#one day......ill have people who do the bare minimum

[minglana]

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[helen-with-an-a]

sucker for angst can I please request one where putellas!reader is the youngest and gets a heart attack on the field and mapi is the first one to do cpr (alexia is almost inconsolable) very angsty with comforting end

Hiiii - thank you so much for this, I loved writing it. I tried to keep the details of CPR to a minimum, but also I was a lifeguard for over 5 years, and being trained in CPR was essential in our work, so the CPR instructions are true and accurate. I hope that this might stick in someone's mind and should the worst ever happen, you mind be able to remember what to do.

Memory

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Alexia Putellas x sister!Reader

Description: Memory is a blessing and a curse when the Reader falls unconscious during a match

Content Warning: CPR, Medical issues, Illness

Word Count: 6.7k

Alexia prided herself on her memory. It was something she was exceptionally confident in, a skill that had always set her apart. Every little detail, from the exact dates of events to the clothes people were wearing, and even who said what, was meticulously catalogued in her mind.

She could never forget the day her world began to change, the day she first learned about you. Eleven-year-old Alexia was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor beside Alba both of them barely able to contain their excitement as Mami and Papi called them over. The room had an air of something important, something life-altering. And then, with a smile that Alexia could still see in her mind's eye, her mother gently placed a hand on her growing belly and told them the news. Frijolita, they said. A little bean. That’s what they called you before you even had a name. You were the baby who would soon complete their family, the littlest sister who would turn their duo into a trio. Alexia had felt a surge of excitement and responsibility all at once. The idea of having a new sibling was thrilling, but there was something deeper, an unspoken promise she made to herself to always look out for you.

The memory of your actual arrival was just as vivid. Alexia had just turned twelve, the birthday balloons still clinging to the walls of her room. It was the early hours of the morning when her Tío gently shook her awake, his voice hushed but full of excitement. "She's here," he whispered. She had leaped out of bed, her heart racing, and hurried to the hospital, the world outside still dark and quiet. The moment she saw you, bundled up and sleeping peacefully, she felt a connection so strong it was as if she had known you her entire life. You were tiny, fragile, yet perfect. She cried when she met you – the tears slipping down her cheeks as she pressed the gentlest of kisses to your forehead, promising that she would do anything to protect you.

As the years passed, you grew, and so did Alexia's collection of memories. She remembered a three-year-old you, all curiosity and energy, those wide hazel eyes – so much like hers – looking up at her with an innocent plea. You wanted to join her in the backyard as she practiced her skills, your small hands tugging at her shirt, your voice insistent. Despite your age, your determination was unwavering, and Alexia couldn’t resist. She let you chase after the ball, your laughter ringing through the air, a sound that still echoed in her heart.

Then there was the memory of a five-year-old you, stubborn as ever, refusing to be left out. You had clambered onto her lap with surprising force, your small arms wrapping around her as if you were afraid to let go. It was a day she could never forget – your mother sitting on the couch, tears streaming down her face, her heart breaking over your father. The room was heavy with grief, but you, in your innocent determination, had climbed into Alexia's lap as if she could shield you from the sadness, as if being close to her would make everything better. And in that moment, Alexia held you tightly, whispering reassurances she wasn’t even sure of herself. You had looked up at her with those same hazel eyes, filled with trust, and she had made another silent promise – to be the strongest she could, to be strong for you, even when the world around them seemed to be falling apart.

You were ten when you nearly broke her front door down one Saturday afternoon, bursting into the house with a flurry of excitement and noise that filled every corner. The commotion you caused was so overwhelming that it convincingly distracted her from the anger and confusion that had first crossed her mind. She had been startled by the loud banging, wondering who could be causing such a ruckus, but all of that was forgotten the moment she saw you.

"They want me! They want me!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the house as you ran from room to room, barely able to contain your excitement. Nala  was just as caught up in the moment, barking and dancing around your feet as if she, too, understood the magnitude of what was happening. You were like a whirlwind, full of energy and joy, and it took a full thirty minutes before you could calm down enough to finally show her the papers you had been clutching so tightly.

When she saw the bold lettering at the top – FC Barcelona La Masia – her heart skipped a beat. Barcelona wanted you. Her little sister, the one she had watched grow and develop her skills with relentless passion, had been noticed by one of the most prestigious football institutions in the world. It was more than a dream come true; it was a validation of all the hard work, all the sacrifices, and all the moments of doubt you had overcome.

As you stood there, beaming with pride, she felt a rush of emotions – pride, joy, and an overwhelming sense of love. This wasn’t just about football; this was about you stepping into a world that would shape your future. And it wasn’t just you – both of you were going to be a part of this journey. The Putellas sisters, together, taking on Barcelona one football game at a time. The thought of the two of you, side by side, wearing the Blaugrana that meant so much to both of you, filled her with an unshakable sense of pride.

But that was just the beginning.

You were sixteen when the next milestone came, a moment that felt like a leap forward in your already impressive journey. You were asked to join the First Team for training. The First Team – the very thought of it was overwhelming. These were players you had idolised, professionals whose skills you had studied and admired. Your sister and all her friends. And now, at just sixteen, you were being invited to train alongside them, to learn from them, to be a part of the team you had dreamed of since you were a little girl kicking a ball around in the backyard.

She remembered how nervous you were that day, how you had paced around the house, trying to hide the anxiety that had crept up alongside your excitement. But she knew you better than anyone, and she could see it in your eyes—the mix of fear and determination that drove you. You were stepping into a new world, one where the stakes were higher, the expectations greater. But she also knew that if anyone was ready for this challenge, it was you.

Then, at seventeen, the dream became even more real. You signed your official first-team contract, a moment that felt both surreal and inevitable. She could still picture the moment when you put pen to paper, your hands steady despite the weight of the moment. This was what you had worked for, what you had sacrificed so much for. It was a culmination of years of dedication, of early mornings and late nights, of triumphs and setbacks. And as you looked up at her, holding that contract in your hands, she saw the same determination in your eyes that had always been there, but now there was something more – confidence, pride, and the knowledge that this was only the beginning.

Mapi also prides herself on her memories. While she might not hold onto every detail with the same intensity as Alexia, she has a knack for remembering the important things, the moments that matter most. And among those cherished memories, the first time she met you stands out vividly, a snapshot in time that she can recall with remarkable clarity.

You were eleven, full of youthful energy and wide-eyed excitement, attending one of Alexia's international matches. It was a big day for your sister, but it was just as important for you. You had always looked up to Alexia, admiring her talent and determination, and now you were there to witness her shine on an international stage, surrounded by the vibrant atmosphere of the stadium.

Mapi remembers seeing you for the first time as you stood by your Mami in the crowd, almost bouncing on your toes with anticipation. Your Mami was talking to someone behind you – another mother of one of the players probably. But your eyes were glued to the pitch. Even at that young age, there was something about you that caught her attention. Maybe it was the way your eyes sparkled with excitement, or the way you clung to every word and action as if trying to absorb everything at once. Or perhaps it was the unmistakable resemblance to Alexia, not just in your features but in the determination and passion that radiated from you. There was a quiet intensity in your gaze, a seriousness beyond your years, as if you understood the gravity of the moment.

As the match played on, Mapi found herself glancing over at you more than once. She was struck by how engaged you were, how you seemed to be analysing every play, every movement on the field, as if you were learning from it, storing it away for future use. It wasn’t just a game to you; it was a lesson, an opportunity to understand what it took to play at the highest level. And even though you were just a kid, Mapi could see that same spark in you that had driven Alexia to greatness.

After the match, when the excitement had calmed down and the players were mingling with friends and family, Mapi finally had the chance to meet you. She remembers how you were practically glowing with pride as you stood beside your sister, your eyes wide with admiration, her name emblazoned across your back. When Alexia introduced you, Mapi couldn’t help but smile at the way you looked up at her, a mix of shyness and awe in your expression. You were polite, a little reserved, but there was no mistaking the respect and admiration you held for her as one of your sister's teammates.

That first meeting was brief, just a few words exchanged, but it left a lasting impression on Mapi. She saw the potential in you, the same drive that had made Alexia a star. There was no doubt in her mind that you were destined for something great, that you would follow in your sister’s footsteps and make your own mark in the world of football. Even then, at just eleven years old, it was clear that you had the heart of a champion.

She also remembered the shy, yet quietly determined 16-year-old who showed up to training for the first time. You had arrived at the training grounds with an air of nervous excitement. You kept glancing across to Alexia, like a child looking back to their mother, for reassurance and support.

The first thing Mapi noticed was your outfit – specifically, the training top you were wearing. It was unmistakably Alexia’s, and it was about three sizes too big for you. The sleeves fell well past your elbows, and the hem completely covered your shorts, but there was something endearing about the way you wore it. It was as if you were carrying a piece of your sister’s legacy with you, a tangible connection to the one who had inspired you to reach this point. It spoke of the bond between you and Alexia, a silent acknowledgment of the footsteps you were following.

Despite the oversized top and the nerves that were probably churning in your stomach, there was a quiet determination in your eyes. Mapi could see it the moment you stepped onto the pitch – a hair tie securing the loose fabric behind you – your focus laser-sharp, your mind set on one thing: proving yourself. There was no hesitation in your movements, no sign of the intimidation that so often accompanies a young player stepping into a world filled with seasoned professionals. You might have been shy off the field, but on it, you were something else entirely.

As the drills began, it quickly became apparent that you were no ordinary 16-year-old. The way you passed the ball, with skill and precision that belied your age, caught everyone’s attention. Each touch was deliberate, controlled, executed with an almost instinctual understanding of the game. Your technique was flawless, the kind that only comes from years of practice and a deep, innate love for the sport. Mapi watched as you moved through the drills with ease, your focus unbroken, your determination shining through with every pass, every turn, every sprint.

Mapi couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she watched you. She had always known you had talent, but seeing you in action, seeing the way you handled yourself on the pitch, was something else entirely. You weren’t just Alexia’s little sister anymore; you were a force in your own right, a player who was ready to carve out her own path, to make her own name in the world of football.

That first day of training was a glimpse into your future, a future that was clearly bright and full of promise. Mapi knew, as did everyone who watched you that day, that you were destined for greatness. You had the skill, the determination, and the heart of a champion. And even in that oversized training top, you stood tall, a young player on the brink of something extraordinary.

You stood behind your sister in the tunnel. the familiar hum of the stadium echoing around you, the distant roar of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. It was a ritual at this point—Alexia, Cata, you. The three of you always lined up in that order, a reassuring familiarity that helped ease the anxiety before every match. The tunnel was a place of anticipation, where the nerves were almost palpable, but this small routine gave you a sense of calm, a reminder that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As you stood there, your heart thumping with adrenaline, you glanced down at the back of your shirt. Alexia’s name, which had once been proudly emblazoned there during your younger years, was now replaced with your own. It was a symbol of how far you’d come, a marker of your journey from being the little sister who idolised her sibling to becoming a player in your own right. Seeing your name, bold and unmistakable, brought a swell of pride. It was a reminder of the hard work, the sacrifices, and the countless hours of training that had brought you to this moment.

The tunnel, though dimly lit, was alive with energy. Your teammates around you were focused, their faces set with determination. You could hear the steady breathing of Cata in front of you, the way she subtly bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to charge onto the field. And just ahead of her was Alexia, your constant source of inspiration. Even without seeing her face, you could sense her confidence, her leadership. She was the captain, not just in title but in every action, every word. Knowing she was right there, just a step ahead, gave you the reassurance you needed.

It was a typical day in Barcelona—the sun was shining, casting a warm golden glow over everything, and the familiar smell of the sea lingered on the breeze. The city was alive with its usual rhythm, but for you, time seemed to slow as you stepped onto the pitch, crossing yourself in a ritual that had become second nature. Your movements were perfectly synchronised with Alexia’s, a mirror image of the routine you both had followed for years. It was more than just a habit; it was a connection, a shared moment of focus, reminding yourselves of who you were doing this for as the game began.

There had always been a running joke among your friends, family, and even the fans that you, Alexia, and Alba were practically identical – three sisters, a true copy and paste of your parents. From your mother’s eyes to your father’s smile, the resemblance was uncanny. Growing up, it was something you’d heard often, especially whenever the three of you were together. But now, as you stood on the pitch, it was even more apparent.

You had begun to shed the baby fat in your cheeks, your features sharpening into a striking reflection of your sister’s. Your jawline had become more defined, your cheekbones more pronounced, and the athletic build you had worked so hard to develop was now unmistakable. With every passing day, the similarities between you and Alexia grew more evident, not just in appearance but in the way you carried yourself – your poise, your determination, and your unyielding focus on the game.

It was at halftime when you started to feel a little funny, a subtle sensation that crept up on you without warning. You hadn’t really noticed anything was off until Jana, always quick with a joke, pointed it out. “Hey, you look like you just ran a marathon,” she teased, nudging you playfully. “Might need a change of shirt during the break, unless you’re trying to start a new trend.”

You laughed it off, brushing her comment aside with a grin. But as you walked off the pitch and toward the locker room, you couldn’t ignore the nagging discomfort that was beginning to settle in. Your shirt clung to your skin, drenched with sweat in a way that felt excessive, even for the intensity of the match. The usual rush of adrenaline that kept you focused seemed to be fading, replaced by a heavy, sluggish feeling that you couldn’t quite shake.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was buzzing with the usual energy. Teammates were talking strategy, rehydrating, and catching their breath, but you found yourself moving slower than usual, your head feeling slightly foggy. You tried to shake it off, chalking it up to nerves or maybe just the heat of the day, but there was a small voice in the back of your mind that told you something wasn’t quite right.

As you sat down on the bench, you reached for your water bottle, hoping that a good drink would clear the haze. The plastic felt cool against your palm, but your grip was looser than it should have been, as if your fingers weren’t quite responding the way you wanted them to. You took a long sip, letting the water flow down your throat, but it didn’t do much to shake the growing sense of unease that was settling in your chest.

Alexia, always in tune with your every move, noticed the slight frown on your face as you lowered the bottle. She had been watching you closely, her instincts kicking in the moment she saw the unusual look in your eyes. She knew you better than anyone—better than you sometimes knew yourself—and it didn’t take much for her to sense that something wasn’t right.

“Everything okay, Frijolita?” she asked, her voice soft, casual, but with that unmistakable undertone of concern. She wasn’t asking as your captain, with the authority and responsibility that title carried. No, this was your big sister speaking, the one who had looked out for you from the moment you were born, who had always been there to protect you, guide you, and make sure you were okay. The nickname, a tender reminder of your childhood, held a warmth that made you feel safe, even in moments like this when you didn’t feel quite yourself.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Malvavisco,” you replied quickly, forcing a smile that you hoped would reassure her. The nickname you used for her – a playful nod to her sweet and soft side, despite her tough exterior – was meant to lighten the mood, to show her that you were okay, that you could handle this. “Just a bit more tired than usual, I guess.”

But even as the words left your mouth, you knew they didn’t quite fit. “Tired” wasn’t the right description for what you were feeling. It was something deeper, more unsettling. There was a heaviness in your limbs that didn’t belong there, a dull ache that seemed to radiate from your muscles, as if they were protesting against some unseen force. And then there was that strange warmth, an unnatural heat that didn’t seem to come from the usual exertion of the game. It was like your body was trying to tell you something, sending signals that you didn’t fully understand yet.

Alexia didn’t miss a beat. “Mm hm, keep drinking, little and often, okay?” she said, her tone gentle but firm. It was clear she wasn’t entirely convinced by your reassurances, and she wasn’t about to let you brush this off. She knew you too well for that. Her words carried a quiet insistence, a way of saying that she was watching you, that she was here for you no matter what.

You nodded, taking another sip of water, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the unease that was gnawing at you. You wanted to push through it, to tell yourself that it was just a momentary blip, that you’d be fine once the second half started. But the truth was, you weren’t sure. The heaviness in your limbs, the trembling in your hands, the warmth that didn’t seem to belong—they were all telling you that this wasn’t something you could just ignore. You would get it checked after the match.

Alexia and Mapi both curse their memories now, those sharp, unforgiving recollections that refuse to fade with time. What once had been a source of pride – a keen sense of recall that allowed them to remember every crucial play, every victory, every shared moment of joy on and off the pitch – had turned into something they wished they could escape. Now, their memories played on a relentless loop, like an unwanted movie they couldn’t pause, rewind, or fast-forward through. It was always there, lurking in the quiet moments, ready to spring to life when they least expected it.

For Alexia, her memory was a double-edged sword. She had always relied on it to guide her through matches, to anticipate her opponent’s next move, to recall every piece of advice from her coaches. But now, it betrayed her, forcing her to relive that day over and over again. She could see it all so clearly – the way the sunlight had filtered through the stadium, the way your face had looked so determined, so focused. And then, the way it had changed, how you had suddenly seemed smaller, paler, as if the very life was draining out of you in front of her eyes. She cursed her memory for making her relive that moment when she first realised something was wrong, the gnawing sense of dread that had settled in her gut, the helplessness that had gripped her as she watched you struggle.

Mapi, too, was haunted by the vividness of her recollections. She had always prided herself on her ability to remember the important things – the strategies, the nuances of her teammates’ styles, the camaraderie they shared. But now, her memory was a tormentor, dragging her back to that moment when everything had shifted. She could still hear the way the crowd’s cheers had faded into a dull roar in her ears, the way the world had seemed to narrow down to the sight of you, struggling to stand, your hands trembling, your breath laboured. It was as if time had slowed, trapping her in that scene, unable to do anything but watch in horror.

They both cursed the vividness of those memories, the way they intruded on their thoughts without warning. It wasn’t just the images that haunted them – the sight of you unsteady on your feet, the trainer rushing to your side, the way the game had suddenly become unimportant in the face of what was happening – it was the emotions that came flooding back with them. The fear, the panic, the desperate hope that you would be okay, and the crushing reality that followed. Those feelings were as raw now as they were then, refusing to dull with time.

You dropped like a bag of bricks. Like a marionette with its strings cut. Like a stack of Jenga blocks being knocked to the ground. One moment you were standing, the next, you were a heap on the floor. You were lucky in some sense. You had no memory of that moment. You felt unwell, your heart was racing too fast, an uncomfortable pressure sitting on your chest. And then nothing. Blackness. Emptiness.

In that blackness, time seemed to lose its meaning. Seconds could have stretched into hours, or minutes might have slipped by in the blink of an eye. The blackness was absolute, a quiet, oppressive void that seemed to hold its breath along with you. It was an eerie calm; it was peaceful but unsettling. It shouldn’t be this calm. It was game day – game days were never this calm.

Outside of the blackness, it was anything but calm. Mapi had been the closest to you. She heard your sharp intake of breath. She had seen the way you crumpled like a house of cards. She tasted the iron in her mouth as she dropped beside you.

Mapi had never been more grateful for her memory in that moment. She hadn’t wanted to attend the optional first aid course that Barça was putting on for the players. Captain’s had to attend, she did not. It was Ingrid who had insisted, her rationale simple and persuasive: “It won’t do any harm to know first aid. You never know when it might come in handy.” At the time, Mapi had seen it as a minor inconvenience, a waste of a perfectly good free afternoon.

Are they responsive?: She gently shook your shoulder and called out softly, “Frijolita, can you hear me?” There was no response. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to remain calm.

Ear to their mouth and look at their chest – are they breathing?: Mapi leaned in closer, her ear near your mouth, her eyes fixed on your chest. She waited and waited. Nothing. No movement. Nothing on her cheek either.

Hands together in the middle of their chest – aim for between the nipples: She positioned her hands, interlocking her fingers and placing them on the centre of your chest, just above the lower half of your sternum.

Down at least 5cm and all the way up: With a deep breath, she began chest compressions, pressing down with firm, deliberate force. She counted each compression, focusing on the depth and rhythm, making sure to allow full recoil between compressions.

Up and down 30 times: Mapi kept a steady rhythm, performing the compressions at a rate of 100 to 120 per minute. She counted aloud, her voice steady despite her nerves, her focus entirely on the task.

Tilt the head back, pinch the nose, create an airtight seal with your mouth: After completing the cycle of compressions, Mapi tilted your head back slightly, pinched your nose shut, and positioned her mouth over yours, forming a tight seal.

Breathe twice: She administered two rescue breaths, each one deliberate and controlled, watching for any signs of chest rise. She repeated the process, her breaths firm but gentle.

Back to the chest: Returning to chest compressions, she resumed her rhythm, the pattern of her actions becoming a practiced dance of urgency and hope.

Staying Alive by the Bee Gees

Wannabe by the Spice Girls

Dancing Queen by ABBA

Respect by Aretha Franklin

Say So by Doja Cat

The SpongeBob Square Pants theme

Each song felt like a lifeline, a rhythmic mantra that guided her actions as she worked. The beats and lyrics looped in her head, a surreal juxtaposition to the gravity of the situation. Tears were streaming down her face and plopping onto your t-shirt.

With each compression, her resolve hardened. She pushed through the exhaustion and anxiety, her hands moving with determined precision. The repetition of her actions became a mantra, each push and breath a testament to her will to keep you safe. The songs in her head were a rhythm to her actions, a strange but effective way to keep her focus sharp and her movements steady.

The sounds of the stadium outside – the murmurs of the crowd, the collective gasp of concern – seemed muted, almost like they were a world away. Her world had narrowed to the urgent task of keeping you alive.

She couldn’t look up. Her body wouldn’t let her. She could hear Alexia. She could hear the sobs, raw and heart-wrenching, punctuated by the occasional choked sob or whispered plea. The sounds were a painful contrast to the clinical efficiency of the medics around her, their voices calm and professional as they continued their work.

Mapi’s vision was a blur, her gaze fixed on the ground, the grass beneath her scuffed and muddied. Her hands were still trembling, and the adrenaline that had fuelled her actions now seemed to drain away, leaving her feeling hollow and emotionally exhausted.

The medics had gently pulled her off you, their movements firm but compassionate. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, which had been a distant background noise, now seemed to echo in her ears with an almost rhythmic insistence. Beeps were good. Beeps meant there was a rhythm to trace. They were a lifeline

Ingrid’s hand appeared in front of her – a guiding light in the dimness of Mapi’s world. The familiar touch was a lifeline of its own, grounding her in a moment when everything felt as though it was spiralling out of control.

“María, min kjærlighet,” Ingrid’s voice was gentle, like talking to a wounded animal. The Norwegian words, though soothing and foreign, carried a warmth and familiarity that Mapi desperately needed. Ingrid’s presence was a comforting constant in the storm of emotions swirling around her.

Mapi looked up, her vision still blurred by tears and exhaustion. Ingrid’s face was a beacon of calm amid the chaos, her eyes filled with concern and empathy. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her fingers reaching out to grasp Ingrid’s hand, seeking solace in the shared strength of their bond.

“I… I didn’t know what to do,” Mapi whispered, her voice trembling. “I thought I was losing her.”

Ingrid squeezed her hand gently, her touch a reassuring anchor. “You did everything you could, María. You were incredible. They’ve got her now, and that’s what matters.”

Alexia had never felt fear quite like that. The pure, unadulterated terror that coursed through her veins was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was a raw, gnawing fear that twisted and turned inside her, threatening to overtake her entirely. She had seen her Papi die, felt the crushing weight of grief as it had changed their lives forever. The memories of that loss were seared into her heart, an enduring ache she carried with her. Now, faced with the possibility of losing you, the fear was even more intense.

The stadium, usually a place of joy and celebration, had become an arena of anguish. The sound of the crowd had faded into a distant murmur, replaced by the frantic shuffling of medical staff and the stifling, heavy silence of the waiting room. Alexia’s heart pounded in her chest; each beat a reminder of how quickly everything could be taken away

She paced back and forth, the hard tile of the hospital floor cold beneath her feet. The familiar surroundings of the waiting area – chairs arranged neatly, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead – were now a blur of sterile emptiness. She barely registered the passing time, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of memories and fears.

She was glad though, that this was a home game. The first one after the Christmas holidays. Your Mami and Alba were in the crowd. She couldn’t imagine having to make that phone call.

“Ale, mija, come sit.” Eli’s voice was rough with suppressed tears.

She moved robotically, dropping heavily onto the open chair and letting her head rest on her mother’s shoulder – mirroring Alba on the other side.

Her mind danced with memories. Your first proper laugh, a bubbly, infectious sound that had filled the room with a joy so pure it was impossible not to smile. She could still picture the way your eyes had sparkled with delight, a tiny beacon of happiness that had made her heart swell with love. She squeezed you a little tighter as she rested on the couch, your back propped against her thighs as she tickled your tummy.

Your first steps, a wobbly but determined series of movements that had marked the beginning of your journey toward independence. Alexia remembered how she had clapped and cheered, her heart swelling with pride as you took those tentative steps towards her, each one a testament to your growing strength and confidence.

Your first birthday had been a celebration of milestones and new beginnings. The cake, with its bright, colourful frosting, had been a highlight of the day. The way you had looked at the cake, your tiny hands reaching out with curiosity and delight, was a moment she treasured before you stuck a sticky, messy fistful towards her as she sat in a seat next to you. The room had been filled with laughter, presents, and the warmth of family gathered to celebrate your first year of life.

She couldn’t do this without you. The very thought of continuing without your presence was unbearable. She would retire, leave behind the game she had devoted her life to. The idea of walking away from everything she had worked for, of going into hiding and never showing her face again, seemed like a small price to pay if it meant keeping you by her side.

As she sat there, the weight of the situation pressing down on her, she didn’t notice the tears trailing steadily down her cheeks. They fell in silent tracks. Her hands trembled slightly, the fingers gripping the edge of her chair as if they could somehow anchor her to reality.

The room was filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the occasional footsteps of hospital staff and the muffled conversations of other waiting families. It was a surreal, almost dreamlike atmosphere, where time seemed to stretch endlessly. Alexia's eyes remained fixed on the door leading to the treatment area, her gaze unwavering as if willing it to open with news of recovery.

“Putellas Segura?” a young man—barely twenty-five with slight stubble and unkempt hair—appeared in front of them. His face was tense, a mixture of youthful anxiety and professional seriousness.

“Sí, sí.” Eli’s voice was a desperate whisper, her eyes searching his face for any sign of good news. She rose from her seat, her heart pounding, her breath shallow.

The young man glanced around the waiting area, his gaze landing on Alexia. “I’m Dr. Ruiz, one of the attending physicians. I have an update.”

Alexia’s heart leaped into her throat, and she squeezed her mother’s hand for support. The tension in the room seemed to coalesce around Dr. Ruiz, his presence a focal point of hope and fear.

“Is she…?” Alexia started, her voice trembling with the weight of the question she needed answered.

Dr. Ruiz took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly as he continued. “She’s stable now. We’ve managed to get her heart rate under control, and she’s responsive. We’re continuing to monitor her closely, but for the moment, she’s out of immediate danger.”

Relief washed over Alexia like a tide, the knot of worry in her chest beginning to unravel. Her knees felt weak, and she leaned heavily back on her chair The room’s oppressive silence seemed to lift, replaced by a collective exhale of relief.

“Can we see her?” Eli’s voice cut through the stillness, urgent and pleading.

Dr. Ruiz nodded. “Yes, you can. I’ll take you to her. She’s in recovery now, and we’ll need to keep monitoring her, but you can see her for a few minutes. Follow me, please.”

The room was dimly lit, with the soft beeping of medical equipment providing a steady, comforting rhythm. Alexia stepped inside, her heart in her throat as she finally saw you lying in the hospital bed.

You were pale but alive, your chest rising and falling with each breath. The sight of you – though still connected to various monitors and IV drips – was a balm to Alexia’s frayed nerves. She approached the bedside, her steps tentative but determined.

“Frijolita,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She reached out to gently take your hand, her tears falling freely now. The sight of you, still and vulnerable, made her heart ache. But seeing you breathing, with the beeping of the monitor steady and rhythmic, filled her with a profound sense of relief.

Mapi and Ingrid stood nearby, their faces reflecting the same mixture of concern and hope. Ingrid’s eyes were wet with tears, and she looked at Alexia with a look of shared gratitude.

Dr. Ruiz cleared his throat softly, drawing Alexia’s attention back to him. “She’s been through a lot, and we’ll need to monitor her closely for the next few hours. But the immediate danger has passed, and she’s responding well.”

Alexia nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from you. She gently squeezed your hand, whispering softly, “You’re going to be okay. We’re all here for you. We’ll get through this together.”

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

[jkmyluv]

THE DATE || JJK

Pairing : Boxer jk × Female reader

Genre : Established relationship, Boxer au

Summary : Spending the whole day going on various dates with your boyfriend, starting from amusement parks to trying sushi for the first time with your boyfriend.

Warnings : Female reader, Butt taps, KISSES, a few suggestive comments but no actual smut, making out, shy reader and jk, Reader hates sushi (sorry if u don't lmao), cringe couple shit.

The bright light shines down on your and your boyfriends face as you struggle to get into your boyfriends car. "Need help getting your cute ass in there?" He asks causing you to groan, "Its all your fault jeon, shut up" you speak up glaring at him.

He feigns innocence and teasingly replies while holding his chest pretending to be hurt, "baby it was not me who was whining yesterday night to go faster"

"Its not my fault my boyfriend doesn't know how to fuck properly that I have to beg him to do the bare minimum" you look up at him with a teasing glint but immediately regret it when you see his dark gaze.

"And thats why you squirted three times yesterday, was yesterday not enough brat?", causing you to immediately smile and peck his cheek,

"I'm just kidddinngggg jungkook, don't be mean and start the car, I wanna go ride all the rides and don't be scared ill protect you",

causing jungkook to scoff, "Lets see whose the one who ends up crying like a baby". The car ride is pretty silent except for jungkook singing and cursing at people for not driving properly.

"You're so handsome" causing jungkook to look away from you and blush "get down baby we're here"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here you were standing in the line for about 40 mins to get on the ferris wheel, because according to jungkook its very romantic, "jungkook i can't do it please, its so hot i can't even stand" you say while taking heavy breathes causing jungkook to look at you while rasing his eyebrows, his hands grip your waist and pulls you closer, " If u wanted me to carry you so badly, all u could've done is asked instead of whining" he smirks and abruptly lifts you up causing you to yell at him.

"Jungkook are you dumb, put me down there are kids here, put me down you idi-mmph"

You feel jungkooks lip press onto yours harshly and his hands grip you tightly in his arms, you start feeling all giddy inside until u feel him pull away and lick a stripe up your cheeks. "JUNGKOOK YOU'RE DISGUSTING"

Jungkook puts you down and back hugs you so that you won't be able to hit him, "baby thats just how I show i love you, and u smelled so good" causing you to admit your Defeat.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun starts setting down and jungkook decides that its time to picnic in the park,so you and you're beloved boxer boyfriend sit on the mat that you layed out.

You both were lying on your stomach and facing each other, jungkook had one of his hands on your hips holding your long flowy skirt down, and your hands were caressing his eyebrows, eyes, his scar, his lips, as you lean to Peck his lips.

"Did I tell you, you look really pretty today and the skirt looks really good on you"

"You did" , "nothing wrong with saying it again, you're so pretty, the prettiest and the cutest, even though we argue like kids sometimes, but that's something I wouldn't change for the world." This makes you tear up a but as jungkook was never really someone who spoke his feelings, you push his chest and make him lay on his back and lay on top of him with only your lower body on the mat and your upper bodies pressed together, you start pecking all over his face and whisper lovingly " i love you so much jungkook, you're so cute, the cutest cutie pie"

causing jungkook to groan, "I'm not cute baby, way to ruin the moment" causing you to giggle, "just like how your hard on is ruining the moment by poking my stomach, can't even be romantic with my boyfriend" you huff and lay down on your side facing away from him pretending to be mad.

Jungkook pinches your hips, "cmon turn around" and you don't.

But jungkook takes this as a perfect opportunity to hit your butt, the sound of his hands hitting your butt echoes through your ears as you yelp and bring your hands to cover your rear. "Stop that jeon, it hurts" making jungkook coo and rub your butt and he proceeds to pat it, " there you go all better or do u want me to kiss it better?"

"Talk to me when your hard on is gone", you say.

Jungkook sighs and lifts your head and slides it onto his arm, as a pillow and hugs your waist from behind. "What are you doing" , "spooning my baby, what can I do when my girlfriends being all cute and sexy, ofcourse I'm gonna get hard" you blush as you feel his hard on on your back.

You turn around in his arm and wrap your arms around his neck, making him wrap his arms around your waist, you both smile at each other and you slowly inch closer, you feel his breath on you're lips and you pull him closer and press your lips on his, his hands immediately grip you tighter and pull you closer causing you to whimper. Jungkook groans at that and pushes his tounge inside your mouth roughly and grips your chin to pull you even more closer, making you pull away from the absence of air, whimpering. But you have no time to catch your breath as a pair of lips proceeds to press itself on your lips and jungkooks hand pulls you even more closer, you try pushing him away by his chest, but he doesn't even budge.

"I c-cant breathe m-mphh* resulting in jungkook to finally pull away and giggle.

All this loving peace lasts for a moment until we see an old couple walking up to us yelling about public indecency causing you to freak out and get up and trying to make jungkook get up, "jungkook come on let's run", "baby tf are they gonna do, let them fucking come ill take care of them, don't be scared"

"JUNGKOOK IF YOU DONT GET UP RIGHT NOW I SWEAR IM GONNA CRY" this threat results in jungkook complying as you both hold each others hands and make a run for it as the old couples curses slowly dissappear into thin air and the only thing that's audible is the laughter that vibrates off of your chest, and the pure love you have for each other, at this moment you silently look up at jungkook and admire him and you realize how lucky you are to have a man like him.

"Stop looking at me like that if you don't want me to eat you", "you know what I'm hungry jungkook". After a back and forth argument of where to eat, you both decide to eat at this sushi place, as you told you're boyfriend you've never had sushi.

"Come on baby order anything you want, I'll pay" causing you to giggle "ofc sugar daddy"

"I can be your daddy if you like"

"JUNGKOOK", "I'm sorry"

You regret this, you can't eat it, you feel like throwing up, "it tastes so bad, how do people eat this?" Causing jungkook to act like he was offended "how dare you say that to my baby, she tastes so good, baby you don't have to eat it, order something else If you want"

That night when you had food poisoning, jungkook was the one who held your hair back when you threw up, he was the one who made sure you fell asleep with no discomfort, he made sure to stay awake to ensure you don't wake up in the middle of the night due to discomfort, he was the one who made sure you were warm and comfortable, he was the one who loved you, he was the one who put up with your tantrums, he was the one who let's you cuddle him every night even though he pretends to hate it, he is the one who always offers a shoulder to cry on or put your legs on.

[justastraymoa]

HOW DID YOU LOSE MY CAT?

I was in a complete state of panic and three thousand miles from home, unable to do anything to help the situation at hand.

"How did you lose Cheese?” I wheezed into the phone trying to calm my breathing and thoughts enough to focus on the problem at hand.

Its really my fault. I made the mistake of trusting a neighbor to watch my precious baby boy while I was on a week long work trip. The trip was mandatory and last minute so I had no choice.

I just moved a couple months ago and with the new job and settling into the new apartment I hadn’t had time to really get to know the neighborhood or the neighbors. Still, the middle aged man across the way seemed nice enough the few times we chatted and he agreed to go feed Cheese twice a day.

He didn’t give updates unless I specifically asked for them, but beggers couldn’t be choosers and I had no choice but to go on this last minute trip.

"Its not my fault. He bolted when I opened the door.” Luo responded. I could practically hear the shrug over the phone.

"Well did you go after him?” I pressed. Honestly I felt like I was pulling teeth here. The man took responsibility for my cat by agreeing to take care of him for the week, the least he could do was feel bad for losing him.

There was a drawn out dismissing noise on the other end of the line. “Not really. I followed him to the stairs but he was gone by the time I got to them.”

I clenched my fist and nearly bit my tongue off. I wanted to yell and scream at the man for not caring even a little bit about my loved one! “Can you go out and look for him or put up posters or something?” I asked. Surely this was not too much of an ask. It was the bare minimum someone in this position could do!

"Ill put a bowl of food out for him, but I don’t have time to wander around town looking for a cat. Just get another one when you get back if he doesn’t show up. There are shelters full of them I am sure.”

I stood in my hotel room in angry shock. How could this asshole say that to me mere minutes after learning my pet ran off to god knows where! How heartless!

"Listen, I have to go. Ill let you know if he shows up.” The line clicked and I looked at the screen to see my own reflection staring wide eyed back at me in the black screen.

I looked around the room, thinking through my options. I was the lead in this meeting and no one else could present like I could. Even if someone could take over for me, I am the only one on this trip from my company who knows most of this information. There was no way anyone could answer any of the questions the others were sure to ask. And I was still too new at the company to risk a bad review or ask for any favors.

Bottom line. I was stuck here while my baby was out on the streets thousands of miles away doing god knows what. He could be hurt or worse! He was an all black cat and there were some sick people out there who would see that and use him for some awful purposes and do unspeakable things to him!

There was no way I was going to be able to sleep for the rest of this awful trip! And I still had to look and act presentable! Five days of not knowing what was happening to my Cheese! Why did I think this job was a good idea. I was perfectly fine where I was. In my cozy little hometown working at the local grocer on the weekends and the tiny doctors office the rest of the week.

Sure my knowledge and degree were being wasted there, and I was miserable at both jobs. But I knew everyone there and was known back. And people cared about each other there. Everyone knew Cheese and would have turned the town upside down to try and find him the moment he got out the door. Not that he ever even tried to get out with me. He is mischievous, sure, but he had never once tried to escape. But no, I got the opportunity to work my dream job in a big city hours from home and I thought it was perfect.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Cheese would come back for dinner in a couple hours and this whole nightmare could be over.

A text message the next morning from Luo stated that the food bowl he put out had not been touched.

I went about my day as best I could. I noticed some odd stares and several of the other people asked if I was okay because I was being quieter than usual. I was honest with them as much as I could be without being annoying and whiny. They were appropriately sympathetic, but of course could not or did not offer any solutions.

As I sat at a dinner with a whole group of people I only just met for this trip my phone pinged with a new message. After a quick glance I excused myself and almost ran to the bathroom.

I quickly texted everyone I could to see if anyone was available to go pick up Cheese from his savior and cat sit for me for the rest my trip.

Parents were immediately a no. Dad got hurt trying to clean the gutters by himself and mom was stuck waiting on him and making sure that he actually rested and took his medications properly.

BFF was also a no. She was on a vacation with her new boytoy out on some beach somewhere with perfect sunsets and white sand. I’m a little jealous not gunna lie.

I wracked my brain for any other options on people. Luo was obviously a hard no. Forever. I would not trust that man to borrow a cup of sugar from now on.

At least Cheese seemed to be okay. And he found himself a friendly household. In the pictures this Bangchan sent Cheese looked happy and healthy. No visible injuries, and Bangchan said he didn’t see any either. He even has a cat loving roommate. So Cheese would be okay for a little while until I could figure out someone who could go get him.

I felt really guilty for sticking my cat on some strangers who already had gone above and beyond for both him and me. But Bangchan seemed adamant, and I knew Cheese would be okay with them.

I need to go out and get something for them. A gift or souvenir or something to show my appreciation. That’s how I would spend my evening to occupy my time and brain from the guilt and missing my boy.

Okay so me and Lino are going to get along amazing I can already tell.

First he sent me a pic of my boy without even me asking first. An actual update without having to ask for one!

Second, Bangchan was not lying. He is a cat lover through and through.

Lino:

'I have happily sacrificed half my bed for Cheese.’

A new picture of Cheese and him all cuddled together on what looked like a very large bed soon followed the message.

I laughed to myself.

Me:

'Don’t let him hog the bed too much. He likes to shove me off the side occasionally.’

My bed was a queen, and I only upgraded to that size because of Cheese. My full size was just not big enough for both of us. He liked to touch you when sleeping, and he will physically use all 4 paws to push you until you are on the very edge of the mattress.

Lino:

‘its far too late for that. I happily give it up though to be honest. And he snores! It’s the cutest thing I have ever heard in my entire life! I recorded it.’

Then a recording came through, the first time I was hearing my baby boy in days. I nearly burst into tears, as it was my eyes stung. I saved the recording and set it to my message tone so I could listen to it anytime I got a text.

Me:

'Thank you so much for sending me that you have no idea how much I miss him'

'I was so worried when he got out and my neighbor didn’t even care!

Lino:

'I understand somewhat. I have three boys at my parents house that I miss so much.'

A picture of three adorable cats followed all labeled with their names.

Me:

'Aww they are so cute!'

Bin is allergic to cats! The guilt is back full force and more! Not only did I stick my cat on some strangers for 3 days, but one of them is ALLERGIC!

I truly am an awful person. I need to go out and get more thank you gifts for them. There is no way I have enough.

Much later as I was getting ready to head to bed I got a videocall from the latest of Bangchans roommates. I answered a little leery about video calling someone I only just messaged for the first time a couple hours ago.

I tried not to react to the absolute cuteness that greeted me on the other end of the call. Not only was Cheese there, but Bin was a cutie himself. Cheese was curled up on his chest as he lounged on what looked like a couch.

“I know its strange that I am calling you when we haven’t even met.” Bin started cheeks turning a little pink. On the screen I could see him absent mindedly stroking down the length of Cheeses back over and over.

I melted inside. “its not a problem. Is something wrong? I truly am sorry you are stuck with Cheese when you are allergic. I feel really bad!”

“Actually that’s why I called. I don’t want you to feel bad. I would tell you if it was a problem, I promise. But he doesn’t seem to be triggering my allergies much.” Bin shrugged and Cheese chirped in annoyance at being jostled.

I sighed as I curled up on my bed. “If you are sure. I can still try and find someone to come get him.” I offered. It may be easier to get mom to come out if it was only for tonight and tomorrow. I was due back the day after that in early morning. I could probably convince her if I begged and pestered enough.

“No no don’t. I am enjoying him. He is a little heater! Feels good after a long workout.”

We chatted with no real conversation for a good half hour more, which kinda shocked me. I wasn’t one to be super sociable. And I didn’t even really know this person. He was just sweet and really easy to talk to.

Hyune, the fourth roommate, made me realize that I hadn’t told anyone my name. It didn’t even occur to me to. I was so focused on Cheese and that whole situation. Even if he asked for it in kind of a rude way. Who asks for a name without giving one first??

AND HE WAS A DOG PERSON!

My poor Cheese is stuck with a dog person! The horror! Its downright wrong! Im a bad pet parent!

Still, it felt really good to be so easily folded into their conversations and bantering like they did. And they don’t seem to mind when I banter back with them. It feels like it used to when I lived in my hometown. Friendly.

I was going to be home tomorrow. Finally sleeping in my own bed with my baby in my arms!

And I could shower in my own shower and cook actual food on a stove and not have to go out for every meal!

I missed home. I missed Cheese.

There were tears, though I didn’t point them out to either Lino or Bin. I just politely ignored their sniffles and quick swiped across their cheeks.

It warmed my heart to know that they liked Cheese so much. He was the best cat ever, so im not shocked. But it makes me feel better since they watched him for me for several days.

I didn’t stay at the Bangchan apartment long. I was exhausted from the flight and week long travel, and I think the boys could see that as well so they didn’t push.

I gave them the several bags of gifts. Everything from keychains to food. Anything I could find that I thought suited the situation.

Hyune and Bin snatched the bags and moved a few feet away to look at everything in excitement. Lino was still standing beside me, petting Cheese who was in my arms. His eyes were still wet and he sniffled occasionally.

“You really didn’t have to get us anything. We enjoyed Cheeses company. It will feel a little lonely here without him to be honest.” Bangchan stated side eyeing his two roommates.

I shook my head with a smile. “It was the very least I could do. I was out of my mind with worry when he was missing and then you took him in for days when I couldn’t find anyone. Trust me, this isn’t even close to enough to show how thankful I am.”

Bangchan smiled sweetly. “Well thank you, im sure we will love everything. As you can see they are already very excited.”

I headed home soon after that. Giving Cheese the lecture of his fuzzy life as I drove. For his part, he listened quietly, but didn’t seem at all fazed.

A/N: okay so since the texts were originally by themselves they don't match up perfectly but bear with me here.

I don't know if anyone will really enjoy this but I wanted to get more detailed my own self so I am writing for me mostly. Self indulgence.

Love you all and thank you for even trying to read. Sorry for errors, I'm hooman 🤷🏻‍♀️

And thank you in advance for any reblogs, notes, comments, tags, replies, and/or anything else. Let's have fun with this together 🩷💙💜

Masterlist

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Someday, we’ll all take comfort in the internet’s “dark corners”

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me on SUNDAY (Mar 24) with LAURA POITRAS in NYC, then Anaheim, and beyond!

Platforms decay. Tech bosses, unconstrained by competition; regulation; ad blockers and other adversarial interoperability; and their own workers, will inevitably hollow out their platforms, using ultraflexible digital technology to siphon value away from end users and business customers, leaving behind the bare minimum of value to keep all those users locked in:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/23/evacuate-the-platforms/#let-the-platforms-burn

Enshittification is the inevitable result of high switching costs. Tech bosses are keenly attuned to opportunities to lock in their customers and users, because the harder is to leave a platform, the worse the platform can treat you – the more value it can rob you of – without risking your departure.

But platform users are a heterogeneous, lumpy mass. Different groups of users have different switching costs. An adult Facebook user of long tenure has more reasons to stay than a younger user: they have more complex social lives, with nonoverlapping social circles from high school, college, various jobs, affinity groups, and family. They are more likely to have a chronic illness, or to be caring for someone with chronic illness, and to be a member of a social media support group they value highly. They are more likely to be connected to practical communities, like little league carpool rotas.

That's the terrible irony of platform decay: the more value you get from a platform, the more cost that platform can extract, a cost denominated in your wellbeing, enjoyment and dignity.

(At this point, someone will pipe up and say, "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product." It's nonsense. Dignity, respect and fairness aren't frequent flier program perks that tech companies dribble out to their best customers. Companies will happily treat their paying customers as "products" if they think those customers can't avoid other forms of rent-extraction, such as "attention rents")

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

Now, consider the converse proposition: for younger users, platforms deliver less value. Younger users have less complex social lives on average relative to their parents and grandparents, which means that platforms have fewer ways to sink their hooks into those young users. Further: young users tend to want things that the platforms don't want them to have, right from the first day they sign up. In particular, young users often want to conduct their socializing out of eyesight and earshot of adults, especially parents, teachers, and other authority figures. This means that a typical younger user has both more reasons to leave a platform as well as fewer reasons to stay there.

Younger people have an additional reason to bail on platforms early and often: if your online and offline social circles strongly overlap – if you see the same people at school as you do in your feed, it's much easier to reassemble your (smaller, less complex) social circle on a new platform.

And so: on average, young people like platforms less, hate them more, and have both less to lose and more to gain by leaving one platform for another. Sure, some young people are also burning with youth's neophilia. But even without that neophilia, young people are among the first to go when tech bosses start to ratchet up the enshittification.

Beyond young people, there are others who tend to jump ship early, like sex-workers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/21/early-adopters/#sex-tech

Sex-workers' technology changes are only incidentally the result of some novelty-seeking impulse. The real reason to change platforms if you're a sex-worker is that the platforms are either absolutely hostile to sex-workers, or profoundly indifferent to the suffering their policy changes rain down upon them.

The same is broadly true of other disfavored groups, including those with out-of-mainstream political ideologies. Some of these groups hold progressive views, others are out-and-out Nazis, but all of them chafe at the platforms' policies at the best of times, and are far more ready to jump ship when the platforms tighten the noose on all their users.

This is where "dark corners" come in. The worst people on the internet have relocated to its so-called dark corners – privately hosted servers, groupchats, message-boards, etc. Some of these are notorious: Kiwi Farms, 4chan, 8kun, sprawling Telegram groupchats. Others only breach when they are implicated in waves of unthinkably cruel and grotesque crimes:

https://www.wired.com/story/764-com-child-predator-network/

The answer to crimes committed in the internet's dark corners is the same as for crimes committed anywhere: catch the criminals, prosecute the crimes. But a distressing number of well-meaning people observe the nexus between dark corners and the crimes that fester there, and conclude that the problem is with the dark corners, themselves.

These people observe that social media platforms like Facebook, and intermediaries like Cloudflare, DNS providers, and domain registrars constitute a "nexus of control" – chokepoints that trap the online lives of billions of people – and conclude that these gigantic corporations can and should be made "responsible" for their users:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

From there, it's a short leap to conclude that anyone who isn't in a position to be controlled by these too big to jail, too big to fail, relentlessly enshittifying corporations must be pushed into their demesne.

This is a deal with the devil. In the name of preventing small groups of terrible people from gathering in private, beyond the control of the world's insufferable and cruel tech barons, we risk dooming everyone else to being permanently within those unworthy billionaires' thumbs.

This is why people like Mark Zuckerberg are so eager to see an increase in "intermediary liability" rules like Section 230. Zuckerberg's greatest fear isn't having to spend more on moderators or algorithms that suppress controversial subjects:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2024/03/instagram-users-outraged-by-app-limiting-political-content-ahead-of-elections/

The thing he fears the most is losing control over his users. That's why he bought Instagram: to recapture the young users who were fleeing his mismanaged, enshittified platform in droves:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

A legal mandate for Zuckerberg to police his users is a legal requirement that he surveil and control those users. It's fundamentally incompatible with the new drive in competition circles to force Zuckerberg and his fellow tech barons to offer gateways that make it easier to escape their grasp, by allowing users to depart Facebook and continue to socialize with the users who stay behind:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

Remember: the more locked-in a platform user is, the harder that platform will squeeze that user, safe in the knowledge that the cost of leaving is higher than the cost of staying and tolerating the platform's abuse.

This is the problem with "feudal security" – the warlord who lures you into his castle fortress with the promise of protection from external threats is, in reality, operating a prison where no one can protect you from him:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/08/leona-helmsley-was-a-pioneer/#manorialism

Rather than fighting to abolish dark corners because only the worst people on the internet use them today, we should be normalizing dark corners, making it easier for every kind of user to find a cozy nook that is shaded from the baleful glare of Zuck and his fellow, eminently guillotineable tech warlords:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/15/normalize-dark-corners/

Enshittification is relentless. The collapse of the restraints that penalized tech companies who abused their users – competition, regulation, interoperability and their own workers' consciences – has inculcated every tech boss with an incurable enshittification imperative.

Efforts to make the platforms safer for their users can only take us so far. Fundamentally, these vast, centralized systems that vest authority with flawed and mediocre and frail human dictators (who fancy themselves noble, brilliant and infallible) will never be safe for human habitation. Rather than focusing on improving the platforms, we should be evacuating them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/09/let-the-platforms-burn/

Online communities that control their own moderation policies won't always get it right. But there is a whole host of difficult moderation calls that can never be adequately handled by outsiders overseeing vast, sprawling platforms. Distinguishing friendly banter from harassment requires the context that only an insider can hope to possess.

We all deserve dark corners where we stand a chance of finding well-managed communities that can deliver the value that keeps us stuck to our decaying giant platforms. Eventually, the enshittification will chase every user off these platforms – not just kids or sex-workers or political radicals. When that happens, it sure would be nice if everyone could set up in a dark corner of their own.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/23/evacuate-the-platforms/#let-the-platforms-burn

[komoboko]

Respectfully requesting Kokushibo with a cheerful human fem!reader during the winter pls??🙏🏻🙏🏻

I can imagine the reader throwing him snowballs and he's just 🧍🏻‍♂️

Also I DISCOVERED YOUR BLOG JUST YESTERDAY AND IMMEDIATELY FELL IN LOVE WITH YOUR SCRUMPTIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL WRITING🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

Kokushibo Tsugikuni x gn!reader

THIS WAS WAY TO FUN TO WRITE

You and kokushibo have very different views on how people enjoy the winter season.

Lots of people enjoy the winter season. the holiday season is coming in, Mew sports and activities people can enjoy, the first snow falling. Winter is a fun season, you believed kokushibo could understand this to.

He could not.. not even close.

Kokushibo believes the winter season is fun for demons but a suffering period for “mortals” as he says. Demons thrive with the lack of prominent sunlight to pray on the weak who grow more sickly in these times and the lack of food and fresh crops that can grow in these conditions. He lost most of his thoughts about his days when he was human during the winter itself.

Maybe you just needed to introduce him to all the fun things you could actually do during the winter. Remind him of how you assume the winter was when he was human, at least you could hope he had fun during the winter.

So the moment you could find kokushibo with no time in his hands you bundled up and dragged him outside to show him the “mortal customs” during the winter. While kokushibo did nothing to stop you, you couldn’t say he didn’t have his complaints.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” He vocalizes as you trudge outside into the snow, you could only laugh at his concern turning towards him once your far enough outside. “It’s fine, you need to understand how fun it is for us in the winter.”

He only blinks as he watches you gather snow in your hands, watching your movements in confusion. “The human body is pitiful and weak. Your life span only last so long and you’re prone to gaining illness much quicker than any other species.” Before he can finish his monologue a snowball fires hitting right at his chest.

You have a more prideful look on your face at hitting him despite his body not having even flinched on impact. He’s heard village children call this “snowball fighting” so maybe in reality you’re just trying to spare with him? If you insist, he’ll oblige with your strange customs.

You however couldn’t be happier to see he was at least trying to learn about the winter season. A smile rises on your face until it’s wiped off when a massive pile of snow crashes into you. A sigh escapes your lips as you feel somebody brush the snow off your face only to meet eye to eyes with kokushibo. A half satisfied look on his face.

“You aren’t supposed to throw that much snow..” you mutter pulling yourself out of the snow, wiping the rest off of your shoulders. “I thought we were sparing are we not?” He asks as you can only laugh. Maybe you should try something much more simple.

Marching over to another patch of snow you turn back to kokushibo with a determined smile on your face. “You’ve built a snowman before yes?” Kokushibo nods, this was much more progress compared to snowball fighting! “How about we try and build one ourselves?” You add as kokushibo turns gathering snow himself.

You take time to make the snowman, trying to make all three of the snowballs as even as possible, using the best sticks you could find only the highest quality materials to make the best snowman yet. Even using some of your own sweaters just to bring it over the edge. “Kokushibo have you finished?” You ask having not noticed the demon standing next to you.

“I’ve been waiting for you to finish.” He replies as you nearly jump hearing his voice. You shoulders tense but you turn to stare at the demon “well since you’ve seen mine I guess, how about we see yours?” Kokushibo turns to his snowman as you follow suit. You expect the bare minimum at least, the classic three snowballs but maybe rocks for eyes instead of pebbles. Or it being extra tall instead?

Kokushibo does not meet your expectations.

To your complete shock kokushibo somehow has managed to carve a replicate of himself in such a short amount of time. Everything was completely accurate down to even the smallest design on his kimono. Kokushibo seems to sense your shock and attempts to reassure you.

“Despite the short amount of time your snowman was well made based on human standards.” You can only stare at him before nodding your head, a small smile appearing on your face.

Maybe he just might enjoy something else, maybe these weren’t his cup of tea. There is always other things you can try, and it seems you already made progress with getting him to like the winter season.

Before you have time to think of something else, you’re caught off guard when you sneeze all of the sudden. Maybe it’s just allergies? It’s very common during these seasons after all, kokushibo begs to differ.

He only grabs you by the collar to bring you back inside muttering something about, “humans are so stubborn always discarding their mortality.” You started tuning him out when you realize his ramble is still going. Back to square one, again.

Maybe next week you can give it a go with something new. He’ll get it eventually! I mean, you hope he will at least..

[schizopositivity]

So I was searching for a new psychiatrist online, and every website filter, every description they have, for individual providers and medical groups will include a whole bunch of different mental illnesses and life situations that they specialize in. Basically every mental illness and stressful life situation you could think of. But I didn't see schizophrenia or psychosis on any list. They had mental illnesses that can have psychotic symptoms (like bipolar disorder or PTSD) and mental illnesses that have overlapping symptoms with schizophrenia (like ASD and ADHD) but didn't have psychosis or schizophrenia anywhere.

And this is so frustrating, because I'm used to therapists not knowing how to treat schizophrenia/psychosis at all, that's been every therapist I've ever had and I've sadly learned to deal with that. But for psychiatrists, I'd really love to be able to be prescribed high doses of antipsychotics by someone who knows how that affects people. Someone who has enough experience to list that as a specialty. I live in a small city with a long list of psychiatrists, I even checked ones farther away that could do online sessions. Still after hours of combing through websites I found nothing. I was even told by my therapist that normal primary care providers regularly hesitate or refuse to prescribe antipsychotics because it's a "liability".

And it feels so unfair. Seeing psychiatrists say "mental health is so important! I can help you find your best self!" while ignoring all of us who rely on antipsychotics to function. For me my antipsychotics are the biggest reason I'm alive today, that I have a job, that I have a long term relationship, that I have friends, that I can even function. Going off of antipsychotics is not a safe option for me.

The pharmacy requires refill approval from a psychiatrist or Dr. so that I can have access to my meds. And I shouldn't have to keep settling for mental health care workers who don't understand my illness, don't want to prescribe my meds, and don't care to try.

I don't understand how there can be such a major gap in mental health care that's never even talked about. For a lot of us with schizophrenia, antipsychotics are extremely important, and going off of them can have major consequences. The fact that medication can dramatically improve our lives is incredible, but the fact that so many mental health care workers don't understand it, don't want to prescribe it, or just guess when prescribing it is horrendous, and has life-changing consequences for us.

It feels so isolating to not even be on a long list of mental health problems, and to speak to countless people who've dedicated their life to the mental health field, yet don't even consider you as an option. I just got rejected by a group of 6 psychiatrists working in an office together. In a quick email they said they wouldn't be able to provide care for me. Apparently all of them, who are available and licensed to care for people with mental illnesses, don't even think it's possible that any one of them could help me. All I need is medication refill approval, but apparently they can't do that. It feels so defeating but I'm going to keep trying because I have to.

I am not an anomaly, I am one small part of a large group of people with my same diagnosis. And we all need care at the bare minimum, but we deserve care that has us in mind for once. One day, I'd like to think, that a profession centered around helping people with various mental illnesses and struggles, would add us to the list. Because we are here regardless.

[sweetiecutie]

141 x Eastern European reader relationships hc’s

Warnings: some cussing, stereotypical behavior, pretty much safe, not meant for russians - just scroll past

A/n: I was heavily inspired by this post by amazing @kivino, absolutely go and check it out!!

Pretty much all of 141 were in Eastern Europe with missions - Ghost and Price were with missions in Ukraine, Soap, Gaz and Price were to russia.

All of them worked with Eastern Europeans, so boys are generally acquainted with Slav traditions and superstitions - not to whistle within a building, for example, or not to pass things through the threshold. But working with Eastern European for a few weeks and having a romantic relationship with one - completely different things.

So here are some headcanons of how Task Force 141 deals with their Slavic lover<3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Starting off - Simon loves your culture. He finds many national quirks amusing; his favorite one tho, is how boisterous and bossy Eastern European women are. Usually people tend to be scared of him due to his intimidating stance and quiet behavior. But these ladies who are barely over 160 cm? They can beat the living shit out of him with a single slipper, and he both respects and slightly fears them for it.

For some strange reason Ghost can’t learn a word you teach him, but all the swearings that accidentally slip off your tongue throughout the day? Ghost knows all of them by heart. And he can’t hide a small smile of amusement whenever he hears you cussing angrily over spilled tea or shattered mug. And his favorites so far are ‘kurwa’ and ‘blyat’

Simon is a huge fan of your country’s cuisine! He’s a big man, so he requires proper nutrition. And all the delicious meals your mom cooks? He’s nomming everything to the last crumb! Simon is especially fascinated with a godly meal called “shashlik” - he is definitely a meat eater, Riley loves him a juicy steak freshly off the fire. And eating a meal that consists purely out of roasted meat - a paradise for him.

Captain John Price

Now, this man is most acquainted with all Slavic traditions of all 141 since he works closely with Nikolai, so throwing him off wouldn’t be that easy. But still, having an Eastern European partner does give him some unexpected experiences. For example, John is really surprised by how easily and lightheartedly you and your family joke about dark topics as death, physical traumas or alcoholism. And while everyone is rolling with laughter Price is like “What the fuck is wrong with you guys🧍🏻‍♂️”

If some of your relatives happened to speak English, John will do his absolute best to speak slowly and reduce his accent to minimum, so that they can understand him better. I think it’s just so sweet of him 🥺

What never fails to impress Price is that how much Eastern Europeans care about their appearance. In UK people don’t bother much about their looks, preferring clothes that are comfortable rather than fashionable. And seeing all these people on the streets wearing luxury brand stuff, women with full on glam makeup, their hair made elegantly - it makes him wonder just how much time and effort these people put into their looks. (He soon learn just how expensive and tedious that is once you two start dating)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

I’m pretty sure many Eastern European countries have this magnificent dish - meat jelly. Looks and sounds terrifying, true cultural shock for Kyle’s poor British soul. Or soup called Okroshka - even tho I grew up eating it, I still question its existence, no wonders Kyle gets absolutely weirded out by it.

Many Eastern Europeans, especially in small towns and villages, are very unfamiliar with people of color. It’s not because they mean ill, no, but simply because it’s very rare to see foreigners in such places. So, when Kyle came over to your home for the first time, all neighborhood was quite literally gawking at him. And Garrick, being more closed-off and shy person, was really unnerved by it. What especially set him off was when some random grandmas on the streets asked him “Whose are you?”😭

Oh and he loves, loves, loves when you spill the tea about your family members, sometimes even in front of this exact person bc they can’t speak any English. Sounds mean to do so, but Kyle is very eager to hear about all the drama, glancing discreetly at relative in question. Everyone thinks it’s so cute, watching you two cooing at each other in soft voices in a faraway corner, but in reality you two are just talking shit about everyone in the room😂

John “Soap” MacTavish

What Johnny likes the most about Eastern Europeans is just how generous they are, how they treat all guests with such kindness and hospitality. Usually, when Scottish/British/Irish person invites you for some tea - you do have tea and some sweets. In Eastern Europe though, if you are invited for some tea, you will be having a three meal course of delicious national dishes with incredibly tasty bakery for a dessert, and, of course, tea as promised. And afterwards they will also give you some food in a plastic container so you can take it home. Johnny was genuinely surprised by such warm treatment.

He remembers a lot of random words you say: names of different objects and foods or whole sentences like “turn on the lights” etc in your mother tongue. Johnny likes listening to you talking on the phone with your relatives, his ears perk up slightly whenever he catches a familiar word. But can he actually spell or write these words down? Not really. And if your language uses Cyrillic alphabet? Absolutely no. (This thought came to me based off @kivino’s hc’s)

When Johnny visited your home for the first time, he was actually surprised to see this stereotypical picture: a bratz doll gf and her shreck bf. He was also surprised by how unattractive most Eastern European men are, especially those in their 40s.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important for writers, give us some love and appreciation<3

[nikomedes]

ive seen some great bingo sheets going around for malevolent s5 but i would ask you to go further. lets invent some new 13th century miseries for our failsons arthur and john

EDIT: people in the notes have mentioned they don’t know what some of these are, so i jotted down some quick and dirty explanations below the cut.

the bubonic plague or black death is pretty well known, a horrific illness mostly transmitted by fleas and rats that was responsible for mass death in europe.

marginalia are funky little drawings made in the margins of illuminated manuscripts, largely by bored monks and scriveners. my favorite is the penis beast.

a medieval lord’s military might wasnt made up mostly of knights, who were typically low in number and expensive to field. they largely relied on levies, groups of able-bodied men raised from their land holdings and basically given a pike (a long spear), the bare minimum of equipment/livery, and a slap on the ass, and sent to fight one of the many english civil wars.

leprosy was another greatest hit of medieval diseases that fucked your whole life up.

catholic heresies are super fun! christianity has existed in a sort of perpetual state of “fuck around and find out,” but the medieval period saw a supreme amount of fucking around. here’s a great post rating many of these heresies. check out marcionism for some great Demiurge Discourse

middle english was the form english took at this time. it can be very musical, but its, uh, yknow. difficult to parse these days.

crusades were basically the greatest pastime of medieval rulers. not sure what to do with a heap of gold and all your vassal lords getting antsy and potentially fomenting ANOTHER civil war? ship them off to the middle east to fight a holy war on any pretext you can think of, including “because i can.”

tunic malfunction is mostly a goof, but between hose, sumptuary laws governing specific colors and items different races/religions/classes could wear, tunic length discourse, and how expensive making clothes could be, well. it could be a hurdle

legal proceedings weren’t just for people back in the day. sometimes animals would be dragged to the stand and accused of crimes. pigs in particular were often accused of eating limbs, children, and promoting sin.

13th century well water is your one stop shop for some all-time hit fatal diseases, such as cholera and dysentery! also, even if it didnt kill you, frequent contamination means it usually smelt or looked bad. poisoning wells was a common warfare tactic as well.

[virtuallyinsane]

Hi all.

Decided to share lil bit of my story. Dedicated to those who suffer chronic illness. You are NOT alone. It's fucked up everywhere in the world. There is many of us and our stories are important.

I started my "let's really find out what the fuck is wrong with me" journey a long ago after my body slowly refused to work as it should. There was a lot that went on in my life at that point, but let's focus on the physical health. I suffered a collapse and a burn out.

During the past few years, I was misdiagnosed several times, I was given wrong medication because of it that made things worse to this day.

I suffered a lot of trauma by people around me saying I am just lazy and sensitive and by literal doctors saying the same thing, making me seem like a typical archetype of hysterical woman. They told me to just have kids, it will be better... They told me let them lock me up to psych clinic to help me... they tortured my mind and my body for a long time while whatever was wrong with me, just kept getting worse and my body was hardly able to function in day to day life anymore.

Until recently. I got help from an organization focusing on these kind of situations and after some more doctors appointments, I was told I have Ehlers Danlos syndrom with a few other diagnosis that my body developed because of that. I have one of its hypermobile forms that fuck up joints, connective tissue in my body, including some internal organs that don't function properly anymore and cause more pain and discomfort.

Well, at least I know what's wrong and I can adjust. Somehow tho, the doctors still refuse to help more than the bare minimum and give me advice such as "don't do sports" while me considering having a wheelchair because I can't walk much anymore, bitch what?!

Anyways, there's a long journey ahead of me still. I need to go to the private medical sector, because even tho I have an insurance, there's no real help in the system. Life is lifing.

To all of you that made it here, thank you for reading and remember if you suffer, you are not alone, please continue fighting because you are worth it.

[velvetine-moth]

Persona 3 Arcana Swap AU

Junpei - The Fool: After the death of his mother a decade ago, then the death of his abusive father in recent years, Junpei moves to Iwaitodai to attend Gekoukan for reasons he can't exactly describe. Unbeknownst to him, he has brain damage that's spreading and slowly killing him.

Chidori - The Lovers: Goth girl who everyone somehow finds likable despite her not entertaining them, so she's popular - She's part of the art club and the axe-throwing club. She's the first one to welcome Junpei to the dorm- Her and Junpei don't necessarily get along, (she won't admit she likes him, he's openly in love with her) but they work well together.

Yukari - Magician: Softball team star and a general "sporty girl"- She's wildly jealous of how popular Chidori is and how no one takes her seriously. She can be a little mean and hotheaded, or trying too hard to be likable by others. She tends to go down to the station and to the movies when she gets frustrated, and sees a mysterious, sharply dressed woman there.

Takaya - Hierophant: A chronically ill man who used to be part of the original SEES team- He disappeared and stopped going to school, only to be seen rarely at the alleys. Jin constantly keeps trying to bring him back. No one knows why he left in the first place, except for Jin- who won't say anything. ** Jin and Takaya were both part of an experimental drug testing that failed, and caused Takaya's persona to come out and attack a stranger after a trip to tartarus one night, killing them. Takaya gets suppressants from a strange group of friends who he seems to know from something greater than all of them.

Jin - Emperor: One of the top students in school- Takaya's childhood best friend, the two grew up together. Jin won't explain where or how, though. Jin's a part of the computer club and is taking college courses already. Could have been student council president, but he's a little too hotheaded and protective of his friend to listen to teacher properly, but his good grades give him the leeway to do things like skip class every so often or walk out when he gets too frustrated.

Ryoji - Priestess: An upbeat boy who was bullied by the student body and locked in Tartarus for multiple days, and after being saved became the navigator for the SEES team. He's awkward, and doesn't usually understand boundaries. Kenji, one of the boys who locked him in the school, became his friend after the two made up. The two became extremely close after the fact.

Aigis - Emperess: The student council president who is focused on being the top student and getting good grades and getting into a good college. Her people skills are the bare minimum, and she is often blunt and focused on schoolwork more than relationships- But she's still courteous. Her parents used to own several scientific organizations, but after they both died, these places have long since been abandoned- She still has access to them, but they are unkempt.

Fuuka - Aeon: An anti-shadow weapon that was discovered on a trip to an abandoned beach- She's shy and uses her knowledge and scanning to check on Junpei and the SEES team constantly- Without understanding it might not be the most appropriate. She means well, but is often nervous- The programmers tried to make her seem human, and instead made her anxious. Her overly caring nature leads her to often intrude or barge in on Junpei and the other SEES team members.

Minato - Death: A mysterious boy who appeared at school in the middle of the year- He's quiet, self-contained, and rarely speaks. However, he keeps staying close to Junpei and befriending him fairly quickly despite their relatively opposite natures. No one's sure of who he is, or where he came from- But there's a strange aura about him.

Senior Trio - Strega: All were part of an experiment as kids to "fix them"- In reality, they were all orphans, except for Mitsuru- Her dad, unknowing of what the trial actually was, put her into the program. In reality they were artificially given personas, and with that, were unable to use them.

Shinjiro was the eldest- and protected the others. His Persona also attached the smoothest at the time, and that gave him extra attention from the doctors- and a complex. He began to lead the other subjects- and save them, since he was so good with his persona.

Akihiko had the roughest time with his persona attaching, so much so that he tried to end himself from the pain of constantly being shocked by his own persona. Shinjiro saved him from his own persona, and from himself- Causing Akihiko to devote himself to protecting Shinjiro from any other subjects who got angry and tried to lash out, or from any doctors who tried to come at him. Even after they were the only three surviving, Akihiko still protects him and keeps him close, being utterly devoted- After every win, turning back to make sure Shinjiro is watching.

Mitsuru acts as their navigator, usually dressed sharply as a business woman- She's often out walking about at the station and watching other businesses run- She's known for carrying a small notebook and writing notes about everyone she sees in odd, scrawly handwriting that's difficult to read and disjointed. She is cold, calculating, and often will only talk to people as if they're potential business partners- And it's how the team gets a lot of their information and networks.

Initially inspired by the p4 arcana swap by @/anzukko_art on twitter and instagram!! and this tumblr post for Takaya and Shinjiro!! God I rioted when I saw this art it's SO GOOD. ( hi — shinjiro and takaya swap! Inspired by... (tumblr.com) )

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 4 - "Eldest Son to Eldest Daughter"

an: I am so glad people are enjoying this story! I've been playing with this concept for nearly a year now. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! I want to go ahead and put this out there. I have borderline personality disorder and quite a few other mental illnesses, so all of that influences relationships in my life, which is reflected a lot in this story. Also this is not canon Aegon. This is a version of Aegon that lives permanently in my head.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: Being the eldest child of the Queen or King is a weight many did not understand. It is a weight that dictates her every choice, ruling her heart and mind. Aegon, understanding the feeling, gives her the gift of a connection she could not have with another person.

TW: Very blatant mental health struggles, Substance Use (I added 🍃 into this world cause it not being in there is unrealistic), talks of alcoholism, religious talk, mentions of injury, self image issues, bad parents, divorced parents, moon tea, Aegon is so in love with reader it makes me ache

Relationships: Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader, past Aegon Targaryen ii x Helaena Targaryen

Word count: 3.7k

When I woke up this morning, only to find Jace gone from my bed and a cup of moon tea on the table, all I wanted was to hide away from the world. But there was more to my life than just Jace and Aemond. I had others who loved me, who had missed me this entire time. With that in mind, I dressed for the day in a simple lilac colored dress, drank the tea in one quick gulp, and had Ser Erryk escort me to Helaena’s chambers.

Her and Aegon’s children were with him for the morning. With both of them still happily in the Red Keep, I suppose it made sharing their children’s time easier. Though I don’t believe there has been a situation such as this ever. Most marriages that ended in annulment happened because there weren’t children from my understanding. Though until now I had not known of anyone who had gotten an annulment.

“How did my mother grant the end of your marriage?” I couldn’t help but ask Helaena. We were working on our cross stitching together. It was an activity that soothed her and I was all the happier to make sure she was calm. “Doesn’t the Faith typically have to be in agreement? And I mean, you two had three children together, wouldn’t they just deny it?”

Helaena chuckled. “I often times forget how little you and your brothers paid mind to the teachings of the Seven,” she said to me.

Fair enough, I suppose. Technically speaking, we are followers of the Seven. Yet anyone with eyes knew that we only did it because we kind of had to. I don’t believe Mother or Laenor had any vested interest in their teachings. They certainly never passed anything on to us outside of the bare minimum. I know my father’s family believed in the Seven, but since he was never allowed to claim us, he had no right to teach us his beliefs. In truth I only knew anything about them from Alicent.

“So explain it to me as though I’m five,” I said, shrugging a bit.

“It is unholy to hold one in a marriage against their will. Aegon and I were so young when we were married, and it was done under the misguided notion that your mother and family may seek to squash any competition for the Throne, so it was not difficult to make a case for it to be an unlawful marriage. Though I do feel that Rhaenyra may have reminded the Septon that he can be and would be a delicious snack for Syrax should he not see reason,” she told me. The smile that played at her lips as she thought of it was enough to make me smile.

“And what is it you wish to do now?” I asked her.

“I am perfectly content to live my life here. I love my family, I love my home. Though I do wish my mother had bothered to ever understand me,” she explained.

My smile fell from my lips. Time changed many things but Helaena’s distance from Alicent didn’t seem to be one. It was unfortunate, truly, as Helaena was wonderful. She may be more into bugs than most people, she may have her dreams and episodes, but she was not mad. In fact when actually making an effort to know her, one could find she was the opposite.

I had always wished I could see the world Helaena does. The world that I live in is dark and dreary, a place where one loses any semblance of a father before they even understand how great they are. It is a place where most everyone prefers men over women, despite the women being capable and strong in their own right. The world I live in? It is not a place built for Helaena.

Yet the one she lives in? People are praised for what they have done. There is no consideration other than who truly is right and just. Even in the darkest moments in which her mother tried to keep her from being who she is, my mother always gave safe passage to her sweet sister. Helaena paid no mind to those who were insignificant unless they hurt her family or her bugs.

It Is not to say she is naïve. In fact, I would think she sees more truth than any of us. But being the third child, born after an eldest daughter and eldest son, is very different than being the eldest. She did not have to fight to prove she was worthy like Mother did. And she does not have to step away because she knows she would not be accepted over her brother as I do…

I was born approximately two hours before Jacaerys. A long time between twins as I’ve been told, but enough time there was no doubt about who came first. Truthfully to my mother I don’t think it mattered which of us was born before the other. We are twins and therefore she always gave us the choice.

She explained to me that her father had named her heir before he had any other living children and never looked back. Once Aegon was born, most expected Viserys to change his mind. But he remained steadfast in his decision, never caring if Mother still wanted it. To this day I don’t know if she did. As such, she wanted to make sure we always had a choice.

“You’re doing it again,” Helaena said softly.

When I looked to her, she nodded her head to my hands. I had been so completely lost in thought that I didn’t notice I had repeatedly pricked my fingers with the needle I was using. Blood seeped through the fabric in several dots scattered around.

“Sorry,” I muttered before sitting the cross stitch down. Standing, I walked over to the bowl of water that was kept for washing her hands and dunked my fingers in it a few times.

“Our mothers are planning a feast to celebrate your return,” she told me as I turned back around. “I think it will happen week’s end.”

Naturally. It seemed they always found a reason to celebrate me. On my name day, it was always me who got doted on. Jace got put in the shadows, not that he seemed to mind much though. When I claimed Vhaela, only a few weeks before I disappeared, it was a much brighter occasion than Aemond claiming Vhagar. When I returned to King’s Landing, it overshadowed the tourney being held for Aegon to celebrate his own name day.

It was never my Intention, truly. Those around me just deemed me important. I had never wanted to be the center of attention. All I wanted was to do right by my family. Never have I sought out great fortune or the throne for myself, though technically it should be mine by birth order. All I craved was love.

“Are you happy?” I asked her, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. Aegon is a wonderful father, but he could never love me. And I do not love him,” she told me.

Before I was given the chance to respond, the chamber doors opened. Helaena’s children ran to her. The twins, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were nearing twelve at this point. They looked it, too. If you were to ask me, Jaehaera looked like Alicent but with the typical Targaryen silver hair and violet eyes. Jaehaerys and Maelor, who was nearing eight, were carbon copies of Helaena. They had the same curl to their hair as she did, their noses equally as small and rounded.

As the three children excitedly talked about their morning, I quietly excused myself from the room. While she would never say anything, there was not a place for me with Helaena and her children by myself. Those kids don’t remember me, though I remember Helaena’s every letter describing them in their early years. For both pregnancies, there was not a movement they made inside her that did not warrant a letter to me. But that was then.

In the corridor, Aegon stood and spoke with Ser Erryk. Erryk had a twin too, named Arryk. From what I remembered, Arryk and Aegon were quite close, the former taking on the watching over of the latter once Aegon hit puberty.

“Beautiful kids,” I said to him, offering a small smile. When he looked to me and smiled, I couldn’t help but blush a deep red.

“Thankfully they take more after Helaena,” he said to me. He stepped closer to me, extending a hand to rest under my chin. I swallowed hard as he tilted my face around in the light. “You should perhaps be more careful.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” I said, unable to hide my chuckle.

“Where are you headed to? I could join you,” he suggested as he offered his arm to me to take, dropping his hand from my chin.

“I was just going to head back to my room. Truly, Aegon, there is no need to bother yourself,” I told him.

“My darling, there is never a bother when it comes to you.” His voice was light and airy, as though the words he spoke were just the most casual thing in the world. But there was a firmness to them that I truly believe only he could accomplish.

It wasn’t so much a demand. He was not like Aemond, demanding and sure of himself. He was not like Jace, either, in being soft and guiding always. Aegon was something entirely different.

He had always seemed arrogant. He was the first born son so it was natural that he grew into believing he deserved everything he wanted. But only when you spoke to him when everything else was quiet did you ever get the truth.

He had never been much more than a scared little boy. There were frequent talks of what he feared would happen when Viserys had died. He had always been scared his mother would try to force him to take the Throne. When he was betrothed to Helaena, he was scared he wouldn’t be good enough for her. He was scared that I would grow to hate him, completely ignoring that I could never hate him.

The closeness I shared with Aegon was something that bordered on secretive. While it wasn’t that we felt the need to hide, as there truly was never anything to hide, it was what made him comfortable. He would come to me late at night when he could not sleep. I think it is when he felt safest. Even when we were children he preferred the night.

It was in the night that he saw beauty in his life. He didn’t struggle as much then to resist drinking, which had always seemed backwards to me but he swore it. The pressures that were placed upon him from Otto and Alicent didn’t exist at night. The person he truly is was enough for the shadows of darkness.

Perhaps it is my own cockiness but I like to think I see a side to him that others don’t. When we were alone I got to hear him sing. I don’t think anyone else knew he liked to sing let alone how good he was at it. The first time he ever sang me a song that he had picked up in a tavern, tears sprang to my eyes. And when he isn’t drunk, he is quite smart. He knows politics even better than Aemond. He knows how to get people to like him and trust him, a rare commodity in this world.

And if Helaena says he is a wonderful father, I have no doubt about it. I remember him writing to me the first time Helaena was pregnant. He was so happy and excited, determined to be better to his children than Viserys ever had been to him. When I had come back to King’s Landing, while he still struggled with the drink, he was so devoted to making sure they didn’t see it.

“I would be glad to have you along,” I said, smiling at him. Though I didn’t take his arm. He merely nodded at me and followed me, allowing me to set the pace in which we walked.

As we walked, we walked in silence. Our footsteps echoed off the stone walls, the small ching and squeak of Ser Erryk’s armor followed behind us. I was perfectly comfortable.

We got to my room in just a few minutes as it wasn’t far from Helaena’s. Ser Erryk took his place beside my door. I gave him a small smile and nod before leading Aegon into my room.

He took a seat in a chair in front of the fireplace. He seemed like maybe he ran cold, always choosing to sit close to fires or walking around wrapped in a blanket. I was like that too, of course, much to the hatred of Jace when we shared a room still.

“I am happy to see you home, have you need of anything?” he asked me when I sat in the chair next to his.

“I merely wish there was something I could take for the pain that wasn’t milk of the poppy. The way it muddled your father’s mind has made me certain I will never use it,” I told him simply.

He nodded softly and reached his right hand up his left sleeve. “In case you have not been told, I want you to know I am sober now. Have not had a sip of wine since the night you disappeared,” he told me.

“Aeg, that’s amazing. I am so proud of you,” I said as my heart felt like it was going to burst.

Truly I don’t think he had ever stood a chance against being a drunkard. Mother told me a long time ago how Viserys was giving Aegon wine by his second nameday. I never could understand why Alicent was so okay with that, especially because for my entire life she had yelled at him for being drunk. Like the night Aemond lost his eye, Aegon got blamed for not protecting him because even at thirteen he went and got so drunk he passed out on the steps. How on earth did she go from so passively allowing him to drink when he was a baby to being so vile about his problem?

He looked at me, his face saddened for a split second before he grinned and pulled out a pouch. “The Grand Maester told me to use this. It’s hemp. Mostly used for creating things, building and whatnot. But someone at the Citadel found if you consume it, it gives you what they call a high. But it is gentler on the health than being drunk. I’m not sure the process but they cook it into butter and then can bake it into things.”

He opened the pouch and pulled out a biscuit the size of his palm. He split it in two and offered me half. It didn’t look abnormal or smell any different. The biscuit looked very appetizing though.

“Do I just eat it?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. But start slow. Too much at once and you’ll be completely incapacitated. Just a small bit should help your anguish, both physically and mentally,” he explained. “It will not be immediate like milk of the poppy. But it will be effective.”

Cautiously, I took a bite, eating on a quarter of my half. This was something I would never have done on my own. Yet Aegon had never truly steered me wrong, always seeming to have my best interests at heart.

After he took his own bite, eating a little more than I did, a silence fell between us as he just watched the flames. Aegon sometimes seemed like he wished that the world would open and swallow him whole. The way he would avoid looking at me, or anyone for that matter, spoke volumes about how uncomfortable he was even if nobody else realized it.

I remember once he told me that if he didn’t look at people he could convince himself they weren’t looking at him. When I tried to point out that wasn’t right he just put his hand over my mouth so that I couldn’t. It was that moment I realized how alike he and I are.

I escaped the duties of being Mother’s eldest child by pretending I wasn’t. Stepping aside so that Jace could be heir and acting as though I was okay with it was the biggest way I accomplished this. If I were honest, I wanted to be Queen, not Queen Consort. Hiding that fact from everyone, including my twin, repeatedly affirming his place as the next King essentially robbed me of a piece of my identity and forced me into a new one. One in which I was meant to stand by his side and have his children.

Aegon liked to hide from being the eldest son by pretending he didn’t exist. He didn’t just refuse those duties. He simply treated them as though they weren’t real. He used to disappear rather frequently for a few days at a time, only to be found in a tavern or a brothel and dragged back to the Keep. He had always been so drunk he never remembered his time there.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “I know you never felt for me the way you did Jacaerys, or even Aemond. But you are probably the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

He didn’t look at me when he said it which made me wonder why he did. It seemed silly to me how badly I wanted him to look at me. My entire life I felt like I had been begging Aegon to look at me.

He was right, I never felt for him the way I did Jace or Aemond. But he was the first person that ever made me blush. He was the first person who I considered marrying for any reason. He was my first crush and I think that for a lot of people that was a pretty sacred role.

I wanted a dragon so badly because of his relationship to his own dragon, Sunfyre. I don’t remember exactly when they came together, only that Aegon claimed Sunfyre just as I claimed Vhaela. And they were a sight to see together, having potentially the strongest bond of any dragon and rider. I swear Aegon could be hundreds of leagues from Sunfyre, merely think of needing him, and Sunfyre would go there without a second thought.

There was also the fact that they were very beautiful together. Sunfyre was perhaps the most beautiful dragon to ever exist. His scales were a dazzling, glittering gold while his belly and wing membranes for a soft pink. When he stood tall, he looked like a perfect golden statue.

Aegon was the epitome of Targaryen beauty. His silver blonde hair was not as long as Aemond’s, but was chin length and began curling near the end. He had the classic Valyrian lilac eyes that sparkled in the firelight. He had a square jawline and lips fuller than Aemond’s. He was about five inches taller than me, and therefore Jace since he was my height, at about five foot ten, and just two inches shorter than Aemond.

He truly was a beautiful mixture of Jace and Aemond. His eyes, hair, and eyes were soft in such a way they drew me in. Yet his jawline was sharp like he was chiseled in stone. One could argue all the gods in the universe came together to create the perfect man in him.

I became very aware I was staring at his lips. My cheeks became hot as the blood rushed to them. He turned to look at me, a small goofy smile on his face when he saw me looking. It caused my cheeks to become even hotter.

“You’ve been staring for quite a while, how are you feeling?” he asked me.

“Fine,” I said as I shrugged.

My feet didn’t quite feel right though. Like they didn’t really exist but they do exist. He chuckled at something, I’m guessing my face, and I could feel a giggle bubbling up in my chest.

“Oh you feel it,” he told me, grinning.

“You’re pretty,” I whispered, leaning towards him. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Pretty?” he asked.

Slowly, I nodded. He was pretty. But not the way Mother or Helaena was pretty in an elegant and sophisticated way. He was the type of pretty like fire. One that was dangerous and wild, where I couldn’t quite guarantee I would make it out alive.

“You’re pretty, too,” he told me quietly.

I think he was the only one to ever call me pretty. Aemond called me beautiful and Jace called me perfect, yet never pretty. Except the times they called me pretty during sex, that is. Being pretty in the mundane was something special to me. It was like I was a flower or even a star.

He reached out and took my hand. We sat in silence for a while. There was no way I could tell how long we sat there, just looking at each other while saying nothing. It felt nice in a way I could not explain.

“My darling pretty girl,” he whispered, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. “How is your pain?”

“Better, thank you, Aegon,” I whispered.

My heart was light in my chest. It fluttered rapidly, my cheeks heating up once again. He was looking at me like I was precious to him.

He stood from the chair, moving to stand in front of me. The flutters turned to a steady pounding. It was beating in my ears loudly. Aegon didn’t say anything before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose, something that he had done when we were kids.

“I will ask the Maesters to prepare you the same biscuits. I do not like to think of you in pain,” he whispered to me. “And it may help if your thoughts get to be too much.”

Without saying another word, he took his leave. He walked out of the room, leaving me to sit alone with only my thoughts of him.

[thejesterstears]

Gonna be self-indulgent with a little whump content here and ramble off some sickness-related Pomni headcanons I've been rotating in my brain since about when I first watched the pilot (once you get to know me it will become apparent how much I love whump).

Disclaimer that these are just my headcanons and not anything I am trying to push as canon! These headcanons also operate under the idea that sickness does exist within the circus in the form of computer viruses/corrupted code that manifests as human-like illnesses in the circus members, and also bearing in mind that they do still experience pain.

Sick Pomni Headcanons:

In her old life, she would rarely ever call in sick, even if it meant dragging herself through the work day looking like death warmed over and powering through it with hot tea and round-the-clock medication--less out of dedication to her work so much as a nagging feeling that she would be letting people down if she didn't come in to do her job as well as fear of failing herself. She has worked herself to the point of fainting more than once due to her own stubbornness. This is the same attitude she's carried with her into the Digital Circus, even though it isn't a "job," just because she doesn't want anyone to feel the need to pick up her slack or to worry about her (and, yes, has reached a point of fainting here too).

She is what can only be described as a horrible sick person to take care of, in that she struggles to accept help because she feels she should be able to take care of herself and feels uncomfortable making anyone else concerned about her or paying excess attention to her--even when she's reluctantly accepting help, she hesitates to ask for more than the bare minimum of care, regardless of anything else she may want or need. She only fully relents when she's feeling so miserable that she literally can't work up any energy to fend for herself. For the most part, she'll just hole up in her room and sleep for hours at a time until she recovers.

Of everyone in the circus, Ragatha is the one who would take care of Pomni the most whenever she's under the weather, out of her own genuine concern and care--something that surprises Pomni at first, so used to fending for herself in her old life that it actually overwhelms her a little to have Ragatha check in on her frequently and offer to bring her extra blankets or warm drinks or cold compresses. She resists offers of help at first, feeling guilty for making anyone worry about her when she doesn't feel she deserves it, but eventually reaches a point where she feels more comfortable accepting care from the friends she's learned to trust in the circus--and if she's being honest with herself, she might feel a little clingy (emotionally, at least) when she gets accustomed to the company where she isn't so quick to turn it away, or might actually ask for it herself.

Due to her tendency to become nauseous easily, she does not like to eat when she's sick as much as she can help it--not needing to eat for nourishment is one of the few perks to her new digital life when she doesn't feel well (though if, say, Ragatha were to gently encourage her to eat something for the sake of maintaining some normalcy, she wouldn't say no to some soup or warm tea).

She is unfortunately prone to stress fevers and migraines that'll knock her down for a good several hours whenever they happen.

(Semi-connected because it's medical-related but I also personally hc that she suffers from bad vertigo episodes/motion sickness and has endometriosis, both of which regularly make her feel completely miserable)

[possumsinpeoplesuits]

So, every once in a while, I have to rant about something online before I just start blabbing to some poor unfortunate Wendy's employee about niche internet pornography. Sometimes in the middle of that rant I realize I might be onto something, and have to share it with others who might benefit.

Today, that subject is the Omegaverse, and the squandered potential for worldbuilding therein.

Now, this post is gonna have some very broad generalizations about the genre, because while I'm certain there's plenty of authors who do put a lot of thought into the pedantic details I'm about to have a Category 5 Autism Event about, it's been difficult to find them amongst a sea of painfully mediocre fics.

For every stellar Locked Tomb Omegaverse fic set in a modern day Taco Bell (Seriously, I want to engrave Double the Meat onto a satellite and launch it into space so that extraterrestrials can see the peak of human civilization) there's like... a million and one Alpha Male/Omega Female pairings written by Conservative Mormon housewives that dare to ask such questions as "What if a man and a woman could have a baby?" and "What the hell is consent?"

But I'm not here to be mentally ill about yet another space being drowned in heteronormativity. Nor am I gonna be a dick about the first fics written by teenagers who're just dipping into fan communities, because my terminally online since the age of 11 ass would be a huge hypocrite for that.

No, instead I'm here to talk about genitals, and deliver just enough sciencey technobabble to justify my passionate opinions about the potential of what is, ostensibly, werewolf porn.

So, for those who've somehow gotten through all these paragraphs but have zero idea what the Omegaverse is, the basic gist is that there are three sex categories that're separate and occur within the usual sexes that humans already have. Effectively, this means that male, female, and intersex individuals can also be Alphas, Betas, or Omegas.

So, to understand these categories, there's a pretty simple rule. Alphas can get Omegas pregnant, regardless of physical sex. Sometimes Alphas are bigger than normal, and Omegas are more petite, but that's not quite as much of a core "rule" to follow, and more just dependent on people's tastes. Betas usually follow standard human dimorphism, though I have seen some people headcanon them as a sort of halfway point between Alpha and Omega.

There's some more details, too, like the presence of knotting (where the base of the penis swells and prevents pulling out during orgasm), heat cycles and rut (where the mating instinct goes into fucking overdrive in the most literal sense), pheromones, bite marking, and sometimes that whole... imprinting thing from Twilight.

So, taking this all into account... Omegaverse fiction has the potential for a BARE MINIMUM of 6-9 SEXES before even taking the vast spectrum of gender identities and presentations into account.

Do you see what I'm on about now? When our society is still struggling with the concept of being nonbinary, and barely ever even acknowledges intersexuality as existing, any Omegaverse setting would be radically different on a biological, psychological, and sociological level.

Can ya see now why I get frustrated when it gets stripped down to compulsive heterosexuality with wolf dicks?

Now, with all the standard tropes laid out like this, we get back to the question that started this all, the question that should be a no brainer when it comes to smut... What them genitals look like? What does a female Alpha, or a male Omega have down there? I have three concepts in mind, and explanations on how they could work from a scientific perspective that's just barely not bullshit enough to overcome suspension of disbelief!

So, the first thought, and the one that initially appeals to me as a nonbinary person... they just look trans. This concept is really simple to work with, because we can just look at real life trans people and just tweak things a little bit. Maybe primary and secondary sexual characteristics operate independently naturally, or maybe there's HRT for it. It's a pretty common method, too, and I enjoy seeing it... but it feels like it needs something more?

Don't get me wrong, this one's basically my personal gold standard for shorter Omegaverse stories, especially fanfiction, but it's also just... swapping parts around. Great for ease of access, but hard to differentiate from the trans experience. Definitely a go-to if you want to play with transition in an alternate society, though.

For the other two, I have to explain a bit about fetal development and reproductive organ equivalents. Also a bit of genetics, too, because it's where we're gonna fuck around and build a lot of theoretical bullshit around a little bit of real knowledge.

So! Some of you may have heard that every fetus starts as female, but might not know some of the mechanisms at work when that changes, and how finicky they can be. This is also fun to throw at TERFs, because ambiguity throws a wrench in the simplistic arguments of reactionary bigots. :)

So, the usual arrangement of sex determining genes is often simplified to XX=female and XY=male. This leaves out other variations like Klinefelter syndrome (XXY) which affects 1 in 500 people under the AMAB umbrella, causing some degree of infertility, autism symptoms, and a somewhat androgynous body shape. (I've been checked for this one! It came up negative, but reading about it was enlightening.)

Now, the presence of a Y chromosome (usually) causes the proto-organs to change function, and develop into the male-aligned reproductive systems at roughly, say... 6-8 weeks? (Unless, of course, there a deficiency in the 5α-Reductase enzyme, which causes a delay in some of this process, resulting in a child that appears female, then just... grows a dick during puberty when the higher levels of testosterone overcome the deficiency and finish off the primary sexual trait development.)

Hey, wanna know the fun thing? Even that is an oversimplification. The whole Y chromosome doesn't mean shit unless the sex-determining region Y gene is in the right place. It can just... fuck off and attach to the X chromosome. If this mutation occurs in XY individuals, it causes Swyer's syndrome, resulting in a female aligned reproductive system that just doesn't include functioning ovaries, just purposeless ambiguous gonads. Pair that fucky X chromosome with another X chromosome, and you get a male with XX chromosomes.

Plus, if someone has a faulty androgen receptor? Well, partial androgen insensitivity can leave things ambiguous, but if it just doesn't work at all? Yeah, everything will develop along the female blueprint, despite the fact that the gonads are testes.

I swear this is still about the porn.

So, with the information we have about these real, existent conditions, we have a good idea of reproductive development, and the mechanisms at play. Now, there's still some theory that's not been definitively proven yet, but the current consensus on the primary sexual equivalents are as follows:

The clitoris forms into the penis, while the vaginal canal doesn't form.

The ovaries become testes, or stay as undefined gonads.

The salpinx become the vas deferens (these are the tubes that transfer eggs or seminal fluids, respectively. More on this later.)

And finally, and the most theoretical, the uterus is believed to become the prostate. (There's sometimes a little pocket, or divot in the prostate, and the arrangement makes sense, but it's still up for debate.)

But how do we use this for our fuck fics, you ask? How do we take your failed medical career, and translate it into Destiel's babies ever after? Well, it's quite simple! We just have to add the bullshit!

So, most alterations to the SRY gene or the androgen receptor tends to just wholesale alter the whole array, and the midway point usually results in infertility and difficulty with sexual function, but what if we could change this? What if, for the purpose of our fiction, we can mix and match everything, and somehow make it all functional and neat? Well, fasten your fuckin' seatbelts, because we're finally at the theories I made while delirious due to a combination of sleep deprivation and the after effects of eating an entire ice cream cake to myself over the weekend.

So, the firmest idea, and the idea I'll be using because I am WAY too deep into this to not write Omegaverse unironically, is what I've dubbed the Primary/vestigal system for f!A and m!O characters.

So, this theory would require that we shove two things into suspension of disbelief. One, we have to completely fuck with androgen and estrogen receptors to mix and match the development of primary and secondary sexual characteristics. Two, I have absolutely no idea how you'd be able to tell when this is going to occur. Maybe genetic testing, or maybe it's just a surprise? Depends on your style of story.

Effectively, we'd base this off the delayed primary sexual characteristic development mentioned above. Alpha Females would operate similar to the real thing, being born looking typically female, before puberty hits and the Alpha genes take over for the genital development, while secondary characteristics still follow a feminine shape. Maybe the gonads stay inside, but function as testes? Sure, sperm production is more effective around 1-2 degrees lower than normal body temperature, but it doesn't stop entirely.

For Omega Males, the process would occur in reverse. Maybe the testes just change course and go back into the abdomen to become ovaries, or maybe they don't descend at all and the first clue this is happening would just be finding a vaginal canal forming?

I like this one primarily because it feels like a less 1 to 1 allegory for being queer, but still feels kind of relatable? You can, of course, still have the end result resemble the first method mentioned waaaaay up past the sciencey bits, but I kind of like the idea of there being a vestigial remnant of the birth parts left behind. I like the ambiguity, and the chance to explore how this would affect someone appeals to me.

Now, my last theory is mostly for the lulz, but this must be DOCUMENTED for POSTERITY'S SAKE.

So, Omegaverse started with m/m shipping with mpreg, right? Well, a lot of the earlier fiction just... describes typical cis male anatomy, with zero explanation for exactly how this is all occurring. There's just... anal sex, and then that somehow forms babby.

Well, what if I told you that I've figured it out? See, remember how I mentioned that the prostate is theoretically what became of the fetal uterine tissue? Guess where the prostate is? Guess. GUESS.

THE ASS IS WHERE!

So, we just have to bullshit the prostate back into a functioning uterus, but leave the placement in close proximity to the anus. Now, the other problem is that that would mean that there's an opening leading to the colon, which... look, I have no idea how birds and lizards keep their cloaca from getting infected, but connecting other tracts to the asshole doesn't usually end well.

So, we have to find a way to seal it up when not in use. Now, the cervix serves this purpose in the real world, opening to let in fluids, or let out discharge or, y'know... a baby, but that's really expensive so most of us settle for having a breeding kink that we never act on, and instead impose on our favorite blorbos who don't have to pay for health insurance.

But still, even with a butt-cervix, bacteria's still likely to get in, so we need a firmer block. I've suggested a little flap like the epiglottis in the throat as a second line of defense. If it can protect your trachea from wayward chicken nuggets, then hey! It might not be terrible for keeping sepsis at bay!

Unfortunately, layering extra protection over the bussy business zone ain't gonna cut it. Hell, as self cleaning as the vagina is, infections happen all the damn time, even if your hygiene is good. So, we need to take that self cleaning nature, apply it to the bussy business zone, and crank it up to eleven. Just constant mucousal discharge, pushing all the bad back out.

So, yeah. Your favorite Omega Man'll have a rectal womb covered with a secondary internal assflap that's constantly discharging a steady stream of slime (just consider it free lube!), but if you can make it past that, you can live your dreams of gettin' that bussy mpregged by cumming in they gay ass. Then they'd just kinda... poop out the baby, presumably.

So there you have it! Three in-depth explorations of how Omegaverse genitals can work! I'm gonna go take my psych meds and fucking SLEEP.

[force0fchaos]

Last yap session of the day but while I’m at it, i wanna share my kanade headcanons!!

Unrelated opinions paragraph here, scroll to the red title to get to the actual hc’s

Headcanons are a tough thing for me in the pjsk fandom because sometimes I see people get a little lost in the sauce and use ‘hc’ when what they really mean is ‘au’ or ‘thing I want to happen/wish happened.’ In addition, many hcs I’ve seen tend towards being reductive in my opinion, or not necessarily accurate to the way I see the character. This is fine with me! I love fandom discourse (as long as everyone stays respectful). Everything is a matter of opinion, and as someone who prefers to stay near the canon-accurate side of things (unless I am making an au, see: evil nightcord) not everything will be for me. All that is to say, these takes might not be super daring. I’ve thought a lot before coming to my own conclusions about my favorite characters, and feel a strong need to sufficiently explain and support my takes with evidence and elaboration. But I do hope they’re fun to read nonetheless, and I’d love to hear other people’s opinions as well as their own hcs in the reblogs, contradictory or otherwise!

KANADE HEADCANONS (in order from least to most elaboration)

1) kanade has albinism :D she inherited it from her mom, and it’s (part of) why the sun is especially rough on her

2) kanade is terrible at stem, especially math. She seriously struggles doing operations in her head, she has good spacial awareness but can’t grasp conceptual stuff. When she was younger her parents considered getting her a tutor, but since she’s going into music anyway she just took the bare minimum math classes and moved on

3) (this is a little contrary to canon but) kanade DOES have some semblance of a hair routine (bc how else is it not all matted by now). When she was younger, her mom liked to dress her up and would braid her hair before bed, so kanade always brushes and braids her hair whenever she goes to sleep properly instead of passing out. She will neglect her own needs for the purposes of composing, but her hair feels more like her mom’s than hers, so she makes sure to take good care of it.

4) kanade is the rectangle body type. I only feel the need to say this myself because pjsk has such little variation between their character models, and you really have to look hard to discern their features from one another, but I do think it’s fairly obvious for kanade in particular. Part of it is her lack of healthy eating habits, but I always picture Kanade to be relatively flat with a boxy torso and a round face

5) kanade is demiromantic & ace! (This one is just for me) but I like to imagine her wondering at some point why she doesn’t have crushes on anyone while in junior high school, but all of those thoughts get pushed aside and mostly forgotten after her dad collapsed because ‘I don’t have time for that, I need to make music.’ In terms of other orientation, I imagine kanade to be pan as I don’t think she would have much of a preference as long as she knows the person well. And I can’t honestly picture her going out of her way to use pronouns other than ‘she/her,’ at least in the context of canon.

(Now for the more major/stretching canon hcs)

6) kanade has a chronic illness, which is a major cause of her general fatigue. Yes I know it’s canonically because she doesn’t eat enough or go outside but I think that’s part of why she doesn’t know about it: she rarely engages in physical activity, so she chalks up fatigue to lack of practice, not realizing her fatigue is abnormal. I also think it makes sense for her because her parents both have histories of underlying conditions. Not that pjsk gives us anything to work with, but we know her mom passed away of an illness, and her dad suffered a stroke due to stress; one so major that it could only have been caused by an underlying condition. Running on the assumption that she would have inherited her condition from her mother, I’m sure this would be a subject that would, at least, be on Kanade’s mind. I can’t imagine when she was younger that she would be able to understand her mother’s condition in its entirety. But I can easily imagine as Kanade grows older and puts herself out there more, her having to confront that she may be sick. She would admit her concerns to her grandmother once she realizes she can’t deny it anymore, and her grandmother would confess that she had feared this all along; that it was the same condition her mother suffered from. It’s a compelling concept to me, and one I definitely want to fanfic in the future…

Last but not least, the one you’ve been waiting for:

7) kanade has autism. This one is also tough because project sekai gives us nothing but my CANON evidence is: she eats the same thing every day (not just out of convenience because she also orders noodles when she goes out to eat), wears the same thing every day (verified in a 1koma that she has several of the same outfit, and possibly pointing to sensory issues), focuses on composing for such long stretches that she forgets to eat and take care of herself, and ofc, special interest. I also like to think that kanade is hyper-empathetic, doing things in her childhood like: “I have to spend the same amount of time with all my stuffed animals so none of them feel left out”. Not having the words (much less the diagnosis) to explain some of her behaviors, when she goes nonverbal with niigo she will use the chat function and say something like ‘my voice hurts,’ or more often skip out on the call saying she needs to focus for a while (because when she’s stressed enough to be nonverbal, she’s also going to fall back into the mindset of needing to work herself to death composing). She stimmed a lot when she was younger but (as many do) learned to mask it as she got older. It still manifests in her drumming her fingers on her desk, bouncing her knees, etc. when working at home, and a lot of the time vocally in the form of singing. Her house has always been musical, so this was never a problem. But whenever honami hears her doing this (as it’s often without her realizing it) she gets very embarrassed, so honami pretends not to hear it so that Kanade will do it more.

[r3n0-5]

I would love to be able to exist for five whole seconds without my life being a debate topic, srsly.

The government of the country I’m currently (sadly) living in said another incredible joke, like a month ago, that transgender people are mentally ill. I’m not surprised; I’m mentally ill, but not because I’m transgender, that’s neither the reason nor the cause. I’m actually used to these kinds of statements, it’s everyday for trans people. The only thing I’m mad about is that I’m finding out right now, so late. I was occupied dying, otherwise, I would’ve been where all my trans fellas were protesting in front of a government facility, the one that was responsible for that damn law.

The law that the government of Peru passed classified all trans identities as mentally ill so they could receive medical attention; that’s what they excused themselves with, using a 1992 manual. In the current version of the same manual, you can see that we are no longer a mental illness, thank God, but at the same time all that shit was happening, me, a trans person, was physically ill. I found it ironic. I didn’t want to go to any public hospital because I know how bad the attention at those places can be, and you see why. I didn’t want to be mistreated all day; I didn’t want to have to explain how I was feeling and ask if I was pregnant or something similar. Getting called by my dead name is an experience I want to avoid, and not only that. If I had an emergency (which I had), I wouldn’t be attended, which actually happened to me the last time I went to one of those hospitals the government built. I got there being incapable of breathing; I almost had a heart attack, and no one did shit. So I stayed at home, having the same symptoms, but knowing that a basic need like medical attention is impossible to get in this country, I said, “If I’m going to die, at least I prefer to die at home,” so I did my best to use my lungs. I calmed down and took some pills at that time, and now I’m fine. I believe I’m feeling fine. I don’t have insurance, I don’t have money for that; I can barely feed my cats and myself. Most people in this damn country can’t afford insurance, and I include myself in that. The minimum wage is less than $300, and my partner earns even less than that. I can’t work anywhere (believe me, I tried for a while) because I'm neurodivergent, and even if I did, those almost 300 dollars wouldn’t be enough for me to get some decent medical attention. Basically, living in this country is like hell. I don’t believe the government had any good intention of passing that law. They never cared about transgender people; they never cared about poor people; they never cared about old people; they never cared about homeless people; they only cared about money. This country as a whole is so transphobic, homophobic, and anti-LGBTQIA+ that sure, they did what they did, knowing what it meant. I hope I don’t feel like this again, so I can do something about this situation. For now, what I can do is at least express how I’m feeling while I’m recovering and never shut up. I won’t stop fighting, no matter what. I won’t stop being myself, no matter what. Say what you want about trans people and approve the stupid laws you want; that won’t change a bit who we are. We keep existing, and I’ll do my best to continue living.

-R3N0