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[maxineyachtwear]

Website: https://www.maxineyachtwear.com/

Maxine Yachtwear is solution brand that creates the next generation of versatile swimsuits.

The concept was established out of a desire to create transitional swimwear that evokes a sense of elevated sophistication, and beauty; breaking the traditional space that have previously defined a swimwear. This juxtaposition is intrinsically connected to today’s cosmopolitan woman who finds herself constantly exposed to changing elements of modern life.

We are setting new standards by providing perfect fit for every woman. From technically constructed swimwear that enhances your curves with different kind of coverage while providing transitional pieces that can be worn from the beach to the city.

Our goal is to consistently innovate on the past and advance our industry for the future with top quality materials and craftmanship.

Maxine designs, manufactures, distributes and sells fashion and lifestyle products, including resort wear, swimwear and accessories that inspires confidence and encourages adventure, while always glamorous and comfortable. 

- Sustainability:

Maxine products are crafted with the highest quality materials and craftsmanship. Each Maxine product is produced from high-quality Italian and Brazilian fabrics, and handmade by expert Colombian artisans.

Aside from the fabric quality, Maxine uses the finest French and Italian nickel-free, gold plated accessories, that are non-hazardous and environmentally friendly. The gold-plated accessories are also, rustproof, and keep their quality in long-term use.

Committed to the pursuit of a sustainable future, Maxine is dedicated to be a more responsible and environmentally conscious company and collaborates with companies that prioritize recycle materials, renewable energy, water-saving, and eco-friendly development.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/maxineswimwear

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[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the best crabs the bay area has to offer!

pairing: ex-husband leon x reader

cw: asshole leon, oral sex, mention of STIs, mention of degradation, leon's literally so gross and awful

summary: you and leon take the kids on vacation. leon fucks around per usual and you both find out why maryland is famous for crabs

a/n: sorry

wc: 3.8k

You and Leon got divorced years ago, citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ which meant his alcohol intake and workaholic tendencies got in the way of having a functioning marriage, but he begged you for joint custody. If the courts knew the truth, they’d give you full custody. In hindsight, you were angry with yourself for letting him guilt you into that arrangement—one week at yours, the next at his. You both lived in the same school district, so it wasn’t a problem in that regard. 

You’d just picked up the kids from Leon’s when they began to dish out gossip by their own volition. The little loud mouths got their loose lips from their father. 

Leon had a new “girlfriend” if you could call a woman under 25 the girlfriend of a man in his 40s. 

Your son, the older of your two children, was going on and on about some “Tara”.

“Who’s Tara?” You asked.

“Dad’s girlfriend,” he said 

“Not babysitter ‘Tara’?” 

Better not be, you thought.

“She used to be our babysitter,” he said, making you want to bang your head against the steering wheel.

Seriously, Leon? 

“She’s a whore,” your daughter said. You almost crashed the car.

“Excuse me? Where did you hear that?”

“Dad.” You should’ve known.

“Don’t say that word again, it’s not a nice thing to say about someone.”

“Then why did dad say it to Tara?”

“When did he say it to Tara?”

“I heard him in his bedroom and he said it.”

Jesus Christ, you thought, I guess that’s better than him verbally abusing a woman, especially in front of his kids.

“Okay, I’ll have a talk with him about his language.”

And you did. You texted him later that night.

You: Keep it down in the bedroom.

Leon:?

You: Your daughter just told me you called your girlfriend a ‘whore’. Very classy, Leon.

Leon: mad that I have a sex life?

You: Quit acting like a teenager. I could not care less about your sex life so long as you keep it away from my daughter.

Leon: u mean our daughter?

You: For now. You better learn to grow up if you want to keep it that way.

Leon: is that a threat? or is it menopause talking?”

You: Act your age not your girlfriend’s age.

Leon sent an eye-rolling emoji and that was the end of your chat.

You ended up sipping a margarita next to Leon at a tacky beach bar. He was still so damn persuasive even post-divorce. 

“How’s Tara?” you asked after the alcohol had given you a bit of a buzz. 

“I wouldn’t know,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Left you for a man her own age?”

“Funny. I broke it off, actually.”

“Why? Was she getting too old? Got her first period and you couldn’t handle it?”

“Ha ha. She wanted to get serious, and I don’t need that kind of stress in my life right now. My blood pressure is high enough.”

“You’re just hooking up with women shamelessly? With your kids around?”

“I’m not just ‘hooking up’. At least, not when I have the kids.”

“Mommy!” your daughter called. 

“Hold this,” you said, handing your drink to Leon, “I trust you won’t spike it.”

“Won’t need to, sweetheart,” he said with a wink. 

You covered your hand from your kids to flip him off as you walked out onto the sand to look at the shells your daughter had found you. 

Leon took a good look at your ass in your swimsuit. 

“Damn, mama’s still got it,” he said to himself. 

A younger, blonder woman came over to talk to him. The prey stalked the predator, how unusual. 

“Sitting all alone?” she said in that voice. 

“At the moment,” he said, “My ex wife’s out there.” he pointed to you playing with the kids. 

“Ex?”

“Correct.”

“Are those your kids?”

“Uh-huh. The only good things she gave me.”

Though she was pretty good at giving head too, he thought. He began to miss it. 

When you walked back to your seat, Leon handed you your drink, and said, “Don’t worry, babe. I kept it safe for you.”

“Don’t ‘babe’, me,” you say sitting down.

“Why not? I thought you liked that.”

“When we were married. But, I don’t want my ex-husband calling me pet names.”

“‘Kay, babe.” You looked over to tell him off and he winked at you.

“I hate you,” you said. 

“No you don’t,” Leon said, walking off to God knows where.

You spied Leon snaking his arm around a pretty girl’s waist at the bar. The bartender ID’d her, though Leon got out his credit card, so you knew he was paying. He flashed his platinum American Express like Patrick Bateman and a part of you thought about how gross and pathetic he was for hitting on college-aged chicks as a middle-aged man, but the other part of you remembered that you didn’t get ID’d at the bar, and you began to search up plastic surgeons in your area.

He brought new Tara, who was actually named Kelly, over to your shared seating area. This new girl and the last were ostensibly the same – too young for him, great body, bimbo-ish.

You couldn’t hate her. She was sweet girl. Lacking in brain cells, but sweet. Leon left the two of you alone for a moment. He seemed torn between saying something euphemistic and polite to her and something more vulgar to you.

He settled on, “Uh, I’ve gotta go see a man about a horse.”

Kelly seemed to think it was funny, but it might just be the way he smiled when he walked away. You weren’t drunk enough to think he looked like anything other than a complete dumbass.

“Is he always this cute?”

“No, he’s on his best behavior right now.” Because you told him to be (and yet his best behavior was still a bit sleazy).

You figured Leon might be up to some other shenanigans because you didn’t see him for quite some time. Your kids came and went, showing you the things they found on the beach. They seemed to be unphased by this random woman you were sitting with – granted, she was good with kids. Maybe she’s a babysitter, too, you thought. It made you wonder how many girls Leon was bringing home while your kids were with him.

“You’re such a great mom,” Kelly told you. 

“Thank you. That’s really nice of you to say.” You were genuinely flattered. It was hard being the strict parent, a role you were forced to take on when you decided to procreate with Leon S. Kennedy.

“I hope one day I’ll be as good as you are.” You wanted to tell her that she could be, but not with Leon as a father. Not because you were possessive, but because Leon was a dickhead. You were pretty sure you caught him grabbing another woman’s ass while he was away on his errands, which turned out to include playing Keno. You were pleased to know he was being responsible with his salary.

“Hey, ladies,” Leon walked up from behind and stood between your chairs, “how’s it goin’?”

“Better before you got here,” you said. 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he said, all pouty. He walked around to Kelly and whispered—loudly enough for you to hear - “hey, sexy,” and he kissed her on the cheek. She giggled, girlish. Ew. 

Leon spent a couple of days hanging out with new girl- no wonder he needed you to come on vacation with him and the kids. It was almost like having three kids, except Leon was shamelessly fucking the oldest of the three. Not in the condo you rented, of course. It didn’t matter that he was the breadwinner, he knew that you would’ve made a fuss about it in front of the kids. You probably would’ve called him a whore. Rightfully so. He was a whore.

You tried to forget about his antics and focus on the fact that your kids were happy. You spent your days walking along the boardwalk, playing skeeball at the arcade, sitting in a damp swimsuit at a local pizza chain, wiping ice cream off your kids mouths and washing sand off their feet. While Leon did whatever he pleased, as usual. This included getting a t-shirt that said “99 problems but a beach ain’t one” as well as a henna tattoo that matched Kelly’s.

The number one perk of your vacation was that it reminded you why you and Leon got divorced in the first place- Leon, his pathetic, dickish behavior. It made you forget all those nights you spent missing him. Your vibrator could never do what Leon could.

The only problem was: your vacation was scheduled for two weeks, but you only had one at that condo, the second was spent at another. You should’ve known by now that you needed to book your beach rentals earlier in the season, or else you’d have to scavenge for a place with even one week available.

The first place had three rooms, so you and Leon could sleep in separate beds. The second only had two, which meant you were stuck with a roommate for the remainder of your vacation. You had secretly hoped that he would spend more time with Kelly, maybe even cozy up to some of her sorority sisters and get himself a bed at their place. But alas, Kelly’s spring break was only one week, so she had to return to school before your vacation was up.

You didn’t doubt Leon’s ability to find another girl, especially when this beach town was swimming with doppelgangers. For whatever reason, he stopped flirting with other women. You expected him to be slutting himself out to every waitress at Seacrets, aka the bay’s tackiest bar. Maybe he really liked this girl, you thought. That would be laughable.

On your first night in the new place, you put your kids to bed and retired to your room with Leon.

“Think you can handle sleeping in the same bed with me for a week?” he said.

“I did it for years. I think I can do a week.”

“But that was when we used to make sweet, passionate love and fall asleep in each other’s arms,” he said dramatically. 

“Yeah, well, too bad you and Tara are over because I bet she’d give you that.”

“Mm,” he hummed on his way to the bathroom, “could never do it like you, though.”

You must’ve misheard him, right?

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” he poked his head out of the bathroom door to meet your eyes and his expression, while mischievous, gave way to something genuine. 

You laughed it off, but had to hide the fact that he had you flustered. 

After a moment, you approached the bathroom door, which was cracked.

“Can I get in and brush my teeth?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a mouthful of toothpaste.

You opened the door and shared the sink with him. Even in the white light over the bathroom mirror with toothpaste on his lips, Leon looked sexy as ever. That was the one thing that never changed about him. You met his eyes in the mirror and he winked at you. Goddammit. 

When he finished brushing, he slid past you to walk back into the bedroom, placing his hand on the small of your back. It was the smallest gesture. It could even be polite, he was just squeezing past you. It was normal. But it wasn’t. It was Leon, and he could read you like a book. He was playing the same game he always had and he was winning. 

When you walked back into the room, he openly ogled you from the bed. 

“Shirtless? Really?” you asked him, a facade of displeasure across your face. 

“It’s hot as hell.” He shrugged. “Especially with you in here,” he said much lower. 

“God, you’re so cheesy,” you said, while looking through your suitcase for pj’s. 

“You love it, though.”

“I do not.”

“Do too.”

You did, in fact, love it. Leon only had two modi operandi: he was either cheesy as hell or a total douchebag. When you put those two together, most would see it as charming. He was the kind of guy you’d want to take home, but not to a wedding chapel. He tricked you—and himself—into marriage with phenomenal sex. If that’s all there was to life, you’d still be married. 

“Leon, I lost my pajamas.” Either you left them at the last place, which was entirely possible considering you were so caught up in corralling the kids and shoving their stuff into their tiny suitcases. Or, Leon stole them. You doubted the second one because none of your panties seemed to be missing. You knew him to be a panty thief and you doubted that he’d reformed since your divorce.

He knew you were asking to borrow clothes, but he said, “Oh? Gonna go for the panties-only look tonight then? I don’t have a problem with it.” Oh, maybe he was the pajama thief all along. Maybe he was letting you choose what pair of panties he’d get to see you wear.

“I was going to ask to borrow a t-shirt.”

“Maybe you should’ve been nicer to me.” He clicked his tongue and gave you a smug smile. 

“Are you really going to be like that?”

You knew he was being a dick, but he’d give in if you really wanted it that badly. And yet, you let him continue to try to rope you into sleeping with him. He hadn’t asked for that yet, hadn’t even really hinted at it, but that’s what he always wanted, despite being in his 40s. You’d think a man’s sex drive would’ve gone down by then. 

“We could make a deal,” he offered.

“What’s the deal?” You crossed your arms. 

“Clothes off, then we’ll talk.”

You gave him a look, pretending to be pissed, but you got down to your underwear.

“Goddamn,” he said. 

“What?” you asked, covering up a bit. The thong you wore wasn’t exciting, just a thin cotton piece of fabric in a solid color.

“I’m regretting that divorce. You look even sexier than I remember.”

“Shut up. You want me because I’m the best option you have. I’m the only woman in the room and all you know how to do is think with your dick.”

“That’s harsh. You know it’s not true, though, babe. I’d choose you over any other woman.”

“You would not.”

“I wouldn’t? Didn’t you hear me say that no one ever does it like you?”

“You said one girl doesn’t do it like me.”

“I meant all of them.” He lifted your chin. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever married. Don’t you think that says something?”

You scoffed. “So it wasn’t about love? I was just the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“It was both. The sex was great, though, you can admit it.”

He was already pulling you into bed and you were letting him. It would be less embarrassing if you were more drunk. You had two drinks. Hours ago. You were both dead fucking sober. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered into your ear. 

“Fine. If you promise not to tell, then I’ll admit it. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Really? No one better in all these years?”

“Nope.”

“You must think highly of me, then. I’m flattered, really, but who knows if I’d live up to those expectations.”

“Memories, not expectations.”

“Old memories. Maybe I’m not as good as I used to be… or maybe I’m better.”

“Are you trying to proposition me?”

“I’m not trying. I am.”

“I shouldn’t,” you said.

“Why not? This is probably the most wholesome sexual opportunity you’ve had in years. It’s romantic, really. We’re parents, taking the kids on vacation. It’s not like you’re some random chick from the bar. You’re the woman I married, the mother of my kids, the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

“I’m the only woman you’ve ever loved?”

“Yeah,” he said as if it should’ve been obvious. 

“You swear?”

“On my life,” he said, looking you in the eyes. 

“If I do this with you, you’re not going to make fun of me, or… I don’t know. You know how I am, I just don’t want you to be so flippant about it.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. How ‘bout we don’t have sex? How ‘bout I show you how I feel about you?”

You knew what he meant and you knew what he could do with his mouth. 

“How do you feel about me?” You asked. 

He cupped your cheek and leaned in close. “May I?”

“Mhm,” you nodded and he kissed you. It was sweet. It wasn’t dirty at all, at first. It was tender, almost loving. 

“Lie down,” he said in between kisses, “Get comfortable.”

And you obliged. Why would you refuse a man going down on you? He kissed you from your mouth down to your stomach, stopping to play with your tits, sucking on each of them. 

“They’re so perfect,” he mumbled. 

He pressed a kiss to each one before he makes his way downward. He tugged off your panties with his teeth and began kissing your thighs. 

“Would you give me the honor -” he started. 

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh. You pushed his head forward, urging him to get on with it.

He did as you asked and buried his face between your thighs. He has gotten better at this, you thought. You remembered a clean-shaven man who now had a five o’clock shadow. It tickled your inner thighs as his tongue ran over your folds. He sucked on your clit with meticulous reverence. 

You threw your head back and put your hands in his hair. It spurred him on further. He was the only man you’d ever known who understood the meaning of ‘don’t stop’. 

“Leon,” you moaned and he hummed in response, not taking his mouth away. “I’m so close,” you said. 

You could see his smile by the look in his eyes while his lips were occupied. His fingers curled against your g-spot and he pressed a hand on your abdomen to heighten the sensation. All the while, his tongue tended to your clit. Your orgasm hit you and you had to cover your mouth to hold back your moans. Leon didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and he’d licked up every drop you’d given him. 

He finally came up for air and you were still catching your breath. 

“Jesus Christ,” you said when he lied down next to you. 

He laughed, looking a bit proud of himself. 

“Do you want me to-?”

“Only if you want to, babe,” he said with a kiss on your forehead. 

“I wasn’t going to because I wanted to see if you could be selfless for once, but god, Leon, after that, I’d feel bad for not paying back the favor.”

“Hey, I’ll gladly accept, but you know I enjoyed myself quite a bit already. I wouldn’t call it selfless.” Yeah, that’s right: Leon was truly unable to be selfless, but at least you knew he genuinely enjoys going down on you. 

“I can tell,” you whispered, palming his hard cock. You could feel a wet spot forming already. 

“All for you,” he said.

“Why thank you,” you said as you dipped your head under the covers. 

You didn’t play the same teasing game Leon did. You made quick work of his underwear and got your mouth on his dick as quickly as you could. 

“God, I was so right,” he said, “Nobody does it like you. Not even close.” He groaned when you cup his balls. You could tell he was getting close already, so you took him as deep as you could. He had to bite his knuckles to hold back moans. 

He only took his fingers away from his mouth to warn you, panting, “Gonna come.”

You appreciated the warning, but as usual, you kept going, letting him come down your throat. Spitters are quitters.

You emerged from the covers to see his dazed expression. He smiled stupidly at you, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” you said. 

“Still want that shirt?”

“I think your arms should be warm enough.”

“I think so too,” he said as he pulled you into a hug.

You laughed and covered your face. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I can’t believe I just did that. I fucking hate you, and you still got me in bed with you.”

“Maybe you don’t hate me that much, then.”

“No, I hate you even more because you’re so damn charming. And sexy. And cheesy.” Maybe that orgasm was a truth serum.

“Well, I don’t hate you,” he said.

“I’m shocked.”

“I thought I showed you how much I love you a minute ago. Do you need a little reminder?”

“I think I need a big reminder.”

“That’s my girl.”

That big reminder turned out to be a big mistake. You found that out the hard way when you and Leon spent the next morning at urgent care. Hindsight is 20/20, they say. You thought your foresight was pretty good, but the gas-station sunglasses, caked in sunscreen messed with your vision. Or maybe it was the margaritas.

“They say Maryland is the best place to get crabs, don’t they?” Leon joked with the nurse, who only seemed mildly amused.

“What does that mean? We didn’t get crabs,” your daughter said loudly on your trek back to the waiting room.

“You didn’t get crabs, honey,” Leon said.

“I thought crabs was an STD,” your son said. Luckily, he’d waited until you got into the car, saving you some of the shame.

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Mason told me his mom got it.”

“Which one is Mason’s mom?” Leon asked. “Is she the one with the fake tits?”

“I dunno.”

“Wasn’t it Mason’s birthday last weekend?” you asked in an effort to change the subject.

“Yep,” Leon said, having his own revelation, “that was a great party.”

When you returned to your home away from home, you put on a movie for the kids so you could distract them while you spoke to Leon.

“We need to have a talk,” you said sternly.

“Whoa, what’s got you all crabby now?”

You pulled him by the arm into the kitchen.

“You had a fun time with Mason’s mom at that party, Leon?” You asked, one hand on the counter, the other on the island, caging him in, so he couldn’t walk away with a cute quip.

“I may have, yeah.”

You stood there, using all your mental fortitude not to slap him – not when your kids were close enough to see it. You hoped your ice-cold gaze would be enough to scare him.

“Hey, listen,” he said, gently placing his hand on your arm, “once that fancy cream we got kicks in, I’ll give you a really nice apology.”

“I would love to hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ come out of your mouth for once.”

“How ‘bout I try to spell it with my tongue?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Yes, you did.

[destinedfordiaperstories]

Sammy's Little Problem, Chapter 16

Read Chapter Fifteen here.

Alyssa smiled. They were making progress. At least Sammy decided on the rest of her diapers without much more of a fuss. Still, there were plenty more opportunities for meltdowns ahead.

It wasn’t easy, but Sammy managed to pick out her daytime, nighttime, and swim diapers without feeling horrible. Even when she looked at the nighttime diaper samples, which she swore were twice as thick as the daytime diapers. But she found some cute—and she hated that she thought they were cute—pink ones that had a different Disney Princess on each one.

Choosing swim diapers felt even more strange. The thought of needing diapers even to swim made her blush harder than she anticipated. Another thing to worry about. And how she could hide those poofy diapers under her swimsuit was something she wouldn’t let herself dwell on. That’s future Sammy’s problem, she said to herself.

Sammy had to distract herself from watching Allie scan all the diapers, though. She kept scanning and scanning. The number of diapers piling up. And she would go through every single one, whether she wanted to or not.

She still wasn’t used to the idea she’d be in diapers every day for the rest of her life. Knowing that her last diaper-free day was behind her. That she would never use the toilet again. The toilet would become nothing more than an ornament, a memorial in the bathroom. Everything will end up in the seemingly endless supply of diapers Allie was scanning.

Sammy was startled back to reality. She felt Allie’s hand reach under her skirt, checking her diaper. It was done so casually, so mechanically that Sammy felt even more infantile. Apparently, Allie decided that she’d check her diapers the same way as any other toddler.

“You’re a little wet, Sammy,” Allie said matter-of-factly, “but I think you can go another hour or so.”

“Okay,” Sammy responded meekly.

“Now, there’s a few more things we need in the L1/L2 combined section before we move on. Sippy cups and bottles are the next aisle over, then—”

“Alyssa? I thought I recognized you!” A woman interjected, happy to see Alyssa.

“Oh, wow, hi Linda, it’s great to see you,” Alyssa responds, “didn’t expect to run into you in the diaper aisle!”

Linda was one of the few women that matched Alyssa in height. Her smile was contagious. She seemed every bit as warm and comforting as Alyssa. Standing next to her was a shy girl who looked to be a few years older than Sammy. She was dressed a bit more…mature than Sammy, though still obviously looking every bit like a Little. Sammy could detect no diaper bulge, though.

“Yeah, Emily here has been having a bit of a problem staying dry during naptime at preschool. Her pull-ups aren’t cutting it anymore, so her teacher recommended she bring some diapers until she gets it under control.”

Emily’s face flushed red. Unlike Sammy, she clearly never expected to be in diapers. She looked at Sammy, almost daring her to say something. Sammy offered her a sympathetic smile.

“But enough about me, Allie, you didn’t tell me you adopted a Little! That’s so exciting! I’ve been wondering when it would happen!”

“It only happened a few days ago! This is Sammy, my Little.”

Linda beamed at Sammy. “Hi, Sammy! It’s nice to meet you! You’re a lucky girl, Allie is probably the best person I’ve ever met!”

Sammy stood there, embarrassed. “T-thank you,” Sammy mumbled, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sammy is my little sister Lindsay’s best friend. You met her a few times when we were at USC. She took her classification results pretty hard. She’s an L2, but I knew I couldn’t let her go to an adoption center. I’ve known her too long to let that happen.”

Emily gave Sammy a piteous look upon hearing Sammy was an L2.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that! I know it can be hard at first, Sammy, but you are in great hands,” Linda says before turning to Emily, “this is my Little, Emily. She’s an L3.”

“Hi Sammy,” Emily adds.

“Nice to meet you,” Sammy says, trying to sound as mature as possible.

“Well, I hate to run, Allie, but we need to run, I need to drop Emily off with her diapers before I rush to work,” Linda said, “but we should schedule a playdate soon so we can catch up!”

“That would be great!” Allie agrees, “it’s been way too long. I’ll call you soon to set something up!”

Moments later, Allie and Sammy are alone again. Sammy was still recovering, she’d never met another Little in person. Seeing an L3 made her jealous, if she had to be Little, why couldn’t she have been an L3?

“Linda is so sweet,” Allie says, “she was one of my best friends when I was at USC. I don’t know why we lost touch…but, anyway, where were we?”

Sammy didn’t want to be the one who reminded Allie about her sippy cups. So she just shot Allie an innocent look of uncertainty.

“Oh, that’s right! We need to get you some bottles and sippy cups!”

“Do I really need bottles, Allie? Or sippy cups? I’m not a baby and I can drink without spilling.”

“You’re not the one who will have to clean up the spills, Sammy. And besides, won’t it just be easier not having to worry about spilling?”

Sammy was willing to concede the sippy cups, but not the bottles. “I guess so, Allie, but do I really need a baby bottles?”

“You don’t need to use them all the time, Sammy, but I’m sure every once in a while it will be easier for you. Especially when you’re really tired. I’ll only get a few and we can figure it out as we go.”

“Fine,” Sammy whimpers.

“Oh, look at these Sammy!” Allie exclaims, pointing to a set of cups, “these match your diapers! Look they all have princesses on them!”

Sammy wasn’t sure about this new Disney Princess motif. Sure, she loved them growing up, but to go back to them like this wasn’t what she ever expected. “Those are fine,” Sammy says.

They move to the next aisle. A whole row dedicated to pacifiers. A seemingly endless supply of colors, variations, and sizes. Just looking at them filled Sammy with emotion.

“Okay, Sammy, try not to get overwhelmed with choices,” Allie says, mistaking the look on Sammy’s face.

Sammy’s eye’s begin to tear up again. Pacifiers were for babies. Not her.

Alyssa realizes in the nick of time what Sammy was thinking. She found a cute pink pacifier, scanned it, and opened the packaging. Before Sammy could react, she placed it in her mouth.

The foreign object startled Sammy. But to her surprise, before she could spit it out or yell at Allie, her mouth started sucking on the nipple. It was…calming. Her mind wanted to reject it, but couldn’t. No, this was okay.

Alyssa smiled as she watched Sammy accept it. She’d been waiting for this moment since she asked Sammy to be her Little. Nothing soothes a tantruming Little faster than her pacifier.

“How do you like it, Sammy?” she coos.

It took a few seconds for Sammy to respond. “ith nithe I gueth,” Sammy said clumsily, not used to talking with it in her mouth.

“Well I think you look so cute,” Allie laughs, “now can we choose some pacifiers?”

Even Sammy was startled how much her pacifier calmed her. She almost didn’t even care how she looked. A few minutes later, Sammy had picked out a collection of them. As they moved to the next aisle, she didn’t even think about taking it out.

The next section was changing tables. Alyssa didn’t bother asking Sammy her input for this. She looked at each one in detail, deciding which one fit her needs best. Each of them looked the exact same to Sammy, but Alyssa looked at each like it was completely different. Finally, Alyssa looked satisfied and scanned the one she wanted.

They reached the changing table pad section. Alyssa had Sammy lay on each one, asking her which one felt the most comfortable. “Make sure you choose a comfortable one, Sammy, You’ll be spending a good amount of time on it!”

Once Sammy chose, they went to the bedding section. Sammy’s heart sank when she saw most of the selection was cribs. “Do I really need a crib, Allie?”

“Well, that depends, honey. If I catching you sneaking out of bed too often, yes. But for now I think we can settle on a hybrid bed. The ones over there have much smaller railings to keep you from falling out of bed. But if necessary, it can convert into a crib.”

The process went remarkably similar to the changing table. Alyssa looked at each model in detail, ultimately choosing without Sammy’s input. Sammy, however, got to choose her own mattress.

“We’re making great time!” Alyssa grinned, “you’re doing such a good job, Sammy. I’m proud of you!”

“Thankth,” Sammy responded, blushing at the realization she’s had her pacifier in the whole time.

Sammy watched Alyssa as she fumbled with something in the cart. She saw a flash of something pink before Alyssa turned around and walked over to her. Alyssa was checking her diaper before she could react.

“Wow, Sammy, you really soaked this, I’m glad I checked! We need to get you changed really quick.”

Without warning, Alyssa picked Sammy up and carefully placed her in the cart, making sure Sammy’s feet went through each opening. Sammy felt her diaper squish as she was placed down. She didn’t remember having a single accident.

Though that was the least of Sammy’s concerns. Being picked up without any warning made her feel so tiny. Especially now, as she was essentially face to face with Alyssa pushing the cart. She looked down, realizing her swollen diaper was on full display, her skirt unable to cover the diaper.

“Sorry, Sweetie, but it was just easier this way.”

As Sammy was pushed to the back of the store, she tried to ignore the smiles of other Caregivers as they saw her, eyes always drifting down to her diaper. There were the “awws” and “she’s so cute!” every time she passed anyone.

Finally, they reached the changing area. The women’s bathroom had a series of changing tables. Alyssa swung the diaper bag on her shoulder before picking Sammy up, laying her down next to another Little. The Little showed no sign of reaction, nor said anything in return to her Caregiver’s questions. Sammy assumed she must be an L1. The Caregiver gave Sammy a wave.

As she watched, Sammy felt the tabs being ripped from her diaper. She suddenly felt embarrassed again, sucking on her pacifier harder than ever. To her horror, Sammy realized Alyssa had picked out a nighttime diaper for Sammy. It’s size was immediately apparent as Alyssa fluffed it.

Alyssa noticed Sammy’s apprehension. “I know it’s a nighttime diaper, Sammy, but we have to go look at clothes and car seats next, and I want to make sure everything we choose one that fits all your diapers, okay?”

Sammy didn’t want to wear it but wanted to get out of this changing room as soon as possible. Public diaper changes were always so embarrassing. She just nods silently.

As the diaper is pulled up to her stomach, Sammy realizes just how much thicker it actually was. Even dry it felt thicker than the soggy diaper she was just changed out of.

“There, all done, Sammy,” Allie bubbled, picking Sammy up and putting her down.

Sammy realizes how much harder it is to walk like this. She couldn’t put her legs together even if she wanted to. The diaper was clearly visible below her skirt. Sammy can only imagine how she looks right now, standing there in a diaper her clothes do nothing to hide, a pacifier that matches her diaper in her mouth.

She doesn’t think it could get any worse until she tries to take a step. She started waddling like a baby taking their first ever steps, unsteady on their feet.

“Okay, Sammy, you ready?”

Go to Chapter 17.

[blackacre13]

hello! Could you write something where Lou and Deb go on a vacation to Australia, just some cute domestic fluff really, maybe a day at the beach and Deb finds out Lou can surf?

“Mrs. Miller?”

“Oh god, no, Debbie,” the blonde woman laughed, her eyes crinkling just the way that her daughter’s did, identical blue eyes twinkling. “No Miller anymore. You know that. And even if it was, Margot is fine. For now.”

“For now?” Debbie asked, shifting on her towel as she looked over at Margot, slightly confused.

“I’m sure my daughter has a plan up her sleeve that may have you calling me something else sooner than you know,” she smiled softly, tossing Debbie a wink. “But I’ll let you two figure that out in your own way and in your own time.”

“Speaking of that daughter, was she ever going to tell me…oh, I don’t know. That she could have been a career surfer if she stuck around Australia?”

“Did you even know that I existed before this week?” Margot asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Another Lou-ism that had Debbie in awe.

“Now that was quite the surprise,” Debbie laughed, looking off at the water as Margot’s eyes followed her. “But I can never stay mad at her for long. Honestly, I can never even actually get mad at her.”

“You love her too much,” the older blonde spoke softly, her hand falling on top of Debbie’s. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. And I hope you know, that she only ever kept me secret to keep me safe. And you too. You know how it is in your line of…work. Once the wrong people have the right information to use against you.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Debbie whispered, looking down at the sand.

“I heard about your mum,” Margot whispered back, squeezing the brunette’s hand. “And I know it was your father’s work that put her on the line. I think—I think that’s why it was so hard for Lou to—“

“You don’t need to make excuses for her,” Debbie laughed, wiping at the rare tear that was threatening to creep out from the corner of her eye.

“Now, Debbie, just hear me out. You have no idea how hard it is for her to trust and to love because of her father and because she doesn’t like making herself vulnerable or putting others at risk or—“

“No, no,” Debbie laughed, shaking her head. “I know all that. That’s not it. It’s—if you can believe it, she’s not the stubborn one between the two of us. If it’s anyone who kept us from being together sooner than we could’ve, it’s definitely me, Margot. It is hard for Lou, but she’s amazing. Incredible. It’s me that needs a little coaxing to get the ball rolling. But this isn’t beach talk, right?” Debbie laughed, pushing Margot’s shoulder playfully. “And we got there eventually, right?”

“Do I see tears over here?” A deep voice called, a tall shadow coming over the two women on their towels as they both looked up with hands as visors over their eyes.

“Hi, hun.”

“Hey, baby.”

“My two best girls,” Lou grinned, laying practically on top of Debbie as the brunette squealed, cold water dripping onto her from Lou’s swimsuit. “Whatever are we talking about?”

“I am shocked that you would trust us enough to leave us alone to gossip about you,” Margot smirked. “So many questions and secrets I can find out about my daughter from her girlfriend.”

“And that is why I only lasted about seven minutes in the ocean before I asked myself what I was bloody thinking,” Lou laughed, squeezing Debbie tight.

Margot watched them as she watched the blonde press a gentle kiss to Debbie’s forehead, beaming at them.

“I don’t know why you would need to pester me for intel anyway,” Debbie grinned. “Lou’s an open book,” she cackled, not even able to get through the full attempt at a joke.

“I don’t like this dynamic,” Lou decided, trying to stand up as Debbie pulled her back down towards the sand. “Mum, nice seeing you. Debs and I are gonna head back to the states now and we’ll see you in a few decades for Christmas maybe?”

“Sit,” Debbie demanded.

Margot merely giggled. “You’re not taking Debbie away from me now. We have too much to catch up on. But I will agree, that right now Debbie shouldn’t be chatting with me and that you should be teaching her how to surf and maybe taking her for a romantic stroll along the water when the sun starts to set in a bit. Not safe to be in the water once the sun goes down anyway.”

“What are you, my mother?” Lou scoffed.

“I love this,” Debbie sighed dreamily.

“This is the worst surprise I’ve ever come up with,” Lou grumbled, but the blonde was beaming as she led Debbie towards the water a moment later, her smile only growing as she started to shriek, Debbie picking up speed to chase her before jumping onto her and attacking her face with salty kisses as Lou’s mother watched from the shore.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Do you have ideas on sharing body positivity with older family members? Last night I tried to encourage my mum that she didn't need to worry about her weight, and my nanna shut me down with "you're skinny so you've never had to worry about that". I wanted to be able to express: its okay to be fat - but I think because it's so beyond what get were taught my nanna and mum wouldn't get it from that angle.

I think if it were a deeper conversation maybe I could get somewhere but I was hoping you might have ideas on immediate things I could say in response to this kind of comment.

This is really hard! So many older generations are very set in the specific diet culture notions of their time. If you've been following me for a while, you might know that I come from a family that is like this, and that my mother is still actively embedded in diet culture.

I might try to have separate conversations with your mom and your nanna. If they were able to be in the same room without all of their own food-related issues bouncing violently off of one another, it would be more time-efficient to introduce body positivity to both of them at once, but I think you may actually get better results having in-depth conversations with them separately, and you might have an easier time having a heart-to-heart with your mom if your nanna didn't have the opportunity to shut you down. You could try and talk to her about how you worry that her constant self-hatred is doing her more harm than good, and how you hate to see her beating herself up over her body. Come at it from an empathetic perspective - tell her that, as it seems you are smaller than she is, you can see that it is really hard for her to accept living in a body that is constantly shamed and looked down upon, that people judge her for, that it is easy to judge herself for. But then ask her, is it really sustainable for her to live that way, mentally? Hating her body and being down on herself because of it? Let her know that you know things are not easy for her and that you're always going to love her for the person she is - that her value does not change for you at ANY size, and that you hope one day she feels that way about herself.

I can't remember where I saw it, but I once read a thinkpiece by a new mom who stopped body-shaming herself after she gained weight during her pregnancy when her daughter was a toddler. IIRC she was playing on the beach with her baby and her child wanted her to play in the water with her. She had to let go of a lot of insecurities in order to wear a swimsuit and play in the water with her daughter, but her baby - not yet old enough to understand diet culture - had a blast with her, and she realized then that her daughter didn't see her the way that everybody else did. She wasn't coming at it from a perspective of judging a woman for being fat in her swimsuit, she was just happy to have a mom who got in the water and made memories with her. One of the most beautiful lines from that piece of writing, one that stuck with me, was about how her hips, which had permanently widened after childbirth, now knew the perfect motion to soothe her baby to sleep every night as she walked with her on her hip. The point is, many people are particularly judgmental to fat women, and that's the first thing they see about her - that she's a fat woman. So I think your mom, who seems very stuck and mired in diet culture, might find the ideas of body positivity easier to embrace if you meet her where she's at. Explain to her that no matter what size her body is, to you, she is Mom. What do you love most about her? Does she love to laugh? Is she a devoted gardener, is she stylish, is she the kind of person who goes the extra mile for the people she loves? (I'm spitballing here - you can fill in the blanks on the qualities that make her who she is.) Explain to her that the people in her life who matter most will likewise see her in terms of her best qualities, rather than just a body. Many people who can't comprehend body positivity just yet find an easier time starting with body neutrality, or the idea that their body is just a body doing body things, no more or less deserving than the next body, and that they, as the person living in it, are so much more than just that body. Maybe at some point your mom may have an easier time embracing her body exactly how it is, but it might be easier to help her get there if you introduce the idea in baby steps.

With your nanna, I think you might try to explain to her flat out that you care about your mom's mental health. You might just flat-out tell her - if it is mentally healthier for your mom to believe, as you stated, that it is okay to be fat, then you do in fact want her to believe that. Say that in blunt, easy to understand terms. Perhaps you could then add that, as a thin person, your nanna is right that you do not understand the specific pressures faced by fat women. But what you do understand is that you don't want to see your mom live a life ruled by those pressures, and you want to see her happy NOW, not just in some hypothetical, skinnier future.

This was a really great ask! I hope this helps, and please let me know if there are any other conversational ideas I might be able to help with. Also, don't be discouraged if it takes a while for one or both of them to come around to body positivity. So many fat people are actively discouraged from embracing their bodies, and from allowing themselves to feel happy in the moment. It's seen as "giving up" or "letting themselves go" when they could "keep pushing" to attain that ideal. So your mom and your nanna may both feel that they just can't allow themselves to feel completely satisfied in their bodies until they have reached a specific body goal, regardless of whether or not that goal is truly healthy or attainable. Remember that healing does not take place overnight, and don't get too discouraged if you find yourself having to be a support long term in this regard. And please take care of yourself as well!

[serenasoutherlyns]

tiebreaker

It reminds her of tasting Prosecco on Margot’s lips the night after they finished their first finals week, and her peppermint chapstick the week after that. It reminds her of waking up in Margot’s bed last year with a throbbing headache she didn’t care about.

a/n: please enjoy my first fic in a loooong time. I started this last summer!! rating M

ao3

@allergictocanon @thinkingisadangerouspastime @kim-ruzek (these are all the people I could think of that might be interested in this?)

Margot’s hand is warm against her shoulder. This makes sense. Every part of Claire is warm, too, the scents of sweat and lavender mixing against her skin. Claire registers, though, the way she seems to burn where Margot’s fingertips linger, a quick joke before the next round. It should be best of three, but Margot always wants to play to six at least, as many until she wins or Claire taps out. Margot’s endurance dwarfs hers, but Claire is precise, rally after rally going her way until she’s panting.

Besides, she can’t find a reason to object to watching Margot grow more intense, her swings going from regulated to uninhibited, she starts to make more sounds with each hit. Her singular focus steadies her voice when she calls out, “Three to three.”

“Let’s call it yours,” Claire laughs.

Margot convinces her to play one more to break the tie. She really can’t stand losing.

It doesn’t feel like she’s lost when Margot reaches to take her racket. There’s a searching in her eyes that blossoms into pure pleasure when Claire admits her defeat, smiling and looking slightly up.

It reminds her of tasting Prosecco on Margot’s lips the night after they finished their first finals week, and her peppermint chapstick the week after that. It reminds her of waking up in Margot’s bed last year with a throbbing headache she didn’t care about.

She’s of half a mind to pull her in by the hem of her shirt, show her what she could really win.

“What is that then, Claire?” Margot says as she makes her way to the racket return. She tosses the ball in the air above her, catching it once, twice, her fingers wrapping around it with certainty. “3 out of the last 4 times?”

“You’re very talented,” Claire says, stretching out the words, stretching her arms above her head, not missing when Margot’s eyes dart to the now-exposed skin at her hip.

“So you admit it,” Margot says.

“I’m no sore loser.”

“Oh don’t lie.”

“Would you rather I tell you just how I plan to kick your ass next time?”

“You can talk about my ass whenever you’d like.”

Margot holds her hand out for the final ball, completing the return to the desk. She starts walking toward the locker room. Claire follows behind.

They walk past a group of older women in swimsuits pulling off their caps. Margot nods and winks to a runner about their age. When they pass a mirror, Claire sees flyaways stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“Lunch?” Margot says as they put water bottles into string backpacks and towel off their sweat.

“I like how you think.”

“Me too,” Margot says.

Claire just rolls her eyes. She admires Margot’s toned arms as she redoes her ponytail.

Lunch is a grilled chicken salad for Claire and a sandwich with roasted red peppers on it for Margot. They eat at a sidewalk table in the early May warmth.

“So what’s new at work?” Claire asks. Margot shrugs and puffs out her cheeks, then exhales. “It’s like it always is,” she says. “Right now I’m second chairing that case with the kids choking on batteries.”

“That’ll make you sleep well.”

“Tell me about it,” she says. “I don’t think I’ll stay much longer. Maybe I’ll get my PhD or something.”

“You’d be a good professor. Could be quite the pay cut, though.”

“Comes along with an hours cut.”

Claire can’t argue with that.

“You?”

Claire sighs. “Honestly, it’s weighing on me recently.” She turns her head down and moves around a piece of chicken. She shrugs.

“So we’re going to be florists then?”

Claire smiles. Margot reaches her hand across to hers and squeezes. Claire holds on for a little longer than is friendly. Margot holds her gaze for long enough to send a message.

It’s so familiar.

Claire’s is on the way to Margot’s place so naturally they begin the walk home together.

“Want to come up for some coffee?”

Margot does, half excited at the prospect of coffee, half something warmer. Claire walks up two steps and takes Margot’s hand.

Once they’re through the door, Claire leans back against it. Margot starts to walk to the kitchen, but Claire doesn’t let go of her hand. Instead, she grabs for the other one. Claire pulls her close.

Her hands meet Claire’s waist without her thinking about it. They kiss like they always have; Claire leaning back into Margot’s hands, skipping gentle and jumping to excited intensity.

Margot pulls back. “What about--“

“He’ll live,” Claire says. Her eyes are dark and her cheeks are flushed.

That’s good enough for Margot. She drops to her knees.

“You’re really, attractive,” Claire says breathily, “When you get competitive.” Her hands find their way into Margot’s hair.

Margot tilts her head back. “I know,” she says. Claire pulls lightly against her scalp.

Margot’s fingers slip under the waistband of her shorts and Claire forgives her cockiness.

“Take your shirt off,” Margot says, looking up.

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” Margot says snarkily.

“Why do you want me to take my shirt off, Margot?”

Margot likes hearing her name however it’s spoken, in this case half annoyed half needy.

“Because I like how you look with it off. And your building doesn’t have AC.”

“How sweet,” Claire says.

“I try.”

Claire takes her shirt off. “You win,” she says, and Margot moans.

Later, Margot is stretched out on her stomach on top of Claire’s sheets, her hair a mess and her face relaxed. The start of the sunset lights her warmly. A breeze blows in through the open windows. Claire runs her hand gently from the back of Margot’s neck to her heel. She sighs.

Margot protests when Claire pulls on an oversized t-shirt from the pile on her floor and heads out the bedroom door. When she returns she has two mugs in her hands.

“I offered you coffee,” Claire says. Margot exhales, rolling to the side and facing her. She’s beautiful. Claire hands her a mug. They sip and watch the sunset.

Margot sets her mug on the floor behind her.

“Rematch?” She asks. Claire laughs.

“I think we’re tied.”

Margot shakes her head and her disheveled ponytail swings. “Two out of three, then,” she says.

“Okay,” Claire says. Before Margot knows it her hands are above her head and her neck is being gently bitten. “Bring it on.”

Claire thinks all of their games should end like this.

[coochiequeens]

“My trans mother, Tigerlily, saw me at 15 years old, she was like, ‘Oh, she could do it.’ I was introduced to her through a friend and I was still wearing my high school uniform at College of St. Peter. Tigerlily saw me and she’s like, ‘You know what, put on this two-piece bikini.’ I put it on and I saw a body, darling. Skin, body, glistening,” Rocero told Interview in May." In other words in order to appear "inclusive" a women’s magazine heard an example of grooming and tried to spin it into something inspirational.

By Genevieve Gluck. November 3, 2023

A trans-identified male model has been named as one of the recipients of Glamour magazine’s 2023 Woman of the Year award, prompting criticism on social media. Geena Rocero, a New York-based fashion model, was previously a beauty pageant contestant from the Philippines who participated in events for women and girls as well as for gay men and teen boys in drag.

On X (formerly Twitter), commenters pointed out that Rocero is male, with some questioning whether Glamour believes that “men are better at being a woman,” or asking whether the magazine had trouble finding “real women” for the distinction.

“How regressive, excluding women from a woman’s award in favour of a man. Almost like the Women’s Liberation Movement never happened,” replied Jane Griffiths on X.

“You’re actively participating in and promoting female erasure. Men pretending to be women are men. You are on the wrong side of history. Shame on you,” responded another critic.

Rocero entered his first beauty pageant, Super Sireyna, at the age of 15 at the behest of an older trans-identified male and beauty pageant manager he refers to as his “trans mom,” Tigerlily. Out of over 40 female contestants, Rocero won second runner-up, best in swimsuit, and best in long gown.

“My trans mother, Tigerlily, saw me at 15 years old, she was like, ‘Oh, she could do it.’ I was introduced to her through a friend and I was still wearing my high school uniform at College of St. Peter. Tigerlily saw me and she’s like, ‘You know what, put on this two-piece bikini.’ I put it on and I saw a body, darling. Skin, body, glistening,” Rocero told Interview in May.

He continued, “That [was] the beginning of ‘I’m not going to college.’ I’m going to make money, I’ll have boyfriends all over the Philippines … I used to join pageants in every barrio all over the Philippines. From Pangasinan all the way to Ilocos Norte and all over Manila — I joined it all.”

Rocero recalled that he had been watching beauty pageants on television leading up to his first event. “I was watching this pageant, the finals on national television, then two weeks later I beat them all,” he said. He used his prize money to purchase female hormones in order to more closely resemble a woman.

Rocero would then go on to take multiple awards and titles at beauty pageants. In 2000, when he was just 16 years old and going by the moniker Gina Garcia, Rocero was named Ms. Gay Universe 2000. The “Miss Gay” series of pageants refers to beauty competitions involving men in drag.

The following year, Rocero joined his mother in the United States and two years later underwent genital surgery in San Francisco.

After relocating to the United States, Rocero pursued a career in lingerie modeling, and has described the experience as “ultimate validation.”

In 2014, he revealed that he was male during a TED talk, telling the audience, “I was assigned a boy at birth based on the appearance of my genitalia.” His speech went viral online, racking up millions of views.

In 2015, he appeared on the talk show TODAY alongside Dr. Michelle Forcier advocating the position that children as young as 2 years old can self-declare a gender identity. Last month, a lawsuit was filed against Forcier by female detransitioner Isabella Ayala, among others, who was given hormones at the age of 14 years old.

At that time, Rocero was acting as the Executive Producer of “Beautiful As I Want To Be”, a digital series which paired young people with an adult mentor who identifies as transgender.

Following the success of his TED talk, Rocero was invited to speak at the White House at an LGBT Innovation Summit, and the 2014 Democratic National Committee’s LGBT Gala, and has worked with the State Department under former President Obama.

In August 2019, he was featured as the Playboy Playmate of the Month in their Gender and Sexuality issue. The Playboy article written by Rocero was nominated for a GLAAD Award.

Commenting on the nomination, Alex Schmider, GLAAD’s Associate Director of Transgender Representation, said, “By spotlighting talented and beautiful models like Geena, Playboy is amplifying a simple fact that other media outlets should echo loudly: trans women are women.”

In addition to speaking at the White House, Rocero presented at the United Nations Headquarters for UN Women in 2020 and at the World Economic Forum on at least two occasions, in 2017 and in 2020.

Rocero was again invited to the White House earlier this year, where he promoted his autobiography, “Horse Barbie.”

The decision by Glamour to award Rocero with the honor of Woman of the Year is part of a larger trend. Numerous men who claim to be women have been presented with similar titles in recent years.

In March, a trans-identified male who drafted a bill declaring Minnesota a “refuge state” for the medical transitioning of minors the title of Woman of the Year by USA Today. Leigh Finke was among 50 honorees chosen by the publication from each state, including such notable female figures as former first lady Michelle Obama and Sandra Day O’Connor, the first woman to serve on the U.S. Supreme court. Finke authored a book for teens which instructed them to “limit contact with any adult” who does not affirm their “queerness,” and suggested that minors should visit “queer sex shops.”

In response to being awarded the title of Woman of the Year 2023, Rocero was profiled for Glamour by another trans-identified male who has been featured at events and employed by publications typically aimed at women. Raquel Willis was a speaker at the 2017 Women’s March in Washington, DC.

In 2018, Willis was named an Open Society Foundation Soros Equality Fellow and began to work as the executive director of LGBT publication Out magazine. In 2020 he was appointed as the director of communications for the Ms. Foundation for Women.

But this is not the first time Glamour has bestowed a male with the title of Woman of the Year.

As previously reported by Reduxx, Brazil’s franchise of Glamour awarded a male social media influencer the title despite him not even identifying as a “woman.” Linn da Quebrada, who had previously come under fire from Brazilian feminist influencers for mocking pregnant women, had previously stated that he does not believe women ‘exist.’

[lenniharrisonsims]

Sooo I thought about just answering this and having fun thinking about what each cover would be like, but then thinking about it turned into too much fun, and I decided to actually just make the covers. It took over a week cause my computer is slow but I had fun so, I don't care that I'm posting late 😅

(Shout out to @bridgeportbritt who had the same idea and posted hers first😉 we love ❤)

I really enjoyed doing research into reach magazine's aesthetics, layouts, fonts, and types of poses their cover models usually do. It was a really interesting experiment and honestly would love to do something like this again.

Vogue: Ophelia

I feel like I'm always trying to find the balance between giving Ophelia a unique style that's entirely hers, and also keeping it somewhat aligned with the arbitrary "protocol" rules I have in my head for how royals should dress. So I let her be a true fashionista and rock the cover of Vogue 😉

Sports Illustrated: Kacie

Aside from the swimsuit covers that have ladies in bikinis, (which I feel like didn't really fit any of my characters) SI features current athletes in action in whatever field it is that they are professionals in. The only active athlete I have in my story is Countess Kacie, who is still a member of the Royal Ballet.

Time: Kat

This felt obvious. Time's Person of the Year issue is always talked about, and the British royals (who are heavy inspiration for my story) have been featured numerous times. So it felt like the obvious choice to put Kat, the Simsdom's first ever female ruler, and the Person of the Year.

People: Lulu & Leo

While People has a mix of uplifting and negative stories about the Royal Family, the majority were positive, and most featured "inside scoops" of their daily lives. There was one in particular that featured the Prince and Princess of Wales right after they had Princess Charlotte that talked about their "lovely little family" that I drew inspiration from here.

Forbes: Yue

Forbes "30 Under 30" is also a popular issue looked forward to every year, so I started there, and of course my mind immediately went to Yue, who's been innovating in the digital design space, and who won Creator of the Year in my story so.... I couldn't not put Yue on Forbes. It's where she belongs 😉

Women's Health: Megan

Megan felt like another obvious choice for Women's Health, because a lot of the articles featured on the covers were about healthy recipes, workout plans, and "how to lose weight fast!" and while I don't find that to be a particularly healthy mindset, I thought the best way to go about it would be to feature an actual Doctor. Megan is a pediatric surgeon, not a dietition, but she knows a thing or two about keeping your body healthy lol

Men's Health: Matt

For Men's Health, a lot of the cover models were older gentlemen, late 30s/40s and up, so instead of featuring one of the young guys in my story, I decided to use the Empire's Dad 😉😂 one of his in-game traits is athletic, and every time I open my game, he's working out or swimming, so I've just had in my head that when he's not on engagements for the Empire, he's in the gym, keeping his body fit lol.

Us Weekly: Ben & Taylor

Just like how People Magazine's covers about the Royals tended toward positive, Us Weekly's covers about Royals in particular more often than not tended toward the negative. So I decided to throw in a scandalous tabloid cover that discusses some definitely untrue rumors about Ben and Taylor. Or are they? 👀

Anyways, this was so much fun to do, thank you so much for including me in this ask. Genuinely this was a blast, and I'm really proud of my work 🥰

[heatwa-ves]

1, 8, 10, 13 + aoi d4dj !!

oh hell yeah aoi loml

utc because I talked way too much here

1. My first impression of them

first time I saw her was when my mutual was doing polls for each unit in d4dj and I saw her initial 4* this one here and my first reaction was just oh my god she's so fine

8. Your favorite outfit of them

oopsie there's a lot here 💖

in order- her host event outfit I love everything about it especially her hair and piercings... the indigo bullet outfit is just fucking gorgeous on her I love when women are reenacting scenes from tragic mafia movies or whatever. 1st anniversary outfit is just pretty I like it a lot and the card for it is one of my favs, the valentine's outfit is so pretty and I love the ruffles and the coat over her shoulders... the 5th one there idr what it's called I really like the top half of the design like her hair and the corset but I don't like the sleeves and the bottom half of the outfit that much.. and finally her swimsuit is there not because it's an amazing outfit but because it makes me so happy that they didn't give her a bikini like most of the other girls and lbr she is a knee length shorts kind of person. AND FINALLY because I've typed for way too long shoutout to her navigation outfit for having like trousers and not the full ballgown skirt like most of the other characters have on their navigation outfits

10. Describe the character in one sentence

"denser than a brick" babes please how can one girl be this oblivious I feel bad for tsubaki

13. Your favorite friendship they have

ooh I love her relationships with all of rondo especially hiiro they're best friends.... [girl who hasn't read prayers will be answered yet voice] and their relations cards... I'm Fine. do you ever think about how they were essentially the founding members of rondo as we know it. thinking about their life before meeting the others. thinking about their first meeting. I'm so fine.

also I like her relationship with a lot of the other djs of other groups particularly saori haruna and maho and I think she has an interaction with shinobu too.. she's like an older sister/mentor in DJing for a lot of them and they all, especially haruna, look up to her a lot and it's sweet.. also her relationship with marika there's one card where they go to a cafe together 💖 anyway I could say pretty much anyone here she has a good relationship with pretty much every character

[progotechodaily]

Review "Young Woman and the Sea" : Ridley Stuns and Earns Your Tears in This Beautifully Classical Movie

Young Woman and The Sea a defiantly big-screen, consistently enthralling biopic that both earns one’s genuine tears, and inspires everyone of all ages to dream a little bigger, go a little further.

“They don’t make ‘em like this anymore,” we wistfully say these days when praising skillful mainstream movies, ones that remind us of a past when Hollywood used to stir us more regularly through moving original films. There is truth in that overused nostalgic acclaim, even though few movies actually deserve it as much as Joachim Rønning’s (“Kon-Tiki”) classically glorious “

For the film’s wondrous rebel Trudy Ederle (a graceful, commanding Daisy Ridley), who became the first woman to swim across the treacherous 21-mile English Channel in 1926, that big dream at first wasn’t even becoming a legitimate athlete, let alone a history-making pioneer. Born to German immigrant parents of modest means in the Coney Island of 1905, Trudy just wanted to swim, whichever way she would be permitted. But respectable girls weren’t really supposed to play around and waste time in splashy pools, and the young Trudy — beautifully portrayed by Olive Abercrombie in a brief but memorable performance — wasn’t allowed in community pools anyway, having barely survived a highly contagious case of measles.

Affectionately adapted from Glenn Stout’s book “Young Woman and the Sea: How Trudy Ederle Conquered the English Channel and Inspired the World” by Jeff Nathanson (of “Catch Me If You Can” and Barry Jenkins’ upcoming “Mufasa”), Rønning’s rousing film gives sufficient breathing room to Trudy’s childhood years, establishing her world and closest kin with exquisite care: her hardworking, headstrong mother Gertrude (Jeanette Hain) who won’t let Trudy give up on her ocean-bound dreams, her stubborn but affectionate father Henry (Kim Bodbia) who works as a proud butcher, her brother Henry Jr., and most importantly, her doting sister Margaret, a fellow swimmer played enchantingly by Tilda Cobham-Hervey in Margaret’s older years.

The two sisters are joined at the hip, even though Margaret is the only swimmer of the family at first. Eager to join her sister’s ranks and refusing to let her illness define her, Trudy sings to her dad day and night to annoy him, and force him into acceptance that Trudy must swim no matter what, even if that means severe hearing loss in the long run as the doctors fear. Well, this critic found Trudy’s tireless off-key chanting adorable, but the trick designed to irritate Henry works all the same, and before we know it, he decides to teach Trudy how to conquer the ocean, just to keep her quiet.

It can’t be overstated how delightfully these scenes play, bested only by the ones that follow Trudy in her teenage years, with the young woman still fighting for a spot in the community pool. Her mother comes to the rescue and makes a deal with the no-nonsense coach Charlotte Epstein (Sian Clifford) — Trudy would feed the boiler by the indoor pool, and practice after hours. Slowly but surely, she proves herself to her coach, surpassing the rest of the girls while Margaret’s life settles into a more common reality of the era: a marriage arranged by parents. But Trudy’s star rises to no end. After an efficiently constructed montage of her wins and a brilliant “You Go Girl!” sequence that would be too cruel to spoil, she finally finds herself in the big leagues: first, at the Paris Olympics and then, facing her first attempt to swim across the channel. But these avenues add up to no more than a pair of false starts, opportunities derailed by toxic men who just can’t let women compete and win as equals.

Women have always had it much harder, and this fact is a well-depicted, often blistering thread that runs through “Young Woman and the Sea.” From the headlines of scandalized newspapers that critique women’s skin-baring swimsuits to the condescending remarks Trudy frequently fields, several tidbits in the story remind the viewer that it isn’t only the dangerous currents and waves that Trudy is swimming against. Then again, the film sometimes spells things out too much, self-consciously applying today’s temperaments to the past. In one scene, for instance, an adorable, wide-eyed little girl approaches Trudy and thankfully gushes, “Because of you, they let me swim.” This moment feels jarringly redundant given women paving the way for future generations is already at the heart and soul of the entire film, one that abundantly celebrates the spirit of sisterhood.

“Young Woman and the Sea” searingly , culminating in a final stretch during which Trudy swims through the dangerous shallows alone and in the dark. It’s no spoiler to say that she will make it that’s history. But the real surprise here is the punch that Rønning manages to pack when the inevitable happens, an emotional feat that last year’s “Nyad” sorely lacked. In that, Trudy’s triumph followed eagerly around the world, including by her mom and brother in NYC feels no less magnificent than that famous moment in “Apollo 13” when Odyssey finally reconnects with Houston.

Throughout Rønning’s sophisticated film and alongside Ridley’s stunning performance a career highlight for her we all hold our collective breath and swim with Trudy. Talk about the kind of film they hardly ever make anymore.

[dairedara]

Ancestor Work - My Grandmother

I was probably closer to my paternal grandmother than most people are, and I am immensely thankful for that. She did, practically, raise me. My Nana, as I called her, took care of me and my brother the grand majority of the time, because my parents were both working. My dad went through a lot of health issues in my youth and was often a state away, my mom worked in a very demanding field (healthcare). My grandfather (Pop-pop) passed away before I was born, though sometimes I feel like I really did know him in life, because we have VHS tapes of him at Christmastime, opening my older brother’s gifts with the knife he kept in his boot. My mother and father say I am a lot like him, because I eat one thing at a time, sneeze loudly, and dress in work jeans and flannel shirts most of the time. When he died, my Nana moved in with us.

She had an irreplaceable presence in our home that still lingers after her death. My dad built an addition onto the house for her, and every time I walk into that room I can see her sitting in her armchair and watching M*A*S*H, making cookies with me and showing me how to make a two-ingredient powdered sugar icing. Recently, we dug out some old 8mm tapes that my Pop-Pop filmed. Their family reunions, where he felt more at home than he did with his own strict mother and quiet father. Their trips across the country, my Nana at twenty-three in the most gorgeous black swimsuit. My father and his siblings when they were little, Pop-Pop with a cigarette hanging from his lip and showing them how to gut a deer.

My Nana, I noticed, had a little grey streak in her dark hair. I had only known her when it was all snow-white, so I had never noticed it before. My Mom and Dad told me the story. She was in a car accident, hit by a speeding driver who was late to a party, of all things. It cracked her skull. She was pregnant at the time, and very late in the term. She miscarried. But my Dad (who’s the youngest sibling) said she always told him: *I’m not sad, because if not for that, I would never have had you.*

She was the most incredibly strong woman. Pop-Pop worked away from home most of the time; not only did she raise three children basically on her own, but she also worked and managed the house at the same time. I was thinking of her, today, because I had a class in the building of my university where she worked as a bookkeeper. When she went to the bank, or looked to buy a house, she was always told to come back with her husband. She always stood up for herself, telling them they’d deal with her or not at all. Her strength, I imagine, came from her childhood. She was a farm girl in the great depression, born in the house with only a midwife. She hauled ice from the pond in the winter, fed the chickens, rode the horses.

Her best friend was a woman who never got married and lived in a pretty house downtown. She was her boss at work. My parents gave me her name as a middle name, because she was so close to them. She left me a box of her childhood toys. I always wonder if she was queer, like me.

I do know that there was a pair of women who lived on my grandmother’s street. They lived together, in the same house, never married. Just friends, so my parents say. They sewed my dad little suits to wear for his elementary school picture days. My Nana loved them. She was not alive for me to be able to tell her that I’m gay, and I’ve always wondered what she would have thought. Those two women cemented the fact in my mind that she not only would have loved me anyway, but she would have accepted me. Every time I light a candle for her, I feel her love and her pride.

I made a strawberry rhubarb pie for me this summer. She never had the time to make the crust herself, but I did, and I made the best damn pastry I ever have. It was just like hers, my dad said, perfectly tart. I want to devote more time to cooking and baking this year to honor her.

[bakkererejuvenation]

How much is one syringe of filler Victoria, BC?

 Wrinkles are something that everyone must deal with as we get older. Thankfully, there are treatments available to help smooth them out and make us look younger again. One of these procedures is called filler for wrinkles and it can be done by a dermatologist or other medical professional such as myself. The cost of filler  treatment varies from place to place but in general you can expect to pay around $500 per syringe which contains enough product for one treatment area on your face or body (such as under your eyes or mouth).

Fillers

Fillers are a great way to treat wrinkles and fine lines. Fillers are injectables that are used to fill in the deep lines and creases on your face. The results will last up to 6 months, depending on how much filler you receive and how long it takes for your body's natural processes to break down the filler material.

The cost of fillers varies based on your doctor's recommendation, but expect it at around $400 per syringe for most people. You'll need about 2-3 syringes per area treated (e.g., one syringe each cheek).

Because you are reading this, it is a high probability that you have wrinkles or lines around the corners of your mouth and nose. These are called nasolabial folds and they can make you look older than you actually are.

The nasolabial folds are the lines that appear around your nose and mouth. They are caused by aging, but they can make you look older than you actually are. Fillers can be used to treat these lines by filling them in with hydrogel or hyaluronic acid, two types of fillers that will temporarily smooth out the appearance of nasolabial folds and give an overall youthful appearance to your face.

The cost for this procedure depends on several factors: the type of filler used; how much product is needed; whether there are other areas in need of treatment (such as jowls) or if there are other procedures being performed at the same time (like lip enhancement). In general, however, expect to pay anywhere from $300-$500 per syringe for this type of treatment.

Wrinkles, by definition, are permanent changes in the skin that occur due to aging. This is why they appear on all parts of our face as well as other areas of our body. A lot of people desire to have their wrinkles gone so that they look younger again and feel better about themselves. A popular treatment for this is called fillers for wrinkles.

Fillers are a popular treatment for wrinkles. Fillers can be used to fill in wrinkles, lines and folds on all areas of the face including:

The forehead area (glabella)

Crow's feet around the eyes (temporal region)

Nasolabial folds (nose-mouth area)

Fillers can also be used to add volume to the face, lift cheeks or smooth out jaw lines.

What is filler for wrinkles?

Filler for wrinkles is a treatment that uses injectable hyaluronic acid to fill in fine lines and wrinkles on the face.

What does filler for wrinkles do?

How does filler for wrinkles work?

How long does filler for wrinkles last?

What are the side effects of filler for wrinkles?

The results are immediate, but they don't last forever--the body will absorb the hyaluronic acid over time, so you'll need additional injections every few months to maintain your results.

This treatment involves injecting hyaluronic acid into areas where wrinkles appear to help fill them out. The hyaluronic acid helps plump up those lines making them less noticeable or even completely gone depending on exactly how many syringes are used in each area. This is an elective procedure that can be done at any age. Many women will choose to get it done before going on vacation so that they look their best in the swimsuit photos! Men like it too because it helps smooth out the lines around their face which makes them look more youthful and handsome!

The cost of filler for wrinkles depends on the area being treated and how many syringes are used. The cost varies from person to person but it's usually around $500 per syringe.

In Victoria, BC we offer two different types of hyaluronic acid fillers: Restylane Lyft (which is more expensive) or Juvederm Ultra XC (which is less expensive). Both have been approved by Health Canada as safe for use so you can trust that whichever one you choose will be effective!

How much does filler for wrinkles cost?

How much does filler for wrinkles cost?

The cost of filler for wrinkles depends on the type of product you choose, how many units you need and where you live. The average price range is $700-$1,000 per syringe or injection. Filler injections can last anywhere from six months to two years depending on your lifestyle habits and skin type.

Conclusion

Fillers Victoria BC for wrinkles is a popular treatment because it helps people look younger. The cost depends on how many syringes are needed in each area and whether or not you have insurance coverage that covers this procedure. You can get an estimate of what your total costs will be by calling us today at 250.382.0392 

[shopveranera]

Grab The Best Swimwear/Bikni For Women Having Sagging Breast

Everyone understands that ageing is a natural aspect of life. As women get older, so does our skin. This is especially true for breast tissue, which sags noticeably. Despite the fact that it is totally natural, it might cause problems with your typical clothing routine and even how you feel about your body. There are some truly wonderful Bikinis For Women ideas and strategies to help you with a drooping chest.

A drooping chest necessitates the use of high-quality swimwear that doubles as a bra to elevate and support. We've compiled a list of features that can assist with drooping breasts. If your swimsuit has one or more of the following qualities, it will provide you the support you need to keep your chest in position and looking perky:

Structured or moulded cups - Moulded cups have a perky, elevated chest shape. This allows you to insert your breast tissue into the cups so that they take on the same form and finish smooth and round. They're often constructed of durable, structural foam and work effectively to raise and contour your breasts into a seductive, feminine profile..

Bra-like fit and cup size selection - This is especially useful if you have a bigger bust and need extra support. Because you can buy swimsuits by cup size, you can achieve the optimum fit by using your bra cup size. The sizing Best Bikinis guide will assist you in selecting the correct size depending on your measurements.

Adjustable back straps - A lot of cup size swimsuits offer an adjustable back strap. Choose the optimum back setting for you for a personalised fit like your favourite bra. A solid back setup is required for a comfortable and tailored fit.

Remember that self-confidence is the most valuable gift you can offer yourself. When you're happy on the inside, it flows out. Your swimwear selection is entirely up to you, so wear whatever you find enjoyable and disregard the views of others.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

[greeksorceress]

Ok so you know those black and white photos of women in the early 20th century at the beach, smiling and just having fun and behaving not at all like society expected at the time? That’s you. I think you’re also looking for sea glass :)

okay so i've been cherishing this for days! i think you described it so beautifully, and i'm totally honoured to be placed in this time and in these characteristics! as soon as i read what you said, i thought about these pictures from the 30s and 50s:

and i'm absolutely in love with them! and with this concept! i would totally be out there in my cute swimsuit and my enormous sunglasses picking sea glass and splashing everyone around without caring about the looks i would get from older people! thank you so much for this, you're the best ❣️

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 18

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 17

Next Chapter: Chapter 19

Thomas had always enjoyed swimming. He used to be a competitive swimmer in school, and still considered going back to it at university. He was fast and he guessed he’d need to slow down for Alastair, who was not a frequent swimmer at all. While Alastair was fast and nimble on the land, his swimming skills appeared only enough to not drown. Which arguably was the most important when it came to swimming, but Thomas had to be careful, he didn’t want to exhaust Alastair or leave him behind.

‘I don’t usually like swimming all that much,’ Alastair admitted.

‘Really? Then why did you come?’ Thomas asked.

A wicked gleam appeared in Alastair’s dark eyes and he smiled. ‘For the scenery, of course.’

Thomas guessed it was the first time they’d seen each other wearing only swim shorts, although he had seen some of Alastair’s chest after Tessa had bandaged his shoulder. The wound looked closed now, but Thomas knew it was still sensitive.

While Alastair was skinny, he was also lightly toned. Not muscular like Thomas was, but elegant and graceful. He was beautiful. He remembered Alastair telling him he’d gained weight lately because of his new medication, but if this was his body after gaining weight, just how skinny had he been before?

And although Alastair tried to act casual, Thomas caught him staring at him too. Truth to be told, he was a little insecure about his body, and what Alastair would think of it. Thomas knew he was muscular, since he worked out so much, which he knew was considered desirable, but he often felt he was a bit too tall. Not to mention he hated the stretch marks that had appeared on his back, and worried what Alastair would think of those. His mother had freaked out the first time she’d seen them until she’d realized they were stretch marks. They were a faded pink now, although they used to be a bright red like wounds. Hopefully in time they’d fade to white. Of course, after three pregnancies, his mother had them too but everyone seemed to associate stretch marks with pregnancy when it was also completely normal to get them after gaining weight or growing very fast. Thomas sometimes wished he’d known that sooner.

‘My parents would often take me and my sisters swimming when I recovered from one of my fevers,’ Thomas said.

‘In the winter as well?’ Alastair asked. ‘Isn’t that cold?’

‘At the indoor pool,’ Thomas clarified. ‘I always had lots of fun there. There were water slides, a wave simulator bath, tropical plants to create a nice atmosphere. There was this one water slide that was in the dark and Barbara was scared of it so she always claimed I was too small for the water slide and wasn’t allowed to take it either.

Often when I was sick, it was something I looked forward to because I knew I could go to the pool when I got better. When I was older and no longer sick, I started swimming competitively. Didn’t you go swimming as a child?’

‘Not often,’ Alastair said. ‘Cordelia would go with Lucie and her parents sometimes.’

‘I remember getting these invites to classmates’ birthday parties. It’s a surprise what we’re doing, but bring your swimsuit,’ Thomas said. ‘Of course, I could only go when I was well enough, but it was a very common activity at my school.’

‘I was that child who never got invited. Which was fine, I didn’t really like being around other children anyway. My mother couldn’t swim, and my father didn’t really go have fun with us. I did take swimming lessons, passed my exams, but beyond that I didn’t really go swimming. My mother started taking classes not so long ago, though, so she’s learnt the basics. She found a class for adult women and even made some friends there.’

‘Maybe you should give it a chance,’ Thomas said. ‘Unfortunately, the pool I went to as a child closed. They built a mall there, I think. but I’m sure there are other pools I could take you someday.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ Alastair admitted. ‘Maybe if we survive this summer, I’ll take you up on that offer.’

Thomas felt himself become a little warm inside, despite the cold water. Here, spending time together in the lake and in the woods was nice, but Thomas wanted to show Alastair all his favorite places, go to the museum together, go swimming like he used to do. He wanted to introduce Alastair to his sisters, who would undoubtedly like him very much. He hoped they wouldn’t be too protective of him though, Thomas did not think Alastair would react well if Genie started threatening him. He made a mental note to send a warning to his sisters that there would be no threatening Alastair.

‘Do you play any sports?’ Thomas asked.

‘Currently not much beyond generally trying to stay active and taking very long walks,’ Alastair admitted. ‘Cordelia and I used to take dance classes together for several years, Father thought it important we learnt how to dance ballroom. The memory is a bit tainted because it was something he demanded of us, but truth to be told I did like dancing and I was quite good at it. We both were.’

‘Oh, that sounds nice,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ve always thought it would be nice to learn partner dancing, but I never got around to it. Besides, I’m a bit clumsy on my feet so I’d be stepping on my partner’s toes all the time.’

‘That doesn’t happen as often as people think,’ Alastair said. ‘I think there’s a dancing association at the university, so if you want to learn that might be a nice and affordable place to take classes. But you could also join a swimming team there if you’d prefer. Or both, but you’ll need to find time to study too.’

‘Is that something you struggled with?’ Thomas asked.

‘Not really. I had no social life beyond my ex boyfriend and I don’t need much time to study. Magic memory and all. But there were definitely a few students who were partying too much to keep up.’

‘I’m not really one for partying, so that won’t be a problem,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I didn’t realize there were so many options, all I heard about student life was either lots of partying or study until you drop.’

‘Oh no there are definitely options,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m just too antisocial for most of them. I don’t like being around people anyway. One on one is fine, but I’ve never liked groups. And I absolutely despite it when people are loud. What else do you like to do beside swimming?’

Thomas could recognize what Alastair described. He had always been shy as a child, and had never really grown over that. He liked being around people, but mostly in small groups.

‘I like music,’ Thomas said. ‘I play guitar, but I really like writing my own songs.’

He’d never told anyone that. He wasn’t sure why exactly. He’d started playing the guitar after growing over his sickness. He’d tried the saxophone before that when he was younger, but his frequent fevers made it difficult to keep up. To learn an instrument you had to practice daily, and that hadn’t worked out.

He’d started playing guitar at fourteen and he’d written lots of songs, most of which he’d discarded. He never believed they were any good, and he wasn’t very good at singing. He’d practiced, of course, and he knew how to pitch his voice, but he just didn’t sound that good or interesting. He could be a decent back up vocalist, he guessed, but then he’d need to find someone to actually sing his songs.

‘Really?’ Alastair asked. ‘What kind of songs?’

‘Oh, all sorts. Ballads, sad songs mostly, I guess. Love songs too. I’ve never told anyone before. They’re not good or anything.’

He remembered he’d written a very sappy, hopeless pining song not long after meeting Alastair. He was glad there was no remaining evidence of that ever happening, it was exactly the kind of thing Eugenia would use as blackmail. Which he guessed was why he’d never told Eugenia about his songs.

They reached the island in the middle of the lake, and sat down in the shallow water, a comfortable place to rest for a bit and talk. He could tell Alastair was getting tired, swimming was very different from walking or running and Alastair wasn’t used to it. Perhaps it was hard on his shoulder too.

‘You told no one? Really? Why?’ Alastair asked.

‘As I said, they’re not any good,’ Thomas admitted. ‘And I can’t sing well.’

‘Maybe I could sing them for you,’ Alastair said. ‘Although it’s been a while since I’ve really sung.’

‘You sing?’ Thomas asked. He wondered what Alastair’s voice would sound like when he sung.

‘I used to,’ Alastair said. ‘I played the piano too, growing up, but I haven’t played in years.’

‘Why did you stop?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair sighed. ‘I couldn’t find joy in playing music anymore. In anything really. Although I did listen to music a lot, and I do sing along occasionally. But apart from that… I just couldn’t bring myself to play anymore, it hurt too much. I wanted to get back to it, but so far I haven’t found that joy.’

That sounded sad. Would Thomas’ songs be able to cheer him up? Probably not, they were terrible. He would need some good music to play or sing to get back into it, not his hopeless attempts at song writing.

‘I hope you can,’ Thomas said. ‘I can’t imagine what it’s like to not be able to enjoy the things you used to.’

‘Well, sometimes interests change,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve had a lot of odd interests that changed. But in this case… I want to be able to feel the joy I once felt. I want to play, and sing your songs and feel like myself again.’

Thomas wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with sharing any of his work, but if it would help Alastair then he would let him sing all of his songs.

‘Could you sing something? Now, I mean. If you want to, you don’t have to. I’m just really curious what you sound like.’

Thomas started rambling again, and Alastair silenced him by beginning to sing. The song would definitely sound better with accompanied by a guitar, but even on its own Alastair’s voice was beautiful. It was a bit lower than his speaking voice, but he seemed to have quite a range. Gentle, but firm and when he got farther into the song Thomas realized there was a lot of power behind Alastair’s voice. It was a romantic song he was singing, did this describe how Alastair felt about him? He didn’t catch everything, but some of the lyrics stuck with him.

Never opened myself this way.

Life is ours, we live it our way.

All these words I don’t just say

And nothing else matters

‘Trust I seek, and I find in you,’ Thomas repeated. ‘That sounds beautiful.’

Alastair smiled. ‘I do find trust in you. Even if it is something I still find difficult. I’m trying.’

‘What song is that?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair stared at him in shock. ‘You mean to tell me you don’t know this song? You can’t be serious.’

‘It sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t name it,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s Nothing else Matters by Metallica,’ Alastair said.

‘That does sounds familiar,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I’ve never listened much to Metallica.’

‘You should, their music is very good, and it’s very melodic for a metal band. That’s what I like the most, when music is both heavy and melodic.’

‘What other music do you like?’ Thomas asked.

‘Breaking Benjamin must be one of my favorite bands. You probably haven’t heard of them, they’re not very famous. They’re probably best described as alternative metal. Very angst heavy lyrics, things I can relate to. And I like Metallica, Skillet, Three Days Grace. Within Temptation and Nightwish occasionally. What do you listen to?’

‘I like Green Day,’ Thomas said. ‘And As It Is, which you might not know because they’re not very well known, but they’re a pop punk band.’

‘I don’t know As it Is. I do know Green Day though. I’ve always liked Boulevard of Broken Dreams.’

‘Me too,’ Thomas said. ‘But 21 guns is my favorite from Green Day.’

They talked some more about music, and Thomas made a note to listen to some of Alastair’s favorite songs when they got back. He hadn’t had the time or inspiration to write songs lately, with everything happening, but he wanted to write something for Alastair. If he ever found the time in between trying not to die.

Truth to be told, Thomas found it difficult to have people worry about him so much, risk themselves for his sake. He didn’t want to die and was grateful he had people who were willing to help him, but he hated how all this was because of him. He hated being taken care of, being someone’s burden. It was something Thomas had always struggled with. When his mother had quit her job because Thomas was sick so often it wasn’t doable for both his parents to work. Since his mother was a primary school teacher, it had made sense for her to quit working as his father made more money and worked more hours. When his sisters would come straight home after school to keep him company rather than spend time with their own friends. When his father would come home early as often as he could, passing on opportunities at work.

It wasn’t just that the amount of attention could be suffocating, it was because he didn’t want to be difficult, he didn’t want other people to change their life, their habits for him. But as a sick child, he’d had no choice but to let people take care of him. Everyone had had to adapt to his sickness and even in a loving family such as his own, it wasn’t easy to have a child who was ill so often. Sometimes Thomas feared he’d taken up too much attention and had taken that away from Barbara and Eugenia.

‘You’re thinking of something,’ Alastair said. ‘Something that is bothering you.’

‘It’s nothing,’ Thomas said.

It wouldn’t be fair to complain about his childhood to Alastair. Compared to what he had been through, Thomas had wanted for nothing.

‘It’s not nothing,’ Alastair said. ‘I can tell when you tense up, when you’re thinking of something hurtful. Is it something I did?’

‘No. You didn’t do anything wrong.’ Thomas brushed his hand across Alastair’s cheek. ‘You’re perfect.’

‘Then what is it?’ Alastair looked away. ‘Look, I know how difficult it is to talk about how you feel, how vulnerable it makes you feel. But I can tell when things are bothering you, I know when people are upset. If you don’t want to share, at least tell me you’d rather not talk about it. Because people always like to pretend they’re fine but they’re not and…’

Alastair didn’t finish his sentence, he seemed upset too now. Thomas felt horrible. He didn’t want Alastair to worry, he didn’t want to hurt him. It made sense Alastair could read people well. Thomas had always been good at reading people’s body language, but Alastair had had to deal with his father’s changing moods, anticipating them had to be how he’d survived. Of course people’s bad moods were stressful for him, because Alastair had learnt he’d get hurt when other people were stressed.

Perhaps it was better to tell, that might set Alastair’s mind at ease. Even if it was difficult, even if he did not quite understand why he felt this way.

‘I was thinking about how you’re all risking your life for me, and I find that difficult. I’ve never wanted to trouble others, I’ve never wanted to be a burden. But I also know I cannot do this without help. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you or to Cordelia or Lucie because of me.’

Alastair put his hand on Thomas’ cheek, wet from the lake water.

‘I understand. But none of this is your fault, Tom, and you’re not a burden.’

‘I’ve always felt like a burden,’ Thomas said softly. ‘I always needed to be taken care of because I was sick.’

‘Is it a burden when the people caring for you love you and gladly care for you?’ Alastair asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Thomas said. ‘With James and Matthew, I was so glad to find friends, people my own age. But James’ mother and Matthew’s mother are my mother’s best friends, so we already knew each other from a young age. We were very close when I was still a child and they would come by to keep me company when I was sick. I am grateful, but they learnt I needed to be protected and when I grew over my sickness, Matthew still believed I was meek and dependent and needed to be rescued from you. James wasn’t as bad, he never noticed I liked you because he was always reading. I think the reason we drifted apart a bit is because of that. I never dared tell them how I felt about you, and I don’t think they would have reacted well. And again, I feared my feelings would make me a burden. That was less of an issue with Lucie, so I think that’s why I’m now closer to her. It was never a problem to tell her I liked you, and that’s why she was the first person I told.’

‘I didn’t realize you’d drifted apart from them. At school, it was always the three of you,’ Alastair said.

‘True, and I still care about them, I really do. But I think they’re closer to each other than to me, and that made me feel out of place at times. I still see them and spend time with them, and we text often, but not as much as we used to. But that’s fine, I think it was for the best. I still have plenty of people around me, enough friends, and we probably work better with a little more distance anyway.’

‘I didn’t realize, that’s all,’ Alastair said. ‘Sometimes change is for the best. How are James and Matthew anyway?’

‘I haven’t contacted them a lot with everything happening, and the last few days I haven’t been able to reach them. But I’m not yet sure what to say when I do call them. Do I tell them about us? Or about what’s going on? Do I tell my sisters? I do not want anyone else to come here and put themselves in danger.’

‘I have not yet decided what I will tell my mother either,’ Alastair said. ‘I did tell her I liked you, before I realized you liked me as well. But the past few days I haven’t been able to reach her, or Risa. Wait a moment, you said you couldn’t reach James and Matthew.’

‘Nor my sisters,’ Thomas said. ‘And my father said he was unable to reach uncle Gabriel. I don’t think uncle Will has had any success calling uncle Jem or your father either. Which is odd. You’d think out of all these people, at least someone would pick up a phone.’

‘Or perhaps that is part of what Tatiana is doing,’ Alastair said. ‘Isolating us so we cannot call anyone for help.’

Thomas tried to think that through. If he were in Tatiana’s shoes, he definitely wouldn’t want them to be able to contact uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily. Nor uncle Jem, he guessed. Matthew and James were no threat to her, nor were his sisters, so he wasn’t sure why they were unable to contact them. Nor did he suspect Alastair’s mother was a threat. Perhaps it was simply easier to cut them off from everyone.

‘That makes sense,’ Thomas said. ‘But if we can’t call them, how far away from the town and the forest would we have to be if we were to reach people again?’ Thomas wasn’t so sure it would be that simple though.

‘I’m not sure,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps it’s like the land in between, except bigger. Perhaps something Tatiana did will not only cut off our ability to contact people who aren’t here, but will also prevent us from leaving.’ He paused. ‘I assumed there would be no point in leaving, because whatever is happening to you would simply follow you wherever you go. But perhaps Tatiana does need you here.’

Thomas wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He hadn’t considered running, didn’t think there would be a point to it. How could you run from a powerful being? But perhaps Alastair had a point and he was running from Tatiana. Perhaps that powerful being would simply take Jesse back if Tatiana failed, and that would be it. The thought brought no comfort. He would never want Jesse to suffer. None of this was his fault either.

‘It makes me wonder why that being picked Jesse over me,’ Thomas said. ‘It must have liked Tatiana a lot better than my parents, and I think when Jesse died Tatiana already knew what was happening. I think she assumed I would be the one to die, and when Jesse died and I didn’t, she got mad with my father.

But wouldn’t it have made more sense to take me instead of Jesse? Since Tatiana knew more about the deal, knew about the creature, knew how to barter with it?’

Alastair grimaced. ‘No. I think that is exactly why it chose Jesse. I don’t think the thief of souls intended to keep Jesse forever. If it had taken you, your parents would have been heart broken, they would grieve you, they would have sustained a wound that would never heal. But they would not have tried to get you back, not at the cost of someone else’s life.

Tatiana, on the other hand, would do anything for her son, and seems to hate everyone else. It doesn’t matter to her that lots of people will die, souls forfeit, as long as she can have her son back. She knew what was going on, what would happen to her son. Perhaps she tried to appease it, to make sure you would be chosen and not Jesse. But that’s exactly why it chose Jesse. Because with Jesse dead, Tatiana would do anything to bring him back, and she would exchange your life for Jesse. And the thief of souls could have asked her for anything it wanted, anything else she would realistically be able to give her.’

Thomas stared at Alastair. Everything he said made perfect sense. He had been looking at this from the wrong angle, from his own perspective of someone who made decisions based on emotion, based on his love for the people around him. But the thief of souls wasn’t like that, he didn’t care for Tatiana just because she liked him better than his father did. He saw her as a tool he could use. He played a strategic game and souls were the prize.

‘Why now, though?’ Thomas asked. ‘Jesse has been dead for years. If Tatiana already knew what was happening, wouldn’t she have gotten him back sooner?’

‘I think the thief of souls must have demanded much from her,’ Alastair said. ‘He could ask for anything. Do any of you know what she’s been up to the past years?’

‘She moved away from London, left her house in a state of disrepair,’ Thomas said. ‘My grandfather was incredibly rich and Tatiana inherited lots of money, so she could afford to just move around and leave her father’s house.’

Thomas knew his father and uncle Gabriel had often wondered what to do with the money inherited from their father, money he’d earned through dark deals and exploitation. Money none of them deserved. But for uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily the money had allowed them to hunt the supernatural, stop people like Benedict, since such line of work wasn’t exactly paid. His father had donated some of the money, but for them it had been convenient too since his illness meant he always needed someone around to take care of him.

‘Meaning, you don’t know where she’s been?’ Alastair asked. ‘I can’t imagine having so much money that you can just leave an entire house for several years without selling it. Honestly that should be illegal, considering how difficult it is for some people to even find a place to live.’

‘It was her father’s manor, had been in the family for a long time,’ Thomas said. ‘I don’t think she could have even considered selling it, it was very important to Benedict. But no, we don’t know where she’s been. My father and uncle Gabriel did try to reach out to her occasionally. At the very least they called her on her birthday, but she never picked up.’

‘So these past years, maybe she had to complete other tasks first, offer him other souls, anything he could have wanted. And at some point she must have captured Grace, which I imagine made completing his requests a lot easier.’

‘How long do you think Grace has been her prisoner?’ Thomas wondered. ‘I assumed it was a recent thing, what if she’s been with Tatiana for years?’

‘No idea,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps capturing Grace is what finally allowed her to win enough favor to get back Jesse’s soul. Whatever he wanted from her, it must have been easier with a siren under her control. But I think there’s still more she must do to bring him back to life. Perhaps that child that drowned was part of it too.’

‘And when Jesse lives, I die,’ Thomas concluded.

Thomas had no idea how to fix this. How to survive without sacrificing Jesse. He knew Lucie and Cordelia wanted to kill the thief of souls, but they didn’t even know what it was. Their attention had to be on Grace right now, if anyone knew more of Tatiana’s plans it had to be her.

‘We’ll get Grace’ skin,’ Alastair promised. ‘Tomorrow. And when she is free, she can tell us all she knows of Tatiana. There must be so much Grace knows.’

‘Will you be alright?’ Thomas said. ‘After this morning… will you feel up to it? I can’t imagine how exhausting that must have been. It’s fine if you need more rest.’

‘I hope so, but if not I can function pretty well while tired. At some point you get used to it. I have good days and bad days. Today was not so good, you’re right that I’m still very tired from this morning. Such breakdowns are always exhausting, that is not something I’ve gotten used to. I would go to sleep early, maybe take some melatonin, but I’ll only have nightmares. And we don’t have the kind of time to wait for me to recover from this morning, I’ll have to do with how I function tomorrow morning.’

Thomas considered for a moment, turning a little red before looking Alastair in the eyes. Thomas had always found Alastair’s eyes beautiful, big and so dark it was difficult to tell apart the iris and the pupil. He’d never quite understood the way people obsessed over blue or green eyes, described as sapphires and emeralds in many of Lucie’s books. Green and blue eyes didn’t even look like that. Light eyes might be less common than brown eyes, but Thomas had always found dark brown eyes combined with dark hair like Alastair’s far more striking.

‘Maybe I could sleep over,’ Thomas suggested. ‘I mean, do you think that would help?’

‘I don’t know if it would help with my nightmares, but I would certainly like it if you stayed with me,’ Alastair said. ‘I like to cuddle. It is very nice when you hold me, sensory wise. So, where are we sleeping? I think my bed is bigger, we could easily both fit in there.’

Thomas wondered what Alastair meant with that it was nice, sensory wise. It sounded like something Lucie, who was autistic, might say, but Alastair had not mentioned such a thing, had he?

‘Alright, then I’ll sleep over at your place,’ Thomas said. ‘And I’ll cuddle with you as much as you want. And when you have a nightmare, I’ll be there to remind you that you’re safe.’