#the encouragement we all need.................

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

ok first of all

and second of all when have i have encouraged any discourse? 😭

i geniunly do not care if u ship prowlbee they r literally space robot aliens their age is up to interpretation i do naawwt care

and u shouldnt care about how i portray them!!!!! i like the tfa team as a big family rather than any romantic relationships, i just like family dynamics a lot more, i dont HAVE to like shipping and its something i just havent participated in a lot in the TF fandom in general

theres no need to be so aggressive when i geniunly have not done anything, i dont discuss discourse, (until just now lol) and i seriously do not get all upset over the idea of prowl and bumblebee getting shipped together

who cares! geniunly who cares!!!! we dont have to interact with each other!!! no offense but if u hate me so much just block me??? 😭 if seeing bumblebee and prowl as brothers makes u this upset i think u should just block my account and ur life will improve i promise

i havent done anything to "the community"! i just want to post my art and comics and have fun and share it with people who might also like it! and if they dont thats ok they can just block me and they wont have to see me ever again!

[commanderfreddy]

susie's story (esp in ch4) is so deftly realised. so often you see the "character who thinks little of themself is encouraged to pursue their True Value" storyline unfold in a way that has the character redirected away from "unfitting" desires, like a physically weak character who wants to be physically strong learning to value their personality instead or whatever but susie. susie who is - mechanically, in her stats in the game - best suited to hitting things with an axe, who "doesn't look like she should be playing the piano", is encouraged to pursue a skill she doesn't have because an educator took the time to get to know her and realise what she has genuine passion for. and she's not automatically great at it! she has objectively bad spelling and grammar in her letter to alvin, it's not like she unlocked some secret hidden talent - storytelling and communicating and creative expression in general is something she cares a lot about and genuinely enjoys, but it's something she has to work for. there's a reason why the gerson fight is so long and gruelling. but through this hard work and better understanding of herself we see susie learn how to reject imposed frameworks that occlude her actual personality - she literally shatters the tapestry that tells her the one and only way her story can end, and in doing so prevents Kris from ever having the chance to think of her in that position, whatever it is. it's her story, and she's learning how to tell it.

AND all of this is done without for even a second implying she needs to be even the tiniest bit more feminine than her rough and rude masculine self. hell, from the way she and gerson mirror each other in their loud and abrasive laughs, her unapologetic butchness is presented as a trait that aligns her closer with him and from there with her truest self

[twilightofthesandwiches]

…So we do have some implications that Kris… at the very least, does not care for Ralsei as much as they care for Susie, or as much as Ralsei cares for them. Most notably with Chapter 2’s Teas;

I think also maybe their tendency in the recent chapters to point out the differences between Ralsei and Asriel might be related to it. They don’t want to compare Ralsei to their beloved older brother.

But I wonder if that’s beginning to change. Most notably with all the scenes of Kris and Susie comforting Ralsei and encouraging him to be himself… Obviously we are the ones telling Kris to say the words, but... it seems like it was their choice to give him a hug.

Which kinda reminds me of our first indication that Kris genuinely considers Susie their friend.

Plus, like, sure we CAN force Kris to say certain things, but they can also subtly rebel against it by saying things 'weirdly'

or immediately contradicting our words with their own.

So.... not only do they don't really resist this attempt to help Ralsei, here is how they react if you try and pick one of the most flagrant "no Ralsei you and your feelings don't matter (:" options.

They are literally fighting against the Player's control to try and emotionally support Ralsei.

I wonder if this was a matter of Kris' thoughts about Ralsei actually mirroring many Players, that they also thought he was weird and shady and that his niceness was too-good-to-be-true and that he's probably manipulative and evil. And with the revelations about Ralsei and the way he thinks about himself and his reasoning for keeping secrets in Chapters 3 and 4, it's only now that Kris is starting to let their guard down around him and allows themself to like him.

Or if it's a matter of... clearly Kris' situation with the SOUL (AKA us) is a very unhappy one for them. Even if it also seems to be part of the plan Kris and Evil Phone Voice are on, it is not a pleasant experience for Kris. It might be that the thing that endeared them to Susie so much in the first place is the way that she also chafes and rebels against being 'railroaded' by the prophecy stuff all through Chapter 1 - and therefor they were always put off by Ralsei's happy-peppy lack of resistance to following anything the prophecy said....

Hell... we STILL don't know what these two talk about when the SOUL is away following Susie... if Ralsei told Kris they need to put on a happy smile and accept being a 'Cage' for an Amoral Time God, that will certainly sour their relationship.

But now Ralsei is opening up to how much this fatalism has caused him pain, and now he's starting to push back against it. And maybe now Kris can understand that Ralsei is also in the same boat as them and Susie, that they are kindred spirits.

Or maybe... that whole deal with Kris and the Evil Phone Voice seems to indicate they might've known about Dark Worlds and how they work before the story of the game properly starts, and at least that they understand them more than Susie does. Maybe Kris themself thought of Darkners the same way Ralsei thought. Maybe they were distant from Ralsei because they saw him as not 'real'. And watching Ralsei unlearn this mindset is causing Kris to reconsider the way they were thinking of Dark Worlds and Darkners.

Or... well... it could just be as simple as Kris seeing how much Ralsei matters to Susie. We have constant reminders through these two chapters of how much Susie cares for Ralsei and how much she sees them as a trio. So even if Kris just doesn't Vibe with Ralsei, thinks he's annoying or weird or creepy or whatever, Kris cares for Susie, so they know they have to care about her other very best friend.

I wonder if the reason behind the Person-Flavor-Teas being 'Rotten' past Chapter 2 is because Chapter 3 and 4 actually have a lot of subtle shifts in the characters' relationships and it would've been unpractical to keep track of them all, or simply narratively unsatisfying to spell them numericaly out like that.

[jabbasyogainstructor]

I’m hoping that if Suzanne Collins writes another book, it might be from the viewpoint of Plutarch, or someone like him. His father was likely Hilarius Heavensbee, who was in the same year as Coriolanus Snow at the Academy. We saw plenty of students and staff there who clearly didn’t like the games, voicing their opposition in various degrees from extremely outspoken Sejanus to Professor Click, who didn’t say anything outright but who did treat reaping day as a time to get extremely drunk. Dean Highbottom definitely thought the games should end and was eternally angry they’d ever begun. Many students thought the games should end, especially after spending time with their mentees. The viewership of the Hunger Games was decling, because the people in the Capitol were refusing to watch. I wonder if the people in the Capitol were oppressed in a different way? We’re shown (in the majority of the viewpoints of Haymitch and Katniss) that the people of the Capitol are wealthy and super pampered. Then we’re shown the flipside of Snow’s childhood. Starving every bit as much as the people in the districts, some families resorting to cannibalism to stay alive. Coriolanus’s constant struggle to get enough food and Tigris having to sell her body to make ends meet. Yes, the people in the Capitol had all their physical needs met, but maybe the tradeoff was that they cannot protest against their government. Maybe one too many of them has disappeared that way. Much like Katniss’s prep team who lament not being able to go to her wedding, maybe that’s the only way they are allowed to express sadness and disappointment. Effie makes a reference to injustice at Katniss and Peeta returning for the quarter quell, and her eyes dart all around the room like someone is listening. Someone is and she knows it. She frequently tells Katniss or Peeta not to say anything treasonous on the train or in their training quarters because she is well aware that the spaces are bugged and if Katniss or Peeta are punished, she will be too. For the same reason, Haymitch is always drunk and unhelpful: if he says what he wants, the tributes are punished. He receives more punishment. If he does nothing, they die anyway: not a lot of incentive to mentor D12 tributes properly. Something must be going on in the Capitol that encourages the public behaviors shown to us.

In Mockingjay, Katniss’s squad was called squad 451. Like the book Fahrenheit 451°.

Plutarch Heaveansbee, the man who had a huge ass library, and libraries were considered RARE, named them after a book about censorship.

Plutarch is such an interesting character, the fact that he was trying to stop the games for at LEAST 25 years. And he was so devoted it makes you wonder why he even cared.

[haedalkoo]

Korean sentences for Jikook's discharge live

Hello everyone! I'm beyond delighted to bring you this project that we've been working on to make sure us int-armys can share our love with Jikook during their discharge Weverse live. Here's a list of all the questions and encouragements you asked to be translated into Korean 💜💛

Please feel free to copy and paste these into Jikook's lives!

An inmense thank you to Slaav @slaaverin, Lore @goldenhickeyss, Holly, Kaye, Steph and Calico for all your work putting this project together. So much love has gone into it, you guys are the best💜

QUESTIONS

Do you know when you will do a second Season of Are you sure? 이게맞아 시즌2 언제 나올까요?

Are we getting "Are You Sure in Busan"? 이게맞아 IN BUSAN 기대해도 될까요?

Is there any specific location you would like to travel to for "Are You Sure?!"이게맞아를 촬영하기 위해 가고 싶은 곳이 있어요?

Could you tell us behind the scenes stories from "Are You Sure?!" ?이게맞아의 비하인드 이야기를 좀 알려주세요 ㅎ

Will Bam acompany you both in "Are You Sure?!" some day?밤이랑 함께 이게맞아를 촬영하라고 생가해 봤어요?

Do you have a favorite episode from "Are You Sure?!"이게맞아의 제일 좋아하는 에피소드가 혹시 있어요?

We cant wait for more seasons to come... until you are 50더 많은 시즌가 나왔으면 좋겠어~ 50세까지 이게맞아 해주세용

Can you share your funny military stories? I promise we won't run away!둘이 만든 재미있는 이야기를 좀 들려줘 우린 가지마라고 약속해 ㅋㅋ

What was your most memorable moment in military? 군에서 가장 잊혀지지 않는 추억이 뭐였어요?

How was your military life? 군생활 어땠어요?

What new things have you learned during this period? 군 동안 어떤 새로운 것들을 배웠나요?

Were there any difficulties you both had to endure in the military?군대에서 어떤 어려움에 대처했어요?

What songs did you sing together in the military? 둘이 함께 군대에서 어떤 노래를 불렀어요?

Did you make any new friends?새로운 친구를 사귀었어요?

Can you tell us how you felt in the last hours before discharge? 전역 바로 전 몇 시간 동안 어떤 기분이 있는지 말씀해 주시겠어요?

What was the buddy enlistment like? 동반입대 어땠어요? (did you argue?: 사웠어요? ㅎㅎ)

What surprising things did you learn about each other during military?군대에서 서로에 대해 새로운 걸 알게 되었어요?

Did you get more tattoos while you enlisted?입대 중에 다른 타투를 했어?

Jungkook, did you learn new recipes?정국이 새로운 레시피 배웠다?

Jimin, how was it to be the ace of Netpo? 넷포 에이스가 된 건 어땠어요 ㅎㅎ

Did you enjoy your time off in Japan before discharge?전역 전에 일본에서 간 휴가 즐겼어요?

Do you already have ideas for new songs? 신곡에 대한 아이디어가 이미 있어요?

Are you planning a collab? 지민이와 정국이의 콜라보를 기대해도 될까요?

What are you plans or new project after MS? 전역 후에 무슨 게획이나 프로젝트가 있어요?

Do you have any plans for a new unit dance cover? 다시 듀오 커버 댄스를 해보고 싶어요?

Do you have plans for a solo/duo tour? 솔로/듀오 투어 계획이 있어요

After military service, do you plan on having a vacation first? 전역 후에 휴가 가는 게획이 있어요?

Did you already decide what kind of haircut & color you want to get when your hair is long enough? 머리가 충분히 길 때 어떤 스타일과 머리새깔을 원할지 이미 결정했어요?

Do you already have new solo or unit projects in mind?새 솔로 또는 유닛 프로젝트를 계획이 벌써 있어요?

Outside of music, what are the other things you want to do now?노래빼고 가장 하고 싶은 건 뭔가요?

ENCOURAGEMENTS

We love you사랑해

We are always by your side 너희 곁에 항상 있을게요

We will always support you 항상 응원할게요

We are sure!! 이게 맞는다!

Congratulations on your discharge 전역 축하해요 💖

Thank you for AYS - it made us infinitely happy! 이게 맞아을 줘서 고마워요

We are so proud of you 너무 자랑스러워요

You both are so cool! 둘이 멋있다!

JM & JK we LOVE you SO MUCH! JM&JK 너무 사랑해 💜💛

I'm so happy to finally see you again! 드디어 다시 만나서 너무 너무 기쁘다 // 오랜만에 보게 되서 기쁘다

Please take all the rest you need, we love you no matter what: 편하게 쉬세요 무슨일이 있어도 우린 둘이를 사랑해요 // 무슨일이 있어도 아미는 지민이와 정국이가 사랑해

Thank you for being born: 태어나줘서 고마워요

Let`s walk the flowery path together: 같이 꽃길만 걷자

Let`s stay together forever: 영원히 함게합시다

We will be your strength: 우리는 너희의 힘이 될 거야

Live your life happily: 행복하게 살아줘

Don't get hurt and live happily 아파하지말고 행복하게 살아

Let's only live happily from now on: 이제 행복하게만 살아줘

Hope to see you both again soon! Please do more lives together! 곧 다시 만나자! 더 라이브 함께 해주세요!

JK, thank you for going Live in December! That was so healing! 정국아 12월 라이브 해서 고마워 정말 힐링이였어 💜

"Are You Sure?!" is incredible, special, healing, perfect! 이게 맞아 너무 훌륭하고 특별하고 힐링이하고 진짜 다 완벽해요

Thank you for giving us "Are You Sure?!" ! We really enjoyed it. Please make a season 2!이게 맞아을 줘서 감사합니다 시즌 2가 나왔으면 좋겠습니다~

Looking forward to a future collaboration between you two! 둘이의 콜라보를 기대합니다! 💜

We have missed you both so much, it's so good to see your beautiful faces again: 너무 너무 보고 싶었어요 예쁜 얼굴을 다시 보게 되어 정말 기뻐요 💜

Thank you for returning back to us safely. 잘 갓다와서 고마워요

I love you both. Fighting: 둘이 사랑해 파이팅 💜💛

Jimin and Jungkook you are the perfect ace duo: 지민이와 정국이 완벽한 에이스 듀오이다

Your bond is so special to me: 두사람의 사이가 우리에겐 굉장히 소중해요 / 두사람의 사이가 우리한테 진짜 특별한 거예요

Thank you for being strong and completing your military service. We are so proud of you!: 전역 축하해요 아미들이 다 정말 자랑스러워하고 있어요

We'll love and support you till the very end 끝까지 사랑하고 응원할게요!

Jimin, I love Muse!: MUSE' 너무 좋다!

I'm glad you enlisted together. 동반입대 하게 되어 기뻐요

You’ll always be my favorite artists in the world - my forever singers: 항상 네 인생에서 가장 좋아하는 아티스트들이 될 거야 ❤️ 우리의 영원한 가수❤️

A Jimin and Jungkook Karaoke live would be so fun!: 같이 노래방 라이브를 했으면 너무 재미있을 거야

You must have been destined to meet: 둘이는 인연인가 봐 💜 서로 인연이 깊은가 봐 💜

I'm so happy to hear your voices: 목소리를 들으니 정말 기쁘다 / 목소리를 들으니 정말 기쁩니다 (formal)

All translations are mine. I apologize for any mistakes, I truly tried my best! 🥹I hope our words can reach them.

[chxseversion]

PLEASE DON’T LEAVE||

Summary: just Oscar’s girlfriend posting multiple posts in one day begging him not to leave her (he’s going to media day and she’s got a cold at the hotel)

Warnings: flirty comments, Fake flirting in comments, Oscars girlfriend being crazy, pure silliness,

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

YourInstaName • posted 45 minutes ago

Liked by OscarPiastri and others

YourInstaName Back when he still loved me… now i just cough up my lungs and cry when i try to talk :(((

view all comments

User45 what?

LandoNorris god damn… and to think you two were so cute

✸ YourInstaName right? i don’t know where i went wrong

✸ LandoNorris i’ll yell at him for you

User46 if he actually broke up with her im taking her side

User47 she’s right. he’s wrong. end of story

Mclaren cope. we need him to do his job

HattieP he’s a idiot. I’LL DATE YOU!!!!

✸ OscarPiastri stop trying to date my girlfriend

User48 i just know she’s got some silly little reason behind this and it makes total sense. your in the wrong @OscarPiastri

✸ OscarPiastri please don’t encourage her

OscarPiastri i never stopped (slide 2 is me right now)

✸ YourInstaName YOU HATE ME!!!!

✸ OscarPiastri i could never hate you love

YourInstaName • posted 40 minutes ago

Liked by Mclaren and others

YourInstaName @Mclaren GIVE ME MY LOVER BOY BACK!!!!!

view all comments

User45 i’m still confused but the Oscar photos are legendary

Mclaren no! :|

HattieP it’s okay, i’ll look after you now

✸ YourInstaName my new fav Piastri (after Mama P)

✸ HattieP of course

User46 why do i feel like she has about 400 photos of him and now what’s an excuse to use them?

OscarPiastri when did you take the 2nd photo?

✸ YourInstaName the time i took the photo

User47 the 3rd slide is actually such a good shot

❤️ liked by original creator

User48 oh to say ‘Nah. YourName is my girlfriend’

✸ OscarPiastri she’s mine. back off

LandoNorris I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!

✸ YourInstaName i’m about to yell at you

✸ LandoNorris i no love this anymore

YourInstaName • posted 30 minutes ago

Liked by OscarPiastri and others

YourInstaName missing my lover boy. Times are hard without him and i deeply wish to have him back but we can’t always have what we want. I had to learn that the moment i lost him. My heart is deeply broken but at least i had the memories with him.

view all comments

OscarPiastri IM NOT DEAD!!!

✸ YourInstaName it’s almost like he’s still with us at times

✸ OscarPiastri i give up

LandoNorris your an icon

User45 the fact he mentioned the reason behind these in his interview and everyone laughed

Mclaren damn… well keep him then

User46 she’s so crazy she’s coping by imagining he’s dead

User47 R.I.P Oscar Piastri. you’ll be missed

❤️ liked by original creator

✸ YourInstaName he will be missed dearly :(

HattieP oh well come and let me love you now

✸ YourInstaName yay!

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Your phone started to ring through the hotel. A single cough was let out as you reached for it and saw ‘osc 🧡’ as the name and a small smile graced your face. The green phone was pressed and before greetings could even be said he started to talk.

“post something that’s crazy. Mclaren admin won’t let me go home and i really want to be home” He explained while whispering through the phone like he wasn’t meant to be speaking over the phone at this very minute in time. “Use whatever pics you want. Just post something with a very ‘you’ caption and don’t worry”

With his words he hung up, you staring at your phone in pure confusion but also thinking what you could post to get Mclaren to let him come home, the hotel that was dark yet comfy, a message popped up seconds later from him ‘love you pretty girl ❤️’.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

YourInstaName • Posted 20 minutes ago

Liked by OscarPiastri and others

YourInstaName I NEED THIS MAN BIBLICALLY. like everyday, any angel. Just NEED HIM.

view all comments

Mclaren you can have him back now as long as we can get you PR training?

✸ YourInstaName sure

User45 the fact that it was probably a trick to get him back but she’s speaking all out truths is crazy

User46 she knows what’s up

LandoNorris GET YOUR MAN BACK BESTIE!!!

✸ YourInstaName sometimes just gotta cause a little bit of chaos to get what you want (i want him)

HattieP EWWWWWW!!!!! THATS MY BROTHER!!!!!

✸ OscarPiastri should have told her to post these at the beginning then

User47 SPEAK THE TRUTH EVERYONE GIRLY

❤️ liked by original creator

OscarPiastri of course love. on my way

✸ YourInstaName ahhhh!!!! MY FINE AS MAN!!!!!

✸ ✸ User48 her freaking out over him is the same as the edits people create of him

✸ ✸ ✸ YourInstaName i know. i have 200 favourites on tiktok in a folder (no shame)

User49 she knows what she got and she’s gonna take it

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N: thanks to those who made it through. the next post should have more of a plot line not just pure chaos cause i wanted to make it without a structured plot.

[crunchybeards]

I still do find it downright incredible in terms of the time that Look Outside came out and the current meme culture crossing paths the way that they do. And I'm specifically talking about Gen Z not fucking with jobs/ being employed like at all. Seriously the stars aligned for a game where you play as an unemployed 30 something year old who doomscrolls on social media whose only known hobby is gaming and eating shitty TV dinners whilst dodging rent to come out where that exact lifestyle is encouraged by Look Outside's demographic.

Like Sam is the ideal Gen Z icon, as of the current unemployment meme trend despite being well a 30 something year old dude. Being unemployed truly transcends all barriers, peace and love on planet earth.

[robynahaley]

Adding to this by having to consider the absurdity of things that compensate lower prices with advertisements. All these media subscription services like Amazon Prime or YouTube that keep hiking up prices, but simultaneously implement lower paid tiers with mandatory ads. Like, hey it’s okay if you can’t pay $25 a month, we’re offering a $18 a month just for you! You just have to watch some ads along with it. Because capitalism is especially predatory to the poor, which is absurd when you think about it.

It is actually bonkers how much America tries to squeeze money out of the people that have the least of it, often times to companies’ own detriment and loss. Can’t afford the more expensive option, want the free version? That means you and your data become the payment. They shove ads at you to see how they can extract the money you should be saving by not purchasing the other options. Rather than a system that encourages you to save so that you can afford the higher prices you’re encouraged to use your expendable income (or let’s face it, they don’t care if you can afford it or not, that’s why credit exists) to purchase what’s in the ads. Maybe you spend outside your means eventually and can no longer afford the service at all. You can’t afford anything that matters any more. Maybe you invest in these purchases because they’re so much more achievable than ever affording something you may actually need, like health insurance or a house. This is what we get when we have an economy predicated on stock holders and infinite growth.

Now we’re also looking at the absurdity of AI, and how we’re seeing talk (and advertisements) about great it is, it will replace workers and save companies so much money by having to pay less humans. After paying less humans they can go forth with AI and figure out more ways to sell more things to humans. Humans that do not have work and therefore do not have money to spend. Is this their big plan? Have they actually thought it through? Maybe they think they get to take from the bourgeoisie then, selling to an ever shrinking market. But then we come back to what capitalism sits on the back of, exploiting the middle and lower class. If you replace all of them with AI, then no amount of ads are going to help any more. You’ve hunted your game to extinction.

Something so profoundly fucked up between the inverse ratio of shrinking middle class and ever increasing aggression of advertisement

[revelboo]

I understand you may not want to write this since some people consider this a little bit of a touchy subject. But I am wondering if you have any ideas for a smut where the reader has little-to-no experience with sexual situations? I mean I read your blog so I'm not exactly "innocent" lol but even at 26 I've never been with anybody, even romantically. Idk if it should be soft or more spicy bc I guess some mechs would have a more romantic take on it (thinking of Thundercracker rn 💙), and the more possessive ones might be super into it, which is also pretty hot in a fictional context 🫣😅

Thank you for your writing and please take care!

No worries, I don’t have an issue with it. Though, you definitely wouldn’t want Sunder, Vortex, or Overlord for your first time 🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️ implied fem bits

Inexperienced

Thundercracker x Reader

• Flustered as you fumble with the button on your jeans, fingers trembling, you inhale when his palm gently rest against your forearm. “We don’t have to do this,” he says and your face gets even hotter. Wanting to do this, but not really sure how to tell him you don’t know what you’re doing, that he’s going to be your first. And he’s so alien, maybe this isn’t going to work at all. Maybe he’ll see you naked and change his mind. “Talk to me.” One of his hands lifts to cup your cheek.

• “I’m sure. I want to do this,” you whisper, avoiding his optics. Can practically feel the unspoken ‘but’ hanging between you. Maybe you’re coming to your senses, realizing you’d rather be with another human. Sliding a servo against your bottom lip, he waits and you lean into him, forehead against his chassis. “Just go slow, please?” Why would you think he wouldn’t? Wants to savor you, explore you.

• “Can I see you?” He asks and you shakily strip for him. Sucking in a breath when he drops to his knees, mouth pressing against your hip bone. And his big hands are warm on the outside of your thighs. Just wanting to retreat when one of his hands slides to gently nudge your thighs apart and his face is right there, optics staring as you just want to shrivel with embarrassment. Especially when he shoulders one of your thighs and he puts his mouth on you. Gasping as his lips and glossa explore you and he finds your clit, lips pressing against it and sucking.

• Hears you whimper his name, squirming like you’re trying to get away even as you grab at his helm, hips rocking against his mouth. And you buck when his glossa slides inside you, tasting as you make those needy noises for him. “I can’t, please,” you moan, hips moving restlessly like you can’t decide if you want to grind against him or shy away. “Please, don’t stop.” Alternating between teasing and sucking that little nub and thrusting his glossa inside your tight heat, he watches your reaction, learning what you need. And you’re bucking against his mouth, head tossed back and trembling.

• Coiled so tight it’s almost uncomfortable, your thighs are trembling. And it’s too much, overwhelming you and when you climax, it’s a delicious shock. Shuddering, you would have fell backwards if not for his hands supporting you. Your legs are shaking, heart racing when he eases your feet down on the berth and reaches to encourage you to lay down for him. Thighs spreading as he shifts over you and you feel the heat branding your inner thigh when he covers you. Head lifting to stare at his spike, the ridges and biolights alien and strangely lovely. “Slow,” he growls, wings flaring as he shifts over you and the head of his spike stretches you. For a moment, worried he’s too big as he tenses and barely rocks himself against you. “Primus, you’re tight.”

• Wings trembling against the urge to drive deep, he’s venting raggedly, hips curling shallowly. Feels your hands clinging to him as he barely moves, trying to get the head of his spike inside you when you’re so tight. “Breathe,” he growls and your eyes flick to his optics. “Relax for me, sweetspark.” Helm brushing your forehead, he keeps pressing and retreating slowly and you finally soften for him, relaxing and his servos scrape against the berth, afraid of bruising your soft skin when you take the head of his spike into that wet heat.

• Sucking in a breath, back arching, there’s a little discomfort mixed with the burn of being stretched. Not the pain you’d been expecting, though. But as he slowly moves against you, inside you, while his optics never look away, that need coils again. Ramping back up at the feel of him inside you and he’s sheathing himself deep, making both of you groan. Before his hips pump lazily. “There you are,” he growls, deep voice a low rumble as he moves against you. ‘More, I’m close,’ you whisper, moving restlessly as he finds a rhythm and you begin to move to meet him. Why were you worried about this? Unable to look away from those optics and you’re shattering with his name on your lips. Hands grabbing at him, at his wings as he keeps bucking his hips, spike stroking deep until he groans your name when he overloads hard, the heat and feel of him filling you making you tremble. “Okay?” He asks and You love him even more for being worried about you.

[c0llisiion]

Virgin!MarkLee

W/C; 941

Virgin!MarkLee, who was slightly embarrassed to say that he was a virgin when he found out you had more experience.

VirginMarkLee, would get shy and all hard watching you undress but he couldn’t bring himself to ask you to have sex with him. Please. That would be pushing it since it's only been around 6 months since you guys started dating.

Virgin!MarkLee, who would often fantasize about your body and the way you would feel. Sometimes having wet dreams, which he would try covering up, but you knew.

Oh, you knew.

Virgin!MarkLee, who was getting confused by your sudden show of affection. Wearing tighter and tinier clothes around the house. Your hugs and kisses lingering. Hands running suggestively up his muscles while watching movies or even making suggestive comments.

But he seemed too naive to catch onto your advances. And it bummed you.

Virgin!marklee, whose eyes were wide as saucers when you asked if you could make out with him. Hoping to take small steps into full-blown sex.

He was hesitant at first. Mostly because he was worried he wouldn’t be good or he would chicken out, but he had been yearning to be closer to you for so long that he eventually agreed.

Virgin!marklee, who was a sweaty mess as you straddled his lap. His vision went hazy when he saw you on top of him. His hands stuck in the air, not knowing what to do or even say.

Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes raked up and down your body. God. You were so beautiful.

Virgin!marklee, who seemed very hesitant at first but when you started guiding his hands to hold your ass, he relaxed. It looked like he needed guidance and you were more than ready to give him that.

His breath hitched as you placed soft kisses around his lips. Your hands on his chest could feel his thumping heart and even could hear the beating. You smiled at his nervousness before gently placing your lips on top of his.

Virgin!marklee, who wasted no time in returning the kiss. His lips working tandem against yours. He was slowly relaxing and you could sense it.

Your hands traveled up his body and held onto the back of his neck, pulling him closer, creating a possible moment where you could slip your tongue inside his mouth.

Virgin!marklee, who was starting to get excited. His cock already throbbing against his lounge shorts and creating a large bulge. His hands involuntarily squeezed your ass when he felt your tongue run over his bottom lip, making you gasp.

“Oh my god…!” he said pulling away and worriedly, like he hurt you.

“Was that too much? Did I overstep?”

Ugh. You loved it when your little Markie acted all flustered and cute.

You grin at his reaction and lean forward to capture his lips again. This time, taking full advantage and pushing your tongue in.

Virgin!marklee, whose eyes once again went wide as he felt your tongue against his. A strangled groan or a noise rumbled through his chest.

“Keep doing that… and we may do something else too…” you murmured against his lips before going back in. Hands pulling at his black locks making him groan into your mouth.

Virgin!marklee, who got more bolder at your encouragement, started running his hands up your body. Cupping your waist before hesitantly reaching the hem of your crop top. Not sure if—

“Just do it… Don't be shy…” you knew he would hesitate at every point so you made sure you gave him all the encouragement.

With that, he lifted your shirt and his eyes were blessed by your gorgeous and perfect tits.

Virgin!marklee, who audibly groaned at the sight in front of him. His hips shamelessly bucked up as his eyes ran all over your chest. Shaky fingers reach up to cup the mounds.

You sigh and arch against his touch. Placing your hands over his as your hips carefully rolled over his crotch. The large bulge rubbing against your clothed lips.

Virgin!marklee, whose breathing sped up as he felt you grinding on his bulge. His cock straining against the fabric, twitching at your movements.

He cursed under his breath and threw his head back against the couch. Hands involuntarily squeezing your tits.

Breathy groans escaped his lips and you could see the perspiration forming on his forehead.

You grinned wickedly at his state and started advancing. Your hips rolled faster and bounced slowly on the mound, giving his cock the well-deserved attention.

Virgin!marklee, who whined pathetically as he watched you grind against his crotch. Tears filled up in his eyes as the stimulation was starting to get to him.

“F-fuck.. ngh…” he cursed and whimpered. His stomach caved each time you would properly sit on the bulge and move your hips. Thighs and voice trembling as he got closer and closer to reaching his orgasm.

How pathetic. You thought to yourself. You barely even started and he was already close.

His hands desperately gripped onto your waist. “P-please…please.. s-stop… I'm gonna…” he made a poor attempt at making you stop but little did he know, it made you want more.

You leaned forward and started kissing his neck. Leaving wet hickeys while your hips moved at their own pace.

Virgin!marklee, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he tried not to cum prematurely. But dear god. The way your body felt against his. He just couldn’t control himself.

Virgin!marklee, whose hair was all disheveled. All disoriented and sweaty, let out the loudest moan as he came all over his shorts. The red material now a deep crimson, seeped his milky white cum.

A/N: RAAHHHHH RAHHHHHH GRRRRRRR i have been yearning for these kinda men. Please. My next posts are gonne be like this only. Dw. 🥰 TY FOR READINGGG

[lorelune]

(michael kaiser x reader // minors dni // tw alcohol consumption)

the way how kaiser will make you ride his thigh in public.

like, private booth at the club, he's shifting you from fully on his lap to over one thigh, flipping up your party dress, so it's just the thin satin of your panties hovering above the fabric of his trousers. he cocks his head a little, one hand holding a drink you've been sharing (a smear of lip gloss on the rim) and coming up to your hip.

"get off."

"get off of... you?" you ask. seems weird. you're too tipsy to be coy.

"don't even think about it." he squeezes the softness of you hard. "get off. on my thigh."

"michael—" your head whips around. his teammates are mostly on the dance floor, but there's still a few of them around. ness is across the booth, eyeing you, like a hungry dog. isagi is watching out of the corner of his eye, too drunk to manage subtly.

he grabs your jaw, bringing his attention back to you. "i know you know how. be good now."

"there's people—"

"and you're mine." kaiser helps you, pushes down on your hips so that your core is flush to the heat of thigh. "don't mind them."

"that's—" it's not that simple. you're shyer than that, that most kaiser has ever done at the club his shoved his tongue down your throat and even that left you stumbling and out of sorts.

"you don't need to talk," he coos, setting his drink aside to bring your face into the croook of his neck. "not to them. you're welcome to make as much noise as you'd like if it's for me to hear."

"g-god," you stutter, squeezing your eyes shut. he pulls your hips again, this time grinding against him. he's so fucking— warm. scalding. you squeak and immediately fall into him, bracing against his shoulders.

he noses into your hair and inhales. "that's not my name."

you huff.

"it's not gonna take much, will it?" he keeps— fucking— grinding you on this thigh. you follow the motion without fulling meaning to. it does feel good. "you're easy for me, aren't you?"

"f-fuck off."

"later, later." he kisses your cheek. "once we're home, yeah?"

"c-couldn't this wait until then too?"

"no, no." he fully wraps his arms around your middle. "it's more fun like this."

"you're the worst, y-you know that?"

"that's," he says, all slick and smooth and infuriating, "not what you'll be saying when we come on my thigh, looking so pretty for me."

and as he encourages a roll of your hips, contact burning and so, so good— you hate that he's right.

[polymerfan]

The reason polyester (PE) is used for so many things is because the ingredients to make it are waste products of crude oil cracking. In fact, there was so much of this waste product that polyethylene was seen as somewhat of a miracle when its creation was discovered. (Yes, it was an accident, haha) Polypropylene (PP) also comes from this process.

When oil comes out of the ground, it needs refining before it can be used for things like gasoline or natural gas. Below is a diagram showing the refinery of petroleum and what the byproducts are used for.

Due to the oil and gas industry, there is a LOT of this waste product. That is why PE and PP are so incredibly cheap- MUCH cheaper than more reusable, recyclable, and/or sustainable alternatives, like glass, metal, natural fibers, etc. You can make a LOT more money if you bottle your soda with PP or make clothes out of PE.

So, the best solution, imo, to minimising plastic pollution is not recycling, or making plastics illegal. It is RENEWABLE ENERGY SOURCES.

If we all powered our cars with electricity from wind, solar, or hydro, we would have less need for oil- therefore minimising the amount of product that can be turned into plastics. This would make plastics more expensive due to scarcity, and would (hopefully) encourage companies to return to using infinitely recyclable metal and glass. (By the way, PE is the number one made plastic in the WORLD. PP is second place.)

Sorry this is off topic but i wanted to chip in!

The closest experience I've ever had to discovering "the vitamin" was buying a 100% wool outfit and wearing it in the winter.

Not only was I not freezing anymore, I was not sweating and overheating either. The horrible sensory nightmare of winter clothes disappeared.

In particular, I bought a pair of wool pants. They were a thrifted pair of fancy dress pants like you would wear at an important office job, and they were easily the most comfortable pair of winter-appropriate pants i'd ever worn. I wore them Every Single Day.

From that point on I realized a lot of my clothes were making me feel bad, and the common thread was polyester. Especially polyester blends.

It's a trap because the polyester clothes are the ones that always feel sooooo silky soft when they are in the store, whereas cotton, linen and wool can feel comparatively rough and scratchy. But when actually wearing them for hours throughout the day, it's the natural fibers that feel more comfortable.

Maybe the secret to sensory comfort is not about the presence of softness, but the absence of overloading sensations. Or maybe the sensory stress and agony is not triggered by texture of the fabric, but by how it breathes and regulates temperature.

Then there's the problem of clothing life span: polyester blends, no matter how soft they seem at first, become rough and scratchy and covered in hard, itchy pills after wearing them 10 or 20 times, whether or not they have been tumble-dried or even washed at all. (I tested it!) Linen and cotton become softer and more comfy the more you wear them, polyester but ESPECIALLY polyester blends become a constant stressor. Polyester blend t-shirts I used to love for their softness now feel bristly and irritating.

So now I'm trying to change my wardrobe to as many natural fibers as possible, and the more natural fiber clothes i have the more I realize that the plastic fibers stress me out. It's so easy to overheat or freeze in them and they're always degrading and becoming less comfortable and it sucks.

[tobesolnelyx]

Absolutely adore your daddy Shauna shipman fratboy and wanted to raise you an idea higher? Please don’t feel the need to answer this if you are busy but…what about fratboy daddy Shauna shipman who decideds she’s into hockey one day. We already know that Shauna is faster than anybody on the soccer team (it’s stated in a few episodes) so what if Shauna gets invited to a game one day and reader decideds that’s it’s Shauna only outlet of fun (because Shauna gave up the frat parties and so on) so reader goes with Shauna and the little tyke goes as well. Reader sits in the pews and watches Shauna as she played hockey. I’m thinking it’s ice hockey. Maybe Shauna gets noticed by the team scout and at first she doesn’t care but she also realizes that this paired with her scholarship could get her into the door of making good money one day day for you and the baby.

I am just imagining hockey daddy Shauna shipman who decides it’s good look to get a snuggle from the baby beforehand, and perhaps a little something from you in the locker room. 🤔Again absolutely love your work! And I know how busy you are so if you don’t feel inclined to write I would just love your thoughts on this instead. Not sure if you assign anons, is 🖋️ taken by any chance? Also I love the thought of Shauna being a broody writer and just writing the absolute best poetry about the baby and her new life. Perhaps Shauna even proposes-yes she’s insane-impulsive, it’s heat of thw moment-not thinking clearly because she barley even has a ring, or money for one-she’s a broke college student but she has a rubber band-and a good speech-and you literally have her baby in your arms so-maybe Shauna does propose after a hockey game and reader is like, 🤯

hi anon!! 🖋️ isn’t taken! LOVE THE IDEA cause i used to play hockey so let’s gather thoughts, ideas and i’ll think how to put it all together in a one shot :D also, it reminds me of the alchemy by taylor swift

slight NSFW - MDNI

so, you definitely need some money to play hockey. not so cheap sport. let’s say that lottie invited her for a quick play to finally get out of the house and do something different than just changing diapers.

so she goes, you have to convince her, cause she’s grumbling that she doesn’t need that. she’s already way too busy with playing soccer. she wants to have more time with you and the kid, c’mon :( so yeah, overall, she’s not a big fan of this idea

but she goes when you say you go and take your baby. they would be around 2 years old, let’s say. enough for her to carry the kiddo whole way there. she’s such a good dad cmawnn

she’s resigned from any parties and stuff, soccer is practically routine for her so she doesn’t even remember how to have fun. ofc, she loves you and your baby, but she started neglecting herself. you notice, so obviously you’re trying to encourage her to do something, anything.

ending up with shauna liking hockey way too much. she’ll shake her head and say it’s stupid when you ask her, but you see it. she’s going through the field like it’s second nature, cheeks flushed, laughing like she laughs only with her woman and kid. you sit there, watching her, little one on your lap, babbling and shouting something at shauna, giggling anytime she waves at the two of you :(

“oh god,” you laugh softly when she comes to you after the game. hairs are sticking to her forehead, she’s all red and sweaty. she leans to press messy kiss to your lips, taking baby from you. “you look…”

“like shi…” she starts, but then she catches herself, pressing lips in a thin line.

“happy, i thought happy,” you snort, kissing her cheek. she rolls her eyes, saying it’s just a stupid game, but she practically buzzes with energy. and now she’s just a energetic kid herself.

after another game or two, scout notices her and makes an offer. she’s athletic, fast as hell after years of playing soccer. you can always polish technique, right? she seems great. and of course, she declines. “sorry, im already too busy, got my own family,” she says gathering her bag. some people would kill for that offer, and she walks away. just like that.

so when scout realizes that she goes to you, they immediately decide to approach you next time. so maybe you can talk to her about it.

and you do! late at night, when kid is asleep, baby monitor humming softly in the background. she caress your thigh, reading her book, kissing your neck occasionally. you’re in this pretty night gown she bought you for your birthday, while she’s spread here only in her boxers and sport bra.

“baby?” you decide to give it a try, she hums in response, eyes still glued to the pages so you turn to her. you gently put her book away, leg wrapping around her, while she automatically pulls you closer. her head lands in the crook of her neck, so you scratch her scalp.

“what is it?” she asks finally, her fingers wanders, going down to grip your thigh. it’s all so soft, so warm. like she’s worshipping you. you thought that settling down when it comes to shauna is impossible, but here she is.

you think for a moment, gathering your thoughts and wondering how to even start this topic, you already know what she’ll say. but still shauna is smart and logic arguments should convince her.

“you know,” you start, feeling her lips on your collarbone. she tires to distract you, like she know what you’re going to say. “going into hockey wouldn’t be…that stupid.” you murmur, caressing her messed up hair.

her kisses goes on your shoulder, arm, forearm until she finally reaches your palm. “i don’t have time for this,” she says and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“you could go for it instead of soccer,” you continue, arguments forming in your head.

“yeah?” she snorts like it’s a ridiculous idea. she smoothly moves on top of you, settling down between your legs. you wrap arms around her, holding her in place as if there’s need for that. she doesn’t even think about pulling away.

“im being serious,” you say fidgeting with her hair. “you seem to be happy on the field…”

“yeah, and i have duties, too, my love,” she says a little amused, cutting you off and finally looking up at you. “i have a girlfriend and baby at home, i can’t…”

“you could earn money. way more money than in soccer team,” you blur out before she can finish her sentence. your fingers unconsciously tightens in her hair, but she doesn’t seem to notice. she blinks at you. once. twice.

“what?” she furrows her brows, finally getting serious.

“i talked with that scout,” you admit, her jaw slightly tenses so you start rubbing her neck. something that always seems to soothe her down. “he said that scholarship combined with playing hockey could be…beneficial. it could be enough to stop asking parents for money.”

she goes quiet. for a moment she just study your face, processing everything. “just think about it,” you add softly, your hands slides on her jaw. you pull her closer to prep her face with kisses. she hums, but doesn’t pull back. “you don’t have to answer now, but promise me, you’ll think about it.”

she groans, and you know, she’s already defeated. she collapses on you, nuzzling her nose in your neck and inhaling deeply. “whatever,” she mumbles but you know better.

thinking about shauna who finally start playing and gets fixated on the idea of dragging you and the baby to every game. she smiles the whole time, pointing at you two, making stupid gestures, only to scoop the baby at the end of the game.

when the baby is at grandparents house, and it’s a game day, you insist of sucking her off in the locker room. more complex version of good luck kiss.

shauna, who propose to you after few games, buzzing with energy and enthusiasm. she doesn’t really think about it, she just do it. she wants to finally call you her wife and she doesn’t give a fuck about how she’s going to do it. she just drops to both of her knees, almost begging you in front of all those people. crying, even.

she’s a part time writer, scrabbling poetry in her journal. sometimes she leaves it open on the kitchen counter. you don’t know if she does that on purpose so you can see or it’s accidental. but you pretend it’s just allergy when she finds you later, crying in your bedroom.

“i just love you so much,” you whisper when she wraps her arms around you. and it’s enough for her.

[bewitched-hours]

Yan!Forsaken | Pizzaburger x Reader

Thanks to @brain4stew for suggesting this-

Reader's pronouns shall be She/They~

Ah, an ex-hacker and the pizza man, you sure know how to pick... Whatever the fuck you got yourself into-

Ever since you joined this purgatory, Elliot and 007n7 seemed to have a bit of a... Situation with you...

It was clear Elliot hadn't liked 007 but 7 was trying to make the other more comfortable.

And you? You were stuck in the middle of it trying to help 007 get closer to Elliot and unknowingly lighting a flame between them that burned for each other and you, surprisingly.

At first you were proud of yourself, thinking you helped them get closer with 007 awkwardly dancing around his insecurities while you and Elliot helped him work on himself. And Elliot would awkwardly talk about his own insecurities with you and 007 trying to help him.

In return, you had a survivalist and a support always with you during rounds. At first you thought it was normal to team up but Shedletsky eventually informed you it was rare for any of them to team up during rounds unless there was a plan....

Which you never had...

All that led to the situation you were in now, with 007 having his arms wrapped around you and you sitting on his lap while reading a book with Elliot and quietly discussing the unrealistic tropes you encountered.

It was all just for some silly fun, a bonding activity for late 'nights' where you couldn't sleep and the two just so happened to be nearby and ready to help. You were all in your underwear but whatever your relationship was, they didn't treat it as anything special.

... Safe for the occasional flinching or twitching when you made any sudden moves in their grip-

But tonight the curiosity had you just a little antsy. And they didn't fail to notice. They may not have wanted to bring it up in respect of your privacy but you needed to bring it up before this question ate you up from the inside.

"What... Are we...? L-like- What do we call this relationship??" The words hesitantly slipped from your mouth, making them both go silent and take a moment to look at each other before turning back to you with a shared nod.

007n7 carefully turned you around to face them. "We were kinda hoping to start a relationship with you..? Like a polycule?" Elliot spoke up, getting your face as rosy as their own.

You were already surprised one of them would be in love with you but BOTH? And even suggesting a polycule? This wasn't a dream, was it??

You shortly began counting your fingers, much to the amusement of both men in your bed. It was a bit embarrassing but you figure it was worth the check before nodding with a relieved sigh.

"Okay- yeah- Yeah! I'd love to!" You stammered a bit, watching their faces soften at your words before taking turns spoiling you with kisses. Your increasingly reddening face and lack of protest(because let's be honest, why would you) only seemed to encourage them further, although they made sure to ask for consent before even postitioning themselves against you like a sandwich, showing you with love marks and praise from the front and back and enjoying the adorable noises you made.

That night, you let them see a side of you that they never expected from someone as sweet as you...

Not that they're complaining though

Honestly I was tempted but told myself I'd wait for an actual smut request before I dip my toes into full descriptions of... Well- smut-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[mercurycft]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 — 𝐋𝐖

## the bubble universe - leah x reader !!

guyyyys! i am feeeeding you all of the fluffy goodness of the bubble universe!! and i am absolutely loving writing this so bloody much! how have you all been!? lmk how you’re all feeling about my new stuff and the BU! i hope you all love this one as much as i do! love always - RGx

find THE BUBBLE UNIVERSE — here

early pregnancy - the first trimester, hints about fears of miscarriage, anxiety language, fluffy loved up ness, leah being the best partner ever, morning sickness and ultrasounds, angst if you squint haaard, some technical language about scans and pregnancy tracking. not proof read because again, fuck that.

6k words.

“we’re fully booked this week,” the receptionist on the other end of the line says gently. “but we can fit you in next tuesday. we’ll want to run a few blood tests first before we look at scans.”

a week. 

you hang up with shaking hands and a strange tightness in your chest. it’s not panic exactly, just that familiar, coiled kind of hope. the kind that still knows how to brace. leah’s still brushing her teeth when you  find her, sleep-creased and messy-haired. you lean against the bathroom doorway and wait until she sees your face in the mirror.

“they can’t see us for a week,” you say softly.

she spits toothpaste into the sink, rinses, turns. “okay,” she says, and wraps her arms around your waist like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “so we wait.”

the days between the ‘official’ positive and the clinic appointment are tender in ways you didn’t expect. leah treats your body like it’s made of glass now. a good kind; expensive, delicate, museum-worthy. she reads every label on every food item in the fridge. she stops drinking caffeinated coffee, even though you tell her she doesn’t need to. every morning, she pours you both tea and says “cheers” like it’s still fun.

you try not to overthink. try not to look at the toilet paper every time you pee. try not to google every ache or twinge. but sometimes you cry for no reason, and sometimes for good reason, like the night you dropped a full tub of blueberries on the floor and just sat there in the middle of the kitchen, hands in your lap, trying not to fall apart.

when leah found you there she didn’t laugh, didn’t fuss. just crouched beside you and helped pick up every single one. “that’s our baby’s vitamin C gone,” she whispered, joking, and kissed the tip of your nose. you laughed together, a little broken, and then cried again.

when the appointment finally arrives, it feels too big. like a checkpoint in a video game. like a door you have to knock on with both hands.

it’s raining. leah insists on driving even though you could’ve taken a cab. she says it’s about control. you don’t ask questions.

the clinic feels smaller than you remember. less sterile. more.. waiting. there are other couples in the chairs. quiet conversations. someone holding a tiny pair of socks in her lap. when they call your name, leah squeezes your hand and stands first.

they take your blood. they ask about symptoms- nausea? fatigue? any spotting?  and leah answers half of them for you, like she already knows everything. the nurse smiles. she tells you the hcg levels look “very encouraging.” 

then she says it:

“you’re probably around three, maybe three and a half weeks. it’s very early. too early to scan, we won’t see much yet, and we don’t want to cause unnecessary stress.”

you nod. you feel small.

“we’ll bring you back in at six weeks for a scan, we’ll maybe even be able to see baby’s heartbeat.” she says with a smile, it reads genuine, but you can’t help the nerves that stir in your ribs. “it’s important that you rest between now and then. no heavy lifting, no high-impact exercise. stay hydrated, take your prenatal vitamins daily, and try to limit stress where you can.”

then the part you were expecting, but still hate hearing:

“we recommend waiting until the twelve-week mark before telling anyone outside your very inner circle. early pregnancy is… fragile. we just want to give this the best possible chance.”

you nod again. you feel leah’s hand press against the small of your back, grounding you.

in the car afterwards, it takes you a while to speak. the rain dots the windows gently, a rhythm like static. leah rests her forehead on the steering wheel and exhales.

“three weeks,” she says finally. “jesus. that’s.. so tiny.”

you let out a breath. “i know.” she turns to you. eyes soft.

“but it’s there.”

you nod. “yeah. it’s there.”

she cups your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye. “we’ve got to protect it now.”

and you know she means all of it — your body, your heart, the tiny new life waiting somewhere inside you to be believed in.

for weeks, nearing months, you don’t tell anyone. just like the doctor suggested. 

not yet, at least. 

not because you’re hiding it, but because it feels like a secret the universe whispered just to you. something still forming, still blooming in the dark. 

it belongs to the two of you. 

leah keeps a list of names in her notes app. you’re not allowed to see it. you write little letters to no one in your journal. sometimes you fall asleep with your hand on your belly, even though there’s nothing to feel yet.

you’re not showing. not at all. but leah still tugs your shirt down gently when it rides up, like she’s shielding something.

she takes a picture of your stomach in week four. kisses it after.

“in case we forget how small you started,” she whispers, not to you, to your stomach.

you know you won’t forget. you don’t think you ever could.

you start noticing the shift around the end of week four, not that you’re counting (you definitely are.). it’s nothing major, not like the movies where someone throws up into a bin dramatically and knows instantly, it’s more like your body is turning the volume up on itself, bit by bit. 

food starts to smell different. leah’s aftershave, the one you usually love, makes your stomach twist if she sprays too much. you’re exhausted in a way that feels bone-deep.

“you’re growing a whole organ,” leah says one night when you apologise for dozing off halfway through a film. she doesn’t look annoyed, just kind of awed by it. “like… your body’s making a new body part. the placenta. that’s mental.”

you blink at her. “did you google that?”

she shrugs, but her ears go a little pink. 

“maybe.” and she does more than google. she orders two books and downloads an app that tells her how big the baby is each week along with  little facts about the growth, she reads them out loud when you’re half-asleep and screenshots bits she wants to talk about later. 

she’s taking it seriously. more seriously than you expected, if you’re honest. not in a rigid or panicky way, just like she’s trying to learn the shape of this with you.

she still kisses your belly every night before bed, despite the lack of bump, lack of evidence there is even a human growing inside you. sometimes you laugh and tell her she’s being ridiculous, but you don’t mean it. not even a little. it’s becoming your favourite part of the day.

as the fifth week draws to an end, the nausea starts properly.

you don’t throw up exactly, not every day, anyway. but it’s there, constantly, like a low hum in the back of your throat. toast helps. sometimes ice water with lemon. sometimes laying down in a dark room while leah rubs your back in slow circles until your breathing evens out.

“i feel useless,” she says one night, crouched on the bathroom floor beside you. your forehead’s pressed against the cold porcelain of the bathtub, your eyes watery.

“you’re not,” you mumble. “you’re- you’re here.”

she brushes hair from your face, careful and soft. “i just hate seeing you like this.”

you reach for her hand and squeeze.“you’re doing everything right.”

she makes you soup. it’s too salty but you eat it anyway.

she buys ginger chews. you spit one out immediately.

she gets sea sickness bands, the elastic kind with the little pressure bead. they actually help. she doesn’t say i told you so.

you fall asleep in the middle of a conversation and she just pulls the blanket up over you and finishes your sentence to the empty room.

you cry at a dog food commercial and she doesn’t even blink. just grabs the tissues and climbs into bed beside you like it’s all normal now.

you haven’t told anyone yet, just as discussed. 

but there’s a shift in how you exist in the world, its small, but it’s there. like you’re holding a glowing ember behind your ribs and everything feels a little warmer for it. you catch yourself with your hand on your stomach in the middle of the grocery store. leah orders decaf at brunch without even looking at the menu. 

when her mum calls, leah presses her phone tight to her ear like she’s afraid something might spill out of her mouth if she relaxes too much.

“do you think they’ll be excited?” you ask one night, curled into her on the sofa.

“my mum?” leah pauses. “yeah. i think she might cry. dad definitely will,” 

“what about your brother?”

she laughs softly. “he’ll probably make some rude joke and then go out and buy a full arsenal baby kit the same day.”

“that’s kind of sweet.”

“it is,” she agrees, and then, after a pause: “you don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready. not even our families. not even mine.”

“it’s not just about me, le, this is our news.” you say, looking at here through your tired yes. she doesn’t reply, but you know what she’s thinking. you both want to. soon. scared it will eat you up if you don’t. 

but still you don’t, not even your parents. not until that six-week scan, not until someone confirms that this flicker inside you is really doing what it’s meant to do. but the want is there. it bubbles up in you sometimes, surprising and bright. 

you want to see her mum’s face. you want to hear her brother’s jokes. you want this tiny, invisible thing to be something other people believe in, too.

you fall asleep with your head on leah’s chest and her fingers drawing slow circles against your shoulder blade. she’s humming, something low and wordless, and it makes your chest ache a little.

six weeks arrives quiet and early, folded into a tuesday morning like it’s nothing special. but it is. 

you wake up before the alarm, stomach already fluttering with nerves and nausea that you try to keep at bay with deep breaths and sips of water.

leah moves around the house quietly, content, soft-footed and serious. her voice is low, even when she’s just asking if you want toast. you nod and manage a bite before giving up, the nausea still curled somewhere behind your ribs.

“you don’t have to be nervous,” she says, slipping into the space beside you on the bed, balancing the plate on her knee.

you give her a look. “yes i do.”

she pauses, takes a deep breath. “yeah. okay. me too.”

the car ride is quiet. your fingers twitch against your thighs until she reaches over and laces them with hers, like she doesn’t even have to look. the city rolls past in grey and green, the roads slick from an early rain. everything feels sharper. heavier. like the world knows what you’re carrying.

you check in, fill out a few forms with hands that shake just enough to smudge your signature. and then they call your name again, his time for the scan.

the room is dim. clinical, but not cold. leah stands beside the bed, eyes trained on the monitor before anything even begins. the nurse is kind. her name is carla. she explains every step, even the ones you already know.

before the scan starts, leah gently clears her throat and asks, “would it be okay if i film for a minute? just to get our reaction? just on my phone? so we have it. to watch later.”

carla smiles warmly. “of course. just keep it respectful, and try not to interfere with the equipment.”

you squeeze leah’s hand, grateful. your heart is pounding, nerves twisting in your stomach.

“we’re going to do a transvaginal scan today — it’s clearer this early on. nothing to worry about. you might feel a bit of pressure,” carla continues.

you nod, biting your lip.

the cold wand presses gently, and the screen flickers to life in grayscale and static and then, 

“okay,” carla says softly. “let’s see what we’ve got.”

leah lifts her phone carefully and starts recording, her lens catching the flicker of light on the screen despite the dim room, but mostly it focuses on you: one hand tucked behind your head and the other holding leah’s just in the frame, the wide eyes, the breath caught in your throat, the tears that come unbidden.

it takes a second. one heartbeat. two.

and then: a tiny, flickering light in the middle of a grainy blob.

“is that?” leah whispers.

carla smiles. “that’s the heartbeat.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. it stutters a little, catches halfway in your throat, and then comes out wet. tears spill down your cheeks before you can stop them. you blink hard.

leah keeps filming, voice soft, “it’s real. we’re really doing this.”

carla taps a few buttons. “baby’s measuring right on track. six weeks, one day. strong little heartbeat. 118 bpm. everything looks perfect.”

you keep watching the screen, the flicker, the pulse — the little life inside you.

leah lowers her phone and wipes a tear from your cheek, her own eyes shining.

“you okay?” she asks.

you nod, overwhelmed. “are you okay?”

“no,” she says, laughing through a sob. “but in a good way.”

as the scan continues, carla poking and prodding around to do her checks, you find yourself asking questions quietly, “so, i know it’s early but is it possible to know the due date, roughly? and will we need more appointments soon?”

carla glances at the measurements on the screen and smiles gently. “based on today, you’re about six weeks along, so your due date would be around late november, but we always take that as an estimate at this stage.”

you nod along to her words as she taps the keyboard and pulls up some notes. “you’ll definitely need another scan around 10 to 12 weeks, that’s when we get a clearer picture and check on development. in the meantime, you’ll have regular blood tests and check-ins to monitor everything.”

she leans in, voice soft but serious. “early pregnancies from IVF can sometimes need extra monitoring, so it’s important to take care of yourself and come to all your appointments. but for now, everything looks very good.”

you nod, heart racing but comforted by her calm. leah squeezes your hand, her eyes on you.

at the end of the scan, she prints out a strip of little photos for you. a blurry, smudged, grey-and-white miracle that doesn’t look like anything but means everything. 

leah carries it out of the clinic like it’s worth a million pounds. back at the car, you’re both a mess of giddy-nerves. chatting absentmindedly with eyes glued to your new prized-possession. the pair of you stare at the pictures for a while, before you prop up your phone and snap a series of pictures. you and leah on either side of the middle console, the strip of pictures held between you - smiles beaming. 

“it’s real,” she says once, so quiet you almost miss it. you turn your head to look at her. she’s staring at the print like it’s magic.

“we saw it,” you whisper. she leans in and kisses you, slow and certain, which ends in a fit of giggles and tears. 

then, you hit seven weeks.

it passes without much fanfare, no new appointments, no major changes, just steady and private unfolding. 

you wake up to leah curled around you, her hand resting soft and flat over your stomach. it’s barely grown, actually not at all, but she touches it like she’s memorising it already. like she’s grounding herself to the fact that something’s there.

you’re still keeping everything quiet. it’s become a kind of game between you, pretending nothing’s changed when people check in, dodging questions about nights out and dinner plans and why you haven’t been seen at the pub lately. but inside your little home, it’s all you talk about.

you find yourself looking at the fridge more often now. the scan pictures are still up, soft and fuzzy, like little grayscale ghosts. but they’re already worn at the corners from how often you handle them. 

sometimes you catch leah just standing there, arms crossed, staring at them like they might shift or change if she watches closely enough.

you start writing things down. small notes in your phone about how you feel each day. about the wave of nausea that hit in the middle of brushing your teeth, the dream you had where the baby had leah’s exact smile, the smell of toast suddenly making you gag. it helps. to make it real on paper.

leah’s been reading. not obsessively, she knows how overwhelming it can get, but every now and then, you catch her scrolling quietly through articles on her phone and when you ask her what she’s found, she tells you softly, “you’re doing everything right.”

at eight weeks, the nausea peaks. 

your body feels like it’s in revolt some days. food aversions come out of nowhere, one morning you cry because your favourite cereal suddenly tastes like metal. leah doesn’t flinch. she kisses your forehead and brings you toast and a banana instead.

“you okay?” she asks, brushing your hair out of your face as you sit slumped on the bathroom floor once more. 

“not even a little,” you whisper, and she smiles, pulling you gently into her arms. “but we’re doing it.”

the fatigue is worse now too. afternoons blur into evenings without you realising, and sometimes you nap so deeply it’s like falling through water. but leah never makes you feel guilty. she just tucks a blanket over you and lies beside you, turning up the tv or reading aloud from whatever book she’s into, her voice steady and soft like waves against sand.

some nights, when you’re both still awake and the house is quiet, she talks to your stomach. not in a big way. not like a movie. just these soft, half-silly, half-sincere whispers; telling stories, sharing thoughts, asking questions like the baby could already hear her.

and it’s in those little moments, the in-between ones, that you realise: this is what growing looks like. slow. sacred. and full of love.

nine weeks arrives like breath on glass; close enough to see, not quite close enough to touch.

the days feel quieter now, though your body is louder than ever. nausea still clings to your mornings, sometimes your nights too. 

your emotions ride in strange, wild arcs. you cry at the sound of a baby laughing on the telly, then again when the post doesn’t come on time. you feel both ridiculous and entirely valid all at once.

leah doesn’t flinch. not once. she’s gentle with you, patient in ways that make your throat ache. she’s learned the exact right way to tie your hair back when you’re slumped over the sink. how to hold your hand when you’re just done for the day. how to make you laugh when you can’t see anything but grey.

she starts calling you “mama” sometimes, under her breath, like she’s talking to the baby but too sacred to say out loud just yet.

one night, at the end of week nine, you’re lying tangled together on the sofa, the telly flickering forgotten in the background, your head on her shoulder. she’s got one hand curled over your belly and the other resting on your thigh, and you can feel the rhythm of her breathing, steady and soft beneath your cheek.

“i keep thinking about what they’ll be,” she says. “like, what if they’re wild like you, or quiet like me? what if they’re both? what if they hate football?”

you laugh, exhausted but warm. “we’ll love them anyway. probably still make them wear a little arsenal kit though.”

she kisses your forehead and murmurs, “obviously.”

by ten weeks, there’s a quiet shift.

the nausea begins to fade, just enough to function. you’re still tired all the time, but some mornings are brighter now, you wake up without that heavy weight in your chest, without the dizzy ache behind your eyes.

you both know the next appointment is getting close. the 12-week mark hovers just ahead, a checkpoint you’ve been inching toward with cautious hope. it’s all still private, still tucked into the corners of your flat, the notes app on your phone, the soft drawer beside your bed where you’ve started to collect small, hopeful things. a book about names, a pair of tiny socks leah found and couldn’t leave behind.

your body feels different now, too. not obviously, not to anyone else but you know. you feel bloated constantly, so your jeans don’t quite button right anymore. your chest is sore in a way that makes even brushing your arm against it feel like punishment. and your stomach.. it’s still mostly soft, the same shape it always was, but there’s a new kind of weight to it. like your body’s holding a secret.

leah notices, of course. she always does.

“stand still,” she says one night, pulling you gently into the light of the bedroom lamp.

you’re wearing one of her t-shirts, oversized and stretched slightly at the middle now. she runs her palms over your stomach carefully, reverently, like she’s reading braille on your skin.

“turn to the side.”

you roll your eyes, but you do it. she crouches a little, squinting, then grins.

“there’s something there. tiny, but definitely something.”

“it’s probably just bloating,” you mumble, embarrassed.

she shakes her head, standing again. “nah. that’s our baby. starting to show off.”

you let her hold you like that for a while, her hands soft over your hips, your back tucked against her chest. you feel silly for how emotional it makes you — but she doesn’t tease. she never teases.

instead, she murmurs into your hair, “you’re doing such a good job.”

you spend more time in your little nest of a flat now. part of it is the exhaustion, ten weeks of growing a human has you completely undone by 3pm most days. but part of it is choice. safety. you’re still not ready to be in the outside yet,  the  world feels too big, too full of questions you’re not prepared to answer.

so you stay in. wrapped in soft blankets, living in oversized jumpers, binge-watching crime documentaries you’ve both seen before. leah makes a new habit of placing her hand over your stomach while you sit curled into her, like she’s trying to catch the baby doing something early.

“you think they can hear us yet?” she asks one morning, voice low and quiet.

you shake your head. “not for a few more weeks.”

“shame. i’d want them to know my voice.”

“they will,” you say, resting your hand over hers. “they’ll know it inside and out.”

you’re lying on the sofa, half-asleep on leah’s chest, the telly playing some old rerun neither of you are watching. her fingers are tracing lazy shapes over the curve of your stomach through your jumper.

"they're about the size of a strawberry now," you murmur, eyes still closed.

“all snug and round in there, floating about like a little bubble.”

you smile before you can stop yourself, the word ‘bubble’ fizzing quietly in your chest. it’s silly, but it fits. it fits the way your world’s shifted around this new centre. it fits the way you’ve started speaking in we instead of i. bubble feels like a word that holds wonder without pressure. soft edges. a bit of magic.

"bubble," you repeat, letting it settle on your tongue absentmindedly. 

leah leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “little bubble,” 

after that, it sticks. bubble becomes the quiet name passed between you in sleepy morning whispers and warm belly rubs, in phone notes and food cravings. you start talking about “bubble’s room,” “bubble’s heartbeat,” “what bubble might be dreaming about.”

and somehow, bubble makes you feel less afraid. less like it’s unknown, more like excitement. 

week eleven is a blur, less of a milestone.

like the baby, like bubble, is curled up somewhere deeper than before, almost unreachable.

your symptoms haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted. morphed into something gentler. you’re still tired all the time, still weepy over weird things;  a charity advert, a kid’s drawing in the post office window, the sound of leah humming in the shower, but it feels more like… endurance now. like you’re running a long, steady race with your body instead of trying to survive it.

but it’s still hard to believe there’s a tiny person growing inside you.

“a person with a spine,” you whisper once, reading from the pregnancy app, your thumb grazing the little cartoon fruit illustration. “and fingers.”

leah’s lying beside you, arm tossed across your middle. “bubble’s got fingers?”

you nod, handing her your phone. “and toes.”

she holds it like it’s a sacred text, then presses her cheek against your bump. “well done, bubble. keep going.”

the lead-up to the 12-week scan has a strange weight to it. like you’ve been holding your breath since day fourteen, and now someone’s telling you: soon, you can exhale.

you get a call from the clinic on wednesday morning, polite, clipped tones, confirming your scan for the following week, walking you through what to expect.

“bring water,” the doctor says over the phone. “a full bladder helps us get a clearer picture.”

you hang up and relay the instructions to leah while she butters toast, explaining the details you had retained about meeting your midwife and things. she doesn’t respond right away, just quietly flips the kettle on.

“you okay?” you ask, watching her.

she nods too quickly. then pauses. then shrugs. “yeah. just, it’s a big one, isn’t it? twelve weeks.”

you move to her side, press your hand to her back. “yeah.”

“i keep thinking about what they’ll see,” she says, quieter now. “like, if bubble’s okay. if their heart’s still beating.”

you nod, stomach turning in that too-familiar way. “me too.”

she leans her forehead against yours, eyes shut. “i didn’t think i could be this scared and this happy at the same time.”

you let out a breath against her cheek. “same.”

you spend the rest of the week preparing in little ways, folding laundry, printing off your appointment letter, standing at the fridge and staring at the scan photo like it might offer you clues.

leah puts together a list in her notes app titled questions for the Scan (aka don’t forget to ask these). you peek over her shoulder and read things like:

still measuring okay?

any signs we should watch for??

can we hear the heartbeat again??

is bubble okay in there????

will they let us keep another print?

you don’t say anything. you just kiss her shoulder and whisper, “we’re gonna be okay.”

the night before the appointment, you both lie in bed and watch old football highlights on her laptop, the volume low. her hand rests over your bump. it’s almost second nature now.

"i want bubble to love football," she says dreamily. "but not like… feel pressured to."

you smile, eyes already heavy. “they can love it. or dance. or, like, insects.”

“bubble the entomologist,” she says, half-laughing. “we’ll support it.”

“big word for you,” you laugh, no matter what the scan shows, no matter how big the world starts to feel again tomorrow. right now, in this room, bubble is safe. and so are you.

the morning of the 12-week scan begins with soft light filtering in through the bedroom window. 

your alarm goes off just after half six, but you’re already awake, lying still in bed with one hand on your stomach. the duvet is warm, leah pressed up behind you, arm slung across your waist, breath slow against the back of your neck.

you stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to name the feeling swelling in your chest. it’s not quite fear, not quite excitement, just a kind of knowing. you’re about to see them again. bubble.

leah shifts as the alarm buzzes again, groaning softly before leaning up on one elbow. “today,” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

you nod, turning to face her. her eyes are puffy, hair a bit wild, but she’s grinning.

“you okay?” she asks, brushing her fingers over your cheek.

you nod again, but the breath you let out is shaky. she kisses your forehead and climbs out of bed, already mumbling something about toast and tea.

an hour later, you’re in the car, appointment letter folded neatly in your lap, leah’s hand resting on your thigh as she drives. the roads are quiet, mid-morning haze making everything feel softer. 

the nerves don’t really hit until you pull into the clinic parking lot and see the familiar sign. you sit in the car for a second, staring at the entrance.

“it’s gonna be okay,” leah says gently. 

“we’ve made it this far.”

you nod, but you still reach for her hand when you step out of the car.

you’ve been in this room before, weeks ago, when everything still felt delicate, when the screen showed more potential than shape. but now, it’s different. the lights are dim again, the air quiet, soft beeping from machines blending with the low hum of anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

leah’s next to you, perched on the small chair by your side, thumb tracing slow circles over the back of your hand. she hasn’t let go of you since you walked in.

emily, today’s ultrasound tech, is all calm confidence and easy smiles. 

“you ready?” she asks, gel already in hand.

you nod, your shirt already tucked up beneath your chest, jeans slightly unbuttoned. 

the gel is cold. you flinch and laugh at the same time. leah squeezes your hand.

emily glances at the two of you. “if all goes well today, you’ll be able to see so much more than before. baby’s usually moving around quite a bit at this stage.”

“moving?” you ask, already breathless.

“yep. they’ve got limbs now,” she grins. “might even wave if we’re lucky.”

the machine whirs. the screen flickers.

and then,  there.

you can’t speak for a second. it’s too much. a real little person. head, arms, legs curled in just slightly, spine arched like a comma. nothing like the blur from before. they’re bigger now, somehow both tiny and huge.

you gasp softly, covering your mouth. leah shifts in her seat, leaning forward, eyes wide. “oh, wow…”

your own eyes are already wet. emily makes a few gentle adjustments, tapping keys, taking measurements. “heartbeat’s strong. looks beautiful.”

you glance at leah, and she’s staring not at the screen, but at you. watching the way you’ve gone completely still. the way your jaw trembles.

“do you want to know your estimated due date?” emily asks gently.

you nod.

“going off baby’s measurements today, i’d place you right around november 25th.”

leah breathes a quiet, amazed little laugh. “a scorpio baby.”

“or sagittarius,” you murmur back, still dazed.

emily turns the screen slightly and clicks a few more buttons. “we’ll print some pictures for you, of course. and based on how everything looks, you’ll be booked in for the next big scan around 20 weeks.”

you swallow thickly. “and everything looks okay?”

“it looks really good,” emily says without hesitation. “healthy. active. right where they should be.”

you nod, lips pressed together hard, trying not to cry too much. it’s all bubbling up. relief, joy, disbelief. you don’t think you’ve ever loved something you couldn’t touch quite this much before.

leah runs her fingers along your wrist, her voice low. “sorry, can i ask you something?”

emily pauses, waiting.

“we haven’t told anyone yet,” leah says softly. “we’ve been waiting. we just didn’t want to.. rush it. but now..” she trails off, looking at you. “do you think it’s okay to start telling people?”

emily’s expression softens. “a lot of people choose this milestone, 12 weeks, as the safe point. risks drop, baby’s developing well. of course there are no absolutes, but from what we’re seeing today? it’s looking really promising. if it feels right to you, then yes. now’s a good time.”

you feel something in your chest unclench. a long-held breath, finally exhaled. leah leans down, presses her lips to your temple.

“you hear that?” she whispers.

you nod, unable to speak.

after, you’re introduced to claire, your midwife going forward,and she feels like the kind of person you could talk to about anything. 

she’s older, warm-eyed, a cardigan over her scrubs. she pulls her chair close to the desk and opens a folder with your name on the front, already scribbled with dates and initials.

“you’re both doing so well,” she says after flipping through the paperwork. “and baby looks healthy. we’ll go over diet, appointments, what to expect next. but honestly, the most important thing you can do right now is keep looking after yourself. one day at a time.”

you and leah exchange a quiet smile.

after a friendly discussion, claire jots down your next appointment, circles the 20-week mark in pen. “we’ll see you again for the anatomy scan around this time, usually between 18 and 21. maybe before that for a few check-ins.”

she hands you a packet, more leaflets than you can count, and a little slip with her personal work number. “you’ve got me now,” she says. “any time you need something. seriously.” 

you tuck it all into your bag like it’s treasure.

the car feels warm from the little bit of sun, the windows slightly cracked, scan pictures clutched in leah’s hand like they’re sacred. neither of you are in a rush to drive yet, just sitting in that stillness. hearts full, the engine off, world outside blurred and quiet.

leah taps the corner of the photo strip against her thigh. “they look like a little gummy bear,” she says, grinning.

“a really cute gummy bear,” you reply, still dazed, leaning your head back against the seat. “with stumpy legs and a big head.”

“bubble the gummy bear,” she muses. “trademark pending.”

you laugh, then wipe at your eyes again, even though the tears aren’t really sad ones. just full ones. bright and aching and everything all at once.

there’s a pause. the kind that feels like breathing space. then leah says, softly, “we’re in the second trimester now, aren’t we?”

you blink at her. “are we?”

“almost,” she nods, lifting her phone and pulling up a pregnancy tracker app she’s secretly had downloaded for weeks. she tilts the screen toward you. “says here week 13 marks the start. and we’re basically there.”

“oh my god,” you breathe.

“i know.”

there’s a silence then, big and gentle, before leah speaks again.

“i think.. i want to tell people.”

you turn to look at her. she’s already watching you.

“you think?” you whisper.

“i do,” she says, voice catching slightly. “i know we’ve been so careful. so scared to jinx it. but bubble’s measuring perfectly, your body’s doing exactly what it needs to, and..  god, i just want everyone to know how proud i am of you. of this. of bubble.”

your eyes sting all over again. you blink fast. “you’re gonna make me cry again.”

“you’ve been crying all day.”

“you’ve been crying all day.”

“okay,” she laughs, breathless and warm. “we’ve both been crying all day.”

you both sit there for another minute, just letting it wash over you. the day, the words, the tiny gummy bear bubble inside you that has suddenly made the world feel huge and sharp and entirely new.

leah turns in her seat to face you properly, hand curling over yours on the middle console. her voice is quieter this time. steadier.

“now,” she says, smiling through it, “we have some news to tell some very important people.”

and your heart stutters in the best way possible. because you do, and you’re ready. 

[anamericangirl]

This is the definition of 'organism' from Wikipedia:

"An organism is any living thing that functions as an individual."

Meaning your definition of *life* is circular. We are arguing about this phenomena: what it means to 'function' and what it means to be an 'organism'.

I would encourage you to utilize sources beyond Wikipedia in order to fully understand this topic but anyway I think you maybe you don't know what a circular definition is because that definition does not make mine circular.

You asked what it means to be alive. I responded that to be alive means you function as an organism. That is how living things are classified and it is correct.

With the definition from Wikipedia, you're going to have to do a teeny tiny bit of critical thinking but I believe in you. Living things are organisms. Being alive is a requirement to be classified as an organism. And since science is able to clearly classify things as organisms, it follows that we have a solid understanding of what being alive is. Understand? You should have been able to use deductive reasoning to figure that out.

Things are alive if they have the characteristics of life. The main ones being the ability to grow, reproduce, respond to stimuli and adapt.

Now, sometimes, it might be difficult to determine exactly if a thing is alive and has the characteristics of life. But that is not the case with a human fetus. There is no question in science that they are alive from the moment of conception and you would be hard pressed to prove otherwise.

"Solve the problem outlined here."

I'm not reading a paper to to find out what you want me to respond to. You're going to have to sum up what it is you want to know.

You say it's clear what you mean by referring to the human species.

Here is the Wikipedia definition of species:

"A species (pl. species) is often defined as the largest group of organisms in which any two individuals of the appropriate sexes or mating types can produce fertile offspring, typically by sexual reproduction.

Here is an instance of a hybrid mule giving birth to a horse despite the fact they typically can't. Here. Tell me whether you consider horses and donkeys different species in light of this."

lmao this proves nothing and certainly doesn't pose any sort of conundrum to me saying that humans are a member of the species homo sapien.

It's not impossible for a mule to give birth, just highly unlikely. And though rare, there are documented cases of it happening. A genetic anomaly does not call into question anything about the species.

And what exactly would a case like this have to do with determining whether a being belongs to the species of homo sapien? Is there a lot of confusion around that? Are you insinuating that we can't ever be too sure what a member of the human species is?

Instead of saying "Here go ahead and solve all of this!!!" and linking to various papers, why don't you lay out what you need an answer for? And before I go into all that I want an explanation from you on how any of these would call into question whether a fetus is alive or whether they are human.

There are some questions science still has to answer it's true, but we've solved the riddle of whether or not a human fetus is human and whether or not they are alive. Any scientific source you look at will confirm that for you. But you should be able to figure that out yourself because humans can't reproduce something that also isn't human.

I realize you think you're being clever and throwing "gotcha" scenarios into the framework but you're really not. Nothing you're bringing up is even relevant to the specific issue being discussed and none of it even remotely casts doubt over anything I said.

What could people possibly mean by "I support abortion only in extreme cases"?

If something is growing inside of you that you don't want there, that's pretty damn extreme.