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amyzaaiman-blog · 3 months

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On Grief & The Hard Time That People Are Giving Jackie Howard:

I just have to say that I lost my mom 3 years ago & have no relationship with my father, so I'm essentially an orphan. I feel like I shouldn't have to say this, but everyone grieves differently. You don't know how you're going to respond until you're in that situation, so don't judge so hastily. My mom was the closest person in the world to me (besides my husband, who has been an amazing support) & losing her turned me into a complete mess. I didn't leave the house for about a year (that's not an exaggeration), I picked up about 17kgs and then proceeded to vomit everyday for the next year and lost all of the weight again. My hair fell out in clumps. I couldn't sleep. My period stopped for about 1.5 years. I did things I would NEVER have done beforehand, such as seeking escapism like smoking weed everyday. I couldn't function properly or work. I had permanent brain fog. Other people have different ways of responding to this type of situation. I was in such a confused, repressed haze for so long that I only feel as if I'm properly processing her passing now. For the first time in 3 years, I'm finally experiencing anger (which is one of the key phases of bereavement). You just never know.

If you read the book, it's clear that Jackie initially does have a very intense, emotional response after her family dies - she falls apart. She doesn't get out of bed for like a month. Then, one day, as a way of distracting herself & making her family proud, she gets out of bed & focuses solely on getting into Princeton. While they don't show all of this backstory in the show, it's very obvious to me that she's bottling up all of her emotions. Her worst nightmare is to be pitied. And honestly, as she says in the show, no one knows what to say to you in such circumstances. Everything sounds awkward/disingenuous/well-meaning but misplaced/alienating.

I'm really not surprised that she shies away from the deep connection that she has with Cole (who, let's be honest, is a fuckboy at the beginning of the show but who she clearly has a unique & immediate attachment to). She's so vulnerable that she latches onto the "safe" brother who makes her feel relatively normal again. He offers comfort & stability, which is exactly what you need when you feel lost, alone & untethered. She can't afford to be hurt again & that's what Cole represents/threatens - especially because of the way he treats other girls. When Cole asks her why she's with Alex, she doesn't say it's because she likes Alex more, but rather cites Cole's behaviour towards other women.

These boys are also forms of distraction from her grief. And to add to the mix, she's only 15 years old. What hormonal teenager hasn't been confused or made stupid, rash decisions that they regret? I'm 33 years old and I'm still making mistakes and cringing from things I said & did a month ago, a day ago, an hour ago. It's really obvious that her attraction to Cole continues percolating throughout the show until he does something so meaningful/thoughtful that she can't ignore her feelings any longer. And what he does for her is especially touching because it's so inherently related to her loss & the absence of her family. Throughout the show, Cole is the only one she really opens up to about her family; how much she misses them & her home. He understands her in a way that others don't because she won't let them in in the same way. He truly sees her. They challenge each other. And while these are beautiful parts about falling in love, they can also be extremely frightening because there's nowhere to hide.

I don't even blame the parents for not noticing what is truly going on (although I think Katherine has an idea). Teenagers are renowned for being secretive (not to mention that the adults are also dealing with much of their own stress). I actually really like the scenes that she has with Katherine. I think that they have an understanding. Katherine is still getting to know Jackie & there's no way that she'll ever come close to replacing her mother. It just doesn't work like that. People aren't interchangeable.

It's also important to note that Jackie's whole shtick & manner of coping is to have a veneer of being "fine". I think that she's worried that if she shatters the illusion, she'll just fall apart again. She's barely holding it together. Particularly at the start of the show, she's just going through the motions & existing. The messy but loving (albeit not in the very, very beginning) environment of the Walter household is what's keeping her afloat. By the end (she even says this), she finally feels like she belongs. She has meaningful relationships with the whole Walter family & extended clan, & the reason that she leaves is because she knows how royally she's fucked up. She's overwhelmed & scared - fearful of her own roiling emotions & how she's exacerbated the rift between Alex & Cole.

Yes, you could call her hypocritical because Cole "stealing" Paige (She's not an object, so let's check that language. She is a person & has agency) is one of the main things that Jackie repeatedly holds against him (& uses as an excuse for keeping him at a distance). But she definitely realises this, which is why she runs away. She knows that she's acted against her own morals.

This is a very long post, but my ultimate point is that people should have a little more compassion. Grief is not a linear process & life is not simply black & white - there are vast shades of grey in between. People can make "bad" choices & redeem themselves. Are we meant to define people by one ill-thought-out/passion-based/heat-of-the-moment decision that they made as a teenager when they were severely traumatised? I think that forgiveness is a better option & that people should be allowed to grow, change & learn from their mistakes. Season 2 is still on its way, remember?

#my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb #jackie howard #jackiecole #cole walter #nikki rodriguez #noah lalonde #grief #dealing with grief

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

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Classic Heavy x OnPeriod!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Period Horniness Mixed With Boredom and a Busy Boyfriend?

Notes:

Please let me know if I haven't used AFAB correctly! I just didn't want to back y’all into too small a corner. So, this is meant to be ‘Reader who gets periods’. Could be a cis female, transitioning trans female, gender-neutral or agender person with a vagina, etc. Just, provided you have a vagina.

I know he isn't on the list but I wanted to try someone new! I don't play TF2 but I’ve read what there is of the comics! I loved them! ^^

Plot: So...

You decided that it was a good idea to sext Chevy.

Warnings: SMUT (Penis in Vagina). Period sex (He licks it once but that’s it in the way of blood to mouth), dirty talk, Daddy kink, dirty names, etc. *Cough* Creampie also. Lets hope videogame characters cant procreate or contract STD’s. I meant for it to be nasty smut, but due to my lack of experience and fluff brain I dunno if it actually is 😅 So beware.

~~~

As you are bored out of your mind and reading smuts (Dean Winchester. Beetlejuice. Herman Carter. Oh boy), causing your libido to get even more aggressive in your current hormonal state, you shrink down further into the couch cushions and groan from pain.

Not from cramps; You don’t get them as bad as others anymore, thank god (And besides, you have a hot water bottle underwear your shirt and the top of your sweats), but from the fact that your very huge, very hot and very lusty boyfriend is stuck in a meeting elsewhere!! Pouting, you drop your phone onto your chest and drop your head to the side, staring at the ceiling.

You sigh.

Ross, on the other couch across from you, rolls his head to the side and puts down his magazine to raise his bushy brows at you. “What is yer problem??”

“Hm,” You sigh again. “Nothing... “

As Ross looks back at his Lifestyle you get an idea, a cheeky smile slowly skidding across your lips as you peak down at your phone on your chest. Ooooh... Snatching up the phone, you open up Chevy’s message tab and start tapping out a text. “Heheh... “

You: Hey Chev. If you could do anything to me and I h a d to say yes, what would you do?

Then quickly you turn off the phone and set it back in its place screen down on your chest. You wonder, what would he say if he responded? What would you really agree to?

... actually lets not wonder that. We may scare ourselves. Lets just say; Much.

A few minutes later your phone buzzes and you take a moment, calming your nerves and your excitement before you pick it up and open the messages again.

Chevy: Ohhh, I wouldn’t go there sweet bottom. Very, very busy right now.

Chewing on your thumb nail, you grin broadly at the screen and wonder even more what he’s thinking.

You: What should I do while I wait for you then? If you’re so busy I’ll be so wet when you get here...

You: Already am pretty soaked actually. I tried to handle it myself. . .

Okay, this is the great thing about Chevy, realise. You can say whatever you like, sex-wise, and you wont ever be embarrassed. Because you know he’s always up to fuck, and he’s usually thinking about it first.

Chevy: Oh, are you just teasing me or are you gonna send proof? This is a dangerous game your playing princess/prince.

Oh dear. You cant send proof! How can you deflect this? “Ahh... “ Thinking as you look around the room, muttering in a panic ‘Um. Um. Um. Um-’, “OH!” You hop up from the couch and duck behind it, pull the front of your shirt forward and quickly snap a picture of your chest, before fixing your clothes and jumping back onto the couch, laying on your back again. Cheeks rosy from the adrenaline. Ross looks confused at you, nose scrunched up and beard askew, but you just waive him off and send the picture. You don’t type anything this time.

“Squirrely... “ Ross mutters in annoyance, shaking his head back at his reading material.

Your phone buzzes again and you try to keep a straight face as you read the block of text, and watch the attachment, the bottom half of your face hidden comfortably behind the collar of your shirt to hide your frazzled-ness.

Chevy: Baby, you know that’s not what I meant... But look what its done to me. Devil person.

*Chevy Attached: A video of his lap shifting, and there’s a slight bulge in his black pants.

Eyes wide at the video he must’ve taken on the sly under the table, of his gently growing prominence, as he shifts to get more comfortable with it. Its just enough movement for you to imagine it thrusting onto your aching section and it makes you hide even more of your face under your shirt. “Jesus... “ This may have been a bad idea.

Bad I cant stop.

You: I love that

Chevy: I know

*Chevy Attached: A picture of his grinning face from below, looking off assumedly to the slideshow or whatever they’re being shown in that meeting.

Why is that cocky, mischievous look on his face, which some (Including yourself sometimes) would call an asshole look, hotter then the outline of his huge, ever loving cock?? It just doesn't add up!

This is becoming a cruel, and unusual form of torture. You’ve never tried sexting before today, and you regret it.

Ohhh, god. You wish he was here! Closing your eyes for a moment and furrowing your eyebrows from frustration and longing, you shamelessly imagine how Chev would lead you to the nearest empty room with a door (Any room. Laundry? Kitchen? Your room? His? Someone else's?? It wouldn’t matter to him, and by the time he got your favourite weapon of his out you wouldn't either. At least, that’s the way things were the last time you checked.) push your body against the wall and thrust his cock deep into you as he plays torturously with your front with his huge hands...

And it wouldn't be hard. You’re already totally slick, with blood and slick.

Oh, god. You love that he’s there for period sex.

As you imagined, you had let your head fall to the side slowly relaxing. And, as you imagined further, fantasising about your orgasm building up and feeling your pussy ache for pressure in real life you start to hear h e a v y footsteps coming towards this room in the hall.

Just as you realise that your knight in shining cargo has come you snap your eyes open and there that man is, standing behind the couch above you, jaw taught. You cant see his lower section due to the back of the couch obscuring your view but a broad grin rips across your lips anyway at the speediness of his arrival and the forcefulness - in other words, desperation, - in his face. You immediately, kind of hilariously, yank out the hot water bottle from your clothes. “Well, hi there!- Oh,”

He just leans down, fixes his ginormous, manly hands around your waist and plucks you off the couch with ease, literally throwing you over his shoulder - your ass by his head, - and starts walking with just as much force as he came towards the exit. Oh, here we go...

Your pussy sings at the pressure of his broad shoulder pressing against it, and bumping against it as he walks, and you would be embarrassed by that but instead you just promise it that its going to get its real treat, real soon.

“Baby girl/boy, you’ve been a real, desperate, whore.” Cheavy growls out as he finds a room and turns on his heel, getting you both inside and kicking the door hard closed. You take that as a sign of how hard he’s about to fuck you, tingling with excitement. He lifts you off his shoulder and plops you down on the washing machine - or dryer? You don’t know. You just know its on, and its sending delicious vibrations through your core, - making you moan at the sudden, total attention to your cunt. But you’re also occupied sitting still, caught in his stern, smirking expression. “I really shouldn't reward you for behaviour like that, kid.”

Knitting your eyebrows together and shifting forward on the machine, opening your legs so he can nestle himself between them and running your hands around his neck so you can guide him forward you whine. Simping. “You don’t want to leave either, though, do you... ?” You smirk slyly.

“Right.” He smirks back, even more mischievously then you. It makes you wonder, and your pussy yearn. “That’s why I’m doing this for me.” One of those hands, your favourite hands in the entire world (Well apart from that of those who fight for minorities rights every day *Sit com wink into the camera*. ) moves between the two and latches onto your mound, making you jolt forwards into it as he cups and massages it. His hand perfectly cups it, too. Palm big enough to press against the lips, thumb strong enough at the top to rub up and down the top and the rest of his fingers just warm it all up. “Are you gonna be an obedient, disgusting little cock sleeve?” Caught in his gaze, and almost too turned on to respond, you stay still for a moment, thighs just clamping around his hand.

Almost.

Quickly, when he stops his movements on your core you nod fervently. “Yes! Yes, I am.”

“Hmmm?” He tilts his head, looking down as he unbuttons your jeans and makes your breath hitch as dips a thick finger past your underwear, into you and immediately takes it up again to his lips to taste, smirking at your stupefied expression. Blood... he just... tasted... your... He does this every time you two engage in period sex, just to see this reaction from you but you never get used to it. How does he do it?? “What do you call me when I fuck you, Y/N?”

You break yourself out of the moment, getting back to reality. “D-Daddy. Sorry. Sorry, Daddy... “

“That’s right, baby doll. I’m your Daddy, and you are... ?”

“Your amenable, disgusting little whore.” You respond obediently, like a student... yeah. A student right out of a porn video.

“Correct, now... Undo my pants now, wild cat. Somethings just begging for your aching, pretty cunt.” All too happy to do so, your hands dive down - well, not without feeling his chest up on your way down which is made so much easier as he’s just wearing a normal t-shirt instead of chest armour, - and wolfishly unzip and push down his trousers, revealing a fully, entirely enlarged and throbbing penis hidden behind worn cotton boxers. You chew on your lips as you go to pull down those, too, but Chevy chuckles and and gathers your eager hands in one his, reclaiming control that he never really lost. “Oh, not yet. I told you this was for me, didn't I?- “

“When are our carnal relations ever any different, Chev?” You ask, scrunching up your nose cheekily. Then, “Ah,”, remembering your place for the moment, you correct yourself carefully. But, you still smirk. “I mean... Daddy.”

“Get on your knees and use your mouth. You are so good at that- your best quality, really.”

Scrunching up your nose at his snark this time, scowling, you do as he says anyway hopping off the machine and coming face-to-dick.

Because you are a whore.

In this moment, at least.

And, besides; You are really, really good at this. If you do say so yourself. if you do it just right, his animal instincts will completely take over and he’ll really use you. He steps closer, feet on either side of your thighs making you crane your neck to not be motorboating his freaken balls. Pulling down his boxers, finally completely exposing his, admittedly perfect - for you, - , genitalia and sigh as you get to wrap both your hands around the girth. Its so thick. God, you love it.

I would love it a heck of a lot more if it was nailing me into the tiles right now instead of nearly poking my eye out... but there are ways we can make that happen.

Moaning, like you’re taking the first bite of a really good sandwich you take as much of his hot, leaking cock between your lips and your hot mouth. Immediately one of his hands cups the back of your head and firmly pushes you further, the girth disappearing into you until hair tickles your nose. You can only imagine how you look... and it kind of turns you on even more.

“You are the best cocksleeve, sweet’eart... “ He says, voice not betraying anything so far. You can change that.

Utilising the tip of your tongue, you begin to stroke the the bottom, all along it to the tip and you suck - gently at first, - and slipping your lips along the shaft over and over, like you’re eating an icy poll. Its a slick, spit sheening mess by the time he’s literally spilling spurts of cum into your mouth and chin, which you wipe off. Not a full orgasm, but enough to grant you what you really want. And damn, is it hot.

As you slip off of his head again, licking up the creamy substance from the very tip, guided back by his hands in your hair gently but authoritatively he lets out a loud growl at the pleasure you give him. “... Tell me, who’s your Daddy?”

You just innocently lean forward and nuzzle his thighs in response, making him shudder and get down to the floor with you. Frustratedly, like this has to happen right fucking now, Chevy lays you on your back on the cold floor and straddles you after tugging down your pants and your underwear, and shoves himself fully in you all at once.

Its an easy fit, spearing into your searing, red, mess of a hole like it can only be one time of the month and when you have sex with Chevy. He grunts, and starts absolutely thundering into you over and over, like you’re the best feeling cunt he’s every experienced. You believe it. And, because of the way he makes you feel with that gorgeous, stone-hard cock of his you hope it is really true.

The sounds that it causes you to make are completely pornographic, and can absolutely be heard outside the room. The strength he uses to pound your dripping pussy both presses your bare ass into the cold tiles of the floor and pushes you up across the ground, and you whine. So hard... “Oh my god, oh my god!!” You cant help how your legs spread as wide as possible at the thighs but your ankles press tightly to his back. You arch your back to meet him, listening to the squish sounds that come out of you and his growly, fast breathing. “So good, Chevy!!”

“What.” He says quickly, wrapping his hands around your waist to keep you still and not sliding up the floor- so his hits find their target every time with an agonising strength. Pounding your pussy in a way you wish wouldn't stop.

Pushing his chest up so you can relocate, and get a different position, making him sit and you straddle his waist, hands up his shirt and fingers spreading across his hairy chest. “I meant Daddy.”

“Yes you fucking did.”

He always gets so cranky when he’s close to blowing.

Its not a bad thing, cranky is sexy on him- provided his penis is shoved inside you.

Grinding in his lap now, you do much of the grunt work, until he cant take your torment this time and takes your waist in his hands again, lifting you and jamming you back down on his rod over and over again, until he explodes cum inside you.

The outburst fills you up completely, the funk dripping out from between your walls and around his base, dripping on the floor pink from your period causing you to see stars come too, a moment later as he slams you down on his manhood once more.

Catching your breathes, you two stay sitting there like that, letting your shared fluid ooze out of you from around him, until his cock softens totally in you. When that’s done, he lifts your body off his and sets you down on the ground away from the puddle you two made. Your legs feel shaky, your breath is hard to catch, and your pussy feels battered.

This was a good session.

Chevy seems to think so too, as he grins and picks you up again, sitting you sideways, carefully on lap. “Oh, did I do well, Daddy?” You blink innocently, happy to keep playing the game but tired.

“Mhm. As always. You’ve got the perfect cunt, baby girl/boy.”

You look up, waiting for a kiss. “Oh, hope so.” Your lips meet, finally, tongues playing together gentle. You exchange long, open mouthed kisses with each other for a while after your session, making out lazily and dining on each others tastes as desert.

#Classic Heavy x Reader #TF2 Cheavy #TF2 Cheavy x Reader #Classic Heavy #Teen Fortress 2 #TF2 Chevy #TF2 Chevy x Reader

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sagesparrow394 · 5 years

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Coffee Shop AU Fic

Inventive title, I know.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AUs: Human, Coffee Shop

Summary: Straight out of university, Logan Berry feels like the world is collapsing around him. Having been kicked out by his transphobic boyfriend and stuck alone with a baby on the way, he has no choice but to go live with his cousin. As he starts to get his life back on its feet, however, he’s presented with a second chance at love in the form of a very sweet barista.

Trigger Warnings: Trans pregnancy, light transphobia

“Are you fucking kidding me?! You’d better be!”

“I-I’m sorry, Matthew, I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

“Bullshit! You planned this, didn’t you? Well, fuck it! It was bad enough when you went all switcheroo and said you’re not a girl, you’re a guy! But this? This is the last fucking straw! I want you out!”

“What…?”

“We’re done! GET OUT!”

All this because of two words: “I’m pregnant.”

Now, Logan Berry was stood on the curb outside his apartment block - though he guessed it wasn’t his anymore - with only a small suitcase and a backpack of his stuff. Though tears were trickling down his face, he didn’t make a sound or movement. He was still trying to process everything.

Just out of university, he and his boyfriend bought an apartment together. Just a week later, Logan realised his period was late. He took a test and found he was pregnant. He told Matthew, who immediately kicked him out. Now, he was alone, no home to go to, with the knowledge that he’d have to raise this child on his own.

He just stood there, looking up at the apartment Matthew was in. If only he had just been born biologically male… None of this would have happened…

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

Logan blinked from his trance, turning to the voice. It was a man, about his age. He had curly blonde hair, a freckled face, light blue eyes and round glasses. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, a hand resting on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan blinked at him for a moment, registering his presence, his question, and his own situation. After the moment of silence, he broke down into tears. “I-I don’t know wh-what to do… Wh-where do I go…?”

As he sobbed, the other man gave him a look of pity, pulling him into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay… Ssh… Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’ll turn out okay in the end…”

Usually, Logan wouldn’t trust a stranger this much, but maybe it was the man’s comforting air and kind demeanour, or the emotional pain Logan was in, but he found himself leaning into the other man’s hug. The man’s embrace was the warm, and somehow made Logan comfortable despite him being not big on physical affection.

“I’m Patton, by the way. Patton Foster.”

“L-Logan Berry.”

Patton pulled away from the hug. “I know you don’t know me… but do you need help? Or just to talk? Because I’d be happy to listen. I’m not having the greatest time either… Came downstate for my parents’ funeral.”

Logan shook his head. If this man was mourning the loss of his parents, he shouldn’t load his own problems on him as well. “N-no, it’s okay… I’m, um… starting to feel better, and I know what to do now.”

That was true. In his bout of emotion, he’d been clueless. However, now his head was clear, the answer was simply obvious: his cousin, Thomas Sanders, lived just upstate. Logan was sure if he gave him a call, Thomas would let him stay with him.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Patton smiled. “I should be going, my brother’s waiting for me. Bye, Logan Berry. Hopefully I’ll see you around again sometime.” He gave Logan one last reassuring smile, before turning and walking away.

Logan watched him go, before pulling his phone from his pocket. “... Hey, Thomas? I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while… Yeah, Matthew kicked me out. Why? Well… don’t freak out…”

“How can I be calm?! You’re having a baby! Oh my gosh, I’m gonna be an uncle!”

“Technically, you’ll be their first cousin, once remo-”

“Uncle Thomas. Has a nice ring to it, huh?”

Logan rolled his eyes, chuckling. He had moved in with Thomas, who was definitely pissed at Matthew, but could not be more excited about Logan being pregnant. Logan wasn’t surprised, though, Thomas had always been like this . When Logan came out as transgender, his parents had not had the greatest reaction… Thomas, on the other hand, was fully supportive for him, sending him all sorts of useful things, like pictures of short hairstyles that would suit him, links to sites to buy binders, and sites that explained how to bind safely. All in all, Logan could not ask for a more supportive cousin.

Right now, the two of them were heading to a nearby coffee shop. Upon learning Logan had gained a large craving for chocolate due to his pregnancy, not his usual Crofters preference, Thomas had insisted they go to this cafe, saying they do the best hot chocolate, chocolate cakes chocolate cookies and brownies.

“Ah, yes, a good uncle and role model: a man with a degree in chemical engineering, yet is somehow unemployed,” Logan smirked.

“I’m not unemployed! YouTube is self-employment. Also, aren’t you unemployed?”

“I literally just moved here, Thomas, and I can’t exactly continue my old job given how far upstate it is.”

“True…”

The two arrived at the café, Logan looking up at the sign: Foster Coffee.

“I’m telling you, best café ever,” Thomas smiled, opening the door and stepping in.

Logan followed behind, the scents of bitter coffee, sweet chocolate, lavender, and more wafting over him. His stomach let out a small grumble as he and Thomas wandered up to the counter. His cousin smiled as one of the baristas came over. “Hey, Roman. How’s things?”

“Pretty good. You learnt your lines yet?”

“Almost. Know all the songs though. Lo, this is Roman Foster, we both do community theatre together. He just got a job here, his brother runs the place. Ro, this is my cousin, Logan.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Roman smiled. Logan gave a nod in response. “So, what are you two having?”

“Two hot chocolates, as well as a cookie and a brownie.”

“Coming right up!”

Roman got to work with their orders, chatting with them, wanting to get to know Logan. However, after a few minutes, someone else slid up to the counter, calling for Roman. They were wearing sunglasses, a black jacket and scrolling on their phone. Roman sighed. “Pat, Remy’s here with his weird orders! Can you finish up Thomas’ while I take Rem’s?”

“On it!” A voice called from the back room. As Roman moved on to serve the customer called Remy, the door swung open, the other barista stepping in. Logan’s eyes widened at the familiar face.

“Hey, Patton!” Thomas greeted.

“Heya, Thomas! Wait…” Patton’s eyes wandered to Logan. “Hi! Logan, right? When said I’d hope to see you around some time, I didn’t expect it to be so soon!”

“You two know each other?” Thomas looked between them both. Patton nodded.

“I ran into him a week or so ago downstate. Are you two brothers?”

Logan shook his head. “No, cousins actually.”

“But we have a more brotherly relationship than cousinly one.”

“Is cousinly even a word?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Patton let out an adorable little chuckle that made blood rush to Logan’s cheeks.

Oh dear god, no no no, he could not be developing a crush. Not after Matthew… Just because Patton had been kind and caring when they first met didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be just like Matthew. It was likely Logan’s ‘crush’ was just due to hormones from the pregnancy. Also, natural animal survival instincts were likely causing him to latch onto a new person to assist him during the pregnancy. Yes that was it. No real romantic feelings at all, just hormones and ‘animal brain’.

Definitely.

Patton finished up their order, chatting all the time, before Logan and Thomas headed over to a table with their food and drinks.

“You like him.”

“What?!” Logan gasped. Had his cru- I mean, hormone-induced, totally-not-real attraction been that obvious? “Nonsense. Do you honestly think I’d jump right back into a relationship after Matthew? I don’t even know Patton, what if he ends up being just like Matt?”

Thomas gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know Pat, and I can promise he’s nothing like that asshole. Pat’s kind, funny, accepting and the sweetest little puffball ever. I think he’d be great for you.”

“Well, unfortunately, I’m not attracted to him. And even if I was, I wouldn’t get back into dating so soon after a breakup.”

It took Logan four months before he returned to the coffee shop for another visit. He’d been too busy with all sorts of things: applying for jobs, going to interviews for said jobs, apartment hunting so he wouldn’t have to invade Thomas’ space for too long, and of course preparing everything for the baby. He didn’t have much time to relax.

That day in particular, Thomas was filming a video for his YouTube channel, so Logan needed to be out the house. He figured that he should take the chance to relax with a nice hot chocolate and chocolate muffin. Stress wasn’t good for the baby, after all.

As he stepped inside the café, he smiled at the wonderful scents. He went forward up to the counter, rubbing his baby bump soothingly, feeling the child moving inside. He’d first felt them moving just two days before, almost crying when it happened. Okay, maybe not almost. More like sobbed his eyes out until Thomas had run out of tissues.

It wasn’t long until a barista came up to him. Last time he came, Patton and Roman had been the only baristas there. It seemed they’d hired someone else.

“Hey, what can I get ya?” the barista asked, adjusting his purple bangs so they were over his eyes.

“A hot chocolate and chocolate muffin please.”

“Oh, I can take this one, Virge!” Patton came over, smiling at Logan and his co-worker. “You mind heading to the back and grabbing some more coffee beans?”

“No problem,” the barista, ‘Virge’, replied before heading through the door behind the counter.

Patton just smiled at Logan. “Been a while, huh? It’s good to see you again, Lo!”

“You too, Patton,” Logan replied. “Was that a new employee?”

“Yep! We hired Virgil just last month. Speaking of which, why’ve you not come here in so long? I was hoping you’d become another of our regulars.”

“I’ve been very busy. Job and apartment hunting… Just everything to set up our new life here.”

Patton raised an eyebrow curiously. “Our? Who’s taking away the y from that word? Do… do you have boy or girlfriend?”

Logan tried his best to ignore the downcast inflection of the last question before responding. “Oh, no, I’m single. I’m talking about this little one.” He took a step back, revealing the baby bump to Patton, who let out an excited gasp.

“Oh my gosh! You’re having a baby? That’s amazing! How far along are you?”

“Four and a half months.”

“You’re so lucky, I’ve always wanted to have a kid. I just haven’t had the time to look into adoption, not to mention I’d rather wait until I have a boy or girlfriend.”

“Understanda- ” Logan stopped mid-word. Patton’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Lo? You okay?”

“They kicked.”

“Huh?”

“The baby… the baby kicked!” Logan’s eyes were glistening, his hands resting on his stomach. Patton didn’t hesitate, immediately coming around the counter and placed his hands by Logan’s. As he did, there was a small tap underneath.

“Oh, Lo… You’re so lucky to have this little miracle…” He looked up at Logan before fishing some napkins from behind the counter. “Here.”

“Th-thank you…” Logan replied, taking them and blowing his nose and wiping his eyes. “You’re too kind, Pat…”

“Nonsense. There’s no limit for kindness,” Patton replied, guiding Logan to sit down at a nearby table. “I’ll go finish up your order. You have some time with your little angel.” He turned and headed back behind the counter.

Logan just sat there, rubbing his stomach, occasionally feeling kicks. The smile wouldn’t leave his face, and he watched as tears dropped from his cheeks and onto his shirt. After a few minutes, Patton came back, placing Logan’s order on the table as well as handing him more tissues. He then took the seat opposite Logan at the table. “You said you were single… If you don’t mind me asking, who’s the father?”

Logan’s smile faltered as he wiped his eyes. “My ex, Matthew… He broke up with me after finding out I was pregnant. He also revealed himself to be a secret transphobe in the process.”

“Oh… Lo, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t apologise… You helped me a lot. When you ran into me for the first time, it was just after Matt kicked me out. You made me feel so much better. I needed that hug and the comfort you gave me. I thank you so much for that.”

Patton gave a bittersweet smile, reaching over the table and taking one of Logan’s hands in his. “I’m glad I could help. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Logan was silent a few seconds, just looking at their hands, before blinking back to reality. “Oh, um, yeah… It’s been four months, I’m over it.”

“Well, that’s good!” Patton gave Logan a big smile. “I’m sure you’ll find the one, Lo. Who knows, maybe they’re closer than you think.”

“Yeah, I think he is…”

“Huh?”

“Nothing! Don’t you think you should get back to work?!”

“Hey, Lo! How’re you?”

Logan just groaned as he leant on the counter. “A week late. Seven whole days, and no baby. I’m sick of it… I’ve got an apartment of my own, their room’s all set up, I have a job ready to go after maternity leave. Everything’s ready for them, but they won’t come…!” He sighed. “I just wanna be able to have Crofters again without throwing up…”

“Just gonna put it out there,” Roman came up and stood next to his brother. “Apparently, having sex is supposed to make babies come.”

“Roman!”

“He’s right,” Virgil added, joining the conversation. “It is supposed to work.”

“I don’t think I’ll be trying that, thank you very much,” Logan replied, face flushed, refusing to look Patton in the eye. “Any other tips, however, would be greatly appreciated.”

“I think spicy food is supposed to work?” Roman offered. “But apart from that, I’m all out of ideas.”

“I’m sure it won’t be long, Lo,” Patton smiled. “And I’m sure, when they come, you’ll forget all the hardship when you’re holding that precious little bundle in your arms.”

How did Patton have the ability to make anything undeniably cute?!

“I guess that is true… Thank you, Patton.”

“It’s nothing, Logi!”

That smile… so cute…

“...D-Did you just call me cute?”

You said that out loud? Fuck, Logan, you said that out loud! Stupid fucking baby brain! Come on, don’t just stand there, say something!

“I… Um, I just… It was, uh…”

And it was at that exact moment that Logan’s water broke.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off the bundle of blankets in his arms as Thomas drove him home from the hospital. He smiled every time the child let out a little coo or an adorable giggle. His baby, his son...

The two cousins headed up the stairs before arriving at the door to Logan’s apartment. Thomas took the liberty of opening the door as Logan’s hands were full, and as they stepped inside, Logan’s eyes widened.

Patton, Roman and Virgil were all already there.

“They insisted they wanted to come see you the minute you were out of hospital,” Thomas explained as the three visitors came and stood around Logan.

“Oh, he’s beautiful…” Roman cooed.

“You gotta be proud, teach,” Virgil smiled.

“What’s his name?” Patton asked.

“Evan.”

Roman gasped. “Like Evan Hansen!”

Logan groaned as everyone else chuckled. “No, he is not named after a character from one of your silly musicals.”

“They are not silly!”

“Hey, Roman, ease up a little,” Patton scolded. “Logan’s had a rough couple of days. Also… there’s something serious Lo and I need to talk about.”

“Oh…” Logan’s stomach twisted. After everything that happened that day, Logan had completely forgotten about the incident just before his water broke. “Look, Patton, I’m sorry, it was a slip of the tongue, I didn’t mean to- ”

“Lo, ssh,” Patton interrupted him. “I… I, erm… I think you’re cute too.”

“You-?” Logan was interrupted yet again and Patton pressed his lips to Logan’s. Logan’s eyes widened, stunned, before they fluttered closed and he leaned into it. After a few moments, they pulled away, and there was a silence…

“Welp, Roman, Thomas, you both owe me fifty bucks each.”

Roman and Thomas groaned, glaring at Virgil, who smirked cockily.

“Don’t get all pissed at me! It’s your fault for betting in the first place.”

“Language!” Patton scolded. “There’s a child here!”

“You bet on us?” Logan raised an eyebrow condescendingly.

“These two bet they could set you up. I bet against them, saying it would happen without them interfering,” Virgil explained. “I was right, and now I have an extra a hundred dollars in my pocket.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but smiled as he felt Patton’s arms wrapping around his waist. He leant into the embrace, holding a sleeping Evan close to his chest.

“I love you, Logibear…” Patton smiled.

“I love you too, Pattoncake.”

“Aww, they’re making pet names for each other already!” Roman let out a small squeal. However, the noise caused Evan to wake, shifting in Logan’s hold.

“You think he’s hungry?” Patton asked. “I can make him up a bottle of milk.”

“No need,” Logan responded, sitting down and going to unbutton his shirt. “Oh, um, are you all okay with me breastfeeding in front of you guys? It’s just better for cognitive development than bottled milk, so I find it worth the potential short period of dysphoria- ”

The others all nodded, saying it was perfectly fine, though Patton sounded a little concerned at the mention of dysphoria. Logan gave an appreciative smile, reassuring Patton that the dysphoria really wasn’t that bad: after all, he’d gotten used to it with not wearing his binder for a majority of the pregnancy.

Roman suggested they have a movie night to celebrate the baby’s arrival - gotta introduce them to Disney early - and the canonicity of the Logicality ship. Patton thought it was sweet they had a ship name for them, Logan thought it was rather stupid.

Anyway, they chose a movie - Winnie the Pooh, as Patton said it was likely the most family friendly for Evan - and all bunched up on the couch, Thomas having grabbed snacks from the kitchen.

Logan had been longing to have Crofters again for so long, staring at the jars on the table, but unable to pick one up with Evan in his arms. Patton took notice, picking up a jar and a spoon, and started feeding spoonfuls to Logan.

“Practicing for when you officially become Evan’s other father, Pat?” Roman asked, smirking. Logan’s face burned bright red, but Patton responded with a deadpan expression.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing for when you officially become his uncle?”

Thomas couldn’t help but snort at how red his cousin’s face had become. Logan started buttoning his shirt back up. “Y-you know, Evan’s looking pretty sleepy, I should go put him to bed.” He got up and hurried from the room, burping Evan as he went.

“I think you made him overly flustered, Pat,” Virgil pointed out the obvious.

“He’ll be fine,” Thomas reassured. “Just give him a chance to cool o- ”

Patton was already leaving the room, heading to follow Logan. As he stepped into Evan’s bedroom, his eyes widened. So much work had been put into the room. The ceiling was black and had glow in the dark rainbow stars all over it, arranged accurately to constellations. The walls were blue, and there was a solar system mobile over the cot. Logan was tucking Evan in whilst quietly singing. Singing a song very familiar to Patton.

“When I see the way you act Wondering when I'm coming back I could do about anything I could even learn how to love like you…”

Patton quietly stepped further into the room as Logan sang, mesmerised. His voice was so smooth, calming… He’d give Roman a run for his money.

As Logan came to the end of the song, Patton wrapped his arms around his waist, making the father jump.

“It’s okay, Logi, it’s just me. Your singing was beautiful.” He gave Logan a small kiss on the cheek. “By the way… I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier. I don’t know why I said it, we literally just got together, I- ”

“Pat, it’s okay. In fact, I couldn’t be happier to find out you see us getting married in the future.” He turned in Patton’s hold so they were facing each other. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

The two leant forward, their lips meeting, Logan’s hands going to rest on Patton’s cheeks. They stayed there for a bit, just enjoying the moment, until a knock on the door signalled them to pull away.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Thomas apologised, stepping inside, “but we have a serious mission. Operation Glasses Gays is complete. Now, I need your help with Operation My Chemical Roman-ce.”

Taglist: @part-of-me-do-not-know-the-rest, @why-should-i-tell-youu2

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

Text

Counterpart Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Framework!Steve

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Words: 2k | AO3

A/N: Short and punchy guys! Counterpart has been a wild ride. And thus conclude’s this story. But you know what they say about one door closing... I hope you join me for the Spin-Off: The Liberators. Send me an ask if you want to be tagged in that going forward.

Warning: flashing gif below!

Like, reblog or leave a comment -it’s highly appreciated! ☺

EPILOGUE: THOSE WE LEAVE BEHIND

"And do you regret it?" Your therapist inquired from behind the safety of her clipboard, her eyes shielded by the thick glass layer of her lenses.

You had been startled from your wondering thoughts, fingers shifting the ring on your left hand absentmindedly, "What?"

"Everything that happened?" She used her arm to prop herself straighter in her leather chair. "Every time you come in here, you express regret for your actions, talking about how you wished you could take it all back, how you wished you could return to the way things were before. But you've never actually said it aloud. So, I'll ask you again: do you regret everything that happened to you all those months ago?"

Your bottom lip froze half an inch from the other, your focus drawn to the sounds of rain hitting the roof. It was like being under a meteor shower.

Discontent with the silence, your therapist pushed forward, "Alright. Perhaps we should move onto something a little easier to talk about… How are things with your husband?"

Two separate faces flashed into your mind and for a second, you had lost your bearings, the depths of your mental discord colliding into uncertainty. Visions of another life bombarding your cerebral peripheral and you had to hold your eyes shut for a brief moment.

You therapist craned her neck to study your reactions better, "Y/N?"

"I… S-sorry.” You shook yourself back to the present. Back to the now. “Things with my husband…" You twirled your wedding band some more, a grievous impression permanently stamped to your brow. A kick and a jostle inside of you alerted you to the baby’s movements, your eyes trailing downwards to see a soft bump nudging forward and then systematically retreating over your protruding belly. "They're good. Better now that I'm off active duty. He worries. Though now he's just gotten substantially better at hiding it."

She scribbled something on her clipboard with a thoughtful, "Hmm." When her pen was returned to its resting position, she asked: "And how are you fairing with your impromptu return to civilian life?"

"It's…" You took your time, searching for the appropriate response to sum up the last few months. "An adjustment period."

"And what of the medication? Any further side-effects?"

"My memory gets a little foggy some mornings. But it's getting better. At least I can go an entire day without getting one of those mind-numbing headaches. The prescription change has been beneficial I think," you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you watched her jot something down with an elated look on her face.

"That's good to hear," the ticking clock let off a soothing tune for a few beats. "Ah, it seems that's all we have time for today." She placed the cap over her pen and placed her clipboard on the table.

"Same time next week?" You anchored your arms on the arm-rests to make it easier for you to lift your much heavier body out of the tight chair.

Your therapist mulled over a thought, "No, you seem to be improving immensely, I think it's a safe bet to cut down our meeting time to every other week. Give you more time to adjust to your new normal. You can also limit yourself to one pill a day now."

"Got it doc. See you in two weeks then," you grabbed your bag off the floor and stretched out your hand to grab onto the doorknob.

"Oh, and agent Y/N," she called out to you. A huff left your lips as you slowly turned to face her again. She smiled wryly, tucking her hands into the small pockets of her blazer. "Hail Hydra."

You held her gaze for a long pause, the oscillation between raindrops growing farther and farther apart, the grey clouds were starting to part, stray slivers of stubborn sunlight beaming through the skylight.

"Nice try doc," A cheeky smile crept across your lips as you turned the doorknob, a clicking sound emanating off the latch. "Oh, and you asked me if I regret what happened."

She leaned closer, hands keeping her steady over the table, eyes narrowing studiously.

You looked down at the warm metal on your left hand. "Only on the bad days."

Bucky was leaning against the frame of his car, thumbs hooked over the edges of his jean pockets, sunglasses framing his strong jawline. He beamed a smile at you as soon as he caught wind of you exiting the large building. Striding over to smother you in a warm embrace.

He peeled his sunglasses back so he could stare down at you affectionately. His body relaxed and at ease, once you were trapped within the circumference of his protectively locked fingers pressed against the small of your back.

You exhaled contently, a brightness exploding in your chest. It was probably the hormones making you overly emotional, but he loved seeing that side of you. He loved bringing that side of you to the surface. Honestly, he loved everything about you and he wasn’t averse to letting you know it every morning you woke up either.

"How're my girl's doing?" he asked with his cheek firmly planted on your scalp.

"Hmm, we're fine. Just tired," your stomach betrayed you, letting out a whale call from hunger.

"Fine huh?" he teased, placing his hand protectively on your swollen bellybutton.

You swatted him away, not in the mood for a belly rub. "Maybe I am a little hungry."

"Can't have that, can we?" He laced his fingers in yours dragging you to the car with his long strides while you waddled behind him trying to keep up.

After Bucky made a fuss of strapping the seat belt around you, the two of you sat in comfortable silence as he drove back to the compound.

You cradled your bump when you felt the baby become particularly energetic with its kicks, the discomfort from your pressed bladder making you constantly shift your legs about.

"How do you know our baby's going to be a girl?" You blinked up at him.

Bucky grinned like a love-struck fool, hand inching away from the stick shift towards the spot where your belly kept fluttering from the movements within. "A hunch."

You leaned your head against the window, "I think it'll be a boy."

"If he's anything like I was as a kid, we're gonna be in big trouble."

You placed your hand behind his neck, massaging the point where his nape hairs subsided, "Ditto."

He chuckled, lacing your fingers again with one hand on the steering wheel so he could kiss the ring on your finger. "Either way… I'm happy."

You looked through the rear-view mirror. A ghost that looked eerily like Steve glared at you through hooded eyes, sending shivers down your back as you gulped. You kept eye contact with the phantom in silent provocation. A psychological form of warfare reserved for you and those you left behind.

"So am I."

When you got back to the compound you saw Wanda and Sam lifting boxes out of your room. Wanda's boxes hovered close to her, surrounded by the ruby threads of her misty projections, eyes a shade paler than her defensive red. Sam had a sweat patch forming around his shirt's V-neck.

"What's all this?" you asked.

Sam set a box down with a loud exhale, "I thought you were gonna try and keep her away until we were done settin’ up the crib in the new room?" he directed his question at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged, "My girls were hungry."

Wanda held a joyous type of energy in the way she playfully hovered the boxes about, "It was supposed to be a surprise. We're setting you two up in the suite on the top floor. There wasn't much space in your old room for the crib."

Your eyes began to well up from tears of joy, a soft laugh echoing out in the otherwise quiet hallway. Bucky instinctively moved closer to you, the sound of your voice acting as a type of magnet for him, an undisputable pull.

"You guys," you fanned at your eyes. "I don't know what to say."

Sam slinked his arm around your neck, "You don't have to say nothin'…we’re your family now. And family looks out for each other."

You sniffled as Wanda joined in on the hug, her hair tickling your nape, "I always wanted a sister."

Bucky didn't join in, he knew this moment was for you and you alone. He was perfectly happy watching you glow from all the affection and adoration you were receiving. A sensation of pride injecting through his veins with every strong heartbeat.

Wanda kept you blindfolded with her slender fingers, light travelling through the gaps between her fingers as she led you towards your new room.

"Ta-da!" she bellowed when she whipped her hands back.

You opened your eyes and took in the sight of your newly decorated, oldly furnished and spaciously laid out room. The crib was strategically placed in the lightest part of the room. A mobile of palnets spinning above the yellow bumble-bee print spread.

Wanda placed her head on your shoulder, having to bend her knees slightly to reach your height.

"Wanda," you clasped her hand in yours. "It's perfect."

"I know," she said with a proud smile. "It's easy to decorate a room when you move everything with a single thought."

You both laughed.

Leaning against the wall was the same phantom from the car, his dark eyes leering at you with both desire and disgust, venom oozing off his words, mangled by strife and irreconcilability, "I gave up everything for you."

You blinked him away and turned on your heel, nudging Wanda's head off of you. Suddenly a rush of blue and silver screened past your vision and for a moment you saw Pietro in Wanda's features.

She looked at you with concern, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I've just been thinking."

"What about?"

"The baby," you patted your bump. "And names. I was toying with the idea of naming it Peter if it's a boy, after you brother."

Wanda gasped, her eyes becoming glassier with each stretch of time. A tweak working over her agape mouth.

"And if it's a girl, Wanda. Because you were both instrumental in bringing me back. You both saved my life. That’s one of the reason’s I asked Sam not to destroy the Framework. I couldn’t live with myself if I destroyed the people I had been made to believe were flesh and blood. The people I believed were once as real as you and Bucky and Sam are to me."

Speechless, Wanda threw her arms around you and let out a shaky laugh filled with glee. The two of you swaying about in the room while Bucky and Sam leaned against the door frame watching with satisfied looks.

Talia stared at the bloodied knife she had used to stab Steve in the back in order to save Y/N from his murderous clutches before she disappeared in that strange beam of light that seemingly disappeared with her. The blood had dried now, shavings of red plasma peeling off the serrated blades stainless steel. A trophy of her misgivings.

Tania Belinsky was dead. Her neck snapped without reservation and just like that this cruel, bleak world had taken another person she came to care for. A person she broke down her walls for.

James was gone too. He hadn't contacted her in over several hours. They had a system. A protocol. He hadn't followed it. She knew for certain he was gone and she was left alone in the world once again. The empty feeling in her heart was survived only by the hatred in her veins.

Pietro sat on the cold ground with his head in his hands, tears running down his bruised face as he mourned. Shuri presided over him, an anchoring grip placed on his shoulder as a quiet life-jacket intended to keep him afloat through the maelstrom of grief that he was cast into. Just like Talia, Pietro had lost two people closest to him in the span of a few minutes. To say it was crippling was an understatement.

Sharon sat in the far corner of the brick room, she hadn't uttered a single word since the retreat. Her only constant was the tremble in her hands that refused to subside.

"They know who we are now," Shuri stated gravely. "It won't be long before they come for us."

Rage, pure and unnerving, pooled around Talia's eyes, "Good," she spat vehemently through grinding molars.

Everyone in the basement looked up at her with perplexity tugging on their eyebrows. She stalked off towards the spray-painted graffiti of a raised hand signing out an L, implanting the knife in the centre of it with a single swing, a crack forming around the plugged tear. The assassin in her had been sorely let down when she didn’t draw blood from the stone wall. "Let them come. It's time we stop hiding. It's time to draw the line in the sand."

“It’s time for liberation,” Sharon muttered.

“It’s time for liberation!”

Natalia Romanova's storyline continues in The Liberators.

Counterpart tags, message me if you want to be added to my Steve or Bucky taglists for future stories!

Tags: @ladybugsfanfics @ninaminaromina @xstevenat

AFWHI & Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader

Thanks for sticking with me through the end, you guys are awsome! ♥

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #steve imagine #steve x reader #steve x you #marvel imagines #mcu #avengers #framework fic #counterpart fic #reader insert

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leaves-of-three · 6 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if I could see a sincerely three of how they deal with the reader when she was on her period? Thank you!

You were curled up on the couch. Your cramps had gotten worse towards the afternoon. You had to stop mid way through your homework to lie down. It felt like a knife being stabbed into your gut and twisting around. You whined, complaining loudly, “I’m dying. Help.” :

Evan:

- Evan petted your hair. Your head was resting in his lap. His fingers gently combed through your scalp. It felt wonderful. He was always so compassionate and soft with his touches. “It’s just math homework. It’s not that awful. Do you want me to finish it for you?”

- You had to stifle a smile. He was so naive. “I’m not talking about homework, Ev, but thank you anyway.” Your smile faded when another cramp gripped you. You groaned.

- He looked down at you and his eyes widened in panic. “Wait, are you really dying? Is it your appendix? Do you need to go to the hospital? Should I call an ambulance?”

- You snorted. “Calm down. It’s called being dramatic. I just have my period. It’s okay.”

- Evan fumbled. “Your-? Oh…right…yeah…” He nodded in surprise. He was used to his mom being up front about female things but he had never had to deal it first hand. He wanted to impress you, to take care of you, and help you feel better. What did his mom always want during that time of the month? Chocolates? That’s what girls like, right? “…Can I, uhm, get you anything?”

- You didn’t want him to actually move. If he got up, you’d have to abandon the hair petting but you could really use some pain killers. “Do you have any ibuprofen?”

- “I can do that!” He practically jumped up, happy that he could help in some way. Evan hurried to the bathroom. He looked through the medicine cabinet. Next to his anxiety medicine, he found his mom’s bottle of ibuprofen. He read the back of the bottle to find out how much you were supposed to take. Then he took the pills and got you a glass of water.

- You spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on the couch. Evan held one arm around you and the other played with your hair. You started to feel better once the medicine kicked in. He kept you calm and relaxed in his arms. You kept dozing off.

- He secretly finished your homework for you whenever you nodded off.

- The next day he showed up to school with a mug of hot herbal tea, a chocolate bar, and a warm yellow chrysanthemum flower. “The yellow reminded me of you because it’s so bright and happy. And you make me feel bright and happy.” You placed a soft kiss on his lips. He was perfect.

Jared:

- Jared looked up from his computer. He was sitting opposite of where you were curled up on the couch. His laptop rested in on his lap, “I’ll be sure to give you a viking burial at sea once you’re gone. I gotchyou covered, babe. Don’t worry.”

- You couldn’t help but laugh, “I hate you.” You kicked out of you leg and hit him in the side. “I heard if you keep your laptop on your lap like that you’ll lower your sperm count. Better be careful.” You winced as another sharp pain shot through your body.

- Before he could come up with a smart mouthed response, he saw your face contort with pain. He pushed the laptop aside. “Ready or not, here I come.” He jumped on top of you, covering your entire body with his.

- You grunted and were pushed deep into the couch. “Jared, what the fu-”

- He shushed you. “We’re cuddling. It’ll make you feel better.”

- How was it that he could always make you laugh? Even when you felt like shit, he was able to put a smile on your face. “Is your idea of cuddling squishing me to death?”

- “Mhm!” He smiled proudly and planted a kiss on your cheek. “I’m squishing out the pain. It’s science.”

Connor:

- Connor had managed to force himself into the spot between you and the back of the couch. He was holding onto you tightly. It wasn’t really a big enough space for two people to lie side by side but that didn’t stop him. If he loosened his grip on you, you’d probably fall to the floor. “You’re not dying. I won’t let that happen. I’ll fight Death, himself, if he tries to take you.” He nuzzled his face into the back of your hair.

- You sighed. He made you feel so safe in his arms. You wanted to look at him though. You liked when you could see his face. Carefully, you turned around on what little couch space you had to face him. The moment you were facing him, you latched your arms around him, snuggling into his chest. Yours legs entwined together.

- A content smile lingered on his face. He placed light kisses across your forehead. His lips against your head dulled the cramps. His hand slipped under the back of your shirt, tracing little patterns against your bare skin. Your stomach fluttered. Every touch he gave you filled you with love. Your emotions were mixed with lust and passion. You could blame your spike in hormones on the feeling but you knew you’d of felt this way regardless. He always put you under a spell. You tried to dull the nagging sex drive building in you.

- Fuck it. You were so close to him. Every limb was entwined against his. You gave in. You hands began to wonder across his body. You nestled your face against his neck, nipping at his pale skin. You could practically hear the devilish grin spread over his lips. It was like he could read your mind.

- Connor tilted your chin up to him and placed his lips on yours. “I think I know how to help,” he muttered against your lips.

- Unwillingly, you let him untangle himself from you, taking your hand and pulling you up the stairs to the bathroom. He leaned over the tub, filling it up with hot water. He took one of Zoe’s bath bombs and tossed it into the bath. It fizzled and turned the water a swirl of blue and purple. While the water rose, Connor busied himself by pressing you against the wall and spoiling you with his kisses.

- “I’ll make you feel better,” he gave you a wink.

#my first request!! im so excited :D #also ive never written for jared before so i did my best #the-dead-angel #requests

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dredshirtroberts · 4 years

Text

Been a while since I went on and on about my family.

Probably because shit’s been kinda crazy in my life and frankly there’ve been other things to consider.

I have very, very complex feelings about my family.

I love them, dearly, with all my heart. They claim to do the same to me, and sometimes they do things that prove it. Sometimes they say things that make me think if I ever were to open up completely to them I would no longer be loved. They have helped me and protected me during rough times in my life and I will be forever grateful to them. They have also caused me harm and trauma and seeded deep seated anxieties and complexes that will cause me distress for some time yet as I work my way through all of it. They are also, undeniably human, and for that I cannot find it in me to dislike them for their faults. Much.

Because of the trauma and hurt I’ve been through - whether sourced from them or not - it is incredibly easy for manipulative people to latch onto my insecurities and my anger and turn that into something they can use to isolate me from the people I am closest to both genetically and emotionally, thus making it easier to hurt me differently, more.

This has happened at least twice that I’m aware of. Once with a former best friend who I don’t know intended to be as manipulative and abusive as she is/was but intent doesn’t really matter I suppose. The second time was with my ex-partner I left this past April.

To my eyes it always appeared that my younger sister was the favorite of my parents, and to my sister I appeared the favorite, so we were essentially pitted against one another in a competition we never signed up for - and I believe this was done completely unintentionally. The constant struggle to be “good enough” for our parents’ approval placed us in the unfortunate position of being 2 hormonal teenagers within 3 years of age difference stuck in the same house 24/7. We were constantly fighting - screaming matches designed to hurt. Wild swings meant to intimidate but not connect because if I connected there’d be hell to pay. (I connected a punch at least once, and that’s just the one I remember because it was relatively traumatizing not only to her but to myself because I never actually wanted to hit her). She and I have mostly gotten through the misunderstanding of our motivations from that time period. She struggled because I was the “good kid” who never did anything wrong - even though she knew better. And she was talented and beautiful and got compliments on everything - even though I saw her handheld through some of the things I was forced to do on my own. It was very fraught, and honestly there were things that should have been done better but none of us knew what we were doing.

My parents meant well with everything. They tried not to play favorites but they were both older children determined not to let their oldest child feel like they had - and in doing so had caused their youngest to feel ostracized and like she would never be enough because I had the benefit of the doubt on my side. Confirmation bias - the oldest kid wasn’t in the wrong all the time, which meant I was never in the wrong because they hadn’t been in the wrong all the time (they thought). This was the wrong way to handle it but I don’t think I would have done any better.

They took us out of Public Schooling to homeschool when I was 12 and my sister was 9. They meant to make sure that we were getting the attention we needed in order to succeed. I’d been in the gifted program and was still bored, and my sister was being sidelined because she was placed in That classroom of her peers - the one filled with all the kids who were constantly in trouble, and with the teacher who probably didn’t need to be a teacher anymore. So they thought they would do a better job. My dad worked full time initially so he was gone a lot. My mom tried to teach but she is not a teacher. She is an excellent scholar and does very well with knowing things. If you know things on the same level she does? Great to talk to and debate with. If you’re not there yet? Forget it, you’re going to have to find someone else to teach you. My sister required a lot more attention as she was the squeaky wheel - she wouldn’t read because she finds it incredibly difficult (I’m pretty sure we’ve got some level of dyslexia, and hers is worse than mine). She was very good at math though, which my mother loved because my mother loves math. She picked my mom’s favorite foreign language to learn because it was relevant to her own interests and my mom latched on.

I could read 5 books in a week, write pages and pages of stories, and would research like no one’s business. But I could not figure out math, I wouldn’t put the research into a paper, my stories were not for parental consumption, and I didn’t want to read the books I was supposed to be reading (they were incredibly boring, I stand by my decisions). But none of this interested my mother except in telling me how I was failing, so I was left to my own devices, sitting alone in my bedroom surrounded by my schoolbooks and doing nothing I was supposed to. It was a very artistically productive time in my life. When I got a laptop later in my teens, forget school work at all, nothing got done. I technically did not graduate high school and I only “passed” the assessment tests because I test incredibly well.

So I was alone for a very long time during the day until “my” parent got home from work. Cause I was Dad’s kid and my sister was my mom’s kid, as described above. But I couldn’t get into computers and programming the way my dad wanted me to - my sister was actually into more of the same interests as him, but they Do Not get along. Yes present tense. They do well in short periods of time but they are not ever going to be close-close. My mom and I are cut from the same nerd cloth and I thought at one point I’d maybe found a way into her heart by starting her going to a local comic convention with me. We did an annual day out just the two of us for a good couple years. I think I learned something the one time she tried to bring my dad and sister with us (neither of whom was in any way shape or form excited about the endeavor, and in fact both hated it immensely). We stopped going as regularly after that and haven’t been back since. That...that one still hurts so I’m going to try not to pick open that scab right now.

I spent a lot of time alone. I was trying to figure myself out. I was about 16 when I realized I was not a Girl. I’m actually still fairly certain my initial assessment is correct and actually I am a guy. I just...can’t do anything about it right now and honestly I’ve gotten used to existing as I am so I’m just going to keep on keeping on. It might change again, it’s been known to do that. I don’t know if it’s a natural thing for me or if it’s something that is induced by outside stressors but I’ll just continue existing and we’ll see how it goes.

My mental illnesses were ignored for the most part. Teenage Angst was what my depression was, I’d grow out of it. Normal was what my anxiety was determined to be (hmm, my Super Anxious mother saying my anxiety is just normal life? sounds fake but okay). ADHD? That’s something that kids with less attentive parents have, and since mine were super attentive - I was being homeschooled after all - I clearly could not have that. Plus it was fake, and if I wasn’t so lazy and unmotivated I wouldn’t have a problem. Also I didn’t know anything about ADHD so that was definitely not something I had. The fact that I definitely wanted to kill myself and frequently wanted to die and didn’t think I’d live past 18? I didn’t talk about that. No one knew because depression wasn’t real and if I said anything I was just “crying out for help” and clearly that was only what whiny brats did when they felt the world wasn’t being handed to them on a silver platter.

I self-harmed intentionally for the first time at 14. I have done so infrequently since then. When I reached drinking age, I developed a mild problem - but I didn’t think anything of it because it was encouraged and supported by my family who didn’t know I was using it to cope with the fact that I still felt like dying but now was older than I ever thought I’d be and didn’t know where my life was going. I used pot as a way to escape with my first IRL friend in 7 years. She used it against me as a way to make me easier to manipulate and keep complacent. I let her.

I spent 4 years in a weird haze of things I don’t really remember very well or remember extremely clearly. I was constantly anxious and upset, and I still felt like dying but at least I wasn’t alone anymore. She constantly berated my sister (which I hated and promised never to let anyone else do ever again - which I then broke later but, well, I’m going to be better now). My family didn’t like her, which she used to pit me against them saying they only wanted to isolate me from others again. This is the same time I came to Tumblr and started learning about abuse cycles and signs. It took me a while to stop only attributing them to the way my family worked (not always abusive) and start comparing the lists to her behavior towards me (usually abusive).

I finally realized something was wrong with all of it when I was introduced to a group of people in whom I found several new family members. If you’re reading this, you’re statistically one of those people so you already know what I’m talking about. This ex-friend of mine introduced me to the group and I was shocked at how people could positively support one another and be genuinely interested in my health and wellbeing and also the things I enjoyed all at the same time.

I met a guy through them and with his support and everyone else’s I left the manipulation and abusive behavior of this ex-friend behind. The relationship with the guy lasted 6 months and honestly I’m impressed we got that far now that I think back on it (note to self, if he’s named himself after war machinery it probably won’t work very long). It was the longest I’d ever been out with anyone, my previous record being 2 weeks. 2 months after the end of that relationship and I met my now ex-partner.

I won’t rehash that disaster. It was 4.5 years of slow build up to the shitshow that actually started in December of last year and culminated in April of this year. He used the same tactics against me as my ex-friend did. Slowly pull me away from my support system (who I was already farther away from than I’d been with Her). Remind me that they’d hurt me and that their attempts to hold on to me were to keep me away from others. Hide that he was trying to do the same himself, isolate me from my support system and give me a support system that already backed him up and would side with him no matter what. Use physical intimidation (whether intentional or not he did it, and it was new so I wasn’t prepared) to remind me that I was not in any position of power. Berate my sister, avoid my family, use their attempts to show me that he was in the wrong to prove they were in the wrong.

I swear to god the very next time someone else calls my sister a bitch I am throwing hands and getting the fuck out immediately because I Will Not.

It’s happened twice now and I’ve let it happen both times. It’s not fair to her and honestly it’s not even true. She’s...difficult to deal with, and sometimes she does things in a manner that doesn’t...make much sense to me but she’s not a bitch. She’s a woman who is extremely opinionated and has very strong views on How Things Should Be. She’s not bigoted or hateful which frankly is a surprise considering our upbringing. But she’s not a bitch.

Speaking of our upbringing, I guess I should mention I was raised in a politically conservative, right-wing household. There are certain radio talk-show hosts whose introduction jingles make me think of summertime and relaxation because that’s when I’d be listening to them the most thanks to my mom always having them on the radio during their broadcast times. The Liberals (tm) were Bad and the Republicans were the only hope our country had. The Gays were an evil to be endured but god forbid they get any rights or freedoms, and also women are completely equal to men and racism was abolished before my dad was born so it’s fine now.

We weren’t super Christian - not until later anyway. We went to church on Sundays, and even then Dad took several years off where he just never went to a service. We listened to Punk music and pretended we were on the right side of things, and sometimes we listened to heavier stuff because Satan was bad but not that bad and also probably not real because Christianity isn’t a big deal it’s just important because Reasons (tm). We only prayed before big holiday meals and even then it was more lip service than anything. A tradition of Things You Do. I had friends who were way more performatively Christian than my family and I didn’t really think anything of it.

Of course now my dad’s part of one of those neo-baptists mini-megachurch cults (my bad, I did introduce him to it after I spent a summer in Louisiana) and he’s become weirdly open to things like Neurodivergence and Mental Illness but has regressed on the trans* and gay issues to, like, all the way back: “He’s just confused why does any guy want to wear a dress” and “she’s got a wife and I guess that’s fine because she’s an alright person but gay people shouldn’t get married or exist”. I vaguely know their stance on reproductive rights because we never actually discussed sex despite my dad and I communicating frequently in bawdy jokes and quotes from movies I shouldn’t have seen as young as I was when I saw them, but I told them at one point I was on birth control and I think my mom had a mini aneurism because she just kind of froze for a minute. It’s definitely not a favorable view but I mean...I can’t convince them to care about people who aren’t them and who experience the world differently from them so I mean

Mm and they’ve recently become gun owners which was a surprise. We never owned a gun, we never really talked about guns or gun ownership except as a political thing. Dad kinda mentioned it a little bit sometimes? that he’d one day like a gun but it was always a distant future sort of thing. And now they both have concealed carry licenses, my mom has a purse with a hidden compartment and a lock, they go out to the shooting range for dates together, and my dad went on his first deer hunt this year for a work retreat thing (?????? don’t ask me, I honestly don’t know or understand why that was a thing).

I held a gun one time and it was horrible and I hated it. It wasn’t loaded or anything but it was heavy as fuck and I was so uncomfortable I immediately handed it back as soon as its owner was done with whatever he was trying to prove to me (it was first boyfriend war machinery name guy...again, every time i look back at that relationship I still don’t know how we managed to keep our shit together for 6 whole months. it was not my best decision but considering the other decisions i’ve made regarding relationships, I suppose it could have been worse).

Anyway, I forget where I was supposed to be going with all of this. I think I was just explaining that my feelings about my family are complicated and uncomfortable? And I think the main thing I got out of this (which is a good thing, don’t worry) is that I am not going to let anyone else in my life determine my relationship with my parents and my sister ever again and anyone who tries to manipulate that (even with good intentions, it’s still none of their business) is a bad fit for me and needs to go.

Oh yeah, I guess this is also me coming out to y’all who are reading this: I think I’m a guy. I’ll let you know if my pronouns or anything change but right now I’m pretty much still coming to terms with the gender bit. It’s been a while since I properly explored my gender shit so we’ll see how it goes.

#personal posting #my thoughts #it's not really important but it is long so maybe there's something in there?#idk i just kind of rambled for a bit about my family and my shit i've had going on

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letsdiscoverkitty · 7 years

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If this is too personal, please just ignore this ask. Also, I hope this doesn't sound offensive! Do you know why you got ill with anorexia? Sorry, if this is too personal.

It’s okay, I don’t mind you asking, this is, after all, a personal blog ^.^ I will try not to ramble too much, but I can’t promise anything.

I think, in all honesty, I will never know what exactly caused me to fall into the grips of Anorexia. I have had many therapists/support workers who have tried to work out “why” this happened, however it isn’t as simple as a few tick boxes on a sheet. I think I have, over time, come to the conclusion that it was a whole load of things that mounted up and there was yet another thing added to the pile and it was the thing to knock me over/cause the tower to “topple” (kind of like jenga?)

I went through a big depression episode the summer before I fell ill, I had an eye operation and could hardly leave the house for weeks due to anxiety/hitting a depression “wall” - I wasn’t allowed to exercise or swim (two things I loved) and I was anxious about starting A levels and all my friends leaving (I stayed at 6th form at my school where our whole year amounted to around 30 students).

In terms of what was it that “built up”? As a family we were never ones to “talk” about anything. If we hit something we had to overcome we would be practical, overcome it, and then put it right behind us. There was no time for being emotional. One big thing was my grandpa dying of a stroke when I was 12/13, it came as quiet a shock (although he suffered from Dementia so he had been slowly deteriorating for a while) however the family we have in this country you could count on one hand (my mum’s mum and dad and brother and his wife) so losing him was a big hit, and I never got to say goodbye/see him.I also felt a lot of pressure growing up as my brother went off to private school (I didn’t) and whom I looked up to quite a lot. Mum was always working. Dad worked from home but has always has a depression/alcohol issues that he refuses to acknowledge (mum said this is how he has been longer than she has been with him). Dad collapsed and basically died in-front of me (his body shut down for a while and heart stopped) when I was 14 years old and I was the one who had to phone the ambulance and try to help mum save him (he was okay in the end and stayed in hospital for a day or two and had some medication changed). Growing up I didn’t really have my emotional needs met by dad who was “there” physically but not emotionally (I vividly remember always worrying about what I would do if he collapsed at the wheel when driving me to primary school), although I was a very happy and outgoing child who wanted to do everything/anything she could, I was musical, sporty, academic, was part of the scouting movement, wanted to be out exploring and not stuck inside...Moving to middle school I only knew one other person (through her dad moving in next door to us) however all of my classmates went off to another intermediate school so that was tough. I have had a lazy eye all my life and so have had to deal with bullying and comments - middle school I used to cover half my face with my hair/literally cut my side fringe like an eye patch (I went through eye patching when I was very little and have always worn glasses however the NHS lost my notes and I never had an operation, well, until I went back to my GP aged 16 heavily depressed and was then given one, although it did not “fix” things it has made it a little better although my eyes dont work “together” - it was purely aesthetic).When I was 12, through me being a very nosey and a sister who would not back down, I found out that my brother was struggling with his identity (gender), this was something that my parents kept from me for a very long time and that no one talked about. Andi was not looked after very well by the MH services and my parents were alienated/not told how to help or support and I was completely forgot. This was a really hard thing for me to come to terms with, especially at the age of 12 (it was 21st December, 4 days before my birthday and I was suddenly told that my brother was not who I thought he was and that he had always been unhappy). This was never talked to me about (this was the winter after we lost my grandpa) and we literally just shut it away. Andi received some support but not much at all, he changed his name to Andi from Andrew when I was 15 and I was very supportive however it still was not something we ever talked about. (I think Dad struggled with it most as he is very traditional/in the generation where these things just never came up - and yes my parents are “older”) I still struggle with using the ‘right’ pronouns which is why I tend to just say “andi” because still to this day, many many years on, Andi still does not know what he wants to do. I thought he was going to go through the gender reassignment at one point as he did start hormones however he stopped going to appointments at the clinic he was under in London a number of years ago and ever since has been in a bit of a limbo. Andi also suffered from bulimia during college so has been very supportive with my issues (again no one “knew”). We have a relationship that is basically, we both know each of us is there for the other and we can talk about anything, but we get on better when we are not living together(?). Andi lives in Reading and his career is flying and he is quite happy although I do worry about his level of personal care but yes I am going on a bit too much about this...So this is some of the stuff that had built up (it is hard to think about it on the spot) and then I hit A levels and I had always been “a bit better than average” throughout school, never the top but in the top few and was often taken on trips for Oxbridge etc, however when I stayed at 6th form there was suddenly a huge spot light on me and another boy to be pipped for oxbridge/head girl and head boy etc. I put myself under so much pressure/stress and worked so so hard at the start of A levels that I pushed myself into the ground. This pressure and stress and constantly doing and not stopping (I was still involved in a lot of things, working part time (I have had a job since I was around 13) and didnt want to be at home - I loved sport and played the clarinet and bassoon and wanted to be studying and exercising and socialising) and it was just the one thing too many. Everything tumbled. I just couldn’t cope anymore.

In terms of why food? Before I fell into the grips of Anorexia I had always have a bit of a “weird/different” relationship with food; I was allergic to egg and milk when I was little. Primary school and “intermediate school” (years 6-8) were probably the most “normal” but then when I went into year 9, and in my area this meant we transitioned to the ‘grammar’ school, food became something I could control...I used to skip meals, lived off of energy drinks in the day, was extremely picky of what I would eat and then ate more at night. I did not see this as unhealthy or as a disordered thing, however looking back now I can see it was very much both of those things. I used to do a lot of sport as well, I was sports captain in my intermediate school, and then took up GCSE PE, was very close to going professional with swimming but decided to focus on education, I also volunteered as a swimming coach, was netball captain and just LOVED it all. Anyway, I can see that the combination of little eating and lots of exercise probably wasn’t the best of things - I was not underweight, however my periods were very irregular. Due to using this food as a crutch for quite a few years I think it was what I latched onto when I went into A levels. It was stress, anxiety, depression, and for me I needed to block it all out, numb all of the pain/hurt/worry. I became trapped by numbers, I never felt like my best was “good enough”, I was a perfectionist, a people pleaser and, yeah, it just crumbled.

Wow this has not come across the way I envisaged writing it. I am sorry for rambling on. This is what came to mind when writing, it is likely not the whole story, but I am not going to sit and dwell on/think too much about it as it is all quite raw still. I am now 22, this tumble happened when I was 16...which is quite scary to think about as I have lost a lot of time to this horrible illness. But yes, I hope this gives a little insight, and also how everyone is DIFFERENT - each journey is unique and personal, we may have similar struggles but I think, personally, that no two people who suffer from mental health struggles will ever be the same. I hope this answered your question a little x

#long post #personal #long long long #sorry for rambling #a bit of my story #Anonymous #asks

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iamnotsilver · 7 years

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Possible TMI but i need to rant.

So If you were born with a working vagina and uterus and all that junk that comes with being a cis female (or trans male or any other identity that just so happens to have a working vagina), you know the hell that is being on your period. I normally take birth control pills. But due to medical issues ive been having for YEARS that doctors STILL are failing to diagnose, they decided to have me try the Depo shot. Back in mid to late December, i got a shot in my left butt cheek that hurt like hell to put me into medically enduced menopause. HOT FLASHES SUCK THEY REALLY DO I STILL GET THEM AND ITS MAY THE SHOT ONLY LASTS 3 MONTHS okay enough about the pain that are hot flashes. Back to original rant topic. When you get off the shot, nobody told me what to expect. When will my period return? Will these hot flashes ever fucking stop their shit? Since this did nothing for my medical state to improve it and we have ruled Bowel Endometriosis out, is there anything i should look out for since ive been without the extra hormones my birth control pills normally give me to keep me from getting cysts? The answer, in my case, was annoying as hell but id like to share it so anyone else doing this for the first time doesnt feel scared and alone. It took me 2 months after the shot supposedly wore off to get my period back. Im not sexually active and i knew there was no way i could be pregnant, but it was still terrifying waiting and waiting and WAITING for what i knew would be a gruesome event of bleeding. My period started off way different from how it is normally. My first few days are normally light and gradually build into unbearable hell. I was spotting for 4 solid days. Just spotting. What the hell crotch? THEN IT WHAMMIED AND HOLY HELL PAIN. EXPECT LOTS AND LOTS OF PAIN the best way i can describe it is how periods were before i started birth control at all, when i felt so helpless and like the world was trying to kill me for being a 14 year old with exams and apparantly a fertile body. It genuinely feels like youre younger again and i cant say how it ends yet since my period hasnt finished yet. Mine are always 7 to 8 days long (which is on the longer end of the spectrum, i know) but im already at day 7 and about to hit 8 so im unsure how much longer this will be happening for me. Im lucky to have access to meds that make this easier, and my heating pad which is electric and i now believe it is the love of my life, and friends who are willing to listen to me rant about how much i hate having a vagina because of this stupid bleeding shit. Most of all, i learned its stupid to hide it all. Talk to people. Listen to their stories. They may have been through this stuff and have words of wisdom. I work for a CVS and was lucky to have a coworker tell me she had the shot once and it took her a month past the end for her period to come back. I knew at least somewhat ahead of time that itd likely come late. And as a 19 year old girl working in the pharmacy, its nice to be able to give advise to people who arent expecting it, like its best to put Suprep in the fridge and drink it chilled, which i made the terrible mistake of having it warm. People scared of their first colonoscopy dont want to talk about it but seeing a 19 year old girl be so open about it makes it a little easier to go in with your head held high. We shouldnt be afraid to talk about these taboo topics. Its one thing to spout medical lies and try to pass it off as truths. Its another to find a support center to help you get through whatever ails you, whether youre an undiagnosable like myself, or just someone aging who is afraid to get something routine done. I dont want to be afraid to talk about this. I want to talk about it openly and find people with advise for me before i have to go through everything alone. And if i do go through it alone, i want to help others so they dont have to go it alone like i did. Talk to people. Share your stories. It sucks going it alone and id rather talk about my period for anyone and everyone to read (which admittedly still makes me uncomfortable due to the stigma) than let someone else go it alone. If you can, please reblog with whatever stories you have. If youre uncomfortable as yourself, do it anonymously. Nobody minds. Lets just make it easier to talk about this stuff without being afraid. Hi, im a 19 year old girl with gastric problems that mimic crohns disease or UC but has been told multiple times it isnt that. I have almost constant nausea as well and constant abdominal pains. Ive been improperly diagnosed with allergies and given multiple rounds of antibiotics as well as been seen by an OB to see if that could be the cause. Ive had brain MRIs and CAT scans. The only thing that helps is moving constantly, which means being in college isnt an option for me at the moment, which is devastating for me. Work is the only thing keeping me going at the moment and ive latched onto the idea of helping others.

#medical #gastropost #obgyn #periods #period #menstruation #birth control #share #uterus #colonoscopy #depo shot #birth control pills #birth control problems #menopause #medicallife #college #young adult #pharmacy #medicine

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magdaleneswift-blog · 7 years

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CELIBATE OLD MEN EXPLAIN SEX TO THE WORLD.

The vatican documents on sex are all about love and being a symbol of God’s love for humanity. Bull – With their protection of the pedophiles and endorsement of the rape culture, their actions show what they really mean the purpose of sex is – It is the best way to declare war on another human being and make sure to do the maximum amount of damage possible. My experience of sex after two marriages are that it has NOTHING to do with love and men see it only as a means of domination.

MEN HATE SEX

Through the years of my life I have noted that men really hate sex and go to elaborate and continuous efforts to avoid it as much as possible while pretending the opposite. After 40+ years of live I am no longer under the illusion that sex is about love, affection, comfort, support, reassurance, or even carnal desire. It is purely a male power trip or adrenalin rush.

AVOIDANCE TECHNIQUES AND EVIDENCE

The following are some of the more common methods men use to avoid sex while pretending the opposite.

PORN

I can think of no other activity that is LESS likely to result in long term physical contact with another adult person of the appropriate gender. Porn is nearly always watched by oneself shut up in a closed room. Most of the public mock priests for choosing celibacy to devote their lives to God and the time they spend gazing in adoration at the holy presence or sacred writings contemplating the love of God. Porn watchers spend hours gazing in adoration at CRT screens or color photos. I don't know what they can be contemplating other than the space between their ears or the space between their legs. It is pretty much guaranteed that neither is seeing much use. One of porn's saving graces is that as its disciples lock themselves away from the general public for long periods of time, they normally avoid annoying the rest of us, except for the occasional crusade against censorship. These usually wind up resulting in the promotion of celibacy. That is porn's second saving grace. The discussion and/or content of it completely turns off most women; making celibacy seem incredibly attractive. The old copy of Playboy my ex kept to read the fighter plane articles was enough to bring me out of the mood in minutes. I just spent time in a hotel where I couldn't sleep at 3:00 am. I went down to the lobby to read to avoid waking the rest of the family. I used the public computer to read my e-mail. The previous user had left about a dozen porn pages up that I had to shut down to get to the e-mail program. Most of the images looked at women as objects to hurt or humiliate. When I got up, I noticed the seat was soaking wet. I was afraid to think what it could be. The hotel manager said the person had sat down with sopping wet clothes. The female equivalent, the 'Cinderella/vampire Romance' in which the love and attraction is for one partner for life/eternity either bores most men or causes them to flee in terror. The exception seems to be if they are looking for someone to volunteer to do their laundry.

MASTURBATION

A related technique is masturbation. Again, the point is to spend as much time as possible away from members of the opposite sex. It also warps your outlook such that when you do find a partner, they are only seen as extensions of a dick. That is the truth to the priests saying that masturbation causes blindness. It has nothing to do with a need for an optometrist. It has to do with allowing your lower head to control how you see the world. You have to admit the view down there is pretty limited. (Note to religious fundamentalists: Truth does not always need to be literal to be true and often becomes ridiculous when interpreted that way. See St. Augustine's Confession Book 11 Chapter 20)) Masturbation also leads to the perception that the penis is all. Men are often so fixated on these few square inches of skin, that when it fails them, they are left with nothing. Some men become so conditioned on masturbation that they can't function any other way. I can't imagine any woman's dream partner is some putz who can only relate to his right hand. Again it does have the saving grace to partially clear you head to allow you to separate true feelings from hormones. Mostly I just found it depressing to think I had flushed my life and my children's lives down the toilet for the small benefit of the physical sensation.

REALLY 'IMPORTANT' TASKS THAT HAVE TO BE DONE DURING LIMITED TIME ALONE WITH SPOUSE

Men always say they are interested in sex during dating and they are good for maybe a month or two after marriage. After that, they start trying to avoid it and come up with the most transparent excuses, especially after children when couple time is limited. My ex said he had to read computer magazines for half an hour to get in the mood. This was before children. Also, it was absolutely vital to spend hours cataloging screen savers. He also often 'had to wait for a BM.' I swear he spent half his life on the toilet. He must have heard the study that said the most fool proof way of avoiding rape was evacuating your bowels. This is supposedly such a turn off that most rapists will leave. To all those naysayers, I used to have an excellent figure, but gave up trying to get any response from initiating interest in my 20's. I even told him that I was going to stop annoying him as it was too humiliating to be always brushed off. I remember years later, during one of the few times he was interested in sex. After we finished, he said, "Wow! Why don't we do this more often?" I remember lying there thinking "I've been wondering that for years, but if I say a word he will never want sex again." He also said the unconditional love was wonderful, but chose celibacy to devote his life to little pieces of cardboard: Pokémon, Magic the Gathering, Star Trek, Pong, etc." (Just how much lead do they put in the ink on those cards?) I mean get real, what is unconditional love when you can have little pieces of card board. On the plus side, it does give new meaning when considering the unconditional love of our Savior, what he chose to go through, and the trash we choose rather than him. With husband number 2, it is the fish tank that can only be changed during the short time we have to be alone. Or worse, when it he would literally RUN out the door, including the time right before I was going to leave to make an emergency trip cross country to care for my mother's cancer and move her to our town. Of course, once I was gone for over a week, he is on the phone insisting he wants me to abandon my mother to come home because HE is horny. He wondered why I was upset when I got home.

SMOKING AND OTHER HEALTH SABOTAGE.

This is another extreme measure men use to avoid sex. Their systems functions with basic hydraulics. Smoking and obesity both clog the pipes and interfere with the function of the system. Based on experience, they are only functional until about 35 anyway. I assume 30 if they choose to smoke. They must really hate sex in order to sabotage their health this way to avoid it.

THE QUICKIE

Also known as "Let's get this onerous activity over as soon as possible." This most often happens when they wake up in the morning with an erection. (I think they are shocked when their equipment works.) Of course this only happens when you have to hurry to get to work on time and they have the day off. It never happens on a weekend when you have time. It is one of the sadistic games they like to play. Believe me; we get the message in a hurry.

YENTL - EXHAUSTION

The corollary to this is to keep you working non-stop so you drop from exhaustion. Barbara Streisand made this technique famous in the movie "Yentl". She was a woman pretending to be a man so she could go to school. She got railroaded into marrying another woman and was trying to find ways to avoid sex and not blow her cover.

CONTINUOUS DISCUSSION OF SUBJECT

My ex always used to say that the easiest way to tell if high school boys were having sex was to listen to how often they talked about it. As he said, "If you are doing, you don't need to talk about it." I would agree. Based on this premise, there are a lot of celibate people in this world. Unfortunately, it gives the impression when you are dating that they ARE interested in a physical relationship. This is a second sadistic game men like to play. A good test is to ask for help with housework while dating. If they flee, dump them ASAP. They aren't worth the bother and celibacy is better. If they agree and show signs of wanting to help out long term, latch onto them, it doesn't matter WHAT they look like. This is the female version of the old male advice. "Cooking lasts. Kissing don't."

FASHION

Men also try to get out of sex by perpetuating the myth you have to wear sexy clothes. I tried that. The only reaction I got was contact dermatitis from the synthetic material. They are all designed to be as uncomfortable and impractical as possible to add injury to insult. My ex always used to say that women's clothes are designed by gay men who hate women and want to make them suffer as much as possible. This has been well documented since at least the 40's. My aunt had a book from around that time frame called "The Hussy's Handbook." It asked the question "Why would women want to look ridiculous by wearing a hat that looked like a pair of mittens?" I find the ones who design the patent leather shoes for little girls the most frightening. Those shoes have soles as slippery as ice. Wearing them is a threat to life and limb. Their designers must want to kill girls off before they have the chance to reach sexual maturity. Mostly, I think men just get off on seeing how ridiculous they can make women look. They will then sometimes flaunt this by taking you out to dinner to show you off. This does what is really important to them; impress the other guys. You can't do anything in a public restaurant. Going to a hotel with a spouse does absolutely nothing.

PREGNANCY & BIRTH CONTROL

It is often hypothesized that men are frightened of fatherhood and pregnancy. The truth is that they look forward to it as a way of avoiding sex. My ex used it as a tacit excuse to avoid sex for nine months. Of course that was about how often he was interested anyway. It never dawned on me that hoping for maybe once a month qualified me as a nymphomaniac. When my ex and I first became a couple, I assumed part of his lack of interest was fear of pregnancy. I offered to go to a doctor for birth control, but he said he didn't want me destabilizing my body chemistry for something that happened so infrequently. I didn't dare touch that statement. With husband number two, I tried the ring. It worked beyond his wildest dreams. He said it changed my scent and he lost all interest in sex. I could only stand it a week anyway, as I reacted to it and had to put up with the soreness as well as the celibacy. I just read a study confirming this. Male lemurs loose all sexual interest in female lemurs on birth control. I also tried natural family planning. I gave that up after a few months as well. He was never interested in finding out when the safe times were anyway. Also guess the only time he showed the slightest interest? The saddest part to all of this is the feminine myth that a baby will make a man want to stick around forever. Some of the worst are the Harlequin Romances. Too often the males are actually looking at pregnancy as an excuse to avoid any kind of long term relationship. At least one study says male abandonment is the number one reason for abortions. At least one male African American sex education instructor spoke out against this practice saying the men in the community needed "to stop walking away from their children as if they had had a bowel movement." The real African (not American) men I have heard put a priority on providing for their children. The walking away was a dehumanizing technique started by the slavers looking for justification for their genocidal behavior. Getting a woman pregnant and then walking away is NOT the action of a man, but of a two year old with a hormone problem. Remember, a wedding ring is part of a WITNESSED promise (legal contract) to stick around and provide for any children of the woman. Ladies - Don't believe anything else. Even if the men still don't intend to follow through, you at least have some legal recourse. Celibacy is a small price to pay for the security of your children. Some of these men may even believe what they say themselves; until they find out there is work involved. I have heard that the Islamic version of heaven is supposed to be several virgins. This makes absolutely no sense. I suppose a woman in this heaven could form a dancing group for entertainment. What would the men do? The virgins wouldn't be virgins in a short period of time. What would the man do after that? Flee for all eternity from several wives or try to provide for an infinite number of children? In any case, if this is your incentive, are you worshipping God or your dick?

WHAT THEY REALLY ARE AFTER IMPRESS OTHER MEN

Don't let them kid you. Sex to men is only a way to impress other men. They swear up and down they aren't gay, but the only time they are interested in sex is when they are around other men. My ex would swear he wasn't gay, and then make life choices such that he spent all of his time with adolescent males. The best example of this was one of my coworkers. He was loudly proclaiming at the office Christmas party that he wanted to go home and sleep with his wife. With that kind of behavior, it was obvious he wouldn't have even thought of sex if the other guys weren't there. Since his wife was there, he was also obviously trying to get out of sex for another year. Publically embarrassing your wife is one of the best methods to do so. It didn't help that their children and other co-worker's children were there. Unfortunately for him, it may have backfired. I have been in the position of having sex with someone I totally despise because I was that tired of celibacy. It is not an experience I would ever want to repeat. If you watch the nature chimpanzee documentaries you can see this often, as part of the male dominance battle, the male ends by having sex with a female. He apparently isn't interested in the female except as a minor prop for the contest with the other males. Growing up around cattle, it soon becomes apparent that all herd animals have homo sexual tendencies. Human beings are herd animals. My own crack pot hypothesis is that it is necessary for civilization as it allows men to tolerate each other long enough to build something. The female version in primates is a survival technique to promote bonding to avoid getting beaten up by the inferior males.

POWER TRIP

The above reminds me of one of my daughter's favorite stories. It also relates to the "The more they talk, they less they do" hypothesis. My daughter is big into the Warrior Cats series. In this series, the cats are intelligent and live in human social structures. One fierce cat was called "Scourge." He was a house pet turned feral and took over a large urban territory. In one scene, he is being run down by a pack of dogs. They surround him and tell him, "Run." He stands his ground and tells them, "No." The graphics on the dogs immediately changes from threatening to confused and upset. They say, "Please?" They have absolutely no idea what to do with a cat if it isn't running away. Men are often like that. They are either into the challenge of the hunt itself, or get off on the power trip of making women afraid or insecure. You can see this nearly every day. A car of young men will drive by and you will see them emulate Marley, the dog. They roll down the window and bark something stupid; thereby disturbing the peace and announcing to everyone in a one block radius that they have no intention of getting within 100' of a woman. This also announces that they prefer the company of their male palls to a woman. A male health class lecturer when I was in high school confirmed this. He said that the last thing these guys wanted was sex. He said he wished he was a girl in those cases. He would run up to car and say, "Sure, let's go", just to see how fast they can run away. (Note: Don't try this for real. You can find a real nut case ready to cause you grievous injury.) This attitude, taken to the extreme, is rape. This isn't sex. It is open war fare. It makes you wonder what kind of men can hate women enough to do this. The socially acceptable consequence of perpetrating rape is to be locked up for long periods of time with other men. That must be their ultimate goal. Thankfully, I have never had to deal with a rapist. I have thought though, that my daughter's hero may be on to something. It might work to stare them down. Look at them like they have a screw loose. Shrug. Ask them if they are allergic to the really strong antibiotics and head toward them. I wouldn't be surprised if they would run so fast they would knock themselves cold on the nearest fixed object. The man who kidnapped the woman for several years and thought he was treating her well was not only on a power trip, he was also about 900 years out of date. The kidnapped bride was outlawed under English law in the 1100's. The right of ownership of any woman you could catch was part of many Native American cultures. It may still exist in some cultures around the world. In this country, women were the legal property of their husbands until the 1900's. Go to any courthouse and read all the land deeds that include "To Have and to Hold." This is a legal phrase dealing with property transference.

ADRENALINE RUSH

The Ancient Greeks had a god for this. Eros (Sexual Passion) was the son of Ares (War) and Aphrodite (Love). It is a well known biological fact that terror triggers a drive to reproduce before you die. "There is no passion like that snatched from beneath the blade of a sword." I think this is why a lot of men lose interest in sex after they are married. Once they realize their partner isn't going to try to kill them, the drive is gone. Note: If you know that what you really want is only the adrenaline rush; TAKE UP BUNGEE JUMPING!. It is safer and causes less damage. This also relates to the teenage girl vampire fantasy. With a vampire you get both the eternal love and the adrenaline rush from potential death. I just pray they grow out of this BEFORE they have a baby. Also note: the search for eternal love is one reason women tend to be more interested in religion than men. The reason the first 'Mormons' practiced polygamy was the fact that they had several women for every man and they insisted their fellow church members share. George Bernard Shaw's version was, "Women would rather share a good man, than have all of a poor one." It works for gorillas anyway. (See PBS - Nature - The Gorilla King)

COLLECTING

You also get the opposite; men who seem to want to have sex with as many different women as possible. Various books talk about the inferiority complex of men like this. It may be just me, but this seems more like stamp collecting than sex.

AVOIDANCE OF HOUSE HOLD CHORES

This is the flip side to the Yentl approach. Leave the women to do all the work as avoiding cleaning is much more important than sex. One of the great mysteries of the universe: Why is the gender that spends the most time staring at a toilet bowl, the one that is the least likely to clean it? From women who have to clean up after them: The aim and eyesight of a lot of them are so bad; the thought of male fascination with weapons and live ammunition is doubly frightening. Is this part of the army physical? Girls you may want to watch this one. If they can't control this day to day function, don't believe it if they say, "Don't worry, I can pull out in time." Men and women both have a great potential for self delusion. I told my son. "Watch where you aim that thing. You can kill someone with it."

SHORT OF ENTERTAINMENT

Sometimes men don't want sex, they just can't think of anything else to do. That at least was the one "Rescue 911" episode. The man broke into the woman's house and asked for sex because he was bored and couldn't think of anything else to do.

WHY? BRAIN DAMAGE

According to Dr. Amen in his book about curing ADD, the SPECT brain scans of men show a great deal less activity in the area of awareness of emotions than women. So ladies, they aren't always trying to feed you a line. Apparently, most of them have no clue how they feel and what they want. He also hypothesizes that the rapid increase in autism spectrum cases is a result of the population bomb. If you have no impulse control, you are going to have unprotected sex at an early age. This results in a rapid reproduction of people with little education and no self control having lots of children. Their children will reach sexual maturity before the age of the children of people with self control; who postpone having children until they finish school and have stable employment. For survival of the species, women are biologically programmed to choose mates who will stick around for the twenty some years necessary to raise a child to maturity. At least one study, showed women to be masters at choosing men by sight who are likely to do so. The above brain study explains why men don't understand why women want to talk about relationships. A large part is trying to gauge whether you are worth the effort. Ladies you may want to forget the conversation and go by determining if they are trust worthy in other parts of everyday life. Forget looks. Go by ethics. It is well known that women want church going men. It is one indication the man is thinking about something other than 5 minutes of entertainment. If they can't be believed for the little truths, how can they be trusted for the big ones? "Don't worry. I'm sterile and don't have HIV" It has also been proven that adolescents of both genders are like the HERO robot I programmed in college. It was designed to have two batteries: One for movement, the other for 'thinking.' It was not uncommon for the 'thinking' battery to run down before the movement battery, causing the robot to take off in random directions. The brain of a human adolescent has not matured to think more than 5 minutes ahead, leading too many of them to use the head between their legs for their thinking. I haven't been able to able to understand why when men hit middle age; they want to return to this condition.

FEAR OF WOMEN

At least some psychological texts say at least some men are terrified of a woman's sexuality and what it does to them. These men must really hate sex. Apparently a lot of them must live in Middle Eastern nations. Some not only mutilate women's genitals out of fear of their sexuality, they have been known to wire them shut. This also increases death in child birth and birth defects.

NON-FUNCTIONAL EQUIPMENT

Judging by the amount of e-mail I get for male enhancement medication, 99% of the men on this planet must have problems. It is enough to make you wonder how we got to 6 billion people. I have yet to see an ad for women having problems with sex. Incidentally, the male sexual enhancement pills work fine, much to my husband's dismay. He told the doctor he was getting them because I wanted them. After making a big deal of getting them, he refused to take them for nearly a week until I called his bluff when we knew the children would be out of the house. I get the message and will not bother him again.

BIRTH CONTROL

This may be related to the fact that waste water treatment plants and apparently the natural water cycle do not filter out pharmaceuticals. We have had over a generation of men drinking the birth control pills we invented to prevent pregnancy. It seems they work better than expected. Ironic if you realize they were invented to INCREASE sexual activity.

CONCLUSION

It seems the only women with realistic expectations of male sexuality are the nuns.

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