#a lot of the things i make are for me but this is peak target audience: one and it's g thatsnotbuddies

[thatsnotbuddies]

@nhlflames: Do you believe aliens exist?

#hanny said . let me tell you SOMETHING #a lot of the things i make are for me but this is peak target audience: one and it's g thatsnotbuddies #noah hanifin #calgary flames #* #sorry for the terriblé reels quality

[headspace-hotel]

What i've been learning thru my research is that Lawn Culture and laws against "weeds" in America are deeply connected to anxieties about "undesirable" people.

I read this essay called "Controlling the Weed Nuisance in Turn-of-the-century American Cities" by Zachary J. S. Falck and it discusses how the late 1800's and early 1900's created ideal habitats for weeds with urban expansion, railroads, the colonization of more territory, and the like.

Around this time, laws requiring the destruction of "weeds" were passed in many American cities. These weedy plants were viewed as "filth" and literally disease-causing—in the 1880's in St. Louis, a newspaper reported that weeds infected school children with typhoid, diphtheria, and scarlet fever.

Weeds were also seen as "conducive to immorality" by promoting the presence of "tramps and idlers." People thought wild growing plants would "shelter" threatening criminals. Weeds were heavily associated with poverty and immortality. Panic about them spiked strongly after malaria and typhoid outbreaks.

To make things even wilder, one of the main weeds the legal turmoil and public anxiety centered upon was actually the sunflower. Milkweed was also a major "undesirable" weed and a major target of laws mandating the destruction of weeds.

The major explosion in weed-control law being put forth and enforced happened around 1905-1910. And I formed a hypothesis—I had this abrupt remembrance of something I studied in a history class in college. I thought to myself, I bet this coincides with a major wave of immigration to the USA.

Bingo. 1907 was the peak of European immigration. We must keep in mind that these people were not "white" in the exact way that is recognized today. From what I remember from my history classes, Eastern European people were very much feared as criminals and potential communists. Wikipedia elaborates that the Immigration Act of 1924 was meant to restrict Jewish, Slavic, and Italian people from entering the country, and that the major wave of immigration among them began in the 1890s. Almost perfectly coinciding with the "weed nuisance" panic. (The Immigration Act of 1917 also banned intellectually disabled people, gay people, anarchists, and people from Asia, except for Chinese people...who were only excluded because they were already banned since 1880.)

From this evidence, I would guess that our aesthetics and views about "weeds" emerged from the convergence of two things:

First, we were obliterating native ecosystems by colonizing them and violently displacing their caretakers, then running roughshod over them with poorly informed agricultural and horticultural techniques, as well as constructing lots of cities and railroads, creating the ideal circumstances for weeds.

Second, lots of immigrants were entering the country, and xenophobia and racism lent itself to fears of "criminals" "tramps" and other "undesirable" people, leading to a desire to forcefully impose order and push out the "Other." I am not inventing a connection—undesirable people and undesirable weeds were frequently compared in these times.

And this was at the very beginnings of the eugenics movement, wherein supposedly "inferior" and poor or racialized people were described in a manner much the same as "weeds," particularly supposedly "breeding" much faster than other people.

There is another connection that the essay doesn't bring up, but that is very clear to me. Weeds are in fact plants of the poor and of immigrants, because they are often medicinal and food plants for people on the margins, hanging out around human habitation like semi-domesticated cats around granaries in the ancient Near East.

My Appalachian ancestors ate pokeweed, Phytolacca americana. The plant is toxic, but poor people in the South would gather the plant's young leaves and boil them three times to get the poison out, then eat them as "poke salad." Pokeweed is a weed that grows readily on roadsides and in vacant lots.

In some parts of the world, it is grown as an ornamental plant for its huge, tropical-looking leaves and magenta stems. But my mom hates the stuff. "Cut that down," she says, "it makes us look like rednecks."

#plants #ecology #usa ecology #history #american history #lawn #anti lawn

[romancerepulsed]

maybe this is a "hot take," but it's something i genuinely believe is true. aphobes can broadly be sorted into 3 categories: the uninformed, the bigot, and the bully. there is overlap between all 3, and i'm sure there are some people out there who are aphobic in a fun new way that i can't possibly conceive of yet, but i think these categories are fairly accurate and helpful for an aspec to recognize.

the uninformed aphobe is what it sounds like– they either don't know anything about the aspectrum or they've been fed false information about it. this is the only type of aphobe that is ever worth engaging with, and only to politely correct them and point them towards resources that would help them broaden their understanding. i'll be completely honest though: you'd be pretty damn lucky if you managed to actually singlehandedly change their mind. if they're not receptive to your corrections, simply move on. it's not worth the headache. you at least gave them something to think about.

the bigot, in contrast, is absolutely never worth engaging with. the bigoted aphobe is aphobic simply because aspec people are queer and they hate queer people. terfs famously used (and still continue to use) aphobic rhetoric as a sort of gateway drug for transphobia. the people who will argue that aspec folks aren't queer are often the same people who despise us because they associate us with queerness.

the third aphobe is actually the most common on this website, i think, and they're the reason i'm making this post. the aphobic bully may know full well the fundamentals of the aspectrum, but they will simplify and misrepresent it on purpose in an attempt to make aspec people look bad. aspec people have long been "acceptable targets" of bullying on this site for a reason that is fairly obvious to me but one i haven't seen anyone else point out: aspec people are largely neurodivergent. it's really no coincidence that ace discourse and cringe culture peaked at around the same time– they were one in the same, and the treatment aspec and autistic people received were (and still are) damn near identical. portraying aspec people as cringey teenagers who watched too many cartoons and are just too socially awkward for anyone to love them or whatever... it's a sentiment thats existed for years and years now. it took me a while to realize it, but this is why so many "tumblr funnymen" and other assorted popular blogs were/are aphobes too– they've got egos the size of china but they know they can't get away with blatantly picking on autistic people. so they'll hide behind a guise of aspec exclusionism, something that's unfortunately viewed as a real and valid ideology for someone to have. even aside from the thinly veiled ableism, bullies are always coming from a place of insecurity and projecting it onto other people. i've found that a lot of the most vicious aphobes are people who are struggling romantically or sexually. you can see them post about it, you can see even in the most recent discourse so many of these people are deeply stressed and hurt from whatever romantic or sexual struggles they're facing. to them, someone being unconcerned with those sorts of things is almost offensive because it means so much to them. they read it as a challenge to their own allo identity. so, why not take out that frustration on the aspecs?

it goes without saying that the bully isn't worth engaging with, either. they want to rile you up because it makes them feel better about themselves. don't give them that satisfaction.

#barking #aromantic #asexual #aplatonic #aspec #aroallo #aroace #alloace #aphobia

[flawless-peach]

change your life ✨️

feel free to join me in this. I'm going to try to post every day about how I did <3

- get at least 7 consecutive hours of sleep. I've found if I go to sleep and then wake up back for a couple hours and then finish the 8 hours I feel I incredibly unrested. I keep myself accountable by using pokemon sleep which has a great alarm, so I'm looking forward to trying this instead

- read or listen to an audiobook for 30 minutes. literacy is a muscle, and using it is important, but sometimes I can't just sit down and read a book, and audiobooks are great for when I'm cleaning or cooking or folding laundry

- get sun daily. humans are a lot more like plants than you would think and so it is important to get some sun, even when it's a wintery sun that's cold or when it's a blazing furnace. Since I have some mental health issues and am unable to go outside im going to at least open my curtains, and if possible, crack a window to get some fresh air

- start a hobby you can enjoy. this one can be difficult because a lot of things require some sort of financial investment. for me, my hobbies for these six months is going to be writing and annotating books. but being creative is great for the human mind.

- learn to be comfortable alone. honestly this one will be difficult. personally, I live in a studio. privacy is nothing i experience, butthe little moments where you find yourself escaping with TV playing or music pause it and sit with yourself, how else can you learn to love someone if you avoid them 🥰

- meditate daily. this will be something I struggle with so much, but I'm going to try in the mornings since that's my peak time <3 and that's when I plan on doing a yoga flow during the sunrise

- eat healthy nutritious food. I hate cooking and I hate eating. having autism can make these really difficult for me to do, but I'm really really trying. I started the week before last to work on figuring out what snack foods I can prep, and now i just need to work on planning out some meals.

- positive affirmations everyday. I really struggle to have positive self talk because it feels so awkward and uncomfortable because I've been pessimistic for so long, but I want to change that ^^

- reduce screen time. this is going to be specifically targetting mindless scrolling for me. I have a tiktok account that I use for motivation, same with my tumblr account, and I also read on my phone and use my sleep app that I need to keep open at night.

- practice gratitude. my goal is to at night reflect on the day to try and find the good. I already reflect on my days and pick a mood, but I want to create lists of things i am grateful for, especially while I'm in between jobs.

#aesthetic #clean girl #motivation #vanilla girl #photo collection #routine #self care aesthetic #self healing #self improvement #self impowerment #self love #peachy days #that girl

[incendiobrock]

Driving Lessons {Chris Sturniolo}

Request: Linked here!

Prompt(s): A teaching B to do something and B totally fails + "Hey, hey, don't cry"

Warnings: slight language (only like one word tbh), nothing but fluff!!!

You and Chris had been dating for almost a year. More often than not you were the designated driver, especially when Matt wasn't available to drive, since Chris had never gotten his license. Chris would always check with you to make sure you didn't mind driving him around, either offering to take an Uber or just waiting until Matt was free.

"If you don't feel like it please just tell me. I really don't mind waiting for Matt..." Chris spoke softly, feeling bad that he had woken you up early this morning to ask to drive him to the doctors office for an appointment.

"Baby, it's no problem! If you wait on Matt you're going to be late. Let me get dressed and then we can go, okay?" You reassured him, knowing that this wasn't the first instance he had felt guilty for asking you to drive him somewhere.

Eventually, Chris' guilt was getting the best of him. He needed to learn how to drive, even if it scared him, because you deserved to be driven around too. So, one night as you were laying on the couch together, basking in each others company, he had asked if you would be able to help him practice his driving. You happily agreed, offering the use of your car in case Matt and Nick needed to use the van.

It was late by the time you had pulled into the empty Target parking lot, thinking it would be the best place for Chris to practice driving. Chris swapped seats with you positioning himself behind the wheel of your car. You watched longingly as he readjusted the seat and the mirrors to his height, his tongue slightly poking out over his bottom lip in concentration. "Okay, I think they are good." He said, letting out a nervous sigh.

"Okay babe, we can do this at your pace don't stress too much. I know you'll do great!" You said, rubbing his left arm as he took a hold of the steering wheel, placing his hands ten and two. "Alright, I'm just going to drive around in a big circle?" He asked, staring straight ahead at the empty lot. You nodded in response, removing your hand from his upper arm so he could focus.

His hand found the gear shift, putting it into drive and gently pressing his foot down on the accelerator. As he made his way through the parking lot you couldn't help but look up and notice the stars decorating the night sky. Since you were normally the one driving you couldn't pay attention to the little things that made a night drive so enjoyable; like the stars and moon, or the way the cool night air felt if you cracked the windows. Chris successfully made a loop around the parking lot, beaming with joy at his accomplishment.

His nerves left his body as he continued to make his way around, beginning to zig zag down the rows. He began to get a hang of how the car moved when he would turn the wheel, or how much he needed to step on the gas in order to go an acceptable speed. Chris felt himself relax more and more as his fear of driving began to dissipate.

"Do you want to try something else?" You asked him, admiring how good he looked in the drivers seat of your car.

"What do you have in mind?"

"You could try reversing the car, maybe practicing how to back into a parking spot?" You suggested, reminding him that nobody else was around and that this was just to get him more comfortable behind the wheel.

"Okay, now cut the wheel to the left a little bit more," You instructed, trying to help Chris reverse into a space. His hands glided across the wheel, veering it to the left as he peaked out the rearview mirror. The car jolted forward slightly as Chris slammed onto the breaks. "Oh my god, what was that?" He asked, panic rising in his voice.

He immediately put the car in park as you unbuckled your seatbelt and made your way out of the car, Chris following your actions. You made your way to the back of the car and noticed a Target cart that must've been left out of the cart corral. "Fuck, baby... I'm so sorry. I-I swear I didn't see that behind us." Chris began to apologize, a lump forming in his throat as he noticed the small dent that was in your bumper from the impact. "Oh Chris, it wasn't your fault. The cart was probably just in your blindspot." You replied, unaware of his distressed state. You pulled the cart to the side, moving it out of the way of your car.

Chris stood there silently, feeling horrible about denting your car after you trusted him to drive it. Any ounce of confidence he had gained going around the parking lot earlier was now non existent. Tears filled his eyes as his bottom lip quivered. "Hey, hey, don't cry Chris..." You said, finally registering that he was upset. Quickly, you made your way over to him and pulled him into your arms. His arms snaked around your waist as you cradled his head into your shoulder, smoothing over his hair with your hand. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to dent your car..." His voice trembled as some stray tears hit your shoulder.

"Baby, I know you didn't mean to, please don't cry. I promise you it's okay." You soothed, wishing he wasn't being so hard on himself. When you had first started driving you couldn't even drive above 20mph, he was already doing way better than you and it was only his second time behind the wheel. He pulled away from the hug, keeping his hands on your waist as he looked into your eyes. You gently wiped some tears out from under his eyes, feeling your heart break at the sight of your defeated boyfriend.

After Chris had calmed down you both made your way back into the car. He took his spot back in the passenger seat as you reclaimed the drivers side. Without saying anything, Chris leaned over the center console, capturing your lips in a sweet but firm kiss. You knew it was his way of saying 'thank you', not only for the driving lessons but also for not freaking out about his little accident.

"I love you." You said looking into his eyes as he kept his lips a few inches from yours.

"I love you more." He countered, appreciating how he got so lucky with you. He was ecstatic about the fact that you were his, and nobody else's.

"Alright, let's go to the gas station. I need to get you a celebratory pepsi for facing your fears and practicing your driving!" You said, trying to lighten the mood.

"And some candy?" He asked, jokingly pouting his lips at you.

"And some candy." You giggled, making your way to the nearest store.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo

[shoccolatine]

Do you feel comfortable with writing stuff about mental health issues. Like, MC being depressed due to a mission going wrong or something similar and hiding it from Zayne while they spiral deeper into it until he catches them doing something bad - like idk, self-harm, looking up suicide methods, something like that. Gender neutral reader would be great <3

If you don't want to write this for any reason, feel free to ignore my ask :)

mission failure.

⚘pairing: zayne x gn!reader

⚘summary: after one too many failed missions, you reach a breaking point. zayne comes to your aid. ⚘tags: sfw, 2nd person POV, gender neutral reader, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-descriptive/implied self-harm, mild descriptions of morbid thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst ⚘word count: 2k ⚘a/n: thank you so much for your request, i hope i did it justice! this was a very interesting write and i enjoyed it a lot. i tried to be as delicate and vague with the s/h descriptions as i could so as not to trigger anyone, but this fic still deals with sensitive content so please be safe and take care of yourself! much love 💜

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was it. You just couldn’t do anything right.

Another hunting mission had gone poorly. The third in a row, now. They do say all good things come in threes, but could the same be said of misfortune? It certainly seemed so. The first two mission failures had been played off as flukes, but this time…

You made the long trek back to Headquarters with the weight of a tail dragging between your legs, bearing a few cuts and bruises to show for it. Beside you was Tara, who was not quite so worse for wear and, although disappointed, didn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment as you. After all, she hadn’t been the one to let the Wanderer get away. Again.

“Hey, don’t look so down!” she says, in her usual cheerful tone. She pats your arm in an attempt to be comforting. “Can’t win ‘em all, right?”

You give her a look and a frown. “I mean, we should, shouldn’t we? It���s our job, after all.”

“No way! Those Wanderers were tough! I’m amazed we got as far into the Zone as we did!”

But we lost our main target, you thought, yet you held your tongue. There was no changing Tara’s mind once she was set on something. This mission was above her level, anyway, but with every other Hunter either stationed elsewhere or taking a well-deserved break, and Xavier being unreachable as usual, all you had was each other. It had been up to you, as the higher level Hunter, to uphold the team morale and guide you both through a successful mission. But lately, you just kept falling short. Even the most straightforward of missions went awry. Just what was happening?

The entrance doors slid closed behind you as you and Tara headed upstairs for the debrief. Your heart pounded with every step you took. Three failures in a row… Jenna was going to fire you for sure. She might as well do it now, to make space for a newer, better Hunter to take your place and finish your missions properly.

Instead, what came of your debrief was the offering of a week-long break. "Time off to clear your head and refresh," Jenna had said with hard concern, but it might as well have been an arrow to the chest. Just fire me now and get it over with, you thought. Stop wasting everyone’s time and resources and find someone else.

You didn’t need a break. You just needed to be better.

Getting better, however, came with a steep demand you placed upon yourself like a vase upon a pedestal, delicate and teetering. If Jenna wanted to give you another chance, then you would use this week to return to peak performance. You would train, and train, and train, until you were sure to succeed at every mission she threw at you. It was flawless. You’d be back at it in no time.

But as soon as you got off the train and back into your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep. 

And sleep you did. You slept until you couldn’t think of those missions anymore, and when the thoughts inevitably returned, you slept again.

“You’re not eating enough,” Zayne said during your following check-up later that week. He stated it so matter-of-factly, like he did with any other diagnosis, never looking up from his computer as he typed something. You never knew exactly what. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a break right now?”

“How do you know that?”

“Word gets around,” he said, the beginnings of a smile etched on his face. You didn't like the idea of people knowing things like that so easily. People sure do like to talk... Zayne's hazel eyes lifted from the screen and over at you. “You need to take better care of yourself. Now is as good a time as any to catch up on your body’s needs.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped. Sometimes Zayne needed to mind his own business. Wait, but he was your doctor, and one of your closest friends… What was the matter with you? You really needed to go back to bed and stop being such a nuisance. 

Maybe it’d be better if you got out of his life, too.

You met his questioning expression and the heat of your response drained out of your face. At that, you decided you didn’t want to wait for a reply. Whatever he wanted to say to you with that curious expression of his, you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t deserve to hear it. You quickly left his office and never looked back. If he called your name as the door to his office slid closed behind you, it went unheard.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

5 missed calls.

Your phone screen blares the message in your face, blinding against the darkness of your room and blurry against the tears that threatened to fall, that had already fallen, that fell and dried and fell again. Your fingers itch to reply, to call him back or send him a text, but what’s the point? He doesn’t really care. He’s probably just going to scold you for leaving your appointment halfway and being childish and not following doctor’s orders and being rude to him.

Not only have you messed up your job, you’re messing up your relationships now, too. When will you ever stop? Can’t it ever stop?

Your phone buzzes and lights up in your fingers as your ringtone sings into your sheets once more. It’s him again. Doesn’t he know when to quit? You watch his name as it waits idly on your screen. It gets tired of waiting, as it always does, and finally disappears. You sigh as another hot tear slips down your cheek.

Something new happens this time.

1 new voicemail, your phone screen reads. You start to slide the notification away, but against your better judgment, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you give in, tap the notification, and listen. 

The line is silent for a moment, and part of you hopes he gave up and left you nothing.

Finally, after what sounds like a throat clearing, he speaks.

“Hey, it’s me,” Zayne’s voice comes through the speaker. It’s got that usual muffled crackly phonecall texture laid onto it, but it sounds enough like him that it feels like he’s right there with you, underneath the blankets. “Are you alright? …Listen. Whatever it was I said, I didn’t mean it. You know that. I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner, but you left so suddenly. Call me when you’re able?”

The silence creeps in again, and you can almost hear him consider saying something more, can almost see his expression as his thoughts thunder in his brain but refuse to leave his lips, but then there’s a click, and the call ends. The robotic voicemail message drones monotonously about saving the message, and halfway through, you hang up, too.

The back of your throat clenches and burns, and you barely fight back a sob as it wrenches itself out of you. Zayne was worried about you. You made him worry. You thought he was mad, you wanted him to be mad, but he’s not. He cares about you. Why…?

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if you could push back the sting of tears that rush, hot and salty, from your bloodshot eyes. It hurts, and you start to see flashes of bright white stars under your eyelids, but it’s better than succumbing to the pain in your chest. Your heart shares a galaxy with the stars in your vision, a dying star that’s fizzling out, or maybe even being consumed by the void of a black hole. How morbidly comforting. You suddenly want to rip it out.

You wonder, just how difficult would it be to separate the Aether Core from your still-beating flesh…?

You try to shake the thoughts from your mind but they hold fast. Throwing the blankets off of your body, you leave your room hobbling like a zombie, make a beeline for the kitchen, and pull open a drawer.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s late at night when there’s a knock at your door. A slight rap of the knuckles. A sharp one, two. Once, then twice, and on the third knock there’s another sound, too. A rattling jingle. And it’s times like these when you curse yourself for giving Zayne the extra key to your apartment.

He calls out your name as he steps in. You barely hear him. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s far away, or speaking quietly, or if you’re just that far gone into your own thoughts that everything else around you is muted.

He might have called only once, or a dozen times, by the time he reaches your room and spots your hunched figure on your bed. He says your name again, and this time you do hear him. 

You meet his gaze, steeled with concern, and immediately regret it. 

He sees you, really sees you, and all at once your façade crumbles once more. He approaches the edge of your bed, and you turn your eyes anywhere but at him as you brace yourself for impact.

“What are you doing?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

Zayne grabs your wrist. Yet, his touch is gentle—firm enough to grip you, but soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted. You don't. You’re far too tired to fight anymore. You continue to stare at the floor with teary eyes, but there is resignation hanging heavy on your shoulders, like a wet blanket. Zayne takes your silent compliance as an okay to pull you along with him down the hallway of your dimly lit apartment and into the bathroom.

He sits you down on the toilet. The light clack of the lid hitting the porcelain beneath from your sudden weight seemed to jolt you awake a bit; your eyes refocus and follow his movements as he shuffles through the medicine cabinet. He pulls out a few things and then returns to tend to his patient.

"Hand. Here," he says as he holds out his own. You offer yours, and he meets you halfway. He always does. He’s as meticulous and calm as always as he cleans, disinfects, and wraps your wounds, ever the doctor, but there’s a certain softness in his motions that you’re sure he reserves for only his most cherished patients. 

Only for you.

The thought rolls a warm wave over you, the once wet blanket that had been dragging you down now fresh out of the laundry and wrapped carefully around you, cozy and hot and certain. There’s still a bit of damp spots here and there, but those will also dry in time. And you know Zayne will still be here when that time comes.

Your thoughts are broken when long fingers drag against your cheek, wiping away yet more damp spots and fanning through your shining lashes.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Zayne says, repeating his words from earlier that day. Was that really only today? This day was lasting a lifetime. As with before, his tone holds no ice. You regret snapping at him when he was only trying to help. He must feel your tension, because he puffs a breath out through his nose just then, and the warm air tickles the hairs on your forehead. He places a kiss there, the barest brush of his lips on your skin. He pushes your hair back with long warm fingers, tucking a strand behind your ear. “If you need help with that, I’m here. Always. You need only ask.”

Later still and he’s tucking you into bed and giving your forehead another gentle kiss, making you feel like a kid again. He’s surprisingly good at that. You don't know how he does it.

Zayne follows you under the covers, and leaves you an open invitation to snuggle against him, if you wish. You gratefully accept, tucking your head under his chin as he envelops you. He’s very careful not to apply pressure to your bandaged skin. 

Right before you fall asleep, he whispers a promise of breakfast tomorrow, and dinner, and whatever else comes next. A promise of staying, no matter what.

#soft zayne is best zayne #change my mind (you won't) #love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne lads #l&ds #l&ds x reader #fics

[tcfactory]

I was talking with someone the other day and it got me thinking about something.

I generally run with the idea that part of the reason why Luo Binghe became THE target for Shen Qingqiu's abuse was because Shen Qingqiu fell for the 'white sheep' routine. Like, it was a lot of things all together: coming to the sect at an unfortunate time (Shen Qingqiu was in a mental health freefall because he was at a bottleneck and struggling to form his core, and here comes Luo Binghe with his perfect aptitude who's expected to blitz through all of the hurdles Shen Qingqiu sweated blood to scale), the pettiness he felt towards Liu Qingge when he picked Luo Binghe out (another bitter association), Luo Binghe having Ning Yingying right away as a friend and support (who stuck with him even against her shizun's orders!!) when Shen Qingqiu was all alone, the jealousy that however briefly Luo Binghe had a loving mother

and the crown jewel on this cake was that Luo Binghe, despite having suffered the death of a loved one and poverty on the streets, still seemed like a naive little ray of sunshine. And no matter what Shen Qingqiu does to him, he remains pathetic and vulnerable in the way that makes kinder people want to take care of him and protect him.

Shen Qingqiu is not a kind man and he knows intimately that the world isn't kind either. Not to pathetic children who don't grow up with the power of a rich family to put them somewhere safe where they can become pathetic, maybe well-meaning maybe not adults. To him it's the harbinger of failure.

The Luo Binghe he sees after picking him up is not smart, not crafty in the way he expects a street kid to be. He's not driven (wanting to make his late mother proud... motivation like that ought to fade with the memories. In four or five years Luo Binghe won't even recall the face or voice of his beloved mother and then Shen Qingqiu will be left with a child with no drive whatsoever). All Luo Binghe has going for him is his bright eyed optimism and his servile nature (which cannot, should not last in a cultivator) and his exceptional aptitude, which is useless on its own.

I struggle to believe that Luo Binghe was the first on the peak who was naturally talented (Shen Qingqiu's ruined cultivation base put him so far behind that even with his hard work, he lagged behind Shang Qinghua whose cultivation is mediocre at best). Or the first to have a support network of friends or a loving family. And as much as Shen Qingqiu resented them for having these gifts that he didn’t, he never tried to destroy them the way he tried to destroy Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe has all the tools of greatness and the hallmarks of failure all in one and it's that combination that triggers Shen Qingqiu's hate. Shen Qingqiu, in his rush to spite Liu Qingge, picked up trash that glitters. He can never admit to this mistake, so he decides that he's going to drive off Luo Binghe or destroy him, whichever happens first, because he can't imagine being stuck with this, this... pathetic little beast. One way or another, he will get rid of him before he can become a stain on Shen Qingqiu's reputation.

And we know how all of that turned out...

But what if he did see through it. Luo Binghe slipped up in his introduction and Shen Qingqiu immediately saw him for the white lotus that he was.

Shen Qingqiu knows the world, he knows its monsters and its beasts. So he looks at this child (not as weak and battered from his life on the street as others, the promise of strength and a bright future written in his meridians) pretending to be small and weak and pathetic and he's terrified.

Only the most dangerous predators pretend to be prey. He took a cuckoo into his nest, he accepted a wolf into his flock. Now it's his job to deal with it, before it grows fangs and bites the hand that feeds it.

He doesn't trust his martial siblings to listen to him on this, to hear him (unpleasant and sharp and biting, hated and hateful) out over the little beast (teary eyed and pathetic, pretty little thing you want to take home and keep safe).

He always did hide his fear the best with hate.

He will wear down this intruder until he can find out what his goal is and destroy him, before the beast can destroy them first.

It's almost a relief, when Luo Binghe stands on the edge of the abyss, his sheepskin torn and staring at him with the resentful eyes of a demon. It's the one moment when he doesn't hate Luo Binghe; he is a demon who will act as a demon does, as is his nature.

Pushing him into oblivion is

relief.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #luo binghe #after reading the extras I'm kinda leaning towards the second now #it's still up for interpretation if he really did see something or it's a self-fulfilling prophecy made by his paranoia #but tbh I don't think even shen yuan could make a good person out of binghe #like the wedding extra is kinda proof that binghe can't even be a good person to the one he loves and loves him in return #so yeah... I might do something with this eventually

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my mother not to do certain things?

Let me start off by saying i'm homeschooled. I've been homeschooled my entire life. I don't have any friends offline, so I've pretty much come here to ask for outside opinions from my friend groups (online).

Prefer not to state ages, if that's okay. It makes me uncomfortable.

I have ocd, suspected autism, and either auditory processing disorder or misophonia (we're not sure which.) as well as a plethora of other issues. my mother is very aware that i have ocd (she has it herself) and i've mentioned misophonia to her several times. she doesn't know about my other mental issues, as for reasons you're probably going to see here, as i don't feel comfortable or safe telling her. (or, i've tried, and she doesn't listen, or tells me i'm "being dramatic.")

my ocd is quite crippling, to the point i've tried medication, herbal tea (chamomile seems to work a bit!), asking friends for advice, and even asking her for advice. as of the last year, it's had a grip on my life and has been quite a problem for me. i'm unable to do things i want or need to a lot, and especially struggle doing most things, even basic tasks. i'm unable to see a therapist/counsellor or psychologist/psychiatrist for personal/financial reasons.

a lot of my triggers (well, not exactly triggers for the ocd, but they stop me from doing things.) revolve around sound, especially people talking. whistling is a major trigger for my misophonia/apd, as are other high pitched noises.

my mother has a tendency to watch tv a lot, and i often ask her to not do this when i'm trying to do certain things, as it makes my ocd a bit worse, and it's often rather loud. (please note i wear headphones a lot of the time for sensory issues.)

however, when i ask her either to turn it down, pause it temporarily, or ask her to turn it off for a bit, she has a tendency to get mad/upset. to the point of throwing a bit of a fit over it, in a way that to me seems a bit attention seeking (in the bad way). she says things like "fine, whatever." and flaps her arms about dramatically or slaps her legs, or she says "i don't even wanna watch it now, it's ruined."

i'll go ahead and say she's a bit self-centered in a lot of ways. for years she has said i've "targeted" her and "treated her terribly" even though any time i was (to her) doing these things, i was usually defending myself or telling her to do something that she needed to do that had been requested for days/weeks/months/sometimes years. i also have a tendency to ask her what she's doing, either out of genuine curiosity, or because she has done something strange to me that i didn't understand. which she gets mad over.

she also gets mad if i ask if she's coming over here (i have a tendency to walk/pace in certain areas to music, it helps with stress/adhd/also helps me write/act things out. she is very aware of this and this isn't really a problem.) or ask how long she will be over here. she seems to think me asking this is telling her she can't come over, or desperately trying to get her to move. admittedly sometimes i DO want her to move, but 90% of the time i am just asking so i know if i need to move to a different area to walk or just stop temporarily.

sometimes when i am having a particular peak in my ocd/anxiety/whatever else, i ask her not to talk for a moment/few minutes, either so i can do something i need to, or because i'm afraid it will make it worse. she'll either get mad about this, or go on a tangent about "not catering to me" and saying things "the real world doesn't work like this, and nobody cares that you have ocd/issues." she has a tendency to take my issues as a personal attack on her, when in reality i would ask anyone to stop for a moment.

she has a tendency to belittle me in a sense for it. i've tried to explain some of it to her (without revealing details of my trauma she doesn't know about, as most of my ocd is linked to severe ptsd.) and she says it "doesn't make any sense" and i "need to stop" and i "need to just make myself stop." she has ocd, and knows compulsions are not always rational, and yet still says these things.

part of my desire not to go to a therapist is because of her. she claims they will either try to put me away take me to another home/put me in foster care, or drug me up on medication that will make me dull. (the other part is more personal, and unrelated to her, but to my aforementioned trauma.)

one of the things i especially ask her not to do is whistle, or make a few other certain noises (eating loud, using nail files around me, etc) because they are especially triggering to me. she'll either blatantly refuse and say i "don't get to tell her what to do" or i don't "control her" (please note i am just asking, but when i DO specifically tell her to stop, it is because she either already knows this sound is triggering to me, or i've already asked, and i'm losing my patience.) or she'll do it louder/more just to trigger me further (my father also does this. sometimes as a joke which in some ways is worse.) or she'll go on the "not catering + nobody cares" tangent again.

i know my ocd and other issues can be a bit interrupting, but i don't ask huge things of her or anyone else. all i ask is for them to not make certain sounds around me, temporarily ask them to not do something/stop doing something, or ask them to do it a bit quieter for me. please note she has the ability to watch tv/videos on other devices with headphones easily, she just chooses not to. and worse of all, they treat it like it's not interrupting to me, when it affects my everyday life in ways far worse than asking/telling them not to do something.

it makes me feel unwanted and unappreciated, and i'll admit, i've contemplated....not existing, if you will, many times over this issue and others.

i just don't really know if i'm asking too much, or if they're just being shitty. i want outside opinions on this.

so, AITA?

(id put a tl;dr in here, but i don't really know what to put. feel free to do it for me. also, i know this was kinda long, but i needed to put some extra things in, sorry if thats like an inconvenience or anything!)

(adding my sideblog here so i can get notifs, @ocdaitathrowaway)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[harlowsbby]

Spooky Nights In

“Did you make sure we have everything?” You asked Jack as the two of you made your way out of Target.

“We got everything babe I’m pretty sure we bought them out of everything Halloween themed.” He laughed as he started loading up the car with all your decorations.

Usally on Halloween the two of you would go out and just have fun with your friends but this year you decided to spend Halloween indoors.

You saw this trend going around where usually a group of girls had a ‘spooky night in’ which is when they’d decorate pumpkins, make cookies and bake pizzas that were the shape of a ghost or a pumpkin.

You bought some candy and all the other many essentials you’d need for the night, along with matching pajamas.

When you got back home the two of you did a quick little shower and tossed on your Halloween themed pajamas you had got from Target.

They were orange and had bats all over them.

“What are we doing first babe?” Jack asked and placed all the candy and everything else onto the table.

“You wanna make the drinks? And I’ll start on the pizza dough?” He smiled and nodded.

Jack wasn’t a drinker so you got some apple cider to drink. He poured some in two wine glasses and got the spider gummies and placed two in your drink and two in his drink.

“Here babe.” He handed you your drink. “Wow you actually did really good.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not dumb babe.” You stiffed a laugh.

“If you say so.” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, let’s see how you do at making the pizza.”

Making a ghost shaped pizza seemed easier on the video you watched online but having to actually make it made it ten times harder.

You stuck your tongue out a bit as if that was going to help you concentrate a bit more, Jack watched with amusement as you rolled the dough and started to attempt to shape it into a ghost.

After a few failed attempts you finally managed to get your pizza to look like a ghost.

“Wow you actually did it, it only took you about what? 4-5 tries.” Jack joked and you huffed and placed the pizza in the oven for 20 minutes for it to bake.

“You’re such a hater that’s why I’m going to win at this pumpkin decorating contest.”

Instead of carving the pumpkins you decided to paint the outside, it was less of a mess.

“You wish babe you know I’m the best at everything and anything.” He stated with a smile.

“We’ll see about that Harlow.” You set a timer for 15 minutes once the timer was up you both would decide who was the winner.

You peaked over at Jack and noticed he was using a lot of blue and red on his pumpkin.

“What are you painting?” He glanced up at you and turned his pumpkin a bit to the side so you wouldn’t be able to see anything.

“Why do you wanna know? You trynna copy me now?”

“No, I just wanna get an idea.” He shook his head.

“I don’t think so babe you’ll have to wait till I’m finished.”

Once the timer finishe you flipped your pumpkin around as did Jack and your mouth flew open upon seeing his. “Where did you learn to paint?”

Jack had painted the ghost face killer from scream onto his pumpkin and you on the other hand well maybe it was a good thing you played it safe with your polka dot pumpkin.

“My mom, who taught you how to paint? A five year old.” He snorted and you glared. “You’re lucky I’m trying to be nice today or else.”

He raised his brow. “Or else what? You’re out here threatening me now?”

“I’d throw all this paint at you, and it’s not a threat it’s a promise.” He chuckled.

“Oh really? Let me see you do it then.” You smirked. “Don’t tempt me Jack.” He raised his hands.

“I’m not tempting I wanna see you do it, you talk a lot of shit babe I wanna see if you can actually match your words.”

Without any hesitation you picked up the mini bottles of paint and started squeezing them which resulted in the paint going all over his shirt.

“Oops looks like I made a mess.” You stated sarcastically. “I guess I’ll have to do the same.” Jack said and before you knew it he was throwing chips and popcorn at you.

“Jack stop it!” You laughed and tried dodging all the food. “You started it baby so ima finish it.” He laughed and chased you around the house with a can of whipped cream and spray cheese.

“Jack stop it I’m sorry!” He grinned. “Say I’m the best boyfriend in the world and you’ll stop.” You snorted. “You’re so cringe I’m not saying that.”

“I guess I’m not stopping.” He continued to spray some whipped cream. “Okay, okay! You’re the best boyfriend in the whole entire world.” You giggled and he smiled in satisfaction.

“Damn we made a mess.” You looked around the house seeing it looked like world war 3 happened at your house.

“And I think the pizza burnt.” You sniffed the air and sighed at the smell of burning dough.

“Wanna just order in?” You nodded. “Sounds good and after you order it we can shower and clean up.”

Once Jack finished ordering the pizza the two of you cleaned up and showered once again.

After the two of you ate you both laid on the couch together and scrolled through all of the Halloween movies before settling on Halloween Town.

“You know I actually had fun today babe.” Jack told you as you leaned into his touch.

“Me too I love spending time with you.” You told him and leaned your head back a bit and he leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips.

“I love you babe.”

“I love you too Jack, Happy Halloween big head.” He snorted. “Happy Halloween babe.”

Liked by lilnasx, urbanwyatt, jaydawayda, brysontiller, lilbaby and 2,658,000 others.

jackharlow Halloween time with my boo 🦇🖤

lilnasx oh gosh you two are so cute 🥹

druski damn way to make me feel fucking single

lilnasx @druski2funny FELT 😭

chloebailey I need a man 😫

ellamai so cute! 🥹

brysontiller cutest couple man

(I really didn’t like this I couldn’t think of any Halloween fics to save my life 💀 but I hope you guys still like it)

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

[kyufessions]

target run

synopsis: shopping with chenle can be exhausting, especially for your first apartment together

genre: fluff + angst with a happy ending

word count: 1.2k

pairings: non-idol, boyfriend! chenle x g.n. reader

a/n: falling down the chenle rabbit hole lately. sigh.

general taglist: @jwnghyuns • @eaudenana • @soobin-chois

One hour in and you were already growing a bit irritated with your boyfriend. Although you loved shopping, shopping with chenle was nearly impossible at times. When it came to where to shop, chenle liked more expensive stores while you like stores like target, ikea, places where everyone automatically thinks of when shopping for clothes or even furniture. Chenle prefers the luxury stores that are long out of the way; normally you would agree to go out of curiosity since you didn't grow up around that type of lifestyle, but today you insisted on taking him to target. And you were already regretting it. Sure, shopping for your first apartment together wasn't going to be easy but oh my gosh you didn't expect so much back and forth.

“How about this desk? I think it’d be great for the at-home office.” you suggested, eyeing a wooden desk with bottom drawers on each side that could fit a bunch of files from both of your jobs. Squatting down, you point out the bottom drawers and how wide the surface seems to be. “I think it could fit under the windowsill perfectly, too. And there seems to be a lot of space-”

“No, not enough space.” he says, not even giving it a glance. His eyes stayed glued to his phone as he scrolled doing whatever he was doing, eyes focused on his screen. “How about this one? It has drawer space on the top and is a two tiered one- each of us can have our own tier on the desk.”

Standing up with a sigh, you peak over his shoulder and look at the expensive desk. It was cherry wood and even though it was really nice, it was also really expensive- almost one thousand for it. “It's nice but-”

“Then let's buy it instead of this thing.” he starts pointing to the desk you were just referencing. “Or any of these,” his fingers starting pointing to each of the desks that target had to offer.

You just rolled your eyes and looked at the other desks, making a mental note of your favorite ones before moving onto the next aisle.

Hour two and Chenle was following behind you, continuing to scroll on his phone and finding bookshelves online he preferred and were more expensive. It's not that chenle liked buying expensive things just because he could, he just thought more expensive = better quality; he's stuck by that all his life.

“Babe, what about this one?” chenle asks, turning his phone to face you.

You turned to look at him with hope, thinking he had found a shelf he actually liked in this store. When you were met with his phone inches from your face, you just groaned and started walking away as you spoke, “you’re unbelieve, chenle.”

He grabs the shopping cart filled with nothing but hangers and bed liners, following behind you. “It's not that serious.”

Turning on your heel, you stop the cart with your hand and lean forward with annoyance steaming off of you. “You’re right, its not. But I just asked for one thing: to pick some furniture out at target. That's all I wanted. And you can’t even agree with me on one thing for our first apartment. It might not seem important right now, but how you are reacting now could be a potential prediction of the future when it comes to other situations-”

“Woah woah, y/n.” chenle interrupted, quickly being interrupted himself.

“And stop interrupting me, I hate that. Just,” pausing, you took a quick harsh breath in. “Just let me be by myself for a bit.”

Hour three and you sat at the starbucks by yourself, reading a book you bought in the entertainment section just to pass the time. Normally you don't tend to get upset by such things, but with your last semester creeping up, your job overworking you before the semester starts, and this move-in with your long time boyfriend it’s all starting to pile on top of each other and mix together. You had asked chenle for one thing: to pick out some furniture from target. Not all, of course. But some stuff for the second bedroom in your apartment you were going to turn into an at home office for you both to use when needed. Chenle was hesitant at first but after explaining it would only be for that one room, he agreed.

In your relationship with him, everything was always equal- everything was quite lovely. Not in the past three years have you ever had a huge argument like this, especially in public. Communication has always been you and chenle’s strongest suit, so arguments were minimal and worked out right away.

When the forty minute mark almost hit, chenle got in line at the starbucks and ordered himself a refresher and bought you your favorite flavored cake pop. once he retrieved both, he sat down across from you as he slid the cake pop in your direction. Startled, you looked up cautiously and saw your boyfriend with a shy grin- unsure of how to start the conversation. For a few seconds you just stare at one another, not a word being said or any specific facial expressions being shared.

“I’m sorry.” was all you heard from him as you took the cake pop out of the bag. looking up, you motioned for him to continue as you took a bite from the ear of the so-called ‘bee’. he cleared his throat, pushing back his hair out of nervousness. “I just like giving you what you didn’t have growing up; I want to give you everything I'm able to.”

Nodding, you quickly swallow a small piece of your cake pop before responding. “I appreciate the chenle, but i still feel bad when you pay for things. And now that I have a somewhat decent paying job, I want to pay you back for everything you've done for me these past three years.” gradually reaching for his hand, you begin rubbing small circles into the back of it. Neither of you were one for any extent of PDA, but in this moment it just felt right to do. “I appreciate you looking out for me, baby. But next time can you explain that to me instead of being an asshole? I was about to fight you in the home goods aisle of target of all places. I, unfortunately, do not want to be known as the couple who fought in the middle of the target.”

Chenle chuckles, his heart warming smile causing your heart to skip a beat. Three years and you never got sick of seeing it- you hope to see that smile for the rest of your life. “What couple do you want to be known as?” He follows you to the garbage and grabs your book, putting it in the top part of the shopping cart he had with him.

Playfully thinking as you throw your garbage away and start walking towards the forbidden home goods section, you turn to him with a small grin. “The annoying, crazy couple with three cats and two dogs.”

He nods, following behind you with the cart and that same smile. “I'd like that.”

#kyufessions nct #nct #nct dream #nct chenle #nct dream chenle #zhong chenle #chenle #chenle fluff #chenle angst

[catboybiologist]

March 2024 documentation and transition journal

Just got my levels results back, meaning that the doc is fully updated for March:

This is possibly one of the most exciting and interesting months of HRT since starting, because I've experimented around a lot with injection doses, so let's talk about that! I'm also slapping a couple of old pics in here for reference, so I'll slap some selfie tags on this.

So, lots of interesting HRT stuff. At my last levels check, I was on 4mg injectable EV a week. And… my E actually went down, even though that’s an effectively higher dose than my previous regimen (6mg sublingual/day). Because of this, I talked with my provider, and essentially she told me to fuck around. I probably was way looser with it than she wanted me to be, but she told me to go to 8mg/week maximum, and try and settle on 6mg/week minimum. So….. here’s what I did.

1 week of 8mg.

2 weeks at 7mg.

2 weeks 6mg, during which my levels were checked at mid.

I… can’t really advocate for this. Basically, my logic was that I wanted to see what it felt like to max things out, but have my actual levels check reflect what I’m like at 6mg to know if increasing or maximizing the dose beyond that is necessary at all. Ultimately, I’ve concluded that 8mg feels too high- I start getting a bit of headache and nausea at peak. 7mg feels very comfortable. 6mg, I felt fucking miserable at trough. When I was on 4mg/week, I used a couple of sublingual pills to try and get through that, but I tried to see if I could stop doing that. It went okay for the higher doses, but on 6mg… ugh. Felt like complete shit. I’ll def be using a couple this week to get through that, probably just 4-6mg sublingual on wed/thurs to make sure I’m feeling okay.

Oh. Also. I ditched Spironolactone, against the advice of my provider. 

I was getting really, REALLY irritated by the diuretic effects, so I quit it when I tried to 8mg dose just to see what would happen. I figured that 8mg would be more than enough to suppress T on its own (likely true), and so I thought it would be the best time to try that. And… when I stopped spiro, a depressive haze that had been in my head lifted very quickly. I thought it was just depression based on a rough past couple of months, and that’s probably true, but it also felt physical. The diuretic effects have also stopped, and I genuinely can’t imagine going back on spiro.

I’ve heard a lot of theoretical stuff about spiro potentially being able to inhibit growth and development. It's possibly a growth hormone inhibitor, but should be a more potent antiandrogen than anyone else. It’s…. Really hard to say whether spiro actually inhibits growth. As with a lot of transfemme physical developments, there’s never been a comprehensive, conclusive study on it, which is why its relegated to miscellaneous anecdotes that everyone will swear one way or the other on. I’ll have some opinions on this later.

So what improvement to my levels did I get out of all of this?

Well…. Good, but nothing radical. My midcycle estrogen is 159 pg/mL, which is about my target for trough. It’s a good step up from the 4mg dose, but I’m probably going to increase to 7mg/week- that felt fine to me, and I’m pretty confident that that’ll be the dose that nails it. I’m pretty deadset on going forward with that, I would just need a levels check to verify we’re all good there. (Side note, I’m a bit frustrated that my body literally seems allergic to just… stuff. Idk if I have an overactive liver or what, but my T crashed super easily, adderall consistently lasts shorter than it should, and my E is really struggling to go up.)

And did this result in any physical improvement? 

I actually think that this last month has been the single fastest month of physical development I’ve ever had. Here’s some things I’ve noticed:

My breasts have become much larger and more developed in relation to my chest, with a much better shape. Comparison pictures to even just the end of January show a wild difference (sorry, not posting that publicly). To be fair, though, I’m still pretty clearly in tanner 2, and I maybe want to wait for just a bit more development before I start progesterone. 

Waist measurement is still going down, and hip measurement is still holding steady. This means that, in effect, my hips are getting wider.

And this is one of the most exciting ones- my upper body seems like its getting smaller. I’m floored by this. My underbust is less, my chest looks noticeably less barrel-y, and my ribcage kind of “flows” into my waist better. I wrote a bit about this on reddit just now, but I think I know what’s happening here. Not only is fat burning from the sides of my chest as it builds on the front of my chest, I actually think my costal cartilage might be getting “tighter”, effectively pulling my ribs a bit closer in to my sternum

I have…. No way to confirm the hunches of that last one, other than the images I can show. So for educational purposes (and y’know. Making the funny women in my phone type funny syllables) Here’s a quick timeline where I think you can see the “barrellness” of my chest decreasing:

From left to right, we have September (0-1mo), December (3-4mo), March (6-7mo)

Don't worry, my shoulders are just as wide and athletic dyke-y.

Am I delusional? Is this anything? Maybe. Pictures are hard to make consistent with changes this small. But I do feel like its noticeable, and it seems like women’s cut shirts and tanks have fit me in a way that’s a lot more consistent with a cis woman’s body. Again, there’s also nsfw images, and I think they show a lot of progress, and I think I can pretty definitively say that this has been the single month with the most physical changes since, well, my first month back in September. 

Why did this happen? Well, I’m working with a sample size of one here, and multiple variables have changed at the same time. There’s really three things that could be happening: increased injection dosage, ditching spiro, or the general come and go of physical changes. It’s impossible to completely know what’s going on because of this, unfortunately- I’d need way more data. That said…. This is the first new “wave” of development I’ve had since I started, and my actual blood levels didn’t increase that much. I really, really don’t want to conclude anything, but I’m kinda thinking that spiro had something to do with it. It has broad effects on physiology which aren’t entirely characterized, that could easily theoretically be inhibiting generic growth and development. That said, I think starting with a strong antiandrogen is basically necessary for HRT. It’s extremely difficult to get E levels up without robustly inhibiting T first. Obviously don’t take this as medical advice, or even a scientific opinion. This is nothing more than a hunch.

Idk. I’m happy. I feel like I finally am starting to break through the progress stall I’ve been growing increasingly frustrated with. And I think getting the proper injection dose actually worked to break through it. I’m feeling a lot better with my transition in general too. I won’t elaborate much here, but I’ve been coming out to a lot more people, and its been tentatively going about as well as I could ask. We’ll see what the future holds, but I’m excited about it.

#trans journal #hrt #transfemme hrt #mtf hrt #trans selfie #trans #transgender #trans timeline #trans progress #transition #transitioning #trans woman #trans female

[sanctus-ingenium]

i answer your asks vol... 6?

This one made me actually consider how they balance the humours beyond just a simply "they scour it out". Because sometimes a holy beast gets 'sick' and it's not necessarily related to any sort of tissue growth, it's more often a mechanical fault and because the beast is considered to be alive, he is then therefore 'sick'. So how do we deal with this? An enginesmith will make the necessary repairs, but sometimes the sickness is related to environmental conditions. The four humours are arranged on a scale like this:

A mechanical fault associated with being too hot and dry could be something like a lack of lubrication on moving machine parts. So this would be considered the reason for a production of yellow bile (excess of yellow bile, btw, was what Pantera was diagnosed with on his last outing). Whether or not the bile is literal or more symbolic depends on the case. Anyway this was the reason Pantera is associated with fire (originally, when I was designing them all) and Leun, diametrically opposite, is associated with phlegm, water, acid, etc.

But anyway, the way to fix these imbalances in hot/cold/wet/dry is to simply reduce whichever one is excessive. In practice, keeping holy beasts maintained even when they're not out on a crusade is a full time job for an army of workers, where the atmospheric conditions need to be as neutral as possible. Too wet and you've got rust, too dry and the metal fatigues, to hot and it might warp and break, too cold and the joints won't fit properly, etc etc. Although the enginesmiths view this through a lens of The Four Humours, it's also just good practice to try to keep things balanced.

Btw while they do cure an excess of blood by bleeding the holy beast, they don't make leeches big enough :'(

-

There are illustrated representations of dragons that are pretty traditionally dragony (typically a winged serpent with many tails representing the stinging tendrils). These are added to drawings and art as a catch-all symbol for a conscious and targeted Evil. The laity, which is very devout, is unlikely to associate dragons with resistance - dragons cause a lot of damage too, and those stinging barbs will kill you just from the trauma of the impalement before the venom even has a chance to (unless you just get grazed, in which case.. the venom will paralyse you. then kill you)

So active rebellions/civil wars/wars of succession have occurred many times. The subjugated Midaean nation/territory (depending on who you ask) rallies around their beloved Saint Lycaon, a wolf. Flags and signs depicting a wolf devouring a crocodile/a lion/whatever holy beast currently tops the hierarchy of the church would be more likely. Rebellion itself is rarely black and white and as neat as picking a symbol the church hates. It is more likely people would pick a symbol that they love. Outside of Midea, the Mezian empire might not be at its peak but it also has not given its own citizens and laity a reason to take up arms against it.

at the start of the story, at least

-

awesome questions thank you @curious-sootball !

So the nerve cords inside the vertebrae are artificial, but they still perform the same physiological function as a real spinal column. They interface with a knight's dialogue. This produces an incredible amount of heat - this is why the spines are often exposed, even though that might be a point of vulnerability. The spinous processes in particular are very effective heat sinks.

But the tail? In most cases we don't need the tail, really. The spinal column ends at the base of the pelvis. The tail is cropped for most beasts on purpose - we don't need this thing dangling around and becoming entangled, and it has no machinery around it to act as replacement muscles so it couldn't move even if they wanted it to. Krokodilos's tail is the exception and it's just extremely heavy for not much pay off. That's a lot of additional engines we gotta maintain.

So the tail tends to be abandoned. The bones are kept of course but not mounted on the chassis where they're not needed. With no nerve cord running through them they don't run hot either so they won't disperse heat all that well.

Now for replacing bones... they don't. The bones that exist in the chassis are the bare minimum needed to perform the required functions - basic movement. They don't have ribs, they often don't have phalanges. A skull is there to complete the nerve cord - but all you need of that skull is the occipital bone. Nothing more.

If they break a leg, it might be repaired using screw and plate fixation. The bone may deign to knit together (enginesmiths swear that they don't allow tissue growth ever.. but sometimes you need some periosteum. Don't tell the bishops). But if it gets crushed? That's the holy beast done, scrap heap time. The majority of all holy beasts that have ever existed have already broken down and been decommissioned at the start of this story - we only have seven left (eight if you count krokodilos). Krokodilos is an unusual case because he is not dead, so they can't just hold a state funeral and add his heart engine block to the big hall of old hearts in the cathedral. He's sleeping.

But he's the exception. Take Saint Guinefort - dead as a doornail. He had a full funeral, his heart was put in the hall and his body was [redacted] like they do with all dead holy beasts. And then he was [redacted] and now our pal "Sir Victory" with the metal arm uses him as Nosewyse. Circle of life.

I think sidecar motorcycle is a pretty apt way of looking at him lmao. You don't wanna know how many people he's cooked.

-

Hey there! So I know I've mentioned they are similar to pterosaurs but they are not related to them at all. In fact they are cetaceans :) Later art I did of them plays up the mammal traits a bit more. Check out these nipples

However it is a fact that they are not closely related to modern cetaceans - as in, they did not evolve from modern whales and dolphins, but belong to a side branch that diverged relatively early, around the same time dragons were leaving the water for the skies. That art is quite old too, from before I kind of nailed it all down, so if I drew them now I would remove the more derived traits (i.e the single blowhole, the tail flukes, etc) and tidy it up a little. They diverged from the lineage that would become modern whales before the pelvic limbs were lost. I originally depict them having the crowbar-like claws on their feet to lever skin parasites off the dragon, but i think they are more likely to not use their feet much at all, and are more likely to use their single huge beak-like tooth to do the job instead. They cannot walk on flat surfaces.

-

Only insects and, specifically, winged insects :) I know it would be really cool to have various other giant arthropods but milennia ago, when they crossed into Thera for the first time, insects were the only fliers. And there is no other way to get over the mountain range quickly enough for it not to kill you. The mountain range in which the endless city sits is completely and 100% devoid of life. A journey on foot for a tiny bug would be next to impossible - they are more likely to starve or simply turn around and go back to where the food is.

The winged insects, otoh, can cross the range in a day or less, if the breeze is flowing right. And they would find plants already there in Thera - also solely wind-dispersed species from the previous time the mountains arrived and linked the world with Earth. The insects didn't really come by choice, sometimes the wind just blows the wrong way, but they definitely got lucky.

There are wingless insects in Thera today but only because they lost that trait over time (like ants or larviform female beetles). They have managed to colonise every reasonable habitat, including the sea (though the sea is not very salty) and have developed into a lot of very strange forms which might be unrecognisable to us. But a lot of them just got bigger and smarter.

This time round, in the period of time the story is set (early 1900s on earth), the mountains appeared and new animals crossed over who were not insects. Birds have become invasive in Thera, happily taking advantage of the smaller insect species who are completely unprepared for this new threat. There are also some wind-dispersed spiders hanging out now.

EDIT: oh i forgor the parasites on the flying insects that first colonised thera... yes they would have mites and horsehair worms and things of that nature

#setting: mez #setting: thera #i wrote so much <3 read it

[lnc2]

seeing a lot of posts asking why ladrien wouldn't have a scene like exaltation in previous seasons which i think completely misses the point of why this episode happened at all.

marichat and ladrien scenes are touch points for what's happening in the love square as a whole because a marichat scene for marinette is also ladynoir while for chat noir is also adrinette. in the same way that a ladrien scene for ladybug would be an adrinette moment and for adrien it would be a ladynoir moment. every interaction informs how they see each other in all sides. they are also vehicles that move the plot forward.

ladrien being requited means that we saw them being silly and excited to be around each other and then in season 4 we saw the shift in strike back where marinette decided that any time she tried to get close to adrien bad things happened. simultaneously chat noir was there to pull her through her darkest moment and she was like here i will be safe. meanwhile we have adrien who is realizing how much he cares for marinette and acknowledging that ladybug said they weren't going to happen so he's moving on too.

so we have two kids so desperate to be around their crush, desperate to move on from another crush, and with the experience of what went wrong the first time and also some sense of confidence that their new crush has liked them before and presumably still does.

but for some reason their new crush keeps avoiding them and running away. maybe they've moved on but it's frustrating and a little bit devastating, especially for marinette who is hanging on by a thread right now and whose main support system isn't taking her new feelings as seriously as she would like.

enter chat noir at the moment her frustration is at its peak. and they're both staying and flirting and excited to be together and so weeks of frustration boils over and they're like fucking bet let's go.

it's silly, it's sweet, but it's a moment out of time. it's borrowed time.

andre throws a bucket of cold water on them and then when they talk about how their previous crushes were too big too bear marinette bridges that gap and they kiss.

but it can't stay like that, it's not sustainable, and the point of the episode is that as long as there is a mask between them they cannot be together.

the secrets that adrien and marinette are forced to hold will always be a ripe source for angst and misunderstandings and hurt and will make one or both of them a target for akumatization.

so it ends with marinette once again thinking that she's the problem and any time she gets close to someone she likes she will mess up in her role as ladybug and that no guy could want to be with her. and then we have adrien who is like fine she loved me once she can love me again let's go.

this episode couldn't have been ladrien because that's not the purpose that ladrien serves for love square. it had to be marichat and it had to be now. it didn't happen because they are more free and authentic with each other- it happened because they were desperate and that's the point. no earlier season would have them trying to go out like this in this way and the only reason it happened in exaltation is because they couldn't reach each other as ladynoir and adrinette.

this episode is the turning point.

adrien go get your girl.

#ml spoilers #ml meta

[submalevolentgrace]

(yesterday i received an ask, which prompted me to write the following response. the asker has apologised for sending it and i took it down to prevent anyone from laying into them, but present is anonymously below because i like my response and want you to see it)

"Based on the fun new revelation that the world is ending before I graduate, is it even worth it to try prepping or should we all just get ready to jump into traffic come 2025?"

okay, there is, A LOT to unpack here. i'm gonna do my best to respond to this helpfully, the way i am facing it: confronting it, emotionally processing it, pragmatically preparing, and holding on to a sort of grim, dark hope.

we're talking about climate collapse and the latest IPCC report here right? first off, it's not a new revelation. maybe it is for you personally, but for humanity as a whole, we've known about the inevitable outcomes of emissions damaging the climate since like the 70's. i found out about it myself in primary school in the mid 90's, when it was still called the greenhouse effect, and i then spent 20 years on and off in various roles of support for climate activism, when i had the spoons. if you're young and just finding out about it now i know it's probably overwhelming, and especially sucks the later you've been born into this mess… but i'm pointing out that it's not new, to underline the point that it's also not sudden. yeah it's getting worse, but it's been getting worse for generations, and will keep getting worse for generations.

it's not a meteor, or a volcano. it's a creeping steady decline of habitability with sputters and bursts of natural disaster; there is no timeline or event or threshold at which the world ends here.

that 2025 "deadline" from this year's IPCC synthesis report, for instance; it's not a date that the world ends. honestly, in some ways, it's kinda meaningless. what it is, as i understand it, is that all the data says that if we want to limit global average temperature rises to 1.5C by end of century - which we do, because even 2C would be catastrophic - we need emissions to peak by 2025 and then rapidly decline. it's a vastly oversimplified agregate of incredibly complex data reduced down to the point of absurdity in a desperate attempt by scientists to get corporations to allow governments to take action to limit corporations. it's a deadline for government action to limit effects by 2100. the year will come, and pass, and the world will go on. probably with emissions still going up, probably with targets shifted again and 2C accepted as the next half hearted goal that will also be missed, but life will go on.

no end of the world. life will go on. into the 2030's, into the 2040's, into the 2100's, life will go on. it'll be hotter and colder, wetter and drier, more storms and bushfires, less food and fertile land, but life will go on. populations will starve, land will become uninhabitable, life will go on. when you hear about "the end of the world" from climate collapse, it's not a hard apocalypse that kills us all off or whatever. it's the slow creep of nature getting more harsh, and the way we do things much harder.

if you look at the serious reports from scientists and militaries, the language you see isn't "end of the world", it's "end of modern societies". that's what's really at risk: the fragile infrastructure that holds up the ruling classes of rich nations and has us all scurrying around to make it work. mass scale power grids, international supply chains and just in time logistics, silicon wafer production, year-round plastic wrapped preserved passionfruit chunks grown in thailand, packed in argentina, sold in france, profits to america, money stored on a computer in the cayman islands. i can't sugarcoat it and say that's all that's at stake; people are definitely going to starve and drown and die of exposure; but that already happens every day in most of the world, right now. there are a million rohingya at the border of bangladesh, locals fleeing khartoum as the west airlifts out is nationals, people whose civilisations were crushed under the boots of empires and land destroyed to create the farmland and factories that are killing the planet. life for them goes on.

i mean, i get it. seeing the impending collapse of your society, everything you've known for your whole life being willfully destroyed, it's fucking devastating. we want to keep sitting here on comfortable couches with our gold and cobalt plated supercomputers sharing cat gifs on the hellsite. we don't want to have our civilisation taken away from us and be forced into brutal struggle to survive. it's going to fucking suck, it will be awful, and it will be (and already is) most destructive to the people who are already the worst off, which just sucks even more… and maybe your life is already bad enough that you don't think you can handle it getting worse. i mean, i've been suicidal since i was 14 and i've been through trauma and medical torture you wouldn't believe since then. i get it. you're scared, terrified even. existentially threatened. you don't know what you can handle and maybe you donn't wanna find out.

but here's the thing: the ONLY sensible thing you can do, now and going forwards, is prepare for it.

you wanna kill yourself when it gets hard? let's say sure, i agree with that. what's the threshold then, what's the limit? when will you kill yourself? the power grid going down? sewerage backing up? supply chains failing and being unable to buy food? from the comfort of the developed world, those all feel like exit points i can imagine many people taking as their out… but how long does it have to last before you know it's carbon-monoxide-party time? a month of no power, no flush, no food? a week, a few months, or a year? because it won't start that way.

it's not a meteor or volcano, it's a slow slide. some powerlines sagged so there's rolling blackouts every now and then, a few hours or a day at a time. pipes backed up a bit so pressure is reduced for a week until repairs are done. fires and plague have closed roads so shelves are bare and stores are limiting purchases on essentials this month. there will be bumps along the road before there will be any sort of definitive cliff where you can say "this is it, now is the time to kill myself". these bumps are already happening.

i really hope you can agree, it'd be absurd to be such a fatalistic doomer that you kill yourself instantly at the first blackout, dry tap, or closed grocery store; when you can't know if it'll be back up in a few hours or tomorrow or next week. these small disruptions are already happening right now, directly as a result of climate collapse, but we're still here, still living. if we're going to talk about suicide as a pragmatic option, you need a threshold, and wherever you set it, you'll have to get through what comes before. "i'll kill myself after a month with no grid" still means you gotta be ready for a week without it. you gotta prepare, even if you plan to not survive.

and i know it's overwhelming, i know. to look around and think about what is essential to keep you going, what you can sacrifice, how you can make it through. but you're not going to be doing it alone, everyone around you is going to be doing it with you. we're all going to be struggling through it, and based on how communities have responded in the last few years to a string of once-in-a-lifetime disasters here in my home of climate-fucked australia, i am certain that when the climate collapses around a group of people, they will form a community and help each other, no matter how selfish and mean of a country bogan (translation: redneck) they are. people will help each other; people already are helping each other.

because yeah, climate collapse will probably destroy modern civilisation… but so what? it's a neoliberal capitalist hellscape quickly plunging us into technologically enforced eternal authoritarianism… and like, not to be an accelerationist or anything, but here's that dark hope i mentioned: i'm kinda relieved by the thought that the infrastructure that enables it won't last this century. that climate collapse will force us out of these horrors, and back into real, interdependent community.

so do what you can to prepare, how you can, to make the little disruptions more bearable and comfortable. there's plenty of resources still available for off grid life, camping, home agriculture, and general self sufficiency out there on the still-existant internet, and more people are getting into it all the time - not just what you imagine when you hear "prepper". any skill you can develop, anything you can do to prepare, even if it's as simple as keeping extra shelf stable food and a jug of clean water around, anything you can do will help you materially and more importantly, mentally.

having some jerry cans of water and a small solar setup has been amazing for my mental health and anxiety! and as much as i'm putting material and energy into preperations, i'm also putting them into comfort, maybe even hedonism. collecting some cool lego, got some fancy synths i didn't need, making fucked up noise music with them. enjoying the sound of the neighbours' chickens, looking forward to the day "the world ends" and i can free-range my own on the council's nature strip and share the eggs with the pottery lady down the street. once you're prepared to survive a week of grid down, maybe you'll realise a month, a year, isn't so unbearable. maybe it starts to feel nice?

because i've been there, the suicidal grief. 2018 was absolutely the worst year of my life and i was sure i'd die being tortured in hospital, and coming out of that, in 2019, both the IPCC and ADF released incredibly bleak reports on climate collapse outcomes, and it all sank in. all the spare spoons i'd sunk into helping when i could, all the decades of scientists desperately warning, it all failed. the final warnings have been coming for years, with no change in course, it's happening. and i faced the realisation that my decades were limited, my time of comfort short, and i started despairing and grieving. i turned to what support systems i had, and they failed me. when my psych asked what i was so anxious about and i started explaining the climate reports, he tensed up and started asking diagnostic questions for dilusional psychosis. i went home and cried, i was sleeping on the couch in the junk storage room of my sharehouse because i'd let my own room fill up with so much trash that there was a distinctly organic smell of growth choking the whole place out. i was fucking done, my heart and body broken, there didn't seem to be any point in anything, not without a future. it's the closest i've been to killing myself since leaving home…

so i said, fuck it. i've got a tiny pool of cash from welfare backpay, and i bought a synth i wanted. it fucking rocked, and brought me so much joy, so i bought another, and another. no future to save for, anyway. i made some cool music, i never saw that psych again, i gave up on my drive for revenge on doctors and finding answers about my fucked up nervous system, why bother when the world is ending? and i made music. i can kill myself later maybe. i started loving myself more, because what's the point starving to death hating myself? i made music and got confident and cleaned my fucking room, bought a new mattress. i met a girl and took a chance and we fucked real good and i fell in love again. i moved out somewhere new and quieter and left a home of over a decade behind me, left parts of my identity behind me, moving forward and growing for the better. i have a family now, the first family that has ever loved me without expecting anything in return, and i love them with all my heart. i listen to the chickens, and watch leaves float down the storm water drain, and make cool music. yesterday i listened to a 14 minute track i made 6 months ago and almost cried, because nobody can make music that is so perfect for my tastes except me, and i brought it into existence. on the weekend i'm gonna set up the solar panel to keep the backup battery topped up, i use it to charge my phone and laptop, which the kids would call solarpunk and i'd call cool as fuck to have a solar powered laptop.

in 2019 i stared into the void and realised there is no real future for me, for human civilisation as we know it, and i grieved and processed… i almost killed myself, but i didn't, and the years since have been the best of my life, no question.

so, no. don't kill yourself, now or in 2025 or at any point until you can't handle the torture anymore. "graduation" sounds young, real young, even if it's tertiary. i'm creeping towards 40, and the age that "graduation" conjures makes me think that you've got a hell of a lot of potential left in you, for fun and stupidity, and growing up, and finding love and heartbreak, and your version of wierd-arse synth music.

so go out there, prepare, and enjoy.

…

…..and for the love of all the false goddesses of the void, never, NEVER EVER again contact a random fucking blog on tumblr and ask if you should kill yourself. holy fuck buddy. the amount of pressure you put me under to deliver an emmaculately worded response that somehow talks you down from the ledge without lying, is way, way too much fucking pressure. i really hope you were being stupidly hyperbolic, but even then, Eris Fucking Kallisti Herself In Absurdist Pagan Blasphemy, so incredibly unacceptable to say to a stranger. i think you need a therapist, even if they do think you're catastrophising, because like. shit dude. this is abso-fucking-lutely not okay!

now go. prepare and enjoy.

(reminder that asker apologised and i have no hard feelings for a midnight despair ask)

[boltupbitches]

Today's the Day - Justin Herbert

Sequel to One Day at a Time

Justin knew his game was off. He could feel it. It wasn’t just the painful left-hand injury indicating so, but the way his brain couldn’t stop thinking about Alex who was back at his house in Irvine, likely watching the game along with his mother who insisted on staying with her since she was so close to her due date. 

In two weeks, Justin would finally meet his daughter, Layla Grace Herbert. Every day since finding out about Alex’s pregnancy has been an emotional rollercoaster for him. One filled with a lot of excitement, anticipation, and fear. The fear on some days was stronger than the other emotions. Not because he was afraid of losing his time for himself - no it was fear of messing up.

He was scared of failing. Scared of not being there for Alex or Layla. He was scared of Layla finding out how he treated her mother once upon a time. He was scared that Layla might find something innately wrong with him and not want him to hold her, feed her, or rock her to sleep.

He didn’t realize how irrational those fears were until Alex found him crying in the shower one morning after he was working out in the gym. He didn’t realize Alex had come to check up on him, having heard his whimpers when she peaked in the bathroom to ask him a question.

He had confessed then, while wrapped in a fluffy robe she handed him, what he felt.

He was surprised when Alex wrapped her arms around him, cradling him against her bump as he cried into her shoulder. He had relaxed against her, leaning into her warmth as he calmed down.

“Justin, the one thing you should know is that Layla is going to love you so much when she gets here. Just as you will love her the same. And about our past? That’s a conversation we’ll worry about years down the road when it gets here. Right now, let’s focus on getting through this birth, okay?” Alex smoothed her hand through his soaked strands, brushing them from his eyes.

Justin was thinking about those words while he watched the D-line scramble to target Prescott. 

Today’s game was going to shit. So much so that he couldn’t even bring himself to stay focused for a few moments. His hand was throbbing badly and his neck hurt from the tackle earlier in the game. Yet, he couldn’t concentrate for long because his mind kept wandering back to Alex. He wished he could call her and ask how she was at that moment. 

Lately, she was having false contractions and he hated leaving her alone. Once the doctor put her on bed rest a few days ago, Justin struggled with leaving the house and going to practice. His own mom had to step in and fly down to look after Alex since she had the vacation time to do so. 

“Bro.” Justin blinked for a moment. “Bro!” He felt someone shake his shoulder and he came to, blinking quickly and staring at Keenan. “Justin, I been calling your name. What’s up with you today, man?” The older man looked concerned.

Justin blinked again before shaking his head slightly, “Sorry.. It’s just that Alex is due soon and today, before I left, she was suffering with false contractions again. Her doctor advised that she stay on bed rest and call if there is no improvement. Which makes no fucking sense. I told her she needs to go to the ER so we can be sure it’s not the real thing, but she’s certain her OBGYN knows best..” He frowned.

Keenan smirked at that and nodded his head. “Listen, my wife was no different. Anytime I suggested anything or disagreed about something she’d gladly remind me who was carrying the baby and who the expert was between me and the doctor. Is she good though? Her due date is soon right? Y’all are expectin’ a little girl?”

Justin nodded, absentmindedly rubbing his arm as he thought about Alex giving birth without him there to support her. “Yeah. In the next two weeks. But we think it’ll happen sooner. My mom’s there with her right now at our house, and Alex’s mom is planning to fly down when the baby is born. Her work schedule doesn’t let her have off so often. With Alex moving down here with me during pre-season, it’s really just been the two of us.”

“Y’all on better terms now?” Keenan asked as he observed Justin’s expression.

Justin grimaced and looked down for a moment before looking back up with a slight squint under the sunlight. “We are. I mean, we’re friends and we’re co-parenting…”

“But you want your lady back?” Keenan finished for him.

“Yeah. I guess I never got the chance to ask her officially to be my girlfriend before I blew that to shit… Right now I don’t want to lovebomb her with that shit. So, I’m just satisfied that we’re living together, she’s letting me help her and provide for her, and that the baby is going to be healthy in a two-parent home even if we’re not together.” ‘Yet.’ He finished in his head. ‘Not yet, but we will be together again someday.’

“Take one day at a time, bro. That’s all you can do.” Keenan tapped him on the back. “Alex is a kickass girl. She sees what you’re doing. Keep at it and y’all be back to being loved up together in no time.”

Justin’s face turned a little red as he laughed a bit at that. “I hope so!”

They didn’t get the chance to continue on about it because the defense was coming off the field and it was their time to get out there and play.

—--

They had lost 20-17 at home.

The team’s morale was low. The locker room was tense. Justin was packing his stuff away after speaking to the media, his face grim and his head kept low to keep from making eye contact with anyone.

A couple of his teammates tapped his shoulder and back in solidarity as they passed by him. He appreciated it, but after today’s game, he just wanted to go home to Alex and take his mind off football for the next day or so until he was due back for training. 

Just as he had finished up packing the last of his stuff in his duffle bag, his phone started vibrating and he immediately dug it out of his pants pocket and hastily accepted the call when he saw his mom was the caller.

“Is Alex ok?” He asked immediately, not even greeting her.

He had stopped what he was doing and waited with bated breath for her answer.

“Hello, mom. Thanks for calling. I hope you’re well,” his mom started sarcastically, “to answer your question - yes Alex is fine. We’re at the hospital now and she’s being admitted. Get down here, but don’t speed!” His mom warned quickly, knowing he was going to cut her off and take off for the hospital.

“For real?” Justin asked in disbelief. “You guys are playing a joke on me are you?”

“Justin Patrick Herbert! No, I am not joking! The OBGYN is on the way to the hospital and Alex’s water broke at the house during the end of the game. We just got here a little bit ago.”

Justin hoisted his bag and sped past everyone, weaving between people as he hurried to get to his car, ignoring the calls from others. “Why didn’t you take an ambulance?”

“Justin.. She was fine. She didn’t want to go in wet clothes so she took a quick shower, got dressed and I drove her there. We got the diaper bag and all the necessities. Just get here.” His mom said, exasperated with her son’s hard-headedness.

“Right, right. I’m leaving now. Love you. See you soon.” He hung up as he tossed his duffle in his car and got in. He pulled up the address of the hospital on his phone and drove off immediately, not wasting any more time.

He just prayed he’d make it in time.

—---

And he did. 

Alex was preparing to push, having dilated enough, and was ready to get it over with as long as the epidural was lasting in her system. Holly Herbert was god sent. She held Alex’s hand and stuck by her, giving her tidbits of knowledge from her own time raising three kids.

Justin was escorted into the delivery room and almost cried at the sight of his mom dabbing a cold wash cloth on Alex’s head. He didn’t know what he’d do without either woman in his life.

Alex made eye contact with him and weakly smiled, the nerves showing on her face as she waved him over.

Justin approached her side quickly, careful to be out of the way of the nurse’s fretting around the room, preparing it for delivery.

His mom gave him a hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Stay with her. I’ll be waiting out in the waiting room.”

He nodded and smiled his thanks to her, his eyes going back to Alex who was staring up at him with tearful eyes. “Hey..” he greeted weakly.

“Hey.” She said back with a chuckle, “It’s almost time. She’s almost here.”

“I know. It’s.. it’s unbelievable.” Justin marveled at the reality of that statement. “Are you ok? Do you need anything?” He asked her as he took a seat.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m good. All drugged up and ready to go.” She joked. 

“They give you the good stuff?” He teased.

“The best they had to offer. Can’t wait to see the bill for it all.” she joked back.

“Let me worry about that, Alex. You focus on you and Layla. I got the other stuff.” He promised, stroking her hand that was resting in his. “You got this.” 

“I know. You’re here so we’re ready to go now.” She smiled back.

Justin opened his mouth to say something, but the doctor had interrupted them to announce it was time.

Justin listened to instructions and stayed next to Alex’s side, keeping an eye on her expression and letting her squeeze the living hell on his non-injured hand as he watched her push with all her might. Even with the pain-numbing medicine she received, it was still a challenge.

Justin felt like he was to blame for that a bit. Layla was after all going to be a slightly above average-sized baby and Alex was not the tallest of women. 

Yet, she championed through it all and Justin watched in complete shock as Layla Herbert entered the world, screaming loudly for all to hear within the room.

He never experienced love at first sight before, but as a newfound father, the moment his eyes laid on his newborn daughter, his heart was a goner. She was everything to him and more.

He didn’t realize he was crying until the nurse tapped his arm and asked, “Would you like to cut the umbilical cord, dad?”

He nodded dumbly and approached his squirming daughter as the doctor instructed him where to snip the cord. 

He was worried for a brief moment that it would cause Layla pain, but the nurse saw his hesitation and reassured him. “She’s okay, dad. She’s just cold, wet, and angry we disturbed her nap with momma.” 

Justin nodded again, still not able to coherently form words, and snipped the umbilical cord.

He was certain, although still in shock, that he’d never forget this day as long as he lived.

—--------

Things had settled a bit. His phone was going insane with family, friends, teammates, and all sorts of other people congratulating him or wanting to talk.

His mom took his phone and shut it all down immediately, informing him that his publicist would be helping her field the questions at this time. He just needed to worry about his newborn daughter and Alex.

Justin's hands trembled as he reached out to gently cradle the back of Layla's head. She was wiggling slightly in Alex's arm, her tiny face scrunching in displeasure at the cool sensation of the room. Justin made a note to ask the nurse to turn the room temperature up a bit.

He looked up from Layla to the tired and tear-stained face of Alex, who looked up at him as well, a smile pulling at her face. They stared at one another in that moment, neither saying a word, but communicating just enough through their gaze.

"Thank you." Justin whispered. "Thank you so much, Alexandra... I.." He was at a loss for words, stopping to blink away the tears as he felt his heart swell at the sight of his newborn daughter in the arms of the love of his life. 'I love you.' He wanted to say in that moment, but he didn't want to ruin the moment if she didn't feel the same.

'Coward.' Hos conscious accused against him, 'You're nothing but a coward.'

"I love you." He blurts out in a rush, tears flowing now. "I love you so much and I love Layla. Thank you for bringing her into this world, Alexandra."

She stared back, equally teary-eyed as she smiled at him, the warmth in her eyes making him feel like he was enveloped in her love. It was hard to explain beyond the strong blooming sensation taking over his chest and spreading throughout him. “I love you too. So much, Justin Patrick Herbert. Even when you piss me off and don’t listen to me, I still love you whole-heartedly.” She hiccuped.

He gently leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, careful to not squish a now-sleeping Layla. Alex returned his kiss eagerly, not wanting their moment to end.

Justin pulled back and leaned his forehead against her’s. “I never imagined this would happen to me. I never considered kids before you… before this. But I’m so glad it happened. Thank you, so much Alexandra.” He repeated his thanks. “I can’t believe we made her.” He marveled at the baby in how lover’s arms. “She’s perfect.”

“She is.” Alex agreed. “Although she’s very pushy like her daddy.” She teased him with a smirk. “I barely got my boob out of my gown when she was attempting to latch on and feed earlier.”

“Ah, yes. I can relate to that.” He joked. “I too am angry when hungry.”

She gently shoved his shoulder. “You’re so lame.”

“But I’m lame for you.” He countered. “Only for you.” He promised.

She knew what he had meant. Since the pregnancy discovery a few months back, Justin had been hypervigilant of Alex’s health and activities. He had hired her a nutritionist, and searched for the best OBGYNs in not only Eugene but also Los Angeles. He set up a nursery in his home in Eugene, helped set one up in her mom’s house where she was staying at the time, and had taken a few trips down during the off-season to Los Angeles with his brothers and dad to build a nursery in his home there.

He kept in contact with Alex regularly, going on walks with her, taking her grocery shopping, and even joining a pottery class on weekends with her.

She knew he was serious about rebuilding their relationship - this time the right way and this time more healthier than their situationship like the last time. 

She saw it and was thankful. As time went on they grew closer and closer. When preseason started, they agreed that it would be best if Alex stayed with him in Los Angeles as she got closer to her due date.

Justin remained steadfast in taking care of her and keeping up with his commitment. Each day, Alex found herself loving him more and more. Even when they disagreed and got angry. 

Justin stopped dating months ago and continued to make it clear that he wanted a proper relationship with Alex. One they could build long-term and show their daughter.

Looking at it all now, he knew he was one step closer to that goal. Work still needed to be done, but in that moment of tired, euphoric bliss, he could only thank God for Alex’s healthy pregnancy and Layla’s health. The game today? The issues at the facility? What critics had to say? None of that mattered to him right now.

It could wait for another day. Today’s the day he finally got his family.

#justin herbert fanfiction #justin herbert one shot #justin herbert imagines #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert fanfic

[goorehound]

I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t entirely self-indulgent. I should be answering my requests, and probably posting Mary Goore since that was the point of my account.

but dear followers, let me introduce you to König. Austrian, 6’10”, canonically severely socially anxious. your honour, I want him carnally.

sfw

Random König headcanons

ADHD. As fuck. He got turned down as a sniper because he kept moving around?? ADHD. Not the brand that makes him talk a lot constantly (although he absolutely can talk himself hoarse in the very rare chance he gets very comfortable somewhere) but the quiet type. Where he’s always doing something with his hands. His brain is always following ten different trains of thoughts. He’s restless.

On the fidgeting note, if he’s got a lot of thoughts going on then he will fidget very slowly. Rolling a pen or smth between his fingers, tracing the hems of his clothes with his fingers, tapping them slowly to some imaginary beat. But if his brain is quiet then he’s fidgeting fast. Repeatedly clicking a pen, tossing something back and forth, bouncing his leg at the speed of light. He’s gotta make up that lack of mental stimulation with some physical stimulation.

When he’s alone he mumbles to himself. Replaying past conversations so he could mumble out the answers he wished he’d given, or constructing what he’d like to say in future situations. Basically mumble mumble mumble. Mans does have things to say, you know. He just prefers to do it where nobody else can hear it.

He has almost mastered the art of making sure people are laughing with him and not at him. If someone makes a joke about him, he’ll try and come back with something self deprecating enough that it’s not too awkward - but hopefully enough that it doesn’t make him seem like an easy target. If he fails at getting people to laugh with him his brain does a windows shut down. Luckily he’s quiet enough that people don’t normally notice when he shuts down. He always makes sure to wait long enough to excuse himself that nobody will tie his disappearing act to something someone said.

He picks up popcorn with his tongue. He always gets his own bowl, because he hates the specific type of grease that comes with buttered popcorn. Man will hold that bowl up to his face at eat it like a lizard. No, he does not eat popcorn in front of other people.

Oh my god is it ever easy to fluster this man. Something as simple as talking about something he’s interested in will have him melting. Compliments are worse. He’s no blushing virgin, granted he’s not incredibly experienced either, but complimenting anything about him will have his face a concerning amount of red in an even more concerning amount of time.

Pen/pencil chewer for sure. All about that fidgeting.

He is terrified of kids. Only because he has no idea how to interact with them, he finds it more of a minefield than talking to adults. But he’s fucking great with them, and 9/10 times kids adore him - which makes him so very happy.

He hates when people touch his things. Like despises it. Probably because growing up people thought it was funny to take his shit and break it, and that definitely left some wariness when it came to people touching his things.

He’s talkative in combat because of pure adrenaline, and that’s probably when his confidence is at his peak. No time to be anxious about people making fun of him or thinking he’s an idiot when his life is on the line. And besides, if someone overhears him saying something dumb he can just shoot them. Problem solved. (Given they aren’t an ally, that is.)

If anyone wants anything König related, wether it be headcanons or some short writing piece please drop me an ask. Or a message. Anything. I have some serious brain rot going on.

#also this is no shade to adhd folks who talk a lot. i talk a lot. #also this is all projection bc I also got that good ol social anxiety and adhd mix #könig #modern warfare #könig headcanons #mwii #könig x reader #könig x ghost