#but i do regularly get lost in the process

[youshouldseemeinadeerstalker]

Ironic street signs

Inspiration from here (See also: Funky Bumper-Stickers)

[savethepinecones]

hm

[lassieposting]

Been thinking a lot lately about romanced Astarion post-spawn ending.

Because like. The Funnest™ thing about cptsd is how much of it gets delayed. When you're trapped in a lengthy, ongoing traumatic situation, you do not have the ability to process and start healing your mental wounds. Your brain and body go into survival mode, and all that matters in the moment is that you somehow cope with the horrors. He wouldn't have been able to even begin dealing with the physical, mental and emotional toll of two hundred years of torture, brutalization and dehumanization while he was under Cazador's control; he is in constant danger, surrounded by sharks in the water, and survival means not letting them smell blood. He can't afford to fall apart, to show weakness. He is shockingly functional and competent in-game, partly because he has to be to work as a game character, but also partly because...it do be like that, to some degree. When death, for whatever reason, is not an option, you just have to shut down and keep going. People adapt in order to survive, and when we learn that showing an "injury" (physical or psychological) only gets us punished, we learn to hide it.

Early-game Astarion is terrified - of Cazador, of Godey, of being hunted down by his siblings, of being staked or sold off at the first opportunity by Tav and the other companions, of turning into a mindflayer, of another painful transformation, of losing himself when he's only just regained his autonomy after two centuries, of what Cazador will do to him if he ever finds him - the man is overwhelmed by fear. He's on thin ice as a vampire, and he's not going to give them any more reason to want him gone. Survival instinct is still in control, and in this new situation, crafting some fragile safety for himself means not only selling his body for protection, but also being useful. Clear-headed. Good in a fight.

Endgame Astarion finds himself in a completely different situation. The time-sensitive overarching threats - Cazador and impending ceremorphosis - have been dealt with. He has a loving, supportive partner he's really starting to feel safe with - Tav/Durge has proved that they're on his side, that their affection is genuine, that they don't just want him for the one thing he's been told he's good for. They've told him they're going to help him find a workaround for his sun allergy. He's getting fed regularly. He has time to stop, and breathe, and just. Recuperate.

For the first time in 200 years, he is safe.

And it will probably take a while to catch up, during which time he will seem to be coping really well, but at some point, his brain is going to realise that he's safe, and it's going to finally start processing the sheer fucking horror he's been through. Since I haven't seen anyone talking about this particular fun aspect of cptsd, allow me to offer u some thoughts on issues Astarion and Tav might end up dealing with in the months/years postgame, during the

✨ Delayed Trauma Response ✨

Memory Gaps: Astarion realising, as he opens up to Tav, that there are entire years or decades of his life from which he has only a handful of memories. Great big blank stretches where he has no idea where he was, who he was with, what was happening to him. Some of the gaps cover years at a time where he was so dissociated and shut down that he just didn't retain any memories of what was going on around him. Some are shorter periods of particularly horrific torture that his brain has deliberately blocked out to protect him.

Recovered Memories: At some point, years into the future when he's done A Lot of healing, he might find that every now and then, a fragment of those lost memories will unexpectedly come back to him. He'll catch a particular scent on the breeze, or overhear a specific phrase in the street, or cross paths with someone whose face is oddly familiar, and he'll get a glimpse of an acute horror he'd filed neatly away where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He very rarely remembers all the context to those flashes of his past. He might recall that he was punished, but not what he was punished for, or he might remember words spoken by a greedy conquest, but be unable to recall the man's face.

Dissociation: Tav knows going into this relationship that Astarion has basically made an art out of dissociating during sex. They also know, from their shared encounter with the drow twins, that he's not great at enforcing his own boundaries - he'll always say he'll speak up and back out if he stops having fun, but in practice he rarely does; he's not used to having the option of saying no to his partner, and being punished if he tries. So they know there's going to be some practice and experimentation and negotiation necessary there, to figure out the rough limits of his comfort zone. But once he starts really processing, there may be days where he just checks out completely. Tav will touch his shoulder, and he'll startle and apologise - "Terribly sorry, darling, I was miles away for a moment there." And Tav will gently point out that he's been sat in the same spot vacantly staring into the middle distance for hours. They've been checking in on him occasionally and this is the first time he's responded. It's unsettling, to say the least.

Lost Time: Astarion was very young when he was turned, physically mature but emotionally juvenile. He was basically an overgrown teenager, in the phase of life where elves are just starting to learn who they are and what they want, and figure out their place in the world. But he never got to do that, because he spent his formative young adult years in a world where everyone became an abuser, where his only means of surviving was to smile and charm and obey while even his basic human dignity was stripped away. He learned that communication is based on manipulation. He learned that the powerful can do whatever they like to the weak. He learned an incredibly toxic, abusive way of life, and that was his family dynamic, his everyday life, for as long as he can remember. Now that he's free and safe, he's realising that the world doesn't actually work that way and that he's now far behind even shorter-lived races in social/emotional development. He's grieving for the person he could've been. He's grieving for the life he could've lived. He's grieving for all the years he already lost, and the ones he'll lose in the future as he flounders to catch up. A decent chunk of his life was stolen from him, and that's time he will never get back.

Flashbacks & Night Terrors: Specifically the kind where your brain convinces you that an injury you had a long time ago is actually an injury you have (or are receiving) right now. There are nights where he'll wake Tav in a panic, because his back feels like it's on fire, he can feel every freshly-carved wound dripping blood and he's in so much pain he doesn't know what else to do. If Tav looks, they see nothing out of the ordinary - old, long-healed scars, same as always. But the pain and the fear and the distress are all very real to him, and all they can do is try to comfort him, cover his back with cool damp cloths or healing salves, remind him he's safe now and they're not leaving him.

Boundary Shifting: Sometimes, Tav can come up and hug him from behind, and he'll melt into them a little bit and go all soft and happy. Other times, he might flinch away or go rigid at the same gesture. A lot of the time, it really depends on how he's feeling on the day, but at least a little bit of it is deliberate - he's pushing to find the limit of just how much autonomy Tav is willing to give him. He wants to know at what point they'll stop respecting his "no". Will they accept it if he doesn't want a hug? If he wants to sleep in his own room tonight? At what point will understanding turn to anger at being rejected? From the drow twins four/fivesome, we also know he's got a tendency to push his own boundaries, and jump into things he's actually not ready for, and Tav would be the one holding his hand through the fallout as he tries to figure out what his own boundaries even are.

Frustration! So, so much frustration. He wants to be Over It already. He wants to move past everything that ever happened to him and never think about it again. He hates that Cazador still has a grip on him, even in death - he doesn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of dwelling on all his punishments, his cruelties. Sometimes, that frustration is going to explode outwards at Tav - he'll get angry at them for coddling him, or find something small to start a fight over, or he'll set an unreasonable boundary and try to defend it because he's still learning what healthy boundaries look like. Sometimes, it will implode inwards, and that won't be about Tav at all, but they'll get the brunt of it all the same - it might come out as self-loathing or self-punishment, and he'll react by doing something stupid, like trying to drive them away, because having a secure, relatively healthy relationship is terrifying and the instinct is to destroy it before Tav can. There will be yelling and angry tears and deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms, and they'd have to work through that. Trauma is ugly, and Astarion is right at the beginning of a very long journey towards healing.

Abandonment Issues: Astarion wants the relationship to be one between equals, but he's kind of got Tav on a pedestal all the same. They saved him. They helped him get rid of Cazador for good. They chose him and love him despite a wealth of better (in his eyes) options, and all his baggage. They stayed with him even when he has very little to offer them. We know his vanity and obnoxious self-absorption is a fragile attempt to obscure the fact that his self-esteem is in the dirt and he has virtually no self-worth, and there are a couple of occasions in-game where it becomes clear that he's afraid of losing the one person who somehow considers him lovable. After seeing Sebastian and all the other conquests, he begs Tav not to hate him, saying that he did what he had to. If he has a rival for Tav's affections, and Tav informs him that they broke up with the rival to be with Astarion, he's shocked and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You ended things with them for me? Why?" And if Durge tries to break up with him for his own safety, his facade drops and he immediately asks if he did something wrong. So while he's not afraid to argue with Tav, if something happens - like an angry outburst - that upsets or angers them, and he thinks he's at risk of losing that one steady, stable person in his life, he might well cling and overcompensate to try and repair what he thinks is a fracture in their relationship. He'll fawn or beg or crawl into Tav's bed to "apologise" and "make it up to them" because, well, very occasionally it worked on Cazador. With patience and good communication and lots of repeatedly driving the lesson home to overcome 200 years of education to the contrary, he will eventually start to believe that "I'm really pissed off at you right now," does not equate to, "You are the worst mistake I've ever made and I am leaving you."

Panic Attacks: I feel like honestly he'd get some symptoms of these on a fairly regular basis, but he's never been given any option other than just trying to power through them. He's used to realising he's shaking, he's used to feeling like he's watching himself from outside his body, or like he can't breathe even though he doesn't need to. He's very familiar with the sickening fear in his gut, so intense it makes his head spin. He's not used to being comforted or reassured about them - he thinks they're normal. Tav disagrees.

Anyway, cptsd is messy and complicated and often looks very different from person to person so these will not represent everyone's but these are just some ideas for what the ongoing recovery process might make them work through, based on the aspects I'm most familiar with.

Projecting? Who's projecting? I'm not projecting. Shut up.

[submalevolentgrace]

Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

[universalitgirlsblog2]

💗🌺YOU DON'T LIKE YOURSELF? CREATE A NEW VERSION OF YOURSELF💗🌺

💗INTRODUCTION

The world needs to accept as you are. no ! The world does not owe you anything. People do not owe you anything. We are changing everyday , we are always trying to improve ourselves. No person is the same person as he or she was from the day that they were born. Everything will be okay when you make it okay. Your life is in your hands. Nobody is coming to save you. Not your mom , your dad , your spouse , your children etc. You want your life to change? You have to change.

🌺CREATE ANOTHER VERSION OF YOURSELF ( ALTER EGO)

Beyonce says that whenever she goes on stage she is not Beyonce , she is Sasha Fierce. David Goggins grew up in poverty, gained alot of weight but then he lost weight and ran marathons. They all say to create a new version of yourself.

Liz said that she is lazy , doesn't like attention which comes from social media and stay her in bed all day but all this will get her nowhere so she created a new version. Somebody that is confident , uses her platform , goes after her goals , gets up and goes to gym and somebody with a very hard mindset and tough skin . You need to create a tough skin especially if you are an influencer or a celebrity.

If you start acting like your alter ego , you will become like her. Ask yourself . What does the higher version of yourself look like ? How does she / he look like ? What is she / he wearing ? Who do they date ? What is their career ? How do they spend their time ? What is their hairstyle ?

💗START TAKING SMALL STEPS TOWARDS GREATNESS

Before doing anything , ask yourself , will my highest version do this? If you are eating sugary food, ask yourself If your highest version would eat that dessert. If you don't feel like going to the gym , ask yourself If your highest version would skip gym or go to gym.

🌺WHAT'S YOUR PASSION/ BEST CAREER OPPORTUNITY?

Find your own passion . No one can tell you what your passion is , you need to find it .

God gives us passion because that's what we are supposed to do.

If you have no idea about your passion , what am I really good at ? Every single person is good at something . It might be as small as cooking, managing team or very much into social media.

💗GET HONEST WITH YOURSELF/ STOP SUGAR-COATING

You can't be always kind to yourself, sometimes you need a reality check . Also , ask yourself what your best version of yourself would do ? Go for walk. Listen to podcast.

🌺PRACTICE THE LAW OF ASSUMPTION AND TRUST GOD/THE UNIVERSE

Talk to God as if he is your best friend. Ask God and the universe for the things you want. Don't expect help if you don't ask for help. God puts people in our life to help us , to upgrade us.

💗LET GO OF TRYING TO CONTROL AND START TRUSTING THAT IT WILL HAPPEN.

Ask once , be specific and practice gratitude before asking. Start assuming like the world is designed for you to succeed .

🌺GET INTO THE MINDSET OF : WHAT WOULD THE HIGHEST VERSION OF MYSELF DO ?

You walk into a room , you have a meeting or a presentation. You feel nervous. Ask yourself : what would the highest version of myself do ? Shoulders back , walk into the room and start talking. Wherever you go , think that everyone is in love with you , it will make you confident.

You have to tell yourself affirmations . Look into the mirror and say " I am powerful . I am amazing. I am going to kill this day ." Ask God to help you and stand by me .

💗ACCEPT THAT RECOVERY IS NOT LINEAR AND BE GRATEFUL FOR THE BAD DAYS.

It takes accountability. Going through the progress of looking at yourself differently.

🌺FALL IN LOVE WITH THE PROGRESS , NOT THE GOAL.

Know that the bad day is a blessing. How will we appreciate good days if we have no bad days ?

If you want an expensive watch , the watch itself doesn't fulfill you , it's the process towards the watch & the anticipation. If you want to lose weight , going to gym regularly and seeing the scale going down, Feeling healthier and better. That is the process. That is happiness.

💗STOP TALKING ABOUT IT AND START ACTUALLY DOING IT

Do not tell anyone about your ambitions .Show them what you are doing .

If you tell big dreams to small minded people , they will never support you because they do not understand. They have not done it themselves

🌺DON'T TALK ABOUT IT UNTIL IT IS DONE.

The big issue with people is that they want to talk before it happened. Why are you putting evil eye on yourself?

" What people don't know they can't ruin "

Be private. You never know who is praying for your downfall.

Don't talk about things you want to accomplish before you accomplished them.

[wonsdoll]

𓂃 ! A STONER’S GUIDE TO GET THE GiRL ⌇ LHS

TIP 0: don’t lose the girl of your dreams !

you and heeseung have been together for 2 years. heeseung was by far the best boyfriend you could ever have, your family loved him as well as your friends. but towards the ending of your relationship, you realized heeseung turned to cannabis and began to smoke weed regularly with his friends.

“it’s 12am where are you?” you answered heeseung’s call, his voice barely audible due to his high state.

“at.. uh.. the park with gyu and hoon.. just lost track of time..” he responds, his high clear to you. heeseung was more high that usual.

you sighed heavily, not knowing what to say. “heeseung.. please get home soon..we need to talk.” you demanded slightly.

you couldn’t handle this any longer, your boyfriend was getting high every other day. one day he was normal and his usual self, the next he was rather laid back and relaxed due to the intoxication of the weed hes smoked.

around 2am heeseung walks into the bedroom, his eyes blood shot red, his hair disleveled, and his movements were rather slow. he walks over to the bed, sitting on the edge. you sat up to meet heeseung’s level, looking into his red eyes, feeling a pang of frustration as well as feeling rather guilty.

“heeseung…” you felt your heart break, trying to meet your eyes with him once again. “we can’t keep doing this.”

heeseung, who was beyond the clouds, his eyes met with yours. “what…what are you talking about?” he responds, his mouth movements slow.

“i’m breaking up with you.” you got straight to the point, leaving space between you and heeseung.

heeseung’s brain couldn’t process the words that came out of your mouth, instead he looked at you, his expressions rather relaxed as well as his body. heeseung tries to pull you into bed with him, his eyes growing heavy.

“no heeseung, i’m leaving..” you removed his hands from around your waist, getting up from bed and grabbing your coat and shoes.

heeseung knocked out on the bed, still in his street clothes. your heart broke, as you finally realized what you have done. it was too late to turn back and make things right. “what did i just do..” you sob, trying to walk back to your car.

you call your best friend, hoping to receive some sort of support from her. “hello?” yunjin picks up the phone, hearing your sobs through the line. “y/n… what’s wrong.” her tone drops low.

“i did it.. i broke up with him.” you tried your best to breathe, your sobs only getting heavier. “breathe, it’s alright.. how about you come over and we can talk about it?” yunjin suggests, hoping you’ll come around and talk to her.

that’s exactly what you did, you went to yunjin’s place and told her everything. she proceeded to comfort you and help you heal.

heeseung wakes up the next morning, his head throbbing from an ongoing headache. he picks up his cell phone and tries to call you, “the number you have dialed is unavailable now”

heeseung was confused, trying to process why his calls were not going through. that’s when reality hits him, “oh.. we’re over..” heeseung’s tone drops low? his semi red eyes filling with tears. “what have i done..?” heeseung wipes his tears, sitting on the edge of the bed as he processes reality.

you were gone, and you weren’t coming back.

MASTERLIST • NEXT • PREVIOUS

( 📌 ) :: TAGLIST @elysianiki @kairoot @flwrstqr @sakiimeo @myungjaesgf @aouii @payformycoffeeandleave @leeheesang @mioons @jae-n0 @unhakki @rikibun @mimismenu @sophi-ee @sakanelli-afc @dollyhoons @yeahthisisjustme @nikiswifiee @isabellah29 @mxhlvr @i03jae @luvqirls @onlyhyunjin @clampclover @coqhee @ikeublr @moons-v @iheartjayke @istphanie @felixbrownies @icewons (send an ask or comment to be added)

( 💌 ) :: SAV NOTES beginning chapter we hollered !! just from my planning i can tell this is gonna be great. just another reminder, i do not condone smoking and the use of cannabis. this smau is based on an irl event between me and my ex, but also is pure fiction. my plot does not reflect heeseung in anyway nor will destroy his idol rep !

[f1version]

DISTRACTION ★ CS55

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x girlfriend!reader (she/her)

summary: Carlos is stretching while you are trying to work. Keeping your eyes off him is harder than you thought.

or this request

warnings: teasing, kissing, spanish pet names, shirtless carlos, just carlos in general and reader being overwhelmed by that.

word count: 840

It's been about an hour since Carlos asked you to get in the pool with him. You would have, but after looking at all the work you had due, all he got was a no. So now he is looking for revenge.

He has been stretching for the past 10 minutes. No shirt. Wet from the pool.

Carlos is good-looking, everyone knows that. You know that. He knows that, and he's using it against you.

Each time you look up information, you end up with Carlos' face on your laptop. Each time you focus enough to write something, you hear a small moan coming from Carlos' mouth. Each time you get lost in thought, your eyes end up on Carlos' body.

This is impossible. He is impossible.

You close your eyes, draining all thoughts from your mind, miraculously being successful in the process. There was nothing but a dark void, all of Carlos' intense presence forgotten.

Peace.

"Mi vida?"  His voice trembles in your head, making your eyes fly open, cursing everything and everyone in this world "Are you okay?"

Oh my god. He looked so innocent, brown eyes wide and soft, you almost fell for it. He was playing games that are hard to win.

"Yeah, I'm good" You answered, "I just need to finish this article for tomorrow."

He nodded, "Maybe after you finish, we can have a little fun," He said, winking and then continued stretching.

How is he even real?

He just says things, does things, and you know they are on purpose. You know how he wants you to see him. He wants you to want him.

You turned to look at him once he was focused on whatever he was doing at this point. He is gorgeous. His tanned skin traced by the sun, glowing because of the sweat and water, mouth slightly open, breathing deeply, eyes shut.

You saw him smile to himself, it was so sudden that it made you hyperaware of yourself. You were almost on your knees, eyes fixated on him. And god, you swear you had just whimpered. That's why Carlos was smiling.

Fuck him.

"You are the worst." You heard yourself say, no longer concerned about work. Well, maybe a bit, but you had to enjoy your time with him.

"Hm? Did you say something, cariño?" He had heard you. He does this regularly when teasing you, lying about not hearing you. You don't think he notices this habit of his, but you do. And you love it.

"Can you come here, please, amor?" You ignored his comment, you had to end this now, he is too much of a distraction.

The Spaniard nodded, smirk on his lips. Positioning himself in between your legs when he got closer. He was looking at you now, his eyes were mischief as he said, "Is everything okay with work?"

And you kissed him. Kissed him as if he were the only thing you needed, kissed his burning lips without fear of melting. Lips that, with the eagerness, moved faster, tuning to the rhythm of his racing heart. His hands were now on you, your own pair on him, both touching every inch.

Carlos lets out a whimper, and you believe that is the most beautiful sound in the world, because he is the most beautiful man in the world.

You moan in response, Carlos taking the opportunity to wrap your legs around his torso, lifting you as he stands, his mouth never leaving yours.

He starts walking and you know you have reached the bedroom when he almost knocks you over with a couple of doorframes. He kisses your neck, leaving small bites and marks on those places he knows drive you insane.

When you feel yourself falling onto the mattress, your legs never leaving his waist, you turn the two of you around, straddling him.

"You are the devil. You know that, right?" You say, and he smiles, bringing you down for a kiss. You start moving around, leaving his lips, kissing his chest, moving your hips, all making Carlos curse and call out your name.

"Mierda" He whispers, eyes closed, "Don’t stop, sweetheart.”

But you do stop.

His eyes open fast when he doesn’t feel you near anymore, his hands try to catch you before you stand up. You are faster.

"What the fuck?" He protests, sitting up while you go through the door.

"I told you I had to work, amor." You say, "But since you decided to be such a tease, I had no more options."

He looks too stunned to speak… and turned on, very turned on.

"Cariño,"

"We can finish this tonight, how's that?" You wink at him. "See ya.’"

That's the last thing you say before running away, leaving a desperate Carlos who has declared war against you in his head.

translation:

amor love mi vida my life cariño sweetheart mierda shit / fuck

[howtofightwrite]

How often would a person have to get jumped to affect their morphology (both bone, brain, muscles and fat), if it began in late childhood and throughout the puberty process. Bonus info, the person is fighting or fleeing with good effectivness most of the time, with the fight or flight system being fully functional.

Like, being physically bullied as a child did make me physically stronger, and forced me to develop a lot of resistance, resistance I lost after the bullying stopped because I'm a couch potato. Mostly in resistance training, with some clenching strength (but that's from gymnastics).

So, resistance and strong clenching muscles.

Yeah, that doesn't work.

Psychologically, abuse can cause you to come back stronger (or, break you completely), but it doesn't cause you to become physiologically stronger.

As you get older, your ability to fully recover from injuries diminishes. So, if you're younger, you've got a better chance of fully recovering, but that's still taking a physical toll on you. Similarly, if you do take the time to build yourself up, and get training, that may be provoked by your abuse, but it's not caused by it.

The aphorism, “that which does not kill me makes me stronger,” might be empowering, but as you get older, you start to understand that maybe it should be read as, “that which does not kill me makes me stranger.”

I don't mean to diminish your experiences, but the person you became as a result of that was a product of how you chose to deal with those challenges, and overcame them. It was not a product of deterministic biological processes.

Now, having said that, you can learn from physical trauma. You can learn to judge how much of your body's pain response can be ignored, in the moment. You can learn to keep a cool head through an adrenaline rush.

However, if you're regularly dealing with physical strain, that will have a severe toll on your body. I had my first conversation with my doctor about the eventual need for knee replacement surgery before I turned 40. (I still have my original knees, but I also experience bone on bone grinding.) Intensive martial arts training, gymnastics, or violence, will wear your body down with shocking speed.

Traumatic experiences make you into who you are. They can drive you to become a better person than you were before, but you own that choice. That was your decision, not something that someone else did to you.

Adversity can be a motivator or it can destroy you. Ultimately, how you deal with that is your choice. But it was your choice. Saying, “bullying made me stronger,” robs you of the decision you made, it takes away the strength you found, and assumes that it was a passive consequence. It wasn't. You became stronger because what you chose to do. (Also, because kids do get physically stronger as they get older. That's kinda how that pesky 'growing up' thing works.)

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

if obscurial!aunt!reader ended up teaching at Hogwarts for like muggle studies or something you know all the Slytherin kids with parental issues end up subconsciously calling her “mother” at least twice by the end of the year.

Theodore Nott is the only one who knows who owns it and call her “moms” regularly which infuriates Harry but eventually there’s a whole Euphemia/Sirius dynamic going on cause Theo lost his mom when he was super young and his dad is a pureblood twat so she begins to mother him pretty much and the day he turns sixteen he shows up at Spinner’s End with a suitcase

I fucking adore this ask so much, anon! You have no idea. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

I could wholeheartedly see most of the school viewing Obscurial!Muggle!Aunt!Reader as a mother figure, but especially the Slytherins. At first, it’s completely unconsciously and a slip of the tongue, but eventually it grows into something deeper for a majority of the snakes. The Reader ends up becoming their solace away from home, not that any of them want to or would ever admit it (at least not right away). And they take full advantage of it, not that any of them do it in front of others but in the moments when they have the Reader’s sole attention they bask in their warm and comforting presence.

If Yan!Bellatrix is at the school too working as a professor I could see her nudging the Slytherin kiddos towards the Reader, knowing how naturally nurturing and attentive the Reader is to anyone in general but especially with how good she is with the students. Just Bellatrix subtly encouraging them to seek out and open up to the Reader when they’re in need of comfort and someone to listen to them.

I especially love the idea of Reader’s family home on Spinner’s End becoming a safe haven for whoever needs it. It was for Harry, whether he was there as a baby or when he ran away in his third year. It then became a place for the Weasley’s and Hermione when they came into the Reader’s life. And one by one the people from the Marauders Era found their way there too.

I imagine Theo being the first one out of the Slytherins to show up at the Reader’s door, even being the one to stay there the longest, but eventually a number of others pop up too. Especially with the war nearing closer and closer. Hell, I could even see some selective parents showing up with their child to seek sanctuary at the Reader’s house too. You can bet Narcissa is pulling up with Draco, before and or after the war. Without Lucius. Mrs, Zabini and Blaise are rolling up too.

I just can’t help but imagine all these terrified Slytherins when the war starts rearing its ugly head and them not knowing what to do, only for Bellatrix to put the idea in their head to run away to the Reader. (I love the idea of her being a spy for the Order due to her obsession for the Reader, similar to how Snape was, and in the process helping some of the kids get out of becoming Death Eaters.)

Even after the war is over and things are semi back to normal, the kids (and some adults) who came to the Reader end up sticking around, basically being adopted by the Reader and becoming this big ass happy family.

[probablyasocialecologist]

First, let’s address the fact that hackers recently accessed the personal data of about 14,000 23andMe customers. Because of how 23andMe works—it has a “DNA Relatives” feature that lets users find people they are probably related to—this breach created 6.9 million “other users” who had data stolen in the breach, according to reporting by TechCrunch. This data included people’s names, birth year, relationships, percentage of DNA shared with other 23andMe users, and ancestry reports.

[...]

Getting your DNA or your loved ones’ DNA sequenced means you are potentially putting people who are related to those people at risk in ways that are easily predictable, but also in ways we cannot yet predict because these databases are still relatively new. I am writing this article right now because of the hack, but my stance on this issue has been the same for years, for reasons outside of the hack. In 2016, I moderated a panel at SXSW called “Is Your Biological Data Safe?,” which was broadly about the privacy implications of companies and other entities creating gigantic databases of people’s genetic code. This panel’s experts included a 23andMe executive as well as an FBI field agent. Everyone on the panel and everyone in the industry agrees that genetic information is potentially very sensitive, and the use of DNA to solve crimes is obviously well established.  At the time, many of the possible dangers of providing your genome to a DNA sequencing company were hypothetical. Since then, many of the hypothetical issues we discussed have become a reality in one way or another. For example, on that panel, we discussed the work of an artist who was turning lost strands of hair, wads of chewing gum, and other found DNA into visual genetic “portraits” of people. Last year, the Edmonton Police Service, using a company called Parabon, used a similar process to create 3D images of crime suspects using DNA from the case. The police had no idea if the portrait they generated actually looked like the suspect they wanted, and the practice is incredibly concerning. To its credit, 23andMe itself has steadfastly resisted law enforcement requests for information, but other large databases of genetic information have been used to solve crimes. Both 23andMe and Ancestry are regularly the recipients of law enforcement requests for data, meaning police do see these companies as potentially valuable data mines. 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I'm taking a break from my regularly scheduled fic to bring you this awkward and silly ficlet.

Robin loves Eddie, much like an annoying younger sister would, and she wanted to get him this really awesome ring for his birthday. She supposed she could have asked him for his ring size, but then that would have been too easy. So, she's here with Steve, in Eddie's new bedroom, to steal one of his rings.

"I feel like there are other ways to do this," Steve said.

"This is my plan," Robin said. "Shh!"

"There's no one here, Robin," Steve hissed. "This is so stupid. Hurry."

"I'm trying. He doesn't keep his rings in a jewelry box like a normal person," Robin said.

"Would you really want Eddie to be normal?" Steve asked.

"Nah," she said, smiling fondly. "I love that weirdo."

Suddenly, there was the sound of van tires squealing out side.

"Oh, fuck!" Robin cursed.

"Hurry it up!" Steve said, snapping his fingers.

The sound of Eddie making his way up the stairs heightened their panic.

"Fuck!" Eddie cursed and they jumped. "I forgot my pretzels."

The sound of him leaving caused them to sigh in relief. Steve motioned for her to hurry up. Robin let out a quiet screech when they heard the sounds of his footsteps. She raised her hands when she found the ring, and she rushed to Eddie's little balcony that was just outside his window. Steve followed her.

"No!" She whispered. "There's no room! Hide in the closet!"

"Why don't you hide in the closet?" Steve hissed at her.

"Oh, yeah, a lesbian in a closet? Very funny, Steve," Robin hissed.

"Actually, there's something that I wanted to tell you about me - ," Steve started to say.

"No time," she said and closed the window, catching Steve’s shirt in the process.

He tugged and tugged, but it wouldn't budge. Robin couldn't get the window back open. Meanwhile, Eddie's footsteps were getting closer.

"Robin!"

"Just slip out of your shirt, close the curtains, and hide in the closet!" Robin

Steve cursed at her, slipped out of his shirt, and closed the curtains. Meanwhile, Robin was balanced on this very small balcony. Did they really have to give the Munsons a two story house? She could hear the sound of Eddie coming into the bedroom, struggling to carry what sounds like several bags of pretzels. She rolled her eyes when she heard him toss them on his bed.

"Now, to work on my campaign," Eddie said and cackled until a loud sneeze came from his closet. "Okay. . .but wait, now I have to kick the shit out of whoever is hiding in the closet. Bet it's Dustin, always trying to sneak a peak at my notes - Oh helloooo, big boy. You know, my birthday isn't for another couple of weeks."

"I know, I got excited. I wanted to give you your gift early," Steve said.

"Well, happy birthday to me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is my birthday gift you?" Eddie asked.

Robin's eyes widened. No fucking way.

". . .yes."

Oh, holy shit. That's what Steve had been trying to tell her, and she. . . She practically shoved him into a fucking closet. Jesus. Suddenly, she heard the sound of loud moaning. Oh, they were kissing. Oh, she hoped they were kissing. Shit, she was going to have to listen to this, wasn't she? She was going to have to listen as her best friend lost his guy virginity. The sound of the pretzels being pushed off the bed made her wince. She was screwed, just like Steve was about to be.

"Wait, Eddie," Steve said. "You should know that you're the first guy that I've been with ever. Until I met you, I didn't even know I could like guys. I thought it was one or the other. I never thought it could be both."

Oh, Steve. Robin held a hand to her mouth, struggling not to say anything.

"Baby, I promise to be as gentle with you as you want me to be," Eddie said.

"The thing is that I think I got so excited about being with you that I think I forgot to be nervous. Now, I'm nervous and worried that I'm going to screw things up. In the past, I kind of rushed it in this department, and I just . . . ," Steve said.

"Want to take things slow?" Eddie asked in amusement. "Of course, I'll take anything that you can give me. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I love you, silly," Eddie said.

"I love you too, Eddie," Steve said, and she could tell her friend's voice was thick with emotion.

Tears filled her eyes. Fuck. She loved Eddie even more now.

"You just have to have to answer me one thing," Eddie said. "Why is your shirt hanging in the window? You didn't close the curtains all the way."

"Uh, I got nervous and panicked, then my shirt got stuck," Steve replied.

"Oh, yeah, that window is tricky. I have been meaning to fix it," Eddie said. "Let me get that."

"Wait!"

Robin froze, eyes wide as she heard Eddie come close to the window. A moment later, the window was opened, and Steve’s shirt was free.

'Tada!" Eddie exclaimed and then popped his head out the window. "Oh, hey, Robin."

He pulled his head back in again. There was a pause, and then Eddie's head was out the window once more. He stared at her, blinking.

"Coo! Coo!" Robin panicked.

[fallow-hollow]

take you home

…ft! chilchuck tims x male! half-foot! reader

…tags! fluff, pining, confession, dates, mentions of drinking, post-canon

…word count! 1346

…notes! i fully agree with the fandom consensus that chilchuck is a closeted bisexual

Chilchuck was a pretty prominent union leader on the island, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he’d do the same when he moves back to Kahka Brud to set up shop.

If you’re a half foot in the area, especially one looking for work, it’s pretty much impossible not to know Chilchuck.

No matter your field, he’s a great guy to go to for making connections and financial advice in general.

The first time you talked to him was about negotiating for a contract with a potential employer, but honestly, you’d always sort of admired him from afar. Hard working, sharp-witted, not to mention good looking.

“What?!” You nearly jumped at the man’s exasperated shout, being that he was fairly close to your ear. Chilchuck agreed to help you take a look at one of the contracts you’ve been offered, so you were currently letting him take a look at a copy. This, of course, led to the man peering over your shoulder, which didn’t help your absolutely hopeless crush on him. Not that you were complaining, though.

To make it even worse, he even rested his elbow right on your shoulder to point something out on the paper. “They don’t even include consequential damages litigation here! No way are you going to be tricked into being liable for their lost profits!”

Not turning your head due to your own embarrassment, you merely looked at him in your peripheral vision. “So, what do you think I should do?”

“Wellll….” As he deliberated on your question, the man leaned away from you, allowing you to turn your body towards him more. “If you’re dead set on working with this employer, I’d say negotiate as much as you can. On your own, you can get brushed off easily, but if you need…” he wore a smug grin whilst rubbing under his nose with his index finger. “I can put in a good word for you.”

And if you’re a half-foot, the guy is most likely taller than you. It’s noted that if the entire canon party were half-foots, he’d be taller than even Laios.

By this point in the timeline, I also imagine he’s patched things up with his family, but not in a romantic relationship with his ex-wife anymore. They’re friendly and see each other regularly, and she and his daughters even tease him about putting himself out there again.

From conversations you’ve had with him, you’re more than aware he’s been married before and has kids, and that doesn’t deter you from seeking a relationship with him at all. In fact, if you ever meet his daughters, you’ll likely get along well if you’re as amiable with them as you are with their father.

“I like him,” Puckpatti would declare the moment you left the room. “He seems sweet! You definitely need somebody like that to coax you out of your whole crab apple act, Papa.”

“It’s not like that!” He would instantly retort, causing his two more outgoing daughters to giggle. Even Meijack, albeit not as boisterous as her sisters, had a hint of an amused look on her face.

“Yet.” Flertom winked. “If you ever need some tips to speed up the process, you really shouldn’t be afraid to ask!”

The mere offer turned the man into a stuttering mess. “Stop that or I’ll— I’ll tell your mother!”

For a moment, Meijack’s eyes flitted to her father’s face before retreating back to the side. “She already told us she knew you swung that way.”

Chilchuck would’ve downright screamed if not for your return. “Hey guys, what’d I miss?” He dared not turn around, lest you notice how flushed he’d become in mere minutes.

Puckpatti, with a look so innocent that you could hardly believe she was tormenting her father just moments before, clapped her hands together and grinned. “No, you came at just the right time! I wanted to ask more about how you and Papa met!”

Chilchuck has never dated another guy before, so he doesn’t have a lot of experience in that field. Honestly, since his wife and he were childhood friends, I’m not sure if he’s dated anybody else at all. Most of the guys he knew well were coworkers, drinking buddies, or both, so emotional connection wasn’t always a priority.

Your friendly attitude and respect for his craft already drew him in, plus your little acts of affection drove him absolutely crazy. Give him a hug as a greeting and he’s doing everything he can to resist melting. Could a person really be this sweet with no ulterior motive? Someone like you has got to be even rarer than even the most valuable treasures.

More likely than not, you’d be the one to actually ask him out. You may need to repeat yourself when you ask him, though, cause the man might just die of shock.

Holding up the poster for the ‘couple’s night’ at the bar you frequented together was a bit of a nerve wracking experience, if you were being honest. Watching the other man’s eyes squint and scan over the text, you grinned and asked,

“Would you want to go together?”

For a moment, Chilchuck didn’t really know what to make of your request. You asking him to go out for drinks with him was a totally normal thing between you two, but why were you showing him that ad? After a minute or so of trying and failing to make the proper connection, he grinned and nodded like he’d figured it out.

“Ahhh, so you’re one of those people that’ll pretend to be a couple with their friend to get discounted drinks? Not really a thing I do, but since it’s you, I’ll consider it.”

Hey, why did you look so dejected when he said that? That’s what you meant, right?

Right?

“No, I meant…..” your eyes left his face in favor of lingering on the floor. Those words combined with your expression finally made it all slide into place, and the poor man could only blurt out with a feeling of intense guilt,

“Oh, oh, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t know you were asking—!”

You did end up going together that night, and it was pretty fun, too.

As a partner, Chilchuck is focused on providing stability. As much as he can act like a sleaze sometimes, he doesn’t seem like he does a lot of casual dating. He’d probably feel too old for that kind of thing either way.

When you’ve been together for a while, he may even offer to share finances and move in together. He says it would be “economical” and all, but you can also tell he clearly wants to be with you daily, and that makes you happy.

Protective as all hell. When he gets a little tipsy, he may get snappy with anyone he even thinks is looking at you the wrong way.

“Hey!” From beside you, you heard your lover’s voice slur. “You got a problem with my man?”

A sigh escaped your lips. “Chilchuck, he’s just collecting the empty glasses.”

Your words must not have either not reached him or not even affected him, because he continued to glare up at the waiter with a hazy, unfounded suspicion that truly only a drunk Chilchuck could possess.

A hand on his waist pulling him into your collar made quick work of sating him, a smile gracing your lips when he groaned into the fabric of your shirt. “We’ll leave soon, okay hon? Soon we can go home.”

Briefly, his half lidded eyes opened wider if only to look up at your face as if you were an illusion, something too good to be true.

“I get to take a pretty thing like you home with me….?”

Lord, for such a serious person, he really could make you laugh sometimes. It was probably just the lighting, but you hoped that the redness of his face really did intensify at your smile as you gazed down at him.

“You can every single night, Chil. Always.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA/WIBTA for attempting to learn ASL for a girl I like?

I work at a bar right off campus of my university and regularly perform (sing) when there aren't enough performers or acts to get us through a night. I like singing and making a big show, so this is fun for me. Also, this bar isn't strictly a queer/sapphic bar, but a lot of us are WLW and it's pretty well known around town so performing definitely gets me a lot of attention from a pretty quiet part of the queer community, if that makes any sense.

Anyways, there's this girl who also works at the bar, I'll call her Bri, and she's deaf. She's pretty good at reading lips, so we've had conversations before, but really we just see each other around. She works in the back on like numbers and business stuff (I honestly have no idea what she does) but she'll come out and watch me perform sometimes. She has such a nice smile and the way she's able to focus and pay such apt attention to anything she needs to is so inspiring. Basically, I like her a lot.

I live in the Inland Empire, so getting ASL lessons was super easy. I've been going since the semester started a little over a month ago and I'm really proud of the progress I've made. I haven't attempted to talk to Bri yet, I want to get better, but I've talked to some of my friends/coworkers about how I'm learning ASL for her and am planning on doing a live ASL interpretation of Oh Darling by the Beatles when I get good enough (Bri commented that she liked my performance of the song, so I wanted to bring it back.)

Jesus Christ this is long anyways I was telling people about my plan thinking they'd compliment me for being cute and romantic and like try to help me surprise her but instead, everyone told me I was being insensitive to her disability and tokening her by making her deaf-ness so central to my attraction to her. I didn't think I was doing this, I thought this was more of a gesture to show how I like her despite our communication barrier? I don't know, I've started really overthinking it.

Another thing I've started wondering is if doing this performance (which I've already started working on) would be manipulative since I've never outright asked Bri if she likes me, even though I'm 1000% sure she does, she asks about me and we get along and yeah I'm really sure she does but I guess I don't know for absolute sure so on the chance that she doesn't like me, would this whole thing be a way of me pressuring her into liking me since I've put so much effort in without telling her?

I'm really lost. I really like this girl and I want to do something big and grand. I've also really fallen in love with American Sign Language and the process of learning it. The idea of making Bri uncomfortable because I don't know what it's like to be deaf/have a disability is really making me rethink all of this. Any advice please.

What are these acronyms?

[gay-dorito-dust]

would you do basically reader's universe collapsed and she's in shock and horrified back at the spider society hq and miguel's basically grudgingly comforting this teenage spider version who says she failed?

I know I say this about pretty much everything I write but this might be a lil -or a lot- like ass. My brain took a holiday and left this behind 😂

‘Miguel, you’ve got to go to them.’ Lyla said, looking at you.

‘No.’

She huffed and looked at him. ‘Why not?! If anyone here can relate to how they’re feeling right now it’s you.’

‘That’s different.’ Miguel replied, keeping his back to her. The reason why he was being so hesitant to comfort you was because of that familiar look of primal fear in your eyes; You were painfully reminded him of the things and the people that he’s lost, their bodies were warped and distorted until they vanished into nothingness before his very eyes as he was then left unable to prevent it from consuming everything-including his daughter, Gabriella- in their entirety until nothing remained but the memories.

‘How is it?’ Lyla asked, only understanding Miguel’s attitude towards your situation as heartless and unnecessary cruel, you had just been displaced from your home that starting as of now, quite literally does not exist, in what could be considered the worse way imaginable and were in dire need of a shoulder to lean; Lyla thought that due to shared experience, Miguel would be that comforting figure but to hear him downright refuse to check in on you made her put him under intense questioning.

‘Because it is.’ Miguel responded vaguely. Lyla huffs again but said under her breath, ‘what kind of leader are you if you’re not going to be there when it counts.’ Before disappearing, leaving Miguel to press his head into his hands, breathing in deeply and holding it for a couple of seconds before exhaling; On most occasions he hated to admit it but in this instances, Lyla was undeniably right in the fact that you were in need of support but for that support to come from him was where he hesitates. For Miguel was still very much hung up on what happened to Gabriella that he was trying to process what happened under a logistical viewpoint that he had yet to emotionally recover from his losses.

So when he looked back at you to see you staring off at a wall opposite, blankly, mentally having checked out the moment you were brought back to hq by the scruff of your neck. Your friends, Hobie, Miles, Pavitr and Gwen came to check on you regularly but even they couldn’t put your broken pieces together; so one of all of them would just keep you company by making sure you were that you weren’t neglecting your basic needs. While nice as that all was, it doesn’t get rid of the fact that you had no home anymore to return to, no family, no friends; and worst off you had nothing to remember them by but the memories that would forever haunt you to the point where even sleep felt like a method of torture.

‘Mr o’hara.’ Your voice reached out to him. ‘Did…did I fail?’ Miguel, forever a father at heart, felt pained by your words, he knew that he was partially to blame for putting it in everyone’s head that to have your home reality collapse was a fault upon the Spider charged with guarding it, but he thought by doing so everyone would work better at keeping their wits about them and keep their realities stable; unlike him who was more taken by the fact that he had a family elsewhere and wanted to indulge in a life that wasn’t his to experience.

‘No.’ Miguel finally said as he joined at your side. ‘You didn’t fail, you fought valiantly in protecting your reality.’ This didn’t seem to reassure you of anything as you responded with, ‘if I fought so valiantly as you say, then why does it feel like I single handedly destroyed everything I swore to defend as Spider-Man?’ Miguel thought the very same on a daily basis that he didn’t wake up or go to sleep without reminding himself as a way to keep him within that moment; and in doing so he had driven himself to the point where he didn’t recognise the person staring back at him in the mirror. He grew angry, he grew hateful, he grew spiteful and had grown to be condition himself into finding comfort in his isolation and solitude to the point he couldn’t remember who he was outside all of it.

He didn’t want you going down a similar route as he did, for it wasn’t a life he thought best suited you.

‘I was exactly where you are right now, to be honest I still am,’ Miguel admits, ‘I blamed and blamed myself to the point I lost sight of who I once was but you.’ He placed a hand on your shoulder awkwardly, it was obvious that he wasn’t use to having to comfort someone and you couldn’t help but appreciate his attempt. ‘Despite everything that has happened to you thus far, you are still you and that’s far more admirable then any feet of physical strength and you wanna know why?’ Miguel asked rhetorically as he moved to kneel in front of you so that you would be forced to look into his eyes. ‘It takes an extraordinary person to to come out of hell the same person they entered as.’ He tells you, smiling to himself when he saw a small flicker of light return to your eyes, even if it was minuscule and brief, it was a start.

‘You’re not alone, even if you may feel it more so then ever, you’re not and you never will be alone, especially with friends like yours.’ Miguel continues as his eyes lifted over your shoulder, causing you to look also as Gwen, Miles, Pavitr and Hobie could be seen poking their heads into the room; Upon realising that they’ve been caught, the quartet attempted to act as casual as they could with Hobie leaning cooly against the doorframe, tuning his guitar, whilst Pavitr began to talking to Miles and Gwen about something. You couldn’t help but smile a little wider upon seeing your friends, you were so lost amidst what you lost that you didn’t see what was right in front of you, and Miguel could tell that they mean more to you then anything and you wanted nothing more then to show them that you were on the mend of being okay again.

‘I just want to make them proud.’ You said but Miguel knew you weren’t talking about your friends in that moment as a melancholic look crossed over your face when you looked back at him. ‘I can’t speak on their behalf but I’d like to think you already have, they know you tried and they couldn’t be prouder of you. There’s no reason to hold unjustified resentment towards yourself over something that you couldn’t have possibly known was coming.’ He says softly. ‘The hardest part of healing is knowing when it isn’t your fault because we’ve conditioned ourselves to bear the brunt of the blame, to the point where it’s hard for us to understand that when something catastrophic happens, we have no real control nor dictation over it or how it happens. We can be doing our best and it’ll still come whether or not we spend our whole lives preparing for it.’

You reached over to hug Miguel, burying your face into his shoulder, clinging onto him for dear life as he goes stiff as a board at the contact. ‘Thank you.’ You said, voice muffled but it was still coherent enough for him to hear it. Miguel’s body relaxed once realising he wasn’t in any trouble and he brought his arms to cage you against him. ‘No problem kid, just don’t go thinking you have to be be responsible for everything in life because that’s not a healthy way to live and realise that you’re not alone in this for you will always have us to fall back on.’

[vinelark]

ALL timkon recs I BEG

hello hi! here are some of my favs! it got long so putting some under the cut

💄 Lipstick on the glass by @cairoscene read for timkon being soft and goofy and disgustingly in love, set in vague future college-y years with amazing core four dynamics too. cair is one of the funniest people to ever exist and we are so blessed that they decided to write some timkon. (also read for my own greatest contribution to literature, the fictional “jerry the void nexus” meme)

🎢 been a number and a name by @wynterstars i had SO MUCH FUN reading this one, a 90s comics-divergent AU where robin and superboy become friends—and crushes—when superboy is pretty new on the scene. feat. lex luthor being terrible, tim staging a rescue operation that at one point involves platform shoes and a blonde wig, spice girls references, and fantastic action sequences. it’s also a series, with an installment focusing on kon & clark, and a currently updating longfic sequel with SO MANY timkon identity shenanigans (my beloved) and kon feelings (also my beloved).

📸 the surveillance series by @smilebackwards i feel like i rec this all the time but it’s because it’s THAT GOOD. a tim-centric AU where tim joins the family late, but is still involved in bat business without the bats realizing. there’s some fun timkon identity shenanigans at the top, and some of my all-time favorite tim characterization (ruthless! lonely! brilliant!) plus a great tim & bruce arc, too.

🦉 Detours by miyaji_08 this is part 2 of a series and i def recommend reading the whole thing! a reverse robins + joker jr au that has lots of trauma and lots of healing, and in part 2 there’s timkon identity shenanigans that’s simultaneously enemies to lovers + And They Were Roommates. tim sure does run a gauntlet of horrors in this series, but it has so much healing and also one of my fav reverse robins concepts i’ve read so far.

📱 unfurl by @burins tim and kon might be dating, and there’s no kryptonian sex ed handy. bruce, being bruce, makes it his business, which means talking to clark and Realizing some things about his own feelings. superbat are billed first here, but i think timkon steal the show—i laughed out loud like five different times reading this. hilarious and sweet on all sides. (and if you like this, check out their timkon road trip fic!)

🌾 A Saturday Evening by malcyon in which tim visits the kent farm for family dinner with kon, feat. very sweet established relationship timkon and fun superfamily dynamics, and it touches on tim’s past grief over kon’s death (and complicated feelings post-undeath).

🤼‍♂️ Sore Loser by @hearteyeshayley kon learns that tim always let him win while sparring, and has to process that. this was such a fun exploration of tim’s prowess as a fighter—one who regularly has to go up against superpowered friends and foes alike—and also tim as a person who is always doing mental calculations about the people around him (in an endearing way). kon, too, got his time to shine and grow, and the ending was so smart and sweet.

🔮 Ascension by Violet_Witch an AU longfic where tim is a witchling and kon is a fallen angel who has (oops) just lost his wings. tim sets out to help get kon’s wings back, and there’s a ticking clock because angel wings are dangerous in the wrong hands—and tim has a big, horrible secret that’s about to come due. the plot/worldbuilding of this was WILDLY cool, and there was a big ol misunderstanding in the middle that had me clawing my face off (in a good way).

🌌 straight on ’til morning by merils kon vs. the terrifying ordeal of growing up, feat. sweet friends-to-lovers timkon and really thoughtful exploration of some of kon’s canon past relationships and their abusive dynamics. i haven’t finished this one yet but it’s been rec’d multiple times and i’m excited to dive back in (and it's recently complete!)—and what i have read so far gave me an amazing sequence of kon and dick interacting and dick’s big brother mode activating in an instant, which is something i now desperately need more of.

📧 aaaand would it even be a reclist by me if i didn’t include send to all by @cairoscene the absolute moment i find myself feeling down i go reread this and boom. i am instantly laughing again. timkon are just one part of a bat grab-bag here but they are so so funny and cute and in-character. maybe one day i’ll compile the timkon-centric sequel that exists in my head but for now i’ll just go reread this for the zillionth time.

okay yeah!! i’m probably missing so many good fics here because i constantly have like a zillion tabs open that i plan to read someday. also i reserve the right to reblog later like OH I FORGOT— but in the meanwhile, happy timkon reading!

[nightcolorz]

Concept: The Tallamasca tries to recruit Daniel back in the 80's, Armand lets it happen because he wants to see what his boy would do

Daniel then proceeds to yell at several Tallamasca agents that they clearly don't know shit about vampires and they just nod and take out notebooks because yes, that's why we want you Mr Molloy, you have more practical experience than any of us

Daniel laughs when they start to ask questions about Armand specifically and he decides to have fun by telling them completely true but completely irrelevant shit about Armand (and maybe some about Louis too, they look surprised that he has met Louis and survived)

The Vampire Armand has great calligraphy, beautiful but still legible

The Vampire Armand drolls on his sleep

The Vampire Armand is a big fan of nail polish

The Vampire Armand's favourite art movement is Dadaism

The Vampire Armand prefers motorbikes to cars

The Vampire Louis loves photography

The Vampire Louis hates it when people dog ear a page on a book to mark where they were at

Daniel intended all this little nonsense fun facts would annoy the agents but to his dismay they keep taking notes and acting as if they are getting some big revelations to update their files with, he gets frustrated and leaves

Armand finds this all very amusing, once again his beloved boy has surpassed his expectations and surprised him, he should reward him with some blood and a nice outing, perhaps a new golden watch for his collection too

Meanwhile the Tallamasca agents are marking Daniel down as a person of interest and plan to follow his whereabouts for the rest of his life, they thought Daniel was some pet/slave for the Vampire Armand who they thought to be around 200 years old and were offering their protecting in exchange of information, their chat with Daniel has revealed that Armand is actually

closer to 500

A lot more powerful than they thought

Capable of blending in with humans to a concerning point

More interested and aware of human affairs than other immortals (again very concerning)

Marius de Romanus creation (they are very excited about this new piece of information)

Allows Daniel an insane amount of freedom but also feels comfortable enough around him to allow himself vulnerabilities such as falling asleep around the human (they update Daniel's file and mark him as a human paramour and possible future vampire, they make a point not to tell this to Daniel)

They also learn that yes, vampires have human-like relationships with each other, this seems obvious to Daniel but it's a very contested fact in the organisation, with defenders and detractors all giving big speeches and presentations defending their opinion on the matter pretty regularly

It was NOT Daniel's intention to reveal any of this, the majority he thought they knew

Daniel: Louis Du Lac is a snob, put a trashy magazine in front of him and he'll literally turn up his nose

The agent, writing it all down: You know more than one vampire? And have talked to them as if they were people and not creatures of the night? And you know them intimately enough to know their opinions on things such as this?

Daniel: wait no, that was supposed to be a useless piece of information

The agent, vibrating with excitement: what else do you know

Daniel, feeling lost and needing a cigarette: Armand likes Blade Runner

The agent: fascinating

Daniel: no, you are supposed to think this is irrelevant

Agent: tell me more about The Vampire Armand's opinions on pop culture

OMGG LOL this is so funny im dying. the concept of Daniel trying to be intentionally unhelpful out of spite and actually being incredibly helpful in the process is soooo peak comedy and in character i love it.

I think any talamasca member would fight tooth and nail to get their hands on extremely mundane vampire fun facts. Their jobs r canonically the useless collecting and maintaining of information on supernatural creatures that they will use for nothing and just like to have for the wow factor and so I feel like they wouldn’t care about the difference between valuable facts and invaluable facts. Armand is capable of exploding ppls internal organs from the inside and Armand has a hyper fixation on mobile apps r both equally valuable bits of lore considering what they plan to do with it (create a profile of his character and store it in a vampire library). So Daniel saying smth like “Louis is insecure about being a bad artist” or “Armand cries during sex” would be like a goldmine for them 💀