#this is not particularly different from how it was before surgery either. but now it's all the time

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ DUMB & POETIC ♡·˚

— [♡] ; you sprouted love like flowers, growing a garden in your mind and watering the petals with every unshed tear. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: hanahaki disease, afab!reader, fluff, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional growth, vulnerable gojo satoru, recovered feelings, love after trauma, reconciliation, slow healing, happy ending, chapter three of four!

wc. 4.1K

↳ part 1 | part 2 | part 4

Returning to your usual routine felt strange, like slipping into clothes that no longer quite fit. The petals were gone, your chest no longer a battlefield of pain and breathlessness, but everything around you seemed different—distant, unfamiliar. You were different now, too.

There was an emptiness inside you where the love for Gojo had once been, and though you had chosen to let it go, it left a hollow ache in its absence, one that wasn’t quite pain, but wasn’t quite peace either.

Your classmates had been worried during your absence, though you hadn’t realized just how much until you returned. The moment you stepped into the common area, Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara had practically ambushed you, their faces a mixture of relief and curiosity. They didn’t ask for details, but you could see the concern etched in their eyes. They had missed you, and in their own way, they had been afraid for you.

“Welcome back!” Yuji had shouted with a grin, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug before you could protest.

Nobara had slapped him away, her voice sharp but affectionate. “Don’t suffocate her, idiot! She just got back.”

You smiled, something warm and bittersweet flickering in your chest. It was odd, being the center of attention like this, but it was genuine. They cared about you, and for once, you didn’t feel invisible.

It was Yuji’s idea to throw a small party—just something casual, a way to celebrate your return and ease you back into things. It was held in one of the dorm common areas, with snacks and music and the comfortable chaos that always followed when the group got together. Megumi sat in his usual quiet corner, pretending to be annoyed by Yuji and Nobara’s antics, while the two of them argued over who was better at throwing a surprise.

It should have felt normal, but there was an odd undercurrent to everything. The laughter and lightheartedness of the party felt like it was happening in a different world, one you could only observe from the outside. You were here, back with your friends, but everything felt just a little… off. Like you were living someone else’s life.

Gojo wasn’t there.

Yuji hadn’t invited him, which made sense—nobody knew you and Gojo had any kind of connection beyond teacher and student. To your classmates, there was no reason for Gojo to be involved in your recovery. You hadn’t been particularly close to him before, and there was no visible sign of what had happened between you two. No one knew how close Gojo had been to your side during your illness, how he had tried to help even when he couldn’t. No one knew that your love for him had nearly killed you.

He hadn’t even been a topic of conversation at the party. Everyone was too focused on celebrating your return, on making sure you felt welcomed and cared for. But you felt the absence of his presence, that strange void where your feelings for him had been. Even though the surgery had taken away the love that had once suffocated you, the memories lingered.

You had once loved him so deeply that it had torn your body apart, flowers blooming in your lungs, choking you with every breath. And yet now, standing here surrounded by your friends, the love was gone. The pain was gone. And Gojo… was on the sidelines.

As the party went on, you found yourself glancing toward the windows, half-expecting to see him there, lurking in the shadows with that familiar casual smirk. You knew he wouldn’t show up, not after what had happened. He had given you space, but the quiet knowledge of his absence felt strange. He had been such a presence in your life for so long, even if it had been from a distance. Now that you no longer carried that weight in your heart, it was like a piece of your world had been quietly removed.

Yuji and Nobara were arguing again, this time over the playlist, their voices rising in playful banter. Megumi sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes as if to say, *This is my life now.*

You smiled softly, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

As the night went on, you found yourself stepping outside for a moment, the noise and laughter inside becoming too much. You leaned against the cool wall of the dormitory, taking a deep breath of the crisp evening air. It felt refreshing, but empty.

You didn’t miss the pain. You didn’t miss the flowers or the coughing, or the slow, suffocating death that had been consuming you. But there was something about the absence of love that left you feeling… untethered. You had built so much of your world around those feelings, even though they had been unrequited, even though they had been the source of your suffering.

Now, standing outside in the quiet, you realized just how much had changed.

Gojo hadn’t just been your teacher—he had been the center of your world, even if only from afar. And now that he wasn’t, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

The door creaked open behind you, and you turned to see Megumi step outside, his usual frown in place. He gave you a small nod, then leaned against the wall beside you without saying a word. It was a quiet, comforting presence, one that didn’t demand anything of you. He didn’t ask how you were feeling or what had happened. He just… existed with you, in the moment.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he said after a while, his voice low. “Being back.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet understanding in his words. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It’s… weird.”

He nodded, not pressing further, and the two of you stood in silence for a while longer. It was comforting, in its own way, but the emptiness inside you still lingered.

Maybe it always would.

As you looked up at the night sky, the stars shining faintly above, you couldn’t help but wonder where Gojo was at that moment. You knew he was close by—he never went too far from his students, from the school. But you hadn’t seen him since your surgery, since that quiet, heartbreaking moment when you had told him that you didn’t love him anymore.

And the strangest part? You couldn’t even feel sad about it. The love was gone, and with it, the grief.

But the memory of that love… that was something you would carry forever. Even if no one else knew. Even if Gojo himself never spoke of it again.

Gojo stood on the rooftop of the school, his usual spot when he wanted to be alone, when the weight of everything around him became too much to carry. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his blindfold was pulled down over his eyes, though it did nothing to block out what he could see—the world beneath him, the cursed energy of everyone around him, flickering like lights in the distance.

He knew the party was happening downstairs. He knew exactly where you were. He hadn’t been invited, of course, which made sense to everyone except him. To Yuji and the others, you were just another student, someone he barely knew beyond the occasional glance during class. They didn’t know what had really happened. They didn’t know how close things had come to falling apart.

They didn’t know how much he had noticed—how much he had tried to help, even when there was nothing he could do.

He leaned against the railing, letting out a slow breath as he stared into the night sky, though his mind was far from the stars. The memory of your confession—of how deeply you had loved him, enough to let it nearly kill you—played over and over again in his head. And now, it was gone. You were alive, and that was all that mattered, right?

But the truth was, it didn’t feel that simple.

Gojo wasn’t used to this feeling—the helplessness that had gripped him when he found out about your hanahaki, when he’d watched you struggle, suffer, knowing that your love for him had been the cause. He’d always been the one with the answers, the one who could fix things with a flick of his hand or a burst of cursed energy. But this—this was different. Love wasn’t something he could fight or control, and that terrified him in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone.

The memory of your face, pale and exhausted, haunted him. He’d been there when Shoko had told you about the surgery, and the look in your eyes when you realized what you’d have to give up… it had hit him harder than he expected. You’d chosen to live, to let go of your feelings for him, and part of him knew that was the right choice.

But the other part—the selfish part—couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had been different. What if he’d noticed sooner? What if he’d been able to stop it before the flowers had started blooming in your chest? What if… what if you still loved him?

He pushed that thought away as quickly as it came. It didn’t matter now. What was done was done. You were back, alive and recovering, and that was what mattered. You were moving on, returning to your life, and he had to do the same.

And yet, despite knowing all of that, Gojo couldn’t bring himself to go down to the party. He couldn’t just pretend that everything was normal, that you were just another student. You weren’t. Not anymore.

The wind blew softly across the rooftop, carrying the sound of laughter from below. He could hear Yuji’s voice, loud and full of energy, and Nobara’s sharp retorts, followed by Megumi’s quiet, tired sighs. He could even hear you—your voice softer, but still there, mingling with the others as if nothing had changed.

But Gojo knew better. Everything had changed.

He had stood by your side during those last few days before the surgery, watching you struggle to breathe, watching the flowers bloom in your lungs, knowing that you had loved him so deeply it was killing you. He hadn’t known what to say then, hadn’t known how to handle the weight of your feelings. Gojo had always kept his distance from things like that—emotions, love, vulnerability. He wasn’t meant for those things. His world was built on power and control, not feelings that could destroy someone from the inside out.

And now… now he wondered if that distance had been a mistake.

He couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind, the moment you had looked at him, pale and exhausted, and told him that you didn’t love him anymore. The surgery had taken away the flowers, the pain, the love. You had been so calm when you said it, so certain, but it had shaken him. For the first time in a long time, Gojo didn’t know what to do.

Because he didn’t realize, not until that moment, that maybe he hadn’t wanted you to stop loving him.

It wasn’t that he returned your feelings—he wasn’t even sure he could love someone the way you had loved him—but there had been something about your quiet, unspoken affection that had anchored him in a way he didn’t fully understand. And now it was gone, erased by the surgery that had saved your life.

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair, pushing the blindfold up just enough to let the night air brush against his skin. He wasn’t used to feeling this conflicted. Usually, he knew exactly what to do, how to act, how to handle any situation. But this was different. This wasn’t something he could fight or fix. It was done. You had made your choice, and now he had to live with it.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

From the corner of his vision, he saw movement—someone stepping outside the dorm. He didn’t need to look closely to know it was you. He could sense your energy from anywhere, even now, even after everything had changed. You were standing just outside the door, staring up at the night sky, your face unreadable.

For a moment, he considered going down to you, saying something, anything. But what would he even say? Sorry for not noticing you sooner? Sorry for not loving you back?

None of it would change the fact that you were standing there, alive but different, the love you had once felt for him wiped away like it had never existed.

Gojo watched you for a long moment, his heart heavy with something he couldn’t quite name. Regret, maybe. Loss. He wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it weighed on him more than he expected.

Finally, he turned away from the edge of the rooftop, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. He couldn’t stay here, lingering on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. That wasn’t how the world worked, and he knew it.

But as he walked away from the rooftop, away from you, a quiet thought lingered in the back of his mind:

Maybe I should’ve let you love me after all.

The days that followed your return to class were a strange limbo of routine and discomfort. You tried to slip back into your usual rhythm—taking notes, going through exercises, training with your classmates—but everything felt just a bit off. You were going through the motions, trying to exist in a world where the most important thing about you, the love that had nearly destroyed you, was gone. But the emptiness it left behind had its own kind of weight.

And Gojo was still there, always hovering in the background. His presence was impossible to ignore, even when he wasn’t directly interacting with you. His playful attitude, the way he made Yuji and Nobara laugh, his easy command of the room—none of it had changed. But to you, it felt different. Every glance in his direction was a reminder of the love you no longer felt, and yet… something lingered. It wasn’t love, not like before, but it wasn’t nothing, either.

It was after a particularly exhausting training session that you found yourself alone with Gojo once more. The others had gone ahead, leaving the training grounds in their usual rush, but you had lingered, too tired to keep up. You were about to head back to your dorm when you heard his voice behind you.

“Hey, you got a minute?”

You froze, your heart quickening, though not from affection. It was something else—fear, hesitation. Slowly, you turned to face him. He stood there, looking relaxed as always, but there was an intensity in his posture that you hadn’t seen before. His blindfold covered his eyes, but you knew he was watching you closely, reading every movement.

You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever this conversation was going to be. “What is it, Gojo?”

He took a step closer, his voice unusually soft. “I just… I’ve been thinking about everything. You’ve been quiet. We haven’t talked since… you know.”

The mention of the surgery sent a cold shiver down your spine, and you could feel your stomach twist in knots. You didn’t want to talk about it, but you knew that avoiding it forever was impossible. You nodded, looking away from him. “Yeah. It’s been… weird.”

Gojo crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he studied you. “Weird how?”

You sighed again, frustrated that he was making you spell it out. “You know how. The surgery took away the love I had for you, and now I’m just… here. Trying to figure out how to be around you again.”

His expression didn’t change, but you could feel the tension in the air between you. He had been so calm and distant since your recovery, giving you space, acting like everything was fine. But now that the subject was out in the open, neither of you could ignore it any longer.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Gojo said quietly, his voice losing its usual lightness. “But I’ve been thinking… and I guess I need to ask—what now? What do you want?”

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. What did you want? You hadn’t allowed yourself to think about that since the surgery. You were too busy just trying to exist, to move forward without the overwhelming burden of unrequited love. But now, faced with Gojo’s question, you felt the flood of emotions you’d been holding back come rushing forward.

“I’m afraid to be around you,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, but you pressed on. “The surgery… it’s not supposed to keep someone from loving forever. That’s what Shoko told me. And… you… you’re too easy to love, Gojo.”

Gojo’s breath hitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t move. He stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable behind his blindfold. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was processing your words.

You took a step back, needing space. “You make it easy for people to fall for you. You’re charming, you’re kind—at least when it matters. And I’m afraid if I stay around you too long, it’s going to happen again. And this time, there won’t be any surgery. I’ll just… fall for you again, and then what? What happens then?”

The silence between you grew heavier, and Gojo finally uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his sides. His usual easy grin was gone, replaced by something quieter, something more vulnerable. “I didn’t know you felt like that.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even notice me until it was too late.”

The words stung, even though you hadn’t meant for them to come out so harshly. But Gojo didn’t flinch. He just stood there, taking it in, his jaw tight. “I notice you now.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, but that’s not enough. It doesn’t change the fact that this happened. It doesn’t change what we went through.”

Gojo shifted, stepping closer, his voice soft but insistent. “I get it. I do. And maybe I didn’t see you before, not the way I should have, but I’m here now. I don’t want to make this harder for you. I just—”

You cut him off, your voice sharp with frustration. “What do you want, Gojo? You keep asking me what I want, but you haven’t told me what you want. Do you want me to stay around and pretend like none of this happened? Do you want me to just… be fine with whatever this is now? What do you want?”

Gojo was silent for a long moment, and for once, you could see the cracks in his usual armor. He didn’t have the answers this time, didn’t have the usual confidence he carried so effortlessly. He hesitated, as if searching for the right words, but they didn’t come easily.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice quiet. “I just don’t want to lose you. Not like that.”

You felt your chest tighten, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “You already did,” you whispered. “You lost me the moment I had to let go of everything I felt for you. You can’t just fix that.”

Gojo flinched, and for the first time since you’d known him, he looked lost. Completely and utterly lost. He took a deep breath, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

The apology hung in the air between you, heavy with all the things that couldn’t be unsaid, all the feelings that had already been taken from you. And as you stood there, staring at him, you realized that you didn’t have the energy to figure this out right now. You were still too raw, too afraid of what could happen if you stayed too close for too long.

“I need time,” you said softly, your voice shaky. “I need space, Gojo. Because I don’t know what happens next either, but I can’t let myself fall for you again. I can’t survive that.”

Gojo nodded slowly, his expression somber. “Take all the time you need. I won’t push.”

The room was quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension as you stood there, just a few feet away from Gojo. His presence was overwhelming, as it always had been, but now, there was something different. Something more vulnerable, more raw. You could see it in the way he stood, in the way he spoke—there were no barriers between you now, no more deflection, no more pretending that nothing had changed. Everything had changed, and there was no going back.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at him, your voice barely a whisper as you asked the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind since your conversation began.

“And what if I love you again?”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and uncertain, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of your own fear pressing down on you, the fear that had been gnawing at you since the surgery—the fear that it wasn’t truly over, that despite everything, despite the surgery meant to strip those feelings away, you could still fall for him again.

Gojo’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders tensed, and you could see the way his hands twitched slightly, as though he was fighting the urge to reach out to you. His blindfold covered his eyes, but you could feel his gaze, heavy and intent, as he took in your words.

He let out a slow, controlled breath, his voice soft but steady when he finally spoke. “If you love me again… then we deal with that, too. Together.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart racing at the calm certainty in his voice. It wasn’t the answer you had expected—wasn’t the answer you were prepared for. You had thought Gojo would try to pull away, to protect both of you from the possibility of going through this all over again. But instead, he was standing here, telling you that if it happened—if you fell in love with him again—he wouldn’t run.

“You’re not scared of that?” you asked quietly, unable to keep the tremor from your voice.

Gojo’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice more serious than you were used to hearing from him. “I’m scared of hurting you. I’m scared of messing this up again. But I’m not going to let fear stop me from being here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t just from fear or pain. There was something else—a quiet hope, fragile and new, but there. You had been so afraid of what might happen, of falling back into the same trap, that you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider the possibility that maybe… just maybe, things could be different.

“But what if it’s too much?” you asked, your voice shaking. “What if it happens again, and I can’t handle it? What if I love you, and it destroys me all over again?”

Gojo’s expression softened, and he took another step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he spoke. “Then we don’t let it destroy you. I won’t let it.”

You blinked, staring at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that things could be different this time. But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

“And what about you?” you asked quietly. “What if I fall for you again… and you don’t feel the same?”

Gojo was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful, and then, to your surprise, he reached up and pulled the blindfold off, revealing his eyes to you. His gaze was intense, piercing, as he looked at you—really looked at you—for what felt like the first time in a long time.

“If you fall for me again,” he said slowly, his voice soft but firm, “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. There was something so raw, so open in the way he looked at you, in the way he spoke. It wasn’t a promise of love, but it was a promise of something real—something honest. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t hiding.

And suddenly, the fear that had been gripping you loosened, just a little.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know if I can risk it again.”

Gojo stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush against your arm. “You don’t have to decide now,” he said softly. “But if you ever do… if you ever feel like that again… I won’t run. I won’t let you go through it alone.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but this time, they were mixed with a strange sense of relief. The love you had once felt for him was gone, but the possibility of something new—something real—was still there. It scared you. It terrified you.

But maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be afraid of it anymore.

You looked up at Gojo, your heart pounding, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m still afraid.”

Gojo smiled gently, his hand lingering on your arm. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’m afraid too.”

And in that moment, standing there with him, you realized that maybe being afraid didn’t have to mean running away. Maybe being afraid meant facing it together, even if you didn’t know what would happen next.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with a quiet determination. “I’ll try not to be afraid.”

Gojo’s smile widened, and for the first time in a long time, it felt genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”

You didn’t know what would happen from here. You didn’t know if you would ever fall for him again, or if the love you had once felt would return. But for now, it was enough to know that you didn’t have to face it alone.

Gojo tried to keep his distance, but he’s just too extra.

The air was warmer, the breeze softer as spring break arrived, and with it, a sense of relief that classes were over—at least for a little while. You hadn’t been looking forward to the break in any particular way, hoping for a quiet week to yourself, time to sort through everything that had been weighing on your mind. But, as always, things never seemed to go quite the way you planned when Gojo was involved.

It had started with Yuji, his usual excited grin lighting up the room as he bounded over to your group after class, bouncing with the energy of someone who clearly had plans for the week ahead. “Hey! You guys heard about Gojo-sensei’s beach house, right?” he asked, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

You blinked, confused, exchanging a glance with Nobara and Megumi, who looked just as surprised as you felt. A beach house? Gojo never mentioned anything about a beach house.

Nobara crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “Since when does Gojo have a beach house?”

Yuji beamed. “Since forever, apparently! He told me and Megumi yesterday. Said we should all go. Like, as a group thing. Spring break, you know? Hang out, relax, swim… It’ll be fun!”

Megumi sighed, looking like he was already dreading the trip. “I didn’t agree to this.”

But before anyone else could protest, Gojo strolled into the conversation, sunglasses perched on his head and that ever-present grin plastered across his face. “It’ll be fun,” he said, confirming Yuji’s announcement as if it were already settled. “You all could use a break, don’t you think?”

You watched him, your stomach twisting slightly. He hadn’t spoken to you directly about the trip, hadn’t even hinted at it, but now, as he stood there smiling like everything was already decided, you couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited all of you in the first place.

Was this really about giving everyone a break? Or was it about something else?

Nobara, clearly more interested in the idea than Megumi, shrugged. “I’m in. Beats sitting around doing nothing.”

Yuji clapped his hands together, excited that at least someone shared his enthusiasm. “Great! What about you?” he asked, turning to you with a hopeful grin.

You hesitated. Going to a beach house with the others, with Gojo, wasn’t exactly what you had planned for spring break. It felt too close, too personal, especially after everything that had happened between you and Gojo. But the way Yuji looked at you, his eagerness palpable, made it hard to say no.

Before you could answer, Gojo’s voice cut in, casual but somehow heavier than usual. “Come on, you deserve to relax too.” His words were light, but the way his gaze flickered toward you made it clear that this invitation wasn’t just about a group vacation. He wanted you there. And that realization made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

You swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I guess I could use a break.”

Yuji practically jumped in excitement, and Nobara smirked, clearly satisfied that the group was coming together. Megumi just sighed in resignation. And Gojo? He didn’t say anything more, but you caught the way his lips curved slightly, like he was pleased you had agreed.

The beach house turned out to be even more impressive than you’d imagined—an expansive, modern villa perched on the edge of the sand, overlooking the crystal-clear water. It was quiet, secluded, and far too luxurious for just a simple group getaway. But, of course, it made sense that Gojo would have something like this, even if it seemed wildly out of place for a spring break with students.

You arrived with the others, your bags slung over your shoulder, taking in the sight of the house with wide eyes. Yuji immediately started talking about all the things he wanted to do—swim, play beach volleyball, explore the area—while Nobara admired the house itself, clearly impressed by Gojo’s taste. Megumi, predictably, looked like he wanted to crawl into a corner and avoid everything.

But you? You couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip wasn’t just about relaxing. It was about something more, something unspoken that lingered between you and Gojo.

He was there, of course, standing near the entrance, his sunglasses now resting on the top of his head, watching as everyone took in the surroundings. His usual grin was in place, but there was something different in his eyes when he glanced at you—something that made your stomach twist in uncertainty.

The day passed in a blur of activity. Yuji and Nobara dragged Megumi down to the beach, convincing him to at least try to have fun, while you stayed closer to the house, content to relax in the shade and enjoy the quiet. Gojo kept his distance for most of the day, busy keeping the others entertained and making sure everything was in order, but every so often, you caught him watching you—his gaze lingering longer than it should, as if he was trying to figure something out.

It wasn’t until later, as the sun began to set, that you found yourself alone with him. The others had retreated inside, tired from the day’s activities, and you had wandered down to the water’s edge, watching the waves roll in, the sky painted in shades of pink and gold.

Gojo approached quietly, his footsteps barely audible on the sand. You felt him before you saw him, his presence always impossible to ignore.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice carrying on the breeze.

You glanced at him, nodding slightly. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

He stood beside you, his hands in his pockets, his gaze focused on the horizon. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly peaceful either. There was a tension there, something unspoken, something that had been building since before you’d arrived.

“Why did you invite us here?” you asked finally, your voice quiet but steady.

Gojo hesitated, his usual easy grin faltering for just a second. “You guys needed a break.”

“We needed a break?” You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Or I did?”

Gojo let out a soft chuckle, but it lacked his usual lightness. “Maybe both.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “What is this, Gojo? Why are you doing all of this? Why did you invite me here? What are you trying to figure out?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze still fixed on the water. But you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the way his usual playful demeanor was slipping, revealing something more vulnerable underneath.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “I thought… maybe if we got out of the usual routine, it would help. Help me figure out what I’m doing.”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Gojo finally looked at you, his eyes serious, the sunglasses forgotten. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. Why I’m trying so hard to keep you close, to keep you here. It’s like… I’m trying to hold onto something I didn’t even realize I wanted until it was too late.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a knot form in your stomach. “Gojo, I—”

“I’m not saying I’ve figured it out,” he cut in, his voice soft but insistent. “I’m just… trying to understand. What this is. What we are now.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. You had been so focused on your own fear, your own confusion, that you hadn’t considered what Gojo was feeling. And now, hearing him admit that he didn’t understand it either… it made everything feel even more complicated.

“I don’t know what this is either,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “But I’m scared, Gojo. I’m scared of getting too close again.”

Gojo’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked almost… unsure. “I know. And I don’t want to push you into anything. But… if you’re willing to figure it out with me...”

You looked out at the ocean, the waves crashing gently against the shore, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something shift inside you. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. Something real, something worth exploring.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

You nodded slowly, turning back to Gojo. “Okay. Let’s figure it out.”

Gojo smiled, a real, genuine smile, and for a moment, everything felt lighter.

notes: i'm writing a new fluff Gojo x you and ngl i think i ate this one, please wait just a bit! - If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know <3

tag list: @lily-of-my-dreams @sunnyx07 @3zae-zae3 @sashisuslover @kingshitonly @bvuckleybby @laviefantasie @r0ckst4rjk @minkyungseokie @tw0fvced @f1sheeee

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[astriiformes]

One thing about being stuck at home recovering while special interesting on something with a very tiny fandom is that I feel like I am constantly beaming secret psychic rays into all my followers' brains going "Play Pentiment. Play Pentiment. Play Pentiment"

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi! last anon here again. i won't go over all your advice here, and there's some i disagree with, but i have found it helpful and insightful as a whole, so thank you. i don't know if you actually wanted clarification on these things, but i figured it would be worth providing in case you genuinely wanted it.

straps as female disidentification - i do see it as different from other sex aids; it's partially about not imposing man/woman sex dynamics on sex between women, and also that as part of recovering from trans identity i've been encouraged to disengage with any practices, thoughts, or self-beliefs that represent false consciousness/male identification, and that includes a desire to have a penis/penetrate women/take the male role, and replace that with meditation and mindfulness. unfortunately i suck at meditation so i haven't gotten anywhere. i see it more as a behavioural problem than an object problem; it's unhealthy because it's a maladaptive coping mechanism about reality; i don't have a penis and can never have one and pretending i do during intimacy is hurting a theoretical sex partner.

female infantilization - this is about the bush thing; attraction to shaved vulvas is dysfunctional and unnatural.

being put off women's bodies - again this is a dysphoria thing mostly. i like how pretty much all women's bodies look, particularly femmes, and before radfem stuff i mostly just felt horny seeing nude women, but being in an environment that's very focused on the importance of reproductive organs and secondary sex characteristics to female identity has involuntarily caused me to fixate on this; when i see a woman naked i end up thinking about her uterus and the size of her breasts and her hips in relation to passing; i know that things like testosterone/hysterectomies/double masectomies/binding are really unhealthy for you physically and psychologically now, so seeing a woman's body makes me uncomfortable now because i just feel a kind of despair that if she has big breasts or big hips she'll never be able to pass for male without hurting herself and if she has small breasts or hips she got lucky with natural androgyny and she's wasting it, either way neither her or me have any way out of this and we're female forever. which is not very arousing.

once again, thank you for your advice. it's definitely given me a lot to think about (and read). i appreciate you hearing me out.

I'm actually stoked for a response, because these clarifications are very illuminating and genuinely so saddening to read.

that entire paragraph about disavowing the strap is genuinely tragic to me, as an advocate that people should just fuck however they want to fuck. you'd think if womanhood was such an innate and unchangeable thing then a fake dong wouldn't have the power to somehow impose manhood in a relationship between women, but I guess the strap is more powerful than I realized. I would love to know if this applies to fingering, given that you can't really argue that fingers are specific to any gender, or women who use straps to peg their male partners.

being told to meditate instead of want to fuck women is so funny, it's really giving 15th century nunnery.

you may not have been born with a penis but it is just literally a factual reality that you could have on if you wanted; regardless of what radfems think of it, phalloplasty is a very real surgery that can in fact produce a sexually functional penis that many people are extremely satisfied with.

okay sure super normal to fixate on someone's uterus.

I do actually very seriously need to correct this part: testosterone/hysterectomies/double mastectomies/binding are not unhealthy. they're healthcare, and the people who benefit from them - which, reminder, is not only trans people - tend to experience tremendous boosts to their physical and mental health because of it. there's nothing radical at all about opposing people's rights to determine what they do with their own bodies, and between that and the hyperfixation on reproductive organs you sound /this/ close to explaining why women shouldn't be allowed to get abortions.

in the politest way possible if looking at women makes you sad because it reminds you of your own dysphoria, you need to get out of radfem spaces and start hanging with some trans people who can help you figure some stuff out and help you envision a future where you don't fear your own body and sexuality.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

So because apparently both parties in my country oppose trans healthcare to some extent I want to make it very clear to cis people what healthcare they're opposing.

There's a lot of fearmongering about children undergoing medical transition. So I'm gonna walk you through what might happen to a child who is transgender and wants to go the full medical route. Let's say our hypothetical transgender child, I'll make him a him because I'm a him and I'll call him Rat because he named himself when he was 6.

So Rat would probably, unless he experienced precocious puberty, go on hormone blockers at age 9 or 10, a year or two before he would start experiencing puberty just to make sure he doesn't experience any female puberty symptoms. Then at about 13 or 14 he would have an appointment with his doctor and they would decide that he has been sure that he was a boy for many years now and he's at an appropriate age to start puberty, at which point he would be taken off the hormone blockers and put onto a dosage of testosterone that is typically of what his perisex camab peers produce naturally. Because he never produced estrogen he would not have grown breasts and not need top surgery. He would develop exactly how his camab peers develop.

Now I want to put an interlude here that literally all of this is reversible. At any point Rat could change his name back and go off the testosterone jabs and his ovaries would start functioning again and they would produce the appropriate estrogen to give him breasts and hips. He could take the same vocal training classes that trans women take, he could get laser hair removal on the places where appropriate, and it would be as if he'd never been on the hormones at all.

But he doesn't want to do that. He wants a penis so let's move onto that.

As far as surgery goes, he would not be able to have either metoidioplasty or phalloplasty until he was on hormones long enough to experience the necessary bottom growth to occur, which takes a couple of years. (At least that was what I was told in 2016 please lmk if standards have changed since then). So at this point we're already about 16 years old before surgery even comes up as an option at the doctor's office. And Rat, if he is particularly gung ho about getting a penis and his parents can afford it/insurance will pay for it, probably gets put on a waiting list for a consultation with a specialist in genital reconstruction. Let's say at that consult which probably takes a few months minimum to get into, he opts for the most similar to perisex male genitalia: phalloplasty with testicular implants. Right there we're looking at at least three different surgeries and not all of them are going to happen at the same time. He's 17 before he's ever even on the operation table and he's been consistently identified as male since elementary school. This is the fastest possible bottom surgery route I'm laying out for you here and he still not slanging it until senior prom when he'll give it an ill advised test run in the back of his parents Subaru with Kelly from the anime club. All of that is assuming there's a doctor who will do it for him that can fit him in. Some people wait years for surgery.

Now some people get top surgery younger, but guess what, breast implants both exist and can be removed. If a 14 year old gets a double mastectomy and regrets it when they're 23 they can get implants. If a 16 year old gets breast implants and regrets it when they're 20 they can get those taken out. Top surgery is not complicated and I've heard from guys who truely would not have made it if they hadn't gotten theirs done.

I know this won't convince anyone who opposes trans healthcare but I hope it at least explains transition to cis allies who support trans people getting healthcare but still might think minors not being allowed to have surgery is a moderate position. I invite any trans person to add onto this with a MTF perspective or how their surgeries helped them.

[bingwriterxo]

wisdom teeth

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which vada gets her wisdom teeth out and you're subjected to listen to her babbling

warnings: mentions/talks of sex (character 18+)

word count: 1000+

Peace and quiet was something that was often lost on you whenever you were in Vada’s presence, your girlfriend’s ramblings and blabber always filling the silent void if there was one to begin with. It was rare that you could hang out with her and not hear her talk for hours on end about whatever came to her mind, even if you didn’t particularly care to listen—not that you’d ever tell her that, because you knew she’d be upset, and you liked hearing her talk, anyway; actually listening was just different. 

Somehow, although you really should’ve expected it, you got no reprieve when you offered to drive Vada home from her dentist appointment after getting her wisdom teeth removed. Part of you had thought that she would be too groggy from the anesthesia to do anything more than sleep in the passenger’s seat, while the other part of you thought that her mouth would be too stuffed with gauze for her to talk. Either way, you had initially believed that your time spent with post-surgery Vada would be blissfully silent. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Vads, come on,” you groaned. “You have to get in the car.” Currently, the brunette was refusing to sit down, instead choosing to flail her arms around in what you believed was an attempt to fight you away. It was, obviously, hilariously failing. 

“No!” she shouted, though her words were muffled a bit by the copious amounts of gauze in her mouth, keeping her from bleeding and drooling all over herself. “Stop touchin’ me! I have a girlfriend!”

You froze for a moment, staring at the girl, and then you burst into laughter. You knew that her mind would be a little…gone, because of the anesthesia, but you hadn’t been expecting it to be like this.

“Vada,” you said, “I am your girlfriend.”

Vada stared at you for a moment, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and then she lit up with excitement and offered you a toothy grin, which was a little bloody. “You are my girlfriend!”

You chuckled. “I know I am. Now, will you get in the car, please?”

She nodded fervently and dropped into her seat, making sure to pull all her limbs in so that you wouldn’t shut the door on her. You bent down, clicking her seatbelt into place, and on your way back up, Vada tried to pull you in for a kiss. It was easy to avoid, however, and her lips landed on your cheek. 

She pouted up at you, clearly confused as to why you wouldn’t kiss her. “You can’t kiss with your gauze,” you said, which was half-true. The other half of your avoidance was that you didn’t want her mouth-blood anywhere near you. “Once we get home and take it out, and we get you cleaned up, then I’ll kiss you, okay?” you promised. She nodded solemnly. 

You shut the door and rounded the car to get into your own seat. When you were settled, you pulled out your phone, plugged it into the aux cord, and played the playlist that you and Vada had made together softly over the speakers. 

You glanced at her. “This good?” you asked, referring to the music. 

“I don’t care,” she said brashly. “Let’s go home so we can kiss.”

You bit back a smile. “Okay, babe. We’re going right now.”

* * *

You were halfway to Vada’s house when the nonsense-talk started. 

“Can we have sex when we get home?” she asked innocently.

In your surprise, you pressed on the brake a little too hard as you pulled to a stop at a red light, jolting both you and Vada forward slightly. “No,” you said. 

“Why not?”

“Because you need to rest, Vads. Plus, your mom and Amelia are going to be home.”

“That’s never stopped us before.” You blushed to your ears at the thought and stepped on the gas pedal when the light turned green. “Besides, who needs rest when we could fuck?”

“Vada!” you hissed, glancing at the girl. She didn’t seem to realize that her words were a little out of pocket, grumbling something about ‘dying from lack of pussy,’ as if the two of you didn’t have sex literally the night before.

You were able to scratch by with a few more minutes of quiet, humming along to the music that was playing, before Vada cut into it again, another question racing to slip past her lips. 

“If I buy a cowboy hat, and wear it around daily, would you say that I’m a cowboy?” 

You tilted your head at the question. “Why? Are you planning on doing that?”

She shrugged. “That depends. Would I be a cowboy?”

“I guess.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, thinking. “But, I think you might need the boots, too, and, like, a horse?”

Vada huffed. “But if you saw me walking around with a cowboy hat on, your first thought would probably be ‘cowboy’, right?

“Probably,” you answered, thinking that the conversation would be over the sooner you gave into it. 

“And you’re all for letting animals have freedom, aren’t you?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Uh, yeah.” Your eyes flitted toward her in suspicion. “Where are you going with this, Vads?”

She giggled a little, and then coughed violently. “Sorry, choked on spit ‘cause of the gauze.” Vada cleared her throat to the best of her ability before saying, “So if I’m a cowboy, and you like free animals, then would you save a horse and ride this cowboy?”

If you weren’t driving, you would’ve slapped her across the back of the head. Instead, you settled for heaving out a sigh and shaking your head. “That was terrible,” you confessed. 

Vada frowned. “Rude.”

“Sorry, babe, but it’s true.”

She mumbled something you couldn’t hear and then said, “You didn’t answer the question, though.”

You pulled into her driveway, parking the car and turning to her. “I pray you never have to be given anesthesia again,” you muttered beneath your breath. 

Vada looked at you. “What?”

You laughed at the sight. Her cheeks were blown out like a chipmunk because of the gauze, and when she spoke it looked like she was stuck in the middle of a yawn. There was some drool on the corners of her lips, and some on her shirt, and yet…

“Yes, Vads. I would ride this cowboy.”

[writing-for-life]

The Portrayal of Womanhood in A Game of You

I’ll be honest with you: Writing about The Sandman with a focus on (queer) women surely feels different in light of the recent allegations.

This meta has been languishing in my drafts for a long time, and since I’m currently clearing the pile, I will still publish it. Mostly because these views are mine and not someone else’s. And also because they’re critical to a degree. However, if you feel that these are topics that you currently find hard to engage with, this is the exit sign (I totally get it).

With that out of the road, let’s talk about the women of A Game of You (and why it was always one of my least favourite arcs, despite the fact that my literary and thematic preferences should have made it one of my favourite ones)…

Gender roles are a central theme in A Game of You. Before the arc even moves into these themes on a deeper level, we already get this:

Barbie tells Wanda that she wasn’t allowed to read comics when she was a young girl. And that immediately struck a chord with me upon my first reading as a teenager: I was allowed to read comics, but I still remember getting the side-eye, especially from boys. Somehow, you didn’t belong to their club (even if you arguably knew more about Batman than they did 🤣). The reason Barbie gives us is that reading comics supposedly rendered her “unladylike” (yes, comics were considered “boyish”, at least when I was a teenager, and this is exactly the time we’re talking about here). But it’s not just about how a girl is supposed to act—it’s also about actively excluding her from something that’s only for men/boys. And while the topic of, “What’s a girl supposed (and allowed!) to be like?” isn’t something either particularly dwell on in that moment, Wanda faces the struggle of having to define and fight for her womanhood daily: As a trans woman, she feels resistance on a constant basis. When she talks about Weirdzos from the Hyperman comics, this is actually a nod to DC’s Bizarro, who could be described as Superman’s shadow (there’s a whole story why they were called Weirdzos instead of Bizarros in The Sandman, but that’d lead too far here. You’ll probably find it on Google).

Close enough to the “real thing”, but always “slightly off”

And Wanda carries the shadow of her biology. All the time. There’s no escape for her, no respite, no true support.

We also see this in a scene with Hazel, one of Wanda's neighbours who lives in a lesbian relationship with her girlfriend Foxglove. Hazel noticed that Wanda has "a thingie." Despite the fact that a lot of “weird” things are happening in those panels, part of that is definitely that Wanda has not fully (in Hazel’s eyes) transitioned:

What is she, exactly (not who)?

And that question gets answered very painfully when Wanda, Hazel, Foxglove, and Thessaly come together to free Barbie from being trapped in the Dreaming. Thessaly is sure she can defeat the Cuckoo that holds Barbie captive. However, she needs menstrual blood to perform a ritual that will allow them to traverse the Moon Road into the Dreaming. During this process, Thessaly insensitively refers to Wanda as a man and prevents her from joining the journey with Foxglove and Hazel (and no, this isn’t about “Thessaly the TERF”—I already made my position on that clear and think that whole discussion needs a lot more nuance than fandom is often willing to engage in).

Maiden, Mother and Crone

Thessaly's statement, "This isn’t your route. It can’t be," further highlights the discrimination Wanda faces on a daily basis. She “isn’t” seen as a woman now, and she “can’t” ever be, even if she had reassignment surgery—Wanda would still be seen as a man by the ancient powers that be.

Wanda's struggle, more than any other character's, highlights the ongoing conflict between self-identity and societal perception of women. And that’s unfortunately still a struggle most women face. But Wanda’s character is particularly poignant because she is repeatedly forced to reaffirm her sense of self, only to be torn down again and again. Even Barbie, who always supports her and would probably never knowingly hurt her, says this when Wanda reveals her childhood name:

“Alvin? That's your real name?"

Please imagine what it must feel like if even the ones closest to you refer to your dead name as your “real” name, even if it’s without malicious intent (of course Barbie makes good on that later, but…).

Wanda can never truly find comfort in anyone. She is constantly confronted with the disparity between her self-perception and how the world views her. Ultimately, Wanda's exclusion from entering the Dreaming (and there’s more symbolism in that than you can shake a stick at—not just because she’s denied her womanhood, but also because she is denied entering a place of hope and possibility, and not least because she is denied being capable and having agency: Thessaly repeatedly acknowledges Wanda is important, and that she needs her help. But that’s on her terms, not Wanda’s) leads to her tragic death: The storm caused by drawing down the moon destroys the apartment where Wanda remains to watch over Barbie’s body.

And that’s why Wanda’s arc in the comics will always stay problematic to me (I don’t know how optimistic I can be for the TV series, because we’ve already seen her headstone in BTS shots, even if her overall arc seems to have changed): Dream grants Barbie a boon, which she uses to save the women in the Dreaming, but Wanda is not among them. There is no saving her—not in this world, not in any other.

Wanda's conservative parents bury her with her deadname Alvin Mann (and her second name adds insult to injury, because it is the German spelling of “man”, as in “male”. And again, I’m somewhat glad they have changed this for the series, as seen on said headstone, because I never got why choosing that name was necessary in the first place. Or let’s say: I get it, but I don’t think it was needed and was layered on too thick. Sometimes subtle does it, sorry).

Why is Wanda so consistently shamed, while Hazel and Foxglove's lesbian relationship is regarded not a big deal (I’m obviously not insinuating it should be, see my disclaimer at the bottom of this post)? Although I have to admit there are things about that one that always rubbed me up the wrong way, too: The dumbing down of Hazel (honestly, most of us were not that clueless about reproduction in the 80s and 90s, lesbians or otherwise), the play on butch/femme stereotypes to then clumsily try to turn them on their heads (which did not work for me), the still somewhat male gaze applied to Foxglove (she didn’t have to sleep naked with her tits on display, did she?), the implication that all women somehow end up as mothers (if they don’t end up dead), even if just “accidentally”… There’s a whole lot to be said about the topic of motherhood, and how it gets instrumentalised in several Sandman arcs, but maybe that’s for another time...

To explore that question, I want to have a closer look at Barbie, who is a (in my view, often clumsy) stand-in for the gender-identity of many (CIS) women.

A quick throwback to The Doll’s House

The first signs of Barbie's identity crisis don't appear in A Game of You, but rather in The Doll's House. She is introduced as one half of “Ken-Barbie”: They finish each other's sentences, Barbie lacks a distinct personality and is completely overshadowed by being a “traditional wife” (maybe not the type of trad wife we think about today, and yet…). The fact that she and Ken share names with plastic dolls underscores the artificial nature of their identities and their relationship.

Barbie's dream-life always felt more authentic and meaningful to her than her waking reality—that’s why she is only a shell of herself when she can’t dream (after the vortex interlude with Rose Walker). She is passive, conforms to her father's expectations of being "ladylike" and adheres to “good” CIS- and heteronormative behaviour. And then, after her divorce, she feels uprooted, shows little motivation and relies on Wanda for support. Freeing herself from her shackles could have been a story of reclaiming her power without the layer of implied loneliness (I’ll get to that). Instead, she needs to suffer for a bit…

Barbie being trapped in her dream world also traps her in a state of passivity: Dreams are not real. You can make them real, but that’s not what she does—they are a maladjusted escape for her. And yet (or maybe rather “because”), instead of directly confronting and fighting the Cuckoo, Barbie smashes the Porpentine (much to the Cuckoo's delight).

Upon waking…

Upon waking, Barbie's personality hasn't changed much from the woman we first met. When she goes to Wanda’s funeral, she struggles to defend Wanda from her transphobic aunt despite trying.

However, she engages in a small but significant act of rebellion by crossing out "Alvin" on Wanda's headstone with her favourite lipstick and writes her real name instead.

Barbie then recalls a dream she had while traveling to Wanda's funeral. In this dream, she sees Wanda not as she was in life, but as an idealised version of herself—soft, more curved, and wearing a pink dress. Death stands beside Wanda, symbolising that she is recognised for who she truly is.

And I get it: The idea was to say, “She was always a woman, even to the cosmic powers that be. Eat that, Thessaly and everyone else.” But there’s also the part of me that wants to say, “You know what? She was good the way she was. Perfect in her imperfection. We didn’t need to affirm her womanhood by showing her as a stereotypical woman.” The use of “perfect” and “drop-dead gorgeous” always really rubbed me up the wrong way in relation to the way she was portrayed in that panel. Because it portrays a stereotypical woman: That’s what you look like if you need to/want to pass. And this applies, sadly enough, to all women in one way or another, no matter what gender we were assigned at birth. But if that scene holds meaning to people, I also get it. My more critical take on it is maybe down to my own history (again: disclaimer at the bottom of this post).

Simultaneously, the destruction of the Land in the Dreaming grants Barbie a newfound independence. She is now alone, without her best friend or the friends of her dreams, but these losses have given her freedom. And for a moment, loneliness becomes the ultimate resolution to Barbie's identity conflict. And I found that idea horrible, I’ll be brutally honest with you:

On the final page of A Game of You, Barbie is shown alone, waiting for a bus to an unknown destination. She reflects on her dream of Wanda, where she had the chance to say goodbye to her past life. For a moment, she stands rigidly still, and that moment feels… really long? Separated from her past and facing an uncertain future, she is free from anyone's expectations or desires. And maybe, in that simplicity, she finds freedom.

And maybe, A Game of You challenges the idea that we have full control over our identities. Our self-perception and how others perceive us are always influenced by external factors. And somewhat, I could never quite shake the feeling the story equates the removal of the ties that bind us (in this case: relationships) and/or death with freedom: Wanda only fully realises her identity in death, and Barbie feels most liberated when she is free from past entanglements and future obligations. Whether that notion is truly rejected in the end is probably down to the reader: Barbie turns and runs towards her bus, heading into a future that, while uncertain, maybe also holds a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately, none of the women of The Sandman get off particularly well in that department, and that is a common theme…

Disclaimer: I write this as a CIS bisexual woman in her 40s who has been in relationships with both women and men for 30+ years. Two of them led to marriage/civil partnership: One with a CIS woman, also bi (we were together for 10 years, 3 of them in a CP), one with my now husband (CIS straight man, married for 10 years, together longer, and we have a kid together). I don’t need to tell you this, but I am because I think it is important to disclose my own bias and experiences as a queer woman in the 90s, which include coming out, experiencing bi-erasure and misogyny from both inside and outside the LGBTQ+ community. As such, they will definitely colour the way I read and interpret A Game of You.

[ikram1909]

Just want to offer a little perspective against all the people fear-mongering about Gavi’s injury being “career ending”.

Florian Wirtz is the most obvious example of a recovery from a full ACL tear at a young age. He was 18 when it happened about a year ago and has come back without missing a beat. If people haven’t watched him they should, he’s really fantastic.

Within Barcelona both Xavi and Gundogan had ACL tears and have come back just as good if not better. Gundogan said himself that he may not be the same player after, but it doesn’t mean he’s worse, just different.

Two more players who suffered ACL tears very young are Darwin Nuñez (17) and Moises Caicedo (16) who have now gone on to play professionally in the Premier League and are doing very well currently. (Darwin’s habit of missing sitters has nothing to do with it).

Other examples of players include Leroy Sané and Virgil van Dijk who while taking a bit of time to come back to form are now doing very well again. Medical experts have claimed that it can take up to 2 years to get back to your level after an ACL injury due to mental blocks, so immediate form should not be seen as “the best you can be”. While of course we all want Gavi to come back better than ever straight away we must be patient and realise that he has an incredibly long career ahead of him and may not hit his prime till the later years regardless of the injury.

Players in the past who have gone on to have incredible careers following ACL tears include Alan Shearer (became the premier league top scorer) and Roberto Baggio. Baggio not only ruptured his ACL but also tore his meniscus yet went on to win a Ballon D’or. While Gavi has also got an “associated injury” with his lateral meniscus, that’s actually fairly routine with an ACL and nowhere did Barcelona say he had actually torn it.

There are many more examples both older e.g. Francesco Totti and more recent e.g. Federico Chiesa who have returned to form following their ACL injury.

Beyond the world of football many other athletes have also made a complete recovery and gone on to have incredible careers e.g. in the NBA.

While it’s completely valid to be very upset over the injury because the recovery is very painful, he’s so young, and he may return a different player, there is no need to despair. He will have top medical professionals at his side, be surrounded by others who know how to recover from injury, and the treatments and recovery chances have come on leaps and bounds since the likes of Shearer and even Xavi.

While there is a higher risk of re-injuring the ACL or having compensatory injuries, if the recovery is not rushed there is every chance he will be physically the same in most if not all departments. The areas most likely to be affected are explosiveness, speed and quick turns, but the first two Gavi has never particularly relied on and he can always adapt to the third. But in the cases of Wirtz and Sane they are still very agile, nimble players, while Xavi adapted to rely more on his tactical prowess, but either way have been successful.

The other aspect is mental such as a fear of re-injury. While we cannot say for sure that Gavi will not have this problem as he has never experienced an injury of the likes of this before, we have every reason to assume not. His teammates and coaches both in Barcelona and on the national team have always spoken of his mentality and fight, and that will prove particularly important now. Also, we are talking about the same kid who was sidelined age 11 because of a broken nose and immediately after his return threw himself into headers again. He has always shown he is not scared of pain and won’t let it hold him back, so he will hopefully apply this same mentality to what will surely be a difficult recovery.

Ultimately we will not know until after the surgery and even until he’s back or several years later how the injury will affect him. But he will be back and there’s every reason to believe he will make a full recovery or become a different but just as good player. We may even get to see more of the impeccable technique that he showcased in La Masia rather than being used partly as a workhorse as he has previously.

While the number of ACL injuries this season is completely horrible, it means Gavi is not the only one going through this journey. And to those on twitter and elsewhere trying to convince you that he won’t have a career after this, I doubt they think the same of Militao, Courtois, Mings, Pino and etc.

Sorry for the essay but we must not give up on Gavi and instead must support him and the team through this surely horrible time. This too shall pass and while we will miss him the time will pass by quicker than you expect.

First of all, thank you so much for this ❤️ reading it this morning genuinely made me feel so much better and I hope everyone here takes the time to read it, I promise it'll help you guys worry less.

Reading this and finding out about all these success stories after ACL injuries gave me much more hope. If so many others were able to overcome it then best believe our little warrior is very likely to do the same I have no doubt about it. Also, it's a relief to know that it mainly affects speed and explosiveness because Gavi has other strengths. And maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing for him to focus on technical abilities that we all know he excels at but the way coaches utilised him up until this point hindered their development. The thing about Gavi is that he excels at so many things so even if his injury affects one two or two aspects of his game he'd still have so many other qualities he's just that good. The main obstacle of this injury is the mental toll it could have on him but I have faith in his own strength and the incredible amount of love he's surrounded by to get him through it. Obviously he'll feel down for a while and is probably still in shock (hell even I still can't believe it I literally expect him to show up in barças training stories and then it hits me again) it's not easy but time heals everything and knowing him he'd do anything to get back to what he loves as soon as possible. He's a fighter, he's always been that way an injury no matter how serious wouldn't take that away from him. He'll be back. It might take a while for him to get back to his absolute best but he'll be back. He has all the time in the world, he's only 19. Now we just need him to take all the time he needs to recover completely and not rush anything.

[butch-reidentified]

i know it’s none of my business, but if you mind sharing, why did you get top surgery? i haven’t heard of any woman who has gotten it for reasons further than being transgender (or medical ones)

I dont mind; it's just a bit complex and hard to communicate. I've found that whenever I try to on here, people end up misinterpreting a lot of it. I'm willing to try tho, esp since I've previously talked about it only in specific contexts and not just discussed all the reasons.

I had a few reasons, and part of it was medical (primarily bc of constant painful cysts), and I did have what I think may be a version of "sex dysphoria" (tho I'm not 100% bc other ppl describe sex dysphoria so differently & I didn't have body image issues or care how I looked to others or in the mirror) where my breasts felt (felt as in a literal physical sensation) like a prosthesis that I was wearing all the time. I had genuinely gorgeous, ideal-by-societal-standards breasts, and I actually quite liked them aesthetically. but they got in the way a lot and caused all the usual issues that large breasts do, so I was gonna get a reduction regardless. I was kinda like, why not go all the way and then I won't have to deal with cysts or that odd sensation I mentioned? I think it kind of comes down to that + the fact I knew I'd enjoy being a butch woman with a flat chest.

but then I also kind of got this sense of amusement from the idea of removing from existence a pair of breasts that sooo many people who saw them called flawless, just because they were "too perfect for this world to have." that's now the reason I give men who ask me about it, bc the reactions are honestly priceless.

I did a whole ton of research, including a lot of exploring stories of women who regretted doing this for the pupose of checking my motivations for pursuing it, my external and internal contexts around it, and my thought process and actual process I had designed for myself to complete before "clearing" myself to go forward with it - the idea being if any of those were a match with anything I read in a regret testimony, I would not move forward. I did therapy as well, specifically not affirming and with the woman who was my therapist after surviving the Pulse shooting in 2016, who I trust and respect deeply and who is not particularly on board with trans stuff or the new brand of "feminism." And I waited over 4 years from when I first thought about it to do all the above, and so it wouldn't be at all impulsive as I'd had a lot of time to dig deep, analyze, try other options, and really think hard about it/how I'd feel. And so I'd be old enough that my prefrontal cortex was more or less done cooking 😅

I'm not really sure either way if I would do it now if I still had them, but that's only bc I'm informed about the cosmetic surgery industry now in ways I wasn't then, and as a result, I'm opposed to giving that industry my money. But it would still be a tough call if I'm honest. I really like the way my chest is now. I'm quite happy with it and find it much more convenient in several ways, so I couldn't honestly say I have any regrets about it.

I truly had zero desire to be viewed as a man or "nonbinary" and went a bit overboard making sure people knew that for a while after my surgery. My misandry runs too deep to ever not love being a woman, no matter what the world is like, if I'm honest. I am so madly in love with womanhood and sisterhood and being a lesbian and female solidarity and devoting my life, body and "soul," to women's liberation. It's my cardinal raison d'être. And I do think there's some good can be done by an extremely gnc woman with no breasts who's loud and proud about being a woman.

[skylertheminish]

This took too long to do. Not excusable given my lack of skill lol.

A young knight's trial.

I didn't think going to my GP would be any different than the last few times I've been. Then again I didn't have the two best little knights back then, other than Bandit who was a Ralts at the time. It also never occurred to me this appointment of mine would be rather stressful for the juvenile Armarouge either.

Traffic was light and conditions were dry and sunny which was a pleasant change over the winter weather the past few months. Spring was starting and I welcomed its arrival. After parking up and fetching the two young Pokemon from the car we made our way to the surgery entrance. Armarouge hesitated before following us through the doorway, his sister didn't share his concerns. She immediately greeted the receptionist by beeping and waving her little blades about. This got a series of awwws from the staff there before I took their focus away.

"Lil sweetie ain't she?" I greeted the receptionist before giving my details. The receptionist having updated the system invited me to take a seat in the waiting room after some light banter. Ceru seized the opportunity to go and say hello to everyone in said waiting room, and get her harness lead snagged on the furniture.

My time waiting to be seen by the GP would be spent untangling Ceru from various pieces of furniture and keeping her attention off the toys meant for kids by distracting the little blade Pokemon with one of her own. This toy had been a victim of Ceru's antics before, but this time for some reason she was particularly aggressive to the Snorlax plush. Rolling around with it trapped in her grasp, kicking and knawing at it, growling lightly as she bullied the helpless plush.

"You shouldn't let him do that" an elderly voice spoke. Breaking whatever train of thought had began to form from witnessing Ceru's more aggressive playing. "What?"

"That" the elderly voice spoke again. It belonged to a concerned looking woman. "You shouldn't let him make a racket" nope, not a concerned individual sadly. "If she gets too loud I'll stop her" I replied, not caring for the other's attitude. The elderly woman tried to start conflict with me but I wasn't taking the bait. During the attempted argument, Ceru had stopped her playing and was looking between myself and the elderly individual. Seemingly confused about the situation before her attention shifted to her brother.

Her brother was quite ever since entering the clinic. This wasn't his usual quiet, no he was unsettled. And I failed to notice this until Ceru waddled over to presumably comfort him.

My GP opened the door separating the waiting room to her office and called my name. It was then that I noticed something was off with Armarouge. "C'mon you two." I beckoned the little knights to follow as my GP lead us away to her office. A small conversation was started about both tiny Ceruledge and Armarouge.

Thinking this would be a good opportunity to get the little Pokémon used to being handled by others. I asked my GP to give them a general health check. It would do Ceru and Arma good. I was first to get looked over with Ceru watching me. I had my weight and blood pressure measured among other such tests. Ceru was eager to go next thinking this was all fun and games. She chirped happily while my GP pretended to do the same.

Then it was Armarouge's turn.

"OK now" the General practitioner spoke softly before stopping abruptly. Armarouge had buried his head in my side and held out his arm. He already knew what to do. And it was then I finally realised why he was so scared.

"Armarouge?... oh for the love of-how did I not realise this sooner?"

"Realise what?"

Glancing between the scared juvenile knight trying to hide himself and my GP. I explained how we first met.

"Its the clinic. It reminds him of the day he was surrendered".

I could see my doctor's heart sink at that detail. Although she didn't have Pokémon, she loved them just as much as everyone else. That much was plain to see.

"Armarouge here was left in a Pokémon centre. The clinic obviously isn't one. But to him it looks, sounds and smells like one..." looking down at the timid knight I caught sight of him at the verge of tears. "I'm so sorry wee lad".

"You're a very brave boy Armarouge" the GP added, gently holding his hand. "I don't think you need any tests done. You look healthy to me. And you want to go home don't you?"

Armarouge turned to look at her, trying his best not to cry. He simply nodded.

"Then I better get you two back home shouldn't I? You two have been very good! That deserves a treat." This got a weak chirp from Armarouge and, not surprisingly, an excited response from Ceru.

Choosing not to spend any more time than was necessary for Armarouge's sake. We got everything sorted and left.

This was quite a trial for the juvenile knight.

[salemssimblr]

get to know me tag

I was tagged by @morrigan-sims. Thank you so much for the tag! ♥️

I'll put mine under the cut too cause I'm particularly chatty today

show your wallpaper and the last song you listened to.

For me this requires a photo! As I have my external display and my mac display and they're different. So, have a workspace reveal!

Last song is Your Love by One True God & Roniit

currently reading?

Nevernight by Jay Kristoff... but barely. I've been moving it from room to room with the intention of curling up with it but then I render or write instead. Oops.

last movie?

Don't laugh (ok you can laugh) but it was the second Austin Powers movie. My husband's never seen them all the way through and they're on Netflix only until June 30th. Don't judge us too hard lmfao

last show?

The Queen's Gambit. I watched it when it was released, but hubby didn't.

craving?

The New Orleanian in me is craving this one cocktail served at my favorite restaurant. The restaurant closed down for covid and reopened literally only a few weeks ago but it looks like that cocktail isn't on their menu anymore. Afaik I think it was vodka and raspberry jam??? Phenomenal. It was called the Little Red Dog. We're going to that restaurant tomorrow and I'm praying if I ask for it they can make it but I don't have my hopes up.

what are you wearing right now?

Sweatpant material shorts I stole from my dad one weekend years ago and a shirt from The Strand bookstore in NYC. (Work pajama outfit lmfao)

how tall are you?

My ID says 5'2" but I think that's bullshit. An even 5'. Would've been shorter but I had my scoliosis corrected at 12 (I'm a terminator, baybeee) & I gained 2 inches from the surgery.

piercings?

2 holes in each lobe, 1 nose ring, and a closed up lip piercing I wish I still had but not enough to get it re-opened. I hope to get several more.

tattoos?

Two so far, a semicolon on the back of my neck (gotten before the semicolon tattoo movement) & a paper crane on my right wrist in memory of my late best friend. I want to get several more and have been actively ignoring the itch because my big wedding ceremony is in October... but after 👀 I think I was a big crow on my back/across one shoulder. And a few other small ones I've been thinking about. I've also always wanted bats behind my ear so maybe that too.

glasses or contacts?

Glasses! I'd love to wear contact but, fun trivia for your Friday, did you know that taking birth control longterm literally changes the shape of your corneas? I didn't either. But I'm pretty sure that happened to me and now I can't wear contacts without extreme discomfort. So, glasses for me.

last thing you ate?

Sliced mango and pomegranate seeds (:

favorite color?

Red, black, dark blues.

current obsession?

My current and forever obsession is Vignettes, the story my bestie and I are writing together. It's wild how this one storyline has become my entire personality, and I'm not at all mad about it.

any pets?

One sweet sweet little fur-son named Loki!

he squint

favorite fictional character?

This is such a hard question for me to answer cause I have wildly fluctuating obsessions and right now I'm most obsessed with my own fictional characters, but. Kaz Brekker will always have a place in my heart. I loved him from his very first appearance in Six of Crows. Same for Nikolai Lantsov in Shadow & Bone. I loved Alina for the longest time too but I think her depiction in the show soured me on her a bit, idk. I have a lot of strong feelings about the Netflix adaptation I could write a whole dissertation on. I've also held the Abhorsen series (& Sabriel) close to my heart since I read it literally in middle school. I re-bought Sabriel a while ago and need to read it again.

last place you traveled?

I don't remember for sure if our most recent trip was to Houston when we got engaged or to North Carolina for my husband's best friend's wedding. Either way, it's been too long since we traveled and I need to go somewhere stat! haha

I'm tagging @buttertrait, @angelgnomeisdeadrip, @druidberries, @simlishpiadina, @kotpicard, @leafbatraccoon, @raiiny-bay, @chaoticsimlish, @omgkayplays & anyone else who wants to do this! Feel free to say I tagged you!

[waterfallsilverberrywrites]

Writing Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @lord-aldhelm! :)

About me

When did you start writing? Age 16, during school, but I didn't technically start writing fanfiction until my 20s. I was recovering from a nasty surgery and had nothing but time on my hands and so I started to write as a way to pass the time.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write? I enjoy reading a lot of horror/thriller books, and law dramas too.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often? Oh gosh, that's a tough one! As much as I love Bernard Cornwell, Stephen King, Mari Mancusi, and too many author authors to name, I want to say no, I'm not compared to anyone that I know of, but ultimately I want to still sound like "me" when I write.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space? I have my own writing office. A desk that I keep with minimal clutter but have made it into a cozy ambiance so when I sit down to write most nights I'm not distracted (much).

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse? Honestly, most of my muses tend to come to me while either dreaming at night time (random but it happens) or while I'm bored at my day job and letting my mind wander and it starts to go into "What If" mode...

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about? No.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you? Redemption is a troupe I will never get tired of. Also romance!

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? I have to pick just one? Lol. Joking aside, Thyra from The Last Kingdom is probably my favorite character right now. She's a woman who's suffered so much torment and abuse and is absolutely the definition of "deserved better." And since Beocca is her husband and I can't bear to separate the two, I would say Beocca/Thyra are a package deal here. But a few close seconds are Jack/Sally (Nightmare Before Christmas) and Finan/Eadith, the ship for The Last Kingdom that should have been and sadly never will be.

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life? Hmm, definitely Thyra/Beocca, and he'd probably annoy me, but I think I'd get on with Haesten too (TLK) even though he's a weasel on the show, and for Harry Potter, probably my OCs Norah and Ollie Black from my Harry Potter fanfics as well, I think we'd get on great. Oh, and Jack/Sally from my Nightmare Before Christmas fics.

Which characters would you dislike the most if you met them? Aethelwold, Tidman (Last Kingdom), Voldemort (Harry Potter)

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Most of them are already made for me but for the few OCs I have, I tend to just find pictures I like online of people that I think fit the image of the character I have in mind, and then I build a character sheet for him/her and go from there. (sort of like a character sheet for DnD)

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters? Anger management issues (Beocca!), stubbornness, and perhaps a little naive (definitely Thyra and Sally for sure),

How do you picture your characters? I'm a big fan of Mood Boards on Pinterest but I also dabble a little in Photoshop and make my own character manips/images to use to have pulled up to look at while I write in their POVs. It might sound odd but it helps me imagine their look while I write and also to get into their headspace.

My writing

What’s your reason for writing? To fulfill a void the canon source material left in my heart or just because I came up with a "What if this happened" instead of the way that it did in canon.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? Any and all comments are welcome, especially at this time when comment culture in fandom, at least for fanfics, has definitely changed since I've been a part of it!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers? As a good writer? Lol, not really sure how to answer this one. Hopefully good and that my stories made them happy if they enjoyed them!

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? Angst and drama

Have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others? Angst and writing character voices true to their forms

How do you feel about your own writing? Most of the time I feel like it's okay, but I do have spells where I look at chapters and think I could improve that or do better next time and then I struggle not to totally overhaul what I already have posted lol, a curse for me, honestly. I'm constantly working to improve. I suck at smut/fight scenes though, I would say those are my two biggest weaknesses.

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write? Yes, if only to keep myself company and maybe read my stories out loud.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both? I write purely for myself and I treat where I post as an archive of sorts, with the mindset that I put them there where they'll be safe if something ever happens and my computer goes on the fritz, but if others happen to come along and enjoy the content I create, then that's an added happy bonus!

Feel free to play along! @holy3cake; @silverhyenaart; @foundtherightwords

[moodr1ng]

watching a video on coming out narratives in media and it did make me realize ive never seen one that resembled how coming out went for me personally - where i first came out as bi to my mom to complete acceptance bordering on apathy (i mean, she had been telling me how it would be totally ok if i was a lesbian since before i knew i liked girls myself lol. it really was a case of the "i always knew" cliché) but later faced a very strong negative reaction when coming out as trans, with it taking several years for my mom to finally come around to it. when she did though - which seemed to be motivated by my psychiatrist validating my dysphoria and making it clear that this wasnt some new delusion or other mental health symptom - she eventually became extremely supportive of me and did stuff like writing angry emails berating my healthcare team for delaying my top surgery etc. also i kinda had to re-come out as bi bc i spent a few years only dating men and my mom just assumed i was gay now lol, and when one day i mentioned being bi she was like "oh youre still bi?".. AND i also had a sort of second trans coming out when telling my mom i was bigender now and not just a man, and this one i had to do twice bc her memory has been getting bad w age so she forgot the first time i told her!

while on my dads side, trying to come out as bi ended in learning that he was bi himself (even though he self-ids as straight for batshit reasons), and coming out as trans was met with "i dont really get it, but i dont care, you can do whatever you want", which was certainly a relief but also turned out to not be a particularly supportive reaction, more a lack of one. it wasnt a reticent reaction either, he just genuinely didnt care, which included him never informing himself on trans identity - like how when i started hrt after 5 years of socially transitioning my dad asked me what testosterone would do, because he hadnt ever looked it up.

thats not mentioning the various coming outs w my sisters and the rest of my family which all went in various ways (though luckily they were all positive). various members of my family have different knowledge of my identity - im bigender to my mom and my little sister but a trans man to my dad, my older sister and my maternal family, im bi to my parents and my sisters but my mom told her side of the family i was gay lol, and my other younger siblings on my dads side (who im not rly in contact with) probably think im a cis man bc theyre young enough that they were either born after i transitioned or were too young to remember it, so i do have two direct family members who presumably dont know im lgbt at all. interestingly, knowledge of my identity ended up reflecting our relationships, with the people closest to me having the most accurate picture of who i am while the farther apart we are the more vague that picture becomes, ending with the two members of my family im least close to not knowing anything at all.

maybe its in part bc i dont really go for the sort of media that tends to include coming out narratives that much, but i dont think ive seen stories that resemble any of these experiences. yet ik im far from the only lgbt person with weird or kind of comedic or messy coming out stories..

[wistfulweaverwoman]

WIP File Game - Tell me about Midnight! Or the Historical AU

either way!

@mollywog Okay, so Midnight. It's a D13 Cannon Divergence that I started in 2015 and then promptly forgot about. It's different than the one I wrote recently, but it's hilarious to me that I honed in on this same point for where I thought things could go differently. This is completely raw and unedited:

It's just after midnight when Haymitch leads Katniss to the small observation area, just outside Peeta's room. She looks at the doctors all sitting in a row, their fingers itching in anticipation of the notes they'd soon be taking. Eyeing them, dread seeps through Katniss, and the hair at the nape of her neck starts to stand on end.

"I'm not going in there while they're here," says Katniss, almost whispering. "They're not going to record this. Whatever happens, it's private, it's not... We're not entertainment, Haymitch."

"They won't let you go in unmonitored, Sweetheart," says Haymitch, under his breath. "They won't risk it again."

"You stay then," says Katniss. "But no sound. Just watch."

Gripping her arms, Katniss leans against the wall out in the hallway. She hears voices, protests, and then surly insistent tones grow louder. A series shuffling noises grows and then the door swings open and out pour several men, some looking indignant, others looking weary. The door opens again and Haymitch pokes his head out.

"You comin'?" he says.

Katniss pushes off the wall and follows.

“We made a deal. He may not be kind, he’s been through a lot. Remember Katniss, we promised to save him.”

Katniss passes him. They did. But the old Peeta was irretrievable, wasn’t he?

Peeta is sitting cross legged on the bed, bent over a sketchbook. He snaps his head up and eyes her warily when she enters. 

"Haymitch said you wanted to see me," she says.

"I wanted to get a look at you, for starters. You're not very big. Or particularly pretty."

She’s surprised at how much those words hurt, having never cared much about looks. She hugs herself tighter, her ribs aching. Heat spreads up the back of her neck. 

"I've been in the hospital," she says, swaying. "I haven't been feeling well."

The dress she wears had been taken in by Cinna during the Victory Tour, but having lost the curves she had before the arena it now hung loosely on her. 

Peeta's eyes sweep over her, eyebrows drawn together slightly.

"Why?" he says, tone suspicious.

"I was shot. Surgery."

A momentary ripple of concern passes over his face.

"How? They said you're not on active duty."

"I was supposed to make a speech, and things didn't go according to the plan," she says, looking at the folded creases of the sheets.

"But you're okay?" Peeta says.

"Yeah, the bullet didn't pierce the armor," Katniss says. "But the impact caused my spleen to rupture, and they had to remove it. But I'm okay. Mostly it's just my ribs that hurt."

She glances at Peeta. He's clutching the sheet on either side of his legs, twisting it in his white knuckled grip. After taking several deep breaths the rage fades from his face, melting into confusion.

"Nobody told me," he says, frowning.

Katniss nods, not sure what to say, alarmed by his reaction, inching backward.

“Look, I don’t feel so well," she says. "Maybe I’ll drop by tomorrow.” 

She's just reached the door when his voice stops her.

“Katniss. I remember about the bread.” 

“They showed you the tape of me talking about it,” she says. 

“No. Is there a tape of you talking about it? Why didn’t the Capitol use it against me?” he asks. 

“I made it the day you were rescued,” she says, the pain in her ribs spreading to her chest, making it difficult to breathe. "So what do you remember?” 

“You. In the rain,” he says, softly. “Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead.” 

“That’s it. That’s what happened,” she says. “The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn’t know how.” 

“We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then . . . for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion.” 

He does remember. She's never spoken about that moment aloud. 

“I must have loved you a lot.” 

“You did.” Her voice catches and she pretends to cough. 

“And did you love me?” he asks.

"Peeta..."

She approaches Peeta, glancing at the camera up in the corner of the room near the ceiling, and angles her body so that only her back could be recorded. The word stuck in her throat. How could she explain it to him when she’s not sure she understands herself? When she’s worked so hard to let him go and focus on killing Snow. 

She slides her fingers to the back of her neck, brushing them against the fine chain that lay there. Hooking one under, lifts the long chain over her head, and drops it in Peeta's lap. She hadn’t actually looked at the pictures inside the locket since Prim had put them there, and usually only takes it out at night, when she’s alone. 

He looks at it like a snake that’s taken him by surprise. Slowly he retrieves it, allowing it to dangle over one finger. 

“I don’t understand,” says Peeta, annoyed.

“Look inside,” she says, staring at the floor tiles.

Peeta slides the two sides apart, and stares, startled. 

“This isn’t…” says Peeta.

“You gave that to me, do you remember?”

“I remember it from one of the videos, but the pictures were different.”

“Prim did that. She said it was so that you could be near even if you were far away.” Prim had swapped the pictures Peeta had put in the locket to try to convince Katniss to live with two other photos, one of Mr. Everdeen, and one of Peeta. Katniss doesn’t really look at it often, it made her feel like Peeta was already dead, and then after he was rescued it only served to remind her of what she’d lost. Still, she could never bring herself to remove him.

[chronically-crying]

One time before I even got sick I said (mostly joking) to my mom and sister that the American healthcare system has a personal vendetta against me (I have now been cucked by blue cross blue shield, COBRA, PrefferedOne, and for both lifesaving and not strictly necessary medical things) and my sister's response was "IDK the American healthcare system hasn't been particularly kind to me either" (she had a broken leg that needed surgery but she had to come home and wait several days before she actually went back and got the metal screws in her leg that she needed for the bones to heal properly)

but joke's on her because no I have been 1) in preauthorization hell for HRT for 3 full months (my gender care doc had never seen it takes that long) 2) I had a full psych eval scheduled bc I suspect I have ADHD and a psychiatrist I saw was like "yeah you should probably get the whole deal" and it was cancelled the day before, 3) I got diagnosed with IBD, given 2 months worth of Prednisone and told "you'll see someone in 6 weeks" only for the appointment to cancel the day of bc I was 17 and they weren't licensed for peds, 4) I've been on 3 different biologics now for IBD, Remicade which barely worked, Entyvio which did not work, and now Stelara which is great. IF ONLY MY INSURANCE LET ME HAVE IT because reauthorization came around in March and it got denied and ever since I have been living on the edge of a Crohn's flare

BONUS: this isn't insurance related but I got a fancy rare skin condition called pyoderma gangrenosum (DONT GOOGLE THIS ITS HORROR MOVIE SHIT) which is heavily related to Crohn's but because of how it presents it doesn't totally seem like an autoimmune condition and I was treated for the wrong thing from mid-May to the end of July before someone went "have you seen a dermatologist yet? Bc this is definitely not an infection" and I basically suffered for 7 weeks for no reason

[specialagentartemis]

clonerightsagenda said: please tell me more about the clone @consolecadet said: 👀

Reel you in with Clone Angst huh :)

YEAH this was kind of a spinoff of an old NaNoWriMo novel that never got finished about a kind of shitty run-down cyberpunk future + a recent idea about treating body-mods like tattoos, in that there are Trends and very different connotations based on what kind you have and how rich you are

The four main characters are,

Tanith, the fabled "good cop" who saw police as upholding Law and Order in an increasingly corrupt and crappy world, and then when on the force tried to challenge the police abuses she was seeing actually happen. She got fired real fast and then the police have been hassling her ever since. Now she's a dockworker or something similar. She has tough, strength-augmenting cyborg mods from her time as a cop, though, because that's the next step in the Militarization of Police; on a police officer it's tough and scary and Respectable in a threatening I-have-power way, but they're similar mods that a lot of working-class physical-labor people get, so not on a cop, they're kind of a, oh you're sort of trashy and lower-class look. But her job pays fine, there's a union even if it's not a particularly effective one, there are long stretches of time she can listen to mediocre podcasts as she does her job, and it's not existentially fulfilling but it's respectable work that's not existentially soul-killing either unlike her old job as an officer. Her hobbies these days include keeping her head down and minding her own business because she will still get hassled if any of her old cop "buddies" are around.

Abby, her roommate and de facto best friend. Has a humanities degree in a world that does not value those at all. Works part-time in the local public library trying to keep it afloat, but they get hardly any funding; does freelance captioning/copyediting/video editing gigs to make ends meet, trying to stay ahead of machine learning that can do each gig more cheaply. She is trans and is saving up for gender affirming surgeries; this is like, Type 2 of body-modifications here. Not cyberpunk cyborg stuff, just... trans body modification for Gender Reasons that is also out of reach. (Dream goals also include cat ears, though. She's trans, she's been body-modding slowly through hormones for ages, if she gets up the money for surgery she is also gonna try to get cat ears.)

Tanith's Ex-Police-Partner, still on the police force, considers what Tanith did a betrayal and really resents her. Has cooler, tougher cyborg strength-augmenting body-mods. Cyborg cop because ballooning police budgets get put somewhere. On-and-off in contact with Tanith, trying to get her to repent. Apologize. Absolve her.

And Clone Girl who I haven't settled on a name I like for, 17 and cute and who Abby meets when she seems to be living at the library. She has no obvious mods at all, but has rich-people genetic tweaks like flawless skin and hair, and she looks distinctively like one of the Obscenely Wealthy CEO Types in the city. So, she's from a rich family, but also homeless and afraid. What gives.

When it becomes obvious Clone Girl is living at the library and refuses to go to any of the (underfunded, understaffed, overcrowded) shelters in the city, Abby offers to put her up in the apartment she and Tanith share for a while.

However, Tanith's Ex Partner (and whole Ex Force) is looking for a suddenly Missing Person, the daughter of Rich CEO.

Somehow it comes out that Clone Girl is... a CLONE! (shocking twist). Not Rich CEO's natural daughter, but a clone, who was created and raised so that aging Rich CEO can transfer her brain into Clone Girl's body and be young again. Clone Girl is a body mod. Or... was. She found out about the plan somehow, and understandably not wanting her brain to be scooped out before her 18th birthday, ran away. But having grown up relatively secluded, she wasn't encouraged to develop a personality because she'd never get to grow into it anyway, or much knowledge about the world because a docile idiot is the ideal Clone Body, she doesn't really know what to do about that. (The reason they have her awake at all is that previously they tried to grow a body in a vat but it turns out to have a healthy body humans need to like... move, and exercise, and get sunlight and touch.) And now there's a statewide missing person case because Rich CEO wants her unwilling body donor back and also doesn't want news of this plan to get out.

And uh Tanith and Abby are now harboring a teenager who will be killed if they send her back but they will super duper get arrested for kidnapping if they get found out. And Tanith's ex-policemates have no love for her and would LOVE for her to turn out to be a criminal and absolve themselves. Tanith has been avoiding doing things that would get her in trouble but she can't just avoid making decisions now.

It'd be a story about autonomy bodily and otherwise and also Clone Rights. I'm not sure where it goes from here but. I think about them sometimes.

[golbrocklovely]

I know Brennan gives you the ick, is there anyone else snc associates with that you wish they wouldn't? For me, it's big nik. I didn't like how he acted in Colby's videos back in the day but then I saw how he was so disrespectful of muslims and how he is awful about women (he sees them as inferior to men), not to mention the cringy maga music video he did. It's like, dude, have your beliefs- I can respect that. but don't disrespect others while simultaneously demanding they respect and follow yours. His Christian msg is so different from how colby and nate present theirs. He did a video where he claims to be healed by a faith healer, but I remember he had a corrective surgery that was mentioned in an old video of Colby's. I've ignored his existence for years but he's been popping up on my tiktok lately cuz of the maga video.

i get that with big nik. he is definitely…. an """interesting""" figure from snc's past. but that's the thing to me, they don't associate with big nik anymore for the most part. sure, i know colby still follows him and whatnot, but i don't think that means he agree with anything big nik says. he hasn't interacted with big nik or liked anything he has said, so for the most part i see it as a "i stll follow you bc we were once friends". i don't see big nik and think him and colby are friends. tbh i don't see big nik at all anymore and honestly forget he exists.

but yeah, i never particularly liked big nik, even before he became what he is today. i just find it fucking hilarious that he (and even brennen to some extent) are against gay ppl or trans ppl when all of their content back in the day was hella gay and queerbaiting. and big nik literally has a trans sister. i just… can't fathom thinking the way either of them do.

but it's clear that they need to act the way they do now to stay "relevant". being a grifter for the right is basically everyone's go to career change when they see their views and likes falling off. it's just ridiculously dumb. you wanna believe in god? that's great. go for it. but before you start preaching make sure to actually read the bible. god is loving, the whole fucking bible is an allegory on how not to be a dick, but i guess that's too complicated for their tiny ass brains to understand.