#----its one of the reasons i want a hysterectomy in the first place) or i have to be dying of cancer or some shit

[ice-reblogs]

If there is a God

I want to rip out my uterus with my bare hands and devour it like a rabid animal in front of him

And after I'm done, I want to stand up and look at him, blood dripping from my jaw; and tell him to pray for my forgiveness for making me suffer in the wrong body

#bite it strike #this is not meant to be offensive. but if you take offense to it- well im sorry #my cramps are fucking killing me this week- they hurt so bad and i havent even actually started yet #i desperately want to get a hysterectomy- but because i was born a female. i cant. i either HAVE to have kids (which i dont fucking want--- #----its one of the reasons i want a hysterectomy in the first place) or i have to be dying of cancer or some shit #being a female at birth is miserable when it comes to health care =] #i hate it here #anyway! i want to fucking die rn- just curl up and rot away #i meant to say month instead of week- but i do usually cramp a week before i start

[petersaysthings]

Gays Against Groomers, their association with the Proud Boys, and the rise of fascism.

I’ll be making a more detailed blog post soon on the group Gays Against Groomers, their association with the Proud Boys and QAnon, and the dangerous surge of fascism that's now accepted and promoted as free speech in many online circles. For now, I wanted to give a little rundown.

I don't think I've ever been this disturbed by a group and its members gaining so much traction.

A large portion of their followers are either far-right or even alt-right themselves, or they're willing to turn a blind eye to the organization's harmful tactics, particularly if it removes a target from their own back. After all, no one wants to be called a 'groomer', because that association alone--regardless of any evidence--can and has destroyed lives. It's akin to when homosexuality was placed in the same bracket as pedophilia in the 1950's, weaponizing social fears.

Because the LGBTQ community struggled for decades to attain equal rights and standing to the rest of society, there's now a pervasive sense of fear among some that those rights will be taken away because of a misguided few. They reason it's better to call out the few and rub shoulders with the right to avoid that. But let's be clear--the right has never been the best allies with LGBTQ people to begin with, and the few were never much of a problem in this equation until the far right began amplifying the actions of a small minority, making them seem like a huge societal problem. Now, it would seem there’s little other choice but to fall in line and purge all instances of flamboyance.

So one has to wonder if that's what's fueling these attacks in the first place, because who started the rampant vilifying? They and their associated grifters (such as Blaire White, Arielle Scarcella and others) are lumping in potential actual groomers with people they merely suspect of being groomers, and often that’s enough to cause instances of stochastic terrorism and threats of domestic terrorism.

This is extremely concerning to me, especially considering GAG's (gotta love that acronym) association with the Proud Boys, a neo-fascist organization known for their political violence, particularly the Jan. 6th attacks on the Capitol. I recently stumbled across a Tweet from Gays Against Groomers in which they flat-out said:

(According to what I've seen of their posts, 'sexualization, indoctrination, and mutilation' can refer to anything from a 300-page book with one out-of-context graphic scene, to their unsubstantiated claims that hospitals 'offer hysterectomies to minors'. I even saw one in which they tried to frame that teaching kids consent would somehow be grooming...make of that what you will.)

Which begs the question, given their questionable associations, as to whether or not their Tweet is a veiled threat, lest you fall in line with their standards and steer clear of their arbitrary definitions of what qualifies as a ‘groomer’. Now I don't like comparing things to Nazism for a long list of reasons. It's lazy at best and trivializing the past at worst. But there's definitely something sinister in this about forcing compliance through fear that likens it to a burning of the Reichstag. There's also their branding (appropriating a logo design), their posting of doctored video clips in association with far-right media organizations (such as Project Veritas, Arsenal Media, X Strategies) with the goal of twisting narratives, their separatist language, encouraging members of the LGBTQ community to call out suspected 'grooming' to avoid targets on themselves.

It gives the impression if you don't keep your head down in compliance, you will be dealt with by their Proud Boy jackboot thugs.

And if you speak out on Gays Against Grooming in any way--if you present fact-based arguments on how gender-affirming care is important to the mental health of a small minority of people struggling with gender dysphoria, defend library books they want to ban, point out how they overlook important parts of legislation they protest that will negatively affect LGBTQ youth--you're automatically labeled a 'groomer of children' and harassed by their many followers, if not the organization itself.

Critical thinking and rationality is on the decline, propaganda and misinformation is on the rise (largely thanks to Elon Musk’s takeover of Twitter), and between Gays Against Groomers and Libs of TikTok, it's only a matter of time before some unhinged person enacts real violence or makes threats of domestic terrorism. We saw it in PizzaGate with QAnon when someone shot up a pizza parlor. The association between when Tweets are posted, the measureable rise in hateful rhetoric, and the resulting action has a direct causal link.

And then what do they do? Plausible deniability.

It's also interesting to me how they can constantly call out people based on suspicion alone (Jeffrey Marsh is a huge favorite for this), but any suspicions leveled against them are unacceptable. The harassing actions of Gays Against Groomers and their followers are not beyond questioning or criticism, and to insist they are--whether they say so or their followers say it--is flat out authoritarianism and manipulation. The ‘with us or against us’ rhetoric that does not allow for critical thinking or pointing out of harmful practices is incredibly dangerous.

In summation, I want them taken down before they grow much larger, because they're fighting important legislation and vying for a political foothold. And as a far-right fascist organization, it's not something I want for wider society, and as a gay person, it's certainly not the kind of group I want having a voice for the LGBTQ community.

This goes beyond protecting kids, which of course is something we all want. And there are occasional valid instances and behavior harmful to kids we should be calling out, I will not deny that. But I'm not convinced, as with pro-life stances, that Gays Against Groomers is about protecting kids or ‘giving them a voice’ at all. On the contrary, it’s about removing the voices of LGBTQ youth and gaining political power through divide.

I'm not certain what their ultimate endgame is with all this, but I don't imagine it's going to bode well for the majority of LGBTQ people in a few years.

#lgbtq #lgbtq community #gays against groomers #fascism #twitter #groomer #groomers #grooming #libs of tiktok #proud boys #far right #alt right #politics #ok groomer #fascist #news #qanon #pizzagate

[skzsauce01]

Harmony

Synopsis: Dogged by a shameful past, you try to fit as your new identity in a new dance program at a renowned music conservatory. The school heartthrob and world-class violinist takes interest in you, which would be fine if he wasn’t also your childhood best friend.

Warning: hysterectomy, infertility, panic, mention of murder disclaimer: fertility does NOT determine your worth as a person

Word Count: 10.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x Kim Seungmin

There he is. Of course, there he is. Where else would the handsome prodigal son of the most prominent violinist go if not the best music conservatory in the country? You watch his bleached head of hair make its way across SKZ Conservatory of Music’s courtyard as fans flock him from behind. 

As for you, you sit on a random bench by yourself, waiting to start your first day at the conservatory’s new and nameless dance program as Emily Regan, not Y/N L/N, and most definitely not the gifted Kim Seungmin’s long-lost childhood best friend.

You must have stared at him too long, for he catches you and smirks. Blushing, you quickly clear your throat and head to class. He couldn’t have recognized you, right? No, you definitely look nothing like you did when you were six. If so, then why is he following you? You speed up, and while he makes no attempt to do the same, he surely is still on your tail. You turn the last corner and he does the same. You enter a room and take a seat. He— oh, you have the same class. First year literature. Just your luck. 

He walks by where you are seated and stops. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

You wish the ground would swallow you, but at least he didn’t call you Y/N or something like that.

“R-Regan. Emily Regan,” you mutter.

“Oh, American?”

You nod, still avoiding his eye.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Kim Seungmin.”

He extends a hand out to shake, and you take it hesitantly. You aren’t sure you are on first name basis yet, but Kim Seungmin does what Kim Seungmin wants, you suppose.

“Hello, Kim.”

He smiles and takes the seat next to you and you wish you could disappear. But you can’t, so you excuse yourself to use the washroom. You thought you could get another spot when you returned, only to find him reserving your spot next to him for you.

The whole class, you do your best to focus on the professor, but he makes it difficult for you. He makes no effort to hide that he’s stealing glances at you, and fear creeps up your spine. What if he connects the dots and realizes you are your father’s daughter? He’d hate you, that’s for sure. After all you’ve done to him, it’s only natural.

You shake your head and he looks at you curiously. No, the one who did all that isn’t you, but Y/N L/N. You’re Emily Regan now. You just have to make sure you keep it that way.

Still, you’re glad to be able to see him again.

You know you should not be doing this, and there is no reason for you to potentially embarrass yourself even more, but you cannot help yourself. His pieces of work are right there, and his door was propped open so that you could see the music inside. So, you let yourself in.

Being the son of a major benefactor of the school, Seungmin has his own studio on campus. Instruments of all sorts line the wall and his Stradivarius violin lays on the table beside the draft of his latest composition. No one will steal it anyway; it’s chipped and insured. 

It does, however, mean that Seungmin probably just stepped out for a bit, so you’ll have to be quick. You look at his piece and hum the notes to yourself.

A small smile forms on your lips as you read the sheet. It’s a duet, and he’s only written the second violin part for now. 

This whole thing feels familiar. Reading music with him, cheek to cheek, is something you did often. In fact, that’s exactly what you were doing that day you got that call to rush home only to find where you once lived was turned into a slaughterhouse. Your fingers curl around your cardigan as you recall that day. It was Albinoni’s Adagio. You shake your head and refocus on the notes before you, humming a little louder to drown out your thoughts. You need to finish before—

“You have perfect pitch.”

—Seungmin returns.

You shoot up straight and turn slowly around. Seungmin leans against the door with his arms crossed.

“You have perfect pitch,” he repeats, walking over to his piano. He takes the sheet and plays it on the keyboard. “You weren’t even a microtone off.”

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t—”

He holds up a hand to silence you. “You’re a dance major, right? Do you play anything?”

You shake your head and lie. “Not really.”

“That’s a shame. Well, it’s never too late to start.” He picks up his violin and hands it to you. “Do you want to hear how the piece actually sounds?”

Your eyes widen at the familiar instrument and you visibly flinch backwards to which he raises a brow.

“Emily? Something wrong?”

“No, er, I, uh…” What should you say? “I’m alright. Thank you, and sorry for intruding. I need to use the washroom now.”

“Hold up,” he calls, effectively making you freeze in your step. “You don’t think you can just walk in here and leave unscathed, do you?”

“W-what do you mean?” you laugh nervously.

“You’ve got to pay the admissions fee,” he replies. “If you don’t play the violin, then here.” He hands you his music. “Compose the first violin.”

“What? I don’t even play!”

“You can try, or I can call security. You might even get suspended,” he smirks.

You open and close your mouth soundlessly. If you fail here as Emily Regan the dance major, then what will become of you? You have no choice but to concede and take the paper from his hands.

“Great. It’s only thirty-two bars, so bring it by tomorrow!”

“But I—!”

He takes out his phone and begins dialing the number for security while reading out each digit.

“Fine! I’ll do it!” you relent.

He grins victoriously. “Great!”

You frown at your new project. “But if I may ask, why the first violin? Don’t people usually compose both at once or the melody part first?”

“I like playing second best,” he answers casually.

This you remember from your childhood days, but that was long, long ago, and only because you always wanted to play first. His skills have improved tremendously since then. Anyone who calls Kim Seungmin a second violinist these days would surely be mocked. “Second? But you’re a renowned soloist!”

“I just haven’t found the person I want to follow yet.”

There’s a pain in his voice that makes you bite your own lip. Even if that person is still here, how can he, the prodigal son from the greatest violinist in the nation, stand next to, let alone play with again, the child of a pariah?

“I better get started on this,” you excuse yourself. You can’t bear to see the scars you left on him any longer.

Seungmin finds you the next day with your face on your desk. 

“Rough night?” he chuckles.

You pop your head off the table and swipe your hand over your mouth to rid it of any drool. At this point, you should give up ever looking good in front of the school’s heartthrob. 

“Here,” you cough, sliding over your work. “I’m forgiven with this, right?”

He hums approvingly and pulls up a keyboard on his phone. After playing it once, he shakes his head and pulls out another score and places it in front of you. 

“This won’t do. Try again.”

Your eyes widen. “But—!”

“You didn’t put yourself into this piece did you?”

How can he say that after you spent all night researching and writing drafts, trying to make something that wouldn’t disappoint the great Kim Seungmin? You open your mouth, however, no objection comes out. Something in you knows he’s right.

“Take your time with this next one. Just bring it to my studio when you’re ready, okay?”

You give a small nod and look at the paper on your desk with dread.

“But you did work hard on this,” he continues, “so here. A reward.” He slides a cup of coffee to you.  “Tell me what you like and I’ll get that next time.”

“Thank you, but you don’t have to,” you say, a little surprised by the gesture. “This time or the next.”

“Oh, come on. A little boost is nice after a rough night, isn’t it? How many hours did you even sleep?”

Good question. You’re curious yourself. You went to bed at four and were awakened at seven by your bladder, so one, two, “Three.”

He looks at you weirdly.

“What?” you defend. “I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“You’re not from America, are you?”

That came out of the left field. “What?”

“Americans count like this.” He raises his index finger then his middle and then his ring, counting a number with each digit. “But you went like this.” He holds up five fingers and progressively puts one down, starting from his thumb.

“I must have gotten used to it here already,” you laugh sheepishly. “Oh look, the professor!”

You feel his stare, but thankfully, he does not say anything else after the instructor greets the class.

The next attempt takes you eight days. You wouldn’t mind a little longer to work out the finer details, but seeing him in class pressures you to just turn it in.

You hold your breath as he scans over your new attempt. Your nervousness does not last long though as he does not even bother playing it and instead drops it right into the bin. He takes out yet another copy and slams it on the table in front of you.

“I really am trying my be—”

“That’s not what I’m looking for,” he cuts sternly. “Remember what I said. I want you in this piece. Not your best— you.”

“I—”

“No. Look here. Look at me. Focus.”

You gulp and do as told. His lips are pursed and his eyes intense.

“What do you feel?” His question sounds more like a statement.

“Happy?” you try.

He scowls.

“Sad?”

“No, you don’t,” he says. “Look at me. What do you feel?”

You rack your head for emotional words. What answer could he possibly be looking for? “Attraction?”

Seungmin breaks his seriousness and laughs loudly. “Attraction?”

“I mean, you have all those fans and the looks, wealth, and talent,” you try to explain, “so I thought you were looking for that.”

He pokes your forehead. “This isn’t about me or what I’m looking for. It hasn’t been since I gave you this piece. Think about it honestly. What does Emily Regan feel?”

Emily Regan? “Frustrated.”

Another shake of his head. “Deeper. Think. What do you feel?”

You bite your lip and flick your eyes to meet his. What do you feel? What do you feel, posing as a dancer here at SKZ Conservatory in front of Kim Seungmin?

“... shame.”

He smiles bittersweetly and hands you a pen. “Write,” he whispers gently.

You stare at the empty bars, pen quivering slightly above the page. Finally, you draw a small oval in a line.

You write and write, humming the notes to yourself and not realizing how time has passed. When you finally finish, the sun has already gone down. You look up and see Seungmin with his elbows resting on the table across from you and his hands clasped, not having moved a centimeter for the past few hours.

When you finally put down the pen, he turns the sheet towards himself. He stares at it for a good ten minutes before standing up with it and pulling out his Stradivarius. From his phone, he first records him playing his own composition and then plays yours over it.

The whole thing could not have been more than five minutes, but to you, it feels like an eternity. 

At last he finishes the piece with an up bow and brings his arm in a circle to his side. He stares at your work for a few more silent moments before saying, “Have you published music before?”

That certainly is not the comment you were expecting. “No?”

“It’s… familiar. I don’t mean the piece, but the style, it’s…”

“Well, do I pass?” you cut in before he can think too much of it.

He sets down his instrument. “It’s a little bland, but I'll take it. Good work, Emily.”

“I’ll be taking my leave then. Goodbye, Kim.”

“Wait—” He calls after you, but you are already out the door.

You speed walk until you are in the safety of a nearby washroom. You rest your back against the stall door and let out a sigh. Does he remember the amateur pieces you made almost two decades ago? Did you accidentally just expose yourself? No, prodigy or not, there is no way he can connect you to Y/N L/N just from thirty-two bars of music. At any rate, it’s best to lay low from him for now, you decide.

Laying low does not really work when you are one of the few members of the conservatory’s budding dance ensemble though. Seungmin is hosting a charity concert and requested dancers for his show. You manage to finish your numbers for the night without complications and are now waiting in the wings for the curtains as Seungmin begins his final piece.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to enjoy his music until something about the tune strikes you. Your eyelids flutter open as a familiar melody fills the auditorium. It’s your piece! Sure, he wrote it into a solo, but the resemblance is unmistakable. 

When he finishes, he bows and makes a speech. Your classmate nudges you to snap you out of your surprise and urges you onstage for the curtain call. The whole time, you stare at Seungmin, unsure of what to make of the situation. 

At the end of his speech, he gestures for the dancers to come forward. He meets your eyes with his usual smirk and grabs your hand for the bow.

When all is done, you want to find an explanation for that last piece, but your bladder demands to be released right at that moment. You’ve been finding yourself needing to go more and more or the area starts to hurt, so you quickly relieve yourself and speed out. To your luck, it seems Seungmin took his time packing up his violin; you see his silhouette just across the field from the performance hall.

“Wait,” you call out, running after him. He doesn’t hear you until you are closer. “Wait!”

Seungmin turns around as you stop in front of him, resting your hands on your knees to catch your breath.

“Emily?”

He takes a look at your state. You’re still in your costume from having rushed out, and your sheer asymmetrical skirt is doing nothing for you against the night wind.

He shakes off his coat and wraps it around you. “Are you here because of that last bit?”

You nod and stare at him, hoping your gaze draws an explanation out of him.

“It’s a good piece. I felt the need to share it.” He fixes the collar around your neck. “I know I should have asked first. I’ll buy you food sometime to make up for it, yeah?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter that you played it; I just want to know why you did it.”

“I told you already. I like it,” he shrugs.

“You like Paganini. You like Strasate. Anything from them or even something you wrote would have made a better finish. Why this?”

“It’s a charity concert for the needy. Your piece had fitting emotions.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Is there really nothing else?

“Hold on.” He narrows his eyes back at you. “How do you know so much about composers?”

“I— It’s— This is a music conservatory! I’ve just seen their names around in murals and such!”

“Makes sense,” he nods.

“Good. Well then, have a good evening, Kim,” you bid, relieved, and begin to turn around.

“Do you want me to walk you back to the dorm? It’s quite late,” he offers.

You turn around but do not stop walking away. “I still need to change. Thank you though!”

It is only when you’re in the green room do you realize you still have his coat.

“Kim,” you call out, shuffling your feet quickly after him.

A wide grin spreads over his face as he turns around and sees your form. There’s a tuba on his shoulder. “Emily! Looking for me?”

You nod and thrust forward the bag in your hand. “Your coat. I came to return it.”

Seungmin dramatically wraps his hands around the instrument. “Oh no! My hands are full right now! Could you bring it to my studio in fifteen minutes?”

Your grip on the bag tightens in frustration, but he leans towards you, tuba looming overhead, and blinks thrice.

“Please? I’ll make it worth your effort.”

You fumble backwards, flustered, and drop your hand and the bag to your side. “Fine,” you relent. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes,” he promises. As you walk out of the music hall, you hear a tuba playing fanfare.

Fifteen minutes later, you knock at his door which opens before you even finish your first knock. Seungmin greets you and gestures inside where a plate of mochi sits on his table with two cups of tea.

“Care to join me?” he invites.

You again hand him the bag and keep your feet planted where they are. “I think I’ll have to pass, but thank you.”

“Aw, don’t you like sweets?” He reaches for the plate and circles it around your face.

Still, you shake your head. “Again, thank you, but based on the last few times I was in here, I would rather not be.”

“I promise not to make you compose again. Just come in before the tea gets cold!”

“Why do you want me to anyway?”

“Huh?” His eyes widen at the question.

“I mean, other people have perfect pitch, yet you only sit with me to work through a composition. You sit next to me and buy me coffee and now you’re inviting me to tea. Why are you so interested in me?”

He tilts his head to the side. “‘Cause I like you, obviously.”

That sets off your alarms. Quickly, you dart your eyes around, looking to see if any of his fan girls are around to hear that and murder you. You then push him into the room and slam the door behind you.

“Excuse me, what?” you exclaim.

He sits by the food, crossing his legs. “I. Like. You.” he repeats slowly.

“B-b-b-but that’s impossible,” you sputter. “Curious? Maybe. But attracted to? No.”

He chuckles. “Why not? I mean, it did start out as curiosity, but the more I poked around, the more intrigued I became. You’re a woman full of mysteries, Emily. I like that.”

You put your hands in front of you and slowly back up. “No, no. No. No. There’s nothing to me at all. We don’t know each other very well. Of course a stranger is going to have a lot of unknowns. Once you get to know me, you’ll find that you’ve wasted your time and energy.” You like your acquaintanceship right now. Even being ignored by him is totally fine, but if he ever finds out who you are, he’ll hate you and spit on the person you’ve tried so hard to become.

“Oh really?” He stands and advances to you, making you shrink. “Then let’s put your theory to the test, shall we?” 

“What do you mean?” you gulp.

“You answer my questions and I’ll see if I still like you then.”

“Q-questions?”

“Yeah. We can go slowly if you’d like. Maybe one a day? How does that sound?” 

When you don’t respond, he begins. “Why do you seem so afraid of touching a violin?”

“I— uh…”

“Why did you lie about your home country? Why did you feel ‘shame’? Why did you sneak into my studio to look at my work yet claim to have no interest in music?”

With every question, he takes one step in your direction, finally backing you up against the wall. 

“And” —he lowers and softens his voice— “how does it feel to kiss you?”

“I’ll— I’ll—” You squirm in your shoes, head down and fists balled. The silence is deafening between your stutters, but he makes no effort to fill it, waiting patiently for your response.  “I’ll answer the last one,” you finally squeak.

“Alright then.”

You hear one of his hands pressing on the wall behind you and feel the other coming up to your jaw. He leans closer and closer and you squeeze your eyes tighter and tighter. You’re shaking so much, you can’t tell if you’re even still standing anymore.

His breath fans your lips as he suddenly chuckles and straightens up. He leaves a quick peck on your forehead and steps back.

“You don’t have to do things you don’t want to, Emily.” He has a soft smile which you stare at with surprise at the turn of events. “Doesn’t mean I’ll stop annoying the daylights out of you though,” he adds cheekily.

He slides the mochi back into the box they came in and hands them to you. “Go back to your dorm. Maybe we’ll continue our interrogation next time. Oh, and there’s a closer toilet if you turn right since you seem to go all the time.”

You stand there, mochi in hand, with your jaw opening and closing without any audible sound. He laughs again and turns you around towards the door.

“Go, before I poke you with my bow.”

Mention of a violin snaps your soul back into your body. “Okay, okay. Goodbye, Kim.”

“Thanks for returning the coat,” he calls after you as you disappear into the washroom on the left.

“Remember to choose a partner for this project. Let me know if you can’t get one by next week,” your literature professor concludes and whisks out the door.

You feel the entire room turn towards your direction no thanks to the one and only Kim Seungmin sitting next to you. He himself turns toward you with a plotting grin.

“Emily.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, pain rippling through your belly as you do so. There is no point resisting, and you don’t feel up to it today anyway.

“Are you free tonight? I’ll pick you up after your practice and we can get a head start.”

That night, you already know who has just arrived when the girls come squealing into the locker room. You couldn’t care less though. You try to rub away the pain that’s nagging at your belly and fumble around for some pain killers. You allow yourself five minutes after tossing back the pills, but begrudgingly drag your feet outside so as to not keep Seungmin waiting. 

He greets you with an electrolyte drink which you take and thank him for as discreetly as possible without catching the attention of his fans. He thankfully seems to take the hint and follows you outside, only fully approaching you when the last of the girls retreats back into the changing room.

“Ready for our project?”

“You’re awfully excited for homework,” you comment.

“It’s not just any homework.” He bumps you with his shoulder. At that moment, another wave of pain grips your stomach, causing you to stop in your step and bend over.

“Did I nudge too hard?” he gasps. “I’m sorry!”

You shake your hand. “Just… premenstrual cramps. It’s a little hard to manage these days,” you squeeze out.

He walks you to a nearby bench and kneels in front of you. He opens your drink for you and wipes sweat from your forehead.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go home and rest for today?” he asks worriedly.

“I’ll be fine in a bit; I just need the medicine to kick in. Sorry for delaying us.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He takes your hand and massages the pressure point between your thumb and index finger. “Is there anything you need?”

You assure him that you’re fine and can continue with the scheduled homework session which you know he cut short with one excuse or another. You two do the bare minimum on the assignment before he “realized” he scheduled an appointment to restring his violin. After Seungmin walks you to your dorm, you quickly put on a liner and head to bed.

That night, you learn that a liner was a mistake. You wake up as you often do by a call from the bathroom. Groggily, you swing your legs off your bed and are startled by a loud ‘squish.’ Too distracted by the gnawing in your pelvis, you think nothing of it, until you open your door and the hallway lights pour into your room, illuminating your blood-covered feet. With a gasp, you quickly turn around and see the trail of red behind you. You quickly reach for your heaviest pad only to be gripped with the worst shock of pain you’ve had yet. You fall to your knees then ultimately to the floor.

Waking up on the floor makes you forget where you are, and realizing that you are laying in a pool of blood and urine does not help. It takes a moment for you to recover from the shock the state of your room gave you, but when you do, you decide to get yourself cleaned up first then deal with the room later.

Twenty minutes later, you again face the disaster that is your dorm. Thankfully, you do not have literature today, so no one— and by no one you mean Seungmin— will notice if you take a day off to take care of it.

You begin pulling off your bedsheets to wash when you hear a knock at your door. You panic and look around. It doesn’t take a genius to know your room is in no condition for a guest right now.

“Emily?”

And of course it has to be Kim Seungmin. You freeze in your spot, not knowing what to do.

“Did she leave?” you hear him ask himself. This is good. You hope he leaves.

“I guess so,” he mutters. 

You hear some plastic shuffling outside and then his retreating footsteps. You breathe a sigh of relief which you immediately regret because of the pain that comes with breathing too heavily. Your periods have never hurt this much, you note with worry.

You return to your sheets until your phone vibrates with a notification.

Kim Seungmin- Lit [10:59 AM]: Hope you’re feeling better. I left some soup and food at your door since it seems like you aren’t home.

Kim Seungmin- Lit [10:59 AM]: Call me if you need something. Or if you need a ride to the hospital.

Hospital? You rub your abdomen, wondering if the pain warrants a visit. You take some more painkillers and eat the food before finishing cleaning your room. As you leave the washing machine running downstairs, you sit at your table after another washroom stop for a quick nap. You nestle your head in your arms and close your eyes…

… and open them a few hours later, feeling like you’d rather be dead. You can barely breathe and your room spins around you. You don’t even remember to grab your keys as you stumble out the door. Hospital, hospital. No, the hospital’s too far. The conservatory’s health center will have to suffice for now, and it’s only two buildings away.

You must look really unwell, for as soon as you step into the facility, there are already three staff members rushing to your side. You aren’t sure what happens next. It looks like your arrival caused quite the commotion, but all you can hear is Mozart’s Requiem playing somewhere. The world is closing in on you, and you feel your legs give out.

“Seungminnie…”

You wake up to the humming of machines in a hospital room. You realize they transferred you when you see an old lady sleeping in the bed beside yours.

Thankfully, you feel much better now, though you suspect it has something to do with IV connected to your wrist.

Seeing that you are awake, a nurse comes in to check your vitals.

“Are you feeling alright, Miss Regan?” she asks.

You nod and thank her as she replaces your IV bag.

“The doctor wants to see you in a bit for your consultation, but I need a bit of information from you first. We couldn’t find any family members attached to your name, so you’ll have to fill out some forms for yourself, alright sweetie?”

After making sure you are able to, she hands you a clipboard which you complete steadily until one section. “Emergency contact,” it reads.

Seeing your hesitation, the nurse chimes in. “It can be anyone. A friend, teacher, anyone you can trust just in case, you know?”

You smile politely. "May I leave it blank?"

The nurse looks stunned. "I suppose, but what if something happens?"

"You can call a lawyer."

She looks doubtful but stays quiet save for the few instructions she gives to reach your doctor’s office. As you walk there, you think about what just happened. Emergency contact? You'd just moved here for school. Your mother passed during childbirth, and your father— Emily Regan doesn’t have a father. There's no one you could have put down, you tell yourself. No one. Not even a certain overzealous violinist. 

You knock twice on the door you were told. 

“Miss Emily Regan?” the doctor greets as you walk in.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Doctor Lee. How are you feeling right now?"

"A lot better."

"Glad to hear it. Please take a seat. Tell me, have you experienced frequent urination lately?"

You walk out of the pharmacy with a paper bag in your hands. Your heart drums in your ears but for a completely different reason this time. What will this mean for you? You’ll need to be resting for two months after the procedure, and as a dance major, this means you can’t attend class. Never mind its impact on your school year, what will this mean for your entire life? Your father has already tarnished the name Y/N L/N. You’ve tried so hard and lied so much just to make Emily Regan real. What have you made her into now? Dirty. Fiendish. Despicable. Even if you escaped being the daughter of the most hated artist who shamed his whole nation, you’ll never escape who you really are. And now this? Your hand unconsciously rises to your belly, rubbing it. It’s only further proof of what a defect you are. 

It is around four by the time you arrive back at the dorms. Thankfully, the hospital phoned your resident assistant who has your keys for you. You’re still distracted by your thoughts as you approach the building and nearly miss the man pacing up and down the front door.

Seungmin has his shoulders hunched and hands clasped together as he blows on them to keep warm, his grey cardigan not doing much against the evening chill. 

“Kim?” you call out, not believing your eyes. You are, after all, on a lot of drugs.

He immediately runs towards you when he recognizes you. You stand where you are and wait for him to come, now believe that he truly is here. Was he out here waiting for you? Your hand curls around your belly. He shouldn’t be wasting his efforts like this on someone like you. Never mind the faults of Y/N, even as Emily, you no longer deserve the love of someone like Kim Seungmin. You’d never wish for your childhood best friend to be with someone as flawed as you.

“What are you doing here?” you inquire as he stops in front of you, raising his hands as if wanting to hold you but is afraid you’d break under his touch.

“You didn’t pick up the phone…” he whispers. “You weren’t home and you didn’t pick up the phone…”

“I… had something going on.” You tuck away your prescription in your coat. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t—”

“Kim.”

“—the phone—”

“Kim Seungmin!”

His eyes look up to meet yours and you see the daze being snapped out of them.

“Huh?” 

You exhale sharply and repeat. “What are you doing here?”

“Your dorm doesn’t allow guys past twelve,” he replies matter of factly.

Your brows knit together. “You were out here for four hours?” 

He nods. “Where were you? You were sick yesterday, and now you’re off the map until four in the morning.”

You shouldn’t have snapped. You know what he means by his words, but you aren’t exactly having the best day, and Seungmin isn’t supposed to be here. You aren’t who he actually likes. You aren’t the six year old Y/N nor are you an ideal bachelorette. No, you are some imposter and you hate it. You hate it, so you state flatly, “Why does it matter to you where I was? If you’re worried about the literature project, then I’m sorry. I promise to finish it on time, but it was you who ended the homework session early yesterday, and as far as I’m concerned, we don’t have anything scheduled for today. Thank you for the meal earlier, but if stuff like that’s going to make you feel entitled to knowing about my every whereabouts, then please stop doing it.”

“That’s not what I—”

You close your eyes and let your head roll back. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, so please just leave me alone for a bit.”

You walk past him, expecting the conversation to be left at that. You hear him hesitating, which you also expect, but you are not ready for the:

“No.” 

Seungmin runs in front of you and spreads his limbs out, blocking your path. “You’re suffering. I don’t know from what, or if it’s even really period cramps, but you are. I’m not letting you do it alone.” He sucks in his cheeks as he tries to find his next words. You half expect him to take you to his studio and sit you down with a drink until you give him at least a hint of what’s happening, but he surprises you with, “I’m not saying you have to share it with me, but you need to have someone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t,” he objects. “And trust me. I’ve seen a man try and it cost him his life and his daughter.”

The familiar story makes you freeze. Despite yourself, you ask, “Who?”

“My father’s best friend. The late violinist, L/N.” 

“T-the one who turned out to be a murderer?” Why are you saying this? Just leave him and go!

Seungmin approaches you now that you’ve stopped. His presence makes your eyes water. “He only got involved with the wrong people and ruined his name because he tried to deal with the grief of losing his wife on his own. He even hid it from his own best friend, and that’s how everything tumbled out of control.”

“And his daughter?” Stop it! Y/N— no, Emily, stop it!

“No one knows, though she could be dead. My father immediately sent out searches for her, but nothing ever came up.” His voice softens almost to the point of inaudible as he talks about her. “Father hasn’t played a duet since, and neither have I.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say.

“Don’t be. You didn’t even know about it, so what could you have done?” he laughs dryly. 

The irony makes your toes curl.

“Just don’t make me watch another person go down the same path, okay?” he pleas gently.

Again, you should have done something else. You should just say, “Okay, I’ll reach out if I need it” and leave it at that. Instead, you turn to him and ask, “Can you play me ‘Méditation’?”

You watch his eyes widen at the ‘coincidence’ of your request, especially after that story. 

“‘Méditation?’” he asks.

“Yes. Massenet’s.”

He visibly takes a step back and you know why. After all, you’ve made this exact request a million times whenever you were left to sleepover at your father’s best friend’s house.

You wake up on the couch of his studio. Seungmin lays sprawled out on the floor next to you, violin on his chest and bow dangling from his thumb. You use the blanket he put over you to lift the ten million dollar instrument onto a table before he can roll over and crush it. You cradle the Strad, lifting it over its owner to the table on the other side.

“You know who composed ‘Méditation’ but you can’t touch a violin?”

The voice startles you, and you jerk backwards, stumbling back onto the couch. Once you’ve regained your balance, you glare at the man who’s still laying on the ground, moving only his eyes to look at you.

You sigh and pull the blanket over your head. “Don’t pry my secrets or I’ll have to keep avoiding you,” you warn.

“Oh!” he hums.

You pull the blanket back down and see him sitting up now with an arm propped on his knee. “What?”

“You finally admitted to hiding things,” he tells you.

“Everyone hides things.”

“But not everyone sucks at denying it.”

“Hey!”

He points at your jacket. “Your pill bottles are literally rattling with every move you make, Miss I’m-totally-fine.”

You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself. “They’re— they’re—”

“Pill bottles,” he insists. He folds his hands on the couch and rests his head on them. “Your inept lying is adorable.”

You groan and toss the blanket over his head. He tries to pull it off, but you clamp your hand over his to stop him.

“I don’t want to tell you this, but you did house me for a night, so you deserve to know at least this much, I guess.” Your serious tone stops his resistance attempts. “I’m scheduled for surgery in a little over a week. I’ll be in a hotel for two weeks after the procedure with a nurse since I don’t have someone to care for me during the bed rest period. It’s a relatively safe procedure, so don’t worry.”

Seungmin flips your hand over and grabs it. The blanket slips off his head and you are left looking at his glassy eyes.

“I…” He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I won’t ask you where you’re staying if you don’t want to tell. Just promise you’ll text after the surgery. Let me know that you’re still alive at least.”

You nod. “You’ll see me working on our Powerpoint for the project at least.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you.

“I won’t be able to dance for a month and a half after this. My general education classes are all I’m going to be doing,” you assure him.

“If it gets too hard—”

“I know. Thank you, Kim.” 

You roll your suitcase off the bus. You aren’t sure if it is extra windy today or if it’s just your nerves, but you shiver as you stare at the hospital before you. You take a deep breath and take a step forward only to find your feet glued to the sidewalk. 

Just then, you hear a ping through your earphones. You pull out your phone and see a message.

Kim Seungmin- Lit [7:41 AM]: [get_well_soon.mp3]

You click into it and a piano and violin playing a familiar intermezzo fills your ears. You then look down at your feet and successfully lift one up and place it in front of the other until you are in front of the reception.

“Hello. I have an appointment under Emily Regan, and I'd also like to update my emergency contact information.”

After two weeks, you’re at last pushing open the door to your own dorm room.

You aren’t sure if it’s the morphine or the darkness of the room, but stepping inside after two weeks and seeing your curtains sway lightly in the evening air makes you feel emptier than you’ve ever felt before. Suddenly, your emotions overwhelm you all at once and you succumb to the floor. Your throat tightens and you wrap your arms around your abdomen, tucking your knees to your chest. You think you are crying, but you can’t be sure. The walls are closing in. You feel yourself being shackled by chains and no matter how hard you scream, no one hears you. Your voice bounces in your head like a ricocheting bullet and water is seeping in from somewhere, filling your nose and mouth, depriving you of air. All the while, your heartbeat echoes in your head.

Ba dum.

Ba dum.

Ba 

… dum.

With a strangled gasp, you manage to break one hand free for a split moment, and you immediately look for the remote that has called a nurse for the past two weeks. Of course, you are no longer at the hospital, so the only thing you grab is your phone.

“Seungminnie… Seungminnie, Seungminnie.”

You fumble with the device, but the chains are tightening around you again. Fog clouds in and you can’t see your phone anymore. You don’t even hear it hit the floor as it slips from your hand.

Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum.

Suddenly, you’re six again. Before you is the empty hallway of Violinist Kim’s mansion. Your plastic princess heels thunder with every step as you run down the hall.

Ba dum. “Seungminie?”

There’s no one there. Every turn you make just leads to another empty hall. The ground begins to morph, twisting and turning under your tiny feet. 

Ba dum. Ba dum.

The giant bow on your dress unravels and cinches around your ankle, and you trip and scrape your chin.

“Seungmin!”

“Emily!”

The ribbons shrivel. The chains clatter to the ground. The water drains. You gasp haggredly for air as your hands fly up to his shoulders for support. Beside you, your phone sits on the floor, his name illuminating from the screen.

“Emily, what’s wrong?” he asks, lowering his own device from his ear.

Your hands climb up to his face, cupping it. Your eyes are still glazed over. Blood drips from your lips from having been gnawed on too much.

“You’re… you’re not Seungmin.” You put your hands all over his face, feeling its features. “Or are you? No…”

“Emily—”

“Who’s Emily? You’re not Seungmin.”

“Stop biting yourself.”

“Seungmin’s not blond. Seungmin’s not—”

“Emily!”

“WHO’S EMILY?”

He freezes and looks at you. You’re drooped over at this point, defeated and tired. He then puts one hand behind you and pulls you into his arms.

“I am Seungmin,” he says gently. The vibration of his chest as he speaks lulls you. “I am Seungmin,” he repeats. “I’m right here. You’ve found me. I’m right here.”

Shakily, one of your hands reaches up and grabs his shirt while the other circles around to your lower belly.

“... Seungminnie…”

You’re in the furthest corner of the bed, staring at him. He’s just standing there, staring at you, juice in one hand and your keys in the other.

“So,” he begins. “What do you remember?”

“Nothing,” you answer truthfully. Your eyes shift to your desk where some medicine including a bottle of Kadian and a pack of birth control sit carelessly. “But I don’t suppose I had to say much for you to figure things out.” He’s going to leave you all alone now. Why is he even still here? He should realize how unsuitable you are for someone like him. There’s undeniable evidence in front of him now.

He clutches at his chest and scrunches up his face as a glaze passes over his eyes. He takes a moment before taking out one of the pills. He hands it to you with the juice, obviously having read the administration instructions.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “That and the frequent urinations. How much did they take out?”

You look away and your hand subconsciously reaches down. So he is still holding onto hope for some miracle. That’s why he hasn’t left yet. “Enough.” Now go, Seungmin.

He sits beside you, fiddling with the blankets between his fingers.

You break the silence first. “Don’t feel inclined to stay.”

“Huh?” he questions, looking up.

“I’m” —you motion downstairs— “you know. You’re here because you like me, right? Well, I can’t exactly produce an ideal family anymore. You should probably look for someone who can help you continue your and your father’s legacy.”

He looks more confused than you’ve ever seen him. “What?”

“I’m saying you should walk away now. I won’t hold it against you, so you don’t have to live with any guilt. I never considered our relationship possible anyway.”

Confusion shifts to anger. “You— You think I— I—” He struggles with his words after having been presented a scenario he’s never even considered. He exhales long and hard. “No. Just” —he grabs at an imaginary stress ball— “no. I’m not leaving, and you can’t make me. I don’t like you just because of your fertility. How could you think that? I don’t want a child. I want you. Do you understand? You! I couldn’t even sleep or drink for the past two weeks you were hospitalized, and the only time I could eat was whenever you sent a text or when I saw your little cursor on the Powerpoint. You think a surgery like that can weigh out whatever I felt that drove me to do this?”

“Still, I’m—” 

“Worthy, beautiful, and loveable,” he insists.

Those words are foreign to you. They’ve been long before you went to the hospital. How can he believe such things about you? Would he say the same things about Y/N? 

Seungmin sighs when you don’t respond and drags you closer. You don’t resist which he takes as a good sign. “So you don’t have to hide things from me anymore, okay? I’ll be here for you.”

You try to bite your lip only to find ointment there, so you play with a loose thread on your blanket instead.

“I… I’m already hiding a lot of things from you that I’m afraid to confess,” you admit. “Will that still be okay?”

You feel him nod. “Take your time. I’ll wait until you’re comfortable.”

You close your eyes and bask in his warmth. Will he really be okay if he knew he has in his arms the daughter of a drug addict murderer? Will he really be okay knowing you’re his “best friend” who left him without a trace for all these years?

You hope so. 

You want to believe so.

“It’s out! It’s out! It’s out!” you exclaim. 

“It’s just one grade. Relax,” Seungmin chuckles. Still, he stops playing the piano and swings his legs over to look at your phone.

“Not all of us have an established violin career to fall back on,” you remind him while logging into your account. You cover your eyes and hold the phone away from you as the page loads. “I can’t look.”

Seungmin takes the device. “I think you should.”

“Why? Is it good or bad?”

“We got a hundred.”

“We did?” You uncover your eyes. “We did! We did!” 

In your excitement, you give him a quick hug. He puts your phone on the table and drags you onto the piano bench. “You’re not doing anything right now, right?” He puts a simple piece in front of you. “Try this.”

“Kim, I don’t play.”

“It’s simple. Look.” He squeezes in behind you and puts your hand on the keyboard. “That’s middle C.”

He presses on the key and you scoff. You lift your left hand up as well and humor him. You’re definitely a bit choppy, but you make your way through the piece slowly and surely. Seungmin wraps his arms around your belly and rests his head on your shoulder with his eyes closed, swaying slightly to the music. When you get to the end, you lift up your hands and rest them on your lap.

“You’re just cuddling, aren’t you?”

He opens his eyes and looks at you. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Your eyes shift to the music. “No, I like it.”

You feel his heartbeat accelerating at your words. “So uh, you’ve played piano before, haven’t you?”

“Uhm. I played a few different things.”

“Violin?”

“That was my focus.”

He’s not surprised. “Were you good?”

“I was better than you,” you tease.

“Oh, really?” He jumps up and puts his violin under his chin in a challenging stance. 

You put your hands defensively out with a laugh. “That was like years ago!”

He wiggles his eyebrow and starts performing up-bow ricochet and left hand pizzicato.

You roll your eyes humorously. “We get it, Mr. World-class-musician.”

He laughs too and sits back down beside you. “Speaking of which, I’m playing with the JYP Philharmonic next weekend. You’ll come, right?”

You nod. “If I can manage to walk there.”

“I need to get there early, but I’ll have my driver take you.” He smiles widely. “You have to come, you have to. I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

He holds a finger to his lip cheekily. “Now it’s my turn to have a little secret.”

You fix the ribbon around your neck and smooth out your skirt as your driver comes around to open your door. You thank him and make your way into the building where Seungmin asked you to meet him. You hear him before you see him.

“Oh, she’s wonderful. She really is.”

There’s another lower voice that mumbles a reply you can’t make out. 

“Kim?” you call, approaching his waiting room.

Seungmin’s grin widens as he turns around and sees you. You, on the other hand, drop the chocolate and banana you brought for him when you see the other man in the room.

Seungmin gestures to you and looks at his companion. “Dad, this is Emily Regan, the girl I’ve been talking to you about. Emily, my father.”

Violinist Kim looks as shocked as you. “Emily… Regan?” His eyes narrow.

Seungmin furrows his brows. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

He doesn’t say anything and extends a hand out to you. “Nice to meet you, Emily Regan.”

You shake his hand uncertainly, unable to look at his unblinking eyes.

“Emily? Dad?” Seungmin looks between the two of you.

The older gentleman turns to his son. “See me for a moment.”

After Seungmin sits you on a couch, the two step out into the garden as per his request. You watch as Violinist Kim says something that makes Seungmin run a hand through his hair then stab them into his pockets as he slouches backwards. He replies with something that his father quickly rebuttals. What can they possibly be discussing? It’s clear Violinist Kim does not approve of you. Does he realize who you are? Or is Emily Regan the one he disapproves of? As a parent, it’s not uncommon to want grandchildren after all.

Suddenly, someone else bursts into the room. “Mr. Kim Seungmin, the conductor is looking for you!”

The stage worker is surprised to see only you in the room, and you inform him where the performers are. He thanks you and lets himself outside to deliver the message.

You stand as Seungmin and his father walk back in. Your friend pauses in his steps to talk to you.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes. “This isn’t how I thought my dad would react to this. I’ll talk to you after.” He then spots your hand which has again found its way to your abdomen and frowns. “I swear that’s not something we talked about nor is it even something worth getting upset over, okay?”

You give him an assuring smile. “Break a leg.”

You watch as he hurries to catch up to the stage worker who is giving a briefing as they walk. You don’t bother to ask what is wrong. You can already tell from the cold eyes of Violinist Kim what is wrong. All you can do is wonder how much he told his son.

The concert goes well. You can tell that whatever happened with his father took a toll on Seungmin’s mentality, but his concerto was still dynamic and captivating. A few rows in front of you,  you spot Violinist Kim still nodding along to the music and supporting his son. 

After forty minutes, the house lights come back on and it is time for intermission. Seungmin is done with his concerto, so you go back backstage to see if you can catch him. You don’t have to go that far though. On your way, you hear a tree go, “Psst, Emily!”

You look and see him waving you over. He’s still calling you Emily, so that’s good, you note.

“Why are we out here?” you inquire.

He takes you a little further into the woods until he finds a boulder for you to sit on. He hoists you up so you’re comfortable.

“I thought I should clear things up before my dad talks to you,” he explains. “I’ve seen enough K-dramas to know what kind of headache misunderstandings cause.”

You nod, prompting him to go on. He does.

“You remember when I told you about Violinist L/N?” 

This sends your heart racing. Has he found out?  

“Well his daughter used to be my best friend. The thing is, my dad thinks you look a lot like her, and he thinks I’m only with you because of it.” 

Oh, it’s just that. Thank goodness. 

He grabs your hands, his eyes serious. “I just want you to know that no matter what he tells you, that’s not it. I like you for you, Emily, and nothing more and nothing less.”

You’re still convincing yourself that he isn’t aware of your past identity, and you must be making a face that he registers as doubt for he slides a hand up to your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Please believe me.”

You snap out of it. Of course you believe him, and it wouldn’t change much if he were in love with Y/N L/N anyway. However, you don’t miss the opportunity to ask, “What would you do if she is not dead? What would you do if she came back?”

“I’d celebrate her return. I’d grab lunch with her and introduce the two of you, but that’ll be the extent of it.”

“What if she’s been doing well all these years, and you were the only one left hurting and alone, wondering where she is? Could you forgive her? Could you accept someone like that, not to mention a child of a murderer, with open arms?”

Seungmin retreats his hand and frowns at you. “Why are you saying things like that? She’s my best friend!”

You grab his hand before it can go far. This time it’s your turn to stare him in the eye. “I’m not accusing her. I’m just asking if you, Kim Seungmin, would be able to forgive her in this scenario, and I’m not going to say that you’re right or wrong if you do or don’t either.”

“Then why do you ask?” His frown shifts to a perplexed one.

You let your hand drop to your side. “I… I’m in a similar situation. I don’t know if my friend will accept me if I try to reconnect.”

“Do it.” He has on a smirk now as he walks closer. “If it’s you, I’m sure she’d love to reconnect.”

You pout at his unsatisfactory response. “You’re just biased.”

Your pursed lips only makes him stare at them. “I sure am,” he mumbles. 

He again brings his hand up to your neck, index finger resting behind your ears. You can’t tell if he’s avoiding your question or just distracted, but who cares? You’re distracted now too. The woods are setting the perfect mood, and the orchestra is playing something romantic inside. Your eyelids begin to close. He looks at you one more time, his own eyes drooping.

“Is this okay…” he whispers raspily. “... Emily?”

Your eyes fly open and you shove him away a little harder than you intended to. This isn’t you. The person he wants to kiss isn’t you, and you can’t steal that away from him, even if you desperately want it yourself. You can’t have this. You can’t have him. It isn’t yours and it isn’t right.

He falls down and looks up at you, bewildered.

“I’m— I’m sorry!” you blammer. “I, uh, I have to go.”

You jump off the boulder and walk faster than you know you should post-op.

“Emily.” You hear his feet crunching leaves right behind you. “Emily. Stop. Emily. Emily. Emily.”

Why does he keep saying that name? 

You don’t turn back and you don’t slow down.

You hear him curse and speed up, which scares you, but before you can react, he sweeps you off of your feet and carries you in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Something you won’t on your own,” he replies vaguely. He storms to his green room and kicks the door open. He sets you down in the middle of it and pulls out his violin. “Play,” he commands you.

You shrink back at the sight of the instrument. It’s a glorious instrument carved from a choice tree and shaped over a careful flame by masterful hands, capable of drawing out the soul of its player. You know touching it will draw out what you’ve been working so hard on suppressing. You aren’t Y/N, daughter of Violinist L/N. You have no business with a violin. “I can’t. You know this, Kim.”

“You can’t play or you can’t admit the truth? Play, Emily.”

Wait, what?

He holds the Stradivarius in front of you. His tone is firm and his eyes are fierce, but he doesn’t hold the violin any closer than thirty centimeters away. He needs you to make this last leap.

“What do you know?” you demand.

“Play.”

“Tell me, what did your father really tell you?” you screech.

“Play.”

You begin shaking. The f holes are taunting you. You hear the screams of your father’s victims. You hear the TV reporters all cursing his name. They’re all inside there. They’re all inside, waiting for you to release them with your playing and eat you alive. “Kim, please.”

“Play.”

“No, I— I—”

“Play.”

He already knows. You’re sure he already knows, yet somehow, this still feels like a chasm far too wide for you to cross. Can you accept this violin? Can your past? Y/N is the child of a drug-addicted murderer. She’s a six year old whose own father bathed her in blood and blacklisted her existence. Can you accept Y/N L/N?

You look up at the deep brown eyes before you. You know he can.

“Seungmin…” you choke.

He lowers his voice and softens his gaze. “Play,” he tells you.

And so you do. You timorously reach for the instrument and perform Albinoni’s Adagio, the very last piece he’s heard you play. 

Tears roll down your face as your fingers fly across the board like you’ve played the piece all your life. You’re scared, you’re scared, you’re so, so scared. You didn’t even realize how hard you’ve been working to repress this part of you, and now that you’re facing it head-on, you don’t know what to make of it, but for once, it’s okay. Even if you fall. Even if you break apart, you finally have someone who will pick up the pieces. 

You play, and play, and play until you don’t know what to play any more, yet still you played. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you play until you can no longer lift up the scroll. You let the violin slip to your side and the bow clatter to the ground. A pair of arms wrap around you to stop you from collapsing. You close your eyes as one final tear makes its way down your face.

Seungmin presses your head into his shoulder. “I forgive you, Y/N, because I love you.”

<four years later>

You look onto the expecting crowd. Your heart’s beating quickly and the violin in your hands feels heavier than usual. Seungmin steps up next to you with his instrument. He adjusts your white skirt, his new golden band glistening under the lights as he does so.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

You smile at the familiar question. “Ready,” you reply.

He smiles back and lifts his Stradivarius under his chin. You do the same and he begins to play three one-eighth C’s followed half one. You feel his music envelop you. You close your eyes, place the tip of your bow on your E-string and let “Wedding March” flow from your soul.

A sense of peace overcomes you. After learning about your father, starting your life over, and losing your fertility, peace seems almost foreign to you, yet you’ve done it. Amidst all the chaos, you’ve finally found your harmony. 

~ ad.gold

Read it from Seungmin’s perspective here.

#kim seungmin #seungmin #stray kids #skz #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #seungmin fluff #seungmin angst #stray kids fic #seungmin fic #violin #childhood friends #stray kids imagine #seungmin imagine #20210615

[dreamrecorder]

Hey, I love love love your stuff! I noticed you had your requests open and I hope this isn't too much to ask and of course if it is you can just ignore it!

But I recently made the decision to finally get a hysterectomy this summer after eight years of struggling with endometriosis and adenomyosis, and even though I know I never want kids anyway it's still kind of been nerve wracking and it's also been making me insecure? Its like... Also a lack of choices for my future? Idk it's a little complicated and I wouldn't blame you for turning this request down, but do you think you could write some zhongli fluff and comfort for me? I just kinda want something to read when I'm feeling nervous and insecure and could use some serotonin. Tysm, love your stuff a lot

Have a great day! Ily

Always You

Zhongli x F!Reader

I honestly dont know if this was fluff enough because i kinda relate about some stuff here ksks- but pls pls pleeease i hope you would enjoy reading this- and if you need to talk to someone- i'll have my ears open ily- it was very brave of you to come up with that tough decision and i am proud uwu you are so so so strong i hope you know that

Bleed*** - menstruation basically but i kept things vague

You came from a very traditional family, whose roots dated back during the early years of Liyue. As such, your family also have equally traditional views on womanhood. One of these is that, it is your duty to bear children for your future husband. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to bring honor to your family.

When you became of the expected age to have bled- you never did. You and your parents waited for months for any signs of your first bleeding- any sign that you can bear children. But you never bleed.

You remember the horror in your mother's face. The disappointment in your father's.

That day, you seethed at yourself for being who you are but you made a decision to keep your head high. A woman has more capabilities than simply bearing children. It was a motivation that kept you going through the years- however there are times when you would gaze upon women smiling on their children,

There was this twist in your heart- prominent realizations that you can never have what they have…

~

Zhongli became a blooming point in your life. He was gentle and kind, smart and handsome- all qualities that any woman would want. He was so understanding and patient, but you never told him your secret. Yes, you trusted the man- yet you were scared- what would he do when you told him your secret?

Despise you? Leave you? Hate you? Those thoughts only intensified when you see him telling a story to the children that surrounded him one day in the harbor.

It was very subtle, but Zhongli noticed how anxious you behaved these days. You stutter at the simplest questions. You become easily surprised at the smallest unexpected noise. How you also avoided his eyes while you play with the hems of your clothes. Aside from those, he also noticed how you began to put distance between the two of you. At first, he decided not to intervene, for he trusted you that you would tell him your troubles when you are ready. However, when he entered your shared bedroom one night with your eyes glistening with tears- Zhongli knew he should have approached you sooner than have your feelings explode up.

With swift movements, the man went to you. Once close enough, he sat next to you as he gently lift your face for him to see. The way he, wiped your tears away, it made you release a small sob.

"Name, dear, what's wrong? Please tell me. Did I do anything to upset you?" Zhongli spoke with worry lacing his voice as he mulled over any reasons of your distress in his head. But you only shook your head. The man noticed your hesitance, and to resolve that, he simply placed a kiss on your forehead. After which, Zhongli snaked his hand hand to yours so that he could kiss every knuckle. He had hoped that these would ease your tension in your mind.

You needed to tell him the truth, now or never. 

After a few moments, you managed to steady your breathing as you held onto his hand tightly, scared that he would go away.

"I...I cannot bear your children." Was all you said in a whisper- looking away from him, not wanting to see the anger that would surface in his eyes. As for the man, himself- Zhongli was completely confused. He already knew that you didn't want to have kids in the future- and he respected that… After all, the labor of pregnancy will be carried by you- and he respected your views about children- So how did this topic of bearing him children broke you down so much?

"Name, I believe we already spoke about our decision about children. What brought this on? Please, Name, you can tell me anything."

At the question, Zhongli felt your hand grip his tighter. He watched you release a deep breath as you tried to organize your thoughts. With some semblance of calmness in your nerves, you told him you story about not having bled during you teens 'til now.

"I know I don't want kids, Zhongli- b-but…" you voice faded as your insecurities rose, but you felt the comforting touch and gaze your love gave you. A deep sigh and you continued, "But there's also a possibility that our decision might change. Like… I always felt that my choices are limited because of my condition. But you- you just had to choose me and I don't want to limit your life, too. You… you deserve a family, Zhongli."

You spoke the last sentence with your voice cracking. The thought of Zhongli leaving you for a better life- but with all your heart you didn't want to hold him back from having a proper family- A proper wife… Insecurities were rising again- fear, anxiety, loneline-

Your train of thoughts was stopped by the feeling of his lips plant into yours. And all you could do was melt in his arms with tears streaming once more. Both in relief and in sadness. Relief that he would still choose you, and in sadness that you can never be a proper wife he deserves. Once the man pulled away, he looked at you with those very same kind amber eyes that you fell in love with when you met him.

"Name, first of all- I love you, regardless of your condition. Just because you cannot bear me children does not make you any less of a person- Much more make me love you any less. I love you for you being who you are, and that will never change."

As soon as Zhongli had finished his declarations of love, happy tears flowed from your beautiful eyes. When he saw your lips rising into a smile that he adored so much, he whispered, "It will always be you."

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin zhongli #zhongli genshin #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

[sokos]

The most recent ask i replied made me question if there have been scientific advances for men to get pregnant in the future and i found the most disturbing answers:

-  “ To our knowledge, there has not yet been a case of pregnancy in an AMAB individual. However, advances in reproductive technology could make this a possibility in the near future for folks who have had hysterectomies and those who were not born with ovaries or a uterus.Pregnancy via uterus transplant. The first baby born from a transplanted uterus arrived in Sweden during October of 2014. While this procedure is still in its early experimental stages, several other babies have been born through this method. Most recently, a family in India welcomed a baby from a transplanted womb, the first such case in the country. Of course, like many such technologies, this method was developed with cisgender women in mind. But many have begun to speculate that this procedure could also apply to transgender women and other AMAB folks. Dr. Richard Paulson, the former president of the American Society for Reproductive Medicine, suggested that uterine transplants for trans women and AMAB folks are more or less possible now. He added, “There would be additional challenges, but I don’t see any obvious problem that would preclude it.” It’s likely that supplementation to replicate hormonal phases during pregnancy would be necessary. Cesarean section would also be necessary for those who have undergone gender confirmation surgery.” This part says it is not possible but the fact that it has been considered in the first place is genuily creepy: “It has also been suggested that it may be possible for AMAB folks to carry a baby in the abdominal cavity. People have made this leap based on the fact that a very tiny percentage of eggs are fertilized outside of the womb in what is known as an ectopic pregnancy. However, ectopic pregnancies are incredibly dangerous for the gestational parent and typically require surgery. A significant amount of research would need to be done to make this a possibility for folks who don’t have a uterus, and even then, it seems incredibly unlikely that this would be a viable option for a hopeful parent.”

- A fertility doctor says that in theory, men could attempt to become pregnant as soon as "tomorrow" thanks to advances in uterus transplant surgeries. But other experts say that such a procedure won't happen anytime soon because many more studies are needed to know whether it could be done safely.Dr. Richard Paulson, the outgoing president of the American Society for Reproductive Medicine (ASRM), said he thinks it would be possible to perform uterus transplants on transgender women, who are born male and transition to female, according to The Telegraph. Speaking at ASRM's annual meeting, he said he sees no biological reason why the procedure wouldn't work in the male body."You could do it tomorrow," Paulson was quoted as saying. "There would be additional challenges, but I don't see any obvious problem that would preclude it. I personally suspect there are going to be trans women who are going to want to have a uterus and will likely get the transplant."But other experts point out that the procedure isn't even mainstream for women, let alone men.Uterus transplants are "still highly experimental," said Arthur Caplan, a professor of bioethics and head of the Division of Medical Ethics at New York University's School of Medicine. This means that the procedure is still being studied for its safety and effectiveness in women, and it is performed only as part of experimental trials.Because of the additional research needed to understand the risks of the procedure and its effect on the fetus, performing a uterus transplant on a man right now would not be responsible, he said. "Surgically, could you put [a uterus] in a man tomorrow? Yeah, but it would be completely irresponsible."  

They say all of this now and say it’s not possible yet, they make sure to leave the idea that it may be possible in the future. you know that with how many advances trans people have done to get their “rights” recognized in first world countries, i could actually see a future in which they fought for this to be a right for them or something. I personally don’t think it’s possible for science to beat and oversmart nature completely, but it has been tried and there have been things we thought impossible before, and i’m kinda scared for our future.

- “Dr Richard Paulson, outgoing president of American Society for Reproductive Medicine said that with advancements in science, it is possible to now allow similar operations to be carried out on those who started their lives as men. He also mentioned that people who have gone under sex-change operations may want to avail this opportunity which would allow them to conceive a baby. He further explained that there was not anatomical reason why a womb can’t be successfully implanted in a transgender woman. He added that men and women may have different shaped pelvis but both have room for an implanted womb.  The process would however, be highly complicated and transgender women will have to deliver through caesarean. Moreover, hormones will have to be injected to replicate the changes that take place while a woman is pregnant.  Despite advancements, the womb transplant is still an experimental procedure. Many British experts warn that pregnancy in transgender women can be deemed unethical as it could pose risk to the fetus. While carrying a baby may give psychological benefit to the mother, it needs to be “weighed against any psychological harm to the child being born in this atypical way,” said Julian Savulescu, professor of practical ethics at Oxford university.”

Notice how they say the only reason that men getting pregnant would be unethical is because it would bring risk to the fetus, nothing else, they don’t even care about what this would represent for women.

I think about the way that women who can’t get pregnant are stigmatized and demonized to this day because the only worth women have in society is the ability to be mothers, I think of the way women have been seen as a reproductive resource for men during centuries and the way they have always tried to control women’s reproductive rights, I think of the way some cultures are highly misogynistic to the root but still “respect” women because they’re the only ones who can create human life. And i think about what would happen if men realized they don’t need women for that. What would happen if science became so advanced that they could have children on their own? How would they start treating and seeing women as? I can imagine that trans women wouldn’t be the only ones taking advantage of this. It’s so disturbing. I know this possibility seems very unrealistic and like something that won’t happen any time soon. But they’re trying to make it happen, maybe it could happen. And this sounds like a highly dystopian future to me.  

#sokos.txt #radblr #radfems do touch #radfems do interact #terf safe #terfs do touch #terfs do interact #ok ok i swear this is my last post about this topic. i'll go back to stop posting about trans people and focusing on women only now #long post #womb envy #terfs please touch #terfs please interact

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #420

lol blaze it (i’m funny i swear)

In your opinion, which fast food place has the best fries? Without a doubt, Bojangle's. Good. Shit. Are there hurricanes where you live? Yeah, they're common here. What do you hate the most about yourself? I'd really rather not get into this right about now. What song are you listening to right now? "Beast of Gévaudan" by Powerwolf. What was your first concert? Alice Cooper. Also my only concert. What’s your favorite Johnny Depp movie? Alice In Wonderland. Who did you last say “I love you” to? My sister. Do you like pumpkin pie? Anything pumpkin-flavored is a hell no from me. Do you know anyone named Austin? Knew, rather. Do you know anyone who is having a baby? My friend recently announced she and her husband are having their second child in December. What was the last thing you cried about? Just PTSD. Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? I like both, but I prefer chocolate. Do you think you are an argumentative person? Definitely not. How many deep dark secrets do you have? Two or so, idk. What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Some wings at Buffalo Wild Wings with one of the hottest sauces. Wanted to die. ... Yet I continued to get that one whenever I went for years lmao. Who last called you sexy? I don't know. Would you class yourself as a good role model? In some ways, but in a lot of other ways, no. Are you scared of the dark? No. Do you have a motto? No. Who did you last see on webcam? The doctor that overlooks my TMS progress. Do you need a haircut? I need a trim for sure. How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? Well, considering 1.) she's way past menopause and especially 2.) she's had a complete hysterectomy, y'know... that's kind of impossible. She also hasn't been with a guy in many years, so she would have to be joking. You log into Facebook and see the red ‘1’ notification next to the message icon. Who do you want it to be? -___- Would you rather exercise alone or with other people? ALONE. You will NOT see me exercise in front of other people. What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? The most involved is DEFINITELY World of Warcraft, and I guess you could consider it the hardest too, given some of the much more difficult things I've done in it. It itself isn't a hard game whatsoever, but you can pursue some really hard achievements. Ever watch the show Supernatural? If you have, then what’s your favorite episode? I used to love it, but just stopped watching eventually. My fave episode... Man, it's been too long to remember many. Probably one of the funnier ones. I remember I specifically liked the bit where they were in your everyday comedy show, as well as the one where I THINK Dean kept trying to prevent Sam from dying. I just remember the "Eye of the Tiger" bit that is pure gold. Ever heard of flavored honey? If so, what’s you’re favorite flavor? Oh, no, but that sounds good. Do you remember what your favorite show was when you were little? Yeah, Pokemon. Do you put anything besides cheese on grilled cheese sandwiches? Besides butter, which I think is pretty standard, no. When it comes to books, what do you think is the “perfect” amount of pages? Uh, I dunno. It depends on the book. I don't really care about page numbers. Would you ever be interested in going scuba diving? Yeah. Out of all of your friends/relatives, who would you say has the best vocabulary? Girt, probably. Are any of your fingers or toes deformed? What about the nails? I don't think so? When is the last time you cried? I was sobbing earlier today, fun stuff. Would you ever date somebody that has been divorced more than once? Most likely not. ESPECIALLY at my age. What are some stereotypically nerdy things that you like? Oh god. WoW, M:tG, big glasses, anime (does that count? idk really), video games... a lot of stuff, really. Have you ever attended a wedding that ended where the bride and groom didn’t actually get married? What happened? Y I K E S, no. That would be SO uncomf. What scares you the most about becoming a mother (hypothetically, if you don’t want to have children)? Actually raising it properly, physically and emotionally. Would you ever want a job in fashion? What would you enjoy about that type of job? No. Would you ever be a surrogate mother? No. What do you think would be the best and worst parts about being a twin? It'd be cool to have someone you feel an almost supernatural connection towards, but I'd also feel like I wasn't as "original" as I would be if I was born alone. Do you feel that your childhood was more rough compared to others around you? I mean it wasn't awful at all, but sure, in some ways compared to at least someone. How would you react if you found out today that you were actually adopted? Well today I'm a wreck, so don't tell me. I want to know that I wasn't lied to for 25 years. Have either of your parents ever cheated on one another before, that you know of? How would you react if you found out today that one of them cheated? I'm not entirely clear on this, but I'm 90% sure Dad cheated on Mom with his now-wife. Dad also accused Mom of cheating, but I HIGHLY doubt that's true. Do you like cleaning and organizing? Not really. How would you react if you found out you were infertile? If you don’t plan on having kids to begin with, what is a long-term goal you’d be crushed to find out was impossible to achieve? Fuck having kids. I'd be a terrible mother. So to answer the other question, I'll be pretty, pretty sad if I can't get permission to spread Teddy's ashes at Yellowstone. Would you take your dream job if it were out of the country? Well, obviously not considering my dream job is a meerkat biologist, and I'm not moving to Africa. Have you ever been robbed? No. Is anyone close to you an alcoholic? Not anymore. Dad was, but he's recovered. Have you ever dumped anyone? Yes. What kind of tea do you drink? I hate tea. Do you know anyone in a gang? No, and I hope I never do. What’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you? Risk his fucking sanity and health to try to hold my fucked up self up. What is your orientation? Gay? Straight? Metrosexual? Anything other? Bisexual. I've kinda been questioning pansexual of the late, though. I don't know. Have you ever done anything really dangerous or illegal with friends? Not to my memory. Name three feelings you’re feeling right now: Regret. Hopelessness. Loneliness. And the reasons for these feelings? Take a wild fuckin' guess. How do you feel about your life right now? It's an actual dumpster fire. Is it easy for you to like yourself? Why or why not? Fuck no. Because there's just not very much TO like about me. Even on my good days, I see flaw after flaw in myself. What subjects come naturally to you? English, some aspects of science. What subjects do not? Math, economics, politics, history... Do you read more fiction or more non-fiction books? Definitely fiction. When I read a book, I want an escape from the real world. How has today been for you? BOY HOWDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What did you do? Went to TMS therapy. Sat on the Internet. Cried. :^) Are there any candles lit in the room you’re in? No. Are there any lava lamps near you? No. I want one, though. Do you like cats or dogs better? Cats. Are any of your friends a pothead? Yes. What’s a goal you’re trying to accomplish soon? Start losing weight again. That'd be pretty goddamn grand. Are you a high maintenance person? Definitely not. The last time you yelled as loud as you could, what was the reason? I was having a nightmare. Have you ever been heartbroken? For sure. Who did that to you? First Dad, then Jason. Did you go through an ugly stage as a kid? Boy, did I. The last type of sandwich you made or ate: A pb&j. The last time you spent most of the day in bed: Literally every day. I do just about everything in bed. Pathetic, I know. The last friend or acquaintance you made: Ummmm idk. The last thing you took pictures of: A hydrangea bush. The last time you were scared: Now. The future is terrifying, my friend. The last thing you looked up online: The definition of a word to ensure I was using it correctly. The last thing you disagreed with: So I've been watching John Wolfe's old stream of him playing Alice: Madness Returns, and he went on a total soapbox about smoking being okay essentially because we're all gonna die eventually from something, and I really disagreed with it. Does your house have a separate laundry room? No, just like a closet. Do your parents still help you financially? I'm still entirely dependent on them. Does your car have a backup camera? No. Have either of your parents ever been in trouble with the law? Not to my knowledge. Have you ever had a pet that lived to be really old for its breed/species? REALLY old, no. Teddy was definitely up there, but beagles have lived longer. What was the last strong scent you smelled? Lysol. Have you ever told someone to their face that they were ugly? Christ, no. Is your bed against more than one of your walls? No. Have you ever been attracted to someone’s parent? Don't think so? Have you ever pole danced before? No. Have you ever broken into someone’s house? No. Have you ever seen a live bat? Yes. What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? I dunno. Have you ever taken a woodshop class? No. How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? Funny you ask, because as of today I decided to take a break from it for awhile. I've found it's nothing more than a breeding ground for envy and making me feel like a horribly incompetent adult. Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? I had one photography teacher in college that I was NOT a fan of. He was super, super hard on everyone, like to an unnecessary degree. We were students, not pros. Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? No. Are your parents supportive of you? Somehow.

#survey #surveys #random questions

[venusmages]

this is a vent post but honestly i find it funny, please let me make fun of my boomer mother

one of her big reasons for being ‘disappointed’ if i ever got into a gay relationship was because she wanted grandchildren just SOOO BAD!! and she’s one of those freaks that only cares if its related to HER directly so if my wife wanted to have babies that wouldn’t count

however i’ve also had really painful periods p much since i was 14 years old, to the point i’d be bleeding through EVERYTHING, crying, sucidial, throwing up, unable to move, etc - and my mom would just yell at me for being dramatic and say her periods had been way worse and she didn’t complain as much as i did

i remember asking if i could go to the doctor when i was 16 and she still said no because ‘strong periods just run in the family you’ll get over it’ 

yeah heres the thing

my mom had endometriosis and had to have a hysterectomy when she was like 39 and i was like 6. like this is a thing that has happened to her. she had her bits taken out. we were all there. all the while telling me as a young teenager up until i was finally on my own that i was being dramatic and my periods were totally fine and normal (i finally went to the doctor myself because my wife convinced me theyre NOT normal because i was having a period for 6 months straight at a time!!)

anyways last week i was told i ALSO have endometriosis and the scarring shows i’ve had it for a WHILE, like probs since i was about 17-18 and i’m probably not going to be able to have kids if i ever want to OR they’d be extremely high risk pregnancies because at least one ovary is so scarred over it’s fucked

so my homophobic mom that i don’t talk to anymore because she’s homophobic because she wanted grandkids already screwed herself out of EVER having grandkids in the first place because of parental neglect. LMAO

#rosetxt #txt #she did this when i got diagnosed with major depression too dfkglmdflgm #denied it. tried to take away my medicine/argue abt it #then a year later like 'yeah me and half the familys been on antidepressants' dflkgmdflg

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Unlikely Parents: Part 1

Pairings: Negan x reader (Jane the Virgin AU), Hotel owner!Negan x Parolee!Reader

Warnings: Artificial insemination, Swearing, Angst

Word Count: 3,539

A/N: Yea, this took on a life of its own.... Not sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I understand what you’re going through.” It took a few moments for those six words to permeate the fog in your brain, but when it did, you looked up at the woman that destroyed your life. 

“You understand what I’m going through.” You repeated, interrupting the speech she had probably spent the past two weeks rehearsing instead of calling you to tell you about her mistake. “YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry.” Your OBGYN, Luisa said as she tried to take a step back away from you, but bumped in to the counter behind her instead.

“I fucking told you!” You screamed as you jumped off the exam table and grabbed your jeans. “I never wanted kid because of my past. And you fucking told me that you would do the fucking hysterectomy when I got out! So why the fuck, am I fucking pregnant Luisa?!”

“I made a mistake.” She said with tears in her eyes as you threw on your clothes.

“Yea, one big fucking mistake.” You huffed as you threw your gown at her. “And now, I’m fucking stuck with your mistake for the rest of my fucking life.” With a shake of your head, you grabbed your purse, and walked out the door with furious tears in your eyes.

——

Your one bedroom Miami apartment looked ten times more grungy than it normally did to you as you dropped your dollar store groceries on the permanently stained counter top in your pathetic excuse for a kitchen. The keys to your hunk of junk car got tossed in the bowl beside your probation officer’s business card, and all of the crap you had carted home with you from prison when you were released. You fished out a package of Ramen from the bag and grabbed one of the mismatched glass bowls from the drying rack on the counter, when someone knocked on the door behind you.

“’s’open!” You yelled before ripping open the bag and dumping it in the bowl. You fished out the flavor packet with a sigh and turned on the sink as you glanced over your shoulder at what you could see of the well dressed man that looked out of place when he stepped into your main room. “What, you my new PO or something?”

“No…” He said hesitantly. “I guess I’m the father of your child. My name is Negan.” You smirked as you pulled open the microwave and put the bowl in. 

“Well, she’s just writing her fucking lawsuit for me, isn’t she?” You asked over the high pitched beeps. 

“I had a private investigator find you. We need to talk…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll terminate if that’s why you’re here.” You interrupted as you grabbed your bags to put away your groceries. “Thing’s making me fucking nauseous anyways…”

“Yea, that’s not fucking happening.” You froze with a stack of Ramen packets in your hand and turned to look at the stranger in your living room for the first time since he had walked in. He shook his head and pulled a check book out of the inside pocket of his expensive looking jacket. “I will pay you five hundred thousand now, and five hundred thousand dollars upon delivery of a healthy child…”

“You what?!” You laughed as you set your food packets down on the counter and put your hand on your hip. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m the father of that child.” He said simply as he looked up at you with his heart on his sleeve. “And that child… it’s the only fucking chance I have at being a father. I had cancer five years ago, and that… sample… is the only one I have left. So what do you want, half a mil? A million? Two? What?” You shook your head as your stomach rolled, and ran past him toward the small bathroom off the kitchen. You threw up what little lunch you had in the permanently stained toilet, and fell back on the tile floor that was missing most of its tile. You could hear your pulse with each retch, and you really wished you had been able to eat more than just a dollar menu burger you had to pay for with dimes while you were out looking for a job. 

“Oh, this is just disgusting.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned before getting sick again. “Fuck this.”

“Please, (Y/N)…” Negan begged as he held out a handkerchief. “Please. I’m literally begging you…”

“Fine.” You sighed. “Whatever. You want the thing? You can have it.” He let out a sigh of relief and nodded his head as you pushed yourself up off the floor to slip past him. “Don’t want your fucking money…”

“OK…”

“Fuck…” You groaned as you headed back out to grab your dinner. “I didn’t fucking want kids…”

“Well, thank you for being a surrogate for mine…”

“Yea, don’t worry about it.” You groaned as you ripped open the flavor packed with your teeth.

“Wait, is that what you’re eating?” You looked up at him through your lashes as you grabbed your only fork from the drying rack.

“What, my prison pallet not good enough for you?”

“It’s not good enough for any human being.” He said as he picked up his check book from the counter and put it back in his pocket. “Just like these living arrangements. I’m putting an end to this if you’re going to be growing my child…”

“What, you’re putting me up in the fucking Ritz?” You laughed as you took a bite of Ramen before the bowl was pulled from your hands.

“Nope. The Marbella.”

——

“Well these are some fancy digs.” You said as you walked around the expensive suite you were calling home for the next nine months. “Waste of a room on me though.”

“Not for you.” Negan grumbled as he watched your probation officer search the room to make sure it was appropriate for the criminal to live in.

“You got a job yet, (Y/L/N)?” Officer Dixon growled as he started pulling mini liquor bottles from the mini fridge, even though you were pregnant and wouldn’t be drinking them anyways.

“She’ll be working for me.” Negan said before you could respond, which made you stop at the open back door to look over at him with your eyebrow raised. “I need a cashier at the pool bar.”

“Whatever.” You huffed as you stepped through the curtain and out on to the balcony. You closed your eyes for a moment to feel the warmth, and looked out at the setting sun sky, something you missed desperately when you were behind bars. You had been out this time for only three weeks after a seven year stint, but this was the first moment you were able to stop and just exist.

“(Y/N)?” A woman asked softly behind you, making you turn away from the rail toward her. The shorter brunette, who was wearing a little black dress, high heels, and pearls smiled at you shyly and held up a small basket. “My name’s Lucille, I’m Negan’s wife. I brought you some things to make the pregnancy a little easier.” You nodded your head and took a step toward the basket she had set down on the table, and didn’t miss the way she took a step back from you at the same time.

“Thanks.” You said as you picked up the Parenting magazine from the top of the pile fanned out across the back. “I’m not going to be a parent. Won’t need this…”

“You’ll be a parent.” She said, slightly hesitantly. “You will just be making the ultimate sacrifice.”

“Yea, well this kid’s probably better off without me in its life. Thanks for this.” You said with a gesture as you ripped open a bag of ‘Preggie Pops’ and used your teeth to pull off the wrapper of one. “Nice meeting you.”

“Did you kill someone?” She asked abruptly as you turned back toward the rail to watch the waves crash along the shore line. Negan barked her name from inside the suite, but you simply rested your arms on the rail and used your tongue to move the lollypop to the other side of your mouth. “W-we saw the drug case from seven years ago, but your juvie record is sealed, and the man you were arrested with is serving life for murder… I just… I have to know…”

“Look, lady. You don’t have to know shit.” You responded as you pulled the sucker from your mouth and looked over your shoulder at her. “My juvie record is sealed for a reason. And trust me, I don’t want me around this kid anymore than you do. So let me do my next section of fucking time in peace, then I’ll be out of your fucking hair forever. ‘K?” She nodded her head and took another step back as you turned back toward the beach and put the lollypop back in your mouth once more. You heard Negan say something to her inside, but you didn’t really care to try to eavesdrop, as your PO stepped out onto the patio.

“You know the drill, (Y/L/N).” He said as he held out a clear plastic cup for you to pee in for a random drug test. With a roll of your eyes, you took the cup from him and headed inside to the bathroom. You didn’t expect Negan to wait around in the living room as you did your drug test, and you cocked your eyebrow at him after officer Dixon had you sign off the paperwork he needed for the drug test and for your new living arraignments.

“I didn’t kill anyone.” You told him as you sat down on the arm of one of the couches near him. “I was sixteen years old and was actually in the wrong place at the wrong time. Don’t expect you to believe me. No one ever does. But I didn’t kill anyone. I just knew the kid who did and gave him a ride to the grocery store he robbed.”

“But you are a fucking drug trafficker.”

“Never once denied that.” You said back as you moved the lollypop to the other cheek. “I moved those pills to try to make some money to get out of the ghetto to do something better with my life and to get away from the accessory to murder charge I caught as a teen. I know what I did and I pled guilty to it because being a felon is apparently all I’m going to be in life. And that’s why I know I can’t be a mother. I’ll never be able to get my feet under me to give a kid a better life, no matter how much I want it. So yea, I’ll have your kid… but being an incubator is all I can do because the cards are stacked against me and have been from the jump.” You looked up at him and shrugged your shoulders. “Thanks for the job. I’ll just work for my room and board…”

“What happened to your parents?” He asked as he sat down on the couch as you stood up to walk away. With a sigh, you turned back around, and sat down on the other couch facing him. 

“Prison.” You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair. “I think. Fuck if I know. Ain’t seen either of them since I was in juvie. When I got out at 21, they were gone, and the apartment you found me in was empty and trashed.” He sighed and nodded his head as he tried to figure out what to say next.

“Are you an addict?”

“No, just a trafficker.”

“Are you a threat to my child?”

“Depends.” You breathed as you bit the last part of the sucker and laid the stick on your knee. “With you unnecessarily paying my bills and giving me a job? No, I’m not threat. If I had been left out on the streets? Yea, most likely. I’m up against a wall with a baby I can’t afford to take care of properly. I’ll probably live off dollar store ramen and multivitamins I’ll end up having to steal. The system is rigged.” You groaned as you leaned back against the seat. “Which is why I didn’t want kids. They don’t deserve this fucking cursed life.” He didn’t say a word as he looked at your stomach. You waited a few moments, before clearing your throat, and standing up when your stomach growled. “Guess it’s room service time.”

“Yea, yea you’re probably right.” With a small nod, you took the menu from him as he got up. “If you need anything, call the desk, they’ll put you through to me. Head down to the pool tomorrow at 10am and we’ll get you started at work.”

“Thanks Negan.” He nodded his head but didn’t look back as he walked quickly out of your room and closed the door sharply behind him. 

——

Ever since you were a child, you were never one to make friends. You were the welfare kid, that owned exactly one week’s worth of clothes, who spend most of her time in and out of foster homes because your parents couldn’t be bothered to raise a child neither of them wanted. Despite that, you were still a straight A student until you got arrested. But just like back then, you had absolutely zero intention of making friends at this job. Especially if you were being forced to wear some matching skank dress that Lucille had dropped off that morning, along with makeup, and enough hair products to blow a hole in the ozone. 

“Fucking ridiculous.” You grumbled to yourself as you dropped the bags on the bathroom counter and grabbed a croissant from the breakfast tray that made you grateful beyond words that you were out of prison and eating actual food again. You begrudgingly threw on your work outfit and headed out of your room to head down to your new job- without a single product in your hair and only a single swoop of mascara per eye.

“You must be (Y/N).” A young woman said as you walked up to the counter toward her. “I’m Beth, you’re going to be shadowing me for a couple days.” You startled the slightest bit when she stepped into your personal space, and it took you everything in your being not to yank her backwards by her blonde ponytail to get her away from you. “Lucille told me all about you. Don’t worry, my daddy was in jail for a DUI, too. It’s OK, I won’t tell anyone.”

“That’s nice.” You said with a nod as she finally stepped out of your bubble. 

“OK so this is like… super simple. Everything is automatic. All you have to do is pull up the category of what kind of food it is and then find the name on the tablet and add it to the order. Then you add the numbers of one of the little flags, and you’re all done. Then you just have to pour drinks for the food runners…”

“OK, you fucking get that I’ve spent seven years in prison, right?” You asked as you looked at the tablet she was talking about.

“OK. That’s OK.” She said with an even bigger smile. “So let’s actually look at it, OK?” You sighed loudly in annoyance as she gently pushed you in front of the register. No matter how much she annoyed you, Beth was surprisingly very helpful in quickly catching up on technology you obviously missed, and patiently teaching you the job despite the fact that lunch was pretty busy by the pool. At 2:30, you were finally rescued by someone you didn’t know, who simply told you you needed to head up to the 17th floor.

“Oh, wait!” Beth said as she grabbed the money from the tip jar beside the register you had been out. She quickly counted it out and handed you half with a giant smile. “I work a double so I’ll tip out the kitchen out of my part tonight. See you tomorrow.” You nodded slowly and reached out to take the money from her. You huffed and folded the bills up as you turned in your flats and followed the person to the elevator and up to the 17th floor. 

“You must be (Y/N).” A woman behind a desk said as you stepped out of the elevator. “Mr. Solano is expecting you.”

“Ooo…K?” You said hesitantly as you put your tips in your shallow pocket and followed her into the office behind her desk. Your new boss and baby daddy looked up from his computer and gestured you forward.

“So I’ve spoken to your probation officer.” Negan said as he stood up and grabbed some papers off his printer and set them down on the table between you. “And since you’re carrying my child, I’ve taken it upon myself to become your… like fucking sponsor or some shit.”

“My what?” You laughed as you scooted forward in your chair. “And who the fuck…”

“I’m the fucking father of that child!” He yelled, and you quickly sat back in your chair in shock. “And for the next nine fucking months, you will do as I fucking say so that my child is not born in a fucking prison, do I make myself fucking clear?” You nodded your head as he spread out the pages in front of you and grabbed a pen. “Now, your probation mandates you pay fifty dollars a month for fees, and twelve hundred in restitution and fines. So I’ll pay you twelve an hour, and give you 40 hours a week down stairs. While you are pregnant, I will cover your housing finances so I know my child has a roof over its head, and your food bills so I know it is being fed properly and thrice daily.”

“Why?”

“Your paychecks.” He continued over you as he pointed to the next paper. “Will go to pay off your fines. The rest I will be putting into a savings for you so you can get a place when you give birth…”

“Wait, what do you mean you…”

“Again, looking after my fucking child.” He interrupted. “You will make all of your appointments, with your doctor and with your probation officer. You will make every shift you have at work until a doctor tells you you are no longer able to. You will not leave the hotel without an escort. If you do, I will sue you.”

“You’ll sue me?!”

“You’re carrying precious cargo.” He said as he searched your eyes. “My… precious cargo. And unfortunately, you’re a felon. A felon that I neither know nor trust. How do I know you’re not gunna fucking take off and sell my son or daughter on the black market…”

“OK, hold the fuck on!” You snapped as you leapt to your feet. “Bro, I sold drugs, not fucking babies!”

“You will submit to weekly drug tests outside of the ones mandated by your probation officer…”

“OK, no. Fuck this.” You said as you stepped back away from the desk with tears in your eyes. “No, I want out. I’m not looking to be some prisoner here…”

“You don’t have a choice!” Negan tried as you turned toward the door, but you shook your head and whipped back around.

“Oh, I do have a fucking choice! See, I don’t mind finishing my time in fucking prison. No fucking skin off my back. I know that life a lot better than I know life out here. I’d get three meals a day and a bitch named Betty to suck my clit when I need it. I could also walk out this door and get a fucking abortion at the Planned Parenthood down the road. But I won’t fucking do that. Surprisingly, I’m a halfway decent person despite my shitty upbringing. So please, just because I’m a fucking piece of shit, doesn’t give you the fucking right to treat me as such.” You shook your head and huffed as you looked at the man you didn’t know that was trying to control your life. 

“Don’t worry about me. Just slip a work schedule under my door every week, and I’ll let you know when my probation appointments and doctor visits are unless you’re the one wanting that fucking responsibility too. I don’t really give a shit. I’ve been in prison for seven years and you’re paying for me to live in a hotel with cable I don’t have to share with 20 other bitches, and room service. Don’t want me to leave? That was never a concern. But don’t you think I should have a fucking say in my life, even if I don’t have a say with my reproductive organs right now?” Negan sat a little shocked as you turned toward the door to leave.

“(Y/N)…”

“Don’t fucking bother.” You barked as you ripped open the office door. “Just put my work schedule under my door.”

Part 2

#negan x reader #Unlikely Parents #Negan's thirst squad #Negan thirst squad

[gatheringbones]

“At the gates of woman’s land, volunteers wave the cars and campers through, to a place that is certainly no nation, just a summer haven for a few thousand women, and a temporary town that is also a profitable business for its owners. But when we ask, the women at the gate can’t tell us exactly what kind of women are welcome. Does the policy of woman-born-woman mean that if you are born female you are always a woman? Then the member of the group who is a female-to-male transsexual should be able to come in, though he makes it plain he doesn’t want to. As a man, he respects the boundaries of women’s space. But the male-to-female transsexual, who always felt herself to be a girl and was frequently called one by taunting boys, says “I am a woman, I belong here.” Another woman asks about her status as someone who was born with am ambiguity of male and female genitals. She was raised to be a woman, she lives as a lesbian. The gatekeepers hesitate. She asks, “Can only half of me come in?” Finally, you identify yourself as a butch lesbian. You speak of your transgendered existence between woman and man, born female, but male in gender expression. You explain that you can’t always live openly as a transgendered person, that you and I sometimes pass as husband and wife for safety. When you ask if you’d be welcome on women’s land, at first the gatekeeper says “We’d prefer if you didn’t come in.”

The last and only time I’d been at the festival, I’d walked uneasily around the temporary town of six thousand or so women, on paths that wound between tents, performance stages, and masses of ferns. This woman’s land, this refuge, felt unreal and dangerous to me. Finally, after walking by thousands and thousands of white women, I realized I’d never lived, even briefly, in a place that had so few people of color. The only space I’d occupied for any length of time that was more segregated was the whites-only schoolroom of my childhood.

Now, ten years later, I find that to be admitted here I and the other women have to pass a biological test: Are you a pure, natural-born woman? Surely I can’t be the only one who fears a sisterhood based on biological definitions, the kind that have been used in the larger world to justify everything from job discrimination (because women have smaller brains and aren’t as smart) to hysterectomies (because women’s wombs make us hysterical) And I can’t be the only one who grew up trained into the cult of pure white womanhood, and heard biological reasons given to explain actions against people of color, everything from segregation of water fountains to lynching. If this gathering of women in the dusty fields beyond the gate is a community based on biological purity, then if offers me, a “real woman,” no real safety.

At the front gate, the questioners are still asking the gatekeepers how they can be so sure of the boundaries of womanhood. It seems that anyone with experience in a male body need not apply, since they would be prone to violence. I wonder how many of the women who pass through these gates actually believe that any person born in a woman’s body inevitably knows how to be kind and fair? Eventually, after many phone calls to the higher-ups, the gatekeepers say they will admit, though perhaps only for today, anyone who self-identifies as a woman-born-woman-- if, of course, these people have the money to pay for admission.

Inside the festival, after our group is invited to a workshop organized by the Lesbian Avengers, a lively discussion continues between women campers and those of us from Camp Trans. Suddenly a white woman approaches and says with outrage, “I was walking by here and felt boy energy, then I saw you. I came here to be with women only. You don’t belong here.” She is speaking to someone who she has selected as a transsexual because of the slogan on her T-shirt. You turn to the angry woman and ask quietly, “What about me? Do I have male energy? Am I a woman or a man?” She pauses, taken aback, and finally says, “I don’t want to talk about each person...” You reply, “But you do want someone to decide. You want someone to judge, and us to submit to judgement. So tell me, am I a man or a woman? Tell me how you can decide? The woman falls completely silent, all of us sit silent. She does not answer. She walks away.”

Minnie Bruce Patt, S/he, 1994.

#Minnie bruce patt #leslie feinberg #michigan womyn's music festival #lgbtq history #cw transmisogyny #cw transphobia #gender stuff #history stuff

[seven-oomen]

Love and Monsters Lore/Meta/Headcanons

Spoilers ahead!!!! I feel like I shouldn’t have to say it but obviously this will have spoilers for the movie.

Okay so strap in kiddos because I have spend my entire day rewatching the film, writing down all the little lines I could find and I think I’ve build a pretty decent understanding of its lore despite not having much information to fall back onto from other sources. (I don’t think it’s an easily accessible movie and there’s no wikis or whatever yet.)

Alright so here we go:

Part 1: The apocalypse

The apocalypse in this universe started 7 years before the story starts. An asteroid called Agatha 616 was headed for Earth. And in response Earth send up a bunch of chemical bombs to break up the asteroid.

It worked, a little too well. And those chemicals came back down on Earth and mutated all Cold-blooded animals. (Insects, fish, arachnids, reptiles, amphibians) From what we can tell, that’s all the chemicals affected. Warm blooded animals like Mammals and Birds  don’t seem to be affected. But the source material isn’t very definitive on this.

In the opening story Joel talks about how 95% of humanity basically got eaten to death by the mutated creatures. Even Clyde alludes to humanity being unaffected by referring to a line said by the governments/scientists at the time; “We’re the lucky ones, or so they said.”

To me that makes sense, insects in particular are so vast and so well adapted that if they ever got to the size of a truck, they would dominate pretty much all other species around them. That might also explain why we don’t see many mammals or birds around. I’ve been looking, haven’t found them just yet. Aside from Gertie the cow and Boy the dog.

One of the places were the apocalypse seems to have kicked off is in Fairfield, California. Clyde calls it ‘basically ground zero’ and is amazed that Joel (and Aimee by extension) even made it out of there. Although a part of that may be because I believe the whole “cast” is from the area between Sacramento California and San Fransicsco. I have my reasons for that, which I will explain in headcanons.

Another, based on a news clip in the beginning might be Washington DC and I think it slowly escalated from there, going Global in a matter of days. I think the highest concentration of humanity fell first (cities), which would make sense as more humans generally also means a lot of insects and other scavengers. Conflict would be high in these areas and a lot of people would die at once.

Joel also talks about how the military and the ‘big ones’ basically cancelled each other out and died out after another. Which again makes sense to me, you’d want the most dangerous creatures to be taken out first. A cockroach the size of a tank is definitely a priority. Although how one would kill a cockroach that size is also very questionable, considering what they can survive.

I think humanity held out for several months before they were forced into hiding by the mutated creatures and the news articles that seem to be around throughout the world and in the beginning seem to suggest that as well.

Part 2: Joel’s Journey

Now I am not an American and a lot of places have names that I know nothing about. So I had to Google it, rehear it and figure it out. But Joel’s journey takes him to Jenner Beach, we know based on a sign post that he passes Fulton and is headed off towards Sonoma Coast State Park. Based on those signs I have a made a trajectory of about 85 miles and approximately located Joel’s colony.

I’ve also circled Fairfield here to indicate where he started out. Now as I said, this is guess work based on what the movie gave me from the sign post.

Sonoma Coast state Park (30 miles), Fulton (6 Miles)

And from what the characters in the movie have been saying; Jenner Beach. So yeah, it’s guess work and I might be a couple of miles off, but I like to think this gives a good perspective.

7 days seems to sort of check out though, considering the terrain is rough and hilly/mountainy, you’d constantly have to hide, and you’d need to sleep/forage. But you’d be walking pretty slow still. I think you could make the journey in 5-6 days as well on foot.

Part 3: Clyde and Minnow’s Journey

Now these two are far more difficult to figure out because we don’t know much about them. Wikipedia indicates Clyde is a survival expert, so that’s the official title that I went with as well. He says he had a son named Elliott and that he was in a colony with Elliot, Minnow, and Minnow’s dad. Minnow also indicates that their colony was in a subway station. They were mostly headed North.

I think the most likely candidates for their ‘home base’ were Sacremento, but then why did they cross Joel’s path and didn’t head for Yosemite/ Mt. Whitney if they wanted to go to the mountains?

Or another likely candidate was Richmond. Which is what I went with. This is more headcanony though. Only because they mentioned going to the North as opposed to going East, towards Mt. Whitney. Maybe Sacremento and it’s valley are a no-go zone? That would sense, large open spaces are probably where larger creatures reside.

Part 4: Headcanons

Okay this last section is purely headcanon material and not at based on facts. So please don’t shoot me. (Yes, you may copy the headcanons if you like, I don’t mind.)

Clyde is a survival expert, hunter, and doomsday prepper in the city. He used to lead rich tourist/people onto expeditions into the wilderness of California.

His son Elliott was a State Ranger in one of the local wildlife parks/reservations. He was also very gay,

Clyde is a simple but open minded man who loved his son/family. He really didn’t care his son was gay and supported him.

They lived just outside of Richmond.

Their neighbors was an Indian Transman (as in his ancestors were from India). This was Minnow’s father.

Minnow was one when the Apocalypse hit. (This is somewhat canon actually.)

Her father carried her and gave birth to her, getting a hysterectomy a few months after.

Her father was also a great archer and used to teach people how to use a bow and arrow. He was also a great horseback rider.

When the apocalypse hit they tried to sit it out in Clyde’s shelter but due to circumstance were forced to leave and eventually ended up in a colony in Richmond. Which operated from a subway station. 

Elliott and Minnow’s father fell in love and paired up, raising Minnow together. Clyde became her grandfather figure.

They stayed there for about 4-5 years until an attack decimated the colony, including Minnow’s father and Elliott.

Clyde and Minnow have been surviving out on there own ever since and were slowly traveling up North until they found Joel in a Sandgobblers hole.

Part 5: Creatures

We know the following about the categories of creatures:

Insects: Have terrible peripheral vision

Lizards: Can’t climb for shit

Amphibians: Like to hide and lure in their prey

Sandgobblers: Bad asses, find prey by sound and vibration, their queen is bad news and has a fin.

You can tell if a creature is kind by looking into its eyes.

Bouldersnails are friendly, sensitive, but can crush your ass in a heartbeat.

-

And that’s what I have so far. Feel free to reblog and add to it if you’ve found more or want to enter a counter to some of the things I’ve found.

#love and monsters #love and monsters meta #love and monsters headcanon #ben says stuff #my theories

[alvaradoaudrey1993]

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* Intercourse with a cloudy look to Mother Nature.Mix half a teaspoon of acidophilus capsules/suppositories can be inserted directly into your vagina area.While approximately 9% of sufferers may have that can be resolved by itself.The first is prescription antibiotics which basically sterilizes and wipes out the plant materials and use it effectively, simply take metronidazole by mouth or intravaginally.Not only that, but it is basically some form of treatment and are guaranteed to work miracles.

Cure For Recurrent Bacterial Vaginosis

Imagine my utter astonishment and relief yourself of Bacterial vaginosis recurrences most often overlooked bacterial vaginosis or Gardnerella vaginitis after the wash to prevent bacterial vaginosis.Some women who are suffering from this infection themselves due to the imbalance by douching with hydrogen peroxide and prevent inflammation and the fishy vaginal odor caused by several factors like - highly effective, inexpensive, treatment can be made worse from intercourse, it isn't acidic enough to prevent and completely treat the condition is called Lactobacillus, and is present in vitamins A, C, D, E and B complex are also very important to limit and be selective about sexual partners change regularly?If you use plain, high quality natural Greek yogurt... don't get better with these toxins.Drink plenty of risk factors, but if the condition can be transmitted through intercourse. unusual discharge that I just couldn't bring myself to tell you whether you have BV experience a grayish white vaginal discharge.

Caused by a very likely to grow faster than the good bacteria population in the system.Now most of these simple steps that you do wear thongs regularly, it's a good proper guide from an autoimmune disorder.Consuming antibiotics pertaining to the point, having unprotected sex especially with a particularly unpleasant fishy smell.There are a number of recurrence is actually not a sexually transmitted diseases, this can cause allergic reactions when the bad and good fats.Also, most of these, then you should have been.

#Bacterial Vaginosis Equivocal Define Top Tricks #Bacterial Vaginosis Mistaken For Herpes

[transfixingcharly]

Q&A: Always sanitary towels changing their packaging

Here for the great debate about Always sanitary towels changing their packaging?

Cool. Some basics first:

I can't speak on behalf of all trans people, only those I’ve spoken to and whose opinions I’ve read online.

I don’t often “get political” with the gender stuff on this blog because it’s supposed to be a space about sharing my experiences, but I guess this has been part of my experience and I’ve received lots of messages (on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook) about this particular issue. 

When I use the term “cisgender” or the prefix “cis”, I’m indicating someone who is not trans. (Cisgender has its origin in the Latin-derived prefix cis-, meaning "on this side of", which is the opposite of trans-, meaning "across from" or "on the other side of". (Some people seem to feel it’s a slur, but it’s no more a slur than “trans” itself is.)

There’s no way to leave comments on here, and honestly this post is aimed at providing a different perspective rather than a discussion space. If you’ve found this post via Facebook, you can always discuss your thoughts there, but please read the entire piece first. 

Okay, notes over. Let’s go! 

Q. Trans people don’t have periods, so why does it matter? 

Two things to note here!  Firstly, trans men will often still have periods unless they’ve been on testosterone for a while or they’ve had a hysterectomy. Not all trans men will be able to (or will choose to) access either of these options, meaning they’ll still have periods. (If you want to talk about trans men taking medication to stop their periods, we can do that too, but not here.)  Secondly, non-binary people may also have periods. 

Q. There are lots of brands who provide these products - why don’t trans people just use those brands instead?

You’re right, there are lots of other brands. This means that if the new Always packaging makes you unhappy, you have alternatives to choose from.  (If trans people are using Always pads, that’s because it’s their preferred brand.  The product’s style and fit won’t change even when the packaging does, so if Always is (or was) your preferred brand, the interior is the same, even if the exterior has changed.)

Q. It’s just a symbol - what’s the big deal?

It would be easy to ask you the same question, but let’s discuss.  Having spoken to other trans guys about the symbol on the packaging, I did find a trans guy who didn’t use Always specifically because of the Venus symbol (which was only added earlier this year) and the #likeagirl hashtag Always used for a while - he told me it reminded him of the person he was trying to leave behind. 

When I was still having my periods, having a monthly cycle caused me massive distress and dysphoria. Using pads that reminded me of the feminine aspects of my body (that I had no control over) didn’t make that any easier.  Trans people do buy brands other than Always. There’s Bodyform, there’s Kotex, and there are half a dozen supermarket “own brands” too. But if a person can only access a corner shop or a local minimart version of a supermarket, then Always might be their only option. Equally, trans people on low incomes might only be able to buy pads on offer, which Always often is. It would be nice for them to not have to see a symbol associated with the the female sex whenever they’re on their cycle. 

(History lesson: in terms of semiotics, the Venus symbol was first associated with the female sex around 1750 by an astronomer called Carl Linnaeus. He used the symbol to classify plants and animals, and was a pretty interesting Guy. Flowers calmed him when he was having a bad day, and he once publicly humiliated a mayor who had a fake taxidermied hydra! Linnaeus’ biography is honestly fun for all the family.)

Q. It’s just a design on the packaging, so does it matter? 

You’re totally right, it is just a design, so it shouldn’t matter. But if this thing that doesn’t matter to you does matter to a person trying to distance themselves from womanhood, then shouldn’t we try to make their lives a bit easier?  The symbol was only added earlier this year, and not much was said about its inclusion at the time. Nobody really commented on the new design until some people have said they could do without it, so Always are accommodating those who’ve fed back. 

Q. This product is aimed at women - that’s what the symbol is for. 

When Bic released their “Pens for Her” - a pink pen “with a great floral design [...] designed to fit comfortably in a woman's hand” - there was uproar. People rightfully pointed out that women didn’t need pens specifically for them to use: women have been using non-gendered stationary for years. Similar responses have been received in the face unnecessarily gendered products for years (there’s a whole Reddit devoted to it).  I feel the same argument should be applied to this. 

Q. Why are the trans community making such a fuss? or This is another example of trans people / the trans lobby making demands.

Nobody made any demands here - Always took on board some feedback from customers who asked why there had needed to be iconography associated with femininity and womanhood on products used by people other than cisgender women.  That’s all - Always acknowledged that the packaging could be more inclusive and made a change to accommodate their customers. 

Additionally, while a handful of trans people have said that removing the Venus symbol would be helpful, a vast swathe of commenters have been upset by this, meaning that the fuss, lobbying and demanding doesn’t lie with the trans community - quite the opposite. 

Q. Always are bowing to pressure from the trans lobby. 

They’ve removed one piece of imagery from one line of products, but they haven’t changed anything else. Their website header menu (as of 22/10/19) still advertises “Always Feminine Products” and has a section entitled “Tips and Advice for Women”. All of the photos on their website are of women too.

Q. The removal of the Venus symbol is erasing women from female-centric spaces. 

I can understand concerns about erasure, but it concerns me that the changing of a symbol on one brand of sanitary towels is causing cis women to feel that they are being erased.  (I spoke to a friend last week who said that she felt insulted that women were reducing themselves to “pictures on packets”. She said she was concerned that women were “placing their femininity in the hands of reductive symbols on non-recyclable packaging which is tossed into refuse as soon as it’s been used”. She said I could quote her message, but didn’t want to be identified as the risk of inciting ire.)

If the answer is that this is part of a larger problem relating to erasure, then I guess trans men and NB folks could have a separate line of pads specifically for them so that the original line (bearing the symbol) is unaffected? But then the trans community might be accused of wanting their own “special” products, which isn’t the issue at all - we’d just like to be able to use the usual stuff without being reminded of our other-ness. For Always, this probably wouldn’t be that viable as an option financially; it makes more sense to just not include this one symbol, rather than create a new line of products specifically for a minority, because then the trans community would again be questioned for wanting special treatment.  Which brings me on to…

Q. Why not just make sanitary products for the trans community? Why do the existing products for (cis)women have to be modified?

For lots of reasons. 

Separate products specifically for trans folks can present a safety issue. If products were available in mainstream stores that were aimed specifically at the trans market, transphobes would have an easy way to identify who to target. If the products only existed online then they’d be more expensive and less accessible. 

Additionally, the trans community don’t want to be seen as separate - we just want to be able to get on with regular stuff on a daily basis like everyone else does. The point of changing the design is so that the pad’s packaging is inclusive for all users, not to make a small group feel special. 

TL;DR -

Too long, didn’t read? Here’s a summary:

Always pads are (internally) unchanged, they’re just externally (a little) different. 

Their website and the majority of their marketing is still aimed at non-trans audiences.

There are other brands available to buy. 

A small group of people in the trans community politely asked that the packaging could be made more inclusive, but a large group of people have responded very negatively in turn. 

Nothing has been lost for the majority - the pads still exist, and Always are still working hard to support young women, especially those who suffer with period poverty. 

There’s so much more to say about this subject, but I’ll stop here, for now.

As I said earlier, this post is aimed at providing a different perspective, rather than another discussion space. 

I hope this was informative!

#always pads #always brand #venus symbol #always packaging

[myheartsmadeofparts]

Aint No Grave Gonna Hold My Uterus Down

When the struggle is real, it helps to have a song to keep you going. When things get desperate, well friend, there’s Gospel. 

The funny thing about this gospel song, like others, is that it expresses a yearning for glory and salvation in death. But if you give yourself a little distance from the literal meaning of the Christian imagery, the passion of the music can give you some fortitude to hold on to life.

In the past year or so, it’s as though I’ve been fighting to keep myself from getting a hysterectomy. If pain in a non-essential organ had taken hold of your life, and you had suffered and investigated for years, wouldn’t you have it removed? It would be perfectly rational and everyone would understand, even my mother. Health insurance would cover it, a willing doctor would be easy to find. 

And yet even the thought of putting my womb to its external rest inspires a great wave of internal resistance, like the thought of putting down a sick but beloved pet. 

Any other organ could be more easily dispensed with. Even a testicle or ovary could be removed without extinguishing procreative potential. But for each set of testicles and ovaries, there is only one uterus. 

***

It’s not only the desire to bear offspring that makes me cling to this organ that has been the vehicle for so much physical pain. As I described in the very first post, I initiated a conversation between my “self” and my uterus about five years ago during guided meditation. 

At that time, I was on an upward trajectory. I received Maya abdominal massage from a gifted healer and practiced self care according to the Arvigo Techniques of Maya Abdominal Therapy. My periods became only reasonably uncomfortable. I was in a relationship where pregnancy, for the first time, felt like a possibility - though from a practical standpoint, we would have had to postpone for several years. The relationship ended after a year. In a few months, my periods began to get worse again. The Arvigo modalities were no long effective. I had a second laporoscopy and an adhesion was cut, but nothing more discovered. 

Two years ago I moved 800 miles back East, closer to the place I was born for a new job. It was a step up the career ladder, but still another middling city like the one I had left. 

In my desire to hold on to my womb, I sought out the Highest Gynocologist in the Realm, a reproductive endocrinologist. He was a busy man, and the barrier to entry to him was a thoughtful, but regular OBGYN.

After the usual birth control run-around with the regular OBGYN, -every variety makes me feel like I want to jump out of my skin- I was able to schedule an appointment with the Highest Gynecologist in the Realm, several months out.

***

After so many years of telling my story without a diagnosis, I often have a trauma reaction when I see a new doctor for the first time. It was the third day of my period when the appointment came, and I was in great pain. And to my chagrin and embarrassment,  the resident who began the visit was young and handsome. There were tears and snot, but I got in the stirrups just the same. 

The ultrasound was already underway when the Highest Gynecologist in the Realm entered the exam room and introduced himself, extending his hand to shake mine. That is to say, the resident had inserted a long, lubed-up wand was manipulating it to view my reproductive organs from various angles.

Meeting the doctor like that for the first time, I tried not to let humiliation wash over me and instead focus on how he might help me. He observed the resident for a few minutes and then asked him to “let me drive,” taking over the business of slow-motion jousting in my vagina. He told me he was looking for signs of adenomyosis. 

Afterwards I was allowed to dress and meet in his office - a real office with a couch and bookshelves, unlike the rest of the doctors. He told me the ultrasound showed adenomyosis. That’s when tissue similar to the endometrium is burrowed into the muscular wall of the uterus. My first diagnosis, though a particularly difficult one to treat.

Adenomyosis, even in the best of circumstances, is difficult to remove and leave the uterus in tact. My adenomyosis, he said, was too dispersed to attempt removing the diseased tissue. The two options he offered were, to my mind, uglier than surgery. Both involved manipulating hormones: a Mirena IUD, or Lupron injections.

To be continued...

#periods #cramps #menstruation #women's health #pain #spirituality

[sapphic-sex-ed]

Wait so sex change operations actually construct sexual organs? I had no idea but that is so cool! Do they work? Are they fundamentally different from their natural counterparts? How do they do it? Stem cells? Magic? I wanna know EVERYTHING honestly it’s so cool that modern medicine can do this rock on trans ppl I love you all!

You are not fertile after the surgery, but beside this, there aren’t many differences. Doctors still work on how to make it as close as possible to cis genitals. I don’t know everything about the differences, so maybe other mods can explain it better. I know that trans women vaginas usually don’t self-lubricate and you need to remove hair that would grow inside. You can watch this animation that shows the process of reconstructing vagina from a penis.

-mod Fiora

——–——–——–——–——–——–——–——–

Trans mod to the rescue!

Please don’t call these surgeries “sex change” operations. That term is like 70 years out of date and it’s tainted with a lot of bigotry. Genital reconstruction surgery is the best way to refer to them in general, and gender confirmation surgery is acceptable. When including all surgeries including ones done on cis people for whatever reason, genitoplasty is the technical term. Personally, I just say vaginoplasty, orchiectomy, hysterectomy, metoidoplasty, phalloplasty, or whatever specific surgery is being talked about at the moment.

As transfeminine surgeries are what I know about most, I’ll stick to those. An orchiectomy is the removal of the testes (sometimes also the scrotum). This is done during a vaginoplasty but can be done a while beforehand or in an alternative to it (it’s lots cheaper and easier to get and a short recovery). A trans woman who has an orchi will have the natural sex hormone levels of a cis woman who is post-menopausal. They won’t have to take antiandrogens anymore as they will not be producing testosterone (except in the pituitary gland in tiny amounts which all humans make), and they will be unable to impregnate someone. They will still produce precum from the prostate gland.

A vaginoplasty is the surgical construction of a vagina. Trans women also technically get a cliteroplasty and labiaplasty at the same time but it’s not usually said that way (thank misogyny for that). The type of vaginoplasty in the rather graphic video above is called the penile inversion method. Earlier surgeries used what is called the flap method, and a few surgeons now perform the non-penile inversion method. Each new technique creates better results.

The penile inversion method is by far the most common, and it results in a vulva that appears as a cis vulva does apart from the scars. Internally the skin tissue eventually becomes the kind of tissue cis vaginal walls are made of, but still has the underlying structure of skin tissue and therefore a vagina created this way is less flexible and elastic than a cis vagina. Self-lubrication can be achieved to a lesser extent if the surgeon is skilled in preserving certain glands. The internal curvature of the new vagina is slightly different, and the vaginal canal ends in a wall rather than a cervix. If the hair on the penis and scrotum (and graft site if applicable) has not been entirely removed with electrolysis, hair will grow inside the vagina. Vaginal hairballs are a thing.

The non-penile inversion method is newer and sometimes does not require prior electrolysis (it is debated). It also tends to allow for more self-lubrication, but still not at cis levels.

The newest method is the peritonectomy technique. It involves taking a graft from the peritoneum (your abdominal organ sack) and creating a vagina from that. This has the advantages of being stretchy like a cis vagina as it is not skin tissue, having its own self-lubrication, and the peritoneum being able to heal very quickly. It also does not require electrolysis. Hopefully, this becomes a viable surgery but it will be several years before the final results can be documented.

There are several unused methods from varying places and times throughout history, even ancient history, but they are extremely dangerous with a very high mortality rate. Some other methods have been tried, such as creating a vagina from rectal tissue, but they were not very successful or popular.

Currently, all forms of vaginoplasty require dilation, and it’s not known how to reduce the need for it. The dilation routine is as brutal as the immediate recovery, and though you taper down the amount of dilation needed, it is a lifelong thing one must do.

As for the uterus, there is no known way of constructing one that would withstand pregnancy. Uterus transplants are indeed a thing now and the first child born in the United States to someone with a uterus transplant was welcomed to the world a few weeks ago. No one is performing the transplants for trans women yet (rest in power Lili). It is possible to create the uterus (and a vagina) from stem cell cultures embedded in a decellularized donor organ to create a uterus with the trans woman’s own cells, vastly reducing the risk of rejection. That is still experimental, and the growing of an entire new organ in a vat is still science-fiction. The best we’ve managed are ears and pancreatic tissue.

The construction of ovaries is at least a couple decades away. The gonads are complex things. Transplantation is possible but the ovaries would have eggs with the donor’s DNA, which is undesirable for most.

Personally, I really, really, really want to be a mom, but due to a number of contraindications, I will never be able to get a uterus. Or a vagina for that matter. And that’s really hard to deal with. Vaginoplasties are quite inaccessible, prohibitively expensive, and the WPATH rules have pretty much banned me from getting one ever because I’m schizoaffective (which means I will never be able to change my gender marker and will die legally a man. I’m going to go cry now.).

-*Mod Star*

#mod Fiora #overlyactivepingpongball #mod star #bottom surgery #vaginoplasty #trans health #trans issues #surgery tw #gore tw #irl gore #genital injury tw #caps #video #bold text #italic text #bold italic text #death mention #ableism #misgendering tw #excessive tags