so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.
first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.
it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.
and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.
you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.
and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.
your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.
in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.
in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.
so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.
you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.
once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.
and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"
you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?
hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!
you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.
we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?
10K notes
·
View notes
Heyy I saw ur post asking for asks and I absolutely love ur writing + I’ve had such bad Tim brainrot so I was wondering if you could write smt abt Tim just like gradually moving into the readers home and sort of like coparenting the readers cat
Tysm if you chose to write this 🙏🏽🙏🏽
A/N: Yes I can absolutely write this for you nonny! I hope you don’t mind too much but i changed the cat to a dog because I am HORRIBLY allergic to cats and if I have to suffer my readers also must. In actuality tho I just have spent very little time around them over the years and have no clue how to realistically write owning a cat.
Tim Drake x fem!reader
Content Warnings: Reader is described as wearing makeup, canon typical injuries (Tim gets hurt on patrol), reader is described as taking care of Tim’s injuries, reader has a period, reader gets sick from her period, brief description of throwing up, reader has very painful cramps, reader takes typical cramp relieving medication (ibuprofen)
————
You thanked who ever was up there that Tim and your dog got along the first time you introduced them. You hadn’t planned on doing it today, but Tim had arrived early and you weren’t going to make him wait outside simply because your dog might be territorial.
You stand nervously by Tim’s side as he reaches his hand down for your German Shepherd, Ares, to sniff carefully. He takes a few moments after smelling Tim to eye him warily before letting out a dramatic huff and retreating to his spot on the sofa to stare Tim down.
You give Tim a chaste kiss on the cheek in relief before retreating to your bedroom to finish getting ready, “Make yourself at home Tim, I’ll be ready in just a few minutes!” You call over your shoulder as you close your door.
After you had finished your makeup and threw your wallet and a few other necessities into your bag in a rush you exit your room and just before you can call out to Tim to let him know that you’re now ready you see him seated on the opposite side of the couch from Ares.
Well, maybe saying they got along was a bit of a lie. They weren’t truly getting along so much as Ares wasn’t trying to fight Tim, and was even letting him sit near him. A miracle for your reactive dog.
“Tim?” You call out gently, not wanting to break the moment too harshly. At the sound of your voice Ares gets up and runs to your side like you were returning from war. You lean down to scratch in-between his ears as Tim approaches you much more calmly, a gentle smile on his face.
“You look amazing babe.” He mummers softly, leaning forward to kiss you gently, Ares whining in contempt at your attention being stolen.
“You ready to go?” You prompt gently, at Tim’s nod you take his hand and lead him toward the door, Ares right on your heels, whining like you were committing a most horrible crime.
As you exit your apartment and nudge Ares’ snout inside from where he was trying to follow you, you’re taken aback when suddenly Tim reaches forward and gently pats Ares on the top of the head, mumbling a soft “I’ll bring her back soon buddy.”
To your shock Ares doesn’t seem to mind the gesture, and as you finally get your front door closed and move to leave your apartment building your mind keeps drifting back to the sweet interaction with one thought repeatedly popping up in your mind, “Is it to early to be thinking about marriage?”
————
You love Tim, it’s something that you had realized early on in your relationship, but you swear he’s going to send you to an early grave with the amount of stress he puts you through. Almost every night for the last two weeks he’d shown up on your fire escape battered and bruised beyond recognition. The first time he’d done it you had to put Ares in his crate and throw a blanket over it, scared he was going to try and attack Tim with how he was growling and putting his haunches up.
By tonight however he’s grown used to the nightly intrusions, as he contents himself with watching you patch Tim up from his spot on the couch. You’re standing between Tim’s spread legs as he sits on the couch in front of you, running your hands up and down his bare arms carefully, checking for any other injuries he might’ve not told you about but mainly reassuring yourself that he’s here, and he’s okay. This is the worst shape he’s ever come to you in and you have to be sure that you haven’t missed anything.
Seemingly reading your mind he softly mutters, “I’m not going anywhere.” His hands find your hips as you stand between his spread legs. You vaguely realize that he’s gazing up at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky. “I promise.” He whispers, leaning forward to bury his face in your stomach.
You run your fingers through his hair, trying your best to detangle it from his night of crime fighting. “You know I’ll always be here for you.” You begin, “But you have got to take better care of yourself.” You can’t help but gaze at the canvas of his ribs, pale skin mottled with shades of blue and black. His arms are covered in cuts, a number of which you had to stitch up. You hated how steady your hands were getting with that damned needle.
He lets out an ambiguous groan and tightens his hold on your hips, when he speaks you can barely hear him from where his mouth is pressed against your shirt. “‘M sorry.” He mummers.
You let out a sigh and tip your head back to stare at your ceiling as you tangle your hands in his hair. “You don’t need to be sorry.” You sigh softly. “Just careful.”
After a moment you gently pull him to stand and begin guiding him to your bedroom with a hand on his back, which he lets you do wordlessly. You move to your bed and begin gently pushing him to sit.
He lets you push him, offering no resistance as he turns himself to lean against your pillows, poorly concealing a wince as his stitches pull and scrape against the bed. You watch him with a concerned furrow in your brow. “One second.” You mummer, side-stepping Ares, who had silently followed you into your bedroom.
You move to your dresser and pull out a change of clothes for him. He had started to keep clothes at your apartment after several instances of him spending the night as Red Robin and not having any civvies on hand for the next morning.
Tim lets out a grunt of displeasure when he sees you have one of his t-shorts and a pair of shorts in hand. “What? You don’t like me in just my boxers?” He says with a smirk of his face that has no right being that attractive when you can’t do anything about it.
You let out a groan and throw them on top of your dresser reluctantly as you go to sit next to his reclined body. “I just don’t want you to get cold.” You mummer, leaning forward to gently kiss his cheek.
“I’m not that fragile.” He says with a soft laugh, leaning into your touch eagerly.
You lay down next to him and drape your arm across his chest, being careful to avoid his injuries as he gingerly wraps one of his arms around your shoulders. “You’re not doing any work tomorrow night or the next.” You say bluntly as you gaze at his injuries, a firm look on his face.
Tim sighs and gets a vaguely guilty look on his face. “Babe I would if I could but Bruce-“
You sit up just enough to give him a firm glare, one that he knows better than to argue with. “If Bruce gives you shit for not going out and risking your life while seriously injured I’m kicking his fucking ass.” You practically growl, leaning forward slightly to get your point across.
Tim rolls his eyes and lets out a grating sigh as you lay back down against him. “I’d pay money to see you fight Bruce.” He mumbles tiredly.
“If he tries to make you go out tomorrow you’re getting your wish.” You say. The moment is cut-off however when Ares jumps up on your bed and curls over your feet, and much to your shock, Tim’s as well. When you turn to give him a surprised smile he is already dead asleep.
————
You can’t believe yourself, honestly you can’t. How the hell did you manage to get sick right before Tim was supposed to get back from his mission? You let out a soft whine as you finish puking your guts up and double check that the toilet flushes properly. You lean back slightly and attempt to orient yourself. You get your period every week and yet still you haven’t managed to master the art of not letting it beat your ass.
You look over at Ares’ soft whine, he’s seated himself at the bathroom door and is watching you carefully to make sure you’re okay. He only abandons his post at the sound of the window opening, loud barks and whines making his excitement clear to anyone who knows him. You curse yourself quietly as you force yourself to stand and grab your toothbrush from its spot next to Tim’s, quickly plopping a generous amount of toothpaste on it and shoving it in your mouth. You hope Ares distracts Tim long enough for you to attempt to hide the evidence of your monthly illness.
You quicken your movement at the sound of Tim calling your name. Spitting out your toothpaste and quickly rinsing out your mouth at the sound of him approaching. As he peers around the doorframe to gaze at you lift your arms and smother him in a hug which he eagerly returns. “I missed your pretty boy.” You say blearily as you run your hands over his shoulders and down his back, checking him over for injuries.
He lets out a soft, tired laugh against your neck at the nickname, his muscles slowly but surely relaxing at the feeling of you finally with him again. You squeeze him around his middle gently, being mindful of any potential injuries as Ares lets out a whine at being ignored and swats Tim’s armor covered leg with his paw. Tim huffs out a laugh and pulls back from you, crouching down to Ares’ height and letting him lick his face where his domino mask was a moment prior.
You watch the scene affectionately when suddenly you feel a drop in your stomach, you rub your hand over your uterus to try and ignore the feeling but a moment later you’re gripping the sink in pain and letting out a low groan. Tim stands up quickly, his hands finding your shoulders and straightening you up just enough for him to look you over.
“Baby? What’s wrong?” He asks you quickly. You move the hand you were gripping the sink with to wave him off dismissively only to be shown that was a stupid idea when your cramps double in intensity and you nearly fall to the ground in pain, only held up by Tim desperately grabbing you by the armpits and lifting you into a bridal hold.
He moves you so quickly you barely have time to register what’s happening before he is lowering you down on your bed, running a hand over your forehead soothingly to clear any hairs that were sticking due to sweat. “Have you taken any medicine for it yet?” He asks in a soothing mummer.
When you give him a confused glance through the pain he offers you an explanation despite the slight pink now tinting his cheeks. “You were due for your period, and you were brushing your teeth when I arrived which indicates you threw up which is typical for you on the first day of your period. Plus you sent Ares to come greet me instead of doing so yourself.” At the sound of his name Ares invites himself onto your bed, lying over your legs and resting his head over your uterus defensively. You and Tim both instinctively move to scratch in-between his ears.
“So uh-“ Tim clears his throat. “Should I go get you some ibuprofen?” He asks meekly.
You grab his hand a place a reassuring kiss to the back of it. “Would you please baby?” You soothe.
Tim gives you a firm nod and moves to do so, Ares lets out a soft whine when Tim leaves the room but doesn’t move from his spot on you. Tim returns a moment later, a bottle of ibuprofen in one hand and a glass of water in his other. He sets both on your nightstand before carefully counting out your desired amount of ibuprofen, handing it to you, and carefully tipping a mouthful of water into your mouth once you go to swallow them.
“Thank you.” You say as you attempt to relax against your bed. “You’re the best.”
“I know.” Tim quips, smirking at you as you roll your eyes playfully, he leans forward to press a kiss to the center of your forehead. He lingers a moment before pulling back to look at you, at the lack of eye-contact he hesitates a moment before asking, “What’s wrong baby? Are you in pain?”
You shift uncomfortably for a moment, causing Ares to grumble, before muttering out, “I’m sorry you have to take care of me.”
Tim balks at your words and grabs both of your hands securely, shuffling closer from where he was sitting by your reclined form to press your forms together gingerly. “Don’t say that baby,” he soothes “I’ll always take care of you.”
You shake your head softly, trying to suppress the tears you feel coming to your eyes. “Wanted to take care of you.” You mutter, avoiding his concerned look, “I was so excited for you to get back.”
Tim holds your face and gently wipes away your tears with his thumbs. “You always take care of me baby, it’s the least I can do to take care of you once in a while.” He all but whispers, pressing your foreheads together.
Suddenly Ares is also attempting to press his face against yours, nosing his way in front of Tim’s and licking your face eagerly, causing you to giggle and Tim to let out an offended sound at his spot being stolen.
“See?” Tim says after a moment of Ares’ enthused licking. “Even Ares wants to take care of you.”
You shake your head with a soft sigh as Ares finally calms down, moving to protect your feet and let Tim take over soothing you once more. “My boys.” You mutter gently, giving Tim an affectionate look.
“All yours.” Tim confirms, moving forward to press a soft kiss against your lips. “Always.”
155 notes
·
View notes
Finally caved and did my perceived timeline of what happened to Chuuya, from being brought into the lab for project Arahabaki to being taken out of it.
I originally thought about mentioning it in my Chuuya's true original ability being to amplify others' abilities post, but it was way too long, and not as solid an argument to that specific topic.
Because this is about Chuuya being the original, not the clone, but more importantly the why and how that is the case.
Chuuya's humanity is the core question of SB, and the most important part is that in the end, Chuuya chose to accept himself despite it all, and that no matter what, he is himself and no one can take that away from him.
But once we have been given all the pieces of the puzzle, we can try connecting the dots and deduce the true story behind it all.
-
Project Arahabaki was built to create an ability weapon based on the recovered notes of Pan, a French researcher and Verlaine's creator. The technique uses the clone of a human with a "fake" psyche (persona model) who is fused with a singularity life-form. The clone's original should have an ability able to create a self-referencing singularity (to manifest gravity powers). Pan even had a special ability metal to brainwash that individual. Basically, this concept is supposed to create an overpowered flesh puppet.
So. Project Arahabaki. They needed an original with an ability that could produce a singularity on its own, which is super rare. Joy oh joy, there just so happen to be this boy, the son of a military doctor, who fits these needs! They just need his DNA/some cells to create a clone to use in their project. It's the middle of the war, ethics are disregarded, plus no "real child" should be harmed in the making of this weapon. No biggie, right? Lend us your son for the sake of the country!
Except we know that boy, officially at least, died during the war.
According to N's timeline, there once was this certain boy who managed to create a singularity with his ability while under the supervision of scientists, but got swallowed by the black hole it created, never to return.
He also had Chuuya's supposed "original" stuck in a tube full of mystery liquid, the same kind Chuuya once was in, but that one's flesh and organs melted when exposed to air (normal behaviour), changing it into a skeleton that can be ordered around like an overpowered puppet (literally on strings. The tubes in its back controlled it and kept it going, but would severely limit its range)
Back to our Chuuya:
All N does is lie, so we can't take his word as the simple truth. Chuuya was a miracle they never managed to reproduce. Why is that?
In Rimbaud's notes, he says how in their operation to retrieve the new ability weapon Japan was developing (based on Verlaine), they managed to identify the artificial being, aka the clone, A2-5-8. In the flashback, Rimbaud is absolutely positive it is him, so we have to assume this information was recorded as-is somewhere.
And yet, Dazai is the one to suggest later that, perhaps, the original and the clone had been swapped.
And wouldn't that make everything else make sense?
The clone(s) never managed to hold up to the quality standard necessary to be useful outside of their confines. The skeleton approach was the lab trying something different, like N admitted so to Verlaine. There ever only was one successful attempt, a "miracle", Chuuya. The original child is thought to be dead, yet N the liar supposedly had him in a tube, ready to turn him into a skeleton(???). Rimbaud and Verlaine thought for sure they had the artificial life-form, the clone, but they got Chuuya, who has a graphite scar from before he lost his memories, with a past that was able to be dug up by the Flags and Port Mafia.
My conclusion is this: N swapped out a clone for the original child. His research wasn't giving the proper results, but he had found a workaround, where he could use the original instead of his clone, for better/faster results.
Chuuya is the only one who could harness "Arahabaki" in any way that would remotely resemble "Guivre". Chuuya is the only one who could operate autonomously. That's why N wanted to remove "Arahabaki" and try to factory-reset Chuuya before putting it back in: because there really is only one of him, and he couldn't afford losing him if he wanted to continue his research.
545 notes
·
View notes