your hands, and some are much more self-destructive than others.

Kicks can end very badly for a fighter. Especially an untrained one who doesn't know to get their leg in and out fast enough to avoid retaliation. You do not want to be in a situation where someone has a hold of your raised leg in a fight. As with your hands, kicking with your feet can result in broken toes for the untrained. This may interfere with her ability to walk. (I've walked on a broken toe before, but I understand my situation wasn't exactly normal, and I wouldn't recommend the experience.) Kicking too high, (for instance, trying to kick someone in the head), can easily pull muscles, and make walking “difficult” for a few days.

Trying to copy martial arts throws you've seen on TV is a fantastic way to wrench your back (or worse.) While it's not exceptionally likely, this can damage your spine for life, if you screw up.

Blows to the head are cumulative, and remain cumulative. As we've said many, many, times, concussions are not something to screw around with. The problem is, if your character starts taking blows to the head, she's not going to have the time needed to heal, and if you're dealing with a concussion, you're in no condition to fight.

In order to survive that kind of combat frequency, you would need to either have superhuman resilience to damage, superhuman healing, or a supernatural capacity to ignore injuries (such as a possessing entity with no regard for the condition of its host body.)

If your character is human, and having to literally fight others every day, they will not last long, their body will fail under a mounting stack of injuries.

Depending on their age, and overall physical health, they'll need weeks to months to fully recover from combat and get back into top shape. If they're malnourished, then their healing times slow down dramatically, and malnourishment further impairs their ability to fight. Psychological decay, from constant stress, if their environment isn't safe(ish) will also impair their ability to fight. Illness is another real consideration. I minor cold isn't likely to be life threatening in most situations, but if you're having to fight for your life against a healthy opponent, that's a very bad time to have the sniffles, to say nothing of muscle aches, a nasty cough, or other symptoms.

Basically, even if they are able to fight perfectly, it's quite likely that it would be impossible for them to stay in top form for long, and it would likely be a matter of weeks before they were picked off by a newer prisoner.

So, would they last long enough to develop a combat style? Yes, or at least probably.

Would they be able to develop their own martial arts style? No, it doesn't work that way.

Would they be able to last long enough to do much of anything? Not if they're getting into combat on a daily basis. That's simply too fast for any human to survive. We're resilient, but we're not that resilient.

-Starke

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[larentsaloud]

intermission

hello hello

if you see this post, you probably follow me or someone has reblogged. this is just a reminder from me to ALL of you that it's okay to

unfollow someone if you don't like their content

block someone if their posts are affecting you negatively

disengage, mute, etc

please don't feel the need to send me anonymous messages to tell me that you miss content I used to create. I'm sorry to add to your disappointment. but the truth is, that is a personal space for me, to share what I feel comfortable. it started off as a larry blog, evolved into jikook and now I am madly in love with fictional characters form a manga from 30 years ago.

as a content creator and a writer, I try my best to appease those who engage with my content. since most of my new flowers are vibing to the same show, that's what I am doing.

if I get an ask about jikook or larry I will answer it. the trouble is, that you can't force someone's hand to have a good fandom experience.

my larry / 1d fandom interactions went from 100 to 0 after a year of living and breathing their content. to me, as a queer person things in the fandom became UNSAFE. I started to feel unhappy in the fandom, because of the constant attacks by antis on daily basis, either hating on Tumblr or twitter doxing me.

I rarely mentioned the hate I got.

but the truth is, these experiences wear you down.

there comes a point, where you start to feel like an outcast, even though you have besties across the world you love and appreciate the music and the craft.

for me, since I had issues with gender for a few years now, the whole 1d toxic stuff made me NOT want to post.

because of the fans. it just became too much effort to block and whatnot.

same with jikook. absolutely debilitating to deal and cope. I burnt out within months. it was like a mirage of the whole 1d experience. I am not WELL enough mentally to cope with THAT level of hate and people not accepting facts. sorry. but not sorry.

hence, I came to a fandom where I felt safe. HOWEVER there are problems here, too. lol. you can't escape toxicity.

I just had to draw a line and say to myself, you know what? I am done shipping real people. like mentally exhausted with the whole thing. yes I believe those people are together. but I am not here to convince you, give you proofs and master posts or feed your curiosity. because my mental health comes first.

hope this covers any questions you may have for the future of this blog and as such feel free to act accordingly. please DO NOT feel obliged to tell me you will unfollow me if I don't post content you followed me for.

that's little threatening. also passive aggressive.

please let's just enjoy our respective fandoms and be happy. no need to make a dramatic exit. I am not going anywhere I am just choosing to be QUIET about it RIGHT NOW.

dx

[makingspiritualityreal]

Hello, would darakaraka and 7th lord conjunction in 7th mean that spouse is marriage oriented or will be very involved in marriage?

Why is Venus the Natural Darakaraka

7th house is not just spouse. Go to my masterpost and read about the 7th house mirroring to understand this energy better. 7th house can be your spouse, but it will also be any close relationship you form, can be a friendship too.

Darakaraka is good to have in the 7th house, or as lord of 7th, my darakaraka is actually lord of 7th as well. Read a few asks below, where I talk about my own darakaraka experience.

The reason this is a good situation is that the 7th house represents the mirroring process, that reveals to us the repressed parts of our consciousness, that our ego doesn't want to deal with. These repressed parts manifest as other people mirroring the energy back to us in our lives. With darakaraka connected to the 7th house, you attract people, who naturally help you with the mirroring process, and because of this, it's easier to rediscover who you are and own the shadow aspects of your psyche. You will automatically be in the company of people, who bring this dynamic up in order for you to own your shadow, and as a result the energy you attract serves you very well for your growth, as you are naturally attuned and open to experiencing it. It may be very painful, as it was often in my case due to my darakaraka being a malefic in a detrimented sign, but it still "worked well" in a sense that the universe really served me what was needed and at least I have zero issues with self awareness, thank god, and I'm looking forward to learning even more.

To realise how big of an advantage this chart configuration is, let's look at the opposite scenario, if instead of darakaraka you had your atmakaraka linked to your 7th house or 7th house ruler. We will compare it sort of like an exalted planet vs debilitated planet.

7th house ruler/planet linked to atmakaraka often manifests as a very deeply rooted process of unconscious projection and lack of self awareness that leads to a lack of self realisation, because a person who represses themselves so deeply is fundamentally unhappy. This kind of person needs a lot of specific outside input from others in order to achieve results when it comes to self discovery, and if the 7th house lord is a malefic they tend to be extremely resistant to that, actively shooting themselves in the foot and being blind and in complete resistance that they're doing it in the first place.

Self expression through atmakaraka is very natural and comes instinctively to everybody for better or for worse, because of how deeply rooted our need is for this planet's expression. That's why we feel so unfulfilled, when we can't realise our atmakaraka energy on the daily in some way. Example, I have a Sun atmakaraka, and when I temporarily find myself in need of recovery for my physical body and I spend time resting, which my Saturn return in the 4th demanded a lot of recently for example, I feel unfulfilled because I have a natural urge to go out and live my life. Posting about my daily practice on my social media helps, but sometimes I spend the whole day meditating and focusing on private spiritual practice, and it's not something I can always share on the immediate basis, so it kind of makes me feel like something is missing, even if technically I made a lot of progress, internally.

So with this compulsive need of realising the atmakaraka energy linked to the 7th house, the person walks around as if in a daze, unaware of how much their own actions and people around them truly reveal about their own personality. I have seen people with this configuration be extremely hypocritical and reproach others the very same negative behaviors, that they themselves apply on their close ones. The universe really delivers them people, who act as perfect mirrors to what they need to look at in themselves, and it surrounds them from all sides, yet they push it away as a projection instead of facing themselves. These are the kind of people who carry deep resentment towards their primary caregivers' abusive behaviors, yet they don't want to realise how they themselves are replicating these behavioral patterns and hurting others in the same fashion. That is because atmakaraka in the 7th house naturally mirrors other people's behaviors, and they soak up abusive behavioral patterns like a sponge, and they struggle purging them and gaining self awareness. I knew several people with this chart configuration, lived with some for years, and they had an uncanny knack for completely not acknowledging the reality of their actions, and having people abandon them as a result, because sooner or later someone would call them out on their hypocrisy. My ex has this configuration, and it took years of strong shakeups, and now the fear of them dying alone due to how they messed things up in their life, to actually make them start questioning their behaviors. Before, they would blame everything going wrong in their life on their parents, and when I would say "you act just like them, and you treat me the same, and that's why people run from you because you're hurtful" they would have a problem with me for telling the truth.

In conclusion, be really grateful for your chart configuration. I described both ends of the spectrum, and what you have is definitely easier to handle.

[fae-sidhe]

Alright listen up guys

I've been meaning to make an educational post about this for a while, so here we go:

I have a rare condition which affects my eyes, called Visual Snow Syndrome. Not much is currently known about what causes it, how to treat it or it's long-term affects, but research is ongoing. It's basically believed to be a condition of the brain processing images of the eye, most VSS sufferers have technically good vision and otherwise healthy eyes. This causes much anxiety and confusion when a patient develops the syndrome and it told by doctors and optometrists that their eyes are healthy!

So - here are some of the symptoms VSS sufferers deal with on a daily basis:

Visual static or 'snow', like tiny moving dots across their entire field of vision. This never goes away and it present even when the eyes are closed.

There are two main types of 'snow', pulsing type - in which larger dots of white or black may obscure the vision, or broadband type - which mimics the static on an old TV set.

Sensitivity to light

Reduced night vision

Floaters, flashes, and other visual disturbances

Headaches or migraines

Auras around bright lights

Repeating visual echoes after looking at a bright light

Balance issues/ vertigo

Tinnitus

Fatigue

Depersonalisation

Depression/anxiety

Worsening of symptoms when tired or eyes are fatigued (for example by long periods of looking at a screen)

VSS is not life threatening, but there is currently no cure and many patients find the condition very debilitating. In some cases the condition can come on suddenly (as in my case) but often patients do not realise they even have it until reading about it, as they have always had it and considered it to be normal. This may be one of the factors in why it has only just been recognised as a syndrome, as many sufferers may still be unaware they have it.

For more info on VSS please see the links below, and if you can please SHARE this post to raise awareness!

VSS can be complete hell to live with, and as most doctors and optometrists have never even heard of it, so being diagnosed and taken seriously is a real struggle. The more people are aware of this the more likely it is to be fully researched!

Links:

Genetic and Rare Diseases Information Centre

National Organisation for Rare Diseases (NORD)

Visual Snow Initiative (donate here!)

Neurology.org (academic article)

NHS Health Research Authority

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Happy Birthday, Tony Stark

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: ~11k Notes: Tony’s birthday is an important holiday in my life - so I decided to celebrate with this cute little fic. @stark-bb supplied the beauty for the end & I’m really happy with the way it turned out. Happy Birthday, Tony - this is how 50 should have gone for you!  Warnings: endgame fix-it (kind of), NSFW stuff, hurt/comfort, insecure!Tony Summary: 

It's Tony Stark's birthday - which means there's tons of reasons to celebrate. Check out his relationship with Peter over the course of two birthday's.

For his 50th, Peter goes all out - but is it really the night that Tony wanted?

Or, the one where Peter plans a party and all Tony wants is his love instead.

Read it on A03 here

In retrospect, after Thanos, actually getting to 50 was a miraculous thing.

It took him and Bruce 6 months to figure out how to bring everyone back after the snap. The easiest part of it all was going back in time to collect all of the stones – despite a couple of little hiccups, the job was well done. The gauntlet Tony constructed could easily be coined as one of his greatest technological masterpieces – and when Cara Danvers came back looking for Nick Fury, their answer to who would yield it was nicely answered.

There wasn’t much time between the stones being used and the gauntlet being stolen right out from under their grasp. With the total annihilation of Avenger’s tower, it didn’t seem all that surprising that they were all of the sudden looking down into the abyss of a full-on war. There were so many of Thanos’ troops that for the first little bit of the battle – it didn’t seem like they were going to get anywhere close to winning.

Then, the portals opened up and every single person Tony could remember ever hearing about or seeing stepped through. His eyes caught and kept Peter’s when Cara pulled him out of the ditch with the gauntlet held tightly in his arms. There were so many other things that were important in that moment – the world was on the cusp of decimation once again – yet, he couldn’t break the eye contact. He didn’t want to.

Pulling Peter into his arms the second he could felt like the most natural thing in the world – when the kid dusted in them not that long ago, the world felt a little less special. Now, the scale shifted back to normal. The picture of him and Peter they took when he put together his ‘internship’ was one of the biggest catalysts in his adamancy in figuring out how to solve the time travel issue and put things back to right.

He didn’t plan to press the kiss against his cheek – the adrenaline of battle and finally succeeding made it easy to override the thinking portion of his choice of actions. Peter melted into him and it suddenly felt more than okay. The mumbled “this is nice” drove home the point and Tony let himself have that – the embrace, the comfort, even the solace that came from having Peter back again.

The rage of battle swept them away from each other and for a while, Tony was focused on being the perfect distraction for Cara – her final move of sweeping and engaging just enough to get the stones off of Thanos and onto the gauntlet the single greatest in Avenger history. Watching Thanos drift away into nothingness felt more satisfying than Tony cared to admit – and when he fell to his knees, it was from being overwhelmed that maybe, just maybe, they saved the world for good.

Aftermath in the face of a tragedy that only half of the population remembered was a little weird. It took a lot of explaining to the ones they lost for everyone to make sense of the missing time – of the life that got put on hold because of a crazy vendetta. Tony tried hard to document the progress he and Bruce made through the construction of the time machine and their ideas about the stones so he could explain to anyone that asked. Though – it was unsurprising that Peter was the only one that even wanted to know.

So – Tony explained it to him. They talked through the schematics he initially drew up when solving the irregular blip that Bruce initially couldn’t. Peter’s questions were educated and the things he inferred before Tony could tell him were some that even Bruce did not conclude. He can’t help but be impressed by the kid’s true intelligence. Tony spent so much time trying to protect him, he never took the time to pay the closet attention to him as a person – to the extremely smart and talented individually Peter absolutely was.

In the end, the boy left with a much clearer understanding of the ins and outs of the journey to get him back. It appeased him a grand total of two days before Peter came knocking again. His excuse didn’t seem nearly as sound this time. He kept listening for May to come through the door even though he knew she was working the overnight shift – Tony could see it for what it was, a plea for distraction, for the company of another human being that wasn’t going to ask questions or wonder out loud about things that shouldn’t be spoken about ever again.

It quickly became a routine between them – Peter showing up later into the night with a feeble excuse to come in and spend time with Tony. Tony didn’t spend any time pretending, though – each time it happened, he opened the door and let Peter come in without worrying about the muttered excuse thrown his way.

Dealing with shit was a personal thing, the understanding of that was something Tony knew very intimately.

His own special way of dealing pulled him away from Pepper – their relationship crumbling at the seams when Tony refused to give up the suit. After everything, he felt it to be too big of a compromise – he loved her, but some things were bigger than ultimatums and their inevitable consequences. Losing half of the population made that pretty clear.

And though Tony hated to admit it, he came to rely on the kid’s presence – their late night tv binges one of the only things that chased the nightmares away. Despite seeing him on an almost daily basis now, Tony still dreamt about the way Peter faded from his arms, the impossible to hold feeling of dust running through his hands the worst part of it all. He figured they would stop when the world started to spin the right way again – yet, he couldn’t escape them. It took a lot more brain bytes than he originally thought to push away the few reasons he could come up with as to why that actually was.

No matter how much he didn’t want to think about it, letting Peter in all of those nights ago set the course for them. Tony couldn’t deny that he learned to heal a little more every single time Peter came through the door – the ease in their conversation slowly but surely becoming something that Tony couldn’t live without. They forged a closeness with every night that past – one that Tony quickly had to put in a safe category. There were so many times he found himself wanting to reach across the couch and grip Peter’s hand in his own. So quickly, Peter became a steady source of comfort.

Sooner rather than later, the Avengers were suiting back up – the idea of instituting regular rounds and patrolling schedules winning without question when Steve brought it up. If they were going to deal with entities like Thanos ever again, the need to be better prepared reigned supreme. Luckily, the rest of the group recognized his and Peter’s familiarity and always paired them up. It felt nice to work with him and Tony absorbed every single second of it. They were constantly learning together and when the time came to actually fight, they’d be prepared – some of their tag team moves way more than enough to truly debilitate an opponent.

Of course, being patrol partners meant dealing with the times that things turned to shit. Though there weren’t big time things forcing all of the Avenger’s to assemble, they still dealt with things that were dangerous. Peter, no matter how many times Tony shouted at him about keeping it on the safer side, refused to ignore intuition – even if it led him astray nine times out of ten. It was extremely frustrating, and the only downfall Tony could find with being back to saving the world so soon after the last time.

Things got interesting when Peter almost died taking down Mysterio. It took them a few minutes longer than they expected to get across the pond and into a position where they could help – so Peter handled a lot of it on his own. Tony was glad they spent all the time they did training – some of the moves Friday showed him were truly impressive and genuinely lifesaving. It felt shitty to find Peter broken and bloody – there was no mistaking the pure intensity of the battle that raged before him.

Tony pushed aside all of his personal feelings and helped solve the problem – the best thing he could do for Peter was get things under control, there wouldn’t be any need for the younger man to have to fight so hard after that. It took the two of them and some well-planned drop-ins from Steve and Natasha to put everything to rest. When things were finally over, Peter slumped over against Tony and howled, the tears just as much from frustration as exhaustion and pain. He didn’t let Tony detach the entire time Dr. Cho took a look at him – he stayed by his side and talked him through what happened – tried to keep him calm when a bone was reset and his body temperature worked off the sedative before it could actually numb anything.

It felt hard to separate Peter from the thoughts of caring, and protection, and on the weakest of days – love. He figured the idea of being a father figure wouldn’t be too bad. Tony wanted to believe that Peter leaned on him the way he would May or Happy. There were signs, though – signs that said the younger man’s feelings were way deeper than either wanted to think about at the moment. For the sake of allowing independence and growth, Tony didn’t pursue the obvious.

That mindset didn’t last very long  – Peter had a way of being pretty persuasive. His 49th birthday crept toward them without anyone really noticing. Everyone was trying to figure out what post-Thanos meant – and the simplicity of a birthday didn’t seem to be on the forefront of people’s minds. It didn’t matter, anyway – the older he got, the more meaningless birthdays seemed to be. The world continued to spin and need protecting and want things regardless of birthdays.

When the day came, it surprised him to see candles sticking out of a big pile of Belgian waffles that morning – a smiling Peter and Bruce carrying the plate over to him. He shook his head and blew out the candles, the cheesiness of it just that – cheesy – but also very thoughtful and way more than he wanted or imagined. The waffles tasted just a little bit better that morning, too – which was quite the feat, because Tony loved waffles; absolutely fucking loved them.

The rest of the day past in a haze of bowling in the alley in the SI building, eating disgustingly shitty food, and good company. Bruce begged out after the third game and left Peter and Tony alone to duke out games four and five. Peter’s incredible strength worked against him in the end, Tony grabbed both the games and the overall win count for the day. It wouldn’t have hurt his feelings if Peter let him win, either – it felt good to feel good for once.

Heading back to the penthouse, Tony wasn’t surprised when Peter followed him up. From the beginning, Tony made sure to keep May in the loop – and at this point, as long as Peter was somewhere safe, she didn’t seem to mind. Peter probably took more advantage of that little giving piece of her, but Tony wasn’t one to complain when it benefitted him just as much. He watched the kid go straight to the fridge, the massive quantity of junk food they consumed just hours earlier obviously not enough.

“What do you want to do for dinner, Tony? Your fridge is kind of empty,” Peter said after a couple of minutes of leaning over and looking, then stepping away – like if he looked enough times, things would show up eventually. Grinning, Tony sank into one of the stools tucked into the kitchen island, his fingers knitting together.

“I hadn’t thought about it – I’ve eaten more today than I usually do in a week. Want me to order something? I bet we can get that Vietnamese place you like to deliver out here,” Tony mumbled in reply. He brought a finger to his glasses and tapped into Friday’s interface. “Can you order the usual, doll?”

Peter stood on the other side of the island across from him, his cheeks flushed. “You didn’t have to do that. I found an egg in there,” he remarked, his thumb hiking over his shoulder towards the fridge. “It’s your birthday – we should be doing what you want.” Peter tried for a serious look in his direction but failed at the last second – the soft ‘for Tony’ smile he’d come to be very familiar with over the last few months spreading across his lips. He leaned down onto his forearms, the two of them closer than ever now.

“We’ve done enough, Pete. Let me be an old man for the rest of the night, huh? Besides, we’re almost done with The Sopranos – I’m ready to see how it all ends.” Tony wasn’t lying, either – there wasn’t anything else he’d rather do. The thought of getting dressed to go out or partying the night away made his head spin. After all of the bull shit of the life he led, sitting around with takeout and good company didn’t seem all that bad.

The boy seemed to understand, the softness in his eyes answer enough. He shrugged his shoulders and pushed away from the island – Tony watched as he went over to the bar on the other side of the room and grabbed a small rock glass. Without much effort, he poured two fingers worth of whiskey into it and walked back across the room, the glass being passed to Tony before he could even understand what happened.

“You’re going to need that, then,” Peter finally uttered, his face breaking out into a smile. Tony watched the grin grow and internally documented all of the lines and grooves that played across the boy’s face. Peter must have noticed because his smile grew a little bigger. “Want to go hangout in the lab until the food gets here?” The question was shy, despite what felt like millions of hours they spent there together already.

Slamming back the liquid in the glass, Tony let the burn clear his head – his mind in all sorts of places it probably shouldn’t be. He caught Peter’s eye and nodded, his own grin slipping across reluctant lips. “It’s funny that you even need to ask.” Tony got up then, his neck swiveling to crack the stiff joints. “Shall we?” he asked, his head tilting when Peter didn’t move or even say anything.

He didn’t expect the clumsy hands Peter answered with, the boy grabbing his hips a little too tight, the strength in his arms bringing Tony against his chest. Tony let out a breath, his secret wants and desires coming to life before him – his brain shortcutting with the responsible thoughts that tried to break through the haze. His arms wrapped around Peter’s shoulders on their own accord, Tony losing the fight against himself with every passing second.

“Pete – “ Tony tried, his arms opposing his words, the muscles in his shoulders, chest, and biceps tensing and clenching, every fiber of his being wanting to be that much closer. Peter tilting his head until they were looking eye to eye stopped him in his tracks, though – the boy’s eyes bright with many things unreadable, except for one. Slamming his own shut, Tony pulled in a long breath, the look too much.

Then, lips were on his, and all thoughts ceased to exist for the few seconds that clumsiness turned into the hottest thing he’d ever felt. Peter’s hands moved from his hips to frame his face, the tightness of them bringing their lips closer together – Tony tilting his head at the very last second to stop their noses from colliding painfully. He sunk into it and forgot for a second what he needed to do when they broke apart.

The soft moan leaving Peter’s lips when the kiss broke made him press back in for another couple of chaste pecks – Tony hoping more than anything that it was enough to engrain the taste of Peter onto the surface of his skin. Dipping his head, Tony pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closing.

“You figured out what I really wanted,” Tony whispered, a laugh leaving his lips at the sound of the words in his own ears. Up until that point, he hadn’t allowed himself to even think like that. With Peter in his arms – it was easy, though. Like their embrace on the battlefield, Tony couldn’t help what his lips did this close to Peter’s person.

“You’re just a couple months too early,” he managed to get out, the few seconds of hesitation before doing so just enough to soak this intimacy in a little bit longer. “You know we have to wait.” Peter’s head became a little heavier against his own for a second, then he felt the slightest of nods – the boy way smarter than Tony ever gave him credit for. Pulling back, he put a bit of space between them, the only point of contact now his hand on Peter’s cheek.

While his thumb brushed the sharp bone there, Peter leaned into the touch – his eyes shut, the storm inside them kept under control by the lids covering them. Tony let himself look his fill until Peter was the one pulling away – the saddest little smile on his lips. “I know – I just – I couldn’t wait. I – Tony, you’re everything.” The words were earnest and if this were anyone else, he wouldn’t have even given thought to believing him. Peter constantly showed how much respect he deserved, so Tony gave it to him.

“Save that for later, okay? We’ll make your 18th one to remember.”

“Okay. Happy birthday, Mr. Stark.”

----

And boy did they – even a year later, Tony can still remember the entire day they turned into a week rather vividly.

He told Peter to pack a bag and let May know they were staying in the city for the week. For the first time in almost two months, Tony was finally letting him stay over again. He knew if he gave either of them any opportunity to give into temptation, they would – and this seemed like too important of a thing to screw up before it could officially be a thing. He didn’t want to give anyone – including the person who trusted Tony to be a good part of Peter’s life – the ability to question anything between them.

The second Peter walked through the door; the boy was on him – Tony barely able to get his glasses off his face before they were kissing. It didn’t make it past the necking stage, of course – Tony had too many plans to lose his shit on the couch in his front room – but it was nice to finally let himself touch and feel, to give into the want that so obviously coursed through them both. He let Peter squirm against him until he let out a satisfied huff and finally came up for air. “Happy birthday, Petey,” Tony mumbled against his forehead.

Coney Island took up the rest of the day – Tony laughing and smiling harder than he could remember, especially since Thanos. The ride on the Cyclone threw them into each other and when they got off, Tony wrapped Peter in his arm and steered them back towards the line, the two of them riding the coaster two more times before moving on. Peter insisted they finish the day at the aquarium – the boy totally obsessed with the penguins and otters.

When they got back to the penthouse, Tony led Peter into the bedroom, straight past the bed, and into the attached bathroom. He pushed him down until he was sitting on the edge of the tub and went about putting the necessary stuff for a bath in it. While the water ran, Tony took Peter’s clothes off one article at a time, his lips following behind caressing the newly exposed skin. Getting down to his boxers, Tony had him stand up and pulled them very slowly down Peter’s legs, the tips of his fingers tracing the same path as the fabric.

He stayed on his knees and lavished the skin on the inside of Peter’s left knee, then nosed his way up his right thigh – his lips landing on his hip, eyes looking up. “Get in the tub,” he mumbled, his eyebrows raising in invitation. Peter didn’t waste any time complying with the request – a soft sigh leaving his lips when he sank into the warm water.

Stepping back, Tony started the actual part of the bath that was for Peter. He slipped the buttons out of the slots on the vest he was wearing and let it hit the ground. The shirt came next, his fingers slow in the way they moved from one button to the next. A light shimmy had the button down flowing off his shoulders to join the vest on the floor. Kicking off his shoes, he hobbled about for a second to get the socks off – then straightened back out with sexiness written on his face once again.

Peter’s eyes were glued to his every move, Tony happy to see red trail down his cheeks, neck, and onto his chest with each new piece of clothing that came off. The boy was fisting himself under the water, Tony could tell by the wave and ripple of it. Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Tony made quick work of his belt and the button on his slacks, the pants falling without much effort after that. His black boxer briefs stayed on for a second, Tony taking a couple of steps closer to the tub until he could lean down and press a kiss against Peter’s lips.

While they kissed, Tony pulled his underwear off, a little groan slipping out between them when his erection finally hit the coolness of the air around them. “Shift forward a little, babe,” Tony muttered, his body sinking easily into the water with the newly made space. Peter moved back and settled between his legs without any prompting, Tony’s chest now toasty from the combination of water and the boy’s warm skin. Wrapping his arms around him, Tony pulled him even further back – his cock trapped perfectly between his own stomach and Peter’s back.

Touching his lips to Peter’s neck, Tony let himself relax into the warm water and the sound embrace – the boy in front of him doing the same thing if the sagging weight against his chest was anything to go by. “Did you have a good birthday?” he spoke the words right beside Peter’s ear – the gust of breath having the desired effect as goosebumps launched themselves across his skin.

His head fell back against Tony’s shoulder, Peter’s hands moving until they were gripping the older man’s across his stomach. “It’s been great. This is the best part, though – finally getting to spend this kind of time with you.” It was obvious Peter meant each of those words, too; his voice took on such authentic tone when he was talking to Tony. “I love you, Tony. I have for a while.”

Though he suspected, Tony didn’t think he would hear those words for a long time. He forgot how mature Peter could be when he really put his mind to things. Tony moved his arms until he could cup Peter’s cheek, the boy shifting a little bit to look over his shoulder – their eyes meeting. “I love you too, Pete. I’m the worst possible choice for you, but I’m also incessantly selfish. You can have whatever you want from me.” Tony capped his words off with a soft kiss, his lips lingering just because they could.

“I just want you, Tony. I thought for a long time that I wanted to save the world, be a hero – and yeah, I still want that – but I want this, too. Simplicity. Your arms around me. I’m young, I know – I also know what I want, so don’t try and talk me out of it.” Peter practically huffed out, his last couple of words sounding a bit petulant. They made Tony’s heart jolt, regardless – the weight of them surprisingly heavy.

Who was he to dictate any of that part of Peter’s life? Tony did lots of questionable things in his youth – more than a few of them without thinking about it as thoroughly as Peter seemed to. There were no regrets in the pacing of their relationship and how very natural it occurred, so what was there to really hold him back? There were times Tony was selfish about much lesser things and at this point in his life, why hold now? Smiling to himself, Tony relaxed even further into the porcelain of the tub.

“I’m not going to try and talk you out of anything. It might suck for a little while – telling everyone and explaining ourselves, but I’m with you.”

That was about a year ago and while Tony was right – it was a hassle to constantly answer questions and defend a thing that felt so natural to them – things were also too good to really be that upset about it. They went about telling the team first, these people fought with them on a constant basis and needed to understand the decision they made. It took a bit of talking Steve from the tizzy he spun up and a few well placed “I know exactly how you feels” to get everyone to calm down enough to talk to Peter about it.

The old guy of the group grabbed Peter’s shoulder, Steve’s eyes seemingly trying to stare right into his soul. “He’s old, Pete,” Steve started – the rest of the group breaking out into varying degrees of laughter around them. Tony prickled for a second, his pride a little hurt from the implication – but what could he really do? When compared to Peter, he was old – generations older, in fact.

Peter’s hand grabbed Steve’s and dislodged it, usually soft brown eyes serious, his gaze just as sharp. “So are you.” Tony watched him bite into his bottom lip and unsuccessfully trying to stop laughter from bubbling in his chest. “I don’t care. I’m old enough to understand all of your concerns and appreciate them – but I am politely ignoring everything you guys have to say. I want this. He didn’t talk me into it, he didn’t groom me,” Peter stopped then, his eyes trailing over to Rhodey who spoke the traitorous words earlier. “He’s just my person, you know?”

After hearing that, Tony figured no one could stand between them. Not even May – who surprisingly didn’t seem shocked or upset about the situation. She glared at Tony for a long minute, then pulled him into her arms. “If you hurt him, I’ll do the same – got it?” she whispered, the arms “hugging” him tightening ever so slightly.

“Noted,” Tony replied instantly, his hands patting her back lightly. He caught the look Peter and May shared when they pulled away and had to try very hard not to burst out laughing in her face. They were both stubborn, the older man instantly understanding where Peter got it from. Wrapping his arm around Peter, Tony pressed a kiss to the side of his head, the boy relaxing into him.

“The hardest part is over,” he mumbled into Peter’s hair, the hand on his shoulder bringing him more tightly against his chest.

----

Despite being with one of the most caring humans on the planet, Tony’s 50th birthday loomed over him. For whatever reason, it felt like a big one. The age difference between him and Peter never played a part for either of them – yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about how glaring it actually was. Sometimes when he picked Peter up from HIGH SCHOOL, he felt incredibly old – and the closer his birthday got, the more ridiculous it seemed to be picking someone up from secondary school.

He didn’t give a shit about it – not for him, at least. The older person in the scenario always got the better end of the deal. Peter was loving and kind, young to the point where some of the shit he pulled out of his ass to refer to was adorably offensive. No – he didn’t really get what Peter saw in him. At least – lately. Maybe that mid-life crisis was finally sneaking up on him – the idea of that laughable after some of the crazy stuff that went on his life.

In the last couple of weeks, Tony felt some of his self-worth starting to diminish a little bit. Which was literally silly – Peter touched him, kissed him – practically worshipped him on a nightly basis. Feelings weren’t always rational, though. Every time Peter mentioned the big party he was planning for the occasion, Tony felt himself curl in a little bit – his affinity for not hurting Peter seemingly the only thing keeping him from shouting about how little he wanted to attend a party celebrating his old ass.

Peter flourished, though – so he didn’t stop him, not even when his heart started to race when his young boyfriend talked about all of the Avengers and their travel plans to meet at the complex. It was nice that they all wanted to come back and celebrate – he just hated the fact that they were celebrating such a long milestone on Tony’s account. He told himself to grin and bear it, though – it couldn’t possibly be that bad.

And since Peter was really wrapped up in all of the planning, he didn’t get the subtle hints that Tony tried to make. His “maybe it can be just you and me” wasn’t said early enough and when he thought to bring it up – his mind went to all of the plans Peter made; the way his caring, so very loving boyfriend thought every little thing out.

The night of, Tony went through the motions – he donned the suit (because let’s face it, Tony looked damn good in a custom Gucci suit.) The barber Peter paid to come in and clean them up did a good job on his facial hair and the slight trim of the longer strands on the top of his head made him feel the slightest bit better. Whenever Peter caught his eyes in the mirror, Tony could genuinely smile back.

They walked in together hand-in-hand, which Tony still felt a little giddy about. He milled around and did the right amount of small talk – his chest feeling a little warmer with each hug he got from his Avenger family. Tony did all the right things until he found an out, the anxiety that was building starting to clutch at him, the shininess of the night a little too bright for his tastes.

Walking into the lab, Tony breathed a sigh of relief, his muscles unclenching for the first time all night. He slipped off his jacket and got to work on a couple of modifications to the nanotech he was implementing into the suit – the response time still a little slow for his liking. For the first time the entire night, Tony felt the weight lift off of his chest. He got so zoned into what he was doing, he didn’t see Peter walk into the lab – or really acknowledge his presence until a hand was on his shoulder.

“I thought I might find you here. What happened?” His voice was soft – though, Tony also sensed the slightest bit of tension sitting under the surface of those words.

He bought himself some time by swiping across the holoscreen, his work dropping down into the folder to be pulled out at a later time. “It got a little crowded in there.” He mumbled with a shrug, his eyes nowhere near meeting Peter’s. “I got an idea and kind of had to run with it.” That excuse almost as lame as the first one.

Peter’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, the boy’s strength keeping him against his chest – forcing him to give up some attention. “What’s really wrong, though? You’ve been a little off lately.”

So, he did notice. Clenching his eyes shut, Tony gave in a little, his body leaning into Peter, letting the younger man take a bit of his weight. “I’m just old – I didn’t want to celebrate that. But, I didn’t have the heart to say anything.” He felt deflated as the words left his lips – the strain of it finally climbing its way down and off his heart. “I’ve been having a moment and I love the hell out of you for doing what you did. I’ve been doubting why you’d want me and it’s so obvious, isn’t it?” Tony leaned his head against Peter’s, so much defeat within him.

For a man that saved the world, he didn’t feel very strong in that moment. Being in Peter’s arms made him vulnerable and, in that moment, he couldn’t find a way to stop the avalanche tumbling him down the cliff. A couple tears streamed down his cheeks before Tony could even think to stop them. Peter’s thumb was there in an instant, mopping them up without a second thought.

“It is – but that’s okay. I should have noticed – I mean, I did, but I was excited. You did say you wanted it to be just you and me. Can we start that now? I’ve got a pretty decent idea,” Peter whispered, the leverage of his hands on Tony’s face bringing their eyes level. “I love you, Tony – today is about you, not me.” Peter let the words sit between them for a second, the boy giving him time to say no if he really wanted.

Instead of answering, Tony closed the space between them, Peter’s lips warm against his own. Tony gripped the side of Peter’s suit jacket and simply let himself go – the younger man taking control of the kiss without a single problem. Tipping his head to the side, a soft gasp left his mouth when Peter took advantage of the position and started to press his tongue in deeper. The tangle of heat there absolutely delicious.

He felt himself being pushed back, his feet moving on their own accord until the edge of the lab table hit his lower back, another moan leaving his lips. With the kiss broken, Peter put a little bit of space between them and went right for Tony’s belt – his nimble fingers getting the thing undone and his button open within seconds. The innocent Peter from a year ago did not exist – the younger man had no problems pushing his pants and boxer briefs down enough to get access to his cock. Lips wrapping around him pulled a “fuck” from deep within him, his control ticking down to nothing.

“Pete – “ Tony grumbled, his hand camping out on his boyfriend’s shoulder, fingers digging into the suit jacket there. Peter worked him over effortlessly, the boy’s tongue trailing down his length as the swallowed him whole. The tip of his dick hit the back of Peter’s throat time and time again – his hips pressing in that last little inch when the other’s hands reached back and used his ass cheeks to pull him forward. The tears in Peter’s eyes welled, but he pulled him deeper anyway – his mouth stretching obscenely.

The gulping sensation of Peter’s throat restricting against his already pulsing length brought him to the edge embarrassingly quick. He moved his fingers up Peter’s neck into his hair, his grip tight after a particularly delicious suck from the tip of his cock all the way down to the root – Peter’s cute little nose dirtily pressed into the nest of well-trimmed pubes. “Oh god – Pete. I’m going to cum. You’ve got to stop. Pete!” Tony spoke helplessly, his free hand scabbling at the table behind him.

Tossing his head back, Tony felt the snap of too much arousal in his gut – his hips pressing forward totally out of his control. “Pete, fuck!” He let out a series of groans with every hard suck against the head of his cock, Peter obviously very keen on milking him for all that he was worth. Tony forced himself to loosen the grip in Peter’s hair, a soft wince leaving his lips when a couple strands of hair caught between his fingers. Desperate for the feel of those spit slick lips against his own, Tony pulled Peter up off his knees and slammed their mouths together.

“What about you?” Tony mumbled against his lips a couple of minutes later, the taste of himself on Peter’s tongue almost enough to get him ready to go again. His fingers were desperate to get their hands on Peter’s skin – the older man hoping for just a little bit more.

Peter grabbed Tony’s hand and pressed it against the crotch of his pants – the wetness there apparent, the suits pants totally ruined by the mess he made. “I think we should head upstairs and see where the rest of the night takes us.” He grinned and gave Tony another kiss, his hands greedy in the way they helped him get his pants up – in the way he pulled Tony out of the lab and into the elevator.

Surprisingly, Peter didn’t try anything in the elevator – he kept Tony against his chest, arms slung tightly around him. “I love you,” the boy mumbled against the shell of his ear, the ride long enough for the intense zing to cool off a bit – the softness of his words perfect for the moment.

“I love you, too.”

That was just the calm before the storm.

Tony followed with hungry eyes as Peter started to take off his clothes the second they hit the penthouse – his bow tie hitting Tony’s cheek before the older man could process what was even happening. Eyes wide, Tony didn’t hesitate to stay on Peter’s heals and try to touch the newly revealed skin with hungry fingertips.

Getting into the bedroom, Tony expected to find a naked Peter in his bed – instead, the naked man was standing at the edge, an expectant look on his face. “Come here,” he beckoned, his long fingers hypnotizing enough to draw Tony in right away. His feet carried him over there – skintight with excitement of what was to come. “Get on the bed, Tony.” Peter’s grin was too good to ignore, so he complied immediately.

Lithe hands made quick work of his shoes and socks – Tony moving up a little further on the mattress when his feet were bare. Peter continued his exploration by moving to the button on is pants and pulling them and his underwear down his legs without hesitation. Soft fingertips explored the soles of his feet, nails running over the arches. “I love how strong your legs are. You’re not the tallest guy – but you’ve got these legs that carry so much weight.” Tony slammed his eyes closed, his brain not able to take the words and the sight of Peter all at once.

The younger man peppered kisses up his legs, over the ticklish part of his knees and across the long length of his thighs – his skin pebbling with the physical sign of arousal. Peter moved up after that, his fingers getting Tony’s buttons open without much effort – the boy touching the newly exposed skin with reverence – eyes glued to Tony’s. “Your stomach is my favorite. You’re stacked – there’s so much muscle there. And then you’ve got this slight little swell here,” Peter moved his hands to run over the littlest bit of stomach Tony hadn’t been able to get rid of over the years. “Reminds me that you’re human, you know?” He let his tongue swirl across the skin there.

A soft touch to his face had him blinking his eyes open, Peter’s face wide open – the heat there, totally encompassed by the lightness the other was trying so hard to portray. Tony nodded his head then, a little smile playing on his lips. Peter returned it, his exploring fingers moving once against to his chest – his nipples pebbling with their attention. “It’s hard to forget sometimes, too,” Tony whispered, chest coming up off the bed to press into Peter’s touch.

A couple minutes later, Peter urged him to turn over – his teasing touches starting up the second his flesh was on display. The younger man’s fingers pressed into the muscles of his shoulders and back, the touch just as soothing as it was arousing. He made a trail from the back of Tony’s neck down to the valley of his lower back with tongue, teeth, and lips – each nip and lick taking him apart inch by inch.

Stopping at his ass, Peter grabbed a cheek in each of his hands. “This is my favorite, though. You’ve taken to wearing those tight slacks and it’s a total tease. I want to take you apart, but then, I want to see your ass clench and flex in those pants,too. It’s distracting, Tony. And I think you know that.” Peter emphasized each of his words with sharp bites to each round globe – the stimulation of the skin there causing Tony to groan, his muscles clenching.

“I like the way you look at me,” Tony managed to groan out, his hips pressing back to get more of Peter’s touch, anything and everything the younger man could give him. Peter rewarded him with another stinging bite on the meat of his right ass cheek. “Fuck, Pete – “ his words felt a little slurred, each one dripping out with any consent of his own.

“I know – and that’s what makes it hotter. Your ass is kind of forbidden. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had it over the last year,” Peter drove his point home with a not so subtle yank of Tony’s cheeks apart – the air hitting him cool, a sudden chill rushing over his already tender skin.

Fingers pressing against his hole brought Tony to mere whimpers – Peter was right, he didn’t usually do a lot of time in this position, the vulnerability usually making him uncomfortable. There was something in the way Peter was handling him that made him want to give in and let Peter take and give and bring them both to their fucking knees, though. The other seemed to take his noises as a good sign and got to work.

Despite being 50 years old, Tony never got used to the feeling of a tongue in, around, or up his asshole. A laugh fell from his lips – the feeling their foreign and overwhelming, his gut filling with shame and heat all at once. Peter wasn’t discouraged by anything and went to town – his tongue tracing Tony’s rim before pressing in, the tip absolutely devastating in the way it plunged and caressed. The looser he started to feel, the more Peter doubled his efforts.

Soon, fingers were joining Peter’s tongue, the rhythmic press of blunt fingers and a warm tongue a complete mixture of sensations and stimulus – the feeling absolutely fucking perfect. He didn’t feel old when he gave his cock a little thought – the length was raging, the hardness there throbbing with needy want. It felt good – Peter made him feel good. Groaning at a spectacularly good press of Peter’s fingers, Tony bit into the pillow below him – Peter made him feel so fucking good.

“Pete – I need you to fuck me, please. Show me. Show me how much you want me. Need it – need you, baby.” He couldn’t explain what he said or how he said it or even if it made sense; his brain was running on want, adrenaline, and the dopamine that made being delirious feel like the warmest hug – like it was the most exquisite thing in the entire world. His breaths were coming in pants, Peter’s last few thrusts glancing his prostate deliciously.

He felt the younger man move behind him, the bed shifting with his weight. Tony heard the drawer open and let out a sigh of relief – Peter’s weight draping over him the best feeling of the night. “I’ll take care of you, Tony,” Peter said, the words skating across his skin – Pete’s fingers already working the lube into him, the fingers there not nearly enough.

The party a few floors below them probably heard the loud groan Tony let slip from within him when Peter bottomed out. The stretch of not being all that used to the fullness inside him made all of his limbs break out in what felt like waves of fire – his brain stuck between the pleasure-pain of the feeling. The fact that Peter didn’t give him any time to think about it before bottoming out completely helped and the leering blaze of pain that tried to stick around went straight out the window – the heat in his core pooling once again.

Kisses against his neck and the hands running down his sides relaxed him enough to let Peter move – the younger man’s cock thick, his length the perfect combination of inches and girth. For such a young person, Peter kept amazing control over himself – his strokes long and lazy, the best part coming from the exquisite roll of his hips when bottoming out; his prostate getting a gentle nudge with each one. Tony didn’t do anything other than squirm below him – his mind was everywhere, filled with nothing but the things Peter was doing to him.

“You feel amazing, Tony. Fucking amazing,” Peter babbled, the boy’s strokes picking up without either of them noticing – the pace natural, the steady climb of their love making slowly getting to the ultimate crescendo. “I don’t know how you can do this for as long as you do – I want to cum already. I’m going to coat your insides so that every time you even think about not being enough – you’ll remember the way it felt to have me pulse everything I have so deep inside of you. Fuck. I’m so close – “

Tony shouted – Peter’s words and the increase of pace getting him from hot to completely bothered in no time at all. The other’s weight pressed him against the mattress, every thrust brushing his cock against the soft sheets below him. His eyes were clenched tightly, Tony determined to let his mind and body wander – Peter’s guiding hands the only thing that mattered in that moment. “I love you, Pete,” Tony choked out, his head turning to catch Peter’s glance over his shoulder. When they caught eyes, the look in Peter’s tossed him over the edge – the younger man’s mouthed ‘I love you, too’ way, way, way too much for him to handle.

Peter miraculously held on for another handful of strokes, the younger man keeping his promise – his overused hole clenching with every pulse he could feel. The repeated Tony played in his head like a mantra – Peter’s voice the only one he wanted to hear say his name for the rest of his life.

----

When the immediate fatigue of orgasming within the inch of his life wore off, Tony coerced Peter into the shower – the younger man still covered in sweat and lube. The stayed wrapped around each other trading kisses back and forth – Peter continuing his trend of taking care of Tony; the young man surprisingly thorough in the way he ran his fingers through long locks and scrubbed the dirt, grim, and cum off his skin.

The last couple of hours were exactly what he was looking for – and Tony told Peter so more than a few times between getting out of bed and finishing up in the shower. His boyfriend simply kissed him, the boy obviously not looking for any sort of praise. After all they did for each other, thank you’s were a little meaningless – both men more than capable of expressing their gratitude in many different ways.

Pulling on a pair of sleep pants, Tony got back into bed on Peter’s instruction. The younger man walked out of the room for a couple of minutes – Tony laying back against the mattress, the feeling of contentment lingering in his mind for the first time in a while. There were many things Peter did for him – but this, the never-ending feeling of comfort, that’s what Tony liked the most. Being the 50-year-old man that he was, having a person that could bring him that was the best birthday present Tony hoped to continue to keep on getting.

The snick of Peter’s bare feet on the floor brought him out of his thoughts – the younger man carrying a box with him when Tony sat up to watch him walk back into the room. “I know you said no presents, but I think you’re going to like this one. I only spent money on one part of it – and it wasn’t that much, so don’t be upset, okay? I’m 99% sure you’re going to really like this.” Watching Peter babble about it made up for the fact that his boyfriend once again ignored his wishes (though, the longer they were together, the longer Tony figured Peter did that on purpose – because it was a fun game between them.)

Tony reached out to Peter, his fingers beckoning the younger man into bed. “I won’t be upset – just come sit with me while I open it.” He didn’t care how needy he seemed – today was his birthday and Peter was hell bent on catering to him. Peter didn’t disagree, anyway, he easily slid into the bed next to Tony, the box still in his hands.

“So, I guess I should explain this a little bit before you open it,” Peter started, his fingers playing with the bow on top of the box. “You’re always talking about how you miss everyone – and how it would be a lot easier if you had tangible memories of things. I know you’ve got all the technology in the world and could make that happen if you really wanted to. I mean – you still use Friday to watch me sometimes, you can’t even deny that.” He chuckled then, his face a little red from nervousness – the emotion easily read on his face.

“Anyway – I wanted you to see that people love and miss you, too. That, despite what you might think, the world would not be the same with you and the 50 years you’ve been kicking around it.” Then and only then did Peter let go of the box – his eyes flitting back and forth between Tony and whatever was in the damn thing.

Taking a deep breath, Tony pulled the top off, his head tilting when he saw what looked like a photo album sitting there. He peeked up, but Peter’s eyes were staring at the album in the box, the expression on his face unreadable. Tony took a deep breath and dug in, his curiosity winning out over any other emotion that was vying for his attention.

Opening it, Tony’s breath caught – the cover page was one of the professional photos they got done a couple months ago. The smile on both of their faces was stunning, the love written there obvious. A few of those photos were in frames around the room. In big letters it said, ‘To Tony Stark’ and under the picture the words ‘from the people who love you’ were written there.

He flipped the first page and almost lost it – the collection of him and Rhodey during college making him want to cringe and rush back up to the party all at once. His hair cut during that time of his life wasn’t the greatest – an instant regret for the party in the back look he tried to pull off for a little while washing over him. On the far side of the page, a note was written.

Happy birthday, old man!

When Peter brought this up, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to embarrass the hell out of you. College is where you changed my life and it’ll always be one of my favorite times in life. Thanks for the memories, Tones – I love you, brother.

Rhodey

Tony glanced up, a few tears streaming down his face freely. Peter shook his head, his eyes moving back to the album in Tony’s hands. “You’re just getting started – keep going.”

He didn’t have anything left in him to argue – so he turned the page, his heart warming up a little further. The shots of him and Bruce in the lab were some he’d never seen before. There were a couple of more recent photos in there, too. The combination of Bruce and the Hulk still something that made Tony laugh to this very day – the symbiosis between the two entities just another thing to add to the long list of things that changed over the years.

Tony,

There’s too much to say and not enough space to say it. Learning and progressing and creating with you over the years is why I am the way that I am. We saved the world together, brother – that’s the ultimate bond. Thankful for you and your arrogantly brilliant ass.

Happy birthday, Tony – enjoy it.

Love you,

Bruce

There were so many pages filled to the brim with photos of him with various people – Happy, Pepper, Natasha, Clint, Thor, even Wanda and Vision. They each wrote individual notes and recalled shared memories and little thoughts and blurbs about his progressive old age and the notedly selfless way Tony could care about people. It was overwhelming – each new page eye opening, his perspective of himself and the relationship he had with these people progressively changing. This was how people saw him? He spent so much of his youth having people slander his name – it almost didn’t make sense that people could feel this kind of way about him.

When he got to the last couple of pages, Tony couldn’t stand it – he reached over and pulled Peter to him, his face settling into the safe confines of the other’s neck. “I can’t believe that you did this, baby. It’s – the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” Tony spoke the words so reverently, his entire being still a little bit in awe of what he’d seen – of the kind words that some of the best people he knew wrote about him, each one way more than he ever could have expected.

Peter wrapped his arms around him and held him close – the younger man pressing kisses against his hair and forehead every few moments. “You’re still not done yet,” the younger man reminded him – Tony pulling back to find a soft look on Peter’s face. “I think you might like these last couple the best.”

Suddenly spurred on by Peter’s words, Tony shifted his attention back to the photo album in his hand, eager fingers turning the page to find pictures of himself. The look on his face in every single one of them radiated love and excitement and pure happiness. He didn’t usually like pictures of just him – no matter how much Peter begged, he didn’t even send the man he loved selfies. Yet, he couldn’t peal his eyes away from these. Lifting them, he looked questioningly at Peter. “What are these from, even?”

Chuckling, Peter reached over and let his fingers brush across the ones within reach, the ‘for Tony only’ smile pulling his lips wide. “I took these, actually. When we first started dating, I got into the habit of snapping a picture of you when you looked happy. Then, it became a thing to catch those looks whenever I could. You’d be surprised by the number of pictures I had to choose from.” Peter spoke the words with pride, the creepiness of them not even registering with the younger man. Tony grabbed his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles – his eyes alight.

“I’m not surprised by anything that you do, Peter Parker. They’re beautiful – I didn’t know I could look like this,” Tony remarked, his voice carrying all of the awe that he felt. It warmed his heart to know that Peter was the one making him look like that – they were good for each other, but it was nice to get a real example of it.

The thought of what could come next had Tony moving on – the apprehension making his fingers tremble as he turned the page. And man did it completely knock the wind from him. The last page was a collection of pictures of him and Peter – some he’d seen before and a few he hadn’t, the candid nature of them making it seem like they were taken by other people. His chin dropped a little, the evidence that Peter felt the same way right there on the page. Some of these pictures were old – a couple of them obviously before they got together.

Reaching over, Tony grabbed Peter’s hands and tangled their fingers together – he would probably need the added strength to read the long note there. Peter’s words always had a way of bringing him to his knees, he doubted this would be any different. The other’s hand gave his a squeeze, Tony diving in the very next second.

Hey you,

When I first started this, I never thought I’d get to learn so much about you. I especially loved your college hairstyle – totally my favorite.

I know there’s not a lot you can give a person that is both a genius and a millionaire – but I figured memories are priceless and the easiest thing I could give  you. Not just memories between you and I, either. We’re just starting our journey.

I guess what I’m trying to say with all of this is – there’s nothing wrong with the years you’ve lived. They have given so many people things that are priceless. Friendship, love, mentorship, knowledge. All of those things are important. You are a manifestation of each one and that is the person I get to love on a daily basis.

Every single one of your years will always matter, Tony. I’m forever grateful that you want to spend the ones you fought so hard to get with me. That’s not something that I take for granted. You teach me things I’ll never be able to learn from anyone else. You care for me in a way that is devoted and careful – like I’m the most precious piece of china you’ve ever been given. And the way you love me, Tony, it’s something that is unexplainable and completely mind-blowing. You give yourself so fiercely – it just takes a little while to truly understand what that means.

You’re my hero, Tony. And I don’t think I’m the only one that feels that way.

I love you.

& I happen to think that’s inevitable.

Happy birthday, Tony

The tears were falling freely now – the day taking a completely different turn than he expected. Between the tenderness, spectacular sex, and this insanely heartfelt gift, Tony was out of his mind with feelings he couldn’t classify. He never liked his birthday. Whether it was a reminder of how lonely he was or a big spectacle for the people that wanted something from him – it never seemed to be the occasion that others could make out of their own special days. Though it didn’t change his opinion about the day in general, Tony wasn’t afraid to admit that the day with Peter by his side was substantially better.

He didn’t hesitate to use both hands to palm Peter’s cheeks and seal their lips together. His wet face made the kiss a little messy – but neither of them seemed to care. Feeling Peter give into it, Tony tilted his head and deepened the kiss, the closeness just right for the situation. “I love you, Pete. This is – I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Leaning their foreheads together, Peter rubbed his nose against Tony’s, his eyes closing as he leaned into the connection between them. “I love you, Tony. I’m going to take care of you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever then?” Tony asked immediately, the words tumbling out on their own accord.

“Yeah, baby. Forever.” Peter answered, his lips finding Tony’s again.

“Happy birthday, Tony Stark.”

[pumpkinpaix]

Hello! and PSA

*waves* hi everyone! so uh, I’ve kind of had a bit of a surge in followers recently, and I thought I would make a bit of a PSA/intro post with a bit more targeted info than my about page.

anyways, I’m cyan! statistically speaking, you are probably here for one of the following reasons:

my fic

my meta

my gifs

my translation

all of the above

this is pretty much an mdzs blog on main these days, but I also rb a lot of other misc things because I have never been good at keeping my interests separate. it’s also my personal blog, so expect some of that? i am very all or nothing ahaha. my opinions change very quickly as I process new information, so like, something I said last week or yesterday might be different now! I’ve seen several people going through some of my older posts, and I’m just like oh dear, I said a lot of things six months ago that I no longer vibe with. /o\ please keep that in mind as you go diving in my blog!

i don’t have a BYF or DNI policy, but I reserve the right to block anyone for any reason because this is a personal blog first and foremost, and I do need to be better about setting my boundaries and curating my own online space! on that same token, you are free to follow, unfollow, block, whatever, even if we’re mutuals. <3

you’re free to come talk to me in my inbox or dms, but please be aware that there’s a very high chance I will never get back to you /o\ it isn’t personal!! I am just very mentally ill and have many difficulties with keeping up social interactions or talking to people.

in the interest of trying to be more open about myself, my brain, and what that means for me in an online/fandom space, I’m gonna do a boatload of mental health talk under the cut (or, if you’re looking at this on my blog proper or somewhere where the cut doesn’t display, it starts right after this paragraph), including mentions of self-harm/thoughts of specific self-harm etc, just so you are warned! I’ve been thinking recently that it’s good to try and take steps towards being more open about my issues, both for my own sake and others’. It’s long, because one of the fun things about my mental illness is that I am hyperverbal ahahaha (if that... wasn’t already obvious orz)

so if you’ve read pfmmpd, you can kind of get a sense of what I’m working with. a lot of how i wrote lwj was drawn directly from shit happening in my own brain, but like? dial that up from the specific issues that lwj had in that fic and apply it unilaterally across the board to almost anything you can think of.

I hesitate to describe my OCD as debilitating, but only because my specific cocktail of compulsions and anxieties and triggers push me to be hyperachieving and hyperfunctional. I consider myself pretty fortunate (?) in that regard. on paper, you could never tell how absolutely batshit my internal landscape is! which is very good for me practically in that I can hold down a job, keep scholarships, graduate with honors, have good prospects for my future, hold onto relationships (usually yikes) etc. but the fact of the matter is, I’m like. oh boy.

to give you a peek, here’s a non-exhaustive list of things that have triggered me to varying degrees of severity within the last like, week or so:

my dog

a chinese folk song

my mother reading a chinese haiku to me written by a young gay man

a chinese reader of my fic lovingly and gently giving me a history lesson on china and on mdzs while praising me

stepping on a piece of snow that didn’t collapse in the precise way i expected it to

writing meta

reading meta

ruminating on my triggers (honestly, I played myself)

seeing a twitter thread going around tumblr with decent information but the OP is someone who was exceedingly cruel to a good friend of mine

visiting my grandmother’s grave

deciding to visit my grandmother’s grave

discussing the concept of cuddling my partner whom i love and have been with for four years

self-harming (truly the height of irony, being triggered into self-harm and then getting triggered by the result of the self-harm hahahahahaha)

dropping off a package

trying to explain queer-coding to my parents

talking about stressors in my life related to covid19

having a very pleasant conversation with a person i admire

editing my translation

the fact that the “close” button on my accessibility sidebar on the translation website is the wrong color

choosing between eating all the shiitake mushrooms in my soup and purposefully giving myself a bad reaction or throwing one out and wasting food

thinking about playing a fun game with my partner and a mutual friend

my mom asking me to take a photo of some tea for her

my mom asking my opinion on a photo she was photoshopping

animal crossing

writing this fucking post HAHAHAHA

like!! it goes on!! endlessly! obviously, these triggers are not simply “bad” things. the chinese folk song and the haiku were both really beautiful and i love them! but I did spend a good amount of time curled up on my floor in the dark sobbing as i played the song on repeat. the haiku was one of the last straws that ended up with me screaming and crying and hurting myself. the snow??? like wtf the snow thing. I stepped on the snow and it felt wrong and my brain just started screaming SMASH YOUR KNEECAP. ???? (I didn’t, for the record, and I would never.) I love my partner very much! I love my friends very much, and my mother, and my grandmother etc. my triggers are infinite, unpredictable, and bizarre.

I’m saying all of this because I want to be clear that MDZS/CQL fandom specifically triggers me on a daily basis, sometimes very very badly. this is just a fact! it is no one’s fault! I have decided it is worth it for me to stay anyways. it is impossible for me to request people tag for certain things because I myself have no idea what my triggers are until I encounter them. It’s like a fun mystery boss encounter! sometimes it’s low level and i’m well-equipped to handle it. other times it’s a one-hit KO. We just don’t know! there are lots of very cool content creators in this fandom that I can’t follow because it would make my dash that much more high stakes. the original source canon material triggers me! all the events leading up to Lotus Cove massacre? I was shaking at work for three hours after consuming it for the first time.

Meta specifically is something I know a lot of people like me for, but it’s 100% the most triggering activity I participate in for this fandom. like, that suibian meta post I wrote that’s currently going around? Probably took me four or five hours of concentrated effort to write because I was compulsively panicking and rewriting and editing and panicking more and qualifying and editing and qualifying some more and then debating whether I should post it or not and then fighting with myself about my wording and then immediately regretting it and then every time someone commented on it (regardless of positive or negative!) my anxiety spiked. I started a reply to a response on that post and had to stop after a few minutes because I was already starting to trigger myself over it.

this is actually a pretty good outcome when it comes to meta! I recognized that I was hurting myself before I got any further, and I only spent like, five hours on it! it was good exposure therapy for me! the bad outcome is. well. bad, as you might imagine lmao.

I like writing meta. I like talking to people about it too! I like participating in fandom, I like writing, I like translating, I like all of these things. they’re just also really hard for me! there’s a couple meta requests sitting in my inbox right now that I want to get to, but it might take me like. a long time because of. you know! *gestures* Everything takes me a long time. that first chapter of the translation took me literally five months from beginning the project to posting a final edited version. It’s just over 1k words. D8

I try really hard to be chill and kind in public and I largely think I succeed on the kind part (I hope!). If you thought I had even an ounce of chill before this, perhaps I have disabused of that notion entirely now lmao. I’m not saying this for pity, but like? just so we all know what we’re dealing with here. I don’t want anyone to get hurt when I don’t engage with them or feel snubbed if I never reply to them. and also like, hey, if someone relates it’s like hooray, high fave, solidarity! we’re not alone in this world! or maybe this will help someone understand OCD a little better! I don’t know. I hope this post is a positive thing. BUT! I’ve spent three hours on it already, and i’m definitely starting to compulsively spiral, so instead of going back and editing it over and over, I’m just going to post it. thank you everyone for your understanding! I hope you enjoy your time on my blog! (*´▽`*)

[namesoccer01]

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There are places that are recommended if you're looking to purchase SERMS. Considering that RAD140 is a relatively brand-new supplement, there isn't a great deal of info on the side results. Clinical research studies have shown that there are no reported side effects of the supplement. Reggie Johal is the creator of Predator Nourishment, a UK based health and supplement shop. Reggie owes a lot of his substantial stamina as well as physical fitness knowledge to his previous profession as a Fantastic Britain American Footballer. The ordinary cycle size is 6 to 10 weeks at a dose variety of 10mg to 25mg.

You can find out even more concerning the damaging actions of these steroids on this site. As their name states, discerning androgen receptor modulators act upon bone and muscle cells. By triggering receptors on them, these substances promote the growth of brand-new cells. They do not bind to androgen receptors on other organs in the body This quality of selectivity is what differentiates SARMs from anabolic steroids.

However it's impossible to say whether SARMs can have these adverse effects on everybody, or maybe they need to be excluded in only specific cases. Nonetheless, the notion has hardly been talked about outside the U.S.A., which might make some individuals think. There are those that speak up noisally against making use of SARMs, however many scientists as well as authorities are only seeing carefully.

Can you take peptides orally?

Summary: Peptides represent a billion-dollar market in the pharmaceutical industry, but they can generally only be taken as injections to avoid degradation by stomach enzymes. Scientists have now developed a method to generate peptides that resist enzymatic degradation and can be taken orally.

This makes your body capable of combating many vital diseases that you can not visualize. With this help, you have the ability to obtain even more weight and can do a health club properly. Nowadays, everyone suches as to head to the gym as a result of their conscience towards their health and wellness. If your desire is to do body building, after that in the meanwhile, you require a lot of diet plans since nourishment is a vital part of making the body. There are several items out there with the assistance of which you can quickly do body building and get to a great level.

There are some homes inside this medicine that help in increasing your power degree. After consuming it, the blood circulation of your body boosts to ensure that you really feel energised. As blood flow increases, the variety of white blood cells inside your body rises, which develops anti-oxidants.

Does caffeine increase hair growth?

But according to research, the caffeine in coffee can help stimulate hair growth and stop hair loss. One 2007 laboratory study found that caffeine helped block the effects of DHT in male hair follicles. https://pharmalabglobal.com/product-category/tb500/ stimulated hair shaft elongation, resulting in longer, wider hair roots.

There is a growing industry in sports nutrition supplements offered on the high road and online. They may also seek means to manage their cravings when they're trying to reduce weight as part of a muscle building diet regimen.

MK677 can be made use of continuously for 1-2 years without issue of a specific ending up being desensitised to it. However, it is constantly important to recognize the opportunities that could accompany usage. It is evident by the checklist of benefits that MK677 is extremely desirable.

[souladventure]

What I learned during the Covid19 lockdown after losing my passion business.

Despite all the losses incurred because of this global cluster-fuck known as the COVID19 pandemic/lockdown, I've learned so many invaluable truths and realities that probably wouldn't have ever surfaced otherwise. Here are a few that i'd like to share with everyone so I could just get it out there for my own wellbeing and possibly help others in the process:

1. I learned so much about myself and how weak I am (or was) mentally. My heart and mind didn't fair so well when I lost so much and I'm still coping as I write this. I feel a lot stronger emotionally now after such a debilitating and humbling experience. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger I guess.

2. If you get into a business that’s directly related to a passion that brings you joy and purpose, brace yourself for the turmoil and negativity (that comes with any business) you will be introducing to this passion of yours. i.e. Surfing for me was all positivity until I had to start hiring friends and dealing with different groups who either saw me as a threat or just felt I was competition to them. I honestly just wanted to help an industry grow so every stakeholder involved, including myself, could flourish but I didn't expect a lot of people to hate on me for it. 

The good news is after a decade many of these haters became my friends again when they realized my efforts actually helped them and that I wasn't there to take anything away from them. Surfing is a huge part of my lifestyle and my relationship to the community is something I'd like to maintain as a positive zone instead of a cutthroat business arena. 

I'm happy to say that although I share the same passion for food and I am now committed 100% to this industry ("Tito Paolo's Inasal" est during lockdown May 2020), I'm not emotionally involved with anyone else in it and I would't care less if anyone hated on me.

3. Don't get into a business that relies entirely on the skills of only a very limited amount of individuals that aren't readily available or expendable. For this reason, i chose to close down Skwala Surfboards, a passion project i dreamt about since '99 and materialized in 2010, when the pandemic further burried me in debt. You will pay for this big time if the employees or partners who are the only ones who can perform the main operations of your business suddenly act up. (This was something I actually already knew even before the pandemic but because I was so passionate about it I still decided to continue. Now I’m facing the ramifications of being blinded by a grave emotionally driven decision).

I don't regret this tho because I still built something that was considered the best in it’s time and also established itself as the pioneer of a growing industry. This satisfaction doesn't stem from merely bragging rights but more so on the fact that I know that I can be the best at something I focus all my energy on. (I'm happy to say I have shifted this focus from surfboard manufacturing to food where I feel just as fulfilled and continue to grow and innovate.) 

You yourself have to be the best at providing the product/service of your business so that when the people you hire fuck up you can fire their asses and do it yourself. I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever learn how to shape a surfboard but I’m proud enough to say that I am the best beginner level surfing instructor and I make the best inasal.

4. Don’t expect your employees to make any extra efforts or sacrifices for you in times of crisis and prioritize your business in its entirety. Do not give more than you can afford no matter how desperate they are. They will never sincerely appreciate your gestures of kindness and generosity and you best expect that they will never return the favor! Your business isn't a charity and it's survival as a whole should be paramount. Sorry to say but in my experience the employees will never ever truly understand nor realize the value of their employer's survival. They will still slack with their work and expect the same salary despite the sales amounting to zero. And don’t be surprised when they fucking steal. That’s because they feel like its their right to do so (A common issue in third world settings). To top it off when everything is close to being dead they will still ask for backpay. Make sure you are prepared legally and financially for this. But don't you ever believe you have loyal employees who are willing to join you in the muck when the shit goes down. I wouldn't either so I'm not judging anyone with this statement and I'm eating up the losses. But except for those who stole...fuck them.

5. Learn to let go and do it sooner so as not to lose more than you really have to. If you think going through a breakup is tough, try losing your dream business. Make sure you are on point with calculating your losses and pull the plug as early as you can. Don't allow your passions to overcome your decision making. One of the first things my father taught me in business was "Never fall In love with your ideas" and I'm still kicking myself for not listening. What I can add to this is if you aren’t part of the lucky few whose passions just so happen to be highly lucrative businesses then instead "Do what your are good at over doing what you love! Because when you succeed at what you are good at you can do absolutely anything you want!" Anyone who tells you otherwise is either a rich kid or a Woke AF grass fed hipster.

6. Get work online. Start a vlog, a podcast, teach english or teach anything. Just take the steps to begin a career online because this is easily available and it's work from home safe. I'm only beginning to do this now and yes I'm gonna make a vlog or podcast interview about all of these things I mentioned above but only after I'm done sorting all my shit out.

That's all I have to say for now and I'm happy to also say that I've been moving forward with a more positive attitude lately. I'm stronger now and I only care about things that are valuable to my growth. I still deal with depression and anxiety on a daily basis but this has reduced as I see new goals on the horizon.

I wanna thank all my friends who were there to drop a line and support me in even the slightest of ways when I most needed it.

I want to thank my Dad and family for being there no matter what. I'm crying now as I type this. Man, you don't know how much gratitude I have for you guys.

I also want to thank those who still stayed buddies with people who burned me in business. It allows me to know where to classify you in my internal contact list. (Facebook should have that...Friends list and Frenemies or Fake Friends, lol.)

I also want to thank God...yes I believe in you. Live Jesus in our hearts...Forever. Amen. 

[enaasteria]

Lost and Found // Baekhyun

// Prompt Request—“Have you seen my hoodie?” // Requested by—@baekyung​  // Artist AU, Soulmate AU, attempt at fluff but probably more aligned to angst

A/N: It was supposed to be a drabble but it turned into this monster. I’m very sorry.

“You’re staring at him again,” my seat mate, Mari, teases. She pokes me with an unused paintbrush before packing up the rest of her supplies at the end of class. It breaks me out of my reverie and I massage the slight throbbing in my arm, playing off her scrutiny of where my eyes may have wandered.

“We’re supposed to look at him.”

“Yeah, while we’re painting his figure. I’m not sure if that includes when he dresses and undresses.”

“I—I—wa—I wasn’t staring at him undress—was I?” I ask, almost mortified at the thought of being so pathetically obvious in how besotted I am over this semester’s male model, Byun Baekhyun. 

“If laser eyes existed in this world, you would’ve burned two holes into his chest.”

“I wasn’t staring at his chest.”

“Oh? Was it his—

I lunge forward, almost dropping my art supply bin, to stop her from verbally embarrassing me more so than she already has as one by one the students exit the classroom. “I wasn’t.”

“Fine, fine. You weren’t, but who would blame you if you did,” she says with a wave of her hand while she waits for me to finish packing up. “He is, after all, rather aesthetically pleasing.”

“More than aesthetically pleasing.”

“Oh?”

I look at her, realizing I divulged more than what I usually do in terms of my infatuation for Baekhyun. It was harmless intrigue in the beginning. I saw him through the eyes of a painter because he was unbelievably beautiful. His soft cheeks, the strawberry toned hair ruffling over his eyes, the benevolent grin seemingly etched into his face. It was as if there was a light exuding from him—a type of warmth I tried to capture with my paintbrushes every day. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I think you and I both know exactly what you meant.”

The comment makes me grimace because there’s no denying I like him. Down to the very essence, I like him in a way I can’t explain within words, in drawings, or even fathom how I’ve never felt my heartstrings tug for another in a way it does for Baekhyun. 

As much as I wish for a little more from the very man I paint from on a daily basis, I realize how futile these inner desires truly are. Because it’s all I can do. I can only look at him. I can only draw him and the single thought continually spreads a debilitating ache throughout every part of my soul. 

Mari watches as my expression reaches the fine line of acceptance and hurt and places a supportive hand on my shoulder. “He could be, you know. He could be your—”

I stop her before she voices it—the dreaded ‘soulmate’ terminology of which we all live and abide by. In our world, there’s a person we’re meant to be with. They’re our match in every possible way and while I do harbor feelings for Baekhyun in the acutest kind, I realize the chance of him being that person made out to be my other half is zero to none. “He’s not.”

“He could be.”

“The universe has never and would never be so kind.”

“You never know.” She changes her pitch, turning it into a rather singsongy tune as we exit the drawing room.

We make our way down the hallway with our art portfolio cases hanging on our shoulders and from the corner of my eye, I see her bite her bottom lip. She’s toying with whether to voice out the obvious because whenever she tries to mention the word soulmate to me, immediately following will be a discussion about my birthday—my 20th birthday to be exact and one which will happen at the stroke of midnight.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

“Is anyone ever ready to find out who their soulmate is on their 20th birthday?”

There’s a slight shock to her face as she hears me say the word I usually avoid. And it’s because I have a hard time admitting how the word scares me. I’m horrifically afraid what I’ll feel for my soulmate will never amount to the way I feel for Baekhyun. 

I let out a sigh and push away the apprehension, figuring I’ll deal with it when it comes. But as a good friend should, she empathizes with my worries and connects her free arm within mine. “I definitely wasn’t ready.”

“Yet, you won’t tell me how it happens so I can prepare myself.”

She scoffs as her eyes crinkle at the edges, perhaps remembering how she found out who her fated person was all those months ago. “It’s because I don’t know how to explain it. You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. What about your parents? Did they say anything?”

“Yeah—but it only made me more confused.”

“What did they say?”

“They called it—lost and found.”

For a while, I tried interpreting their meaning. I wondered if it meant physically losing something with my soulmate finding and returning it or if it was just a metaphor beyond my comprehension. In the end, all I was left with was a whole new set of unanswered questions. Though, I don’t get a chance to hear Mari’s take on it as a familiar voice calls out my name. 

The sound instantly stills my heart as I’ve memorized his pitch and tone as much as I’ve memorized the details of his body from head to toe. I’m frozen in footing as my grip on Mari tightens. She doesn’t let go as we both see Baekhyun jog up to where we’re standing. 

“Hey—” he starts off and per his norm, his smile is already tugging at the far corners of his mouth. 

I’m not sure where the courage is coming from but my mouth responds on its own (albeit it’s just a single greeting and to my defense, it is one word more than what I’ve said to him all year). “Hi.”

Mari untangles herself from my grasp. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s about to abandon me within the matter of seconds so I’ll suffer through this sudden interaction alone. “I have to catch the bus, but I’ll see you next class. Happy birthday and let me know how it goes tonight—okay?”

I mentally plead her to stay but all she gives back are sly winks and unexplainable eyebrow raises. What’s a little more alarming other than her leaving me to fend for myself is the fact she mentioned my birthday for Baekhyun to hear. 

My free hand reaches up to my forehead, scratching an imaginary itch and hope he doesn’t read too heavily into any of it. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s nothing serious but Professor Moon mentioned you might be able to help me.” He looks hopeful and I do my best not to get lost in his blinding presence. 

It’s hard enough being in the same room with him while painting his male form but it’s a whole other issue trying to concentrate on holding a proper conversation with him. With the former, at least I had a legitimate reason to only look at him. This is worlds different and is by far, a suffering I never thought I’d have to endure. “Yeah, of course. What is it?”

“Please don’t laugh,” he begins and my heart plummets as I see his eyes shine in the most innocent way. “I usually wear a certain hoodie to your painting class.”

“Right—the sapphire blue one with the white logo design running across the chest,” I say it all without thinking until the cold terror washes down my body. I only memorized that hoodie because it’s the outfit he wore the first time I met him and he’s worn it every day since. But voicing that little fact makes me out to be a strange person and the feeling of wanting to run into a ditch and live there for all of time comes in full force. “I—I me—I mean—artist’s eyes, you know. I notice a lot of details.”

He cranes his neck while his gaze roams about my face. It’s a small little action but one I make note of due to this being the closest I’ve ever stood next to him. I pray he doesn’t sense anything off and to my relief, he doesn’t question or dive deeper into my odd remark. 

Instead, his stare goes on for a second too long before something clicks within him and he speaks again. “Yeah, that’s the one. I must’ve left it behind or misplaced it. I asked Professor Moon if she’s seen it around the classroom but she didn’t. She suggested I ask you since you work in the Art Department office and there’s a lost and found box. I was wondering if you’ve seen my hoodie there by any chance?”

“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t,” I say with a shake of my head. 

Baekhyun’s lips press together into a pout and it’s the saddest look I’ve ever witnessed on him. The melancholy expression doesn’t suit him and I go through every possible method to think and come up with a way to help him.

“But we can go check—the office, I mean. We can check the office. I only work three days out of the week so someone might’ve turned it in.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you if you had plans—

“It’s ok. I don’t mind,” I say because if there was a choice between going home to an empty apartment or having a few more minutes with Baekhyun, I would choose him time and time again. “I didn’t make any plans so—” My voice fades into a whisper at the end as I urge him to follow me to the art office one building over. 

I try to make it a quick walk but it seems Baekhyun has other ideas as his pace is much slower than mine. He digs his lithe fingers into his jean pockets as he takes one foot after another down the outdoor steps. 

When he reaches the sidewalk, he brings up the very words I love to avoid. “So, your birthday is tonight.” He watches as I writhe about in imaginary pain. It causes a low chuckle to escape from his chest while he waits for my answer.

“Unfortunately, it is.”

“Not a fan of birthdays?”

“Not a fan of this birthday,” I correct.

“Ah—that one.”

I take quick glances at him and find it more of a surprise seeing him return my gaze. But since his attractive face is difficult for me to handle in large doses, I turn my main focus towards the pavement below. “Did you have yours already?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Oh. So you know then—” I swallow and find the sudden lump situated at the base of my throat making it hard for me to breathe. “You know who your soulmate is.”

“Mhmm. I know who she is.” 

“Does she know—that you’re her soulmate?” The bitter words feel like salt on my wounds but I’m not even sure why I’m asking. The only plausible result waiting for me at the finish line is more angst and agony. Maybe a part of me wants to know in hopes it’ll make tonight a little bit more bearable—solidifying into stone how I was right in thinking Baekhyun wasn’t my soulmate after all. 

Baekhyun shakes his head, his locks tousling over his almond eyes. “No, not yet. I’m trying my best to keep myself from getting too close to her until she does find out.”

“Why?”

“Not sure. I have this irrational fear she won’t like me so for now, I’m staying away and just hoping for the best.”

“Hope.” I breathe out the one word and find so much familiarity in it because it’s exactly how I feel when I look at Baekhyun. 

I hope even when I realize it’s hopeless to do so. 

Tucking a few strands of loose hair behind my ear, I give him a sad smile before we reach the building. I change the topic since this might be the only time I’ll ever have a conversation with him in our lives and I’d rather it not be so dreary and bleak. 

“I’m sure she’ll like you—especially in that hoodie,” I placate and sincerely wish she loves him for the remarkable person he is inside and out. 

When we finally arrive to the art office, I set my art portfolio case down by the door and ask Baekhyun to wait. I feel the weight of his gaze watching my every movement and it becomes a little nerve-wracking to just walk in front of him. I dig around in the storage closest before finding the tattered cardboard box but when I bring it out, I’m unable to hide my disappointment. It doesn’t go unnoticed as his expression mirrors my own.

“It’s not in there, is it?” he asks.

“No, it isn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m thankful for you trying.” He shrugs his shoulders and the frown once on his face dissipates as quickly as it came. “You know, I actually considered it my good luck charm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not to be super cheesy or anything but my life changed the day I was wearing it so it became something I was attached to. I even went to the lengths of writing my name and phone number inside on the label tag just in case I somehow lost it—which, clearly, I ended up doing anyway.”

“I know the feeling. It happened with my sketchbook.”

Baekhyun shifts his weight and bites down on the inner flesh of his mouth as if keeping himself from smiling too hard. I blink to try and understand it but no viable answer comes to mind. He clears his throat and brushes his index over his nose a few times before asking, “Sketchbook?”

“It wasn’t really a good luck charm as it was more of something bringing me joy. I would draw in it every time I felt down.”

“What did you draw in it?”

My hand naturally draws up to my chest, trying to alleviate some of the tension because what I drew in that notebook was endless portraits of him. Every page was lined to the details of only him. His face. His hands. Even the tiny little mole housed on his ear. “Pictures—of someone.” I avoid saying him in fear of coming off more peculiar than I already am and laugh it off. “But it’s gone missing just like your hoodie. I’m sure it’ll turn up though.”

“I do too.” He stands up straight, shuffling a bit in his stance and I fear the times come to part ways.

I realize I’ll still see Baekhyun in class. I’ll still get to draw him but I know once midnight comes around, what I feel inside might change and I’m unsure if it’ll be for better or worse.

“Thanks again for trying—I really mean it,” he says.

“Wish I could’ve helped more. If I see it, I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?” 

“Absolutely.”

He ends our conversation with his signature smile but before he's out of view, Baekhyun turns around and quickly walks back to me. He angles down slightly to my height. It’s close enough to the point where I can see every speck and glint designed into his umber eyes and count every lash perfectly placed on his lids. He displays the same kindness and light which drew me in from the very beginning while he speaks. “The tag.”

“The tag?”

He nods slowly and just as carefully as the words leaving his lips. “Just in case, when you do see it, the tag inside the hoodie will read—Byun Baekhyun.” He spells out every beautiful letter to his name and it feels as if he’s engraving them into my heart and mind. He does the same thing he did earlier when we were in front of the classroom. His eyes wash over me, from my brows to my nose, even to the sides of my face. He takes it all in. “And I hope,” he whispers, “I hope—you won’t be disappointed tonight.”

His sentiment stays with me. 

It remains etched in the lining of my skin after he leaves and even when I reach my home. It replays over and over in my head and like my parents, he’s given me more questions than answers. But I can’t dwell on it as the hours and minutes dwindle down to midnight. The dread of what’s to come makes its unsettling way into my stomach as the twist and turns provide no comfort.

I watch as the clock counts down into the seconds and my place of refuge has always been the image of Baekhyun. Leaning back against the headboard of my bed, I close my eyes and think of him. His joy, his light. His very existence. I picture it all and if I was asked how I wanted to spend my 20th birthday, this would be it. It would be picturing him and thinking of him. 

With no expectation or hope, I feel the next day unfold and sense the slightest change in the air. It’s minuscule. It’s so small that it’s barely discernible as the faintest breeze washes over me. I slowly open my eyes and feel my heart thrum against the bones of my chest. 

Because what’s placed before me at the foot of my bed is a familiar sapphire blue hoodie. The garment is folded and tucked securely inside a knotted red bow and for a while, I let it sit there. I’m scared to touch it, frightened to even know what it could mean. I never dreamed of this outcome. I tried my hardest never to hope for it or wholly wish for it since the chances of it being true was near impossible. 

I will my hands to unwrap the ribbon and search for the one affirmation to make me believe it’s real—as real as the words he spoke. I search for the tag as my fingers brush over the small piece of fabric. 

And written on it in his handwriting is word for word, letter for letter—

Byun Baekhyun.

[colorfulstudentllama-thethird]

Comparing "problems only girls will understand" and "problems only guys will understand" posts/videos/lists is honestly so fucking wild.

Things Only Girls Understand

Nearly debilitating period cramps

Bleeding from your vagina and all of the discomfort with it

Fashion and makeup companies specifically targeting our insecurities until we have panic attacks

The clothing marketed towards us not being fully functioning (WHERE ARE THE FUCKING POCKETS?!?!?) and often uncomfortable/revealing/low quality unless you're willing to spend a lot of money or scour thrift stores

Literally being terrified of men on a daily basis because we may be attacked

Am I having a heart attack or is that just my boob hurting? Am I having a cramp or did my appendix burst? Hell if I know!

When I leave the house today, do I need pepper spray and sharp keys in case I'm attacked in some way?

Letting all of my friends and family know the name, age, and appearance of my date, the place we're supposed to go, the place I'm being picked up, the licence plate number and car color, and anything other info that may be needed in case I'm kidnapped and left for dead

When I walk down the street am I going to be whistled at or otherwise objectified in my daily life?

Years of having all of our self worth being tied to whether or not we're deemed "desirable"

Do I have breast cancer or do they just look like that?

Wow, to be a super model *casually develops serious self esteem issues*

Literally bleeding through our clothing

All of this being presented in a mostly humorous manner as a coping mechanism and as solidarity, we're all in this shit hole of a world together

Things Only Guys Will Understand

Getting boners at random times

Getting boners at uncomfortable times

Getting boners for no reason

Boners hurting

An inability to pee straight

The fear that women will randomly accuse them of being evil, misogynistic douchebags or something along those lines

Morning boners

The sudden inability to get a boner when wanted

Penises shrinking in the pool???

Having to stand several urinals away lest you be mistaken for gay. 8 urinals and 4 are taken? Wait your turn. (Wtf, do you guys not have fucking STALLS????)

Being hairy????? (Guys, I'm sorry, but that's a choice right there)

"oh no my girlfriend/wife wants me to go sHoPpiNG😭😭😭R.I.P, bored af"

I'll be honest, I really don't get most of these, and the ones I do...I don't see the big deal

Peeing with a boner?

Toxic masculinity! (Completely valid guy problem! It's terrible! You guys deserve to have feelings! But that has, for the most part, been pushed for and carried on...by other guys. Over centuries. That's mostly on you guys to fix, sorry)

Women are crazy! Or taken! Or won't date me!!!

In that same vein, "nice guys finish last"

Women are so mean and evil

Their balls stick to their legs???

Often delivered either as jokes or as the most awful burdensome terrible experience ever endured by a human being

Now, it probably seems like I'm making fun here, right? Like I'm intentionally making it look like guys are just lazy, entitled, douchebags with no problems.

But here's the thing.

That's all stuff that guys, men, people of the male species WROTE. Those are their own, self described, terrible problems that women just can't fathom.

Guys, if any of you read this, please understand a few things. Women are not evil, but there are evil women. There ARE woman who will look for reasons to be offended, there ARE woman who will lie about you for attention, there ARE women who will treat you like shit, there ARE women are evil, nasty, violent, spiteful, vindictive, abusive, just truly AWFUL people.

But those women, why do not make up the majority, are not representative of ALL women. So if you choose to judge an entire group of people based off of the actions of a select few weeks have hurt you or others, you are narrow minded at least. At worst? Either just as awful as those women (depending on the offense of course), kinda sexist, or EXTREMELY judgmental.

Take for instance this, I have had TONS of guys treat me like shit, be abusive, belittle me, etc. "Friends", family members, significant others, people I rejected, so on. Most women would understand if I just flat out said that I hated men and renounced them as a collective, sticking them all into a box labeled as "abusers". But I don't do that. I may be wary of men, and I might still have trust issues in regards to them, but I generally try not to shut myself in a box of my own, so I understand the fact that the men that have hurt me do not and cannot represent an entire group of people as a whole

And before you come in with, "well women do the same things to men!" Our fear is based on actual statistical probability that men are the most likely group to hurt us, and the fact that culturally, we are often quite literally raised to fear men because of those statistics. Y'all's fear is based off of various "nice guys finish last" tropes as far as I know. So while, yes, there are truly awful women who hurt men, and belittle them, and dismiss them, and generalize about them. The abusers are not a majority. And the generalizers have like, an actual reason to generalize even if it's not entirely fair to you specifically.

Also like, fucking check yourselves. I'm giving a lot of "not all men" here but like, I know there'll be someone who can read all of this, have it all apply to him, and still think, "oh well I'm clearly not one of the assholes she's talking about, I'm a NICE GUY!" You sure about that? Really? Really really? Check. Multiple times. Evaluate yourself. Self reflect. Adjust yourself. My excuses do not apply to you.

Another thing, toxic masculinity was created BY MEN. Men are the ones who perpetuate the stereotype of the "True Man's Man" and force eachother to conform to being tough, emotionless, bricks ruled by anger, pride, and/or other equally dangerous things. It may not be your personal fault, but it is something that you personally can affect. You can choose to be who you want to be, and raise your sons differently. And if other guys try to ridicule you for that then I have to ask, are those really the people you WANT to have around? Or be like? People who'll bully you until you meet their absurd standards? Toxic masculinity is awful and you guys shouldn't EVER have to deal with it, but at the end of the day, it is something that, the majority of the time (I will fully acknowledge that there are women who help enforce it, those women are typically shit though, so do you really want them in your life either?), is enforced by men. That being the case, it's something that you all have to make an effort to fix yourselves. Women can help! They should! Women should be understanding of men's issues in society even if they seem like "less" by comparison to some women(they aren't). Because men's and women's issues are often interwoven and are best solved when tackled together. Women should make an effort to not encourage toxic masculinity in their friends, acquaintances, and family members. But again, it is something that men have to do a lot of the work for, because it's a men's issue that is mostly caused kept up by men.

Long story short

Men: please understand that women are not out to get you and that sometimes you need to look at the other side of things and that you shouldn't blame issues created by yourselves on others. Your problems are valid but like, please understand the difference between certain issues, and please understand that not everything is actually a problem (*cough* "girls don't like NiceGuys™ like me!!!!!!" *cough* you're actually not that great you narcissistic prick *cough*). And like, stop blaming women as a whole for the fact that you're single or unhappy, like, stop. It's pathetic. Also, y'all have like, actual problems but you all choose to talk about how inconvenient your genitalia is until someone brings up feminism and THEN y'all start to bring up, "but men have problems too!" You do, don't use them to shut down different conversations though wtf

Women: yes, being wary of men is valid. Generally distrusting or disliking them based off of your experiences is valid. But they're not born evil, if we can help things improve then we should where we can (but it's not our job to fix them, let me make that very clear! You do not have to fix a guy! Not your problem girlie, if he treats you like crap, please run away). And honestly, not all men (uck, I know) are dicks.

So yeah. Me rambling around midnight xvlxlffA

[thesernotthedroidsurlooking4]

seriously. My high school district was a fucking pressure cooker, focused only on having top rankings in every category and shuttling kids off to prestigious universities. One of my hs years, the district saw six suicides in one year (including a fucking fifth-grade boy) and never stopped to think that it, the school system, was part of the damn problem. after the first suicide the school was organizing a “*district name* strong” campaign and preaching bullshit about coming together and even then I was just like. the audacity. any of y’all ever considered that maybe the school “community” contributed to the problems the kid was facing? The next year, on the first day of school they gave us all kits with planners and stress balls, told us to meditate, and then changed fucking nothing. Same astronomical amounts of homework, same constant testing, same competitive who’s-going-to-get-into-the-best-college bullshit.

now, enter me and my own personal struggles. I had depression and anxiety and had figured out neither. my routine was an endless cycle of despondency and stress. On a daily basis, with few exceptions, I struggled to start my homework until midnight, went to bed at 4 AM, fell asleep in class, skipped lunch to sleep in the library, got home, collapsed on my bed and took hours-long naps (the only part of the day I looked forward to: unconsciousness), but then had to race off to whatever activity I had that day of the week, and then got back home to start the cycle all over again by only getting to my homework at midnight… And I blamed myself. I knew mental health issues were a thing but thought mine couldn’t possibly be as bad as what other people were dealing with. I thought I couldn’t have depression because I wasn’t non-functioning yet, despite the fact that I had lost my joy for everything and could only motivate myself with fear of bad grades (until that, too, stopped working). I thought I couldn’t have anxiety because I didn’t have panic attacks yet (despite the fact that I’d missed school about five days a month from waking up so nauseous I couldn’t function.) both the non-functioning and the panic attacks later developed in college anyway.

The thing is, I did seek help. I was and still am that sort of awkward nerd who relied on adult approval and validation because I couldn’t get it from my peers, so I always built close relationships with all of my teachers. In high school, I’d tell them plenty about my struggles to get the work they assigned done, of course apologizing profusely all the while because I couldn’t bear the thought of any adult having a bad opinion of me. And the thing is, I liked most of these teachers, I really did—but not one of them realized that the issues I was describing could be symptoms an actual mental illness, and not just laziness or garden-variety stress or whatever. (My counselor neither.) I wonder if it was the fact that I still got straight As in honors classes, except for a couple classes senior year (which could be dismissed as a slide instead of me breaking the fuck down after too many years of constant pressure). Or if it was the fact that I refused to pretend I was okay when I felt like I was going to break any minute, so everyone thought that I was just making excuses and complaining. See, everyone always tells you to advocate for yourself, to ask for help, to tell people, but ignores the fact that those who do are perceived as whiny lil bitches who are obviously just trying to manipulate you by telling you their sob story. Society still rewards stoicism and punishes emotional openness.

(This is not to say you shouldn’t seek help—but sometimes it takes a lot of persistence and finding the right people to ask, and that gets damn tiring.)

anyway here I am now, taking my second semester off in a row from college due to, you guessed it, debilitating anxiety and depression 🙃

highschool-era me, very obviously struggling with depression: [stops speaking, doesn’t turn in work, skips class to lay on the sidewalk like a dead possum]

my teachers, inputting my 5th failing grade that week: