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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 7 months

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In Every Trio There's Always A Duo Final Part

John Price X F!Reader

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

A/N: ahhhh! here we are! the final installment to this little fic series! I hope everyone that loved and read this, also loves this lol, as always feedback is highly appreciated WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, flashbacks, mentions of past injuries, trauma, John being soft(i love that old man so much)

“Simon…”

Your heart was racing, it had been so long that you’d had to face him, hell you could see Johnny standing just a few feet behind him as if he was a scolded child. It sickened you in a way, they weren’t respecting your wishes to meet on your terms. Why were things turning out like this? You were doing just fine, physical therapy was starting to fix the damage done to your leg, and yes, while you knew it would never go back to 100% use, you were fine with that. This though, this was something you’d wanted to avoid for the rest of your life. Simon and Johnny had ruined your life for months, had made you feel so miniscule and small. You were nothing more than a nuisance to them until you’d been captured by the enemy. John had been the only person to pick up the pieces, to help rebuild you as a person.

“We wanted to talk with you about everything.” Simon’s voice didn’t hide his emotions, they were laid bare in front of you.

“Simon, you can’t be serious right now, I asked for you to give me more time, this is the exact opposite of that.” Anger was simmering in your veins, a pot slowly beginning to boil over.

“I understand that, but it’s been over a year and you won’t even look at either of us.” Simon’s brow furrowed, lips pulled into a harsh line.

Your teeth gnashed together as you tried to swallow the hurtful remark that laid on the tip of your tongue. If only he knew exactly how you’d felt about the entire situation, maybe he would begin to see the real you. John placed a palm on your lower back, hoping to help not only steady you, but also calm you if he could. He’d been against you speaking to Simon or Johnny until you felt truly ready, and right now he was ready to reprimand both men.

“I think it’s best if you two leave. Now.” John wasn’t going to take no for an answer, if push came to shove he would do whatever it took to protect you. You’d suffered enough.

“Sir, you can’t be serious.” Simon was astounded, was he really about to send the two of them away because you were upset?

“I am, I have to protect my fiance, and if that means the two of you leaving, then so be it.” John’s gaze hardened as he stared them down.

Simon opened his mouth as if he wanted to retort before thinking better and deciding to grab Johnny and leave. Tears slipped down your cheeks, ruining the light makeup you’d put on before you’d left to go to lunch. It didn’t matter, you could always do yourself up for a new date night with John, but knowing it was because Simon had ruined such a special day for you? You were angry.

No, you were downright livid.

“Can we go home? I’d like to lay down.” You huffed softly, loosening the tight grip you had on his coat.

“Of course, do you want any help? Or are you alright to head to the car?” John didn’t want to rush you, even though he wanted nothing more than to be home with you as well.

“I’m all right, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” Your steps were slower, your body still tense after seeing Simon and Johnny so suddenly.

You had thought you were passed all of this, that you could face them without the terror locking your muscles to the point you were a statue. Apparently that wasn’t the case, and now you weren’t even sure you’d ever be able to talk with them again. PTSD had plagued you for so long that you weren’t even sure therapy was helping anymore. You knew the people who’d taken you hostage were dead, John accidentally let it slip during a casual dinner. He wasn’t ashamed of it, he’d been on a personal rampage to find you, and damn anyone who stood in his way.

Of course you knew deep down you would do the same thing had John been stuck in the same situation. It was a need to protect one of the people you were the closest too, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t walk without a cane, or that your hip locked up most mornings. You would do whatever it took to make sure both yourself, and John were happy.

“How did they even know we would be here?” There was no reason for them to have shown up, not if John had only called Alex and Farah for the surprise.

“I’m not sure, the only thing I can think is Simon saw my calendar down at the station.” It was the only explanation you had at the moment.

“Probably, better keep a better hold on it in the future.” You waited until John opened the door, turning your body slowly as you got into the car.

John waited until you’d situated yourself, tucking your legs in before grabbing your cane and laying it on the back seat. He was always afraid something would happen if the two of you were to ever get into a car accident so he never risked your safety. It was another thing that had made you fall further in love with him. Neither of you were perfect people, there was no doubt in your mind that any normal person would think you were a monster. You’d killed people to make sure more didn’t die, went to defend innocent civilians from the war path of an angry person.

Your heart was racing as you watched the other man knock both John and Johnny down, muttering how this would be their final moments. Johnny threw himself off the ground, the knife he’d had strapped to his thigh plunged deep into the other man’s shoulder. His scream of agony echoed throughout the train station. The Scot wasted no time in pressing his gun to the man’s head, the single gunshot was deafening as you watched with bated breath. John threw himself up and off the ground, grabbing Johnny’s vest and all but throwing him to the bombs that were still counting down. It had only taken him mere seconds before the timer stopped, Simon and Kyle finally making their way down to where you were.

The two accomplices had fled, leaving behind their leader who now lay lifeless on the shockingly bright concrete. You stood up slowly, hands shaking as you swallowed the thick bile that creeped up in your throat. Had Johnny not gotten the shot off, who knows what could’ve happened? Would the five of you have been standing together, or would someone else have lost their life at that moment?

“You doing alright, soldier?” John laid a hand against your shoulder, noticing the way you seemed to flinch.

“Yes sir, just shaken up a bit.” You didn’t want to lie, not to someone that was mere seconds away from death again.

John nodded his head before radioing to Laswell, letting her know the threat had been neutralized as well as the bombs.

“Sweetheart?” John pinched your chin softly, turning your gaze to face his.

“Hmm?” Your eyes focused on the way his lips pulled into a soft frown.

“You alright? Seemed a little dazed.” John knew things like this could happen, it had happened to him plenty of times before.

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

“Just thinking about the past, got lost.” That mission wasn’t even the worst you’d been on, but it was a reminder that everything could be gone within the blink of an eye.

“I know, I’m always here if you want to talk about anything.” John’s fingers released your chin, wrapping around your much softer fingers as he brought them to his lips.

Your smile was radiant as he pressed a kiss to each finger before pressing one final one to the ring he’d slid onto your finger just an hour prior. Everything in that moment, the two of you in your own little bubble, felt almost perfect. It began to sink in that, even though you didn’t want to, you would need to confront Simon and Johnny. They were people that meant a lot to John, and you at one point, and even after everything you’d want to invite them to the wedding.

“You’re thinking too hard, why don’t we go inside so you can get changed, and then we’ll discuss everything.” John raised a brow, waiting to see if you would be comfortable moving after what had happened.

“That sounds perfect, though you’ll need to get my cane for me.” You gestured with your free hand towards the cane that sat comfortably in the back seat.

John’s smirk raised sudden suspicion as he quickly got out of the car, slamming his door before rushing over to your side. John was careful not to swing the door open too quickly, lest your body get jerked and cause any unnecessary pain for you. He reached over, unhooking your seatbelt and pulling it away from your body.

“John, what-”

Your words were cut off as he scooped you up into his hold, not even a grunt slipping through his lips as he shut the door with his foot. Your laugh echoed as he walked up to the front door, stealthily slipping the keys from his pocket to get the front door opened. It was no secret you’d gained weight after the whole abduction, having to do physical therapy and not being as active had a hand in it.

“You are one cheeky bastard, you know that?” Even though your words would sound harsh to anyone else, the smile on your face told John an entirely different story.

“Only the best for you, my love.” John quickly got the door open, shutting the door with his foot, again, once you were safely inside.

You rested your head against his chest as he made his way down to your shared bedroom, depositing you gently on the bed before searching for comfortable clothes. He tossed over one of his shirts that you’d stolen in the past, laughing as it smacked you in the face. His own laughter followed suit as he’d realized what had happened before finding his own clothes.

His hands were gentle as he helped you undress, slipping your shoes off before sliding off your pants, shirt, and lastly your bra before helping you into the much softer clothing. You ran your hand along the fabric of his shirt, smiling at the faded color. It had been one of his favorites to sleep in until you’d stolen it one night, he only ever wore it when he wanted you to smell like him.

“John?” You looked up at him nervously, your smile disappearing suddenly.

“What’s wrong dove?” John sat down beside you, taking your hands into his lap.

“I want to talk with Simon and Johnny. I know what they did earlier was completely out of line, but they’re our friends, I want them to be there when we get married.” It wasn’t a decision that had come lightly, even before John had proposed you always knew you wanted the task force there.

John was quiet for a few moments, soaking in the information and deciding on what would be the best thing to say to you in that moment. You deserved to be the one to initiate the conversation, and he was happy that right now it was your choice.

“I can call him, make some tea for when they arrive.” John’s voice was soft, even though he would always be slightly angry at what they’d done, he wouldn’t shun them out forever.

“That sounds perfect.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, you’d need time to prepare before they arrived.

John helped you down to the living room, offering assistance only if you needed it. He knew how annoying it could be when someone offered to help out because they assumed you were too weak. It was one of the reasons you worked so well together, he knew when to push you harder, and when to be the person you fell back on.

Once you were comfortably seated with one of the books you’d been reading, did John call Simon, telling the other man that you wanted to speak with him and Johnny. The call was short, Simon stated they would be over within the next fifteen minutes, which gave John plenty of time to make some tea. He’d all but stopped drinking after finding out that most of the pain meds you had been taking couldn’t be mixed with alcohol. He only ever smoked on base, never when you would be around to smell any of the smoke.

Knock knock!

Your heart kicked up a beat before settling down once more. John walked over to the door, greeting them both quietly as they walked into your home. Johnny took his boots off quickly, not wanting to track mud inside. Simon followed suit, making sure their shoes stayed together so they could get them back on quickly if needed.

“Come on, let’s talk.” John headed into the living room, sitting down beside you as he pulled your feet into his lap.

Simon swallowed nervously. Funny how someone who could stare death in the face was suddenly afraid of upsetting you again. Johnny stayed close to Simon’s side, plopping down in one of the arm chairs as he waited for someone, anyone to break the silence.

“You can sit down, Simon, I’m not going to bite.” You tried to smile, but it felt almost wrong.

“I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. Johnny even told me that I shouldn’t have intruded but I was so afraid things were going to get worse.” Simon wrung his hands together, coffee colored eyes flicking down to the scarred skin.

You wanted to comfort him in that moment, to tell him that everything was perfectly fine, that he didn’t need to worry. Except it wasn’t fine, nothing would be perfectly fine anymore. You sighed softly, taking in a deep breath as you waited for Johnny to say something as well.

“I…had I known what was going on, I would’ve done more to help you feel included. I felt like such an arse for being such a piece of shite towards you.” Johnny didn’t like to mince his words, he spoke his mind to whoever was willing to listen.

“That’s in the past now, there’s nothing we can do to change that.” Yes, you were angry and upset that the people you had thought were your friends didn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

John squeezed your calf softly, it was his way of comforting you when he didn’t want to say anything out loud.

“But, I want you to understand that I am still hurt by what has happened. I had always thought that we were some sort of friends, and getting kidnapped really put everything into perspective for me.” You twirled the ring on your hand absentmindedly, almost like it was a fidget toy.

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve your friendship. What we did is something that you should never forgive, we left you to die and yet you’re acting like it’s water under the bridge.” Simon was angry, not at you, but at himself and the way he’d handled everything.

“Simon, I-”

Johnny stood up from his chair, the sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood.

“We were afraid you were going to pick one of us over the other and our friendships would be ruined. It was a childish and petty thing to do and every single night I have nightmares about hearing your screams from that fucking videotape. I’ll never forgive myself for letting someone like yourself get hurt because I was scared that the one person I’d seen as a friend would lose interest when they found out more about me.” Johnny’s chest heaved as his hands balled into fists.

Your eyes widened, he was afraid you wouldn’t want to continue being friends with him because of how he acted at times?

“Johnny, is that true?” You reached down for John’s hand, squeezing his fingers lightly as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Aye. I’d always been the weird kid, the loud one, so when you came along being so friendly I was afraid I’d make you run off by being me.” Johnny’s words broke your heart, it didn’t excuse any of his actions but knowing deep down he was a scared little boy? You couldn’t even imagine.

Simon cleared his throat, wiping his palms onto his jeans as he stood up slowly. It never ceased to amaze you how much taller Simon was than everyone else on the task force.

“He’s not wrong. When you’ve been scared of making connections with people, you tend to push away people without thinking about their feelings. I truly am deeply sorry.” Simon would never be able to deserve your forgiveness, let alone your friendship, but he was willing to try.

“You two are going to make me cry.” You laughed wetly, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks.

Johnny smiled softly as he walked around your coffee table, pulling you into a gentle hug so as not to cause any pain. You pulled him in tighter, laughing softly as he knelt down onto his knees.

“Thank you, truly I’ll never deserve your kindness.” Johnny whispered into your shoulder, arms tightening around your middle.

“You deserve nice things, both of you do.” You patted Johnny’s back, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before turning your gaze to Simon.

The poor man looked ready to flee the situation entirely. He’d never done well with physical touch, not after dealing with so much death over the years, but a hug couldn’t hurt. He followed suit that Johnny had, dropping down to his knees beside the couch and pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Your laugh was wheezy as you tried to squeeze him back just as hard.

“Guess I forgot how strong you were.” Simon shrugged sheepishly as he pushed himself up and off the floor.

“Forgot you don’t spend more time in the gym, not like that one over here.” Simon jerked his thumb over at Johnny who stared back offended.

“Hey, no fighting in the house you two.” You raised a finger, like a mother scolding her two children.

They both stopped any arguing, staring away from one another as you and John laughed at their ridiculous antics. It felt good knowing that your friendship would start anew. John helped you off the couch, leading the two men out and saying their goodbyes.

It was nice knowing that even though they had their reasons for acting so foolishly, they knew it was wrong and apologized. Now the only thing you would need to worry about was planning your wedding.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with John.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#john price #captain john price #captain price #john price cod #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #alex keller #farah karim #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

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ssahotchnerr · 2 years

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getting those requests bestie, how about aaron calling to tell you that he will have to be away on valentine's but it's all a cover so he can get the entire team to help him plan a really romantic dinner? top that with a cute gif like a promise ring

kept promises

happy valentine's day! 💓 cw; hurt to comfort, suggestive content

"hi, sweetheart."

aaron didn't need to say anything. just from the tone in his voice- disappointment, regret- you knew what was coming.

your heart dropped and you resisted the urge to audibly let out a sigh, tears pinching behind your eyes. "you won't make it home?"

"no, i'm sorry." aaron apologized, exhaling a breath through the phone. "i know i promised i would, but it looks like we won't be wrapping up here for at least another day. maybe two."

you nodded, despite the fact he couldn't see you. the team had been called out to new mexico, over a week ago now, and both you and aaron had been confident he would make it home in time for valentine's day. not to mention, your first valentine's day together.

you had been looking forward to it, a lot, knowing that whatever the two of you got up to, would be amazing and special and memorable. when aaron had first called to let you know he was going out of state, he had insisted this case wouldn't last over a week. he promised. however, you couldn't help but feel doubtful, the nagging thought in the back of your mind telling you not to get your hopes up. and for good reason, apparently. evidently and sadly, he had been wrong.

"we'll just have to celebrate whenever i'm back in town, alright? i'll make it up to you, i promise."

again, you nodded. "okay. that's fine."

"i really am sorry." his tone was sad, guilty. there was also something additionally off about it, but you couldn't quite place it.

"i know you are." you sighed, meaning it with your whole heart. it wasn't his fault, but you wouldn't deny feeling disappointed. "you're right, we'll do something when you're home. it's just a day right? it's a just stupid number." you shook your head, convincing yourself more so than him. "just be safe, please. i love you."

aaron returned the sweet words. "for you, always."

you had started the day feeling negative, so it only made sense that's how your day would go.

aaron's vacant pillow seemed lonelier this morning when you awoke, immediately reminding you that while you weren't alone this valentine's day, per say, you would still be spending it alone.

your coffee had spilled all over you as you exited your car before entering the office, coating your new bag as well.

you had suffered through meeting after meeting, all of which had left you feeling high-strung, overwhelmed and unmotivated.

your coworkers had been bragging about their big valentine's plans that night with their partners, and the image of aaron's empty bedspace kept flashing into your mind.

nothing had gone right- and as you walked through the apartment's hallway once the work day had finally ended- you couldn't wait to bury yourself under the comforter, maybe order some takeout if you were feeling up for it, and maybe end your day talking to aaron, time permitting.

you pushed the front door open, and immediately froze at the sight you before you.

the apartment was dimly lit, candles adorning the shelves, table, anywhere your eyes landed. there was also a large vase of roses waiting, a small wrapped gift placed besides it. a delicious aroma also filled your nose, making your mouth water. all of which was accompanied with rose petals scattering the span of the floor. and, most importantly, there was your aaron.

"aaron?" you could nearly cry at the sight of him, and in fairness- you practically did, tears springing to your eyes. you didn't hesitate to drop your belongings, flinging yourself into his arms.

"hi sweetheart." you could hear his smile, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head before tightening his hold on you.

"you're here?!" you mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tightly as well, as if he would disappear right before your eyes and end up states away again.

"i'm here." he chucked softly in confirmation, and you let go of him, allowing you to gaze up at him.

"when did you get home?" you asked, searching his face. "i thought you said two more days?"

"this morning." he smiled, his eyes gentle and happy. "i spent the day getting ready for tonight. i have a few... surprises planned."

"you... what?" you exclaimed, still in disbelief. your eyes were equally as bright as you threw your arms around him once more.

"you didn't think i'd miss our first valentine's day together, did you?" he teased, pinching your side lightly before his hands found place at your hips. "the team helped me put this together, actually." he glanced around.

"they... what? wait," you smiled at him, with a scrunch of your nose. "did you lie to me, aaron hotchner?"

"i did," his expression was cheeky, letting out another laugh before one of his arms landed behind your shoulders, pulling you against him. "i didn't want you to suspect anything, so i went with a slightly mean approach. i'm sorry, but to be fair, you always manage to figure out what i'm up to and i didn't want to risk that this time."

he had you there.

all you could do was grab his face, kissing him roughly but with all the tenderness in the world. he all but groaned into your mouth, digging his nails into your hip as he deepened the kiss, making up for all the lost contact the past week had brought.

"i can't believe you." you mumbled against his lips with a giggle, your heart swelling with all the love possible for him.

"i promised, didn't i?" he mumbled against your lips, slotting a leg in between yours. "i promised this would be a valentine's day you would never forget. so, happy valentine's day, my love. may there be many more."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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maeby-cursed · 10 months

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SOMETIMES I'M NOT MYSELF, I LOOK FOR A BETTER DISGUISE…

𓂃 DANCING TILL THE POWER GOES OUT.

a/n: following with my songfic series, this one is inspired by valiente by vetusta morla (the original lyrics are "a veces no soy yo, busco un disfraz mejor / bailando hasta el apagón") ! this is also an angst fic but the vibe in this one is a bit more pungent. i apologize for making toji like this, i will get back to my soft!toji program soon ♡ (this one is vv weird, btw, and i wrote it while suffering from a headache, enjoy)

✧ synopsis: you met toji seven months ago and since then, the only thing you've both agreed on is how much you cannot stand each other. now it's time to go; even if it means giving up trying, and leaving a familiar warmth behind.

✧ pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

✧ wc: 1.6k

✧ rating: angst ! pure angst, discounted and at a good price ! angst and pain; two for the price of one ! of the richest quality and endless suffering !!

✧ cw: toxic relationship, toji suffers from toxic masculinity, a bit of an age gap (toji is early 30s, reader is implied to be early 20s), mentions of toji's shitty ass economy, heavy cursing.

There’s a storm inside your house and it is made of cries locked within the walls of your lover’s apartment.

You and Toji have been arguing for six months out of the seven you’ve known him.

Apparently, May flowers brought November showers (or better said, downpours), as well as a thick darkness, because since last week, Toji's entire street has been without light, water or electricity.

A desert in the middle of a flood, seems almost biblical.

Both of you are in the kitchen – distressingly narrow and painted in a gloom shade of indigo –, in the midst of your fifth discussion this week. The fridge door is open while you talk, but neither of you cares, all of its contents are already wasted, anyways. The light doesn’t even flicker.

You don't know exactly how this particular fight started.

Toji had arrived at his apartment – his, exclusively – late, with a bag of fast food in hand. An individual order. When he’d arrived, he’d looked at you and asked you what you were doing there, and everything had gotten out of hand from that point on.

After six months of waiting for him in the same place, in the same position, in the same corner of his grimy sofa, you'd thought he might remember you, might remember that you are a constant in his life.

Not the case.

The fight escalates to such an extent that you find yourself shouting and gesticulating aggressively.

What starts badly ends worse, your grandmother used to say.

(And yet, it ends).

So now you stand barefoot, in your white slip, looking at him with all the fire you can fan into your eyes.

"I have no fucking idea what is it that you want, Toji Fushiguro, but you need to stop looking for it in me. Either take me as I am or leave me, it's as simple as that."

He looks back at you, his gaze shallow. He always stares at you like this, as if instead of seeing you, he were trying to evaluate you; like you’re nothing but a mere statue to him and he’s looking for a spot where the artist could’ve slipped his chisel.

But you don’t cower before him. Although his height seemed imposing when you first met him, he now seems ridiculous to you. A child hidden behind a brick wall.

"Could you stop talking in code for two fucking minutes?"

"I want you to stop treating me like shit. You caught on now?"

He laughs unfunnily.

"I think I treat you pretty well, girl."

"Really?" you smile. There's a part of you that cringes at the gesture; he's been souring you since you met. Now you're fed up, but you know you'll never be able to return all of the blows he’s knocked you out with. "You think coming home and taking me to your bedroom for five minutes of grunts and sweat is treating me well?"

"Our bedroom."

That does make you laugh.

"Fuck, Toji, I don't live here! You never asked me to move in with you. And I've waited for you but I'm..... I don't even know what I am. Disappointed, maybe?" Your mood begins to shift as you search for him with your stare. You want to see some sort of reaction, something that isn’t a performance, something that doesn’t act as a mirror.

Something that tells you he cares about you.

"I thought I was dating an adult,” you continue, softly now. “That we could talk about it but... God, you're exactly like all the men I've been trying to avoid. All savages, the lot of you; too barbaric to be able to say you feel anything, even if it’s pure lust."

He raises a brow, closing the refrigerator door with a slam and leaning against the countertop with a click of his tongue.

"You want me to tell you that you make me horny?" he asks, with an ironic smirk.

"I want you to tell me that there's something that goes with the sex. Something that can last."

He doesn't say anything, just exhales loudly, huffing with annoyance.

And for some reason, the gesture takes you back two decades ago, when your father used to do that to you. A puff of air like cigarette smoke whenever you wanted something he didn't feel like giving you; mostly his time.

You don't know where the memory comes from, but it hurts. It burns and coats your throat with bile.

"There’s nothing," he whispers, at last.

Now you really have to make an effort not to vomit.

Silly girl, you say to yourself, you already knew that. But it's no use.

"And I had to dig that out of you with a spoon, baby," you tell him, dripping with sarcasm.

He doesn't notice how you pale, how you grab the skirt of your dress and bite the inside of your cheek. He doesn't smell your despair, nor the copper drops emanating from the wound you've caused yourself by biting on your skin.

Toji's not a bloodhound, no matter how much he resembles one. He's just an asshole.

Your words make him frown and stick out his jaw. You recognize his hint – you’d recognize him by taste alone –, it's the gesture he makes before he fights.

"And what the fuck did you expect? For me to telepathically figure out whatever shit you’re thinking?"

"No, Toji. I just wanted an answer." That’s it, you suppose.

You sigh, unclenching your fists without relaxing your shoulders, and head for the bedroom. Except for your cell phone and a pair of nightgowns, you have almost nothing here. Let him keep the panties, if he gave them back to you, you'd burn them anyway.

He follows when you pass him by on your way out of the kitchen, and, for once, he looks incredulous.

"What? You think we’re done chatting?"

"I don't even feel like looking at that asshole face of yours anymore."

Every word that comes out of your mouth stabs him in the spleen. He's never seen you like this.

You have nothing left to care for, nothing left to protect from the storm, nothing to hope and pray to see bloom. Your land is infertile and all you feel is frustration, so there's no more measuring yourself.

To hell with all this.

"Yesterday it was all about cuddling and today you're leaving,” he says. “What did you expect?" At that, he smiles with malice, one that, unfortunately, is not unfamiliar to you. "That we were going to fall madly in love? That this was about more than sex? Oh, but you're just a little girl. I've been with a hundred of the likes of you."

He's lying. You know he's lying.

This man has never loved a woman in his life – you pity his mother – but he's not a manwhore either. He wears things out until he’s outgrown them.

It's funny — he’s always looked too big on you.

Your head turns around, but you stay frozen where you are, kneeling in front of the bottom drawer of his nightstand. On your knees, you almost look like you're praying, but your eyes condemn a truth that hurts him. It burns and coats his throat with bile.

"I never expected you to fall in love with me, Toji. I'm not that stupid," you look at the drawer again, taking clothes and shoving them carelessly into your bag. "I'm just young."

“I may be young, but give me time.” Those words, the ones you told him when he met you, a little over half a year ago, ring in his ears. “I can take a hundred men like you.”'

He remembers them now, gall climbing up to his uvula. Your smile back then clashes with your current tears. You have aged seven years in seven months.

He can see it in your posture, in the expensive fabric of your dress and the way you tie your hair back. He can see it in the depth of your cupid's bow, in the care with which you hold your hands.

You know how to handle dynamite now, but you can't stop gunpowder from blowing up.

Toji is speechless. He doesn't want you to leave, but he's already worn you out, you've already woken up from your reverie. He hasn’t outgrown you yet.

When you get up, your cheeks are covered with tears. You wipe them away carefully; you would’ve never done that back when he met you.

You were free then; of wild smiles and clumsy hands, of loud cries and smell of freesias. Young with bravado, a shell of the sea.

Seeing you like this, knowing you're going away, turns his stomach. This is the last time, and you don't smell like freesia anymore. You're all orange and lavender, unmistakable and silent.

Toji raises a hand and brings it up to you. For a split second of madness you think he's going to slap you, but he simply catches a strand of your hair; only instead of tucking it behind your ear, he lets it curl around your cheek.

His hand falls to his side – he wasn't raised to be like this. He wasn’t raised to get you to stay.

"Get out," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice low and plangent.

You close your eyes for a moment, just to find his image behind your eyelids; smiling and defiant, with a glass of champagne in his hand and kohl-stained eyes.

The tide inside washes away everything else.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

What starts badly ends worse, you think.

(And yet, it ends).

(reblogs are appreciated !!)

#🎐 𓂃 mae’s typing !#jjk imagines #jjk angst #jjk x you #jjk x reader #toji angst #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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spaceorphan18 · 4 months

Text

The Rogue and Gambit Project: Previously On X-Men... Gambit

It's time to talk about Gambit! The nice thing about Gambit is that he was, at the time, a relatively new character, having only been around in the comics for about a year. Which means there is way less to cover! Boy, are we going to have to deal with some questionable art, though.

The Basics:

Name: Remy Etienne* LeBeau

*Okay, so, this is the funny thing about the name Etienne. Apparently, it started out as fanlore, and - as so many things that happen in fandom - gained popularity as fanon from a particularly well known piece of fanfiction from way back when. I believe it's actually been used in canon at this point. It is on Marvel.com - which is the official site. I'll keep a look out for it to show up.

Also, in case you didn't know (and I'm sure you did), Le Beau is French for The Beautiful.

Backstory: Just like Rogue, Gambit's backstory is shrouded in mystery. He's a thief. He's from New Orleans. He's Cajun. That's all your getting for now. Don't worry, we'll peel back the layers. ;)

Power Set (via uncannyxmen.net): interkinetic power allows him to produce bio-kinetic energy within his body and use it to convert any inorganic object's potential energy into kinetic energy on contact, making the object highly volatile and explosive on contact, internal energy also grants him heightened agility and creates static interference that shields his mind from detection

I should also give the obligatory comment of - these powers are toned down from his full abilities because of /reasons/ which we'll get to eventually. He had Mr. Sinister give him a lobotomy and, we've all been suffering the consequences sense.

Alright, let's dig into Gambit's pre-Rogue run...

Uncanny X-Men 266-267

Uncanny X-Men #266

I have to start by appreciating the fact that Gambit is a thief who wears bright pink and metal boots. It's a bold look.

Anyway, the funny thing about Gambit is that the character he turned out to be ended up being a lot different from creator Chris Claremont's initial ideas. Apparently, he was supposed to be, ultimately, a villain and, while he was supposed to be a love interest for one of our characters, it wasn't Rogue, it was... Kitty Pryde. He was also supposed to be a Mr. Sinister creation and a third summers brother. Yeah, I'm kind of glad Claremont left before any of this stuff really came to fruition.

Also, I once read that Claremont claim that original artist Mike Collins made Gambit too pretty. Which is funny, because ngl, I really am not a fan of the look in his debut, and it will be a while before he really earns his name.

Uncanny X-Men #266

I also want to note that Gambit's powers were a little different back then. He didn't have playing cards yet, and instead used metal spikes as throwing devices. The powers were designated in green. And were charged from his eyes. Also, interesting to note - his eyes aren't red on black yet, either.

There's also 'hypnotic charm' thing that was kinda used in the early appearances. He does use it in his first appearance to tame some of the Shadow King's Hounds.

Uncanny X-Men #266

He's gonna be calling her 'Stormy' for years. She's gonna love it. ;) (Btw - he calls her Stormy 4 times in this issue alone.)

Okay, so... Gambit shows up, crossing paths with Storm at a mansion of some rich person. Storm is de-aged (for... reasons) and is running from the Shadow King and his minions. He's busy stealing art from the rich dude (who apparently is not home and has no security, lol).

And thus, one of my favorite comic book friendships is born. And really, this first appearance is a lot of fun as Gambit and Storm play off each other's strengths to get away from the Shadow King.

Uncanny X-Men 267

Jim Lee is going to add some of Gambit's more iconic features -- such as throwing playing cards (Gambit's Ace of Spades shows up in this next issue) and using some kind of staff (hilariously, it's a broom in this issue).

Storm and Gambit's adventures continue. He takes her to New Orleans for a while so she can recover from the Shadow King. They go thieving -- playing Robin Hood -- stealing from rich people because they can. And then the Orphan Maker comes along, who makes Storm a teenager? (Idk - the whole thing is weird - she'll become her real age again in the next story arc.)

Uncanny X-Men #267

And then Storm is like, hey, I have a crazy idea....

Uncanny X-Men Annual #14

Fun fact: Because of release dates and such, Uncanny X-Men #266 wasn't the first comic released to have Gambit in it. The Annual technically came out first, though it clearly takes place after Uncanny 266-267. But this is the first time we see Gambit among the X-Men team. Not that he does anything remotely interesting during this whole thing. He doesn't even speak, kind of hides awkwardly in the background.

X-Tinction Agenda (Uncanny X-Men #270-272; X-Factor & New Mutants)

Uncanny X-Men #270

Welcome to the X-Men, Gambit! Hope you survive the experience!

He's in the credit roll now, must be official. ;)

Gambit joins the team just as the mega X-tinction Agenda crossover starts. (Uncanny X-Men joins New Mutants and X-Factor for this one) And, I'll be honest, this isn't one of my favorite crossovers. The whole thing revolves around the nation of Genosha, how they're using mutants for slaves, and how all the teams come together to change the status quo. And of course, mutants get capture and tortured and a few killed. Fwiw X-Men: The Animated Series did do this storyline.

Uncanny X-Men #270

Gambit and Cable don't (won't) get to cross paths very often, so I found this an interesting panel. Anyway... Gambit really has very little to do during this crossover. When Storm gets captured, he is really concerned for her (as he considers her his partner at the moment) but he's not really vibe-ing the whole team dynamic yet.

Uncanny X-Men #272

This is arguably the coolest thing Gambit's done as of yet. Dude pulls a spike out of his leg to use as a lockpick and gets himself rescued. I'm glad they give him this, because, again, for the most part he's just kinda hanging around in the background not doing much.

I will say - he and Jubilee get to cross paths, which is going to be a source of fun in the next arc.

Space Shenanigans (Uncanny X-Men 273-277)

Uncanny X-Men 273

Some of my favorite issues are when the team is regrouping. Post- X-Tinction Agenda, it's clear that things in the X-Office were changing. Claremont is at this point sort of being pushed out, while Jim Lee and Co are becoming more the driving force behind the books. On panel, the teams are kind of merging. X-Factor's first era is drawing to a close, and the X-Men are resolidifying after being in flux for so long.

We're about to get a Space Soap Opera, as Claremont so dearly loves, but this issue is a bit of a breather between the arcs. And we get this bit of tension between Storm and Gambit - where Gambit is ready to move on, but Storm is back on solid footing again. They don't explicitly state why Gambit sticks around, but he definitely does...

Uncanny X-Men 273

I swear, this is Chris Claremont's favorite joke. He's used it before this moment, and he'll do it again. It's impactful the first time, but it does get old the more Claremont does it. However, we get the first highlight of the dynamic between Gambit and Wolverine -- which will be antagonistic for a while, but is fascinating.

Uncanny X-Men #274

Doesn't Gambit look sexy in his yellow team uniform?? ;)

Btw - as I mentioned earlier, this is the first issue Gambit and Rogue appear in together. Though they be miles and miles and miles apart.

Uncanny X-Men #275

The whole crux of this arc, that I've been kind of ignoring, involves Xavier being brainwashed in space (or something) and of course the X-Men get involved in space politics (again). Honestly, space stories are Claremont's favorite trope, so it doesn't surprise me that the end of his run are filled with a couple of them.

Anyway -- if there's one person impervious to Gambit's charms - it's Jubilee. They get to hang out a lot during this arc, and it's really delightful since they team up to kind of figure out what is going on with Xavier acting weird and all the odd space kool-aide people are drinking.

Uncanny X-Men #277

I actually really like this cover. Gambit's got a sword and a spear! Plus, he looks like his 90s cool self now. The blue and yellow uniform doesn't suit him AT. ALL. But we don't have to deal with it too much longer...

Uncanny X-Men #277

See... I told you Claremont was gonna do this again, lol.

Uncanny X-Men #277

The nice thing about this whole space arc is that Gambit really gets to come into his own. He now looks cool (note the red eyes are here!). He's doing fun stuff. He's taking on Wolverine and holding his own. He's being smart and tactical and an asset. They've paired him with some great X-Men to start off with, and it's paying off.

Meanwhile, we don't really know much about him. As many of the other characters state, his background is shrouded in mystery... (whether you like what it actually is can be debated as we get to it). But for now, he's intriguing as a new comer.

And this is where we're at as two story lines come crashing together and our two romantic leads get to meet for the first time.... off panel.

But I'll get more into that next time when I discuss... The Muir Island Saga!

#xmen #x men #gambit #remy lebeau #the rg project #marvel meta #marvel #marvel comics #xmen comics #uncanny xmen

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ramen8008 · 9 days

Text

Cause everyone is doing this apparently

GOD GAMES....BEGIN!

Apollo: so like I know he's got some banger songs but he killed a bunch of sirens. And who's gonna be my band now?

Athena: hey maybe now they will sing without killing others and being killed?

Apollo: yeah I guess if that's true Ody can go

Hephestus: Trust is not given its FORGED (wink wink). He also betrayed his men

Athena: the men were the ones who didn't trust Odysseus. They betrayed Odysseus and stabbed him tf you mean? Also if you let him go he can still BUILD (wink wink) a future with his family

Aphrodite: Your lil Odysseus might claim to love his mom but was gone so long that she died

Athena: Tf? He was busy fighting a WAR and trying to get back home back to her

Aphrodite: maybe he was just too busy being prideful. He should suffer

Athena: BOOM QUICK THOUGHT

Ares: really Athena?

Ares: Don't mess with my girl also Odysseus is a coward trying to be smart. He's just a lil Twink like his son

Athena: OKAY DON'T YOU DARE INSULT HIS SON. HES MY BOY AND HES GOT MORE BALLS THAN YOU! And tell "your girl" that what she said was stupid

Athena: and if you really want bloodshed then let him go and he'll kill all those weirdo suitors he's already in his monster rawr rawr phase

Ares and Aphrodite: geez okay let him go

Hera: *dancing to disco* I just need one reason to let him go but the main challenge is that you have to.....DANCE

Athena: shit

Hera: Now why should your lil Ody get to be free? *Dances*

Athena: *thinks* do I really care about him this much?

Athena: *sighs and dances* he's smart

Hera: hmmm

Athena: he's an annoying lil trickster *dance move*

Hera: ... Girl that doesn't help *dance move*

Athena: uhh he's kinda funny? That has to do something I can't believe I admitted that *dance move*

Hera: eh

Athena: he's not a fucking cheater (like dad) and a total simp for his wife

Hera: *gasps* husband goals *side eyes Zeus* release him

Athena: So I won-

Zeus: Do you not know you I am? I'm a child and imma throw a tamper tantrum cause you aren't allowed to win wah wah *BOOM lightening bolt*

#god games #epic the musical memes #epic: the musical #epic the troy saga #epic the musical #epic the wisdom saga #epic the thunder saga #epic the underworld saga #epic: the wisdom saga

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cressthebest · 5 months

Text

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 12

chapter 22:

1. 😟😟 all james wants is for sirius to be there for james the way james ALWAYS was for sirius

2. 😟 james wished hodge happy birthday even though hodge died yesterday. i- i am not okay

3. “Regulus never fails to look up. Evan would be proud of him for that, he thinks.” 😧 that was vile to put in there

4. james has resorted to BEGGING for medicine from sirius and can’t understand why sirius won’t send any. this hurts so bad

5. nope. i’m done. i can’t read any more. james started looking forward to death cause he would be out of this arena and out of pain. jfc i’m done

6. anyways. i’m back cause i couldn’t stop reading.

7. REGULUS AND JAMES ARE REUNITED!!! THANK GOD!!! 😊

8. 😧 wait nevermind. james just mistook regulus for sirius. “James has never, not once in his life under any circumstances, mistaken Regulus for Sirius”

9. james is delulu from medicine and reg just found out that the plan has always been to get reg home. this hits like a motherfucking truck

10. james is high as a fucking kite, can’t figure out why “sirius” is being mean to him, cause he’s never been mean to him. and is also wondering why “sirius” is oddly attractive for being mean

11. it takes james half a chapter, and reg cutting his shirt for james to realize it’s not sirius. cause sirius has different scars. i love james sm 😭😭

12. “What was Sirius thinking? Drugging James? In the middle of the fucking hunger games? That might be the most idiotic thing Regulus has ever known his brother to do, and this is Sirius he's talking about, so that's saying a lot. Sirius once flipped a cigarette in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth while it was lit, and kept doing it until he could actually consistently manage it, no matter how much it burned him. Though, in fairness, he can still do that trick to this day.”

LMAO WHAT??? that’s so random and i love it

13. 😧 legit sobbing. reg says that james lost the spark in his eyes. and he’s the one person he expected to never lose his spark

14. reg reveals that they both can go home. james’ spark is back. i’m sobbing harder now. they’re so in love

15. i eat, breathe, and dream those author end notes. bizzarestars writes their end notes the way my brain processes the fic. <33

chapter 23:

1. starting the chapter off with pain, i see. losing vanity changed james. like. horribly changed him.

2. “What Regulus hates more than James is his suffering.” jfc he’s so emotionally constipated

3. james is sad and all reg can think is hmmmm i want him to start flirting with me again, because it meant he was happy bitch wtf

4. awww they’re cuddling and just got a package! my babies are gonna make it out!

5. reg realizes he has to put on a show, so he offers to feed james. and wants to gouge his eyeballs out for offering that. 😭😭😭😭

6. i’m dying from embarrassment but this is also so fucking funny. reg is like. let’s talk about our feelings. for each other. and james is just like *head tilt* ???

7. “"You weren't my first crush, James," Regulus whispers. "You were my first love."”

james didn’t just make reg feel good, he made reg feel and i am NOT okay.

8. “This whole time, Regulus has been steady on the fact that he wouldn't kiss James to save his own life, but he's apparently willing to do it to save James'.”

JFC why is he so emotionally constipated???

9. THEY KISS????? james is gonna be heartbroken when he realizes it was all an act

10. oh thank god james realized. at least it broke his heart now and not in two weeks

11. *squints* now reg has never wanted anything more than this kiss. girl. please. realize.

12. god, i’ve never read a kiss more beautifully and emotionally desperate written.

13. 😏 reg called him baby again!

14. oh god, maybe i’m just as bad as everyone in the hallow. maybe i’m just as bad as them. cause i enjoy their romance. i enjoy it so much. maybe i’m just as bad as the hallow for that. i- i think this every time i read the hunger games.

15. “James wants to sink his teeth into Regulus and leave the deep imprints of his teeth from one jutting hip bone to the other.” sometimes i forget that jegulus is a little unhinged in ways like this. and every time i’m reminded, I LOVE IT

16. “"You treat me like I'm stupid for daring to see good in people, but if there's no good in anyone, then what's the fucking point?"”

this entire section. this. this is what james is all about

17. 😟 authors note just told me i’m no better than a hallow. for my excitement over jegulus. and- yeah. i guess so. i’m so sorry y’all

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #fanfic #sirius black #sunseeker #starchaser #crimson rivers

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roleplay-evil · 24 days

Text

Resident Evil 7 Biohazard Starters

"You know what they say—once family, always family."

"You're part of the family now."

"Welcome to the family, [name]."

"That's family business, [name], and not your concern, understand?"

"This is my home. Apparently, I belong here."

"So, why are we in hell this time?"

"They're relying on me. Everyone is relying on me. Everyone!"

"You don't exactly seem like you're playing with a full deck yourself."

"Goddamnit, how am I gonna replace this?"

"Ah, shit! I knew I shouldn't have worn my good shoes."

"You came to the wrong house, [name]."

"I told you to stay out of here."

"Alright, new deal. We-we find [name] and we go."

"You, my friend, you are one lucky son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry... but they're, uh, they're dead now."

"Yeah, it is your fault. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna let you die."

"You kill me, and I just come right on back!"

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

"Motherfucker! You were supposed to die!"

"Sure as shit beats the hell outta dying."

"Idiot—you can't kill me."

"Do me a favor and stay dead."

"Leave me to die!"

"Forget that you ever knew me."

"Come on—don't you die on us now. You have work to do."

"You don't understand or is it that you just don't care?"

"Don't worry, I'm still here."

"Now, we got several calls about some missing persons lately."

"[name]! Thank god I found you. It's me. It's [name]!"

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead! It's time for supper."

"Glad I had my shots."

"You better now?"

"Well, come on. Take a chance. You never know."

"That is not groovy."

"What the fuck? That's special."

"You can't hide from me, [name]!"

"Don't you go anywhere!"

"Alright, you little cocksucker, let's get down to business!"

"I know you and [name] are plotting. I know you are scheming."

"Where'd you get yourself to, hm? Where are you?!"

"Thought you'd just slip out before dinner was done?"

"It won't be long before I find you and kill you."

"I'm gonna squash you like a bug."

"You think you can hurt me?"

"You're going to wish you'd never been born."

"I'm gonna take you for a ride!"

"This is going to be fun. Just you wait."

You're gonna die in this hole and you're gonna like it!"

"Fuck it! I'm gonna kill every one of you."

"I will find them and I will make them suffer."

"You better start running, [name]!"

"They're dead! They're all dead!"

"I can't let [name] catch me again!"

"What's wrong? Step on it!"

"You're the first I've ever seen make it this far."

"Gotta say, I'm impressed. Not only are you still alive, you have all your fingers and toes."

"You're gonna have to do better than that, [name]."

"You're wasting your time."

"Here I come."

"You need to go. I won't be able to resist for much longer."

"You gotta give me your gun!"

"Oh! Good news! I'm going to be coming home soon! Yay!"

"Who the hell else was I gonna choose?"

"Are you having fun yet?"

"You got yourself a booboo?"

"I told you, don't you fuck with me."

"Not now. We need to get out of here first."

"You were right. I did lie to you."

"You gotta earn your way, [name]!"

"What is this place? What did they do to you?"

"There's another door here. I'm sure of it."

"You're a son of a bitch!"

"Now look what you've done, motherfucker!"

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on."

"Kiss my ass."

"Dumb son of bitch wouldn't know good if it hit them!"

"Goddamnit! I bet it's that cop again..."

"I only work with professionals."

"I'm an old man, [name]. You can't take on an old man?"

"Hey! One of those is mine."

"Why are you putting me through this?"

"Well, don't just stand there—do something!"

"I know I can't expect anything from you. Not after what happened. After what I did."

"I am sick and tired over being sick and tired of your bullshit."

"I'm tired of waiting."

"It has taken me weeks to finish this, and it is finally ready." And it's all for you."

"What the fuck are you, [name]?"

"I got the gift running all through me! All through me!"

"I don't understand you at all. This is a gift."

"There are known unknowns here, and you are not paying fucking attention!"

"Do I have your attention, [name]? You're about to see something wonderful."

"We love you... Why can't you see that?!"

"Why does everyone hate me?"

"You see, [name], not everybody wants to turn back the clock."

"This joy? Why, you can't fake this."

#resident evil 7 biohazard #roleplay meme #resident evil rp #roleplay starters #rp ask meme #rp inbox meme #rp meme #rp starters #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #starters #horror rp starters #inbox starter #slasher rp #resident evil starters #horror starters

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ghostlygeto · 2 years

Note

PLEASE "this was a mistake" (hurt no comfort - I LOVE IT) with either Kuroo or Sakusa you can decide 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙇🏻‍♀️

woah crazy this totally hasn’t been sitting in my ask box for two months because i was having the most god awful writers block in the history of the universe haha. i am so sorry please forgive me.

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x reader

warnings: hurt no comfort, sakusa is an idiot fr :(, not proof read as per usual, gonna be real i have no idea what prompt list this came from <3

wc: 710

“this was a mistake”

neither of you loved spending all this time apart. but sakusa was part of a big league team now, which meant traveling. sometime's he'd be gone for weeks before returning home to you just to leave within a few days. it was hard, on both of you. you coped the ways you could, video calls and constant texting. but it was never the same, was it? every voice mail or 'sorry i missed your call' text made the distance between the two of you more and more apparent. the distance that was more than just actual, physical distance. it was between the two of you emotionally as well.

things were okay until he returned home from his most recent trip. you noticed he stopped replying to texts the days leading up to his return, he didn't even let you know when he had landed safely back in your area of japan. he came inside all huffy, muttered a few words to you before excusing himself off into the bathroom for a shower. declined you invitation for a bath together instead, and locked the door behind him. none of this was typical kiyoomi behavior.

when he finally came out of the bathroom he looked like he had been crying. "y/n, can i talk to you?"

"of course, omi, anything," you made space for him on the couch next to you, anxiously awaiting his next words. "is everything okay? you've seemed kind of distance since you came home, i wanted to give you space just incase you needed some but-"

"this was a mistake," kiyoomi let out a deep breath, "i can't keep doing this with you. the traveling and the distance, and i know it's not good for you either." he watched as your face went from concerned to heartbroken in the matter of three seconds. he couldn't believe he was doing this. to you, of all people. the one person he's ever felt a real connection with. but he knew this would be better for both of you. he’d stop feeling so guilty for leaving you alone so often and you’d stop being lonely all the time.

“omi? what do you mean this was a mistake?” you tried grabbing his hand, but he pulled away from you. no, this isn’t fair. he can’t do this to you. “whatever’s going on we can work it out, kiyoomi. don’t do this.”

“there’s nothing to work out, y/n. we’re both miserable being separated constantly. i can’t stop traveling and you can’t come with me. this is just what’s best from both of us.” no it isn’t, he told himself. he knew that, this was killing him. he hoped you knew this wasn’t easy for him, either. but he’d never want you to have to be the one to do this. no, sakusa knew you’d stay too quiet for too long and suffer in silence.

“you’re really breaking up with me?” your voice broke, “right now, after you just got home?” sakusa only nodded. you took notice to the tears streaming down his face now, matching your own. if this hurt him so much why was he doing it?

if sleeping alone three weeks out of the month meant you got to stay with him, you’d cherish the one week you did get. you’d sacrifice anything for sakusa.

and that was the problem, of course. he knew your dedication and knew you’d throw everything away for him. it terrified him, the thought of you tossing everything aside from him. he had to do what was best for you.

even if it meant breaking your heart.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i’m going to the miya’s tonight. i’ll be back sometimes with them to get my things tomorrow.” he turned his back to you, having already packed a small back with the select few things he may need in the next twelve hours. he took one final look at you, knowing it may be his last.

it sucked, and it hurt. you wanted to scream at him. but all you could do was watch as the love of your life walked out the door and to his best friend’s house, leaving you here alone again.

but for good this time.

reblogs, requests, comments nd likes appreciated! <3

#sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #mine !!

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spankingwishes2 · 3 months

Text

A Chance Remark

I’m not even sure how I got invited… Well, I mean, I am – I tagged along with Crystal, my co-worker (who then left early) – but one Thursday evening I found myself in a ‘Wine and Whine’ session with a couple of Crystal’s friends at the house of this woman named Stephanie (her husband had wisely made himself scarce while originally five, and now three, complaining women invaded his shared castle). I had had a few glasses of wine before switching to sparkling water but figured the later I stayed the safer I was to drive home. Stephanie’s neighbor, Megan, however, had no such concerns.

Megan’s concerns were more long-term. Soon to be divorced, no dating prospects (she claimed, or at least no decent ones), didn’t like her job or her new boss… you know, the usual mix of real complaints and generalized bitching… bad enough for me but our hostess had clearly heard it all before – probably recently.

“I’ve made such a mess of every single thing in my life,” Megan moaned, “I should just be spanked.”

Did my ears ever prick up at the use of my favorite word! I tried hard not to react, looking at her with mild interest. But Stephanie took another approach.

“Okay, well, come on, then,” she said, standing up.

“Wha…?” Megan answered. Now my eyebrows were raised to my hairline but I kept silent, with my brain saying ‘Really?’.

“You said so yourself and you’re right,” Stephanie said, moving a chair, sitting in it and patting her lap.

“Ah, I should probably go…” I said, starting to rise – despite how much I dearly, dearly wanted to stay.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Stephanie snapped in a voice that sounded like I might be next – though I knew that was only wishful thinking. (I did, however, wonder just how much she’d had to drink.)

Megan stood up and I could tell this was actually going to happen. “Well, I suppose…” she said, moving to Stephanie’s right.

“Unt uh…” our hostess corrected, tapping on Megan’s belt buckle. “Down.”

I swallowed hard and pressed my legs together, only partly because I needed to pee – though I certainly wasn’t going anywhere!

She probably didn’t have to comply, but she did. And Stephanie didn’t stop there!

“Oh wait – please!” Megan complained, but made no move to resist.

“Get real,” Stephanie growled, and down came the panties! Apparently relying on some inside information, she accused, “So… spending too much time on line, have you?” Smack!

“Um, maybe…” Smack smack smack! “Okay, yes!” Smack! “Ow!”

I sat there, transfixed, as this proceeded right before my eyes as if I wasn’t even there.

“You know you have…” Smack! Smack!

It was all I could do to keep my hand from between my legs – but I sure wasn’t going to risk it!

“Sorry! Ow!” Megan squealed.

“Don’t apologized to me, you’re the one who’s suffering for it!”

“I am! I am!” Megan insisted – even though that’s not what her chastiser meant.

“And you will…” Smack smack smack! “Continue to do so…” “Until you stop!” The smacks continued and it didn’t sound like they were going to stop! I was getting a little concerned for Megan – and worried that she might get mad in a minute. Stephanie may have been picking up the same rebellious vibe.

“So,” Stephanie asked her, hand raised, “Have we taken care of that?”

Megan made a face – which probably only I saw, but said nothing.

“Have we?” Stephanie demanded, giving her another chance.

“Well, then…” she said – and the spanking resumed.

Now Megan was quiet, mostly, sort of grunting in response to the slaps, acting stubborn. She was more jerking than squirming now and I was surprised (especially in her inebriated, self-pitying state) that she wasn’t crying.

Somehow Stephanie could tell when she’d had enough – it was subtle, but I reached the same conclusion about the same time.

“There! That ought to do it!” she said at last, stopping the spanks and giving Megan’s now-red bottom a bit of a rub.

Megan knelt and turned away from me, showing off the bottom she was rubbing. Panties back in place, she stood up just as Stephanie did and they hugged. “Thanks, I guess,” she told her.

“Anytime,” her spanker responded, in a tone that made it seem more like a threat than an offer. I swear I almost climaxed, hearing this.

I stood as well. “I really should be going now,” I told them – not knowing when Mr. Stephanie was due home, or what little post-spanking bonding might transpire, plus a desperate need to deal with my arousal…

“I hope we haven’t embarrassed you, Lauren” Stephanie said.

“No, not at all,” I answered, realizing from the heat in my face that I was still flushed quite red.

“We’ll have to have you back sometime.”

“I’m going to take you up on that,” I assured her.

“Promise?”

“I promise!” I said sincerely, with yet another jolt of excitement.

Megan and I made our goodbyes, with me hoping things get better for her and assuring her I hadn’t been embarrassed, and I made my way to the door.

***

So I guess I’m part of the group now. This week we met at Crystal’s, and no mention of last week was made. I’m still trying to figure out how to get Stephanie alone… maybe ask her for advice on something? Think think think…

#first #career #encounters

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paperbackribs · 7 months

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A Tarnished Copper Boy (13)

Previous | Next | Ao3 Last chapter, the boys wrestling on the couch had Eddie running, leaving Steve behind at the trailer for almost a week until he returned and culminating in a fight over Steve leaving the trailer for walks in the woods. Eddie chased Steve when he left the trailer and apologised for his behaviour.

Chapter 13: What I Am

After making amends in the woods of Forrest Hills, Eddie had expected life to return to normal, more or less. Yet with their reconciliation came a tentative sort of peace that felt like a unsteady bridge ready to fall beneath his feet.

Steve hadn’t said anything outright. He was outwardly cheery even, but Eddie keeps flashing back to Slippery Steve in the kitchen, eyes not quite meeting and avoiding being too physically close to Eddie.

Steve is on one of his walks when he brings it up with Wayne, the two of them savouring a brief warm break in the weather on the porch couch. Eddie scratching at a mosquito bite and Wayne enjoying his Winstons. Every now and then Wayne glances towards Catherine’s place, but she’s not home yet.

“Do you think Steve is being weird lately?” Eddie asks, staring at the border between the trailer park and the woods. The trees seem closed off and unwelcoming today, a forest guarding its wild creatures.

Wayne expels a swirl of smoke, leaning back to place his Zippo lighter on the side table with a clack. “You mean with his walks? It’s good for him. I told Steve to bring back some pine or oak, and I’ll teach him to carve figures out of the thicker branches.” It’s been a long time since Eddie has seen Wayne whittling; it warms his heart that his uncle is looking out for Steve in his own way.

“Thought he was agoraphobic for a while there,” Wayne continues, contemplating the cherry at the tip of his cigarette pensively.

Eddie eyes him sceptically, “Where’d you even learn that word?”

“I’m not an idiot, Eds,” Wayne responds mildly before the corner of his mouth ticks up. “And Catherine asked me about him, mentioned it as a possibility. She likes you two; doesn’t want Steve to suffer if he’s going through something.”

“She’s a good woman,” Eddie says, still stuck on those trees.

“That she is. And he’s been a bit quiet lately, but nothing I’m worried about. You two made up, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “And we did, we truly did, but I wonder if I broke something.”

“Just give him time, Eds. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready.” Wayne ashes the cigarette, “Did you apologise?”

“Yeah.” As well as to Wayne later, who hadn’t been impressed with Eddie’s disappearing act. Nor with roping Catherine in as his impromptu messenger either.

“Well, that’s a good start.”

Steve returns later as the shadows of night are starting to stretch its fingers, the moon hanging low and illuminated in the background of the open trailer door. The frame thuds behind him as he pulls off his burrowed trucker cap, usually kept low as he moves in the open space between the trailer and the shelter of the woods. Above the brown bill of his hat a wavy slice of brown and white is circled by in bacon we trust.

Spearing his fingers through his bronze locks, he smiles at Eddie on the floor behind the coffee table, “Hey, you practising?”

Eddie lies down the orange and suturing needle beside the scalpel and cotton thread he’s using in place of the more expensive and medically appropriate silk. He’d been surprised to learn that he couldn’t just dig into an orange and have at it to practise, as he’d originally planned.

Instead, Catherine had taught him to slice and dissect the outer peel from the meat of the fruit, as if peeling skin away from muscle. Steve had turned an interesting shade of green watching Catherine talk him through it. Whenever Eddie practises, Steve will only look once he starts stitching the peel together. Apparently, after having seen his own skin being dug into by a needle, watching an orange get stitches is just fine.

“Yeah, look at this — I’m getting better,” Eddie proudly holds up the fruit, displaying a row of stitches far neater than his first attempts a month ago. He’s never been one much for sewing, but his new prowess is giving him ideas on how he might tailor his denim vest. So far, he’d kept to band pins and badges with rude sayings scrawled across them, but he could sacrifice some of his more worn shirts or check out Hawkins Records to see if they have any patches.

Steve inspects the orange. “Good work,” he says admiringly. “I’m just going to grab a shower and then I’ll see you in bed?”

A yawn suddenly overtakes Eddie, he glances at his watch; intent on improving the uniformity of the length and space of his stitches, he hadn’t realised how late it’d gotten. Steve laughs, “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

Eddie flips him off, even as he nods and starts wiping down and packing up his gear. The one thing that has stayed reassuringly the same is how they continue to join in bed. Most nights end with Eddie facing the window and Steve curled behind him, a solid warmth giving and receiving comfort. With how unsettled Eddie has felt lately though, it’s a bittersweet sort of reassurance. Enough to cancel any morning wood he has; it’s just too sad and pathetic to jerk off while feeling despondent over an uneasiness that he can’t even confirm is real.

He can only be grateful for his lack of indecent desire when both he and Steve sleep in one morning only for Wayne to swing the bedroom door open with a bang. More sensitive to sound and movement, Steve had jolted upright from where he had been wrapped around Eddie’s back, blankets puddled around their feet from having kicked them off in the warm night. The swift retraction of Steve’s arm caused Eddie to awkwardly roll onto his face, squashing his nose and prompting him to somewhat stir.

“Eddie,” Wayne had barked, “Get a move on.”

However, despite its sudden betrayal the pillow was soft and welcoming under him and Eddie decided to play possum. He’s pretty sure he heard Steve tell Wayne he’d get him up and, later, Eddie was just grateful he hadn’t flashed Steve and Wayne more than his boxer-clad ass.

The feeling infects him though, a rising sense that he’s the source of Steve’s discomfort. Eddie doesn’t disappear again, like he promised, but he does spend a little extra time with the guys. Noodling around on their guitars for a couple of hours in Jeff’s basement or study sessions with Randy who’s also doing senior year pre-calc.

The latter pays off too and he dances through the trailer door one afternoon. Spotting Steve walking out of the bedroom, he Cha-Cha Slides towards him. Without hesitation, Steve stops and reels him in with an invisible fishing rod. Eddie cackles, brandishing his maths test. “Guess who got a B minus, baby!”

Steve’s smile is broad as he takes the sheet of paper from him, on it his grade is big and fat and circled in red. But Eddie is going to ignore the usual implication of that colour on his grade because he got a goddamn B.

“Eddie, great! You got the function and graph questions right,” he notes proudly, already moving to pin it beneath a magnet on the fridge.

“Mm, hmm,” Eddie leans over to take an apple from the fruit bowl, biting into it with relish. “Thank God for Randy,” he confesses, “The domains had me on the ropes.”

Steve stays facing the big appliance, fiddling with the paper to make it square against the surface. “Oh yeah, he was a big help then?” He asks soft-spoken.

Eddie gazes lovingly at the red circle, he had worked hard to get that B — it’s satisfying to see the results. He responds absently while considering whether he needs to concentrate more on functions next time, “Yeah, he says that he hates maths, but he’s really good at it. I tell him that it extends to his rolls too, like the guy has pulled a nat twenty more times than I like to think of. But he doesn’t believe me, says something about probabilities.”

Steve hums neutrally and leaves to get the clothes out of the dryer. The cloying humidity has rolled back through Hawkins and Steve refuses to even consider air drying, has become oddly stubborn about it like his reputation as a housekeeping god is on the line at the first hint of musty towel.

It’s not always just hanging out with one of the guys or another, sometimes they all come together even though Randy is more into weed and D&D and Gareth and Jeff are into music and D&D. One Wednesday night the three of them shoot the shit, Randy pulling out a joint that Jeff partakes in and Eddie declines, saying he needs to drive home.

The night rolls on later than Eddie realises, a debate unfolding amongst them as to whether level limits for classes other than humans are playing racism out in story form. Followed by a convoluted collaboration on juggling game balance against overpowered elves and dwarves. It staggers to a close however when Jeff thinks he hears his parents coming and paranoidly skunks out the basement in the cheap musk of his spray deodorant.

Eddie feels a twinge of guilt when he comes home to the dark trailer, he had promised to call when he’d be late, so he owes Steve an apology. Tip-toeing past the steady drone from Wayne, he creeps quietly into the bedroom. He can only see a sliver of the bed and floor from the slash of moonlight through their window.

“Steve?” He softly calls but there’s no answer from the lump in the bed. As he slips under the cover, Eddie can see that Steve is turned away onto his right side. He silently sighs, wishing that he’d realised the time so he could make it back for cuddles. When he wakes in the morning, Steve is already out of bed; his side of the mattress is cold to Eddie’s touch and, as he leaves the room, Wayne informs him that Steve has left for an early walk.

Eddie tells himself that he’ll apologise later, but in the excitement of Hellfire that night he momentarily forgets it as he sweeps into the trailer. The thrill of the game is still coursing through him, which is only electrified higher when he spots Steve at the kitchen sink washing dishes.

“Oh my God in Christ — Steve! Let me tell you about the campaign tonight, the tears, the jeers, the almighty conquerors.” Steve turns off the faucet, a tight smile on his face as Eddie pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of his eyes. “I’ve never been so proud of my sheepies.”

Steve turns and picks up the dishrag, applying himself to his task while Eddie regales him with the sheer audacity of those boys. The bravery and the teamwork – oh, the fucking group coming together had been magnificent.

“And then fucking Randy,” Eddie says breathlessly, nearly knocking over the fruit bowl as he broadly gestures with both arms. “Pulls out his carpet of flying and uses it to sneak behind the motherfucker! His mage is going to look so badass covered in a wyvern skin cloak, especially as it ripples behind him on his magic carpet ride.” He sings the last words joyfully; he’s so glad that he took on Randy’s suggestion and set them up to find it in last week’s loot.

Steve smacks the wet plate into the drying rack with a sharp clack. “Of course,” he mutters under his breath. At the sharp tone, Eddie falters, realising that he’s read the room all wrong. Looking at Steve’s clenched jaw and the tight set to his shoulders, it’s suddenly obvious that Steve’s not indulging Eddie as usual by allowing him to share the excitement of his day. Rather, Steve radiates an icy anger.

“Is something wrong?” Eddie tentatively asks.

Frost dripping from every word, Steve scoffs as he leans a hip against the counter, arms crossing over his chest, “Why would you think that?”

“You seem angry,” Eddie says cautiously into the brittle atmosphere. “Is this about last night? Because you’re right, I should have called.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “No, not at all. But maybe you can coordinate with your uncle so I’m not the middleman for your sexcapades.”

“What? Who?” Eddie asks, bewildered. “What?” He repeats, his mind-melting out of his ears at hearing the bizarre use of sexcapades coming out of Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s breath whistles through his teeth and he abruptly bends over, swinging the cupboard door open and shut again to slam a box of condoms on the counter between him and Eddie. A neon green silhouette of a Roman soldier is painted under the bold text type of extended pleasure. Eddie blushes, his cheeks radiating so hot that he’s sure his face is bathed in a cherry-red glow.

Steve’s lips pinch in displeasure as he watches Eddie, “Wayne included this in the grocery shopping today. Made sure I knew that it was for you. You know,” he continues sarcastically, “Maybe we can organise my walks for nighttime and you can finally bring Randy around. Clearly, I’m getting in the way of something if even Wayne knows about it.”

Eddie’s mouth drops before he screeches, “What? No, I’m not doing anything that needs condoms with Randy. Where’d you even get that idea.”

Steve unclenches his teeth, brow furrowing further as he squints at Eddie in accusation. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says scathingly, “Maybe because I came back in March and you’re giggling in his lap. Perhaps because you’ve up and disappeared lately while also coming home reeking of another guy’s cologne. In the meantime, your uncle is in the background practically holding up a placard while he chants no glove no love.” Steve lists these items like it’s a shopping list he’s prepared: familiar, obvious, and oft-repeated.

Eddie blinks at the sheer wrongness of Steve’s words. “No! Steve, no.” He stands up to grab the box and throws it out of sight into a kitchen drawer. “I’m not doing anything with Randy.” Under his breath, Eddie mutters of all people. Louder he says, “I wouldn’t want to do anything with someone like Randy.”

His standards may be high these days since it pretty much equals Steve Harrington, but pale blonde boys soaked in weed and a repressed love for mathematics are hardly his type.

Steve draws in a shocked breath, eyes widening. “Oh shit, I misread this, didn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah. Completely.” Eddie exhales a relieved breath. He doesn’t know what Wayne was thinking but whatever it was he’s out of his mind. Eddie will pin him down later once this misunderstanding with Steve is resolved.

Yet Steve obviously feels differently because he paces out of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair and mumbling something that Eddie can’t hear. Finally, he flips upright to look at Eddie, a torn expression on his face. “You’re not gay, are you.”

“Say what?” Eddie exclaims, brain screeching to a halt like the abrupt silence after a sudden, unexpected scream.

Steve backs away, almost smacking against the wall. He shakes his head, frazzled in a way that Eddie has never seen on Steve before. “Christ. I just. I figured with the handkerchief and you’re always looking when I… I thought you at least…” Steve closes his eyes as if plagued by a sudden memory. “I’m so sorry, man. No wonder you freaked out when I was all up in your shit.”

Eddie’s mouth hangs open in astonishment; he is lost for words. Flabbergasted. Baffled. In a state of dumbstruck shock. He is in a small dingy in the middle of the ocean with no oar and no guiding light, rapidly approaching a rocky shore. Eddie has been called all sorts of nasty things over the years, but no one has ever accused him of being straight.

He’s certainly never been in a situation where he’s had to defend his queerness when it is usually assumed. Never been given the option to claim the words for himself. But this is his chance, he realises. Say it, his brain yells. Eddie can finally take charge of the narrative and be in control of his own story. Say it, it continues to scream like a blaring klaxon.

Instead, the words stick in his throat like a chicken bone, sharp edges wedged diagonally and cutting off his airway. He is twelve years old staring up at a towering man who refuses to touch him anymore because he’s a dirty queer. Pack your shit, you don’t have a home here any longer.

Steve’s eyes flicker over Eddie’s sallow complexion and the cold sweat gathering at his brow, his face falling further. “Shit. I’m going to go for a walk, you… you deserve your own space.” Eddie watches numbly as Steve pulls on his boots. He doesn’t bother to lace them, only looking at Eddie mournfully, eyes distraught. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I’ll see you later.”

Steve turns, practically running out of the trailer along with any chance of Eddie saying Yes. Yes, I am gay. He doesn’t return until the morning, avoiding Eddie’s gaze as he moves towards the bathroom.

After that night the distance between Steve and him widens; what was an uncertain pothole becomes a gaping chasm. Steve takes more walks, spends more time at them too. Often leaving after he’s cleaned the dinner dishes and not returning until Eddie is ostensibly asleep in bed.

But he’s always awake.

Unable to sleep until he hears the creak of Steve slipping into their room. Careful to not disturb Eddie as he slides into bed, turning on his side to face the wall.

I am gay becomes a chant in Eddie’s head.

It eats away at him in class, staring blankly down at his notes.

It boils in his gut during gym, looking away from a younger version of the man perplexing him at home.

It unfailingly sticks in his throat every time he walks through the trailer door.

He’s just never had to say it, is the thing. Wayne knew from the beginning; the hateful words Pop had left him with, as he’d abandoned Eddie on his doorstep, making it clear what he’d found under Eddie’s mattress. Jeff knows, but it wasn’t from conversation. Other people have known if he’s to take the sneering insults thrown at him to heart and, one memorable autumn, when someone had scrawled it in bold black marker on his locker. Even Steve had known, not that he had fully explained how he’d come to that conclusion. But he did.

Eddie keeps imagining himself saying the words. Bewitched plays in the background at night and Eddie imagines turning and saying it in between Endora waving her hand and Darren falling to the floor. He takes Wayne’s plate from Steve’s hand and imagines telling him as their fingers graze, Steve’s flinch so small Eddie’s not sure if he imagined that too. He lies in bed, stuck in the distance Steve had once closed and now has put back in place, and imagines whispering his not-so-secret to him.

It's one of those nights and the words are boiling, practically scolding to the top of his throat. Ready to pour out like magma. They lay separately abed in the dark room; the wind outside has picked up and Eddie can hear the Anderson’s weathervane smacking in the approaching storm. It’s a rhythmic sound that would usually drive him nuts, but tonight it becomes the metronome to the increasing pressure of Say it. Say it. Say it.

Steve shifts slightly on his side, moving his right arm to cradle under his head. Eddie remembers cradling Steve’s face, offering him solace, silently promising to be his soft place to land. Even though he hadn’t heard a responding answer at the time, he knows that Steve would extend the same protection to him in a heartbeat. The man who puts his body between children and dangerous monsters would spring forward to take any hit aimed at Eddie’s way.

It’s not only who he is, at the core of what makes Steve Steve, but it’s there in every careful gesture he now makes around Eddie, trying to show him respect and give him space even though he’s misread the situation. It’s there as he tells Eddie that he may not have seen that far into the future, but he knows that Eddie’s will be bright because he believes that deeply in the goodness of him, in his desire and potential to save the world one scrape at a time.

“Steve,” he whispers, his pulse beating wildly in his neck.

“Mmm?” Steve responds, not sounding sleepy at all. As if had been lying there thinking too.

Eddie takes his God-given ability to run and for once uses it to jump headfirst towards the right direction, “I think I should tell you that I am gay.”

The air is pregnant with what Eddie can only imagine is confusion on Steve’s part. He rolls over onto his opposite side, facing Eddie who is curled up too. Face-to-face, Eddie can see the careful glint in Steve’s eyes and the serious set to his mouth. “You’re gay,” Steve clarifies.

Eddie takes a deep breath, licking his lips. He did it once, he can do it again. “Yes,” he swallows and says it like he means it, “I’m gay.” The pressure of Steve’s silence builds in his chest, rising like popping candy until released in a breathless giggle. Steve’s face immediately has a wary cast to it like he thinks that Eddie is messing with him.

“No, no, wait,” Eddie says around another giggle. He presses his hot face into the pillow before emerging, trying to straighten his expression. “I meant it, sorry. I just got nervous and sometimes I giggle when I’m nervous.”

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” Eddie swallows. “Like okay that I’m giggling or okay that I’m… gay.” There he goes, three times in a row. He thinks it’s getting easier; what had been a dry, rough brick is being smoothed away into a skipping stone. White and precious, made for tender touches and youthful love.

Steve reaches out slowly and gently places his hand over Eddie’s, which had rested on the mattress between him. The touch warm and reassuring as he tenderly squeezes his fingers. “Both.”

Eddie feels a stinging pinch between his nose and he swallows so hard that the sound is audible in the dark room. Steve’s face, full of compassion, starts to swim as tears fill Eddie’s eyes. “Okay,” he rasps. “That’s good. Would suck if it wasn’t.”

Steve watches him, a gentle empathy crossing his expression. “Eddie, can I hug you?”

Eddie nods jerkily, “That sounds really nice right now.”

Shifting quietly, Steve pulls Eddie’s now blubbering face into his chest and wraps his arms around him securely, rocking him from side to side. The strength of Steve’s embrace makes him feel safe like he’s protecting him from the nasty words of his classmates, like a bulwark against the disgust on his father’s face. Eddie allows himself to cry in the refuge of Steve’s arms as he mourns a boy who was never given the option to safely say this is me without it leading to pain.

He cries until the tears run dry and snot is thick in his nose, but his head is clear for what feels like a long time. A part of Eddie has slotted into place with his confession. Grabbing onto his courage and declaring himself has opened up a space inside, a place usually cramped and ugly, filled with a slumbering beast fuelled by envy and injustice. The creature is still there, but it has room to simply exist now, rather than being squeezed and agitated by despair and doubt.

Steve presses a hard kiss to the top of his head; his hand has kept a rhythmic caress against Eddie’s back since he first pulled him into his embrace. “It’s okay, you did good. You did so good.” The words fill him with a brightness that Eddie basks in, sure that it makes the tarnished copper turn golden for a brief, shining moment.

Eddie draws back, wiping his eyes before resting his chin on the hands he’s folded on Steve’s chest, “Thank you. You’re the first person I ever said that to.”

“Ah,” Steve’s face is soft and understanding. “You were really brave, I’m proud of you.”

Eddie looks shyly down, scratching at the demon printed on Steve’s Dio shirt, its crimson arms spread to show wrists broken free from silver manacles. “I would make a joke right now, but it was. Hard, that is. I don’t know why, it’s not like I thought you were going to recoil in disgust or call me names. I knew you’d have my back.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, a pleased tug at his lips. “Glad I could meet the bare minimum then.”

Eddie snorts, the sound unattractive with the amount of mucus still clogging his sinuses. Steve snickers in response and Eddie lightly slaps him in return. “No, it was important to me and you treated it with respect; that means a lot.”

A contemplative expression settles across Steve’s face, his eyes serious as he lightly rolls his lips and looks back at Eddie. Eddie sees in his eyes the exact moment that he makes his decision. “It would be hypocritical of me if I hadn’t,” Steve says slowly, with significance.

Eddie frowns, not understanding how Steve could be a hypocrite about Eddie’s confession.

“I am too,” Steve clarifies, his arms tighten around him but he thinks it was involuntary by the distracted look on his face.

Eddie blinks, flashing back to Steve scooping Nancy up in his arms from behind, the love and playfulness shining through so brightly that even Eddie could feel it from across the hallway. “No, you’re not,” he rebuts around clumsy lips, “You date girls.”

“First off,” Steve says mildly with a hint of reproach. “Just because you’ve only seen me with girls doesn’t mean you get to dictate my sexuality.”

“God, I sound like Robin,” he mutters under his breath.

More loudly he continues, “And no, I’m not one way in particular, I just like who I like. Yeah, it’s always been easier with girls.” Steve’s face twists like he’s bitten into a lemon, “Easier to meet expectations, easier to bring them home; but I think it was somewhere between wanting to hold hands with Thomas D. on the playground and the third time Tommy and I made out drunk just for ‘laughs’ that I figured out it wasn’t just. You know, girls.”

“So you’re gay,” Eddie needs to clarify this, needs to make sure there is no room for misunderstandings.

Steve hums, wiggling his head a little as he considers it. “I like the term queer, personally. It gives me a nice umbrella to play under rather than labelling me one thing or another. But yeah, I’m not strictly straight.”

Eddie snorts, the inelegant sound ripped through him at one thought.

Steve eyes him doubtfully and Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “No, it’s not at you. It’s just — poor Tommy. You know he likes you, right? I mean obviously you do if you’ve made out with him.”

His mouth dropping open, Steve trips over his words. “No. No, he doesn’t. He just wanted to practise, and I liked it so…” Steve stops, eyes blanking as he obviously replays years’ worth of less-than-heterosexual interactions.

Eddie tuts playfully, “You shouldn’t assume someone’s sexuality, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes narrow and he glares down at Eddie, still propped on his chest with a clear smile. “At least I didn’t do it when someone’s coming out to me.” Eddie winces, “Sorry, that wasn’t cool of me. Especially after you were so chill at my reveal.”

Steve sighs, running a hand over Eddie’s hair; he wants to nuzzle into it like a pet. “If it helps, I talked a lot of this out with Robin a while back. I didn’t have the words for it then either, and I was probably a lot less chill than you. But the more I talked the more I understood myself.”

He nods, that makes sense. Even in the small slice he’s taken tonight, Eddie’s begun to feel steadier about this part of himself. Steve smiles at him in understanding, “You don’t have to get it right every time, Eddie. You just have to try, that’s all.”

Eddie’s throat thickens and his nod is a little jerky, eyes once more becoming watery, but Steve doesn’t say anything. He only slides a comforting hand down Eddie’s hair again; Eddie takes the chance this time to nuzzle into his palm. Enjoying the warmth and care in his touch.

Steve chuckles, “You’re like a cat.”

“Meow,” Eddie drawls dryly even as he pushes his head demandingly into Steve’s palm.

Steve’s smile sobers slightly. “And the thing about Randy: I’m sorry. It’s none of my business who you decide to be with.” A flash of something dark and strained passes through his eyes, “And even though I said it really terribly, I did mean it in the end. You deserve to be able to just hang out with your boyfriend or bring him around to Wayne. Now that I’m spending more time out of the house, we could organise something.” He grimaces, “But, uh, maybe not in the bed we share. I know it’s an all-around weird situation, but just not that.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes tight, burying his face in Steve’s chest. This again.

“Steve,” he groans. “Steve-o. Sugar. Babycakes. I don’t have a boyfriend.” He can almost hear Steve’s mouth open. “Nor,” he quickly adds before the idiot can stick his foot further in it, “Do I want to go out with Randy Mullins. He is not who I like.”

Under him, Steve’s chest expands and retracts in a quick, faltering breath. “Who do you like, then?”

Eddie sighs tiredly, between working up the bravery to come out and spending a good portion of the past half hour crying in Steve’s arms, he’s exhausted. He’s not sure he has the emotional bandwidth to discuss his desire for the man whose arms remain wrapped around him.

Still, taking his courage in hand and running towards something had felt pretty damn liberating. He can do one more small thing, Eddie decides. One skip of that smooth, white stone that he has honed and crafted tonight. Eddie looks up, meeting Steve’s eyes head-on and trying to reach through to him, “Not Randy Mullins.”

Steve’s eyes flicker and he swallows. His mouth opens and shuts for a moment before he nods, a stuttered thing. “Okay,” he says shakily.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, praying that this is one thing that won’t be misunderstood.

“Okay,” Steve smiles, eyes crinkling.

A yawn overtakes Eddie. He tries to press it into Steve’s chest but he’s pretty sure that he just made the least attractive face to the boy he sort of confessed to just now. Steve’s smile deepens and he gently extracts Eddie, turning him to face the window and scooting behind him. Curled around like lovers, though still a respectful distance between them.

“This okay?” Steve breathes into his neck.

The lids of his eyes closing heavily, Eddie hears the breaking rain patter softly against the trailer walls. “Perfect,” he murmurs before falling heavily into a welcoming darkness.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Tag list:

My tag list is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :)

@bookworm0690, @child-of-cthulhu, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @gutterflower77, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight

#officially past the first third of this!!!#steddie #time travel #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #a tarnished copper boy #paperbackribs writing

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karla-the-elemental-dreamer · 2 months

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🪢 KH-OC Week 2024 🪢 - Day 7 Package 💙💜🧡🐲🐻

Admin note: Due to the absolute trouble my mind is putting me through, Day 7 will be a LONG read due to the multiple (but fun and interesting) processes I've had to go through to get the juices to flow. There will be multiple prompts and ideas addressed, because I will not be capitulating to these blockages 💪🏻 I am finishing @khoc-week strong whether my brain likes it or not XD

---

Unlike the other days that simply had their submission package, Day 7 will be split into two parts:

The actual submission package.

The official revelation of the surprise that was mentioned on Day 5.

---

And... OMG there is no prompt for Day 7!

Well, there is/was one pre-determined, but with poor Terra being tossed here, there and everywhere during the week, Dinh-Yu said to make Day 7 all about him [Terra]... With the centre of it being OC related of course. And looking back in a sense, the connections with Riku have actually already been touched on during various previous days.

So re. Terra and whichever OCs we intertwine, here goes:

---

SECTION 1A: Prompt / Eraqus

This is an extension of Dinh Yu's Day 7 prompt, and to let you guys in on the fact that someone (don't know who) called 'the cavalry'. The reason Master Eraqus is now considered powerful is because he has now passed on in my timeline, due to the assumption of KH3's ending.

Why do I also include this tidbit of exposure? There was apparently a Day 6 prompt called journal. The way my journal works? It's a magic journal. So not only can I write in it, but others can choose to direct their communication into it if they wish. All they have to do is feel in their heart/mind what they want to say to me, and the journal will magically transcribe their words into it, waiting for me to open it and read it, and even respond in kind. It's basically like Email, but through a book and a person's thoughts, instead of the PC and actively typing both ways.

They envision in their minds; their message writes itself into my book [A to B].

I write back in my book, it gets translated into a thought in that person/s head[B to A]:

~9:10 PM (AEST)

Master Eraqus: “Karla… I know you might be uncomfortable with me, and even if so, we may have never spoken before. I apologise for any preconceived notions I may have given to you through my previous actions to Terra, Aqua and Ventus. But if you can allow me to assist you. As you know from 2022 onwards, I have allowed and I even encourage Terra to walk by your side to atone for the immeasurable pain and suffering that I have caused him and his friends… I think they need you to finish what I started, even though you offer a different relationship, not so much their teacher in the realm of light. While Ven was being checked for bad energies [mind blockage/poison], I quickly had a word into the ear of your newest dream guide, Young Cricket, or as you otherwise call him, Dinh Yu. I have been let in on the fact that he is leading you for KH-OC Week, but not even he can seem to navigate you past this energetic block that seems to be tormenting you with regards to Terra. I have asked Dinh Yu to hand his spot over to me for just a short while, and I will guide you where you have always meant to go for Day 7… As Terra’s teacher and someone who now knows him well [after Xehanort]. Dinh-Yu will be back in the driver’s seat at the end to check your balances with you and sign you off.

So first of all, I see you’ve already put up a pre-commissioned artwork of Terra. Continue to discuss the meaning of that and why you got it done. When Terra was your strongest bridge, what is it that made the Land of Departure feel like home to you? Was it the land itself, or was it Terra’s stewardship? When you’re with Terra alone, how does he make you feel? I have come to understand that you didn’t want to wield a keyblade, but when Terra got involved, the very little keyblade knowledge you gained suddenly expanded greatly. Was it the love between you and Terra that made Riku capitulate from his initial arrogance and annoyance?

I come to hear that you’ve in-fact done numerous artworks of you and Terra in the last year. Share those as well. Not so much as descriptions, or you’ll leave them with a strenuous encyclopaedia. But just a gallery of your art if you will and a sentence or two about those works if you must.

I’m now looking at your Day 5 post in the data, and I see you’ve mentioned Neverland as a favorite spot that you liked to go to with Terra. Maybe now is the time to explain why if you wanted to. Again I don’t recommend you follow on all of my ideas if it makes your work unsuitably long, but I am simply cramming in all these ideas so that this severe energy blockage you seem to have undergone in the past few days can’t disable you anymore. I wish you the best of luck, and please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you need any further help.

And wait! Just one more thing before I go or at least take the passenger’s seat. Say you were out of all energy impairments. You can still address the official Day 7 prompt if you wanted to envision any future scenarios with Terra… But that one may be difficult in your current state. Good luck”.

---

SECTION 1B: Commission / Ventus

First of all, I want to re-show off this beautiful art that was drawn by 'Nexathila' within the last year. She does not have a Tumblr, but you can find her by going to this carrd: https://nexathila.carrd.co/

I knew I wanted an artwork with Terra at the time, but I'm not very good at being organised when asking for commissions 😅 So I thought fast and asked for a drawing at the Land of Departure as we did stargazing...

~9:55 PM (AEST):

Sierra: “She’s going to fail the test!”.

Selvian: “Eraqus has given her the prompts. She just now needs to do them”.

Dinh-Yu: “Ahhhhh”.

Selvian: “Relief huh?”.

Dinh-Yu: “Yes. Such a relief. Has she had that bad a blockage before?”.

Selvian: “They come and they go. But that’s the first one you’ve had to deal with. She’s had the doggie not let go of Riku before, and now it’s trying the same thing on Terra”.

Sierra: “Did Ventus get captured because he was trying to help Terra?”.

Selvian: “Yes, sadly”.

Krystal: “I’ve gotten Ven to help out!”.

Selvian: “You have?”.

Krystal: “He’s feeding her thoughts on the Land of Departure, and Cricket’s [Dinh-Yu's] transcribing them into a document and sending them to her journal”.

Selvian: “Thank the Lord in Heaven”.

~10:00 PM - 12:15 AM (AEST)

Ventus:

“The stargazing, she loved it so much. She tried to pretend she didn’t when Aqua and I were around. But when she was alone with Terra and we had a peak, it was something different. I find it amazing how Terra always got answers out of her that none of the other guardians would ever get. I think it’s because Terra never pushed, and not once did he ever betray her trust by spilling things to other people, at least not without asking her permission first.

So even though SHE thought she was rushing to choose something for a commission, I think she was meant to be shown stargazing with Terra there. I notice the artist put their keyblades in the background. She didn’t want or think she’d be getting them in the image to begin with, but then something spoke to her when they WERE included. She had just finished training with Terra, and that was always an also unique experience in itself. Karla seemed to feel this sense of obligation when training with other guardians, but Terra always slipped her into it in the most subtle ways, and he made it fun for her… Y’know, that feeling of having a job but never working a day in your life.

I’m just getting this abstract thought. So I want to address it while I have it. Terra was originally meant as a distraction for Karla, at least that’s what he came for. We all didn’t know what was up when she asked for Riku in May 2020, and as someone who watched over Riku as it were, Terra had genuine concerns. But you know Terra, he’s not one to be mean to anyone, so he simply tried to divert Karla’s attention but she was one smart cookie. And then as Terra was trying to help Riku, he decided to help her too. Y’know? Starting out as one thing but then diverging into another? Terra wasn’t even Karla’s dream guide to begin with, but he just felt this sudden compassion and need to work her out, like there was more to her than meets the eye.

I guess Terra wedging himself into her life did work out as she needed him in late 2021. Like… As in because he made an effort to connect with her and know her, she knew he was the next best option to add to Riku. But I digress.

Back to keyblade training. Again, what Karla thought was a chore, Terra made it seamless for her. And the way he taught her, I’ve never seen him be so as accommodating to anyone as he was to her. Like his method was brute strength and hard hits, but he knew that he was the only one she’d train with, so Terra made it a point to control his power around her. And like Terra made it his business to watch and learn Aqua’s style so that he could teach that to Karla. With Aqua’s style but Karla’s own magic added, she became a powerhouse and even shocked Terra. But where Terra eventually got her is sometimes she’d spend too long manifesting a spiritual or cosmically powered spell to support her attack, and then Terra would smack her from behind and tell her she’s gotta take the rose-coloured glasses off when reality comes flying at her all of a sudden. I think that’s why her mind isolated her only to Riku these days… Because he’s more head on. So I think it’s about the need for her to find a middle ground and then she’ll be able to keep them both.

Let’s see now. I addressed the art and stargazing, which then led to keyblade training. Oh! I should tell you that Mahna Templestowe is not the first keyblade she manifested. Because like I said, she has universal manifestation and other psychic powers, so with it, the first keyblade she manifested was a clone of Terra’s and we were all shocked. But it just went to show how much Terra meant to her, and I remember a tear falling out of his eye when he saw that keyblade. I heard she got Mahna Templestowe later down the track when her keyblade use became more regular, and at the time, she was doing something with Riku or Terra in the realm of darkness. When she was put on her own to save one of them, rather than relying on them, that’s where she got her ‘personality’ so to speak.

Now I’ve been told that the master suggested talking about why she likes going to Neverland with Terra. I don’t really know the answer, as that’s between her and him. And… Cricket! Don’t peer into her dream journal! That’s an invasion of privacy! Well… I guess we’ve got answers now. So they would always sit on a rock and look out to the sea as Terra held her. They didn’t talk as much in Neverland; that was more just a tranquil moment together, or more recreation as it were. I think as she felt the Land of Departure was her base point, that’s where she’d find herself if she needed to have a really important conversation with Terra. Like she’d seek out his home and he’d give it to her in a sense. In summary, the she’d travel with Terra to all these BBS worlds and each one had a unique feel for a different activity, but the Land of Departure was at the heart of it all, and basically what she associates Terra with.

I’m really sad that Karla’s mind (energy levels) started to attack her in regards to Terra and tried to prevent her from finishing OC Week, but my teddy friend Krystal stayed with me in customs, and she actually managed to talk me out of the astral lock I was put into. So as Terra’s friend and someone who really loves Karla, I’m doing my part to save the day and I’ve been asked by Selvian and Cricket to contribute to her story ❤️"

Krystal running in with Ventus goes to show that the teddies have a mind of their own. Just like I didn't know Sibella wasn't right for Terra, I didn't know Krystal remained with Ventus. I assigned Krystal to Ventus at one point, but never heard from her since. Then when Selvian brought Ventus to 'customs' to try and help me with my severe mind blockages, Krystal came with him! So those two have had a good friendship. And now come to think of it... I have envisioned her doing things with Ventus in the LoD from time to time 🤔

---

I don't have a teddy version of Krystal drawn up (because obvs she surprised me). So here is a human model from January this year:

MISS KRYSTAL LEBAUCHEN (Ventus) - ISFP:

---

SECTION 1C: Art Gallery (KB)

^Official DG 'family photoshoot' done in 2023. Karla is between her KH dream guides here. Riku and Terra's expressions are portrayed so accurately here 😊

^Karla normally doesn't like early mornings, but at the Land of Departure, Terra makes it worthwhile if she's up for it.

^Terra being the gentleman as always. He accompanied Karla to a Christmas photoshoot at the end of 2023. They both have a copy of the photo in their homes.

---

~12:35 AM (AEST)

With sheer patience and shameless intervention from nearly the entirety of my team AND Kingdom Hearts, we beat the energy block even though it presented a Good Game! Thank you for playing lol. In the words of Master Eraqus himself. CHECKMATE.

---

SECTION 2: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU

Now I did say back in Day 5 that I had a surprise for a certain someone, for putting his hand up and acting as my Jiminy for this event. Thank you for being so accommodating and allowing him to work his magic:

Now sadly, he'll have to bus Natasha and Erika back home, but I hope you had a great time learning about them and getting to know them, and at least they now have a foothold in Kingdom Hearts if they need to do any future field work there. And with that, Sierra and Erika have to go their own ways for now unless they decide to visit each other down the track, but nothing is planned yet.

Natasha and Erika will have their keyblades hung somewhere in Cricket's dojo until they decide to use them again.

---

Thank you to the mods of KH-OC Week itself; for making everyone feel welcome and putting on a successful event (it's still here in 2024 😶). I've loved seeing everyone else's works and where they come from. I think we all deserve to have an inheritance [individual timelines] in KH, hence why I link the user to the OC. Including how I bridge myself.

As much as I have hilariously complained because my mind has been pushing exhaustion on me (and didn't like Terra 🥲) , increasingly leading up to Day 7. Here are some of the benefits that I have received from KH-OC Week 2024, as opposed to if I didn't participate:

It has reminded me to check my lore and restabilise my bridge with Kingdom Hearts.

Terra probably would have remained at the depths of limbo without this event. My mind throwing a tantrum was a good thing IMO because now I know what steps to take to get him back FULLY. Even if it takes more than just a week. KH-OC Week (and Dinh-Yu's unique prompts and instruction) pushed me into awareness and progress. I honestly think Dinh-Yu knew Terra was in trouble beforehand; he's cluey like that.

I would have never discovered that someone wasn't suitable for Terra. We have now introduced someone that he'll have a much better relationship with.

Sierra got to spend time with her sister. And as Erika is an ESFJ, she actually forged connections with some of the Kingdom Hearts members.

We have evidence and a stern commitment from Riku that he isn't the grouch we met back in 2020. His loyalty to us is unwavering, and it even bleeds down to the bears. He is personally thanking Dinh-Yu for doing KH-OC Week with me.

Whenever OC Week happens, new lore just pops up out of nowhere, which is why the Days can change so suddenly from their initial plan.

Admin Edit: I just looked at my clock upon finishing and it says 1:23! The subliminal msg I got when looking at the clock was that despite all the mental battle, KH-OC Week has indeed finished on a positive and strong note.

And...

Thanks Universe XD 💖

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infinite-hearts-333 · 5 months

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Tay Friend head canons and stuff i guess.

The beloved autism is currently mad at me and i am suffering due to stress and low social battery. What do i do to fix this? Feed you lot i guess lol.

Pspspssp @onyxonline I’m back at it again lol

Starting off strong with

Maya :D (now confirmed roommate and best friend heheh) @fishy0bishy

Maya defiantly is gonna be the one that gets the most spontaneous gifts, due to their shared passion for nature, and Tay’s tendencies to hand out any plant matter as humanly possible. She’s also gonna be the one, (along side Andri probably,) to slowly chip through the masking Tay does so that at least in their little group they can be a little bit more wild.

They would have defiantly met in the green house, cause ofc a magic school has one of those duh. Tay goes there when thing’s are a little bit too much cause the greenery reminds them of the bush of home, and well i think we all know why Maya is there lol.

Maya is the BEST. stim toy ever. Period. Tay would spend hours just tracing their finger along Maya’s wood limbs with their finger if they could SSSKSK.

Andri (support and enabler) @north-heats-stronghold

Absolutely calls Tay Dudelet. Like a mix of dude and dudette?? Get it?? (M sorry XD)

Lil silly man makes Tay very giddy and wild. They go crazy. I love the idea that Tay would eat Australian foods and everyone one is like. The fuck. Will force feed Andri fairy bread, and he will enjoy it /jk

Emotionally conscious enough to provide Tay a safe place to go crazy and not having to worried about masking. Which is excellent. Also provides correct complements for things that others simply wont catch, completing tasks they don’t like, doing something with confidence, speaking their opinion in large crowds ect. Very good for them yes yes.

LET THEM TRAIN TOGETHER!!!!! Really wanna make something where Andri get Tay to agree on training together and Tay all confident and chatty as a witch and everyone’s like :00000

My god, if magic does influence them outside of their ‘magic girl form’ and Andri can change his body heat at will Tay is gonna be ALLL over it. Massive heat stealer. Andri will never escape their cold hands XDDD

Drapes all over him. Or leans. They’re not tired! Just listening to you :>

Miguel (comfort- he did not sign up for this XDDD) @novalizinpeace

Was it because he’s (slightly) intimating so he’ll scare off people? Is it because of the big fluffy jumper? Did Tay sense weakness? Who knows, but now Miguel is now stuck with them lol.

Reread up on their bios (again) but honestly, he kinda asked for this position lol. With his powers, he’s literally the ONLY person in the entire school that will have even the slightest clue on how Tay is feeling with masking and repression (yippee!!!) at stages, even they don’t know, so it is excellent to have someone that will understand and not brush them off for being ‘to immature’ or ‘to emotional’. Probably looks like a sad kicked puppy to him HAHA.

They can do parallel play!!! More so when Miguel first gets there with his worries about ‘how good his English is’, cause Tay is fine to just sit and do their own thing, together :> No talking required!

Defiantly would hold onto Miguel’s sleeves if they’re walking together lol.

Miguel is not ready for when someone insults him and Tay goes apeshit on them haha. No one is mean to their friend >:)))

Rosa (bad influence lol) also belongs to Nova :> ^^

Met through Maya, and was utterly terrified of her haha. (Tay’s also bigger than Rosa, which makes it more hysterical.)

Resorted to bringing Rosa different seeds in hopes she wouldn’t bite them. And once they were more use to each other started bringing her native Australian plants, (which are apparently weird as shit to the rest of the world??? Y’all basic).

Rosa probably tolerates them more than other people cause their quiet lol.

Plant scientists! “This is a banksia. When the big fires come, they use the heat to melt the wax around the seed pods and shoot their seeds out once the fire is gone.”

“THEY EXPLODE?”

“… technically?”

#♾ art #my art #oc #smiling critters oc #oura thorn #smiling critters #spellcasters au #Tay Bridgeback #Spellcaster! Oura Thorn #north heat #Sunny yolk #merrit ferret #Lizzy spiral

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mayfast · 1 month

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You don’t think there’s ANYTHING suspicious about a white Italian crying crocodile tears after 30 seconds in the ring with an African woman, the ring of course being the fucking OLYMPIC BOXING RING, which is meant for people who are actually capable of performing well in the sport they’re there to do?

Both of them are women, one is just apparently shit at the one thing she was there to do. Can’t take a hit? Don’t go into a sport where you’re gonna get hit, overwhelmingly in the face. Euros stay seething that they can’t own Africans anymore and have to make shit up.

Greetings,

First, I want to apologize in advance for any grammar or punctuation errors. English is my first language, but I’m dyslexic. Regardless, I will do my best to make this response readable. Secondly, I apologize for getting back to you so late. I visited my siblings and left my laptop at home, knowing that if I tried to respond via my phone, the quality would suffer greatly. Thirdly, thank you for genuinely asking me a question. Don’t get me wrong—I love a good death threat as much as the next person, and I’ve already received plenty of those. But I suppose the way I see it is this: if you disagree with me on a topic, having a screaming match on the level of a presidential debate isn’t going to help either of us. Besides, I like learning and changing. I’m human, and that’s kind of what we’re meant to do. Talk with me so I can see and learn. If you show me why I’m wrong and convince me, I’ll acknowledge it and say, "I was wrong with the information previously presented to me. Thank you for correcting me; I appreciate it." As petty as it sounds, I like being right—not in terms of "my opinion trumps yours," but in knowing I have the correct information and now understand the right thing to do or say. Make sense?

Next order of business: my perspective. Normally, I keep my nose out of political and social issues for several reasons. Firstly, I don’t typically have enough information to give an informed opinion. I don’t see why I should preach my views if I lack the data or experience in the subject matter. Instead, I prefer to listen and learn. Furthermore, I strongly believe in the cookie/diet analogy. Most of the internet is familiar with this analogy, but to reiterate: me being on a diet does not mean you cannot eat a cookie. Similarly, my beliefs should not dictate how you live your life. In simpler terms, I drink water and mind my business.

However, let's adjust the analogy a bit. (I use analogies a lot, and I acknowledge that they are not always perfect, but they help get my point across.) If my diet forbids me from consuming alcohol, it doesn’t mean you can’t drink. I even hope you enjoy it because you’re doing as you please and having a good time. But if you decide to drink and then drive, you are actively impeding on my right to be safe. As stated in Article 2 of the American Declaration of Rights: “Every human being has the right to life, liberty, and the security of his person.” Yes, I am American, so perhaps this analogy only applies to Americans. Again, a limitation of the analogy. In this case, I have enough reason to get involved. It’s not about you drinking or you driving separately; it’s about the intersection of the two. (Bet you didn’t think a dumb jock knew what that was, huh?)

For those who are younger or unfamiliar, intersectionality is “a metaphor for understanding the ways that multiple forms of inequality or disadvantage sometimes compound themselves and create obstacles that are often not understood among conventional ways of thinking.” Alternatively, intersectionality is “a sociological analytical framework for understanding how groups' and individuals' social and political identities result in unique combinations of discrimination and privilege.” Basically, when two identities (like race and gender) intersect, they create a unique perspective, thus an intersection. This concept was identified by Kimberlé Crenshaw, a civil rights advocate.

One of the first examples given to me about intersectionality involved a mechanic shop. In this shop, Black male mechanics did the physical labor, while white women worked as secretaries and in the office. A Black woman faced discrimination when she was unfairly turned away for a job. When she took her case to court, the company argued they were neither racist nor sexist because they hired both Black people and women. However, all the women in the office were white, and all the Black employees were male mechanics. It's a complex situation, right? I'm not sure of the specifics or the case name, but I believe it was real, and she ultimately won her case.

Anyway, what I’m saying is that I have a unique intersectionality that gives me specific experiences. In no way am I claiming my perspective is greater than anyone else's, but it is particularly relevant to the topic of trans women in sports and high testosterone performance. My point of view comes from my intersectional identity as an AFAB cis female, a mixed-race individual (Black, White, and Native American), a former Division 1 women’s athlete, and someone with a Master’s of Science in Biochemistry and Molecular Biology, along with other degrees in Biophysics, Biochemistry and Molecular Biology, and Psychology. I am currently deciding whether to pursue a PhD, a medical doctorate, or both.

Therefore, for anyone who thinks I am ignorant about the biological aspects of this issue, I urge you to reconsider. I was an accelerated student, graduated with departmental honors, and maintained a physically demanding job. If you have an issue with my presentation of biological and genetic information, please take it up with CHEA or the U.S. Department of Education for providing me with such "ludicrous" information and expecting me to look out for the health of the U.S. population.

Additionally, while on the topic of education and biology, one key concept was emphasized from the first day of schooling: gender is not sex, and sex is not gender. These are distinct topics. Sometimes sex aligns with gender, and other times it does not. Gender is more of a spectrum, which is fine by me. I know where I fall on that spectrum and am at peace with it. I do not claim to know what a woman is definitively. However, I have lived every day of my life—over two decades—as a woman. I may not encompass everything that the title "woman" entails, but I believe I can at least identify some aspects of what it means to be a woman. Wouldn’t it be silly to tell a woman that she has no idea what is included in the title of a woman?

I've scoured the internet and cannot, for the life of me, find the name of the process where you describe things around a concept to define it, despite not having an exact definition. I learned about this in philosophy; if someone could provide the term, that would be wonderful. For example, let’s say I am an elephant, and I see red and white stripes in the tent where I perform, smell peanuts, see the ring where I strike poses, the boss with his top hat to my left, the acrobats above me, and the clowns in front of me. I may not describe everything that constitutes this concept, but you can probably guess that the topic is a circus. The elephant may not be the entire circus, but it’s part of it and knows bits of it. Could you tell the elephant that it’s not describing parts of the circus correctly? I could say, “Elephant, you’re right that those are parts of the circus, but there are different angles to it as well.” Again, I’m aware that my analogies are not all-encompassing and fall short in some details.

So, while the exact definition of "woman" is ever-changing and based on societal, emotional, mental, and other criteria, I do not seek to define this term. It’s not my area of expertise, nor is it my concern. I know what I am, and I am content. I don’t place others in a box with me; I am happy in my own square. Instead, I stick to what I know: the facts and definitions of what a female is, which are based on biology—facts that have been studied with hard data for me to analyze.

Before I continue, I want to reiterate that I am a "cookie/diet" person. Everyone has the right to life, liberty, security, and the pursuit of happiness. I could never hate a stranger I’ve never met. I believe everyone, regardless of race, gender, identity, sexual preference, age, or other parameters, should have peace and public respect. No one should be actively threatened for their opinions within the boundaries of universal truths. For example, if you think someone should die for their sexual preference (excluding minors, as I do not tolerate pedophilia and believe it is something a person must address immediately), skin color, or religious belief/spirituality, that is an infringement on another person’s safety. With that said, I think transgender, nonbinary, and queer individuals should live their lives to the fullest. They are people too, just like anyone else, including me.

Back to my original topic: I can define a biological female in terms of biology. A female is one denoting the sex that can bear offspring or produce eggs, distinguished biologically by the production of gametes (ova). (Note: not all females are naturally fertile due to genetic variations.) Biological sex is an assigned label given at birth based on medical factors, including hormones, chromosomes, and genitals. These are measurable factors assigned at birth. Hence, terms such as AFAB (Assigned Female At Birth) and AMAB (Assigned Male At Birth) help medical providers give their patients the best treatment and diagnosis regardless of gender. Because, again, sex is not gender, and gender is not sex.

It is also significant to mention that the medical factors assigned at birth are not limited to genitals. This is important because, although rare, intersex persons are real. They exist. One of the things that used to irritate me during my undergraduate and high school years was that medical professionals knew of intersex persons, but they never had a significant amount of data on them to establish the medical boundaries of what could be classified as “normal” for them. It’s like knowing dragons exist but not being able to tell you more about them—like Hiccup with the Night Fury page in the first movie. Moreover, individuals with mixed chromosomes also occur, such as those with 25% XY and 75% XX. Even if their sex presents in a binary fashion, their DNA may be ‘abnormal,’ and they may categorize themselves however they please. I use the word 'abnormal' in a scientific manner, not as a slander, but merely because it literally translates as 'not normal.' One of the genes that defines sex presentation is the SRY gene (7).

If I harp on about DNA, I apologize, but as someone who has spent so much of her life studying this specific detail of human anatomy, I can't help but carry on. I have asked a few of my colleagues with PhDs and specialties in hormone activity, mainly about regulation, because I wish to be well-informed. At a basic level, everyone understands genetic variances and that traditional male and female individuals have different chromosomes—XY and XX, respectively. Otherwise, the genome is mostly identical, with differences in SNPs (single nucleotide polymorphisms) and epigenetics (the regulation of genes typically found in the non-coding regions of DNA). DNA influences the production of chemical structures found naturally in the body, including steroids.

I'm sure most people are familiar with steroids, whether from a "don't do drugs" perspective or in the context of cholesterol. Either way, your body produces various forms of natural steroids to help regulate biochemical pathways. The interesting part is that everyone's body produces all of the necessary steroids (at least every healthy body), just in varying amounts. If you notice that these steroids are similar looking, you're right. This similarity helps us classify them and understand their behavior. They are derivatives of each other, but their varying side chains allow them to bind to specific receptors.

Granted, 'binding' is a loose term because, due to Brownian motion and other physical laws, most molecules just float around. Binding depends on various factors such as the shape of the molecules and the energy of their interactions. Additionally, protein turnover rates (which may not directly be the steroid hormones, but affect growth hormones via the Hypothalamic-Pituitary-Adrenal [HPA] Axis, Hypothalamic-Pituitary-Gonadal [HPG] Axis, Insulin-like Growth Factor 1 [IGF-1] Pathway, Steroid Hormone Receptor Signaling, including the ER and AR pathway, and Cytokine and Growth Factor Pathways), which refer to the rate at which proteins are synthesized and degraded, can influence the availability of proteins for binding, though they are not directly related to binding specificity itself. Binding specificity relies more on the geometry and chemical groups themselves. (Long story short, molecules can float into a receptor, but they rarely stick around long enough for a reaction to occur unless it is the correct compound.)

Androgens are hormones that contribute to male traits and reproductive activities, although they are also present in females in smaller amounts. The main androgens include:

Testosterone: The most well-known androgen, produced primarily in the testes of males and in smaller amounts by the ovaries in females.

Dihydrotestosterone (DHT): A more potent androgen derived from testosterone.

Androstenedione: A precursor to both testosterone and estrogens, produced in the adrenal glands and gonads.

Androgens are responsible for male characteristics such as facial hair, a deep voice, and increased muscle mass. They also play a role in libido, bone density, and overall health in both males and females (8).

Estrogens are hormones crucial for the development and regulation of the female reproductive system and secondary sexual characteristics. They are present in both males and females but are typically found at higher levels in females. Key types of estrogens include:

Estradiol (E2): The most potent and predominant estrogen during the reproductive years.

Estrone (E1): The primary form of estrogen produced after menopause.

Estriol (E3): The weakest form, mainly produced during pregnancy.

Both androgens and estrogens are essential for maintaining a healthy and functioning body, though they operate in different amounts and have distinct functions in males and females. While individual hormone levels can vary due to genetic differences, standard distributions are often used to represent general populations. It’s important to note that athletes, for example, may fall outside these standard distributions in areas like skill levels and genetic traits such as height. Hormone levels also vary depending on the specific aspect being examined, and studies have established typical ranges for these hormones.

Estradiol (E2) is the estrogen most involved in muscle health and building in women. It plays a key role in muscle growth and maintenance by enhancing muscle protein synthesis and influencing muscle mass, especially during periods of hormonal change like menopause. I found this straightforward information on a website, but I’m hesitant to cite this since it doesn’t come from a formal medical paper or research journal.

Results are given in picograms per milliliter (pg/mL). Normal levels for estradiol (E2) are:

30 to 400 pg/mL for premenopausal women

0 to 30 pg/mL for postmenopausal women

10 to 50 pg/mL for men

While these values provide a general reference, I would not rely solely on this information without formal publication backing. For more reliable data, Frederiksen et al. have a formal publication that aligns with these numbers (1). However, it's worth noting that their research was published around 2019-2020, and the publication process can sometimes extend over several months. Additionally, the E2 levels measured in these studies refer to blood serum. Since estrogens and testosterone are also present in other tissues, such as muscle and genital tissues, these values should be interpreted with some caution.

Moving on to testosterone, here are the normal measurements according to a straightforward website I found (uncited here since it’s not from a medical or research journal):

Male: 300 to 1,000 nanograms per deciliter (ng/dL) or 10 to 35 nanomoles per liter (nmol/L)

Female: 15 to 70 ng/dL or 0.5 to 2.4 nmol/L

Fortunately, I found research that supports these values. For example, a study by S. L. Davison et al. measured androgen levels in 1,423 cis-women of varying ages, excluding those at the extremes of the distribution curve to minimize misjudgment (2). Their findings align well with the cited measurements of blood serum testosterone and provide additional details, such as measurement averages, ranges, and a box-and-whisker plot for various androgens. Their comprehensive analysis is quite impressive.

However, it is worth noting that Davison’s study is considered relatively old by research standards, having been published in 2005. Further supporting evidence can be found in research by Zitzmann et al., which also aligns with the previously mentioned male normal ranges (3). Additionally, Mohr et al. conducted a separate study on males that supports these general numbers (4). It should be noted that Mohr's study did not include men under 40 years of age, which may limit its applicability to younger populations.

Besides this point, what practical usage does this information have? These are just ranges of sex-specific hormones. However, when diving deeper into the performance enhancement effects of these hormones, particularly testosterone, we find a plethora of research dedicated to understanding its impact on athletic performance.

Testosterone affects physical abilities, with one of the main differences being height. For instance, Schappi (11) found that "women were, on average, 166.2 cm (SD 6.5) tall and men 179.2 cm (SD 6.5)." While this study was limited to a population in Geneva, its findings are consistent with data from Medical News Today and Our World in Data, both of which conclude that males are roughly 12-13 cm taller than females on average. Interestingly, this 13 cm difference is two standard deviations outside of the female average. Additionally, a person's wingspan is typically equal to their height, meaning that males not only have a height advantage but also a reach advantage when extending their arms overhead. However, height isn't everything; in some sports, like diving or gymnastics, excessive height can be detrimental.

Still not convinced? Let's talk about strength. Although this study is old, it highlights a well-documented difference. Bishop, Curton, and Collins found that "percentage mean differences in absolute strength between males and females of each group ranged from 75% to 173% for the curl and bench press strength measures, whereas differences for the lower-body strength measures were smaller, ranging from 20% to 64%" (12). This indicates that males are distinctly stronger in the upper body and only partially stronger in the lower body. It's important to note that these data reflect both non-athletes and collegiate swimming athletes, meaning the height categories align well with our previous discussion.

Now, let's touch on VO2 max, an important measure in endurance sports like running, where muscle mass and height may not play as significant a role. Recall the SRY gene I mentioned earlier, which is involved in the differentiation of male and female reproductive tissues. During the first six weeks of development, the reproductive tissues of males and females are identical. Around week seven in utero, the SRY (sex-related gene on the Y chromosome) initiates the development of the testes. In the absence of a Y chromosome and the SRY gene, ovaries develop instead. Fetal ovaries do not produce adequate amounts of testosterone, so the Wolffian ducts do not develop. Additionally, the absence of Müllerian Inhibiting Substance (MIS) leads to the development of the Müllerian ducts and female reproductive structures.

Testosterone also stimulates erythropoiesis, which results in a higher hematocrit (the proportion of blood volume occupied by red blood cells) in males compared to females (13). Erythropoiesis, the production of red blood cells (RBCs), plays a crucial role in determining VO2 max because RBCs are responsible for carrying oxygen from the lungs to the muscles during exercise. RBCs contain hemoglobin, a quaternary structured protein that binds to oxygen in the lungs and carries it through the bloodstream to the muscles and other tissues. The more RBCs you have, the more oxygen can, in theory, be transported to your muscles. During exercise, your muscles require more oxygen to produce energy. RBCs deliver this oxygen efficiently, enabling your muscles to sustain activity. VO2 max measures the maximum amount of oxygen your body can use during intense exercise (14). Since RBCs are responsible for delivering oxygen, the number and efficiency of RBCs directly influence your VO2 max. A higher RBC count generally means more oxygen can be delivered, potentially increasing your VO2 max.

In the past, some athletes have tried to enhance their performance by increasing their RBC count through methods like blood doping or using erythropoietin (EPO), a hormone that stimulates RBC production (14). Others prefer altitude training to stimulate the same effect. At higher altitudes, the body responds to lower oxygen levels by producing more RBCs to improve oxygen delivery. This adaptation can lead to an increase in VO2 max when the athlete returns to lower altitudes.

What’s the point of all this research? These numbers represent facts that were measured and observed. While research is ever-changing, these findings were scientifically validated at the time the data was collected. Is it the same today? Maybe, but that's why new research is always conducted—to update and refine our understanding of the facts.

So, if we establish that there are differences in testosterone levels, why is this important? Recently, while traveling, I met a young man named L. We began by discussing his interesting keychain, and our conversation soon expanded to broader topics. Eventually, we touched on my experiences and perspectives on a contentious issue I had been involved in on Tumblr. I shared my background with L and asked for his views.

L, who had no previous experience in sports but expressed a desire to participate, and I both developed similar theories on how to make sports more inclusive without the need to define categories such as "woman" or "man" or to address issues like non-binary participation. We proposed eliminating gender classifications altogether and instead focusing on identifying the 'strongest' or 'best' athletes based purely on performance.

I mentioned that increased muscle building due to androgen effects (as previously explained) would naturally favor individuals with XY chromosomes in muscle-reliant sports. Eliminating gendered sports entirely might render Title IX ineffective, which serves as a protective measure for sex equity in athletics, as well as the amendments to protect gender identity and sexual orientation. However, I will discuss my concerns with Title IX's clumping of these categories later.

L suggested exploring sports events that are more sex-specific, such as gymnastics, where events are designed to accommodate general differences in the center of gravity. He proposed categorizing events based on the center of gravity or allowing athletes to choose from a limited number of events (e.g., four out of eight). L also suggested that weightlifting could be divided into weight classes to ensure fairness.

Overall, L's ideas were creative and thought-provoking, offering innovative ways to address fairness and inclusivity in sports. However...

I want to clarify that my comments about L are not meant to be critical of him personally. L has never participated in competitive sports, so his ideas about sports regulation are not informed by personal experience. For instance, Olympic weightlifting already uses weight classes for both males and females, making L’s suggestion to split events by weight class not a new concept.

To use an analogy (and I apologize in advance for this), if I were a programmer with no background in art, I might develop a program that generates artwork. While I could claim to have created art through the program, it would not make me an artist in the traditional sense, nor would it make my program the originator of any art movements. This comparison highlights that expertise in one field does not automatically translate to expertise in another. Artists of Tumblr, I am sorry I used your craft in vain, but I’m trying to make a point.

With this in mind, I asked L whether my viewpoints made me an "asshole" or a "transphobe." I strive for self-awareness and constantly reassess my perspectives to ensure they are fair and respectful. L, a fan of philosophy, reassured me that my views, while not aligned with his own, did not reflect poorly on my character. He appreciated that I had well-reasoned arguments and was open to discussing and understanding different perspectives. L valued my willingness to engage in dialogue and my intention to support an institution that is important to me while respecting others.

Thank you, L, for your thoughtful feedback and for contributing to a constructive discussion.

Shifting focus away from DNA-related topics, I'd like to discuss another area relevant to my perspective: college sports. College athletics vary in competitiveness and rewards and are governed primarily by two bodies: the National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics (NAIA) and the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA).

The NAIA generally aligns with the competitive levels of NCAA Division 2 and Division 3, with Division 2 being more competitive than Division 3. NCAA Division 1 represents the highest level of competition, with the most demanding physical and legal requirements. Notably, Division 1 athletes often face legal issues related to the intense demands placed on them by coaches, including overworking that affects their academic performance and personal well-being.

For instance, Division 1 athletes frequently deal with legal contracts that dictate their commitment levels, including the number of hours they can be required to train during the offseason and academic breaks. These contracts, often presented as voluntary, are perceived more as mandatory. Athletes are expected to sign them, and while participation in collegiate athletics is a choice, the reality often feels like being caught between economic or physical hardship. With student debt already so high, the stakes are incredibly high for student-athletes.

I also want to touch on something that came up in a Tumblr discussion. I expressed my concerns that men might enter women’s events not out of genuine reasons but rather for athletic achievement. I was told I seemed paranoid and somewhat transphobic for thinking this way, but let me share a personal insight: very few people truly understand what it’s like to be a college athlete. I'll discuss the actual numbers later, but once you sign that contract, you lose a lot of autonomy over your own life.

Before college, I had a healthy body and made my own choices. But once under the coaching staff's control, they dictated everything—my weight, sleep schedule, dietary habits, and even how much sun I got. I had no say in these decisions; it was all up to them. Any college athlete would tell you the same.

Given the differences in hormones, genetics, and epigenetics that I’ve discussed earlier, a coach’s main goal is to win, often by any means necessary within legal boundaries. Transitioning is not off the table. The athlete’s role is to comply with the coach's demands or face the possibility of being released from the team. If you think I’m being dramatic, consider the media’s sexualization of college athletes. Some coaches will have their women drop to dangerous weights to gain attention from the male audience. You should probably look into Tennessee’s women’s teams. I’ve seen coaches who, desperate to turn around a losing streak to keep their jobs, might consider extreme measures, and since the legal case of Lia Thomas was won by her, this would not exclude pushing athletes to transition. Coaches have been known to dope athletes without their consent, track their location illegally, and manipulate their academic schedules to benefit their athletic careers. The latter happens far too often. But an athlete cannot argue—it’s so easy for the school to find a way to make you ineligible. With a long line of people happy to take your scholarship, you sit down and shut up.

How do I know? I was there. I’ve seen the situations that have happened. Very few of you have the same insight.

I bring up my experience as a student-athlete because I’ve faced the reality where a poor performance could jeopardize one’s ability to afford an education. You might wonder, "So what if you get cut from the team? You can just take out a loan or get an academic scholarship like anyone else." As I mentioned earlier, I was an accelerated student, which meant I qualified for significant academic scholarships—hundreds of thousands of dollars that would have covered tuition, board, housing, and more. If I had taken the academic scholarship, it would have deprived someone else who genuinely needed it. That would have been silly, especially since I had other means to fund my education.

Contrary to media portrayals, most athletes aren’t as academically challenged as they might seem. To participate in high school and collegiate sports, you must maintain a minimum GPA. And while sports outside the major men’s sports—like football, basketball, and baseball—don't offer much financial reward, the reality is frankly more stark from an insider’s perspective. For instance, Caitlin Clark, despite being a top draft pick, earns significantly less than a male athlete in a comparable position. This disparity is something most athletes are acutely aware of.

In many countries, sports like golf or tennis might offer better financial prospects, which could explain why over 60% of NCAA tennis players are international. The point I’m making is that many student-athletes pursue sports to avoid college debt. At least 90% of my teammates were in the same situation, with many majoring in pre-med or health-related fields. It’s almost like understanding the body’s functions can indeed enhance performance.

Sorry for the snark, but this is something that has bothered me throughout my college years. The persistent stereotype of college athletes has been evident from the moment I met my academic peers. Being unfairly judged and excluded based on preconceived notions about my extracurricular activities has been frustrating. I made it a point to excel academically, partly in response to this bias. Contrary to what some may believe, athletics often integrates cutting-edge research. For example, many training programs are designed to align with circadian rhythms—lifting in the morning when testosterone levels are highest and practicing in the afternoon when coordination and reaction times are optimized. It’s about applying principles of biochemistry and biophysics to enhance performance.

I want to discuss being a college athlete for another important reason. It seems reasonable to address the issue of lawmakers and other individuals making decisions about areas where they lack firsthand experience. Take, for example, women’s reproductive health and abortion. It’s a well-known issue where decisions are often made by those who don’t experience the consequences firsthand. Similarly, when it comes to transgender athletes in sports, the situation is analogous.

To illustrate, let’s look at some statistics. According to the NCAA, in the 2021-2022 year, there were over 520,000 collegiate athletes. This number is consistent with this link's reports from the NCAA and NAIA combined. In high school, there were approximately 3,850,771 male athletes and 2,954,034 female athletes. It’s important to note that these figures might include multiple team members and varying grade levels, and some high school athletes participate in multiple sports.

The likelihood of playing at any collegiate level, not just Division 1, is much lower, with about 298,424 male athletes and 239,611 female athletes making the cut. This translates to approximately 7.74% of high school males and 8.11% of high school females having the opportunity to offer an informed opinion on this matter. According to theKids Count Data Center, in 2021, there were 258,418,544 people over the age of 18. This means that for every college athlete, there are roughly 500 individuals who can impact their experience.

This approach highlights an important issue: ensuring equality for nonbinary athletes. They deserve the opportunity to showcase their talents and pursue college sports without facing prejudice or having to conform to the standards set for men’s or women’s teams.

One key aspect of Title IX that many people may not be aware of is that college sports programs must reflect the sex distribution of the student body. When there is a significant imbalance in sex representation—such as more females than males at a school—the ratio of sports scholarships and teams must be adjusted accordingly. As a result, many universities are now adding more female teams to meet these requirements, rather than cutting male programs, which often generate more funding. Interestingly enough, I find it odd that the sex ratio is what influences gender opportunities in athletics, because as we’ve learned, sex is not gender and gender is not sex. Why does sex ratios influence gendered sports?

I propose creating a nonbinary category in sports, with Title IX regulations adjusted to reflect this inclusion. This would ensure that schools offer fully funded nonbinary athletics teams with the same benefits as traditional teams, including scholarships, housing, media coverage, and outreach programs. This way, a trans woman or gender-fluid athlete would not face issues related to hormonal treatments or eligibility, as they would have a designated team that understands their unique challenges. By doing so, we can provide a supportive environment where nonbinary athletes can thrive and connect with teammates who share similar experiences.

If I didn’t care about the well-being of nonconforming genders, I wouldn’t have invested hours researching NCAA guidelines and the CFR to develop solutions. I’m committed to finding resolutions rather than merely voicing complaints.

Now, you might be wondering if I’m advocating for a "separate but equal" approach. Let me clarify: as a Black woman in sports, I’ve experienced firsthand the disparities in treatment and opportunities. Women’s sports often receive far less attention and funding compared to men’s sports. The funding for most college sports programs primarily comes from men’s teams—football, baseball, and men’s basketball being major examples. Additionally, women’s games are frequently scheduled at inconvenient times, like mid-day on a Tuesday, while men’s games are typically held on Friday evenings, attracting more viewers and creating fewer conflicts with academic commitments.

Despite my frustrations, I was thrilled to see the South Carolina vs. Iowa women’s basketball game in 2024 become one of the most-watched college basketball games in ESPN’s history. It felt like a long-awaited recognition for women’s athletics. While the 9.9 million views from the previous year were a notable achievement, it’s clear that women’s sports still have a long way to go in terms of equality and visibility. I’m getting beside the point. Those who would argue that sports are completely based on being unequal, that there are those who are genetically taller or stronger than others, make the point of regulation seem completely unjust.

I assume everyone here is familiar with the standard distribution curve, or the normal z-distribution, which is based on deviation away from the ‘normal.’ Athletics can be understood within this framework. With the Olympics at the very right side of the curve, the top 0.1% of their sport. Top-performing college athletes are well beyond three deviations from the mean. In fact, they are so far above the curve that they are considered outliers. If we examine the case of Lia Thomas, I ran the numbers, comparing her swim performance to the previous top three medalists of the 500-meter freestyle for the 2016-2024 seasons. Lia almost fell perfectly on the mean for the top three medalists, even landing slightly higher within the first deviation of the previous gold medalists within the past eight years.

A "freak of nature" would fall into the +2 or +3 categories. This is also what helps tip off the NCAA about drug enhancement usage. Again, what really threw most of the nation off about Lia Thomas was that she won in her first year in the women’s category. But what fails to be recognized is that her numbers were in the normal range for winning. Granted, this led to other speculations about her being ‘too perfect’ in the category of normal, but that’s not the point nor does it have any data relevance. She did lose a valuable 15 seconds from her personal best after undergoing hormone therapy. I won’t call Lia, when she swam in the men’s category, a bad or prime athlete. Lia, like many athletes affected by COVID, had an extra year to compete, which happened to be her last year of collegiate athletics. Looking at Lia’s numbers and rank alone is not a good indicator of her potential as a swimmer. Lia was always a good swimmer in longer-distance freestyle, even before she transitioned. Looking at Lia’s ranking as a sophomore pre-transition, she was ranked 65th among males for the 200 free that season. For a sophomore, that is not bad at all. I personally ranked a bit higher my sophomore year, but there’s always the number of people in your sport to take into account. I would estimate that if Lia had continued to swim with the males without hormone therapy, she most likely would have been on the national podium nonetheless. What irks me is the lack of data that I can find on Lia’s junior season when she was undergoing hormone therapy while competing in the male category. I know many statements place Lia as ‘bouncing’ from a low-ranking male to a top-ranking female, but I don’t believe that is the case. If someone could point me to the data set, I would love to examine it. Regardless, Lia’s lower rank in her junior year would be explained by the lower levels of testosterone, mitigating towards that of an AFAB (assigned female at birth) woman. If Lia was an ‘average’ champion her senior year, then that low rank position in her junior year is where a women’s average national champion would rank among AMAB (assigned male at birth) men.

Now, someone correct me if I’m wrong, but I doubt that much of Lia’s shift in rank her junior year could be attributed to a change in technique. She did lose muscle mass and gained the typical body composition of a female. So, really the only significant alteration was her testosterone suppression. Clearly, testosterone does something. Granted, due to the private policy of athletes' health, I don’t think much of the public has access to her health records, including her T levels. But if they were under 5 nmol/L, the NCAA would not have allowed her to compete, which she did. So clearly, they were above that level. Regardless, Lia lost muscle mass and bone density post-hormone therapy. Granted, for a non-contact sport in water, how prized is bone density?

If you really want to get into the chemistry of it, females with higher fat content float more easily due to buoyant forces. “In fact, it is the density of lean muscle tissue that differentiates it from fat. The density of mammalian skeletal muscle tissue is about 1.06 kg/L. This density can be contrasted with the density of adipose tissue (fat), which is 0.9196 kg/L” (Etchison). Normally, in any other sport, this is a hindrance, as fat adds to resistance via pulling in a downward motion, which your muscles would need to act counteractively to not only keep you up but also move forwards. Back to distributions, sorry for the weird tangent.

These physical attributes that are so valued in sports—heights, testosterone levels, skeletal structure—have distribution curves among females, or at most people have heard of as percentiles. This is a natural distribution. I don’t think I need to explicitly state that, in general, males are taller, stronger, and faster (due to testosterone). As a female athlete, these are facts I accept without feeling inferior. However, a height of 6’4” or 193 cm will land very differently on the distribution scale of males and females. I mean, Lia’s own teammates wrote a letter urging the school not to pick a fight with gender and sex, as they classified the two as separate and unrelated. While others wrote that Lia was a perfect example that transgender athletes should have an equal opportunity in a safe and positive environment (which I’m not disagreeing with), they are no longer biologically in the binary. Lia’s gender was not the same as her sex during her years of competition.

Next, my other issue with how Lia was regulated was that the NCAA measured her blood serum testosterone. "Evidence that the concentration of testosterone in the athlete’s serum has been less than 5 nmol/L (as measured by liquid chromatography coupled with mass spectrometry) continuously for a period of at least thirty-six (36) months before the date of application" (NCAA Guidelines 19.4.6.C.2). As we have already discussed, 5 nmol/L is already double the standard maximum amount for females, but half the amount males have.

Then let’s discuss the paradox presented. Clearly, testosterone plays a role in performance. However, Lia’s gender and hormones matched those of a female, even though other aspects of her sex did not match that of a biological female (genitals and chromosomes). However, if women’s sports shouldn’t be policed by hormones, genitals, or chromosomes, what defines the original intent of Title IX by the separation of sex? Even when cases in the past have disqualified cis women, whose genitals also align with their sex, if their hormones were too high—cases like Caster Semenya, Dutee Chand, Francine Niyonsaba, Margaret Wambui, and Annet Negesa. Did you know about those cases? Did anyone care then? The typical causes were hyperandrogenism, more common in women of African descent. As a mixed woman, I’m well aware of this. And how have those cases been handled before Imane Khelif? The IAAF, now World Athletics, required these women to either undergo surgery or take medication to bring those T levels down. So, do we go back and award those women their medals and prize money?

Taking this tail-chasing a step further, Lia Thomas didn’t undergo a sex change (understandable, as surgery and hormone therapy would be a lot while competing and preparing for law school), but we regulated her hormones. Her testosterone was just as natural as Imane Khelif’s. If hormones don’t define what a woman is, why was it okay in this case? To further complicate matters, Imane Khelif is a boxer, which is high-contact. Fine, sure, sports sometimes include contact; it’s just part of them. But as you read earlier, testosterone affects tissue, not just blood serum, strength, VO2 max, and other factors like bone density. It definitely affects net force for strikes. One major reason the sports were originally separated wasn’t because women didn’t deserve an equal stage, but to account for the natural differences in anatomy and physiology, such as net strike force and bone density.

People get hurt in contact sports nonetheless; however, those injuries occur along the standard curve due to natural differences between athletes. Without regulation, there is a shift in the curve that would make serious injuries far more common, with death being on the far-right side of the distribution.

Genetic differences and unfair genetic advantages occur all the time in sports. All the time. I was a Division I athlete; do you think I didn’t recognize that? That I wasn’t used to craning my neck up to talk with volleyball or basketball players? That is laughable. But even between the same sports, with men and women, there is a natural distribution. Females are 95% of the time shorter and less muscular. Swimmers, divers, runners, jumpers, throwers, rowers, basketball players, tennis players, fencers, and water polo players—it's all the same.

So, what do we regulate? Hormones? Chromosomes? Genitals? Gender? All of these are out of the question.

Once again, I propose an enhanced visibility program for equal opportunities for non-conforming individuals. The interpretation of Title IX is problematic. The LGBT+ community and others agree that gender is not the same as sex. But for some odd reason, gender and sexual orientation are protected under the title of sex. We should not pick and choose when definitions are convenient. We need to make a distinction and protect these categories individually with more specific definitions. Women: Chromosomes, genitals, gender, and hormones align. Men: Chromosomes, genitals, gender, and hormones align. Non-Conforming: None of the categories need to align.

This model would allow parents to feel more at ease about their children participating in primary education without worrying that their children’s opportunities are being stolen. Every category can have distinct role models. Yes, there can be a genderqueer Simone Biles. This reduces the backlash from societal norms. There would not need to be heavy regulation of sex or gender for the non-conforming group. Thus, they would not have to change to compete. And there would be respect for athletes who do not want to compete against non-standard competitors. Some athletes are fine with whoever is in the competition, while others are not, and whether we like it or not, we have to respect their wishes as well. They are people too, just like trans athletes.

Title IX, enacted as part of the Education Amendments of 1972, represents a critical piece of legislation designed to prevent discrimination based on sex in educational programs and activities receiving federal financial assistance (9). Since its enactment, Title IX's scope has broadened to incorporate evolving understandings of sex, gender, and sexual orientation, and I’m not opposed to protecting each category. This evolution reflects both judicial interpretations and regulatory updates aimed at providing comprehensive protections. However, this broadening also raises concerns about the implications of conflating sex, gender, and sexual orientation under a single legal framework.

Title IX mandates that no person in the U.S. shall be excluded from participation in, denied benefits from, or subjected to discrimination in any federally funded education program or activity based on sex. This includes provisions for ensuring non-discriminatory practices in areas such as athletics, admissions, and employment. Again, this is completely reasonable.

The phrase "Scope of Title IX" refers to the range and extent of Title IX's applicability, including its limitations and exceptions. It outlines the contexts in which Title IX's provisions apply, such as educational programs and employment practices. However, societal changes and legal developments have prompted a broader interpretation. Notably, the U.S. Supreme Court's 2020 decision in Bostock v. Clayton County recognized that discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity constitutes sex discrimination. This ruling has influenced the interpretation of Title IX, leading to protections that encompass sexual orientation and gender identity. This is where I have questions about the interpretation. As we have discussed several times, sex isn’t the same as gender, nor is sexual orientation. So why does this fall under the same category? We have early distinctions between the two by John Money in the 1950s and 60s. We also have the Transgender Rights Awareness movements of the 1960s and 1970s, which emphasized that gender identity is not strictly determined by biological sex. Let us not forget the academic development and recognition between the 1970s and 1980s, where gender studies emerged! Scholars like Joan Scott and Judith Butler explored and expanded the idea that gender is a social construct distinct from biological sex. Butler’s work, particularly in the 1990s, was influential in articulating gender as a fluid and socially constructed phenomenon.

I agree completely that the ruling in Bostock v. Clayton was a step in the right direction. Gerald Bostock being fired due to his sexual orientation was discriminatory. His being gay had no impact on his job performance as a child welfare coordinator. However, the court’s ruling that firing someone for being gay or transgender is inherently tied to their sex contradicts the concept that sex and gender are not related. It’s not about sex; it’s about presentation. They aren’t being discriminated against based on sex but rather on sexual orientation and gender identity. How do you know I care about this topic? You have me reviewing 172 pages of Supreme Court files….

So, to put it plainly, sexual orientation and gender identity need to be protected but should not be classified under Title IX as they are unrelated to sex discrimination, as seen in the code of federal regulations; 34 CFR 106.61(10). Additionally, Bostock’s case was related to employment, where it is clear that no sex difference would affect job performance. As an asexual individual, I find it important to recognize and protect distinct sexual orientations alongside gender identities. I was raised in an environment where it was firmly believed that women should be barefoot and pregnant on the farm, and homosexuals needed to ‘repent’. I think that’s all poppycock. But this regulation of Title IX doesn’t align with the previous information on sex and gender.

So now that that’s all said and done, let me review my arguments clearly: Gender and sex are not the same thing. Testosterone affects performance. We have cases that regulate gender as if it’s the same thing as sex and then contradict each other, such as Lia vs. Imane. Are we policing testosterone or not? Why is a large group not directly involved in this debate having such a significant influence over the voices that are actually affected? Title IX shouldn’t protect sexual orientation and gender identity because these topics are unrelated to sex. Finally, we need to address this issue by creating a third, non-conforming category that has equal rights and access to both male and female sports. And crocodile tears? I know this sounds silly, and nepotism happens, but doesn't it strike you as odd, that a trained fighter, some one who should be use to getting hit goes down in under a minute? I'm not saying she was or wasn't dramatic or not, but I am saying that's not normal.

Once again, I’m not an asshole, nor am I transphobic. I drink water and mind my business and, as so lovingly pointed out by other accounts, I do like to write fanfiction because I find it a good way to escape the real world. But if you think you can judge a person’s entire personality and intelligence based on a hobby, I seriously believe you should reevaluate yourself. Do I find the case of Imane suspicious? Yes, for the reasons previously discussed. Would I find the case of Imane suspicious if we had a third category for athletes to compete without needing to conform to the standards of each sex? No. Furthermore, I find it very disappointing that Russia’s whistleblowing on Imane, which could directly endanger her life, is unacceptable. Also, I enjoy learning. If you think I’m wrong in my stance, please, by all means, provide me with some papers to read so I can be better informed. Show me your data and how you’ve interpreted it. It’s important to communicate ideas so we, as a collective people, can move forward. As you might have noticed through my essay, I lean towards a moderate political stance and am always open to hearing other perspectives.

Last note: If you write an insulting or derogatory letter to me, just know I have siblings. “KYS”? “TERF”? Really? Please, get a little more creative with your insults; I want to feel something. I have a father who disowned me for believing it’s okay if people aren’t heterosexual. So, up your game. If you post a death threat with an anonymous tag, you should be ashamed of yourself. Your behavior is unbecoming, and you know it. If you’re going to hate me, do it with a tag; let everyone know you disagree with me. I wouldn’t hate you for it. In fact, I’ll ask for your opinion because I think understanding different viewpoints is important, and I want to see what you see. But if you hide, I cannot see you as anything more than a ‘liberal blue-haired’ screeching.

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