#lo’s pathology au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lanafofana · 9 months ago

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Cuckoo for a Cuckhold

(I forgot to take screenshots of daddy zevlor so have this instead, it still fits cause...well you'll see)

Just under the wire (depending on your timezone) DAY 5 for HalsinTavWeek has come crashing through the finish line! But Lana! Where is Day 4's prompt?? Shhhh, my beauties, it's sleeping.

Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F)/Zevlor Summary: It's a special occasion. Halsin wants to watch someone rail his wife. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warning/Tags: Modern AU, Cuckholding, smut, masturbation, established relationship, banter, P in V sex, innapropriate use of tiefling tail, consensual kink No beta, we die like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And lo, an AO3 link for thee

Sitting at a gaudy bar, heavy bass music thumping loud enough to make him regret having ears, and drinking some of the worst swill he’s ever tasted, Zevlor was not having a great time.

Despite being the only patron physically sitting at the bar the bartender seemed pathologically incapable of giving him the time of day. When he tries to wave him down and the man, yet again, turns to someone else walking up to order something, the tiefling grits his teeth, tail lashing and resists the overwhelming urge to give him the stern talking to he so richly deserves.

“Excuse me,” says a warm friendly voice. “We noticed you across the bar and really dig your vibe. Would you be interested in fucking my wife?”

Caught in the middle of draining his glass, the last sip of lager slips down the wrong pipe and Zevlor chokes, coughing and sputtering. Regaining his composure he wipes his mouth and turns to look at who’s approached him just in time to see the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen smack her hand against the thick bicep of, easily, the largest man he’s ever seen.

“Not like that!” The woman chastises with a mortified smile. When she turns her attention to Zevlor he feels his earlier irritation fade as if she contained some innate ability to soothe the ruffled feathers of grumpy old men. She hands him a napkin which he uses to dab at his chin while he eyes the pair expectantly.

“Sorry,” she was explaining, with an exasperated glance at her husband. “He was raised by wolves.”

“Bears,” the man corrects.

“My heart, my love, pleasestophelping!” The man grins, pecking her on the head and settling himself down on a stool miming the action of zipping his lips and placing the invisible key in her hand. “What he means to, er, say is hello, I’m Tav and this is Halsin.”

Zevlor reaches out and gently takes her hand in his, gallantly lowering his lips to her knuckles. “Zevlor, my dear,” he intones mildly, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Enchanted.”

“Oh!” Tav’s nervous smile softens, pleasantly surprised with the little display of chivalry. She looks lovely, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, a soft blush dusting her cheeks and he’s amused that she only thinks of withdrawing her hand when he lightly squeezes it.

“I believe you were making a proposition?” He asks wryly, eyes flicking to the man behind her, who hasn’t stopped watching the proceedings with interest.

Tav coughs,”Right.” Then, cheeks remaining stubbornly flushed she proceeds to stumble through the most charmingly awkward come-on Zevlor’s ever witnessed, let alone received.

“You two are terrible at this,” he remarks not unkindly when she’s finished and Halsin stifles a laugh.

“Practice makes perfect,” defends Tav with a sniff but she looks just as amused as her husband. “What do you say, Zevlor?” The heat in her eyes could have scorched him where he sat.

“It would be my absolute pleasure.” At his wicked smile the petite woman grins and takes his hand, tugging him along behind her while Halsin settles the tab.

They don’t go far, which is just as well considering the electric tension that practically fizzes into view everytime they catch each other’s eye. The fancy hotel they’re staying at already has a reservation in Tav’s name and the three manage to get all the way to the elevator before Zevlor’s tail snakes around her waist to yank her close enough to kiss.

Hands snake up his chest to find purchase on his shoulders and he barely swipes his tongue across her lips before she opens up for him, moaning prettily as their tongues glide against each other.

His hands on her waist travel down, untucking her shirt roughly. He slips his thumbs just below the waistband of her short skirt to trace circles on the sensitive skin of her hips, an action that earns him a particularly lewd moan that he greedily swallows with his tongue and teeth. His tail wraps around her leg and snakes upward towards her skirt and when he traces the warm damp line between her legs she shudders.

“I know you don’t mind if I enjoy the show but I feel obligated to point out that this elevator has cameras,” says Halsin and Tav jerks back in alarm. Zevlor chuckles while she buries her face in the crook of his neck, hiding from the camera’s view, the tips of her ears burning brightly. Reluctantly he removes his tail from her skirt though he does take a moment to trail the tip down the back of her thigh as he does so.

Soon enough the door to the suite is shut behind them and Tav leads him by the hand to an impressive bedroom with a wall of floor to ceiling windows that reveal a breathtaking view. A sea of city lights spreading out into the distance, a cluster of artificial stars outshining the night sky.

Tav puts a finger under his chin to direct his attention back to her and gives him a look that could incinerate. “Unless you’re thinking about fucking me up against those windows, I think your attention is better served elsewhere, Commander.”

He quirks a brow at her. “I didn’t tell you I was a commander,” he chides, face breaking into a slow smile.

Tav shrugs, eyes twinkling, “You were right. We’re terrible at this. C’mere.”

The tiefling bends his head to kiss her, hands finding her hips to tug her close. Her perfume smells like coffee and orange blossoms and he slips a clawed hand into her hair to hold her close, deepening the kiss.

“I for one would like to revisit the window suggestion,” Halsin chirps from the bed where he’s already bare chested and under the covers.

Breaking the kiss Zevlor gives the man an exasperated look. “Aren’t you supposed to be the silent observer?”

“She broke character already!” Halsin defends.

“It’s not your birthday, is it? She’s allowed to break whatever the hells she wants!” He leans back into Tav’s orbit to press a lingering kiss at the pulse point of her neck. “Well, my lady. Where would you have me?”

Putting her hands on her hips Tav surveys the room, gaze lingering on the windows. “You know, this feels a lot less sexier than I imagined it. What happened to letting everything happen, y’know, organically?”

“Says the woman who planned out an entire scenario to pick up her own husband at a bar,” says Zevlor, unbuttoning his shirt and smiling innocently when she rounds on him with a frown.

“What was wrong with my scenario? It had a lot of potential!”

“Oh yes, right up until, ‘We dig your vibe’ over there couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.”

“Yeah, well your wife was too head over heels seeing you scowling at the bar to do anything but stare at you. Someone had to do something or we’d all still be down there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” says Tav, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to fondly amused. She takes off her shirt and tosses it aside, stalking towards the wall of windows. “Right, you,” she points at Halsin. “Sit at the edge of the bed, there, where I can see you.”

Obediently he does as directed and Zevlor, kicking off his boots and unbuttoning his pants gives him an arch look. “How are you already naked?”

His husband shrugs with a wide, self satisfied grin. “No buttons.”

“And you,” says Tav, feeling a little like she’s trying to wrangle cats. “Come here.”

“Finally,” breathes Zevlor, crossing the room with wide strides and wrapping her in his arms.

He kisses her hard, sinking his hands into her hair to hold her steady while he plunders her mouth. She tastes like sweet water and cinnamon and he moans when she sucks his tongue into her mouth. Breaking apart for air he grips her thighs just under her ass and lifts her, pressing her against the window pane and leans in to suck a soft warm nipple into his mouth hungrily.

With both hands and mouth occupied his tail glides up between their bodies and sinks between the lips of her damp folds until he brushes against the tight bundle of nerves.

“Shit, Zevlor,” she gasps, jerking, mouth falling open. Through half lidded eyes she spies Halsin, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand palming his own erection while he watches them. When his gaze finds hers on him the man smirks, widening his legs and leaning back to improve her view. “Gods.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Zevlor growls against her skin before switching to her other breast, sucking on her nipple to the point where pleasure meets pain and she keens, one hand fisting in his hair tightly while the other grips one of his horns. Releasing her tit he bares his teeth, his eyes burning bright with the ferocity of his lust. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wrecked for me, aren’t you?” Between her legs the tip of his tail slips warm and wet against her clit in a slow and lazy pace that has her blood burning in her veins.

“Fuck! Zevlor, I can’t–,” her breathing comes in shorter, desperate bursts. “I can’t think.”

“Shhhh,” he smiles into her skin before he drags his teeth against the delicate skin in the crook of her sweaty neck, licking the salt from her body greedily. “Don’t think, my dear, let Zevlor take care of you.”

She rests her head against the glass window at her back and her gasps give way to wanton groans and back again as he works at her clit with maddening precision. Her orgasm hovers just out of reach and she’s powerless to chase it, caught in his meticulous rhythm.

Glancing at her other husband on the bed she whimpers at the sight of him, skin flushed with arousal, his leaking cock being stroked at the same careful tempo that has begun to beat like a heartbeat in her cunt.

“Kiss me,” she demands, feeling the burning ember of her orgasm fanning into a sudden blistering wildfire. She tugs on his horn and he grunts but surges in to crash against her mouth, swallowing the moan that rips through her throat in tandem with her climax.

He holds her through the inferno and when she can finally meet his gaze with eyes unclouded with mindless lust he lets her down gently. He removes his tail from her body but she’s always been faster than he gives her credit for and she snatches it. Holding his gaze she brings the tip, glistening with her arousal, to her lips, sucking it into the warm wet heat of her mouth with an appreciative moan that punches the air from his lungs.

He places his hands on the window on either side of her head, boxing her in, and breathes out harshly at the roguish smirk she gives him with his tail sticking out of her mouth.

“You’re playing with fire, woman,” he mutters roughly.

Tav swirls her tongue around the tip of his tail before pulling it from her mouth with a pop. “What do you want to do about it?” It’s a challenge and permission all in one.

He turns her around kicking her feet apart and pressing her against the window and wishes he could be outside looking in at the sight she must make like this. Wet pussy dripping, pupils blown wide, skin flushed and hungry for a fuck right after an orgasm.

He runs his hands down her body reverently, marveling that she’s given him the privilege. She’s so fucking soft and sweet and perfect. He runs his claws down her spine to the small of her back, smirking when she gasps and her hips jerk. Lining up his swollen member to the tight wet slit he kisses her shoulder before pressing his hips forward, clenching his jaw at the overwhelming sensation of her body taking him so beautifully.

“Hells, woman.” He pauses, head bowed as he draws in a shuddering breath.

Over her shoulder she grins at him, nothing but wicked mischief in her eyes. It’s all the warning he gets before her back arches and she presses into his crotch until he’s fully sheathed in her cunt, his balls brushing against her clit.

Zevlor curses, grasping her hips tightly to hold her still, his tail flicking from side to side in agitation. But his wife isn’t one to be swayed and her back bows and arches, her hips rolling into his and he grunts. He can feel his composure slip through his fingers at the undulation of her tight wet heat squeezing his cock and in the reflection of the glass window he can see her smirking at him.

“I warned you,” he grinds out through his teeth. The brimstone of his eyes flaring bright and hot sends a shiver down her spine. He tangles one hand in her hair, holding her face to the window and with his other he grips the soft plump flesh of her hip hard enough to leave bruises. He snaps his hips, pleased with the resulting lust drunk moan it elicits, fogging the glass.

Her cunt is a hot wet heaven, swallowing his dick and his brain cells with each increasingly desperate slam of his hips. Their breathing becomes more labored, loud and harsh and peppered with desperate moans and grunts. Tav reaches a hand between her thighs and places her fingers in a ‘V’ where his body meets hers, adding a firm pressure to the base of his shaft that has his eyes nearly rolling in their sockets.

With her face pressed against the glass Tav has a clear shot view of Halsin who looks nearly as wrecked as she feels. His hair, already loose from its customary tied back style, frames his face, strands stuck to his sweat slick throat and damp face. When their eyes meet the unfiltered intensity could have set her on fire. Her spine curves and she pushes herself back into Zevlor’s thrusts, desperate for release.

The tiefling releases his grip on her hair and instead reaches between her legs, encircling her wrist and yanking it up to pin it against the glass. He doesn’t linger in the position long, her inner walls are bearing down on him so tightly he can practically taste her orgasm in the air.

Taking both her hips in his hands he fucks into her harder, faster. Tav’s panting sighs turn into guttural moans that taper off into delicious whimpers. With each wet grasp of her cunt on his cock her breathing increases, each cry coming faster and sharper as she begins to unravel.

Wrapping a hand around her front he jerks her body away from the window and against his chest, slotting his mouth where her shoulder meets her neck. Pressing his teeth to the silky flesh there his tail lashes around and slipping deep into the lips of her pussy, grinding hard against her clit. The orgasm tears through her with a wail from her throat that goes directly to his balls and a tight clamping sensation on his dick that has him exhaling a breathless moan, his vision clouding with his own climax of euphoria.

Spent and panting they stay locked together for a brief minute before with a tender kiss to her shoulder he pulls out, smiling softly at the noise of complaint it tugs from her lips. She turns to face him and pulls him in for a breathless kiss before they both break apart to look at Halsin.

The elf looks ruined, skin flushed dark, laid back on the bed with his arms spread out. His cum covered chest rising and falling as he catches his own breath.

“I changed my mind,” he says when they join him on the bed. Zevlor, running a warm damp cloth down his husband's chest and cleaning the mess of ejaculate, arches his brow in question. “That was an excellent scenario.”

Tav scoffs. “That was hardly what I had in mind.” She rolls over, nuzzling her pillow drowsily. “Maybe role play isn’t for us.”

Halsin and Zevlor trade a look, their faces breaking into slow conspiratorial smiles.

“I don’t know,” says Zevlor casually, tossing the used rag to the floor.

“Practice makes perfect,” confirms Halsin sagely, grinning when he peels back the blanket to tug a squawking Tav into his embrace.

The End

#halsintavweek #halsin x tav #halsin x tav x zevlor #tav x zevlor #smut #it came to me in a daydream idk what to tell you

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cliffsnotes · 18 days ago

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LONG POST IM SORRY </3 umm i’ve decided i will elaborate on my scientist au… i hope someone sees this i’m curious to hear opinions

setting:

UC Davis. Stanford’s school of science and humanities wasn’t founded until 1948, and I simply don’t want to worry about time. They are, I would guess, 1-3 hours from San Francisco, and about 5-7 from Los Angeles (by car. I didn’t check trains.).

Cole:

A biomedical student. He is on his way to getting his PhD in scientific research in the field of medicine and pathology— he wants to help in the development of the Polio vaccine.

Left school for two years to join the Marines. He returned in 1946 after getting injured to continue his studies. He is eligible for his degree, but has yet to complete his Doctoral Research Project. Essentially, a capstone. He must find, research, and present a problem, proposed experiment, and the reason it is important.

Married Marie, previously an American history major with a minor in some field of humanities I never decided on. They have their two daughters, so Marie left school to take care of them.

Is Stefan’s mentor. He supervises and helps him when he needs it.

Is behind in his studies because of the war, but also because of Roy.

Roy:

Another biomedical student who has just received his PhD. Now, he only allows people to refer to him as Dr. Earle. He is a favorite of many professors and is therefore running his own research project in the laboratory facilities.

Does not have a real interest in fixing things, so much as the title. His research project is something to do with a Polio vaccine as well. Cole cannot be involved.

Sticky fingers. He’s infamous for them within the lab and Cole became the main victim— Roy stole laboratory material and research from him while he was away in OCS, and used it to complete his PhD.

Now, instead of taking notes in his personal notebook like he had previously done, Cole only writes in professional lab notebooks that he can sign and date. That way, the information is controlled and he can use it as proof. It is the only reason Cole hasn’t been able to get Roy in trouble.

Fought to have Stefan on his research team because he wanted extra hands to help out and a malleable mind. Stefan certainly has hands but is not so easily manipulated.

Stefan:

A biology major, nowhere near a doctorate and truthfully with no interest in one.

Would like to go into botanical research. Isn’t sure of anything more specific than that.

Was hired to wash test tubes. Roy and Cole liked him so much, they asked to have him promoted to an intern. So, he was. Now, he’s a full-time student and a full-time research intern.

Cole and Roy went back and forth about who would have Stefan on their project. Cole succeeded, eventually.

Knows he is the least qualified intern they’ve ever had. He has no clue why he was brought onto the research team. The best part is that he can skip his classroom lab periods to work on his assignments with Cole.

Stefan is genuinely in love with botany. He often goes out hiking and will then take his sweet time looking at all of the plants around. He can name most of them and will tell you everything he knows.

Every surface in his home has potted plants. Most of them he has grown from seeds and he cares for all of them as if they were his children.

I gave him glasses. Because I hate him and want him to suffer. He never wears them unless he’s in the lab, but his eyesight is so bad he should absolutely be wearing them more.

#la noire #l.a. noire #cole phelps #fanfic #fanfiction #roy earle #stefan bekowsky #alternate universe #au #au fanfiction #scientist au #scientist!stefan is so silly #he acts stupid but is not even a little stupid #cole gets a kick out of being stefan’s mentor #he thinks it’s fun #which makes their little fling problematic #but they have fun anyway

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mightyflamethrower · 1 year ago

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It is hard to destroy a naturally beautiful city like San Francisco, with ideal weather and stunning infrastructure inherited from far better earlier generations.

Yet San Francisco continues its much-publicized and self-inflicted doom loop. The productive classes still flee the increasingly crime-ridden city and its self-induced pathologies. The city is eroding not because of the doomsayers and not because of what people say about San Francisco, but because of what San Franciscans have done to San Francisco.

In 2023, more than 40,000 crimes were reportedly committed in San Francisco. The great majority of the perpetrators were either not arrested or never jailed, indicted, or convicted.

Downtown office vacancy rates exceed 35 percent—and are climbing. Tourists have ostracized the city, given the thousands of homeless that occupy sidewalks and downtown. San Francisco claimed to be on the cutting-edge of the woke green movement, proud that it had enacted the most stringent environmental laws and regulations in the world—except when it came to defecation, injection, and urination on the sidewalks, doorways, and parks and during storms, when the toxic, effluviant human waste escapes sewage treatment and flows into the once-cherished bay.

In a mere five years, the city went from being one of the most envied and wealthy in the world with a vibrant nightlife and new high-tech start-ups to a West-Cost Detroit.

Now billionaires are trying to heal San Francisco by returning it to the old normality in the era before the progressive city councils, the boards of supervisors, and mayors defunded the police, allowed the homeless to absorb the downtown, and promoted prosecutors who refused to enforce the laws.

The rich are rallying to undo the damage wrought by the very officials whom they and the majority of the city voted into office. Their principles seem simple—start doing the very opposite of the progressive agenda: enforce laws; arrest, convict, and incarcerate criminals; balance city budgets; and insist that the homeless leave the streets, follow the laws of the city, and relocate to shelters.

Across the bay, Oakland is in even worse shape. The city is on life support as a predictable result of progressive nihilism: do not enforce the law; do not arrest or jail criminals; raise taxes and overregulate businesses; pay exorbitant salaries to unionize public workers and bloated city staff; create toxic racial animosity. And the result is Oakland 2024, a mix between 19th-century Tombstone and contemporary Port-au-Prince.

The city is becoming a veritable ghost town as more overtaxed employers leave and more taxes rise on those who cannot leave. Cities like Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, and New York follow the same trajectory. They suffer the symptoms of a collective madness triggered by a combination of the destructive national COVID quarantine that birthed the zoom culture, the systematic attack on police after the George Floyd death, and a nihilist woke epidemic that postulated a binary of stereotyped oppressors and oppressed that saw the so-called punching bag victimizers shrug and move far away from blue states and cities.

In all these doom-loop cities, progressive reformers in the eleventh hour are now trying to undo the very policies of those they elected, as if they are slowly waking up from a collective madness—in an election year.

A similar confessional and re-examination among the left is occurring over the border catastrophe. Upon ascension, the Biden administration discarded, and ridiculed as illiberal, the security measures it had inherited from the prior administration��the end of catch-and-release, the demand that would-be refugees apply for entry in their home countries, the continuation of the wall, and Mexico’s responsibility to stop the transit of millions northward through its country.

Much of the sudden left-wing panic over the border is, of course, opportunistic because it is an election year and the left fears losing power for what it has done to the middle class. The optics of 8 million people swarming the border with impunity over the last few years have alienated the public. And the infusion of illegal migrants into inner-city and border communities threatens to hemorrhage the Democratic base.

So suddenly, no one takes credit for the once wonderful, porous Biden border. Abruptly, the crossings are blamed on Trump—as if no one remembers Joe Biden’s 2019 performance-art boast for illegal aliens to “surge” the border and how he facilitated that advice over the next three years. Abruptly, the Democrats insist that after three years and 8 million illegal aliens into the Biden administration, something must be done—perhaps even a rebranding of what worked in 2020 as their own.

The same rethinking of energy is occurring as well among the left—in an election year. The more they talk of banning natural gas, mandating electric vehicles, and ending internal combustion engines, the more they quietly reverse course, draining the strategic petroleum reserve, quietly allowing more federal oil leases, and encouraging national production to return to pre-COVID levels present during the Trump administration.

Frackers and drillers are working at near-full production. Production in 2023 ended up at 13.5 million barrels a day. In short, halfway through the Biden administration, as it desperately drained the strategic petroleum reserve on the eve of the midterms to lower the high gasoline prices it had spawned, the left kept up the green rhetoric as it greenlighted oil production.

In early 2024, the U.S. is once again the largest oil producer in the world. Monthly production now matches or exceeds the high record months during the pre-COVID Trump administration.

Why the turnabout? Once again, reality strikes. In an election year, the return to reasonable energy prices is helping to moderate the inflation that the Biden administration fueled.

Energy self-sufficiency is a valuable foreign exchange earner. It allows the U.S. to be independent abroad, free from foreign leverage, whether from the Middle East, Russia, or Iran. American petroleum autarchy keeps the world price low and reduces the income of belligerent states. Again, the green rhetoric continues as the oil flows more than ever. Understood is that the left quietly agrees that oil and gas are necessary for the now slow transition to alternate fuels—in an election year.

Are any of our major cities, the vast majority blue and progressively run, still hammering away at the police, eager to cut more from the police? Are they rallying around another Soros-funded critical legal theory wannabe district attorney?

Or are they more likely desperately trying to offer bonuses to recruit officers whom, in just two or three years, they libeled and drove out?

Why the shift? Perhaps because they got their utopian wish that asserted that blameless criminals break the law only because of society’s biases and unfairness, not because they calculate perceived benefits of criminality offset by its dangers. And now they rue the result—in an election year. In other words, leftists don’t like getting mugged, car-jacked, assaulted, and beaten and fear their own policies are endangering their own safety.

Why are corporations no longer lavishing money on Black Lives Matter? Why are donations to Ivy League schools down? Is Professor Kendi still a hot ticket on the lecture circuit? Is the reparations movement picking up steam? Or does the left now fear that its promotion of tribalism and guilt-ridden racial essentialism is leading to a race-obsessed, fractious society, headlong on its way to a Rwanda, former Yugoslavia, or Iraq—in an election year?

The Biden administration, staffed by Obama-era foreign policy apparatchiks and functionaries, sought to remake what National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan once bragged was a quiet inherited Middle East.

The progressive therapeutic approach was supposed to lead to an ecumenical Middle East. A tolerant, passive, turn-the-other cheek enlightened foreign policy for the 21st century would lead to a new, better Iran without nukes, a two-state solution of Hamas living peacefully with Israelis, while the occasionally raucous Houthis calmed down, Hezbollah would become more a partner than mere terrorists, Israel would be lectured and sermonized to as an overdog punching too much above its weight, and the childish Abrams Accords nonsense would end the work of Trump’s conniving son-in-law, and the pariah Saudi Arabia.

Or so they thought.

So everything was rebooted to kinder and gentler premises—and thus the Biden administration blew up the once calm Middle East.

And now? Two carriers were dispatched to the Mediterranean. The U.S. is belatedly bombing and launching missiles to respond to some 170 attacks on American installations. In an election year, Biden seems baffled that distancing himself from Israel still earns him the moniker of “Genocide Joe” from once loyalist Democratic Arab-American communities.

The woke, Jacobin revolution was promoted by progressives, mostly out of guilt and insecurity, as an overdue remake of America based on therapeutic principles. For three years, it found a rare pathway to power, enacted much of what it had long wished, and discovered the result was not just a catastrophe but dangerous to the very architects themselves.

So now in 2024—an election year—the left is trying to undo what it created without explaining why and what they did to us and themselves as well.

#media bias #election 2024 #political humor

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franzleitmayr · 1 year ago

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Tatort München Königinnen

- [ ] What a cute fly

- [ ] Oh that dude from Rosenheimcops

- [ ] Ich lieb diese Cinderella Referenz

- [ ] Women.

- [ ] Oh no someone died

- [ ] Erinnert mich an und die Musi spielt dazu

- [ ] Ivos Daumen direkt erkannt ey

- [ ] Kalliiiii

- [ ] Ich lieb seine Jacke

- [ ] Was ist das denn für ein Bart (Pathologe)

- [ ] Hübsche Frauen in der Tat

- [ ] Wowowow Kalli levelled up

- [ ] PHENIX

- [ ] Ich lieb die representation

- [ ] Einfach am vapen 💀

- [ ] Ahh yes the bananas again

- [ ] Diese spusi Frau auch sehr nice

- [ ] The cute flu was a bee

- [ ] Lmao summer

- [ ] Ah ja die zwiebelkönigin

- [ ] Ivo und Franz die ganze Zeit am kuscheln ey

- [ ] Franz’ Outfit ist fast das von Udo Wachtveitl in diesem einem photoshoot

- [ ] Franz und ivo benutzen so moderne Wörter

- [ ] Ich will auch einen Traktor

- [ ] Nicht schon wieder eine Bienenallergie meine Güte wir sind hier doch nicht bei summ summ summ

- [ ] Dieser Typ macht mir Angst

- [ ] So ekelhaft ey

- [ ] Arme Maus

- [ ] Warum erinnert er sich daran

- [ ] Biene

- [ ] Ja ivo gib ruhig an mit deinen Künsten

- [ ] Help

- [ ] Ivo mag heimlich Prinzessinnen 🥱

- [ ] They’re so married

- [ ] DU

- [ ] Why do they look like they were caught doing naughty stuff

- [ ] Jaja ernst zunehmender Hinweis

- [ ] Kalli is jealous of his new sibling

- [ ] Jetzt hat ivo auch noch ein Zauberstab

- [ ] Yesssss Phenix

- [ ] Toni kenn ich aus so nem Märchen

- [ ] Königinnenzeug

- [ ] Sehr suspekt alles

- [ ] Die pride pins 😌🤚

- [ ] ROSENHEIMCOPS hab ich doch gesagt

- [ ] He’s so relatable

- [ ] So ekelhaft dieser Typ

- [ ] Weißwurstpolitik

- [ ] Neiiiin die arme Kuh ey

- [ ] Luise ist auch noch in einer Beziehung

- [ ] Ich liebeee diese representation

- [ ] Och Kalli das ist doch kein Grund

- [ ] Ach Luise so hübsch ey

- [ ] Franz was kennst du denn für Wörter 😌

- [ ] Lass Luise in Ruhe ☺️👊

- [ ] So ekelhaft ey

- [ ] Boah halt doch deine Schnauze

- [ ] Aber so realistisch ey

- [ ] So ne krasse representation 😭

- [ ] Mein Gehirn hat sich gerade komplett auf bairisch umgestellt

- [ ] I bin doch guanicht aus Bayern 🥲

- [ ] They’re so married ich Liebs

- [ ] Ach ich Liebs

- [ ] Franz’ einer Knopf leuchtet anders

- [ ] Tsktsktsk Franz das ist nicht sehr sensibel

- [ ] Oh nein nicht weinen

- [ ] So respektvoll dieser Typ

- [ ] Boah Jump scare

- [ ] Ekelhaft

- [ ] Meine Güte zieh halt Schuhe an

- [ ] Franz jetzt schau doch nicht so bedröppelt

- [ ] Danke Franz

- [ ] Help

- [ ] Boah diese Frau so ekelhaft

- [ ] WHAT ARE THOSE SHOES

- [ ] Ivo bisschen weird

- [ ] Annelie ? 😃

- [ ] Schon wieder nh Biene

- [ ] Lmao

- [ ] Pfui

- [ ] Nachtttt

- [ ] Old men make me uncomfortable

- [ ] Awkward

- [ ] Alrightttt

- [ ] Oh oh

- [ ] They’re so married

- [ ] Lmao Kalli he’s so me

- [ ] Was nimmst’ denn da Franz 🤨

- [ ] This is so silly

- [ ] Modern denken

- [ ] Jetzt hör halt auf zu vapen 😭

- [ ] Was ist denn jetzt los 😭

- [ ] Och Annelie

- [ ] Awkward

- [ ] Franz warum suchst du denn auf dem Dach 😭

- [ ] Sina dein Diadem sitzt ein wenig schief

- [ ] Annelie gibt mir gerade bisschen lesbian vibes 💁

- [ ] Annelie hat doch einen crush auf Sina 🤔

- [ ] Woaaah das war ein bisschen nah an der Kamera Franz

- [ ] Hah Franz voll erwischt

- [ ] Boah wenn Sina jetzt wirklich nach münchen kommt 🥳

- [ ] Yippee Luise

- [ ] Annelie hoorays

- [ ] Ohhhh luiseee 😨

- [ ] Och Annelie war ja klar

- [ ] Ich versteh sie aber

- [ ] Constable partridge 😭🤚

- [ ] Ach das war aber auch eine gute Folge ich Liebs

#tatort münchen #franz leitmayr #ivo batic #episode: königinnen #kalli hammermann #i’m so gay #they’re also gay #everyone is gay #bienen

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lizarddiary · 2 years ago

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Nara first started as an Au Ra raen name "Szille". I choose her because I feel in love with the draconic/reptilian features and the horns. She was a raen because it was the default and I didn't quite care as much about lore back then. Then I took a long break from FFXIV, because doing early ARR with pre-rework arcanist was a bad idea and I quickly burned out. By the time I got back into the game, I barely remembered how to play and I just decided to make a new character altogheter.

This time I took my time to read about every race and make my chose not just based on looks but also on lore. I still picked Au Ra because I am too much of a sucker for lizard people (love scale patches a design feature). She became a xaela instead of a raen because I liked the steppe culture that xaela had. I also just finished playing Pathologic 2 and xaela reminded me of The Kin. Nara has had some fantasia adjustments over time, most notably a tail change. Not major changes aside that one, just skin and eye color adjustments.

Tahla, on the other hand, was born out of me not wanting to canonically fantasia Nara. Let me explain myself. One day, I was playing with my partner while using crimes(tm). She changed her (at the time) elezen WOL for a miqo'te, and so out of curiosity I asked her to do the same with Nara. I immediatly fell in love with the appearance. She had a beautiful face that I adored, and I wanted to fantasia her so, so badly... I finally chose not to do so due to Nara being an already stablished OC at the time.

So, the solution I came up with was creating another OC to fit this new appearance. And lo and behold, Tahla was born.

What race is your WoL and what made you choose it?

#this is a very long explanation #but once I start talking you cannot make me shut up #sorry not sorry #ffxiv #ffxiv oc #my oc #oc: nara #oc: thala

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iceman-maverick · 3 years ago

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modern josh lyman headcanons

oh my god here we go more of my modern west wing au!

similar to sam, it is non-negotiable that josh lyman is a complete and utter disaster of a bisexual man. every day of his life is a fight for survival. he may as well be declared an endangered species. actually, yes he's going to call the world wildlife foundation rn because then he could give out those certificates of “adoption” that come with hyper-realistic stuffed animals like

except they’d be plush joshs that he can scatter throughout the west wing (especially amongst charlie’s belongings)

okay moving on

his favorite movie is mamma mia, he cries every time.

he refuses to use apple products, takes way too much joy in being the only green text in the group chat, and endlessly makes fun of donna for wearing airpods

he nearly strangles himself the next day when his wired headphones get caught in his scarf

he has a finsta (fake instagram) account that he pretty much exclusively uses to shit talk, it’s very popular, even with republican congressmen. one day, he gets a scoop from a reporter that follows the account about a republican crossing the aisle on their latest bill, and josh almost has an asthma attack while trying to explain to leo how he knows and why leo is forbidden from seeing the post

the president is making him (really the entire senior staff but he’s the only one impressionable enough to go through with it) learn latin on duolingo. it’s not really working but josh likes showing bartlet that he’s leveled up :)

josh can’t function if he’s not listening to a true crime podcast, the more grusome the better. the most expansive social security platform this country’s seen in decades was written to a soundtrack of “wine and crime”

josh isn’t out, and categorically isn’t dealing with that. or at least he wasn’t planning to up until he gets too fired up with senator matt skinner in the white house mess late one night and accidentally blurts out, to a republican senator of all people, that he’s bi just to make the point

[cue a very stressful, tearful conversation in the oval office]

josh, it’s my catholicism, not yours. no i’m not going to fire you.

every third saturday of the month he plays among us with zoey. she’s a pathological liar, honestly it terrifies josh. he’s god awful at the game, so much so that zoey convinces everyone he’s the imposter pretty much every round. he’s only broken one mouse over the injustice. zoey’s sure she can get him to punch the monitor before midterms.

josh is a social media darling. he lives on it, and only causes minor national security threats once or twice a month. most recently, he caused the FTC to open an investigation on the Bartlet Administration for inside trading thanks to his ongoing beef with the Taco Bell account.

he’s got a bit of a thing for tom brady, which is problematic for several reasons including but not limited to: (1) brady’s obviously a republican and almost certainly not into dudes (toby is skeptical), (2) he keeps winning superbowls so his team keeps showing up to the white house for photo ops which toby spares no expense to embarrass/fluster josh, (3) bartlet, a tried and true son of new england himself, is of course also a patriots fan which means josh gets stuck every week coaching bartlet on his fantasy team

margaret has won the west wing league three years in a row

josh is certain that she’s colluding with the russians

he’s addicted to tiktok, specifically this weird niche community of stay at home moms preparing their kids’ school lunches. he finds it cathartic.

cj says he’s projecting some long, unresolved childhood trauma and should probably tell his therapist instead of venting in the comment section of shannon’s cream cheese raspberry roll ups.

cj’s a fucking narc, that’s what she is.(and he’s so not sharing his roll ups with her tomorrow)

there for sure will be more of these. in the meantime, check out my modern au fic, which is going to turn into a series of loosely connected one-shots!

#modern west wing au #josh lyman #sam seaborn #donna moss #jed bartlet #leo mcgarry #toby ziegler #charlie young #zoey bartlet #cj cregg #the west wing #tww #west wing fanfic #josh x donna #josh x sam #PLEASE CAN U TELL IM WRITING A JED & JOSH HURT COMFORT CENTRIC SERIES FDJSKFJDAS #okay bye love u <3 #bisexual josh lyman

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eolewyn1010 · 2 years ago

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Für das Tatort Ask Game:

8, 9, 18, 27 und 35 ? :)

Neeeeiiin, ich hab es nicht vergessen! Los geht's, nur minimal verspätet! ^^'

8. Welche Charaktereigenschaft deines Lieblingsermittlers/deiner Lieblingsermittlerin kannst du am wenigsten leiden?

Dass sie komplett unfähig sind, über ihre Probleme zu reden - und ja, das gilt für alle vier. Für Thorsten und Franz mehr, für Basti und Ivo weniger, aber sie verschlucken einfach ihre Zungen, wenn was ist, und channeln ihre Aggressionen dann, indem sie sich im Job wie die letzten Idioten aufführen.

9. Welche*n Ermittler*in kannst du nicht ausstehen?

Zählt Boerne als Ermittler? Er ist Pathologe, aber auch ein Hauptcharakter und seit ein paar Jahren ziemlich unausstehlich, weil sich keiner mehr die Mühe macht, seine menschliche Seite noch in die Drehbücher zu schreiben. Stattdessen quatschen immer alle anderen davon, dass er eigtl. ein Herz aus Gold hat, aber er benimmt sich nie so.

Ansonsten Daniel Kossik aus Dortmund. Gegen den ist Faber umgänglich und sozial.

18. Welche Folge mochtest du, hattest aber nach einem Mal sehen genug von ihr?

Puh, schwierig. Normalerweise suchte ich mich an Folgen fest, die ich gut finde; die kann ich immer wieder sehen. Vielleicht Fabers erste Dortmunder, Alter Ego. War gut, motiviert mich aber auch nicht, mir mehr von dem Team zu geben.

27. Mit welcher Ermittlerin/welchem Ermittler wärst du gerne befreundet?

Erstaunlicherweise, Ivo Batic. Er ist minimal umgänglicher als Franz, könnte mir so viel Kochen beibringen; er schreit, wenn er frustriert ist, was kommunikativer ist als dieses passiv-aggressive "Nix", also könnte ich zurückschreien. Und ehrlich, der Mann sieht einfach aus, als könnte er großartige Umarmungen geben.

35. Zu welchem Team/Ship würdest du gerne Fanfiction schreiben/Fanart machen, aber es fehlen dir Inspiration/Ideen?

Karin Gorniak und Leo Winkler, schätze ich. Ich mag die beiden; sind gute Charaktere und gute Schauspielerinnen, auch wenn sie nur selten ein gutes Drehbuch bekommen. Aber bis jetzt hat mich die Muse noch nicht mit Ideen für die Mädels überfallen.

#ask thingie #thanks!#Tatort

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mate1959 · 3 years ago

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2021-10-23

Gestern vor einer Woche wurde ich operiert. Nun sitze ich in einer Reha-Klinik am Tisch in meinem eigenen Gästezimmer und schreibe an meinem Blog. In diesen acht Tagen habe ich einen langen Weg hinter mich gebracht. Ich werde mich in den nächsten zwei Wochen auf meine Genesung konzentrieren. Einträge in den Blog lasse ich in der Zwischenzeit bleiben und kommuniziere direkt mit allen, die mit mir Kontakt aufnehmen wollen oder die ich von mir aus informiere, wie es so geht. Zu einem späteren Zeitpunkt werde ich dann meine Reise, meine Erfahrungen und Gefühle hier aufschreiben. Und dann ist es definitiv Zeit, nach vorne zu schauen.

Kurz zusammengefasst: Die Operation ist gut verlaufen. Besser als es die Ärzte erwartet hatten. Keine meiner Befürchtungen vor der Operation ist eingetreten. Die pathologische Beurteilung des Tumors und der entfernten Lymphknoten ergab, dass keinerlei aktive Tumorzellen mehr vorhanden waren. Chemo- und Immuntherapie haben gewirkt.

Die Zeit im Spital war ein schmerzhafter und mühsamer Prozess, den ich aber schnell hinter mich bringen konnte. Nun sitze ich am Frühstückstisch in der Reha und geniesse den Moment. Ich kann die Einnahme der Schmerzmittel selber steuern nach dem Motto „so wenig wie nötig“. Die Schmerzen sind gut erträglich. Und heute beginnt mein Reha-Programm.

Am nächsten Dienstag tagt der Tumor-Board im Spital. Dort wird besprochen, wie es mit mir weiter gehen soll. Nach meiner Rückkehr nach Hause in ca. 2 Wochen werde ich einen Termin bei Herr Weder wahrnehmen, der mir das weitere Vorgehen erklären wird.

Yesterday, a week ago, I had surgery. Now I'm sitting at the table in my own guest room in a rehab clinic and writing my blog. In these eight days I have come a long way. I will be focusing on my recovery for the next two weeks. I'll leave entries in the blog in the meantime and communicate directly with anyone who wants to contact me or whom I inform of my own accord how things are going. At a later date I will write up my journey, my experiences and feelings here. And then it's definitely time to look forward.

In a nutshell: The surgery went well. Better than the doctors had expected. None of my fears before the surgery materialized. Pathological evaluation of the tumor and the removed lymph nodes showed that there were no active tumor cells left at all. Chemotherapy and immunotherapy worked.

The time in the hospital was a painful and tedious process, but I was able to put it behind me quickly. Now I am sitting at the breakfast table in rehab and enjoying the moment. I can control the intake of painkillers myself according to the motto "as little as necessary". The pain is well tolerable. And today my rehab program begins.

Next Tuesday, the tumor board meets in the hospital. There they will discuss how to proceed with me. After my return home in about 2 weeks, I will have an appointment with Mr. Weder, who will explain the further procedure to me.

Ayer, hace una semana, me operaron. Ahora estoy sentado en una mesa en mi propia habitación de invitados en una clínica de rehabilitación y escribiendo mi blog. En estos ocho días he recorrido un largo camino. Me centraré en mi recuperación durante las próximas dos semanas. Mientras tanto, dejaré entradas en el blog y me comunicaré directamente con quien quiera ponerse en contacto conmigo o a quien informe por mi cuenta de cómo van las cosas. Más adelante, escribiré aquí mi viaje, mis experiencias y sentimientos. Y entonces es definitivamente el momento de mirar hacia adelante.

En pocas palabras: La operación salió bien. Mejor de lo que los médicos esperaban. Ninguno de mis temores antes de la operación se materializó. La evaluación patológica del tumor y de los ganglios linfáticos extirpados mostró que no quedaban células tumorales activas. La quimioterapia y la inmunoterapia funcionaron.

El tiempo que pasé en el hospital fue un proceso doloroso y arduo, pero pude dejarlo atrás rápidamente. Ahora me siento en la mesa del desayuno en rehabilitación y disfruto del momento. Yo mismo puedo controlar la ingesta de analgésicos según el lema "tan poco como sea necesario". El dolor es bien tolerable. Y hoy comienza mi programa de rehabilitación.

El próximo martes, la junta de tumores se reúne en el hospital. Discutirán cómo proceder conmigo. Cuando regrese a casa, dentro de unas dos semanas, tendré una cita con el Sr. Weder, que me explicará los siguientes pasos.

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eatanorange · 7 days ago

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Me yesterday, giving the 75 y/o-but-still-spry doc a case with 130 microscope slides (that’s a lot, think. 3 hrs of nonstop work): ‘hey doc I’m here to make your day a little bit worse 😁’

Me today, a 13 slide case: ‘hey doc, just one tray today *finger guns*

Doc, cannot stress this enough, 75+ y/o. Fully white hair, sounds like a nature documentary narrator:

“Oh word?”

#lo’s pathology au #sometimes old people are funny

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fast08 · 4 years ago

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AU: Undermictlán

By: Fast08

There is not much to talk about Mictlán!Frisk, except that this Frisk turns out to be an orphan mongrel who is made fun of because of his eyes so he always keeps them closed (do not question how he manages to see).

For some reason, from a very young age he had developed a fear of being abandoned, apart from having traumatophobia (abnormal and pathological fear of injuring himself, hurting himself or suffering any harm or physical injury). Reason? if I tell it, it would be a spoiler...

This is the only thing I will tell you:

After living three years underground, he manages to overcome his phobia and fear of being left alone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

No hay mucho de qué hablar sobre Mictlán!Frisk excepto que este Frisk resulta ser un mestizo huérfano el cual se le hacía burla a causa de sus ojos por lo que siempre los mantiene cerrados (no cuestionarse en cómo logra ver).

Por alguna razón, desde muy pequeño había desarrollado miedo a ser abandonado, aparte de tener traumatofobia (miedo anormal y patológico a lesionarse, lastimarse o sufrir cualquier daño o herida física). ¿Razón? si lo cuento sería un spoiler...

Esto será lo único que contaré:

Después de vivir tres años en el subsuelo logra superar su fobia y miedo a quedarse sólo.

Mictlán!Flowey is the same as the original so I will comment on its design:

Before I didn't know whether to keep the original Flowey design in my AU, but in the end I decided that instead of being a golden flower it would be a marigold flower. And taking advantage of the design of Mictlán! Flowey, I also wanted to design the Omega Flowey of my AU from which I took elements related to the culture, beliefs and history of Mexico:

🏵What he has on his head is nothing more and nothing less than an Aztec plume (also known as the Moctezuma plume or quetzalapanecáyotl), the plume is made of the feathers of the quetzals (birds originating from Mexico and Guatemala) set in gold .

🏵Flowey's head is a television referring to the fact that the first color television was patented in Mexico.

🏵The jaw at the bottom of the head refers to the mythological creature Cipactli (black lizard). In turn, Flowey's claws refer to the tail of the mythological creature Ahuízotl (thorny water).

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Mictlán!Flowey es igual al original así que comentaré sobre su diseño:

Antes no sabía si mantener el diseño original de Flowey en mi AU, pero al final decidí que en lugar de ser una flor dorada sería una flor de cempasúchil. Y aprovechando el diseño de Mictlán!Flowey, también quise diseñar al Omega Flowey de mi AU del cual tomé elementos relacionados con la cultura, creencias e historia de México:

🏵Lo que tiene en la cabeza es nada más y nada menos que un penacho azteca (también conocido como el penacho de Moctezuma o quetzalapanecáyotl), el penacho está hecho de las plumas de los quetzales (aves originarias de México y Guatemala) engastadas en oro.

🏵La cabeza de Flowey es un televisor haciendo referencia a que se patentó el primer televisor a color en México.

🏵La mandíbula en la parte inferior de la cabeza hace referencia a la criatura mitológica Cipactli (lagarto negro). A su vez, las pinzas de Flowey hacen referencia a la cola de la criatura mitológica Ahuízotl (agua espinosa).

Sorry for the english speakers in case the english text is not understood, I don't know the language much so I used the translator :"3

#undertale #undertale au #undertale frisk #undertale flowey #undermictlán

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sweetmoxiety · 6 years ago

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Behind This Mask is A Desperate Heart (Part 2)

Hospital AU

AU Summary: A fall. A single fall. It may seem like nothing until it’s all consuming. What happens when the doctors struggle to diagnosis the disease responsible for Virgil’s rapid deterioration?

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Patton, Roman, and very brief mention of Sympathetic!Deceit and Remy.

Pairings: Logince & Moxiety

Warnings: Discussion of anatomy and very brief, sympathetic deceit.

Word Count: 1865

Virgil’s fingers curled around the stiff fabric resting in his palms as he meandered towards the white door frame. Twisting the iron knob as he went and shutting the heavy door behind him, Virgil pressed his back against the wooden plank, eyes fixed on the gown in his tight clutch.

One breath. Two breaths. By the third breath, Virgil had rested the white fabric across the sink’s rounded edge before slowly discarding his ebony attire beside the gown. With his attire stowed precariously on the sink, Virgil reached for the dotted, white hospital gown.

With the loose-fitted gown lightly brushing against his knees, Virgil noticed an abrupt tremble in his hands. To steady his shaking grasp, he clung to the upper edges of the bathroom sink as his gaze became transfixed on the mirror. His scanning eyes discerned the dangling of his bangs over charcoal eye shadow, his lips curled into a pout, and the oscillatory movements of his hands.

Grumbling, he let his grip falter from the sink and head hang low. He needed a moment. He needed a moment before seizing his clothes and emerging into his hospital suite. Frowning, Virgil shifted as his fingers trembled above the door knob. Twisting the knob and letting the door creak open meant that there really was something wrong with him.

“Mr. Poole?” A soft knock vibrated against the wooden frame.

“Oh- uh, yeah. Sorry,” snapping out of it, Virgil yanked open the door.

“I was going to assess some of your motor and sensory skills,” Logan allowed Virgil to pass him and perch cross-legged on the bed’s edge, but Virgil’s twitchy hands didn’t allude him.

“Go ahead, doc.”

“I’m going to start by testing your reflexes with a patellar reflex test, but I’m going to need you to situate your legs so that they’re dangling over the edge of the bed,” Logan slid his fingers into a set of thin, cyan gloves.

Virgil huffed, untangling his legs, and letting his feet hang.

With gloved digits, Logan skimmed his cold fingertips across Virgil’s lower leg in search for the band of tissue extending down from the patella. A few more calculating touches under Virgil’s shin, and Logan identified the patellar tendon and femoral nerve. And with a short reflex hammer, Logan struck the tendon…. Virgil’s muscles convulsed.

“Clonus,” Logan noted, scribbling the result onto a plastic clipboard in raven ink, “let’s try testing your musculocutaneous nerve.”

“Could you flex at the elbow for me?” Logan requested as a means to identify Virgil’s bicep tendon.

Virgil nodded, complying as Logan watched and palpated the antecubital fossa.

“You can relax your arm now,” Logan attentively took Virgil’s arm into his grasp with his thumb over the tendon to strike with the reflex hammer. Again, more contractions.

“Is that normal?” Virgil wore a half-frown.

“Well, no-,” Logan paused, laying his pen across his clipboard, “a normal reaction generates an easily observed shortening of the muscle. In your case, your muscles repetitively shortened after a single stimulation, which suggests that a pathologic process is affecting peripheral nerves that results in a reflex that is abnormal.”

“...huh?”

“Your muscles convulsed, which suggests there is condition affecting your nerves, but with hand tremors present, that was to be expected.”

“Any idea what it is yet?”

“Without more testing it’s hard to say, but I postulate the issue lies within your upper motor neurons. These are the neurons that carry motor information down the spinal cord to the lower motor neurons. The information that is sent from these neurons to the lower motor neurons signals muscles to contract, thus they are the source of voluntary movement. Increased muscle tone, reflexes, and weakness would all point to lesions on your upper motor neurons, but without more testing, we cannot be sure.”

“I see.”

“Speaking of such testing, I’m going to begin evaluating your muscle tone and then your gait.”

Virgil nodded, glance cast to the side.

“To start, I’m going to need you to relax for me again,” Logan clinically solicited.

To begin testing Virgil’s upper extremity muscle tone, Logan passively rolled the joints in Virgil’s wrist and upper arm to test for rigidity. Finding some resistance, Logan apacely scrawled it onto Virgil’s charts.

“Could you lie flat on your back now?”

“Uh, sure,” Virgil swung his legs over the mattress as he slanted back.

“Now, I’m going to need you to relax,” Logan repeated, pressing his palm above Virgil’s bare ankle. Moving to Virgil’s lower leg, Logan slipped his palm under his patient’s relaxed knee to suddenly bend the shin to test lower extremity muscle tone. More resistance.

“Hmm,” Logan nodded mostly to himself, “to test your gait, I’m going to need you to walk away from me and then back towards me.”

“Okay..,” Virgil sat up, shifting his frame so his feet brushed against the tile floor.

Planting his feet on the ground, Virgil strolled from the bed to the farthest wall before ambling back in the direction of the doctor. And during this process, Logan took note of Virgil’s stance, stability, and leg stiffness. He watched Virgil’s leg swings and arm swings observantly. His eyes inspected Virgil’s degree of knee bending and his rate and speed only to note a decreased left arm swing.

“Unsteady gait,” Logan jotted down.

“I take it that’s bad?” Virgil plopped back onto the bed, picking at his black nail polish.

“It just means a walking abnormality is present.”

“And?”

“And that could be caused by underlying conditions or injuries.”

“Does that mean it could be something like Parkinson’s disease?” Virgil’s heart rate quickened.

“It’s possible,” Logan admitted, “but we just can’t be sure with the little testing we’ve done.”

“My blood test can help though, right? That’s what you said earlier.”

“It’ll help us determine a diagnosis, but it’s likely the storm will delay it a couple days,” Logan glanced at Virgil apologetically, but it came off mechanically, “Anyhow, it seems optimal to take a short break from testing now.”

Collecting up his clipboard, Logan stood in the door frame, “And in the meantime, a nurse will periodically check up on you.”

“Okay…,” Virgil sighed.

With Virgil taken care of, Logan strode down the long, achromatic hallway with his clipboard pressed up against his chest and his framed eyes fixed on the nurse’s station. His shoes squeaking against newly polished floors captured the attention of patients and doctors alike. And as he passed Dr. Whittaker reviewing a patient’s extensive charts, Logan offered him a polite smile.

Now standing over the cubed nurse’s station, Logan watched as Patton’s fingers built a bridge between words, “Salutations, Patton.”

Tearing his gaze from the new monitor, Patton grinned, “Hello, Logan.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could check up on Virgil Poole for me before your shift ends in a couple hours. Maybe take a neurological history for me?” Logan didn’t waste time with idle chatter.

“Sure thing,” Patton’s eyes and nose crinkled, “I’ll pay him a visit.”

“Thanks Pat- ...Oh, Great,” Logan frowned, turning on his heel at the mere sight of Dr. Wilson’s poised approach.

“Trying to avoid me, spectacles?” Dr. Wilson tsk’d.

“Attempting to,” Logan muttered under his breath.

Feigning an offended gasp, Dr. Wilson placed his palm over his chest.

“But you adore our little chats, Lo,” he purred, inching close enough to Logan to count the careless stippling of freckles across his cheeks.

“How are you, Roman?” Patton kindly interjected, fingers resting atop black keys.

Flustered, Logan glanced down and away. He didn’t deny it.

“Much better now that Lo’s back,” Roman grinned wide like a Cheshire cat.

“I was only gone a week.”

“And a terrible week it was.”

---

Virgil peered out the frosted-over window through slats in the flimsy blinds, watching as specks of snow colored the road in ivory as the chilly air of the ceiling vent caressed his exposed skin.

“Mr. Poole?”

Virgil exhaled, shifting on the mattress to face the doorway, “more testing?”

“Just here to collect a neurological history if that’s alright,” one of Patton’s palms rested against the door frame while the other seized a clipboard.

“Go ahead, I guess,” Virgil raised his downcast eyes and shrugged slightly.

“I can come back later,” instantly noticing Virgil’s hunched posture, Patton shifted his feet to retreat.

“No- it’s fine. Ask away,” Virgil peered up before picking again at the remaining flecks of nail polish clinging to his nails.

“Okay..,” Patton reluctantly stepped into the darkened room, brows knitted into a frown, “Do you have a history of head injury or seizures?”

“No,” Virgil brushed away unattached, onyx, polish particles onto the stiff sheets.

“Have you ever had surgery involving the nervous system?” Patton continued, pen tip pressed against papers shoved under the board’s metal clip.

“No.”

“Have you ever been treated for a neurological problem?”

Another ‘no.’

“Have you ever had a serious injury?”

“If it matters, I broke my leg when I was nine,” Virgil rested his head in his now unbusy palm, gaze flitted to his crossed legs.

“How were you treated?” Patton momentarily glanced up from the charts.

“The doc had me wear a cast and use crutches for six weeks,” Virgil shrugged. He had been sketching - sketching wolves and bluishly radiant moons in the aged tree flourishing by his hinged, bedside window when he fractured his femur. Dropping his pen from the branch had sealed Virgil’s destiny as his balance departed with his attempt to capture it.

“Do you have any residual effects from breaking your leg?”

“..No.”

Another scribble from Patton.

“Do you have any other medical problems?”

“Uh,” Virgil paused hesitantly, peering up to inspect Patton’s expression, “...anxiety.”

“What about prescriptions?” Patton inquired, tilting his head, “are you currently taking any prescribed or over the counter medications?”

“No.”

Sighing, Patton scrawled the same answer in black pen on Virgil’s messy charts, “Could you tell me about your family’s medical history?”

“Dad died of a heart attack and mom’s out of the picture,” Virgil huffed bluntly, shrugging with his eyes.

“Any brothers, sisters, or cousins?” Patton donned a half-frown.

“Nope, no, and no,” Virgil mumbled, missing the distraction that unwinding the threads of his coal-colored hoodie brought him.

“Aunts? Uncles?”

“Not that I know about.”

“Oh..,” Patton frowned.

“That all you need?” Virgil cleared his throat.

“Uh-,” Snapping out of his haze, Patton replied, “yeah.”

“That’s all I need,” He quickly clarified, rubbing the back of his neck.

As Patton turned on his heel to leave, his steps faltered. He was incapable of halting his thoughts from sprinting painfully back in time to Remy. Shaking his head, Patton stopped in his footsteps and shifted to face Virgil, “Do you, uh, have anyone that will visit you? ”

“What?” Virgil tilted his head, shoulders visibly slumping once he processed the question.

Patton knew it wasn’t his right to pry, but he asked anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Patton rapidly backtracked, “I- I really shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s whatever,” Virgil huffed, looking at his bare nails.

“I could come and check up on you occasionally if you’d like,” Patton rushed through his words.

“Uh-,” Virgil angled his head, unsure of what to make of the offer, “...sure.”

Tag list (ask to be added): @bunny222

#moxiety #logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts remy #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #hospital au #logicality #analogical #flirting

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theanoninyouraskblog · 6 years ago

Text

Well, well, well.

@erasermic-aus

Looks like henry and windy are at it again. Lets give them hell shall we.

Mmm look at that delicious hint. Alright you know the drill lets look at obvious stuff first.

1: We’ve got a recording microphone. Specifically based on the shape it looks like we either have a condenser mic (specifically a large condenser mic) or a Ribbon microphone. Knowing what we do about Present Mic canonically (He has a radio show) we can assume this Mic also has a radio show (or a vlog, we’ll get to that later) which means he’s probably using a Ribbon Microphone given that they’re said to have the most natural sound and are usually used for recording human voices.

But we can take this further.

Hizashi’s Microphone is a mounted mic on stand... obviously (they help with audio quality). And he appears to have a pop filter on the front (basically it makes audio not sound like shit or in the words of an expert: “One of the simplest recording gadgets is the humble pop filter... positioned between the vocalist and your microphone to block plosives – those percussive P and B sounds that cause annoying low frequency bumps.”- a random fucking website, I did this research myself, I’m not sighting it if I don't have to.)

2: Red eyes. Now Hizashi canonically in the Bnha comics has read eyes, it was changed for the show... for atheistic reasons I guess? This isn’t some measly one off, because Windy and Henry aren’t sloppy. Lets take a look at what versions of Mic have green eyes. The mad hatter. Waiter Hizashi. That's it... there aren't that many full color pictures of hizashi with his eyes colored/open.

But lets look at who has red eyes. God’s Abomination, specifically when it’s villain mic and hero eraser. (there's no fully colored version the other way round so I’m just sort of assuming his eyes are green when it’s hero hizashi and villain eraser, would make my job soooo much easier being able to draw that conclusion) BUT NOPE I can’t make that clear decisive cut of red means evil, because guess what... HERO MIC HAS RED EYES IN SCREECH’S AU.

But you know what we do know.

Mic isn’t a hero. Henry told us as much.

Odd emphasis on not there... implies he’s a villain. But we wont rule out civilian yet.

Now we get to talk about this:

Firstly, that one eye visible one eye not is a fucking trope in the art world.

Want to know why?

Nah, I’m joking it’s been around a lot longer than him. But the glasses glare and the one eye is a very common theme. Don’t believe me?

That hiding one or both eyes on dangerous characters thing? Also a fucking trope.

Want a list of popular anime character with only one eye showing??? I have one!! https://www.ranker.com/list/best-anime-characters-with-one-eye-showing/ranker-anime Want a whole fucking page about it? https://www.animecharactersdatabase.com/tags.php?id=1085 Here's the data base!!!

Want videogame examples? Undyne (undertale), Sans (undertale), Garry (Ib)! The list goes on!

And doing something with a character’s eyes is always a trope! Character got possessed??? Guess what you can change the eyes to clue your audience in! You’re character just went fucking feral? SLITTED PUPILS ARE THE WAY MY DUDE. Aizawa Shouta just activated his quirk? Zoom in on them eyes, change color and do a weird color fracture.

Super powerful character has eyes flash? Totally normal, robot character’s eyes change color when scanning? One eye changes color?

Heterochromia is also super common.

This implies that Hizashi is dangerous, since it’s not happening before a fight as far as I can tell, it just implies he’s a dangerous man and not to be messed with.

Also remember how I mentioned vlogging? There is the off chance Hizashi is blogging and that’s why his attention isn't on his microphone. Or he could be looking at photos, or something... maybe a kidnapped and tied up Aizawa... who knows.

3: Now lets look at that dialog.

“He was amazing!” We can infer that the he in this situation is probably Aizawa... though it could technically be anyone. But we’re going to stick with Aizawa.

He was amazing? Well sounds a bit like Hizashi talking about Hero Aizawa, having seen Aizawa on patrol or even having fought him. One this is for sure, this is probably an obsessive mic. The sort that fixates on Aizawa or the like. Seems to me like a villain obsessing over a hero. Now, subtler details.

1: Lets take a look at this background. That’s glass right there which means this isn't Hizashi’s house, this is a recording studio. And Hizashi is either the host or is being interviewed, and we can rule that out due to the fact his feet are up and it’s fucking rude to do that if your being interviewed.

Now this could also be a police interrogation room, but the chair lends to it not being so, as does his posture and the mic itself. No this is a recording studio which means Mic defiantly has his own show.

Not only that, he’s a public figure. And probably a villain!

2: Hand guestures are something distinctly Hizashi. As someone who speaks with their hands the same way he does, expressing with hands isn’t just a thing for other people, you move your hands by yourself, reminding yourself to put on socks with motions, etc. But that, that's an odly specific position.

Now talking with your hands is a common phenomena, books have been written about it, it allegedly conveys strong leadership and the like... however it’s also a trait sociopaths and psychopath are known to mimic in order to endear people to them. Now let me put up a sociopath/psycopath checklist (The tests are very similar and I didnt feel like doing both) and lets look at Present Mic as a character.

GLIB and SUPERFICIAL CHARM — The tendency to be smooth, engaging, charming, slick, and verbally facile. Psychopathic charm is not in the least shy, self-conscious, or afraid to say anything. A psychopath never gets tongue-tied. They have freed themselves from the social conventions about taking turns in talking, for example. ✓ Hey, look Charm? Never gets tongue tied... hmmm

GRANDIOSE SELF-WORTH — A grossly inflated view of one’s abilities and self-worth, self-assured, opinionated, cocky, a braggart. Psychopaths are arrogant people who believe they are superior human beings. ✓ This one is a little harder to check off, because he’s not nearly as self centered, but cocky? yeah... yep, so he gets half a point here.

NEED FOR STIMULATION or PRONENESS TO BOREDOM — An excessive need for novel, thrilling, and exciting stimulation; taking chances and doing things that are risky. Psychopaths often have low self-discipline in carrying tasks through to completion because they get bored easily. They fail to work at the same job for any length of time, for example, or to finish tasks that they consider dull or routine. ✓ I dunno if you’ve met Hizashi, but this fits in rather well.

PATHOLOGICAL LYING — Can be moderate or high; in moderate form, they will be shrewd, crafty, cunning, sly, and clever; in extreme form, they will be deceptive, deceitful, underhanded, unscrupulous, manipulative, and dishonest. ✓ If he’s a villain he checks this easily. Especially if he’s a public figure AND a villain.

CONNING AND MANIPULATIVENESS — The use of deceit and deception to cheat, con, or defraud others for personal gain; distinguished from Item #4 in the degree to which exploitation and callous ruthlessness is present, as reflected in a lack of concern for the feelings and suffering of one’s victims. ✓ See above

LACK OF REMORSE OR GUILT — A lack of feelings or concern for the losses, pain, and suffering of victims; a tendency to be unconcerned, dispassionate, cold-hearted, and non-empathic. This item is usually demonstrated by a disdain for one’s victims. Ehhh… I really need to see more of this version of Hizashi to determine that.

SHALLOW AFFECT — Emotional poverty or a limited range or depth of feelings; interpersonal coldness in spite of signs of open See above.

CALLOUSNESS and LACK OF EMPATHY — A lack of feelings toward people in general; cold, contemptuous, inconsiderate, and tactless. Once again see above

PARASITIC LIFESTYLE — An intentional, manipulative, selfish, and exploitative financial dependence on others as reflected in a lack of motivation, low self-discipline, and inability to begin or complete responsibilities. Nope.

POOR BEHAVIORAL CONTROLS — Expressions of irritability, annoyance, impatience, threats, aggression, and verbal abuse; inadequate control of anger and temper; acting hastily. ✓ Acting hastily? Yep.

PROMISCUOUS SEXUAL BEHAVIOR — A variety of brief, superficial relations, numerous affairs, and an indiscriminate selection of sexual partners; the maintenance of several relationships at the same time; a history of attempts to sexually coerce others into sexual activity or taking great pride at discussing sexual exploits or conquests. Cannonically this would make sense but we wont check it.

EARLY BEHAVIOR PROBLEMS — A variety of behaviors prior to age 13, including lying, theft, cheating, vandalism, bullying, sexual activity, fire-setting, glue-sniffing, alcohol use, and running away from home. Dunno yet.

LACK OF REALISTIC, LONG-TERM GOALS — An inability or persistent failure to develop and execute long-term plans and goals; a nomadic existence, aimless, lacking direction in life. This man wanted to be a radio host. That's not a fucking stable job Hizashi. This is poor planning. ✓

IMPULSIVITY — The occurrence of behaviors that are unpremeditated and lack reflection or planning; inability to resist temptation, frustrations, and urges; a lack of deliberation without considering the consequences; foolhardy, rash, unpredictable, erratic, and reckless. ✓ No duh

IRRESPONSIBILITY — Repeated failure to fulfill or honor obligations and commitments; such as not paying bills, defaulting on loans, performing sloppy work, being absent or late to work, failing to honor contractual agreements. ✓ if He’s a fucking villain.

FAILURE TO ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY FOR OWN ACTIONS — A failure to accept responsibility for one’s actions reflected in low conscientiousness, an absence of dutifulness, antagonistic manipulation, denial of responsibility, and an effort to manipulate others through this denial. ✓ if He’s a fucking villain.

MANY SHORT-TERM MARITAL RELATIONSHIPS — A lack of commitment to a long-term relationship reflected in inconsistent, undependable, and unreliable commitments in life, including marital. Nope

JUVENILE DELINQUENCY — Behavior problems between the ages of 13-18; mostly behaviors that are crimes or clearly involve aspects of antagonism, exploitation, aggression, manipulation, or a callous, ruthless tough-mindedness. Dunno yet

REVOCATION OF CONDITION RELEASE — A revocation of probation or other conditional releases due to technical violations, such as carelessness, low deliberation, or failing to appear. Dunno yet

CRIMINAL VERSATILITY — A diversity of types of criminal offenses, regardless if the person has been arrested or convicted for them; taking great pride at getting away with crimes. …..✓

Let me spell this out for you, Hizashi is displaying an oddly exaggerated handmotion, even for the most exuberant of hand talkers. (Generaly talking with your hands never gets outside of a box, here I’ve drawn the box on mic for you.)

The larger box is where most people talk and people why are shy or have been bullied/are self conscious of their hands talk in the smaller box.

He as a character ticks of most of a psychopathic checklist and if he is indeed a psychopath he could have learned that hand motion endear people to you. Now I’m not saying he is a psychopath, most people tick off at least 4 of those boxes, I’m just saying it’s possible.

3 yep that eye is still confusing me, he defiantly seems like he’s looking at something and the more I look at that smug expression the more I think it’s Aizawa tied up and gagged in a chair with his own capture weapon glaring at him.

4: That's a nice chair. That's a nice chair. Not interrogation I guess. But something about that chair irks me.

Alright nitpicky now.

Posture:

That's not fucking relaxed posture. That’s posturing to give of the air of being relaxed. Mic may have been relaxed when he crossed his legs but those arms are not relaxed. Look at the stiff angles. That’s a man who’s up to something.

And lastly, no, no I could not figure out what kind of shoes Mic is wearing, and I don't think it’s relevant.

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musicalmukebox · 6 years ago

Text

Let’s Get (Back) Together | l.h. (15)

Ctto of the gifs used!!

AU: Parent Trap Dad!Luke

Summary: A strong love which led to a strong marriage and twin daughters. Yet in the end, it didn’t turn out so well. You strongly refuse to encounter him ever again. But what happens when both of you coincidentally send your twin daughters to the same summer camp in Florida after 10 years?

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: angst, swearing, sweet sweet revenge, verbal and almost physical fighting, mental breakdowns, s e x u a l tension

A/N: Gahhh it’s around 1:40 am here! I enjoyed writing this chapter like wooo! I hope you guys won’t find it too cheesy or underwhelming! First, I wanna thank my parents for giving me the medical terms mentioned here, though I still struggle with capturing some concepts of it haha! And by the way, I found out the Parent Trap film just celebrated its 20th year anniversary since its release a few months ago. Pretty coincidental to say the least! Anyways, enjoy!

I don’t own Parent Trap and its ideas. It’s only used as inspiration.

1 / 2A / 2B / 2C / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

Feedback/Questions/Others? Here.

2022, Los Angeles

These past weeks, you’ve created a new daily routine. Or rather, your body did.

Wake up suddenly. Race to the bathroom. Vomit your guts out. Go back to sleep. Wake up to get ready for work. Prepare breakfast. Race back to the bathroom. Vomit again. Fully lose your appetite. Take a shower. Get dressed. Drive to the studios or film settings.

It pretty much varies, but this was a close one to each passing day. You ached the rush of your guts boiling up to your throat because it was physically draining and hindering you from current filming projects. Also to your disdain, Luke was on a mini tour at the moment, so you were on your own for this, though it was bound to end soon so a speedy recovery must be in order. But he knew what you were going through due to your nightly (or morning) video calls you do almost every day whenever both of you can.

“Are you sure you’re really okay, (Y/N)? I can ask Eleanor to come over and help.”

“No need! I’m fine, Luke. Just need more rest, that’s all.”

Even though the directors of latter were lenient and kind enough to give you some rest days since they knew how much of a busy woman you’ve become, you still felt bad because it looked as if you haven’t taken care of yourself too well with your condition.

Was it something you ate? Did you exert too much effort to the point your body couldn’t handle it? Are you overworking on these projects? Seriously, did you or Luke cook something that actually expired?

Actually before the nausea, fatigue has hit you faster before you begin working on-set. Thus, sitting out became a norm that quick. Going home after is just exhausting, and crashing on the bed is a lot easier than usual. Not really a bad thing, but you still had to work on your lines and respond to emails. Alongside that, you’ve suddenly gained weight despite the nausea. Your jeans don’t fit like they used to and mostly, you prefer wearing crop tops and sweaters instead of anything tight.

The last straw was today, when you no longer tolerated that insane wave of nausea that hit almost every thirty minutes in the late morning which clashed with the fatigue. Only now were you growing concerned on your health since you figured it firstly to be a stomach virus, but it could possibly more than that. Hence, you needed to get a clear idea of what is happening to you. So today, you excused yourself again to the director of one of the filming shootings for the day due to health reasons, and urgently went to the hospital. Fortunately, he freely allowed you to do so because you had one of the lead roles, and really wanted make sure that everyone was healthy.

By chance, no paparazzi was present in the area, which made it easier to check inside. Seeking guidance from any expert in the lobby as soon as you walked in, a young looking woman in her green scrubs raced to your aid, probably an intern in her twenties who was starstruck by your appearance by the way she beamed when she greeted you.

“Omg hi, Miss (Y/L/N)! How may I help you?”

Although flattered, you bluntly gave her the synopsis of your physical well-being. “Well, something’s odd with my health, like I’ve been easily tired these past weeks, and vomiting hardcore too which makes me lose a lot of sleep. Today took a toll me while at work, so I just want a clear idea of what’s happening because I’m pretty nervous and hoping it’s not serious that it could affect my work ethic.”

Upon talking, she was taking down of everything and it didn’t take too long for her to think of a procedure or solution to assist you. “Oh no! It’s a good thing you’ve come today. I suggest you take a blood test, which you can get the results of next week if that would be okay. Though for nausea, avoid oily foods and eat something bland like pretzels.”

As impatient as you were feeling now due to the tension of what’s happening within you, you trusted her opinion and pushed through with it. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good! Now, may I lead you to the institute of pathology? That’s where the laboratory is for blood extraction.”

“Surely, lead the way.”

“And we’re done!” The phlebotomist, or someone who extracts blood from you aka. the patient for testing, exclaims as she ejected the needle from your forearm and untied the tourniquet right above. Internally, you celebrated for facing your long fear of needles for the sake of your health.

“Thanks so much, love. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“I doubt that it is. You’re practically glowing and fit since you’ve acted and done your own stunts in your films too. Also c’mon, your body is goals!”

Gushing, “Aww, thanks again.” You attempted to stand up from the seat, but it only made you dizzy so you sat back down. You weren’t even in a rush, self. Chill. “Wow, I’m getting dizzy and tired so fast nowadays honestly. This sucks.”

“What else have you been feeling then? – By the way, I’m Claire.” She introduced whilst asking, tucking away your blood sample in a cabinet.

“Nice to meet you, Claire. Hmm well,” You leaned back in the chair to suit your comfort. “I get the most absurd food cravings at weird times yet there is non-stop vomiting late in the morning especially. I gained weight too, where I can’t fit some of my jeans and shorts and wearing tight tops and bras are suffocating. Also whenever I try to go to gym, the fatigue kicks in. Actually, the fatigue is always there, but they get worse like the vomiting.”

“Oh, I see.” Claire, who just sat across from you, listened and put her mind into use of what may have caused this, although the answer was so predictable to her and still wanted to inquire. “Have you been … sexually active recently? I mean, you are married and all to Luke Hemmings!”

You gushed again since you weren’t much to talk about your sex life with him, covering your burning cheeks. But if it’s meant to help you, then by all means go. “Last time we’ve gone at it was around 2-3 months ago, right before he went on a mini tour in the country.”

“Interesting. - When was the last time you’ve got your period?”

Frankly, you weren’t much to check on your menstruation patterns nowadays since you’re too time consumed with your career. Besides, if it’s arrives, you have pads prepared back at home. “I don’t remember. I’ve been so distracted to keep track. Why is that so important?”

“Oh my god, is it that hard to unravel? – Morning sickness, weight gain, weird cravings, over fatigue, late period?” She asked back, cracking an enthusiastic smile. But you shook your head, still not understanding where she’s getting at.

“Though I’m glad you took this blood test to be sure, my motherly instincts are telling me that you, Mrs. (Y/N) Hemmings, are pregnant.”

A week later, and she was right.

You received from the mail the results, which confirmed your suspicions. Since that extraction, you couldn’t stop thinking about it despite everything making much more sense now. All the symptoms were exactly what Eleanor felt when she was still pregnant with Nick, how naïve of you to have not realized sooner!

The need to tell Luke in person as soon as possible is making you impatient, and you were in utter luck that he was coming home tonight already after months.

You were still in contact with Claire, who was ecstatic for you when you told her and hastily recommended you to the best OB-GYN doctor in the hospital named Dr. Katherine Han. Booking an appointment today was challenging at first, but luckily, you got it. Waiting outside her clinic, her secretary kindly invited you in. “Dr. Han is ready to see you, Mrs. Hemmings.”

Dr. Han, or Kate as she fully claimed, scanned through your results happily, recommended the necessary vitamins and insisted you afterwards to make an ultrasound to inspect on your unborn child. “This is pretty exciting, must I say?”

Unquestionably, yes. Maybe, at first, you freaked out because that would mean a lot of adjustments. You and Luke have talked about before about wanting kids later in your marriage, when you’ve toned down from your busy lifestyles. But now, who cares? Your mindset changed drastically, and the idea of carrying a little life inside you was mind-blowing. It was actually happening.

With that idea having you feel thrilled for the next months to come. But the moment you lied down on the examination bed and put up your blouse, there was already a bump, which is unlikely since it’s early in the pregnancy. Regardless, you then felt the wand move below your abdomen with the cold gel, you were breathless of what your eyes witnessed on the screen.

“You see that flickering light? That’s the heartbeat. Let me raise the volume of it.”

Doing as she said, the thumping increased and you felt goosebumps grow in your entire body. There was the little bean in its glory, your little bean.

“Oh wait a minute.” She paused briefly, raising the wand higher to show another flickering light and an echo of sounds. “Looks like you have two healthy heartbeats. – Congrats, Mrs. Hemmings. You’re expecting twins. Would you like a copy of the sonogram?”

Just as you though things couldn’t get any better, you’ll get two little bundles of you. Okay, maybe one mini-you and one mini-Luke. Though if they are both mini-Luke’s, it’s alright too. It’ll be a quite a mess since Luke is practically a man-child. But, who cares?

“Mrs. Hemmings?” Too absorbed in your thoughts, you haven’t answered the doctor’s question.

“Yes please.”

As great and fantastic these news were, you were bound to surprise Luke this when he gets home. It’s been quite a while. Also, you really wanted him to be the first to know before telling anyone else. Since your careers are already over the top, you planned to just keep it simple. Besides, the both of you weren’t much into giving lavish luxury items, well except on special occasions.

But on a normal basis? Nah, you’d like to save some money for the future. Most likely for education. It’s always nice to think ahead.

There were balloons on the walls and some tied down the legs of the side tables, where you were sat by the couch with a small bag of goodies were inside with a mutual meaning. Time is ticking on your watch, and Luke could be home any minute now. He’ll be exhausted since he’ll be coming back from New York. You’ve missed him so much, where neither video not phone calls were not as sufficient as physical contact. Especially the rated R ones!

Well, before you got “sick”.

Your calm body was sprawled on the couch, trying new positions that’ll suit best for your little beans and scrolling up and down possible room decorations to purchase. Oh yes, baby fever is real with you, starting with the nickname of little beans. While at your enjoyable daze, you can hear the fumbling of the door knob from the outside, unlocking it. Struggling to roll down his huge luggages and his dufflebag as his hand carry, he dropped them immediately.

“I’m home!”

For him, all he knew was that his home is wherever you are.

There he was in his glory. His hair was a lot messier as compared to usual, his facial expressions of tiredness from the long trip but still gave a loud greeting that could get a noise complaint from the neighbors.

Again.

“Luke!” You shot up from your seat, catching his attention. Upon hearing, he knew in a snap you were in the living room. He hoped you cooked dinner or something because as much as he did like eating everywhere from hotel rooms and famous restaurants, nothing beats yours. But then again, you’ve been sick so probably not. As long as he gets to see you, he’ll be happy.

Advancing there, he lightened up at the sight of you, as if you were glowing like the sickness never bothered at all. The blue dress you had on with your beaming smile had him fall over heels all over again. Absolutely smitten. Alongside that, another thing that caught his eyes were the few balloons that bordered where you stood. Coming home from tour or a trip has never been new to since your jobs require to, yet little additions like them was blissful. He couldn’t waste anymore time, running to you and lifting you up in a tight hug by the waist.

Gasping at such suddenness, you enveloped your arms around his neck whilst internally praying he doesn’t crush the little beans, even by a bit. He then puts you down not so long after, giving you a lingering kiss on yours. He could care less if he would get sick. Tour is over anyways, and he has a break before going back to business.

God, feeling them just never gets old nor unsatisfying, like they were custom made just for you. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, love. These past months felt way too long.” Dragging the “too”, his interest returned on the balloons. As a symbol of celebration and surprises, something is up. Maybe he was just overreacting, considering this homecoming was a celebration in itself.

As he felt your arms linger away his neck, you brought out the small bag of goodies from the floor, preparing yourself for the reveal. “I came across some items you might like when I was the way home.”

He grew skeptical, but he went along with it. Taking a seat right beside you, he rummaged through them and brought it all out, laying them on the coffee table right in front.

“Hmm,” He begins his close observation. “An orange-flavored Caprisun, animal crackers and Starburst. Well, maybe for you, they were some of your favorite childhood snacks. I only liked the Starburst. – I’m still pretty lost with this.”

Not bad, he got a keyword: childhood.

This next step is the climax, which involved a sealed envelope from your jacket right beside you. It was quite nervewracking at first, but you came this far and nonetheless of his reaction, it wouldn’t affect how you feel towards the beans. “Here. Maybe this can make much more sense.”

He was so confused, but you didn’t blame him. “You’re scaring me, love.”

“Just open it.” You laughed, anticipating for too long and wanting already to see his reaction. Unsealing it felt like a lifetime, also ripping it a bit in the middle. There he saw two folded pieces of paper and took them out. The first was a short note, which he read aloud.

“Hello there! So as of now, we can’t eat and drink those treats so you can have them! Maybe give us around 6-7 months and we’ll steal them from you! We can’t wait to meet you, dad! Love, Little Bean 1 and Little Bean 2.”

Dad.

It took him seconds to sink in the premise of the surprise. Unfolding the last paper, it was the ultrasound from early afternoon, his mouth hanging down from the surprise and racing happiness that he was gaining. There was still a short sentence written on the back side.

“Turns out it wasn’t the flu or a virus. It’s just us adjusting, sorry for hurting mom though.”

From his contagiously, cute smile, he was the exact opposite of what you were overthinking previously. He was at a loss of words as he repeatedly looked back in forth at the goodies and the letters before facing you, having a matching smile and blushing. To add, he got up on his feet to really sink the information further because he was too happy.

“I’m pregnant, Luke.” You blurted, no more holding back.

Luke swore he was breathless for a moment, before lifting you up again and back into his arms you were. “Oh my God, wow. Fuck. – This is the best thing I’ve heard all day!” You were laughing too hard from his reaction, and as he put you down, he was literally filled with so much adoration for you.

“It’s actually happening! Like you’re going to be a mom, I’m going to be a dad, we’ll be parents! And twins?!”

“It’s going to be double trouble but double fun, right?” You reassured, only leading him to pull you closer for a kiss on your forehead.

“Fuck yeah. I hope they have your nose though.” He booped your nose, knowing that it annoys you often. But you let it pass.

“I hope they have your blue eyes, they are gorgeous.” You complimented, grazing a finger on his scruffy face. You were equally appreciating every facial feature of each other, giving more “I hope’s” back and forth and then confidently, you tiptoed to place your lips against him, sharing a much more passionate kiss that can are as equal to the kisses from your consummation.

He was the first to pull back, desiring to place his available hand on your lower abdomen with a grin so pure it can spread world peace. “There’s a little us there, and I’ll make sure to take care of the three of you.” Your hormones were about to get the best of you, but you didn’t let it control you for now.

“God, can we just stay in this moment forever? It’s too amazing.” He pleaded, looking directly in your eyes.

“I really do as well, but if it helps,” You pointed your finger at the fireplace, where a tiny camera was situated. “I recorded the whole thing for us to look past on.”

He couldn’t get any more blessed and grateful for you, scattering your entire face with pecks. “Fuck, I love you so much. I can never picture anyone else having my children except you.”

Your heart was fleeting crazily, but his cursing was all over the place which is now considered unacceptable in this household. “I love you so much too, Luke. – But one, stop swearing around me, or at least minimize it. They can hear you, you know?” He frowned in guilt, but when you laughed out the seriousness, you declared once more.

“Second, you’re the only person I would ever want to have a domestic life with.”

2034, Sydney

It was 4 am, and most of the adults were passed out drunk in their separate bedrooms in the second floor. The house they were lodging currently had 4 stories with a basement. In the third floor, there were designated rooms for the young boys and girls. Stella and Rebecca currently shared a bed and a room with Scarlett and Beatrix. Yet, it was Rebecca to get up first due to the soft alarm she set on her phone. Good thing no one else heard it or else Scarlett would be complaining so much about how precious sleep is.

Shaking her sister gently to wake up, it didn’t take too long before she groggily did, having some of her blonde strands covering her visage and lips. When she blew them off, her eyes crinkled open more from the flashlight Rebecca switched on since Stella was arrogant to move at first. But because now she couldn’t fall back into sleep, she urged her body to get upright and focus on her awoken twin.

“God, this bed was too comfortable like you said.” She stretched her arms, unwrapping her tiny body from the duvet and put on her slippers.

“I told you so! Anyways, we need to grab some things at the kitchen and pantry first.” Rebecca tells, adjusting her sweater and jumps out the bed with her phone. Slowly sneaking out the door without disturbing anyone else, the twins tiptoed their way to the stairs and hurried to the pantry where a huge chunk of their needed materials lied.

Rebecca switched on the light, a mischievous smirk forming in her face as she stepped on the mini ladder so she could reach items that were up in the shelves. Stella watched her, making sure she doesn’t trip or anything, but she also took some items on the lower shelves they knew they would need. When they finished, they gathered their things and laid them down on the kitchen island, arranging and checking them orderly.

“Hair dye?” Stella asked.

“Got it. Honey?” Rebecca picks the item up for showing.

“Check. Balloons?”

“Done.”

As they completed in reviewing their materials, “You ready for this, brat?”

“Fuck yeah. Sierra deserves only the worse.”

“Truly. So Camp War 2.0? Let’s get to work.”

Phase 1.

Luke dazedly woke up to do his morning run around 6 in the morning in hopes to watch the sunset by the cliff that he loves to do alone. He was blessed to not have gotten wasted like Ashton. Tying the shoelaces of his shoes and inserting his airbuds, he was on his way out the house. Sierra was in a peaceful slumber for quite some time – That was until the first alarm from her phone hit piercingly. Groaning, one eyelid was open to stop it. She didn’t recall putting any alarms before getting to bed, but nonetheless, she wanted to claim back her beauty sleep.

But the second alarm then came around not even 10 minutes later, and there she was annoyed. Muttering profanities under her breath, she turned it off and tossed back to her initial sleeping position. Unfortunately, the deafening sound of the alarm messed with her mind, which made her lose the drowsiness. No longer forcing it, she rose from her side of the bed with bad bed head. Disoriented by her “dysfunctional” phone, the first thing she was looking for was her glasses, which is usually by her bed side so she can properly operate. However, it wasn’t there as she rummaged it. Odd again, but she ignored it again since just a few hours, she was drunk off her butt and probably left it someplace else.

With blurry vision, she stumbled her way to the bathroom, discarding her pajamas to take a warm shower. Here, another scheme is set. Putting on shampoo is a normal thing when cleaning yourself, only that when Sierra applies it on her hair, it gradually left her a raging red shade.

It didn’t process to her what was happening until she saw the shower floor filled with red water. At first, she figured that she got her period, but she just got it 2 weeks ago and it’s long ended. Pulling the handle open of the shower, she went nearer to the mirror to see what has took place.

“Fucking shit!” How did this happen? Did she take the wrong shampoo? The smell was right though. Maybe there was a chemical malfunction, and she has to get this fixed as soon she can because God knows how much more damage it can bring. Also, email the company about this.

Rinsing it off with a towel, she changed into cleaner clothes and pretty set for the day, knowing she has a few things on her agenda already. She likes to be productive after all. But first, breakfast. She just needed her phone to do some contacting. When she got ahold of it on her bedside, she received a message.

[6:40 AM] Future Husband: just went out for a run! but i have a surprise for you downstairs in the basement, come check it out x

She loved surprises, where she gets to be spoiled rotten by absolutely anything she wants. And since recently he’s been so distant due to the whole surprise family reunion, she assumed that he felt bad and is making up for it.

[6:50 AM] Sierraaaaa: just showered babe, i’m gonna check it out! love you, hubba!

Meanwhile from the work room, where security cameras were placed in the major rooms like the basement, living room, the small lobby, and patio, Rebecca and Stella were imitating vomiting sounds due to the pet names Sierra gave. “So this is dating works, huh? Just bleh!”

“I suppose so. Good thing I’m too young for that! - Shit, she’s by the staircase already!”

They watched carefully her movements, hoping she doesn’t take any unnecessary detours and giggling at the new hair color on the side. When Sierra reaches the end of the corridor of the first floor, which leads to a another staircase going to the basement, the girls were on the edge of their seats, giddy. There were two open tabs on the desktop computer they were using, one showing Sierra and the other on the basement. The latter was a total and messy obstacle, which was about to be unleashed in less than a minute.

“Fuck, let’s get the actual party started!” Stella exclaimed.

Phase 2.

“Hope you like it, babe. Love, Luke.” Sierra reads the sign on the door, pumped up what lies behind the wooden door. With the suspense it expressed, Sierra couldn’t wait any longer and unlocked the door in front of her.

It was quite dark since the curtains were spread open at the large open doors on her left, so through her eyes, she searched for any light buttons to switch on. Luckily, there was one on her left, but it was pretty far from where she stood, so she moved her body to do so minimally. However, as she did, she actually overpassed a light string that was connected to the light switches. Instead, she slipped on the floor instantly and caught the tacky view of the basement.

First feature: A mixture of honey and maple syrup spread throughout the floor like peanut butter on bread.

She slid so fast throughout the entire interior of the room like an indoor slip-and-slide, hitting the corners and sides of the walls with almost every part of her body. Her mind was spinning, and every time she tried to get back on her feet, the syrup would always make her tumble repeatedly. Unfortunately enough, she had no protective gear on her figure to keep her safe from the friction and bumping the hardness, most especially her head. Yet there was another detail that got her much more drenched.

Second feature: There were numerous balloons surrounded in the entire room that were either filled with air or water.

Whilst sliding, different balloons were popping around her as she hit different spots of the room. When did, she’d pop a few balloons in the process that would either trigger her sensitive ears or wet any parts of her body. This went on many times because she really tried her best to stand up and evacuate this mess. Here, her body was reconnecting also with the discomforting syrup then faced one last detail.

Third Feature: One of the light switches from a while ago was connected to the electric fan above her, which would rain the room with feathers.

Various sizes of feathers would glue to her soaking clothing. She sneezed at every encounter she got with them, meaning that she was continuously sneezing during the entire experience. No part of her body was spared, resulting to looking like a hairy chicken, especially with the red hair!

“Bok bok, bitch.” Rebecca referenced Rachel Cho, satisfied by the ugliness of the maze which got Sierra the deserved treatment. But that so-called maze wasn’t the end just yet.

Phase 3, aka. the total knockout.

Drenched and still slipping numerously, her rage and annoyance levels skyrocketed into inflation. Thus, it resulted into passionate and thunderous screams, almost like someone was being murdered. She wanted to get out of this horrendous room, and back to the bathroom to rinse off. But on top of that, she wanted to fight whoever was in charge of this, and she knew exactly who they were. Who else?

“Absolute brats!”

Since it was impossible to go back to the main door unless she wanted to slip and fall again, she resolved into opening the big, wide doors facing the beach. Carefully taking her time making steps, she pushed them out, relieved that her stay at that maze was over.

Or was it?

Right above where she was drenching and groaning from discomfort, another line of string hung by her eyes with a tiny note with another message. “You think it was over? – P.S. flip over this note.”

She pulled it out strongly, unfolding it effortlessly because she wanted to know more about the minds of the sinister sisters. Little did she know that a bucket of chocolate syrup was stationed right above her, where a friendly creature was swimming in it, or possibly drowning.

“You mess with our parents, you mess with us. Also, look up. – R & S”

Right on cue, she tilted her head upwards and low and behold, the sticky substance splattered all over her entire body, coating the water and honey from earlier. It was almost Carrie 2.0, except there was no huge audience except the twins, who were busy rejoicing for their success. It came upon them of how smart they work together than against each other like in camp, gladly knowing that they have a valid reason to act so. Besides, they are young and bright, they have to hone their growing potentials.

Sierra remained still and quiet, trying to regain her composure because she will not let the brats win over. It took her years to get to where she is, and she will strike back because losing to them is basically like losing to you. However, that idea was scratched off as soon she felt something crawl above her dyed hair. She was disturbed at the foreign sensation, reaching over it to get a touch of what it is. When she did, it continued to brisk off and by the rough skin and long tail, it was a lizard. And she screamed bloody murder when the lizard slid down to her face, even went to her mouth! Spitting it out along other saliva that was contaminated, she attained her breaking point, finally fed up and throwing numerous tantrums like the spoiled woman she is.

“Wait, where again did you find the creepy crawly, Stella?” Rebecca asks, watching Sierra and enjoying herself at her rage.

“When I was placing the bucket by the ledge of the patio. He was crawling everywhere, but I figured he’d be important.”

Just in time with her screams, Luke just arrived back at the house from his morning jog. Removing his airbuds, he could easily determine the voice and raced to where it was occurring. But when he got to the living room so he could get to the patio and see the commotion, he was beaten to it when a soaked Sierra stormed inside with a frustrated look on her face. She pushed away any object within her vicinity and kicked some chairs too, beyond pissed. It wasn’t too long when the other boys and their families were disrupted from their rest and came running down the stairs, seeking answers towards the unexpected fuss. Just like Luke, they thought that she looked like an absolute, hot mess, psyched and intrigued by who could’ve pulled off such an accident.

“Wha-What the fuck happened, babe?” It was all he can come up with at the spur of the moment, his focus more on her newly dyed hair that just didn’t suit her with the chocolate syrup dripping on the wooden floor.

All this pent frustration and the newly added one began to overtake her mind and mouth. She was officially done. When she took a few steps closer to him, “Here's what's going on, buddy, your twins happened! The day we say “I do" is the day I ship those brats off to Switzerland or maybe give them fully to (Y/N). Get the picture? It's me or them. Take your pick.”

Right after she spits her fire, muffled voices blasted from the speakers in that room. Those speakers can be activated a few ways, commonly through Bluetooth or the aux cord from the work room. Rapidly, the device boosted in volume, giving a clearer hearing of what was being voiced out.

It was none other than last night’s convo between Sierra and Arzaylea.

The two and everyone else paused themselves momentarily to take a listen, and in the end were they stopped dead on their tracks by the intensity and ruthlessness of the situation. Though humiliation additionally crashed on Sierra because she was the main involving party.

Oh, poor Luke. The big secret behind his psychotic fiancée was uncovered and served like a slap on the face. Somehow, everything these past years made much more sense. That honestly pep talk she gave yesterday was pure bull. Everything about her was an ongoing façade.

Once the audio reached its end, the twins publicly made their entrance from the work room, giving off their petty and naughty smirks to their main target. So far, so very good.

“Woah, good morning everyone.” Rebecca greeted innocently.

“What’s for breakfast?” Stella continued on casually.

But Luke wasn’t having it, too frazzled by the situation within the room and couldn’t even look at Sierra when she tried to capture his attention numerously during that audio play. “Alright girls, quit playing. What is going on?”

No more sweet talk, just get down to the business.

“Wasn’t the audio enough, dad? Aunt Sierra over here is a lie.” Stella claimed strongly, pointing at the messy woman.

“Dad, please don’t be associated with her anymore. She’s been manipulative before we were even born!” Rebecca defended further, which finally gave Sierra the balls to speak up for herself.

“That audio you gave could’ve been self-made! What other allegations can you give?” She tested, trying to redefine her name. Aish, wrong move. Rebecca was actually bundling up pieces of paper in her arms, and once she opened them up, “Do screenshots of conversations between you, TMZ, Perez Hilton, US weekly and many more tabloid platforms count? Also saw money and private information were involved too.”

“By the way, aunt Sierra, be careful for your surroundings before running your mouth and opening your devices. This house isn’t as big as you think it is.”

First passing it to Luke for his viewing before giving them to Michael, and just by the tired look he had post-work out he begun with, he grew mentally disheartened by the accuracy of his twins’ accusations about his fiancée. Though mischievous, they weren’t wrong at all.

“Ooh, got an extra audio file that can count as evidence if you don’t mind.” Stella added, excusing herself to return to the work room and play the file of Sierra’ conversation at the Forum. The strong persona of Sierra turned weak again when the papers were handed to different people and that extra audio blasted. Her exposure was forceful, and she had nothing else to say or do to deny them especially since the twins were stating facts.

Luke just listened to Sierra’s hurtful words, in disbelief that she was capable to do this all behind his back for the past decade. He was frozen at his standing position, wanting this to all be from the crazy part of his imagination. But once he was fixated with Sierra’s when he almost spaced out, he looked away quickly at disappointment. Sierra saw that short glimpse, still immersed on his facial features that drooped down. “L-Luke, please let me ex-”

Luke cut her off, putting his hand near her face so she would stop blabbering. “So this whole time, you wrecked our marriage?”

“Wait, ple-”

Luke kept going with his questioning. “You’ve planned this whole thing out vividly so that you and I would be the endgame?”

“Luke, st-”

“This meant having to ruin the lives of (Y/N), Becks and Stella?!”

Silenced and interrupted repetitively, Sierra couldn’t contain the concoction of the variety of emotions boiling up in her system. All these years she’s bottled them up has made her insane, insane to do absolutely anything for this particular man that has once helped her genuinely in the past. But in the end, she doomed herself to unsuccessfulness and obsession. All eyes were on her now, and she really is trying to compose and defend herself in her own words despite either way, she was going to lose. But those smirks of the twins which exactly resemble yours ticked her off completely.

“All of the actions I’ve done were out of 18 years of loving you, Luke! I was always there for you, way before (Y/N) came in the picture. Your breakup with Arzaylea? I was there. When people criticized the band’s hiatus and music post-Sounds Good, Feels Good and you needed moral support? I was also there. Every drinking session you wanted and invited me to out of celebration or sadness in your old home? I was fucking there! How did you not see that? We had something going on, but it was so effortlessly destroyed when she kissed you in that Valentine music video! Since then, I never liked her because I just knew she lured you in and used you so she could be famous. I just couldn’t allow that to happen, so I had to do what was best for you. Besides, if she trusted you, she could’ve told you the real behind the scenes of our relationship and we would’ve not been friends anymore. Gosh, secrecy! But I knew how to use my words so she wouldn’t bother to tell you anything. So yeah, the bitch does not deserve you, Luke. And those brats you call daughters are just as sneaky as she is!”

There it is.

The unsaid has finally dropped, which may have brought embarrassment because Sierra didn’t hold back nor had any filter to fix her words if she was to be misread. The rawness of it was a bombshell since no one ever expected it, even you if you were present. Luke felt as if he was stabbed in the gut mercilessly, not wanting to acknowledge her. Her so-called assumptions on what she thought was good for him was beyond ill-advised. Now one thing is guaranteed: she was the biggest factor to the destruction of your marriage.

“And you think you’re deserving?! Since when were you knowledgeable to know what was good for me?! I understand that you were trying to look out for me behind the scenes, but to hurt people in the process is different!!” His voice was on full blast, startling everyone and putting them on the edge as the rising drama climaxed. Sierra buried her face in her hands, put on the spot to reply back, but either way, it was a lose-lose situation. Luke’s fists balled up and hit the first thing he saw, which was a box of Lucky Charms.

“All the controversies you’ve had, I’ve looked past them because you’re a genuine and talented girl. Turns out you’ve fooled us all. Honesty is the best policy you also said yesterday, bullshit!” No one expected him to swear, making the boys and their wives cover some of their kids’ ears.

Sierra grabbed him by the arm to make him look at her. “I still am that girl, Luke. Let’s sort this out, please.”

“You never were.” Luke swat her hand away, but still turned around with a face as red as a tomato. A mix of post-workout exhaustion and frustration. “You know, (Y/N) had her own hustle, having to balance university while looking for job opportunities. Meeting her was a coincidence gone right. I thought I could fix you and your controversies, help make you become greater than that. Yet, it but turns out that you can only fix yourself, and you failed badly.”

Sierra needed to speak, she had to. Regardless of the risks. “Wow, now you’re defending your ex-wife? Last time I checked, you no longer wanted to be associated with her because she broke it off and hurt you so bad!”

Although truth was spilled, Luke began to pick up on her words and tried to piece them together with past events. Then, he realizes how some connect to each other. “She broke it off because the rumors you’ve paid to get done was a bad environment for our family then and we began to lose trust in each other. But you know what the worst thing was that occurred in that kind of setting?”

“What?” She had the nerve to cross her arms in a cocky manner.

Luke’s walls were near to breaking, but he didn’t want to leave the fight losing. “Because of the divorce, it led to half custody, meaning my twins, or “brats” as you said were robbed of a happy and full family. All thanks to you.”

To top off the cherry on top, Luke stepped a little closer to Sierra and ordered, “Leave.”

“Excuse me?” She sneered, putting a hand on her chest.

“L-E-A-V-E, Sierra. Get the picture?” Luke hissed. “You are a love-blinded psycho. By the way you said my twins are sneaky is saying that I am too because they are half of me! With this leave you’ll take is a leave from my life for good. I don’t know about the rest of everyone here, but I have lost all interest to be involved with you. So do leave the ring too, then bring all your stuff and never ever show yourself to me. You have done enough.”

His rage reached its peak, still not moving one bit. As much as they were aware that they’ve succeeded, the twins did not apprehend that their father would be severely affected in the process. All they wanted to do was prove a point and hence, they did get their justice. But for him to become sadder too wasn’t in their truest intention. They were too blinded and motivated in getting the both of you together by doing their war that they didn’t think through of the consequences.

“Luke, I-”

“Did I fucking stutter, Sierra? Leave!”

Sierra threw a hissy fit at the treatment she finally deserved, and angrily walks out of the living room. Luke remained unmoved, but warm tears swelled down his cheeks. He didn’t bother to rub them off, and as vulnerable as he is already, he tried to stay strong and hold it in.

“Luke,” Calum bravely took initiative to comfort his friend, only for Luke to finally move backwards away from his friend from this anxiety that overfilled his entire being.

“Don’t touch me, just stay away from me. Please!” He skipped to the workroom and locked himself inside, where he was left with himself to completely crash down and bawl out his pushed back emotions.

That reluctance to recognize them? Gone.

Emotional walls? Vanished.

He whimpered loudly, punching the different pillows in the couch along with knick-knacks on the desks. Pain was prevalent everywhere. Though his fists were bruised, his heart was deeply affected because he relied on his mind to give the practical solutions. Not entirely wrong, but with complete disregard of his heart meant disregarding his feelings, bottling them up for too long.

It was too difficult to make things seem normal in the household now.

Calum and Michael really did their best to change the atmosphere of the entire room by preparing breakfast, cracking eggs and bringing out the pancake mixes. Crystal needed to walk out to the patio to get fresh air away from the stuffiness. Ashton and Bryana were trying to think of easy ways on how to answer the questions from their children about Sierra since it wasn’t something they’ve ever seen before. Eleanor wasn’t too behind to follow Sierra’s steps, but not too near for the latter to see her. Arriving at her door and leaning against, she watches the ex-fiancée angrily throw different items in her dufflebag, observing how much she wanted to leave this situation.

“I’ve always had strong feelings you were still as controversial back in the day.”

She sensed a sneaky smirk from the brunette, who zipped up her packed bag and put the strap on her shoulder. Back on her feet, she came closer to Eleanor with that exact cocky expression. “You should’ve stopped me then, but you didn’t.”

As she tried to get on her way, Eleanor blocked her way, not letting her get off the hook that easily. “That was because I believed you could’ve grown better, but you chose to be a lot worse. Trashy even.”

“Ugh, harsh. But you may have forgotten that I am a girl who is passionate, who’ll do whatever it takes to get what and who I want in life. Luke isn’t something I could swipe left, babe.”

“Have you no pity or a heart?! You destroyed the well-beings of two of the most kind-hearted people, even got their children involved! - I’m so glad you were exposed. The bitch as you’ve described my best friend? Her intellect and determination were traits passed on the twins. With you, all you could ever give is your body and manipulation.”

Sierra’s jaw clicked, her free hand preparing to slap Eleanor, but she beat her it. Gripping her wrist tight that it could leave a mark, “Smart and nice way to accept loss, babe. Also by the way, I see something that doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

Referring to the diamond engagement ring, Eleanor removed her grip to the hand and watches with keen sight on Sierra sliding off the metal band. Once it was off, she effortlessly handed it to her new enemy, leading to Eleanor unblocking her. She didn’t wear her smirk anymore and scrambled down the stairs and to the garage, where a vacant, extra car awaits.

She was finally defeated.

Meanwhile, the twins managed to discreetly vacate from the living room and back to the basement, only this time, they’ve brought garbage bags and every cleaning material they could find in the pantry. Stella harshly scrubbed first the sticky floor from one row to another, whilst Rebecca disposed every popped balloon remains in the bag, shaking off any syrup stuck in it. Their progress was quite slow because some of the sticky area hardened, making them exert double energy which is more than what their bodies are capable of. Taking breaks in between increased, thinking how impossible it will be to accomplish this the entire day.

Not even halfway, a loud knock was made on the main door, the one from inside the house. “Come in!” Rebecca called out. The knob turned to its right and clicked open, which revealed the older kids, carrying spare cleaning materials and wearing similar frowns.

Stella stopped her actions. “What are you guys doing here?”

Beatrix put down her bucket and mop, entering inside the dirty room followed by the others. “I’m assuming you guys need some help after all that craziness you pulled off with Aunt Sierra.”

“But haven’t we been a burden enough to you all? This trip so far has been horrendous, at least we need to fix our mess down here.” Rebecca fired back, embarrassed to even look at them. Unexpectedly, Oliver advanced to her with his apron getup and declared, “To be honest, Rebecca, if any of us discovered the hidden intentions of a vicious woman like aunt Sierra on our parents, we would do absolutely everything to make sure that the bitch doesn’t walk free.”

“Also your strategy was crazy good, it serves her right!” Nick justified proudly. As much as it gave a short dose of hope and enlightenment to the twins, knowing their friends got their backs, they couldn’t help still feel guilty on bringing upon more emotional instability to their father.

“Thanks for the support, guys. Still though, we made our dad a lot more broken, and we can’t forgive ourselves for that.” Stella opens up, having trouble to maintain eye contact on anybody because of the shame. She may have blinked back tears because she isn’t one to show her vulnerability, another evident trait she got from her father. Less to her knowledge, Alex came to her aid with tissue paper on standby.

She was baffled, putting it away. “Thanks but no thanks, Alex. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t, Stella.”

He was right, and at the same time, one tear from Stella streamed down and he was the one to wipe them off with his thumb. Caressing her cheek, “It’s okay to be vulnerable, Stella.” He gave a hopeful grin, which was easily reciprocated with a tight hug. “T-Thank you, Alex.”

While they had their moment, the other kids were also silently cleaning those spots that the twins haven’t reached and faced the same struggles with the syrup. But now they was a lot more of them, the job was more time and energy-efficient. With that, the whole basement became spotless in another hour. Sharing jokes and another round of funny stories in between made the experience a lot less tense.

Now on their way to return to the ground room with their sweaty figures and full garbage bags, which they first leave by the front door, they were taken aback by all their parents, Luke included with red eyes from all the crying, explicitly arguing post-Sierra excluding Eleanor, who was sat in the couch really trying to get stressed due to the baby. This hindered them to go inside and stay behind the wall near the open entrance. Crystal was right behind Michael, who sided with Ashton. “Luke, you need to tell (Y/N) this.”

“I agree. What happened to no more secrecy?”

Calum joined in, giving a piece of his mind. “Mate, if you want things to work out between you two, you have to be honest. You lost her once, don’t do it again.”

Bryana had the last say. “And if you do so, she’ll give in and likely to share her perspective on why she didn’t tell you about her real relationship with Sierra.”

The anxiety within Luke couldn’t stop raising, not being able to think straight of what the right action is. He thought it was just Sierra keeping secrets, but you did too. Though knowing you all these years, whatever you choose to do and achieve in life always has a good reason behind it. It was thoughtful, yet a secret is a secret, which jeopardizes the trust of the relationship.

“I cannot lose her again, guys. When I tell her that I know, she’ll run away! That means Stella will go along too.”

“But Luke, isn’t the lack of trust the main reason you’ve ended it?” Eleanor caved in from the couch, offended at his defense because it led to her losing all contact with you, her best friend. Running away from Luke meant running away from everyone else.

Lifting herself up, her hands putting more pressure on her lower back to support her growing belly, she approached towards the lanky man. No pregnancy hormones caused her growing rage. “I have had it up to here with you. Not only did that factor caused you to lose the love of your life, but it caused everyone here to lose a friend and our kids to lose a great aunt. Fuck, (Y/N) was my best friend, whom I haven’t heard in over a decade! But mostly, your kids lost half of their parents. If that doesn’t disturb you enough, I have no idea what else will.”

As they eavesdropped, the kids couldn’t help feel the goosebumps up their arms by the hurt and may have gasped a little too vocally. The adults overheard it, sensing that their children kept an ear out for their mature conversation and becoming tenser since it’s like their happy, cheerful innocence was gone in a snap.

“Kids,” Ashton croaked, put his palm on his forehead to relieve the headache he’s bound to receive not so far from now. “We know you’re there. – Please do enter.”

As much as they didn’t want to, disobeying their rules would be a lot worse. One by one they’ve joined inside the crowd with their heads down because they were scared shitless, especially the twins who brought this to everyone. The sense of shame still stayed, aware that they could’ve approached it much more maturely.

“How much have you guys heard?” Bryana questioned, her heart weakens mostly at her kids with their doe eyes overfilled with fright.

“Enough to know that uncle Luke won’t tell anything that happened awhile ago to aunt (Y/N).” Scarlett replies on behalf, being the eldest after all.

Luke knew how energetic his niece was, but the softness of her voice made him feeble because he’s unintentionally brought back the decade old damage and it was just unacceptable for him to bring her and the other children down with him. He needs to get and give space, praying to the heavens that those kids would not have this piece of information get stuck in their heads for too long. It was just too soon for them to face this sort of reality. However, it was the twins’ reality, and it beats him up everyday. He should’ve done better.

Bringing back the need of space, he needs it starting right now.

“Rebecca Audrey Hemmings, Stella Charlotte (Y/L/N).” He directed his entire focus on the girls, who instantly elevated up their faces to his voice. “Pack your things, now.”

His tone was very serious, and very unlike him. But with all this pressure, it has took a toll on him. Not wanting any more trouble, they scurried their way out and to the stairs, trying not to slip from Sierra’s mess and make anymore delays.

Ashton, on the other hand, did not enjoy the way he instructed his kids despite his personal pressure. He negotiates, “Luke, don’t bring them into this. They are already as afraid as you are.”

“Are you their father, Ash? I just need s-space. So excuse us, but we’ll be on our way.” He bumped against the older man on the way out of the living room that became ironic because it now suffocates him in all aspects.

“Let me repeat what I said. – No one will speak of this morning to (Y/N).”

“Oh my, back so soon?”

Luke roughly dropped off his dufflebag, rethinking of the words he’s planning to say. The trip back home was intense and filled with deadly silence. The twins were too startled to make a sound since hwas already developed much more sensitivity with his environment. Fragile almost, so they resorted to talking through texts.

“Oh, we got an emergency meeting tomorrow, so we had to cancel. We’ll move it to next weekend, maybe you can join us this time?”

Fuck, you really wanted to go this time. But life as an actress isn’t always filled with vacations even if you go abroad a lot. By next week, you’ll be back in Los Angeles working. Just last night before heading to sleep, you received a long distance call from one of the producers of an action film where they’ve accepted you to play the main antagonist. This meant that the first meeting will be in a few days time, cutting off your stay.

“I would love to, but it’s just that,” Your hands clasped together.

“That?” Luke picked up. Your twins beside him were listening attentively, curious.

Heavily sighing, “I got a meeting with a producer this weekend, meaning I need to head back in a few days.” Your view then switched to Stella. “This also means you have to come back with me.”

As expected, she was quick to retort. “No! I don’t want to leave dad and Becks, not again.”

Rebecca was on the same plane with her. “I agree! Dad, do something please!”

Undoubtedly, he wanted to beg you to stay longer after everything, but work is work. A mantra you and he have followed ever since, and especially now as parents, it must be strictly applied if you want things between you to succeed. His mind has again overpowered his heart.

“Girls, I respect your mother’s priority of work, so since she has important work she needs to attend to, what she says goes.”

Half that statement he didn’t agree to, which was that if you left, there’s more deprivation of bonding time with Stella. He needed to catch up on everything she’s done, and Rebecca still needs to know her more.

Another thing with you leaving you again is that he can’t mend things as properly as he desired to. He’s afraid to lose you again.

But it isn’t like you weren’t feeling the same way. You’ve missed Rebecca, wherein there was never missed a day to think about her. You could’ve reached out, but you never did.

Then for Luke. Oh, Luke.

Although work is an important aspect, it was another factor that deteriorated your marriage. With fame comes time consuming plans and activities that would limit your family time, especially since you both reside on opposite sides of the world. You can’t stay away from them for too long again.

Then again, work is work. The girls grew cranky over it, like all their hard work was for nothing.

“I though you were on our side, dad.”

“I lost Stella and mom once, dad. Who knows when we’ll see each other again?”

On that note, they spontaneously left the scene of the discussion, going up the stairs with frowns and heavy hearts. You felt your heart drop too by their disappointment, investing your sight now on Luke, whom by the crooked grin he gave off, reciprocated the feeling.

“Fuck,” You groaned, returning to sit down at the couch and burying your face in your hands. “I’ve already failed this family.”

Luke took upon himself to comfort you at your saddened state, putting aside him personal misery and sat right next to you, rubbing your back up and down. “They’ll come around eventually, they are 11 years old. And come on, hasn’t work always been a huge priority for us, love?”

Love. He’s said it a few times throughout this trip, but now, it felt much stranger. You might’ve felt electrified it, but regardless. It’s just a title, right?

“It was when we were still married.”

“But it’s more important now because we have the twins.” He affirmed. He had a point, and from where you stand when everything is crumbling down, you would accept any useful advice to help you.

“You know what, you’re right. They must already understand how hard it can be to balance work and family. They are still equally important, but this job, I cannot simply turn it down because I’m meeting with other great actors. I can’t be disrespectful.”

“Well, there you go!” Luke praised, gladly patting your shoulder with your realization. “Why are you still so glum, love?”

There he goes again, and somehow you could feel much more comfortable around him to express more. His eyes were gleaming with concern, anticipating to listen.

He’s always been a really good listener. He didn’t brush his hair that much either, but it still looks good on him. Curly hair has always suited him. Distinctly, he bit his lip whenever he is sad to see others feeling down because he always wanted everyone to be okay, and here he did. Though another reason he would bite his lip is he was turned on.

Luke hated seeing you like this, quietly mourning over being a failure so early in the restarting process of familyhood. It still haunts him that the both of you took one twin away, and now that they found each other, it forced you to talk and straighten things out in a flash. But you’re both still pained by the past, and it isn’t easy to simply open up to each other, especially now when you have different significant others. Well, Luke had. Though he knows Timmy has a high dislike for him, he’s there for the sake of his daughters.

But with you, there is one thing he cannot stop thinking about: your happiness. If Timmy can make you happy in better ways, then so be it. After all, it’s all parental right. But he wouldn’t be lying if he didn’t find you beautiful during the premiere or gorgeous by the way your spectacles drooped to your nose when you were reading awhile ago. Not only that, he found it cute to find you focused on the book, the way your brows knitted when a certain chapter irritated you.

Wait, what was he thinking?

But hey, what were you thinking too?

Snap out of it!

“(Y/N), you okay? You haven’t answered my question.” He shook his hand in front of your face while you were spacing out, and staring at him too.

“I preferred love more than my name.”

“Oh sorry there. - I’m pretty bummed because I don’t want to mess things up again. I can’t lose Becks and you again for good.” You worried, not realizing how you were leaning closer to him. He took you by the wrists, clasping them together between his large hands.

“You won’t, (Y/N). As much as I fear the same, there is no fucking way I’ll let it happen. We can work this out.” He promises, hoping for the best in the future. With wisdom comes intimacy, which is followed by the close proximity of your faces.

Specifically both your lips.

You could’ve sworn he brought himself closer first, but habitually, you returned the gesture. Maybe some old habits don’t die too easily.

His blue orbs were as beautiful as you’ve looked into them deeper, diving into his spell that you can’t resist like previously. He barely had any wrinkles on his face, though his eyebags got darker and his scruff is bushier. You could think of other things to describe his gorgeous physique.

The way you licked your lips, which is a sign of you being nervous or contemplating different choices in your head, got him wrapped around your finger. The short-lived grin you gave to show him that you accept his help was too precious, almost like he was falling for you all over again.

There was strong tension building up, but your self control was working stronger. Gaining personal respect towards each other these past weeks has led to respect towards your life decisions. There was no way either of you could blow this up. Nonetheless, you freely picture yourself wrapping your arm around his neck to pull nearer to get a taste of him. Just once and that’s it.

Your mind is always the dominating party, why don’t you let your heart take charge for once? Besides, did you really mean by what you say, that it’s all parental? The white shirt that grew transparent from his sweat showcases his fit abdomen and his long neck was clean. Too clean.

You accidentally caught a glimpse of his tightened crotch on his chino shorts, the length of his member visibly seen on the side. If only you could give it a - okay self, what the actual.

Luke was too tempted to swoop under your waist and on to his lap where he let you straddle his waist with your legs. He can imagine you tugging on his locks and peppering his neck with short kisses, maybe sucking on his weak spot more deeply and roughly.

Shit, you were only wearing sleeping shorts, flowy and only up to your butt. If he just slide in his digits up inside your - fuck, stop right there! He jerked back first, trying to calm his dirty thoughts because he is no longer obliged to think that way anymore. You in the other hand moved away as well, rethinking on how stupid you were to do that.

“Stop, self. Let him go. He has Sierra as his bride now.”

“No, Luke. You blew your chance, and she’s already happy with Timothée.”

Left with your withering realizations, a ding sound echoed the area, alleviating the massive awkwardness that developed. Instantly checking who it belongs to, it was yours.

[12:35 PM] Timmy Tim: Can we please talk?

Scoffing lightly, he still had the nerve to reach out to a wound that is still so fresh and stinging.

[12:38 PM] (Y/N) angel: Why? “I drunkenly cheated” isn’t big enough?

“Who is it, (Y/N)?” Luke shouted from behind, hearing the clashing of a few pans accidentally which made you giggle because he’s always been clumsy. At the same time, your phone dinged again.

[12:40 PM] Timmy Tim: Please (Y/N). I’m so sorry.

“Oh, just the same producer. - And oi, be careful! We don’t wanna to nearly burn the house down like before!”

“I’ll try!”

Rolling your eyes because the short banter brought you back to the old days, he actually bought the half lie. As terrible as at is, you didn’t want to bring him to your personal relationship issues. The less people, the better. You try to distract yourself by rereading some of the chapter you were stuck at to get a better understanding of the plot, yet your mind kept on reflecting on Timmy. By his texts, you can vibe his sincerity although it was you who was the victim.

Ignorance from you is improbable since you preferred facing your dilemmas head on, and you couldn’t become a lie of your own words. Though there is pain, ignoring it prolongs it. It’s closure or nothing. Snatching your phone from the coffee table, you typed out your frustration. Only mildly, you call the time to express when you see him next.

[12:55 PM] (Y/N) angel: Fine. Noon, the Café Sweetener near your hotel. Oh, and I’m sorry too, that I was too dense to not have realized sooner.

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antigenitalisticrrrriot · 8 years ago

Quote

Was mich genervt hat: Heute Gespräch mit einer neuen Bekannten "... ja und die Transsexuellen werden ja auch oft ... " ich: "es geht ja schon los damit, daß alle denken, sie als "die Transsexuellen" bezeichnen zu dürfen, können und müssen." sie: "heißt das nicht so?" ich: "das solltest du denen überlassen, die du so nennst. Wenn du es nicht weißt, dann solltest du es auch nicht sagen." sie: "ja, aber ich kenn einen, der sagt, für ihn.." ich: "für ihn oder für sie?" sie: "ihn, glaub ich..." ich: "wenn du alle in eine Gruppe packst, die du für "transsexuell" hältst, ist das schon zu viel. Ich kenn einige, denen das übel aufstößt. Das Wort kommt von außen, von irgendwelchen Ärzten und Forschern, die sich ne goldene Nase am Elend verdienen wollten. So wie sich jetzt Künstler, Fotographen und schwul-lesbische Fachverbände und wer sonst die Sachen instrumentalisiert, ohne sich für politische Änderungen einzusetzen, eine goldene Nase verdienen. Und eine Person, die keinen Bock drauf hat, "transexuell" genannt zu werden, reicht schon." sie: "Das ist mir neu. Was soll man denn sonst sagen?" ich: "Falsch zugewiesen vielleicht. Von Genitalismus betroffene oder Frauen mit Schwänzen, keine Ahnung. Warum überhaupt abstempeln? Wenn es um die Unterdrückung geht, benennt man besser die Unterdrückung, nicht die Gruppe derer, die darunter leiden müssen." usw. Immer wenn ich solche Gespräche führe, fang ich an, die andere Person zu hassen. Dann mich selber. Ich möchte nicht in dieser Position sein, schon garnicht, wenn ich nicht weiß, ob ich gerade Passing hab oder nicht. Passing als was eigentlich? Ich will nicht auf Lehrerin machen und dabei nur meine eigenen Grundbedürfnisse von Respekt mir gegenüber schützen wollen, aber ich habe auch keinen Bock mehr, mich und alle in diese "TS" Schublade stecken zu lassen. TS ist was, das nach verklemmter Fetishpornographie und Ärzten mit eben jenem Fetisch klingt, die Leid ausschlachten wollen. Das klingt nach einem Elend und Unterjochung, die nie enden wird. Als wäre sie natürlich. Als gäbe es "transsexualität". Aber es gibt keine "transsexualität", es gibt nur Scheiße im Kopf von Leuten, die ein Problem mit Frauen mit Schwänzen und Männern mit Muschis haben, weil sie eine faschistische "die Mehrheit hat immer Recht, gerade auch bei Körpern" Meinung im Kopf haben, deren Auswucherungen das Hirngespinst der "Transsexualität" geschaffen haben, so auswuchernd, das selbst die von diesem pathologischen Feindbild betroffenen, auf die dieses produziert wird. Transsexualität, dieses Hirngespinst dient in erster Linie Ärzten, merkwürdigen Fetischisten, der oberen Klasse ("spalte und herrsche") und Männern, die leichte Beute suchen, vielleicht noch Leuten, die gerne Opfer suchen. Sexualisierung und Pornoisierung nach dem Huren und Heilige Prinzip, jeder behauptet, "damit nichts zu tun zu haben", aber dann seht euch an, welch großen Anteil die Pornos im Marktsegment haben, aha, bei sowenig Leuten, die diese Pornos machen (können), man sollte die Pornoisierung und abwertende Exo- und Fetishisierung ablehnen, vielleicht sogar bekämpfen, nur dann ist es möglich aus dem Elend dieser gesellschaftlichen Isolation, in einer Schmuddelecke irgendwo ganz unten in der Gesellschaft, heraus zu kommen. Keinem Mann, keiner Frau irgendwelche Zuneigung zugestehen, der/die nicht auch Händchen haltend mit dir durch die Straße geht, jedem, der dich als "TS" begehrt, ins Gesicht spucken (möglichst wortwörtlich), jedem Hater so brutal wie möglich klarmachen, mit welchen Mächten er sich da einlässt (und dabei die Kraft oder auch Magie nutzen, die das Verdammt Sein durch die Gesellschaft so bringt), jedem Arzt, jedem Gutachter, jedem sonstigen Fremdbestimmer so gut es geht dessen eigene Erbärmlichkeit und Durchschaubarkeit demonstrieren, und, der wichtigste Punkt, die Dinge, die zum aus der Isolation herauskommen notwendig sind, auch einfordern und benennen (kein Geschlechtseintrag bei Geburt, keine Genitalismen dulden, kein Gutachterverfahren, keine sonstige Fremdbestimmung, keine Akzeptanz von Herabwertung, Fetishisierung, Exotisierung,Sonderbehandlung allgemein). Das "Borderlinige" mit dem wir oft assoziiert werden, betrifft weniger uns, vielmehr den Umgang durch die Gesellschaft, der wir ausgesetzt werden. Kriminelle, menschenverachtende Übergriffe durch schmierige alte Männer, durch Gutachter, durch Leute, die uns als Kunstobjekte oder politische Projektionsfläche missbrauchen wollen, diskriminierende, oft auch körperliche Angriffe durch fehlgeleitet homophobe Arschlöcher, die ebenfalls eigene Probleme auf uns projizieren und andere Grenzüberschreitungen, die oftmals im dunkeln ablaufen und signifikant häufiger sind als gegenüber anderen Menschen, wie soll man da lernen, Grenzen zu setzen und einzuhalten? Darum ist auch die Bewegung so schwach und hält gerade jetzt ihren Mund, wo es Chancen gäbe, aufzustehen und Dinge einzufordern, statt sich in künstlichen, allen Beteiligten schadenden "LGBTIQ-Gruppen" einpferchen zu lassen und abzurackern, mit dem einzigen Resultat, daß man, so wie alle anderen auch, unsichtbar und gemutet geworden ist und bleibt, daß die eigene Energie verpufft, das ist keine Option, das ist ein Albtraum. Überhaupt mutet die Achse "LGBT/nicht LGBT" nach kaltem Krieg an, das kann nur schiefgehen. Diese Mauer sollte schleunigst überwunden werden, aber die anderen Ansprüche und Grenzen (nichts auf unsere Kosten, keine Kompromisse zu unseren Ungunsten und den Ungunsten unserer Rechte, Freiheiten und unserer Gesundheit und Selbstbestimmung) sollten ernst genommen und immer durchgezogen werden, es ändert sich nicht deswegen nichts an unserem RL-Elend, weil wir zu verbissen der kooperativ wären, sondern weil wir zu wenig an unseren Rechten, Ansprüchen und unserer Gleichheit festhalten und ständig uns mit Medien und Kultur umgeben, die uns gegenüber feindlich, ausgrenzend und verachtend handelt und schreibt. Wir brauchen eigene Räume, eigene Kanäle und wieder eine eigene Stimme, nicht diese ganzen halbherzigen LGBT-Kaspervereine und Feministinnendemos mit Sternchenanhang. Aber wahrscheinlich wird das nur in anderen Ländern was? Ich lehne das Wort "trans" in jeglichem Sinne inzwischen auch besonders deshalb kategorisch ab, weil es nach sich mit unerträglichen Zuständen abfinden und sich als Monster und übersexuelles vogelfreies Etwas von niederem Wert behandeln und zuweisen lassen riecht. Da ziehe ich die Grenze und weil die Grenze gezogen ist, bleibt trans, transsexuell, transgender und alles was damit assoziiert wird, auch außen vor und seitdem fange ich wieder an zu leben, gefährlich aber auch nicht gefährlicher, als wenn man das von außen vorgesetzte Gift an sich ran und in sich rein lässt. All das kommt immer wieder in mir hoch, wenn ich Gespräche führe wie jenes, das ich oben beschrieben habe.

ZP in einem Forum, spontan

What annoyed me: Today talk with a new acquaintance

"... yes and the transsexuals are also often ..." I: "It is already happening that everyone thinks they can and must be called" the transsexuals "." She: "Don´t you say so?" I: "You should leave it to those whom you call. If you do not know it, then you should not say it." She: "yes, but I know one who says, for him .." I: "for him or for her?" She: "him, I believe ..." I: "if you put everyone in a group you think is" transsexual ", that's already too much. I know some of those who do not like the evil. The word comes from outside, from some doctors and researchers who wished to earn a golden nose by misery. Just as artists, photographers and gay-lesbian professional associations and who otherwise instrumentalized the things without going for political changes to earn a golden nose.

And a person who has no desire to be called "transexual" Is enough. " She: "That's new to me, what else can you say?" I: "Incorrectly/wrong assigned maybe, people affected by genitalism or women with tails, no idea why at all stamp When it comes to oppression, it is better to call the oppression, not the group of those who suffer from it. " etc. Whenever I do such talks, I start hating the other person. Then myself. I do not want to be In this position, already not at all, if I do not know whether I have straight Passing or not. Passing as what? I do not want to act as a teacher while I only have to protect my own basic needs of respect towards myself, But I also don´t want me and all all others to be put into the “ts” category. TS is something that sounds like a fetishpornography and doctors with the same fetish that wants to slaughter out/exploit suffering. This sounds like a misery and subjugation that will never end. As if it were natural. As if there was "transsexuality". But there is no "transsexuality", there is only shit in the head of people who have a problem with women with tails and men with pussies because they have a fascist "the majority is always right and better, even in bodies" opinion in mind , Whose proliferations have created the brain-girdle of "transsexuality," so proliferating that even those affected by this pathological enemy image to which it is produced support it. Transsexuality, this hypocrisy is primarily used by physicians, strange fetishists, the upper class ("splitting and reigning") and men who are looking for easy prey, perhaps even people who are looking for victims. Sexualization and pornography after the whores and the holy principle, everyone claims "to have nothing to do with it," but then look at the big part the porn in the market segment, aha, with few people who can make these pornos, , One should reject, perhaps even fight, pornography and devaluation of exo and fetishism, only then is it possible to get out of the misery of this social isolation, in a drudge, somewhere at the bottom of society. No man, no woman any kind of affection, who also does not hold hands with you through the street, to spit in the face (as literally as possible) every person who covets you as "TS", with every hatter as brutally as possible (And thus use the power or magic that brings the condemned being through society), to every physician, to every expert, to every other foreign determinant as well as to demonstrate their own miserability and transparency The most important point is to ask and name the things necessary to get out of the isolation (no gender entry at birth, no genitalism tolerance, no juristical expert or judge “allowment” procedure to correct your name and what you are else, no other determination, no acceptance of degradation, fetishisation, exoticism, special treatment in general). The "borderline" with which we are often associated is less concerned with us, rather the way we are treated by the society we are exposed to. Criminals, despairing by greasy old men, by experts, by people who want to abuse us as art objects or political projection surfaces, discriminatory, often physical attacks by misguided homophobic assholes, which also project their own problems on us and other border crossings, often in the Dark and are significantly more frequent than compared to other people, how should one learn to set boundaries and comply with them? That is why the movement is so weak, and now holds its mouth, where there are chances to get up and demand things, instead of being allowed to pluck in and break down into "LGBTIQ groups", which are harmful to all parties, with the sole result that one , Just like everyone else, has become and remains invisible and muted, and that hisher/its/... own energy evaporates, this is not an option, it is a nightmare. At all, the axis "LGBT / not LGBT" appears like the cold war, which can only go wrong. This wall was to be swiftly overcome, but the other demands and limits (nothing at our expense, no compromises to our disadvantage, and the disadvantage of our rights, freedoms, and our health and self-determination) should be taken seriously and always interspersed Nothing in our misery because we are too coercive, but because we too little hold on to our rights, our claims and our equality, and constantly surround ourselves with the media and culture which opposes and writes against us, hostile, marginal and contemptuous. We need our own rooms, our own channels and our own voice, not all of the half-hearted LGBT-clownclub and feminist demonstration with a starry pendent. But probably only in other countries? In the meantime, I reject the word "trans" categorically, in particular, because it can be tolerated by intolerable conditions, and can be treated as a monster and overtly bird-free something of low value. Since I draw the border and because the border is drawn, trans, transsexual, transgender and all that is associated with it, also outside before and since then I begin to live again, dangerous but also not more dangerous than if one from the outside Poison in itself and let in itself. All of this always comes back to me when I talk like the one I described above.

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