#its a lot easier to get over yourself when you see how much pain other people got too

[werthersbignaturals]

it's so funny when people describe like grief and loneliness and letting go and not fitting in etc as like a Them Problem you know what I mean? ohhu I'm the loneliest person I know, uuaa grief defines my whole life and so forth. like they've created a mythical person who lives in sunshine rainbow land 24/7 and always feels right at home in every situation and never has to change or loses friends or commits a social faux pas and then convinced themselves that a majority of people are this mythical sunshine land inhabitant and they're the only loser that never figured out how to be okay forever

[jjkamochoso]

so like yesterday I went to a strawberry farm were you like pick strawberries and I was thinking how would the jjk men act or like what would they do. sorry if it's a dumb question😭

There is absolutely nothing dumb about this, it’s freaking adorable😭😭 thank you for entrusting me with this!! I hope you had lots of fun picking strawberries 🍓 and I hope you enjoy reading about picking strawberries with these silly lil men☺️🫶

Picking Strawberries with the JJK Men

Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: small mentions of bugs/insects

Yuji:

You and Yuji walked along the path, admiring the glow of the red berries surrounding you.

“This one looks really good,” Yuji said, bending over to pick a particularly plump strawberry. He grasped the stem and held it to your lips.

“Try it!” he encouraged, and you happily obliged, taking a big bite.

“That’s seriously delicious,” you complimented after eating the fruit. "Now let me find one for you."

You walked hand in hand with Yuji, scouring the ground until the perfect berry caught your attention. You held the stem while offering the rest to him, just like he had done for you. Yuji, being the menace he is, ate the whole thing in one swift bite.

“Is it yummy?" you asked, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

"It's delicious!" Yuji exclaimed, mouth full of half chewed strawberry. You wanted to be grossed out but the delight in his eyes was too adorable for you to think about how nasty it was that he was talking with his mouth full. He swallowed the fruit with a gulp, then wrapped you in a big bear hug.

"The strawberry was sweet, but you're sweeter."

Megumi:

“I really should’ve thought this through.”

You realized you ran out of hands when you went to pick a strawberry but couldn’t due to your grasp being occupied by both a basket and an umbrella to keep the sun from burning you. You switched gears, putting the basket on the ground and pulling strawberries from your now free hand, but the umbrella kept falling every which way. Megumi, meanwhile, was watching all of this unfold and trying his hardest not to laugh at your predicament.

“Here, let me help you,” he eventually said after watching you struggle for a bit. He was waiting to see if you were going to come up with a solution yourself but it certainly wasn’t happening any time soon and he didn’t want you to get too frustrated (no matter how cute he thinks you look when you’re grumpy). Megumi took the umbrella from your flailing hands and immediately you no longer felt like throwing it in a fit of rage.

“You’re a real lifesaver,” you said, getting an eye roll as a reply.

“That was too painful to keep watching without doing something.”

You narrowed your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him, going back to your berry picking. It was much easier now that Megumi strolled alongside you, one hand in his pocket and the other tightly wrapped around your umbrella, basking you in cool shade. He wouldn’t say it out loud but he was beyond relieved he could assist you, no matter how insignificant of a task.

Yuta:

You and Yuta happily strode along the strawberry bushes, hand in hand, and picking the ripest fruit to bring back home. Being ever the gentleman, Yuta held the heavy basket in his free hand while you were in charge of selecting the berries.

“This is, by far, the cutest date I’ve ever been on,” you confessed, a strawberry dangling by its stem in your grasp.

“O-oh, really? I’m really glad you’re having fun,” Yuta replied, a blush blooming on his face.

“Whats wrong, Yuta? You’re almost as red as this berry,” you teased with a giggle, taking a big bite of the fruit you picked a few seconds ago. That made the poor boy blush even more as he imagined what those plump lips of yours would feel like on his own rather than the strawberry.

“Yuta? Are you in there?” you asked. You had been waving your hand in front of his face but he was too busy staring at you to respond until now as he stuttered out an apology.

“It’s all good,” you told him, “you’re cute when you’re spaced out. My offer still stands if you want a bite of this strawberry though since you were practically gawking at it.”

“Yes! Right. The strawberry,” he stammered, “that’s exactly what I was looking at. You’re so right, it looks really good. Thank you.”

You held out the strawberry in question to feed it to him and Yuta felt his heart leap out of his chest—how did he get so lucky to date someone as sweet as you?

Inumaki:

“Strawberry.”

Your jaw dropped at the surprise introduction of a new word into your boyfriend’s vocabulary. You two decided to go on a date at a strawberry farm but the last thing you expected from today was to see Toge enthusiastically pointing his finger back and forth from you to the berries while repeating the word like some sort of incantation.

“I have a feeling you’re making a really good connection between these things but I don’t understand it,” you said tentatively, taking note of the giddiness that shone in Toge’s purple eyes. He quickly pulled out his phone, furiously typing out something in his notes app. When he showed you his screen, you felt like drowning the earth beneath your feet in tears:

Strawberry!! I can say it without hurting you!! That’s gonna be reserved for you only :)

“Toge,” you half whispered, your voice failing you from the love that was overwhelming you, “that means the world to me. Thank you.”

“Salmon,” he said, meaning “you’re welcome.” He then pulled you into a tight hug to show you how much he cared when words failed him. When you pulled apart, he showed you his phone screen one more time:

Also you’re both very sweet <3

Noritoshi:

It was nice to get away from all the hustle and bustle of your daily duties with your boyfriend Noritoshi. You knew he put a lot of pressure on himself 24/7 to be perfect in all facets of his life so you figured getting away to somewhere quiet and calm would do wonders for his mental health. Thankfully, you were correct. You’d never seen Noritoshi as relaxed as he was amongst the strawberries, softly smiling as he watched a bug climb along a vine. He leaned in closer to get a better view of nature at its core, deeply appreciating the simplicity of the outdoors.

“Y/n, look. It’s a ladybug,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb it. You scooted in closer as well to catch a glimpse but were quickly taken aback when the insect flew off the vine and landed on Noritoshi’s nose. He was extremely calm about the whole ordeal and you were delighted to see such an adorable scene unfold in front of you. His gray eyes were slightly crossed as he watched the ladybug in amusement, its speckled body tickling his smooth skin. As it started heading up his nose and toward his eyes, he put his finger out to block it, guiding the plump bug onto his outstretched digit.

“You know that means you’re going to be blessed with an abundance of luck, right?” you asked, heart instantly melting at the gentle gaze he held you under.

“With you in my life, I already knew I was the luckiest man alive.”

Todo:

You never knew what to expect from your boyfriend on a day to day basis so when he started spouting strawberry facts at you while you explored the grounds of the farm, you couldn’t say you were surprised.

“…strawberries today are a result of the cross between F. chiloensis and F. virginiana. Did you know strawberries are a type of rose? And they have more vitamin C than oranges.”

You listened intently to Aoi’s rambling, his arm slung easily over your shoulder in a display of his affection toward you. You were looking at him like he was speaking about the most important topic in the world and you were so proud of the fact that he was subverting expectations, being extremely strong and smart.

“Wow, Aoi, you’re so knowledgeable!” you exclaimed, “how did you learn all this?”

He just shrugged, shooting you a wink. “I’ll tell you if you let me walk you back home after this.”

You playfully nudged him on the shoulder. “We’re going back to the same place, dummy.”

A look of realization dawned on his face, replacing a concerning amount of shock. “You’re right, we are! I forgot!”

You grimaced, trying not to outwardly groan for the sake of being a patient partner.

“Don’t worry about it, handsome. Let’s just enjoy some strawberries, yeah?”

Aoi let out a triumphant laugh after kissing your cheek. “Sounds good to me!”

Ino:

Going to the strawberry farm with Ino was nothing short of a good time. You spent hours collecting only the finest berries, carting around heavy baskets and dreaming up all types of desserts you’d be making with your haul. You also spent a good chunk of that time eating the berries right off the vine and making each other share in the disgust of any surprisingly unripe berries you pulled.

“Babe! Here, this one’s straight up disgusting,” Ino said, thrusting a strawberry with a big bite chunk out of it your way. You took a bite and immediately made a face.

“Ew! That one was nasty! And to think it looked so good, too,” you whined, glaring at the rest of the deceptive glowing red skin.

“You wanna wash it down with a milkshake? They’re selling them at the front.”

“Please,” you said, nodding eagerly. Ino lazily threw his arm over your shoulder and you scooted in closer to your boyfriend as he guided you to a much needed sweet drink.

Gojo:

Satoru was watching you sit next to a strawberry plant with inquisitive eyes, his signature blindfold gone and in its place were sunglasses that reminded you of his yesteryears.

“I still don’t get why we have to pick the strawberries ourselves when we could’ve just gone to the store,” he questioned, bottom lip jutted in a pout.

“Because Satoru,” you said, giving him a kind smile, “it’s good to support local farms. And don’t you feel a sense of accomplishment picking them yourself rather than grabbing the first plastic container you see at a store?”

“I guess,” he said, reaching down to pick a strawberry off its plant before quickly retracting his hand. “The farmers should’ve cleaned up a bit before I came, though. The bugs and dirt are seriously grossing me out.”

The urge to roll your eyes was strong, but the love you had for Satoru was stronger so you refrained.

“Come over here and try this one. I made sure there weren’t any creepy crawlies on it that were out to get you.”

The white haired man didn’t pick up on your teasing, instead sending a solemn “thanks” your way. His long fingers hesitantly plucked a big, red strawberry from the vine.

“Go ahead, taste it,” you encouraged.

He did so, a look of pride overtaking his features.

“This is literally the best strawberry ever.”

“Wait, don’t eat the whole thing! I wanna try some,” you said. Your boyfriend extended a hand, helping you up from your place in the plants.

“I feel like a strawberry being pulled off the vine,” you joked, wiping the dirt off your pants.

“I really do know how to pick ‘em,” Satoru said, smirking.

Geto:

Suguru was the perfect man to take strawberry picking. He was in awe of the tranquility he felt somewhere like that, the peaceful atmosphere doing more to ground him than most anything he’d tried before. He eagerly picked two strawberries, feeding you one then taking a bite from the other for himself.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, brown eyes gazing lovingly into your own as the sun shone brightly over the two of you.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, my love,” you replied, your hand gently placed on his cheek. He nuzzled into your touch the slightest bit, not caring if any passerbys took notice of you. He could smell the sweet scent of strawberry on your breath as you closed in toward him, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. You didn’t want to be indecent in public so you kept it chaste and though Suguru desperately wanted to kiss you passionately enough to make parents cover their children’s eyes (and maybe even their own), he showed restraint. When he eventually pulled away from your kiss, he took hold of your hand that laid on his cheek and placed little kisses on the pads of each finger—also smelling of the red berries you had spent hours hanging around.

Nanami:

When you told Kento you were in the mood to make a strawberry pie, but had no berries, he was quick to come up with the idea to pick fresh ones from the local farm. Now, here you were, baskets in hand, weaving through patches of ripe fruit.

"How's it going, Kento?"

"Well. I have about half a basket full. How about you, my love?"

He never failed to make your heart flutter with his sweet pet names and the syrupy way they fall off his tongue.

"About the same. I'm going to get a few more and then we should be done."

You bent down to gather more strawberries when a gust of wind suddenly picked up, taking your sunhat right from your head. You barely had time to react before it was placed gently back in its rightful place by none other than your boyfriend.

"Oh, Kento, thank you! That's my favorite hat, I would've been so sad if I lost it."

"Then it's a good thing I'd do anything to keep you happy, darling," Kento replied, a soft smile on his lips as he gazed at you like you were the sun and he was a berry plant, relishing in your warmth.

Choso:

Choso couldn’t contain the huge smile that appeared on his face when he saw the strawberry fields for the first time. It reminded him of the bygone era where many were farmers, a time that he and his brothers were born in but never got to experience outside of their glass cases.

“People still farm?” he asked, his voice laced with amazement and his brown eyes glossing over the never ending rows of ripe fruit in front of you.

“Yep! Isn’t so neat how much society has changed over a hundred and fifty years, yet stayed the same?” you questioned, Choso nodding in a quiet bout of deep thought. You grabbed a few baskets and began filling them with berries, working diligently in comfortable silence.

“We should grow a garden,” Choso eventually piped up, taking a bite from a strawberry he couldn’t resist the temptation of.

You felt a smile settle on your own face. “Really? You’d want to do that with me?”

“Of course. I’d much rather go out to my yard than a store for fruits,” he replied, taking a break from berry gathering to look you deeply in your eyes, “and there’s symbolism in the whole thing, too. What’s mine is yours, cultivating life together… it’s all strangely…” He faltered.

“Domestic.”

“Domestic. Exactly.” He reached for your hand and you gladly let him take it, fresh strawberry juice from his fingers leaving a bright red stain on your skin.

Toji:

The sun was beating down on you and you were exhausted after a long day of strawberry picking. Taking a seat on the ground, you felt relief flow through your legs as you gave them a rest.

“You’re getting absolutely filthy,” said Toji, scrunching his face as he looked at you with something akin to disgust. “Get up. You’re not a baby.”

“I’m your baby,” you teased, earning an eye roll from your boyfriend. “Besides, I’m tired and it’s a long walk back to the car. It’s either this or you carry me back.”

With one fell swoop, you were off the ground and in the strong arms of the muscled man.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Toji grumbled, but he wasn't the least bit upset at having you so close to him.

“I do,” you said, cheekily planting a kiss on his exposed bicep.

[dusterbishop]

two thousand years of chasing taking its toll (and it's coming closer)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 2.5k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. i have crushed on gambit since the animated series in the nineties so the new movie brought back a lot of feelings.

part one. || part two.

An endless spread of worlds to wander into, and this is the one you choose: Gambit crouches next to you, his breath staggering out of him in pained wheezes, his hand clasping protectively over the nape of your neck.

It is getting harder to see past the blood dripping into your eyes and the sheen of unshed tears. Your abdomen throbs in intermittent waves of little agonies, needling deep in the pit of your stomach. The shots had gone wide, at first, until you had stepped right into them. Gambit had caught you as you stumbled, swearing too fast for your mind to unjumble past the desperate rush of French.

An endless expanse of possibilities, and you are living in this one, dying in his arms. It almost makes you laugh, except it hurts to breathe, and Gambit is supporting more of your weight than he was just a moment ago.

“Now don’ go doing that again,” he manages in English. One hand on your neck, his thumb pressed over your pulse, and the other pressed tight enough against your wound to make the shadows flicker around the edges of your vision. “Mais la, there ain’ gon’ be next time, chér.”

No. There isn’t. You know it as sure as you know how much he’s hiding his own hurt. He had been blown back twenty-five feet and hit the pavement hard enough that he had laid there, stunned, unarmed. His armor had been designed to take the weight of a blow, but he wasn’t dressed for a fight. Neither of you are. So they had aimed at him, and you had made sure it wasn’t him standing there when the guns went off.

Like one breath and the next. In, and you saw his impact, saw the weapons being raised towards him. Out, and you flickered across realities as smooth as Gambit shuffled his cards, every timeline fanning out before you in a sea of possibilities. Endless, countless possibilities.

This is your last Gambit, and you’re killing him just as sure as you’re killing yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp out. Your voice trembles enough to make your lungs seize up. “Remy, I’m sorry.”

“Tant pis pout toi,” he shoots back. “Help Remy get you up, chér, ‘fore they shootin’ us.”

There is no version of you that isn’t broken that still keeps him alive, so you grit your teeth and let him haul you up, steadying yourself in this timeline. It has always been easier to tether yourself to one timeline when you have something to anchor yourself to. He sweeps you up in a bridal carry, and at this angle you can rest your heavy-list head against the warmth of his broad shoulder. He is a solid port of harbor beneath your tethering weight, a rock standing unyielding to the tide around it.

Your second Gambit had been like this, too. That variant had died with a blazing playing card in hand, his mouth twisted in rage, standing before you and the TVA headhunters with all of the bravado and confidence of a hopeless man. A final stand, he had called it. The two of you had gambled and gone all-in only for Gambit to be dead and you to be thrown into another identity.

You had told yourself that you would be better for this Gambit. No vigilante justice or petty crimes. You had gone on your first date to get po' boys and traded familiar barbs while you spun yourself into the web of a narrative that wouldn’t mark you as an oddity in this world. No strange time-skipping mutant here, only a human interested in a man with blackened red eyes and a smooth talking deck of cards.

Playing the odds, raising the bet. Your Remy would have loved that.

This Gambit, though, he dies holding you just like that, cradling you close enough that you feel the breath knocked from his lungs as the bullets find their mark against his unguarded back. You both tumble forward, the impact rattling your bones, your hands lashing out to catch desperately at the sleeve of Gambit’s coat.

Reality warps and trembles around you. You can sense the unfurling of this world’s integrity, like smoothing your hand down the ridge of Oliver or Lucifer’s back and feeling them arch expectantly beneath your touch. Of all your cats, Figaro had always preferred Remy, much to his triumph. This Gambit didn’t have cats; he admitted to being allergic during your third date, and you had to quash the rush of disappointment that rose in you. You had thought to find good foster homes for the boys, at least, in exchange for the sacrifice of loving Gambit. There is some sort of intrinsic symbolism in the fact that they exist just as you two do in every timeline you share.

Not that it matters, now.

“No,” you groan, dragging yourself towards Gambit’s body. Pain lances through your abdomen in arcs of lightning. It’s nearly as debilitating as the sight of him. He’s hunched over on his side, one hand still outstretched limply towards you, the other awkwardly twisted beneath his body. Your voice wretches out of you in a pained wobble. “No, no, no.”

You take his hand and close your eyes at the fading warmth. This is the third time you’ve watched him die. You don’t know what to do anymore. The pain in your abdomen is a vicious throbbing ache in beat with your heart, a clashing crescendo descending upon your head just as disorienting as the footsteps picking their way towards you. They will shoot you in the back and call it a well-fought battle. They will destroy your body with Gambit’s and never speak your names to anyone in this world’s timeline again. As if you are nothing.

As if this version of Gambit, with his purring accent and smooth-striking dealer hands, is nothing more than an obstacle in the way of the true prize of killing you where you lay bleeding.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper to Gambit. You have to let go of his hand so you don’t take his body with you, and then you let reality shift and expand around you, demanding the timeline to come to heel, shuffling the next five minutes into a ribbon-spread of flashing images.

One minute: you come to your feet. This is almost the hardest part. You have to find a version of yourself that is stable enough to handle the staggering weight of the transition. Your body has been operating in survival mode for far too long, especially in this timeline where you met the new Gambit in the throes of angry grief. You hardly recovered before you threw yourself into society with a desperate hope to attract him back into your orbit. This version of your body feels calm and refreshed, which must mean it’s from right after your second date with Gambit, when he escorted you home and wished you goodnight and you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

Two minutes: you see Gambit. His eyes are half-open and glazed with death, staring far into a horizon you can never reach. He would still be alive if you had never crossed timelines to search him out. This world’s version of you had been killed while you were still young and unpracticed in hiding your power. It had been easy to slip into the vacant space and fill it up with a new identity. He had never known your real name, just the mask you wore to allure him closer to you. You see him, laying there, and all you can remember is his shocked laugh when he noticed the way you ate your sandwiches with a fork and knife. Chér, ought’a you honte, non?

Three minutes: you kill them all.

Four minutes: every single one of them. This is the easiest part.

Five minutes: you have to exchange your borrowed body with your current one, and that is the hardest part. You can feel the seams of your borrowed self strain under the weight of your rapid time-skipping, further stretched thin by the pain of your current self. A wounded body decays far faster when you aren’t occupying it. It’s a reluctant exchange, and you stumble beneath the sudden weight of your current self as it wraps around your consciousness. The impact to the ground is faster than your changing, too fast to feel the echo wave of pain. You retch blood and bile, turning your face to avoid choking on it.

You will be nothing more than another corpse beside Gambit’s in a minute. You can feel the timeline of death fogging your mind, muffling your reflexes. You have exacerbated your own death by orchestrating theirs. It’s not a surprise: when Gambit fell, his breath knocked right out from him, you had felt that same jarring finality.

Only this time, only for you, when you close your eyes in death, you open them in another world entirely.

It's a battlefield.

Not surprising. Your hand automatically goes to the small of your back, fingers curling around the cool polished wood of your bo staff. With one fluid flourish, you pull it out from its sheath and extend the length, timelines humming in your hand with the same buzzing tempo of Gambit's kinetic energy. Unlike his power, your staff doesn't glow blazing violet. In one moment and the next, it simply snaps into its full length, the air hissing with displaced energy.

Once, with your Remy, he had settled himself in an armchair in your shared apartment, half-drunk with one of the cats in his lap, and he had demanded to watch you cross timelines. It took small objects, at first. A coffee cup across the room, a pair of your underwear from the bedroom, the cat purring underneath his very touch. You had been a little less drunk from your night out together, but it had been exhilarating to perform for him in a way that affected you far beyond the influences of alcohol. The weight of his black-red eyes lingering over the curve of your figure could take you apart as sure as any timeline.

He had been mystified yet delighted at your display of prowess. Y’a natural Houdini, eh, chér?

 That wasn’t quite true, though. You didn’t disappear, you simply… rearranged yourself to exist in a state of your choosing, from a time of your choosing. You had explained it to Remy like this: like choosing the channels on T.V. until you found a show you liked. Except instead of old reruns of some sitcom, you were settling on a state of existence.

Your weapon of choice - the bo staff, much like the one Remy trained you with - comes from another version of yourself. It weighs a perfect balance in your palm because it was made for you, even if you were not the one to personally commission its design. The staff whistles sharply as it cuts through the air, singing its anticipation as you swing into action, adrenaline from the fight with the hunters still raging in your veins. It’s a relief to be distracted from the last image of Gambit, dead.

Instead, you revel in the finesse of an unfair fight.

There seems to be four men surrounding you, their faces a blur of distant familiarity. Some part of you had met them, before, in another time. You could have tried to find the names to their faces if they weren’t fully committed to trying to kill you. Battle comes to you easier, and perhaps you are indulging in the violence when you could have stepped away and gone to another time.

But, perhaps, you are so fucking tired of being anything other than a violent, selfish thing.

It’s all smooth motion, to fight like this. Alone. No need to worry about a Remy LeBeau by your side in case the reckless fool got himself killed trying to protect you. You think to your Remy: I told you nothing was going to happen to me, LeBeau. I exist in so many timelines that it doesn’t matter what happens to me.

It doesn’t matter what happens to you. Not even when one of them strikes you across the face with the sharp bend of their elbow, cutting your cheek against your molars and filling your mouth with blood. You merely shuffle the deck, pull another card, draw a version of yourself with no blood and just as much battle-hardened pain tolerance. So many versions of you can handle the aftershocks of pain that your stride hardly stutters as you swing your staff and sweep his feet out from under him. Another swing, a sickening crack of a wood impact to an unprotected skull, and you keep moving to the next target.

Another hit to your ribs, hard enough to knock the breath from you. Shuffle, pull, draw. Your new borrowed body takes the hit without notice and crushes the faceless attacker’s windpipe, cutting off his shriek of pain in a gurgling wheeze. The next one tries to make a move while your back is turned, and you move to meet him, staff swinging, mouth twisted in a grimace. You can feel the timeline bending to stretch thin around you, taut with the rapid succession of your draw. Your blood thunders in a raging crescendo in your ears. There is a limit to how much you can take before you splinter apart.

You just don’t know if you care to heed that limit, anymore.

Another swing. Shuffle, draw, pull. This version of you switches from the long reach of your bo staff for the more intimate versatility of twin blunt-ended sticks. It works well for close combat. So well that your opponent has to keep to the backstep to avoid your blows, shuffling out of range.

So well, that you forget that there were four.

The pain that cracks across the back of your skull sends you to the ground in an instant. Your hands spasm and release the sticks, but not fast enough to soften the blow of your sudden fall. The timeline whines a high-pitched whir around you, unsteady in the relentless time-skipping.

Too bad, you think distantly. This is a quick life for this timeline of yours. A violent, lonely one. It is grim, but there is a quiet relief in the end beckoning you closer. The quick ones are the easiest. It only really kills you when you have to linger in the shadow of your self’s presence. A living ghost. That’s all you really are. You just haunt the narrative of your own lifetimes.

You, and Gambit.

Blazing purple flashes across your vision, and the timeline whirs again, except it isn’t, because you haven’t used your dealer’s hand. It isn’t your power charging the air with magnetic energy. It is all Gambit’s. Of course it fucking is.

How ironic for you to find him now, in this timeline where he has never known your name, when you are already dead? You close your eyes to silently curse out whatever pathetic higher being found fit to orchestrate your life into this circus sideshow.

“Cherchez la femme,” he says. His accent is lilting in its coyness. “Found ya’, chér.”

[genderqueerdykes]

transmasc experience. I've been stealth at three different workplaces and it boils my blood when people act like being stealth is some kind of privilege. like even if it is "easier" for us to be stealth (it's not, I get clocked as queer even if I can pass for cis, but whatever) it's also not a fucking good thing that we are forced into the closet. like, when I got my IUD placed, I was in pain for days and days, but I only took one sick day because i would have needed a doctor's note to take more and I didn't want the letterhead to be from an ob/gyn. I worked manual labor at the time and it was fucking PUNISHING having to deal with that level of pain with no reprieve. to say nothing of the way I was always terrified that my coworkers would find out and ridicule me or worse. nothing about being stealth ever made me feel safe. at one job I worked with a client who was a known sexual abuser (he had multiple accusations of groping people) who was extremely homophobic and had been known to harass female staff, and it was like he could smell that I was different. he hated me in particular and I never figured out exactly why but I think it was because my body was more feminine looking than the other male staff (the organization tried to avoid putting female staff with him as much as possible). he threatened to kill me once and that was with him not knowing I'm trans. I feel like if he ever found out he would have legitimately hurt me. I had so many panic attacks at that job, so many times I ended up crying in the bathroom bc of how he behaved towards me, and I couldn't even tell my supervisor because I didn't want it to become gossip and somehow make its way to him. being stealth transmasc can be so fucking miserable is my point. hazing. sexual harassment. violence. all of that is constantly on your mind when you're trying to make sure no one can tell you have tits every day. because they DON'T see us as men when we get outed! they see us as women, not only women, but mannish women (which is the worst kind to a lot of people) - they see us as *failed women.* tainted women. if women are seen as property by the patriarchy then trans men are seen as broken toys.

thank you so much for taking the time to share your story, i really appreciate it. i am so sorry you've been through this but you are so fucking right. the second a trans man is outed the people around them CEASE to see them as men. it's dangerous as hell because now they have to deal with being treated like a "tranny dyke" or a "Confused lesbian" or just a cis woman. it's disgusting. ive seen it happen to me in real time on many, many occasions. especially around other trans people. i'm transmasc & transfem because i'm intersex, and the second the trans punks i was friends with found out i'm transmasc they started treating me like a cis woman and being misogynistic as hell about it. this crap is real and it's affecting people in real time

they see us as failed women. tainted women. if women are seen as property by the patriarchy then trans men are seen as broken toys.

i hear these sentiments so much time and time again. so many people end up hearing these sentiments. this is something that gets repeated to us over and over and over again.

thank you for sharing your story. take care of yourself. be safe

transandrophobia is real.

[sweetyyhippyy]

39 Weeks. Dad!Eddie Series. *FLUFF*

Summary: Eddie's wife is now 39 weeks pregnant and things aren't getting any easier.

Word Count: 766

TW: Being big pregnant, a lot of crying.

A.N.: Surprise!!!!! I was going through my WIPs and found this! I didn't think i ever finished it but I did!

~~~~~~~~~~

Bulging belly.

Swollen ankles.

Back pain.

Peeing every 3 minutes.

Being 39 weeks (and 5 days, but who’s counting) was starting to take its toll on her. She was tired, sore, swollen, hot all the time, and overly emotional - which Eddie always seemed to be the one to pick up the pieces.

Her day at home hasn’t been as relaxing as she hoped.

For lunch, she wanted a simple bowl of cereal, but the milk had spoiled. She went to make grilled cheese, an easy second option, only to find a single piece of bread, and naturally it was the end piece. Clearly a grocery store visit needed to happen.

As the day went on, the pain in her lower back was more than she could bear on top of the tightness she was feeling in her stomach.

The final straw was when she went to switch the laundry. Somehow a little red sock ended up in a load with Eddie’s Hellfire Club shirt and a few other white shirts that ended up turning the shirts pink.

Tears started to flow instantly with frustration in herself, something that had started to become normal the last few weeks.

As much as she loved being pregnant in the very beginning, she was physically and emotionally over being this heavily pregnant and miserable.

Eddie swings the front door open, excited to see his wife after a long day of work.

“Babe?” He calls out, throwing his keys on the counter in the dark kitchen, the house eerily quiet.

“Babe, I’m home. Where are you?” Eddie walks throughout the house, finding their bedroom door closed and small sniffles from behind it.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows before slowly opening the door and peeking his head in to see his wife curled up in a ball under the sheets, her body shaking from her sobs.

“What’s going on, sweetheart? What happened?” Eddie rushes over to her, laying a hand on her back.

She erupts in a violent sob, looking back at Eddie with swollen eyes. “I just want the baby here already. I can’t take being pregnant anymore!” She yells. “I don’t have any control over my body, everything hurts, all I want is some cereal and the milk is spoiled. We don’t have enough bread!.”

“It’s just your hormones.” Eddie soothes her, not the first time this pregnancy he’s let her cry it out.

“I don’t know how you put up with me! I’m insufferable! I turned your shirts pink because I can’t do laundry the right way.” She picks up the shirt from next to her and shoves it in his face. “See?! It’s pink! I’m sorry!” She was beyond hysterical at this point.

Eddie grabs the newly pink shirt from her and opens it up. “It’s kinda badass, babe. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my husband and you’re trying to be nice to me. I did it to your favorite Metallica shirt too.” She hiccups a sob, handing him more of the evidence.

Sure it was his favorite shirt, but he still couldn’t be angry at her even a little bit. “Hey, can you look at me for 10 seconds?”

She slowly looks up at him, shame in her face.

Eddie wipes her tears from her cheeks, planting a soft kiss onto her forehead. “For the past 39 weeks you’ve been growing a baby, our baby. You’ve been growing her little nose, her arms, her heart. That’s a lot of work. You’re exhausted, you’re hurting, nobody is mad that you accidentally made my shirts pink.”

“You’re not mad?” She sniffles broken, wiping her wet eyes again.

“No, sweetheart.” He wraps his arms around her and cradles her head against his chest. “Hell I’ve done a load of laundry for you and shrunk your favorite sweater and you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

She can’t help but giggle, remembering how scared he was to tell her he shrunk her sweater, he bought her favorite food home, brought her flowers, and put her favorite movie on before he showed her the sweater, the cutest puppy dog face on.

“Since you had a bad day, I’ll go make you a bath, not too hot, and I’ll go grab some groceries, get some stuff to make dinner, and I’ll come back and spoil you.”

“That sounds nice.” She smiles, kissing his cheek. “Since you’re going to the store, will you pick up some green grapes for me? And by me, I mean the baby of course.”

Eddie chuckles, getting off the bed. “Anything for the baby."

[it-happened-one-fic]

Genuine With You - Kalim

Author Notes: Someday, I will feel comfortable writing Kalim, but today is not yet that today. In all seriousness though, I wrote this while listening to "Romantic Flight" from the How to Train Your Dragon OST. I really can't quite decide how I feel about this fic, but I sort of thought it was time for me to post it. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral/ fluff/ romance

Word Count: 881

It wasn’t the first time you’d taken Kalim’s hand to join him on a magic carpet ride through the night sky. But something about it felt different this time. 

When your hand had slipped into his warm one and he’d tugged you through your window and onto the surprisingly soft fabric, you’d felt strangely shy. 

Kalim seemed like his normal self, though, if perhaps a little quieter, as he steered the carpet to take you up higher until you were sailing above the clouds and could see the moon in all its pale glory.

You wrapped your arms around yourself in a feeble effort to protect yourself from the cool night air, “Does it ever get old?”

Your eyes were stuck on the moon even as Kalim looked over at you with a surprised expression that soon melted into one of understanding, “Never. It’s just as magical everytime.”

You smiled, oddly comforted by his words. Somehow, being up in the sky with Kalim by your side made everything feel just a little bit simpler. Your problems seemed distant and far away, with even the school itself appearing tiny.

But perhaps distance had a way of putting things into perspective. While NRC often seemed larger than life, it was just a small part of this great, big world.

Amusingly, you never felt closer to anyone than when you were with Kalim, sailing through the sky high over the sleeping campus. There was a strange serenity, and though Kalim was always joyful, his happiness seemed easier and more relaxed when it was just the two of you.

It wasn’t like you thought he put on for others, but he did seem a little more genuine when it was just you and him. After all, it was only when it was just you and Grim around that you’d ever truly heard him voice any sort of complaints.

“It’s funny; you’re easy to be around,” Kalim’s voice interrupted your musings and spoke your thoughts aloud. You turned to look at him with no small amount of surprise, and he had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, “I know it's an odd thing to say…. But I really do feel that way.”

You felt a smile creep onto your face at his words, feeling both touched and relieved that he felt the same way. “It’s not odd; I feel the same way about you.”

Now it was his turn to stare at you with wide, disbelieving eyes that had you letting out a laugh, “Is that really so surprising?”

He let out an almost sheepish chuckle and actually nodded, startling you even as he began to explain, “Yeah, it is. A lot of people seem to think they have to put an act around me because of who I am. Even Jamil….” 

He trailed off, looking down as the smile on his face faded at his friend’s name. You’d known for quite some time that the events of winter break…. Jamil’s overblot was still weighing heavily on Kalim’s mind.

And though you entirely understood why that was the case, it pained you that everything that had happened during that time still bothered him so much. But you had no words to comfort the young man, even though you desperately wanted to. So instead, you decided to distract him by continuing on with your previous vein of thought.

“I’ve never felt that way,” You responded honestly and almost immediately regained Kalim’s attention. He no longer looked as sorrowful as before, and the longer you continued speaking, the happier he looked.

“I’ve always thought you’re one of the most comfortable people to be around at this school. I’ve never felt like I needed to be wary or put on an act around you. I can just… exist.” You glanced back at him, a smile on your face as you awkwardly lifted a shoulder.

“You just strike me as a really genuine guy, and I guess I want to be just as genuine with you as you are with me.”

It was like your words had opened some sort of door for Kalim. His eyes shone with both unshed tears and joy, and the next thing you knew, all the cold air that had been blowing around was blocked by his body as he tugged you into a tight embrace.

Because, despite the fact that Kalim was a carefree boy who seemed to do little work, he was by no means small or weak.

You let out a tiny, half-startled laugh as you wrapped your arms responsively around him and received a tiny squeeze in return as you reciprocated his affection.

“Thank you, Y/n; that means so much to me.” The young man leaned bac and you wished you’d had time to brace yourself for the unadulterated affection that shone in his garnet-colored eyes.

“I feel the same way. It’s easy being with you, and I’m so glad you’re here. Even if you aren’t originally from Twisted Wonderland, you mean the world to me.”

He held your hands in his, maintaining eye contact in a way that felt incredibly meaningful, even though you could never read the myriad of emotions that floated through his gaze, though you did catch a few.

Gratitude, honesty, joy, and pure, unfiltered love.

[honeykawa]

Safe

pairing: dabi x reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: reader injuries, cursing

word count: 1.0k

summary: you hadnt expected to get jumped that night but being the resident healer for the lov did have its quirks. you somehow made your way back to the bar before passing out but your comrades werent exactly sure on how to help since you were the one who typically took care of the healing. even after the storm passes and youre sure to be okay, a new one starts to brew with one question in mind: whos going to tell dabi?

you stumbled around outside holding onto your waist along with staggered breathing. you had been confronted by a couple of heroes who recognized you as someone who works closely with the league and as dabis partner since he tends to burn himself a lot. you wouldnt say you were a villain like the others. all you did was heal those in the organization whenever they needed it. your quirk allowed you to heal others so long as you took all the pain but it didnt really work as well on yourself. you could only imagine the amount of blood youve lost at this point, you dont even know how you got away from those heroes.

you finally got to the hideout and all eyes were on you as you entered the bar. “please…help” you instantly fell over and passed out as soon as you saw your comrades, you trusted that they would get you where you needed to be.

toga was the first one to get to your fallen body. usually blood wasnt a sight she feared but seeing you bloodied was terrifying to her. youd saved her so many times, listened to her whenever she needed someone to vent to. kurogiri tried to push everyone out of the way and immediately started to assign jobs to people. but how do you heal the healer?

twice was instructed to quickly bring you to the back room and lay you in a bed while kurogiri called garaki to make an emergency visit. they did what they could to apply immediate first aid until garaki could get there but the amount of blood terrified all of them.

garaki did what he could and you were passed out the entire time so that made it easier for him to apply stitches. “luckily, their quirk does let them heal a little faster than others so all the major bleeding had stopped by the time i got here. they should be fine when they wake up but don’t let them use their quirk until theyre healed. anymore strain on their body could probably kill them.”

garaki left and now the lov had another issue on their hands.

who was going to tell dabi?

everyone knew dabi was more than overprotective of you. he tried to accompany you everywhere and this only intensified when you started dating. the only reason he wasnt with you tonight was because he was on a different mission with compress elsewhere.

“nose goes”

everyone quickly touched their nose except for twice who hadnt realized what was happening until it was too late.

“fuck”

———————

your head was pounding as your eyes slowly opened. the sun was trickling in through the windows which was the only source of light in the room.

you tried to look around to see if you could make out any shapes in the room you were in as you tried to get up. your head was pounding and your body felt stiff.

“i wouldnt move too much if i were you.”

you look over to see dabi sitting in a chair in the corner. he gets up to walk over to you and handed you some painkillers from the table next to you, followed by some water. you took both out of his hands and thank him quietly as he sat on the side of your bed.

“doll, youve been out for a few days. what the fuck happened?”

he reached for you hand and gently squeezed it. a slight tremble could be felt coming from him. the night he got back twice was waiting for him to deliver the news on what happened. dabi felt his heart stop in that moment, like his entire world was shattering around him. even more so when he finally got to see your still body laying in the bed, the only sign of life being the small rise and fall of your chest. he didnt freak out like everyone thought he would have. no. he was still. he didnt know what to do or how to fix this. he couldnt. and the uncertainty and lack of control was absolutely terrifying.

you gave his hand a small squeeze back before telling him your story. “i was ganged up on by some heroes as i was walking back. i hadnt seen them in the area before so i wasnt expecting to run into them.” you felt some tears rising up. you didnt know why you were crying, maybe it was a delayed reaction as to what happened or maybe it was because you felt so helpless in the moment, only escaping due to dumb luck.

“im sorry, dabi. im sorry for worrying you, im sorry i cant defend myself…im sorry im so useless” dabi could feel his heart breaking. he immediately used his other hand to wipe your tears away from you face.

“sunshine, you are far from useless. youre so capable of things that i cant ever dream of. all i can do is destroy, but you? you have healed so many of us. fuck anyone thats made you feel like that.”

you nodded your head in his hand and he leaned down to kiss you. it was soft and gentle, it made you feel safe. when he pulled away, it felt all too soon. but the atmosphere quickly changed.

“im going to need you to tell me something, doll.” his voice was cold and sent a shiver down your back.

dabi pushed some of your hair back and gently held your face in his hand.

“who did this to you?”

he needed names. he wasnt one to let anyone fuck with those he loved. whoever decided to hurt you better be ready to have the favor returned to them tenfold. you were kind, gentle, and would rather take pain for yourself than let anyone else be hurt. you didnt deserve this. it almost broke dabi seeing you laying unconscious, bandaged beyond recognition. he was going to avenge you. he was going to make them pay.

[illneverrecover]

TW: Just a heads up, this will be about death and grief. If that's not something you can handle right now, then please skip over this and keep yourself safe 💜

I'm not sure why I'm writing this.

It's not why anyone is here, not why anyone follows me or this page. It's not even the reason I created this godforsaken tumblr to begin with (that honor goes to Dylan O'Brien and Teen Wolf). But I felt like I needed to say something, and I didn't know where else to say it.

One of my good friends that I've known since high school passed away two weeks ago. Not from any sort of underlying health issue, or a sudden, unfortunate accident. But because she was struggling so hard with postpartum depression, and decided that it would be less painful if she went to sleep and didn't wake up.

We didn't know she was struggling, I didn't know she was struggling. She had reached out to me only two weeks prior, telling me that she missed me and we lived too close to each other to never see each other, and proposed a Twilight movie marathon (which I had gladly accepted). She was going to message me dates, we made plans for lunch, and she ended it by saying "yay!! can't wait!".

And then, before I realized, it was too late to say anything else.

Being a mother is hard. Being a mother to two young kids, both under two, while trying to build your career, be successful, and be a good wife is even harder.

But it gets easier. I promise it does.

I have a lot of regrets and a lot of guilt. I have a lot of things I wish I could say to her one more time -- and then I feel guilty for thinking that my words could ever be that important, that they would even matter on that kind of scale.

I know that depression lies. It is a liar. It's nefarious; its call, soft, sleepy and welcoming, comforting almost. It feels easy to lay in its embrace, to let yourself be swallowed by the darkness, let the echo chamber of your worst thoughts sing you a haunting lullaby until it feels like nothing matters. Until you rather just not exist.

But that lullaby is a poison, filled with deception and misdirection. It's intentionally vague, dragging out its notes so that it seemingly doesn't ever end. What it doesn't include is how beautiful the background music can be, when you finally are able to stop and breathe enough to hear it. How relaxing it can be to sing along to the melody, when you are clear-headed and no longer sleep deprived to learn the lyrics. How much fun it is to let go and dance along to the music, when you're able to recharge and take time for yourself.

Those things all come with time. I promise they do. It does get easier. Not always right away, not always all at once, but soon you'll find each breath you take is a little deeper, each step you take a little bit lighter.

If you're reading this, and you have found yourself struggling with similar dark thoughts - please, please, reach out to someone. A trusted friend, a teacher, a neighbor, your physician, a counselor. SOMEONE. Please ask for help, and please utilize the resources available. There is no shame for asking for help, especially in today's climate of fuckery -- it's hard out there for everyone.

But please, please stay. I want you to stay. I promise you there are people out there who also want you to stay, but even if you don't believe that, believe that I don't want to be in a world where you don't exist.

One of the last messages my friend sent to me during our final conversation was about how she was going to send me dates ASAP, because "we're gonna commit to this because that's what I'm doing this year! Committing to happy things!"

I think about those words a lot. I think about what she was feeling in those moments when messaging me, and what she was feeling only two weeks later, when she felt so painfully alone. If I think about it too much, it consumes me and shatters my heart.

So instead, I try to remember that message - it wasn't the last thing she texted me, but it does feel like her final message all the same. To commit to happy things this year. To try and do things that unabashedly bring me joy, because I deserve to.

My wish for you all is to commit to more happy things, this year and every year. To dare to feel joy, to seek out things solely because you want to, and not because of any perceived outcome. And to tell your loved ones how important they are to you, and how much you love them. It's all over far too soon, and the points don't matter, anyway. 💜

[marshmallowprotection]

recently js broke my elbow n am now in a splint w the possibility of surgery. how would the mysmes cast react/help?

Jaehee has been through this song and dance before. She may not have broken any bones herself, but she's done enough courses over the years on the human body. She understands what you need to do to stretch your muscles and not overextend yourself! When it comes to what you'll need to do to help your muscles and bones get back in order, she's the best! Your physical recovery will have no troubles and you can chalk that up to Jaehee taking notes with your doctor!

You've got this handled, for sure, but her love language is taking care of you whenever she can get the chance. You've always done a lot to support her, never hesitating to cheer her on, so it's her chance to do the same for you. You'll be lying on the couch while she works to get the knot out of your arm. Since you injured an important joint, there's a lot of PT ahead of you, so prepare yourself for the Jaehee work out corner! It comes with dinner and a movie afterward.

Zen ran into trouble with a broken leg when you got to know him, but his injury healed at an inhuman rate, as to be expected with him. But, his body doesn't work the same way yours does. What took him a few days will take you weeks of recovery time, and not just that, perhaps, even longer with physical therapy since you snapped a joint that has to be taken care of with a tender hand so as not to reduce the use of the arm's mobility in the future. He doesn't know how to react around the slow-healing factor others have, so he's about to learn a lot with you!

Much like Jaehee, he's a good guy to have around for the later part of your recovery period. He'll help you keep that arm in working order as often as he can! He's also great when it comes to doting on you. He's fast to baby you, grabbing anything you need so you don't have to sit there and worry about it. You may get frustrated with that side of him but just know he means well. He doesn't like to see you in pain and if he can do anything to make sure you don't whimper, he'll do it as fast as you can say, "Zen!"

Yoosung has helped patients during his volunteer work before, and lucky for you, he's had some training on how to attend to people who have broken a bone or two! Problem is most of what he knows is the basics and when a situation deviates from his training, he panics just a little bit and flounders. Like, if something happens and you have to deal with something he didn't expect, he might stand there trying to figure out what to do while you handle it yourself.

That's the only part of him that's clumsy, really! Outside of that, he's fast to adapt to these changes as you work together in the kitchen to make meals. He does a lot of the work stirring and shaking while you hand him what he needs. Your routine of making dinner together after a long day doesn't go away just because you've got a bum arm for the rest of the month. You just have to try a new angle to make sure your date nights stay the same. Teamwork makes the dream work, and it's the foundation of your love!

Jumin is definitely the one who can go overboard when it comes to your health but he's got the money to make sure you're attending all your appointments and routine check-ins to make sure the bone is on its way to healing properly. You've got the best physical therapist on your side to work with you a few times a week, and anything you're in need of can be delivered in a heartbeat if you're struggling too much to do much of anything.

He doesn't want you to stress yourself out! You need to take this time to rest and recover, and if there's anything he can do to make things easier on you, he will do it in a heartbeat. He's saddened that you can not scoop Elizabeth off the ground and carry her as you typically do, but she doesn't seem to mind, given that she lays down on top of you as you rest these days. He's heard purring stimulates recovery, so he is looking into that research while you two nap in the evening to recoup from a long day.

Saeyoung tends to be the worst worrywart of the bunch. He babies anyone close to him who has an injury or illness because he hates to see his loved ones struggling, and would rather take on extra work to spare them even a fraction of pain. Sure, this makes things tough as soon as you get frustrated with him for babying you, but it's just one of the things he's learning to work on every day that can't be ignored or disregarded since he does the same to Saeran. You'll have to have that talk with him because you can't get better if you don't exercise or stretch once you're free of the cast!

Though, it's not all bad. He adjusts the cat robot's features to help you out, too. Meowy has a timer to remind you to take medicine and when you exercise! There's also an automatic voice feature installed that sends him a text message if you have an emergency and need his help. As smothering as he can be, you know he means well, and this is just one of the ways he extends his love for you.

V has spent time in the hospital before, not just for his eyes, but for the accident in which he lost his mother. He was burned considerably on his back due to how long he stumbled around before his mother found him and dragged him to the entrance... and he had no choice but to stay off of his back for a while. Sleeping was hell for him. So, you don't have to worry about him not understanding how hard this break is on you. He gets it.

His main concern is finding you a comfortable way to sleep. You've got every soft pillow in the house he can get his hands on. He knows one of the best parts of the recovery process is getting a good night's rest, so that's his main focus. It might sound silly, but he knows that you can handle yourself in every other way, but when it comes to the little details most people forget? That's what he works on because he wants you to recover peacefully, not in pain.

GE Saeran knows what it feels like to struggle. He's never broken an arm or a leg, but he understands that you've got a few limitations put in place to protect you from causing further harm to your body. Your body is going to take a while to get back to where it was, and even so, it might not get back to what it was before you broke your arm. Your body will decide on its own how fast it wants to get better, and if the healing process takes longer than expected, he's ready for that.

He knows you can take care of yourself, but he hopes that you'll ask him for help when you need it. He's not the type to smother you, but he is the type to worry about you if you try to do everything on your own. Your relationship is built on communication, so as long as you communicate with him, he knows what you need and you know he's right around the corner to take care of you!

[deadheaddaisy]

Kiss prompts!

"i really, really want to kiss you right now"

+ “shut up” (affectionate)

+ almost kisses that are interrupted by a third party

Dual role ask answer!

Janelle Kelly and Michael Rostov appear together for approximately one (1) minute in Vox Sola, but have stolen my heart (and somehow I managed to inveigle @talshiargirlfriend to write and post the very first stories about them - lucky me!)

In honour of Enterprise Ship Week 2005 and in answer to @talshiargirlfriend's kiss ask, have some rarepair love!

Rostov awoke to the sound of beeping and a strong antiseptic smell; strange rustling noises, too. His chest hurt when he breathed, his head pounded, and - he twitched, and let out a tiny groan - his shoulder throbbed. Actually, he ached all over, but his chest, shoulder, and head seemed to want to be noticed more than any other pain he might be experiencing. 

He forced his eyes to open further, and watched hers widen. "Hey," he managed, as she leapt to her feet - albeit with a wince - and leaned over him, still holding fast to his hand. "No crying." 

She gave a small, damp laugh, and he was pleased to see a little smile make its way onto her face. "You're not the boss of me, Mike Rostov," she said tremulously, but let go with one hand to swipe at her eyes with her forearm before returning it to grip his hand tightly once more. 

He was too exhausted to do much more than smile back, but he squeezed her fingers and gave her an approximation of a wink, trying to better focus his eyes on her. Her hair was awry, pulled out of its neat bun, and there was soot on her face. She looked a mess, and at the same time, like the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Then his brain picked up that she was clad in her black undershirt, and there was a bandage around one wrist; not the one she'd used to wipe her eyes. 

"You were hurt?" he asked worriedly. Janelle shrugged, but nodded. "What happened? I remember the explosion, but not much after that."

"You were heading for the console, but the overload made it through the relays faster than you could run, and it exploded just before you reached it - luckily, or you'd have been caught directly in the blast. It threw you back hard enough to hit the side of the warp core platform, and that's probably how you broke a rib and dislocated your arm, and hit your head hard enough for a concussion. And then you fell on me and I broke your fall."

"I fell on you?" She nodded again, looking sheepish. "But I'm twice your size. I must have hurt you!" Looking alarmed and casting a glance in the direction of the door, Janelle patted his hand. 

"Hush, Mike, or the doctor will be annoyed that you're agitating yourself." With an effort, he tried to calm himself, raising an eyebrow as an indicator for her to continue. "I came out of it with a sprained wrist and knee, and a few bruises, but you were mostly limp by then. And you didn't fall on me with your full body weight, so I was able to wriggle out from under you and drag you away."

His brain fog was clearing faster, but Rostov was still a little confused by what she was saying. "Janelle, I weigh ninety kilograms and you can't weigh more than sixty-five, soaking wet. And you had an injured knee. How were you able to drag me?"

She grinned, and there was a hint of his happy-go-lucky Janelle. "I'm pretty strong, Mike, and I know how to lift heavy things," she said. "I'm not an engineer for nothing. And I was already full of adrenaline, running after you, so I was pumped up and ready. I probably couldn't do it as easily now as I did earlier, but I could move ninety kilograms if I had to. Besides, I only dragged you to the door, not all the way to Sickbay."

"I'm still impressed. And thank you for getting me out of there." 

"I couldn't just leave you there. And I know you wouldn't have left me if the tables had been turned." Her eyes crinkled at the corners. "Though I guess it would have been a lot easier for you to carry me out of there. But you were in front, so…"

He rolled his eyes. "Wait, don't tell me - I was pulling the jackass move?"

She chuckled. "I wasn't going to say so, but yeah, I guess you were."

"And there you were, hot on my heels, close enough for me to fall right on top of you."

To his amusement, she blushed. "Shut up, you."

She looked so lovely, he thought, even so dishevelled, her uniform rolled down to her waist and undershirt pulled up along one forearm to allow for the bandage on her slender wrist. 

"Janelle," he said softly, his gaze fixed on her. 

"Yes, Mike?" 

"I really, really want to kiss you right now."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and dear lord, now she looked even more lovely, a little flustered, but determined. "Will it help you feel better?" Concern radiated from her voice, but her eyes were drawn to his mouth.

He widened his eyes just a fraction, knowing it made him look disarmingly vulnerable, and tried to look as pathetic as possible. Well, he was in pain, after all. 

"It can't hurt to try," he said hopefully, and watched her lean forward, her beautiful face moving closer. Her eyes started sliding shut, and Rostov closed his in anticipation…

"Well, crewmen, how are things going here?" came the cheerful voice of Doctor Phlox, and Janelle jerked backward, Rostov taking in a huge gulp of air in shock and immediately yelping as his abused rib protested. 

"Could be better, Doctor," he managed, unable to hide the wince and deciding to lean into it as he saw the doctor's shrewd gaze move between him and his now fiercely-blushing colleague. "When can I get out of here?"

Phlox sighed and shook his head. "Now you sound like Lieutenant Reed, crewman," he said, "so I will tell you what I would have told him in your shoes. You have a cracked rib, a dislocated shoulder, and a mild concussion. I'll be keeping you overnight for observation, and tomorrow we'll see what sort of state you are in and whether you're ready to be released. But don't count on going back to work for at least a week." 

His gaze turned to Janelle. "And as for you, crewman, you might not have a concussion, but you have a badly-sprained wrist on your dominant arm and a torn anterior cruciate ligament on the opposite knee. Neither are life-threatening, but I would like you to stay overnight so I can keep you off that knee for as long as possible - especially since you were still using it for leverage when you dragged a weight somewhat excessive for your musculature, hmm? And you will also not be returning to work for a few days."

Janelle looked at Rostov almost guiltily and then nodded at Phlox, saying "Yes, Doctor," without demur. Rostov followed suit, albeit without the slightly guilty face, and rolled his eye at Janelle in a bid to indicate that they would be talking later about how she'd downplayed her injuries. She might be ranked higher than him, but he still didn't want her hurting herself for his sake. 

Although, well ... this was Janelle. Not like he could actually take her to task, not if he valued his skin; she was too feisty for that, and he didn't want a strip torn off his hide for presuming, even if she was acting guilty right at this moment. That was probably just because she felt sorry for him, and judging by the new spark he saw in her eyes, the guilt was rapidly dissipating.

Well, if they were going to be in Sickbay overnight at the same time, that wasn't too bad. And booked off work for a few days? Perhaps they could recuperate together, Rostov mused. As the doctor took himself off, drawing the curtain around their beds, he raised his hand carefully to avoid hurting his rib again, bringing Janelle's to his lips. 

"Are you going to give me a lecture?" she asked diffidently. Mike hesitated. 

"Not if you're willing to give that kiss another try," he hedged, and watched mischief bloom in her eyes. 

She leaned over him again, and he watched in fascination as those beautiful eyes stared into his before sliding closed as her lips met his mouth. They were incredibly soft, incredibly gentle, and he felt his own lips opening beneath hers as he inhaled the taste and scent of her.

All too soon, she drew back, and he let out a little sigh of frustration; he wanted nothing more than to keep tasting that wonderful essence that was Janelle. Opening his eyes, he watched her compress her lips between her teeth as though she was tasting him, and a flush of pride washed through him.

Now she was watching him, looking a little shy and apprehensive, as though she was worried he might not have found it as incredible as she had. On the contrary; he wanted more.

So he gave her his biggest, saddest, softest eyes, and whispered, “Can we do that again? I think we may need to practise some more.”

The brilliant smile that blossomed on her face was ample reward; made even better by hearing her murmur, "Hopefully there won't be any further interruptions.”

And to Rostov’s satisfaction, there weren't.

[quinnydoll]

Everything Given

BIG CW for the start of this fic, a lot of exploration of very dark emotions in this. There will be discussion of depression, self-hate, and suicidal ideation, in addition to typical generally intense emotions present in Empty Spaces fictions. If you're not prepared for that, please do not read further.

This one has lost so much in its travels, which it began well before it became a doll. If it had expected to make this many mistakes, to stumble this dramatically, to hurt this much, it never would've taken the first step, but here it is now.

It finds it difficult to explain the trauma in detail, as any time it tries, it discovers an inability to be thorough, whether that's through sheer forgetfulness, or just hesitation to point a full picture out of fear of scaring others away. Instead, it will explain to you what emotions it experiences internally, as much as some of them scare it as well, using its own vague scattered memories as a vessel to describe what it feels. So, fellow traveler, take a seat, and get yourself a cup of tea. It hopes the beverage will keep you warm and comfortable for the course of our talk.

It started when this one made the journey to the one it felt at the time was the person it was going to spend its life with. There was someone it considered its best friend, someone who it was under the impression would never abandon it. Have you ever had a piece of clothing, one well worn, to the point that a loose, frayed thread causes the fabric to begin to slowly unravel?

That can happen to friendships, too, it seems. Before this one knew it, after everything, after the bad decisions this one made, the hardships it put its friend through, they wanted nothing to do with it. It felt like a piece of itself that was supposed to be there, and the only one it felt could give it back wanted nothing to do with it ever again. It hadn't known this before, and had opted to just force itself to find something to fill the void left behind, but after so many, this hole was unable to be filled.

However, you can learn to live without that part of yourself, if you're determined to persist enough. Believe it or not, something will grow over it. Scar tissue formed, and it took it a while to realize that something was still missing from it. This was the biggest step it had taken towards being the doll you see before you now.

Do you remember that person it mentioned before, who it believed it would spend its life with? This person did many things to hurt it, especially when it came to its own needs, its own desires. Intimacy is a dangerous thing, especially in regards to allowing those who you shouldn't to get close to you. It shouldn't have let her proceed further after the first trauma, but it did anyway. It repeatedly made the same mistakes, watching this person give to others what it had asked her to give it, even well after it had finally broken, after it had become a doll.

There's a special kind of pain when the one you've allowed to call you theirs gives you up. It will never understand this from her, but she broke her promises, and broke this one further. It had already given up on its malice, so of course it never had any recourse aside from acceptance, but it felt as though it was all over. It scrambled for what life it could, what else it had left.

...

It's been a mess since then. It's unable to make the connections it once had, it's unable to feel the Purpose it once felt, and what was once a confident step forward into life, is now a weary and weak attempt to find whether it's even safe. It's so tired, so spent, so weathered, that its own mind seems to betray it.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just give up, to just let go?" Its inner voice asks it.

It distracts itself with its travels, resigns itself to keep moving forward, to live to the best of its ability. It doesn't know how capable it even is of doing this, all things considered. It's moving, of course, but it doesn't know that it's moving forward specifically. Sometimes, due to all this, it of course wonders if its inner voice is right. Would it be easier to just give up?

...

But, there are still many who it knows would hurt if it did. It values their feelings above its own, and cannot stand to see them hurt, or to know that it will. For this reason, it supposes it will continue. Its joints may be wearing down, its cracks widening, and the internal structures holding it together growing weak, but it will continue for as long as it can. Perhaps once the day comes that it can no longer carry itself, it will finally have someone to travel with...

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt31

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

----------

Marvin sat in what was now his usual chair in the library, legs crossed and watching the door. If Jackie’s assumption about Mad were true, then he’d be walking into the room any second. He had asked Jackie about other abilities Mad possessed, seeing what he knew about those ‘empathetic powers’ and he learned something very interesting. 

“Oh! Hi, Marvin.” Mad greeted when he opened the door and found Marvin looking at him. “Are we studying together again? The books, not you.” He said the last part quickly. 

“You can remove emotions?” Marvin asked bluntly. 

“I…well…yeah?” Mad wasn’t expecting this to be the first conversation with Marvin today. “I can increase and decrease emotions when they’re presenting. Regardless of how much of it is there. Just a fraction is enough for me to hold and adjust the dial.” 

“So when you said you could help Jackie with his fear?”

“I could literally turn it off.” 

“I can see why Mare told you to not use that ability.” Marvin sighed. 

“Yep.” Mad awkwardly popped the p. 

“Have you used that ability before?”

“Couple of times. When I was in danger and to myself after I first appeared.” 

“You can do it to yourself?” Marvin watched as Mad hummed and sat himself in the other chair.

“When I first appeared, I didn’t have any control over my abilities. I could feel every emotion of every single living being within a thousand miles. It was a lot. Joy, sorrow, fear, love, lust, everything that anything could feel, I felt. When I say I’m empathetic, I mean it to its fullest definition. If someone is sad around me, I become sad. So I was experiencing the most severe emotional whiplash that no other being could ever have and I turned them off so I could breathe.” Mad seemed so casual while talking about something most would see as severely traumatic. Marvin noticed how Mad’s eyes had turned to a dark purple while he spoke. “I couldn’t only handle that emptiness for a day and had to slowly bring my emotions back. But I’ve gotten a lot more control over the past year. There’s still always a mild buzzing of other emotions but I’ve narrowed it down to only within the same building and I don’t fully read emotions unless I’m focused.” 

“That sounds so overwhelming to deal with.” Marvin chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“It can be, but, like I said, I’m getting better,” Mad said with a proud smile, the purple in his eyes brightening. 

“Now I feel a little bad wanting to ask you for a favor after all that.” Marvin weakly chuckled.

“Don’t feel bad. It doesn’t bother me that much to talk about that time, I’ve done my work to understand the pain and now it’s just a part of my story. I’m happy now with the chaotic family that I have and that’s what matters.” Mad’s eyes shifted into a soft yellow, almost cat-like in hue.

“With that chipper attitude, you sound like you’re related to Jackie.” Marvin’s chuckle was stronger this time, relaxing when Mad showed no sign of being upset. 

“If I was related to a Septiceye, most would say it’d be Anti.” Mad laughed. 

“Oh God, I hope not. One of him is enough to deal with.”

“Anti’s not that bad. He’s really fun and nice once you get to know him.”

“I’m good.” 

“You’ll get it eventually.” Mad shrugged when Marvin only hummed at him. “What did you want, by the way? You mentioned needing a favor from me?” 

“Do you have a library at your place?” Marvin was happy to change the subject.

“Yes. Sadly, it’s not as large as yours or the Iplier’s, but it is a nice one.”

“And Mare and Phantom use chaos magic?”

“Yep!”

“Does this library of yours have books about chaos magic like my magic books?”

“Yes, it does.” 

“What would I need to do to be allowed to look at those books?” 

“You’re letting me look at your books, it’s only fair you can look at mine.” Mad stood up and pulled his phone out. 

“That was easier than I thought it’d be,” Marvin admitted out loud. 

“Hello?” Mare’s voice came out of Mad’s phone, a glance at the screen showed that it was on speakerphone and the contact photo was of Mare sticking his tongue out. 

“Can you send me and Marvin to the house?” Mad asked.

“You and Marvin? What does he want to do here?” 

“I want to show him the library.” There was a pause. “I’ll make you one of my fancy coffees~” Mad sang his promise and he grinned when Mare sighed.

“Fine. Just don’t let him destroy anything.” 

“I take offense to that,” Marvin said and blinked at the purple smoke bellowing out of the phone.

The smoke wrapped around their feet, legs, and stomachs, going further and further up their bodies until they were fully engulfed. Marvin was unsure if he should breathe, so he held the air in his lungs until he blinked again and found himself in a brand-new room. A quick look around gave away that it was the living room with the pictures of Mad, Mare, Phantom, and Blank hanging on the walls. 

“Hi!” Blank greeted from the couch, a Switch in his lap and music coming from the console. “What are you doing here?” 

“He’s checking out the library,” Mad answered as he went out of the room. 

“Yeah. Library.” Marvin spoke with his hands before clapping, popping his lips, and escaping by following Mad. He really needed to work on not being so awkward around children and still found himself wishing Robbie and Blank stayed at older ages more often than not. 

“Just the library, right?” Mare asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.

“Yes, just the library.” Mad went straight to the fridge and started pulling out sugary syrups and coffee creamers. “Do you want a coffee?” He asked Marvin. 

“If you don’t mind.” Marvin smiled and stood at the other side of the room. He did prefer tea, but seeing everything that Mad was getting out had him curious about his take on it. 

“You’re back already?” Phantom said as he came into the kitchen and then noticed Marvin. “Sup?”

“Mad’s showing me the library but he’s making some coffee first,” Marvin explained. 

“Mare’s letting you make another coffee? You had three this morning.” Phantom laughed, going into the fridge and pulling out a packet of cheese, putting himself next to Marvin. 

“You had three?” Mare looked at Mad.

“You weren’t supposed to tell him that,” Mad said to Phantom through gritted teeth.

“Whoops.” Phantom opened the cheese and started eating the shredded bits like popcorn. 

“You’re not having more coffee, you’re not going to sleep tonight at this rate.” Mare picked up one of the creamers.

“The pot is already brewing, it’d be a waste of coffee.” Mad snatched the creamer back.

“We can afford it.” Mare had the creamer again. 

“I’m making it for Marvin, we can’t be rude to our guest.” Mad grabbed the creamer but didn’t get it out of Mare’s hand, the two now holding the bottle together. 

“You don’t need more coffee.”

“I’ve only had three cups.”

“Your cups are massive mugs, it’s more like six.”

“Don’t use math against me.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be watching this,” Marvin said.

“This is how they flirt,” Phantom stated, holding the bag of cheese toward Marvin. 

“We’re not flirting!” Mare and Mad both snapped.

“Arguing is how Chase and Henrik got together.” Marvin grabbed himself a handful of the cheese. 

“Chase and Henrik finally got together? That explains the emotional shift between them. It’ll be nice to have some less denial in the room the next time we’re all together.” Mad said. 

“Less denial?” Marvin asked. 

“Like Mare’s-ow!” Phantom’s comment was cut short by a shot of what looked like purple sparks hitting him. “The hell, Mare!?” 

“I know what you’re going to say and you’re not going to say it.” Mare threatened. 

“What? That you totally want to fu-damn it!” Phantom cursed when he was shocked again. “Cut it out!”

“You cut it first!” 

“Those two are definitely brothers,” Marvin muttered, pouring his handful of cheese into his mouth while Mad just casually made the coffee drinks while Mare and Phantom continued their bickering. 

[onblondes]

hiiiiii here have a prompt! i haven’t stopped thinking about evie/halsin since that last fic you wrote haha so maybe they can hold hands…. As a treat…

evie/halsin

hands with the perfect ratio to each other for hand-holding

(with this vibe if you want) socha - the hidden vulnerability of others

Rowan, the light of my life, bringer of joy and inspired words, thank you so much for this.

Sorry, I know reading anything longer than 100 words on tumblr is annoying and this is like...a thousand. I'll get it up on ao3 later.

Rated S for Soft

-

The sorcerer was very loud as she stomped through the woods around her camp. Leaves and twigs snapped under her feet as she walked, placing her feet without care. Halsin heard her long before she walked beside the fallen tree he had chosen to rest on.

“You'll wake all the animals,” Halsin said and Evie screamed at the sound of his voice.

“Gods,” she breathed, her hand over her heart. “Can't you wear a bell? What are you doing out here?”

“I go out every night to commune with nature on my own terms. It’s easier to gather my thoughts when most of the world is resting.”

Evie opened her mouth like she wanted to say something but paused and sighed heavily instead.

“Fantastic,” she said. “I’ll leave you to that then.”

“I don’t mind sharing the time with you,” he said and Evie’s bright elven eyes shone in the dark. Halsin was sure the sharp look she gave him had cowed many others before, people who were intimidated by her quick barbs, but she didn't frighten him. He knew this type, a loud bark with no bite.

Then he recalled the way Evie had handled the leaders of the goblin camp. Perhaps a little bite.

“Well, I'm not meditating,” she said.

“Then what brought you here in the middle of the night?”

Evie shrugged like the answer was unimportant. “I had a lot on my mind. I couldn’t sleep.”

“There’s a calm spot nearby,” he said. “It’s easier to let your thoughts roam free there.”

“Maybe I don’t want them roaming free,” Evie said tartly. “Maybe I want them all contained and pushed down in a tiny little box that I can leave somewhere and forget about.”

Halsin could see the way Evie tried to minimize the size of her feelings but what she expressed wasn’t the sentiment of a person who felt nothing. Rather it was one who felt far, far too much and her pain weighed heavily on Halsin’s heart.

“Feelings like that will make you sick if you hold onto them too long. Come -” he held his hand out to her. “You don’t have to offer them out loud but at least allow the forest to bear some of your burdens.”

Evie looked down at his proffered hand with a frown. “Do you often talk about ‘bearing’ things?”

Halsin grinned. “Why don’t you come with me and see for yourself?”

She still had that suspicious look in her eyes when she took Halsin’s hand and let him lead her along a path that only he had memorized. He noticed right away how soft Evie’s hand was, unaccustomed to the outdoors or hard labor. It was much smaller than his but seemed to fit perfectly in his broad palm. Holding her hand made him think of cradling a songbird, a delicate, fragile thing.

They emerged into a small clearing where the trees had parted and allowed moonlight to shine down on the land. Evie pulled her hand away as soon as they passed the tree line.

“Now what?”

“We sit,” Halsin said.

Evie scoffed. “On the ground?”

“You've been sleeping on the ground for some time now, haven't you?”

Halsin lay in the soft grass and pictured the earth rising up to meet and support his back. He enjoyed the secret hidden spaces in the forest like this, as if the trees had opened up room for him to lay beside them. The day before, he had spotted a fawn curled up beneath some of the brush here but it was gone now, moved on with its mother. He had no wish to disturb the animal but he thought perhaps Evie might have been pleased to see it.

With an aggrieved sigh, Evie lay in the grass, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her arm beside his as they both stared at the starry sky. She still radiated a tender discomfort but didn't complain.

Halsin wanted to know more about what kept her up at night, maybe shoulder some of those worries himself, but the timing was all wrong. He knew well that the best way to care for a creature in need was to place something tempting nearby and wait for it to approach on its own. The ones that needed food, or shelter, or medicine would always emerge in their own time. It might take days but trying to rush the process only slowed it further. 

So instead of pressing her for answers, Halsin allowed her to lay there quietly and fill the silence if she chose. Occasionally he would point out a constellation and explain what object or person the stars portrayed and Evie would make a small, affirmative sound that she had heard. Mostly they lay there with little sound beyond swaying tree branches and the wind.

“Halsin?” Evie asked softly. Her voice blended into the ambient sounds of the forest.

“Yes?” 

“I’m tired,” she said. “I’m really tired. All the time.”

Halsin hummed. “Yet you don't sleep.”

“No. I don't.”

Halsin wanted to tell her it was hard work growing into the person you were supposed to be. That she was a survivor and as long as surviving was her will then she would accomplish it. 

A selfish, needful part of him wanted to gather her in his arms, to kiss her and press all of his affection and pride against her lips until she smiled again. To sleep beside her every night, or even just stay at her side while she slept if it made her feel safe.

He knew any of those things would be akin to lunging at a bird that had settled nearby so he took a deep breath, tried to find stillness again.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” he said. “Anything I can offer to ease this journey is yours, whenever you need.”

Evie sighed. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to return to your bed to try and get some rest?”

“In a minute,” she said.

Halsin felt her hand bump into his in the small space between them and he tried not to react even as the tempo of his pulse increased. He allowed Evie to direct his movements as her fingers cautiously slid into the spaces between his, not quite placing her hand entirely in his. The urge to pull her hand in closer, to press their palms together and feel her smaller hand in his, was strong but Halsin resisted. He was a patient man. He could wait as long as she needed.

[genderqueerdykes]

The recent reblog had me wondering something. I can walk fine, and only get out of breath quickly when it's at accelerated paces. But I can not stand for very long without my back really hurting. It is especially hard when I have to wait in line for something, and I end up just having to sit on the floor. But I even struggle when I have to stand doing the dishes and stuff.

Is there anything I could do to make those things easier? Because as far as I know canes are really only for balance. I'm not even sure this counts as an issue, but it doesn't seem to be a problem anyone else in my family has.

I am not really sure if you can suggest anything. But I hope you are having an okay time considering how the world is being. Good day.

good question, thanks for stopping by!

i'm very sorry to hear you're dealing with that, but i understand it. you may be dealing with some lower back issues, which is very common. even people who don't consider themselves disabled deal with very bad lower back problems. i think its largely due to the fact that in modern western society, you're forced to either stand straight up or sit down and not move for many, many hours at a time. humans are not made to sit or stand in one position for extended periods of time. the way our work/school cultures are run is very hard on the human body. sitting for too long can cause all kinds of problems, as the pressure from being upright settles directly in your lower spine and creates unreal amounts of pressure

easily becoming winded can have a lot of causes, one of the most common is anemia (low iron), another very common disorder that causes one to lose their breath very easily is POTS. some gastrointestinal conditions can also cause one to become winded very easily, as can chronic fatigue, and conditions that cause a lot of pain. you're definitely not alone there. if you're able to see a doctor about this, i'd recommend doing so and trying to get whatever tests done you can afford/your insurance will cover, as it can make life very difficult to run out of breath and be in lots of pain just by standing for short intervals.

i use my cane for both balance and pain reasons! having another point of support can help reduce pressure on the lower back. it won't cure back pain, but it can help a lot when it comes to relieving some of the pressure you're feeling, and can be leaned on especially if you find yourself hunching over from the pain. they can help a lot with pain even if they're used for balance by a lot of people!

i find that my rollator walker helps a ton with my lower back pain, as does my wheelchair. my wheelchair has an ergonomic seat made out of heavy duty fabric that is like a hammock/cot that allows my butt and lower back to be suspended and supported, but not SMASHED up against a hard object. the gentle suspension reduces a ton of pain. however, i know not everyone can just go out and get a wheelchair, as they are quite expensive. my rollator walker was given to me by an elderly neighbor who knew i'm disabled, but couldn't fit it in her moving truck and it has helped me a lot. i mean a LOT. i can't take my wheelchair everywhere because of how heavy it is, but i really am in love with how helpful my rollator is

it is a walker that also features a built in seat, so if i need to sit down and take a rest for any reason, i can do so right there! these are still expensive, albeit much, much cheaper than a wheelchair, and can usually be found in pharmacies for sale. however, i understand not wanting to commit to something like that right away, as you're still very early on in figuring out what's going on.

if you're unable to visit a doctor, that's okay. what i can try to recommend is looking up back stretches to try to help with that in the interim while you don't have any mobility aids. stretching helps a lot with back pain, often times, your back is just seized up from overwork and can cause all kinds of other pain and even damage. your back muscles will seize up at times to help support your spine, and when this happens for long periods of time it can cause all kinds of misery and even lasting damage.

if you're unable to get any type of aid, try to plan your routes accordingly to avoid being on your feet for very long periods of time. take breaks when and where needed, even if it's every 5 minutes. you don't have to over exert yourself for anyone else. you're allowed to take as many breaks as you need while traveling. i hope you're able to get some answers for what you're experiencing, and i hope things improve for you soon.

i hope this helped somewhat! feel free to come back any time, good luck!

[paragonrobits]

it occurs to me that the World of Darkness could qualify as a setting which you could argue has rebuttals to 'vampires should always be sexy and sexiness is their defining trait' sort of baked into it

the first part of it being that many vampires are not sexy. This does not include the likes of the Nosferatu or Gangrel, who generally look inhuman and not really in a sexy way (at least by the standard); sure some Nossies might merely have a repulsive aura, and some Gangrel might keep enough of a lid on it that they aren't mistaken for Garou in need of a decent bath, but they're not generally alluring.

now, they CAN be, but that's not the point of it; that one aspect of the setting means that vampires are heavily encouraged to depersonalize humans to an extreme just as a matter of survival and psychological well-being.

Vampires kill people. It's what they do. its what they are. They don't have to, but that kind of restraint is hard. It hurts. It's so much easier to just... let go, to drink your fill until you find your fangs meeting in the throat of a dead man, or woman, or child. Maybe they were a friend of yours, or even family.

It bothers you the first time.

Until you do it again, and again.

This is, in part, one thing that Humanity loss can depict; vampires killing people to survive, and while it is possible for them to retain their humanity and be more humane than any human could possibly be, its extremely difficult to maintain it, and so emotionally exhausting, and so painful that many might not find it worth the bother.

So they make small compromises here, and there. A serial killer who needs to be taken out anyway; some guy who beats his family. People no one will care if they die, and even cheer their passing.

And in terms of this setting, these compromises aren't that big a deal. But things escalate. Small compromises can, and for most vampires will, lead to bigger ones.

You need to feed the Beast. Because here's the funny thing about vampirism and sexuality in older editions; vampires don't like sex as a general rule. They can't like it. Any drive they might have had for sexual desire, or attraction, generally dies with their human lives. They might pretend otherwise, or try to retain the abiltiy to remember when they genuinely desired other people, and try so hard not to pretend that the first thing they think of when they see humans is 'MEAT'. Walking talking meat, only existing to convey blood.

So much effort, having to deal with them. Pretending to be something you're not.

And a lot of vampires build an identity of playing at it. Toreadors like to imagine themselves gliding gracefully through the ages at the top of human society, for instance, but its often shallow, and certainly hard to maintain. The personal connection is hard, and generally not something they can maintain for long by the laws of vampire society; someone who notices that the beautiful and elegant patron of the arts has looked young for over 50 years is someone who's going to put something together, and one day he disappears too. The Masquerade is kept in place by human death.

Vampires might LOOK sexy, they might be good at manipulating those feelings, and some can even be genuine about it. The question, though, is how long does that last? Probably not long, for most. It's just too hard, too exhausting to keep up for long.

Even the act of feeding is pleasurable, but not precisely sexual. It's euphoric for both (most of the time), but you are FEEDING on someone. Draining them to satisfy your own monstrous needs. You might get them addicted to the sensation, and you get addicted to them, and then one day-

You can't stop yourself in time. You feed until there's nothing left, and your friend, or lover, or something else important to you, is just so much dead meat on the floor.

How long before you stop caring?

Vampires call humans kine, or cattle, for a reason.

In the world of darkness, a vampire's defining trait is not sexiness. They can BE sexy, if they so choose. But in earlier editions they were outright incapable of having sexual desire (though they could be good at faking it), and more than anything else what they are are monsters. They're corpses hungering for the blood of the living, and they know it.

They're not like the Garou, irrational and alien forces of nature though the werewolves seem to the vampires; the Garou know what they are, and they exist for a purpose and function vital to the world. Vampires just kill people. Mages are enlightened, in their own way; changelings are functionally everything vampires WISH they were, or like to pretend they are; patrons to inspire humans, surviving off the creativity and energy of humans without (barring some of the practices of the Unseelie Court) hurting them in any way. And the other denizens have their own things going on, that make vampires look more obviously monstrous.

For vampires, maintaining an interest in sexuality is more often than not pretending to be something they're not, and can never be again.

[bethanydelleman]

Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 19

Catherine's greatest strength is also her greatest weakness: she thinks the best of people. In general, Catherine is a lot like Bingley, she is outgoing, happy, and looking for a good time, but I think in this trait she's more like Edmund Bertram. He is also unwilling to attribute bad motives to bad actions at times...

Catherine does have the best of intentions, she wants to help her brother, but she is unwilling to see that Isabella and Captain Tilney are doing this on purpose. She is unwilling to accept that a person who behaves like Isabella Thorpe is showing their true colours, not merely confused!

She wished, by a gentle remonstrance, to remind Isabella of her situation, and make her aware of this double unkindness; but for remonstrance, either opportunity or comprehension was always against her. If able to suggest a hint, Isabella could never understand it.

Baby girl... take a hint yourself!

Isabella could not be aware of the pain she was inflicting; but it was a degree of wilful thoughtlessness which Catherine could not but resent.

There is something very similar between Isabella's conduct here and Henry Crawford's during the play in Mansfield Park. The common thread between Catherine Morland and Fanny Price is their focus on the suffering caused by these flirtations, Fanny thinks of Rushworth and Julia, Catherine is focused on James. Unlike Fanny, Catherine becomes very focused on action, but then Catherine is coming from a much more secure position and she's far more among equals than poor Fanny. We will see though, there isn't a whole lot Catherine (or Henry) can do.

Now I haven't talked about Captain Tilney much yet, but he seems to be a very similar man to Henry Crawford from Mansfield Park. Catherine generously worries that Frederick will be harmed in the end, but I suspect as with Henry, he "did not mean to be in any danger!" It's a game, Isabella is pretty and Captain Tilney is bored. As with Maria Bertram, her engagement might make it all the more fun and easier for Frederick to get out of.

“Yes, and I like her the better for it. An engaged woman is always more agreeable than a disengaged. She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over, and she feels that she may exert all her powers of pleasing without suspicion. All is safe with a lady engaged: no harm can be done.” - Mansfield Park (Henry Crawford)

Henry Tilney is very delicate in his responses to Catherine's requests about his brother. He must know that her heart is in the right place, he's trying to make it clear to her that this isn't her battle. I am curious about how the younger Tilney siblings feel about their older brother. I can't imagine that Henry or Eleanor likes what he is doing with Isabella!

Now obviously, much harm can be done, and while Isabella is not quite as careless as Maria Bertram, who basically dropped all her attention to Mr. Rushworth, Isabella's divided attention is too obvious not to be noticed. James is visibly hurt and jealous.

No man is offended by another man’s admiration of the woman he loves; it is the woman only who can make it a torment.

I love this quote so much, because it's so true. And what Henry says next is also true: if Isabella won't be faithful with James on her own, removing a single source of temptation will not save their relationship!

This line says a lot more about Henry than Isabella & John:

Their hearts are open to each other, as neither heart can be to you; they know exactly what is required and what can be borne; and you may be certain that one will never tease the other beyond what is known to be pleasant.

Henry Tilney knows when to tease and when to be serious. As he understands how distressed Catherine is about this situation, he gives her increasingly clear and serious answers (within reason).

Catherine would contend no longer against comfort. She had resisted its approaches during the whole length of a speech, but it now carried her captive. Henry Tilney must know best.

Dying of cuteness once again. But also, lovely phrasing. I don't understand people who say the prose is bad in Northanger Abbey! Comfort carried her captive ❤️